presented to the 
 
 LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OP' CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO 
 
 by 
 FRIKNDS OF THE LIBRARY 
 
 DR. ERNEST W. ANDERSON 
 
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 3333zar. 
 
 
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 PL A TO. 

 
 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES, CRITO, 
 PHAEDO, AND PROTAGORAS 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTIONS BY THE TRANSLATOR, 
 BENJAMIN JOWETT 
 
 AND A SPECIAL INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN, PH.D. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE 
 AT THE CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF AMERICA 
 
 REVISED EDITION 
 
 VAUJAl'-'Xl'JIA^UiA W Jfo^ 

 
 COPYRIGHT, 1900, 
 Bv THE COLONIAL PRESS
 
 SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 To the " Dialogues of Plato " and " The Politics of Aristotle " 
 
 THERE are some living lovers of the Latin tongue who 
 hold that the Roman Empire existed only that the 
 language of Cicero might be born. Such enthusiasts 
 are growing fewer as the ideas of the Renaissance dwindle 
 before the rise of modern experimentalism. But the admirers 
 of Greek prose, which was also adored of the Renaissance, 
 are increasing rather than decreasing and, while they are not 
 so fanatical as the elder Latinists, they hold that, if Athens 
 had done no more for the world than give academic shelter to 
 Plato, the city of the violet crown would have fulfilled her 
 mission. Leaving out the question of the Attic delights of 
 Plato's style, one will find enough reason for this belief which 
 is not extreme in Benjamin Jowett's translation of the " Re- 
 public " and the " Dialogues " of Plato, four of which are here 
 presented. Of their value Dr. Jowett gives, in his introduc- 
 tions to them, sufficient appreciation. The dialogues offered 
 are " The Apology of Socrates ; " " Crito ; " " Phaedo, or the 
 Immortality of the Soul ; " and " Protagoras." These have 
 been chosen because they are essentially Platonic because 
 they represent, at its best, the manner of Plato, and are among 
 the most characteristic, stimulating, and interesting of his dia- 
 logues. How modern they are ! exclaims the reader, who has 
 known them only through paraphrases, and who begins to 
 realize that Socrates and Plato and Aristotle are links which 
 join our time of fuller light to the very Alpha of things to the 
 Ancient of days. 
 
 We have deduced and experimented, and we force physics 
 and mechanics, controlled by the analytical mind, further and 
 further into the unseen mystery of nature; we are more and 
 more conquerors of matter ; but, when we attack the problems
 
 JT PLATO AND ARISTOTLE 
 
 of the mind, when we touch the things of metaphysics, we cross 
 hands over a gulf of more than two thousand years, with Plato, 
 Aristotle, and Socrates, and find the questions of the intellect 
 the same, and the answers similar. The Catholic Church, the 
 most psychological of all organizations, has adopted Aristotle, 
 for he was the master of St. Thomas Aquinas, philosophically, 
 as Vergil was the master of Dante, poetically. The philosophy 
 of St. Thomas is based on that of Aristotle, who was the pupil 
 of Plato, and the philosophy of Aristotle, purged, illuminated, 
 refined as each of the great three refined on one another 
 is the philosophy of Dante. 
 
 Who of the moderns has escaped these three? Montaigne, 
 or Bacon, or Kant, or Hegel, or Schopenhauer, or Rosmini? 
 Not one! Who has gone beyond them? Not one! When 
 Emerson is not Platonic, he is not philosophical. And the 
 same questions of the intellect which helped to make Hamlet 
 doubt are those which arise, over and over again, in the dia- 
 logues of Plato, and which are only answered since reason and 
 divine revelation have become a synthesis. Kant and Berkeley, 
 who came strangely near to the all-negation of Pyrrho, are 
 saved by Socrates and Plato. And Fichte and Hegel and 
 Schopenhauer are combated by them, as Socrates combated 
 Democritus, Epicurus, and Pyrrho. Kant, overwhelmed by the 
 splendor of nature and the awful sense of human responsibility, 
 can only find relief in the ideality of all things. Plato does 
 better than this. Pyrrho, who, too, was idealist, and who 
 doubted the existence of the concrete thing, nevertheless shyed 
 before the concrete chariot wheels in the streets and still his 
 pupils believed in him ; and Kant and Berkeley have still pupils 
 who believe in their doubt ! 
 
 But, after all, comparisons in favor of the great three, who 
 taught one another, and who were like luminous clouds, 
 not fully illuminated, but giving light, may lead one too far. 
 It is true, however, that to the receptive mind, there can be 
 few greater pleasures than that of noting the effect of the 
 great Athenians on modern thought. In fact, it may be almost 
 said that all modern philosophy is but an elaboration, a develop- 
 ment, a criticism, of the essence and the methods of these three 
 men. 
 
 Socrates, born B.C. 468, was the master of the two others, 
 Plato and Aristotle. He was a reformer pure and simnle, and
 
 SPECIAL INTRODUCTION v 
 
 he arose at a time when doubt and sensuality, as represented 
 by the teachings of Pyrrho and the distorted dicta of Epicurus, 
 had corrupted the Athenian mind and heart. The Sophists, 
 too, juggled with words, and the people had come to delight 
 in verbal pyrotechnics and to care nothing for truth. He was 
 the son of Sophroniscus, a sculptor. Diogenes tells us that, 
 having zealously attended the lectures of Anaxagoras and 
 Archelaus, he was observed by a rich Athenian, who gave him 
 the means of pursuing his studies in philosophy. This en- 
 trancing study did not prevent him from entering the army 
 and doing his duty as a citizen. He was not a dreamer, though 
 the hidden damon, on whose direction he depended, dwelt 
 within him. He served as a soldier in the campaign of Potidaea, 
 at Delium, when he saved his pupil, Xenophon, and at Amphi- 
 polis. And yet he lived in a world of beautiful dreams. Plato, 
 his disciple, represents the idealistic side of his nature ; Aristotle 
 and Xenophon, no less his acolytes, the practical side. The 
 splendid Alcibiades was not easily moulded. His inner voice 
 warned him not to interfere in politics, though he desired, above 
 all things, to elevate his countrymen morally and socially. He 
 seems to have yielded to popular superstition whenever he did 
 not clash with the great objective truths on which the base 
 of his moral teaching rested. Nevertheless, B.C. 399, when he 
 was seventy years of age, he was accused of not believing in 
 the national deities and of corrupting youth. He was neutral 
 in politics, and when he had interfered, three times in his life, 
 it had been for the unpopular side. He had loved the younger 
 Pericles and admired Critias and Alcibiades; he was aristo- 
 cratic in his tendencies. Besides, we are told, on good author- 
 ity, that Socrates had endeavored to lure the son of the rich 
 Anytus from leather-selling to philosophy. Again, Socrates 
 was scornful and satirical ; no guilty man escaped his sarcasm 
 and irony. And his power of eloquent indignation was so great 
 that even the victims of it forgot his fat body, his two full 
 eyes, his careless dress, and thought for the moment that he 
 was an avenging god. Truth and morality were real things ; 
 so he thought, and, when by a small majority, he was con- 
 demned to die, he would not violate law, which was sacred. 
 He might have bought himself off by a fine, he might have 
 bribed the factions, he might have escaped by the help of his 
 friends. He was forced to wait thirty days until the sacred
 
 vi PLATO AND ARISTOTLE 
 
 trireme came from Delphos. " In this interval," Dr. Browne 
 says, in his " History of Greek Classical Literature " a book 
 which ought to be revived " we are indebted for that con- 
 versation on the immortality of the soul, which Plato has em- 
 bodied in his ' Phaedo,' and although Plato was not himself 
 present, it is so Socratic that there can be little doubt that it 
 was faithfully reported by those who were with him at his 
 last moments." He drank the hemlock, not for love of death, 
 but for love of the law. Socrates was not a conscious teacher 
 of systematic philosophy, he was a moral teacher, with a set 
 of principles. The perfect intellect was the Omega of life. 
 Knowledge, to him, was the first of all things in the way to 
 the supreme good which was truth. He believed in an omnip- 
 otent supreme being, the first cause, and that the rational in 
 man was a part of this Governing Being. In the after life, all 
 would be well with the noble soul, he believed. To be like 
 this Supreme Being, we must cultivate our intellect at the ex- 
 pense of the lower qualities. Virtue was science; perfect 
 knowledge was perfect virtue; therefore ignorance was the 
 only sin, and that an involuntary sin. The entirely wise man 
 the possessor of perfect science could not sin. 
 
 Although it seems difficult to formulate exactly the prin- 
 ciples of Socrates, and to discover their central point, the fact 
 that Plato's system is set in one key makes it easier to analyze 
 Platonism. The human soul is of the same spirit as the Su- 
 preme Being ; it neither begins nor ends ; the soul knew itself 
 and still remembers some of its knowledge. The splendor of 
 another world is reflected upon it. Plato systematized previous 
 theories ; Aristotle followed his example. It was reserved for 
 St. Thomas Aquinas to meet sophisms, with fuller knowledge 
 than Socrates, and to make a sumnta of the best that had pre- 
 ceded him. The philosophical movement is not of one time; 
 it goes on, widening, classifying, perfecting itself from epoch 
 to epoch. 
 
 Aristocles (born B.C. 429), called Plato from the breadth 
 of his shoulders, offers a striking example of this. Having 
 gathered the best that had preceded him, he made a great leap 
 forward by developing his own theory above the ruins of old 
 errors. His methods are improved upon those of Socrates. 
 He meets Protagoras with the assertion that all knowledge is 
 not the result of materialistic contact or, in other words, of
 
 SPECIAL INTRODUCTION vii 
 
 sensation. And he opposed himself to the Eleatic assertion 
 that no knowledge can be obtained through the senses. He 
 held that man was composed of body and soul, intimately re- 
 lated. The apprehension of the intellect is pure and immuta- 
 ble; the apprehension of the senses non-essential, changeable. 
 The body is an impediment to truth. When the soul is free 
 from the body, it may, unblinded, see truth. All that exists, 
 exists only so far as it participates in the absolute and un- 
 changeable Divine Idea, of which the soul is part. God and 
 the highest good are the same ; the highest idea is good. He 
 believes in the living soul and in the Deity who pervades the 
 universe. He has been called a Pantheist as not having the 
 fixed idea of a personal intelligence. But a careful reading of 
 the four dialogues collected here will, I fancy, show that he 
 was much more than a believer in an abstract, pervasive, eternal 
 principle. The soul of the world permeates the world, and from 
 it come other souls, to be supported by it. Plato is a firm be- 
 liever in the immortality of the soul. In the most poetical of 
 the dialogues, " Phaedo," we find this philosopher, who would 
 have, in an ideal republic, driven poets into the wilderness, 
 crowned with flowers, invalidating his arguments by an ascent 
 into the myths of the singers. He held, with Pythagoras, the 
 doctrine of the transmigration of souls, so fascinating in all ages 
 to the imagination, and from this followed the theory of the 
 reminiscences of the half-awakened soul, which Wordsworth 
 calls the " trailing clouds of glory." According to Plato man 
 may choose the good, and this the philosopher, free and uncon- 
 strained, will do for God is not fate. Plato was a soldier, like 
 Socrates. Unlike Socrates, to whose influence he acknowledged 
 that he owed all, he founded a school. 
 
 Aristotle (born B.C. 384), his most distinguished pupil, was 
 not an Athenian. His father was court physician to Amyntas 
 II, King of Macedon ; he was not of noble descent, as was Plato, 
 who claimed King Codrus and Solon among his ancestors. 
 His father, a learned man, directed his tastes. At the age of 
 seventeen he was left alone in the world, but his inherited 
 fortune enabled him to pursue his studies. At Athens, he 
 deserved the praise of Plato, who called him " the mind of the 
 school." He did not hesitate to argue with his preceptor. He 
 loved Plato ; but between Plato and truth, he chose truth. It 
 is said that, on a day when Aristotle was the only pupil present
 
 via 
 
 at a lecture, Plato said that so long as he had Aristotle, he 
 had the better half of Athens. Aristotle founded the Per- 
 ipatetic school. After the death of Plato, he became (B.C. 
 324) tutor to Alexander, who, later, rewarded him munifi- 
 cently. But, when Alexander died, the enemies of Aristotle 
 at Athens prepared to end him or to make him give up the 
 enormous sum which Alexander had given him. To prevent 
 the Athenians from committing another crime, he went to the 
 island of Euboea, where he died B.C. 322. 
 
 Aristotle was the idol of the philosophical world until the 
 Renaissance. While Plato is of imagination all compact, 
 Aristotle is practical, systematic, regular. Plato was an ideal- 
 ist, he was a poet at heart, and he had the dramatic faculty, as 
 one may see from even a slight reading of the dialogues. 
 Plato had inspiration, and exquisite grace of literary utter- 
 ance; Aristotle had neither, but he was a master of analysis. 
 Plato sometimes forgot man and that he was a man ; Aristotle 
 was always in sight of earth; he was the most practical, the 
 serenest, the most learned man of his time. Logic stood first 
 with him his chief treatise on this subject is the " Organum." 
 That the world owes to him the formulation of the deductive 
 method is too well known to be repeated here ; it is a common 
 fallacy that Bacon founded the inductive system ; he merely 
 elaborated the suggestions of Aristotle. Aristotle held that 
 death finished the good and bad; he doubted that the soul 
 could exist apart from the body. Reason was omnipresent 
 and divine. As modern scientists use the atomic theory as a 
 tool, so Christian philosophers have adopted the methods of 
 Aristotle in systematizing truth. 
 
 Aristotle's " Poetics " and " Politics " cut clear to the causes 
 of things. The " Poetics " is better known ; the " Politics " 
 the more important. Ethics and politics, with Aristotle, are 
 inseparable. The State must be founded on a basis of good. 
 The greatest good of each family must be safeguarded, so far 
 as the good of the State can be safeguarded. The morality 
 of the people determines the morality of the State. It is, 
 therefore, the duty of the State to direct education ; and, as the 
 moral condition of the citizen is a prime factor in the State, 
 each citizen should be trained, so far as possible, in the science 
 of politics. Administrators of private education should be 
 efficient in the science of legislation. Aristotle's views on
 
 SPECIAL INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 politics are worthy of the closest study. He hated most, 
 after monarchical tyranny, the rule of the mob. He was in 
 favor of a property qualification for the exercise of the highest 
 privileges of citizenship. He believed, though, he was more 
 aristocratic than democratic, that the legislator should secure 
 the goodwill of the middle classes, as they are the ballast of 
 the ship of the State. He had no sympathy with communism. 
 The basis of his system was the union of families for common 
 contentment and progress. Ethics stood at one end of his 
 political system ; economics at the other. 
 
 At the end of the beginning of the twentieth century, it 
 becomes us to look back, and to discover the beginning of 
 things, when the pollen flew from the plant and the seeds were 
 sown. The self-sufficiency (avrapxeia) which Aristotle loved 
 in the State is not that modern self-sufficiency which we find 
 in individuals who have lost the possibility of looking intelli- 
 gently forward because they are not sufficiently cultured to 
 look backward.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES i 
 
 THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES 1 1 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CRJTO 37 
 
 CRITO 41 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PH^DO 55 
 
 PHJEDO 77 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PROTAGORAS 143 
 
 PROTAGORAS 154
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FACING PACK 
 
 PLATO ***#. 
 
 Photogravure from the original marble bust 
 
 SOCRATES I0 
 
 Photogravure from the original marble bust 
 
 THE PARTHENON AT ATHENS ....... 142 
 
 Photogravure reproduced from a photograph
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO 
 
 THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES 
 
 IN what relation the " Apology " of Plato stands to the 
 real defence of Socrates, there is no means of deter- 
 mining. It certainly agrees in tone and character with 
 the description of Xenophon, who says in the " Memorabilia " 
 (iv. 4, 4) that Socrates might have been acquitted " if in any 
 moderate degree he would have conciliated the favor of the 
 dicasts"; and who informs us in another passage (iv. 8, 4), 
 on the testimony of Hermogenes, the friend of Socrates, that 
 he had no wish to live; and that the divine sign refused to 
 allow him to prepare a defence, and also that Socrates him- 
 self declared this to be unnecessary, on the ground that all his 
 life long he had been preparing against that hour. For the 
 speech breathes throughout a spirit of defiance, "ut non supple* 
 out reus sed magister aut dominus videretur esse judicum" 
 (Cic. " de Orat." i. 54) ; and the loose and desultory style 
 is an imitation of the " accustomed manner " in which Socrates 
 spoke in " the agora and among the tables of the money- 
 changers." The allusion in the " Crito " (45 B) may, perhaps, 
 be adduced as a further evidence or the literal accuracy of 
 some parts (37 c, D). But in the main it must be regarded 
 as the ideal of Socrates, accr-ding to Plato's conception of 
 him, appearing in the greatest and most public scene of his 
 life, and in the height of his triumph, when he is weakest, and 
 yet his mastery over mankind is greatest, and the habitual 
 irony of his life acquires a new meaning and a sort of tragic 
 pathos in the face of death. The facts of his life are summed 
 up, and the features of his character are brought out, as if 
 by accident in the course of the defence. The looseness of the 
 style and the seeming want of arrangement of the topics are 
 found to result in a perfect work of art, which is the portrait 
 of Socrates. 
 
 I
 
 2 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Yet some of the topics may have been actually used by 
 Socrates ; and the recollection of his very words may have 
 rung in the ears of his disciple. The " Apology " of Plato may 
 be compared generally with those speeches of Thucydides in 
 which he has embodied his conception of the lofty character 
 and policy of the great Pericles, and which at the same time 
 furnish a commentary on the situation of affairs from the point 
 of view of the historian. So in the " Apology " there is an 
 ideal rather than a literal truth; much is said that ought to 
 have been said but was not said, and is only Plato's view o>' 
 the situation. And we may perhaps even indulge in the fancy 
 that the actual defence of Socrates was as much greater than 
 the Platonic defence as the master was greater than the disciple. 
 But in any case, some of the words actually used have prob- 
 ably been preserved. It is significant that Plato is said to have 
 been present at the defence (38 B), as he is also said to have 
 been absent at the last scene in the " Phaedo" (59 B). Is it 
 fanciful to suppose that he meant to give the stamp of authen- 
 ticity to the one and not to the other? especially when we 
 remember that these two passages are the only ones in which 
 Plato makes mention of himself. Moreover, the " Apology " 
 appears to combine the common characteristics both of the 
 Xenophontean and Platonic Socrates, while the " Phaedo " 
 passes into a region of thought which is very characteristic 
 of Plato, but not of his master. 
 
 There is not much in the other dialogues which can be com- 
 pared with the " Apology." The same recollection of his 
 master may have been present to the mind of Plato when 
 depicting the sufferings of the Just in the " Republic." The 
 " Crito " may also be regarded as a sort of appendage to the 
 " Apology," in which Socrates, who has defied the judges, is 
 nevertheless represented as scrupulously obedient to the laws. 
 The idealization of the sufferer is carried still further in the 
 " Georgias " (476 foil.), in which the thesis is maintained, 
 that " to suffer is better than to do evil " ; and the art of 
 rhetoric is described as only useful for the purpose of self- 
 accusation. The parallelisms which occur in the so-called 
 " Apology " of Xenophon are not worth noticing, because the 
 writing in which they are contained is manifestly spurious. 
 The statements of the " Memorabilia" (i. 2, iv. 8) respecting 
 the trial and death of Socrates agree generally with Plato;
 
 INTRODUCTION TO THE APOLOGY 3 
 
 but they have lost the flavor of Socratic irony in the narrative 
 of Xenophon. 
 
 The " Apology " or Platonic defence of Socrates is divided 
 into three parts: (i) The defence properly so called; (2) 
 The shorter address in mitigation of the penalty; (3) The 
 last words of prophetic rebuke and exhortation. 
 
 The first part commences with an apology for his colloquial 
 style ; he is, as he has always been, the enemy of rhetoric, and 
 knows of no rhetoric but truth; he will not falsify his char- 
 acter by making a speech. Then he proceeds to divide his 
 accusers into two classes: first, there is the nameless accuser 
 public opinion. All the world from their earliest years had 
 heard that he was a corrupter of youth, and had seen him 
 caricatured in the " Clouds " of Aristophanes. Secondly, 
 there are the professed accusers, who are but the mouthpiece 
 of the others. The accusations of both might be summed up 
 in a formula. The first say, " Socrates is an evil-doer and 
 a curious person, searching into things under the earth and 
 above the heaven, and making the worst appear the better 
 cause, and teaching all this to others." The second, " Socrates 
 is an evil-doer and corrupter of the youth, who does not re- 
 ceive the gods whom the State receives, but introduces other 
 new divinities." These last appear to have been the words of 
 the actual indictment, of which the previous formula is a 
 parody. 
 
 The answer begins by clearing up a confusion. In the repre- 
 sentations of the comic poets, and in the opinion of the multi- 
 tude, he had been confounded with the teachers of physical 
 science and with the Sophists. But this was an error. For 
 both of them he professes a respect in the open court, which 
 contrasts with his manner of speaking about them in other 
 places. But at the same time he shows that he is not one of 
 them. Of natural philosophy he knows nothing; not that he 
 despises such pursuits, but the fact is that he is ignorant of 
 them, and never says a word about them. Nor does he receive 
 money for teaching; that is another mistaken notion, for he 
 has nothing to teach. But he commends Evenus for teaching 
 virtue at such a moderate rate. Something of the " accus- 
 tomed irony," which may perhaps be expected to sleep in the 
 ear of the multitude, is lurking here. 
 
 He then goes on to explain the reason why he is in such an
 
 4 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 evil name. That had arisen out of a peculiar mission which 
 he had taken upon himself. The enthusiastic Chaerephon (prob- 
 ably in anticipation of the answer he received) had gone to 
 Delphi and asked the oracle if there was any man wiser than 
 Socrates; and the answer was that there was no man wiser. 
 What could be the meaning of this that he who knew nothing, 
 and knew that he knew nothing, should be declared by the 
 oracle to be the wisest of men ? Reflecting upon this, he deter- 
 mined to refute the oracle by finding " a wiser " ; and first he 
 went to the politicians, and then to the poets, and then to the 
 craftsmen, but always with the same result he found that 
 they knew nothing, or hardly anything more than himself ; and 
 that the little advantage which in some cases they possessed was 
 more than counterbalanced by their conceit of knowledge. He 
 knew nothing, and knew that he knew nothing: they knew 
 little or nothing, and imagined that they knew all things. Thus 
 he had passed his life as a sort of missionary in detecting the 
 pretended wisdom of mankind ; and this occupation had quite 
 absorbed him and taken him away both from public and pri- 
 vate affairs. Young men of the richer sort had made a pas- 
 time of the same pursuit, " which was not unamusing." And 
 hence bitter enmities had arisen ; the professors of knowledge 
 had revenged themselves by calling him a villanous corrupter 
 of the youth, and by repeating the commonplaces about athe- 
 ism and materialism and sophistry, which are the stock accusa- 
 tions against all philosophers when there is nothing else to be 
 said of them. 
 
 The second accusation he meets by interrogating Meletus, 
 who is present and can be interrogated. " If he is the cor- 
 rupter, who is the improver of the citizens ? " ' All mankind." 
 But how absurd, how contrary to analogy is this! How in- 
 conceivable too, that he should make the citizens worse when 
 he has to live with them. This surely cannot be intentional: 
 and if unintentional, he ought to have been instructed by 
 Meletus, and not accused in the court. 
 
 But there is another part of the indictment which says that 
 he teaches men not to receive the gods whom the city receives, 
 and has other new gods. " Is that the way in which he is sup- 
 posed to corrupt the youth ? " " Yes, that is the way." " Has 
 he only new gods, or none at all ? " " None at all." " What, not 
 even the sun and moon ? " " No ; why, he says that the sun
 
 INTRODUCTION TO THE APOLOGY 5 
 
 is a stone, and the moon earth." That, replies Socrates, is the 
 old confusion about Anaxagoras; the Athenian people are 
 not so ignorant as to attribute to the influence of Socrates 
 notions which have found their way into the drama, and may 
 be learned at the theatre. Socrates undertakes to show that 
 Meletus (rather unjustifiably) has been compounding a riddle 
 in this part of the indictment. " There are no gods, but 
 Socrates believes in the existence of the sons of gods, which 
 is absurd." 
 
 Leaving Meletus, who has had enough words spent upon 
 him, he returns to his original accusers. The question may be 
 asked, Why will he persist in following a profession which 
 leads him to death ? Why because he must remain at his post 
 where the God has placed him, as he remained at Potidaea, 
 and Amphipolis, and Delium, where the generals placed him. 
 Besides, he is not so overwise as to imagine that he knows 
 whether death is a good or an evil ; and he is certain that deser- 
 tion of his duty is an evil. Anytus is quite right in saying that 
 they should never have indicted him if they meant to let him 
 go. For he will certainly obey God rather than man, and will 
 continue to preach to all men of all ages the necessity of virtue 
 and improvement ; and if they refuse to listen to him he will 
 still persevere and reprove them. This is his way of corrupting 
 the youth, which he will not cease to follow in obedience to the 
 God, even if a thousand deaths await him. 
 
 He is desirous that they should not put him to death not 
 for his own sake, but for theirs; because he is their heaven- 
 sent friend (and they will never have such another), or, as 
 he may be ludicrously described, the gadfly who stirs the gen- 
 erous steed into motion. Why, then, has he never taken part 
 in public affairs? Because the familiar divine voice has 
 hindered him ; if he had been a public man and fought for 
 the right, as he would certainly have fought against the many, 
 he would not have lived, and could therefore have done no 
 good. Twice in public matters he has risked his life for the 
 sake of justice once at the trial of the generals; and again 
 in resistance to the tyrannical commands of the Thirty. 
 
 But, though not a public man, he has passed his days in 
 instructing the citizens without fee or reward ; this was his 
 mission. Whether his disciples have turned out well or ill, he 
 cannot justly be charged with the result, for he never promised
 
 6 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 to teach them anything. They might come if they liked, and 
 they might stay away if they liked : and they did come, because 
 they found an amusement in hearing the pretenders to wisdom 
 detected. If they have been corrupted, their elder relatives 
 (if not themselves) might surely appear in court and witness 
 against him, and there is an opportunity still for them to do 
 this. But their fathers and brothers all apear in court (in- 
 cluding "this " Plato), to witness on his behalf; and if their 
 relatives are corrupted, at least they are uncorrupted ; " and 
 they are my witnesses. For they know that I am speaking the 
 truth, and that Meletus is lying." 
 
 This is about all he has to say. He will not entreat the judges 
 to spare his life ; neither will he present a spectacle of weeping 
 children, although he, too, is not made of " rock or oak." Some 
 of the judges themselves may have complied with this practice 
 on similar occasions, and he trusts that they will not be angry 
 with him for not following their example. But he feels that 
 such conduct brings discredit on the name of Athens ; he feels, 
 too, that the judge has sworn not to give away justice; and 
 he cannot be guilty of the impiety of asking the judge to for- 
 swear himself, when he is himself being tried for impiety. 
 
 As he expected, and probably intended, he is convicted. And 
 now the tone of the speech, instead of being more conciliatory, 
 becomes more lofty and commanding. Anytus proposes death 
 as the penalty; and what counter proposition shall he make? 
 He, the benefactor of the Athenian people, whose whole life 
 has been spent in doing them good, should at least have the 
 Olympic victor's reward of maintenance in the Prytaneum. 
 Or why should he propose any counter penalty when he does 
 not know whether death, which Anytus proposes, is a good or 
 an evil? and he is certain that imprisonment is an evil, exile 
 is an evil. Loss of money might be no evil, but then he has 
 none to give ; perhaps he can make up a mina. Let that then 
 be the penalty, or, if his friends wish, thirty minae; for this 
 they will be excellent securities. 
 
 [He is condemned to death.] 
 
 He is an old man already, and the Athenians will gain noth- 
 ing but disgrace by depriving him of a few years of life. Per- 
 haps he could have escaped, if he had chosen to throw down 
 his arms and entreat for his life. But he does not at all repent
 
 INTRODUCTION TO THE APOLOGY 7 
 
 of the manner of his defence ; he would rather die in his own 
 fashion than live in theirs. For the penalty of unrighteousness 
 is swifter than death, and that has already overtaken his ac- 
 cusers as death will soon overtake him. 
 
 And now, as one who is about to die, he will prophesy to 
 them. They have put him to death in order to escape the 
 necessity of giving an account of their lives. But his death 
 " will be the seed " of many disciples who will convict them 
 of their evil ways, and will come forth to reprove them in 
 harsher terms, because they are younger and more incon- 
 siderate. 
 
 He would like to say a few words, while there is time, to 
 those who would have acquitted him. He wishes them to 
 know that the divine sign never interrupted him in the course 
 of his defence ; the reason of which, as he conjectures, is that 
 the death to which he is going is a good and not an evil. For 
 either death is a long sleep, the best of sleeps, or a journey 
 to another world in which the souls of the death are gathered 
 together, and in which there may be a hope of seeing the 
 heroes of old in which, too, there are just judges ; and as all 
 are immortal, there can be no fear of anyone being put to 
 death for his opinions. 
 
 Nothing evil can happen to the good man either in life or 
 death, and his own death has been permitted by the gods, be- 
 cause it was better for him to depart; and therefore he for- 
 gives his judges because they have done him no harm, although 
 they never meant to do him any good. 
 
 He has a last request to make to them that they will trouble 
 his sons as he has troubled them, if they appear to prefer riches 
 to virtue, or think themselves something when they are nothing. 
 
 " Few persons will be found to wish that Socrates should 
 have defended himself otherwise " if, as we must add, his 
 defence was that with which Plato has provided him. But 
 leaving this question, which does not admit of a precise solu- 
 tion, we may go on to ask what was the impression which Plato 
 in the " Apology " intended to leave of the character and con- 
 duct of his master in the last great scene? Did he intend to 
 represent him (i) as employing sophistries? (2) as de- 
 signedly irritating the judges? Or are these sophistries to be
 
 8 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 regarded as belonging to the age in which he lived and to his 
 personal character, and this apparent haughtiness as flowing 
 from the natural elevation of his position? 
 
 For example, when he says that it is absurd to suppose that 
 one man is the corrupter and all the rest of the world the 
 improvers of the youth ; or, when he argues that he never 
 could have corrupted the men with whom he had to live; or, 
 when he proves his belief in the gods because he believes in the 
 sons of gods, is he serious or jesting? It may be observed that 
 these sophisms all occur in his cross-examination of Meletus, 
 who is easily foiled and mastered in the hands of the great 
 dialectician. Perhaps he regarded these answers as all of them 
 good enough for his accuser (he makes very light of him 
 throughout). Also it may be noted that there is a touch of 
 irony in all of them, which takes them out of the category of 
 sophistry. 
 
 That the manner in which he defends himself about the 
 lives of his disciples is not satisfactory, can hardly be denied. 
 Fresh in the memory of the Athenians, and detestable as they 
 deserved to be to the newly restored democracy, were the 
 names of Alcibiades, Critias, Charmides. It is obviously not 
 a sufficient answer that Socrates had never professed to teach 
 them anything, and is therefore not justly chargeable with their 
 crimes. Yet the defence, when taken out of this ironical form, 
 is doubtless sound: that his teaching had nothing to do with 
 their evil lives. Here, then, the sophistry is rather in form 
 than in substance, though we might desire that to such a 
 serious charge Socrates had given a more serious answer. 
 
 Truly characteristic of Socrates is another point in his an- 
 swer, which may also be regarded as sophistical. He says that 
 " if he has corrupted the youth, he must have corrupted them 
 involuntarily." In these words the Socratic doctrine of the 
 involuntariness of evil is clearly intended to be conveyed. But 
 if, as Socrates argues, all evil is involuntary, then all criminals 
 ought to be admonished and not punished. Here again, as in 
 the former instance, the defence of Socrates, which is untrue 
 practically, may yet be true in some ideal or transcendental 
 sense. The commonplace reply, that if he had been guilty of 
 corrupting the youth, their relations would surely have wit- 
 nessed against him, with which he concludes this part of his 
 defence, is more satisfactory.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO THE APOLOGY 9 
 
 Again, when Socrates argues that he must believe in the 
 gods because he believes in the sons of gods, we must remem- 
 ber that this is a refutation not of the original indictment, which 
 is consistent enough " Socrates does not receive the gods 
 whom the city receives, and has other new divinities " but of 
 the interpretation put upon the words by Meletus, who has 
 affirmed that he is a downright atheist. To this Socrates fairly 
 answers, in accordance with the ideas of the time, that a 
 downright atheist cannot believe in the sons of gods or in divine 
 things. The notion that demons or lesser divinities are the 
 sons of gods is not to be regarded as ironical or sceptical. But 
 the love of argument may certainly have led Plato to relapse 
 into the mythological point of view, and prevented him from 
 observing that the reasoning is only formally correct. 
 
 The second question, whether Plato meant to represent 
 Socrates as needlessly braving or irritating his judges, must 
 also be answered in the negative. His irony, his superiority, 
 his audacity, " regarding not the person of man," necessarily 
 flow out of the loftiness of his situation. He is not acting a 
 part upon a great occasion, but he is what he has been all his 
 life long, " a king of men." He would rather not appear in- 
 solent, if he could avoid this. He is not desirous of hastening 
 his own end, for life and death are simply indifferent to him. 
 But neither will he say or do anything which might avert the 
 penalty ; he cannot have his tongue bound, even in the "throat 
 of death " : his natural character must appear. He is quite 
 willing to make his defence to posterity and to the world, for 
 that is a true defence. But such a defence as would be accept- 
 able to his judges and might procure an acquittal, it is not in 
 his nature to make. With his actual accusers he will only 
 fence and play. The singularity of the mission which he 
 ascribes to himself is a great reason for believing that he 
 is serious in his account of the motives which actuated him. 
 The dedication of his life to the improvement of his fellow- 
 citizens is not so remarkable as the ironical spirit in which 
 he goes about doing good to all men only in vindication of the 
 credit of the oracle, and in the vain hope of finding a wiser 
 man than himself. Yet this singular and almost accidental 
 character of his mission agrees with the divine sign which, 
 according to our notions, is equally accidental and irrational, 
 and is nevertheless accepted by him as the guiding principle
 
 10 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 in his life. Nor must we forget that Socrates is nowhere 
 represented to us as a freethinker or sceptic. There is no 
 reason whatever to doubt his sincerity when he implies his 
 belief in the divinity of the sun and moon, or when he specu- 
 lates on the possibility of seeing and knowing the heroes of 
 the Trojan War in another world. On the other hand, his 
 hope of immortality is uncertain ; he also conceives of death 
 as a long sleep (in this respect differing from the " Phsedo "), 
 and at last falls back on resignation to the divine will, and 
 the certainty that no evil can happen to the good man either 
 in life or death. His absolute truthfulness seems to hinder 
 him from asserting positively more than this. The irony of 
 Socrates is not a mask which he puts on at will, but flows 
 necessarily out of his character and out of his relation to 
 mankind. This, which is true of him generally, is especially 
 true of the last memorable act, in which his life is summed up. 
 Such irony is not impaired but greatly heightened by a sort of 
 natural simplicity. 
 
 It has been remarked that the prophecy at the end, of a new 
 generation of teachers who would rebuke and exhort the Athen- 
 ian people in harsher and more violent terms, as far as we 
 know was never fulfilled. No inference can be drawn from 
 this circumstance as to the probability of their having been 
 actually uttered. They express the aspiration of the first mar- 
 tyr of philosophy, that he would leave behind him many fol- 
 lowers, accompanied by the not unnatural feeling that they 
 would be fiercer and more inconsiderate in their words when 
 emancipated from his control. 
 
 The above remarks must be understood as applying with any 
 degree of certainty to the Platonic Socrates only. For, how- 
 ever probable it may be that these or similar words may have 
 been spoken by Socrates himself, we cannot exclude the pos- 
 sibility that like so much else, e.g. the wisdom of Critias, the 
 poem of Solon, the virtues of Charmides, they may have been 
 due only to the imagination of Plato.
 
 SOCRA TES. 
 
 Photogravure from a bust in the Villa Albam.
 
 THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES 
 
 HOW you have felt, O men of Athens, at hearing the 
 speeches of my accusers, I cannot tell; but I know 
 that their persuasive words almost made me forget 
 who I was, such was the effect of them; and yet they have 
 hardly spoken a word of truth. But many as their falsehoods 
 were, there was one of them which quite amazed me: I mean 
 when they told you to be upon your guard, and not to let 
 yourself be deceived by the force of my eloquence. They 
 ought to have been ashamed of saying this, because they were 
 sure to be detected as soon as I opened my lips and displayed 
 my deficiency; they certainly did appear to be most shameless 
 in saying this, unless by the force of eloquence they mean 
 the force of truth ; for then I do indeed admit that I am elo- 
 quent. But in how different a way from theirs! Well, as I 
 was saying, they have hardly uttered a word, or not more than 
 a word, of truth ; but you shall hear from me the whole truth : 
 not, however, delivered after their manner, in a set oration 
 duly ornamented with words and phrases. No, indeed! but 
 I shall use the words and arguments which occur to me at 
 the moment; for I am certain that this is right, and that at 
 my time of life I ought not to be appearing before you, O 
 men of Athens, in the character of a juvenile orator: let no 
 one expect this of me. And I must beg of you to grant me 
 one favor, which is this if you hear me using the same words 
 in my defence which I have been in the habit of using, and 
 which most of you may have heard in the agora, and at the 
 tables of the money-changers, or anywhere else, I would ask 
 you not to be surprised at this, and not to interrupt me. For 
 I am more than seventy years of age, and this is the first time 
 that I have ever appeared in a court of law, and I am quite 
 a stranger to the ways of the place ; and therefore I would have 
 you regard me as if I were really a stranger, whom you 
 
 ft
 
 12 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 would excuse if he spoke in his native tongue, and after the 
 fashion of his country: that I think is not an unfair request. 
 Never mind the manner, which may or may not be good ; but 
 think only of the justice of my cause, and give heed to that: 
 let the judge decide justly and the speaker speak truly. 
 
 And first, I have to reply to the older charges and to my 
 first accusers, and then I will go on to the later ones. For 
 I have had many accusers, who accused me of old, and their 
 false charges have continued during many years ; and I am 
 more afraid of them than of Anytus and his associates, who 
 are dangerous, too, in their own way. But far more danger- 
 ous are these, who began when you were children, and took 
 possession of your minds with their falsehoods, telling of one 
 Socrates, a wise man, who speculated about the heaven above, 
 and searched into the earth beneath, and made the worse 
 appear the better cause. These are the accusers whom I dread ; 
 for they are the circulators of this rumor, and their hearers 
 are too apt to fancy that speculators of this sort do not believe 
 in the gods. And they are many, and their charges against 
 me are of ancient date, and they made them in days when 
 you were impressible in childhood, or perhaps in youth 
 and the cause when heard went by default, for there was 
 none to answer. And, hardest of all, their names I do not 
 know and cannot tell ; unless in the chance case of a comic poet. 
 But the main body of these slanderers who from envy and 
 malice have wrought upon you and there are some of them 
 who are convinced themselves, and impart their convictions to 
 others all these, I say, are most difficult to deal with; for 
 I cannot have them up here, and examine them, and therefore 
 Imust simply fight with shadows in my own defence, and ex- 
 amine when there is no one who answers. I will ask you then 
 to assume with me, as I was saying, that my opponents are 
 of two kinds one recent, the other ancient ; and I hope that 
 you will see the propriety of my answering the latter first, 
 for these accusations you heard long before the others, and 
 much oftener. 
 
 Well, then, I will make my defence, and I will endeavor 
 in the short time which is allowed to do away with this evil 
 opinion of me which you have held for such a long time ; and 
 I hope that I may succeed, if this be well for you and me, 
 and that my words may find favor with you. But I know that
 
 APOLOGY 13 
 
 to accomplish this is not easy I quite see the nature of the 
 task. Let the event be as God wills: in obedience to the law 
 I make my defence. 
 
 I will begin at the beginning, and ask what the accusation 
 is which has given rise to this slander of me, and which has 
 encouraged Meletus to proceed against me. What do the 
 slanderers say? They shall be my prosecutors, and I will 
 sum up their words in an affidavit : " Socrates is an evil- 
 doer, and a curious person, who searches into things under 
 the earth and in heaven, and he makes the worse appear the 
 better cause ; and he teaches the aforesaid doctrines to others." 
 That is the nature of the accusation, and that is what you have 
 seen yourselves in the comedy of Aristophanes, who has in- 
 troduced a man whom he calls Socrates, going about and say- 
 ing that he can walk in the air, and talking a deal of nonsense 
 concerning matters of which I do not pretend to know either 
 much or little not that I mean to say anything disparaging of 
 anyone who is a student of natural philosophy. I should be 
 very sorry if Meletus could lay that to my charge. But the 
 simple truth is, O Athenians, that I have nothing to do with 
 these studies. Very many of those here present are witnesses 
 to the truth of this, and to them I appeal. Speak then, you who 
 have heard me, and tell your neighbors whether any of you 
 have ever known me hold forth in few words or in many upon 
 matters of this sort. . . . You hear their answer. And 
 from what they say of this you will be able to judge of the 
 truth of the rest. 
 
 As little foundation is there for the report that I am a 
 teacher, and take money; that is no more true than the other. 
 Although, if a man is able to teach, I honor him for being paid. 
 There is Gorgias of Leontium, and Prodicus of Ceos, and 
 Hippias of Elis, who go the round of the cities, and are able 
 to persuade the young men to leave their own citizens, by 
 whom they might be taught for nothing, and come to them, 
 whom they not only pay, but are thankful if they may be al- 
 lowed to pay them. There is actually a Parian philosopher re- 
 siding in Athens, of whom I have heard ; and I came to hear of 
 him in this way : I met a man who has spent a world of money 
 on the Sophists, Callias the son of Hipponicus, and knowing 
 that he had sons, I asked him : " Callias," I said, " if your two 
 sons were foals or calves, there would be no difficulty in finding
 
 I 4 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 someone to put over them; we should hire a trainer of 
 horses or a farmer probably who would improve and 
 perfect them in their own proper virtue and excellence ; 
 but as they are human beings, whom are you thinking of 
 placing over them? Is there anyone who understands human 
 and political virtue? You must have thought about this as 
 you have sons ; is there anyone ? " " There is," he said. " Who 
 is he ? " said I, " and of what country ? and what does he 
 charge ? " " Evenus the Parian," he replied ; " he is the man, 
 and his charge is five minae." Happy is Evenus, I said to 
 myself, if he really has this wisdom, and teaches at such a 
 modest charge. Had I the same, I should have been very 
 proud and conceited ; but the truth is that I have no knowledge 
 of the kind, O Athenians. 
 
 I dare say that some one will ask the question, " Why is 
 this, Socrates, and what is the origin of these accusations of 
 you: for there must have been something strange which you 
 have been doing? All this great fame and talk about you 
 would never have arisen if you had been like other men : tell 
 us, then, why this is, as we should be sorry to judge hastily 
 of you." Now I regard this as a fair challenge, and I will 
 endeavor to explain to you the origin of this name of " wise," 
 and of this evil fame. Please to attend them. And although 
 some of you may think that I am joking, I declare that I will 
 tell you the entire truth. Men of Athens, this reputation of 
 mine has come of a certain sort of wisdom which I possess. 
 If you ask me what kind of wisdom, I reply, such wisdom 
 as is attainable by man, for to that extent I am inclined to 
 believe that I am wise; whereas the persons of whom I was 
 speaking have a superhuman wisdom, which I may fail to 
 describe, because I have it not myself; and he who says that 
 I have, speaks falsely, and is taking away my character. And 
 here, O men of Athens, I must beg you not to interrupt me, 
 even if I seem to say something extravagant. For the word 
 which I will speak is not mine. I will refer you to a witness 
 who is worthy of credit, and will tell you about my wisdom 
 whether I have any, and of what sort and that witness shall 
 be the god of Delphi. You must have known Chaerephon; 
 he was early a friend of mine, and also a friend of yours, for 
 he shared in the exile of the people, and returned with you. 
 Well, Chaerephon, as you know, was very impetuous in all his
 
 APOLOGY 15 
 
 doings, and he went to Delphi and boldly asked the oracle 
 to tell him whether as I was saying, I must beg you not to 
 interrupt he asked the oracle to tell him whether there was 
 anyone wiser than I was, and the Pythian prophetess an- 
 swered that there was no man wiser. Chaerephon is dead 
 himself, but his brother, who is in court, will confirm the 
 truth of this story. 
 
 Why do I mention this? Because I am going to explain 
 to you why I have such an evil name. When I heard the 
 answer, I said to myself, What can the god mean? and what 
 is the interpretation of this riddle ? for I know that I have no 
 wisdom, small or great. What can he mean when he says 
 that I am the wisest of men? And yet he is a god and can- 
 not lie; that would be against his nature. After a long con- 
 sideration, I at last thought of a method of trying the ques- 
 tion. I reflected that if I could only find a man wiser 
 than myself, then I might go to the god with a refutation in 
 my hand. I should say to him, " Here is a man who is wiser 
 than I am ; but you said that I was the wisest." Accordingly 
 I went to one who had the reputation of wisdom, and observed 
 to him his name I need not mention ; he was a politician 
 whom I selected for examination and the result was as fol- 
 lows : When I began to talk with him, I could not help think- 
 ing that he was not really wise, although he was thought wise 
 by many, and wiser still by himself; and I went and tried 
 to explain to him that he thought himself wise, but was not 
 really wise; and the consequence was that he hated me, and 
 his enmity was shared by several who were present and heard 
 me. So I left him, saying to myself, as I went away : Well, 
 although I do not suppose that either of us knows anything 
 really beautiful and good, I am better off than he is for he 
 knows nothing, and thinks that he knows. I neither know 
 nor think that I know. In this latter particular, then, I seem 
 to have slightly the advantage of him. Then I went to an- 
 other, who had still higher philosophical pretensions, and my 
 conclusion was exactly the same. I made another enemy of 
 him, and of many others besides him. 
 
 After this I went to one man after another, being not un- 
 conscious of the enmity which I provoked, and I lamented and 
 feared this: but necessity was laid upon me the word of 
 God, I thought, ought to be considered first. And I said to
 
 16 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 myself, Go I must to all who appear to know, and find out 
 the meaning of the oracle. And I swear to you, Athenians, 
 by the dog I swear ! for I must tell you the truth the result 
 of my mission was just this: I found that the men most in 
 repute were all but the most foolish; and that some inferior 
 men were really wiser and better. I will tell you the tale of 
 my wanderings and of the " Herculean " labors, as I may 
 call them, which I endured only to find at last the oracle 
 irrefutable. When I left the politicians, I went to the poets; 
 tragic, dithyrambic, and all sorts. And there, I said to my- 
 self, you will be detected ; now you will find out that you are 
 more ignorant than they are. Accordingly, I took them some 
 of the most elaborate passages in their own writings, and 
 asked what was the meaning of them thinking that they 
 would teach me something. Will you believe me? I am 
 almost ashamed to speak of this, but still I must say that there 
 is hardly a person present who would not have talked better 
 about their poetry than they did themselves. That showed 
 me in an instant that not by wisdom do poets write poetry, 
 but by a sort of genius and inspiration ; they are like diviners 
 or soothsayers who also say many fine things, but do not un- 
 derstand the meaning of them. And the poets appeared to me 
 to be much in the same case; and I further observed that 
 upon the strength of their poetry they believed themselves to 
 be the wisest of men in other things in which they were not 
 wise. So I departed, conceiving myself to be superior to them 
 for the same reason that I was superior to the politicians. 
 
 At last I went to the artisans, for I was conscious that I 
 knew nothing at all, as I may say, and I was sure that they 
 knew many fine things; and in this I was not mistaken, for 
 they did know many things of which I was ignorant, and in 
 this they certainly were wiser than I was. But I observed 
 that even the good artisans fell into the same error as the 
 poets; because they were good workmen they thought that 
 they also knew all sorts of high matters, and this defect in 
 them overshadowed their wisdom therefore I asked myself 
 on behalf of the oracle, whether I would like to be as I was, 
 neither having their knowledge nor their ignorance, or like 
 them in both; and I made answer to myself and the oracle 
 that I was better off as I was. 
 
 This investigation has led to my having many enemies of
 
 APOLOGY 1.7 
 
 the worst and most dangerous kind, and has given occasion 
 also to many calumnies. And I am called wise, for my hearers 
 always imagine that I myself possess the wisdom which I 
 find wanting in others: but the truth is, O men of Athens, 
 that God only is wise; and in this oracle he means to say 
 that the wisdom of men is little or nothing ; he is not speaking 
 of Socrates, he is only using my name as an illustration, as 
 if he said, He, O men, is the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows 
 that his wisdom is in truth worth nothing. And so I go my 
 way, obedient to the god, and make inquisition into the wis- 
 dom of anyone, whether citizen or stranger, who appears to 
 'be wise; and if he is not wise, then in vindication of the 
 oracle I show him that he is not wise; and this occupation 
 quite absorbs me, and I have no time to give either to any 
 public matter of interest or to any concern of my own, but I 
 am in utter poverty by reason of my devotion to the god. 
 
 There is another thing: young men of the richer classes, 
 who have not much to do, come about me of their own accord ; 
 they like to hear the pretenders examined, and they often 
 imitate me, and examine others themselves; there are plenty 
 of persons, as they soon enough discover, who think that they 
 know something, but really know little or nothing: and then 
 those who are examined by them instead of being angry with 
 themselves are angry with me: This confounded Socrates, 
 they say ; this villanous misleader of youth ! and then if 
 somebody asks them, Why, what evil does he practise or 
 teach ? they do not know, and cannot tell ; but in order that 
 they may not appear to be at a loss, they repeat the ready- 
 made charges which are used against all philosophers about 
 teaching things up in the clouds and under the earth, and 
 having no gods, and making the worse appear the better cause ; 
 for they do not like to confess that their pretence of knowl- 
 edge has been detected which is the truth: and as they are 
 numerous and ambitious and energetic, and are all in battle 
 array and have persuasive tongues, they have filled your ears 
 with their loud and inveterate calumnies. And this is the 
 reason why my three accusers, Meletus and Anytus and Lycon, 
 have set upon me: Meletus, who has a quarrel with me on 
 behalf of the poets; Anytus, on behalf of the craftsmen; 
 Lycon, on behalf of the rhetoricians: and as I said at the 
 beginning, I cannot expect to get rid of this mass of calumny
 
 i8 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 all in a moment. And this, O men of Athens, is the truth 
 and the whole truth; I have concealed nothing, I have dis- 
 sembled nothing. And yet I know that this plainness of speech 
 makes them hate me, and what is their hatred but a proof 
 that I am speaking the truth? this is the occasion and rea- 
 son of their slander of me, as you will find out either in this 
 or in any future inquiry. 
 
 I have said enough in my defence against the first class of 
 my accusers; I turn to the second class, who are headed by 
 Meletus, that good and patriotic man, as he calls himself. 
 And now I will try to defend myself against them: these 
 new accusers must also have their affidavit read. What do 
 they say? Something of this sort: That Socrates is a doer 
 of evil, and corrupter of the youth, and he does not believe 
 in the gods of the State, and has other new divinities of his 
 own. That is the sort of charge ; and now let us examine the 
 particular counts. He says that I am a doer of evil, who 
 corrupt the youth ; but I say, O men of Athens, that Meletus 
 is a doer of evil, and the evil is that he makes a joke of a 
 serious matter, and is too ready at bringing other men to trial 
 from a pretended zeal and interest about matters in which 
 he really never had the smallest interest. And the truth of this 
 I will endeavor to prove. 
 
 Come hither, Meletus, and let me ask a question of you. 
 You think a great deal about the improvement of youth? 
 
 Yes, I do. 
 
 Tell the judges, then, who is their improver; for you must 
 know, as you have taken the pains to discover their corrupter, 
 and are citing and accusing me before them. Speak, then, 
 and tell the judges who their improver is. Observe, Meletus, 
 that you are silent, and have nothing to say. But is not this 
 rather disgraceful, and a very considerable proof of what I 
 was saying, that you have no interest in the matter? Speak 
 up, friend, and tell us who their improver is. 
 
 The laws. 
 
 But that, my good sir, is not my meaning. I want to know 
 who the person is, who, in the first place, knows the laws. 
 
 The judges, Socrates, who are present in court. 
 
 What do you mean to say, Meletus, that they are able to 
 instruct and improve youth? 
 
 Certainly they are.
 
 APOLOGY 19 
 
 What, all of them, or some only and not others? 
 
 All of them. 
 
 By the goddess Here, that is good news! There are plenty 
 of improvers, then. And what do you say of the audience 
 do they improve them? 
 
 Yes, they do. 
 
 And the Senators? 
 
 Yes, the Senators improve them. 
 
 But perhaps the ecclesiasts corrupt them? or do they too 
 improve them? 
 
 They improve them. 
 
 Then every Athenian improves and elevates them ; all with 
 the exception of myself; and I alone am their corrupter? Is 
 that what you affirm ? 
 
 That is what I stoutly affirm. 
 
 I am very unfortunate if that is true. But suppose I ask 
 you a question : Would you say that this also holds true in 
 the case of horses? Does one man do them harm and all 
 the world good? Is not the exact opposite of this true? One 
 man is able to do them good, or at least not many ; the trainer 
 of horses, that is to say, does them good, and others who have 
 to do with them rather injure them? Is not that true, Meletus, 
 of horses, or any other animals? Yes, certainly. Whether 
 you and Anytus say yes or no, that is no matter. Happy 
 indeed would be the condition of youth if they had one cor- 
 rupter only, and all the rest of the world were their improvers. 
 And you, Meletus, have sufficiently shown that you never 
 had a thought about the young: your carelessness is seen 
 in your not caring about the matters spoken of in this very 
 indictment. 
 
 And now, Meletus, I must ask you another question : Which 
 is better, to live among bad citizens, or among good ones? 
 Answer, friend, I say; for that is a question which may be 
 easily answered. Do not the good do their neighbors good, 
 and the bad do them evil? 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 And is there anyone who would rather be injured than bene- 
 fited by those who live with him ? Answer, my good friend ; 
 the law requires you to answer does anyone like to be in- 
 jured ? 
 
 Certainly not.
 
 20 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 And when you accuse me of corrupting and deteriorating 
 the youth, do you allege that I corrupt them intentionally or 
 unintentionally ? 
 
 Intentionally, I say. 
 
 But you have just admitted that the good do their neigh- 
 bors good, and the evil do them evil. Now is that a truth 
 which your superior wisdom has recognized thus early in life, 
 and am I, at my age, in such darkness and ignorance as not 
 to know that if a man with whom I have to live is corrupted 
 by me, I am very likely to be harmed by him, and yet I cor- 
 rupt him, and intentionally, too? that is what you are saying, 
 and of that you will never persuade me or any other human 
 being. But either I do not corrupt them, or I corrupt them 
 unintentionally, so that on either view of the case you lie. 
 If my offense is unintentional, the law has no cognizance of 
 unintentional offenses : you ought to have taken me privately, 
 and warned and admonished me; for if I had been better 
 advised, I should have left off doing what I only did unin- 
 tentionally no doubt I should; whereas you hated to con- 
 verse with me or teach me, but you indicted me in this court, 
 which is a place, not of instruction, but of punishment. 
 
 I have shown, Athenians, as I was saying, that Meletus has 
 no care at all, great or small, about the matter. But still I 
 should like to know, Meletus, in what I am affirmed to corrupt 
 the young. I suppose you mean, as I infer from your indict- 
 ment, that I teach them not to acknowledge the gods which 
 the State acknowledges, but some other new divinities or 
 spiritual agencies in their stead. These are the lessons which 
 corrupt the youth, as you say. 
 
 Yes, that I say emphatically. 
 
 Then, by the gods, Meletus, of whom we are speaking, tell 
 me and the court, in somewhat plainer terms, what you mean ! 
 for I do not as yet understand whether you affirm that I teach 
 others to acknowledge some gods, and therefore do "believe 
 in gods and am not an entire atheist this you do not lay 
 to my charge ; but only that they are not the same gods which 
 the city recognizes the charge is that they are different gods 
 Or, do you mean to say that I am an atheist simply, and a 
 teacher of atheism? 
 
 I mean the latter that you are a complete atheist. 
 
 That is an extraordinary statement, Meletus. Why do
 
 APOLOGY 21 
 
 you say that ? Do you mean that I do not believe in the god- 
 head of the sun or moon, which is the common creed of all men ? 
 
 I assure you, judges, that he does not believe in them; for 
 he says that the sun is stone, and the moon earth. 
 
 Friend Meletus, you think that you are accusing Anaxag- 
 oras: and you have but a bad opinion of the judges, if you 
 fancy them ignorant to such a degree as not to know that 
 those doctrines are found in the books of Anaxagoras the 
 Clazomenian, who is full of them. And these are the doc- 
 trines which the youth are said to learn of Socrates, when 
 there are not unfrequently exhibitions of them at the theatre* 
 (price of admission one drachma at the most) ; and they might 
 cheaply purchase them, and laugh at Socrates if he pretends 
 to father such eccentricities. And so, Meletus, you really 
 think that I do not believe in any god? 
 
 I swear by Zeus that you believe absolutely in none at all. 
 
 You are a liar, Meletus, not believed even by yourself. For 
 I cannot help thinking, O men of Athens, that Meletus is 
 reckless and impudent, and that he has written this indict- 
 ment in a spirit of mere wantonness and youthful bravado. 
 Has he not compounded a riddle, thinking to try me? He 
 said to himself: I shall see whether this wise Socrates will 
 discover my ingenious contradiction, or whether I shall be 
 able to deceive him and the rest of them. For he certainly 
 does appear to me to contradict himself in the indictment as 
 much as if he said that Socrates is guilty of not believing 
 in the gods, and yet of believing in them but this surely is a 
 piece of fun. 
 
 I should like you, O men of Athens, to join me in examin- 
 ing what I conceive to be his inconsistency; and do you, 
 Meletus, answer. And I must remind you that you are not 
 to interrupt me if I speak in my accustomed manner. 
 
 Did ever man, Meletus, believe in the existence of human 
 things, and not of human beings? ... I wish, men of 
 Athens, that he would answer, and not be always trying to 
 get up an interruption. Did ever any man believe in horse- 
 manship, and not in horses? or in flute-playing, and not in 
 flute-players? No, my friend; I will answer to you and to 
 
 * Probably in allusion to Aristophanes, who caricatured, and to Euripi- 
 des, who borrowed, the notions of Anaxagoras, as well as to other 
 dramatic poets.
 
 22 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 the court, as you refuse to answer for yourself. There is no 
 man who ever did. But now please to answer the next ques- 
 tion: Can a man believe in spiritual and divine agencies, and 
 not in spirits or demigods? 
 
 He cannot. 
 
 I am glad that I have extracted that answer, by the assist- 
 ance of the court; nevertheless you swear in the indictment 
 that I teach and believe in divine or spiritual agencies (new 
 or old, no matter for that) ; at any rate, I believe in spiritual 
 agencies, as you say and swear in the affidavit; but if I 
 believe in divine beings, I must believe in spirits or demigods ; 
 is not that true ? Yes, that is true, for I may assume that your 
 silence gives assent to that. Now what are spirits or demi- 
 gods? are they not either gods or the sons of gods? Is that 
 true? 
 
 Yes, that is true. 
 
 But this is just the ingenious riddle of which I was speak- 
 ing: the demigods or spirits are gods, and you say first that 
 I don't believe in gods, and then again that I do believe in 
 gods; that is, if I believe in demigods. For if the demigods 
 are the illegitimate sons of gods, whether by the Nymphs or 
 by any other mothers, as is thought, that, as all men will 
 allow, necessarily implies the existence of their parents. You 
 might as well affirm the existence of mules, and deny that of 
 horses and asses. Such nonsense, Meletus, could only have 
 been intended by you as a trial of me. You have put this 
 into the indictment because you had nothing real of which to 
 accuse me. But no one who has a particle of understanding 
 will ever be convinced by you that the same man can believe 
 in divine and superhuman things, and yet not believe that 
 there are gods and demigods and heroes. 
 
 I have said enough in answer to the charge of Meletus: 
 any elaborate defence is unnecessary ; but as I was saying 
 before, I certainly have many enemies, and this is what will 
 be my destruction if I am destroyed ; of that I am certain ; 
 not Meletus, nor yet Anytus, but the envy and detraction of 
 the world, which has been the death of many good men, and 
 will probably be the death of many more; there is no danger 
 of my being the last of them. 
 
 Someone will say : And are you not ashamed, Socrates, of a 
 course of life which is likely to bring you to an untimely end ?
 
 APOLOGY 23 
 
 To him I may fairly answer: There you are mistaken: a 
 man who is good for anything ought not to calculate the 
 chance of living or dying ; he ought only to consider whether 
 in doing anything he is doing right or wrong acting the 
 part of a good man or of a bad. Whereas, according to your 
 view, the heroes who fell at Troy were not good for much, 
 and the son of Thetis above all, who altogether despised danger 
 in comparison with disgrace; and when his goddess mother 
 said to him, in his eagerness to slay Hector, that if he avenged 
 his companion Patroclus, and slew Hector, he would die 
 himself " Fate," as she said, " waits upon you next after 
 Hector " ; he, hearing this, utterly despised danger and death, 
 and instead of fearing them, feared rather to live in dishonor, 
 and not to avenge his friend. " Let me die next," he replies, 
 " and be avenged of my enemy, rather than abide here by 
 the beaked ships, a scorn and a burden of the earth." Had 
 Achilles any thought of death and danger? For wherever 
 a man's place is, whether the place which he has chosen or 
 that in which he has been placed by a commander, there he 
 ought to remain in the hour of danger; he should not think 
 of death or of anything, but of disgrace. And this, O men of 
 \thens, is a true saying. 
 
 Strange, indeed, would be my conduct, O men of Athens, 
 if I who, when I was ordered by the generals whom you 
 chose to command me at Potidaea and Amphipolis and Delium, 
 remained where they placed me, like any other man, facing 
 death if, I say, now, when, as I conceive and imagine, God 
 orders me to fulfil the philosopher's mission of searching into 
 myself and other men, I were to desert my post through fear 
 of death, or any other fear; that would indeed be strange, 
 and I might justly be arraigned in court for denying the exist- 
 ence of the gods, if I disobeyed the oracle because I was afraid 
 of death: then I should be fancying that I was wise when I 
 was not wise. For this fear of death is indeed the pretence 
 of wisdom, and not real wisdom, being the appearance of 
 knowing the unknown ; since no one knows whether death, 
 which they in their fear apprehend to be the greatest evil, may 
 not be the greatest good. Is there not here conceit of knowl- 
 edge, which is a disgraceful sort of ignorance? And this is 
 the point in which, as I think, I am superior to men in general, 
 and in which I might perhaps fancy myself wiser than other
 
 24 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 men that whereas I know but little of the world below, I 
 do not suppose that I know : but I do know that injustice 
 and disobedience to a better, whether God or man, is evil 
 and dishonorable, and I will never fear or avoid a possible 
 good rather than a certain evil. And therefore if you let me 
 go now, and reject the counsels of Anytus, who said that if 
 1 1 were not put to death I ought not to have been prosecuted, 
 and that if I escape now, your sons will all be utterly ruined 
 by listening to my words if you say to me, Socrates, this 
 time we will not mind Anytus, and will let you off, but upon 
 one condition, that you are not to inquire and speculate in this 
 way any more, and that if you are caught doing this again 
 you shall die if this was the condition on which you let me go, 
 I should reply: Men of Athens, I honor and love you; but 
 I shall obey God rather than you, and while I have life and 
 strength I shall never cease from the practice and teaching 
 of philosophy, exhorting anyone whom I meet after my man- 
 ner, and convincing him, saying: O my friend, why do you, 
 who are a citizen of the great and mighty and wise city of 
 Athens, care so much about laying up the greatest amount 
 of money and honor and reputation, and so little about wis- 
 dom and truth and the greatest improvement of the soul; 
 which you never regard or heed at all ? Are you not ashamed 
 of this? And if the person with whom I am arguing says: 
 Yes, but I do care; I do not depart or let him go at once; 
 I interrogate and examine and cross-examine him, and if I 
 think that he has no virtue, but only says that he has, I re- 
 proach him with undervaluing the greater, and overvaluing 
 the less. And this I should say to everyone whom I meet, 
 young and old, citizen and alien, but especially to the citizens, 
 inasmuch as they are my brethren. For this is the command 
 of God, as I would have you know ; and I believe that to this 
 day no greater good has ever happened in the State than 
 my service to the God. For I do nothing but go about per- 
 suading you all, old and young alike, not to take thought for 
 your persons and your properties, but first and chiefly to care 
 about the greatest improvement of the soul. I tell you that 
 virtue is not given by money, but that from virtue come 
 money and every other good of man, public as well as pri- 
 vate. This is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine which 
 corrupts the youth, my influence is ruinous indeed. But if
 
 APOLOGY S 
 
 anyone says that this is not my teaching, he is speaking an 
 untruth. Wherefore, O men of Athens, I say to you, do as 
 Anytus bids or not as Anytus bids, and either acquit me or 
 not; but whatever you do, know that I shall never alter my 
 ways, not even if I have to die many times. 
 
 Men of Athens, do not interrupt, but hear me; there was 
 an agreement between us that you should hear me out. And 
 I think that what I am going to say will do you good : for I 
 have something more to say, at which you may be inclined 
 to cry out ; but I beg that you will not do this. I would have 
 you know that, if you kill such a one as I am, you will 
 injure yourselves more than you will injure me. Meletus and 
 Anytus will not injure me : they cannot ; for it is not in the 
 nature of things that a bad man should injure a better than 
 himself. I do not deny that he may, perhaps, kill him, or 
 drive him into exile, or deprive him of civil rights; and he 
 may imagine, and others may imagine, that he is doing him 
 a great injury : but in that I do not agree with him ; for the 
 evil of doing as Anytus is doing of unjustly taking away 
 another man's life is greater far. And now, Athenians, I 
 am not going to argue for my own sake, as you may think, 
 but for yours, that you may not sin against the God, or lightly 
 reject his boon by condemning me. For if you kill me you 
 will not easily find another like me, who, if I may use such a 
 ludicrous figure of speech, am a sort of gadfly, given to the 
 State by the God; and the State is like a great and noble 
 steed who is tardy in his motions owing to his very size, and 
 requires to be stirred into life. I am that gadfly which God 
 has given the State, and all day long and in all places am 
 always fastening upon you, arousing and persuading and re- 
 proaching you. And as you will not easily find another like 
 me, I would advise you to spare me. I dare say that you may 
 feel irritated at being suddenly awakened when you are caught 
 napping; and you may think that if you were to strike me 
 dead, as Anytus advises, which you easily might, then you 
 would sleep on for the remainder of your lives, unless God 
 in his care of you gives you another gadfly. And that I 
 am given to you by God is proved by this : that if I had been 
 like other men, I should not have neglected all my own con- 
 cerns, or patiently seen the neglect of them during all these 
 years, and have been doing yours, coming to you individually,
 
 26 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 like a father or elder brother, exhorting you to regard virtue ; 
 this, I say, would not be like human nature. And had I gained 
 anything, or if my exhortations had been paid, there would 
 have been some sense in that : but now, as you will perceive, 
 not even the impudence of my accusers dares to say that I 
 have ever exacted or sought pay of anyone ; they have no wit- 
 ness of that. And I have a witness of the truth of what I 
 say; my poverty is a sufficient witness. 
 
 Someone may wonder why I go about in private, giving 
 advice and busying myself with the concerns of others, but 
 do not venture to come forward in public and advise the State. 
 I will tell you the reason of this. You have often heard me 
 speak of an oracle or sign which comes to me, and is the 
 divinity which Meletus ridicules in the indictment. This sign 
 I have had ever since I was a child. The sign is a voice which 
 comes to me and always forbids me to do something which 
 I am going to do, but never commands me to do anything, 
 and this is what stands in the way of my being a politician. 
 And rightly, as I think. For I am certain, O men of Athens, 
 that if I had engaged in politics, I should have perished long 
 ago, and done no good either to you or to myself. And don't 
 be offended at my telling you the truth : for the truth is that 
 no man who goes to war with you or any other multitude, 
 honestly struggling against the commission of unrighteousness 
 and wrong in the State, will save his life ; he who will really 
 fight for the right, if he would live even for a little while, must 
 have a private station and not a public one. 
 
 I can give you as proofs of this, not words only, but deeds, 
 which you value more than words. Let me tell you a passage 
 of my own life, which will prove to you that I should never 
 have yielded to injustice from any fear of death, and that if 
 I had not yielded I should have died at once. I will tell you 
 a story tasteless, perhaps, and commonplace, but nevertheless 
 true. The only office of State which I ever held, O men of 
 Athens, was that of Senator; the tribe Antiochis, which is 
 my tribe, had the presidency at the trial of the generals who 
 had not taken up the bodies of the slain after the battle of 
 Arginusae; and you proposed to try them all together, which 
 was illegal, as you all thought afterwards ; but at the time I 
 was the only one of the Prytanes who was opposed to the 
 illegality, and I gave my vote against you; and when the
 
 APOLOGY 27 
 
 orators threatened to impeach and arrest me, and have me 
 taken away, and you called and shouted, I made up my mind 
 that I would run the risk, having law and justice with me, 
 rather than take part in your injustice because I feared im- 
 prisonment and death. This happened in the days of the 
 democracy. But when the oligarchy of the Thirty was in 
 power, they sent for me and four others into the rotunda, and 
 bade us bring Leon the Salaminian from Salami s, as they 
 wanted to execute him. This was a specimen of the sort of 
 commands which they were always giving with the view of 
 implicating as many as possible in their crimes; and then I 
 showed, not in words only, but in deed, that, if I may be 
 allowed to use such an expression, I cared not a straw for 
 death, and that my only fear was the fear of doing an un- 
 righteous or unholy thing. For the strong arm of that op- 
 pressive power did not frighten me into doing wrong; and 
 when we came out of the rotunda the other four went to 
 Salamis and fetched Leon, but I went quietly home. For 
 which I might have lost my life, had not the power of the 
 Thirty shortly afterwards come to an end. And to this many 
 will witness. 
 
 Now do you really imagine that I could have survived all 
 these years, if I had led a public life, supposing that like 
 a good man I had always supported the right and had made 
 justice, as I ought, the first thing? No, indeed, men of Athens, 
 neither I nor any other. But I have been always the same 
 in all my actions, public as well as private, and never have I 
 yielded any base compliance to those who are slanderously 
 termed my disciples, or to any other. For the truth is that 
 I have no regular disciples: but if anyone likes to come and 
 hear me while I am pursuing my mission, whether he be young 
 or old, he may freely come. Nor do I converse with those 
 who pay only, and not with those who do not pay; but any- 
 one, whether he be rich or poor, may ask and answer me and 
 listen to my words ; and whether he turns out to be a bad man 
 or a good one, that cannot be justly laid to my charge, as I 
 never taught him anything. And if anyone says that he has 
 ever learned or heard anything from me in private which all 
 the world has not heard, I should like you to know that he is 
 speaking an untruth. 
 
 But I shall be asked, Why do people delight in continually
 
 28 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 conversing with you ? I have told you already, Athenians, the 
 whole truth about this : they like to hear the cross-examination 
 of the pretenders to wisdom ; there is amusement in this. And 
 this is a duty which the God has imposed upon me, as I am 
 assured by oracles, visions, and in every sort of way in which 
 the will of divine power was ever signified to anyone. This 
 is true, O Athenians; or, if not true, would be soon refuted. 
 For if I am really corrupting the youth, and have corrupted 
 some of them already, those of them who have grown up and 
 have become sensible that I gave them bad advice in the days 
 of their youth should come forward as accusers and take their 
 revenge ; and if they do not like to come themselves, some of 
 their relatives, fathers, brothers, or other kinsmen, should say 
 what evil their families suffered at my hands. Now is their 
 time. Many of them I see in the court. There is Crito, who is 
 of the same age and of the same deme with myself; and 
 there is Critobulus his son, whom I also see. Then again there 
 is Lysanias of Sphettus, who is the father of ^Eschines he 
 is present ; and also there is Antiphon of Cephisus, who is the 
 father of Epigenes ; and there are the brothers of several who 
 have associated with me. There is Nicostratus the son of 
 Theosdotides, and the brother of Theodotus (now Theodotus 
 himself is dead, and therefore he, at any rate, will not seek 
 to stop him) ; and there is Paralus the son of Demodocus, 
 who had a brother Theages ; and Adeimantus the son of Aris- 
 ton, whose brother Plato is present; and ^lantodorus, who 
 is the brother of Apollodorus, whom I also see. I might 
 mention a great many others, any of whom Meletus should 
 have produced as witnesses in the course of his speech ; and 
 let him still produce them, if he has forgotten; I will make 
 way for him. And let him say, if he has any testimony of the 
 sort which he can produce. Nay, Athenians, the very oppo- 
 site is the truth. For all these are ready to witness on behalf 
 of the corrupter, of the destroyer of their kindred, as Meletus 
 and Anytus call me; not the corrupted youth only there 
 might have been a motive for that but their uncorrupted 
 elder relatives. Why should they too support me with their 
 testimony? Why, indeed, except for the sake of truth and 
 justice, and because they know that I am speaking the truth, 
 and that Meletus is lying. 
 
 Well, Athenians, this and the like of this is nearly all the
 
 APOLOGY 29 
 
 defence which I have to offer. Yet a word more. Perhaps 
 there may be someone who is offended at me, when he calls 
 to mind how he himself, on a similar or even a less serious 
 occasion, had recourse to prayers and supplications with many 
 tears, and how he produced his children in court, which was 
 a moving spectacle, together with a posse of his relations and 
 friends ; whereas I, who am probably in danger of my life, will 
 do none of these things. Perhaps this may come into his 
 mind, and he may be set against me, and vote in anger be- 
 cause he is displeased at this. Now if there be such a person 
 among you, which I am far from affirming, I may fairly 
 reply to him: My friend, I am a man, and like other men, a 
 creature of flesh and blood, and not of wood or stone, as 
 Homer says ; and I have a family, yes, and sons, O Athenians, 
 three in number, one of whom is growing up, and the two 
 others are still young; and yet I will not bring any of them 
 hither in order to petition you for an acquittal. And why not ? 
 Not from any self-will or disregard of you. Whether I am or 
 am not afraid of death is another question, of which I will 
 not now speak. But my reason simply is that I feel such 
 conduct to be discreditable to myself, and you, and the whole 
 State. One who has reached my years, and who has a name 
 for wisdom, w r hether deserved or not, ought not to debase him- 
 self. At any rate, the world has decided that Socrates is in 
 some way superior to other men. And if those among you 
 who are said to be superior in wisdom and courage, and any 
 other virtue, demean themselves in this way, how shameful 
 is their conduct! I have seen men of reputation, when they 
 have been condemned, behaving in the strangest manner : they 
 seemed to fancy that they were going to suffer something 
 dreadful if they died, and that they could be immortal if you 
 only allowed them to live; and I think that they were a dis- 
 honor to the State, and that any stranger coming in would 
 say of them that the most eminent men of Athens, to whom 
 the Athenians themselves give honor and command, are no 
 better than women. And I say that these things ought not to 
 be done by those of us who are of reputation ; and if they 
 are done, you ought not to permit them; you ought rather 
 to show that you are more inclined to condemn, not the man 
 who is quiet, but the man who gets up a doleful scene, and 
 makes the city ridiculous.
 
 3 o DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 But, setting aside the question of dishonor, there seems to 
 be something wrong in petitioning a judge, and thus procur- 
 ing an acquittal instead of informing and convincing him. 
 For his duty is, not to make a present of justice, but to give 
 judgment; and he has sworn that he will judge according to 
 the laws, and not according to his own good pleasure; and 
 neither he nor we should get into the habit of perjuring our- 
 selves there can be no piety in that. Do not then require 
 me to do what I consider dishonorable and impious and wrong, 
 especially now, when I am being tried for impiety on the in- 
 dictment of Meletus. For if, O men of Athens, by force of 
 persuasion and entreaty, I could overpower your oaths, then 
 I should be teaching you to believe that there are no gods, 
 and convict myself, in my own defence, of not believing in 
 them. But that is not the case; for I do believe that there 
 are gods, and in a far higher sense than that in which any 
 of my accusers believe in them. And to you and to God I 
 commit my cause, to be determined by you as is best for you 
 and me. 
 
 There are many reasons why I am not grieved, O men of 
 Athens, at the vote of condemnation. I expected this, and 
 am only surprised that the votes are so nearly equal; for I 
 had thought that the majority against me would have been 
 far larger; but now, had thirty votes gone over to the other 
 side, I should have been acquitted. And I may say that I 
 have escaped Meletus. And I may say more; for without 
 the assistance of Anytus and Lycon, he would not have had 
 a fifth part of the votes, as the law requires, in which case 
 he would have incurred a fine of a thousand drachmae, as is 
 evident. 
 
 And so he proposes death as the penalty. And what shall 
 I propose on my part, O men of Athens? Clearly that which 
 is my due. And what is that which I ought to pay or to re- 
 ceive? What shall be done to the man who has never had 
 the wit to be idle during his whole life ; but has been care- 
 less of what the many care about wealth and family inter- 
 ests, and military offices, and speaking in the assembly, and 
 magistracies, and plots, and parties. Reflecting that I was 
 really too honest a man to follow in this way and live, I did 
 not go where I could do no good to you or to myself; but
 
 APOLOGY 31 
 
 where I could do the greatest good privately to everyone of 
 you, thither I went, and sought to persuade every man among 
 you that he must look to himself, and seek virtue and wis- 
 dom before he looks to his private interests, and look to the 
 State before he looks to the interests of the State; and that 
 this should be the order which he observes in all his actions. 
 What shall be done to such a one ? Doubtless some ' good 
 thing, O men of Athens, if he has his reward ; and the good 
 should be of a kind suitable to him. What would be a reward 
 suitable to a poor man who is your benefactor, who desires 
 leisure that he may instruct you? There can be no more 
 fitting reward than maintenance in the Prytaneum, O men of 
 Athens, a reward which he deserves far more than the citizen 
 who has won the prize at Olympia in the horse or chariot 
 race, whether the chariots were drawn by two horses or by 
 many. For I am in want, and he has enough ; and he only 
 gives you the appearance of happiness, and I give you the 
 reality. And if I am to estimate the penalty justly, I say that 
 maintenance in the Prytaneum is the just return. 
 
 Perhaps you may think that I am braving you in saying 
 this, as in what I said before about the tears and prayers. 
 But that is not the case. I speak rather because I am con- 
 vinced that I never intentionally wronged anyone, although 
 I cannot convince you of that for we have had a short con- 
 versation only; but if there were a law at Athens, such as 
 there is in other cities, that a capital cause should not be 
 decided in one day, then I believe that I should have con- 
 vinced you ; but now the time is too short. I cannot in a 
 moment refute great slanders; and, as I am convinced that I 
 never wronged another, I will assuredly not wrong myself. I 
 will not say of myself that I deserve any evil, or propose any 
 penalty. Why should I ? Because I am afraid of the penalty 
 of death which Meletus proposes? When I do not know 
 whether death is a good or an evil, why should I propose a 
 penalty which would certainly be an evil? Shall I say im- 
 prisonment? And why should I live in prison, and be the 
 slave of the magistrates of the year of the Eleven ? Or shall 
 the penalty be a fine, and imprisonment until the fine is paid ? 
 There is the same objection. I should have to lie in prison, 
 for money I have none, and cannot pay. And if I say 
 exile (and this may possibly be the penalty which you will
 
 32 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 affix), I must indeed be blinded by the love of life if I were 
 to consider that when you, who are my own citizens, cannot 
 endure my discourses and words, and have found them so 
 grievous and odious that you would fain have done with 
 them, others are likely to endure me. No, indeed, men of 
 Athens, that is not very likely. And what a life should I 
 lead, at my age, wandering from city to city, living in ever- 
 changing exile, and always being driven out ! For I am quite 
 sure that into whatever place I go, as here so also there, the 
 young men will come to me ; and if I drive them away, their 
 elders will drive me out at their desire: and if I let them 
 come, their fathers and friends will drive me out for their 
 sakes. 
 
 Someone will say : Yes, Socrates, but cannot you hold your 
 tongue, and then you may go into a foreign city, and no one 
 will interfere with you ? Now I have great difficulty in making 
 you understand my answer to this. For if I tell you that this 
 would be a disobedience to a divine command, and therefore 
 that I cannot hold my tongue, you will not believe that I am 
 serious; and if I say again that the greatest good of man is 
 daily to converse about virtue, and all that concerning which 
 you hear me examining myself and others, and that the life 
 which is unexamined is not worth living thaf you are still 
 less likely to believe. And yet what I say is true, although 
 a thing of which it is hard for me to persuade you. More- 
 over, I am not accustomed to think that I deserve any punish- 
 ment. Had I money I might have proposed to give you what 
 I had, and have been none the worse. But you see that I 
 have none, and can only ask you to proportion the fine to 
 my means. However, I think that I could afford a mina, and 
 therefore I propose that penalty: Plato, Crito, Critobulus, 
 and Apollodorus, my friends here, bid me say thirty minse, 
 and they will be the sureties. Well, then, say thirty minae, let 
 that be the penalty ; for that they will be ample security to you. 
 
 Not much time will be gained, O Athenians, in return for 
 the evil name which you will get from the detractors of the 
 city, who will say that you killed Socrates, a wise man ; for 
 they will call me wise even although I am not wise when they 
 want to reproach you. If you had waited a little while, your 
 desire would have been fulfilled in the course of nature. For 
 I am far advanced in years, as you may perceive, and not far
 
 APOLOGY 33 
 
 from death. I am speaking now only to those of you who 
 have condemned me to death. And I have another thing to 
 say to them: You think that I was convicted through defi- 
 ciency of words I mean, that if I had thought fit to leave 
 nothing undone, nothing unsaid, I might have gained an ac- 
 quittal. Not so ; the deficiency which led to my conviction was 
 not of words certainly not. But I had not the boldness or 
 impudence or inclination to address you as you would have 
 liked me to address you, weeping and wailing and lamenting, 
 and saying and doing many things which you have been accus- 
 tomed to hear from others, and which, as I say, are unworthy 
 of me. But I thought that I ought not to do anything com- 
 mon or mean in the hour of danger: nor do I now repent of 
 the manner of my defence, and I would rather die having 
 spoken after my manner, than speak in your manner and live. 
 For neither in war nor yet at law ought any man to use every 
 way of escaping death. For often in battle there is no doubt 
 that if a man will throw away his arms, and fall on his knees 
 before his pursuers, he may escape death ; and in other dangers 
 there are other ways of escaping death, if a man is willing 
 to say and do anything. The difficulty, my friends, is not 
 in avoiding death, but in avoiding unrighteousness; for that 
 runs faster than death. I am old and move slowly, and the 
 slower runner has overtaken me, and my accusers are keen 
 and quick, and the faster runner, who is unrighteousness, 
 has overtaken them. And now I depart hence condemned 
 by you to suffer the penalty of death, and they, too, go their 
 ways condemned by the truth to suffer the penalty of villany 
 and wrong; and I must abide by my award let them abide 
 by theirs. I suppose that these things may be regarded as 
 fated and I think that they are well. 
 
 And now, O men who have condemned me, I would fain 
 prophesy to you ; for I am about to die, and that is the hour 
 in which men are gifted with prophetic power. And I prophesy 
 to you who are my murderers, that immediately after my 
 death punishment far heavier than you have inflicted on me 
 will surely await you. Me you have killed because you wanted 
 to escape the accuser, and not to give an account of your 
 lives. But that will not be as you suppose: far otherwise. 
 For I say that there will be more accusers of you than there 
 are now; accusers whom hitherto I have restrained: and as 
 3
 
 34 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 they are younger they will be more severe with you, and you 
 will be more offended at them. For if you think that by 
 killing men you can avoid the accuser censuring your lives, 
 you are mistaken; that is not a way of escape which is either 
 possible or honorable; the easiest and the noblest way is 
 not to be crushing others, but to be improving yourselves. 
 This is the prophecy which I utter before my departure, to 
 the judges who have condemned me. 
 
 Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like also 
 to talk with you about this thing which has happened, while 
 the magistrates are busy, and before I go to the place at which 
 I must die. Stay then awhile, for we may as well talk with 
 one another while there is time. You are my friends, and I 
 should like to show you the meaning of this event which has 
 happened to me. O my judges for you I may truly call 
 judges I should like to tell you of a wonderful circumstance. 
 Hitherto the familiar oracle within me has constantly been 
 in the habit of opposing me even about trifles, if I was going 
 to make a slip or error about anything; and now as you see 
 there has come upon me that which may be thought, and is 
 generally believed to be, the last and worst evil. But the 
 oracle made no sign of opposition, either as I was leaving 
 my house and going out in the morning, or when I was going 
 up into this court, or while I was speaking, at anything which 
 I was going to say; and yet I have often been stopped in 
 the middle of a speech; but now in nothing I either said 
 or did touching this matter has the oracle opposed me. What 
 do I take to be the explanation of this? I will tell you. I 
 regard this as a proof that what has happened to me is a good, 
 and that those of us who think that death is an evil are in 
 error. This is a great proof to me of what I am saying, for 
 the customary sign would surely have opposed me had I been 
 going to evil and not to good. 
 
 Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there 
 is great reason to hope that death is a good, for one of two 
 things : either death is a state of nothingness and utter uncon- 
 sciousness, or, as men say, there is a change and migration of 
 the soul from this world to another. Now if you suppose 
 that there is no consciousness, but a sleep like the sleep of 
 him who is undisturbed even by the sight of dreams, death 
 will be an unspeakable gain. For if a person were to select
 
 APOLOGY 35 
 
 the night in which his sleep was undisturbed even by dreams, 
 and were to compare with this the other days and nights of 
 his life, and then were to tell us how many days and nights 
 he had passed in the course of his life better and more pleas- 
 antly than this one, I think that any man, I will not say a 
 private man, but even the great king, will not find many such 
 days or nights, when compared with the others. Now if 
 death is like this, I say that to die is gain; for eternity is 
 then only a single night. But if death is the journey to an- 
 other place, and there, as men say, all the dead are, what 
 good, O my friends and judges, can be greater than this? 
 If indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the world below, he 
 is delivered from the professors of justice in this world, and 
 finds the true judges who are said to give judgment there, 
 Minos and Rhadamanthus and JEacus and Triptolemus, and 
 other sons of God who were righteous in their own life, that 
 pilgrimage will be worth making. What would not a man 
 give if he might converse with Orpheus and Musaeus and 
 Hesiod and Homer? Nay, if this be true, let me die again 
 and again. I, too, shall have a wonderful interest in a place 
 where I can converse with Palamedes, and Ajax the son of 
 Telamon, and other heroes of old, who have suffered death 
 through an unjust judgment; and there will be no small 
 pleasure, as I think, in comparing my own sufferings with 
 theirs. Above all, I shall be able to continue my search into 
 true and false knowledge; as in this world, so also in that; I 
 shall find out who is wise, and who pretends to be wise, and 
 is not. What would not a man give, O judges, to be able to 
 examine the leader of the great Trojan expedition; or Odys- 
 seus or Sisyphus, or numberless others, men and women too! 
 What infinite delight would there be in conversing with them 
 and asking them questions! For in that world they do not 
 put a man to death for this ; certainly not. For besides being 
 happier in that world than in this, they will be immortal, if 
 what is said is true. 
 
 Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, and 
 know this of a truth that no evil can happen to a good man, 
 either in life or after death. He and his are not neglected 
 by the gods ; nor has my own approaching end happened 
 by mere chance. But I see clearly that to die and be released 
 was better for me; and therefore the oracle gave no sign.
 
 36 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 For which reason, also, I am not angry with my accusers, or 
 my condemners ; they have done me no harm, although neither 
 of them meant to do me any good ; and for this I may gently 
 blame them. 
 
 Still I have a favor to ask of them. When my sons are 
 grown up, I would ask you, O my friends, to punish them ; 
 and I would have you trouble them, as I have troubled you, 
 if they seem to care about riches, or anything, more than 
 about virtue; or if they pretend to be something when they 
 are really nothing then reprove them, as I have reproved 
 you, for not caring about that for which they ought to care, 
 and thinking that they are something when they are really 
 nothing. And if you do this, I and my sons will have received 
 justice at your hands. 
 
 The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways 
 I to die, and you to live. Which is better, God only knows.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CRITO 
 
 THE " Crito " seems intended to exhibit the character 
 of Socrates in one light only, not as the philosopher., 
 fulfilling a divine mission and trusting in the will 
 of Heaven, but simply as the good citizen, who having been 
 unjustly condemned is willing to give up his life in obedience 
 to the laws of the State. 
 
 The days of Socrates are drawing to a close; the fatal 
 ship* has been seen off Sunium, as he is informed by his aged 
 friend and contemporary Crito, who visits him before the 
 dawn has broken ; he himself has been warned in a dream that 
 on the third day he must depart. Time is precious and Crito 
 has come early in order to gain his consent to a plan of escape. 
 This can be easily accomplished by his friends, who will incur 
 no danger in making the attempt to save him, but will be 
 disgraced forever if they allow him to perish. He should 
 think of his duty to his children, and not play into the hands 
 of his enemies. Money is already provided by Crito as well 
 as by Simmias and others, and he will have no difficulty in 
 finding friends in Thessaly and other places. 
 
 Socrates is afraid that Crito is but pressing upon him the 
 opinions of the many : whereas, all his life long he has followed 
 the dictates of reason only and the opinion of the one wise 
 or skilled man. There was a time when Crito himself had 
 allowed the propriety of this. And although someone will say 
 " The many can kill us," that makes no difference ; but a good 
 life, that is to say a just and honorable life, is alone to be 
 valued. All considerations of loss of reputation or injury to 
 his children should be dismissed : the only question is whether 
 he would be right in attempting to escape. Crito, who is a dis- 
 interested person, not having the fear of death before his eyes, 
 shall answer this for him. Before he was condemned they 
 
 * The sacred ship, during whose thirty days' voyage to and from the 
 oracle at Delos no Athenian citizen could be put to death. 
 
 37
 
 38 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 had often held discussions, in which they agreed that no man 
 should either do evil, or return evil for evil, or betray the 
 right. Are these principles to be altered because the circum- 
 stances of Socrates are altered ? Crito admits that they remain 
 the same. Then is his escape consistent with the maintenance 
 of them ? To this Crito is unable or unwilling to reply. 
 
 Socrates proceeds: Suppose the laws of Athens to come 
 and remonstrate with him : they will ask, " Why does he seek 
 to overturn them ? " and if he replies, " They have injured him," 
 will not the laws answer, " Yes, but was that the agreement ? 
 Has he any objection to make to them which would justify him 
 in overturning them ? Was he not brought into the world and 
 educated by their help, and are they not his parents ? He might 
 have left Athens and gone where he pleased, but he has lived 
 there for seventy years more constantly than any other citizen." 
 Thus he has clearly shown that he acknowledged the agree- 
 ment which he cannot now break without dishonor to himself 
 and danger to his friends. Even in the course of the trial he 
 might have proposed exile as the penalty, but then he declared 
 that he preferred death to exile. And whither will he direct 
 his footsteps? In any well-ordered State the laws will con- 
 sider him as an enemy. Possibly in a land of misrule like 
 Thessaly he may be welcomed at first, and the unseemly narra- 
 tive of his escape regarded by the inhabitants as an amusing 
 tale. But if he offends them he will have to learn another sort 
 of lesson. Will he continue to give lectures in virtue? That 
 would hardly be decent. And how will his children be the 
 gainers if he takes them into Thessaly, and deprives them of 
 Athenian citizenship? Or if he leaves them behind, does he 
 expect that they will be better taken care of by his friends be- 
 cause he is in Thessaly? Will not true friends care for them 
 equally whether he is alive or dead ? 
 
 Finally, they exhort him to think of justice first, and of life 
 and children afterwards. He may now depart in peace and 
 innocence, a sufferer and not a doer of evil. But if he breaks 
 agreements, and returns evil for evil, they will be angry with 
 him while he lives; and their brethren, the laws of the world 
 below, will receive him as an enemy. Such is the mystic voice 
 which is always murmuring in his ears. 
 
 That Socrates was not a good citizen was a charge made 
 against him during his lifetime, which has been often repeated
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CRITO 39 
 
 in later ages. The crimes of Alcibiades, Critias, and Char- 
 mides, who had been his pupils, were still recent in the memory 
 of the now restored democracy. The fact that he had been 
 neutral in the death struggle of Athens was not likely to con- 
 ciliate popular good-will. Plato, writing probably in the next 
 generation, undertakes the defence of his friend and master in 
 this particular, not to the Athenians of his day, but to posterity 
 and the world at large. 
 
 Whether such an incident ever really occurred as the visit 
 of Crito and the proposal of escape is uncertain : Plato could 
 easily have invented far more than that; and in the selection 
 of Crito, the aged friend, as the fittest person to make the 
 proposal to Socrates, we seem to recognize the hand of the 
 artist. Whether anyone who has been subjected by the laws 
 of his country to an unjust judgment is right in attempting 
 to escape is a thesis about which casuists might disagree. 
 Shelley is of opinion that Socrates " did well to die," but not 
 for the " sophistical " reasons which Plato has put into his 
 mouth. And there would be no difficulty in arguing that 
 Socrates should have lived and preferred to a glorious death 
 the good which he might still be able to perform. " A skil- 
 ful rhetorician would have had much to say about that " 
 (50 c). It may be remarked, however, that Plato never in- 
 tended to answer the question of casuistry, but only to exhibit 
 the ideal of patient virtue which refuses to do the least evil 
 in order to avoid the greatest, and to show Socrates, his 
 master, maintaining in death the opinions which he had pro- 
 fessed in his life. Not " the world," but the " one wise man," 
 is still the philosopher's paradox in his last hours.
 
 CRITO; 
 
 OR, THE DUTY OF A CITIZEN 
 
 PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE 
 SOCRATES CRTTO 
 
 SCENE : The Prison of Socrates 
 Socrates. 
 
 WHY have you come at this hour, Crito? it must be 
 quite early. 
 Crito. Yes, certainly. 
 
 Soc. What is the exact time? 
 
 Cr. The dawn is breaking. 
 
 Soc. I wonder the keeper of the prison would let you in. 
 
 Cr. He knows me because I often come, Socrates; more- 
 over, I have done him a kindness. 
 
 Soc. And are you only just come? 
 
 Cr. No, I came some time ago. 
 
 Soc. Then why did you sit and say nothing, instead of 
 awakening me at once? 
 
 Cr. Why, indeed, Socrates, I myself would rather not have 
 all this sleeplessness and sorrow. But I have been wonder- 
 ing at your peaceful slumbers, and that was the reason why 
 I did not awaken you, because I wanted you to be out of 
 pain. I have always thought you happy in the calmness of 
 your temperament ; but never did I see the like of the easy, 
 cheerful way in which you bear this calamity. 
 
 Soc. Why, Crito, when a man has reached my age he ought 
 not to be repining at the prospect of death. 
 
 Cr. And yet other old men find themselves in similar mis- 
 fortunes, and age does not prevent them from repining. 
 
 Soc. That may be. But you have not told me why you 
 come at this early hour. 
 
 Cr. I come to bring you a message which is sad and pain- 
 ful; not as I believe, to yourself, but to all of us who are 
 your friends, and saddest of all to me.
 
 42 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Soc. What! I suppose that the ship has come from Delos, 
 on the arrival of which I am to die? 
 
 Cr. No, the ship has not actually arrived, but she will 
 probably be here to-day, as persons who have come from 
 Sunium tell me that they left her there; and therefore to- 
 morrow, Socrates, will be the last day of your life. 
 
 Soc. Very well, Crito; if such is the will of God, I am 
 willing; but my belief is that there will be a delay of a day. 
 
 Cr. Why do you say this? 
 
 Soc. I will tell you. I am to die on the day after the arrival 
 of the ship? 
 
 Cr. Yes; that is what the authorities say. 
 
 Soc. But I do not think that the ship will be here until 
 to-morrow; this I gather from a vision which I had last 
 night, or rather only just now, when you fortunately allowed 
 me to sleep. 
 
 Cr. And what was the nature of the vision? 
 
 Soc. There came to me the likeness of a woman, fair and 
 comely, clothed in white raiment, who called to me and said: 
 
 Socrates 
 
 " The third day hence, to Phthia shalt thou go." 
 
 Cr. What a singular dream, Socrates! 
 
 Soc. There can be no doubt about the meaning, Crito, I 
 think. 
 
 Cr. Yes : the meaning is only too clear. But, O ! my 
 beloved Socrates, let me entreat you once more to take my 
 advice and escape. For if you die I shall not only lose a 
 friend who can never be replaced, but there is another evil: 
 people who do not know you and me will believe that I might 
 have saved you if I had been willing to give money, but that 
 
 1 did not care. Now, can there be a worse disgrace than this 
 that I should be thought to value money more than the 
 life of a friend? For the many will not be persuaded that I 
 wanted you to escape, and that you refused. 
 
 Soc. But why, my dear Crito, should we care about the 
 opinion of the many? Good men, and they are the only per- 
 sons who are worth considering, will think of these things 
 truly as they happened. 
 
 Cr. But do you see, Socrates, that the opinion of the many 
 must be regarded, as is evident in your own case, because they
 
 CRITO 43 
 
 can do the very greatest evil to anyone who has lost their 
 good opinion. 
 
 Soc. I only wish, Crito, that they could; for then they 
 could also do the greatest good, and that would be well. But 
 the truth is, that they can do neither good nor evil: they 
 cannot make a man wise or make him foolish ; and whatever 
 they do is the result of chance. 
 
 Cr. Well, I will not dispute about that; but please to tell 
 me, Socrates, whether you are not acting out of regard to me 
 and your other friends : are you not afraid that if you escape 
 hence we may get into trouble with the informers for having 
 stolen you away, and lose either the whole or a great part of 
 our property; or that even a w r orse evil may happen to us? 
 Now, if this is your fear, be at ease; for in order to save 
 you, we ought surely to run this or even a greater risk ; be 
 persuaded, then, and do as I say. 
 
 Soc. Yes, Crito, that is one fear which you mention, but by 
 no means the only one. 
 
 Cr. Fear not. There are persons who at no great cost are 
 willing to save you and bring you out of prison; and as for 
 the informers, you may observe that they are far from being 
 exorbitant in their demands ; a little money will satisfy them. 
 My means, which, as I am sure, are ample, are at your ser- 
 vice, and if you have a scruple about spending all mine, here 
 are strangers who will give you the use of theirs ; and one of 
 them, Simmias the Theban, has brought a sum of money for 
 this very purpose ; and Cebes and many others are willing to 
 spend their money too. I say, therefore, do not on that ac- 
 count hesitate about making your escape, and do not say, as 
 you did in the court, that you will have a difficulty in knowing 
 what to do with yourself if you escape. For men will love 
 you in other places to which you may go, and not in Athens 
 only; there are friends of mine in Thessaly, if you like to 
 go to them, who will value and protect you, and no Thessalian 
 will give you any trouble. Nor can I think that you are 
 justified, Socrates, in betraying your own life when you might 
 be saved ; this is playing into the hands of your enemies and 
 destroyers ; and moreover I should say that you were be- 
 traying your children ; for you might bring them up and 
 educate them ; instead of which you go away and leave them, 
 and they will have to take their chance; and if they do not
 
 44 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 meet with the usual fate of orphans, there will be small thanks 
 to you. No man should bring children into the world who 
 is unwilling to persevere to the end in their nurture and educa- 
 tion. But you are choosing the easier part, as I think, not 
 the better and manlier, which would rather have become one 
 who professes virtue in all his actions, like yourself. And, 
 indeed, I am ashamed not only of you, but of us who are your 
 friends, when I reflect that this entire business of yours will 
 be attributed to our want of courage. The trial need never 
 have come on, or might have been brought to another issue; 
 and the end of all, which is the crowning absurdity, will seem 
 to have been permitted by us, through cowardice and base- 
 ness, who might have saved you, as you might have saved 
 yourself, if we had been good for anything (for there was 
 no difficulty in escaping) ; and we did not see how disgrace- 
 ful, Socrates, and also miserable all this will be to us as well 
 as to you. Make your mind up then, or rather have your 
 mind already made up, for the time of deliberation is over, and 
 there is only one thing to be done, which must be done, if 
 at all, this very night, and which any delay will render all 
 but impossible ; I beseech you therefore, Socrates, to be per- 
 suaded by me, and to do as I say. 
 
 Soc. Dear Crito, your zeal is invaluable, if a right one ; but 
 if wrong, the greater the zeal the greater the evil ; and there- 
 fore we ought to consider whether these things shall be done 
 or not. For I am and always have been one of those natures 
 who must be guided by reason, whatever the reason may be 
 which upon reflection appears to me to be the best; and now 
 that this fortune has come upon me, I cannot put away the 
 reasons which I have before given : the principles which I 
 have hitherto honored and revered I still honor, and unless 
 we can find other and better principles on the instant, I am 
 certain not to agree with you ; no, not even if the power of 
 the multitude could inflict many more imprisonments, confis- 
 cations, deaths, frightening us like children with hobgoblin 
 terrors. But what will be the fairest way of considering the 
 question? Shall I return to your old argument about the 
 opinions of men? some of which are to be regarded, and 
 others, as we were saying, are not to be regarded. Now were 
 we right in maintaining this before I was condemned? And 
 has the argument which was once good now proved to be talk
 
 CRITO 45 
 
 for the sake of talking; in fact an amusement only, and alto- 
 gether vanity? That is what I want to consider with your 
 help, Crito : whether, under my present circumstances, the 
 argument appears to be in any way different or not ; and is to 
 be allowed by me or disallowed. That argument, which, as I 
 believe, is maintained by many who assume to be authorities, 
 was to the effect, as I was saying, that the opinions of some 
 men are to be regarded, and of other men not to be regarded. 
 Now you, Crito, are a disinterested person who are not going 
 to die to-morrow at least, there is no human probability of 
 this, and you are therefore not liable to be deceived by the 
 circumstances in which you are placed. Tell me, then, whether 
 I am right in saying that some opinions, and the opinions of 
 some men only, are to be valued, and other opinions, and the 
 opinions of other men, are not to be valued. I ask you whether 
 I was right in maintaining this? 
 
 Cr. Certainly. 
 
 Soc. The good are to be regarded, and not the bad? 
 
 Cr. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And the opinions of the wise are good, and the opin- 
 ions of the unwise are evil? 
 
 Cr. Certainly. 
 
 Soc. And what was said about another matter? Was the 
 disciple in gymnastics supposed to attend to the praise and 
 blame and opinion of every man, or of one man only his 
 physician or trainer, whoever that was? 
 
 Cr. Of one man only. 
 
 Soc. And he ought to fear the censure and welcome the 
 praise of that one only, and not of the many? 
 
 Cr. That is clear. 
 
 Soc. And he ought to live and train, and eat and drink in 
 the way which seems good to his single master who has un- 
 derstanding, rather than according to the opinion of all other 
 men put together? 
 
 Cr. True. 
 
 Soc. And if he disobeys and disregards the opinion and 
 approval of the one, and regards the opinion of the many 
 who have no understanding, will he not suffer evil? 
 
 Cr. Certainly he will. 
 
 Soc. And what will the evil be, whither tending and what 
 affecting, in the disobedient person ?
 
 46 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Cr. Clearly, affecting the body; that is what is destroyed 
 by the evil. 
 
 Soc. Very good ; and is not this true, Crito, of other things 
 which we need not separately enumerate? In the matter of 
 just and unjust, fair and foul, good and evil, which are the 
 subjects of our present consultation, ought we to follow the 
 opinion of the many and to fear them; or the opinion of 
 the one man who has understanding, and whom we ought to 
 fear and reverence more than all the rest of the world : and 
 whom deserting we shall destroy and injure that principle 
 in us which may be assumed to be improved by justice and 
 deteriorated by injustice; is there not such a principle? 
 
 Cr. Certainly there is, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. Take a parallel instance : if, acting under the advice 
 of men who have no understanding, we destroy that which 
 is improvable by health and deteriorated by disease when 
 that has been destroyed, I say, would life be worth having? 
 And that is the body ? 
 
 Cr. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Could we live, having an evil and corrupted body? 
 
 Cr. Certainly not. 
 
 Soc. And will life be worth having, if that higher part of 
 man be depraved, which is improved by justice and deterio- 
 rated by injustice? Do we suppose that principle, whatever 
 it may be in man, which has to do with justice and injustice, 
 to be inferior to the body ? 
 
 Cr. Certainly not. 
 
 Soc. More honored, then? 
 
 Cr. Far more honored. 
 
 Soc. Then, my friend, we must not regard what the many 
 say of us: but what he, the one man who has understanding 
 of just and unjust, will say, and what the truth will say. 
 And therefore you begin in error when you suggest that we 
 should regard the opinion of the many about just and unjust, 
 good and evil, honorable and dishonorable. Well, someone 
 will say, " But the many can kill us." 
 
 Cr. Yes, Socrates ; that will clearly be the answer. 
 
 Soc. That is true: but still I find with surprise that the 
 old argument is, as I conceive, unshaken as ever. And I 
 should like to know whether I may say the same of another 
 proposition that not life, but a good life, is to be chiefly 
 valued ?
 
 CRITO 47 
 
 Cr. Yes, that also remains. 
 
 Soc. And a good life is equivalent to a just and honorable 
 one that holds also? 
 
 Cr. Yes, that holds. 
 
 Soc. From these premises I proceed to argue the question 
 whether I ought or ought not to try to escape without the 
 consent of the Athenians : and if I am clearly right in escap- 
 ing, then I will make the attempt; but if not, I will abstain. 
 The other considerations which you mention, of money and 
 loss of character, and the duty of educating children, are, as 
 I hear, only the doctrines of the multitude, who would be as 
 ready to call people to life, if they were able, as they are to 
 put them to death and with as little reason. But now, since 
 the argument has thus far prevailed, the only question which 
 remains to be considered is, whether we shall do rightly either 
 in escaping or in suffering others to aid in our escape and 
 paying them in money and thanks, or whether we shall not 
 do rightly ; and if the latter, then death or any other calamity 
 which may ensue on my remaining here must not be allowed 
 to enter into the calculation. 
 
 Cr. I think that you are right, Socrates; how then shall 
 we proceed? 
 
 Soc. Let us consider the matter together, and do you either 
 refute me if you can, and I will be convinced; or else cease, 
 my dear friend, from repeating to me that I ought to escape 
 against the wishes of the Athenians: for I am extremely 
 desirous to be persuaded by you, but not against my own 
 better judgment. And now please to consider my first posi- 
 tion, and do your best to answer me. 
 
 Cr. I will do my best. 
 
 Soc. Are we to say that we are never intentionally to do 
 wrong, or that in one way we ought and in another way we 
 ought not to do wrong, or is doing wrong always evil and dis- 
 honorable, as I was just now saying, and as has been already 
 acknowledged by us? Are all our former admissions which 
 were made within a few days to be thrown away? And have 
 we, at our age, been earnestly discoursing with one another 
 all our life long only to discover that we are no better than 
 children? Or are we to rest assured, in spite of the opinior 
 of the many, and in spite of consequences whether better or 
 worse, of the truth of what was then said, that injustice is
 
 48 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 always an evil and dishonor to him who acts unjustly? Shall 
 we affirm that? 
 
 Cr. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Then we must do no wrong? 
 
 Cr. Certainly not. 
 
 Soc. Nor when injured injure in return, as the many 
 imagine; for we must injure no one at all? 
 
 Cr. Clearly not. 
 
 Soc. Again, Crito, may we do evil? 
 
 Cr. Surely not, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. And what of doing evil in return for evil, which is the 
 morality of the many is that just or not? 
 
 Cr. Not just. 
 
 Soc. For doing evil to another is the same as injuring him? 
 
 Cr. Very true. 
 
 Soc. Then we ought not to retaliate or render evil for evil 
 to anyone, whatever evil we may have suffered from him. 
 But I would have you consider, Crito, whether you really 
 mean what you are saying. For this opinion has never been 
 held, and never will be held, by any considerable number of 
 persons; and those who are agreed and those who are not 
 agreed upon this point have no common ground, and can 
 only despise one another when they see how widely they 
 differ. Tell me, then, whether you agree with and assent to 
 my first principle, that neither injury nor retaliation nor 
 warding off evil by evil is ever right. And shall that be the 
 premise of our argument? Or do you decline and dissent 
 from this ? For this has been of old and is still my opinion ; 
 but, if you are of another opinion, let me hear what you have 
 to say. If, however, you remain of the same mind as for- 
 merly, I will proceed to the next step. 
 
 Cr. You may proceed, for I have not changed my mind. 
 
 Soc. Then I will proceed to the next step, which may be 
 put in the form of a question: Ought a man to do what he 
 admits to be right, or ought he to betray the right? 
 
 Cr. He ought to do what he thinks right. 
 
 Soc. But if this is true, what is the application? In leaving 
 the prison against the will of the Athenians, do I wrong any : 
 or rather do I not wrong those whom I ought least to wrong? 
 Do I not desert the principles which were acknowledged by 
 us to be just? What do you say?
 
 CRITO 
 
 49 
 
 Cr. I cannot tell, Socrates, for I do not know. 
 
 Soc. Then consider the matter in this way: Imagine that 
 I am about to play truant (you may call the proceeding by 
 any name which you like), and the laws and the government 
 come and interrogate me : " Tell us, Socrates," they say ; 
 " what are you about ? are you going by an act of yours to 
 overturn us the laws and the whole State, as far as in you 
 lies? Do you imagine that a State can subsist and not be 
 overthrown, in which the decisions of law have no power, but 
 are set aside and overthrown by individuals ?" What will 
 be our answer, Crito, to these and the like words? Anyone, 
 and especially a clever rhetorician, will have a good deal to 
 urge about the evil of setting aside the law which requires a 
 sentence to be carried out ; and we might reply, " Yes ; but 
 the State has injured us and given an unjust sentence." Sup- 
 pose I say that? 
 
 Cr. Very good, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. "And was that our agreement with you?" the law 
 would say ; " or were you to abide by the sentence of the 
 State ? " And if I were to express astonishment at their say- 
 ing this, the law would probably add : " Answer, Socrates, 
 instead of opening your eyes : you are in the habit of asking 
 and answering questions. Tell us what complaint you have 
 to make against us which justifies you in attempting to de- 
 stroy us and the State? In the first place did we not bring 
 you into existence? Your father married your mother by 
 our aid and begat you. Say whether you have any objection 
 to urge against those of us who regulate marriage ? " None, 
 I should reply. " Or against those of us who regulate the 
 system of nurture and education of children in which you 
 were trained? Were not the laws, who have the charge of. 
 this, right in commanding your father to train you in music 
 and gymnastic ? " Right, I should reply. " Well, then, since 
 you were brought into the world and nurtured and educated 
 by us, can you deny in the first place that you are our child 
 and slave, as your fathers were before you? And if this is 
 true you are not on equal terms with us; nor can you think 
 that you have a right to do to us what we are doing to you. 
 Would you have any right to strike or revile or do any other 
 evil to a father or to your master, if you had one, when you 
 have been struck or reviled by him, or received some other 
 4
 
 5 o DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 evil at his hands? you would not say this? And because 
 we think right to destroy you, do you think that you have 
 any right to destroy us in return, and your country as far 
 as in you lies? And will you, O professor of true virtue, say 
 that you are justified in this? Has a philosopher like you 
 failed to discover that our country is more to be valued and 
 higher and holier far than mother or father or any ancestor, 
 and more to be regarded in the eyes of the gods and of men 
 of understanding? also to be soothed, and gently and rev- 
 erently entreated when angry, even more than a father, and 
 if not persuaded, obeyed ? And when we are punished by her, 
 whether with imprisonment or stripes, the punishment is to 
 be endured in silence ; and if she leads us to wounds or death 
 in battle, thither we follow as is right; neither may anyone 
 yield or retreat or leave his rank, but whether in battle or in 
 a court of law, or in any other place, he must do what his 
 city and his country order him ; or he must change their view 
 of what is just : and if he may do no violence to his father 
 or mother, much less may he do violence to his country." 
 What answer shall we make to this, Crito? Do the laws 
 speak truly, or do they not? 
 
 Cr. I think that they do. 
 
 Soc. Then the laws will say : " Consider, Socrates, if this 
 is true, that in your present attempt you are going to do us 
 wrong. For, after having brought you into the world, and 
 nurtured and educated you, and given you and every other 
 citizen a share in every good that we had to give, we further 
 proclaim and give the right to every Athenian, that if he does 
 not like us when he has come of age and has seen the ways 
 of the city, and made our acquaintance, he may go where he 
 pleases and take his goods with him ; and none of us laws 
 will forbid him or interfere with him. Any of you who does 
 not like us and the city, and who wants to go to a colony or 
 to any other city, may go where he likes, and take his goods 
 with him. But he who has experience of the manner in 
 which we order justice and administer the State, and still 
 remains, has entered into an implied contract that he will 
 do as we command him. And he who disobeys us is, as we 
 maintain, thrice wrong: first, because in disobeying us he is 
 disobeying his parents ; secondly, because we are the authors 
 of his education ; thirdly, because he has made an agreement
 
 CRITO 51 
 
 with us that he will duly obey our commands ; and he neither 
 obeys them nor convinces us that our commands are wrong; 
 and we do not rudely impose them, but give him the alterna- 
 tive of obeying or convincing us; that is what we offer, and 
 he does neither. These are the sort of accusations to which, 
 as we were saying, you, Socrates, will be exposed if you 
 accomplish your intentions; you, above all other Athenians." 
 Suppose I ask, why is this? they will justly retort upon me 
 that I above all other men have acknowledged the agree- 
 ment. " There is clear proof," they will say, " Socrates, that 
 we and the city were not displeasing to you. Of all Athe- 
 nians you have been the most constant resident in the city, 
 which, as you never leave, you may be supposed to love. For 
 you never went out of the city either to see the games, ex- 
 cept once when you went to the Isthmus, or to any other 
 place unless when you were on military service; nor did you 
 travel as other men do. Nor had you any curiosity to know 
 other States or their laws : your affections did not go beyond 
 us and our State; we were your special favorites, and you 
 acquiesced in our government of you; and this is the State 
 in which you begat your children, which is a proof of your 
 satisfaction. Moreover, you might, if you had liked, have 
 fixed the penalty at banishment in the course of the trial 
 the State which refuses to let you go now would have let you 
 go then. But you pretended that you preferred death to exile, 
 and that you were not grieved at death. And now you have 
 forgotten these fine sentiments, and pay no respect to us, the 
 laws, of whom you are the destroyer; and are doing what 
 only a miserable slave would do, running away and turning 
 your back upon the compacts and agreements which you made 
 as a citizen. And first of all answer this very question: Are 
 we right in saying that you agreed to be governed according 
 to us in deed, and not in word only? Is that true or not?" 
 How shall we answer that, Crito? Must we not agree? 
 
 Cr. There is no help, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. Then will they not say : " You, Socrates, are break- 
 ing the covenants and agreements which you made with us at 
 your leisure, not in any haste or under any compulsion or 
 deception, but having had seventy years to think of them, 
 during which time you were at liberty to leave the city, if we 
 were not to your mind, or if our covenants appeared to you
 
 5 2 
 
 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 to be unfair. You had your choice, and might have gone either 
 to Lacedaemon or Crete, which you often praise for their 
 good government, or to some other Hellenic or foreign State. 
 Whereas you, above all other Athenians, seemed to be so 
 fond of the State, or, in other words, of us her laws (for 
 who would like a State that has no laws), that you neve: 
 stirred out of her: the halt, the blind, the maimed, were 
 not more stationary in her than you were. And now you run 
 away and forsake your agreements. Not so, Socrates, if you 
 will take our advice ; do not make yourself ridiculous by 
 escaping out of the city. 
 
 " For just consider, if you transgress and err in this sort of 
 way, what good will you do, either to yourself or to your 
 friends? That your friends will be driven into exile and 
 deprived of citizenship, or will lose their property, is tolerably 
 certain; and you yourself, if you fly to one of the neighbor- 
 ing cities, as, for example, Thebes or Megara, both of which 
 are well-governed cities, will come to them as an enemy, 
 Socrates, and their government will be against you, and all 
 patriotic citizens will cast an evil eye upon you as a subverter 
 of the laws, and you will confirm in the minds of the judges 
 the justice of their own condemnation of you. For he who 
 is a corrupter of the laws is more than likely to be corrupter 
 of the young and foolish portion of mankind. Will you then 
 flee from well-ordered cities and virtuous men? ancl is exist- 
 ence worth having on these terms? Or will you go to them 
 without shame, and talk to them. Socrates? And what will 
 you say to them? What you say here about virtue and justice 
 and institutions and laws being the best things among men? 
 Would that be decent of you? Surely not. But if you go 
 away from well-governed States to Crito's friends in Thessaly, 
 where there is great disorder and license, they will be charmed 
 to have the tale of your escape from prison, set off with 
 ludicrous particulars of the manner in which you were wrapped 
 in a goatskin or some other disguise, and metamorphosed 
 as the fashion of runaways is that is very likely; but will 
 there be no one to remind you that in your old age you vio- 
 lated the most sacred laws from a miserable desire of a little 
 more life? Perhaps not, if you keep them in a good temper; 
 but if they are out of temper you will hear many degrading 
 things; you will live, but how? as the flatterer of all men,
 
 CRITO 53 
 
 and the servant of all men ; and doing what ? eating and 
 drinking in Thessaly, having gone abroad in order that you 
 may get a dinner. And where will be your fine sentiments 
 about justice and virtue then? Say that you wish to live for 
 the sake of your children, that you may bring them up and 
 educate them will you take them into Thessaly and deprive 
 them of Athenian citizenship? Is that the benefit which you 
 would confer upon them? Or are you under the impression 
 that they will be better cared for and educated here if you are 
 still alive, although absent from them; for that your friends 
 will take care of them? Do you fancy that if you are an 
 inhabitant of Thessaly they will take care of them, and if 
 you are an inhabitant of the other world they will not take 
 care of them? Nay; but if they who call themselves friends 
 are truly friends, they surely will. 
 
 " Listen, then, Socrates, to us who have brought you up. 
 Think not of life and children first, and of justice afterwards, 
 but of justice first, that you may be justified before the princes 
 of the world below. For neither will you nor any that belong 
 to you be happier or holier or juster in this life, or happier in 
 another, if you do as Crito bids. Now you depart in in- 
 nocence, a sufferer and not a doer of evil ; a victim, not of the 
 laws, but of men. But if you go forth, returning evil for evil, 
 and injury for injury, breaking the covenants and agreements 
 which you have made with us, and wronging those whom you 
 ought least to wrong, that is to say, yourself, your friends, 
 your country, and us, we shall be angry with you while you 
 live, and our brethren, the laws in the world below, will re- 
 ceive you as an enemy; for they will know that you have 
 done your best to destroy us. Listen, then, to us and not to 
 Crito." 
 
 This is the voice which I seem to hear murmuring in my 
 ears, like the sound of the flute in the ears of the mystic; 
 that voice, I say, is humming in my ears, and prevents me 
 from hearing any other. And I know that anything more 
 which you may say will be in vain. Yet speak, if you have 
 anything to say. 
 
 Cr. I have nothing to say, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. Then let me follow the intimations of the will of God.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PH^DO 
 
 AFTER an interval of some months or years, at Phlius, 
 a town of Sicyon, the tale of the last hours of Soc- 
 rates is narrated to Echecrates and other Phliasians 
 by Phaedo, the " beloved disciple." The dialogue necessarily 
 takes the form of a narrative, because Socrates has to be 
 described acting as well as speaking. The minutest particu- 
 lars of the event are interesting to distant friends, and the 
 narrator has an equal interest in them. 
 
 During the voyage of the sacred ship to and from Delos, 
 which has occupied thirty days, the execution of Socrates has 
 been deferred. (Cp. Xen. " Mem." iv. 8, 2.) The time has 
 been passed by him in conversation with a select company of 
 disciples. But now the holy season is over, and the disciples 
 meet earlier than usual in order that they may converse with 
 Socrates for the last time. Those who were present, and 
 those who might have been expected to be present, are spec- 
 ially mentioned. There are Simmias and Cebes (" Crito," 
 45 B), two disciples of Philolaus whom Socrates "by his en- 
 chantments has attracted from Thebes " (" Mem." iii. n, 17), 
 Crito, the aged friend, the attendant of the prison, who is as 
 good as a friend these take part in the conversation. There 
 are present also, Hermogenes, from whom Xenophon derived 
 his information about the trial of Socrates (" Mem." iv. 8, 4) ; 
 the " madman " Apollodorus ; Euclid and Terpsion from 
 Megara; Ctesippus, Antisthenes Menexenus, and some other 
 less known members of the Socratic circle, all of whom are 
 silent auditors. Aristippus and Plato are noted as absent. 
 Soon the wife and children of Socrates are sent away, under 
 the direction of Crito ; he himself has just been released from 
 chains, and is led by this circumstance to make the natural 
 remark that " pleasure follows pain." (Observe that Plato is 
 preparing the way for his doctrine of the alternation of op- 
 
 55
 
 56 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 posites.) " ^sop would have represented them in a fable as 
 a two-headed creature of the gods." The mention of ^Esop 
 reminds Cebes of a question which had been asked by Evenus 
 the poet (cp. Apol. 20 A) : " Why Socrates, who was not a 
 poet, while in prison had been putting ^sop into verse ? " 
 " Because several times in his life he had been warned in 
 dreams that he should make music; and as he was about to 
 die and was not certain what was the meaning of this, he 
 wished to fulfil the admonition in the letter as well as in the 
 spirit, by writing verses as well as by cultivating philosophy. 
 Tell Evenus this and bid him follow me in death." " He is 
 not the sort of man to do that, Socrates." " Why, is he not a 
 philosopher ? " " Yes." " Then he will be willing to die, al- 
 though he will not take his own life, for that is held not to be 
 right." 
 
 Cebes asks why men say that suicide is not right, if death is 
 to be accounted a good ? Well ( i ) according to one explana- 
 tion, because man is a prisoner, and is not allowed to open the 
 door of his prison and run away this is the truth in a " mys- 
 tery." Or rather, perhaps, (2) because man is not his own 
 property, but a possession of the gods, and he has no right to 
 make away with that which does not belong to him. But why, 
 asks Cebes, if he is a possession of the gods, will he wish to die 
 and leave them ? for he is under their protection ; and surely 
 he cannot take better care of himself than they take of him. 
 Simmias explains that Cebes is really referring to Socrates, 
 whom they think too unmoved at the prospect of leaving the 
 gods and his friends. Socrates answers that he is going to 
 other gods who are wise and good, and perhaps to better 
 friends; and he professes that he is ready to defend himself 
 against the charge of Cebes. They shall be his judges, and he 
 hopes that he will be more successful in convincing them than 
 he had been in convincing the court. 
 
 The philosopher desires death which the wicked world will 
 insinuate that he also deserves : and perhaps he does, but not in 
 any sense which they are capable of understanding. Enough 
 of them : the real question is, What is the nature of that death 
 which he desires? Death is the separation of soul and body 
 and the philosopher desires such a separation. He would 
 like to be freed from the dominion of bodily pleasures and of 
 the senses, which are always perturbing his mental vision. He
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PH^DO 57 
 
 wants to get rid of eyes and ears, and with the light of the 
 mind only to behold the light of truth. All the evils and im- 
 purities and necessities of men come from the body. And 
 death separates him from these evils, which in this life he 
 cannot wholly cast aside. Why then should he repine when 
 the hour of separation 'arrives ? Why, if he is dead while he 
 lives, should he fear that other death, through which alone he 
 can behold wisdom in her purity ? 
 
 Besides, the philosopher has notions of good and evil unlike 
 those of other men. For they are courageous because they 
 are afraid of greater dangers, and temperate because they 
 desire greater pleasures. But he disdains this balancing of 
 pleasures and pains ; he knows no virtue but that which is the 
 companion of wisdom. All the virtues, including wisdom, are 
 regarded by him only as purifications of the soul. And this 
 was the meaning of the founders of the mysteries when they 
 said, " Many are the wand-bearers, but few are the mystics." 
 (Cp. Matt. xxii. 14: " Many are called, but few are chosen.") 
 And in the hope that he is one of these mystics, Socrates is 
 now departing. This is his answer to those who charge him 
 with indifference at the prospect of leaving the gods and his 
 friends. 
 
 Still, a fear is expressed that the soul, upon leaving the body, 
 may vanish away like smoke or air. Socrates, in answer, ap- 
 peals first of all to the old Orphic tradition that the souls of the 
 dead are in the world below, and that the living come from 
 them. This he attempts to found on a philosophical assump- 
 tion that all opposites e.g. less, greater; weaker, stronger; 
 sleeping, waking ; life, death are generated out of each other. 
 Nor can this process of generation be only a passage from liv- 
 ing to dying, for then all would end in death. The perpetual 
 sleeper (Endymion) would be no longer distinguished, for 
 all the world would sink in rest. The circle of nature is not 
 complete unless the living come from the dead as well as pass 
 to them. 
 
 The favorite Platonic doctrine of reminiscence is then ad- 
 duced as a confirmation of the pre-existence of the soul. Some 
 proofs of this doctrine are demanded. One proof given is 
 derived from the latent knowledge of mathematics, which may 
 be elicited from an unlearned person when a diagram is pre- 
 sented to him. Again, there is a power of association, which
 
 5 8 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 from seeing Simmias may remember Cebes, or from seeing a 
 picture of Simmias may remember Simmias. The lyre may 
 recall the player of the lyre, and equal pieces of wood or stone 
 may be associated with the higher notion of absolute equality. 
 But here observe that material equalities fall short of the con- 
 ception of absolute equality with which they are compared, 
 and which is the measure of them. And the measure or stand- 
 ard must be prior to that which is measured, the idea of equal- 
 ity prior to the visible equals. And if prior to them, then prior 
 also to the perceptions of the senses which recall them, and 
 therefore either given before birth or at birth. But all men 
 have not this knowledge, nor have any without a process of 
 reminiscence ; and this is a proof that it is not innate or given 
 at birth (unless indeed it was given and taken away at the 
 same instant, which is absurd). But if not given to men in 
 birth, it must have been given before birth this is the only 
 alternative which remains. And if we had ideas in a former 
 state, then our souls must have existed and must have had in- 
 telligence in a former state. The pre-existence of the soul 
 stands or falls with the doctrine of ideas. 
 
 It is objected by Simmias and Cebes that these arguments 
 only prove a former and not a future existence. Socrates an- 
 swers this objection by recalling the previous argument, in 
 which he had shown that the living had come from the dead. 
 But the fear that the soul at departing may vanish into air 
 (especially if there is a wind blowing at the time) has not 
 yet been charmed away. He proceeds: When we fear that 
 the soul will vanish away, let us ask ourselves what is that 
 we suppose to be liable to dissolution ? Is it the simple or the 
 compound, the unchanging or the changing, the invisible idea 
 or the visible object of sense? Clearly the latter and not the 
 former; and therefore not the soul, which in her own pure 
 thought is unchangeable, and only when using the senses de- 
 scends into the region of change. Again, the soul commands, 
 the body serves: in this respect, too, the soul is akin to the 
 divine, and the body to the mortal. And in every point of 
 view the soul is the image of divinity and immortality, and the 
 body of the human and mortal. And whereas the body is 
 liable to speedy dissolution, the soul is almost if not quite in- 
 dissoluble. Yet even the body may be preserved for ages by 
 the embalmer's art; how much more the soul returning into
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PH.EDO 59 
 
 herself on her way to the good and wise God ! She has been 
 practising death all her life long, and is now finally released 
 from the errors and follies and passions of men, and forever 
 dwells in the company of the gods. 
 
 But the soul which is polluted and engrossed by the cor- 
 poreal, and has no eye except that of the senses, and is weighed 
 down by the bodily appetites, cannot attain to this abstraction. 
 In her fear of the world below she lingers about her sepulchre, 
 a ghostly apparition, saturated with sense, and therefore visi- 
 ble. At length she enters into the body of some animal of a 
 nature congenial to her former life of sensuality or violence, 
 and becomes an ass or a wolf or a kite. And of these earthy 
 souls the happiest are those who have practised virtue without 
 philosophy ; they are allowed to pass into gentle and civil nat- 
 ures, such as bees and ants. But only the philosopher who 
 departs pure is permitted to enter the company of the gods. 
 This is the reason why he abstains from fleshly lusts, and not 
 from the fear of loss or disgrace, which are the motives of 
 other men. He, too, has been a captive, and the willing agent 
 of his own captivity. But Philosophy has spoken to him, and 
 he has heard her voice; she has gently entreated him, and 
 brought his soul out of the " miry clay," and purged away the 
 mists of passion and the illusions of sense which envelop her, 
 and taught her to resist the influence of pleasures and pains, 
 which are like nails fastening her to the body. To that prison- 
 house she will not return; and therefore she abstains from 
 bodily pleasures not from a desire of having more or greater 
 ones, which is the exchange of commerce and not of virtue, 
 but because she knows that only in the calm of pleasures and 
 passions she will behold the light of truth. 
 
 Simmias and Cebes remain in doubt ; but they are unwilling 
 to raise objections at such a time. Socrates wonders at this. 
 Let them regard him rather as the swan, who, having sung 
 the praises of Apollo all his life long, sings at his death more 
 lustily than ever. (Cp. 60 D.) Simmias acknowledges that 
 there is cowardice in not probing truth to the bottom. " And 
 if truth divine and inspired is not to be had, then let a man 
 take the best of human notions, and upon this frail bark let 
 him sail through life." He proceeds to state his difficulty: 
 It has been argued that the soul is invisible and incorporeal, 
 and therefore immortal, and prior to the body. But is not the
 
 60 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 soul acknowledged to be a harmony, and has she not the same 
 relation to the body as the harmony which, like her, is in- 
 visible has to the lyre? And yet the harmony does not sur- 
 vive the lyre. Cebes has also an objection, which like Sim- 
 mias he expresses in a figure. He is willing to admit that the 
 soul is more lasting than the body. But the more lasting 
 nature of the soul does not prove her immortality; for after 
 having worn out many bodies in a single life, and many more 
 in successive births and deaths, she may at last perish, or, as 
 Socrates afterwards restates the objection, the very act of 
 birth may be the beginning of her death, and the last body 
 may survive the last soul, just as the coat of an old weaver is 
 left behind him after he is dead, although a man is more lasting 
 than his coat. And he who would prove the immortality of 
 the soul must prove not only that the soul outlives one or 
 many bodies, but that she outlives them all. 
 
 The audience, like the chorus in a play, for a moment in- 
 terpret the feelings of the actors ; there is a temporary depres- 
 sion, and then the inquiry is resumed. It is a melancholy re- 
 flection that arguments, like men, are apt to be deceivers ; and 
 those who have been often deceived become distrustful both 
 of arguments and of friends. But this unfortunate experi- 
 ence should not make us either haters of men or haters of 
 arguments. The hatred of arguments is equally mistaken, 
 whether we are going to live or die. At the approach of death 
 Socrates desires to be impartial, and yet he cannot help feeling 
 that he has too great an interest in the truth of his own ar- 
 gument. And therefore he wishes his friends to examine 
 and refute him, if they think that he is not speaking the truth. 
 
 Socrates requests Simmias and Cebes to state their objec- 
 tions again. They do not go to the length of denying the 
 pre-existence of ideas. Simmias is of opinion that the soul 
 is a harmony of the body. But the admission of the pre-ex- 
 istence of ideas, and therefore of the soul, is at variance with 
 this. For a harmony is an effect, whereas the soul is not an 
 effect, but a cause ; a harmony follows, but the soul leads ; a 
 harmony admits of degrees, and the soul has no degrees. 
 Again, upon the supposition that the soul is a harmony, why 
 is one soul better than another? Are they more or less har- 
 monized, or is there one harmony within another? But the 
 soul does not admit of degrees, and cannot therefore be more
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PH^DO 6l 
 
 or less harmonized. Further, the soul is often engaged in re- 
 sisting the affections of the body, as Homer describes Odys- 
 seus " rebuking his heart." Could he have written this under 
 the idea that the soul is a harmony of the body ? Nay ; rather, 
 are we not contradicting Homer and ourselves in affirming 
 anything of the sort? 
 
 The goddess Harmonia, as Socrates playfully terms the ar- 
 gument of Simmias, has been happily disposed of; and now 
 an answer has to be given to the Theban Cadmus. Socrates 
 recapitulates the argument of Cebes, which, as he remarks, 
 involves the whole question of natural growth or causation ; 
 about this he proposes to narrate his own mental experience. 
 When he was young he had puzzled himself with physics : he 
 had inquired into the growth and decay of animals, and the 
 origin of thought, until at last he began to doubt the self-evi- 
 dent fact that growth is the result of eating and drinking, and 
 thus he arrived at the conclusion that he was not meant for 
 such inquiries. Nor was he less perplexed with notions of 
 comparison and number. At first he had imagined himself 
 to understand differences of greater and less, and to know 
 that ten is two more than eight, and the like. But now those 
 very notions appeared to him to contain a contradiction. For 
 how can one be divided into two? or two be compounded into 
 one? These are difficulties which Socrates cannot answer. 
 Of generation and destruction he knows nothing. But he has 
 a confused notion of another method in which matters of this 
 sort are to be investigated. 
 
 Then he heard some one reading out of a book of Anaxag- 
 oras, that mind is the cause of all things. And he said to him- 
 self: If mind is the cause of all things, mind must dispose 
 them all for the best. The new teacher will show me this 
 " order of the best " in man and nature. How great had been 
 his hopes and how great his disappointment ! For he found 
 that his new friend was anything but consistent in his use of 
 mind as a cause, and that he soon introduced winds, waters, 
 and other eccentric notions. It was as if a person had said 
 that Socrates is sitting here because he is made up of bones 
 and muscles, instead of telling the true reason that he is here 
 because the Athenians have thought good to sentence him to 
 death, and he has thought good to await his sentence. Had 
 his bones and muscles been left by him to their own ideas of
 
 62 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 right, they would long ago have taken themselves off. But 
 surely there is a great confusion of the cause and condition in 
 all this. And this confusion also leads people into all sorts 
 of erroneous theories about the position and motions of the 
 earth. None of them know how much stronger than any Atlas 
 is the power of the best. But this " best " is still undiscovered ; 
 and in inquiring after the cause, we can only hope to attain the 
 second best. 
 
 Now there is a danger in the contemplation of the nature of 
 things, as there is a danger in looking at the sun during an 
 eclipse, unless the precaution is taken of looking only at the 
 image reflected in the water, or in a glass. And I was afraid, 
 says Socrates, that I might injure the eye of the soul. I 
 thought that I had better return to the old and safe method of 
 ideas. Though I do not mean to say that he who contemplates 
 existence through the medium of ideas sees only through a 
 glass darkly, any more than he who contemplates actual effects. 
 
 If the existence of ideas is granted to him, Socrates is of 
 opinion that he will then have no difficulty in proving the im- 
 mortaLcy of the soul. He will only ask for a further admis- 
 sion: that beauty is the cause of the beautiful, greatness the 
 cause of the great, smallness of the small, and so on of other 
 things. Thus he avoids the contradictions of greater and less 
 (greater by reason of that which is smaller!), of addition and 
 subtraction, and the other difficulties of relation. These sub- 
 tleties he is for leaving to wiser heads than his own ; he prefers 
 to test ideas by their consequences, and, if asked to give an 
 account of them, goes back to some higher idea or hypothesis 
 which appears to him to be the best, until at last he arrives at 
 a resting-place. 
 
 The doctrine of ideas, which has long ago received the as- 
 sent of the Socratic circle, is now affirmed by the Phliasian 
 auditor to command the assent of any men of sense. The nar- 
 rative is continued ; Socrates is desirous of explaining how op- 
 posite ideas may appear to coexist but not really coexist in the 
 same thing or person. For example, Simmias may be said to 
 have greatness and also smallness, because he is greater than 
 Socrates and less than Phaedo. And yet Simmias is not really 
 great and also small, but only when compared to Phaedo and 
 Socrates. I use the illustration, says Socrates, because I want 
 to show you not only that ideal opposites exclude one an-
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PH^DO 63 
 
 other, but also the opposites in us. I, for example, having 
 the attribute of smallness remain small, and cannot become 
 great : the smallness in me drives out greatness. 
 
 One of the company here remarked that this was incon- 
 sistent with the old assertion that opposites generated oppo- 
 sites. But that, replies Socrates, was affirmed, not of oppo- 
 site ideas either in us or in nature, but of opposite things 
 not of life and death, but of individuals living and dying. 
 When this objection has been removed, Socrates proceeds: 
 This doctrine of the mutual exclusion of opposites is not only 
 true of the opposites themselves, but of things which are in- 
 separable from them. For example, cold and heat are opposed ; 
 and fire, which is inseparable from heat, cannot coexist with 
 cold, or snow, which is inseparable from cold, with heat. 
 Again, the number three excludes the number four, because 
 three is an odd number and four is an even number, and 
 the odd is opposed to the even. Thus we are able to proceed 
 a step beyond " the safe and simple answer." We may say, 
 not only that the odd excludes the even, but that the num- 
 ber three, which participates in oddness, excludes the even. 
 And in like manner, not only does life exclude death, but the 
 soul, of which life is the inseparable attribute, also excludes 
 death. And that of which life is the inseparable attribute 
 is by the force of the terms imperishable. If the odd principle 
 were imperishable, then the number three would not perish, 
 but remove on the approach of the even principle. But the 
 immortal is imperishable; and therefore the soul on the ap- 
 proach of death does not perish but removes. 
 
 Thus all objections appear to be finally silenced. And now 
 the application has to be made : If the soul is immortal, " What 
 manner of persons ought we to be ? " having regard not only 
 to time but to eternity. For death is not the end of all, and 
 the wicked is not released from his evil by death ; but every- 
 one carries with him into the world below that which he is 
 and that which he becomes, and that only. 
 
 For after death the soul is carried away to judgment, and 
 when she has received her punishment returns to earth in the 
 course of ages. The wise soul is conscious of her situation, 
 and follows the attendant angel who guides her through the 
 windings of the world below ; but the impure soul wanders 
 hither and thither without a guide, and is carried at last to her
 
 64 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 own place, as the pure soul is also carried away to hers. " In 
 order that you may understand this, I must first describe to 
 you the nature and conformation of the earth." 
 
 Now the whole earth is a globe placed in the centre of the 
 heavens, and is maintained there by the perfection of balance. 
 That which we call the earth is only a small hollow, of which 
 there are many ; but the true earth is above, and is a finer and 
 subtler element, and is full of precious stones and bright colors, 
 of which the stones and colors in our earth are but fragments 
 and reflections, and the earth itself is corroded and crusted 
 over just as the shore is by the sea. And if, like birds, we 
 could fly to the surface of the air, in the same manner that 
 fishes come to the top of the sea, then we should behold the 
 true earth and the true heaven and the true stars. This 
 heavenly earth is of divers colors, sparkling with jewels 
 brighter than gold and whiter than any snow, having flowers 
 and fruits innumerable. And the inhabitants dwell, some on 
 the shore of the sea of air, others in " islets of the blest," and 
 they hold converse with the gods, and behold the sun, moon, 
 and stars as they truly are, and their other blessedness is of a 
 piece with this. 
 
 But the interior of the earth has other and deeper hollows, 
 and one huge chasm or opening called Tartarus, into which 
 vast streams of water and fire are ever flowing to and fro, of 
 which small portions find their way to the surface and form 
 seas and rivers and volcanoes. There is a perpetual inhalation 
 and exhalation of the air rising and falling as the waters pass 
 into the depths of the earth and return again, in their course, 
 forming lakes and rivers, but never descending below the cen- 
 tre of the earth, the opposite side of which is a precipice to the 
 rivers on both sides. These rivers are many and mighty, and 
 there are four principal ones, Oceanus, Acheron, Pyriphleg- 
 ethon, and Cocytus. Oceanus is the river which encircles the 
 earth; Acheron takes an opposite direction, and after flowing 
 under the earth and in desert places at last reaches the Acheru- 
 sian Lake, and this is the river at which the dead await their 
 return to earth. Pyriphlegethon is a stream of fire, which 
 coils around the earth and flows into the depths of Tartarus. 
 The fourth river (Cocytus) is that which is called by the poets 
 the Stygian River, and falls into, and forms the Lake Styx, 
 receiving strange powers in the waters. This river, too, falls 
 into Tartarus.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PH^DO 65 
 
 The dead are first of all judged according to their deeds, 
 and those who are incurable are thrust into Tartarus, from 
 which they never come out. Those who have only committed 
 venial sins are first purified of them, and then rewarded for 
 the good which they have done. Those who have committed 
 crimes, great indeed, but not unpardonable, are thrust into 
 Tartarus, but are cast forth at the end of the year on the 
 shores of the rivers, where they stand crying to their victims to 
 let them come out, and if they prevail, then they are let out 
 and their sufferings cease ; if not, they are borne in a ceaseless 
 whirl along the rivers of . Tartarus. The pure souls also re- 
 ceive their reward, and have their abode in the upper earth, 
 and a select few in still fairer " mansions." 
 
 Socrates is not prepared to insist on the literal accuracy of 
 this description, but he is confident that something of the kind 
 is true. He who has sought after the pleasures of knowledge 
 and rejected the pleasures of the body has reason to be of good 
 hope at the approach of death, whose voice is already heard 
 calling to him, and will be heard calling by all men. 
 
 The hour has come at which he must drink the poison, and 
 not much remains to be done. How shall they bury him? 
 That is a question which he refuses to entertain, for they are 
 not burying him, but his dead body. His friends had once 
 been sureties that he would remain, and they shall now be 
 sureties that he has run away. Yet he would not die without 
 the customary ceremonies of washing and burial. Shall he 
 make a libation of the poison ? In the spirit he will, but not in 
 the letter. One request he utters in the very act of death, 
 which has been a puzzle to after-ages. The puzzle has been 
 occasioned by the simplicity of his words, for there is no 
 reason to suppose that they have any hidden meaning. With 
 a sort of irony he remembers that a trifling religious duty is 
 still unfulfilled, just as above (60 E) he is represented as de- 
 sirous before he departs to make a few verses in order to satisfy 
 a scruple about the meaning of a dream. 
 
 i. The doctrine of the immortality of the soul has such a 
 great interest for all mankind that they are apt to rebel against 
 any examination of the nature of their belief. They do not 
 like to acknowledge that this, as well as the other " eternal 
 ideas " of man, has a history in time, which may be traced in 
 Greek poetry or philosophy, and also in the Hebrew scriptures. 
 5
 
 66 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 They convert feeling into reasoning, and throw a network of 
 dialectics over that which is really a deeply rooted instinct. 
 In the same temper which Socrates reproves in himself (91 B) 
 they are disposed to think that even bad arguments will do no 
 harm, for they will die with them, and while they live they will 
 gain by the delusion. But there is a better and higher spirit 
 to be gathered from the " Phsedo," as well as from the other 
 writings of Plato, which says that first principles should be 
 most constantly reviewed (" Phaed." 107 B), and that the high- 
 est subjects demand of us the greatest accuracy. 
 
 2. Modern philosophy is perplexed at this whole question, 
 which is sometimes fairly given up and handed over to the 
 realm of faith. The perplexity should not be forgotten by us 
 when we attempt to submit the " Phasdo " of Plato to the re- 
 quirements of logic. For what idea can we form of the soul 
 when separated from the body? Or how can the soul be 
 united with the body and still be independent? Is the soul 
 related to the body as the ideal to the real, or as the whole to 
 the parts, or as the subject to the object, or as the cause to the 
 effect, or as the end to the means? Shall we say with Aris- 
 totle, that the soul is the entelechy or form of an organized 
 living body? or with Plato, that she has a life of her own? Is 
 the Pythagorean image of the harmony, or of the monad, the 
 truer expression? Is the soul related to the body as sight to 
 the eye, or as the boatman to his boat? And in another state 
 of being is the soul to be conceived of as vanishing into infinity, 
 hardly possessing an existence which she can call her own, 
 as in the pantheistic system of Spinoza and others? or as an 
 individual spirit informed with another body and retaining the 
 impress of her former character? (Cp. " Gorgias," 524 B.C.) 
 Or is the opposition of soul and body a mere illusion, and the 
 true self neither soul nor body, but the union of the two in the 
 " I " which is above them ? And is death the assertion of this 
 individuality in the higher nature, and the falling away into 
 nothingness of the lower? Or are we vainly attempting to 
 pass the boundaries of human thought? The body and the 
 soul seem to be inseparable, not only in fact, but in our con- 
 ceptions of them ; and any philosophy which too closely unites 
 them, or too widely separates them, either in this life or in 
 another, disturbs the balance of human nature. Neither Plato 
 nor any other philosopher has perfectly adjusted them, or been
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PH^EDO 67 
 
 perfectly consistent with himself in describing their relation to 
 one another. 
 
 3. Again, believing in the immortality of the soul, we must 
 still ask the question of Socrates, " What is that which we sup- 
 pose to be immortal ? " Is it the personal and individual ele- 
 ment in us, or the spiritual and universal? Is it the principle 
 of knowledge or of goodness, or the union of the two? Is it 
 the mere force of life which is determined to be, or the con- 
 sciousness of self which cannot be got rid of, or the fire of 
 genius which refuses to be extinguished? Or is there a hid- 
 den being which is allied to the Author of all existence, who 
 is because he is perfect, and to whom our ideas of perfection 
 give us a title to belong? Whatever answer is given by us to 
 these questions, there still remains the necessity of allowing 
 the permanence of evil, if not forever, at any rate for a time, 
 in order that the wicked " may not have too good a bargain." 
 For the annihilation of evil at death, or the eternal duration of 
 it, seems to involve equal difficulties in the moral order of the 
 universe. Sometimes we are led by our feelings, rather than 
 by our reason, to think of the good and wise only as existing 
 in another life. Why should the mean, the weak, the idiot, 
 the infant, the herd of men who have never in any proper sense 
 the use of reason, reappear with blinking eyes in the light of 
 another world? But our second thought is that the hope of 
 humanity is a common one, and that all or none have a right 
 to immortality. Reason does not allow us to suppose that we 
 have any greater claims than others, and experience some- 
 times reveals to us unexpected flashes of the higher nature in 
 those whom we had despised. Such are some of the distract- 
 ing thoughts which press upon us when we attempt to assign 
 any form to our conceptions of a future state. 
 
 4. Again, ideas must be given through something; and we 
 are always prone to argue about the soul from analogies of 
 outward things which may serve to embody our thoughts, but 
 are also partly delusive. For we cannot reason from the nat- 
 ural to the spiritual, or from the outward to the inward. The 
 progress of physiological science, without bringing us nearer 
 to the great secret, has perhaps tended to remove some errone- 
 ous notions respecting the relations of body and mind, and in 
 this we have the advantage of the ancients. But no one im- 
 agines that any seed of immortality is to be discerned in our
 
 68 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 mortal frames. The result seems to be that those who have 
 thought most deeply on the immortality of the soul have been 
 content to rest their belief on the agreement of the more en- 
 lightened part of mankind, and on the inseparable connection 
 of such a doctrine with the existence of a God, and our ideas of 
 divine justice also in a less degree on the impossibility of 
 thinking otherwise of those whom \ve reverence in this world. 
 And after all has been said, the figure, the analogy, the argu- 
 ment, are felt to be only approximations in different forms to 
 the expression of the common sentiment of the human heart. 
 
 5. The " Phaedo " of Plato may also be regarded as a dialec- 
 tical approximation to the truth of immortality. Beginning 
 in mystery, Socrates, in the intermediate part of the dialogue, 
 attempts to bring the doctrine of a future life into connection 
 with his theory of knowledge. In proportion as he succeeds 
 in this, the individual seems to disappear in a more general no- 
 tion of the soul ; the contemplation of ideas " under the form 
 of eternity " takes the place of past and future states of ex- 
 istence. His language may be compared to that of some mod- 
 ern philosophers, who speak of eternity, not in the sense of 
 perpetual duration of time, but as an ever-present quality of 
 the soul. Yet at the conclusion of the dialogue, having " ar- 
 rived at the end of the intellectual world," he replaces the veil 
 of mythology, and describes the soul and her attendant genius 
 in the language of the mysteries or of a disciple of Zoroaster. 
 Nor can we fairly demand of Plato a consistency which is 
 wanting among ourselves, who acknowledge that another world 
 is beyond the range of human thought, and yet are always 
 seeking to represent the mansions of heaven or hell in the col- 
 ors of the painter, or in the descriptions of the poet or rheto- 
 rician. 
 
 6. The doctrine of the immortality of the soul was not new 
 to the Greeks in the age of Socrates, but, like the unity of God, 
 had a foundation in the popular belief. The old Homeric no- 
 tion of a gibbering ghost flitting away to Hades ; or of a few 
 illustrious heroes enjoying the isles of the blest ; or of an exist- 
 ence divided between the two; or the Hesiodic, of righteous 
 spirits, who become guardian angels had given place in the 
 mysteries and the Orphic poets to representations, partly fanci- 
 ful, of a future state of rewards and punishments. The reti- 
 cence of the Greeks on public occasions and in some part of
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PH^DO 69 
 
 their literature respecting this " underground " religion is not 
 to be taken as a measure of the diffusion of such beliefs. If 
 Pericles in the funeral oration is silent on the consolations of 
 immortality, the poet Pindar and the tragedians on the other 
 hand constantly assume the continued existence of the dead 
 in an upper or under world. Darius and Laius are still alive ; 
 Antigone will be dear to her brethren after death ; the way to 
 the palace of Cronos is found by those who " have thrice de- 
 parted from evil." The tragedy of the Greeks is not " round- 
 ed " by this life, but is deeply set in decrees of fate and myste- 
 rious workings of powers beneath the earth. In the caricature 
 of Aristophanes there is also a witness to the common senti- 
 ment. The Ionian and Pythagorean philosophies arose, and 
 some new elements were added to the popular belief. The 
 individual must find an expression as well as the world. Either 
 the soul was supposed to exist in the form of a magnet or of a 
 particle of fire, or light, or air, or water ; or of a number or of 
 a harmony of number ; or to be or have, like the stars, a prin- 
 ciple of motion. At length Anaxagoras, hardly distinguish- 
 ing between life and mind, or between mind human and divine, 
 attained the pure abstraction ; and this, like the other abstrac- 
 tions of Greek philosophy, sank deep into the human intelli- 
 gence. The opposition of the intelligible and the sensible, and 
 of God to the world, supplied an analogy which assisted in the 
 separation of soul and body. If ideas were separable from 
 phenomena, mind was also separable from matter; if the ideas 
 were eternal, the mind that conceived them was eternal, too. 
 As the unity of God was more distinctly acknowledged, the 
 conception of the human soul became more developed. The 
 succession, or alternation of life and death, had occurred to 
 Heracleitus. The Eleatic Parmenides had stumbled upon the 
 modern thesis that " thought and being are the same." The 
 Eastern belief in transmigration defined the sense of individ- 
 uality ; and some, like Empedocles, fancied that the blood which 
 they had shed in another state of being was crying against 
 them, and that for thirty thousand years they were to be " fugi- 
 tives and vagabonds upon the earth." The desire of recogniz- 
 ing a lost love or friend in the world below (" Phaedo," 68) is 
 a natural feeling which, in that age as well as in every other, 
 has given distinctness to the hope of immortality. Nor were 
 ethical considerations wanting, partly derived from the neces-
 
 70 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 sity of punishing the greater sort of criminals, whom no aveng- 
 ing power of this world could reach. The voice of conscience, 
 too, was heard reminding the good man that he was not alto- 
 gether innocent. To these indistinct longings and fears an 
 expression was given in the mysteries and Orphic poets: a 
 " heap of books," passing under the names of Musaeus and 
 Orpheus in Plato's time, were filled with notions of an under- 
 world. 
 
 7. Yet probably the belief in the individuality of the soul 
 after death had but a feeble hold on the Greek mind. Like 
 the personality of God, the personality of man in a future state 
 was not inseparably bound up with the reality of his existence. 
 For the distinction between ih-t personal and impersonal, and 
 also between the divine and human, was far less marked to the 
 Greek than to ourselves. And as Plato readily passes from the 
 notion of the good to that of God, he also passes, almost imper- 
 ceptibly to himself and his reader, from the future life of the 
 individual soul to the eternal being of the absolute soul. There 
 has been a clearer statement and a clearer denial of the belief 
 in modern times than is found in early Greek philosophy, and 
 hence the comparative silence on the whole subject which is 
 often remarked in ancient writers, and particularly in Aris- 
 totle. For Plato and Aristotle are not further removed in 
 their teaching about the immortality of the soul than they are 
 in their theory of knowledge. 
 
 8. That in an age when logic was beginning to mould human 
 thought Plato should have cast his belief in immortality into 
 a logical form, is not surprising. And when we consider how 
 much the doctrine of ideas was also one of words, we cannot 
 wonder that he should have fallen into verbal fallacies : early 
 logic is always mistaking the truth of the form for the truth of 
 the matter. It is easy to see that the alternation of opposites 
 is not the same as the generation of them out of each other; 
 and that the generation out of each other, which is the first ar- 
 gument in the " Phaedo," is at variance with their mutual ex- 
 clusion of each other, whether in themselves or in us, which is 
 the last. For even if we admit the distinction which he draws 
 (103) between the opposites and the things which have the 
 opposites, still individuals fall under the latter class ; and we 
 have to pass out of the region of human hopes and fears to a 
 conception of an abstract soul which is the impersonation of the
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PH/EDO 71 
 
 ideas. Such a conception, which in Plato himself is but half 
 expressed, is unmeaning to us, and relative only to a particular 
 stage in the history of thought. The doctrine of reminiscence 
 is also a fragment of a former world, which has no place in the 
 philosophy of modern times. But Plato had the wonders of 
 psychology just opening to him, and he had not the explana- 
 tion of them which is supplied by the analysis of language and 
 the history of the human mind. The question, " Whence come 
 our abstract ideas ? " he could only answer by an imaginary 
 hypothesis. Nor is it difficult to see that his crowning argu- 
 ment is purely verbal, and is but the expression of an instinctive 
 confidence put into a logical form : " The soul is immortal be- 
 cause it contains a principle of imperishableness." Nor does 
 he himself seem at all to be aware that nothing is added to 
 human knowledge by his " safe and simple answer," that beauty 
 is the cause of the beautiful; and that he is merely reassert- 
 ing the Eleatic being " divided by the Pythagorean numbers," 
 against the Heracleitean doctrine of perpetual generation. 
 The answer to the " very serious questions " of genera- 
 tion and destruction is really the denial of them. For this he 
 would substitute a system of ideas, tested not by experience, 
 but by their consequences, and not explained by actual causes, 
 but by a higher, that is, more general, notion : consistency with 
 themselves is all that is required of them. 
 
 9. To deal fairly with such arguments they should not only 
 not be separated from the age to which they belong, but they 
 should be translated as far as possible into their modern equiv- 
 alents. " If the ideas of men are eternal, their souls are eternal, 
 and if not the ideas, then not the souls." Such an argument 
 stands nearly in the same relation to Plato and his age as the 
 argument from the existence of God to immortality among 
 ourselves. " If God exists, then the soul exists after death ; 
 and if there is no God, there is no existence of the soul after 
 death." For the ideas are to his mind the reality, the truth, 
 the principle of permanence, as well as of mind and order in 
 the world. When Simmias and Cebes say that they are more 
 strongly persuaded of the existence of ideas than they are of 
 the immortality of the soul, they represent fairly enough the 
 order of thought in Greek philosophy. And we might say in 
 the same way that we are more certain of the existence of 
 God than we are of the immortality of the soul, and are led
 
 by the belief in the one to a belief in the other. The parallel, 
 as Socrates would say, is not perfect, but agrees in as far as the 
 mind in either case is regarded as dependent on something 
 above and beyond herself. Nor need we shrink from pressing 
 the analogy one step further : " We are more certain of our 
 ideas of truth and right than we are of the existence of God, 
 and are led on in the order of thought from one to the other." 
 
 10. The main argument of the " Phsedo " is derived from the 
 existence of eternal ideas of which the soul is a partaker; the 
 other argument of the alternation of opposites is replaced by 
 this. And there have not been wanting philosophers of the 
 idealist school who have imagined that the doctrine of the im- 
 mortality of the soul is a theory of knowledge only, and that 
 in all that precedes Plato is preparing for this. Such a view 
 is far from lying on the surface of the " Phsedo," and seems 
 to be inconsistent with the " Gorgias " and the " Republic." 
 Those who maintain it are immediately compelled to renounce 
 the shadow which they have grasped, as a play of words only. 
 But the truth is that Plato in his argument for the immortality 
 of the soul has collected many elements of proof or persuasion, 
 ethical and mythological as well as dialectical, which are not 
 easily to be reconciled with one another; and he is as much in 
 earnest about his doctrine of retribution, which is repeated in 
 all his more ethical writings, as about his thory of knowledge. 
 And while we may fairly translate the dialectical into the lan- 
 guage of Hegel, and the religious and mythological into the 
 language of Dante or Bunyan, the ethical speaks to us still in 
 the same voice, reaching across the ages. 
 
 v ii. Two arguments of this sort occur in the " Phsedo/' The 
 first may be described as the aspiration of the soul after another 
 sort of being. Like the Oriental or Christian ascetic, the phi- 
 losopher is seeking to withdraw from impurities of sense, to 
 leave the world and the things of the world, and to find his 
 higher self. Plato recognizes in these aspirations the foretaste 
 of immortality, as Butler and Addison in modern times have 
 argued, the one from the moral tendencies of mankind, the 
 other from the progress of the soul towards perfection. In 
 using this argument Plato has certainly confused the soul 
 which has left the body, with the soul of the good and wise. 
 Such a confusion was natural, and arose partly out of the 
 antithesis of soul and body. The soul in her own essence, and
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PH^EDO 73 
 
 the soul " clothed upon " with virtues and graces, were easily 
 interchanged with one another, because on a subject which 
 passes expression the distinctions of language can hardly be 
 maintained. 
 
 12. The other ethical proof of the immortality of the soul is 
 derived from the necessity of retribution. The wicked would 
 be too well off if their evil deeds came to an end. It is not to 
 be supposed that an Ardiaeus, an Archelaus, an Ismenias, could 
 ever have suffered the penalty of their crimes in this world. 
 The manner in which this retribution is accomplished Plato 
 represents under the figure of mythology. Doubtless he felt 
 that it was easier to improve than to invent, and that in religion 
 especially the traditional form was required in order to give 
 verisimilitude to the myth. The myth, too, is far more prob- 
 able to that age than to ours, and may fairly be regarded as 
 " one guess among many " about the nature of the earth, which 
 he cleverly supports by the indications of geology. Not that 
 he insists on the absolute truth of his own particular notions: 
 " no man of sense will be confident of that ; but he will be con- 
 fident that something of the kind is true" (114 D). As in 
 other passages he wins belief for his fictions by the moderation 
 of his statements ; he does not, like Dante or Swedenborg, al- 
 low himself to be deceived by his own creations. 
 
 The dialogue must be read in the light of the situation. And 
 first of all we are struck by the calmness of the scene. Like 
 the spectators at the time, we cannot pity Socrates, his mien 
 and his language are so noble and fearless. He is the same 
 as he ever was, but milder and gentler, and he has in no degree 
 lost his interest in dialectics ; the argument is the greatest gain 
 to him, and he will not forego the delight of it in compliance 
 with the jailer's intimation that he should not heat himself with 
 talking. Some other traits of his character may be noted ; for 
 example, the courteous manner in which he inclines his head 
 to the last objector, or the ironical touch, " Me already, as the 
 tragic poet would say, the voice of fate calls " ; or the deprecia- 
 tion of the arguments with which " he comforted himself and 
 them " ; or the allusion to the possibility of finding another 
 teacher among barbarous races ; or the mysterious reference 
 to another science (mathematics?) of generation and destruc- 
 tion for which he is vainly feeling. There is no change in 
 him; only now he is invested with a sort of sacred character,
 
 74 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 as the prophet or priest of Apollo the god of the festival, in 
 whose honor he first of all composes a hymn, and then like the 
 swan pours forth his dying lay. Perhaps the extreme eleva- 
 tion of Socrates above his own situation, and the ordinary in- 
 terests of life (compare his jeu d' esprit . about his burial) 
 create in the mind of the reader an impression stronger than 
 could be derived from arguments that such a one, in his own 
 language, has in him " a principle which does not admit of 
 death." 
 
 The other persons of the dialogue may be considered under 
 two heads: (i) private friends; (2) the respondents in the 
 argument, 
 
 First there is Crito, who has been already introduced to us 
 in the " Euthydemus " and the " Crito " ; he is the equal in 
 years of Socrates, and stands in quite a different relation to 
 him from his younger disciples. He is a man of the world 
 who is rich and prosperous (cp. the jest in the " Euthydemus " 
 304 c), the best friend of Socrates, who wants to know his last 
 commands, in whose presence he talks to his family, and who 
 performs the last duty of closing his eyes. It is observable, 
 too, that, as in the " Euthydemus," Crito shows no aptitude for 
 philosophical discussions. Nor among the friends of Soc- 
 rates must the jailer be forgotten, who seems to have been in- 
 troduced by Plato in order to show the impression made by the 
 extraordinary man on the common. The gentle nature of the 
 man is indicated by his weeping at the announcement of his 
 errand and then turning away, and also by the words of 
 Socrates to his disciples : " How charming the man is ! since 
 I have been in prison he has been always coming to me, and 
 has been as good as could be to me." We are reminded, too, 
 that he has retained this gentle nature amid scenes of death 
 and violence by the contrasts which he draws between the 
 behavior of Socrates and of others when about to die. 
 
 Another person who takes no part in the philosophical dis- 
 cussion is the excitable Apolloclorus, who testifies his grief by 
 the most violent emotions. Phaedo is also present, the " be- 
 loved disciple " as he may be termed, who is described, if not 
 " leaning on his bosom," as seated next to Socrates, who is play- 
 ing with his hair. At a particular point the argument is de- 
 scribed as falling before the attack of Simmias. A sort of 
 despair is introduced in the minds of the company. The effect
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PHJEDO 75 
 
 of this is heightened by the description of Phaedo, who has 
 been the eye-witness of the scene, and by the sympathy of his 
 Phliasian auditors, who are beginning to think " that they, too, 
 can never trust an argument again." Like Apollodorus, 
 Phaedo himself takes no part in the argument. But the calm- 
 ness of his behavior, " veiling his face " when he can no longer 
 contain his tears, contrasts with the passionate cries of the 
 other. 
 
 The two principal interlocutors are Simmias and Cebes, the 
 disciples of Philolaus the Pythagorean philosopher of Thebes. 
 Simmias is described in the " Phaedrus " as fonder of an argu- 
 ment than any man living; and Cebes, although finally per- 
 suaded by Socrates, is said to be the most incredulous of hu- 
 man beings. It is Cebes who at the commencement of the 
 dialogue raises the question why " suicide is unlawful," and 
 who first supplies the doctrine of recollection as a confirma- 
 tion of the argument of the pre-existence of the soul. It is 
 Cebes who urges that the pre-existence does not necessarily 
 involve the future existence of the soul, and who brings for- 
 ward the argument of the weaver and his coat. To Simmias, 
 on the other hand, is attributed the notion that the soul is a har- 
 mony, which is naturally put into the mouth of a Pythagorean 
 disciple. It is Simmias, too, who first remarks on the uncer- 
 tainty of human knowledge, and only at last concedes to the 
 argument such a qualified approval as is consistent with the 
 feebleness of the human faculties. 
 
 There is no proof that the conversation was ever actually 
 held, and the place of the dialogue in the series is doubtful. 
 The doctrine of ideas is certainly carried beyond the Socratic 
 point of view ; in no other of the writings of Plato is the 
 theory of them so completely developed. Whether the belief 
 in immortality can be attributed to Socrates or not is uncer- 
 tain ; the silence of the " Memorabilia," and of the earlier dia- 
 logues of Plato, is an argument to the contrary. Yet in the 
 " Cyropsedia " Xenophon has put language into the mouth of 
 the dying Cyrus which recalls the " Phaedo," and may perhaps 
 have been derived from the teaching of Socrates. 
 
 Some elements of the drama may be noted in all the dia- 
 logues of Plato. The " Phaedo " is the tragedy of which Soc- 
 rates is the protagonist and Simmias and Cebes the secondary 
 performers. No dialogue has a greater unity of subject and
 
 7 6 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 feeling. Plato has certainly fulfilled the condition of Greek, 
 or rather of all, art, which requires that scenes of death and 
 suffering should be clothed in beauty. The gathering of the 
 friends at the commencement of the dialogue, the dejection of 
 the audience at the temporary overthrow of the argument, the 
 picture of Socrates playing with the hair of Phaedo, the final 
 scene, in which Socrates alone retains his composure are mas- 
 terpieces of art. The chorus at the end might have interpreted 
 the feeling of the play : " There can no evil happen to a good 
 man in life or death."
 
 PH^EDO 
 
 PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE 
 
 , who is the narrator of APOLLODORUS 
 
 the dialogue to ECHECRATES SIMMIAS 
 
 of Phlius CEBES 
 
 SOCRATES CRITO 
 
 ATTENDANT OF THE PRISON 
 SCENE: The Prison of Socrates 
 PLACE OF THE NARRATION : Phlius 
 Echecrates. 
 
 WERE you yourself, Phsedo, in the prison with Socrates 
 on the day when he drank the poison ? 
 Phado. Yes, Echecrates, I was. 
 
 Ech. I wish that you would tell me about his death. What 
 did he say in his last hours? We were informed that he died 
 by taking poison, but no one knew anything more; for no 
 Phliasian ever goes to Athens now, and a long time has elapsed 
 since any Athenian found his way to Phlius, and therefore we 
 had no clear account. 
 
 Ph&d. Did you not hear of the proceedings at the trial ? 
 
 Ech. Yes; some one told us about the trial, and we could 
 not understand why, having been condemned, he was put to 
 death, as appeared, not at the time, but long afterwards. What 
 was the reason of this ? 
 
 Phad. An accident, Echecrates. The reason was that the 
 stern of the ship which the Athenians send to Delos happened 
 to have been crowned on the day before he was tried. 
 
 Ech. What is this ship? 
 
 Phazd. This is the ship in which, as the Athenians say, 
 Theseus went to Crete when he took with him the fourteen 
 youths, and was the saviour of them and of himself. And 
 they were said to have vowed to Apollo at the time, that if they 
 were saved they would make an annual pilgrimage to Delos. 
 Now this custom still continues, and the whole period of the 
 
 77
 
 7 8 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 voyage to and from Dclos, beginning when the priest of Apollo 
 crowns the stern of the ship, is a holy season, during which the 
 city is not allowed to be polluted by public executions; and 
 often, when the vessel is detained by adverse winds, there may 
 be a very considerable delay. As I was saying, the ship was 
 crowned on the day before the trial, and this was the reason win- 
 Socrates lay in prison and was not put to death until long after 
 he was condemned. 
 
 Ech. What was the manner of his death, Phaedo? What 
 was said or done ? And which of his friends had he with him ? 
 Or were they not allowed by the authorities to be present? 
 And did he die alone? 
 
 Phccd. No ; there were several of his friends with him. 
 
 Ech. If you have nothing to do, I wish that you would tell 
 me what passed, as exactly as you can. 
 
 Phccd. I have nothing to do, and will try to gratify your 
 wish. For to me, too, there is no greater pleasure than to have 
 Socrates brought to my recollection, whether I speak myself 
 or hear another speak of him. 
 
 Ech. You will have listeners who are of the same mind with 
 you, and I hope that you will be as exact as you can. 
 
 Ph&d. I remember the strange feeling which came over me at 
 being with him. For I could hardly believe that I was present 
 at the death of a friend, and therefore I did not pity him, 
 Echecrates ; his mien and his language were so noble and fear- 
 less in the hour of death that to me he appeared blessed. I 
 thought that in going to the other world he could not be with- 
 out a divine call, and that he would be happy, if any man ever 
 was, when he arrived there ; and therefore I did not pity him as 
 might seem natural at such a time. But neither could I feel 
 the pleasure which I usually felt in philosophical discourse 
 (for philosophy was the theme of which we spoke). I was 
 pleased, and I was also pained, because I knew that he was 
 soon to die, and this strange mixture of feeling was shared by 
 us all ; we were laughing and weeping by turns, especially the 
 excitable Apollodorus you know the sort of man? 
 
 Ech. Yes. 
 
 Phccd. He was quite overcome; and I myself, and all of us 
 were greatly moved. 
 
 Ech. Who were present? 
 
 Phad. Of native Athenians there were, besides Apollodorus,
 
 PH^EDO 79 
 
 Critobulus and his father Crito, Hermogenes, Epigenes, 
 yEschines, and Antisthenes; likewise Ctesippus of the done 
 of Paeania, Menexenus, and some others ; but Plato, if I am not 
 mistaken, was ill. 
 
 Ech. Were there any strangers? 
 
 Phced. Yes, there were; Simmias the Theban, and Cebes, 
 and Phsedondes ; Euclid and Terpison, who came from Megara. 
 
 Ech. And was Aristippus there, and Cleombrotus? 
 
 PJurd. No, they were said to be in ^Egina. 
 
 Ech. Anyone else ? 
 
 Phced. I think that these were about all. 
 
 Ech. And what was the discourse of which you spoke? 
 
 Phccd. I will begin at the beginning, and endeavor to repeat 
 the entire conversation. You must understand that we had 
 been previously in the habit of assembling early in the morn- 
 ing at the court in which the trial was held, and which is not far 
 from the prison. There we remained talking with one another 
 until the opening of the prison doors (for they were not 
 opened very early), and then went in and generally passed the 
 day with Socrates. On the la.st morning the meeting was 
 earlier than usual ; this was owing to our having heard on the 
 previous evening that the sacred ship had arrived from Delos, 
 and therefore we agreed to meet very early at the accustomed 
 place. On our going to the prison, the jailer who answered 
 the door, instead of admitting us, came out and bade us wait 
 and he would call us. " For the Eleven," he said, " are now 
 with Socrates ; they are taking off his chains, and giving orders 
 that he is to die to-day." He soon returned and said that we 
 might come in. On entering we found Socrates just released 
 from chains, and Xanthippe, whom you know, sitting by him, 
 and holding his child in her arms. When she saw us she ut- 
 tered a cry and said, as women will : " O Socrates, this is the 
 last time that either you will converse with your friends, or 
 they with you." Socrates Burned to Crito and said : " Crito, 
 let some one take her home." Some of Crito's people accord- 
 ingly led her away, crying out and beating herself. And when 
 she was gone, Socrates, sitting up on the couch, began to bend 
 and rub his leg, saying, as he rubbed : " How singular is the 
 thing called pleasure, and how curiously related to pain, which 
 might be thought to be the opposite of it ; for they never come 
 to a man together, and yet he who pursues either of them is
 
 80 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 generally compelled to take the other. They are two, and yet 
 they grow together out of one head or stem ; and I cannot help 
 thinking that if yEsop had noticed them, he would have made 
 a fable about God trying to reconcile their strife, and when he 
 could not, he fastened their heads together; and this is the 
 reason why when one comes the other follows, as I find in my 
 own case pleasure comes following after the pain in my leg, 
 which was caused by the chain." 
 
 Upon this Cebes said : I am very glad indeed, Socrates, that 
 you mentioned the name of ALsop. For that reminds me of a 
 question which has been asked by others, and was asked of me 
 only the day before yesterday by Evenus the poet, and as he will 
 be sure to ask again, you may as well tell me what I should say 
 to him, if you would like him to have an answer. He wanted 
 to know why you who never before wrote a line of poetry, now 
 that you are in prison are putting ^Esop into verse, and also 
 composing that hymn in honor of Apollo. 
 
 Tell him, Cebes, he replied, that I had no idea of rivalling 
 him or his poems ; which is the truth, for I knew that I could 
 not do that. But I wanted to see whether I could purge away 
 a scruple which I felt about certain dreams. In the course of 
 my life I have often had intimations in dreams " that I should 
 make music." The same dream came to me sometimes in 
 one form, and sometimes in another, but always saying the 
 same or nearly the same words : Make and cultivate music, said 
 the dream. And hitherto I had imagined that this was only 
 intended to exhort and encourage me in the study of philoso- 
 phy, which has always been the pursuit of my life, and is the 
 noblest and best of music. The dream was bidding me do 
 what I was already doing, in the same way that the competitor 
 in a race is bidden by the spectators to run when he is already 
 running. But I was not certain of this, as the dream might 
 have meant music in the popular sense of the word, and being 
 under sentence of death, and the festival giving me a respite, I 
 thought that I should be safer if I satisfied the scruple, and, in 
 obedience to the dream, composed a few verses before I de- 
 parted. And first I made a hymn in honor of the god of the 
 festival, and then considering that a poet, if he is really to be a 
 poet or maker, should not only put words together but make 
 stories, and as I have no invention. I took some fables of yEsop, 
 which I had ready at hand and knew, and turned them into
 
 PH^DO 81 
 
 verse. Tell Evenus this, and bid him be of good cheer; say 
 that I would have him come after me if he be a wise man, and 
 not tarry; and that to-day I am likely to be going, for the 
 Athenians say that I must. 
 
 Simmias said : What a message for such a man ! having been 
 a frequent companion of his I should say that, as far as I know 
 him, he will never take your advice unless he is obliged. 
 
 Why, said Socrates. Is not Evenus a philosopher? 
 
 I think that he is, said Simmias. 
 
 Then he, or any man who has the spirit of philosophy, will be 
 willing to die, though he will not take his own life, for that is 
 held not to be right. 
 
 Here he changed his position, and put his legs off the couch 
 onto the ground, and during the rest of the conversation he 
 remained sitting. 
 
 Why do you say, inquired Cebes, that a man ought not to 
 take his own life, but that the philosopher will be ready to follow 
 the dying ? 
 
 Socrates replied: And have you, Cebes and Simmias, who 
 are acquainted with Philolaus, never heard him speak of this ? 
 
 I never understood him, Socrates. 
 
 My words, too, are only an echo ; but I am very willing to 
 say what I have heard : and indeed, as I am going to another 
 place, I ought to be thinking and talking of the nature of the 
 pilgrimage which I am about to make. What can I do better 
 in the interval between this and the setting of the sun ? 
 
 Then tell me, Socrates, why is suicide held not to be right ? 
 as I have certainly heard Philolaus affirm when he was staying 
 with us at Thebes: and there are others who say the same, 
 although none of them has ever made me understand him. 
 
 But do your best, replied Socrates, and the day may come 
 when you will understand. I suppose that you wonder why, 
 as most things which are evil may be accidentally good, this is 
 to be the only exception (for may not death, too, be better than 
 life in some cases?), and why, when a man is better dead, he is 
 not permitted to be his own benefactor, but must wait for the 
 hand of another. 
 
 By Jupiter ! yes, indeed, said Cebes, laughing, and speaking 
 in his native Doric. 
 
 I admit the appearance of inconsistency, replied Socrates, but 
 there may not be any real inconsistency after all in this. There 
 6
 
 82 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 is a doctrine uttered in secret that man is a prisoner who has 
 no right to open the door of his prison and run away ; this is a 
 great mystery which I do not quite understand. Yet I, too, 
 believe that the gods are our guardians, and that we are a pos- 
 session of theirs. Do you not agree ? 
 
 Yes, I agree to that, said Cebes. 
 
 And if one of your own possessions, an ox or an ass, for ex- 
 ample, took the liberty of putting himself out of the way when 
 you had given no intimation of your wish that he should die, 
 would you not be angry with him, and would you not punish 
 him if you could ? 
 
 Certainly, replied Cebes. 
 
 Then there may be reason in saying that a man should wait, 
 and not take his own life until God summons him, as he is now 
 summoning me. 
 
 Yes, Socrates, said Cebes, there is surely reason in that. And 
 yet how can you reconcile this seemingly true belief that God is 
 our guardian and we his possessions, with that willingness to 
 die which we were attributing to the philosopher? That the 
 wisest of men should be willing to leave this service in which 
 they are ruled by the gods who are the best of rulers is not 
 reasonable, for surely no wise man thinks that when set at lib- 
 erty he can take better care of himself than the gods take of 
 him. A fool may perhaps think this he may argue that he 
 had better run away from his master, not considering that his 
 duty is to remain to the end, and not to run away from the good, 
 and that there is no sense in his running away. But the wise 
 man will want to be ever with him who is better than himself. 
 Now this, Socrates, is the reverse of what was just now said ; 
 for upon this view the wise man should sorrow and the fool 
 rejoice at passing out of life. 
 
 The earnestness of Cebes seemed to please Socrates. Here, 
 said he, turning to us, is a man who is always inquiring, and is 
 not to be convinced all in a moment, nor by every argument. 
 
 And in this case, added Simmias, his objection does appear 
 to me to have some force. For what can be the meaning of a 
 truly wise man wanting to fly away and lightly leave a master 
 who is better than himself? And I rather imagine that Cebes 
 is referring to you ; he thinks that you are too ready to leave 
 us, and too ready to leave the gods who, as you acknowledge, 
 are our good rulers.
 
 PH^DO 83 
 
 Yes, replied Socrates ; there is reason in that. And this in- 
 dictment you think that I ought to answer as if I were in court ? 
 
 That is what we should like, said Simmias. 
 
 Then I must try to make a better impression upon you than 
 I did when defending myself before the judges. For I am 
 quite ready to acknowledge, Simmias and Cebes, that I ought 
 to be grieved at death, if I were not persuaded that I am going 
 to other gods who are wise and good (of this I am as certain 
 as I can be of anything of the sort) and to men departed (though 
 I am not so certain of this), who are better than those whom I 
 leave behind ; and therefore I do not grieve as I might have 
 done, for I have good hope that there is yet something remain- 
 ing for the dead, and, as has been said of old, some far better 
 thing for the good than for the evil. 
 
 But do you mean to take away your thoughts with you, 
 Socrates? said Simmias. Will you not communicate them to 
 us? the benefit is one in which we too may hope to share. 
 Moreover, if you succeed in convincing us, that will be an an- 
 swer to the charge against yourself. 
 
 I will do my best, replied Socrates. But you must first let 
 me hear what Crito wants ; he was going to say something to 
 me. 
 
 Only this, Socrates, replied Crito: the attendant who is to 
 give you the poison has been telling me that you are not to talk 
 much, and he wants me to let you know this ; for that by talk- 
 ing, heat is increased, and this interferes with the action of the 
 poison ; those who excite themselves are sometimes obliged to 
 drink the poison two or three times. 
 
 Then, said Socrates, let him mind his business and be pre- 
 pared to give the poison two or three times, if necessary ; that 
 is all. 
 
 I was almost certain that you would say that, replied Crito ; 
 but I was obliged to satisfy him. 
 
 Never mind him, he said. 
 
 And now I will make answer to you, O my judges, and show 
 that he who has lived as a true philosopher has reason to be of 
 good cheer when he is about to die, and that after death he may 
 hope to receive the greatest good in the other world. And how 
 this may be, Simmias and Cebes, I will endeavor to explain. 
 For I deem that the true disciple of philosophy is likely to be 
 misunderstood by other men; they do not perceive that he is
 
 84 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 ever pursuing death and dying ; and if this is true, why, having 
 had the desire of death all his life long, should he repine at the 
 arrival of that which he has been always pursuing and desiring ? 
 
 Simmias laughed and said : Though riot in a laughing humor, 
 I swear that I cannot help laughing when I think what the 
 wicked world will say when they hear this. They will say that 
 this is very true, and our people at home will agree with them 
 in saying that the life which philosophers desire is truly death, 
 and that they have found them out to be deserving of the death 
 which they desire. 
 
 And they are right, Simmias, in saying this, with the excep- 
 tion of the words " They have found them out " ; for they have 
 not found out what is the nature of this death which the true 
 philosopher desires, or how he deserves or desires death. But 
 let us leave them and have a word with ourselves : Do we believe 
 that there is such a thing as death ? 
 
 To be sure, replied Simmias. 
 
 And is this anything but the separation of soul and body ? 
 And being dead is the attainment of this separation when the 
 soul exists in herself, and is parted from the body and the body 
 is parted from the soul that is death ? 
 
 Exactly: that and nothing else, he replied. 
 
 And what do you say of another question, my friend, about 
 which I should like to have your opinion, and the answer to 
 which will probably throw light on our present inquiry : Do you 
 think that the philosopher ought to care about the pleasures 
 if they are to be called pleasures of eating and drinking? 
 
 Certainly not, answered Simmias. 
 
 And what do you say of the pleasures of love should he care 
 about them? 
 
 By no means. 
 
 And will he think much of the other ways of indulging the 
 body for example, the acquisition of costly raiment, or san- 
 dals, or other adornments of the body? Instead of caring 
 about them, does he not rather despise anything more than 
 nature needs ? What do you say ? 
 
 I should say that the true philosopher would despise them. 
 
 Would you not say that he is entirely concerned with the soul 
 and not with the body ? He would like, as far as he can, to be 
 quit of the body and turn to the soul. 
 
 That is true.
 
 PH;EDO 85 
 
 In matters of this sort philosophers, above all other men, may 
 be observed in every sort of way to dissever the soul from the 
 body. 
 
 That is true. 
 
 Whereas, Simmias, the rest of the world are of opinion that a 
 life which has no bodily pleasures and no part in them is not 
 worth having ; but that he who thinks nothing of bodily pleas- 
 ures is almost as though he were dead. 
 
 That is quite true. 
 
 What again shall we say of the actual requirement of knowl- 
 edge ? is the body, if invited to share in the inquiry, a hinderer 
 or a helper? I mean to say, have sight and hearing any truth 
 in them ? Are they not, as the poets are always telling us, 
 inaccurate witnesses ? and yet, if even they are inaccurate and 
 indistinct, what is to be said of the other senses ? for you will 
 allow that they are the best of them ? 
 
 Certainly, he replied. 
 
 Then when does the soul attain truth ? for in attempting to 
 consider anything in company with the body she is obviously 
 deceived. 
 
 Yes, that is true. 
 
 Then must not existence be revealed to her in thought, if at 
 all? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And thought is best when the mind is gathered into herself 
 and none of these things trouble her neither sounds nor sights 
 nor pain nor any pleasure when she has as little as possible 
 to do with the body, and has no bodily sense or feeling, but is 
 aspiring after being? 
 
 That is true. 
 
 And in this the philosopher dishonors the body ; his soul runs 
 away from the body and desires to be alone and by herself? 
 
 That is true. 
 
 Well, but there is another thing, Simmias : Is there or is there 
 not an absolute justice ? 
 
 Assuredly there is. 
 
 And an absolute beauty and absolute good ? 
 
 Of course. 
 
 But did you ever behold any of them with your eyes ? 
 
 Certainly not. 
 
 Or did you ever reach them with any other bodily sense?
 
 86 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 (and I speak not of these alone, but of absolute greatness, and 
 health, and strength, and of the essence or true nature of every- 
 thing). Has the reality of them ever been perceived by you 
 through the bodily organs? or rather, is not the nearest ap- 
 proach to the knowledge of their several natures made by him 
 who so orders his intellectual vision as to have the most exact 
 conception of the essence of that which he considers ? 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 And he attains to the knowledge of them in their highest 
 purity who goes to each of them with the mind alone, not 
 allowing when in the act of thought the intrusion or introduc- 
 tion of sight or any other sense in the company of reason, but 
 with the very light of the mind in her clearness penetrates into 
 the very light of truth in each ; he has got rid, as far as he can, 
 of eyes and ears and of the whole body, which he conceives of 
 only as a disturbing element, hindering the soul from the ac- 
 quisition of knowledge when in company with her is not this 
 the sort of man who, if ever man did, is likely to attain the 
 knowledge of existence ? 
 
 There is admirable truth in that, Socrates, replied Simmias. 
 
 And when they consider all this, must not true philosophers 
 make a reflection, of which they will speak to one another in 
 such words as these : We have found, they will say, a path of 
 speculation which seems to bring us and the argument to the 
 conclusion that while we are in the body, and while the soul is 
 mingled with this mass of evil, our desire will not be satisfied, 
 and our desire is of the truth. For the body is a source of end- 
 less trouble to us by reason of the mere requirement of food ; 
 and also is liable to diseases which overtake and impede us in 
 the search after truth : and by filling us so full of loves, and 
 lusts, and fears, and fancies, and idols, and every sort of folly, 
 prevents our ever having, as people say, so much as a thought. 
 For whence come wars, and fightings, and factions? whence 
 but from the body and the lusts of the body? For wars are 
 occasioned by the love of money, and money has to be acquired 
 for the sake and in the service of the body ; and in consequence 
 of all these things the time which ought to be given to philoso- 
 phy is lost. Moreover, if there is time and an inclination 
 toward philosophy, yet the body introduces a turmoil and con- 
 fusion and fear into the course of speculation, and hinders us 
 from seeing the truth ; and all experience shows that if we would
 
 PELEDO 87 
 
 have pure knowledge of anything we must be quit of the body, 
 and the soul in herself must behold all things in themselves : 
 then I suppose that we shall attain that which we desire, and of 
 which we say that we are lovers, and that is wisdom ; not while 
 we live, but after death, as the argument shows ; for if while in 
 company with the body the soul cannot have pure knowledge, 
 one of two things seems to follow either knowledge is not to 
 be attained at all, or, if at all, after death. For then, and not 
 till then, the soul will be in herself alone and without the body. 
 In this present life, I reckon that we make the nearest approach 
 to knowledge when we have the least possible concern or inter- 
 est in the body, and are not saturated with the bodily nature, 
 but remain pure until the hour when God himself is pleased to 
 release us. And when the foolishness of the body will be 
 cleared away and we shall be pure and hold converse with other 
 pure souls, and know of ourselves the clear light everywhere ; 
 and this is surely the light of truth. For no impure thing is 
 allowed to approach the pure. These are the sort of words, 
 Simmias, which the true lovers of wisdom cannot help saying to 
 one another, and thinking. You will agree with me in that ? 
 
 Certainly, Socrates. 
 
 But if this is true, O my friend, then there is great hope that, 
 going whither I go, I shall there be satisfied with that which 
 has been the chief concern of you and me in our past lives. 
 And now that the hour of departure is appointed to me, this is 
 the hope with which I depart, and not I only, but every man 
 who believes that he has his mind purified. 
 
 Certainly, replied Simmias. 
 
 And what is purification but the separation of the soul from 
 the body, as I was saying before ; the habit of the soul gathering 
 and collecting herself into herself, out of all the courses of the 
 body ; the dwelling in her own place alone, as in another life, 
 so also in this, as far as she can ; the release of the soul from 
 the chains of the body? 
 
 Very true, he said. 
 
 And what is that which is termed death, but this very separa- 
 tion and release of the soul from the body ? 
 
 To be sure, he said. 
 
 And the true philosophers, and they only, study and are 
 eager to release the soul. Is not the separation and release of 
 the soul from the body their especial study ?
 
 88 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 That is true. 
 
 And as I was saying at first, there would be a ridiculous con- 
 tradiction in men studying to live as nearly as they can in a 
 state of death, and yet repining when death comes. 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 Then, Simmias, as the true philosophers are ever studying 
 death, to them, of all men, death is the least terrible. Look at 
 the matter in this way : how inconsistent of them to have been 
 always enemies of the body, and wanting to have the soul alone, 
 and when this is granted to them, to be trembling and repining ; 
 instead of rejoicing at their departing to that place where, 
 when they arrive, they hope to gain that which in life they 
 loved (and this was wisdom), and at the same time to be rid of 
 the company of their enemy. Many a man has been willing to 
 go to the world below in the hope of seeing there an earthly 
 love, or wife, or son, and conversing with them. And will he 
 who is a true lover of wisdom, and is persuaded in like manner 
 that only in the world below he can worthily enjoy her, still re- 
 pine at death ? Will he not depart with joy ? Surely he will, 
 my friend, if he be a true philosopher. For he will have a firm 
 conviction that there only, and nowhere else, he can find wis- 
 dom in her purity. And if this be true, he would be very 
 absurd, as I was saying, if he were to fear death. 
 
 He would, indeed, replied Simmias. 
 
 And when you see a man who is repining at the approach of 
 death, is not his reluctance a sufficient proof that he is not a 
 lover of wisdom, but a lover of the body, and probably at the 
 same time a lover of either money or power, or both ? 
 
 That is very true, he replied. 
 
 There is a virtue, Simmias, which is named courage. Is not 
 that a special attribute of the philosophy. 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 Again, there is temperance. Is not the calm, and control, 
 and disdain of the passions which even the many call temper- 
 ance, a quality belonging only to those who despise the body 
 and live in philosophy? 
 
 That is not to be denied. 
 
 For the courage and temperance of other men, if you will 
 consider them, are really a contradiction. 
 
 How is that, Socrates ? 
 
 Well, he said, you are aware that death is regarded by men 
 in general as a great evil.
 
 PH^EDO 89 
 
 That is true, he said. 
 
 And do not courageous men endure death because they are 
 afraid of yet greater evils? 
 
 That is true. 
 
 Then all but the philosophers are courageous only from 
 fear, and because they are afraid ; and yet that a man should 
 be courageous from fear, and because he is a coward, is surely a 
 strange thing. 
 
 Very true. 
 
 And are not the temperate exactly in the same case ? They 
 are temperate because they are intemperate which may seem 
 to be a contradiction, but is nevertheless the sort of thing which 
 happens with this foolish temperance. For there are pleasures 
 which they must have, and are afraid of losing; and therefore 
 they abstain from one class of pleasures because they are over- 
 come by another : and whereas intemperance is defined as "be- 
 ing under the dominion of pleasure," they overcome only be- 
 cause they are overcome by pleasure. And that is what I mean 
 by saying that they are temperate through intemperance. 
 
 That appears to be true. 
 
 Yet the exchange of one fear or pleasure or pain for another 
 fear or pleasure or pain, which are measured like coins, the 
 greater with the less, is not the exchange of virtue. O my dear 
 Simmias, is there not one true coin for which all things ought 
 to exchange ? and that is wisdom ; and only in exchange for 
 this, and in company with this, is anything truly bought or sold, 
 whether courage or temperance or justice. And is not all true 
 virtue the companion of wisdom, no matter what fears or pleas- 
 ures or other similar goods or evils may or may not attend her ? 
 But the virtue which is made up of these goods, when they are 
 severed from wisdom and exchanged with one another, is a 
 shadow of virtue only, nor is there any freedom or health or 
 truth in her ; but in the true exchange there is a purging away 
 of all these things, and temperance, and justice, and courage, 
 and wisdom herself are a purgation of them. And I conceive 
 that the founders of the mysteries had a real meaning and were 
 not mere triflers when they intimated in a figure long ago that 
 he who passed unsanctified and uninitiated into the world below 
 will live in a slough, but that he who arrives there after initia- 
 tion and purification will dwell with the gods. For " many," 
 as they say in the mysteries, " are the thyrsus bearers, but few
 
 9 o DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 are the mystics," meaning, as I interpret the words, the true 
 philosophers. In the number of whom I have been seeking, 
 according to my ability, to find a place during my whole life ; 
 whether I have sought in a right way or not, and whether I 
 have succeeded or not, I shall truly know in a little while, if 
 God will, when I myself arrive in the other world : that is my 
 belief. And now, Simmias and Cebes, I have answered those 
 who charge me with not grieving or repining at parting from 
 you and my masters in this world ; and I am right in not repin- 
 ing, for I believe that I shall find other masters and friends who 
 are as good in the world below. But all men cannot receive 
 this, and I shall be glad if my words have any more success with 
 you than with the judges of Athenians. 
 
 Cebes answered: I agree, Socrates, in the greater part of 
 what you say. But in what relates to the soul, men are apt to 
 be incredulous; they fear that when she leaves the body her 
 place may be nowhere, and that on the very day of death she 
 may be destroyed and perish immediately on her release from 
 the body, issuing forth like smoke or air and vanishing away 
 into nothingness. For if she could only hold together and be 
 herself after she was released from the evils of the body, there 
 would be good reason to hope, Socrates, that what you say is 
 true. But much persuasion and many arguments are required 
 in order to prove that when the man is dead the soul yet exists, 
 and has any force of intelligence. 
 
 True, Cebes, said Socrates ; and shall I suggest that we talk 
 a little of the probabilities of these things ? 
 
 I am sure, said Cebes, that I should greatly like to know 
 your opinion about them. 
 
 I reckon, said Socrates, that no one who heard me now, not 
 even if he were one of my old enemies, the comic poets, could 
 accuse me of idle talking about matters in which I have no con- 
 cern. Let us, then, if you please, proceed with the inquiry. 
 
 Whether the souls* of men after death are or are not in the 
 world below, is a question which may be argued in this manner. 
 The ancient doctrine of which I have been speaking affirms 
 that they go from this into the other world, and return hither, 
 and are born from the dead. Now if this be true, and the living 
 come from the dead, then our souls must be in the other world, 
 for if not, how could they be born again? And this would be 
 conclusive, if there were any real evidence that the living are
 
 PH^DO 91 
 
 only born from the dead ; but if there is no evidence of this, then 
 other arguments will have to be adduced. 
 
 That is very true, replied Cebes. 
 
 Then let us consider this question, not in relation to man 
 only, but in relation to animals generally, and to plants, and to 
 everything of which there is generation, and the proof will be 
 easier. Are not all things which have opposites generated out 
 of their opposites ? I mean such things as good and evil, just 
 and unjust and there are innumerable other opposites which 
 are generated out of opposites. And I want to show that this 
 holds universally of all opposites ; I mean to say, for example, 
 that anything which becomes greater must become greater 
 after being less. 
 
 True. 
 
 And that which becomes less must have been once greater 
 and then become less. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And the weaker is generated from the stronger, and the 
 swifter from the slower. 
 
 Very true. 
 
 And the worse is from the better, and the more just is from 
 the more unjust? 
 
 Of course. 
 
 And is this true of all opposites ? and are we convinced that 
 all of them are generated out of opposites ? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And in this universal opposition of all things, are there not 
 also two intermediate processes which are ever going on, from 
 one to the other, and back again ; where there is a greater and 
 a less there is also an intermediate process of increase and dim- 
 inution, and that which grows is said to wax, and that which 
 decays to wane ? 
 
 Yes, he said. 
 
 And there are many other processes, such as division and 
 composition, cooling and heating, which equally involve a pas- 
 sage into and out of one another. And this holds of all oppo- 
 sites, even though not always expressed in words they are 
 generated out of one another, and there is a passing or process 
 from one to the other of them ? 
 
 Very true, he replied. 
 
 Well, and is there not an opposite of life, as sleep is the oppo- 
 site of waking?
 
 92 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 True, he said. 
 
 And what is that? 
 
 Death, he answered. 
 
 And these, then, are generated, if they are opposites, the one 
 from the other, and have there their two intermediate processes 
 also? 
 
 Of course. 
 
 Now, said Socrates, I will analyze one of the two pairs of 
 opposites which I have mentioned to you, and also its inter- 
 mediate processes, and you shall analyze the other to me. The 
 state of sleep is opposed to the state of waking, and out of sleep- 
 ing waking is generated, and out of waking, sleeping ; and the 
 process of generation is in the one case falling asleep, and in the 
 other waking up. Are you agreed about that ? 
 
 Quite agreed. 
 
 Then, suppose that you analyze life and death to me in the 
 same manner. Is not death opposed to life ? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And they are generated one from the other? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 What is generated from life? 
 
 Death. 
 
 And what from death ? 
 
 I can only say in answer life. 
 
 Then the living, whether things or persons, Cebes, are gen- 
 erated from the dead? 
 
 That is clear, he replied. 
 
 Then the inference is, that our souls are in the world below ? 
 
 That is true. 
 
 And one of the two processes or generations is visible for 
 surely the act of dying is visible? 
 
 Surely, he said. 
 
 And may not the other be inferred as the complement of 
 nature, who is not to be supposed to go on one leg only ? And 
 if not, a corresponding process of generation in death must 
 also be assigned to her? 
 
 Certainly, he replied. 
 
 And what is that process? 
 
 Revival. 
 
 And revival, if there be such a thing, is the birth of the dead 
 into the world of the living?
 
 PH^DO 
 
 93 
 
 Quite true. 
 
 Then here is a new way in which we arrive at the inference 
 that the living come from the dead, just as the dead come from 
 the living; and if this is true, then the souls of the dead must 
 be in some place out of which they come again. And this, as I 
 think, has been satisfactorily proved. 
 
 Yes, Socrates, he said ; all this seems to flow necessarily out 
 of our previous admissions. 
 
 And that these admissions were not unfair, Cebes, he said, 
 may be shown, as I think, in this way : If generation were in 
 a straight line only, and there were no compensation or circle 
 in nature, no turn or return into one another, then you know 
 that all things would at last have the same form and pass into 
 the same state, and there would be no more generation of them. 
 
 What do you mean? he said. 
 
 A simple thing enough, which I will illustrate by the case 
 of sleep, he replied. You know that if there were no compen- 
 sation of sleeping and waking, the story of the sleeping En- 
 dymion would in the end have no meaning, because all other 
 things would be asleep, too, and he would not be thought of. 
 Or if there were composition only, and no division of sub- 
 stances, then the chaos of Anaxagoras would come again. 
 And in like manner, my dear Cebes, if all things which partook 
 of life were to die, and after they were dead remained in the 
 form of death, and did not come to life again, all would at last 
 die, and nothing would be alive how could this be otherwise ? 
 For if the living spring from any others w r ho are not the dead, 
 and they die, must not all things at last be swallowed up in 
 death ? 
 
 There is no escape from that, Socrates, said Cebes; and I 
 think that what you say is entirely true. 
 
 Yes, he said, Cebes, I entirely think so, too ; and we are not 
 walking in a vain imagination ; but I am confident in the belief 
 that there truly is such a thing as living again, and that the 
 living spring from the dead, and that the souls of the dead are 
 in existence, and that the good souls have a better portion than 
 the evil. 
 
 Cebes added : Your favorite doctrine, Socrates, that knowl- 
 edge is simply recollection, if true, also necessarily implies a 
 previous time in which we learned that which we now recollect. 
 But this would be impossible unless our soul was in some place
 
 94 
 
 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 before existing in the human form ; here, then, is another argu- 
 ment of the soul's immortality. 
 
 But tell me, Cebes, said Simmias, interposing, what proofs 
 are given of this doctrine of recollection ? I am not very sure 
 at this moment that I remember them. 
 
 One excellent proof, said Cebes, is afforded by questions. 
 If you put a question to a person in a right way, he will give a 
 true answer of himself ; but how could he do this unless there 
 were knowledge and right reason already in him? And this 
 is most clearly shown when he is taken to a diagram or to any- 
 thing of that sort. 
 
 But if, said Socrates, you are still incredulous, Simmias, I 
 would ask you whether you may not agree with me when you 
 look at the matter in another way ; I mean, if you are still in- 
 credulous as to whether knowledge is recollection? 
 
 Incredulous, I am not, said Simmias ; but I want to have this 
 doctrine of recollection brought to my own recollection, and, 
 from what Cebes has said, I am beginning to recollect and be 
 convinced ; but I should still like to hear what more you have 
 to say. 
 
 This is what I would say, he replied : We should agree, if 
 I am not mistaken, that what a man recollects he must have 
 known at some previous time. 
 
 Very true. 
 
 And what is the nature of this recollection ? And, in asking 
 this, I mean to ask whether, when a person has already seen or 
 heard or in any way perceived anything, and he knows not only 
 that, but something else of which he has not the same, but 
 another knowledge, we may not fairly say that he recollects 
 that which comes into his mind. Are we agreed about that? 
 
 What do you mean ? 
 
 I mean what I may illustrate by the following instance : The 
 knowledge of a lyre is not the same as the knowledge of a man ? 
 
 True. 
 
 And yet what is the feeling of lovers when they recognize 
 a lyre, or a garment, or anything else which the beloved has 
 been in the habit of using? Do not they, from knowing the 
 lyre, form in the mind's eye an image of the youth to whom the 
 lyre belongs ? And this is recollection : and in the same way 
 any one who sees Simmias may remember Cebes ; and there are 
 endless other things of the same nature.
 
 PHyEDO 
 
 95 
 
 Yes, indeed, there are endless, replied Simmias. 
 
 And this sort of thing, he said, is recollection, and is most 
 commonly a process of recovering that which has been forgot- 
 ten through time and inattention. 
 
 Very true, he said. 
 
 Well; and may you not also from seeing t'ue picture of a 
 horse or a lyre remember a man ? and from the picture of Sim- 
 mias, you may be led to remember Cebes ? 
 
 True. 
 
 Or you may also be led to the recollection of Simmias him- 
 self? ' 
 
 True, he said. 
 
 And in all these cases, the recollection may be derived from 
 things either like or unlike? 
 
 That is true. 
 
 And when the recollection is derived from like things, then 
 there is sure to be another question, which is, Whether the 
 likeness of that which is recollected is in any way defective or 
 not? 
 
 Very true, he said. 
 
 And shall we proceed a step further, and affirm that there 
 is such a thing as equality, not of wood with wood, or of stone 
 with stone, but that, over and above this, there is equality in 
 the abstract ? Shall we affirm this ? 
 
 Affirm, yes, and swear to it, replied Simmias, with all the 
 confidence in life. 
 
 And do we know the nature of this abstract essence ? 
 
 To be sure, he said. 
 
 And whence did we obtain this knowledge? Did we not 
 see equalities of material things, such as pieces of wood and 
 stones, and gather from them the idea of an equality which is 
 different from them? you will admit that? Or look at the 
 matter again in this way : Do not the same pieces of wood or 
 stone appear at one time equal, and at another time unequal? 
 
 That is certain. 
 
 But are real equals ever unequal? or is the idea of equality 
 ever inequality? 
 
 That surely was never yet known, Socrates. 
 
 Then these (so-called) equals are not the same with the idea 
 of equality? 
 
 I should say, clearly not, Socrates.
 
 96 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 And yet from these equals, although differing from the idea 
 of equality, you conceived and attained that idea? 
 
 Very true, he said. 
 
 Which might be like, or might be unlike them ? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 But that makes no difference; whenever from seeing one 
 thing you conceived another, whether like or unlike, there 
 must surely have been an act of recollection ? 
 
 Very true. 
 
 But what would you say of equal portions of wood and stone, 
 or other material equals ? and what is the impression produced 
 by them ? Are they equals in the same sense as absolute equal- 
 ity ? or do they fall short of this in a measure ? 
 
 Yes, he said, in a very great measure, too. 
 
 And must we not allow that when I or any one look at any 
 object, and perceive that the object aims at being some other 
 thing, but falls short of, and cannot attain to it he who makes 
 this observation must have had a previous knowledge of that to 
 which, as he says, the other, although similar, was inferior? 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 And has not this been our case in the matter of equals and of 
 absolute equality? 
 
 Precisely. 
 
 Then we must have known absolute equality previously to 
 the time when we first saw the material equals, and reflected 
 that all these apparent equals aim at this absolute equality, but 
 fall short of it? 
 
 That is true. 
 
 And we recognize also that this absolute equality has only 
 been known, and can only be known, through the medium of 
 sight or touch, or of some other sense. And this I would 
 affirm of all such conceptions. 
 
 Yes, Socrates, as far as the argument is concerned, one of 
 them is the same as the other. 
 
 And from the senses, then, is derived the knowledge that 
 all sensible things aim at an idea of equality of which they fall 
 short is not that true? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Then before we began to see or hear or perceive in any way, 
 we must have had a knowledge of absolute equality, or we could 
 not have referred to that the equals which are derived from the
 
 PH^EDO 
 
 97 
 
 senses? for to that they all aspire, and of that they fall 
 short? 
 
 That, Socrates, is certainly to be inferred from the previous 
 statements. 
 
 And did we not see and hear and acquire our other senses as 
 soon as we were born ? 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 Then we must have acquired the knowledge of the ideal 
 equal at some time previous to this ? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 That is to say, before we were born, I suppose ? 
 
 True. 
 
 And if we acquired this knowledge before we were born, and 
 were born having it, then we also knew before .we were born 
 and at the instan 4 - of birth not only the equal or the greater or 
 the less, but all other ideas ; for we are not speaking only of 
 equality absolute, but of beauty, good, justice, holiness, and all 
 which we stamp with the name of essence in the dialectical 
 process, when we ask and answer questions. Of all this we 
 may certainly affirm that we acquired the knowledge before 
 birth? 
 
 That is true. 
 
 But if, after having acquired, we have not forgotten that 
 which we acquired, then we must always have been born with 
 knowledge, and shall always continue to know as long as life 
 lasts for knowing is the acquiring and retaining knowledge 
 and not forgetting. Is not forgetting, Simmias, just the losing 
 of knowledge? 
 
 Quite true, Socrates. 
 
 But if the knowledge which we acquired before birth was 
 lost by us at birth, and if afterwards by the use of the senses we 
 recovered that which we previously knew, will not that which 
 we call learning be a process of recovering our knowledge, and 
 may not this be rightly termed recollection by us ? 
 
 Very true. 
 
 For this is clear, that when we perceived something, either 
 by the help of sight, or hearing, or some other sense, there was 
 no difficulty in receiving from this a conception of some other 
 thing like or unlike which had been forgotten and which was 
 associated with this ; and therefore, as I was saying, one of two 
 alternatives follow : either we bad this knowledge at birth, and 
 7
 
 9 8 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 continued to know through life ; or, after birth, those who are 
 said to learn only remember, and learning is recollection only. 
 
 Yes, that is quite true, Socrates. 
 
 And which alternative, Simmias, do you prefer? Had we 
 the knowledge at our birth, or did we remember afterwards the 
 things which we knew previously to our birth ? 
 
 I cannot decide at the moment. 
 
 At any rate you can decide whether he who has knowledge 
 ought or ought not to be able to give a reason for what he 
 knows. 
 
 Certainly, he ought. 
 
 But do you think that every man is able to give a reason about 
 these very matters of which we are speaking ? 
 
 I wish that they could, Socrates, but I greatly fear that to- 
 morrow at this time there will be no one able to give a reason 
 worth having. 
 
 Then you are not of opinion, Simmias, that all men know 
 these things? 
 
 Certainly not. 
 
 Then they are in process of recollecting that which they 
 learned before. 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 But when did our souls acquire this knowledge ? not since 
 we were born as men ? 
 
 Certainly not. 
 
 And therefore, previously? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Then, Simmias, our souls must have existed before they were 
 in the form of man without bodies, and must have had intelli- 
 gence ? 
 
 Unless indeed you suppose, Socrates, that these notions were 
 given us at the moment of birth ; for this is the only time that 
 remains. 
 
 Yes, my friend, but when we did lose them ? for they are not 
 in us when we are born that is admitted. Did we lose them 
 at the moment of receiving them, or at some other time? 
 
 No, Socrates, I perceive that I was unconsciously talking 
 nonsense. 
 
 Then may we not say, Simmias, that if, as we are always 
 repeating, there is an absolute beauty, and goodness, and es- 
 sence in general, and to this, which is now discovered to be a
 
 PH^DO 99 
 
 previous condition of our being, we refer all our sensations, and 
 with this compare them assuming this to have a prior exist- 
 ence, then our souls must have had a prior existence, but if not, 
 there would be no force in the argument. There can be no 
 doubt that if these absolute ideas existed before we were born, 
 then our souls must have existed before we were born, and if 
 not the ideas, then not the souls. 
 
 Yes, Socrates; I am convinced that there is precisely the 
 same necessity for the existence of the soul before birth, and of 
 the essence of which you are speaking: and the argument ar- 
 rives at a result which happily agrees with my own notion. For 
 there is nothing which to my mind is so evident as that beauty, 
 good, and other notions of which you were just now speaking 
 have a most real and absolute existence; and I am satisfied 
 with the proof. 
 
 Well, but is Cebes equally satisfied? for I must convince 
 him too. 
 
 I think, said Simmias, that Cebes is satisfied : although he is 
 the most incredulous of mortals, yet I believe that he is con- 
 vinced of the existence of the soul before birth. But that after 
 death the soul will continue to exist is not yet proven even to 
 my own satisfaction. I cannot get rid of the feeling of the 
 many to which Cebes was referring the feeling that when the 
 man dies the soul may be scattered, and that this may be the 
 end of her. For admitting that she may be generated and 
 created in some other place, and may have existed before en- 
 tering the human body, why after having entered in and gone 
 out again may she not herself be destroyed and come to an end ? 
 
 Very true, Simmias, said Cebes ; that our soul existed before 
 we were born was the first half of the argument, and this ap- 
 pears to have been proven ; that the soul will exist after death as 
 well as before birth is the other half of which the proof is still 
 wanting, and has to be supplied. 
 
 But that proof, Simmias and Cebes, has been already given, 
 said Socrates, if you put the two arguments together I mean 
 this and the former one, in which we admitted that everything 
 living is born of the dead. For if the soul existed before 
 birth, and in coming to life and being born can be born only 
 from death and dying, must she not after death continue to 
 exist, since she has to be born again ? surely the proof which 
 your desire has been already furnished. Still I suspect that you
 
 ioo DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 and Simmias would be glad to probe the argument further ; 
 like children, you are haunted with a fear that when the soul 
 leaves the body, the wind may really blow her away and scatter 
 her ; especially if a man should happen to die in stormy weather 
 and not when the sky is calm. 
 
 Cebes answered with a smile : Then, Socrates, you must argue 
 us out of our fears and yet, strictly speaking, they are not our 
 fears, but there is a child within us to whom death is a sort of 
 hobgoblin ; him too we must persuade not to be afraid when 
 he is alone with him in the dark. 
 
 Socrates said : Let the voice of the charmer be applied daily 
 until you have charmed him away. 
 
 And where shall we find a good charmer of our fears, Socra- 
 tes, when you are gone ? 
 
 Hellas, he replied, is a large place, Cebes, and has many 
 good men, and there are barbarous races not a few : seek for 
 him among them all, far and wide, sparing neither pains nor 
 money ; for there is no better way of using your money. And 
 you must not forget to seek for him among yourselves too ; for 
 he is nowhere more likely to be found. 
 
 The search, replied Cebes, shall certainly be made. And 
 now, if you please, let us return to the point of the argument at 
 which we digressed. 
 
 By all means, replied Socrates ; what else should I please ? 
 
 Very good, he said. 
 
 Must we not, said Socrates, ask ourselves some question of 
 this sort? What is that which, as we imagine, is liable to be 
 scattered away, and about which we fear? and what again is 
 that about which we have no fear ? And then we may proceed 
 to inquire whether that which suffers dispersion is or is not of 
 the nature of soul our hopes and fears as to our own souls will 
 turn upon that. 
 
 That is true, he said. 
 
 Now the compound or composite may be supposed to be 
 naturally capable of being dissolved in like manner as of being 
 compounded ; but that which is uncompounded, and that only, 
 must be, if anything is, indissoluble. 
 
 Yes ; that is what I should imagine, said Cebes. 
 
 And the uncompounded may be assumed to be the same and 
 unchanging, whereas the compound is always changing and 
 never the same?
 
 PH^EDO joi 
 
 That I also think, he said. 
 
 Then now let us return to the previous discussion. Is that 
 idea or essence, which in the dialectical process we define as 
 essence of true existence whether essence of equality, beauty, 
 or anything else : are these essences, I say, liable at times to 
 some degree of change ? or are they each of them always what 
 they are, having the same simple self-existent and unchanging 
 forms, and not admitting of variation at all, or in any way, or at 
 any time? 
 
 They must be always the same, Socrates, replied Cebes. 
 
 And what would you say of the many beautiful whether 
 men or horses or garments or any other things which may be 
 called equal or beautiful are they all unchanging and the 
 same always, or quite the reverse? May they not rather be 
 described as almost always changing and hardly ever the same, 
 either with themselves or with one another? 
 
 The latter, replied Cebes ; they are always in a state of change. 
 
 And these you can touch and see and perceive with the 
 senses, but the unchanging things you can only perceive with 
 the mind they are invisible and are not seen ? 
 
 That is very true, he said. 
 
 Well, then, he added, let us suppose that there are two sorts 
 of existences, one seen, the other unseen. 
 
 Let us suppose them. 
 
 The seen is the changing, and the unseen is the unchanging. 
 
 That may be also supposed. 
 
 And, further, is not one part of us body, and the rest of us 
 soul? 
 
 To be sure. 
 
 And to which class may we say that the body is more alike 
 and akin ? 
 
 Clearly to the seen : no one can doubt that. 
 
 And is the soul seen or not seen ? 
 
 Not by man, Socrates. 
 
 And by " seen " and " not seen " is meant by us that which 
 is or is not visible to the eye of man ? 
 
 Yes, to the eye of man. 
 
 And what do we say of the soul ? is that seen or not seen ? 
 
 Not seen. 
 
 Unseen then? 
 
 Yes.
 
 102 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Then the soul is more like to the unseen, and the body to the 
 seen? 
 
 That is most certain, Socrates. 
 
 And were we not saying long ago that the soul when using 
 the body as an instrument of perception, that is to say, when 
 using the sense of sight or hearing or some other sense (for the 
 meaning of perceiving through the body is perceiving through 
 the senses) were we not saying that the soul too is then 
 dragged by the body into the region of the changeable, and 
 wanders and is confused ; the world spins round her, and she 
 is like a drunkard when under their influence ? 
 
 Very true. 
 
 But when returning into herself she reflects ; then she passes 
 into the realm of purity, and eternity, and immortality, and 
 unchangeableness, which are her kindred, and with them she 
 ever lives, when she is by herself and is not let or hindered; 
 then she ceases from her erring ways, and being in communion 
 with the unchanging is unchanging. And this state of the 
 soul is called wisdom ? 
 
 That is well and truly said, Socrates, he replied. 
 
 And to which class is the soul more nearly alike and akin, as 
 far as may be inferred from this argument, as well as from the 
 preceding one? 
 
 I think, Socrates, that, in the opinion of every one who fol- 
 lows the argument, the soul will be infinitely more like the un- 
 changeable even the most stupid person will not deny that. 
 
 And the body is more like the changing? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Yet once more consider the matter in this light : When the 
 soul and the body are united, then nature orders the soul to 
 rule and govern, and the body to obey and serve. 
 
 Now which of these two functions is akin to the divine? and 
 which to the mortal? Does not the divine appear to you to 
 be that which naturally orders and rules, and the mortal that 
 which is subject and servant ? 
 
 True. 
 
 And which does the soul resemble? 
 
 The soul resembles the divine, and the body the mortal 
 there can be no doubt of that. Socrates. 
 
 Then reflect, Cebes : is not !:he conclusion of the whole mat- 
 ter this that the soul is in the very likeness of the divine, and
 
 PH^DO 
 
 103 
 
 immortal, and intelligible, and uniform, and indissoluble, and 
 unchangeable; and the body is in the very likeness of the 
 human, and mortal, and unintelligible, and multiform, and dis- 
 soluble, and changeable. Can this, my dear Cebes, be denied ? 
 
 No, indeed. 
 
 But if this is true, then is not the body liable to speedy dis- 
 solution ? and is not the soul almost or altogether indissoluble ? 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 And do you further observe, that after a man is dead, the 
 body, which is the visible part of man, and has a visible frame- 
 work, which is called a corpse, and which would naturally be 
 dissolved and decomposed and dissipated, is not dissolved or 
 decomposed at once, but may remain, for a good while, if the 
 constitution be sound at the time of death, and the season of the 
 year favorable? For the body when shrunk and embalmed, 
 as is the custom in Egypt, may remain almost entire through 
 infinite ages ; and even in decay, still there are some portions, 
 such as the bones and ligaments, which are practically inde- 
 structible. You allow that? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And are we to suppose that the soul, which is invisible, in 
 passing to the true Hades, which like her is invisible, and pure, 
 and noble, and on her way to the good and wise God, whither, 
 if God will, my soul is also soon to go that the soul, I repeat, 
 if this be her nature and origin, is blown away and perishes 
 immediately on quitting the body, as the many say? That can 
 never be, my dear Simmias and Cebes. The truth rather is 
 that the soul which is pure at departing draws after her no 
 bodily taint, having never voluntarily had connection with the 
 body, which she is ever avoiding, herself gathered into herself 
 (for such abstraction has been the study of her life). And what 
 does this mean but that she has been a true disciple of philoso- 
 phy, and has practised how to die easily ? And is not philoso- 
 phy the practice of death ? 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 That soul, I say, herself invisible, departs to the invisible 
 world to the divine and immortal and rational : thither arriv- 
 ing, she lives in bliss and is released from the error and folly of 
 men, their fears and wild passions and all other human ills, and 
 forever dwells, as they say of the initiated, in company with the 
 gods. Is not this true, Cebes "'
 
 104 
 
 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Yes, said Cebes, beyond a doubt. 
 
 But the soul which has been polluted, and is impure at the 
 time of her departure, and is the companion and servant of the 
 body always, and is in love with and fascinated by the body and 
 by the desires and pleasures of the body, until she is led to 
 believe that the truth only exists in a bodily form, which a man 
 may touch and see and taste and use for the purposes of his 
 lusts the soul, I mean, accustomed to hate and fear and avoid 
 the intellectual principle, which to the bodily eye is dark and 
 invisible, and can be attained only by philosophy do you sup- 
 pose that such a soul as this will depart pure and unalloyed ? 
 
 That is impossible, he replied. 
 
 She is engrossed by the corporeal, which the continual asso- 
 ciation and constant care of the body have made natural to her. 
 
 Very true. 
 
 And this, my friend, may be conceived to be that heavy, 
 weighty, earthy element of sight by which such a soul is de- 
 pressed and dragged down again into the visible world, because 
 she is afraid of the invisible and of the world below prowling 
 about tombs and sepulchres, in the neighborhood of which, as 
 they tell us, are seen certain ghostly apparitions of souls which 
 have not departed pure, but are cloyed with sight and therefore 
 visible.* 
 
 That is very likely, Socrates. 
 
 Yes, that is very likely, Cebes ; and these must be the souls, 
 not of the good, but of the evil, who are compelled to wander 
 about such places in payment of the penalty of their former evil 
 way of life ; and they continue to wander until the desire which 
 haunts them is satisfied and they are imprisoned in another 
 body. And they may be supposed to be fixed in the same 
 natures which they had in their former life. 
 
 * Compare Milton, " Comus," 463 foil. : 
 
 " But when lust, 
 
 By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, 
 But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, 
 Lets in defilement to the inward parts, 
 The soul grows clotted by contagion, 
 Embodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose 
 The divine property of her first Deing. 
 Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp 
 Oft seen in charnel vaults and sepulchres, 
 Lingering, and sitting by a new-made grave, 
 As loath to leave the body that it loved, 
 And linked itself by carml sensuality 
 To a degenerate and degnded state."
 
 PH^DO 105 
 
 What natures do you mean, Socrates ? 
 
 I mean to say that men who have followed after gluttony, 
 and wantonness, and drunkenness, and have had no thought of 
 avoiding them, would pass into asses and animals of that sort. 
 What do you think ? 
 
 I think that exceedingly probable. 
 
 And those who have chosen the portion" of injustice, and 
 tyranny, and violence, will pass into wolves, or hawks, and 
 kites ; whither else can we suppose them to go ? 
 
 Yes, said Cebes ; that is doubtless the place of natures such 
 as theirs. 
 
 And there is no difficulty, he said, in assigning to all of them 
 places answering to their several natures and propensities ? 
 
 There is not, he said. 
 
 Even among them some are happier than others ; and the 
 happiest both in themselves and their place of abode are those 
 who have practised the civil and social virtues which are called 
 temperance and justice, and are acquired by habit and attention 
 without philosophy and mind. 
 
 Why are they the happiest ? 
 
 Because they may be expected to pass into some gentle, 
 social nature which is like their own, such as that of bees or 
 ants, or even back again into the form of man, and just and 
 moderate men spring from them. 
 
 That is not impossible. 
 
 But he who is a philosopher or lover of learning, and is en- 
 tirely pure at departing, is alone permitted to reach the gods. 
 And this is the reason, Simmias and Cebes, why the true vota- 
 ries of philosophy abstain from all fleshly lusts, and endure and 
 refuse to give themselves up to them not because they fear 
 poverty or the ruin of their families, like the lovers of money, 
 and the world in general ; nor like the lovers of power and honor, 
 because they dread the dishonor or disgrace of evil deeds. 
 
 No, Socrates, that would not become them, said Cebes. 
 
 No, indeed, he replied ; and therefore they who have a care 
 of their souls, and do not merely live in the fashions of the body, 
 say farewell to all this ; they will not walk in the ways of the 
 blind: and when Philosophy offers them purification and re- 
 lease from evil, they feel that th-ey ought not to resist her influ- 
 ence, and to her they incline, and whither she leads they follow 
 her.
 
 lo6 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 What do you mean, Socrates ? 
 
 I will tell you, he said. The lovers of knowledge are con- 
 scious that their souls, when philosophy receives them, are 
 simply fastened and glued to their bodies : the soul is only able 
 to view existence through the bars of a prison, and not in her 
 own nature ; she is wallowing in the mire of all ignorance ; and 
 philosophy, seeing the terrible nature of her confinement, and 
 that the captive through desire is led to conspire in her own 
 captivity (for the lovers of knowledge are aware that this was 
 the original state of the soul, and that when she was in this 
 state philosophy received and gently counseled her, and wanted 
 to release her, pointing out to her that the eye is full of deceit, 
 and also the ear and the other senses, and persuading her to 
 retire from them in all but the necessary use of them and to be 
 gathered up and collected into herself, and to trust only to her- 
 self and her own intuitions of absolute existence, and mistrust 
 that which comes to her through others and is subject to vicis- 
 situde) philosophy shows her that this is visible and tangible, 
 but that what she sees in her own nature is intellectual and 
 invisible. And the soul of the true philosopher thinks that she 
 ought not to resist this deliverance, and therefore abstains from 
 pleasures and desires and pains and fears, as far as she is able ; 
 reflecting that when a man has great joys or sorrows or fears 
 or desires he suffers from them, not the sort of evil which might 
 be anticipated as, for example, the loss of his health or prop- 
 erty, which he has sacrificed to his lusts but he has suffered 
 an evil greater far, which is the greatest and worst of all evils, 
 and one of which he never thinks. 
 
 And what is that, Socrates ? said Cebes. 
 
 Why this : When the feeling of pleasure or pain in the soul 
 is most intense, all of us naturally suppose that the object of 
 this intense feeling is then plainest and truest : but this is not 
 the case. 
 
 Very true. 
 
 And this is the state in which the soul is most enthralled by 
 the body. 
 
 How is that ? 
 
 Why, because each pleasure and pain is a sort of nail which 
 nails and rivets the soul to the body, and engrosses her and 
 makes her believe that to be true which the body affirms to be 
 true; and from agreeing with the body and having the same
 
 PH^DO 107 
 
 delights she is obliged to have the same habits and ways, and 
 is not likely ever to be pure at her departure to the world below, 
 but is always saturated with the body ; so that she soon sinks 
 into another body and there germinates and grows, and has 
 therefore no part in the communion of the divine and pure and 
 simple. 
 
 That is most true, Socrates, answered Cebes. 
 
 And this, Cebes, is the reason why the true lovers of knowl- 
 edge are temperate and brave ; and not for the reason which the 
 world gives. 
 
 Certainly not. 
 
 Certainly not! For not in that way does the soul of a 
 philosopher reason ; she will not ask philosophy to release her 
 in order that when released she may deliver herself up again to 
 the thraldom of pleasures and pains, doing a work only to be 
 undone again, weaving instead of unweaving her Penelope's 
 web. But she will make herself a calm of passion, and follow 
 Reason, and dwell in her, beholding the true and divine (which 
 is not matter of opinion), and thence derive nourishment. Thus 
 she seeks to live while she lives, and after death she hopes to 
 go to her own kindred and to be freed from human ills. Never 
 fear, Simmias and Cebes, that a soul which has been thus nur- 
 tured and has had these pursuits, will at her departure from the 
 body be scattered and blown away by the winds and be nowhere 
 and nothing. 
 
 When Socrates had done speaking, for a considerable time 
 there was silence ; he himself and most of us appeared to be 
 meditating on what had been said ; only Cebes and Simmias 
 spoke a few words to one another. And Socrates observing 
 this asked them what they thought of the argument, and 
 whether there was anything wanting? For, said he, much is 
 still open to suspicion and attack, if any one were disposed to 
 sift the matter thoroughly. If you are talking of something 
 else I would rather not interrupt you, but if you are still doubt- 
 ful about the argument do not hesitate to say exactly what you 
 think, and let us have anything better which you can suggest ; 
 and if I am likely to be of any use, allow me to help you. 
 
 Simmias said : I must confess, Socrates, that doubts did arise 
 in our minds, and each of us was urging and inciting the other 
 to put the question which he wanted to have answered and 
 which neither of us liked to ask, fearing that our importunity 
 might be troublesome under present circumstances.
 
 I0 8 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Socrates smiled and said : O Simmias, how strange that is ; 
 I am not very likely to persuade other men that I do not regard 
 my present situation as a misfortune, if I am unable to persuade 
 you, and you will keep fancying that I am at all more troubled 
 now than at any other time. Will you not allow that I have as 
 much of the spirit of prophecy in me as the swans ? For they, 
 when they perceive that they must die, having sung all their 
 life long, do then sing more than ever, rejoicing in the thought 
 that they are about to go away to the god whose ministers they 
 are. But men, because they are themselves afraid of death, 
 slanderously affirm of the swans that they sing a lament at the 
 last, not considering that no bird sings when cold, or hungry, 
 or in pain, not even the nightingale, nor the swallow, nor yet 
 the hoopoe ; which are said indeed to tune a lay of sorrow, al- 
 though I do not believe this to be true of them any more than 
 of the swans. But because they are sacred to Apollo and have 
 the gift of prophecy and anticipate the good things of another 
 world, therefore they sing and rejoice in that day more than 
 they ever did before. And I, too, believing myself to be the 
 consecrated servant of the same God, and the fellow servant of 
 the swans, and thinking that I have received from my master 
 gifts of prophecy which are not inferior to theirs, would not go 
 out of life less merrily than the swans. Cease to mind then 
 about this, but speak and ask anything which you like, while 
 the eleven magistrates of Athens allow. 
 
 Well, Socrates, said Simmias, then I will tell you my diffi- 
 culty, and Cebes will tell you his. For I dare say that you, 
 Socrates, feel as I do, how very hard or almost impossible is the 
 attainment of any certainty about questions such as these in 
 the present life. And yet I should deem him a coward who did 
 not prove of what is said about them to the uttermost, or whose 
 heart failed him before he had examined them on every side. 
 For he should persevere until he has attained one of two things : 
 either he should discover or learn the truth about them ; or, if 
 this is impossible, I would have him take the best and most 
 irrefragable of human notions, and let this be the raft upon 
 which he sails through life not without risk, as I admit, if he 
 cannot find some word of God which will more surely and safely 
 carry him. And now, as you bid me, I will venture to question 
 you, as I should not like to reproach myself hereafter with not 
 having said at the time what I think. For when I consider the
 
 PH^DO 
 
 109 
 
 matter either alone or with Cebes, the argument does certainly 
 appear to me, Socrates, to be not sufficient. 
 
 Socrates answered : I dare say, my friend, that you may be 
 right, but I should like to know in what respect the argument 
 is not sufficient. 
 
 In this respect, replied Simmias : Might not a person use the 
 same argument about harmony and the lyre might he not say 
 that harmony is a thing invisible, incorporeal, fair, divine, abid- 
 ing in the lyre which is harmonized, but that the lyre and the 
 strings are matter and material, composite, earthy, and akin to 
 mortality? And when some one breaks the lyre, or cuts and 
 rends the strings, then he who takes this view would argue as 
 you do, and on the same analogy, that the harmony survives 
 and has not perished ; for you cannot imagine, as we would say, 
 that the lyre without the strings, and the broken strings them- 
 selves, remain, and yet that the harmony, which is of heavenly 
 and immortal nature and kindred, has perished and perished 
 too before the mortal. The harmony, he would say, certainly 
 exists somewhere, and the wood and strings will decay before 
 that decays. For I suspect, Socrates, that the notion of the 
 soul which we are all of us inclined to entertain, would also be 
 yours, and that you too would conceive the body to be strung 
 up, and held together, by the elements of hot and cold, wet and 
 dry, and the like, and that the soul is the harmony or due pro- 
 portionate admixture of them. And, if this is true, the infer- 
 ence clearly is that when the strings of the body are unduly 
 loosened or overstrained through disorder or other injury, then 
 the soul, though most divine, like other harmonies of music or 
 of the works of art, of course perishes at once, although the 
 material remains of the body may last for a considerable time, 
 until they are either decayed or burnt. Now if any one main- 
 tained that the soul, being the harmony of the elements of the 
 body, first perishes in that which is called death, how shall we 
 answer him ? 
 
 Socrates looked round at us as his manner was, and said, with 
 a smile : Simmias has reason on his side ; and why does not 
 some one of you who is abler than myself answer him? for 
 there is force in his attack upon me. But perhaps, before we 
 answer him, we had better also hear what Cebes has to sav 
 against the argument this will give us time for reflection, and 
 when both of them have spoken, we may either assent to them,
 
 no DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 if their words appear to be in consonance with the truth, 
 or if not, we may take up the other side, and argue with them. 
 Please to tell me then, Cebes, he said, what was the difficulty 
 which troubled you ? 
 
 Cebes said : I will tell you. My feeling is that the argument 
 is still in the same position, and open to the same objections 
 which were urged before ; for I am ready to admit that the 
 existence of the soul before entering into the bodily form has 
 been very ingeniously, and, as I may be allowed to say, quite 
 sufficiently proven ; but the existence of the soul after death is 
 still, in my judgment, unproven. Now my objection is not the 
 same as that of Simmias ; for I am not disposed to deny that the 
 soul is stronger and more lasting than the body, being of opin- 
 ion that in all such respects the soul very far excels the body. 
 Well, then, says the argument to me, why do you remain un- 
 convinced ? When you see that the weaker is still in existence 
 after the man is dead, will you not admit that the more lasting 
 must also survive during the same period of time ? Now I, like 
 Simmias, must employ a figure ; and I shall ask you to consider 
 whether the figure is to the point. The parallel which I will 
 suppose is that of an old weaver, who dies, and after his death 
 somebody says : He is not dead, he must be alive ; and he ap- 
 peals to the coat which he himself wove and wore, and which 
 is still whole and undecayed. And then he proceeds to ask of 
 some one who is incredulous, whether a man lasts longer, or 
 the coat which is in use and wear ; and when he is answered that 
 a man lasts far longer, thinks that he has thus certainly demon- 
 strated the survival of the man, who is the more lasting, because 
 the less lasting remains. But that, Simmias, as I would beg 
 you to observe, is not the truth ; every one sees that he who 
 talks thus is talking nonsense. For the truth is that this 
 weaver, having worn and woven many such coats, though he 
 outlived several of them, was himself outlived by the last ; but 
 this is surely very far from proving that a man is slighter and 
 weaker than a coat. Now the relation of the body to the soul 
 may be expressed in a similar figure ; for you may say with 
 reason that the soul is lasting, and the body weak and short- 
 lived in comparison. And every soul may be said to wear out 
 many bodies, especially in the course of a long life. For if 
 while the man is alive the body deliquesces and decays, and yet 
 the soul always weaves her garment anew and repairs the waste,
 
 PH^EDO in 
 
 then of course, when the soul perishes, she must have on her 
 last garment, and this only will survive her; but then again 
 when the soul is dead the body will at last show its native weak- 
 ness, and soon pass into decay. And therefore this is an argu- 
 ment on which I would rather not rely as proving that the soul 
 exists after death. For suppose that we grant even more than 
 you affirm as within the range of possibility, and besides ac- 
 knowledging that the soul existed before birth admit also that 
 after death the souls of some are existing still, and will exist, 
 and will be born and die again and again, and that there is a 
 natural strength in the soul which will hold out and be born 
 many times for all this, we may be still inclined to think that 
 she will weary in the labors of successive births, and may at 
 last succumb in one of her deaths and utterly perish ; and this 
 death and dissolution of the body which brings destruction to 
 the soul may be unknown to any of us, for no one of us can 
 have had any experience of it : and if this be true, then I say that 
 he who is confident in death has but a foolish confidence, un- 
 less he is able to prove that the soul is altogether immortal and 
 imperishable. But if he is not able to prove this, he who is 
 about to die will always have reason to fear that when the body 
 is disunited, the soul also may utterly perish. 
 
 All of us, as we afterwards remarked to one another, had an 
 unpleasant feeling at hearing them say this. When we had 
 been so firmly convicted before, now to have our faith shaken 
 seemed to introduce a confusion and uncertainty, not only into 
 the previous argument, but into any future one ; either we were 
 not good judges, or there were no real grounds of belief. 
 
 Ech. There I feel with you indeed I do, Phaedo, and when 
 you were speaking, I was beginning to ask myself the same 
 question : What argument can I ever trust again ? For what 
 could be more convincing than the argument of Socrates, which 
 has now fallen into discredit ? That the soul is a harmony is a 
 doctrine which has always had a wonderful attraction for me, 
 and, when mentioned, came back to me at once, as my own 
 original conviction. And now I must begin again and find 
 another argument which will assure me that when the man is 
 dead the soul dies not with him. Tell me, I beg, how did Soc- 
 rates proceed ? Did he appear to share the unpleasant feeling 
 which you mention? or did he receive the interruption calmly 
 and give a sufficient answer? Tell us, as exactly as you can, 
 what passed.
 
 II a DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Phad. Often, Echecrates, as I have admired Socrates, I never 
 admired him more than at that moment. That he should be 
 able to answer was nothing, but what astonished me was, first, 
 the gentle and pleasant and approving manner in which he re- 
 garded the words of the young men, and then his quick sense 
 of the wound which had been inflicted by the argument, and 
 his ready application of the healing art. He might be com- 
 pared to a general rallying his defeated and broken army, urg- 
 ing them to follow him and return to the field of argument. 
 
 Ech. How was that ? 
 
 Phad. You shall hear, for I was close to him on his right 
 hand, seated on a sort of stool, and he on a couch which was a 
 good deal higher. Now he had a way of playing with my hair, 
 and then he smoothed my head, and pressed the hair upon my 
 neck, and said : To-morrow, Phaedo, I suppose that these fair 
 locks of yours will be severed. 
 
 Yes, Socrates, I suppose that they will, I replied. 
 
 Not so if you will take my advice. 
 
 What shall I do with them ? I said. 
 
 To-day, he replied, and not to-morrow, if this argument dies 
 and cannot be brought to life again by us, you and I will both 
 shave our locks ; and if I were you, and could not maintain my 
 ground against Simmias and Cebes, I would myself take an 
 oath, like the Argives, not to wear hair any more until I had 
 renewed the conflict and defeated them. 
 
 Yes, I said, but Heracles himself is said not to be a match 
 for two. 
 
 Summon me then, he said, and I will be your lolaus until the 
 sun goes down. 
 
 I summon you rather, I said, not as Heracles summoning 
 lolaus, but as lolaus might summon Heracles. 
 
 That will be all the same, he said. But first let us take care 
 that we avoid a danger. 
 
 And what is that ? I said. 
 
 The danger of becoming misologists, he replied, which is 
 one of the very worst things that can happen to us. For as 
 there are misanthropists or haters of men, there are also mis- 
 ologists or haters of ideas, and both spring from the same 
 cause, which is ignorance of the world. Misanthropy arises 
 from the too great confidence of inexperience ; you trust a man 
 and think him altogether true and good and faithful, and then
 
 PH^DO 113 
 
 in a lit'Je while he turns out to be false and knavish ; and then 
 another and another, and when this has happened several times 
 to a man, especially within the circle of his own most trusted 
 friends, as he deems them, and he has often quarreled with 
 them, he at last hates all men, and believes that no one has any 
 good in him at all. I dare say that you must have observed 
 this. 
 
 Yes, I said. 
 
 And is not this discreditable? The reason is that a man, 
 having to deal with other men, has no knowledge of them ; for 
 if he had knowledge he would have known the true state of the 
 case, that few are the good and few the evil, and that the great 
 majority are in the interval between them. 
 
 How do you mean ? I said. 
 
 I mean, he replied, as you might say of the 'very large and 
 very small, that nothing is more uncommon than a very large 
 or a very small man ; and this applies generally to all extremes, 
 whether of great and small, or swift and slow, or fair and foul, 
 or black and white: and whether the instances you select be 
 men or dogs or anything else, few are the extremes, but many 
 are in the mean between them. Did you never observe this ? 
 
 Yes, I said, I have. 
 
 And do you not imagine, he said, that if there were a compe- 
 tition of evil, the first in evil would be found to be very few ? 
 
 Yes, that is very likely, I said. 
 
 Yes, that is very likely, he replied ; not that in this respect 
 arguments are like men there I was led on by you to say more 
 than I had intended ; but the point of comparison was that when 
 a simple man who has no skill in dialectics believes an argument 
 to be true which he afterwards imagines to be false, whether 
 really false or not, and then another and another, he has no 
 longer any faith left, and great disputers, as you know, come to 
 think at last that they have grown to be the wisest of man- 
 kind ; for they alone perceive the utter unsoundness and insta- 
 bility of all arguments, or, indeed, of all things, which, like the 
 currents in the Euripus, are going up and down in never-ceas- 
 ing ebb and flow. 
 
 That is quite true, I said. 
 
 Yes, Phaedo, he replied, and very melancholy too, if there 
 be such a thing as truth or certainty or power of knowing at all, 
 that a man should have lighted upon some argument or other 
 8
 
 n 4 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 which at first seemed true and then turned out to be false, and 
 instead of blaming himself and his own want of wit, because he 
 is annoyed, should at last be too glad to transfer the blame 
 from himself to arguments in general ; and forever afterwards 
 should hate and revile them, and lose the truth and knowledge 
 of existence. 
 
 Yes, indeed, I said ; that is very melancholy. 
 
 Let us, then, in the first place, he said, be careful of admitting 
 into our souls the notion that there is no truth or health or 
 soundness in any arguments at all ; but let us rather say that 
 there is as yet no health in us, and that we must quit ourselves 
 like men and do our best to gain health you and all other men 
 with a view to the whole of your future life, and I myself with a 
 view to death. For at this moment I am sensible that I have 
 not the temper of a philosopher ; like the vulgar, I am only a 
 partisan. For the partisan, when he is engaged in a dispute, 
 cares nothing about the rights of the question, but is anxious 
 only to convince his hearers of his own assertions. And the 
 difference between him and me at the present moment is only 
 this that whereas he seeks to convince his hearers that what 
 he says is true, I am rather seeking to convince myself ; to con- 
 vince my hearers is a secondary matter with me. And do but 
 see how much I gain by this. For if what I say is true, then I 
 do well to be persuaded of the truth, but if there be nothing after 
 death, still, during the short time that remains, I shall save my 
 friends from lamentations, and my ignorance will not last, and 
 therefore no harm will be done. This is the state of mind, Sim- 
 mias and Cebes, in which I approach the argument. And I 
 would ask you to be thinking of the truth and not of Socrates : 
 agree with me, if I seem to you to be speaking the truth ; or if 
 not, withstand me might and main, that I may not deceive you 
 as well as myself in my enthusiasm, and, like the bee, leave my 
 sting in you before I die. 
 
 And now let us proceed, he said. And first of all let me be 
 sure that I have in my mind what you were saying. Simmias, if 
 I remember rightly, has fears and misgivings whether the soul, 
 being in the form of harmony, although a fairer and diviner 
 thing than the body, may not perish first. On the other hand, 
 Cebes appeared to grant that the soul was more lasting than 
 the body, but he said that no one could know whether the soul, 
 after having worn out many bodies, might not perish herself
 
 PH^DO 115 
 
 and leave her last body behind her ; and that this is death, which 
 is the destruction not of the body but of the soul, for in the body 
 the work of destruction is ever going on. Are not these, Sim- 
 mias and Cebes, the points which we have to consider ? 
 
 They both agreed to this statement of them. 
 
 He proceeded : And did you deny the force of the whole pre- 
 ceding argument, or of a part only ? 
 
 Of a part only, they replied. 
 
 And what did you think, he said, of that part of the argument 
 in which we said that knowledge was recollection only, and in- 
 ferred from this that the soul must have previously existed 
 somewhere else before she was enclosed in the body? Cebes 
 said that he had been wonderfully impressed by that part of the 
 argument, and that his conviction remained unshaken. Sim- 
 mias agreed, and added that he himself could hardly imagine 
 the possibility of his ever thinking differently about that. 
 
 But, rejoined Socrates, you will have to think differently, my 
 Theban friend, if you still maintain that harmony is a com- 
 pound, and that the soul is a harmony which is made out of 
 strings set in the frame of the body ; for you will surely never 
 allow yourself to say that a harmony is prior to the elements 
 which compose the harmony. 
 
 No, Socrates, that is impossible. 
 
 But do you not see that you arc saying this when you say that 
 the soul existed before she took the form and body of man, and 
 was made up of elements which as yet had no existence ? For 
 harmony is not a sort of thing like the soul, as you suppose ; but 
 first the lyre, and the strings, and the sounds exist in a state of 
 discord, and then harmony is made last of all, and perishes first. 
 And how can such a notion of the soul as this agree with the 
 other ? 
 
 Not at all, replied Simmias. 
 
 And yet, he said, there surely ought to be harmony when 
 harmony is the theme of discourse. 
 
 There ought, replied Simmias. 
 
 But there is no harmony, he said, in the two propositions 
 that knowledge is recollection, and that the soul is a harmony. 
 Which of them, then, will you retain ? 
 
 I think, he replied, that I have a much stronger faith, Soc- 
 rates, in the first of the two, which has been fully demonstrated 
 to me, than in the latter, which has not been demonstrated at
 
 n6 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 all, but rests only on probable and plausible grounds; and I 
 know too well that these arguments from probabilities are im- 
 postors, and unless great caution is observed in the use of them 
 they are apt to be deceptive in geometry, and in other things 
 too. But the doctrine of knowledge and recollection has been 
 proven to me on trustworthy grounds ; and the proof was that 
 the soul must have existed before she came into the body, be- 
 cause to her belongs the essence of which the very name implies 
 existence. Having, as I am convinced, rightly accepted this 
 conclusion, and on sufficient grounds, I must, as I suppose, 
 cease to argue or allow others to argue that the soul is a har- 
 mony. 
 
 Let me put the matter, Simmias, he said, in another point of 
 view : Do you imagine that a harmony or any other composi- 
 tion can be in a state other than that of the elements out of which 
 it is compounded? 
 
 Certainly not. 
 
 Or do or suffer anything other than they do or suffer ? 
 
 He agreed. 
 
 Then a harmony does not lead the parts or elements which 
 make up the harmony, but only follows them. 
 
 He assented. 
 
 For harmony cannot possibly have any motion, or sound, or 
 other quality which is opposed to the parts. 
 
 That would be impossible, he replied, 
 
 And does not every harmony depend upon the manner in 
 which the elements are harmonized ? 
 
 I do not understand you, he said. 
 
 I mean to say that a harmony admits of degrees, and is more 
 of a harmony, and more completely a harmony, when more 
 completely harmonized, if that be possible ; and less of a har- 
 mony, and less completely a harmony, when less harmonized. 
 
 True. 
 
 But does the soul admit of degrees ? or is one soul in the very 
 least degree more or less, or more or less completely, a soul 
 than another ? 
 
 Not in the least. 
 
 Yet surely one soul is said to have intelligence and virtue, 
 and to be good, and another soul is said to have folly and vice, 
 and to be an evil soul : and this is said truly ? 
 
 Yes, truly.
 
 PH^DO 117 
 
 But what will those who maintain the soul to be a harmony 
 say of this presence of virtue and vice in the soul? will they 
 say that there is another harmony, and another discord, and 
 that the virtuous soul is harmonized, and herself being har- 
 mony has another harmony within her, and that the vicious 
 soul is inharmonical and has no harmony within her ? 
 
 I cannot say, replied Simmias ; but I suppose that something 
 of that kind would be asserted by those who take this view. 
 
 And the admission is already made that no soul is more a 
 soul than another ; and this is equivalent to admitting that har- 
 mony is not more or less harmony, or more or less completely 
 a harmony ? 
 
 Quite true. 
 
 And that which is not more or less a harmony is not more or 
 less harmonized? 
 
 True. 
 
 And that which is not more or less harmonized cannot have 
 more or less of harmony, but only an equal harmony ? 
 
 Yes, an equal harmony. 
 
 Then one soul not being more or less absolutely a soul than 
 another, is not more or less harmonized ? 
 
 Exactly. 
 
 And therefore has neither more nor less of harmony or of 
 discord ? 
 
 She has not. 
 
 And having neither more nor less of harmony or of discord, 
 one soul has no more vice or virtue than another, if vice be dis- 
 cord and virtue harmony ? 
 
 Not at all more. 
 
 Or speaking more correctly, Simmias, the soul, if she is a 
 harmony, will never have any vice ; because a harmony, being 
 absolutely a harmony, has no part in the inharmonical ? 
 
 No. 
 
 And therefore a soul which is absolutely a soul has no vice? 
 
 How can she have, consistently with the preceding argu- 
 ment? 
 
 Then, according to this, if the souls of all animals are equally 
 and absolutely souls, they will be equally good? 
 
 I agree with you, Socrates, he said. 
 
 And can all this be true, think you ? he said ; and are all these 
 consequences admissible which nevertheless seem to follow 
 from the assumption that the soul is a harmony ?
 
 u8 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Certainly not, he said. 
 
 Once more, he said, what ruling principle is there of human 
 things other than the soul, and especially the wise soul? Do 
 you know of any ? 
 
 Indeed, I do not. 
 
 And is the soul in agreement with the affections of the body ? 
 or is she at variance with them ? For example, when the body 
 is hot and thirsty, does not the soul incline us against drinking? 
 and when the body is hungry, against eating ? And this is only 
 one instance out of ten thousand of the opposition of the soul 
 to the things of the body. 
 
 Very true. 
 
 But we have already acknowledged that the soul, being a 
 harmony, can never utter a note at variance with the tensions 
 and relaxations and vibrations and other affections of the 
 strings out of which she is composed ; she can only follow, she 
 cannot lead them ? 
 
 Yes, he said, we acknowledged that, certainly. 
 
 And yet we do not now discover the soul to be doing the exact 
 opposite leading the elements of which she is believed to be 
 composed ; almost always opposing and coercing them in all 
 sorts of ways throughout life, sometimes more violently with 
 the pains of medicine and gymnastic ; then again more gently ; 
 threatening and also reprimanding the desires, passions, fears, 
 as if talking to a thing which is not herself, as Homer in the 
 " Odyssey " represents Odysseus doing in the words, 
 
 " He beat his breast, and thus reproached his heart : 
 Endure, my heart; far worse hast thou endured!" 
 
 Do you think that Homer could have written this under the 
 idea that the soul is a harmony capable of being led by the 
 affections of the body, and not rather of a nature which leads 
 and masters them ; and herself a far diviner thing than any har- 
 mony ? 
 
 Yes, Socrates, I quite agree to that. 
 
 Then, my friend, we can never be right in saying that the soul 
 is a harmony, for that would clearly contradict the divine 
 Homer as well as ourselves. 
 
 True, he said. 
 
 Thus much, said Socrates, of Harmonia, your Theban god- 
 dess, Cebes, who has not been ungracious to us, I think ; but
 
 PH^DO 
 
 119 
 
 what shall I say to the Theban Cadmus, and how shall I pro- 
 pitiate him ? 
 
 I think that you will discover a way of propitiating him, said 
 Cebes ; I am sure that you have answered the argument about 
 harmony in a manner that I could never have expected. For 
 when Simmias mentioned his objection, I quite imagined that 
 no answer could be given to him, and therefore I was surprised 
 at finding that his argument could not sustain the first onset of 
 yours ; and not impossibly the other, whom you call Cadmus, 
 may share a similar fate. 
 
 Nay, my good friend, said Socrates, let us not boast, lest 
 some evil eye should put to flight the word which I am about 
 to speak. That, however, may be left in the hands of those 
 above, while I draw near in Homeric fashion, and try the met- 
 tle of your words. Briefly, the sum of your objection is as fol- 
 lows : You want to have proven to you that the soul is imper- 
 ishable and immortal, and you think that the philosopher who 
 is confident in death has but a vain and foolish confidence, if he 
 thinks that he will fare better than one who has led another sort 
 of life, in the world below, unless he can prove this ; and you 
 say that the demonstration of the strength and divinity of the 
 soul, and of her existence prior to our becoming men, does not 
 necessarily imply her immortality. Granting that the soul is 
 long-lived, and has known and done much in a former state, 
 still she is not on that account immortal ; and her entrance into 
 the human form may be a sort of disease which is the beginning 
 of dissolution, and may at last, after the toils of life are over, 
 end in that which is called death. And whether the soul enters 
 into the body once only or many times, that, as you would say, 
 makes no difference in the fears of individuals. For any man, 
 who is not devoid of natural feeling, has reason to fear, if he 
 has no knowledge or proof of the soul's immortality. That is 
 what I suppose you to say, Cebes, which I designedly repeat, 
 in order that nothing may escape us, and that you may, if you 
 wish, add or subtract anything. 
 
 But, said Cebes, as far as I can see at present, I have nothing 
 to add or subtract ; you have expressed my meaning. , 
 
 Socrates paused awhile, and seemed to be absorbed in reflec- 
 tion. At length he said : This is a very serious inquiry which 
 you are raising, Cebes, involving the whole question of genera- 
 tion and corruption, about which I will, if you like, give you my
 
 120 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 own experience ; and you can apply this, if you think that any- 
 thing which I say will avail towards the solution of your diffi- 
 culty. 
 
 I should very much like, said Cebes, to hear what you have 
 to say. 
 
 Then I will tell you, said Socrates. When I was young, Cebes, 
 I had a prodigious desire to know that department of philosophy 
 which is called Natural Science; this appeared to me to have 
 lofty aims, as being the science which has to do with the causes 
 of things, and which teaches why a thing is, and is created and 
 destroyed ; and I was always agitating myself with the consid- 
 eration of such questions as these : Is the growth of animals the 
 result of some decay which the hot and cold principle contract, 
 as some have said? Is the blood the element with which we 
 think, or the air, or the fire ? or perhaps nothing of this sort 
 but the brain may be the originating power of the perceptions 
 of hearing and sight and smell, and memory and opinion may 
 come from them, and science may be based on memory and 
 opinion when no longer in motion, but at rest. And then I 
 went on to examine the decay of them, and then to the things 
 of heaven and earth, and at last I concluded that I was wholly 
 incapable of these inquiries, as I will satisfactorily prove to you. 
 For I was fascinated by them to such a degree that my eyes 
 grew blind to things that I had seemed to myself, and also to 
 others, to know quite well ; and I forgot what I had before 
 thought to be self-evident, that the growth of man is the result 
 of eating and drinking ; for when by the digestion of food flesh 
 is added to flesh and bone to bone, and whenever there is an 
 aggregation of congenial elements, the lesser bulk becomes 
 larger and the small man greater. Was not that a reasonable 
 notion? 
 
 Yes, said Cebes, I think so. 
 
 Well ; but let me tell you something more. There was a time 
 when I thought that I understood the meaning of greater and 
 less pretty well ; and when I saw a great man standing by a little 
 one I fancied that one was taller than the other by a head, or 
 one horse would appear to be greater than another horse : and 
 still more clearly did I seem to perceive that ten is two more 
 than eight, and that two cubits are more than one, because two 
 is twice one. 
 
 And what is now your notion of such matters ? said Cebes.
 
 PH^DO 121 
 
 I should be far enough from imagining, he replied, that I 
 knew the cause of any of them, indeed I should, for I cannot 
 satisfy myself that when one is added to one, the one to which 
 the addition is made becomes two, or that the two units added 
 together make two by reason of the addition. For I cannot un- 
 derstand how, when separated from the other, each of them was 
 one and not two, and now, when they are brought together, the 
 mere juxtaposition of them can be the cause of their becoming 
 two : nor can I understand how the division of one is the way to 
 make two ; for then a different cause would produce the same 
 effect as in the former instance the addition and juxtaposition 
 of one to one was the cause of two, in this the separation and 
 subtraction of one from the other would be the cause. Nor am 
 I any longer satisfied that I understand the reason why one or 
 anything else either is generated or destroyed or is at all, but I 
 have in my mind some confused notion of another method, and 
 can never admit this. 
 
 Then I heard some one who had a book of Anaxagoras, as 
 he said, out of which he read that mind was the disposer and 
 cause of all, and I was quite delighted at the notion of this, 
 which appeared admirable, and I said to myself: If mind is the 
 disposer, mind will dispose all for the best, and put each par- 
 ticular in the best place ; and I argued that if any one desired to 
 find out the cause of the generation or destruction or existence 
 of anything, he must find out what state of being or suffering 
 or doing was best for that thing, and therefore a man had only 
 to consider the best for himself and others, and then he would 
 also know the worse, for that the same science comprised both. 
 And I rejoiced to think that I had found in Anaxagoras a 
 teacher of the causes of existence such as I desired, and I imag- 
 ined that he would tell me first whether the earth is flat or 
 round ; and then he would further explain the cause and the 
 necessity of this, and would teach me the nature of the best and 
 show that this was best ; and if he said that the earth was in the 
 centre, he would explain that this position was the best, and I 
 should be satisfied if this were shown to me, and not want any 
 other sort of cause. And I thought that I would then go and 
 ask him about the sun and moon and stars, and that he would 
 explain to me their comparative swiftness, and their returnings 
 and various states, and how their several affections, active and 
 passive, were all for the best. For I could not imagine that
 
 12* DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 when he spoke of mind as the disposer of them, he would give 
 any other account of their being as they are, except that this 
 was best ; and I thought that when he had explained to me in 
 detail the cause of each and the cause of all, he would go on 
 to explain to me what was best for each and what was best for 
 all. I had hopes which I would not have sold for much, and I 
 seized the books and read them as fast as I could in my eager- 
 ness to know the better and the worse. 
 
 What hopes I had formed, and how grievously was I disap- 
 pointed ! As I proceeded, I found my philosopher altogether 
 forsaking mind or any other principle of order, but having re- 
 course to air, and ether, and water, and other eccentricities. I 
 might compare him to a person who began by maintaining gen- 
 erally that mind is the cause of the actions of Socrates, but who, 
 when he endeavored to explain the causes of my several actions 
 in detail, went on to show that I sit here because my body is made 
 up of bones and muscles ; and the bones, as he would say, are 
 hard and have ligaments which divide them, and the muscles are 
 elastic, and they cover the bones, which have also a covering or 
 environment of flesh and skin which contains them ; and as the 
 bones are lifted at their joints by the contraction or relaxation 
 of the muscles, I am able to bend my limbs, and this is why I am 
 sitting here in a curved posture : that is what he would say, and 
 he would have a similar explanation of my talking to you, 
 which he would attribute to sound, and air, and hearing, and he 
 would assign ten thousand other causes of the same sort, for- 
 getting to mention the true cause, which is that the Athenians 
 have thought fit to condemn me, and accordingly I have thought 
 it better and more right to remain here and undergo my sen- 
 tence ; for I am inclined to think that these muscles and bones 
 of mine would have gone off to Megara or Boeotia by the dog 
 of Egypt they would, if they had ben guided only by their own 
 idea of what was best, and if I had not chosen as the better and 
 nobler part, instead of playing truant and running away, to un- 
 dergo any punishment which the State inflicts. There is surely 
 a strange confusion of causes and conditions in all this. It may 
 be said, indeed, that without bones and muscles and the other 
 parts of the body I cannot execute my purposes. But to say 
 that I do as I do because of them, and that this is the way in 
 which mind acts, and not from the choice of the best, is a very 
 careless and idle mode of speaking. I wonder that they cannot
 
 PH/EDO 123 
 
 distinguish the cause from the condition, which the many, feel- 
 ing about in the dark, are always mistaking and misnaming. 
 And thus one man makes a vortex all round and steadies the 
 earth by the heaven ; another gives the air as a support to the 
 earth, which is a sort of broad trough. Any power which in 
 disposing them as they are disposes them for the best never en- 
 ters into their minds, nor do they imagine that there is any 
 superhuman strength in that ; they rather expect to find another 
 Atlas of the world who is stronger and more everlasting and 
 more containing than the good is, and are clearly of opinion 
 that the obligatory and containing power of the good is as noth- 
 ing ; and yet this is the principle which I would fain learn if any 
 one would teach me. But as I have failed either to discover 
 myself or to learn of anyone else, the nature of the best, I will 
 exhibit to you, if you like, what I have found to be the second 
 best mode of inquiring into the cause. 
 
 I should very much like to hear that, he replied. 
 
 Socrates proceeded : I thought that as I had failed in the con- 
 templation of true existence, I ought to be careful that I did not 
 lose the eye of my soul ; as people may injure their bodily eye by 
 observing and gazing on the sun during an eclipse, unless they 
 take the precaution of only looking at the image reflected in the 
 water, or in some similar medium. That occurred to me, and I 
 was afraid that my soul might be blinded altogether if I looked 
 at things with my eyes or tried by the help of the senses to 
 apprehend them. And I thought that I had better have re- 
 course to ideas, and seek in them the truth of existence. I dare 
 say that the simile is not perfect for I am very far from admit- 
 ting that he who contemplates existences through the medium 
 of ideas, sees them only " through a glass darkly," any more 
 than he who sees them in their working and effects. However, 
 this was the method which I adopted : I first assumed some prin- 
 ciple which I judged to be the strongest, and then I affirmed as 
 true whatever seemed to agree with this, whether relating to 
 the cause or to anything else ; and that which disagreed I re- 
 garded as untrue. But I should like to explain my meaning 
 clearly, as I do not think that you understand me. 
 
 No, indeed, replied Cebes, not very well. 
 
 There is. nothing new, he said, in what I am about to tell 
 you ; but only what I have been always and everywhere repeat- 
 ing in the previous discussion and on other occasions : I want
 
 124 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 to show you the nature of that cause which has occupied my 
 thoughts, and I shall have to go back to those familiar words 
 which are in the mouth of every one, and first of all assume that 
 there is an absolute beauty and goodness, and greatness, and 
 the like ; grant me this, and I hope to be able to show you the 
 nature of the cause, and to prove the immortality of the soul. 
 
 Cebes said: You may proceed at once with the proof, as I 
 readily grant you this. 
 
 Well, he said, then I should like to know whether you agree 
 with me in the next step; for I cannot help thinking that if 
 there be anything beautiful other than absolute beauty, that 
 can only be beautiful in as far as it partakes of absolute beauty 
 and this I should say of everything. Do you agree in this 
 notion of the cause ? 
 
 Yes, he said, I agree. 
 
 He proceeded : I know nothing and can understand nothing 
 of any other of those wise causes which are alleged ; and if a 
 person says to me that the bloom of color, or form, or anything 
 else of that sort is a source of beauty, I leave all that, which is 
 only confusing to me, and simply and singly, and perhaps fool- 
 ishly, hold and am assured in my own mind that nothing makes 
 a thing beautiful but the presence and participation of beauty 
 in whatever way or manner obtained ; for as to the manner I 
 am uncertain, but I stoutly contend that by beauty all beautiful 
 things become beautiful. That appears to me to be the only 
 safe answer that I can give, either to myself or to any other, 
 and to that I cling, in the persuasion that I shall never be over- 
 thrown, and that I may safely answer to myself or any other 
 that by beauty beautiful things become beautiful. Do you not 
 agree to that ? 
 
 Yes, I agree. 
 
 And that by greatness only great things become great and 
 greater greater, and by smallness the less becomes less. 
 
 True. 
 
 Then if a person remarks that A is taller by a head than B, 
 and B less by a head than A, you would refuse to admit this, 
 and would stoutly contend that what you mean is only that the 
 greater is greater by, and by reason of, greatness, and the less 
 is less only by, or by reason of, smallness ; and thus you would 
 avoid the danger of saying that the greater is greater and the 
 less less by the measure of the head, which is the same in both,
 
 PH/EDO 125 
 
 and would also avoid the monstrous absurdity of supposing that 
 the greater man is greater by reason of the head, which is small. 
 Would you not be afraid of that ? 
 
 Indeed, I should, said Cebes, laughing. 
 
 In like manner you would be afraid to say that ten exceeded 
 eight by, and by reason of, two; but would say by, and by 
 reason of, number ; or that two cubits exceed one cubit by a 
 half, but by magnitude that is what you would say, for there 
 is the same danger in both cases. 
 
 Very true, he said. 
 
 Again, would you not be cautious of affirming that the addi- 
 tion of one to one, or the division of one, is the cause of two ? 
 And you would loudly asseverate that you know of no way in 
 which anything comes into existence except by participation in 
 its own proper essence, and consequently, as far as you know, 
 the only cause of two is the participation in duality ; that is, the 
 way to make two, and the participation in one is the way to 
 make one. You would say : I will let alone puzzles of division 
 and addition wiser heads than mine may answer them ; inex- 
 perienced as I am, and ready to start, as the proverb says, at my 
 own shadow, I cannot afford to give up the sure ground of a 
 principle. And if any one assails you there, you would not 
 mind him, or answer him until you had seen whether the conse- 
 quences which follow agree with one another or not, and when 
 you are further required to give an explanation of this principle, 
 you would go on to assume a higher principle, and the best of 
 the higher ones until you found a resting-place ; but you would 
 not confuse the principle and the consequences in your reason- 
 ing, like the Eristics at least if you wanted to discover real ex- 
 istence. Not that this confusion signifies to them who never 
 care or think about the matter at all, for they have the wit to be 
 well pleased with themselves, however great may be the turmoil 
 of their ideas. But you, if you are a philosopher, will, I be- 
 lieve, do as I say. 
 
 What you say is most true, said Simmias and Cebes, both 
 speaking at once. 
 
 Ech. Yes, Phaedo; and I don't wonder at their assenting. 
 Anyone who has the least sense will acknowledge the wonder- 
 ful clearness of Socrates's reasoning. 
 
 Phad. Certainly, Echecrates ; and that was the feeling of the 
 whole company at the time.
 
 126 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Ech. Yes, and equally of ourselves, who were not of the com- 
 pany, and are now listening to your recital. But what fol- 
 lowed ? 
 
 Phced. After all this was admitted, and they had agreed 
 about the existence of ideas and the participation in them of 
 the other things which derive their names from them, Soc- 
 rates, if I remember rightly, said : 
 
 This is your way of speaking; and yet when you say that 
 Simmias is greater than Socrates and less than Phsedo, do you 
 not predicate of Simmias both greatness and smallness ? 
 
 Yes, I do. 
 
 But still you allow that Simmias does not really exceed Soc- 
 rates, as the words may seem to imply, because he is Simmias, 
 but by reason of the size which he has ; just as Simmias does 
 not exceed Socrates because he is Simmias, any more than be- 
 cause Socrates is Socrates, but because he has smallness when 
 compared with the greatness of Simmias ? 
 
 True. 
 
 And if Phsedo exceeds him in size, that is not because Phsedo 
 is Phaedo, but because Phaedo has greatness relatively to Sim- 
 mias, who is comparatively smaller ? 
 
 That is true. 
 
 And therefore Simmias is said to be great, and is also said to 
 be small, because he is in a mean between them, exceeding the 
 smallness of the one by his greatness, and allowing the great- 
 nes of the other to exceed his smallness. He added, laughing, 
 I am speaking like a book, but I believe that what I am saying 
 is true. 
 
 Simmias assented to this. 
 
 The reason why I say this is that I want you to agree with 
 me in thinking, not only that absolute greatness will never be 
 great and also small, but that greatness in us or in the concrete 
 will never admit the small or admit of being exceeded : instead 
 of this, one of two things will happen either the greater will 
 fly or retire before the opposite, which is the less, or at the ad- 
 vance of the less will cease to exist ; but will not, if allowing or 
 admitting smallness, be changed by that ; even as I, having re- 
 ceived and admitted smallness when compared with Simmias, 
 remain just as I was, and am the same small person. And as 
 the idea of greatness cannot condescend ever to be or become 
 small, in like manner the smallness in us cannot be or become
 
 PtLEDO 127 
 
 great ; nor can any other opposite which remains the same ever 
 be or become its own opposite, but either passes away or per- 
 ishes in the change. 
 
 That, replied Cebes, is quite my notion. 
 
 One of the company, though I do not exactly remember 
 which of them, on hearing this, said : By Heaven, is not this 
 the direct contrary of what was admitted before that out of 
 the greater came the less and out of the less the greater, and 
 that opposites were simply generated from opposites ; whereas 
 now this seems to be utterly denied. 
 
 Socrates inclined his head to the speaker and listened. I 
 like your courage, he said, in reminding us of this. But you do 
 not observe that there is a difference in the two cases. For 
 then we were speaking of opposites in the concrete, and now 
 of the essential opposite which, as is affirmed, neither in us nor 
 in nature can ever be at variance with itself : then, my friend, we 
 were speaking of things in which opposites are inherent and 
 which are called after them, but now about the opposites which 
 are inherent in them and which give their name to them ; these 
 essential opposites will never, as we maintain, admit of genera- 
 tion into or out of one another. At the same time, turning to 
 Cebes, he said: Were you at all disconcerted, Cebes, at our 
 friend's objection ? 
 
 That was not my feeling, said Cebes ; and yet I cannot deny 
 that I am apt to be disconcerted. 
 
 Then we are agreed after all, said Socrates, that the opposite 
 will never in any case be opposed to itself? 
 
 To that we are quite agreed, he replied. 
 
 Yet once more let me ask you to consider the question from 
 another point of view, and see whether you agree with me: 
 There is a thing which you term heat, and another thing which 
 you term cold ? 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 But are they the same as fire and snow? 
 
 Most assuredly not. 
 
 Heat is not the same as fire, nor is cold the same as snow? 
 
 No. 
 
 And yet you will surely admit that when snow, as was before 
 said, is under the influence of heat, they will not remain snow 
 and heat ; but at the advance of the heat the snow will either 
 retire or perish ?
 
 128 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Very true, he replied. 
 
 And the fire too at the advance of the cold will either retire 
 or perish ; and when the fire is under the influence of the cold, 
 they will not remain, as before, fire and cold. 
 
 That is true, he said. 
 
 And in some cases the name of the idea is not confined to the 
 idea ; but anything else which, not being the idea, exists only in 
 the form of the idea, may also lay claim to it. I will try to make 
 this clearer by an example : The odd number is always called 
 by the name of odd ? 
 
 Very true. 
 
 But is this the only thing which is called odd? Are there 
 not other things which have their own name, and yet are called 
 odd, because, although not the same as oddness, they are never 
 without oddness ? that is what I mean to ask whether num- 
 bers such as the number three are not of the class of odd. And 
 there are many other examples : would you not say, for exam- 
 ple, that three may be called by its proper name, and also be 
 called odd, which is not the same with three ? and this may be 
 said not only of three but also of five, and every alternate num- 
 ber each of them without being oddness is odd, and in the 
 same way two and four, and the whole series of alternate num- 
 bers, has every number even, without being evenness. Do 
 you admit that ? 
 
 Yes, he said, how can I deny that ? 
 
 Then now mark the point at which I am aiming: not only do 
 essential opposites exclude one another, but also concrete 
 things, which, although not in themselves opposed, contain 
 opposites ; these, I say, also reject the idea which is opposed 
 to that which is contained in them, and at the advance of that 
 they either perish or withdraw. There is the number three 
 for example ; will not that endure annihilation or anything 
 sooner than be converted into an even number, remaining 
 three ? 
 
 Very true, said Cebes. 
 
 And yet, he said, the number two is certainly not opposed 
 to the number three? 
 
 It is not. 
 
 Then not only do opposite ideas repel the advance of one 
 another, but also there are other things which repel the ap- 
 proach of opposites.
 
 PHJEDO 129 
 
 That is quite true, he said. 
 
 Suppose, he said, that we endeavor, if possible, to determine 
 what these are. 
 
 By all means. 
 
 Are they not, Cebes, such as compel the things of which they 
 have possession, not only to take their own form, but also the 
 form of some opposite ? 
 
 What do you mean ? 
 
 I mean, as I was just now saying, and have no need to repeat 
 to you, that those things which are possessed by the number 
 three must not only be three in number, but must also be odd. 
 
 Quite true. 
 
 And on this oddness, of which the number three has the im- 
 press, the opposite idea will never intrude ? 
 
 No. 
 
 And this impress was given by the odd principle? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And to the odd is opposed the even ? 
 
 True. 
 
 Then the idea of the even number will never arrive at three? 
 
 No. 
 
 Then three has no part in the even? 
 
 None. 
 
 Then the triad or number three is uneven ? 
 
 Very true. 
 
 To return then to my distinction of natures which are not 
 opposites, and yet do not admit opposites: as in this instance, 
 three although not opposed to the even, does not any the more 
 admit of the even, but always brings the opposite into play on 
 the other side ; or as two does not receive the odd, or fire the 
 cold from these examples (and there are many more of them) 
 perhaps you may be able to arrive at the general conclusion that 
 not only opposites will not receive opposites, but also that noth- 
 ing which brings the opposite will admit the opposite of that 
 which it brings in that to which it is brought. And here let me 
 recapitulate for there is no harm in repetition. The number 
 five will not admit the nature of the even, any more than ten, 
 which is the double of five, will admit the nature of the odd 
 the double, though not strictly opposed to the odd, rejects the 
 odd altogether. Nor again will parts in the ratio of 3 : 2, nor 
 any fraction in which there is a half, nor again in which there 
 9
 
 1 30 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 is a third, admit the notion of the whole, although they are not 
 opposed to the whole. You will agree to that? 
 
 Yes, he said, I entirely agree and go along with you in that. 
 
 And now, he said, I think that I may begin again ; and to the 
 question which I am about to ask I will beg you to give not the 
 old safe answer, but another, of which I will offer you an ex- 
 ample ; and I hope that you will find in what has been just said 
 another foundation which is as safe. I mean that if anyone 
 asks you, " What that is, the inherence of which makes the 
 body hot? " you will reply not heat (this is what I call the safe 
 and stupid answer), but fire, a far better answer, which we 
 are now in a condition to give. Or if anyone asks you, " Why 
 a body is diseased," you will not say from disease, but from 
 fever ; and instead of saying that oddness is the cause of odd 
 numbers, you will say that the monad is the cause of them: 
 and so of things in general, as I dare say that you will under- 
 stand sufficiently without my adducing any further examples. 
 
 Yes, he said, I quite understand you. 
 
 Tell me, then, what is that the inherence of which will render 
 the body alive ? 
 
 The soul, he replied. 
 
 And is this always the case ? 
 
 Yes, he said, of course. 
 
 Then whatever the soul possesses, to that she comes bearing 
 life? 
 
 Yes, certainly. 
 
 And is there any opposite to life? 
 
 There is, he said. 
 
 And what is that ? 
 
 Death. 
 
 Then the soul, as has been acknowledged, will never receive 
 the opposite of what she brings. And now, he said, what did 
 we call that principle which repels the even ? 
 
 The odd. 
 
 And that principle which repels the musical, or the just? 
 
 The unmusical, he said, and the unjust. 
 
 And what do we call that principle which does not admit of 
 death ? 
 
 The immortal, he said. 
 
 And does the soul admit of death? 
 
 No.
 
 PiLEDO 131 
 
 Then the soul is immortal ? 
 
 Yes, he said. 
 
 And may we say that this is proven ? 
 
 Yes, abundantly proven, Socrates, he replied. 
 
 And supposing that the odd were imperishable, must not 
 three be imperishable ? . 
 
 Of course. 
 
 And if that which is cold were imperishable, when the warm 
 principle came attacking the snow, must not the snow have 
 retired whole and unmelted for it could never have perished, 
 nor could it have remained and admitted the heat? 
 
 True, he said. 
 
 Again, if the uncooling or warm principle were imperishable, 
 the fire when assailed by cold would not have perished or have 
 been extinguished, but would have gone away unaffected ? 
 
 Certainly, he said. 
 
 And the same may be said of the immortal : if the immortal is 
 also imperishable, the soul when attacked by death cannot per- 
 ish ; for the preceding argument shows that the soul will not 
 admit of death, or ever be dead, any more than three or the 
 odd number will admit of the even, or fire, or the heat in the 
 fire, of the cold. Yet a person may say : " But although the 
 odd will not become even at the approach of the even, why may 
 not the odd perish and the even take the place of the odd ? " 
 Now to him who makes this objection, we cannot answer that 
 the odd principle is imperishable ; for this has not been acknowl- 
 edged, but if this had been acknowledged, there would have 
 been no difficulty in contending that at the approach of the even 
 the odd principle and the number three took up their departure ; 
 and the same argument would have held good of fire and heat 
 and any other thing. 
 
 Very true. 
 
 And the same may be said of the immortal : if the immortal 
 is also imperishable, then the soul will be imperishable as well as 
 immortal ; but if not, some other proof of her imperishableness 
 will have to be given. 
 
 No other proof is needed, he said ; for if the immortal, being 
 eternal, is liable to perish, then nothing is imperishable. 
 
 Yes, replied Socrates, all men will agree that God, and the 
 essential form of life, and the immortal in general will never 
 perish.
 
 132 
 
 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Yes, all men, he said that is true ; and what is more, gods, 
 if I am not mistaken, as well as men. 
 
 Seeing then that the immortal is indestructible, must not the 
 soul, if she is immortal, be also imperishable ? 
 
 Most certainly. 
 
 Then when death attacks a man, the mortal portion of him 
 may be supposed to die, but the immortal goes out of the way 
 of death and is preserved safe and sound ? 
 
 True. 
 
 Then, Cebes, beyond question the soul is immortal and im- 
 perishable, and our souls will truly exist in another world ! 
 
 I am convinced, Socrates, said Cebes, and have nothing more 
 to object; but if my friend Simmias, or anyone else, has any 
 further objection, he had better speak out, and not keep silence, 
 since I do not know how there can ever be a more fitting time 
 to which he can defer the discussion, if there is anything which 
 he wants to say or have said. 
 
 But I have nothing more to say, replied Simmias ; nor do I 
 see any room for uncertainty, except that which arises neces- 
 sarily out of the greatness of the subject and the feebleness of 
 man, and which I cannot help feeling. 
 
 Yes, Simmias, replied Socrates, that is well said : and more 
 than that, first principles, even if they appear certain, should be 
 carefully considered; and when they are satisfactorily ascer- 
 tained, then, with a sort of hesitating confidence in human 
 reason, you may, I think, follow the course of the argument ; 
 and if this is clear, there will be no need for any further inquiry. 
 
 That, he said, is true. 
 
 But then, O my friends, he said, if the soul is really immortal, 
 what care should be taken of her, not only in respect of the 
 portion of time which is called life, but of eternity ! And the 
 danger of neglecting her from this point of view does indeed 
 appear to be awful. If death had only been the end of all, the 
 wicked would have had a good bargain in dying, for they would 
 have been happily quit not only of their body, but of their own 
 evil together with their souls. But now, as the soul plainly 
 appears to be immortal, there is no release or salvation from evil 
 except the attainment of the highest virtue and wisdom. For 
 the soul when on her progress to the world below takes noth- 
 ing with her but nurture and education ; which are indeed said 
 greatly to benefit or greatly to injure the departed, at the very 
 beginning of its pilgrimage in the other world.
 
 PHJEDO 133 
 
 For after death, as they say, the genius of each individual, to 
 whom he belonged in life, leads him to a certain place in which 
 the dead are gathered together for judgment, whence they go 
 into the world below, following the guide who is appointed to 
 conduct them from this world to the other : and when they have 
 there received their due and remained their time, another guide 
 brings them back again after many revolutions of ages. Now 
 this journey to the other world is not, as ^schylus says in the 
 " Telephus," a single and straight path no guide would be 
 wanted for that, and no one could miss a single path ; but there 
 are many partings of the road, and windings, as I must infer 
 from the rites and sacrifices which are offered to the gods below 
 in places where three ways meet on earth. The wise and or- 
 derly soul is conscious of her situation and follows in the path ; 
 but the soul which desires the body, and which, as I was relat- 
 ing before, has long been fluttering about the lifeless frame and 
 the world of sight, is after many struggles and many sufferings 
 hardly and with violence carried away by her attendant genius, 
 and when she arrives at the place where the other souls are gath- 
 ered, if she be impure and have done impure deeds, or been 
 concerned in foul murders or other crimes which are the broth- 
 ers of these, and the works of brothers in crime from that 
 soul every one flees and turns away ; no one will be her com- 
 panion, no one her guide, but alone she wanders in extremity of 
 evil until certain times are fulfilled, and when they are fulfilled, 
 she is borne irresistibly to her own fitting habitation ; as every 
 pure and just soul which has passed through life in the company 
 and under the guidance of the gods has also her own proper 
 home. 
 
 Now the earth has divers wonderful regions, and is indeed in 
 nature and extent very unlike the notions of geographers, as I 
 believe on the authority of one who shall be nameless. 
 
 What do you mean, Socrates? said Simmias. I have myself 
 heard many descriptions of the earth, but I do not know in what 
 you are putting your faith, and I should like to know. 
 
 Well, Simmias, replied Socrates, the recital of a tale does not, 
 I think, require the art of Glaucus ; and I know not that the art 
 of Glaucus could prove the truth of my tale, which I myself 
 should never be able to prove, and even if I could, I fear, Sim- 
 mias, that my life would come to an end before the argument 
 was completed. T may describe to you, however, the form 
 and regions of the earth according to my conception of them.
 
 I 3 4 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 That, said Simmias, will be enough. 
 
 Well, then, he said, my conviction is that the earth is a round 
 body in the center of the heavens, and therefore has no need of 
 air or any similar force as a support, but is kept there and 
 hindered from falling or inclining any way by the equability of 
 the surrounding heaven and by her own equipoise. For that 
 which, being in equipoise, is in the center of that which is 
 equably diffused, will not incline any way in any degree, but 
 will always remain in the same state and not deviate. And this 
 is my first notion. 
 
 Which is surely a correct one, said Simmias. 
 
 Also I believe that the earth is very vast, and that we who 
 dwell in the region extending from the river Phasis to the Pillars 
 of Heracles, along the borders of the sea, are just like ants or 
 frogs about a marsh, and inhabit a small portion only, and that 
 many others dwell in many like places. For I should say that 
 in all parts of the earth there are hollows of various forms and 
 sizes, into which the water and the mist and the air collect; 
 and that the true earth is pure and in the pure heaven, in which 
 also are the stars that is the heaven which is commonly spoken 
 of as the ether, of which this is but the sediment collecting in 
 the hollows of the earth. But we who live in these hollows are 
 deceived into the notion that we are dwelling above on the sur- 
 face of the earth ; which is just as if a creature who was at the 
 bottom of the sea were to fancy that he was on the surface of 
 the water, and that the sea was the heaven through which he 
 saw the sun and the other stars he having never come to the 
 surface by reason of his feebleness and sluggishness, and hav- 
 fng never lifted up his head and seen, nor ever heard from one 
 who had seen, this other region which is so much purer and 
 fairer than his own. Now this is exactly our case: for we are 
 dwelling in a hollow of the earth, and fancy that we are on the 
 surface ; and the air we call the heaven, and in this we imagine 
 that the stars move. But this is also owing to our feebleness 
 and sluggishness, which prevent our reaching the surface of the 
 air : for if any man could arrive at the exterior limit, or take the 
 wings of a bird and fly upward, like a fish who puts his head out 
 and sees this world, he would see a world beyond ; and, if the 
 nature of man could sustain the sight, he would acknowledge 
 tfiat this was the place of the true heaven and the true light and 
 the true stars. For this earth, and the stones, and the entire
 
 PH;EDO 
 
 135 
 
 region which surrounds us are spoilt and corroded, like the 
 things in the sea which are corroded by the brine ; for in the sea 
 too there is hardly any noble or perfect growth, but clefts only, 
 and sand, and an endless slough of mud : and even the shore is 
 not to be compared to the fairer sights of this world. And 
 greater far is the superiority of the other. Now of that upper 
 earth which is under the heaven, I can tell you a charming tale, 
 Simmias, which is well worth hearing. 
 
 And we, Socrates, replied Simmias, shall be charmed to listen. 
 
 The tale, my friend, he said, is as follows. In the first place, 
 the earth, when looked at from above, is like one of those balls 
 which have leather coverings in twelve pieces, and is of divers 
 colors, of which the colors which painters use on earth are only 
 a sample. But there the whole earth is made up of them, and 
 they are brighter far and clearer than ours ; there is a purple of 
 wonderful luster, also the radiance of gold, and the white which 
 is in the earth is whiter than any chalk or snow. Of these and 
 other colors the earth is made up, and they are more in number 
 and fairer than the eye of man has ever seen ; and the very hol- 
 lows (of which I was speaking) filled with air and water are seen 
 like light flashing amid the other colors, and have a color of 
 their own, which gives a sort of unity to the variety of earth. 
 And in this fair region everything that grows trees, and flow- 
 ers, and fruits is in a like degree fairer than any here; and 
 there are hills, and stones in them in a like degree smoother, 
 and more transparent, and fairer in color than our highly valued 
 emeralds and sardonyxes and jaspers, and other gems, which 
 are but minute fragments of them : for there all the stones are 
 like our precious stones, and fairer still. The reason of this is 
 that they are pure, and not, like our precious stones, infected or 
 corroded by the corrupt briny elements which coagulate among 
 us, and which breed foulness and disease both in earth and 
 stones, as well as in animals and plants. They are the jewels 
 of the upper earth, which also shines with gold and silver and 
 the like, and they are visible to sight and large and abundant 
 and found in every region of the earth, and blessed is he who 
 sees them. And upon the earth are animals and men, some in 
 a middle region, others dwelling about the air as we dwell 
 about the sea ; others in islands which the air flows round, near 
 the continent: and in a word, the air is used by them as the 
 water and the sea are by us, and the ether is to them what the
 
 136 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 air to us. Moreover, the temperament of their seasons is such 
 that they have no disease, and live much longer than we do, and 
 have sight and hearing and smell, and all the other senses, in far 
 greater perfection, in the same degree that air is purer than 
 water or the ether than air. Also they have temples and sacred 
 places in which the gods really dwell, and they hear their voices 
 and receive their answers, and are conscious of them and hold 
 converse with them, and they see the sun, moon, and stars as 
 they really are, and their other blessedness is of a piece with this. 
 Such is the nature of the whole earth, and of the things which 
 are around the earth ; and there are divers regions in the hol- 
 lows on the face of the globe everywhere, some of them deeper 
 and also wider than that which we inhabit, others deeper and 
 with a narrower opening than ours, and some are shallower and 
 wider ; all have numerous perforations, and passages broad and 
 narrow in the interior of the earth, conecting them with one 
 another ; and there flows into and out of them, as into basins, a 
 vast tide of water, and huge subterranean streams of perennial 
 rivers, and springs hot and cold, and a great fire, and great 
 rivers of fire, and streams of liquid mud, thin or thick (like the 
 rivers of mud in Sicily, and the lava-streams which follow them), 
 and the regions about which they happen to flow are filled up 
 with them. And there is a sort of swing in the interior of the 
 earth which moves all this up and down. Now the swing is in 
 this wise : There is a chasm which is the vastest of them all, and 
 pierces right through the whole earth ; this is that which Homer 
 describes in the words 
 
 " Far off, where is the inmost depth beneath the earth " ; 
 
 and which he in other places, and many other poets, have called 
 Tartarus. And the swing is caused by the streams flowing into 
 and out of this chasm, and they each have the nature of the soil 
 through which they flow. And the reason why the streams are 
 always flowing in and out is that the watery element has no bed 
 or bottom, and is surging and swinging up and down, and the 
 surrounding wind and air do the same ; they follow the water 
 up and down, hither and thither, over the earth just as in 
 respiring the air is always in process of inhalation and exhala- 
 tion ; and the wind swinging with the water in and out produces 
 fearful and irresistible blasts : when the waters retire with a rush 
 into the lower parts of the earth, as they are called, they flow
 
 PtLEDO 137 
 
 through the earth into those regions, and fill them up as with 
 the alternate motion of a pump, and then when they leave those 
 regions and rush back hither, they again fill the hollows here, 
 and when these are filled, flow through subterranean channels 
 and find their way to their several places, forming seas, and 
 lakes, and rivers, and springs. Thence they again enter the 
 earth, some of them making a long circuit into many lands, 
 others going to few places and those not distant, and again fall 
 into Tartarus, some at a point a good deal lower than that at 
 which they rose, and others not much lower, but all in some de- 
 gree lower than the point of issue. And some burst forth again 
 on the opposite side, and some on the same side, and some wind 
 round the earth with one or many folds, like the coils of a ser- 
 pent, and descend as far as they can, but always return and fall 
 into the lake. The rivers on either side can descend only to 
 the center and no further, for to the rivers on both sides the 
 opposite side is a precipice. 
 
 Now these rivers are many, and mighty, and diverse, and 
 there are four principal ones, of which the greatest and outer- 
 most is that called Oceanus, which flows round the earth in a 
 circle; and in the opposite direction flows Acheron, which 
 passes under the earth through desert places, into the Acheru- 
 sian Lake : this is the lake to the shores of which the souls of 
 the many go when they are dead, and after waiting an appointed 
 time, which is to some a longer and to some a shorter time, they 
 are sent back again to be born as animals. The third river 
 rises between the two, and near the place of rising pours into 
 a vast region of fire, and forms a lake larger than the Mediter- 
 ranean Sea, boiling with water and mud; and proceeding 
 muddy and turbid, and winding about the earth, comes, among 
 other places, to the extremities of the Acherusian Lake, but 
 mingles not with the waters of the lake, and after making many 
 coils about the earth plunges into Tartarus at a deeper level. 
 This is that Pyriphlegethon, as the stream is called, which 
 throws up jets of fire in all sorts of places. The fourth river 
 goes out on the oposite side, and falls first of all into a wild and 
 savage region, which is all of a dark-blue color, like lapis lazuli ; 
 and this is that river which is called the Stygian River, and falls 
 into and forms the Lake Styx, and after falling into the lake 
 and receiving strange powers in the waters, passes under the 
 earth, winding round in the opposite direction to Pyriphlege-
 
 138 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 thon, and meeting in the Acherusian Lake from the opposite 
 side. And the water of this river too mingles with no other, 
 but flows round in a circle and falls into Tartarus over against 
 Pyriphlegethon , and the name of this river, as the poet says, is 
 Cocytus. 
 
 Such is the nature of the other world; and when the dead 
 arrive at the place to which the genius of each severally conveys 
 them, first of all they have sentence passed upon them, as they 
 have lived well and piously or not. And those who appear to 
 have lived neither well nor ill, go to the river Acheron, and 
 mount such conveyances as they can get, and are carried in 
 them to the lake, and there they dwell and are purified of their 
 evil deeds, and suffer the penalty of the wrongs which they 
 have done to others, and are absolved, and receive the rewards 
 of their good deeds according to their desserts. But those who 
 appear to be incurable by reason of the greatness of their 
 crimes who have committed many and terrible deeds of sacri- 
 lege, murders foul and violent, or the like such are hurled into 
 Tartarus, which is their suitable destiny, and they never come 
 out. Those again who have committed crimes, which, al- 
 though great, are not unpardonable who in a moment of 
 anger, for example, have done violence to a father or a mother, 
 and have repented for the remainder of their lives, or who have 
 taken the life of another under the like extenuating circum- 
 stances these are plunged into Tartarus, the pains of which 
 they are compelled to undergo for a year, but at the end of the 
 year the wave casts them forth mere homicides by way of 
 Cocytus, parricides and matricides by Pyriphlegethon and 
 they are borne to the Acherusian Lake, and there they lift up 
 their voices and call upon the victims whom they have slain 
 or wronged, to have pity on them, and to receive them, and to 
 let them come out of the river into the lake. And if they pre- 
 vail, then they come forth and cease from their troubles ; but if 
 not, they are carried back again into Tartarus and from thence 
 into the rivers unceasingly, until they obtain mercy from those 
 whom they have wronged : for that is the sentence inflicted upon 
 them by their judges. Those also who are remarkable for hav- 
 ing led holy lives are released from this earthly prison, and go to 
 their pure home which is above, and dwell in the purer earth ; 
 and those who have duly purified themselves with philosophy 
 live henceforth altogether without the body, in mansions fairer
 
 PH^DO 
 
 139 
 
 far than these, which may not be described, and of which the 
 time would fail me to tell. 
 
 Wherefore, Simmias, seeing all these things, what ought not 
 we to do in order to obtain virtue and wisdom in this life ? Fair 
 is the prize, and the hope great. 
 
 I do not mean to affirm that the description which I have 
 given of the soul and her mansions is exactly true a man of 
 sense ought hardly to say that. But I do say that, inasmuch 
 LS the soul is shown to be immortal, he may venture to think, 
 not improperly or unworthily, that something of the kind is 
 true. The venture is a glorious one, and he ought to com- 
 fort himself with words like these, which is the reason why I 
 lengthen out the tale. Wherefore, I say, let a man be of good 
 cheer about his soul, who has cast away the pleasures and orna- 
 ments of the body as alien to him, and rather hurtful in their 
 effects, and has followed after the pleasures of knowledge in 
 this life ; who has adorned the soul in her own proper jewels, 
 which are temperance, and justice, and courage, and nobility, 
 and truth in these arrayed she is ready to go on her journey 
 to the world below, when her time comes. You, Simmias and 
 Cebes, and all other men, will depart at some time or other. 
 Me already, as the tragic poet would say, the voice of fate calls. 
 Soon I must drink the poison ; and I think that I had better 
 repair to the bath first, in order that the women may not have 
 the trouble of washing my body after I am dead. 
 
 When he had done speaking, Crito said : And have you any 
 commands for us, Socrates anything to say about your chil- 
 dren, or any other matter in which we can serve you ? 
 
 Nothing particular, he said : only, as I have always told you, 
 I would have you to look to yourselves ; that is a service which 
 you may always be doing to me and mine as well as to your- 
 selves. And you need not make professions ; for if you take no 
 thought for yourselves, and walk not according to the precepts 
 which I have given you, not now for the first time, the warmth 
 of your professions will be of no avail. 
 
 We will do our best, said Crito. But in what way would you 
 have us bury you ? 
 
 In any way that you like ; only you must get hold of me, and 
 take care that I do not walk away from you. Then he turned 
 to us, and added with a smile : I cannot make Crito believe that 
 I am the same Socrates who have been talking and conducting
 
 1 40 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 the argument; he fancies that I am the other Socrates whom 
 he will soon see, a dead body and he asks, How shall he bury 
 me ? And though I have spoken many words in the endeavor 
 to show that when I have drunk the poison I shall leave you 
 and go to the joys of the blessed these words of mine, with 
 which I comforted you and myself, have had, as I perceive, no 
 effect upon Crito. And therefore I want you to be surety for 
 me now, as he was surety for me at the trial : but let the promise 
 be of another sort; for he was my surety to the judges that I 
 would remain, but you must be my surety to him that I shall 
 not remain, but go away and depart; and then he will suffer 
 less at my death, and not be grieved when he sees my body be- 
 ing burned or buried. I would not have him sorrow at my 
 hard lot, or say at the burial, Thus we lay out Socrates, or, Thus 
 we follow him to the grave or bury him ; for false words are not 
 only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. Be 
 of good cheer, then, my dear Crito, and say that you are bury- 
 ing my body only, and do with that as is usual, and as you think 
 best. 
 
 When he had spoken these words, he arose and went into 
 the bath chamber with Crito, who bade us wait ; and we waited, 
 talking and thinking of the subject of discourse, and also of the 
 greatness of our sorrow ; he was like a father of whom we were 
 being bereaved, and we were about to pass the rest of our lives 
 as orphans. When he had taken the bath his children were 
 brought to him (he had two young sons and an elder one) ; 
 and the women of his family also came, and he talked to them 
 and gave them a few directions in the presence of Crito ; and he 
 then dismissed them and returned to us. 
 
 Now the hour of sunset was near, for a good deal of time had 
 passed while he was within. When he came out, he sat down 
 with us again after his bath, but not much was said. Soon the 
 jailer, who was the servant of the Eleven, entered and stood by 
 him, saying : To you, Socrates, whom I know to be the noblest 
 and gentlest and best of all who ever came to this place, I will 
 not impute the angry feelings of other men, who rage and swear 
 at me when, in obedience to the authorities, I bid them drink 
 the poison indeed I am sure that you will not be angry with 
 me ; for others, as you are aware, and not I, are the guilty cause. 
 And so fare you well, and try to bear lightly what must needs 
 be ; you know my errand. Then bursting into tears he turned 
 away and went out.
 
 PHJEDO 141 
 
 Socrates looked at him and said : I return your good wishes, 
 and will do as you bid. Then, turning to us, he said, How 
 charming the man is : since I have been in prison he has always 
 been coming to see me, and at times he would talk to me, and 
 was as good as could be to me, and now see how generously he 
 sorrows for me. But we must do as he says, Crito ; let the cup 
 be brought, if the poison is prepared : if not, let the attendant 
 prepare some. 
 
 Yet, said Crito, the sun is still upon the hilltops, and many 
 a one has taken the draught late, and after the announcement 
 has been made to him, he has eaten and drunk, and indulged in 
 sensual delights ; do not hasten, then, there is still time. 
 
 Socrates said : Yes, Crito, and they of whom you speak are 
 right in doing thus, for they think that they will gain by the 
 delay ; but I am right in not doing thus, for I do not think that 
 I should gain anything by drinking the poison a little later ; I 
 should be sparing and saving a life which is already gone : I 
 could only laugh at myself for this. Please then to do as I say, 
 and not to refuse me. 
 
 Crito, when he heard this, made a sign to the servant ; and 
 the servant went in, and remained for some time, and then re- 
 turned with the jailer carrying the cup of poison. Socrates 
 said : You, my good friend, who are experienced in these mat- 
 ters, shall give me directions how I am to proceed. The man 
 answered: You have only to walk about until your legs are 
 heavy, and then to lie down, and the poison will act. At the 
 same time he handed the cup to Socrates, who in the easiest 
 and gentlest manner, without the least fear or change of color 
 or feature, looking at the man with all his eyes, Echecrates, as 
 his maner was, took the cup and said : What do you say about 
 making a libation out of this cup to any god ? May I, or not ? 
 The man answered : We only prepare, Socrates, just so much 
 as we deem enough. I understand, he said: yet I may and 
 must pray to the gods to prosper my journey from this to that 
 other world may this, then, which is my prayer, be granted 
 to me. Then holding the cup to his lips, quite readily and 
 cheerfully he drank off the poison. And hitherto most of us 
 had been able to control our sorrow; but now when we saw 
 him drinking, and saw too that he had finished the draught, we 
 could no longer forbear, and in spite of myself my own tears 
 were flowing fast ; so that I covered my face and wept over my-
 
 I 4 2 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 self, for certainly I was not weeping over him, but at the 
 thought of my own calamity in having lost such a companion. 
 Nor was I the first, for Crito, when he found himself unable to 
 restrain his tears, had got up and moved away, and I followed ; 
 and at that moment, Apollodorus, who had been weeping all 
 the time, broke out into a loud cry which made cowards of us 
 all. Socrates alone retained his calmness : What is this strange 
 outcry ? he said. I sent away the women mainly in order that 
 they might not offend in this way, for I have heard that a man 
 should die in peace. Be quiet, then, and have patience. 
 
 When we heard that, we were ashamed, and refrained our 
 tears ; and he walked about until, as he said, his legs began to 
 fail, and then he lay on his back, according to the directions, 
 and the man who gave him the poison now and then looked at 
 his feet and legs; and after a while he pressed his foot hard 
 and asked him if he could feel ; and he said, no ; and then his 
 leg, and so upwards and upwards, and showed us that he was 
 cold and stiff. And he felt them himself, and said : When the 
 poison reaches the heart, that will be the end. He was begin- 
 ning to grow cold about the groin, when he uncovered his 
 face, for he had covered himself up, and said (they were his last 
 words) he said: Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius; will you 
 remember to pay the debt ? The debt shall be paid, said Crito ; 
 is there anything else ? There was no answer to this question ; 
 but in a minute or two a movement was heard, and the attend- 
 ants uncovered him; his eyes were set, and Crito closed his 
 eyes and mouth. 
 
 Such was the end, Echecrates, of our friend, whom I may 
 truly call the wisest, and justest, and best of all the men whom I 
 have ever known.
 
 CHOICE EXAMPLES OF CLASSIC ARCHITECTURE, 
 
 THE PARTHENON AT ATHENS. 
 
 Photogravure from a photograph. 
 
 The Parthenon, the temple of Minerva, at" Athens, is usually regarded as ttte 
 most perfect specimen of Greek architecture. Many of the sculptures have been 
 transported to England, and are now in the British Museum, where they form, with 
 some other relics of antiquity, the collection known as the Elgin Marbles.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PROTAGORAS 
 
 THE " Protagoras," like several of the dialogues of Plato, 
 is put into the mouth of Socrates, who describes a con- 
 versation which had taken place between himself and 
 the great Sophist at the house of Callias " the man who had 
 spent more upon the Sophists than all the rest of the world," 
 and in which the learned Hippias and the grammarian Prodicus 
 had also shared, as well as Alcibiades and Critias, both of whom 
 said a few words in the presence of a distinguished company 
 consisting of disciples of Protagoras and of leading Athenians 
 belonging to the Socratic circle. The dialogue commences 
 with a request on the part of Hippocrates that Socrates would 
 introduce him to the celebrated teacher. He has come before 
 the dawn had risen to testify his zeal. Socrates moderates his 
 excitement and advises him to find out " what Protagoras will 
 make of him," before he becomes his pupil. 
 
 They go together to the house of Callias ; and Socrates, after 
 explaining the purpose of their visit to Protagoras, asks the 
 question " What he will make of Hippocrates ? " Protagoras 
 answers, " That he will make him a better and a wiser man." 
 " But in what will he be better ? " Socrates desires to have a 
 more precise answer. Protagoras replies, " That he will teach 
 him prudence in affairs private and public ; in short, the science 
 or knowledge of human life." 
 
 This, as Socrates admits, is a noble profession: but he is 
 doubtful or rather would have been, if Protagoras had not 
 assured him of it whether such knowledge can be taught. And 
 this for two reasons: (i) Because the Athenian people, who 
 recognize in their assemblies the distinction between the skilled 
 and the unskilled, do not recognize any distinction between the 
 trained politician and the untrained ; (2) Because the wisest and 
 best Athenian citizens do not teach their sons political virtue. 
 Will Protagoras explain this anomaly to him ? 
 
 Protagoras explains his views in the form of an apologue, in
 
 I 4 4 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 which, after Prometheus had given men the arts, Zeus is repre- 
 sented as sending Hermes to them, bearing with him Justice 
 and Reverence. These are not, like the arts, to be imparted to 
 a few only, but all men are to be partakers of them. Therefore 
 the Athenian people are right in distinguishing between the 
 skilled and unskilled in the arts, and not between skilled and un- 
 skilled politicians, (i) For all men have the political virtues to 
 a certain degree, and whether they have them or not are obliged 
 to say that they have them. A man would be thought a mad- 
 man who professed an art which he did not know; and he 
 would be equally thought a madman if he did not profess a 
 virtue which he had not. (2) And that the political virtues can 
 be taught and acquired, in the opinion of the Athenians, is 
 proved by the fact that they punish evil-doers, with a view to 
 prevention, of course mere retribution is for beasts, and not 
 for men. (3) Another proof of this is the education of youth, 
 which begins almost as soon as they can speak, and is continued 
 by the State when they pass out of the control of their parents. 
 (4) Nor is there any inconsistency in wise and good fathers hav- 
 ing foolish and worthless sons; for (a) in the first place the 
 young do not learn of their fathers only, but of all the citizens ; 
 and (ft) this is partly a matter of chance and of natural gifts : the 
 sons of a great statesman are not necessarily great statesmen 
 any more than the sons of a good artist are necessarily good 
 artists. (5) The error of Socrates lies in supposing that there 
 are no. teachers, when all men are teachers. Only a few, like 
 Protagoras himself, are somewhat better than others. 
 
 Socrates is highly delighted, and quite satisfied with this ex- 
 planation of Protagoras. But he has still a doubt lingering in 
 his mind. Protagoras has spoken of the virtues : are they many, 
 or one ? are they parts of a whole, or different names of the same 
 thing ? Protagoras replies that they are parts, like the parts of a 
 face, which have their several functions, and no one part is like 
 any other part. This admission, which has been somewhat 
 hastily made, is now taken up and cross-examined by Socra- 
 tes: 
 
 " Is justice just, and is holiness holy? And are justice and 
 holiness opposed to one another? " " Then justice is unholy." 
 Protagoras would rather say that justice is different from holi- 
 ness, and yet in a certain point of view nearly the same. He 
 does not, however, escape in this way from the cunning of
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PROTAGORAS 145 
 
 Socrates, who entangles him into an admission that everything 
 has but one opposite. Folly, for example, is opposed to wis- 
 dom ; and folly is also opposed to temperance ; and therefore 
 temperance and wisdom are the same. And holiness has been 
 already admitted to be nearly the same as justice. Temperance, 
 therefore, has now to be compared with justice. 
 
 Protagoras, whose temper begins to get a little ruffled at the 
 process to which he has been subjected, is aware that he will 
 soon be compelled by the dialectics of Socrates to admit that the 
 temperate is the just. He therefore defends himself with his 
 favorite weapon ; that is to say, he makes a long speech not 
 much to the point, which elicits the applause of the audience. 
 
 Here occurs a sort of interlude, which commences with a 
 declaration on the part of Socrates that he cannot follow a long 
 speech, and therefore he must beg Protagoras to speak shorter. 
 As Protagoras declines to accommodate him, he rises to depart, 
 but is detained by Callias, who thinks him unreasonable in not 
 allowing Protagoras the liberty which he takes himself of 
 speaking as he likes. But Alcibiades answers that the two cases 
 are not parallel. For Socrates admits his inability to speak 
 long ; will Protagoras in like manner acknowledge his inability 
 to speak short? 
 
 Counsels of moderation are urged, first in a few words by 
 Critias, and then by Prodicus in balanced and sententious lan- 
 guage: and Hippias proposes an umpire. But who is to be 
 the umpire ? rejoins Socrates ; he would rather suggest as a 
 compromise that Protagoras shall ask, and he will answer. To 
 this Protagoras yields a reluctant assent. 
 
 Protagoras selects as the thesis of his questions a poem of 
 Simonides of Ceos, in which he professes to find a contradic- 
 tion. First the poet says 
 
 " Hard it is to become good," 
 
 and then reproaches Pittacus for having said, " Hard is it to be 
 good." How is this to be reconciled ? Socrates, who is famil- 
 iar with the poem, is embarrassed at first, and invokes the aid 
 of Prodicus the Cean, who must come to the help of his coun- 
 tryman, but apparently only with the intention of flattering him 
 into absurdities. First a distinction is drawn between (elvai) 
 " to be," and (yeveaOcu) " to become " : to become good is 
 difficult ; to be good is easy. Then the word " difficult " or 
 10
 
 146 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 " hard " is explained to mean " evil " in the Cean dialect. To 
 all this Prodicus assents ; but when Protagoras reclaims, Socra- 
 tes slyly withdraws Prodicus from the fray, under the pretence 
 that his assent was only intended to test the wits of his ad- 
 versary. He then proceeds to give another and more elaborate 
 explanation of the whole passage. The explanation is as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 The Lacedaemonians are great philosophers (although this is 
 a fact which is not generally known) ; and the soul of their 
 philosophy is brevity, which was also the style of primitive an- 
 tiquity and of the seven sages. Now Pittacus had a saying, 
 " Hard is it to be good " : Simonides was jealous of the fame 
 of this saying, and wrote a poem which was designed to contro- 
 vert it. No, says he, Pittacus ; not " hard to be good," but 
 " hard to become good." Socrates proceeds to argue in a 
 highly impressive manner that the whole composition is in- 
 tended as an attack upon Pittacus. This, though manifestly 
 absurd, is accepted by the company, and meets with the special 
 approval of Hippias, who has however a favorite interpretation 
 of his own, which he is requested by Alcibiades to defer. 
 
 The argument is now resumed, not without some disdainful 
 remarks of Socrates on the practice of introducing the poets, 
 who ought not to be allowed, any more than flute girls, to come 
 into good society. Men's own thoughts should supply them 
 with the materials for discussion. A few soothing flatteries 
 are addressed to Protagoras by Callias and Socrates, and then 
 the old question is repeated, " Whether the virtues are one or 
 many ? " To which Protagoras is now disposed to reply that 
 four out of the five virtues are in some degree similar ; but he 
 still contends that the fifth, courage, is wholly dissimilar. Soc- 
 rates proceeds to undermine the last stronghold of the ad- 
 versary, first obtaining from him the admission that all virtue 
 is in the highest degree good : 
 
 The courageous are the confident; and the confident are 
 those who know their business or profession : those who have 
 no such knowledge and are still confident are madmen. This is 
 admitted. Then, says Socrates, courage is knowledge an in- 
 ference which Protagoras evades by drawing a futile distinction 
 between the courageous and the confident in a fluent speech. 
 
 Socrates renews the attack from another side : he would like 
 to know whether pleasure is not the only good, and pain the
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PROTAGORAS 
 
 147 
 
 only evil ? Protagoras seems to doubt the morality or propriety 
 of assenting to this ; he would rather say that " some pleasures 
 are good, some pains are evil," which is also the opinion of the 
 generality of mankind. What does he think of knowledge? 
 does he agree with the common opinion about this also, that 
 knowledge is overpowered by passion? or does he hold that 
 knwledge is power ? Protagoras agrees that knowledge is cer- 
 tainly a governing power. 
 
 This, however, is not the doctrine of men in general, who 
 maintain that many who know what is best, act contrary to their 
 knowledge under the influence of pleasure. But this opposi- 
 tion of good and evil is really the opposition of a greater or 
 lesser amount of pleasure. Pleasures are evils because they end 
 in pain, and pains are good because they end in pleasures. Thus 
 pleasure is seen to be the only good ; and the only evil is the 
 preference of the lesser pleasure to the greater. But then comes 
 in the illusion of distance. Some art of mensuration is re- 
 quired in order to show us pleasures and pains in their true 
 proportion. This art of mensuration is a kind of knowledge, 
 and knowledge is thus proved once more to be the governing 
 principle of human life, and ignorance the origin of all evil : for 
 no one prefers the less pleasure to the greater, or the greater 
 pain to the less, except from ignorance. The argument is 
 drawn out in an imaginary " dialogue within a dialogue," con- 
 ducted by Socrates and Protagoras on the one part, and the 
 rest of the world on the other. Hippias and Prodicus, as well 
 as Protagoras, admit the soundness of the conclusion. 
 
 Socrates then applies this new conclusion to the case of cour- 
 age the only virtue which still holds out against the assaults of 
 the Socratic dialectic. No one chooses the evil or refuses the 
 good except through ignorance. This explains why cowards re- 
 fuse to go to war : because they form a wrong estimate of good, 
 and honor, and pleasure. And why are the courageous willing 
 to go to war ? because they form a right estimate of pleasures 
 and pains, of things terrible and not terrible. Courage then is 
 knowledge, and cowardice is ignorance. And the five virtues, 
 which were originally maintained to have five different natures, 
 after having been easily reduced to two only, are at last resolved 
 in one. The assent of Protagoras to this last position is ex- 
 tracted with great difficulty. 
 
 Socrates concludes by professing his disinterested love of the
 
 I 4 8 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 truth, and remarks on the singular manner in which he and his 
 adversary had changed sides. Protagoras began by asserting, 
 and Socrates by denying, the teachableness of virtue, and now 
 the latter ends by affirming that virtue is knowledge, which is 
 the most teachable of all things, while Protagoras has been 
 striving to show that virtue is not knowledge, and this is almost 
 equivalent to saying that virtue cannot be taught. He is not 
 satisfied with the result, and would like to renew the inquiry 
 with the help of Protagoras in a different order, asking (i) What 
 virtue is, and (2) Whether virtue can be taught. Protagoras 
 declines this offer, but commends Socrates's earnestness and 
 mode of discussion. 
 
 The " Protagoras " is often supposed to be full of difficulties. 
 These are partly imaginary and partly real. The imaginary 
 ones are : (i) Chronological which were pointed out in ancient 
 times by Athenaeus, and are noticed by Schleiermacher and 
 others, and relate to the impossibility of all the persons in the 
 dialogue meeting at any one time, whether in the year 425 B.C. 
 or in any other. But Plato, like other writers of fiction, aims 
 only at the probable, and has shown in other dialogues an ex- 
 treme disregard of the historical accuracy which is sometimes 
 demanded of him. (2) The exact place of the " Protagoras " 
 among the dialogues, and the date of composition, have also 
 been much disputed. But there are no criteria which afford 
 any real grounds for determining the date of composition ; and 
 the affinities of the dialogues, when they are not indicated by 
 Plato himself, must always to some extent remain uncertain. 
 (3) There is another class of difficulties, which may be ascribed 
 to preconceived notions of commentators, who imagine that 
 Protagoras the Sophist ought always to be in the wrong, and 
 his adversary Socrates in the right ; or that in this or that pas- 
 sage e.g. in the explanation of good as pleasure Plato is 
 inconsistent with himself: or that the dialogue fails in unity, 
 and has not a proper " beginning, middle, and ending." They 
 seem to forget that Plato is a dramatic writer who throws his 
 thoughts into both sides of the argument, and certainly does 
 not aim at any unity which is inconsistent with freedom, and 
 with a natural or even wild manner of treating his subject ; also 
 that his mode of revealing the truth is by lights and shadows, 
 and far off and opposing points of view, and not by dogmatic 
 statements or definite results.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PROTAGORAS 149 
 
 The real difficulties arise out of the extreme subtlety of the 
 work, which, as Socrates says of the poem of Simonides, is a 
 most perfect piece of art. There are dramatic contrasts and 
 interests, threads of philosophy broken and resumed, satirical 
 reflections on mankind, veils thrown over truths which are 
 lightly suggested, and all woven together in a single design, 
 and moving towards one end. 
 
 In the introductory scene Plato raises the expectation that a 
 " great personage " is about to appear on the stage (perhaps 
 with a further view of showing that he is destined to be over- 
 thrown by a greater still, who makes no pretensions). Before 
 introducing Hippocrates to him, Socrates thinks proper to warn 
 the youth of the dangers of " influence," of the invidious nature 
 of which Protagoras is also sensible. Hippocrates readily 
 adopts the suggestion of Socrates that he shall learn the ac- 
 complishments which befit an Athenian gentleman of Protago- 
 ras, and let alone his " sophistry." There is nothing however 
 in the introduction which leads to the inference that Plato in- 
 tended to blacken the character of the Sophists ; he only makes 
 a little merry at their expense. 
 
 The " great personage " is somewhat ostentatious, but frank 
 and honest. He is introduced on a stage which is worthy of him 
 at the house of the rich Callias, in which are congregated the 
 noblest and wisest of the Athenians. He considers openness to 
 be the best policy, and~ particularly mentions his own liberal 
 mode of dealing with his pupils, as if in answer to the favorite 
 accusation of the Sophists that they received pay. He is re- 
 markable for the good temper which he exhibits throughout the 
 discussion under the trying and often sophistical cross-exam- 
 ination of Socrates. Although once or twice ruffled, and reluc- 
 tant to continue the discussion, he parts company on perfectly 
 good terms, and appears to be, as he says of himself, the " least 
 jealous of mankind." 
 
 Nor is there anything in the sentiments of Protagoras which 
 impairs this pleasing impression of the grave and weighty old 
 man. His real defect is that he is inferior to Socrates in dialec- 
 tics. The opposition between him and Socrates is not the op- 
 position of good and bad, true and false, but of the old art of 
 rhetoric and the new science of interrogation and argument; 
 also of the irony of Socrates and the self-assertion of the Soph- 
 ists. There is quite as much truth on the side of Protagoras as
 
 I S o DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 of Socrates ; but the truth of Protagoras is based on common- 
 sense and common maxims of morality, while that of Socrates is 
 paradoxical or transcendental, and though full of meaning and 
 insight, hardly intelligible to the rest of mankind. 
 
 For example: (i) one of the noblest statements to be found 
 in antiquity about the preventive nature of punishment is put 
 into the mouth of Protagoras ; (2) he is clearly right also in 
 maintaining that virtue can be taught (which Socrates himself, 
 at the end of the dialogue, is disposed to concede) ; and also (3) 
 in his explanation of the phenomenon that good fathers have 
 bad sons ; (4) he is right also in observing that the virtues are 
 not, like the arts, gifts, or attainments of special individuals, but 
 the common property of all : this, which in all ages has been the 
 strength and weakness of ethics and politics, is deeply seated 
 in human nature ; (5) there is a sort of half truth in the notion 
 that all civilized men are teachers of virtue ; and (6) the relig- 
 ious allegory should be noticed, in which the arts are said to be 
 given by Prometheus (who stole them), whereas justice and 
 reverence and the political virtues could only be imparted by 
 Zeus. It is observable also (7) in the latter part of the dialogue, 
 when Socrates is arguing that " pleasure is the only good," 
 Protagoras deems it more in accordance with his character to 
 maintain that " some pleasures only are good." 
 
 There is no reason to suppose that in all this Plato is depict- 
 ing an imaginary Protagoras ; at any rate, he is showing us the 
 teaching of the Sophists under the milder aspect under which he 
 once regarded them. Nor is there any reason to doubt that 
 Socrates is equally a historical character, paradoxical, ironical, 
 tiresome, but seeking for the unity of virtue and knowledge as 
 for a precious treasure ; willing to rest this even on a calcula- 
 tion of pleasure, and irresistible here, as everywhere in Plato, in 
 his intellectual superiority. 
 
 The aim of Socrates, and of the dialogue, is to show the unity 
 of virtue. In the determination of this question the identity of 
 virtue and knowledge is found to be involved. But if virtue and 
 knowledge are one, then virtue can be taught ; the end of the 
 dialogue returns to the beginning. Had Protagoras been al- 
 lowed by Plato to make the Aristotelian distinction, and say 
 that virtue is not knowledge, but is accompanied with knowl- 
 edge ; or to point out with Aristotle that the same quality may 
 have more than one opposite; or with Plato himself in the
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PROTAGORAS 151 
 
 " Phaedo " to deny that good is a mere exchange of a greater 
 pleasure for a less the unity of virtue and the identity of 
 virtue and knowledge would have required to be proved by 
 other arguments. 
 
 The victory of Socrates over Protagoras is in every way com- 
 plete when their minds are fairly brought together. Protagoras 
 falls before him after two or three blows. Socrates partly gains 
 his object in the first part, and completely in the second. Nor 
 does he appear at any disadvantage when subjected to " the 
 question " by Protagoras. He succeeds in making his two 
 " friends," Prodicus and Hippias, ludicrous by the way ; he also 
 makes a long speech in defence of the poem of Simonides, after 
 the manner of the Sophists, showing, as Alcibiades says, that 
 he is only pretending to have a bad memory. 
 
 Not having the whole of this poem before us, it is impossible 
 for us to answer certainly the question of Protagoras, how the 
 two passages of Simonides are to be reconciled. We can only 
 follow the indications given by Plato himself. But it seems 
 likely that the reconcilement offered by Socrates is only a cari- 
 cature of the methods of interpretation which were practised 
 by the Sophists for the following reasons : (i) The transparent 
 irony of the previous interpretations given by Socrates. (2) 
 The ludicrous opening of the speech in which the Lacedaemo- 
 nians are described as the true philosophers, and Laconic brevity 
 as the true form of philosophy, evidently with an allusion to 
 Protagoras's long speeches. (3) The manifest futility and ab- 
 surdity of the explanation of epwv &ralvqfU a\affea>s, which 
 is hardly consistent with the rational interpretation of the rest 
 of the poem. The opposition of elvai andyeveo-ffai seems also 
 intended to express the rival doctrines of Socrates and Pro- 
 tagoras, and is a sort of facetious commentary on their differ- 
 ences. (4) The general treatment in Plato both of the poets and 
 the Sophists, who are their interpreters, and whom he delights 
 to identify with them. (5" The depreciating spirit in which Soc- 
 rates speaks of the introduction of the poets as a substitute for 
 original conversation, which is intended to contrast with Pro- 
 tagoras's exaltation of the study of them this again is hardly 
 consistent with the serious defence of Simonides. (6) The 
 marked approval of Hippias, who is supposed at once to catch 
 the familiar sound, just as in the previous conversation Prodicus 
 is represented as ready to accept any distinctions of language
 
 1 S 2 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 however absurd. At the same time Hippias is desirous of sub- 
 stituting a new interpretation of his own ; as if the words might 
 really be made to mean anything, and were only to be regarded 
 as affording a field for the ingenuity of the interpreter. 
 
 This curious passage is, therefore, to be regarded as Plato's 
 satire on the tedious and hypercritical arts of interpretation 
 which prevailed in his own day, and may be compared with his 
 condemnation of the same arts when applied to mythology in 
 the " Phaedrus," and with his other parodies, e.g. with the sec- 
 ond speech in the " Phaedrus " and with the " Menexenus." 
 Several lesser touches of satire appear in it, e.g. the claim of 
 philosophy advanced for the Lacedaemonians, which is a parody 
 of the claims advanced for the poets by Protagoras ; the mis- 
 take of the Laconizing set in supposing that the Lacedaemo- 
 nians are a great nation because they bruise their ears ; the far- 
 fetched notion, which is " really too bad," that Simonides uses 
 the Lesbian ( ?) word iraivrjfii because he is addressing a Les- 
 bian. The whole may also be considered as a satire on those 
 who spin pompous theories out of nothing. 
 
 All the interests and contrasts of character in a great dramatic 
 work like the " Protagoras " are not easily exhausted. The im- 
 pressiveness of the scene should not be lost upon us, or the 
 gradual substitution of Socrates in the second part for Pro- 
 tagoras in the first. There is Alcibiades, who is compelled by 
 the necessity of his nature to be a partisan, lending effectual aid 
 to Socrates ; there is Critias assuming the tone of impartiality ; 
 Callias there as always inclining to the Sophist, but eager for 
 any intellectual repast ; Prodicus, who finds an opportunity for 
 displaying his distinctions of language ; Hippias for exhibiting 
 his vanity and superficial knowledge of natural philosophy. 
 Both of these have been previously a good deal damaged by 
 the mock sublime description of them in the introduction. It 
 may be remarked that Protagoras is consistently presented to 
 us throughout as the teacher of moral and political virtue ; there 
 is no allusion to the theories of sensation which are attributed to 
 him elsewhere, or to his denial of the existence of the gods ; he 
 is the religious rather than the irreligious teacher in this dia- 
 logue. Also it may be observed that Socrates shows him as 
 much respect as is consistent with his own ironical character. 
 
 Thus after many preparations and oppositions, both of the 
 characters of men and aspects of the truth, especially of the
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PROTAGORAS 153 
 
 popular and philosophical aspect ; and after many interruptions 
 and detentions by the way, which, as Theodorus says in the 
 " Theaetetus," are quite as agreeable as the argument, we arrive 
 at the great Socratic thesis that virtue is knowledge. This is an 
 aspect of the truth which was lost almost as soon as it was found, 
 and yet has to be recovered by everyone for himself who would 
 pass the limits of proverbial and popular philosophy. It is not 
 to be regarded only as a passing stage in the history of the 
 human mind, but as an anticipation of the reconcilement of the 
 moral and intellectual elements of human nature.
 
 PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE 
 
 SOCRATES, who is the narrator of PROTAGORAS ) 
 
 the dialogue to his COMPANION HIPPIAS > Sophists 
 
 HIPPOCRATES PRODICUS ) 
 
 ALCIBIADES CALLIAS, a wealthy Athenian 
 
 CRITIAS 
 
 SCENE : The House of Callias 
 
 Companion. 
 
 WHERE do you come from, Socrates? And yet I need 
 hardly ask the question, as I know that you have 
 been in chase of the fair Alcibiades. I saw him the 
 day before yesterday ; and he had got a beard like a man and 
 he is a man, as I may tell you in your ear. But I thought that 
 he was still very charming. 
 
 Socrates. What of his beard? Are you not of Homer's 
 opinion, who says that* 
 
 " Youth is most charming when the beard first appears " ? 
 
 And that is now the charm of Alcibiades. 
 
 Com. Well, and how do matters proceed? Have you been 
 visiting him, and was he gracious to you ? 
 
 Soc. Yes, I thought that he was very gracious ; and especially 
 to-day, for I have just come from him, and he has been helping 
 me in an argument. But shall I tell you a strange thing ? Al- 
 though he was present, I never attended to him, and several 
 times he quite passed out of my mind. 
 
 Com. What is the meaning of this? Has anything hap- 
 pened between you and him ? For surely you cannot have dis- 
 covered a fairer love than he is; certainly not in this city of 
 Athens. 
 
 Soc. Yes, much fairer. 
 
 * II. xxiv. 348. 
 154
 
 PROTAGORAS 155 
 
 Com. What do you mean a citizen or a foreigner? 
 
 Soc. A foreigner. 
 
 Com. Of what country? 
 
 Soc. Of Abdera. 
 
 Com. And is this stranger really, in your opinion, fairer than 
 the son of Cleinias ? 
 
 Soc. And is not the wiser always the fairer, sweet friend? 
 
 Com. But have you really met, Socrates, with some wise 
 one? 
 
 Soc. Yes; I would say, rather, with the wisest of all living 
 men, if you are willing to accord that title to Protagoras. 
 
 Com. What! Do you mean to say that Protagoras is in 
 Athens ? 
 
 Soc. Yes ; he has been here two days. 
 
 Com. And do you just come from an interview with him? 
 
 Soc. Yes ; and I have heard and said many things. 
 
 Com. Then, if you have no engagement, suppose that you 
 sit down and tell me what passed, and my attendant shall give 
 up his place to you. 
 
 Soc. To be sure ; and I shall be grateful to you for listening. 
 
 Com. Thank you, too, for telling us. 
 
 Soc. That is thank you twice over. Listen then : 
 
 Last night, or rather very early this morning, Hippocrates, 
 the son of Apollodorus and the brother of Phason, gave a 
 tremendous thump with his staff at my door; someone opened 
 to him, and he came rushing in and bawled out: Socrates, 
 are you awake or asleep ? 
 
 I knew his voice, and said: Hippocrates, is that you? and 
 do you bring any news ? 
 
 Good news, he said ; nothing but good. 
 
 Very good, I said ; but what news ? and why have you come 
 here at this unearthly hour? 
 
 He drew nearer to me and said : Protagoras is come. 
 
 Yes, I said ; he came two days ago : have you only just heard 
 of his arrival ? 
 
 Yes, indeed, he said ; I heard yesterday evening. 
 
 At the same time he felt for the truckle-bed, and sat down 
 at my feet, and then he said : I heard yesterday quite late in 
 the evening, on my return from CEnoe whither I had gone in 
 pursuit of my runaway slave Satyrus as I was going to have 
 told you if some other matter had not come in the way; on
 
 I 5 6 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 my return, when we had done supper and were about to retire 
 to rest, my brother said to me: Protagoras is come. And I 
 was going to you at once, if I had not considered that the night 
 was far spent. But when sleep relaxed her hold on me after 
 my toil, I got up and came hither direct. 
 
 I, who knew the very courageous madness of the man, said : 
 What is the matter ? has Protagoras robbed you of anything ? 
 
 He replied, laughing: Yes, indeed he has, Socrates, of the 
 wisdom which he keeps to himself. 
 
 But, surely, I said, if you give him money, and make friends 
 with him, he will make you as wise as he is himself. 
 
 Would to Heaven, he replied, that he would! He might 
 take all that I have, and all that my friends have, if he would. 
 And that is why I have come to you now, in order that you 
 may speak to him on my behalf ; for I am young, and also I have 
 never seen nor heard him (when he visited Athens before I was 
 but a child) ; and all men praise him, Socrates, as being the 
 most accomplished of speakers. There is no reason why we 
 should not go to him at once, and then we shall find him at 
 home. He lodges, as I hear, with Callias, the son of Hip- 
 ponicus. Let us start. 
 
 I replied : Not yet, my good friend ; the hour is too early. 
 But let us rise and take a turn in the court and wait there until 
 daybreak, and when the day breaks, then we will go; for 
 Protagoras is generally at home, and we shall be sure to find 
 him ; never fear. 
 
 Upon this we got up and walked about in the court, and I 
 thought that I would make trial of the strength of his resolu- 
 tion. So I examined him and put questions to him. Tell me, 
 Hippocrates, I said, as you are going to Protagoras, and will 
 be paying your money to him, what is he to whom you are 
 going? and what will he make of you? If you were going to 
 Hippocrates, the Coan, the Asclepiad, and were about to give 
 him money, and some one said to you : As being what, do you 
 give money to your namesake Hippocrates, O Hippocrates? 
 what would you answer? 
 
 I should say, he replied, that I give money to him as a 
 physician. 
 
 And what will he make of you ? 
 
 A physician, he said. 
 
 And if you went to Polycleitus the Argive, or Pheidias the
 
 PROTAGORAS 157 
 
 Athenian, and intended to give them money, and someone were 
 to ask you : As being what, do you give this money to Polyclei- 
 tus and Pheidias ? what would you answer ? 
 
 I should answer, as being statuaries. 
 
 And what will they make of you ? 
 
 A statuary, of course. 
 
 Well, now, I said, you and I are going to Protagoras, and 
 we are ready to pay him money for you. If our own means are 
 sufficient, and we can gain him with these, we shall be too glad ; 
 but if not, then we are to spend your friend's money as well. 
 Now suppose that while we are in this intense state of excite- 
 ment, someone were to say to us : Tell me, Socrates, and you, 
 Hippocrates, as being what, are you going to pay money to 
 Protagoras ? how should we answer him ? I know that Pheidias 
 is a sculptor, and Homer is a poet; but what appellation is 
 given to Protagoras ? how is he designated ? 
 
 They call him a Sophist, Socrates, he replied. 
 
 Then we are going to pay our money to him in the character 
 of a Sophist ? 
 
 Certainly 
 
 But suppose a person were to ask this further question : And 
 how about yourself ? what will Protagoras make you, if you go 
 to see him? 
 
 He answered, with a blush upon his face (for the day was 
 just beginning to dawn, so that I could see him) : Unless this 
 differs in some way from the former instances, I suppose that 
 he will make a Sophist of me. 
 
 And are you not in sober earnest ashamed, I said, at having 
 to appear before the Hellenes in the character of a Sophist? 
 
 Indeed, Socrates, if I am to confess the truth, I am. 
 
 But why do you assume, Hippocrates, that the instruction 
 of Protagoras is of this nature? and why may you not learn 
 of him in the same way that you learned the arts of the gram- 
 marian or musician or trainer, not with the view of making any 
 of them a profession, but only as a part of education, and 
 because a private gentleman and freeman ought to know them ? 
 
 Just so, he said ; and that, in my opinion, is a far truer ac- 
 count of the teaching of Protagoras. 
 
 I said : I wonder whether you know what you are doing? 
 
 And what am I doing? 
 
 You are going to commit your soul to the care of a man
 
 158 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 whom you call a Sophist. And yet I hardly think that you 
 know what a Sophist is ; and if not, then you do not even know 
 whether you are committing your soul to good or evil. 
 
 I certainly think that I do know, he replied. 
 
 Then tell me, what do you imagine that he is ? 
 
 I take him to be one who is wise and knowing, he replied, as 
 his name implies. 
 
 And might you not, I said, affirm this of the painter and the 
 carpenter also; are not they, too, wise and knowing? But 
 suppose a person were to ask us : In what are the painters wise ? 
 We should answer : In what relates to the making of likenesses, 
 and similarly of other things. And if he were further to ask : 
 What is the wisdom of the Sophist, and what is the manu- 
 facture over which he presides ? how should we answer him ? 
 
 How should we answer him, Socrates ? What other answer 
 could there be but that he presides over the art which makes 
 men eloquent? 
 
 Yes, I replied, that is very likely a true, but not a sufficient, 
 answer ; for a further question is involved : About what does 
 the Sophist make a man eloquent ? The player on the lyre may 
 be supposed to make a man eloquent about that which he 
 makes him understand, that is about playing the lyre. Is not 
 that true? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Then about what does the Sophist make him eloquent ? must 
 not he make him eloquent in that which he understands? 
 
 Yes, that may be assumed. 
 
 And what is that which the Sophist knows and makes his 
 disciple know? 
 
 Indeed, he said, that I cannot tell. 
 
 Then I proceeded to say: Well, but are you aware of the 
 danger which you are incurring? If you were going to com- 
 mit the body to someone, and there was a risk of your getting 
 good or harm from him, would you not carefully consider and 
 ask the opinion of your friends and kindred, and deliberate 
 many days as to whether you should give him the care of your 
 body? But when the soul is in question, which you hold to be 
 of far more value than the body, and upon the well or ill being 
 of which depends your all about this you never consulted 
 either with your father or with your brother, or with anyone 
 of us who are your companions. But no sooner does this for-
 
 PROTAGORAS 159 
 
 eigner appear, than you instantly commit your soul to his 
 keeping. In the evening, as you say, you hear of him, and in 
 the morning you go to him, never deliberating, or taking the 
 opinion of anyone as to whether you ought to intrust yourself 
 to him or not ; you have quite made up your mind that you will 
 be a pupil of Protagoras, and are prepared to expend all the 
 property of yourself and of your friends in carrying out at any 
 price this determination, although, as you admit, you do not 
 know him, and have never spoken with him : and you call him a 
 Sophist, but are manifestly ignorant of what a Sophist is ; and 
 yet you are going to commit yourself to his keeping. 
 
 When he heard me say this he replied: That I suppose, 
 Socrates, is the conclusion which I must draw from your words. 
 
 I proceeded : Is not a Sophist, Hippocrates, one who deals 
 wholesale or retail in the food of the soul ? To me that appears 
 to be the sort of man. 
 
 And what, Socrates, is the food of the soul ? 
 
 Surely, I said, knowledge is the food of the soul; and we 
 must take care, my friend, that the Sophist does not deceive us 
 when he praises what he sells, like the dealers wholesale or 
 retail who sell the food of the body ; for they praise indiscrim- 
 inately all their goods, without knowing what are really bene- 
 ficial or hurtful; neither do their customers know, with the 
 exception of any trainer or physician who may happen to buy 
 of them. In like manner those who carry about the wares of 
 knowledge, and make the round of the cities, and sell or retail 
 them to any customer who is in want of them, praise them all 
 alike ; and I should not wonder, O my friend, if many of them 
 were really ignorant of their effect upon the soul ; and their 
 customers equally ignorant, unless he who buys of them hap- 
 pens to be a physician of the soul. If therefore you have un- 
 derstanding of what is good and evil, you may safely buy 
 knowledge of Protagoras or of anyone ; but if not, then, O my 
 friend, pause, and do not hazard your dearest interests at a 
 game of chance. For there is far greater peril in buying knowl- 
 edge than in buying meat and drink : the one you purchase of 
 the wholesale or retail dealer, and carry them away in other 
 vessels, and before you receive them into the body as food you 
 may deposit them at home and call in any experienced friend 
 who knows what is good to be eaten or drunken, and what not, 
 and how much and when ; and hence the danger of purchasing
 
 160 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 them is not so great. But when you buy the wares of knowl- 
 edge you cannot carry them away in another vessel ; they have 
 been sold to you, and you must take them into the soul and go 
 your way, either greatly harmed or greatly benefited by the 
 lesson: and therefore we should think about this and take 
 council with our elders; for we are still young too young to 
 determine such a matter. And now let us go, as we were in- 
 tending, and hear Protagoras ; and when we have heard what 
 he has to say, we may take counsel of others ; for not only is 
 Protagoras at the house of Callias, but there is Hippias of EHs, 
 and, if I am not mistaken, Prodicus of Ceos, and several other 
 wise men. 
 
 To this we agreed, and proceeded on our way until we reached 
 the vestibule of the house; and there we stopped in order to 
 finish a dispute which had arisen as we were going along ; and 
 we stood talking in the vestibule until we had finished and come 
 to an understanding. And I think that the doorkeeper, who 
 was a eunuch, and who was probably annoyed at the great in- 
 road of the Sophists, must have heard us talking. At any rate, 
 when we knocked at the door, and he opened and saw us, he 
 grumbled: They are Sophists he is not at home; and in- 
 stantly gave the door a hearty bang with both his hands. Again 
 we knocked, and he answered without opening: Did you not 
 hear me say that he is not at home, fellows ? But, my friend, I 
 said, we are not Sophists, and we are not come to see Callias ; 
 fear not, for we want to see Protagoras; and I must request 
 you to announce us. At last, after a good deal of difficulty, 
 the man was persuaded to open the door. 
 
 When we entered, we found Protagoras taking a walk in the 
 portico ; and next to him, on one side, were walking Callias the 
 son of Hipponicus, and Paralus the son of Pericles, who, by the 
 mother's side, is his half-brother, and Charmides the son of 
 Glaucon. On the other side of him were Xanthippus the other 
 son of Pericles, Philippides the son of Philomelus; also An- 
 timcerus of Mende, who of all the disciples of Protagoras is the 
 most famous, and intends to make sophistry his profession. A 
 train of listeners followed him, of whom the greater part ap- 
 peared to be foreigners, who accompanied Protagoras out of 
 the various cities through which he journeyed. Now he, like 
 Orpheus, attracted them by his voice, and they followed the 
 attraction. I should mention also that there were some Athe-
 
 PROTAGORAS 161 
 
 nians in the company. Nothing delighted me more than the 
 precision of their movements: they never got into his way at 
 all, but when he and those who were with him turned back, then 
 the band of listeners divided into two parts on either side ; he 
 was always in front, and they wheeled round and took their 
 places behind him in perfect order. 
 
 After him, as Homer says,* " I lifted up my eyes and saw " 
 Hippias the Elean sitting in the opposite portico on a chair of 
 state, and around him were seated on benches Eryximachus the 
 son of Acumenus, and Phaedrus the Myrrhinusian, and Andron 
 the son of Androtion, and there were strangers whom he had 
 brought with him from his native city of Elis, and some others ; 
 they appeared to be asking Hippias certain physical and astro- 
 nomical questions, and he, ex cathedra, was determining their 
 several questions to them and discoursing of them. 
 
 Also, " my eyes beheld Tantalus " ; f for Prodicus the Cean 
 was at Athens : he had been put into a room which, in the days 
 of Hipponicus, was a storehouse; but as the house was full, 
 Callias had cleared this out and made the room into a guest- 
 chamber. Now Prodicus was still in bed, wrapped up in sheep- 
 skins and bedclothes, of which there seemed to be a great heap ; 
 and there were sitting by him, on the couches near, Pausanias 
 of the deme of Cerameis, and with Pausanias was a youth quite 
 young, who is certainly remarkable for his good looks, and, if 
 I am not mistaken, is also of a fair and gentle nature. I think 
 that I heard him called Agathon, and my suspicion is that he 
 is the beloved of Pausanias. There was this youth and also 
 there were the two Adeimantuses, one the son of Cepis, and the 
 other of Leucolophides, and some others. I was very anxious 
 to hear what Prodicus was saying, for he seemed to me to be an 
 extraordinarily wise and divine man ; but I was not able to get 
 into the inner circle, and his fine deep voice made an echo in 
 the room which rendered his words inaudible. 
 
 No sooner had we entered than there followed us Alcibiades 
 the beautiful, as you say, and I believe you ; and also Critias the 
 son of Callaeschrus. 
 
 On entering we stopped a little, in order to look about us, 
 and then walked up to Protagoras, and I said : Protagoras, my 
 friend Hippocrates and I have come to see you. 
 
 * Od. xi. 601 foil. t Ibid. 582. 
 
 it
 
 j6 2 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Do you wish, he said, to speak with me alone, or in the 
 presence of others? 
 
 That is as you please, I said : you shall determine when you 
 have heard the object of our visit. 
 
 And what is that? he said. 
 
 I must explain, I said, that my friend Hippocrates is a native 
 Athenian; he is the son of Apollodorus, and of a great and 
 prosperous house, and he is himself in natural ability quite a 
 match for those of his own age. I believe that he aspires to 
 political eminence; and this he thinks that conversation with 
 you is most likely to procure for him : now it is for you to 
 decide whether you would wish to speak to him of these mat- 
 ters alone or in company. 
 
 Thank you, Socrates, for your consideration of me. For cer- 
 tainly a stranger finding his way into great cities, and persuad- 
 ing the flower of the youth in them to leave the company of 
 their other kinsmen or acquaintance and live with him, under 
 the idea that they will be improved by his conversation, ought 
 to be very cautious ; great jealousies are occasioned by his pro- 
 ceedings, and he is the subject of many enmities and conspira- 
 cies. I maintain the art of the Sophist to be of ancient date ; 
 but that in ancient times the professors of the art, fearing this 
 odium, veiled and disguised themselves under various names: 
 some under that of poets, as Homer, Hesiod, and Simonides ; 
 some as hierophants and prophets, as Orpheus and Musaeus; 
 and some, as I observe, even under the name of gymnastic 
 masters, like Iccus of Tarentum, or the more recently cele- 
 brated Herodicus, now of Selymbria and formerly of Megara, 
 who is a first-rate Sophist. Your own Agathocles pretended 
 to be a musician, but was really an eminent Sophist ; also 
 Pythocleides the Cean; and there were many others; and all 
 of them, as I was saying, adopted these arts as veils or dis- 
 guises because they were afraid of the envy of the multitude. 
 But that is not my way, for I do not believe that they effected 
 their purpose, which was to deceive the government, who were 
 not blinded by them ; and as to the people, they have no under- 
 standing, and only repeat what their rulers are pleased to tell 
 them. Now to run away, and to be caught in running away, 
 is the very height of folly, and also greatly increases the ex- 
 asperation of mankind ; for they regard him who runs away as a 
 rogue, in addition to any other objections which they have to
 
 PROTAGORAS 163 
 
 him ; and therefore I take an entirely opposite course, and ac- 
 knowledge myself to be a Sophist and instructor of mankind; 
 such an open acknowledgment appears to me to be a better 
 sort of caution than concealment. Nor do I neglect other pre- 
 cautions, and therefore I hope, as I may say, by the favor of 
 heaven that no harm will come of the acknowledgment that I 
 am a Sophist. And I have been now many years in the pro- 
 fession for all my years when added up are many and there 
 is no one here present of whom I might not be the father. 
 Wherefore I should much prefer conversing with you, if you 
 do not object, in the presence of the company. 
 
 As I suspected that he would like to have a little display and 
 glory in the presence of Prodicus and Hippias, and would 
 gladly show us to them in the light of his admirers, I said : But 
 why should we not summon Prodicus and Hippias and their 
 friends to hear us? 
 
 Very good, he said. 
 
 Suppose, said Callias, that we hold a council in which you 
 may sit and discuss. This was determined, and great delight 
 was felt at the prospect of hearing wise men talk ; we ourselves 
 all took the chairs and benches, and arranged them by Hippias, 
 where the other benches had been already placed. Meanwhile 
 Callias and Alcibiades got up Prodicus and brought in him and 
 his companions. 
 
 When we were all seated, Protagoras said: Now that the 
 company are assembled, Socrates, tell me about the young man 
 of whom you were just now speaking. 
 
 I replied : I will begin again at the same point, Protagoras, 
 and tell you once more the purport of my visit: this is my 
 friend Hippocrates, who is desirous of making your acquaint- 
 ance; he wants to know what will happen to him if he as- 
 sociates with you. That is all I have to say. 
 
 Protagoras answered: Young man, if you associate with 
 me, on the very first day you will return home a better man 
 than you came, and better on the second day than on the first, 
 and better every day than you were on the day before. 
 
 When I heard this, I said : Protagoras, I do not at all won- 
 der at hearing you say this; even at your age, and with all 
 your wisdom, if anyone were to teach you what you did not 
 know before, you would become better no doubt : but please to 
 answer in a different way ; I will explain how by an example.
 
 1 64 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Let me suppose that Hippocrates, instead of desiring your 
 acquaintance, wished to become acquainted with the young 
 man Zeuxippus of Heraclea, who has newly come to Athens, 
 and he were to go to him as he has gone to you, and were to 
 hear him say, as he has heard you say, that every day he would 
 grow and become better if he associated with him: and then 
 suppose that he were to ask him, " In what would he be better, 
 and in what would he grow ? " Zeuxippus would answer, " In 
 painting." And suppose that he went to Orthagoras the The- 
 ban, and heard him say the same, and asked him, " In what 
 would he become better day by day ? " he would reply, " In flute- 
 playing." Now I want you to make the same sort of answer 
 to this young man and to me, who am asking questions on his 
 account. When you say that on the first day on which he 
 associates with you he will return home a better man, and on 
 every day will grow in like manner in what, Protagci-as, will 
 he be better? and about what? 
 
 When Protagoras heard me say this, he replied: You ask 
 questions fairly, and I like to answer a question which is fairly 
 put. If Hippocrates comes to me he will not experience the 
 sort of drudgery with which other Sophists are in the habit 
 of insulting their pupils ; who, when they have just escaped from 
 the arts, are taken and driven back into them by these teachers, 
 and made to learn calculation, and astronomy, and geometry, 
 and music (he gave a look at Hippias as he said this) ; but if he 
 comes to me, he will learn that which he comes to learn. And 
 this is prudence in affairs private as well as public; he will 
 learn to order his own house in the best manner, and he will 
 be best able to speak and act in the affairs of the State. 
 
 Do I understand you, I said ; and is your meaning that you 
 teach the art of politics, and that you promise to make men 
 good citizens? 
 
 That, Socrates, is exactly the profession which I make. 
 
 Then, I said, you do indeed possess a noble art, if there is 
 no mistake about this ; for I will freely confess to you, Protago- 
 ras, that I have a doubt whether this art is capable of being 
 taught, and yet I know not how to disbelieve your assertion. 
 And I ought to tell you why I am of opinion that this art can- 
 not be taught or communicated by man to man. I say that 
 the Athenians are an understanding people, as indeed they 
 are esteemed by the other Hellenes. Now I observe that when
 
 PROTAGORAS 165 
 
 we are met together in the assembly, and the matter in hand 
 relates to building, the builders are summoned as advisers; 
 when the question is one of shipbuilding, then the shipbuilders ; 
 and the like of other arts which they think capable of being 
 taught and learned. And if some person offers to give them 
 advice who is not supposed by them to have any skill in the 
 art, even though he be good-looking, and rich, and noble, they 
 don't listen to him, but laugh at him, and hoot him, until either 
 he is clamored down and retires of himself ; or if he persist, he 
 is dragged away or put out by the constables at the command 
 of the Prytanes. This is their way of behaving about the arts 
 which have professors. When, however, the question is an 
 affair of state, then everybody is free to have a say carpenter, 
 tinker, cobbler, sailor, passenger ; rich and poor, high and low 
 anyone who likes gets up, and no one reproaches him, as in 
 the former case, with not having learned, and having no teacher, 
 and yet giving advice; evidently because they are under the 
 impression that this sort of knowledge cannot be taught. And 
 not only is this true of the State, but of individuals ; the best 
 and wisest of our citizens are unable to impart their political 
 wisdom to others : as, for example, Pericles, the father of these 
 young men, who gave them excellent instruction in all that 
 could be learned from masters, in his own department of 
 politics taught them nothing; nor did he give them teachers', 
 but they were allowed to wander at their own freewill, in a sort 
 of hope that they would light upon virtue of their own accord. 
 Or take another example: there was Cleinias, the younger 
 brother of our friend Alcibiades, of whom this very same 
 Pericles was the guardian ; and he being in fact under the ap- 
 prehension that Cleinias would be corrupted by Alcibiades, took 
 him away, and placed him in the house of Ariphron to be edu- 
 cated ; but before six months had elapsed, Ariphron sent him 
 back, not knowing what to do with him. And I could mention 
 numberless other instances of persons who were good them- 
 selves, and never yet made anyone else good, whether friend 
 or stranger. Now I, Protagoras, when I reflect on all this, am 
 inclined to think that virtue cannot be taught. But then again, 
 when I listen to your words, I am disposed to waver ; and I be- 
 lieve that there must be something in what you say, because I 
 know that you have great experience, and learning, and inven- 
 tion. And I wish that you would, if possible, show me a little
 
 1 66 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 more clearly that virtue can be taught. Will you be so 
 good? 
 
 That I will, Socrates, and gladly. But what would you like ? 
 Shall I, as an elder, speak to you as younger men in an apologue 
 or myth, or shall I argue the question ? 
 
 To this several of the company answered that he should 
 choose for himself. 
 
 Well, then, he said, I think that the myth will be more in- 
 teresting. 
 
 Once upon a time there were gods only, and no mortal 
 creatures. But when the time came that these also should 
 be created, the gods fashioned them out of earth and fire and 
 various mixtures of both elements in the inward parts of the 
 earth ; and when they were about to bring them into the light 
 of day, they ordered Prometheus and Epimetheus to equip 
 them, and to distribute to them severally their proper qualities. 
 Epimetheus said to Prometheus : " Let me distribute, and 
 do you inspect." This was agreed, and Epimetheus made the 
 distribution. There were some to whom he gave strength 
 without swiftness, or again swiftness without strength ; some 
 he armed, and others he left unarmed; and devised for the 
 latter some other means of preservation, making some large, 
 and having their size as a protection, and others small, whose 
 nature was to fly in the air or burrow in the ground this was 
 to be their way of escape. Thus did he compensate them with 
 the view of preventing any race from becoming extinct. And 
 when he had provided against their destruction by one another, 
 he contrived also a means of protecting them against the seasons 
 of heaven ; clothing them with close hair and thick skins suffi- 
 cient to defend them against the winter cold and summer heat, 
 and for a natural bed of their own when they wanted to rest ; 
 also he furnished them with hoofs and hair and hard and callous 
 skins under their feet. Then he gave them varieties of food 
 to some herbs of the soil, to others fruits of trees, and to 
 others roots, and to some again he gave other animals as food. 
 And some he made to have few young ones, while those who 
 were their prey were very prolific; and in this way the race 
 was preserved. Thus did Epimetheus, who, not being very 
 wise, forgot that he had distributed among the brute animals 
 all the qualities that he had to give and when he came to man, 
 who was still unprovided, he was terribly perplexed. Now
 
 PROTAGORAS 167 
 
 while he was in this perplexity, Prometheus came to inspect 
 the distribution, and he found that the other animals were suit- 
 ably furnished, but that man alone was naked and shoeless, and 
 had neither bed nor arms of defence. The appointed hour was 
 approaching in which man was to go forth into the light of 
 day; and Prometheus, not knowing how he could devise his 
 salvation, stole the mechanical arts of Hephaestus and Athene, 
 and fire with them (they could neither have been acquired nor 
 used without fire), and gave them to man. Thus man had the 
 wisdom necessary to the support of life, but political wisdom 
 he had not ; for that was in the keeping of Zeus, and the power 
 of Prometheus did not extend to entering into the castle of 
 heaven, in which Zeus dwelt, who moreover had terrible senti- 
 nels ; but he did enter by stealth into the common workshop of 
 Athene and Hephaestus, in which they used to pursue their 
 favorite arts, and took away Hephaestus's art of working by fire, 
 and also the art of Athene, and gave them to man. And in this 
 way man was supplied with the means of life. But Prometheus 
 is said to have been afterwards prosecuted for theft, owing to 
 the blunder of Epimetheus. 
 
 Now man, having a share of the divine attributes, was at 
 first the only one of the animals who had any gods, because 
 he alone was of their kindred ; and he would raise altars and 
 images of them. He was not long in inventing language and 
 names ; and he also constructed houses and clothes and shoes 
 and beds, and drew sustenance from the earth. Thus pro- 
 vided, mankind at first lived dispersed, and there were no 
 cities. But the consequence was that they were destroyed by 
 the wild beasts, for they were utterly weak in comparison of 
 them, and their art was only sufficient to provide them with 
 the means of life, and would not enable them to carry on war 
 against the animals : food they had, but not as yet any art of 
 government, of which the art of war is a part. After a while 
 the desire of self-preservation gathered them into cities; but 
 when they were gathered together, having no art of govern- 
 ment, they evil entreated one another, and were again in process 
 of dispersion and destruction. Zeus feared that the race would 
 be exterminated, and so he sent Hermes to them, bearing rev- 
 erence and justice to be the ordering principles of cities and 
 the bonds of friendship and conciliation. Hermes asked Zeus 
 how he should impart justice and reverence among men:
 
 1 68 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 should he distribute them as the arts are distributed ; that is to 
 say, to a favored few only for one skilled individual has 
 enough of medicine, or of any other art, for many unskilled 
 ones? Shall this be the manner in which I distribute justice 
 and reverence among men, or shall I give them to all? To 
 all, said Zeus ; I should like them all to have a share ; for cities 
 cannot exist, if a few only share in the virtues, as in the arts. 
 And further, make a law by my order, that he who has no part 
 in reverence and justice shall be put to death as a plague of the 
 State. 
 
 And this is the reason, Socrates, why the Athenians and 
 mankind in general, when the question relates to carpentering 
 or any other mechanical art, allow but a few to share in their 
 deliberations; and when anyone else interferes, then, as you 
 say, they object, if he be not of the favored few, and that, as I 
 say, is very natural. But when they come to deliberate about 
 political virtue, which proceeds only by way of justice and 
 wisdom, they are patient enough of any man who speaks of 
 them, as is also natural, because they think that every man 
 ought to share in this sort of virtue, and that States could not 
 exist if this were otherwise. I have explained to you, Soc- 
 rates, the reason of this phenomenon. 
 
 And that you may not suppose yourself to be deceived in 
 thinking that all men regard every man as having a share of 
 justice and every other political virtue, let me give you a fur- 
 ther proof, .which is this. In other cases, as you are aware, 
 if a man says that he is a good flute-player, or skilful in any 
 other art in which he has no skill, people either laugh at him 
 or are angry with him, and his relations think that he is mad 
 and go and admonish him ; but when honesty is in question, or 
 some other political virtue, even if they know that he is dis- 
 honest, yet, if the man comes publicly forward and tells the 
 truth about his dishonesty, in this case they deem that to be 
 madness which in the other case was held by them to be good 
 sense. They say that men ought to profess honesty whether 
 they are honest or not, and that a man is mad who does not 
 make such a profession. Their notion is, that a man must 
 have some degree of honesty ; and that if he has none at all he 
 ought not to be in the world. 
 
 I have been showing that they are right in admitting every 
 man as a counsellor about this sort of virtue, as they are of
 
 PROTAGORAS 169 
 
 opinion that every man is a partaker of it. And I will now 
 endeavor further to show that they regard this virtue, not as 
 given by nature, or growing spontaneously, but as capable of 
 being learned and acquired by study. For injustice is pun- 
 ished, whereas no one would instruct, or rebuke, or be angry 
 at those whose calamities they suppose to come to them either 
 by nature or chance; they do not try to alter them, they do 
 but pity them. Who would be so foolish as to chastise or 
 instruct the ugly, or the diminutive, or the feeble? And for 
 this reason; they know, I imagine, that this sort of good and 
 evil comes to them by nature and chance ; whereas if a man is 
 wanting in those good qualities which come to men from study 
 and exercise and teaching, and has only the contrary evil quali- 
 ties, men are angry with him, and punish him and reprove 
 him. And one of those evil qualities is impiety and injustice, 
 and they may be described generally as the opposite of political 
 virtue. When this is the case, any man will be angry with 
 another, and reprimand him clearly under the impression that 
 by study and learning the virtue in which he is deficient may 
 be acquired. For if you will think, Socrates, of the effect 
 which punishment has on evil-doers, you will see at once that 
 in the opinion of mankind virtue may be acquired ; for no one 
 punishes the evil-doer under the notion, or for the reason, 
 that he has done wrong only the unreasonable fury of a beast 
 acts in that way. But he who desires to inflict rational pun- 
 ishment does not retaliate for a past wrong, for that which 
 is done cannot be undone, but he has regard to the future, and 
 is desirous that the man who is punished, and he who sees 
 him punished, may be deterred from doing wrong again. And 
 he implies that virtue is capable of being taught ; as he un- 
 doubtedly punishes for the sake of prevention. This is the 
 notion of all who retaliate upon others either privately or 
 publicly. And the Athenians, too, like other men, retaliate on 
 those whom they regard as evil-doers ; and this argues them 
 to be of the number of those who think that virtue may be 
 acquired and taught. Thus far, Socrates, I have shown you 
 clearly enough, if I am not mistaken, that your countrymen 
 are right in admitting the tinker and the cobbler to advise 
 about politics, and also that they deem virtue to be capable of 
 being taught and acquired. 
 
 There yet remains one difficulty which has been raised by
 
 i 7 o DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 you about the sons of good men. What is the reason why 
 good men teach their sons the knowledge which is gained from 
 teachers, and make them wise in that, but do nothing towards 
 improving them in the virtues which distinguish themselves? 
 And here, Socrates, I will leave the apologue and take up the 
 argument. Please to consider: Is there or is there not some 
 one quality in which all the citizens must be partakers, if there 
 is to be a city at all? In the answer to this question is con- 
 tained the only solution of your difficulty; there is no other. 
 For if there be any such quality, and this quality or unity is 
 not the art of the carpenter, or the smith, or the potter, 
 but justice and temperance and holiness, and, in a word, 
 manly virtue if this is the quality of which all men must be 
 partakers, and which is the very condition of their learning or 
 doing anything else, and if he who is wanting in this, whether 
 he be a child only or a grown-up man or woman, must be 
 taught and punished, until by punishment he becomes better, 
 and he who rebels against instruction and punishment is either 
 exiled or condemned to death under the idea that he is incura- 
 ble if, I say, this be true, and nevertheless good men have 
 their sons taught other things and not this, do consider how 
 extraordinary would be their conduct. For we have shown 
 that they think virtue capable of being taught and inculcated 
 both in private and public ; and yet, notwithstanding this, they 
 teach their sons lesser matters, ignorance of which does not 
 involve the punishment of death : but those things, the igno- 
 rance of which may cause death and exile to those who have 
 no knowledge or training aye, and confiscation as well as 
 death, and, in a word, may be the ruin of families those 
 things, I say, they are supposed not to teach them not to take 
 the utmost care they should learn. That is not likely, 
 Socrates. 
 
 Education and admonition commence in the first years of 
 childhood, and last to the very end of life. Mother and nurse 
 and father and tutor are quarrelling about the improvement 
 of the child as soon as ever he is able to understand them: 
 he cannot say or do anything without their setting forth to 
 him that this is just and that is unjust ; this is honorable, that 
 is dishonorable; this is holy, that is unholy; do this and ab- 
 stain from that. And if he obeys, well and good; if not, he 
 is straightened by threats and blows, like a piece of warped
 
 PROTAGORAS 1 7 1 
 
 wood. At a later stage they send him to teachers, and enjoin 
 them to see to his manners even more than to his reading 
 and music; and the teachers do as they are desired. And 
 when the boy has learned his letters and is beginning to un- 
 derstand what is written, as before he understood only what 
 was spoken, they put into his hands the works of great poets, 
 which he reads at school; in these are contained many ad- 
 monitions, and many tales, and praises, and encomia of ancient 
 famous men, which he is required to learn by heart, in order 
 that he may imitate or emulate them and desire to become 
 like them. Then, again, the teachers of the lyre take similar 
 care that their young disciple is temperate and gets into no 
 mischief; and when they have taught him the use of the 
 lyre, they introduce him to the poems of other excellent poets, 
 who are the lyric poets ; and these they set to music, and make 
 their harmonies and rhythms quite familiar to the children, in 
 order that they may learn to be more gentle, and harmonious, 
 and rhythmical, and so more fitted for speech and action; for 
 the life of man in every part has need of harmony and rhythm. 
 Then they send them to the master of gymnastic, in order that 
 their bodies may better minister to the virtuous mind, and that 
 the weakness of their bodies may not force them to play the 
 coward in war or on any other occasion. This is what is done 
 by those who have the means, and those who have the means are 
 the rich: their children begin education soonest and leave off 
 latest. When they have done with masters, the State again 
 compels them to learn the laws, and live after the pattern 
 which they furnish, and not after their own fancies ; and just as 
 in learning to write, the writing-master first draws lines with a 
 style for the use of the young beginner, and gives him the 
 tablet and makes him follow the lines, so the city draws the 
 laws, which were the invention of good lawgivers who were 
 of old time ; these are given to the young man, in order to 
 guide him in his conduct whether as ruler or ruled ; and he 
 who transgresses them is to be corrected, or, in other words, 
 called to account, which is a term used not only in your country, 
 but also in many others. Now when there is all this care about 
 virtue private and public, why, Socrates, do you still wonder 
 and doubt whether virtue can be taught? Cease to wonder, 
 for the opposite would be far more surprising. 
 
 But why then do the sons of good fathers often turn out
 
 1 72 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 ill? Let me explain that which is far from being wonder- 
 ful, if, as I have been saying, the very existence of the State 
 implies that virtue is not any man's private possession. If 
 this be true and nothing can be truer then I will ask you to 
 imagine, as an illustration, some other pursuit or branch of 
 knowledge which may be assumed equally to be the condition 
 of the existence of a State. Suppose that there could be no 
 State unless we were all flute-players, as far as each had the 
 capacity, and everybody was freely teaching everybody the 
 art, both in private and public, and reproving the bad player 
 as freely and openly as every man now teaches justice and the 
 laws, not concealing them as he would conceal the other arts, 
 but imparting them for all of us have a mutual interest in 
 the justice and virtue of one another, and this is the reason 
 why everyone is ready to teach justice and the laws ; suppose, 
 I say, that there were the same readiness and liberality among 
 us in teaching one another flute-playing, do you imagine, Soc- 
 rates, that the sons of good flute-players would be more likely 
 to be good than the sons of bad ones? I think not. Would 
 not their sons grow up to be distinguished or undistinguished 
 according to their own natural capacities as flute-players, and 
 the son of a good player would often turn out to be a bad 
 one, and the son of a bad player to be a good one, and all flute- 
 players would be good enough in comparison of those who 
 were ignorant and unacquainted with the art of flute-playing? 
 In like manner I would have you consider that he who appears 
 to you to be the worst of those who have been brought up in 
 laws and humanities, would appear to be a just man and a mas- 
 ter of justice if he were to be compared with men who had no 
 education, or courts of justice, or laws, or any restraints upon 
 them which compelled them to practise virtue with the sav- 
 ages, for example, whom the poet Pherecrates exhibited on the 
 stage at the last year's Lenaean festival. If you were living 
 among men such as the man-haters in his Chorus, you would 
 be only too glad to meet with Eurybates and Phrynondas, and 
 you would sorrowfully desire the rascality of this part of the 
 world. And you, Socrates, are discontented, and why? Because 
 all men are teachers of virtue, each one according to his 
 ability, and you say that there is no teacher. You might as 
 well ask, Who teaches Greek ? For of that, too, there will not 
 be any teachers found. Or you might ask, Who is to teach
 
 PROTAGORAS 173 
 
 the sons of our artisans this same art which they have learned 
 of their fathers? He and his fellow-workmen have taught 
 them to the best of their ability but who will carry them 
 further in their arts? And you would certainly have a diffi- 
 culty, Socrates, in finding a teacher of them ; but there would 
 be no difficulty in finding a teacher of those who are wholly 
 ignorant. And this is true of virtue or of anything; and if 
 a man is better able than we are to promote virtue ever so 
 little, that is as much as we can expect. A teacher of this 
 sort I believe myself to be, and above all other men to have 
 the knowledge which makes a man noble and good; and I 
 give my pupils their money's worth, and even more, as they 
 themselves confess. And therefore I have introduced the fol- 
 lowing mode of payment : When a man has been my pupil, if 
 he likes he pays my price, but there is no compulsion; and if 
 he does not like, he has only to go into a temple and take an 
 oath of the value of the instructions, and he pays no more than 
 he declares to be their value. 
 
 Such is my apologue, Socrates, and such is the argument 
 by which I endeavor to show that virtue may be taught, and 
 that this is the opinion of the Athenians. And I have also 
 attempted to show that you are not to wonder at good fathers 
 having bad sons, or at good sons having bad fathers, as may 
 be seen in the sons of Polycleitus, who are of the same age as 
 our friends Paralus and Xanthippus, and who are very inferior 
 to their father ; and this is true of many other artists. But I 
 ought not to say the same as yet of Paralus and Xanthippus 
 themselves, for they are young and there is still hope of 
 them. 
 
 Protagoras ended, and in my ear 
 
 " So charming left his voice, that I the while 
 Thought him still speaking; still stood fixed to hear." 
 
 At length, when I saw that he had really finished, I grad- 
 ually recovered consciousness, and looking at Hippocrates, I 
 said to him: O son of Apollodorus, how deeply grateful I 
 am to you for having brought me hither; I would not have 
 missed the speech of Protagoras for a great deal. For I used 
 to imagine that no human care could make men good; but I 
 know better now. Yet I have still one very small difficulty 
 which I am sure that Protagoras will easily explain, as he has
 
 I 7 4 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 already explained so much. For if a man were to go and 
 consult Pericles or any of our great speakers about these mat- 
 ters, he might perhaps hear as fine a discourse; but then if 
 anyone has a question to ask of any of them, like books, they 
 can neither answer nor ask ; and if anyone challenges the least 
 particular of their speech, they go ringing on in a long harangue, 
 like brazen pots, which when they are struck continue to sound 
 unless some one puts his hand upon them ; whereas our friend 
 Protagoras cannot only make a good speech, as he has already 
 shown, but when he is asked a question he can answer briefly ; 
 and when he asks he will wait and hear the answer ; and this 
 is a very rare gift. Now I, Protagoras, have a little question 
 that I want to ask of you, and if you will only answer me that, 
 I shall be quite satisfied. You were saying that virtue can 
 be taught; that I will take upon your authority, and there is 
 no one to whom I am more ready to trust. But I marvel at 
 one thing about which I should like to have my mind set at 
 rest. You were speaking of Zeus sending justice and rev- 
 erence to men; and several times while you were speaking, 
 justice and temperance and holiness, and all these qualities, 
 were described by you as if together they made up virtue. 
 Now I want you to tell me truly whether virtue is one whole, 
 of which justice and temperance and holiness are parts ; or 
 whether all these are only the names of one and the same thing : 
 that is the doubt which still lingers in my mind. 
 
 There is no difficulty, Socrates, in answering that the qualities 
 of which you are speaking are the parts of virtue, which is 
 one. 
 
 And are they parts, I said, in the same sense in which mouth, 
 nose, and eyes, and ears are the parts of a face; or are they 
 like the parts of gold, which differ from the whole and from 
 one another only in being larger or smaller? 
 
 I should say that they differed, Socrates, in the first way; 
 as the parts of a face are related to the whole face. 
 
 And do men have some one part and some another part of 
 virtue? Or if a man has one part, must he also have all the 
 others ? 
 
 By no means, he said ; for many a man is brave and not just, 
 or just and not wise. 
 
 Why then, I said, courage and wisdom are also parts of 
 virtue?
 
 PROTAGORAS 175 
 
 Most undoubtedly, he said; and wisdom is the noblest of 
 the parts. 
 
 And they are all different from one another ? I asked. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And each of them has a distinct function like the parts of 
 the face ; the eye, for example, is not like the ear, and has not 
 the same functions ; and the other parts are none of them like 
 one another, either in their functions, or in any other way? 
 Now I want to know whether the parts of virtue do not also 
 differ in themselves and in their functions; as that is clearly 
 what the simile would imply. 
 
 Yes, Socrates, you are right in that. 
 
 Then, I said, no part of virtue is like knowledge, or like 
 justice, or like courage, or like temperance, or like holiness. 
 
 No, he answered. 
 
 Well then, I said, suppose that you and I inquire into their 
 natures. And first, you would agree with me that justice is 
 of the nature of a thing, would you not ? That is my opinion ; 
 would not that be yours also ? 
 
 Yes, he said, that is mine also. 
 
 And suppose that someone were to ask us, saying, O Protag- 
 oras, and you, Socrates, what about this thing which you just 
 now called justice, is it just or unjust? And I were to an- 
 swer just: and you would you vote for me or against me? 
 
 With you, he said. 
 
 Thereupon I should answer to him who asked me, that jus- 
 tice is of the nature of the just, would not you ? 
 
 Yes, he said. 
 
 And suppose that he went on to say : Well now, is there such 
 a thing as holiness ? we should answer, Yes, if I am not mis- 
 taken ? 
 
 Yes, he said. 
 
 And that you acknowledge to be a thing should we admit 
 that? 
 
 He assented. 
 
 And is this a sort of thing which is of the nature of the 
 holy, or of the nature of the unholy? I should be angry at 
 his putting such a question, and should say, Peace, man; 
 nothing can be holy if holiness is not holy. What do you 
 say to that ? Would you not answer in the same way ? 
 
 Certainly, he said.
 
 176 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 And then after this suppose that he came and asked us, 
 What were you saying just now? Perhaps I may not have 
 heard you rightly, but you seemed to me to be saying that 
 the parts of virtue were not the same as one another. I should 
 reply, You certainly heard that said, but you did not, as 
 you think, hear me say that ; for Protagoras gave the answer, 
 and I did but ask the question. And suppose that he turned 
 to you and said, Is this true, Protagoras ? and do you maintain 
 that one part of virtue is unlike another, and is this your posi- 
 tion? how would you answer him? 
 
 I could not help acknowledging the truth of what he said, 
 Socrates. 
 
 Well then, Protagoras, assuming this, and supposing that 
 he proceeded to say further, Then holiness is not of the nature 
 of justice, nor justice of the nature of holiness, but of the 
 nature of unholiness ; and holiness is of the nature of the not 
 just, and therefore of the unjust, and the unjust is unholy; 
 how shall we answer him? I should certainly answer him on 
 my own behalf that justice is holy, and that holiness is just; 
 and I would say in like manner on your behalf also, if you 
 would allow me, that justice is either the same with holiness, or 
 very nearly the same; and I would most assuredly say that 
 justice is like holiness and holiness is like justice: and I wish 
 that you would tell me whether I may be permitted to give 
 this answer on your behalf, and whether you would agree with 
 me. 
 
 He replied, I cannot simply agree, Socrates, to the proposi- 
 tion that justice is holy and that holiness is just, for there 
 appears to me to be a difference between them. But what 
 matter ? if you please I please ; and let us assume, if you will, 
 that justice is holy, and that holiness is just. 
 
 Pardon me, I said ; I do not want this " if you wish " or " if 
 you will " sort of argument to be proved, but I want you and 
 me to be proved ; and I mean by this that the argument will be 
 best proved if there be no " if." 
 
 Well, he said, I admit that justice bears a resemblance to 
 holiness, for there is always some point of view in which every- 
 thing is like every other thing; white is in a certain way like 
 black, and hard is like soft, and the most extreme opposites 
 have some qualities in common ; even the parts of the face, 
 which, as we were saying before, are distinct and have different
 
 PROTAGORAS 177 
 
 functions, are still in a certain point of view similar, and one 
 of them is like another of them. And you may prove that they 
 are like one another on the same principle that all things are 
 like one another ; and yet things which are alike in some particu- 
 lar ought not to be called alike, nor things which are unlike 
 in some particular, however slight, unlike. 
 
 And do you think, I said in a tone of surprise, that justice 
 and holiness have but a small degree of likeness ? 
 
 Certainly not, he said ; but I do not agree with what I under- 
 stand to be your view. 
 
 Well, I said, as you appear to have a difficulty about this, let 
 us take another of the examples which you have mentioned, 
 instead. Do you admit the existence of folly? 
 
 I do. 
 
 And is not wisdom the very opposite of folly? 
 
 That is true, he said. 
 
 And when men act rightly and advantageously they seem 
 to you to be temperate or moderate ? 
 
 Yes, he said. 
 
 And moderation makes them moderate? 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 And they who do not act rightly act foolishly, and in thus 
 acting are not moderate? 
 
 I agree to that, he said. 
 
 Then to act foolishly is the opposite of acting moderately? 
 
 He assented. 
 
 And foolish actions are done by folly, and moderate or tem- 
 perate actions by moderation? 
 
 He agreed. 
 
 And that is done strongly which is done by strength, and 
 weakly which is done by weakness? 
 
 He assented. 
 
 And that which is done with swiftness is done swiftly, ?nd 
 that which is done with slowness, slowly? 
 
 He acknowledged that. 
 
 And if anything is done in the same way, that is done by 
 the same ; and if anything is done in an opposite way, by the 
 opposite ? 
 
 He agreed. 
 
 Once more, I said, is there anything beautiful ? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 la
 
 178 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 To which the only opposite is the ugly? 
 
 There is no other. 
 
 And is there anything good? 
 
 There is. 
 
 To which the only opposite is the evil? 
 
 There is no other. 
 
 And there is the acute in sound? 
 
 True. 
 
 To which the only opposite is the grave? 
 
 There is no other, he said, but that. 
 
 Then every opposite has one opposite only and no more? 
 
 He assented. 
 
 Then now, I said, let us recapitulate our admissions. First 
 of all we admitted that everything has one opposite and not 
 more than one? 
 
 To that we assented. 
 
 And we admitted also that what was done in opposite ways 
 was done by opposites ? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And that which was done foolishly, as we also admitted, was 
 done in the opposite way to that which was done moderately ? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And that which was done moderately was done by modera- 
 tion or temperance, and that which was done foolishly by folly ? 
 
 He agreed. 
 
 And that which was done in opposite ways is done by oppo- 
 sites ? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And one thing is done by moderation or temperance, and 
 quite another thing by folly? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And those are opposite ways? 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 And therefore done by opposites. Then folly is the opposite 
 of moderation or temperance? 
 
 That is evident. 
 
 And do you remember that folly has already been acknowl- 
 edged by us to be the opposite of wisdom ? 
 
 He assented. 
 
 And we said that everything has only one opposite? 
 
 Yes.
 
 PROTAGORAS 179 
 
 Then, Protagoras, which of the two assertions shall we re- 
 nounce ? One says that everything has but one opposite ; the 
 other that wisdom is distinct from temperance or moderation, 
 and that both of them are parts of virtue ; and that they are not 
 only distinct, but unlike, both in themselves and in their func- 
 tions, like the parts of a face. Which of these two assertions 
 shall we renounce ? For both of them together are certainly 
 not in harmony; they do not accord or agree: for how can 
 they be said to agree if everything is assumed to have only one 
 opposite and not more than one, and yet folly, which is one, 
 has clearly the two opposites wisdom and temperance? Is 
 not that true, Protagoras ? I said. What else would you say ? 
 
 He assented, but with great reluctance. 
 
 Then temperance and wisdom are the same, as before justice 
 and holiness appeared to us to be nearly the same. And now, 
 Protagoras, I said, do not let us be faint-hearted, but let us com- 
 plete what remains. Do you think that an unjust man can be 
 temperate in his injustice? 
 
 I should be ashamed, Socrates, he said, to acknowledge this, 
 which nevertheless many may be found to assert. 
 
 And shall I argue with them or with you ? I replied. 
 
 I would rather, he said, that you should argue with the many 
 first, if you will. 
 
 Whichever you please, if you will only answer me and say 
 whether you are of their opinion or not. My object is to test 
 the validity of the argument ; and yet the result may be that I 
 and you who ask and answer may also be put on our trial. 
 
 Protagoras at first made a show of refusing, as he said that 
 the argument was not encouraging; at length, however, he 
 consented to answer. 
 
 Now then, I said, begin at the beginning and answer me. 
 You think that some men are moderate or temperate, and yet 
 unjust ? 
 
 Yes, he said ; let that be admitted. 
 
 And moderation is good sense? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And good sense is good counsel in doing injustice? 
 
 Granted. 
 
 If they succeed, I said, or if they don't succeed? 
 
 If they succeed. 
 
 And you would admit the existence of goods ?
 
 !8o DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And is the good that which is expedient for man ? 
 
 Yes, indeed, he said ; and there are some things which may 
 be inexpedient, and yet I call them good. 
 
 I thought that Protagoras was getting ruffled and excited ; 
 he seemed to be setting himself in an attitude of war. Seeing 
 this, I minded my business and gently said : 
 
 When you say, Protagoras, that things inexpedient are good, 
 do you mean inexpedient for man only, or inexpedient alto- 
 gether ? and do you call the latter good ? 
 
 Certainly not the last, he replied ; for I know of many things, 
 meats, drinks, medicines, and ten thousand other things, which 
 are partly expedient for man, and partly inexpedient; and 
 some which are expedient for horses, and not for men ; and 
 some for oxen only, and some for dogs ; and some for no 
 animals, but only for trees; and some for the roots of trees 
 and not for their branches, as for example, manure, which is a 
 good thing when laid about the roots, but utterly destructive if 
 thrown upon the shoots and young branches ; or I may in- 
 stance olive-oil, which is mischievous to all plants, and generally 
 most injurious to the hair of every animal with the exception of 
 man, but beneficial to human hair and to the human body gen- 
 erally ; and even in this application (so various and changeable 
 is the nature of the benefit) that which is the greatest good 
 to the outward parts of a man is a very great evil to his inward 
 parts : and for this reason physicians always forbid their pa- 
 tients the use of oil in their food, except in very small quantities, 
 just sufficient to take away the disagreeable sensation of smell 
 in meats and sauces. 
 
 When he had given this answer, the company cheered him. 
 And I said : Protagoras, I have a wretched memory, and when 
 any one makes a long speech to me I never remember what he 
 is talking about. As then, if I had been deaf, and you were 
 going to converse with me, you would have had to raise your 
 voice ; so now, having such a bad memory, I will ask you to 
 cut your answers shorter, if you would take me with you. 
 
 What do you mean ? he said : how am I to shorten my an- 
 swers ? shall I make them too short ? 
 
 Certainly not, I said. 
 
 But short enough ? he said. 
 
 Yes, I said.
 
 PROTAGORAS 181 
 
 Shall I answer what appears to me to be short enough, or 
 what appears to you to be short enough ? 
 
 I have heard, I said, that you can speak and teach others to 
 speak about the same things at such length that words never 
 seemed to fail, or with such brevity that no one could use fewer 
 of them. Please therefore, if you talk with me, to adopt the 
 latter or more compendious method. 
 
 Socrates, he replied, many a battle of words have I fought, 
 and if I had followed the method of disputation which my ad- 
 versaries desired, as you want me to do, I should have been no 
 better than another, and the name of Protagoras would have 
 been nowhere. 
 
 I saw that he was not satisfied with his previous answers, 
 and that he would not play the part of answerer any more if 
 he could help ; and I considered that there was no call upon me 
 to continue the conversation ; so I said : Protagoras, I don't 
 wish to force the conversation upon you if you had rather not, 
 but when you are willing to argue with me in such a way that I 
 can follow you, then I will argue with you. Now you, as is 
 said of you by others and as you say of yourself, are able to have 
 discussions in shorter forms of speech as well as in longer, for 
 you are a master of wisdom ; but I cannot manage these long 
 speeches : I only wish that I could. You, on the other hand, 
 who are capable of either, ought to speak shorter, as I beg you, 
 and then we might converse. But I see that you are disin- 
 clined, and as I have an engagement which will prevent my 
 staying to hear you at length (for I have to be in another place), 
 I will depart, although I should have liked to hear you. 
 
 Thus I spoke, and was rising from my seat, when Callias 
 seized me by the hand, and in his left hand caught hold of this 
 old cloak of mine. He said : We cannot let you go, Socrates, 
 for if you leave us there will be an end of our discussions : I 
 must therefore beg you to remain, as there is nothing in the 
 world that I should like better than to hear you and Protagoras 
 discourse. Do not deny the company this pleasure. 
 
 Now I had got up, and was in the act of departure. Son of 
 Hipponicus, I replied, I have always admired, and do now 
 heartily applaud and love your philosophical spirit, and I would 
 gladly comply with your request, if I could. But the truth is 
 that I cannot. And what you ask is as great an impossibility to 
 me as if you bade me run a race with Crison of Hiraera, when
 
 i8 2 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 in his prime, or with some one of the long or day course run- 
 ners. To that I should reply, that I humbly make the same re- 
 quest to my own legs ; and they can't comply. And therefore if 
 you want to see Crison and me in the same stadium, you must 
 bid him slacken his speed to mine, for I cannot run quickly, and 
 he can run slowly. And in like manner if you want to hear me 
 and Protagoras discoursing, you must ask him to shorten his 
 answers, and keep to the point, as he did at first ; if not, how 
 can there be any discussion ? For discussion is one thing, and 
 making an oration is quite another, according to my way of 
 thinking. 
 
 But you see, Socrates, said Callias, that Protagoras may 
 fairly claim to speak in his own way, just as you claim to speak 
 in yours. 
 
 Here Alcibiades interposed, and said: That, Callias, is not 
 a fair statement of the case. For our friend Socrates admits 
 that he cannot make a speech in this he yields the palm to 
 Protagoras ; but I should be greatly surprised if he yielded to 
 any living man in the power of holding and apprehending an 
 argument. Now if Protagoras will make a similar admission, 
 and confess that he is inferior to Socrates in argumentative 
 skill, that is enough for Socrates ; but if he claims a superiority 
 in argument as well, let him ask and answer not, when a ques- 
 tion is asked, having recourse to shifts and evasions, and, in- 
 stead of answering, making a speech at such length that most 
 of his hearers forget the question at issue (not that Socrates is 
 likely to forget I will be bound for that, although he may pre- 
 tend in fun that he has a bad memory). And Socrates appears 
 to me more in the right than Protagoras ; that is my opinion, 
 and every man ought to say what he thinks. 
 
 When Alcibiades had done speaking, some one Critias, I 
 believe went on to say : O Prodicus and Hippias, Callias ap- 
 pears to me to be a partisan of Protagoras. And this led Alci- 
 biades, who loves opposition, to take the other side. But we 
 should not be partisans either of Socrates or Protagoras ; let us 
 rather unite in entreating both of them not to break up the dis- 
 cussion. 
 
 Prodicus added : That, Critias, seems to me to be well said, 
 for those who are present at such discussions ought to be im- 
 partial hearers of both the speakers ; remembering, however, 
 that impartiality is not the same as equality, for both sides
 
 PROTAGORAS 183 
 
 should be impartially heard, and yet an equal meed should not 
 be assigned to both of them ; but to the wiser a higher meed 
 should be given, and a lower to the less wise. And I as well as 
 Critias would beg you, Protagoras and Socrates, to grant our 
 request, which is that you will argue with one another and not 
 wrangle ; for friends argue with friends out of good-will, but 
 only adversaries and enemies wrangle. And then our meeting 
 will be delightful ; for in this way you, who are the speakers, 
 will be most likely to win esteem, and not praise only, among us 
 who are your audience ; for esteem is a sincere conviction of the 
 hearers' souls, but praise is often an insincere expression of men 
 uttering words contrary to their conviction. And thus we who 
 are the hearers will be gratified and not pleased ; for gratifica- 
 tion is of the mind when receiving wisdom and knowledge, but 
 pleasure is of the body when eating or experiencing some other 
 bodily delight. Thus spoke Prodicus, and many of the com- 
 pany applauded his words. 
 
 Hippias the sage spoke next. He said : All of you who are 
 here present I reckon to be kinsmen and friends and fellow 
 citizens, by nature and not by law ; for by nature like is akin to 
 like, whereas law is the tyrant of mankind, and often compels 
 us to do many things which are against nature. How great 
 would be the disgrace then, if we, who know the nature of 
 things, and are the wisest of the Hellenes, and as such are met 
 together in this city, which is the metropolis of wisdom, and in 
 the greatest and most glorious house of this city, should have 
 nothing to show worthy of this height of dignity, but should 
 only quarrel with one another like the meanest of mankind. I 
 do pray and advise you, Protagoras, and you, Socrates, to 
 agree upon a compromise. Let us be your peace-makers. And 
 do not you, Socrates, aim at this precise and extreme brevity in 
 discourse, if Protagoras objects, but loosen and let go the reins 
 of speech, that your words may be grander and become you * 
 better. Neither do you, Protagoras, go forth on the gale with 
 every sail set out of sight of land into an ocean of words, but let 
 there be a mean observed by both of you. Do as I say. And 
 let me also suggest and suppose further that you choose an ar- 
 biter or overseer or president ; he will keep watch over your 
 words and reduce them to their proper length. 
 
 This proposal was received by the company with universal 
 * Reading vfv.
 
 1 84 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 approval ; and Callias said that he would not let me off, and that 
 I was to choose an arbiter. But I said that to choose an umpire 
 of discourse would be unseemly ; for if the person chosen was 
 inferior, then the inferior or worse ought not to preside over 
 the better ; or if he was equal, neither would that be well ; for 
 he who is our equal will do as we do, and what will be the use 
 of choosing him ? And if you say " Let us have a better then," 
 to that I answer that you cannot have any one who is wiser than 
 Protagoras. And if you choose another who is not really bet- 
 ter, and whom you only say is better, to put another over him 
 as though he were an inferior person would be an unworthy 
 reflection on him ; not that, as far as I am concerned, any re- 
 flection is of much consequence to me. Let me tell you then 
 what I will do in order that the conversation and discussion may 
 go on as you desire. If Protagoras is not disposed to answer, 
 let him ask and I will answer ; and I will endeavor to show at 
 the same time how, as I maintain, he ought to answer: and 
 when I have answered as many questions as he likes to ask, let 
 him in like manner answer; and if he seems to be not very 
 ready at answering the exact questions, you and I will unite in 
 entreating him, as you entreated me, not to spoil the discussion. 
 And this will require no special arbiter : you shall all of you be 
 arbiters. 
 
 This was generally approved, and Protagoras, though very 
 much against his will, was obliged to agree that he would ask 
 questions ; and when he had put a sufficient number of them, 
 that he would answer in his turn those which he was asked, in 
 short replies. He began to put his questions as follows : 
 
 I am of opinion, Socrates, he said, that skill in poetry is the 
 principal part of education ; and this I conceive to be the power 
 of knowing what composition of the poets are correct, and what 
 are not, and how they are to be distinguished, and of explaining 
 them when asked. And I propose to transfer the question 
 which you and I have been discussing to the domain of poetry, 
 speaking as before of virtue, but in reference to a passage of a 
 poet. Now Simonides says to Scopas the son of Creon the 
 Thessalian : 
 
 " Hardly on the one hand can a man become truly good ; built four- 
 square in hands and feet and mind, a work without a flaw." 
 
 Do you know the poem ? or shall I repeat the whole ?
 
 PROTAGORAS 185 
 
 There is no need, I said ; for I am perfectly well acquainted 
 with the ode, of which I have made a careful study. 
 
 Very good, he said. And do you think that the ode is a good 
 composition, and true? 
 
 Yes, I said, both good and true. 
 
 But if there is a contradiction, can the composition be good 
 or true ? 
 
 No, not in that case, I replied. 
 
 And is there not a contradiction ? he asked. Reflect. 
 
 Well, my friend, I have reflected. 
 
 And does not the poet proceed to say, " I do not agree with 
 the word of Pittacus, albeit the utterance of a wise man ; 
 hardly," says he, " can a man be good." Now you will observe 
 that this is said by the same poet. 
 
 I know that, I said. 
 
 And do you think, he said, that the two sayings are consist- 
 ent? 
 
 Yes, I said, I think they are (at the same time I could not 
 help fearing that there might be something in what he said). 
 And you think otherwise? I said. 
 
 Why, he said, how can he be consistent in saying both? 
 First of all, premising as his own thought, " Hardly can a man 
 become truly good " ; and then a little further on in the poem, 
 forgetting, and blaming Pittacus and refusing to agree with 
 him, when he says, " Hardly can a man be good," which is the 
 very same thing. And yet when he blames him who says the 
 same with himself, he blames himself; so that he must be 
 wrong either in his first or his second assertion. 
 
 Many of the audience cheered and applauded this. And I 
 felt at first giddy and faint, as if I had received a blow from the 
 expert hand of a boxer, when I heard his words and the sound 
 of the cheering ; and to confess the truth, I wanted to get time 
 to think what the meaning of the poet really was. So I turned 
 to Prodicus and called him. Prodicus, I said, Simonides is a 
 countryman of yours, and you ought to come to his rescue. I 
 think that I must summon you to my aid, like the river Sca- 
 mander in Homer, who, when beleaguered by Achilles, asks 
 Simois to aid him, saying : 
 
 " Brother dear, let us both together stay the force of the hero."* 
 * II. xxi. 308.
 
 1 86 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 And I summon you, for I am afraid that Protagoras will make 
 an end of Simonides. Now is the time to rehabilitate Simoni- 
 des, by the application of your charming philosophy of syno- 
 nyms, which distinguishes " will " and " wish," and many sim- 
 ilar words which you mentioned in your admirable speech. 
 And I should like to know whether you would agree with me ; 
 for I am of opinion that there is no contradiction in the words of 
 Simonides. And first of all I wish that you would say whether, 
 in your opinion, Prodicus, " being " is the same as " becoming." 
 
 Not the same, certainly, replied Prodicus. 
 
 Did not Simonides first set forth, as his own view, that 
 " Hardly can a man become truly good " ? 
 
 Quite right, said Prodicus. 
 
 And then he blames Pittacus, I said, not for saying the same 
 as himself, as Protagoras imagines, but for saying something 
 different; for Pittacus does not say, as Simonides says, that 
 hardly can a man become good, but hardly can a man be good : 
 and our friend Prodicus says that being, Protagoras, is not the 
 same as becoming ; and if they are not the same, then Simoni- 
 des is not inconsistent with himself. I dare say that Prodicus 
 and many others would say, as Hesiod says, " Hardly can a 
 man become good, for the gods have placed toil in front ot 
 virtue ; but when you have reached the goal, then the acquisi- 
 tion of virtue, however difficult, is easy." * 
 
 Prodicus heard and approved ; but Protagoras said : Your 
 correction, Socrates, involves a greater error than is contained 
 in the sentence which you are correcting. 
 
 Alas ! I said, Protagoras ; then I am a sorry physician, and 
 do but aggravate a disorder which I am seeking to cure. 
 
 The fact, he said, is as I have stated. 
 
 How is that? I asked. 
 
 The poet, he replied, could never have made such a mistake 
 as to say that virtue, which in the opinion of all men is the hard- 
 est of all things, can be easily acquired. 
 
 Well, I said, and how fortunate this is that Prodicus should 
 be of the company, for he has a wisdom, Protagoras, which, as 
 I imagine, is more than human and of very ancient date, and 
 may be as old as Simonides, or even older. Learned as you are 
 in many things, you appear to know nothing of this ; but I 
 know, for I am a disciple of his. And now, if I am not mistaken, 
 *" Works and Days," 264 foil.
 
 PROTAGORAS 187 
 
 you do not understand the word " hard " ( ^aXeTroi/) in the 
 sense which Simonides intended ; and I must correct you, as 
 Prodicus corrects me when I use the word " dreadful " (Seti/6?) 
 as a term of praise. If I say that Protagoras is a dreadfully 
 wise man, he asks me if I am not ashamed of calling that which 
 is good dreadful ; and then he explains to me that the term 
 " dreadful " is always taken in a bad sense, and that no one 
 speaks of being dreadfully healthy or wealthy or wise, but of 
 dreadful war, dreadful poverty, dreadful disease, meaning by 
 the term " dreadful," evil. And I think that Simonides and his 
 countrymen the Ceans, when they spoke of " hard," meant 
 " evil," or something which you do not understand. Let us ask 
 Prodicus, for he ought to be able to answer questions about 
 the dialect of Simonides. What did he mean, Prodicus, by the 
 term "hard"? 
 
 Evil, said Prodicus. 
 
 And therefore, I said, Prodicus, he blames Pittacus for say- 
 ing, " Hard is the good," just as if that were equivalent to say- 
 ing, Evil is the good. 
 
 Yes, he said, that was certainly his meaning; and he is 
 twitting Pittacus with ignorance of the use of terms, which in 
 a Lesbian, who has been accustomed to speak a barbarous 
 language, is natural. 
 
 Do you hear, Protagoras, I asked, what our friend Prodicus 
 is saying? And have you an answer for him? 
 
 You are all wrong, Prodicus, said Protagoras ; and I know 
 very well that Simonides in using the word " hard " meant what 
 all of us mean, not evil, but that which is not easy that which 
 takes a great deal of trouble. Of this I am positive. 
 
 I said : I also incline to think, Protagoras, that this was the 
 meaning of Simonides, and that our friend Prodicus was quite 
 aware of this, but he thought that he would make fun, and try 
 if you could maintain your thesis ; for that Simonides could 
 never have meant the other is clearly proved by the context, in 
 which he says that God only has this gift. Now he cannot 
 surely mean to say that to be good is evil, when he afterward 
 proceeds to say that God only has this gift, and that this is the 
 attribute of him and of no other. For if this be his meaning, 
 Prodicus would impute to Simonides a character of reckless- 
 ness which is very unlike his countrymen. And I should like to 
 tell you, I said, what I imagine to be the real meaning of Si-
 
 ,88 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 monides in this poem, if you will test what, in your way of 
 speaking, would be called my skill in poetry ; or if you would 
 rather, I will be the listener. 
 
 Protagoras, hearing me offer this, replied : As you please ; 
 and Hippias, Prodicus, and the others told me by all means to 
 do as I proposed. 
 
 Then now, I said, I will endeavor to explain to you my opin- 
 ion about this poem. There is a very ancient philosophy which 
 is more cultivated in Crete and Lacedsemon than in any other 
 part of Hellas, and there are more philosophers in those coun- 
 tries than anywhere else in the world. This, however, is a 
 secret which the Lacedaemonians deny ; and they pretend to be 
 ignorant, just because they do not wish to have it thought that 
 they rule the world by wisdom, like the Sophists of whom 
 Protagoras was speaking, and not by valor of arms ; consider- 
 ing that if the reason of their superiority were disclosed, all men 
 would be practising their wisdom. And this secret of theirs has 
 never been discovered by the imitators of Lacedaemonian fash- 
 ions in other cities, who go about with their ears bruised in imi- 
 tation of them, and have the cestus bound on their arms, and 
 are always in training, and wear short cloaks ; for they im- 
 agine that these are the practises which have enabled the Lace- 
 daemonians to conquer the other Hellenes. Now when the 
 Lacedaemonians want to unbend and hold free conversation 
 with their wise men, and are no longer satisfied with mere secret 
 intercourse, they drive out all these Laconizers, and any other 
 foreigners who may happen to be in their country, and they 
 hold a philosophical seance unknown to the strangers ; and 
 they themselves forbid their young men to go out into other 
 cities (in this they are like the Cretans), in order that they may 
 not unlearn the lessons which they have taught them. And in 
 these cities not only men but also women have a pride in their 
 high cultivation. And you may know that I am only speaking 
 the truth in attributing this excellence in philosophy to the 
 Lacedaemonians, by this token : If a man converses with the 
 most ordinary Lacedaemonian, he will find him seldom good 
 for much in general conversation, but at any point in the dis- 
 course he will be darting out some notable saying, terse and full 
 of meaning, with unerring aim ; and the person with whom he 
 is talking seems to be like a child in his hands. Any many of 
 our own age and of former ages have noted that the true Lace-
 
 PROTAGORAS 189 
 
 daemonian type of character has the love of philosophy even 
 stronger than the love of gymnastics ; they are conscious that 
 only a perfectly educated man is capable of uttering such ex- 
 pressions. Such were Thales of Miletus, and Pittacus of Myti- 
 lene, and Bias of Priene, and our own Solon, and Cleobulus 
 the Lindian, and Myson the Chenian ; and seventh in the cata- 
 logue of wise men was the Lacedaemonian Chilo. All these were 
 lovers and emulators and disciples of the culture of the Lace- 
 daemonians, and anyone may perceive that their wisdom was of 
 this character, consisting of short, memorable sentences, which 
 individuals uttered. And they met together and dedicated in 
 the temple of Apollo at Delphi, as the first-fruits of their wis- 
 dom, the far-famed inscriptions, which are in all men's mouths, 
 " Know thyself " and " Nothing too much." 
 
 Why do I say all this ? I am explaining that this Lacedae- 
 monian brevity was the style of primitive philosophy. Now 
 there was a saying of Pittacus which was privately circulated 
 and received the approbation of the wise, " Hard to be good." 
 And Simonides, who was ambitious of the fame of wisdom, was 
 aware that if he could overthrow this saying, then, as if he had 
 won a victory over some famous athlete, he would carry off the 
 palm among his contemporaries. And if I am not mistaken, he 
 composed the entire poem with the secret intention of damag- 
 ing that saying. 
 
 Let us all unite in examining his words, and see whether I 
 am speaking the truth. Simonides must have been a lunatic, 
 if, in the very first words of the poem, wanting to say only that 
 to be good is hard, he inserted pev, " on the one hand " (on the 
 one hand to become good is hard) ; there would be no possible 
 reason for the introduction of f^ev, unless you suppose him to 
 speak with a hostile reference to the words of Pittacus. Pit- 
 tacus is saying " Hard to be good," and he says, controverting 
 this, " No, the truly hard thing, Pittacus, is to become good," 
 not joining " truly " with " good," but with " hard." Not the 
 hard thing is to be truly good, as though there were some truly 
 good men, and there were others who were good but not truly 
 good (that would be a very simple observation, and quite un- 
 worthy of Simonides) ; but you must suppose him to make a 
 trajection of the word (d\a#e&><?), construing the saying of Pit- 
 tacus thus (and let us imagine Pittacus to be speaking and 
 Simonides answering him) : " O my friends," says Pittacus,
 
 1 90 
 
 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 " hard to be good," and Simonides answers, " In that, Pittacus, 
 you are mistaken ; the difficulty is not to be good, but on the 
 one hand to become good, four-square in hands and feet and 
 mind, without a flaw that is hard truly." This way of read- 
 ing the passage accounts for the insertion of (pev) " on the one 
 hand," and for the use of the word " truly," which is rightly 
 placed at the end ; and all that follows tends to prove that this 
 is the meaning. A great deal might be said in praise of the de- 
 tails of the poem, which is a charming piece of workmanship, 
 and very finished, but that would be tedious. I should like, 
 however, to point out the general intention of the poem, which 
 is certainly designed in every part to be a refutation of the say- 
 ing of Pittacus. For he speaks in what follows a little further 
 on as if he meant to argue that although there is a difficulty in 
 becoming good, yet this is possible for a time, and only for a 
 time. But having become good, to remain in a good state and 
 be good, as you, Pittacus, affirm, that is not possible, and is not 
 granted to man ; God only has this blessing ; " but man cannot 
 help being bad when the force of circumstances overpowers 
 him." Now wliom does the force of circumstances overpower 
 in the command of a vessel ? not the private individual, for he 
 is always overpowered ; and as one who is already prostrate 
 cannot be overthrown, but only he who is standing upright and 
 not he who is prostrate can be laid prostrate, so the force of cir- 
 cumstances can only be said to overpower him who has re- 
 sources, and not him who is at all times helpless. The descent of 
 a great storm may make the pilot helpless, or the severity of 
 the season the husbandman or the physician ; for the good may 
 become bad, as another poet witnesses : 
 
 " The good are sometimes good and sometimes bad." 
 
 But the bad does not become bad ; he is always bad. So that 
 when the force of circumstances overpowers the man of re- 
 sources and skill and virtue, then he cannot, help being bad. 
 And you, Pittacus, are saying, " Hard to be good." Now there 
 is a difficulty in becoming good ; and yet this is possible, but 
 to be good is an impossibility ; " for he who does well is the 
 good man, and he who does ill is the bad." But what sort of 
 doing is good in letters ? and what sort of doing makes a man 
 good in letters? Clearly the knowing of them. And what sort 
 of well-doing makes a man a good physician? Clearly the
 
 PROTAGORAS 191 
 
 knowing of the art of healing the sick. " But he who does ill 
 is the bad." Now who becomes a bad physician ? Clearly he 
 who is in the first place a physician, and in the second place a 
 good physician ; for he may become a bad one also : but none 
 of us unskilled individuals can by any amount of doing ill be- 
 come physicians, any more than we can become carpenters or 
 anything of that sort ; and he who by doing ill cannot become 
 a physician at all, clearly cannot become a bad physician. In 
 like manner the good may become deteriorated by time, or toil, 
 or disease, or other accident (the only real i 'il-doing is the dep- 
 rivation of knowledge), but the bad man will never become 
 bad, for he is always bad ; and if he were to become bad, he must 
 previously have been good. Thus the words of the poem tend 
 to show rhat on the one hand a man cannot be continuously 
 good, but that he may become good and may also become bad ; 
 and again that " they are the best for the longest time whom 
 the gods love." 
 
 All this relates to Pittacus, as is further proved by the sequel. 
 For he adds : " Therefore I will not throw away my life in 
 searching after the impossible, hoping in vain to find a perfectly 
 faultless man among those who partake of the fruit of the broad- 
 bosomed earth ; and when I have found him to tell you of him " 
 (this is the vehement way in which he pursues his attack upon 
 Pittacus throughout the whole poem) : " but him who does no 
 evil voluntarily I praise and love ; not even the gods war against 
 necessity." All this has a similar drift, for Simonides was not 
 so ignorant as to say that he praised those who did no evil 
 voluntarily, as though there were some who did evil voluntarily. 
 For no wise man, as I believe, will allow that any human being 
 errs voluntarily, or voluntarily does evil and dishonorable ac- , 
 tions ; but they are very well aware that all who do evil and 
 dishonorable things do them against their will. And Simonides 
 never says that he praises him who does no evil voluntarily ; 
 the word " voluntarily " applies to himself. For he was under 
 the impression that a good man might often compel himself to 
 love and praise another, and that there might be an involuntary 
 love, such as a man might feel to an ungainly father or mother, 
 or to his country or something of that sort. Now bad men, 
 when their parents or country have any defects, rejoice at the 
 sight of them, and expose them to others, and find fault with 
 them and denounce them, under the idea that the rest of man-
 
 1 92 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 kind will be less likely to take them to task and reproach them 
 when they neglect them ; and this makes them exaggerate their 
 defects, in order that the odium which is necessarily incurred by 
 them may be increased : but the good man dissembles his feel- 
 ings, and constrains himself to praise them ; and if they have 
 wronged him and he is angry, he pacifies his anger and is recon- 
 ciled, and compels himself to love and praise his own flesh and 
 blood. And Simonides, as is probable, considered that he him- 
 self uad often had to praise and magnify a tyrant or the like, 
 much against his will, and he also wishes to imply to Pittacus 
 that he is not censorious and does not censure him. " For I am 
 satisfied," he says, " when a man is neither bad nor very stupid, 
 and when he knows justice (which is the health of States), and is 
 of sound mind, I will find no fault with him, for I am not given 
 to finding fault, for there are innumerable fools " (implying that 
 if he delighted in censure he might have abundant opportunity 
 of finding fault). " All things are good with which evil is un- 
 mingled." In these latter words he does not mean to say that 
 all things are good which have no evil in them, as you might 
 say " all things are white which have no black in them," for 
 that would be ridiculous ; but he means to say that he accepts 
 and finds no fault with the moderate or intermediate state. " I 
 do not hope," he says, " to find a perfectly blameless man 
 among those who partake of the fruits of the broad-bosomed 
 earth, and when 1 1 iave found him to tell you of him ; in this sense 
 I praise no man. But he who is moderately good, and does no 
 evil, is good enough for me, who love and approve everyone " 
 (and here observe that he uses a Lesbian word, eVao^/u, be- 
 cause he is addressing Pittacus " who love and approve every- 
 one voluntarily," he says, " who does no evil " : and that the 
 stop should be put after " voluntarily ") ; " but there are some 
 whom I involuntarily praise and love. And you, Pittacus, I 
 would never have blamed, if you had spoken what was moder- 
 ately good and true ; but I do blame you because, wearing the 
 appearance of truth, you are speaking falsely about the greatest 
 matters." And this, I said, Prodicus and Protagoras, I take to 
 be the true meaning of Simonides in this poem. 
 
 Hippias said : I think, Socrates, that you have given a very 
 good explanation of this poem ; but I have also an excellent 
 interpretation of my own which I will expound to you, if you 
 will allow me.
 
 PROTAGORAS 193 
 
 Nay, Hippias, said Alcibiades; not now, but another time. 
 At present we must abide by the compact which was made be- 
 tween Socrates and Protagoras, to the effect that as long as 
 Protagoras is willing to ask, Socrates should answer; or that 
 if he would rather answer, then that Socrates should ask. 
 
 I said : I wish Protagoras either to ask or answer as he is in- 
 clined ; but I would rather have done with poems and odes, if 
 you do not object, and come back to the question about which 
 I was asking you at first, Protagoras, and by your help make 
 an end of that. The talk about the poets seems to me like a 
 commonplace entertainment to which a vulgar company have 
 recourse ; who, because they are not able to converse or amuse 
 one another, while they are drinking, with the sound of their 
 own voices and conversation by reason of their stupidity, raise 
 the price of flute girls in the market, hiring for a great sum the 
 voice of a flute instead of their own breath, to be the medium of 
 intercourse among them : but where the company are real gen- 
 tlemen and men of education, you will see no flute girls, nor 
 dancing-girls, nor harp girls ; and they have no nonsense or 
 games, but are contented with one another's conversation, of 
 which their own voices are the medium, and which they carry 
 on by turns and in an orderly manner, even though they are 
 very liberal in their potations. And a company like this of ours, 
 and men such as we profess to be, do not require the help of 
 another's voice, or of the poets whom you cannot interrogate 
 about the meaning of what they are saying ; people who cite 
 them declaring, some that the poet has one meaning, and others 
 that he has another ; and there arises a dispute which can never 
 be put to the proof. This sort of entertainment they decline, 
 and prefer to talk with one another, and try one another's met- 
 tle in conversation. And these are the sort of models which I 
 desire that you and I should imitate. Leaving the poets, and 
 keeping to ourselves, let us try the mettle of one another and of 
 the truth in conversation. And if you have a mind to ask I am 
 ready to answer ; or if you would rather, do you answer, and 
 give me the opportunity of taking up and completing our un- 
 finished argument. 
 
 I made these and some similar observations ; but Protagoras 
 would not distinctly say which he would do. Thereupon Al- 
 cibiades turned to Callias, and said : Do you think, Callias, that 
 Protagoras is fair in refusing to say whether he will or will not 
 13
 
 t 94 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 answer? for I certainly think that he is unfair ; he ought either 
 to proceed with the argument, or distinctly to refuse to proceed, 
 that we may know his intention ; and then Socrates will be able 
 to discourse with someone else, and the rest of the company 
 will be free to talk with one another. 
 
 I think that Protagoras was really made ashamed by these 
 words of Alcibiades, and when the prayers of Callias and the 
 company were superadded, he was at last induced to argue, and 
 said that I might ask and he would answer. 
 
 So I said: Do not imagine, Protagoras, that I have any 
 other interest in asking questions of you but that of clearing up 
 my own difficulties. For I think that Homer was very right in 
 saying that " When two go together, one sees before the 
 other," * for all men who have a companion are readier in deed, 
 word, or thought ; but if a man " sees a thing when he is alone," 
 he goes about straightway seeking until he finds someone to 
 whom he may show his discoveries, and who may confirm him 
 in them. And I would rather hold discourse with you than with 
 anyone, because I think that no man has a better understanding 
 of most things which a good man may be expected to under- 
 stand, and in particular of virtue. For who is there, but you ? 
 who not only claim to be a good man and a gentleman, for 
 many are this, and yet have not the power of making others 
 good. Whereas you are not only good yourself, but also the 
 cause of goodness in others. Moreover such confidence have 
 you in yourself, that although other Sophists conceal their pro- 
 fession, you proclaim in the face of Hellas that you are a Sophist 
 or teacher of virtue and education, and are the first who de- 
 manded pay in return. How then can I do otherwise than invite 
 you to the examination of these subjects, and ask questions and 
 take advice of you? Indeed, I must. And I should like once 
 more to have my memory refreshed by you about the questions 
 which I was asking you at first, and also to have your help in 
 considering them. If I am not mistaken the question was this : 
 Are wisdom and temperance and courage and justice and holi- 
 ness five names of the same thing? or has each of the names a 
 separate underlying essence and corresponding thing having a 
 proper function, no one of them being like any other of them ? 
 And you said that the five names were not the names of the 
 same thing, but that each of them had a separate object, and 
 
 * II. x. 224.
 
 PROTAGORAS 195 
 
 that all of them were parts of virtue, not in the same way that 
 the parts of gold are like each other and the whole of which they 
 are parts, but as the parts of the face are unlike the whole of 
 which they are parts and one another, and have each of them 
 a distinct function. I should like to know whether this is still 
 your opinion ; or if not, I will ask you to define your meaning, 
 as I shall not take you to task if you now make a different state- 
 ment. For I dare say that you may have said what you did only 
 in order to make trial of me. 
 
 I answer, Socrates, he said, that all these qualities are parts 
 of virtue, and that four out of the five are to some extent similar, 
 and that the fifth of them, which is courage, is very different 
 from the other four, as I prove in this way : You may observe 
 that many men are utterly unrighteous, unholy, intemperate, ig- 
 norant, who are nevertheless remarkable for their courage. 
 
 Stop, I said ; that requires consideration. When you speak 
 of brave men, do you mean the confident, or another sort of 
 nature ? 
 
 Yes, he said; I mean the impetuous, ready to go at that 
 which others are afraid to approach. 
 
 In the next place, you would affirm virtue to be a good thing, 
 of which good thing you assert yourself to be a teacher. 
 
 Yes, he said ; I should say the best of all things, as I am a 
 sane man. 
 
 And is it partly good and partly bad, I said, or wholly good? 
 
 Wholly good, and that in the highest degree. 
 
 Tell me then; who are they who have confidence in div- 
 ing into a well ? 
 
 I should say, the divers. 
 
 And the reason of this is that they have knowledge ? 
 
 Yes, that is the reason. 
 
 And who have confidence in fighting on horseback the 
 skilled horsemen or the unskilled? 
 
 The skilled. 
 
 And who in fighting with light shields the peltasts or the 
 non-peltasts? 
 
 The peltasts. And that is true of all other things, he said, if 
 that is your point : those who have knowledge are more confi- 
 dent than those who have no knowledge, and they are more 
 confident after they have learned than before.
 
 I 9 6 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 And have you not seen persons utterly ignorant, I said, of 
 these things, and yet confident about them ? 
 
 Yes, he said, I have seen persons very confident. 
 
 And are not these confident persons always courageous ? 
 
 In that case, he replied, courage would be a base thing, for 
 the men of whom we are speaking are surely madmen. 
 
 Then who are the courageous ? Are they not the confident ? 
 
 Yes, he said ; and I still maintain that. 
 
 And those, I said, who are thus confident without knowledge 
 are really not courageous, but mad ; and in that case the wisest 
 are also the most confident, and being the most confident are 
 also the bravest, and upon that view again wisdom will be 
 courage. 
 
 Nay, Socrates, he replied, you are mistaken in your remem- 
 brance of what was said by me. When you asked me, I cer- 
 tainly did say that the courageous are the confident ; but I was 
 not asked whether the confident are the courageous ; for if you 
 had asked me that, I should have answered " Not all of them " : 
 and what I did answer you have not disproved, although you 
 proceed to show that those who have knowledge are more 
 courageous than they were before they had knowledge, and 
 more courageous than others who have no knowledge; and 
 this makes you think that courage is the same as wisdom. But 
 in this way of arguing you might come to imagine that strength 
 is wisdom. You might begin by asking whether the strong 
 are able, and I should say " Yes " : and then whether those who 
 know how to wrestle are not more able to wrestle than those who 
 do not know how to wrestle, and more able after than before 
 they had learned, and I should assent. And when I had ad- 
 mitted this, you might use my admissions in such a way as to 
 prove that upon my view wisdom is strength ; whereas in that 
 case I should not have admitted, any more than in the other, 
 that the able are strong, although I have admitted that the 
 strong are able. For there is a difference between ability and 
 strength ; the former is given by knowledge as well as by mad- 
 ness or rage, but strength comes from nature and a healthy state 
 of the body. And in like manner I say of confidence and cour- 
 age that they are not the same ; and I argue that the coura- 
 geous are confident, but not all the confident courageous. For 
 confidence may be given to men by art, and also, like ability, by
 
 PROTAGORAS 197 
 
 anger and madness ; but courage comes to them from nature 
 and the healthy state of the soul. 
 
 I said: You would admit, Protagoras, that some men live 
 well and others ill ? 
 
 He agreed to this. 
 
 And do you think that a man lives well who lives in pain and 
 grief ? 
 
 He does not. 
 
 But if he lives pleasantly to the end of his life, don't you think 
 that in that case he will have lived well ? 
 
 I do. 
 
 Then to live pleasantly is a good, and to live unpleasantly 
 an evil. 
 
 Yes, he said, if the pleasure be good and honorable. 
 
 And do you, Protagoras, like the rest of the world, call some 
 pleasant things evil and some painful things good? for I am 
 rather disposed to say that things are good in as far as they are 
 pleasant, if they have no consequences of another sort, and in 
 as far as they are painful they are bad. 
 
 I do not know, Socrates, he said, whether I can venture to 
 assert in that unqualified manner that the pleasant is the good 
 and the painful the evil. Having regard not only to my present 
 answer, but also to the rest of my life, I shall be safer, if I am not 
 mistaken, in saying that there are some pleasant things which 
 are not good, and that there are some painful things which are 
 good, and some which are not good, and that there are some 
 which are neither good nor evil. 
 
 And you would call pleasant, I said, the things which par- 
 ticipate in pleasure or create pleasure ? 
 
 Certainly, he said. 
 
 Then my meaning is, that in as far as they are pleasant they 
 are good ; and my question would imply that pleasure is a good 
 in itself. 
 
 According to your favorite mode of speech, Socrates, let us 
 inquire about this, he said ; and if the result of the inquiry is to 
 show that pleasure and good are really the same, then we will 
 agree ; but if not, then we will argue. 
 
 And would you wish to begin the inquiry ? I said ; or shall 
 I begin ? 
 
 You ought to take the lead, he said ; for you are the author 
 of the discussion.
 
 198 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 May I use this as an illustration ? I said. Suppose some one 
 who is inquiring into the health or some other bodily quality of 
 another : he looks at his face and at the tips of his fingers, and 
 then he says, Uncover your chest and back to me, that I may 
 have a better view : that is the sort of thing which I desire in this 
 speculation. Having seen what your opinion is about good and 
 pleasure, I am minded to say to you : Uncover your mind to 
 me, Protagoras, and reveal your opinion about knowledge, that 
 I may know whether you agree with the rest of the world. Now 
 the rest of the world are of opinion that knowledge is a prin- 
 ciple not of strength, or of rule, or of command : their notion is 
 that a man may have knowledge, and yet that the knowledge 
 which is in him may be overmastered by anger, or pleasure, or 
 pain, or love, or perhaps fear just as if knowledge were a 
 slave, and might be dragged about anyhow. Now is that your 
 view ? or do you think that knowledge is a noble and command- 
 ing thing, which cannot be overcome, and will not allow a man, 
 if he only knows the difference of good and evil, to do any- 
 thing which is contrary to knowledge, but that wisdom will 
 have strength to help him ? 
 
 I agree with you, Socrates, said Protagoras; and not only 
 that, but I above all other men am bound to say that wisdom 
 and knowledge are the highest of human things. 
 
 Good, I said, and true. But are you aware that the majority 
 of the world are of another mind ; and that men are commonly 
 supposed to know the things which are best, and not to do 
 them when they might? And most persons of whom I have 
 asked the reason of this have said that those who did thus were 
 overcome by pain, or pleasure, or some of those affections 
 which I was just now mentioning. 
 
 Yes, Socrates, he replied ; and that is not the only point 
 about which mankind are in error. 
 
 Suppose, then, that you and I endeavor to instruct and inform 
 them what is the nature of this affection, which is called by 
 them being overcome by pleasure, and which, as they declare, is 
 the reason why they know the better and choose the worse. 
 When we say to them : Friends, you are mistaken, and are 
 saying what is not true, they would reply : Socrates and Protag- 
 oras, if this affection of the soul is not to be described as being 
 overcome by pleasure, what is it, and how do you call it ? Tell 
 us that.
 
 PROTAGORAS 199 
 
 But why, Socrates, should we trouble ourselves about the 
 opinion of the many, who just say anything that happens to 
 occur to them ? 
 
 I think, I replied, that their opinion may help us to discover 
 the nature and relation of courage to the other parts of virtue. 
 If you are disposed to abide by our recent agreement, that I 
 should lead in the way in which I think that we shall find the 
 truth best, do you follow ; but if you are disinclined, never mind. 
 
 You are quite right, he said ; and I would have you proceed 
 as you have begun. 
 
 Well then, I said, let me suppose that they repeat their ques- 
 tion, What account do you give of that which, in our language, 
 is termed being overcome by pleasure ? I should answer them 
 thus : Listen, and Protagoras and I will endeavor to show you. 
 When men are overcome by eating and drinking and other sen- 
 sual desires which are pleasant, and they, knowing them to be 
 evil, nevertheless indulge in them, is not that what you would 
 call being overcome by pleasure ? That they will admit. And 
 suppose that you and I were to go on and ask them again : In 
 what way do you say that they are evil in that they are pleas- 
 ant and give pleasure at the moment, or because they cause dis- 
 ease and poverty and other like evils in the future ? Would they 
 still be evil, if they had no attendant evil consequences, simply 
 because they give the consciousness of pleasure of whatever 
 nature ? Would they not answer that they are not evil on ac- 
 count of the pleasure which is immediately given by them, but 
 on account of the after consequences diseases and the like ? 
 
 I believe, said Protagoras, that the world in general would 
 give that answer. 
 
 And in causing diseases do they not cause pain ? and in caus- 
 ing poverty do they not cause pain ; they would agree to that 
 also, if I am not mistaken ? 
 
 Protagoras assented. 
 
 Then I should say to them, in my name and yours : Do you 
 think them evil for any other reason, except that they end in 
 pain and rob us of other pleasures? that again they would 
 admit ? 
 
 We both of us thought that they would. 
 
 And that I should take the question from the opposite point 
 of view, and say : Friends, when you speak of goods being pain- 
 ful, do you mean remedial goods, such as gymnastic exercises
 
 200 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 and military services, and the physician's use of burning, cut- 
 ting, drugging, and starving? Are these the things which are 
 good but painful? they would assent to that? 
 
 He agreed. 
 
 And do you call them good because they occasion the great- 
 est immediate suffering and pain ; or because, afterwards, they 
 bring health and improvement of the bodily condition and the 
 salvation of States and empires and wealth ? they would agree 
 to that, if I am not mistaken ? 
 
 He assented. 
 
 Are these things good for any other reason except that they 
 end in pleasure, and get rid of and avert pain ? Are you looking 
 to any other standard but pleasure and pain when you call them 
 good ? they would acknowledge that they were not ? 
 
 I think that they would, said Protagoras. 
 
 And do you not pursue after pleasure as a good, and avoid 
 pain as an evil ? 
 
 He assented. 
 
 Then you think that pain is an evil and pleasure is a good: 
 and even pleasure you deem an evil, when it robs you of greater 
 pleasures than it gives, or causes greater pain than the pleas- 
 ures which it has. If, however, you call pleasure an evil in rela- 
 tion to some other end or standard, you will be able to show us 
 that standard. But you have none to show. 
 
 I do not think that they have, said Protagoras. 
 
 And have you not a similar way of speaking about pain? 
 You call pain a good when it takes away greater pains than 
 those which it has, or gives pleasures greater than the pains ; 
 for I say that if you have some standard other than pleasure and 
 pain to which you refer when you call actual pain a good, you 
 can show what that is. But you cannot. 
 
 That is true, said Protagoras. 
 
 Suppose again, I said, that the world says to me : Why do 
 you spend many words and speak in many ways on this sub- 
 ject ? Excuse me, friends, I should reply ; but in the first place 
 there is a difficulty in explaining the meaning of the expression 
 " overcome by pleasure " ; and the whole argument turns upon 
 this. And even now, if you see any possible way in which evil 
 can be explained as other than pain, or good as other than 
 pleasure, you may still retract. But I suppose that you are sat- 
 isfied at having a life of pleasure which is without pain. And
 
 PROTAGORAS 201 
 
 if you are satisfied, and if you are unable to show any good or 
 evil which does not end in pleasure and pain, hear the conse- 
 quences If this is true, then I say that the argument is ab- 
 surd which affirms that a man often does evil knowingly, when 
 he might abstain, because he is seduced and amazed by pleasure ; 
 or again, when you say that a man knowingly refuses to do 
 what is good because he is overcome at the moment by pleasure. 
 Now that this is ridiculous will be evident if only we give up 
 the use of various names, such as pleasant and painful, and good 
 and evil. As there are two things, let us call them by two names 
 first, good and evil, and then pleasant and painful. Assum- 
 ing this, let us go on to say that a man does evil knowing that 
 he does evil. But someone will ask, Why ? Because he is over- 
 come, is the first answer. And by what is he overcome? the 
 inquirer will proceed to ask. And we shall not be able to reply 
 " By pleasure," for the name of pleasure has been exchanged 
 for that of good. In our answer, then, we shall only say that he 
 is overcome. " By what ? " he will reiterate. By the good, we 
 shall have to reply ; indeed we shall. Nay, but our questioner 
 will rejoin with a laugh, if he be one of the swaggering sort, 
 That is too ridiculous, that a man should do what he knows to 
 be evil when he ought not, because he is overcome by good. 
 Is that, he will ask, because the good was worthy or not worthy 
 of conquering the evil? And in answer to that we shall clearly 
 reply, Because it was not worthy ; for if it had been worthy, then 
 he who, as we say, was overcome by pleasure, would not have 
 been wrong. But how, he will reply, can the good be unworthy 
 of the evil, or the evil of the good ? Is not the real explanation 
 that they are out of proportion to one another, either as greater 
 and smaller, or more and fewer? This we cannot deny. And 
 when you speak of being overcome what do you mean, he 
 will say, but that you choose the greater evil in exchange for 
 the lesser good ? This being the case, let us now substitute the 
 names of pleasure and pain, and say, not as before, that a man 
 does what is evil knowingly, but that he does what is painful 
 knowingly, and because he is overcome by pleasure, which is 
 unworthy to overcome. And what measure is there of the rela- 
 tions of pleasure to pain other than excess and defect, which 
 means that they become greater and smaller, and more and 
 fewer, and different in degree ? For if anyone says, " Yes, Soc- 
 rates, but immediate pleasure differs widely from future pleas-
 
 202 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 ure and pain " to that I should reply : And do they differ in 
 any other way except by reason of pleasure and pain? There 
 can be no other measure of them. And do you, like a skilful 
 weigher, put into the balance the pleasures and the pains near 
 and distant, and weigh them, and then say which outweighs the 
 other. If you weigh pleasures against pleasures, you of course 
 take the more and greater; or if you weigh pains against 
 pains, you take the fewer and the less ; or if pleasures against 
 pains, then you choose that course of action in which the pain- 
 ful is exceeded by the pleasant, whether the distant by the near 
 or the near by the distant ; and you avoid that course of action 
 in which the pleasant is exceeded by the painful. Would you 
 not admit, my friends, that this is true? I am confident that 
 they cannot deny this. 
 
 He agreed with me. 
 
 Well then, I shall say, if you admit that, be so good as to 
 answer me a question: Do not the same magnitudes appear 
 larger to your sight when near, and smaller when at a distance ? 
 They will acknowledge that. And the same holds of thickness 
 and number; also sounds, which are in themselves equal, are 
 greater when near, and lesser when at a distance. They will 
 grant that also. Now supposing that happiness consisted in 
 making and taking large things, what would be the saving prin- 
 ciple of human life ? Would the art of measuring be the saving 
 principle, or would the power of appearance? Is not the latter 
 that deceiving art which makes us wander up and down and 
 take the things at one time of which we repent at another, both 
 in our actions and in our choice of things great and small ? But 
 the art of measurement is that which would do away with the 
 effect of appearances, and, showing the truth, would fain teach 
 the soul at last to find rest in the truth, and would thus save our 
 life. Would not mankind generally acknowledge that the art 
 which accomplishes this is the art of measurement ? 
 
 Yes, he said, the art of measurement. 
 
 Suppose, again, the salvation of human life to depend on the 
 choice of odd and even, and on the knowledge of when men 
 ought to choose the greater or less, either in reference to them- 
 selves or to each other, whether near or at a distance ; what 
 would be the saving principle of our lives? Would not knowl- 
 edge? a knowledge of measuring, when the question is one 
 of excess and defect, and a knowledge of number, when the
 
 PROTAGORAS 203 
 
 question is of odd and even ? The world will acknowledge that, 
 will they not ? 
 
 Protagoras admitted that they would. 
 
 Well then, I say to them, my friends, seeing that the salva- 
 tion of human life has been found to consist in the right choice 
 of pleasures and pains in the choice of the more and the fewer 
 and the greater and the less, and the nearer and remoter, must 
 not this measuring be a consideration of excess and defect and 
 equality in relation to each other? 
 
 That is undeniably true. 
 
 And this, as possessing measure, must undeniably also be 
 an art and science? 
 
 They will agree to that. 
 
 The nature of that art or science will be a matter of future 
 consideration ; the demonstration of the existence of such a 
 science is a sufficient answer to the question which you asked 
 of me and Protagoras. At the time when you asked the ques- 
 tion, if you remember, both of us were agreeing that there was 
 nothing mightier than knowledge, and that knowledge, in 
 whatever existing, must have the advantage over pleasure and 
 all other things ; and then you said that pleasure often got the 
 advantage even over a man who has knowledge ; and we re- 
 fused to allow this, and you said : O Protagoras and Socrates, 
 if this state is not to be called being overcome by pleasure, tell 
 us what it is ; what would you call it? If we had immediately 
 and at the time answered " Ignorance," you would have 
 laughed at us. But now, in laughing at us, you will be laugh- 
 ing at yourselves : for you also admitted that men err in their 
 choice of pleasures and pains ; that is, in their choice of good 
 and evil, from defect of knowledge ; and you admitted further 
 that they err, not only from defect of knowledge in general, but 
 of that particular knowledge which is called measuring. And 
 you are also aware that the erring act which is done without 
 knowledge is done in ignorance. This, therefore, is the mean- 
 ing of being overcome by pleasure ignorance, and that the 
 greatest. And our friends Protagoras and Prodicus and Hip- 
 pias declare that they are the physicians of ignorance ; but you, 
 who are under the mistaken impression that ignorance is not 
 the cause, neither go yourselves, nor send your children, to the 
 Sophists, who are the teachers of these things you take care 
 of your money and give them none ; and the result is that you
 
 204 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 are the worse off both in public and private life : let us suppose 
 this to be our answer to the world in general. But I would like 
 now to ask you, Hippias, and you, Prodicus, as well as Protago- 
 ras (for the argument is to be yours as well as ours), whether 
 you think that I am speaking the truth or not ? 
 
 They all thought that what I said was entirely true. 
 
 Then you agree, I said, that the pleasant is the good, and the 
 painful evil. And here I would beg my friend Prodicus not to 
 introduce his distinction of names, whether he is disposed to 
 say pleasurable, delightful, joyful. However and in whatever 
 way he rejoices to name them, I will ask you, most excellent 
 Prodicus, to answer this in my sense. 
 
 Prodicus laughed and assented, as did the others. 
 
 Then, my friends, I said, what do you say to this ? Are not 
 all actions, the tendency of which is to make life painless and 
 pleasant, honorable and useful? The honorable work is also 
 useful and good ? 
 
 This was admitted. 
 
 Then, I said, if the pleasant is the good, nobody does any- 
 thing under the idea or conviction that some other thing would 
 be better and is also attainable, when he might do the better. 
 And this inferiority of a man to himself is merely ignorance, as 
 the superiority of a man to himself is wisdom. 
 
 They all assented. 
 
 And is not ignorance the having a false opinion and being de- 
 ceived about important matters ? 
 
 To that they also unanimously assented. 
 
 Then, I said, no man voluntarily pursues evil, or that which 
 he thinks to be evil. To prefer evil to good is not in human 
 nature ; and when a man is compelled to choose one of two evils, 
 no one will choose the greater when he might have the less. 
 
 All of us agreed to every word of this. 
 
 Well, I said, there is a certain thing called fear or terror, and 
 here, Prodicus, I should particularly like to know whether you 
 would agree with me in defining this fear or terror as expecta- 
 tion of evil. 
 
 Protagoras and Hippias agreed, but Prodicus said that this 
 was fear and not terror. 
 
 Never mind about that, Prodicus, I said ; but let me ask 
 whether, if our former assertions are true, a man will pursue 
 that which he fears when he need not? Would not this be in
 
 PROTAGORAS 
 
 205 
 
 contradiction to the admission which has been already made, 
 that he thinks the things which he fears to be evil ; and no one 
 will pursue or voluntarily accept that which he thinks to be evil. 
 
 That also was universally admitted. 
 
 Then, I said, these, Hippias and Prodicus, are our premises ; 
 and I would beg Protagoras to explain to us how he can be 
 right in what he said at first. I do not mean in what he said 
 quite at first, for his first statement, as you may remember, was 
 that whereas there were five parts of virtue none of them was 
 like any other of them ; each of them had a separate function. 
 To this, however, I am not referring, but to the assertion which 
 he afterwards made that of the five virtues four were nearly 
 akin to each other, but that the fifth, which was courage, dif- 
 fered greatly from the others. And of this he gave me the fol- 
 lowing proof. He said : You will find, Socrates, that some of 
 the most impious, and unrighteous, and intemperate, and ig- 
 norant of men are among the most courageous ; and that is a 
 proof that courage is very different from the other parts of 
 virtue. I was surprised at his saying this at the time, and I am 
 still more surprised now that I have discussed the matter with 
 you. So I asked him whether by the brave he meant the con- 
 fident. Yes, he replied, and the impetuous or goers. (You 
 may remember, Protagoras, that this was your answer.) 
 
 He acknowledged the truth of this. 
 
 Well then, I said, tell us against what are the courageous 
 ready to go against the same as the cowards ? 
 
 No, he answered. 
 
 Then against something different? 
 
 Yes, he said. 
 
 Then do cowards go where there is safety, and the coura- 
 geous where there is danger ? 
 
 Yes, Socrates, that is what men say. 
 
 That is true, I said. But I want to know against what the 
 courageous are ready to go against dangers, believing them 
 to be dangers, or not against dangers? 
 
 No, said he ; that has been proved by you in the previous 
 argument to be impossible. 
 
 That, again, I replied, is quite true. And if this had been 
 rightly proven, then no one goes to meet what he thinks to be 
 dangers, since the want of self-control, which makes men rush 
 into dangers, has been shown to be ignorance.
 
 206 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 He assented. 
 
 And yet the courageous man and the coward alike go to 
 meet that about which they are confident ; so that, in this point 
 of view, the cowardly and the courageous go to meet the 
 same things. 
 
 And yet, Socrates, said Protagoras, that to which the coward 
 goes is the opposite of that to which the courageous goes ; the 
 one, for example, are ready to go to battle, and the others are 
 not ready. 
 
 And is going to battle honorable or disgraceful ? I said. 
 
 Honorable, he replied. 
 
 And if honorable, then already admitted by us to be good; 
 for all honorable actions we have admitted to be good. 
 
 That is true ; and to that opinion I shall aways adhere. 
 
 True, I said. But which of the two are they who, as you 
 say, are unwilling to go to war, which is a good and hon- 
 orable thing? 
 
 The cowards, he replied. 
 
 And yet, I said, that which is good and honorable is also 
 pleasant ? 
 
 That, he said, was certainly admitted. 
 
 And do the cowards knowingly refuse to go to the nobler, 
 and pleasanter, and better ? 
 
 The admission of that, he replied, would belie our former 
 admissions. 
 
 But does not the courageous man also go to meet the better, 
 and pleasanter, and nobler? 
 
 That must be admitted. 
 
 And the courageous man has no base fear or base confi- 
 dence ? 
 
 True, he replied. 
 
 And if not base, then honorable ? 
 
 He admitted this. 
 
 And if honorable, then good ? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 But the fear and confidence of the coward or foolhardy or 
 madman, on the contrary, are base? 
 
 He assented. 
 
 And these base fears and confidences originate in ignorance 
 and uninstructedness ? 
 
 True, he said.
 
 PROTAGORAS 207 
 
 Then as to the motive from which the cowards act, do you 
 call that cowardice or courage? 
 
 I should say cowardice, he replied. 
 
 And have they not been shown to be cowards through their 
 ignorance of dangers? 
 
 Assuredly, he said. 
 
 And because of that ignorance they are cowards ? 
 
 He assented. 
 
 And the reason why they are cowards is admitted by you to 
 be cowardice? 
 
 He assented. 
 
 Then the ignorance of what is and is not dangerous is cow- 
 ardice ? 
 
 He nodded assent. 
 
 But surely courage, I said, is opposed to cowardice ? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 And the wisdom which knows what are and are not dan- 
 gers is opposed to the ignorance of them? 
 
 To that again he nodded assent. 
 
 And the ignorance of them is cowardice? 
 
 To that he very reluctantly nodded assent. 
 
 And the knowledge of that which is and is not dangerous 
 is courage, and is opposed to the ignorance of these things ? 
 
 At this point he would no longer nod assent, but was silent. 
 
 And why, I said, do you neither assent nor dissent, Pro- 
 tagoras ? 
 
 Finish the argument by yourself, he said. 
 
 I only want to ask one more question, I said. I want to know 
 whether you still think that there are men who are most ig- 
 norant and yet most courageous? 
 
 You seem to have a great ambition to make me answer, 
 Socrates, and therefore I will gratify you, and say that this ap- 
 pears to me to be impossible consistently with the argument. 
 
 My only object, I said, in continuing the discussion, has been 
 the desire to ascertain the relations of virtue and the essential 
 nature of virtue ; for if this were clear, I am very sure that the 
 other controversy which has been carried on at great length 
 by both of us you affirming and I denying that virtue can be 
 taught would also have become clear. The result of our dis- 
 cussion appears to me to be singular. For if the argument had 
 a human voice, that voice would be heard laughing at us and
 
 208 DIALOGUES OF PLATO 
 
 saying : Protagoras and Socrates, you are strange beings ; 
 there are you who were saying that virtue cannot be taught, 
 contradicting yourself now in the attempt to show that all 
 things are knowledge, including justice, and temperance, and 
 courage which tends to show that virtue can certainly be 
 taught ; for if virtue were other than knowledge, as Protagoras 
 attempted to show, then clearly virtue cannot be taught ; but 
 if virtue is entirely knowledge, as you, Socrates, are seeking to 
 show, then I cannot but suppose that virtue is capable of being 
 taught. Protagoras, on the other hand, who started by saying 
 that it might be taught, is now eager to show that it is anything 
 rather than knowledge ; and if this is true, it must be quite 
 incapable of being taught. Now I, Protagoras, perceiving this 
 terrible confusion of ideas, have a great desire that they should 
 be cleared up. And I should like to carry on the discussion un- 
 til we ascertain what virtue is, and whether capable of being 
 taught or not, lest haply Epimetheus should trip us up and de- 
 ceive us in the argument, as he forgot to provide for us in the 
 story ; and I prefer your Prometheus to your Epimetheus : of 
 him I make use whenever I am busy about these questions in 
 Promethean care of my own life. And if you have no objection, 
 as I said at first, I should like to have your help in the inquiry. 
 
 Protagoras replied : Socrates, I am not of a base nature, and 
 I am the last man in the world to be envious. I cannot but ap- 
 plaud your enthusiasm in the conduct of an argument. As I 
 have often said, I admire you above all men whom I know, cer- 
 tainly above all men of your age ; and I believe that you will 
 become very eminent in philosophy. Let us come back to the 
 subject at some future time ; at present we had better turn to 
 something else. 
 
 By all means, I said, if that is your wish ; for I too ought long 
 since to have kept the engagement of which I spoke before, and 
 only tarried because I could not refuse the request of the noble 
 Callias. This finished the conversation, and we went our way.
 
 jAMJCxim'jTM^ 
 
 THE POLITICS 
 OF ARISTOTLE 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 BENJAMIN JOWETT 
 
 WITH A PREFACE BY THE TRANSLATOR, 
 
 AND A SPECIAL INTRODUCTION BY 
 MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN, PH.D. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE 
 AT THE CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF AMERICA 
 
 REVISED EDITION 
 
 S/^^S31\rOIONIAl fa<z^(tt$ 
 fFToN D y J, pp r '* feNEW-YDRK^: 
 
 ^^S4 P ^" 5 .^^^
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1900, 
 BY THE COLONIAL PRESS
 
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE 
 
 THE translation of the " Politics " which is now given to 
 the public was commenced about fifteen years since, 
 with the intention of illustrating the Laws of Plato. A 
 rough draft was made by the translator, which he had the ad- 
 vantage of reading over with Mr. Alfred Robinson, of New 
 College. But finding the work more difficult than he had 
 anticipated, he determined to begin again and rewrite the 
 whole. He was insensibly led on to the preparation of a 
 commentary and an analysis. Other subjects of a more general 
 character, which arose out of a study of Aristotle's " Politics," 
 naturally took the form of essays. These will be published 
 shortly. The translation was printed more than two years ago, 
 and before the appearance of Mr. Welldon's excellent book. 
 The editor has availed himself of the opportunity which the 
 delay afforded to add in the notes his second thoughts on 
 some doubtful passages. 
 
 He has to acknowledge the great assistance which he has 
 received from several friends, especially from Mr. David 
 Ritchie in the composition of the notes, and from Mr. Evelyn 
 Abbott in the criticism of them. He has also to express his 
 gratitude to his friend and secretary, Mr. Matthew Knight, 
 for many valuable suggestions which occur in different parts 
 of the book. He wishes that Mr. Knight could be induced to 
 bestow on some work of his own the knowledge and thought 
 which he devotes to the writings of another. 
 
 The editor has to apologize for a delay in the fulfilment of 
 his task, which has arisen necessarily out of 'the pressure of 
 other avocations. He had hoped that his work would have 
 been completed some years ago. An author p-enerally finds 
 that his literary undertakings exceed the measure of time 
 which he has assigned to them; they grow under his hand; 
 the years which he has spent upon them quickly pass, and at 
 last he too often fails of satisfying either himself or the public.
 
 iv ARISTOTLE 
 
 When he has nearly finished, if ever, he feels that he is be- 
 ginning to have a greater command of his subject; but he 
 is obliged to make an end. He may perhaps claim to know 
 better than anyone else the deficiencies of his own performance ; 
 but he knows also that he cannot expect to be heard if he at- 
 tempts to excuse them. 
 
 It is a " regrettable accident " that this book will probably 
 appear about the same time with another edition of the " Politics 
 of Aristotle," to be published at the Clarendon Press, the long 
 expected work of an old friend and pupil, Mr. Newman, 
 fellow and formerly tutor of Balliol College, which would 
 not have been delayed until now, if the " bridle of Theages " 
 (Plato, " Rep." vi. 496 B) had not retarded the progress of the 
 author. Those who remember the enthusiasm which was 
 aroused by his brilliant lectures on this and other subjects 
 a quarter of a century ago will take a great interest in the 
 result of his labors. I gladly welcome the tyvyopop reicos 
 and offer hearty wishes for the success of the work. 
 
 The editor of a Greek or Latin classic generally owes a 
 large debt to his predecessors. In some one of them he will 
 probably find the collation of the text ready to his hand, or 
 at least carried to such an extent that to pursue the inquiry 
 further would lead to no adequate result. The difficult pas- 
 sages have already been translated by them many times over, 
 and the use of words and idioms has been minutely analyzed 
 by them. There are innumerable parallels and illustrations, 
 relevant and also irrelevant, which have been collected by their 
 industry. The new editor freely appropriates the materials 
 which they have accumulated ; nor can he greatly add to them. 
 He is no longer the pioneer; he enters into the labors of 
 i others, and is responsible for the use which he makes of them. 
 The field in which he has to work is limited ; the least of the 
 kingdoms into which physical science is subdivided is greater 
 and more extended. It is an ancient branch of knowledge on 
 which he is employed ; a mine, out of which, with care, some 
 good pieces of ore may still be extracted, but which does not 
 yield the same rich profits as formerly. And he is in danger 
 of finding that " what is new is not true, and that what is true 
 is not new." He knows how often conjectures which cannot 
 be disproved have taken the place of real knowledge. He can 
 only hope that the constant study of his author, the interpreta-
 
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE v 
 
 tion of him from his own writings, the dismissal of all preju- 
 dices and preconceptions may throw some fresh light upon 
 the page. It will not always be easy for him to determine 
 what he has thought out for himself and what he has derived 
 from others, and still less to distinguish what in former editors 
 is their own and what they in turn have derived from their 
 predecessors. No one who has spent many years in the study 
 of an author can remember whether a thought occurred to 
 him spontaneously or was suggested by the remark of another. 
 There is therefore the more reason that he should make his 
 acknowledgments to those who have preceded him. 
 
 The writer of these volumes is under great obligations to 
 Schlosser, whose good sense and manly -criticism are of great 
 value in the interpretation of the " Politics " ; he is also much 
 indebted to Schneider, who is a sound scholar and a distin- 
 guished critic both of Aristotle and Plato; as well as to A. 
 Stahr and Bernays, who have made accurate and finished trans- 
 lations, Stahr of the whole work, Bernays of the three first 
 books ; above all, to the learning of Susemihl, who is not only 
 the author of a new translation, but has also made a fuller 
 collection of all the materials necessary, either for the study 
 of the text or the illustration of the subject, than any previous 
 editor; lastly to Immanuel Bekker, the father of modern 
 textual criticism, who has not left much to be improved in 
 the text of Aristotle. The commentary of Goettling has like- 
 wise a good deal of merit. I am indebted for a few references 
 to Mr. Eaton's edition of the " Politics," and to Mr. Congreve 
 for several excellent English expressions, and still more for 
 his full and valuable indices. 
 
 The editor, like many of his predecessors, has been led to 
 the conclusion that the " Politics of Aristotle " exists only in a 
 questionable and imperfect shape. He cannot say that the 
 work is well arranged or free from confusion of thought or 
 irregularities of style and language. To assume a perfection 
 or completeness which does not exist would contradict facts 
 which are obvious on the surface. The worst kind of inac- 
 curacy is pretended accuracy. No progress can be made in 
 the study of Aristotle by an art of interpretation which aims 
 only at reconciling an author with himself. Neither is there 
 any use in seeking to reconstruct the " Politics " in another 
 form ; no analysis of the " Politics " will enable us to arrive at
 
 vi ARISTOTLE 
 
 the secret of its composition. We cannot rehabilitate the text 
 by a transposition of sentences, or by a change in the order of 
 the books; we must take the books as they are. Real uncer- 
 tainties are better than imaginary certainties. Yet the un- 
 certainty in this instance is one of which the human mind is 
 peculiarly impatient. For amid so much repetition and con- 
 fusion great truths are constantly appearing which reflect the 
 mind of the master. But to separate these by any precise line, 
 to say " here are the genuine words of Aristotle," " this the 
 later addition," is beyond the art of the critic. The student of 
 Aristotle will do better to fix his mind on the thoughts which 
 have had so vast an influence, and have so greatly contributed 
 to the progress of mankind, and not to inquire too curiously 
 into the form of the writing which contains them. 
 
 BENJAMIN JOWETT.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK I i 
 
 BOOK II 22 
 
 BOOK III 54 
 
 BOOK IV 86 
 
 BOOK V "6 
 
 BOOK VI iS 1 
 
 BOOK VII 165 
 
 BOOK VIII.. 196
 
 THE POLITICS 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 EVERY state is a community of some kind, and every 
 community is established with a view to some good; 
 for mankind always act in order to obtain that which 
 they think good. But, if all communities aim at some good, 
 the state or political community, which is the highest of all, 
 and which embraces all the rest, aims, and in a greater degree 
 than any other, at the highest good. 
 
 Now there is an erroneous opinion a that a .statesman, king, 
 householder, and master are the same, and that they differ, not 
 in kind, but only in the number of their subjects. For ex- 
 ample, the ruler over a few called a master; over more, the 
 manager of a household ; over a still larger number, a states- 
 man or king, as if there were no difference between a great 
 household and a small state. The distinction which is made 
 between the king and the statesman is as follows: When the 
 government is personal, the ruler is a king; when, according 
 to the principles of the political science, the citizens rule and 
 are ruled in turn, then he is called a statesman. 
 
 But all this is a mistake ; for governments differ in kind, as 
 will be evident to any one who considers the matter according 
 to the method which has hitherto guided us. As in other de- 
 partments of science, so in politics, the compound should al- 
 ways be resolved into the simple elements or least parts of the 
 whole. We must therefore look at the elements of which the 
 state is composed, in order that we may see in what they differ 
 from one another, and whether any scientific distinction can be 
 drawn between the different kinds of rule. 
 
 He who thus considers things in their first growth and origin, 
 whether a state or anything else, will obtain the clearest view of 
 them. In the first place (i) there must be a union of those who 
 a Cp. Plato, Politicus, 258 E foil. 
 i
 
 2 ARISTOTLE 
 
 cannot exist without each other; for example, of male and 
 female, that the race may continue ; and this is a union which 
 is formed, not of deliberate purpose, but because, in common 
 with other animals and with plants, mankind have a natural 
 Jesire to leave behind them an image of themselves. And (2) 
 there must be a union of natural ruler and subject, that both 
 ynay be preserved. For he who can foresee with his mind is by 
 nature intended to be lord and master, and he who can work 
 with his body is a subject, and by nature a slave ; hence master 
 and slave have the same interest. Nature, however, has distin- 
 guished between the female and the slave. For she is not nig- 
 gardly, like the smith who fashions the Delphian knife for many 
 uses ; she makes each thing for a single use, and every instru- 
 ment is best made when intended for one and not for many 
 uses. But among barbarians no distinction is made between 
 women and slaves, because there is no natural ruler among 
 them: they are a community of slaves, male and female. 
 Wherefore the poets say 
 
 " It is meet that Hellenes should rule over barbarians ;" b 
 
 as if they thought that the barbarian and the slave were by 
 nature one. 
 
 Out of these two relationships between man and woman, 
 master and slave, the family first arises, and Hesiod is right 
 when he says 
 
 " First house and wife and an ox for the plough," c 
 
 for the ox is the poor man's slave. The family is the associa- 
 tion established by nature for the supply of men's every day 
 wants, and the members of it are called by Charondas " com- 
 panions of the cupboard " [o/ioertTruot"?] , and by Epimenides 
 the Cretan, " companions of the manger " [opotcdTrovs]. But 
 when several families are united, and the association aims at 
 something more than the supply of daily needs, then comes into 
 existence the village. And the most natural form of the village 
 appears to be that of a colony from the family, composed of the 
 children and grandchildren, who are said to be " suckled with 
 the same milk." And this is the reason why Hellenic states 
 were originally governed by kings ; because the Hellenes were 
 under royal rule before they came together, as the barbarians 
 
 b Eurip. Iphig. in Aulid. 1400. c Op. et Di. 405.
 
 THE POLITICS 3 
 
 still are. Every family is ruled by the eldest, and therefore in 
 the colonies of the family the kingly form of government pre- 
 vailed because they were of the same blood. As Homer says 
 [of the Cyclopes] : 
 
 " Each one gives law to his children and to his wives." d 
 
 For they lived dispersedly, as was the manner in ancient times. 
 Wherefore men say that the Gods have a king, because they 
 themselves either are or were in ancient times under the rule of 
 a king. For they imagine, not only the forms of the Gods, but 
 their ways of life to be like their own. 
 
 When several villages are united in a single community, per- 
 fect and large enough to be nearly or quite self-sufficing, the 
 state comes into existence, originating in the bare needs of life, 
 and continuing in existence for the sake of a good life. And 
 therefore, if the earlier forms of society are natural, so is the 
 state, for it is the end of them, and the [completed] nature is 
 the end. For what each thing is when fully developed, we call 
 its nature, whether we are speaking of a man, a horse, or a fam- 
 ily. Besides, the final cause and end of a thing is the best, and 
 to be self-sufficing is the end and the best. 
 
 Hence it is evident that the state is a creation of nature, and 
 that man is by nature a political animal. And he who by nature 
 and not by mere accident is without a state, is either above 
 humanity, or below it ; he is the 
 
 " Tribeless, lawless, heartless one," 
 
 whom Homer e denounces the outcast who is a lover of war ; 
 he may be compared to a bird which flies alone. 
 
 Now the reason why man is more of a political animal than 
 bees or any other gregarious animals is evident. Nature, as we 
 often say, makes nothing in vain, and man is the only animal 
 whom she has endowed with the gift of speech. And whereas 
 mere sound is but an indication of pleasure or pain, and is there- 
 fore found in other animals (for their nature attains to the per- 
 ception of pleasure and pain and the intimation of them to one 
 another, and no further), the power of speech is intended to set 
 forth the expedient and inexpedient, and likewise the just and 
 the unjust. And it is a characteristic of man that he alone has 
 
 d Od. ix. 114, quoted by Plato Laws, iii. 680, and in N. Eth. x. 9. 13. 
 II. ix. 63.
 
 4 ARISTOTLE 
 
 any sense of good and evil, of just and unjust, and the associa- 
 tion of living beings who have this sense makes a family and a 
 state. 
 
 Thus the state is by nature clearly prior to the family and 
 to the individual, since the whole is of necessity prior to the 
 part ; for example, if the whole body be destroyed, there will be 
 no foot or hand, except in an equivocal sense, as we might 
 speak of a stone hand ; for when destroyed the hand will be no 
 better. But things are denned by their working and power; 
 and we ought not to say that they are the same when they are 
 no longer the same, but only that they have the same name. 
 The proof that the state is a creation of nature and prior to the 
 individual is that the individual, when isolated, is not self-suffi- 
 cing; and therefore he is like a part in relation to the whole. 
 But he who is unable to live in society, or who has no need be- 
 cause he is sufficient for himself, must be either a beast or a 
 god : he is no part of a state. A social instinct is implanted in 
 all men by nature, and yet he who first founded the state was 
 the greatest of benefactors. For man, when perfected, is the 
 best of animals, but, when separated from law and justice, he 
 is the worst of all ; since armed injustice is the more dangerous, 
 and he is equipped at birth with the arms of intelligence and 
 with moral qualities which he may use for the worst ends. 
 Wherefore, if he have not virtue, he is the most unholy and the 
 most savage of animals, and the most full of lust and gluttony. 
 But justice is the bond of men in states, and the administration 
 of justice, which is the determination of what is just/ is the 
 principle of order in political society. 
 
 Seeing then that the state is made up of households, before 
 speaking of the state, we must speak of the management of the 
 household. The parts of the household are the persons who 
 compose it, and a complete household consists of slaves and 
 freemen. Now we should begin by examining everything in 
 its least elements ; and the first and least parts of a family are 
 master and slave, husband and wife, father and children. We 
 have therefore to consider what each of these three relations is 
 and ought to be : I mean the relation of master and servant, 
 of husband and wife, and thirdly of parent and child. [I say 
 7a/uA7 and TetcvoTroirjTtKTj there being no words for the two 
 latter notions which adequately represent them.] And there 
 / Cp. N. Eth. v. 6. 4.
 
 THE POLITICS 5 
 
 is another element of a household, the so-called art of money- 
 making, which, according to some, is identical with household 
 management, according to others, a principal part of it; the 
 nature of this art will also have to be considered by us. 
 
 Let us first speak of master and slave, looking to the needs 
 of practical life and also seeking to attain some better theory 
 of their relation than exists at present. For some are of opin- 
 ion that the rule of a master is a science, and that the manage- 
 ment of a household, and the mastership of slaves, and the po- 
 litical and royal rule, as I was saying at the outset,^ are all the 
 same. Others affirm that the rule of a master over slaves is 
 contrary to nature, and that the distinction between slave and 
 freeman exists by law only, and not by nature ; and being an 
 interference with nature is therefore unjust. 
 
 Property is a part of the household, and therefore the art of 
 acquiring property is a part of the art of managing the house- 
 hold ; for no man can live well, or indeed live at all, unless he 
 be provided with necessaries. Ana as in the arts which have 
 a definite sphere the workers must have their own proper instru- 
 ments for the accomplishment of their work, so it is in the man- 
 agement of a household. Now, instruments are of various 
 sorts ; some are living, others lifeless ; in the rudder, the pilot 
 of a ship has a lifeless, in the look-out man, a living instrument ; 
 for in the arts the servant is a kind of instrument. Thus, too, 
 a possession is an instrument for maintaining life. And so, in 
 the arrangement of the family, a slave is a living possession, 
 and property a number of such instruments ; and the servant is 
 himself an instrument, which takes precedence of all other in- 
 struments. For if every instrument could accomplish its own 
 work, obeying or anticipating the will of others, like the statues 
 of Daedalus, or the tripods of Hephaestus, which, says the poet,A 
 
 " of their own accord entered the assembly of the Gods ; " 
 
 if, in like manner, the shuttle would weave and the plectrum 
 touch the lyre without a hand to guide them, chief workmen 
 would not want servants, nor masters slaves. Here, however, 
 another distinction must be drawn : the instruments commonly 
 so called are instruments of production, whilst a possession is 
 an instrument of action. The shuttle, for example, is not only 
 of use ; but something else is made by it, whereas of a garment 
 g Plato in Pol. 258 E foil. h Horn. II. xviii. 376.
 
 6 ARISTOTLE 
 
 or of a bed there is only the use. Further, as production and 
 action are different in kind, and both require instruments, the 
 instruments which they employ must likewise differ in kind. 
 But life is action and not production, and therefore the slave is 
 the minister of action [for he ministers to his master's life]. 
 Again, a possession is spoken of as a part is spoken of ; for the 
 part is not only a part of something else, but wholly belongs 
 to it ; and this is also true of a possession. The master is only 
 the master of the slave ; he does not belong to him, whereas the 
 slave is not only the slave of his master, but wholly belongs to 
 him. Hence we see what is the nature and office of a slave ; he 
 who is by nature not his own but another's and yet a man, is 
 by nature a slave; and he may be said to belong to another 
 who, being a human being, is also a possession. And a pos- 
 session may be defined as an instrument of action, separable 
 from the possessor. 
 
 But is there any thus intended by nature to be a slave, and 
 for whom such a condition is expedient and right, or rather is 
 not all slavery a violation of nature ? 
 
 There is no difficulty in answering this question, on grounds 
 both of reason and of fact. For that some should rule, and 
 others be ruled is a thing, not only necessary, but expedient ; 
 from the hour of their birth, some are marked out for subjection, 
 others for rule. 
 
 And whereas there are many kinds both of rulers and sub- 
 jects, that rule is the better which is exercised over better sub- 
 jects for example, to rule over men is better than to rule over 
 wild beasts. The work is better which is executed by better 
 workmen ; and where one man rules and another is ruled, they 
 may be said to have a work. In all things which form a com- 
 posite whole and which are made up of parts, whether continu- 
 ous or discrete, a distinction between the ruling and the subject 
 element comes to light. Such a duality exists in living creat- 
 ures, but not in them only ; it originates in the constitution of 
 the universe ; even in things which have no life, there is a ruling 
 principle, as in musical harmony. But we are wandering from 
 the subject. We will, therefore, restrict ourselves to the living 
 creature which, in the first place, consists of soul and body : and 
 of these two, the one is by nature the ruler, and the other the 
 subject. But then we must look for the intentions of nature 
 in things which retain their nature, and not in things which are
 
 THE POLITICS 7 
 
 corrupted. And therefore we must study the man who is in 
 the most perfect state both of body and soul, for in him we shall 
 see the true relation of the two ; although in bad or corrupted 
 natures the body will often appear to rule over the soul, be- 
 cause they are in an evil and unnatural condition. First then 
 we may observe in living creatures both a despotical and a con- 
 stitutional rule; for the soul rules the body with a despotical 
 rule, whereas the intellect rules the appetites with a constitu- 
 tional and royal rule. And it is clear that the rule of the soul 
 over the body, and of the mind and the rational element over 
 the passionate is natural and expedient; whereas the equality 
 of the two or the rule of the inferior is always hurtful. The 
 same holds good of animals as well as of men ; for tame animals 
 have a better nature than wild, and all tame animals are better 
 off when they are ruled by man ; for then they are preserved. 
 Again, the male is by nature superior, and the female inferior ; 
 and the one rules, and the other is ruled ; this principle, of ne- 
 cessity, extends to all mankind. Where then there is such a 
 difference as that between soul and body, or between men and 
 animals (as in the case of those whose business is to use their 
 body, and who can do nothing better), the lower sort are by 
 nature slaves, and it is better for them as for all inferiors that 
 they should be under the rule of a master. For he who can be, 
 and therefore is another's, and he who participates in reason 
 enough to apprehend, but not to have, reason, is a slave by 
 nature. Whereas the lower animals cannot even apprehend 
 reason ; they obey their instincts. And indeed the use made of 
 slaves and of tame animals is not very different ; for both with 
 their bodies minister to the needs of life. Nature would like 
 to distinguish between the bodies of freemen and slaves, mak- 
 ing the one strong for servile labor, the other upright, and al- 
 though useless for such services, useful for political life in the 
 arts both of war and peace. But this does not hold universally : 
 for some slaves have the souls and others have the bodies of 
 freemen. And doubtless if men differed from one another in 
 the mere forms of their bodies as much as the statues of the 
 Gods do from men, all would acknowledge that the inferior 
 class should be slaves of the superior. And if there is a differ- 
 ence in the body, how much more in the soul ? but the beauty 
 of the body is seen, whereas the beauty of the soul is not seen. 
 It is clear, then, that some men are by nature free, and others
 
 8 ARISTOTLE 
 
 slaves, and that for these latter slavery is both expedient and 
 right. 
 
 But that those who take the opposite view have in a certain 
 way right on their side, may be easily seen. For the words 
 slavery and slave are used in two senses. There is a slave or 
 slavery by law as well as by nature. The law of which I speak is 
 a sort of convention, according to which whatever is taken in 
 war is supposed to belong to the victors. But this right many 
 jurists impeach, as they would an orator who brought forward 
 an unconstitutional measure: they detest the notion that, be- 
 cause one man has the power of doing violence and is superior in 
 brute strength, another shall be his slave and subject. Even 
 among philosophers there is a difference of opinion. The or- 
 igin of the dispute, and the reason why the arguments cross, is 
 as follows : Virtue, when furnished with means, may be deemed 
 to have the greatest power of doing violence : and as superior 
 power is only found where there is superior excellence of some 
 kind, power is thought to imply virtue. But does it likewise 
 imply justice ? that is the question. And, in order to make a 
 distinction between them, some assert that justice is benevo- 
 lence : to which others reply that justice is nothing more than 
 the rule of a superior. If the two views are regarded as an- 
 tagonistic and exclusive [i.e. if the notion that justice is benev- 
 olence excludes the idea of a just rule of a superior] , the alter- 
 native [viz. that no one should rule over others] has no force 
 or plausibility, because it implies that not even the superior in 
 virtue ought to rule, or be master. Some, clinging, as they 
 think, to a principle of justice (for law and custom are a sort of 
 justice), assume that slavery in war is justified by law, but they 
 are not consistent. For what if the cause of the war be unjust ? 
 No one would ever say that he is a slave who is unworthy to be 
 a slave. Were this the case, men of the highest rank would be 
 slaves and the children of slaves if they or their parents chance 
 to have been taken captive and sold. Wherefore Hellenes do 
 not like to call themselves slaves, but confine the term to bar- 
 barians. Yet, in using this language, they really mean the 
 natural slave of whom we spoke at first ; for it must be ad- 
 mitted that some are slaves everywhere, others nowhere. The 
 same principle applies to nobility. Hellenes regard themselves 
 as noble everywhere, and not only in their own country, but they 
 deem the barbarians noble only when at home, thereby implying
 
 THE POLITICS 9 
 
 that there are two sorts of nobility and freedom, the one abso- 
 lute, the other relative. The Helen of Theodectes says : 
 
 " Who would presume to call me servant who am on both sides sprung 
 from the stem of the Gods ? " 
 
 What does this mean but that they distinguish freedom and 
 slavery, noble and humble birth, by the two principles of good 
 and evil ? They think that as men and animals beget men and 
 animals, so from good men a good man springs. But this is 
 what nature, though she may intend it, cannot always accom- 
 plish. 
 
 We see then that there is some foundation for this difference 
 of opinion, and that all are not either slaves by nature or free- 
 men by nature, and also that there is in some cases a marked 
 distinction between the two classes, rendering it expedient and 
 right for the one to be slaves and the others to be masters : the 
 one practising obedience, the others exercising the authority 
 which nature intended them to have. The abuse of this au- 
 thority is injurious to both ; for the interests of part and whole, 
 of body and soul, are the same, and the slave is a part of the 
 master, a living but separated part of his bodily frame. Where 
 the relation between them is natural they are friends and have 
 a common interest, but where it rests merely on law and force 
 the reverse is true. 
 
 The previous remarks are quite enough to show that the rule 
 of a master is not a constitutional rule, and therefore that all 
 the different kinds of rule are not, as some affirm, the same with 
 each other.* For there is one rule exercised over subjects who 
 are by nature free, another over subjects who are by nature 
 slaves. The rule of a household is a monarchy, for every house 
 is under one head : whereas constitutional rule is a government 
 of freemen and equals. The master is not called a master be- 
 cause he has science, but because he is of a certain character, and 
 the same remark applies to the slave and the freeman. Still 
 there may be a science for the master and a science for the slave. 
 The science of the slave would be such as the man of Syracuse 
 taught, who made money by instructing slaves in their ordi- 
 nary duties. And such a knowledge may be carried further, so 
 as to include cookery and similar menial arts. For some duties 
 are of the more necessary, others of the more honorable sort; 
 
 i Plato, Polit. 258 E foil.
 
 10 ARISTOTLE 
 
 as the proverb says, " slave before slave, master before master.* 
 But all such branches of knowledge are servile. There is like- 
 wise a science of the master, which teaches the use of slaves; 
 for the master as such is concerned, not with the acquisition, but 
 with the use of them. Yet this so-called science is not any- 
 thing great or wonderf ul ; for the master need only know how 
 to order that which the slave must know how to execute. Hence 
 those who are in a position which places them above toil, have 
 stewards who attend to their households while they occupy 
 themselves with philosophy or with politics. But the art of 
 acquiring slaves, I mean of justly acquiring them, differs both 
 from the art of the master and the art of the slave, being a 
 species of hunting or war. Enough of the distinction between 
 master and slave. 
 
 Let us now inquire into property generally, and into the art 
 of money-making, in accordance with our usual method [of 
 resolving a whole into its parts], for a slave has been shown 
 to be a part of property. The first question is whether the art of 
 money-making is the same with the art of managing a house- 
 hold or a part of it, or instrumental to it ; and if the last, whether 
 in the way that the art of making shuttles is instrumental to 
 the art of weaving, or in the way that the casting of bronze is 
 instrumental to the art of the statuary, for they are not instru- 
 mental in the same way, but the one provides tools and the other 
 material ; and by material I mean the substratum out of which 
 any work is made ; thus wool is the material of the weaver, 
 bronze of the statuary. Now it is easy to see that the art of 
 household management is not identical with the art of money- 
 making, for the one uses the material which the other provides. 
 And the art which uses household stores can be no other than 
 the art of household management. There is, however, a doubt 
 whether the art of money-making is a part of household man- 
 agement or a distinct art. [They appear to be connected] ; for 
 the money-maker has to consider whence money and property 
 can be procured ; but there are many sorts of property and 
 wealth: there is husbandry and the care and provision of 
 food in general; are these parts of the money-making art or 
 distinct arts ? Again, there are many sorts of food, and there- 
 fore there are many kinds of lives both of animals and men; 
 they must all have food, and the differences in their food have 
 made differences in their ways of life. For of beasts, some arc
 
 THE POLITICS ii 
 
 gregarious, others are solitary; they live in the way which is 
 best adapted to sustain them, accordingly as they are carnivor- 
 ous or herbivorous or omnivorous : and their habits are deter- 
 mined for them by nature in such a manner that they may obtain 
 with greater facility the food of their choice. But, as differ- 
 ent individuals have different tastes, the same things are not 
 naturally pleasant to all of them ; and therefore the lives of car- 
 nivorous or herbivorous animals further differ among them- 
 selves. In the lives of men too there is a great difference. The 
 laziest are shepherds, who lead an idle life, and get their sub- 
 sistence without trouble from tame animals ; their flocks having 
 to wander from place to place in search of pasture, they are 
 compelled to follow them, cultivating a sort of living farm. 
 Others support themselves by hunting, which is of different 
 kinds. Some, for example, are pirates, others, who dwell near 
 lakes or marshes or rivers or a sea in which there are fish, are 
 fishermen, and others live by the pursuit of birds or wild beasts. 
 The greater number obtain a living from the fruits of the soil. 
 Such are the modes of subsistence which prevail among those 
 whose industry is employed immediately upon the products of 
 nature,; and whose food is not acquired by exchange and re- 
 tail trade there is the shepherd, the husbandman, the pirate, 
 the fisherman, the hunter. Some gain a comfortable main- 
 tenance out of two employments, eking out the deficiencies of 
 one of them by another: thus the life of a shepherd may be 
 combined with that of a brigand, the life of a farmer with that 
 of a hunter. Other modes of life are similarly combined in any 
 way which the needs of men may require. Property, in the 
 sense of a bare livelihood, seems to be given by nature herself to 
 all, both when they are first born, and when they are grown up. 
 For some animals bring forth, together with their offspring, so 
 much food as will last until they are able to supply themselves ; 
 of this the vermiparous or oviparous animals are an instance; 
 and the viviparous animals have up to a certain time a supply 
 of food for their young in themselves, which is called milk. In 
 like manner we may infer that, after the birth of animals, plants 
 exist for their sake, and that the other animals exist for the sake 
 of man, the tame for use and food, the wild, if not all, at least 
 the greater part of them, for food, and for the provision of cloth- 
 ing and various instruments. Now if nature makes nothing in- 
 / Or, " whose labor is personal."
 
 12 ARISTOTLE 
 
 complete, and nothing in vain, the inference must be that she 
 has made all animals and plants for the sake of man. And so, 
 in one point of view, the art of war is a natural art of acquisition, 
 for it includes hunting, an art which we ought to practise 
 against wild beasts, and against men who, though intended by 
 nature to be governed, will not submit ; for war of such a kind 
 is naturally just. 
 
 Of the art of acquisition then there is one kind which is 
 natural and is a part of the management of a household. Either 
 we must suppose the necessaries of life to exist previously, or 
 the art of household management must provide a store of them 
 for the common use of the family or State. They are the ele- 
 ments of true wealth; for the amount of property which is 
 needed for a good life is not unlimited, although Solon in one 
 of his poems says that 
 
 " No bound to riches has been fixed for man." k 
 
 But there is a boundary fixed, just as there is in the arts ; for 
 the instruments of any art are never unlimited, either in number 
 or size, and wealth may be defined as a number of instruments 
 to be used in a household or in a State. And so we see that 
 there is a natural art of acquisition which is practised by man- 
 agers of households and by statesmen, and what is the reason 
 of this. 
 
 There is another variety of the art of acquisition which is 
 commonly and rightly called the art of making money, and has 
 in fact suggested the notion that wealth and property have no 
 limit. Being nearly connected with the preceding, it is often 
 identified with it. But though they are not very different, 
 neither are they the same. The kind already described is 
 given by nature, the other is gained by experience and art. 
 
 Let us begin our discussion of the question with the following 
 considerations : 
 
 Of everything which we possess there are two uses: both 
 belong to the thing as such, but not in the same manner, for one 
 is the proper, and the other the improper or secondary use of 
 it. For example, a shoe is used for wear, and is used for ex- 
 change ; both are uses of the shoe. He who gives a shoe in ex- 
 change for money or food to him who wants one, does indeed 
 use the shoe as a shoe, but this is not its proper or primary pur- 
 
 k Eergk, " Poet. Lyr. Solon," iv. 12, v. 71.
 
 THE POLITICS 13 
 
 pose, for a shoe is not made to be an object of barter. The same 
 may be said of all possessions, for the art of exchange extends 
 to all of them, and it arises at first in a natural manner from the 
 circumstance that some have too little, others too much. Hence 
 we may infer that retail trade is not a natural part of the art of 
 money-making; had it been so, men would have ceased to ex- 
 change when they had enough. And in the first community, 
 which is the family, this art is obviously of no use, but only be- 
 gins to be useful when the society increases. For the members 
 of the family originally had all things in common ; in a more di- 
 vided state of society they still shared in many things, but they 
 were different things / which they had to give in exchange for 
 what they wanted, a kind of barter which is still practised among 
 barbarous nations who exchange with one another the neces- 
 saries of life and nothing more ; giving and receiving wine, for 
 example, in exchange for corn and the like. This sort of barter 
 is not part of the money-making art and is not contrary to 
 nature, but is needed for the satisfaction of men's natural wants. 
 The other or more complex form of exchange grew out of the 
 simpler. When the inhabitants of one country became more 
 dependent on those of another, and they imported what they 
 needed, and exported the surplus, money necessarily came into 
 use. For the various necessaries of life are not easily carried 
 about, and hence men agreed to employ in their dealings with 
 each other something which was intrinsically useful and easily 
 applicable to the purposes of life, for example, iron, silver, and 
 the like. Of this the value was at first measured by size and 
 weight, but in process of time they put a stamp upon it, to save 
 the trouble of weighing and to mark the value. 
 
 When the use of coin had once been discovered, out of the 
 barter of necessary articles arose the other art of money-mak- 
 ing, namely, retail trade ; which was at first probably a simple 
 matter, but became more complicated as soon as men learned 
 by experience whence and by what exchanges the greatest profit 
 might be made. Originating in the use of coin, the art of 
 money-making is generally thought to be chiefly concerned with 
 it, and to be the art which produces wealth and money ; having 
 to consider how they may be accumulated. Indeed, wealth is 
 assumed by many to be only a quantity of coin, because the art 
 of money-making and retail trade are concerned with coin, 
 I Or, more simply, " shared in many more things."
 
 I4 ARISTOTLE 
 
 Others maintain that coined money is a mere sham, a thing not 
 natural, but conventional only, which would have no value or 
 use for any of the purposes of daily life if another commodity 
 were substituted by the users. And, indeed, he who is rich in 
 coin may often be in want of necessary food. But how can that 
 be wealth of which a man may have a great abundance and yet 
 perish with hunger, like Midas in the fable, whose insatiable 
 prayer turned everything that was set before him into gold? 
 
 Men seek after a better notion of wealth and of the art of 
 making money than the mere acquisition of coin, and they are 
 right. For natural wealth and the natural art of money-mak- 
 ing are a different thing; in their true form they are part of 
 the management of a household ; whereas retail trade is the art 
 of producing wealth, not in every way, but by exchange. And 
 it seems to be concerned with coin ; for coin is the beginning of 
 exchange and the measure or limit of it. And there is no bound 
 to the wealth which springs from this art of money-making. 
 As in the art of medicine there is no limit to the pursuit of 
 health, and as in the other arts there is no limit to the pursuit of 
 their several ends, for they aim at accomplishing their ends to 
 the uttermost; (but of the means there is a limit, for the end is 
 always the limit), so, too, in this art of money-making there is 
 no limit of the end, which is wealth of the spurious kind, and 
 the acquisition of money. But the art of household manage- 
 ment has a limit ; the unlimited acquisition of money is not its 
 business. And, therefore, in one point of view, all wealth mus.t 
 have a limit ; nevertheless, as a matter of fact, we find the op- 
 posite to be the case ; for all money-makers increase their hoard 
 of coin without limit. The source of the confusion is the near 
 connection between the two kinds of money-making ; in either, 
 the instrument [i.e. wealth] is the same, although the use is 
 different, and so they pass into one another ; for each is a use 
 of the same property, but with a difference: accumulation is 
 the end in the one case, but there is a further end in the other. 
 Hence some persons are led to believe that making money is the 
 object of household management, and the whole idea of their 
 lives is that they ought either to increase their money without 
 limit, or at any rate not to lost it. The origin of this disposition 
 in men is that they are intent upon living only, and not upon 
 living well ; and, as their desires are unlimited, they also desire 
 that the means of gratifying them should be without limit.
 
 THE POLITICS 15 
 
 Even those who aim at a good life seek the means of obtaining 
 bodily pleasures ; and, since the enjoyment of these appears 
 to depend on property, they are absorbed in making money : 
 and so there arises the second species of money-making. For, 
 as their enjoyment is in excess, they seek an art which produces 
 the excess of enjoyment; and, if they are not able to supply 
 their pleasures by the art of money-making, they try other arts, 
 using in turn every faculty in a manner contrary to nature. 
 The quality of courage, for example, is not intended to make 
 money, but to inspire confidence; neither is this the aim of 
 the general's or of the physician's art ; but the one aims at 
 victory and the other at health. Nevertheless, some men turn 
 every quality or art into a means of making money ; this they 
 conceive to be the end, and to the promotion of the end all 
 things must contribute. 
 
 Thus, then, we have considered the art of money-making, 
 which is unnecessary, and why men want it ; and also the neces- 
 sary art of money-making, which we have seen to be different 
 from the other, and to be a natural part of the art of managing 
 a household, concerned with the provision of food, not, how- 
 ever, like the former kind, unlimited, but having a limit. 
 
 And we have found the answer to our original question. 
 Whether the art of money-making is the business of the man- 
 ager of a household and of the statesman or not their business ? 
 viz. that it is an art which is presupposed by them. For po- 
 litical science does not make men, but takes them from nature 
 and uses them ; and nature provides them with food from the 
 element of earth, air, or sea. At this stage begins the duty of 
 the manager of a household, who has to order the things which 
 nature supplies ; he may be compared to the weaver who has 
 not to make but to use wool, and to know what sort of wool is 
 good and serviceable or bad and unserviceable. Were this 
 otherwise, it would be difficult to see why the art of money- 
 making is a part of the management of a household and the art 
 of medicine not ; for surely the members of a household must 
 have health just as they must have life or any other necessary. 
 And as from one point of view the master of the house and the 
 ruler of the State have to consider about health, from another 
 point of view not they but the physician ; so in one way the art 
 of household management, in another way the subordinate art, 
 has to consider about money. But, strictly speaking, as I have
 
 16 ARISTOTLE 
 
 already said, the means of life must be provided beforehand by 
 nature; for the business of nature is to furnish food to that 
 which is born, and the food of the offspring always remains over 
 in the parent. Wherefore the art of making money out of fruits 
 and animals is always natural. 
 
 Of the two sorts of money-making one, as I have just said, is 
 a part of household management, the other is retail trade : the 
 former necessary and honorable, the latter a kind of exchange 
 which is justly censured; for it is unnatural, and a mode by 
 which men gain from one another. The most hated sort, and 
 with the greatest reason, is usury, which makes a gain out of 
 money itself, and not from the natural use of it. For money 
 was intended to be used in exchange, but not to increase at in- 
 terest. And this term usury [ TO/CO? ] , which means the birth 
 of money from money, is applied to the breeding of money be- 
 cause the offspring resembles the parent. Wherefore of all 
 modes of making money this is the most unnatural. 
 
 Enough has been said about the theory of money-making; 
 we will now proceed to the practical part. The discussion of 
 such matters is not unworthy of philosophy, but to be engaged 
 in them practically is illiberal and irksome. The useful parts of 
 money-making are, first, the knowledge of live-stock which 
 are most profitable, and where, and how as, for example, what 
 sort of horses or sheep or oxen or any other animals are most 
 likely to give a return. A man ought to know which of these 
 pay better than others, and which pay best in particular places, 
 for some do better in one place and some in another. Secondly, 
 husbandry, which may be either tillage or planting, and the 
 keeping of bees and of fish, or fowl, or of any animals which 
 may be useful to man. These are the divisions of the true or 
 proper art of money-making and come first. Of the other, 
 which consists in exchange, the first and most important divi- 
 sion is commerce (of which there are three kinds commerce 
 by sea, commerce by land, selling in shops these again differ- 
 ing as they are safer or more profitable), the second is usury, 
 the third, service for hire of this, one kind is employed in the 
 mechanical arts, the other in unskilled and bodily labor. There 
 is still a third sort of money-making intermediate between this 
 and the first or natural mode which is partly natural, but is also 
 concerned with exchange of the fruits and other products of 
 the earth. Some of these latter, although they bear no fruit, are
 
 THE POLITICS 17 
 
 nevertheless profitable ; for example, wood and minerals. The 
 art of mining, by which minerals are obtained, has many 
 branches, for there are various kinds of things dug out of the 
 earth. Of the several divisions of money-making I now speak 
 generally ; a minute consideration of them might be useful in 
 practice, but it would be tiresome to dwell upon them at greater 
 length now. 
 
 Those occupations are most truly arts in which there is the 
 least element of chance ; they are the meanest in which the body 
 is most deter iorated, the most servile in which there is the great- 
 est use of the body, and the most illiberal in which there is the 
 least need of excellence. 
 
 Works have been written upon these subjects by various per- 
 sons; for example, by Chares the Parian, and Apollodorus 
 the Lemnian, who have treated of tillage and planting, while 
 others have treated of other branches; anyone who cares for 
 such matters may refer to their writings. It would be well also 
 to collect the scattered stories of the ways in which individuals 
 have succeeded in amassing a fortune ; for all this is useful to 
 persons who value the art of making money. There is the anec- 
 dote of Thales the Milesian and his financial device, which in- 
 volves a principle of universal application, but is attributed to 
 him on account of his reputation for wisdom. He was re- 
 proached for his poverty, which was supposed to show that 
 philosophy was of no use. According to the story, he knew by 
 his skill in the stars while it was yet winter that there would be 
 a great harvest of olives in the coming year ; so, having a little 
 money, he gave deposits for the use of all the olive-presses in 
 Chios and Miletus, which he hired at a low price because no 
 one bid against him. When the harvest-time came, and many 
 wanted them all at once and of a sudden, he let them out at any 
 rate which he pleased, and made a quantity of money. Thus 
 he showed the world that philosophers can easily be rich if they 
 like, but that their ambition is of another sort. He is supposed 
 to have given a striking proof of his wisdom, but, as I was say- 
 ing, his device for getting money is of universal application, and 
 is nothing but the creation of a monopoly. It is an art often 
 practised by cities when they are in want of money ; they make 
 a monopoly of provisions. 
 
 There was a man of Sicily, who, having money deposited with 
 him, bought up all the iron from the iron mines ; afterwards, 
 a
 
 X 8 ARISTOTLE 
 
 when the merchants from their various markets came to buy, 
 he was the only seller, and without much increasing the price he 
 gained 200 per cent. Which when Dionysius heard, he told 
 him that he might take away his money, but that he must not 
 remain at Syracuse, for he thought that the man had discovered 
 a way of making money which was injurious to his own inter- 
 ests. He had the same idea as Thales ; they both contrived to 
 create a monopoly for themselves. And statesmen ought to 
 know these things; for a State is often as much in want of 
 money and of such devices for obtaining it as a household, or 
 even more so; hence some public men devote themselves en- 
 tirely to finance. 
 
 Of household management we have seen that there are three 
 parts one is the rule of a master over slaves, which has been 
 discussed already, another of a father, and the third of a hus- 
 band. A husband and father rules over wife and children, both 
 free, but the rule differs, the rule over his children being a royal, 
 over his wife a constitutional rule. For although there may be 
 exceptions to the order of nature, the male is by nature fitter for 
 command than the female, just as the elder and full-grown is 
 superior to the younger and more immature. But in most 
 constitutional States the citizens rule and are ruled by turns, for 
 the idea of a constitutional State implies that the natures of the 
 citizens are equal, and do not differ at all. Nevertheless, when 
 one rules and the other is ruled we endeavor to create a differ- 
 ence of outward forms and names and titles of respect, which 
 may be illustrated by the saying of Arnasis about his foot-pan.'" 
 The relation of the male to the female is of this kind, but there 
 the inequality is permanent. The rule of a father over his chil- 
 dren is royal, for he receives both love and the respect due to 
 age, exercising a kind of royal power. And therefore Homer 
 has appropriately called Zeus " father of gods and men," be- 
 cause he is the king of them all. For a king is the natural su- 
 perior of his subjects, but he should be of the same kin or kind 
 with them, and such is the relation of elder and younger, of 
 father and son. 
 
 Thus it is clear that household management attends more to 
 men than to the acquisition of inanimate things, and to human 
 excellence more than to the excellence of property which we call 
 wealth, and to the virtue of freemen more than to the virtue of 
 
 m Herod, ii. 172.
 
 THE POLITICS 19 
 
 slaves. A question may indeed be raised, whether there is any 
 excellence at all in a slave beyond merely instrumental and min- 
 isterial qualities whether he can have the virtues of temper- 
 ance, courage, justice, and the like; or whether slaves possess 
 only bodily and ministerial qualities. And, whichever way we 
 answer the question, a difficulty arises ; for, if they have virtue, 
 in what will they differ from freemen? On the other hand, 
 since they are men and share in reason, it seems absurd to say 
 that they have no virtue. A similar question may be raised 
 about women and children, whether they too have virtues: 
 ought a woman to be temperate and brave and just, and is a 
 child to be called temperate, and intemperate, or not? So in 
 general we may ask about the natural ruler, and the natural sub- 
 ject, whether they have the same or different virtues. For a 
 noble nature is equally required in both, but if so, why should 
 one of them always rule, and the other always be ruled ? Nor 
 can we say that this is a question of degree, for the difference 
 between ruler and subject is a difference of kind, and therefore 
 not of degree ; yet how strange is the supposition that the one 
 ought, and that the other ought not, to have virtue ! For if the 
 ruler is intemperate and unjust, how can he rule well? if the 
 subject, how can he obey well? If he be licentious and cow- 
 ardly, he will certainly not do his duty. It is evident, therefore, 
 that both of them must have a share of virtue, but varying ac- 
 cording to their various natures. And this is at once indicated 
 by the soul, in which one part naturally rules, and the other is 
 subject, and the virtue of the ruler we maintain to be different 
 from that of the subject ; the one being the virtue of the ra- 
 tional, and the other of the irrational part. Now, it is obvious 
 that the same principle applies generally, and therefore almost 
 all things rule and are ruled according to nature. But the kind 
 of rule differs ; the freeman rules over the slave after another 
 manner from that in which the male rules over the female, or the 
 man over the child ; although the parts of the soul are present 
 in all of them, they are present in different degrees. For the 
 slave has no deliberative faculty at all ; the woman has, but it is 
 without authority, and the child has, but it is immature. So it 
 must necessarily be with the moral virtues also ; all may be sup- 
 posed to partake of them, but only in such manner and degree as 
 is required by each for the fulfilment of his duty. Hence the 
 ruler ought to have moral virtue in perfection, for his duty is
 
 20 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 entirely that of a master artificer, and the master artificer is 
 reason; the subjects, on the other hand, require only that 
 measure of virtue which is proper to each of them. Clearly, 
 then, moral virtue belongs to all of them ; but the temperance 
 of a man and of a woman, or the courage and justice of a man 
 and of a woman, are not, as Socrates maintained, the same ; the 
 courage of a man is shown in commanding, of a woman in 
 obeying. And this holds of all other virtues, as will be more 
 clearly seen if we look at them in detail, for those who say 
 generally that virtue consists in a good disposition of the soul, 
 or in doing rightly, or the like, only deceive themselves. Far 
 better than such definitions is their mode of speaking, who, like 
 Gorgias, enumerate the virtues. All classes must be deemed 
 to have their special attributes; as the poet says of women, 
 
 " Silence is a woman's glory," o 
 
 but this is not equally the glory of man. The child is imperfect, 
 and therefore obviously his virtue is not relative to himself 
 alone, but to the perfect man and to his teacher, and in like man- 
 ner the virtue of the slave is relative to a master. Now we 
 determined that a slave is useful for the wants of life, and there- 
 fore he will obviously require only so much virtue as will pre- 
 vent him from failing in his duty through cowardice and intem- 
 perance. Some one will ask whether, if what we are saying is 
 true, virtue will not be required also in the artisans, for they 
 often fail in their work through misconduct ? But is there not a 
 great difference in the two cases? For the slave shares in his 
 master's life; the artisan is less closely connected with him, 
 and only attains excellence in proportion as he becomes a slave, 
 [i.e. is under the direction of a master]. The meaner sort of 
 mechanic has a special and separate slavery ; and whereas the 
 slave exists by nature, not so the shoemaker or other artisan. 
 It is manifest, then, that the master ought to be the source of 
 excellence in the slave ; but not merely because he possesses 
 the art which trains him in his duties. Wherefore they are 
 mistaken who forbid us to converse with slaves and say that we 
 should employ command only,/* for slaves stand even more in 
 need of admonition than children. 
 
 The relations of husband and wife, parent and child, their 
 several virtues, what in their intercourse with one another is 
 n Plato, Meno, 71-73. o Soph, Aj. 293. p Plato, Laws, vi. 777.
 
 THE POLITICS si 
 
 good, and what is evil, and how we may pursue the good and 
 escape the evil, will have to be discussed when we speak of the 
 different forms of government. For, inasmuch as every fam- 
 ily is a part of a State, and these relationships are the parts of a 
 family, the virtue of the part must have regard to the virtue of 
 the whole. And therefore women and children must be trained 
 by education with an eye to the State, if the virtues of either 
 of them are supposed to make any difference in the virtues of 
 the State. And they must make a difference : for the children 
 grow up to be citizens, and half the free persons in a State are 
 women. 
 
 Of these matters, enough has been said; of what remains, 
 let us speak at another time. Regarding, then, our present 
 inquiry as complete, we will make a new beginning. And, 
 first, let us examine the various theories of a perfect State.
 
 BOOK II 
 
 OUR purpose is to consider what form of political com- 
 munity is best of all for those who are most able to 
 realize their ideal of life. We must therefore examine 
 not only this but other constitutions, both such as actually exist 
 in well-governed States, and any theoretical forms which are 
 held in esteem ; that what is good and useful may be brought 
 to light. And let no one suppose that in seeking for something 
 beyond them we at all want to philosophize at the expense of 
 truth ; a we only undertake this inquiry because all the constitu- 
 tions with which we are acquainted are faulty. 
 
 We will begin with the natural beginning of the subject. 
 Three alternatives are conceivable : The members of a State 
 must either have (i) all things or (2) nothing in common, or 
 (3) some things in common and some not. That they should 
 have nothing in common is clearly impossible, for the State is a 
 community, and must at any rate have a common place one 
 city will be in one place, and the citizens are those who share in 
 that one city. But should a well-ordered State have all things, 
 as far as may be, in common, or some only and not others ? For 
 the citizens might conceivably have wives and children and 
 property in common, as Socrates proposes in the " Republic " 
 of Plato. Which is better, our present condition, or the pro- 
 posed new order of society ? 
 
 There are many difficulties in the community of women. 
 And the principle on which Socrates rests the necessity of such 
 an institution does not appear to be established by his argu- 
 ments. The end which he ascribes to the State, taken literally, 
 is impossible, and how we are to interpret it is nowhere pre- 
 cisely stated. I am speaking of the premise from which the 
 argument of Socrates proceeds, " that the greater the unity of 
 the State the better." Is it not obvious that a State may at 
 length attain such a degree of unity as to be no longer a State ? 
 a Rep. v. 457 c. 
 
 22
 
 THE POLITICS 
 
 2 3 
 
 since the nature of a State is to be a plurality, and in tending 
 to greater unity, from being a State, it becomes a family, and 
 from being a family, an individual ; for the family may be said 
 to be more one than the State, and the individual than the fam- 
 ily. So that we ought not to attain this greatest unity even if 
 we could, for it would be the destruction of the State. Again, 
 a State is not made up only of so many men, but of different 
 kinds of men ; for similars do not constitute a State. It is not 
 like a military alliance, of which the usefulness depends upon 
 its quantity even where there is no difference in quality. For 
 in that mutual protection is the end aimed at ; and the question 
 is the same as about the scales of a balance: which is the 
 heavier ? 
 
 In like manner, a State differs from a nation ; for in a nation 
 the people are not b distributed into villages, but live scattered 
 about, like the Arcadians ; whereas in a State the elements out 
 of which the unity is to be formed differ in kind. Wherefore 
 the principle of compensation,^ as I have already remarked in 
 the " Ethics,"^ is the salvation of States. And among freemen 
 and equals this is a principle which must be maintained, for 
 they cannot all rule together, but must change at the end of a 
 year or some other period of time or in some order of succes- 
 sion. The result is that upon this plan they all govern ; [but 
 the manner of government is] just as if shoemakers and car- 
 penters were to exchange their occupations, and the same per- 
 sons did not always continue shoemakers and carpenters. And 
 it is clearly better that, as in business, so also in politics there 
 should be continuance of the same persons where this is pos- 
 sible. But where this is not possible by reason of the natural 
 equality of the citizens, and it would be unjust that anyone 
 should be excluded from the government (whether to govern 
 be a good thing or a bad)/ then it is better, instead of all hold- 
 ing power, to adopt a principle of rotation, equals giving place 
 to equals, as the original rulers gave place to them/ Thus the 
 one party rule and the others are ruled in turn, as if they were 
 no longer the same persons. In like manner there is a variety 
 in the offices held by them. Hence it is evident that a city is 
 
 6 Or, " dispersed in villages, but are in the condition of the Arcadians." 
 c Or, " reciprocal proportion." 
 d N. Eth., v. 8, 6. 
 eCp. PI. Rep. i. 345-6. 
 / Cp., i. 12, 2; in. 17, 4.
 
 24 ARISTOTLE 
 
 not by nature one in that sense which some persons affirm ; and 
 that what is said to be the greatest good of cities is in reality 
 their destruction; but surely the good of things must be that 
 which preserves them.g Again, in another point of view, this 
 extreme unification of the State is clearly not good ; for a fam- 
 ily is more self-sufficing than an individual, and a city than a 
 family, and a city only comes into being when the community is 
 large enough to be self-sufficing. If then self-sufficiency is to 
 be desired, the lesser degree of unity is more desirable than the 
 greater. 
 
 But, even supposing that it were best for the community to 
 have the greatest degree of unity, this unity is by no means 
 proved to follow from the fact " of all men saying ' mine ' and 
 ' not mine ' at the same instant of time," which, according to 
 Socrates,^ is the sign of perfect unity in a State. For the 
 word " all " is ambiguous. If the meaning be that every indi- 
 vidual says " mine " and " not mine " at the same time, than 
 perhaps the result at which Socrates aims may be in some de- 
 gree accomplished ; each man will call the same person his own 
 son and his own wife, and so of his property and of all that 
 belongs to him. This, however, is not the way in which people 
 would speak who had their wives and children in common; 
 they would say " all " but not " each." In like manner their 
 property would be described as belonging to them, not severally 
 but collectively. There is an obvious fallacy in the term " all " : 
 like some other words, " both," " odd," " even," it is ambigu- 
 ous, and in argument becomes a source of logical puzzles. 
 That all persons call the same thing mine in the sense in which 
 each does so may be a fine thing, but it is impracticable ; or if 
 the words are taken in the other sense [i.e. the sense which dis- 
 tinguishes " all " from " each "], such a unity in no way con- 
 duces to harmony. And there is another objection to the pro- 
 posal. For that which is common to the greatest number has 
 the least care bestowed upon it. Everyone thinks chiefly of his 
 own, hardly at all of the common interest ; and only when he is 
 himself concerned as an individual. For besides other consid- 
 erations, everybody is more inclined to neglect the duty which 
 he expects another to fulfil ; as in families many attendants are 
 often less useful than a few. Each citizen will have a thousand 
 sons who will not be his sons individually, but anybody will be 
 g Cp. PI. Rep. i. 352. h PI. Rep. v. 462 c.
 
 THE POLITICS 25 
 
 equally the son of anybody, and will therefore be neglected by 
 all alike. Further, upon this principle, everyone will call an- 
 other " mine " or " not mine " according as he is prosperous or 
 the reverse ; however small a fraction he may be of the whole 
 number, he will say of every individual of the thousand, or 
 whatever be the number of the city, " such a one is mine," 
 " such a one his " ; and even about this he will not be positive ; 
 for it is impossible to know who chanced to have a child, or 
 whether, if one came into existence, it has survived. But 
 which is better to be able to say " mine " about every one of 
 the two thousand or the ten thousand citizens, or to use the 
 word " mine " in the ordinary and more restricted sense ? For 
 usually the same person is called by one man his son whom an- 
 other calls his brother or cousin or kinsman or blood-relation 
 or connection by marriage either of himself or of some relation 
 of his, and these relationships he distinguishes from the tie 
 which binds him to his tribe or ward ; and how much better is 
 it to be the real cousin of somebody than to be a son after 
 Plato's fashion ! Nor is there any way of preventing brothers 
 and children and fathers and mothers from sometimes recog- 
 nizing one another; for children are born like their parents, 
 and they will necessarily be finding indications of their rela- 
 tionship to one another. Geographers declare such to be the 
 fact ; they say that in Upper Libya, where the women are com- 
 mon, nevertheless the children who are born are assigned to 
 their respective fathers on the ground of their likeness.* And 
 some women, like the females of other animals for example, 
 mares and cows have a strong tendency to produce offspring 
 resembling their parents, as was the case with the Pharsalian 
 mare called Dicaea (the Just)./ 
 
 Other evils, against which it is not easy for the authors of 
 such a community to guard, will be assaults and homicides, 
 voluntary as well as involuntary, quarrels and slanders, all 
 which are most unholy acts when committed against fathers and 
 mothers and near relations, but not equally unholy when there 
 is no relationship. Moreover, they are much more likely to oc- 
 cur if the relationship is unknown, and, when they have oc- 
 curred, the customary expiations of them cannot be made. 
 Again, how strange it is that Socrates, after having made the 
 children common, should hinder lovers from carnal intercourse 
 
 Cp. Herod, iv. 180. / Cp. Hist. Anim. vii. 6, p. 586 a. 13.
 
 26 ARISTOTLE 
 
 only, but should permit familiarities between father and son or 
 between brother and brother, than which nothing can be more 
 unseemly, since even without them, love of this sort is improper. 
 How strange, too, to forbid intercourse for no other reason 
 than the violence of the pleasure, as though the relationship of 
 father and son or of brothers with one another made no differ 
 ence. 
 
 This community of wives and children seems better suited tc 
 the husbandmen than to the guardians, for if they have wivea 
 and children in common, they will be bound to one another by 
 weaker ties, as a subject class should be, and they will remain 
 obedient and not rebel. In a word, the result of such a law 
 would be just the opposite of that which good laws ought to 
 have, and the intention of Socrates in making these regulations 
 about women and children would defeat itself. For friendship 
 we believe to be the greatest good of States k and the preserva- 
 tive of them against revolutions; neither is there anything 
 which Socrates so greatly lauds as the unity of the State which 
 he and all the world declare to be created by friendship. But 
 the unity which he commends would be like that of the lovers in 
 the " Symposium, "J who, as Aristophanes says, desire to grow 
 together in the excess of their affection, and from being two to 
 become one, in which case one or both would certainly perish. 
 Whereas [the very opposite will really happen] in a State hav- 
 ing women and children common, love will be watery ; and the 
 father will certainly not say " my son," or the son " my father." 
 As a little sweet wine mingled with a great deal of water is im- 
 perceptible in the mixture, so, in this sort of community, the 
 idea of relationship which is based upon these names will be 
 lost ; there is no reason why the so-called father should care 
 about the son, or the son about the father, or brothers about 
 one another. Of the two qualities which chiefly inspire regard 
 and affection that a thing is your own and that you love it 
 neither can exist in such a state as this. 
 
 Again, the transfer of children as soon as they are born from 
 the rank of busbandmen or of artisans to that of guardians, and 
 from the rank of guardians into a lower rank, will be very 
 difficult to arrange ; the givers or transferrers cannot but know 
 whom they are giving and transferring, and to whom. Ar ' 
 the previously mentioned evils, such as assaults, unlawful loves, 
 
 k Cp. N. Eth., viii. I, 4. / Symp. 189-193. tn Rep. iii. 415.
 
 THE POLITICS 27 
 
 homicides, will happens more often amongst those who are 
 transferred to the lower classes, or who have a place assigned to 
 them among the guardians; for they will no longer call the 
 members of any other class brothers, and children, and fathers, 
 and mothers, and will not, therefore, be afraid of committing 
 any crimes by reason of consanguinity. Touching the com- 
 munity of wives and children, let this be our conclusion. 
 
 Next let us consider what should be our arrangements about 
 property: should the citizens of the perfect state have their 
 possessions in common or not ? This question may be discussed 
 separately from the enactments about women and children. 
 Even supposing that the women and children belong to indi- 
 viduals, according to the custom which is at present universal, 
 may there not be an advantage in having and using possessions 
 in common? Three cases are possible: (i) the soil may be 
 appropriated, but the produce may be thrown for consumption 
 into the common stock; and this is the practice of some na- 
 tions. Or (2), the soil may be common, and may be cultivated 
 in common, but the produce divided among individuals for their 
 private use; this is a form of common property which is said 
 to exist among certain barbarians. Or (3), the soil and the 
 produce may be alike common. 
 
 When the husbandmen are not the owners, the case will be 
 different and easier to deal with ; but when they till the ground 
 themselves the question of ownership will give a world of 
 trouble. If they do not share equallv in enjoyments and toils, 
 those who labor much and get little will necessarily complain of 
 those who labor little and receive or consume much. There is 
 always a difficulty in men living together and having things in 
 common, but especially in their having common property. The 
 partnerships of fellow-travellers are an example to the point; 
 for they generally fall out by the way and quarrel about any 
 trifle which turns up. So with servants : we are most liable to 
 take offence at those with whom we most frequently come into 
 contact in daily life. 
 
 These are only some of the disadvantages which attend the 
 community of property ; the present arrangement, if improved 
 as it might be by good customs and laws, would be far better, 
 and would have the advantages of both systems. Property 
 should be in a certain sense common, but, as a general rule, 
 private; for, when everyone has a distinct interest,* men will 
 n Cp. Rep. ii. 374.
 
 28 ARISTOTLE 
 
 not complain of one another, and they will make more progress, 
 because everyone will be attending to his own business. And 
 yet among the good, and in respect of use, " Friends," as the 
 proverb says, " will have all things common."o Even now there 
 are traces of such a principle, showing that it is not impracti- 
 cable, but, in well-ordered States, exists already to a certain ex- 
 tent and may be carried further. For, although every man has 
 his own property, some things he will place at the disposal of his 
 friends, while of others he shares the use with them. The Lace- 
 daemonians, for example, use one another's slaves, and horses 
 and dogs, as if they were their own ; and when they happen to 
 be in the country, they appropriate in the fields whatever pro- 
 visions they want. It is clearly better that property should be 
 private, but the use of it common ; and the special business of 
 the legislator is to create in men this benevolent disposition. 
 Again, how immeasurably greater is the pleasure, when a man 
 feels a thing to be his own ; for the love of self P is a feeling im- 
 planted by nature and not given in vain, although selfishness is 
 rightly censured; this, however, is not the mere love of self, 
 but the love of self in excess, like the miser's love of money; 
 for all, or almost all, men love money, and other such objects in 
 a measure. And further, there is the greatest pleasure in doing 
 a kindness or service to friends or guests or companions, which 
 can only be rendered when a man has private property. The 
 advantage is lost by the excessive unification of the State. Two 
 virtues are annihilated in such a state : first, temperance towards 
 women (for it is an honorable action to abstain from another's 
 wife for temperance' sake) ; secondly, liberality in the matter 
 of property. No one, when men have all things in common, will 
 any longer set an example of liberality or do any liberal action ; 
 for liberality consists in the use which is made of property.? 
 
 Such legislation may have a specious appearance of benevo- 
 lence ; men readilv listen to it, and are easily induced to believe 
 that in some wonderful manner everybody will become every- 
 body's friend, especially when some one r is heard denouncing 
 the evils now existing in States, suits about contracts, convic- 
 tions for perjury, flatteries of rich men and the like, which are 
 said to arise out of the possession of private property. These 
 evils, however, are due to a very different cause the wicked- 
 
 o Cp. Rep. iv. 424 A. q Ibid. iv. I, I. 
 
 /> Cp. N. Eth. ix. 8, 6. r Rep., v. 464, 465.
 
 THE POLITICS 29 
 
 ness of human nature. Indeed, we see that there is much more 
 quarrelling among those who have all things in common, though 
 there are not many of them when compared with the vast num- 
 bers who have private property. 
 
 Again, we ought to reckon, not only the evils from which the 
 citizens will be saved, but also the advantages which they will 
 lose. The life which they are to lead appears to be quite im- 
 practicable. The error of Socrates must be attributed to the 
 false notion of unity from which he starts. Unity there should 
 be, both of the family and of the State, but in some respects only. 
 For there is a point at which a State may attain such a degree of 
 unity as to be no longer a State, or at which, without actually 
 ceasing to exist, it will become an inferior State, like harmony 
 passing into unison, or rhythm which has been reduced to a 
 single foot. The State, as I was saying, is a plurality, which 
 should be united and made into a community by education; 
 and it is strange that the author of a system of education which 
 he thinks will make the State virtuous, should expect to improve 
 his citizens by regulations of this sort, and not by philosophy or 
 by customs and laws, like those which prevail at Sparta and 
 Crete respecting common meals, whereby the legislator has [to 
 a certain degree] made property common. Let us remember 
 that we should not disregard the experience of ages; in the 
 multitude of years these things, if they were good, would cer- 
 tainly not have been unknown ; for almost everything has been 
 found out, although sometimes they are not put together; in 
 other cases men do not use the knowledge which they have. 
 Great light would be thrown on this subject if we could see such 
 a form of government in the actual process of construction ; for 
 the legislator could not form a State at all without distributing 
 and dividing the citizens into associations for common meals, 
 and into phratries and tribes. But all this legislation ends only 
 in forbidding agriculture to the guardians, a prohibition which 
 the Lacedaemonians try to enforce already. 
 
 Again, Socrates has not said, nor is it easy to decide, what in 
 such a community will be the general form of the State. The 
 citizens who are not guardians are the majority, and about 
 them nothing has been determined : are the husbandmen, too, 
 to have their property in common? Or, besides the common 
 land which he tills, is each individual to have his own ? and are 
 their wives and children to be individual or common? If, like
 
 3 o ARISTOTLE 
 
 the guardians, they are to have all things in common, in what 
 do they differ from them, or what will they gain by submitting 
 to their government ? Or, upon what principle would they sub- 
 mit, unless indeed the governing class adopt the ingenious 
 policy of the Cretans, who give their slaves the same institutions 
 as their own, but forbid them gymnastic exercises and the pos- 
 session of arms ? If, on the other hand, the inferior classes are 
 to be like other cities in respect of marriage and property, what 
 will be the form of the community? Must it not contain two 
 States in one/ each hostile to the other ? One class will consist 
 of the guardians, who are a sort of watchmen ; another, of the 
 husbandmen, and there will be the artisans and the other citi- 
 zens. But [if so] the suits and quarrels, and all the evils which 
 Socrates affirms t to exist in other States, will exist equally 
 among them. He says indeed that, having so good an educa- 
 tion, the citizens will not need many laws, for example laws 
 about the city or about the markets ; but then he confines his 
 education to the guardians. Again, he makes the husbandmen 
 owners of the land upon condition of their paying a tribute.^ 
 But in that case they are likely to be much more unmanageable 
 and conceited than the Helots, or Penestae, or slaves in gen- 
 eral. And whether community of wives and property be neces- 
 sary for the lower equally with the higher class or not, and the 
 questions akin to this, what will be the education, form of 
 government, laws of the lower class, Socrates has nowhere de- 
 termined: neither is it easy, though very important, to dis- 
 cover what should be the character of the inferior classes, if the 
 common life of the guardians is to be maintained. 
 
 Again, if Socrates makes the women common, and retains 
 private property, the men will see to the fields, but who will see 
 to the house? And what will happen if the agricultural class 
 have both their property and their wives in common? Once 
 more ; it is absurd to argue, from the analogy of the animals, 
 that men and women should follow the same pursuits ; iv for 
 animals have not to manage a household. The government, too, 
 as constituted by Socrates, contains elements of danger; for 
 he makes the same persons always rule. And if this is often a 
 cause of disturbance among the meaner sort, how much more 
 among high-spirited warriors? But that the persons whom 
 
 s Cp. Rep. iv. 422 E. t Rep. v. 464, 465. u Ibid. iv. 425 D. 
 
 v Ibid. v. 464 c. w Cp. Rep. v. 451 D.
 
 THE POLITICS 31 
 
 he makes rulers must be the same is evident ; for the gold which 
 the God mingles in the souls of men is not at one time given to 
 one, at another time to another, but always to the same : as he 
 says, " God mingles gold in some, and silver in others, from 
 their very birth ; but brass and iron in those who are meant to 
 be artisans and husbandmen."*" Again, he deprives the guar- 
 dians of happiness, and says that the legislator ought to make 
 the whole State happy.y But the whole cannot be happy unless 
 most, or all, or some of its parts enjoy happiness. In this re- 
 spect happiness is not like the even principle in numbers, which 
 may exist only in the whole, but in none of the parts ; not so 
 happiness. And if the guardians are not happy, who are? 
 Surely not the artisans, or the common people. The Republic 
 of which Socrates discourses has all these difficulties, and others 
 quite as great. 
 
 The same, or nearly the same, objections apply to Plato's 
 later work, the Laws, and therefore we had better examine 
 briefly the constitution which is therein described. In the Re- 
 public, Socrates has definitely settled in all a few questions 
 only ; such as the community of women and children, the com- 
 munity of property, and the constitution of the State. The 
 population is divided into two classes one of husbandmen, 
 and the other of warriors ; from this latter is taken a third class 
 of counsellors and rulers of the State. But Socrates has not de- 
 termined whether the husbandmen and artisans are to have a 
 share in the government, and whether they, too, are to carry 
 arms and share in military service, or not. He certainly thinks 
 that the women ought to share in the education of the guardians, 
 and to fight by their side. The remainder of the work is filled 
 up with digressions foreign to the main subject, and with dis- 
 cussions about the education of the guardians. In the Laws 
 there is hardly anything but laws ; not much is said about the 
 constitution. This, which he had intended to make more of the 
 ordinary type, he gradually brings round to the other or ideal 
 form. For with the exception of the community of women and 
 property, he supposes everything to be the same in both States ; 
 there is to be the same education ; the citizens of both are to 
 live free from servile occupations, and there are to be common 
 meals in both. The only difference is that in the Laws, the 
 
 x Cp. Rep. iii. 415 A. y Rep. iv. 419, 400,
 
 3 2 ARISTOTLE 
 
 common meals are extended to women,-? and the warriors num- 
 ber about 5,000,0 but in the Republic only i,ooo.& 
 
 The discourses of Socrates are never commonplace ; they al- 
 ways exhibit grace and originality and thought ; but perfection 
 in everything can hardly be expected. We must not overlook 
 the fact that the number of 5,000 citizens, just now mentioned, 
 will require a territory as large as Babylonia, or some other 
 huge country, if so many persons are to be supported in idle- 
 ness, together with their women and attendants, who will be a 
 multitude many times as great. [In framing an ideal] we may 
 assume what we wish, but should avoid impossibilities. 
 
 It is said [in the Laws] that the legislator ought to have 
 his eye directed to two points the people and the country .c 
 But neighboring countries also must not be forgotten by him, 
 if the State for which he legislates is to have a true political life. 
 For a State must have such a military force as will be service- 
 able against her neighbors, and not merely useful at home. 
 Even if the life of action is not admitted to be the best, either 
 for individuals or States, still a city should be formidable to 
 enemies, whether invading or retreating. 
 
 There is another point : Should not the amount of property 
 be defined in some clearer way ? For Socrates says that a man 
 should have so much property as will enable him to live tem- 
 perately ,d which is only a way of saying " to live well " ; this 
 would be the higher or more general conception. But a man 
 may live temperately and yet miserably. A better definition 
 woud be that a man must have so much property as will enable 
 him to live not only temperately but liberally; if the two are 
 parted, liberality will combine with luxury; toil will be asso- 
 ciated with temperance. For liberality and temperance are the 
 only virtues which have to do with the use of property. A man 
 cannot use property with mildness or courage, but temperately 
 and liberally he may ; and therefore the practice of these virtues 
 is inseparable from property. There is an inconsistency, too, in 
 equalizing the property and not regulating the number of the 
 citizens ; e the population is to remain unlimited, and he thinks 
 that it will be sufficiently equalized by a certain number of mar- 
 riages being unfruitful, however many are born to others, be- 
 
 * Laws, vi. 781. c Perhaps Laws, 703-707 and 747 D ( ?). 
 
 a Ibid. y. 737 E. d Laws, v. 737 D. 
 
 b Rep. iv. 423 A. e But see Laws, v. 740.
 
 THE POLITICS 33 
 
 cause he finds this to be the case in existing States. But [in 
 Plato's imaginary State] greater care will be required than 
 now; for among ourselves, whatever may be the number of 
 citizens, the property is always distributed among them, and 
 therefore no one is in want ; but, if the property were incapable 
 of division [as in the Laws] the supernumeraries, whether 
 few or many, would get nothing. One would have thought 
 that it was even more necessary to limit population than prop- 
 erty; and that the limit should be fixed by calculating the 
 chances of mortality in the children, and of sterility in married 
 persons. The neglect of this subject, which in existing States 
 is so common, is a never-failing cause of poverty among the 
 citizens; and poverty is the parent of revolution and crime. 
 Phddon the Corinthian, who was one of the most ancient legis- 
 lators, thought that the families and the number of citizens 
 ought to remain the same, although originally all the lots may 
 have been of different sizes; but in the Laws, the opposite 
 principle is maintained. What in our opinion is the right ar- 
 rangement will have to be explained hereafter. 
 
 There is another omission in the Laws; Socrates does 
 not tell us how the rulers differ from their subjects ; he only 
 says that they should be related as the warp and the woof, which 
 are made out of different wools/ He allows that a man's whole 
 property may be increased five-fold,? but why should not his 
 land also increase to a certain extent? Again, will the good 
 management of a household be promoted by his arrangement of 
 homesteads ? for he assigns to each individual two homesteads 
 in separate places,** and it is difficult to live in two houses. 
 
 The whole system of government tends to be neither democ- 
 racy nor oligarchy, but something in a mean between them, 
 which is usually called a polity, and is composed of the heavy 
 armed soldiers. Now, if he intended to frame a constitution 
 which would suit the greatest number of States, he was very 
 likely right, but not if he meant to say that this constitutional 
 form came nearest to his first or ideal State ; for many would 
 prefer the Lacedaemonian, or, possibly, some other more aris- 
 tocratic government. Some, indeed, say that the best constitu- 
 tion is a combination of all existing forms, and they praise the 
 Lacedaemonian because it is made up of oligarchy, monarchy, 
 
 f Laws, v. 734 E, 735 A. g Ibid. v. 744 E. 
 
 h Ibid. v. 745 ; but cp. infra, vii. 10, n. 
 
 3
 
 34 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 and democracy, the King forming the monarchy, and the Coun- 
 cil of Elders the oligarchy, while the democratic element is 
 represented by the Ephors; for the Ephors are selected from 
 the people. Others, however, declare the ephoralty to be a 
 tyranny, and find the element of democracy in the common 
 meals and in the habits of daily life. In the Laws, it is main- 
 tained that the best State is made up of democracy and tyr- 
 anny, which are either not constitutions at all, or are the worst 
 of all. But they are nearer the truth who combine many forms ; 
 for the State is better which is made up of more numerous ele- 
 ments. The constitution proposed in the Laws has no ele- 
 ment of monarchy at all ; it is nothing but oligarchy and de- 
 mocracy, leaning rather to oligarchy. This is seen in the mode 
 of appointing magistrates ; for although the appointment of 
 them by lot from among those who have been already selected 
 combines both elements, the way in which the rich are compelled 
 by law to attend the Assembly ; and vote for magistrates or dis- 
 charge other political duties, while the rest may do as they like, 
 and the endeavor to have the greater number of the magistrates 
 appointed out of the richest classes and the highest officers se- 
 lected from those who have the greatest incomes, both these are 
 oligarchical features. The oligarchical principle prevails also 
 in the choice of the Council ; k for all are compelled to choose, 
 but the compulsion extends only to the choice out of the first 
 class, and of an equal number out of the second class and out 
 of the third class, but not in this latter case to all the voters of the 
 third and fourth class ; and the selection of candidates out of the 
 fourth class is only compulsory on the first and second. Then, 
 he says that there ought to be an equal number of each class 
 selected. Thus a preponderance will be given to the better sort 
 of people, who have the larger incomes, because many of the 
 lower classes, not being compelled, will not vote. These con- 
 siderations, and others which will be adduced when the time 
 comes for examining similar polities, tend to show that States 
 like Plato's should not be composed of democracy and mon- 
 archy. There is also a danger in electing the magistrates out 
 of a body who are themselves elected ; for, if but a small num- 
 ber choose to combine, the elections will always go as they de- 
 sire. Such is the constitution which is described in the Laws. 
 
 Laws, vi. 755, 763 E, 765. ; Ibid. vi. 764 A. 
 
 k Ibid. vi. 756 B-E.
 
 THE POLITICS 35 
 
 Other constitutions have been proposed; some by private 
 persons, others by philosophers and statesmen, which all come 
 nearer to established or existing ones than either of Plato's. 
 No one else has introduced such novelties as the community of 
 women and children, or public tables for women: other legis- 
 lators begin with what is necessary. In the opinion of some, 
 the regulation of property is the chief point of all, that being 
 the question upon which all revolutions turn. This danger was 
 recognized by Phaleas of Chalcedon, who was the first to affirm 
 that the citizens of a State ought to have equal possessions. He 
 thought that in a new colony the equalization might be accom- 
 plished without difficulty, not so easily when a State was already 
 established ; and that then the shortest way of compassing the 
 desired end would be for the rich to give and not to receive mar- 
 riage portions, and for the poor not to give but to receive them. 
 
 Plato in the Laws was of opinion that, to a certain ex- 
 tent, accumulation should be allowed, forbidding, as I have al- 
 ready observed, any citizen to possess more than five times the 
 minimum qualification. But those who make such laws should 
 remember what they are apt to forget that the legislator who 
 fixes the amount of property should also fix the number of chil- 
 dren; for, if the children are too many for the property, the 
 law must be broken. And, besides the violation of the law, it is 
 a bad thing that many from being rich should become poor; 
 for men of ruined fortunes are sure to stir up revolutions. That 
 the equalization of property exercises an influence on political 
 society was clearly understood even by some of the old legis- 
 lators. Laws were made by Solon and others prohibiting an 
 individual from possessing as much land as he pleased ; and 
 there are other laws in States which forbid the sale of property : 
 among the Locrians, for example, there is a law that a man is 
 not to sell his property unless he can prove unmistakably that 
 some misfortune has befallen him. Again, there have been laws 
 which enjoin the preservation of the original lots. Such a law 
 existed in the island of Leucas, and the abrogation of it made 
 the constitution too democratic, for the rulers no longer had 
 the prescribed qualification. Again, where there is equality of 
 property, the amount may be either too large or too small, and 
 the possessor may be living either in luxury or penury. Clearly, 
 then, the legislator ought not only to aim at the equalization of 
 properties, but at moderation in their amount. And yet, if he
 
 36 ARISTOTLE 
 
 prescribe this moderate amount equally to all, he will be no 
 nearer the mark ; for it is not the possessions but the desires of 
 mankind which require to be equalized, and this is impossible, 
 unless a sufficient education is provided by the State. But 
 Phaleas will probably reply that this is precisely what he means ; 
 and that, in his opinion, there ought to be in States, not only 
 equal property, but equal education. Still he should tell us 
 what will be the character of his education ; there is no use in 
 having one and the same for all, if it is of a sort that predisposes 
 men to avarice, or ambition, or both. Moreover, civil troubles 
 arise, not only out of the inequality of property, but out of the 
 inequality of honor, though in opposite ways. For the com- 
 mon people quarrel about the inequality of property, the higher 
 class about the equality of honor ; as the poet says 
 
 " The bud and good alike in honor share."/ 
 
 There are crimes of which the motive is want ; and for these 
 Phaleas expects to find a cure in the equalization of property, 
 which will take away from a man the temptation to be a high- 
 wayman, because he is hungry or cold. But want is not the 
 sole incentive to crime; men desire to gratify some passion 
 which preys upon them, or they are eager to enjoy the pleasures 
 which are unaccompanied with pain, and therefore they commit 
 crimes. 
 
 Now what is the cure of these three disorders ? Of the first, 
 moderate possessions and occupation ; of the second, habits of 
 temperance ; as to the third, if any desire pleasures which de- 
 pend on themselves, they will find the satisfaction of their de- 
 sires nowhere but in philosophy ; for all other pleasures we are 
 dependent on others. The fact is that the greatest crimes are 
 caused by excess and not by necessity. Men do not become 
 tyrants in order that they may not suffer cold ; and hence great 
 is the honor bestowed, not on him who kills a thief, but on him 
 who kills a tyrant. Thus we see that the institutions of Phaleas 
 avail only against petty crimes. 
 
 There is another objection to them. They are chiefly de- 
 signed to promote the internal welfare of the State. But the 
 legislator should consider also its relation to neighboring na- 
 , tions, and to all who are outside of it. The Government must 
 be organized with a view to military strength ; and of this he 
 
 III. ix. 319.
 
 THE POLITICS 37 
 
 has said not a word. And so with respect to property : there 
 should not only be enough to supply the internal wants of the 
 State, but also to meet dangers coming from without. The 
 property of the State should not be so large that more powerful 
 neighbors may be tempted by it, while the owners are unable to 
 repel the invaders ; nor yet so small that the State is unable to 
 maintain a war even against States of equal power, and of the 
 same character. Phaleas has not laid down any rule; and we 
 should bear in mind that a certain amount of wealth is an ad- 
 vantage. The best limit will probably be, not so much as will 
 tempt a more powerful neighbor, or make it his interest to go 
 to war with you. There is a story that Eubulus, when Auto- 
 phradates was going to besiege Atarneus, told him to consider 
 how long the operation would take, and then reckon up the cost 
 which would be incurred in the time. " For," said he, " I am 
 willing for a smaller sum than that to leave Atarneus at once." 
 These words of Eubulus made an impression on Autophradates, 
 and he desisted from the siege. 
 
 One advantage gained by the equalization of property is that 
 it prevents the citizens from quarrelling. Not that the gain in 
 this direction is very great. For the nobles will be dissatisfied 
 because they do not receive the honors which they think their 
 due ; and this is often found to be a cause of sedition and revolu- 
 tion. And the avarice of mankind is insatiable; at one time 
 two obols was pay enough ; but now, when this sum has become 
 customary, men always want more and more without end; for 
 it is of the nature of desire not to be satisfied, and most men 
 live only for the gratification of it. The beginning of reform 
 is not so much to equalize property as to train the nobler sort of 
 natures not to desire more, and to prevent the lower from get- 
 ting more ; that is to say, they must be kept down, but not ill- 
 treated. Besides, the equalization proposed by Phaleas is im- 
 perfect ; for he only equalizes land, whereas a man may be rich 
 also in slaves, and cattle, and money, and in the abundance of 
 what are called his movables. Now either all these things must 
 be equalized, or some limit must be imposed on them, or they 
 must all be let alone. It would appear that Phaleas is legislat- 
 ing for a small city only, if, as he supposes, all the artisans are 
 to be public slaves and not to form a part of the population of 
 the city. But if there is a law that artisans are to be public 
 slaves, it should only apply to those engaged on public works, as
 
 38 ARISTOTLE 
 
 at Epidamnus, or at Athens on the plan which Diophantus 
 once introduced. 
 
 From these observations anyone may judge how far Phaleas 
 was wrong or right in his ideas. 
 
 Hippodamus, the son of Euryphon, a native of Miletus, the 
 same who invented the art of planning cities, and who also laid 
 out the Piraeus a strange man, whose fondness for distinction 
 led him into a general eccentricity of life, which made some 
 think him affected (for he would wear flowing hair and ex- 
 pensive ornaments; and yet he dressed himself in the same 
 cheap warm garments both in winter and summer) ; he, besides 
 aspiring to be an adept in the knowledge of nature, was the 
 first person not a statesman who made inquiries about the best 
 form of government. 
 
 The city of Hippodamus was composed of 10,000 citizens 
 divided into three parts one of artisans, one of husbandmen, 
 and a third of armed defenders of the State. He also divided 
 the land into three parts, one sacred, one public, the third pri- 
 vate : the first was set apart to maintain the customary worship 
 of the gods, the second was to support the warriors, the third 
 was the property of the husbandmen. He also divided his laws 
 into three classes, and no more, for he maintained that there 
 are three subjects of lawsuits insult, injury, and homicide. 
 He likewise instituted a single final court of appeal, to which all 
 causes seeming to have been improperly decided might be re- 
 ferred ; this court he formed of elders chosen for the purpose. 
 He was further of opinion that the decisions of the courts ought 
 not to be given by the use of a voting pebble, but that every one 
 should have a tablet on which he might not only write a simple 
 condemnation, or leave the tablet blank for a simple acquittal ; 
 but, if he partly acquitted and partly condemned, he was to dis- 
 tinguish accordingly. To the existing law he objected that it 
 obliged the judges to be guilty of perjury, whichever way they 
 voted. He also enacted that those who discovered anything 
 for the good of the State should be rewarded ; and he provided 
 that the children of citizens who died in battle should be main- 
 tained at the public expense, as if such an enactment had never 
 been heard of before, yet it actually exists at Athens'" and in 
 other places. As to the magistrates, he would have them all 
 elected by the people, that is, by the three classes already men- 
 m Cp. Thuc. ii. c. 46.
 
 THE POLITICS 39 
 
 tioned, and those who were elected were to watch over the in- 
 terests of the public, of strangers, and of orphans. These are 
 the most striking points in the constitution of Hippodamus. 
 There is not much else. 
 
 The first of these proposals to which objection may be taken, 
 is the threefold division of the citizens. The artisans, and the 
 husbandmen, and the warriors, all have a share in the govern- 
 ment. But the husbandmen have no arms, and the artisans 
 neither arms nor land, and therefore they become all but slaves 
 of the warrior class. That they should share in all the offices is 
 an impossibility; for generals and guardians of the citizens, 
 and nearly all the principal magistrates, must be taken from the 
 class of those who carry arms. Yet, if the two other classes 
 have no share in the government, how can they be loyal citi- 
 zens? It may be said that those who have arms must neces- 
 sarily be masters of both the other classes, but this is not so 
 easily accomplished unless they are numerous ; and if they are, 
 why should the other classes share in the government at all, or 
 have power to appoint magistrates? Artisans there must be, 
 for these are wanted in every city, and they can live by their 
 craft, as elsewhere ; and the husbandmen, too, if they really 
 provided the warriors with food, might fairly have a share in 
 the government. But in the republic of Hippodamus they are 
 supposed to have land of their own, which they cultivate for 
 their private benefit. Again, as to this common land out of 
 which the soldiers are maintained, if they are themselves to 
 be the cultivators of it, the warrior class will be identical with 
 the husbandmen, although the legislator intended to make a dis- 
 tinction between them. If, again, there are to be other culti- 
 vators distinct both from the husbandmen, who have land of 
 their own, and from the warriors, they will make a fourth class, 
 which has no place in the State and no share in anything. Or, 
 if the same persons are to cultivate their own lands and those 
 of the public as well, they will have a difficulty in supplying 
 the quantity of produce which will maintain two households: 
 and why, in this case, should there be any division, for they 
 might find food themselves and give to the warriors from the 
 same lots ? There is surely a great confusion in all this. 
 
 Neither is the law to be commended which says that the 
 judges, when a simple issue is laid before them, should dis- 
 tinguish in their judgment ; for the judge is thus converted into
 
 40 ARISTOTLE 
 
 an arbitrator. Now, in an arbitration, although the arbitra- 
 tors are many, they confer with one another about the decision, 
 and therefore they can distinguish ; but in courts of law this is 
 impossible, and, indeed, most legislators take pains to prevent 
 the judges from holding any communication with one another. 
 Again, will there not be confusion if the judge thinks that dam- 
 ages should be given, but not so much as the suitor demands? 
 He asks, say, for twenty minae, and the judge allows him ten 
 minae, or one judge more and another less ; one five, another 
 four minae. In this way they will go on apportioning the dam- 
 ages, and some will grant the whole and others nothing : how is 
 the final reckoning to be taken ? Again, no one who votes for a 
 simple acquittal or condemnation is compelled to perjure him- 
 self, if the indictment is quite simple and in right form; for 
 the judge who acquits does not decide that the defendant owes 
 nothing, but that he does not owe the twenty minae. He only 
 is guilty of perjury who thinks that the defendant ought not to 
 pay twenty minae, and yet condemns him. 
 
 To reward those who discover anything which is useful to 
 the State is a proposal which has a specious sound, but cannot 
 safely be enacted by law, for it may encourage informers, and 
 perhaps even lead to political commotions. This question in- 
 volves another. It has been doubted whether it is or is not ex- 
 pedient to make any changes in the laws of a country, even if 
 another law be better. Now, if all changes are inexpedient, we 
 can hardly assent to the proposal of Hippodamus ; for, under 
 pretence of doing a public service, a man may introduce meas- 
 ures which are really destructive to the laws or to the constitu- 
 tion. But, since we have touched upon this subject, perhaps we 
 had better go a little into detail, for, as I was saying, there is a 
 difference of opinion, and it may sometimes seem desirable to 
 make changes. Such changes in the other arts and sciences 
 have certainly been beneficial ; medicine, for example, and gym- 
 nastic, and every other art and science have departed from tra- 
 ditional usage. And, if politics be an art, change must be neces- 
 sary in this as in any other art. The need of improvement is 
 shown by the fact that old customs are exceedingly simple and 
 barbarous. For the ancient Hellenes went about armed and 
 bought their wives of each other. The remains of ancient laws 
 which have come down to us are quite absurd ; for example, at 
 n Cp. Thucyd. i. c. 5 and 6.
 
 THE POLITICS 41 
 
 Cumae there is a law about murder, to the effect that if the ac- 
 cuser produce a certain number of witnesses from among his 
 own kinsmen, the accused shall be held guilty. Again, men in 
 general desire the good, and not merely what their fathers had. 
 But the primeval inhabitants, whether they were born of the 
 earth or were the survivors of some destruction, may be sup- 
 posed to have been no better than ordinary foolish people among 
 ourselves (such is certainly the tradition o concerning the earth- 
 born men) ; and it would be ridiculous to rest contented with 
 their notions. Even when laws have been written down, they 
 ought not always to remain unaltered. As in other sciences, 
 so in politics, it is impossible that all things should be precisely 
 set down in writing ; for enactments must be universal, but ac- 
 tions are concerned with particulars./ 7 Hence we infer that 
 sometimes and in certain cases laws may be changed ; but when 
 we look at the matter from another point of view, great caution 
 would seem to be required. For the habit of lightly changing 
 the laws is an evil, and, when the advantage is small, some 
 errors both of law-givers and rulers had better be left ; the citi- 
 zen will not gain so much by the change as he will lose by the 
 habit of disobedience. The analogy of the arts is false; a 
 change in a law is a very different thing from a change in an 
 art. For the law has no power to command obedience except 
 that of habit, which can only be given by time, so that a readi- 
 ness to change from old to new laws enfeebles the power of the 
 law. Even if we admit that the laws are to be changed, are 
 they all to be changed, and in every State ? And are they to be 
 changed by anybody who likes, or only by certain persons? 
 These are very important questions ; and therefore we had bet- 
 ter reserve the discussion of them to a more suitable occasion. 
 
 In the governments of Lacedaemon and Crete, and indeed 
 in all governments, two points have to be considered; first, 
 whether any particular law is good or bad, when compared with 
 the perfect state ; secondly, whether it is or is not consistent with 
 the idea and character which the law-giver has set before his 
 citizens. That in a well-ordered State the citizens should have 
 leisure and not have to provide for their daily wants is generally 
 acknowledged, but there is a difficulty in seeing how this leisure 
 is to be attained. [For, if you employ slaves, they are liable to 
 
 o Cp. Plato, Laws, iii. 677 A; Polit. 271 A; Tim. 22 C. 
 p Cp. Plato, Polit. 295 A.
 
 42 ARISTOTLE 
 
 rebel.] The Thessalian Penestae have often risen against their 
 masters, and the Helots in like manner against the Lacedaemo- 
 nians, for whose misfortunes they are always lying in wait. 
 Nothing, however, of this kind has as yet happened to the 
 Cretans ; the reason probably is that the neighboring cities, even 
 when at war with one another, never form an alliance with re- 
 bellious serfs, rebellions not being for their interest, since they 
 themselves have a dependent population. Whereas all the 
 neighbors of the Lacedaemonians, whether Argives, Messe- 
 nians, or Arcadians, are their enemies [and the Helots are al- 
 ways revolting to them]. In Thessaly, again, the original re- 
 volt of the slaves occurred at a time when the Thessalians were 
 still at war with the neighboring Achaeans, Perrhaebians, and 
 Magnesians. Besides, if there were no other difficulty, the 
 treatment or management of slaves is a troublesome affair; for, 
 if not kept in hand, they are insolent, and think that they are 
 as good as their masters, and, if harshly treated, they hate and 
 conspire against them. Now it is clear that when these are the 
 results the citizens of a State have not found out the secret of 
 managing their subject population. 
 
 Again, the license of the Lacedaemonian women defeats the 
 intention of the Spartan constitution, and is adverse to the good 
 order of the State. For a husband and a wife, being each a 
 part of every family, the State may be considered as about 
 equally divided into men and women ; and, therefore, in those 
 States in which the condition of the women is bad, half the city 
 may be regarded as having no laws. And this is what has actu- 
 ally happened at Sparta; the legislator wanted to make the 
 whole State hardy and temperate, and he has carried out his in- 
 tention in the case of the men, but he has neglected the women, 
 who live in every sort of intemperance and luxury. The con- 
 sequence is that in such a State wealth is too highly valued, 
 especially if the citizens fall under the dominion of their wives, 
 after the manner of all warlike races, except the Celts and a few 
 others who openly approve of male loves. The old mythologer 
 would seem to have been right in uniting Ares and Aphrodite, 
 for all warlike races are prone to the love either of men or of 
 women. This was exemplified among the Spartans in the days 
 of their greatness ; many things were managed by their women. 
 But what difference does it make whether women rule, or the 
 rulers are ruled by women ? The result is the same. Even in
 
 THE POLITICS 
 
 43 
 
 regard to courage, which is of no use in daily life, and is needed 
 only in war, the influence of the Lacedaemonian women has 
 been most mischievous. The evil showed itself in the Theban 
 invasion, when, unlike the women in other cities, they were 
 utterly useless and caused more confusion than the enemy. This 
 license of the Lacedaemonian women existed from the earliest 
 times, and was only what might be expected. For, during the 
 wars of the Lacedaemonians, first against the Argives, and af- 
 terwards against the Arcadians and Messenians, the men were 
 long away from home, and, on the return of peace, they gave 
 themselves into the legislator's hand, already prepared by the 
 discipline of a soldier's life (in which there are many elements 
 of virtue), to receive his enactments. But, when Lycurgus, as 
 tradition says, wanted to bring the women under his laws, they 
 resisted, and he gave up the attempt. They, and not he, are to 
 blame for what then happened, and this defect in the constitu- 
 tion is clearly to be attributed to them. We are not, however, 
 considering what is or is not to be excused, but what is right or 
 wrong, and the disorder of the women, as I have already said, 
 not only of itself gives an air of indecorum to the State, but 
 tends in a measure to foster avarice. 
 
 The mention of avarice naturally suggests a criticism on the 
 inequality of property. While some of the Spartan citizens 
 have quite small properties, others have very large ones ; hence 
 the land has passed into the hands of a few. And here is an- 
 other fault in their laws ; for, although the legislator rightly 
 holds up to shame the sale or purchase of an inheritance, he 
 allows anybody who likes to give and bequeath it. Yet both 
 practices lead to the same result. And nearly two-fifths of the 
 whole countrv is held by women ; this is owing to the number 
 of heiresses and to the large dowries which are customary. It 
 would surely have been better to have given no dowries at all, 
 or, if any, but small or moderate ones. As the law now stands, 
 a man may bestow his heiress on anyone whom he pleases, and, 
 if he die intestate, the privilege of giving her away descends 
 to his heir. Hence, although the country is able to maintain 
 1,500 cavalry and 30,000 hoplites, the whole number of Spartan 
 citizens [at the time of the Theban invasion] fell below 1,000. 
 The result proves the faulty nature of their laws respecting 
 property ; for the city sank under a single defeat ; the want of 
 men was their ruin. There is a tradition that, in the days of
 
 44 ARISTOTLE 
 
 their ancient kings, they were in the habit of giving the rights 
 of citizenship to strangers, and therefore, in spite of their long 
 wars, no lack of population was experienced by them ; indeed, 
 at one time Sparta is said to have numbered not less than 10,000 
 citizens. Whether this statement is true or not, it would cer- 
 tainly have been better to have maintained their numbers by the 
 equalization of property. Again, the law which relates to the 
 procreation of children is adverse to the correction of this in- 
 equality. For the legislator, wanting to have as many Spartans 
 as he could, encouraged the citizens to have large families ; and 
 there is a law at Sparta that the father of three sons shall be 
 exempt from military service, and he who has four from all 
 the burdens of the State. Yet it is obvious that, if there were 
 many children, the land being distributed as it is, many of them 
 must necessarily fall into poverty. 
 
 The Lacedaemonian constitution is defective in another 
 point; I mean the ephoralty. This magistracy has authority 
 in the highest matters, but the Ephors are all chosen from the 
 people, and so the office is apt to fall into the hands of very poor 
 men, who, being badly off, are open to bribes. There have been 
 many examples at Sparta of this evil in former times ; and 
 quite recently, in the matter of the Andrians, certain of the 
 Ephors who were bribed did their best to ruin the State. And 
 so great and tyrannical is their power, that even the kings have 
 been compelled to court them ; through their influence the con- 
 stitution has deteriorated, and from being an aristocracy has 
 turned into a democracy. The ephoralty certainly does keep 
 the State together; for the people are contented when they 
 have a share in the highest office, and the result, whether due 
 to the legislator or to chance, has been advantageous. For if a 
 constitution is to be permanent, all the parts of the State must 
 wish that it should exist and be maintained. This is the case at 
 Sparta, where the kings desire permanence because they have 
 due honor in their own persons ; the nobles are represented in 
 the Council of Elders (for the office of Elder is a reward of vir- 
 tue) ; and the people in the ephoralty, for all are eligible to it. 
 The election of Ephors out of the whole people is perfectly 
 right, but ought not to be carried on in the present fashion, 
 which is too childish. Again, they have the decision of great 
 causes, although they are quite ordinary men, and therefore 
 they should not determine them merely on their own judgment,
 
 THE POLITICS 45 
 
 but according to written rules, and to the laws. Their way of 
 life, too, is not in accordance with the spirit of the constitution 
 they have a deal too much license; whereas, in the case of 
 the other citizens, the excess of strictness is so intolerable that 
 they run away from the law into the secret indulgence of sen- 
 sual pleasures. 
 
 Again, the Council of Elders is not free from defects. It may 
 be said that the Elders are good men and well trained in manly 
 virtue ; and that, therefore, there is an advantage to the State 
 in having them. But that judges of important causes should 
 hold office for life is not a good thing, for the mind grows old 
 as well as the body. And when men have been educated in such 
 a manner that even the legislator himself cannot trust them, 
 there is real danger. Many of the Elders are well known to 
 have taken bribes and to have been guilty of partiality in pub- 
 lic affairs. And therefore they ought not to be irresponsible; 
 yet at Sparta they are so. But (it may be replied), " All mag- 
 istracies are accountable to the Ephors." Yes, but this pre- 
 rogative is too great for them, and we maintain that the control 
 should be exercised in some other manner. Further, the mode 
 in which the Spartans elect their Elders is childish ; and it is 
 improper that the person to be elected should canvass for the 
 office ; the worthiest should be appointed, whether he chooses 
 or not. And here the legislator clearly indicates the same in- 
 tention which appears in other parts of his constitution ; he 
 would have his citizens ambitious, and he has reckoned upon 
 this quality in the election of the Elders ; for no one would ask 
 to be elected if he were not. Yet ambition and avarice, almost 
 more than any other passions, are the motives of crime. 
 
 Whether kings are or are not an advantage to States, I will 
 consider at another time ; they should at any rate be chosen, 
 not as they are now, but with regard to their personal life and 
 conduct. The legislator himself obviously did not suppose that 
 he could make them really good men ; at least he shows a great 
 distrust of their virtue. For this reason the Spartans used to 
 join enemies in the same embassy, and the quarrels between the 
 kings were held to be conservative of the State. 
 
 Neither did the first introducer of the common meals, called 
 " phiditia," regulate them well. The entertainment ought to 
 have been provided at the public cost, as in Crete ; but among 
 the Lacedaemonians everyone is expected to contribute, and
 
 46 ARISTOTLE 
 
 some of them are too poor to afford the expense ; thus the in- 
 tention of the legislator is frustrated. The common meals were 
 meant to be a popular institution, but the existing manner of 
 regulating them is the reverse of popular. For the very poor 
 can scarcely take part in them ; and, according to ancient cus- 
 tom, those who cannot contribute are not allowed to retain their 
 rights of citizenship. 
 
 The law about the Spartan admirals has often been censured, 
 and with justice ; it is a source of dissension, for the kings are 
 perpetual generals, and this office of admiral is but the setting 
 up of another king. 
 
 The charge which Plato brings, in the Laws,? against the 
 intention of the legislator, is likewise justified ; the whole con- 
 stitution has regard to one part of virtue only the virtue of the 
 soldier, which gives victory in war. And so long as they were 
 at war, their power was preserved, but when they had attained 
 empire they fell, for of the arts of peace they knew nothing, and 
 had never engaged in any employment higher than war. There 
 is another error, equally great, into which they have fallen. 
 Although they truly think that the goods for which they con- 
 tend are to be acquired by virtue rather than by vice, they err 
 in supposing that these goods are to be preferred to the virtue 
 which gains them. 
 
 Once more : the revenues of the State are ill-managed ; there 
 is no money in the treasury, although they are obliged to carry 
 on great wars, and they are unwilling to pay taxes. The greater 
 part of the land being in the hands of the Spartans, they do 
 not look closely into one another's contributions. The result 
 which the legislator has produced is the reverse of beneficial; 
 for he has made his city poor, and his citizens greedy. 
 
 Enough respecting the Spartan constitution, of which these 
 are the principal defects. 
 
 The Cretan constitution nearly resembles the Spartan, and 
 in some few points is quite as good ; but for the most part less 
 perfect in form. The older constitutions are generally less 
 elaborate than the later, and the Lacedaemonian is said to be, 
 and probably is, in a very great measure, a copy of the Cretan. 
 According to tradition, Lycurgus, when he ceased to be the 
 guardian of King Charilaus, went abroad and spent a long 
 time in Crete. For the two countries are nearly connected; 
 q Laws, * 630.
 
 THE POLITICS 
 
 47 
 
 the Lyctians are a colony of the Lacedaemonians, and the colon- 
 ists, when they came to Crete, adopted the constitution which 
 they found existing among the inhabitants. Even to this day 
 the Perioeci, or subject population of Crete, are governed by 
 the original laws which Minos enacted. The island seems to 
 be intended by nature for dominion in Hellas, and to be well 
 situated ; it extends right across the sea, around which nearly 
 all the Hellenes are settled ; and while one end is not far from 
 the Peloponnese, the other almost reaches to the region of Asia 
 about Triopium and Rhodes. Hence Minos acquired the em- 
 pire of the sea, subduing some of the islands and colonizing 
 others ; at last he invaded Sicily, where he died near Camicus. , 
 
 The Cretan institutions resemble the Lacedaemonian. The 
 Helots are the husbandmen of the one, the Perioeci of the other, 
 and both Cretans and Lacedaemonians have common meals, 
 which were anciently called by the Lacedaemonians not 
 " phiditia " but " andria " ; and the Cretans have the same 
 word, the use of which proves that the common meals [or 
 syssitia] originally came from Crete. Further, the two consti- 
 tutions are similar [in many particulars] ; for the office of the 
 Ephors is the same as that of the Cretan Cosmi, the only differ- 
 ence being that whereas the Ephors are five, the Cosmi are ten 
 in number. The Elders, too, answer to the Elders in Crete, who 
 are termed by the Cretans the Council. And the kingly office 
 once existed in Crete, but was abolished, and the Cosmi have 
 now the duty of leading them in war. All classes share in the 
 Ecclesia, but it can only ratify the decrees of the Elders and the 
 Cosmi. 
 
 The common meals of Crete are certainly better managed 
 than the Lacedaemonian ; for in Lacedaemon everyone pays 
 so much per head, or, if he fails, the law, as I have already ex- 
 Iplained, forbids him to exercise the rights of citizenship. But 
 in Crete they are of a more popular character. There, of all 
 the fruits of the earth, of cattle, of the public revenues, and of 
 the tribute which is paid by the Perioeci, one portion is as- 
 signed to the gods and to the service of the State, and another 
 to the common meals, so that men, women, and children are all 
 supported out of a common stock. The legislator has many 
 ingenious ways of securing moderation in eating which he con- 
 ceives to be a gain ; he likewise encourages the separation of 
 men from women, lest they should have too many children, and
 
 48 ARISTOTLE 
 
 the companionship of men with one another whether this is a 
 good or bad thing I shall have an opportunity of considering 
 at another time. But that the Cretan common meals are better 
 ordered than the Lacedaemonian there can be no doubt. 
 
 On the other hand, the Cosmi are even a worse institution 
 than the Ephors, of which they have all the evils without the 
 good. Like the Ephors, they are any chance persons, but in 
 Crete this is not counterbalanced by a corresponding political 
 advantage. At Sparta everyone is eligible, and the body of 
 the people, having a share in the highest office, want the State 
 to be permanent. But in Crete the Cosmi are elected out of 
 certain families, and not out of the whole people, and the Elders 
 out of those who have been Cosmi. 
 
 The same criticism may be made about the Cretan, which has 
 been already made about the Lacedaemonian Elders. Their 
 irresponsibility and life tenure is too great a privilege, and their 
 arbitrary power of acting upon their own judgment, and dis- 
 pensing with written law, is dangerous. It is no proof of the 
 goodness of the institution that the people are not discontented 
 at being excluded from it. For there is no profit to be made 
 out of the office ; and, unlike the Ephors, the Cosmi, being in an 
 island, are removed from temptation. 
 
 The remedy by which they correct the evil of this institution 
 is an extraordinary one, suited rather to a close oligarchy than 
 to a constitutional State. For the Cosmi are often expelled 
 by a conspiracy of their own colleagues, or of private individ- 
 uals ; and they are allowed also to resign before their term of 
 office has expired. Surely all matters of this kind are better 
 regulated by law than by the will of man, which is a very unsafe 
 rule. Worst of all is the suspension of the office of Cosmi, a 
 device to which the nobles often have recourse when they will 
 not submit to justice. This shows that the Cretan Government, 
 although possessing some of the characteristics of a constitu- 
 tional State, is really a close oligarchy. 
 
 The Cretans have a habit, too, of setting up a chief ; they get 
 together a party among the common people and gather their 
 friends and then quarrel and fight with one another. What is 
 this but the temporary destruction of the State and dissolution 
 of society ? A city is in a dangerous condition when those who 
 are willing are also able to attack her. But, as I have already 
 said, the island of Crete is saved by her situation; distance has
 
 THE POLITICS 49 
 
 the same effect as the Lacedaemonian prohibition of strangers ; 
 and the Cretans have no foreign dominions. This is the reason 
 why the Perioeci are contented in Crete, whereas the Helots are 
 perpetually revolting. But when lately foreign invaders found 
 their way into the island, the weakness of the Cretan constitu- 
 tion was revealed. Enough of the government of Crete. 
 
 The Carthaginians are also considered to have an excellent 
 form of government, which differs from that of any other State 
 in several respects, though it is in some very like the Lace- 
 daemonian. Indeed, all three States the Lacedaemonian, the 
 Cretan, and the Carthaginian nearly resemble one another, 
 and are very different from any others. Many of the Car- 
 thaginian institutions are excellent. The superiority of their 
 constitution is proved by the fact that, although containing an 
 element of democracy, it has been lasting; the Carthaginians 
 have never had any rebellion worth speaking of, and have never 
 been under the rule of a tyrant. 
 
 Among the points in which the Carthaginian constitution re- 
 sembles the Lacedaemonian are the following: The common 
 tables of the clubs answer to the Spartan phiditia, and their 
 magistracy of the 104 to the Ephors ; but, whereas the Sphors 
 are any chance persons, the magistrates of the Carthaginians 
 are elected according to merit this is an improvement. They 
 have also their kings and their Gerusia, or Council of Elders, 
 who correspond to the kings and Elders of Sparta. Their kings, 
 unlike the Spartan, are not always of the same family, whatever 
 that may happen to be, but if there is some distinguished fam- 
 ily they are selected out of it and not appointed by seniority 
 this is far better. Such officers have great power, and there- 
 fore, if they are persons of little worth, do a great deal of harm, 
 and they have already done harm at Lacedaemon. 
 
 Most of the defects or deviations from the perfect State, for 
 which the Carthaginian constitution would be censured, apply 
 equally to all the forms of government which we have men- 
 tioned. But of the deflections from aristocracy and constitu- 
 tional government, some incline more to democracy and some 
 to oligarchy. The kings and Elders, if unanimous, may deter- 
 mine whether they will or will not bring a matter before the 
 people, but when they are not unanimous, the people may decide 
 whether or not the matter shall be brought forward. And 
 whatever the kings and Elders bring before the people is not 
 
 4
 
 5 o ARISTOTLE 
 
 only heard but also determined by them, and anyone who likes 
 may oppose it ; now this is not permitted in Sparta and Crete. 
 That the magistracies of five who have under them many im- 
 portant matters should be co-opted, that they should choose the 
 Supreme Council of ioo,and should hold office longer than other 
 magistrates (for they are virtually rulers both before and after 
 they hold office) these are oligarchical features; their being 
 without salary and not elected by lot, and any similar points, 
 such as the practice of having all suits tried by the magistrates, 
 and not some by one class of judges or jurors and some by an- 
 other, as at Lacedasmon, are characteristic of aristocracy. The 
 Carthaginian constitution deviates from aristocracy and inclines 
 to oligarchy, chiefly on a point where popular opinion is on their 
 side. For men in general think that magistrates should be 
 chosen not only for their merit, but for their wealth: a man, 
 they say, who is poor cannot rule well he has not the leisure. 
 If, then, election of magistrates for their wealth be characteris- 
 tic of oligarchy, and election for merit of aristocracy, there will 
 be a third form under which the constitution of Carthage is 
 comprehended ; for the Carthaginians choose their magistrates, 
 and particularly the highest of them their kings and generals 
 with an eye both to merit and to wealth. 
 
 But we must acknowledge that, in thus deviating from 
 aristocracy, the legislator has committed an error. Nothing is 
 more absolutely necessary than to provide that the highest class, 
 not only when in office, but when out of office, should have 
 leisure and not demean themselves in any way ; and to this his 
 attention should be first directed. Even if you must have re- 
 gard to wealth, in order to secure leisure, yet it is surely a bad 
 thing that the greatest offices, such as those of kings and gen- 
 erals, should be bought. The law which allows this abuse 
 makes wealth of more account than virtue, and the whole State 
 becomes avaricious. For, whenever the chiefs of the State 
 deem anything honorable, the other citizens are sure to follow 
 their example ; and, where virtue has not the first place, there 
 aristocracy cannot be firmly established. Those who have been 
 at the expense of purchasing their places will be in the habit 
 of repaying themselves ; and it is absurd to suppose that a poor 
 and honest man will be wanting to make gains, and that a lower 
 stamp of man who has incurred a great expense will not. 
 Wherefore they should rule who are able to rule best [ apitrrap-
 
 THE POLITICS 51 
 
 tv ]. And even if the legislator does not care to protect the 
 good from poverty, he should at any rate secure leisure for 
 those in office. 
 
 It would seem also to be a bad principle that the same person 
 should hold many offices, which is a favorite practice among the 
 Carthaginians, for one business is better done by one man.' 
 The legislator should see to this and should not appoint the 
 same person to be a flute-player and a shoemaker. Hence, 
 where the State is large, it is more in accordance both with 
 constitutional and with democratic principles that the offices of 
 State should be distributed among many persons. For, as I 
 was saying, this arrangement is more popular, and any action 
 familiarized by repetition is better and sooner performed. We 
 have a proof in military and naval matters ; the duties of com- 
 mand and of obedience in both these services extend to all. 
 
 The government of the Carthaginians is oligarchical, but 
 they successfully escape the evils of oligarchy by their wealth, 
 which enables them from time to time to send out some portion 
 of the people to their colonies. This is their panacea and the 
 means by which they give stability to the State. Accident 
 favors them, but the legislator should be able to provide against 
 revolution without trusting to accidents. As things are, if any 
 misfortune occurred, and the people revolted from their rulers, 
 there would be no way of restoring peace by legal methods. 
 
 Such is the character of the Lacedaemonian, Cretan, and 
 Carthaginian constitutions, which are justly celebrated. 
 
 Of those who have treated of governments, some have never 
 taken any part at all in public affairs, but have passed their 
 lives in a private station ; about most of them, what was worth 
 telling has been already told. Others have been lawgivers, 
 either in their own or in foreign cities, whose affairs they have 
 administered ; and of these some have only made laws, others 
 have framed constitutions ; for example, Lycurgus and Solon 
 did both. Of the Lacedaemonian constitution I have already 
 spoken. As to Solon, he is thought by some to have been a good 
 legislator, who put an end to the exclusiveness of the oligarchy, 
 emancipated the people, established the ancient Athenian de- 
 mocracy, and harmonized the different elements of the State. 
 According to their view, the Council of Areopagus was an 
 oligarchical element, the elected magistracy, aristocratical, and 
 r Cp. Plato, Rep. ii. 374 A.
 
 5 a ARISTOTLE 
 
 the courts of law, democratical. The truth seems to be that the 
 Council and the elected magistracy existed before the time of 
 Solon, and were retained by him, but that he formed the courts 
 of law out of all the citizens, thus creating the democracy, 
 which is the very reason why he is sometimes blamed. For in 
 giving the supreme power to the law courts, which are elected 
 by lot, he is thought to have destroyed the non-democratic ele- 
 ment. When the law courts grew powerful, to please the peo- 
 ple, who were now playing the tyrant, the old constitution was 
 changed into the existing democracy. Ephialtes and Pericles 
 curtailed the power of the Areopagus ; they also instituted the 
 payment of the juries, and thus every demagogue in turn in- 
 creased the power of the democracy until it became what we 
 now see. All this is true ; it seems however to be the result of 
 circumstances, and not to have been intended by Solon. For 
 the people having been instrumental in gaining the empire of 
 the sea in the Persian War, began to get a notion of itself, and 
 followed worthless demagogues, whom the better class op- 
 posed. Solon, himself, appears to have given the Athenians 
 only that power of electing to offices and calling to account the 
 magistrates, which was absolutely necessary; for without it 
 they would have been in a state of slavery and enmity to the 
 government. All the magistrates he appointed from the nota- 
 bles and the men of wealth, that is to say, from the pentacosio- 
 medimni, or from the class called zeugitaz (because they kept 
 a yoke of oxen), or from a third class of so-called knights or 
 cavalry. The fourth class were laborers who had no share in 
 any magistracy. 
 
 Mere legislators were Zaleucus, who gave laws to the Epi- 
 zephyrian Locrians, and Charondas, who legislated for his own 
 city of Catana, and for the other Chalcidian cities in Italy and 
 Sicily. Some persons attempt to make out that Onomacritus 
 was the first person who had any special skill in legislation, 
 and that he, although a Locrian by birth, was trained in Crete, 
 where he lived in the exercise of his prophetic art ; that Thales 
 was his companion, and that Lycurgus and Zaleucus were dis- 
 ciples of Thales, as Charondas was of Zaleucus. But their ac- 
 count is quite inconsistent with chronology. 
 
 There was also a Theban legislator, whose name was 
 Philolaus, the Corinthian. This Philolaus was one of the 
 family of the Bacchiadae, and a lover of Diocles, the Olympic
 
 THE POLITICS 53 
 
 victor, who left Corinth in horror of the incestuous passion 
 which his mother Halcyone had conceived for him, and retired 
 to Thebes, where the two friends together ended their days. 
 The inhabitants still point out their tombs, which are in full 
 view of one another, but one looks towards Corinth, the other 
 not. Tradition says that the two friends arranged them in this 
 way, Diocles out of horror at his misfortunes, so that the land 
 of Corinth might not be visible from his tomb ; Philolaus that 
 it might. This is the reason why they settled at Thebes, and so 
 Philolaus legislated for the Thebans, and, besides some other 
 enactments, gave them laws about the procreation of children, 
 which they call the " Laws of Adoption." These laws were pe- 
 culiar to him, and were intended to preserve the number of the 
 lots. 
 
 In the legislation of Charondas there is nothing remarkable, 
 except the laws about false witnesses. He is the first who insti- 
 tuted actions for perjury. His laws are more exact and more 
 precisely expressed than even those of our modern legislators. 
 
 Characteristic of Phaleas is the equalization of property ; of 
 Plato, the community of women, children, and property, the 
 common meals of women, and the law about drinking, that the 
 sober shall be masters of the feast ; * also the training of soldiers 
 to acquire by practice equal skill with both hands, so that one 
 should be as useful as the other.* 
 
 Draco has left laws, but he adapted them to a constitution 
 which already existed, and there is no peculiarity in them which 
 is worth mentioning, except the greatness and severity of the 
 punishments. 
 
 Pittacus, too, was only a lawgiver, and not the author of a 
 constitution ; he has a law which is peculiar to him, that, if a 
 drunken man strike another, he shall be more heavily punished 
 than if he were sober : he looked not to the excuse which 
 might be offered for the drunkard, but only to expediency, for 
 drunken more often than sober people commit acts of violence. 
 
 Androdamas of Rhegium gave laws to the Chalcidians of 
 Thrace. Some of them relate to homicide, and to heiresses; 
 but there is nothing remarkable in them. 
 
 And here let us conclude our inquiry into the various consti- 
 tutions which either actually exist, or have been devised by 
 theorists. 
 
 f Cp. Laws, ii. 671 0-672 A. t Ibid. vii. 794 a 
 
 u Cp. N. Eth. iii. 5. 8.
 
 BOOK III 
 
 HE who would inquire into the nature and various kinds 
 of government must first of all determine " What is a 
 State ? " At present this is a disputed question. Some 
 say that the State has done a certain act ; others, no, not the State, 
 but the oligarchy or the tyrant. And the legislator or statesman 
 is concerned entirely with the State ; a constitution or govern- 
 ment being an arrangement of the inhabitants of a State. But a 
 State is composite, and, like any other whole, made up of many 
 parts; these are the citizens, who compose it. It is evident, 
 therefore, that we must begin by asking, Who is the citizen, 
 and what is the meaning of the term? For here again there 
 may be a difference of opinion. He who is a citizen in a de- 
 mocracy will often not be a citizen in an oligarchy. Leaving 
 out of consideration those who have been made citizens, or who 
 have obtained the name of citizen in any other accidental man- 
 ner, we may say, first, that a citizen is not a citizen because he 
 lives in a certain place, for resi'dent aliens and slaves share in 
 the place; nor is he a citizen who has no legal right except 
 that of suing and being sued ; for this right may be enjoyed 
 under the provisions of a treaty. Even resident aliens in many 
 places possess such rights, although in an imperfect form ; for 
 they are obliged to have a patron. Hence they do but imper- 
 fectly participate in citizenship, and we call them citizens only 
 in a qualified sense, as we might apply the term to children who 
 are too young to be on the register, or to old men who have 
 been relieved from State duties. Of these we do not say simply 
 that they are citizens, but add in the one case that they are 
 not of age, and in the other, that they are past the age, or some- 
 thing of that sort; the precise expression is immaterial, for 
 our meaning is clear. Similar difficulties to those which I have 
 mentioned may be raised and answered about deprived citizens 
 and about exiles. But the citizen, whom we are seeking to 
 define, is a citizen in the strictest sense, against whom no such 
 exception can to taken, and his special characteristic is that he 
 
 54
 
 THE POLITICS 55 
 
 shares in the administration of justice, and in offices. Now of 
 offices some have a limit of time, and the same persons are not 
 allowed to hold them twice, or can only hold them after a fixed 
 interval ; others have no limit of time for example, the office 
 of dicast or ecclesiast.o It may, indeed, be argued that these 
 are not magistrates at all, and that their functions give them no 
 share in the government. But surely it is ridiculous to say 
 that those who have the supreme power do not govern. Not 
 to dwell further upon this, which is a purely verbal question, 
 what we want is a common term including both dicast and ec- 
 clesiast. Let us, for the sake of distinction, call it " indefinite 
 office," and we will assume that those who share in such office 
 are citizens. This is the most comprehensive definition of a 
 citizen, and best suits all those who are generally so called. 
 
 But we must not forget that things of which the underlying 
 notions differ in kind, one of them being first, another second, 
 another third, have, when regarded in this relation, nothing, or 
 hardly anything, w 7 orth mentioning in common. Now we see 
 that governments differ in kind, and that some of them are 
 prior and that others are posterior; those which are faulty or 
 perverted are necessarily posterior to those which are perfect. 
 (What we mean by perversion will be hereafter explained.) 
 The citizen then of necessity dfffers under each form of gov- 
 ernment; and our definition is best adapted to the citizen of a 
 democracy ; but not necessarily to other States. For in some 
 States the people are not acknowledged, nor have they any 
 regular assembly, but only extraordinary ones; and suits are 
 distributed in turn among the magistrates. At Lacedaemon, 
 for instance, the Ephors determine suits about contracts, which 
 they distribute among themselves, while the elders are judges of 
 homicide, and other causes are decided by other magistrates. 
 A similar principle prevails at Carthage ; there certain magis- 
 trates decide all causes. We may, indeed, modify our definition 
 of the citizen so as to include these States. [But strictly taken 
 it only applies in democracies.] In other States it is the holder 
 of a definite, not of an indefinite office, who legislates and 
 judges, and to some or all such holders of definite offices is re- 
 served the right of deliberating or judging about some things 
 or about all things. The conception of the citizen now begins to 
 clear up. 
 
 a " Dicast " = juryman and judge in one: " ecclesiast " = member 
 of the Ecclesia, or assembly of the citizens.
 
 5 6 ARISTOTLE 
 
 He who has the power to take part in the deliberative or 
 judicial administration of any State is said by us to be a citizen 
 of that State ; and speaking generally, a State is a body of citi- 
 zens sufficing for the purposes of life. 
 
 But in practice a citizen is defined to be one of whom both 
 the parents are citizens; others insist on going further back; 
 say to two or three or more grandparents. This is a short and 
 practical definition; but there are some who raise the further 
 question: How this third or fourth ancestor came to be a 
 citizen? Gorgias of Leontini, partly because he was in a diffi- 
 culty, partly in irony, said, " Mortars are made by the mortar- 
 makers, and the citizens of Larissa are also a manufactured 
 article, made, like the kettles which bear their name \\apKrdloi], 
 by the magistrates."** Yet the question is really simple, for, 
 if according to the definition just given they shared in the 
 government, they were citizens. [This is a better definition 
 than the other.] For the words, " born of a father or mother, 
 who is a citizen," cannot possibly apply to the first inhabitants 
 or founders of a State. 
 
 There is a greater difficulty in the case of those who have 
 been made citizens after a revolution, as by Cleisthenes at 
 Athens after the expulsion of the tyrants, for he enrolled in 
 tribes a number of strangers and slaves and resident aliens. 
 The doubt in these cases is, not who is, but whether he, who 
 is, ought to be a citizen ; and there will still be a further doubt, 
 whether he who ought not to be a citizen, is one in fact, for 
 what ought not to be is what is false and is not. Now, there 
 are some who hold office, and yet ought not to hold office, whom 
 we call rulers, although they rule unjustly. And the citizen 
 was defined by the fact of his holding some kind of rule or 
 office he who holds a judicial or legislative office fulfils our 
 definition of a citizen. It is evident, therefore, that the citi- 
 zens about whom the doubt has arisen must be called citizens ; 
 whether they ought to be so or not is a question which is bound 
 up with the previous inquiry. 
 
 A parallel question is raised respecting the State whether 
 a certain act is or is not an act of the State ; for example, in 
 the transition from an oligarchy or a tyranny to a democracy. 
 In such cases persons refuse to fulfil their contracts or any 
 
 b An untranslatable play upon the word 8iyuov/>7of, which means 
 either " a magistrate " or " an artisan."
 
 THE POLITICS 57 
 
 other obligations, on the ground that the tyrant, and not the 
 State, contracted them ; they argue that some constitutions 
 are established by force, and not for the sake of the common 
 good. But this would apply equally to democracies, for they 
 too may be founded on violence, and then the acts of the de- 
 mocracy will be neither more nor less legitimate than those 
 of an oligarchy or of a tyranny. This question runs up into 
 another: when shall we say that the State is the same, and 
 when different? It would be a very superficial view which 
 considered only the place and the inhabitants ; for the soil and 
 the population may be separated, and some of the inhabitants 
 may live in one place and some in another. This, however, is 
 not a very serious difficulty; we need only remark that the 
 word " state " is ambiguous, meaning both State and city. 
 
 It is further ask d : When are men, living in the same place, 
 to be regarded as a single city what is the limit? Certainly 
 not the wall of the city, for you might surround all Pelopon- 
 nesus with a wall. But a city, having such vast circuit, would 
 contain a nation rather than a State, like Babylon, which, as 
 they say, had been taken for three days before some part of 
 the inhabitants became aware of the fact. This difficulty may, 
 however, with advantage be deferred to another occasion ; the 
 statesman has to consider the size of the State, and whether 
 it should consist of more than one nation or not. 
 
 Again, shall we say that while the race of inhabitants, as 
 well as their place of abode, remain the same, the city is also 
 the same, although the citizens are always dying and being 
 born, as we call rivers and fountains the same, although the 
 water is always flowing away and coming again? Or shall 
 we say that the generations of men, like the rivers, are the same, 
 but that the State changes? For, since the State is a com- 
 munity and a community is made up of citizens, when the form 
 of the government changes and becomes different, then it 
 may be supposed that the State is no longer the same, just as 
 a tragic differs from a comic chorus, although the members 
 of both may be identical. And in this manner we speak of 
 every union or composition of elements, when the form of 
 their composition alters; for example, harmony of the same 
 sounds is said to be different, accordingly as the Dorian or the 
 Phrygian mode is employed. And if this is true it is evident 
 that the sameness of the State consists chiefly in the sameness
 
 5 8 ARISTOTLE 
 
 of the constitution, and may be called or not called by the 
 same name, whether the inhabitants are the same or entirely 
 different. It is quite another question, whether a State ought 
 or ought not to fulfil engagements when the form of govern- 
 ment changes. 
 
 There is a point nearly allied to the preceding: Whether 
 the virtue 'of a good man and a good citizen is the same or 
 not.c But, before entering on this discussion, we must first 
 obtain some general notion of the virtue of the citizen. Like 
 the sailor, the citizen is a member of a community. Now, 
 sailors have different functions, for one of them is a rower, 
 another a pilot, and a third a lookout man, a fourth is de- 
 scribed by some similar term ; and while the precise definition 
 of each individual's virtue applies exclusively to him, there 
 is, at the same time, a common definition applicable to them 
 all. For they have all of them a common object, which is 
 safety in navigation. Similarly, one citizen differs from an- 
 other, but the salvation of the community is the common busi- 
 ness of them all. This community is the State; the virtue of 
 the citizen must therefore be relative to the constitution of 
 which he is a member. If, then, there are many forms of gov- 
 ernment, it is evident that the virtue of the good citizen can- 
 not be the one perfect virtue. But we say that the good man 
 is he who has perfect virtue. Hence it is evident that the good 
 citizen need not of necessity possess the virtue which makes a 
 good man. 
 
 The same question may also be approached by another road, 
 from a consideration of the perfect State. If the State can- 
 not be entirely composed of good men, and etch citizen is 
 expected to do his own business well, and must therefore have 
 virtue, inasmuch as all the citizens cannot be alike, the virtue 
 of the citizen and of the good man cannot coincide. All must 
 have the virtue of the good citizen thus, and thus only, can 
 the State be perfect ; but they will not have the virtue of a good 
 man, unless we assume that in the good State all the citizens 
 must be good. 
 
 Again, the State may be compared to the living being: as 
 
 the first elements into which the living being is resolved are 
 
 soul and body, as the soui is made up of reason and appetite, 
 
 the family of husband and wife, property of master and slave, 
 
 c Cp. N. Eth. v. 2, ii.
 
 THE POLITICS 59 
 
 so out of all these, as well as other dissimilar elements, the 
 State is composed ; and, therefore, the virtue of all the citizens 
 cannot possibly be the same, any more than the excellence of 
 the leader of a chorus is the same as that of the performer who 
 stands by his side. I have said enough to show why the two 
 kinds of virtue cannot be absolutely and always the same. 
 
 But will there then be no case in which the virtue of the 
 good citizen and the virtue of the good man coincide? To 
 this we answer [not that the good citizen, but] that the good 
 ruler is a good and wise man, and that he who would be a 
 statesman must be a wise man. And some persons say that 
 even the education of the ruler should be of a special kind ; 
 for are not the children of kings instructed in riding and mili- 
 tary exercises? As Euripides says: 
 
 " No subtle arts for me, but what the State requires." 
 
 As though there were a special education needed by a ruler. 
 If then the virtue of a good ruler is the same as that of a good 
 man, and we assume further that the subject is a citizen as 
 well as the ruler, the virtue of the good citizen and the virtue 
 of the good man cannot be always the same, although in some 
 cases [i.e. in the perfect State] they may; for the virtue of a 
 ruler differs from that of a citizen. It was the sense of this 
 difference which made Jason say that " he felt hungry when 
 he was not a tyrant," meaning that he could not endure to live 
 in a private station. But, on the other hand, it may be argued 
 that men are praised for knowing both how to rule and how 
 to obey, and he is said to be a citizen of approved virtue who 
 is able to do both. Now if we suppose the virtue of a good 
 man to be that which rules, and the virtue of the citizen to 
 include ruling and obeying, it cannot be said that they are 
 equally worthy of praise. Seeing, then, that according to 
 common opinion the ruler and the ruled must at some time or 
 other learn the duties of both, but that what they learn is 
 different, and that the citizen must know and share in them 
 both ; the inference is obvious.^ There is, indeed, the rule of 
 a master which is concerned with menial offices the master 
 need not know how to perform these, but may employ others 
 in the execution of them : anything else would be degrading ; 
 
 d Viz., that some kind of previous subjection is an advantage to the 
 ruler.
 
 60 ARISTOTLE 
 
 and by anything else I mean the menial duties which vary 
 much in character and are executed by various classes of slaves, 
 such, for example, as handicraftsmen, who, as their name sig- 
 nifies, live by the labor of their hands: under these the me- 
 chanic is included. Hence in ancient times, and among some 
 nations, the working classes had no share in the government 
 a privilege which they only acquired under the extreme 
 democracy. Certainly the good man and the statesman and 
 the good citizen ought not to learn the crafts of inferiors ex- 
 cept for their own occasional use; if they habitually practise 
 them, there will cease to be a distinction between master and 
 slave. 
 
 This is not the rule of which we are speaking; but there 
 is a rule of another kind, which is exercised over freemen and 
 equals by birth a constitutional rule, which the ruler must 
 learn by obeying, as he would learn the duties of a general of 
 cavalry by being under the orders of a general of cavalry, or 
 the duties of a general of infantry by being under the orders 
 of a general of infantry, or by having had the command of a 
 company or brigade. It has been well said that " he who has 
 never learned to obey cannot be a good commander." The 
 two are not the same, but the good citizen ought to be capable 
 of both ; he should know how to govern like a freeman, and 
 how to obey like a freeman these are the virtues of a citizen. 
 And, although the temperance and justice of a ruler are dis- 
 tinct from those of a subject, the virtue of a good man will 
 include both; for the good man, who is free and also a sub- 
 ject, will not have one virtue only, say justice but he will 
 have distinct kinds of virtue, the one qualifying him to rule, 
 the other to obey, and differing as the temperance and courage 
 of men and women differ. For a man would be thought a 
 coward if he had no more courage than a courageous woman, 
 and a woman would be thought loquacious if she imposed no 
 more restraint on her conversation than a good man ; and in- 
 deed their part in the management of the household is differ- 
 ent, for the duty of the one is to acquire, and of the other to 
 preserve. Practical wisdom only is characteristic of the ruler : 
 it would seem that all other virtues must equally belong to 
 ruler and subject. The virtue of the subject is certainly not 
 wisdom, but only true opinion ; he may be compared to the 
 e Cp. Rep. iv. 428.
 
 THE POLITICS 61 
 
 maker of the flute, while his master is like the flute-player or 
 user of the fluted 
 
 From these considerations may be gathered the answer to 
 the question, whether the virtue of the good man is the same 
 as that of the good citizen, or different, and how far the same, 
 and how far different. 
 
 There still remains one more question about the citizen: Is 
 he only a true citizen who has a share of office, or is the me- 
 chanic to be included? If they who hold no office are to be 
 deemed citizens, not every citizen can have this virtue of rul- 
 ing and obeying which makes a citizen. And if none of the 
 lower class are citizens, in which part of the State are they to 
 be placed ? For they are not resident aliens, and they are not 
 foreigners. To this objection may we not reply, that there 
 is no more absurdity in excluding them than in excluding 
 slaves and f reedmen from any of the above-mentioned classes ? 
 It must be admitted that we cannot consider all those to be 
 citizens who are necessary to the existence of the State; for 
 example, children are not citizens equally with grown up men, 
 who are citizens absolutely, but children, not being grown up, 
 are only citizens in a qualified sense. Doubtless in ancient 
 times, and among some nations, the artisan class were slaves 
 or foreigners, and therefore the majority of them are so now. 
 The best form of State will not admit them to citizenship ; but 
 if they are admitted, then our definition of the virtue of a 
 citizen will apply to some citizens and freemen only, and not 
 to those who work for their living. The latter class, to whom 
 toil is a necessity, are either slaves who minister to the wants 
 of individuals, or mechanics and laborers who are the servants 
 of the community. These reflections carried a little further 
 will explain their position; and indeed what has been said 
 already is of itself explanation enough. 
 
 Since there are many forms of government there must be 
 many varieties of citizens, and especially of citizens who are 
 subjects; so that under some governments the mechanic and 
 the laborer will be citizens, but not in others, as, for example, 
 in aristocracy or the so-called government of the best (if there 
 be such a one), in which honors are given according to virtue 
 and merit; for no man can practice virtue who is living the 
 life of a mechanic or laborer. In oligarchies the qualification 
 / Cp. Rep. x. 60 1 D, E.
 
 6a ARISTOTLE 
 
 for office is high, and therefore no laborer can ever be a citi- 
 zen; but a mechanic may, for many of them are rich. At 
 Thebes there was a law that no man could hold office who had 
 not retired from business for ten years. In many States the 
 law goes to the length of admitting aliens ; for in some de- 
 mocracies a man is a citizen though his mother only be a citi- 
 zen [and his father an alien] ; and a similar principle is ap- 
 plied to illegitimate children; the law is relaxed when there 
 is a dearth of population. But when the number of citizens 
 increases, first the children of a male or a female slave are 
 excluded; then those whose mothers only are citizens; and 
 at last the right of citizenship is confined to those whose fathers 
 and mothers are both citizens. 
 
 Hence, as is evident, there are different kinds of citizens; 
 and he is a citizen in the highest sense who shares in the 
 honors of the State. In the poems of Homer Achilles com- 
 plains of Agamemnon treating him " like some dishonored 
 stranger " ; g for he who is excluded from the honors of the 
 State is no better than an alien. But when this exclusion is 
 concealed, then the object is that the privileged class may de- 
 ceive their fellow-citizens. 
 
 As to the question whether the virtue of the good man is 
 the same as that of the good citizen, the considerations already 
 adduced prove that in some States the two are the same, and 
 in others different. When they are the same it is not the vir- 
 tue of every citizen which is the same as that of the good man, 
 but only the virtue of the statesman and of those who have or 
 may have, alone or in conjunction with others, the conduct of 
 public affairs. 
 
 Having determined these questions, we have next to con- 
 sider whether there is only one form of government or many, 
 and if many, what they are, and how many, and what are the 
 differences between them. 
 
 A constitution is the arrangement of magistracies in a State, 
 especially of the highest of all. The government is every- 
 where sovereign in the State, and the constitution is in fact 
 the government. For example, in democracies the people are 
 supreme, but in oligarchies, the few; and, therefore, we say 
 that these two forms of government are different : and so in 
 other cases. 
 
 gll. ix. 648.
 
 THE POLITICS % 63 
 
 First, let us consider what is the purpose of a State, and 
 how many forms of government there are by which human 
 society is regulated. We have already said, in the former part 
 of this treatise, when drawing a distinction between house- 
 hold management and the rule of a master, that man is by 
 nature a political animal. And, therefore, men, even when they 
 do not require one another's help, desire to live together all 
 the same, and are in fact brought together by their common 
 interests in proportion as they severally attain to any measure 
 of well-being. This is certainly the chief end ; both of indi- 
 viduals and of States. And also for the sake of mere life (in 
 which there is possibly some noble element) mankind meet 
 together and maintain the political community, so long as the 
 evils of existence do not greatly overbalance the good.fr And 
 we all see that men cling to life even in the midst of misfortune, 
 seeming to find in it a natural sweetness and happiness. 
 
 There is no difficulty in distinguishing the various kinds of 
 authority; they have been often defined already in popular 
 works. The rule of a master, although the slave by nature 
 and the master by nature have in reality the same interests, is 
 nevertheless exercised primarily with a view to the interest of 
 the master, but accidentally considers the slave, since, if the 
 slave perish, the rule of the master perishes with him. On 
 the other hand, the government of a wife and children and of 
 a household, which we have called household management, is 
 exercised in the first instance for the good of the governed or 
 for the common good of both parties, but essentially for the 
 good of the governed, as we see to be the case in medicine, 
 gymnastic, and the arts in general, which are only accidentally 
 concerned with the good of the artists themselves.* ( For there 
 is no reason why the trainer may not sometimes practise gym- 
 nastics, and the pilot is always one of the crew.) The trainer 
 or the pilot considers the good of those committed to his care. 
 But, when he is one of the persons taken care of, he acci- 
 dentally participates in the advantage, for the pilot is also a 
 sailor, and the trainer becomes one of those in training. And 
 so in politics: when the State is framed upon the principle 
 of equality and likeness, the citizens think that they ought to 
 hold office by turns. In the order of nature everyone would 
 take his turn of service ; and then again, somebody else would 
 
 h Cp. Plato, Polit. 302 A. i Cp. PI. Rep. i. 341 a
 
 64 ARISTOTLE 
 
 look after his interest, just as he, while in office, had looked 
 after theirs. [That was originally the way.] But nowa- 
 days, for the sake of the advantage which is to be gained from 
 the public revenues and from office, men want to be always in 
 office. One might imagine that the rulers, being sickly, were 
 only kept in health while they continued in office ; in that case 
 we may be sure that they would be hunting after places. The 
 conclusion is evident : that governments, which have a regard 
 to the common interest, are constituted in accordance with 
 strict principles of justice, and are therefore true forms; but 
 those which regard only the interest of the rulers are all de- 
 fective and perverted forms, for they are despotic, whereas a 
 State is a community of freemen. 
 
 Having determined these points, we have next to consider 
 how many forms of government there are, and what they are ; 
 and in the first place what are the true forms, for when they 
 are determined the perversions of them will at once be ap- 
 parent. The words " constitution " and " government " have 
 the same meaning, and the government, which is the supreme 
 authority in States, must be in the hands of one, or of a few, 
 or of many. The true forms of government, therefore, are 
 those in which the one, or the few, or the many, govern with 
 a view to the common interest ; but governments which rule 
 with a view to the private interest, whether of the one, or of 
 the few, or of the many, are perversions.;' For citizens, if they 
 are truly citizens, ought to participate in the advantages of a 
 State. Of forms of government in which one rules, we call 
 that which regards the common interests, kingship or royalty; 
 that in which more than one, but not many, rule, aristocracy 
 [the rule of the best] ; and it is so called, either because the 
 rulers are the best men, or because they have at heart the best 
 interests of the State and of the citizens. But when the citi- 
 zens at large administer the State for the common interest, 
 the government is called by the generic name a constitution 
 [TroXtreta]. And there is a reason for this use of language. 
 One man or a few may excel in virtue ; but of virtue there are 
 many kinds : and as the number increases it becomes more 
 difficult for them to attain perfection in very kind, though they 
 may in military virtue, for this is found in the masses. Hence, in 
 a constitutional government the fighting-men have the supreme 
 power, and those who possess arms are the citizens. 
 j Cp. Eth. viii. 10.
 
 THE POLITICS 6$ 
 
 Of the above-mentioned forms, the perversions are as fol- 
 lows : of royalty, tyranny ; of aristocracy, oligarchy ; of con- 
 stitutional government, democracy. For tyranny is a kind of 
 monarchy which has in view the interest of the monarch only ; 
 oligarchy has in view the interest of the wealthy; democracy, 
 of the needy : none of them the common good of all. 
 
 But there are difficulties about these forms of government, 
 and it will therefore be necessary to state a little more at length 
 the nature of each of them. For he who would make a philo- 
 sophical study of the various sciences, and does not regard 
 practice only, ought not to overlook or omit anything, but to 
 set forth the truth in every particular. Tyranny, as I was say- 
 ing, is monarchy exercising the rule of a master over political 
 society; oligarchy is when men of property have the govern- 
 ment in their hands; democracy, the opposite, when the in- 
 digent, and not the men of property, are the rulers. And 
 here arises the first of our difficulties, and it relates to the defini- 
 tion just given. For democracy is said to be the government of 
 the many. But what if the many are men of property and 
 have the power in their hands? In like manner oligarchy is 
 said to be the government of the few ; but what if the poor 
 are fewer than the rich, and have the power in their hands 
 because they are stronger? In these cases the distinction which 
 we have drawn between these different forms of government 
 would no longer hold good. 
 
 Suppose, once more, that we add wealth to the few and 
 poverty to the many, and name the governments accordingly 
 an oligarchy is said to be that in which the few and the wealthy, 
 and a democracy that in which the many and the poor are 
 the rulers there will still be a difficulty. For, if the only forms 
 of government are the ones already mentioned, how shall we 
 describe those other governments also just mentioned by us, 
 in which the rich are the more numerous and the poor are 
 the fewer, and both govern in their respective States? 
 
 The argument seems to show that, whether in oligarchies 
 or in democracies, the number of the governing body, whether 
 the greater number, as in a democracy, or the smaller number, 
 as in an oligarchy, is an accident due to the fact that the rich 
 everywhere are few, and the poor numerous. But if so, there 
 is a misapprehension of the causes of the difference between 
 them. For the real difference between democracy and oli- 
 5
 
 66 ARISTOTLE 
 
 garchy is poverty and wealth. Wherever men rule by reason 
 of their wealth, whether they be few or many, that is an oli- 
 garchy, and where the poor rule, that is a democracy. But 
 as a fact the rich are few and the poor many: for few are 
 well-to-do, whereas freedom is enjoyed by all, and wealth and 
 freedom are the grounds on which the oligarchical and demo- 
 cratical parties respectively claim power in the State. 
 
 Let us begin by considering the common definitions of oli- 
 garchy and democracy, and what is justice oligarchical and 
 democratical. For all men cling to justice of some kind, but 
 their conceptions are imperfect and they do not express the 
 whole idea. For example, justice is thought by them to be, 
 and is, equality, not, however, for all, but only for equals. And 
 inequality is thought to be, and is, justice; neither is this for 
 all, but only for unequals. When the persons are omitted, then 
 men judge erroneously. The reason is that they are passing 
 judgment on themselves, and most people are bad judges in 
 their own case. And whereas justice implies a relation to per- 
 sons as well as to things, and a just distribution, as I have 
 already said in the " Ethics," embraces alike persons and things, 
 they acknowledge the equality of the things, but dispute about 
 the merit of the persons, chiefly for the reason which I have 
 just given because they are bad judges in their own affairs ; 
 and secondly, because both the parties to the argument are 
 speaking of a limited and partial justice, but imagine them- 
 selves to be speaking of absolute justice. For those who are 
 unequal in one respect, for example wealth, consider them- 
 selves to be unequal in all; and any who are equal in one 
 respect, for example freedom, consider themselves to be equal 
 in all. But they leave out the capital point. For if men met 
 and associated out of regard to wealth only, their share in 
 the State would be proportioned to their property, and the 
 oligarchical doctrine would then seem to carry the day. It 
 would not be just that he who paid one mina should have the 
 same share of a hundred minae, whether of the principal or 
 of the profits, as he who paid the remaining ninety-nine. But 
 a State exists for the sake of a good life, and not for the sake 
 of life only: if life only were the object, slaves and brute 
 animals might form a State, but they cannot, for they have no 
 share in happiness or in a life of free choice. Nor does a State 
 k Nicom. Ethics, v. 3, 4.
 
 THE POLITICS 67 
 
 exist for the sake of alliance and security from injustice, nor 
 yet for the sake of exchange and mutual intercourse ; for then 
 the Tyrrhenians and the Carthaginians, and all who have com- 
 mercial treaties with one another, would be the citizens of one 
 State. True, they have agreements about imports, and en- 
 gagements that they will do no wrong to one another, and 
 written articles of alliance. But there are no magistracies com- 
 mon to the contracting parties who will enforce their engage- 
 ments ; different States have each their own magistracies. Nor 
 does one State take care that the citizens of the other are such 
 as they ought to be, nor see that those who come under the 
 terms of the treaty do no wrong or wickedness at all, but only 
 that they do no injustice to one another. Whereas, those who 
 care for good government take into consideration [the larger 
 question of] virtue and vice in States. Whence it may be 
 further inferred that virtue must be the serious care of a State 
 which truly deserves the name: for [without this ethical end] 
 the community becomes a mere alliance which differs only in 
 place from alliances of which the members live apart ; and law 
 is only a convention, " a surety to one another of justice," as 
 the sophist Lycophron says, and has no real power to make the 
 citizens good and just. 
 
 This is obvious ; for suppose distinct places, such as Corinth 
 and Megara, to be united by a wall, still they would not be one 
 city, not even if the citizens had the right to intermarry, which 
 is one of the rights peculiarly characteristic of States. Again, 
 if men dwelt at a distance from one another, but -not so far 
 off as to have no intercourse, and there were laws among them 
 that they should not wrong each other in their exchanges, 
 neither would this be a State. Let us suppose that one man is 
 a carpenter, another a husbandman, another a shoemaker, and 
 so on, and that their number is ten thousand: nevertheless, 
 if they have nothing in common but exchange, alliance, and 
 the like, that would not constitute a State. Why is this? 
 Surely not because they are at a distance from one another: 
 for even supposing that such a community were to meet in one 
 place, and that each man had a house of his own, which was 
 in a manner his State, and that they made alliance with one 
 another, but only against evil-doers; still an accurate thinker 
 would not deem this to be a State, if their intercourse with one 
 another was of the same character after as before their union.
 
 68 ARISTOTLE 
 
 It is clear then that a State is not a mere society, having a 
 common place, established for the prevention of crime and for 
 the sake of exchange. These are conditions without which a 
 State cannot exist; but all of them together do not constitute 
 a State, which is a community of well-being in families and 
 aggregations of families, for the sake of a perfect and self- 
 sufficing life. Such a community can only be established among 
 those who live in the same place and intermarry. Hence arise 
 in cities family connections, brotherhoods, common sacrifices, 
 amusements which draw men together. They are created by 
 friendship, for friendship is the motive of society. The end 
 is the good life, and these are the means towards it. And the 
 State is the union of families and villages having for an end 
 a perfect and self-sufficing life, by which we mean a happy 
 and honorable life./ 
 
 Our conclusion, then, is that political society exists for the 
 sake of noble actions, and not of mere companionship. And 
 they who contribute most to such a society have a greater 
 share in it than those who have the same or a greater freedom 
 or nobility of birth but are inferior to them in political virtue ; 
 or than those who exceed them in wealth but are surpassed 
 by them in virtue. 
 
 From what has been said it will be clearly seen that all the 
 partisans of different forms of government speak of a part 
 of justice only. 
 
 There is also a doubt as to what is to be the supreme power 
 in the State: Is it the multitude? Or the wealthy? Or the 
 good? Or the one best man? Or a tyrant? Any of these 
 alternatives seems to involve disagreeable consequences. If 
 the poor, for example, because they are more in number, divide 
 among themselves the property of the rich is not this unjust? 
 No, by heaven (will be the reply), for the lawful authority 
 [i.e. the people] willed it. But if this is not injustice, pray 
 what is? Again, when [in the first division] all has been 
 taken, and the majority divide anew the property of the 
 minority, is it not evident, if this goes on, that they will ruin 
 the State? Yet surely, virtue is not the ruin of those who 
 possess her, nor is justice destructive of a State ; " and there- 
 fore this law of confiscation clearly cannot be just. If it 
 were, all the acts of a tyrant must of necessity be just; for 
 
 / N. Eth. i. 7, 6. m Cp. Plato Rep. i., 351, 352.
 
 THE POLITICS 69 
 
 he only coerces other men by superior power, just as the multi- 
 tude coerce the rich. But is it just then that the few and the 
 wealthy should be the rulers? And what if they, in like 
 manner, rob and plunder the people is this just? If so, the 
 other case [i.e. the case of the majority plundering the minor- 
 ity] will likewise be just. But there can be no doubt that all 
 these things are wrong and unjust. 
 
 Then ought the good to rule and have supreme power? But 
 in that case everybody else, being excluded from power, will 
 be dishonored. For the offices of a State are posts of honor; 
 and if one set of men always hold them, the rest must be de- 
 prived of them. Then will it be well that the one best man 
 should rule ? Nay, that is still more oligarchical, for the num- 
 ber of those who are dishonored is thereby increased. Some 
 one may say that it is bad for a man, subject as he is to all the 
 accidents of human passion, to have the supreme power, rather 
 than the law. But what if the law itself be democratical or oli- 
 garchical, how will that help us out of our difficulties? Not 
 at all ; the same consequences will follow. 
 
 Most of these questions may be reserved for another oc- 
 casion. The principle that the multitude ought to be supreme 
 rather than the few best is capable of a satisfactory explanation, 
 and, though not free from difficulty, yet seems to contain an 
 element of truth. For the many, of whom each individual is 
 but an ordinary person, when they meet together may very 
 likely be better than the few good, if regarded not individu- 
 ally but collectively, just as a feast to which many contribute is 
 better than a dinner provided out of a single purse. For each 
 individual among the many has a share of virtue and prudence, 
 and when they meet together they become in a manner one man, 
 who has many feet, and hands, and senses; that is a figure 
 of their mind and disposition. Hence the many are better 
 judges than a single man of music and poetry ; for some under- 
 stand one part, and some another, and among them, they 
 understand the whole. There is a similar combination of quali- 
 ties in good men, who differ from any individual of the many, 
 as the beautiful are said to differ from those who are not 
 beautiful, and works of art from realities, because in them the 
 scattered elements are combined, although, if taken separately, 
 the eye of one person or some other feature in another person 
 would be fairer than in the picture. Whether this principle
 
 7 o ARISTOTLE 
 
 can apply to every democracy, and to all bodies of men, is not 
 clear. Or rather, by heaven, in some cases it is impossible of 
 application ; for the argument would equally hold about brutes ; 
 and wherein, it will be asked, do some men differ from brutes? 
 But there may be bodies of men about whom our statement 
 is nevertheless true. And if so, the difficulty which has been 
 already raised, and also another which is akin to it viz., what 
 power should be assigned to the mass of freemen and citizens, 
 who are not rich and have no personal merit are both solved. 
 There is still a danger in allowing them to share the great 
 offices of State, for their folly will lead them into error, and 
 their dishonesty into crime. But there is a danger also in not 
 letting them share, for a State in which many poor men are 
 excluded from office will necessarily be full of enemies. The 
 only way of escape is to assign to them some deliberative and 
 judicial functions. For this reason Solon and certain other 
 legislators give them the power of electing to offices, and of 
 calling the magistrates to account, but they do not allow them 
 to hold office single. When they meet together their perceptions 
 are quite good enough, and combined with the better class they 
 are useful to the State (just as impure food when mixed with 
 what is pure sometimes makes the entire mass more whole- 
 some than a small quantity cf the pure would be), but each 
 individual, left to himself, forms an imperfect judgment. On 
 the other hand, the popular form of government involves cer- 
 tain difficulties. In the first place, it might be objected that 
 he who can judge of the healing of the sick man would be one 
 who could himself heal his disease, and make him whole 
 that is, in other words, the physician ; and so in all professions 
 and arts. As, then, the physician ought to be called to account 
 by physicians, so ought men in general to be called to account 
 by their peers. But physicians are of three kinds : there is the 
 apothecary, and there is the physician of the higher class, and 
 thirdly the intelligent man who has studied the art: in all 
 arts there is such a class ; and we attribute the power of judg- 
 ing to them quite as much as to professors of the art. Now, 
 does not the same principle apply to elections? For a right 
 election can only be made by those who have knowledge; a 
 geometrician, for example, will choose rightly in matters of 
 geometry, or a pilot in matters of steering ; and, even if there 
 be some occupations and arts with which private persons are
 
 THE POLITICS 71 
 
 familiar, they certainly cannot judge better than those who 
 know. So that, according to this argument, neither the elec- 
 tion of magistrates, nor the calling of them to account, should 
 be intrusted to the many. Yet possibly these objections are 
 to a great extent met by our old answer, that if the people 
 are not utterly degraded, although individually they may be 
 worse judges than those who have special knowledge as a 
 body they are as good or better. Moreover, there are some 
 artists whose works are judged of solely, or in the best manner, 
 not by themselves, but by those who do not possess the art; 
 for example, the knowledge of the house is not limited to the 
 builder only; the user, or, in other words, the master, of the 
 house will even be a better judge than the builder, just as 
 the pilot will judge better of a rudder than the carpenter, and 
 the guest will judge better of a feast than the cook. 
 
 This difficulty seems now to be sufficiently answered, but 
 there is another akin to it. That inferior persons should have 
 authority in greater matters than the good would appear to 
 be a strange thing, yet the election and calling to account of 
 the magistrates is the greatest of all. And these, as I was say- 
 ing, are functions which in some States are assigned to the 
 people, for the assembly is supreme in all such matters. Yet 
 persons of any age, and having but a small property qualifica- 
 tion, sit in the Assembly and deliberate and judge, although 
 for the great officers of State, such as controllers and generals, 
 a high qualification is required. This difficulty may be solved 
 in the same manner as the preceding, and the present practice 
 of democracies may be really defensible. For the power does 
 not reside in the dicast, or Senator, or ecclesiast, but in the 
 court and the Senate, and the Assembly, of which individual 
 Senators, or ecclesiasts, or dicasts, are only parts or members. 
 And for this reason the many may claim to have a higher 
 authority than the few ; for the people, and the Senate, and the 
 courts consist of many persons, and their property collectively 
 is greater than the property of one or of a few individuals 
 holding great offices. But enough of this. 
 
 The discussion of the first question shows nothing so clearly 
 as that laws, when good, should be supreme; and that the 
 magistrate or magistrates should regulate those matters only 
 on which the laws are unable to speak with precision owing 
 to the difficulty of any general principle embracing all particu-
 
 72 ARISTOTLE 
 
 i 
 
 lars. But what are good laws has not yet been clearly ex- 
 plained ; the old difficulty remains. The goodness or badness, 
 justice or injustice, of laws is of necessity relative to the 
 constitutions of States. But if so, true forms of government 
 will of necessity have just laws, and perverted forms of gov- 
 ernment will have unjust laws. 
 
 In all sciences and arts the end is a good, and especially 
 and above all in the highest of all o this is the political science 
 of which the good is justice, in other words, the common in- 
 terest. All men think justice to be a sort of equality; and 
 to a certain extent they agree in the philosophical distinctions 
 which have been laid down by us about ethics./' For they 
 admit that justice is a thing having relation to persons, and 
 that equals ought to have equality. But there still remains a 
 question; equality or inequality of what? here is a difficulty 
 which the political philosopher has to resolve. For very likely 
 some persons will say that offices of State ought to be un- 
 equally distributed according to superior excellence, in what- 
 ever respect, of the citizen, although there is no other differ- 
 ence between him and the rest of the community; for that 
 those who differ in any one respect have different rights and 
 claims. But, surely, if this is true, the complexion or height 
 of a man, or any other advantage, will be a reason for his 
 obtaining a greater share of political rights. The error here 
 lies upon the surface, and may be illustrated from the other 
 arts and sciences. When a number of flute-players are equal 
 in their art, there is no reason why those of them who are 
 better born should have better flutes given to them ; for they 
 will not play any better on the flute, and the superior instru- 
 ment should be reserved for him who is the superior artist. If 
 what I am saying is still obscure, it will be made celarer as we 
 proceed. For if there were a superior flute-player who was 
 far inferior in birth and beauty, although either of these may 
 be a greater good than the art of flute-playing, and persons 
 gifted with these qualities may excel the flute-player in a 
 greater ratio than he excels them in his art, still he ought to 
 have the best flutes given to him, unless the advantages of 
 wealth and birth contribute to excellence in flute-playing, which 
 they do not. Moreover upon this principle any good may be 
 compared with any other. For if a given height, then height 
 
 n Cp. N. Eth. v. 10, 4. o N. Eth. i. i, 5 i. /> Cp. N. Eth. v- 3.
 
 THE POLITICS 73 
 
 in general may be measured either against height or against 
 freedom. Thus if A excels in height more than B in virtue, 
 and height in general is more excellent than virtue, all things 
 will be commensurable [which is absurd] ; for if a certain 
 magnitude is greater than some other, it is clear that some 
 other will be equal. But since no such comparison can be 
 made, it is evident that there is good reason why in politics 
 men do not ground their claim to office on every sort of in- 
 equality any more than in the arts. For if some be slow, and 
 others swift, that is no reason why the one should have little 
 and the others much; it is in gymnastic contests that such 
 excellence is rewarded. Whereas the rival claims of candi- 
 dates for office can only be based on the possession of ele- 
 ments which enter into the composition of a State [such as 
 wealth, virtue, etc.]. And therefore the noble, or free-born, 
 or rich, may with good reason claim office ; for holders of 
 offices must be freemen and taxpayers: a State can be no 
 more composed entirely of poor men than entirely of slaves. 
 But if wealth and freedom are necessary elements, justice 
 and valor are equally so; for without the former a State 
 cannot exist at all, without the latter not well. 
 
 If the existence of the State is alone to be considered, then 
 it would seem that all, or some at least, of these claims are 
 just ; but, if we take into account a good life, as I have already 
 said, education and virtue have superior claims. As, however, 
 those who are equal in one thing ought not to be equal in all, 
 nor those who are unequal in one thing to be unequal in all, 
 it is certain that all forms of government which rest on either 
 of these principles are perversions. All men have a claim in 
 a certain sense, as I have already admitted, but they have not 
 an absolute claim. The rich claim because they have a greater 
 share in the land, and land is the common element of the State ; 
 also they are generally more trustworthy in contracts. The 
 free claim under the same title as the noble ; for they are 
 nearly akin. And the noble are citizens in a truer sense than 
 the ignoble, since good birth is always valued in a man's own 
 home and country. Another reason is, that those who are 
 sprung from better ancestors are likely to be better men, for 
 nobility is excellence of race. Virtue, too, may be truly said 
 to have a claim, for justice has been acknowledged by us to 
 be a social virtue, and it implies all others.? Again, the many 
 g Cp. N. Eth. v. i, 15.
 
 74 ARISTOTLE 
 
 urge their claim against the few ; for, when taken collectively, 
 and compared with the few, they are stronger and richer and 
 better. But, what if the good, the rich, the noble, and the 
 other classes who make up a State, are all living together in 
 the same city, will there, or will there not, be any doubt who 
 shall rule? No doubt at all in determining who ought to rule 
 in each of the above-mentioned forms of government. For 
 States are characterized by differences in their governing 
 bodies one of them has a government of the rich, another 
 of the virtuous, and so on. But a difficulty arises when all 
 these elements coexist. How are we to decide? Suppose the 
 virtuous to be very few in number; may we consider their 
 numbers in relation to their duties, and ask whether they are 
 enough to administer a State, or must they be so many as will 
 make up a State? Objections may be urged against all the 
 aspirants to political power. For those who found their claims 
 on wealth or family have no basis of justice ; on this principle, 
 if any one person were richer than all the rest, it is clear 
 that he ought to be the ruler of them. In like manner he who 
 is very distinguished by his birth ought to have the superiority 
 over all those who claim on the ground that they are freeborn. 
 In an aristocracy, or government of the best, a like difficulty 
 occurs about virtue ; for if one citizen be better than the other 
 members of the government, however good they may be, he 
 too, upon the same principle of justice, should rule over them. 
 And if the people are to be supreme because they are stronger 
 than the few, then if one man, or more than one, but not a 
 majority, is stronger than the many, they ought to rule, and 
 not the many. 
 
 All these considerations appear to show that none of the 
 principles on which men claim to rule, and hold all other 
 men in subjection to them, are strictly right. To those who 
 claim to be masters of the State on the ground of their virtue 
 or their wealth, the many might fairly answer that they them- 
 selves are often better and richer than the few I do not say 
 individually, but collectively. And another ingenious objec- 
 tion which is sometimes put forward may be met in a similar 
 manner. Some persons doubt whether the legislator who de* 
 sires to make the justest laws ought to legislate with a view 
 to the good of the higher classes or of the many, when the 
 case which we have mentioned occurs [i.e. when all the ele-
 
 THE POLITICS 75 
 
 m Jiits coexist]. Now what is just or right is to be interpreted 
 in the sense of " what is equal " ; and that which is right in 
 the sense of being equal is to be considered with reference to 
 the advantage of the State, and the common good of the citi- 
 zens. And a citizen is one who shares in governing and being 
 governed. He differs under different forms of government, 
 but in the best State he is one who is able and willing to be 
 governed and to govern with a view to the life of virtue. 
 
 If, however, there be some one person, or more than one, 
 although not enough to make up the full complement of a 
 State, whose virtue is so pre-eminent that the virtues or the 
 political power of all the rest admit of no comparison with 
 his or theirs, he or they can be no longer regarded as part of 
 a State; for justice will not be done to the superior, if he is 
 reckoned only as the equal of those who are so far inferior to 
 him in virtue and in political power. Such a one may truly 
 be deemed a god among men. Hence we see that legislation 
 is necessarily concerned only with those who are equal in birth 
 and in power; and that for men of pre-eminent virtue there 
 is no law they are themselves a law. Anyone would be ridicu- 
 lous who attempted to make laws for them : they would prob- 
 ably retort what, in the fable of Antisthenes, the lions said to 
 the hares ["where are your claws?"], when in the council of 
 the beasts the latter began haranguing and claiming equality 
 for all. And for this reason democratic States have instituted 
 ostracism ; equality is above all things their aim, and there- 
 fore they ostracise and banish from the city for a time those 
 who seem to predominate too much through their wealth, or 
 the number of their friends, or through any other political in- 
 fluence. Mythology tells us that the Argonauts left Heracles 
 behind for a similar reason ; the ship Argo would not take him 
 because she feared that he would have been too much for the 
 rest of the crew. Wherefore those who denounce tyranny and 
 blame the counsel which Periander gave to Thrasybulus cannot 
 be held altogether just in their censure. The story is that 
 Periander, when the herald was sent to ask counsel of him, 
 said nothing, but only cut off the tallest ears of corn till he 
 had brought the field to a level. The herald did not know the 
 meaning of the action, but came and reported what he had 
 seen to Thrasybulus, who understood that he was to cut off 
 the principal men in the State ; and this is a policy not only
 
 7 6 ARISTOTLE 
 
 expedient for tyrants or in practice confined to them, but 
 equally necessary in oligarchies and democracies. Ostracism 
 is a measure of the same kind, which acts by disabling and 
 banishing the most prominent citizens. Great powers do the 
 same to whole cities and nations, as the Athenians did to the 
 Samians, Chians, and Lesbians; no sooner had they obtained 
 a firm grasp of the empire, than they humbled their allies 
 contrary to treaty ; and the Persian king has repeatedly crushed 
 the Medes, Babylonians, and other nations when their spirit 
 has been stirred by the recollection of their former greatness. 
 The problem is a universal one, and equally concerns all 
 forms of government, true as well as false ; for, although per- 
 verted forms with a view to their own interests may adopt 
 this policy, those which seek the common interest do so like- 
 wise. The same thing may be observed in the arts and sciences ; 
 for the painter will not allow the figure to have a foot which, 
 however beautiful, is not in proportion, nor will the ship- 
 builder allow the stern or any other part of the vessel to be 
 unduly large, any more than the chorus-master will allow any- 
 one who sings louder or better than all the rest to sing in the 
 choir. Monarchs, too, may practise compulsion and still live 
 in harmony with their cities, if their government is for the 
 interest of the State. Hence where there is an acknowledged 
 superiority the argument in favor of ostracism is based upon 
 a kind of political justice. It would certainly be better that 
 the legislator should from the first so order his State as to have 
 no need of such a remedy. But if the need arises, the next 
 best thing is that he should endeavor to correct the evil by this 
 or some similar measure. The principle, however, has not been 
 fairly applied in States ; for, instead of looking to the public 
 good, they have used ostracism for factious purposes. It is 
 true that under perverted forms of government, and from their 
 special point of view, such a measure is just and expedient, 
 but it is also clear that it is not absolutely just. In the per- 
 fect State there would be great doubts about the use of it, not 
 when applied to excess in strength, wealth, popularity, or the 
 like, but when used against someone who is pre-eminent in 
 virtue what is to be done with him? Mankind will not say 
 that such a one is to be expelled and exiled; on the other 
 hand, he ought not to be a subject that would be as if in the 
 division of the empire of the gods the other gods should
 
 THE POLITICS 77 
 
 claim to rule over Zeus. The only alternative is that all should 
 joyfully obey such a ruler, according to what seems to be the 
 order of nature, and that men like him should be kings in 
 their State for life. 
 
 The preceding discussion, by a natural transition, leads to 
 the consideration of royalty, which we admit to be one of the 
 true forms of government. Let us see whether in order to 
 be well governed a State or country should be under the rule 
 of a king or under some other form of government; and 
 whether monarchy, although good for some, may not be bad 
 for others. But first we must determine whether there is one 
 species of royalty or many. It is easy to see that there are 
 many, and that the manner of government is not the same in 
 all of them. 
 
 Of royalties according to law, the Lacedaemonian is thought 
 to answer best to the true pattern, but there the royal power 
 is not absolute except when the kings go on an expedition, 
 and then they take the command. Matters of religion are 
 likewise committed to them. The kingly office is in truth a 
 kind of generalship, irresponsible and perpetual. The King 
 has not the power of life and death, except when upon a 
 campaign and in the field ; after the manner of the ancients 
 which is described in Homer. For Agamemnon is patient 
 when he is attacked in the Assembly, but when the army goes 
 out to battle he has the power even of life and death. Does 
 he not say ? 
 
 " When I find a man skulking apart from the battle, nothing 
 shall save him from the dogs and vultures, for in my hands 
 is death.'V 
 
 This, then, is one form of royalty a generalship for life: 
 and of such royalties some are hereditary and others elective. 
 
 (2) There is another sort of monarchy not uncommon 
 among the barbarians, which nearly resembles tyranny. But 
 even this is legal and hereditary. For barbarians, being more 
 servile in character than Hellenes, and Asiatics than Euro- 
 peans, do not rebel against a despotic government. Such 
 royalties have the nature of tyrannies because the people are 
 by nature slaves ; but there is no danger of their being over- 
 thrown, for they are hereditary and legal. Wherefore also 
 their guards are such as a king and not such a tyrant would 
 
 r II. ii. 391-393-
 
 7 8 ARISTOTLE 
 
 employ, that is to say, they are composed of citizens, whereas 
 the guards of tyrants are mercenaries. For kings rule accord- 
 ing to law over voluntary subjects, but tyrants over involun- 
 tary; and the one are guarded by their fellow-citizens, the 
 others are guarded against them. 
 
 These are two forms of monarchy, and there was a third 
 (3) which existed in ancient Hellas, called an (csymnetia or 
 dictatorship. This may be defined generally as an elective 
 tyranny, which, like the barbarian monarchy, is legal, but differs 
 from it in not being hereditary. Sometimes the office is held 
 for life, sometimes for a term of years, or until certain duties 
 have been performed. For example, the Mitylenseans elected 
 Pittacus leader against the exiles, who were headed by Anti- 
 menides and Alcaeus the poet. And Alcaeus himself says in 
 one of his irregular songs/ " They chose Pittacus tyrant," and 
 he reproaches his fellow-citizens for " having made the low- 
 born Pittacus tyrant of the spiritless and ill-fated city, with 
 one voice shouting his praises." 
 
 These forms of government have always had the character 
 of despotism, because they possess tyrannical power, but inas- 
 much as they are elective and acquiesced in by their subjects, 
 they are kingly. 
 
 (4) There is a fourth species of kingly rule that of the 
 heroic times which was hereditary and legal, and was exer- 
 cised over willing subjects. For the first chiefs were bene- 
 factors of the people in arts or arms ; they either gathered 
 them into a community, or procured land for them ; and thus 
 they became kings of voluntary subjects, and their power was 
 inherited by their descendants. They took the command in 
 war and presided over the sacrifices, except those which re- 
 quired a priest. They also decided causes either with or with- 
 out an oath ; and when they swore, the form of the oath was 
 the stretching out of their sceptre. In ancient times their 
 power extended to all things whatsoever, in city and country, 
 as well as in foreign parts ; but at a later date they relinquished 
 several of these privileges, and others the people took from 
 them, until in some States nothing was left to them but the 
 sacrifices; and where they retained more of the reality they 
 had only the right of leadership in war beyond the border. 
 
 These, then, are the four kinds of royalty. First the mon- 
 s Or, " banquet-odes."
 
 THE POLITICS 79 
 
 archy of the heroic ages; this was exercised over voluntary 
 subjects, but limited to certain functions; the king was a 
 general and a judge, and had the control of religion. The 
 second is that of the barbarians, which is an hereditary des- 
 potic government in accordance with law. A third is the 
 poxver of the so-called cesymnete or dictator; this is an elec- 
 tive tyranny. The fourth is the Lacedaemonian, which is in 
 fact a generalship, hereditary and perpetual. These four forms 
 differ from one another in the manner which I have described. 
 
 There is a fifth form of kingly rule in which one has the 
 disposal of all, just as each tribe or each State has the disposal 
 of the public property ; this form corresponds to the control 
 of a household. For as household management is the kingly 
 rule of a house, so kingly rule is the household management 
 of a city, or of a nation, or of many nations. 
 
 Of these forms we need only consider two, the Lacedae- 
 monian and the absolute royalty; for most of the others lie 
 in a region between them, having less power than the last, and 
 more than the first. Thus the inquiry is reduced to two points : 
 first, is it advantageous to the State that there should be a 
 perpetual general, and if so, should the office be confined to 
 one family, or open to the citizens in turn? Secondly, is it 
 well that a single man should have the supreme power in all 
 things ? The first question falls under the head of laws rather 
 than of constitutions ; for perpetual generalship might equally 
 exist under any form of government, so that this matter may 
 be dismissed for the present. The other kind of royalty is a 
 sort of constitution ; this we have now to consider, and briefly 
 to run over the difficulties involved in it. We will begin 
 by inquiring whether it is more advantageous to be ruled by 
 the best man or by the best laws.* 
 
 The advocates of royalty maintain that the laws speak only 
 in general terms, and cannot provide for circumstances; and 
 that for any science to abide by written rules is absurd. Even 
 in Egypt the physician is allowed to alter his treatment after 
 the fourth day, but if sooner, he takes the risk. Hence it is 
 argued that a government acting according to written laws is 
 plainly not the best. Yet surely the ruler cannot dispense 
 with the general principle which exists in law ; and he is 
 a better ruler who is free from passion than he who is pas- 
 t Cp. Plato, Polit. pp. 293-295.
 
 8o ARISTOTLE 
 
 sionate. Whereas the law is passionless, passion must ever 
 sway the heart of man. 
 
 Yes, some one will answer, but then on the other hand an 
 individual will be better able to advise in particular cases. 
 [To whom we in turn make reply:] There must be a legislator, 
 whether you call him a king or not, and laws must be passed, 
 but these laws will have no authority when they miss the mark, 
 though in all other cases retaining their authority. [Yet a 
 further question remains behind :] When the law cannot deter- 
 mine a point at all, or not well, should the one best man or 
 should all decide? According to our present practice assem- 
 blies meet, sit in judgment, deliberate and decide, and their 
 judgments all relate to individual cases. Now any member of 
 the assembly, taken separately, is certainly inferior to the wise 
 man. But the State is made up of many individuals. And as 
 a feast to which all the guests contribute is better than a ban- 
 quet furnished by a single man, so a multitude is a better judge 
 of many things than any individual. 
 
 Again, the many are more incorruptible than the few ; they 
 are like the greater quantity of water which is less easily cor- 
 rupted than a little. The individual is liable to be overcome by 
 anger or by some other passion, and then his judgment is neces- 
 sarily perverted ; but it is hardly to be supposed that a great 
 number of persons would all get into a passion and go wrong 
 at the same moment. Let us assume that they are freemen, 
 never acting in violation of the law, but filling up the gaps 
 which the law is obliged to leave. Or, if such virtue is scarcely 
 attainable by the multitude, we need only suppose that the 
 majority are good men and good citizens, and ask which will 
 be the more incorruptible, the one good ruler, or the many 
 who are all good? Will not the many? But, you will say, 
 there may be parties among them, whereas the one man is 
 not divided against himself. To which we may answer that 
 their character is as good as his. If we call the rule of many 
 men, who are all of them good, aristocracy, and the rule of 
 one man royalty, then aristocracy will be better for States 
 than royalty, whether the government is supported by force 
 or not, provided only that a number of men equal in virtue 
 can be found. 
 
 The first governments were kingships, probably for this 
 reason, because of old, when cities were small, men of eminent
 
 THE POLITICS 81 
 
 virtue were few. They were made kings because they were 
 benefactors, and benefits can only be bestowed by good men. 
 But when many persons equal in merit arose, no longer en- 
 during the pre-eminence of one, they desired to have a com- 
 monwealth, and set up a constitution. The ruling class soon 
 deteriorated and enriched themselves out of the public treas- 
 ury; riches became the path to honor, and so oligarchies 
 naturally grew up. These passed into tyrannies and tyrannies 
 into democracies; for love of gain in the ruling classes was 
 always tending to diminish their number, and so to strengthen 
 the masses, who in the end set upon their masters and estab- 
 lished democracies. Since cities have increased in size, no 
 other form of government appears to be any longer possible. 
 
 Even supposing the principle to be maintained that kingly 
 power is the best thing for States, how about the family of 
 the King? Are his children to succeed him? If they are no 
 better than anybody else, that will be mischievous. But [says 
 the lover of royalty] the King though he might, will not hand 
 on his power to his children. That, however, is hardly to be 
 expected, and is too much to ask of human nature. There is 
 also a difficulty about the force which he is to employ ; should 
 a King have guards about him by whose aid he may be able to 
 coerce the refractory? but if not, how will he administer his 
 kingdom ? Even if he be the lawful sovereign who does noth- 
 ing arbitrarily or contrary to law, still he must have some force 
 wherewith to maintain the law. In the case of a limited mon- 
 archy there is not much difficulty in answering this question ; 
 the king must have such force as will be more than a match 
 for one or more individuals, but not so great as that of the 
 people. The ancients observed this principle when they gave 
 the guards to anyone whom they appointed dictator or tyrant. 
 Thus, when Dionysius asked the Syracusans to allow him 
 guards, somebody advised that they should give him only a 
 certain number. 
 
 At this place in the discussion naturally follows the in- 
 quiry respecting the King who acts solely according to his own 
 will ; he has now to be considered. The so-called limited mon- 
 archy, or kingship according to law, as I have already re- 
 marked, is not a distinct form of government, for under all 
 governments, as, for example, in a democracy or aristocracy, 
 there may be a general holding office for life, and one person 
 6
 
 82 ARISTOTLE 
 
 is often made supreme over the administration of a State. A 
 magistracy of this kind exists at Epidamnus, and also at Opus, 
 but in the latter city has a more limited power. Now, absolute 
 monarchy, or the arbitrary rule of a sovereign over all the 
 citizens, in a city which consists of equals, is thought by 
 some to be quite contrary to nature; it is argued that those 
 who are by nature equals must have the same natural right 
 and worth, and that for unequals to have an equal share, or 
 for equals to have an unequal share, in the offices of state, 
 is as bad as for different bodily constitutions to have the same 
 food and clothing or the same different. Wherefore it is 
 thought to be just that among equals everyone be ruled as 
 well as rule, and that all should have their turn. We thus 
 arrive at law; for an order of succession implies law. And 
 the rule of the law is preferable to that of any individual. On 
 the same principle, even if it be better for certain individuals 
 to govern, they should be made only guardians and ministers 
 of the law. For magistrates there must be this is admitted ; 
 but then men say that to give authority to any one man when 
 all are equal is unjust. There may indeed be cases which the 
 law seems unable to determine, but in such cases can a man? 
 Nay, it will be replied, the law trains officers for this express 
 purpose, and appoints them to determine matters which are 
 left undecided by it to the best of their judgment. Further 
 it permits them to make any amendment of the existing laws 
 which experience suggests. [But still they are only the min- 
 isters of the law.] He who bids the law rule, may be deemed 
 to bid God and Reason alone rule, but he who bids man rule 
 adds an element of the beast ; for desire is a wild beast, and 
 passion perverts the minds of rulers, even when they are the 
 best of men. The law is reason unaffected by desire. We 
 are told that a patient should call in a physician ; he will not 
 get better if he is doctored out of a book. But the parallel of 
 the arts is clearly not in point ; for the physician does nothing 
 contrary to reason from motives of friendship ; he only cures 
 a patient and takes a fee ; whereas magistrates do many things 
 from spite and partiality. And, indeed, if a man suspected 
 the physician of being in league with his enemies to destroy 
 him for a bribe, he would rather have recourse to the book. 
 Even physicians when they are sick, call in other physicians, 
 and training-masters when they are in training, other train-
 
 THE POLITICS 83 
 
 ing-masters, as if they could not judge truly about their own 
 case and might be influenced by their feelings. Hence it is 
 evident that in seeking for justice men seek for the mean or 
 neutral," and the law is the mean. Again, customary laws have 
 more weight, and relate to more important matters, than 
 written laws, and a man may be a safer ruler than the written 
 law, but not safer than the customary law. 
 
 Again, it is by no means easy for one man to superintend 
 many things ; he will have to appoint a number of subordinates, 
 and what difference does it make whether these subordinates 
 always existed or were appointed by him because he needed 
 them? If, as I said before, the good man has a right to rule 
 because he is better, then two good men are better than one: 
 this is the old saying 
 
 "two going together ;"v 
 and the prayer of Agamemnon 
 
 " would that I had ten such counsellors f "w 
 
 And at this day there are some magistrates, for example 
 judges, who have authority to decide matters which the law 
 is unable to determine, since no one doubts that the law would 
 command and decide in the best manner whatever it could. 
 But some things can, and other things cannot, be compre- 
 hended under the law, and this is the origin of the vexed 
 question whether the best law or the best man should rule. 
 For matters of detail about which men deliberate cannot be 
 included in legislation. Nor does anyone deny that the de- 
 cision of such matters must be left to man, but it is argued 
 that there should be many judges, and not one only. For every 
 ruler who has been trained by the law judges well; and it 
 would surely seem strange that a person should see better 
 with two eyes, or hear better with two ears, or act better with 
 two hands or feet, than many with many ; indeed, it is already 
 the practice of kings to make to themselves many eyes and ears 
 and hands and feet. For they make colleagues of those who 
 are the friends of themselves and their governments. They 
 must be friends of the monarch and of his government; if 
 not his friends, they will not do what he wants ; but friendship 
 implies likeness and equality ; and, therefore, if he thinks that 
 u Cp. N. Eth. v. 4, 7. v II. x. 224. w Ibid. ii. 372.
 
 84 ARISTOTLE 
 
 friends ought to rule, he must think that those who are equal 
 to himself and like himself ought to rule. These are the princi- 
 pal controversies relating to monarchy. 
 
 But may not all this be true in some cases and not in others? 
 for there is a natural justice and expediency in the relation 
 of a master to his servants, or, again, of a King to his sub- 
 jects, as also in the relation of free citizens to one another; 
 whereas there is no such justice or expediency in a tyranny, 
 or in any other perverted form of government, which comes 
 into being contrary to nature. Now, from what has been said, 
 it is manifest that, where men are alike and equal, it is neither 
 expedient nor just that one man should be lord of all, whether 
 there are laws, or whether there are no laws, but he himself 
 is in the place of law. Neither should a good man be lord over 
 good men, or a bad man over bad; nor, even if he excels hi 
 virtue, should he have a right to rule, unless in a particular 
 case, which I have already mentioned, and to which I will 
 once more recur. But first of all, I must determine what 
 natures are suited for royalties, and what for an aristocracy, 
 and what for a constitutional government. 
 
 A people who are by nature capable of producing a race 
 superior in virtue and political talent are fitted for kingly 
 government; and a people submitting to be ruled as freemen 
 by men whose virtue renders them capable of political com- 
 mand are adapted for an aristocracy: while the people who 
 are suited for constitutional freedom, are those among whom 
 there naturally exists a warlike multitude able to rule and to 
 obey in turn by a law which gives office to the well-to-do ac- 
 cording to their desert. But when a whole family, or some 
 individual, happens to be so pre-eminent in virtue as to sur- 
 pass all others, then it is just that they should be the royal 
 family and supreme over all, or that this one citizen should 
 be king of the whole nation. For, as I said before, to give 
 them authority is not only agreeable to that ground of right 
 which the founders of all States, whether aristocratical, or oli- 
 garchical, or again democratical, are accustomed to put for- 
 ward (for these all recognize the claim of excellence, although 
 not the same excellence) ; but accords with the principle already 
 laid down. For it would not be right to kill, or ostracise, or 
 exile such a person, or require that he should take his turn 
 in being governed. The whole is naturally superior to the
 
 THE POLITICS 85 
 
 part, and he who has this pre-eminence is in the relation of 
 a whole to a part. But if so, the only alternative is that he 
 should have the supreme power, and that mankind should obey 
 him, not in turn, but always. These are the conclusions at 
 which we arrive respecting royalty and its various forms, 
 and this is the answer to the question, whether it is or is not 
 advantageous to States, and to whom, and how. 
 
 We maintain that the true forms of government are three, 
 and that the best must be that which is administered by the 
 best, and in which there is one man, or a whole family, or 
 many persons, excelling in virtue, and both rulers and subjects 
 are fitted, the one to rule, the others to be ruled, in such a 
 manner as to attain the most eligible life. We showed at the 
 commencement of our inquiry that the virtue of the good 
 man is necessarily the same as the virtue of the citizen of 
 the perfect State. Clearly then in the same manner, and by 
 the same means through which a man becomes truly good, 
 he will frame a State [which will be truly good] whether 
 aristocratical, or under kingly rule, and the same education 
 and the same habits \vill be found to make a good man and a 
 good statesman and King. 
 
 Having arrived at these conclusions, we must proceed to 
 speak of the perfect State, and describe how it comes into 
 being and is established.
 
 BOOK IV 
 
 IN all arts and sciences which embrace the whole of any 
 subject, and are not restricted to a part only, it is the 
 province of a single art or science to consider all that 
 appertains to a single subject. For example, the art of gym- 
 nastic considers not only the suitableness of different modes 
 of training to different bodies (2), but what sort is absolutely 
 the best (i); (for the absolutely best must suit that which 
 is by nature best and best furnished with the means of life), 
 and also what common form of training is adapted to the great 
 majority of men (4). And if a man does not desire the best 
 habit of body or the greatest skill in gymnastics, which might 
 be attained by him, still the trainer or the teacher of gymnastic 
 should be able to impart any lower degree of either (3). The 
 same principle equally holds in medicine and shipbuilding, 
 and the making of clothes, and in the arts generally. 
 
 Hence it is obvious that government too is the subject of 
 a single science, which has to consider what kind of govern- 
 ment would be best and most in accordance with our aspira- 
 tions, if there were no external impediment, and also what 
 kind of government is adapted to particular States. For the 
 best is often unattainable, and therefore the true legislator and 
 statesman ought to be acquainted, not only with ( I ) that which 
 is best in the abstract, but also with (2) that which is best 
 relatively to circumstances. We should be able further to say 
 how a State may be constiuted under any given conditions (3) ; 
 both how it is originally formed and, when formed, how it 
 may be longest preserved; the supposed State being so far 
 from the very best that it is unprovided even with the con- 
 ditions necessary for the very best ; neither is it the best under 
 the circumstances, but of an inferior type. 
 
 He ought, moreover, to know (4) the form of government 
 which is best suited to States in general ; for political writers, 
 although they have excellent ideas, are often unpractical. We 
 should consider, not only what form of government is best, 
 
 86
 
 THE POLITICS 87 
 
 but also what is possible and what is easily attainable by all. 
 There are some who would have none but the most perfect; 
 for this many natural advantages are required. Others, again, 
 speak of a more attainable form, and, although they reject 
 the constitution under which they are living, they extol some 
 one in particular, for example the Lacedaemonian. Any change 
 of government which has to be introduced should be one which 
 men will be both willing and able to adopt, since there is quite 
 as much trouble in the reformation of an old constitution as in 
 the establishment of a new one, just as to unlearn is as hard 
 as to learn. And therefore, in addition to the qualifications 
 of the statesman already mentioned, he should be able to find 
 remedies for the defects of existing constitutions. This he 
 cannot do unless he knows how many forms of a government 
 there are. It is often supposed that there is only one kind of 
 democracy and one of oligarchy. But this is a mistake ; and, 
 in order to avoid such mistakes, we must ascertain what dif- 
 ferences there are in the constitutions of States, and in how 
 many ways they are combined. The same political insight 
 will enable a man to know which laws are the best, and which 
 are suited to different constitutions; for the laws are, and 
 ought to be, relative to the constitution, and not the constitu- 
 tion to the laws. A constitution is the organization of offices 
 in a State, and determines what is to be the governing body, 
 and what is the end of each community. But laws are not to 
 be confounded with the principles of the constitution : they 
 are the rules according to which the magistrates should ad- 
 minister the State, and proceed against offenders. So that we 
 must know the number and varieties of the several forms of 
 government, if only with a view to making laws. For the 
 same laws cannot be equally suited to all oligarchies and to 
 all democracies, and there is certainly more than one form 
 both of democracy and of oligarchy. 
 
 In our original discussion a about governments we divided 
 them into three true forms : kingly rule, aristocracy, and con- 
 stitutional government, and three corresponding perversions 
 tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy. Of kingly rule and of 
 aristocracy we have already spoken, for the inquiry into the 
 perfect State is the same thing with the discussion of the two 
 forms thus named, since both imply a principle of virtue pro- 
 a N. Eth. viii. 10.
 
 88 ARISTOTLE 
 
 vided with external means. We have already determined in 
 what aristocracy and kingly rule differ from one another, and 
 when the latter should be established. In what follows we 
 have to describe the so-called constitutional government, which 
 bears the common name of all constitutions, and the other 
 forms, tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy. 
 
 It is obvious which of the three perversions is the worst, 
 and which is the next in badness. That which is the perversion 
 of the first and most divine is necessarily the worst. And just 
 as a royal rule, if not a mere name, must exist by virtue of 
 some great personal superiority in the king, so tyranny, which 
 is the worst of governments, is necessarily the farthest re- 
 moved from a well-constituted form ; oligarchy is a little bet- 
 ter, but a long way from aristocracy, and democracy is the 
 most tolerable of the three. 
 
 A writer b who preceded me has already made these dis- 
 tinctions, but his point of view is not the same as mine. For 
 he lays down the principle that of all good constitutions (un- 
 der which he would include a virtuous oligarchy and the like) 
 democracy is the worst, but the best of bad ones. Whereas 
 we maintain that they are all defective, and that one oligarchy 
 is not to be accounted better than another, but only less bad. 
 
 Not to pursue this question further at present, let us begin by 
 determining (i) how many varieties of States there are (since 
 of democracy and oligarchy there are several) ; (2) what con* 
 stitution is the most generally acceptable, and what is eligible 
 in the next degree after the perfect or any other aristocratical 
 and well-constituted form of government if any other there 
 be which is at the same time adapted to States in general 5(3) 
 of the other forms of government to whom is each suited. For 
 democracy may meet the needs of some better than oligarchy, 
 and conversely. In the next place (4) we have to consider in 
 what manner a man ought to proceed who desires to establish 
 some one among these various forms, whether of democracy or 
 of oligarchy ; and lastly, (5) having briefly discussed these sub- 
 jects to the best of our power, we will endeavor to ascertain 
 whence arise the ruin and preservation of States, both gen- 
 erally and in individual cases, and to what causes they are to be 
 attributed. 
 
 The reason why there are many forms of government is that 
 
 b Plato, Polit. 303 A.
 
 THE POLITICS 89 
 
 every State contains many elements. In the first place we see 
 that all States are made up of families, and in the multitude of 
 citizens there must be some rich and some poor, and some in a 
 middle condition ; the rich are heavy-armed, and the poor not. 
 Of the common people, some are husbandmen, and some 
 traders, and some artisans. There are also among the notables 
 differences of wealth and property for example, in the number 
 of horses which they keep, for they cannot afford to keep them 
 unless they are rich. And therefore in old times the cities 
 whose strength lay in their cavalry were oligarchies, and they 
 used cavalry in wars against their neighbors ; as was the prac- 
 tice of the Eretrians and Chalcidians, and also of the Magne- 
 sians on the river Maeander, and of other peoples in Asia. Be- 
 sides differences of wealth there are differences of rank and 
 merit, and there are some other elements which were mentioned 
 by us when in treating of aristocracy we enumerated the es- 
 sentials of a State. Of these elements, sometimes all, some- 
 times the lesser and sometimes the greater number, have a 
 share in the government. It is evident then that there must be 
 many forms of government, differing in kind, since the parts 
 of which they are composed differ from each other in kind. 
 For a constitution is an organization of offices which all the 
 citizens distribute among themselves, according to the power 
 which different classes possess, for example the rich or the 
 poor, or according to some principle of compensation which 
 includes both. There must therefore be as many forms of gov- 
 ernment as there are modes of arranging the offices, according 
 to the superiorities and other inequalities of the different parts 
 of the State. 
 
 There are generally thought to be two principal forms: as 
 men say of the winds that there are but two north and south, 
 and that the rest of them are only variations of these, so of 
 governments there are said to be only two forms democracy 
 and oligarchy. For aristocracy is considered to be a kind of 
 oligarchy, as being the rule of a few, and the so-called con- 
 stitutional government to be really a democracy, just as among 
 the winds We make the west a variation of the north, and the 
 east of the south wind. Similarly of harmonies there are said 
 to be two kinds, the Dorian and the Phrygian ; the other ar- 
 rangements of the scale are comprehended under one of these 
 two. About forms of government this is a very favorite notion.
 
 90 ARISTOTLE 
 
 But in either case the better and more exact way is to distin- 
 guish, as I have done, the one or two which are true forms, 
 and to regard the others as perversions, whether of the most 
 perfectly attempered harmony or of the best form of govern- 
 ment: we may compare the oligarchical forms to the severer 
 and more overpowering modes, and the democratic to the more 
 relaxed and gentler ones. 
 
 It must not be assumed, as some are fond of saying, that 
 democracy is simply that form of government in which the 
 greater number are sovereign, for in oligarchies, and indeed 
 in every government, the majority rules ; nor again is oligarchy 
 that form of government in which a few are sovereign. Sup- 
 pose the whole population of a city to be 1,300, and that of 
 these 1,000 are rich, and do not allow the remaining 300 who 
 are poor, but free, and in all other respects their equals, a 
 share of the government no one will say that this is a de- 
 mocracy. In like manner, if the poor were few and the masters 
 of the rich who outnumber them, no one would ever call such 
 a government, in which the rich majority have no share of 
 office, an oligarchy. Therefore we should rather say that 
 democracy is the form of government in which the free are 
 rulers, and oligarchy in which the rich ; it is only an accident 
 that the free are the many and the rich are the few. Other- 
 wise a government in which the offices were given according 
 to stature, as it is said to be the case in Ethiopia, or according 
 to beauty, would be an oligarchy; for the number of tall or 
 good-looking men is small. And yet oligarchy and democracy 
 are not sufficiently distinguished merely by these two charac- 
 teristics of wealth and freedom. Both of them contain many 
 other elements, and therefore we must carry our analysis 
 further, and say that the government is not a democracy in 
 which the freemen, being few in number, rule over the many 
 who are not free, as at Apollonia, on the Ionian Gulf, and at 
 Thera; (for in each of these States the nobles, who were also 
 the earliest settlers, were held in chief honor, although they 
 were but a few out of many). Neither is it a democracy when 
 the rich have the government, because they exceed in number ; 
 as was the case formerly at Colophon, where the bulk of the 
 inhabitants were possessed of large property before the Lydian 
 War. But the form of government is a democracy when the 
 free, who are also poor and the majority, govern, and oligarchy
 
 THE POLITICS 91 
 
 when the rich and the noble govern, they being at the same 
 time few in number. 
 
 I have said that there are many forms of government, and 
 have explained to what causes the variety is due. Why there 
 are more than those already mentioned, and what they are, and 
 whence they arise, I will now proceed to consider, starting from 
 the principle already admitted, which is that every State con- 
 sists, not of one, but of many parts. If we were going to speak 
 of the different species of animals, we should first of all deter- 
 mine the organs which are indispensable to every animal, as 
 for example some organs of sense and instruments of receiving 
 and digesting food, such as the mouth and the stomach, besides 
 organs of locomotion. Assuming now that there are only so 
 many kinds of organs, but that there may be differences in 
 them I mean different kinds of mouths, and stomachs, and 
 perceptive and locomotive organs the possible combinations 
 of these differences will necessarily furnish many varieties of 
 animals. (For animals cannot be the same which have dif- 
 ferent kinds of mouths or of ears.) And when all the combina- 
 tions are exhausted, there will be as many sorts of animals as 
 there are combinations of the necessary organs. In like manner 
 the forms of government which have been described, as I 
 have repeatedly said, are composed, not of one, but of many 
 elements. One element is the food-producing class, who are 
 called husbandmen; a second, the class of mechanics, who 
 practise the arts without which a city cannot exist; of these 
 arts some are absolutely necessary, others contribute to luxury 
 or to the grace of life. The third class is that of traders, and 
 by traders I mean those who are engaged in buying and sell- 
 ing, whether in commerce or in retail trade. A fourth class 
 is that of the serfs or laborers. The warriors make up the 
 fifth class, and they are as necessary as any of the others, 
 if the country is not to be the slave of every invader. For 
 how can a State which has any title to the name be of a slavish 
 nature ? The State is independent and self-sufficing, but a slave 
 is the reverse of independent. Hence we see that this subject, 
 though ingeniously, has not been satisfactorily treated in the 
 " Republic."* 1 Socrates says that a State is made up of four 
 sorts of people who are absolutely necessary; these are a 
 weaver, a husbandman, a shoemaker, and a builder; after- 
 
 c Rep. ii. 369.
 
 92 ARISTOTLE 
 
 wards, finding that they are not enough, he adds a smith, anu 
 again a herdsman, to look after the necessary animals; then 
 a merchant ; and then a retail trader. All these together form 
 the complement of the first State, as if a State were established 
 merely to supply the necessaries of life, rather than for the 
 sake of the good, or stood equally in need of shoemakers and 
 of husbandmen. But he does not admit into the State a mili- 
 tary class until the country has increased in size, and is be- 
 ginning to encroach on its neighbor's land, whereupon they 
 go to war. Yet even amongst his four original citizens, or 
 whatever be the number of those whom he associates in the 
 State, there must be some one who will dispense justice and 
 determine what is just. And as the soul may be said to be 
 more truly part of an animal than the body, so the higher parts 
 of States, that is to say, the warrior class, the class engaged 
 in the administration of justice, and in deliberation, which is 
 the special business of political common sense these are more 
 essential to the State than the parts which minister to the 
 necessaries of life. Whether their several functions are the 
 functions of different citizens, or of the same for it may often 
 happen that the same persons are both warriors and husband- 
 men is immaterial to the argument. The higher as well as 
 the lower elements are to be equally considered parts of the 
 State, and if so, the military element must be included. There 
 are also the wealthy who minister to the State with their prop- 
 erty ; these form the seventh class. The eighth class is that 
 of magistrates and of officers ; for the State cannot exist with- 
 out rulers. And therefore some must be able to take office 
 and to serve the State, either always or in turn. There only 
 remains the class of those who deliberate and who judge be- 
 tween disputants ; we were just now distinguishing them. If 
 the fair and equitable organization of all these elements is 
 necessary to States, then there must also be persons who have 
 the ability of statesmen. Many are of opinion that different 
 functions can be combined in the same individual ; for ex- 
 ample, the warrior may also be a husbandman, or an artisan ; 
 or, again, the counsellor a judge. And all claim to possess 
 political ability, and think that they are quite competent to fill 
 most offices. But the same persons cannot be rich and poor 
 at the same time. For this reason the rich and the poor are 
 regarded in an especial sense as parts of a State. Again, be-
 
 THE POLITICS 93 
 
 cause the rich are generally few in number, while the poor are 
 many, they appear to be antagonistic, and as the one or the 
 other prevails they form the government. Hence arises the 
 common opinion that there are two kinds of government 
 democracy and oligarchy. 
 
 I have already explained that there are many differences 
 of constitutions, and to what causes the variety is due. Let 
 me now show that there are different forms both of democracy 
 and oligarchy, as will indeed be evident from what has pre- 
 ceded. For both in the common people and in the notables 
 various classes are included ; of the common people, one class 
 are husbandmen, another artisans ; another traders, who are 
 employed in buying and selling; another are the seafaring 
 class, whether engaged in war or in trade, as ferrymen or as 
 fishermen. (In many places any one of these classes forms 
 quite a large population ; for example, fishermen at Tarentum 
 and Byzantium, crews of triremes at Athens, merchant seamen 
 at ^gina and Chios, ferrymen at Tenedos.) To the classes 
 already mentioned may be added day-laborers, and those who, 
 owing to their needy circumstances, have no leisure, or those 
 who are not of free birth on both sides; and there may be 
 other classes as well. The notables again may be divided ac- 
 cording to their wealth, birth, virtue, education, and similar 
 differences. 
 
 Of forms of democracy first comes that which is said to 
 be based strictly on equality. In such a democracy the law 
 says that it is just for nobody to be poor, and for nobody to 
 be rich; and that neither should be masters, but both equal. 
 For if liberty and equality, as is thought by some, are chiefly 
 to be found in democracy, they will be best attained when all 
 persons alike share in the government to the utmost. And 
 since the people are the majority, and the opinion of the major- 
 ity is decisive, such a government must necessarily be a de- 
 mocracy. Here then is one sort of democracy. There is 
 another, in which the magistrates are elected according 
 to a certain property qualification, but a low one; he who 
 has the required amount of property has a share in the gov- 
 ernment, but he who loses his property loses his rights. An- 
 other kind is that in which all the citizens who are under no 
 disqualification share in the government, but still the law is 
 supreme. In another, everybody, if he be only a citizen, is
 
 94 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 admitted to the government, but the law is supreme as before. 
 A fifth form of democracy, in other respects the same, is that 
 in which, not the law, but the multitude, have the supreme 
 power, and supersede the law by their decrees. This is a state 
 of affairs brought about by the demagogues. For in democ- 
 racies which are subject to the law the best citizens hold the 
 first place, and there are no demagogues ; but where the laws 
 are not supreme, there demagogues spring up. For the people 
 becomes a monarch, and is many in one ; and the many have 
 the power in their hands, not as individuals, but collectively. 
 Homer says that " it is not good to have a rule of many,"<* 
 but whether he means this corporate rule, or the rule of many 
 individuals, is uncertain. And the people, who is now a mon- 
 arch, and no longer under the control of law, seeks to exercise 
 monarchical sway, and grows into a despot; the flatterer is 
 held in honor ; this sort of democracy being relatively to other, 
 democracies what tyranny is to other forms of monarchy. 
 The spirit of both is the same, and they alike exercise a despotic 
 rule over the better citizens. The decrees of the demos cor- 
 respond to the edicts of the tyrant ; and the demagogue is to 
 the one what the flatterer is to the other. Both have great 
 power; the flatterer with the tyrant, the demagogue with 
 democracies of the kind which we are describing. The dema- 
 gogues make the decrees of the people override the laws, and 
 refer all things to the popular assembly. And therefore they 
 grow great, because the people have all things in their hands, 
 and they hold in their hands the votes of the people, who are 
 too ready to listen to them. Further, those who have any 
 complaint to bring against the magistrates say, " let the people 
 be judges " ; the people are too happy to accept the invitation ; 
 and so the authority of every office is undermined. Such a 
 democracy is fairly open to the objection that it is not a con- 
 stitution at all; for where the laws have no authority, there 
 is no constitution. The law ought to be supreme over all, and 
 the magistracies and the government should judge of particu- 
 lars. So that if .democracy be a real form of government, the 
 sort of constitution in which all things are regulated by decrees 
 is clearly not a democracy in the true sense of the word, for 
 decrees relate only to particulars.? 
 
 These then are the different kinds of democracy. Of oli- 
 'd II. 2, 204. e Cp. N. Eth. v. 10, 7.
 
 THE POLITICS 
 
 95 
 
 garchies, too, there are different kinds : one where the prop- 
 erty qualification for office is so high that the poor, although 
 they form the majority, have no share in the government, yet he 
 who acquires a qualification may obtain a share. Another sort 
 is when there is a qualification for office, but a high one, and 
 the vacancies in the governing body are filled by co-optation. If 
 the election is made out of all the qualified persons, a constitu- 
 tion of this kind inclines to an aristocracy, if out of a privileged 
 class, to an oligarchy. Another sort of oligarchy is when the 
 son succeeds the father. There is a fourth form, likewise 
 hereditary, in which the magistrates are supreme and not the 
 law. Among oligarchies this is what tyranny is among mon- 
 archies, and the last-mentioned form of democracy among 
 democracies; and in fact this sort of oligarchy receives the 
 name of dynasty (or rule of powerful families). 
 
 These are the different sorts of oligarchies and democracies. 
 It should however be remembered that in many States the con- 
 stitution which is established by law, although not democratic, 
 owing to the character and habits of the people, may be ad- 
 ministered democratically, and conversely in other States the 
 established constitution may incline to democracy, but may be 
 administered in an oligarchical spirit. This most often hap- 
 pens after a revolution: for governments do not change at 
 once ; at first the dominant party are content with encroaching 
 a little upon their opponents. The laws which existed pre- 
 viously continue in force, but the authors of the revolution 
 have the power in their hands. 
 
 From what has been already said we may safely infer that 
 there are so many different kinds of democracies and of oli- 
 garchies. For it is evident that either all the classes whom 
 we mentioned must share in the government, or some only and 
 not others. When the class of husbandmen and of those who 
 possess moderate fortunes have the supreme power, the gov- 
 ernment is administered according to law. For the citizens 
 being compelled to live by their labor have no leisure; and 
 so they set up the authority of the law, and attend assemblies 
 only when necessary. Since they all obtain a share in the 
 government when they have acquired the qualification which 
 is fixed by the law, nobody is excluded the absolute exclusion 
 of any class would be a step towards oligarchy. But leisure 
 cannot be provided for them unless there are revenues to sup-
 
 96 ARISTOTLE 
 
 port them. This is one sort of democracy, and these are the 
 causes which give birth to it. Another kind is based on the 
 mode of election, which naturally comes next in order; in 
 this, everyone to whose birth there is no objection is eligible, 
 and may share in the government if he can find leisure. And 
 in such a democracy the supreme power is vested in the laws, 
 because the State has no means of paying the citizens. A 
 third kind is when all freemen have a right to share in the 
 government, but do not actually share, for the reason which 
 has been already given; so that in this form again the law 
 must rule. A fourth kind of democracy is that which comes 
 latest in the history of States. In our own day, when cities 
 have far outgrown their original size, and their revenues have 
 increased, all the citizens have a place in the government, 
 through the great preponderance of their numbers; and they 
 all, including the poor who receive pay, and therefore have 
 leisure to exercise their rights, share in the administration. 
 Indeed, when they are paid, the common people have the most 
 leisure, for they are not hindered by the care of their prop- 
 erty, whi-h often fetters the rich, who are thereby prevented 
 from taking part in the assembly or in the courts, and so the 
 State is governed by the poor, who are a majority, and not 
 by the laws. So many kinds of democracies there are, and 
 they grow out of these necessary causes. 
 
 Of oligarchies, one form is that in which the majority of 
 the citizens have some property, but not very much ; and this 
 is the first form, which allows to anyone who obtains the re- 
 quired amount the right of sharing in the government. The 
 sharers in the government being a numerous body, it follows 
 that the law must govern, and not individuals. For in pro- 
 portion as they are further removed from a monarchical form 
 of government, and in respect of property have neither so much 
 as to be able to live without attending to business, nor so little 
 as to need State support, they must admit the rule of law and 
 not claim to rule themselves. But if the men of property in 
 the State are fewer than in the former case, and own more 
 property, there arises a second form of oligarchy. For the 
 stronger they are, the more power they claim, and having this 
 object in view, they themselves select those of the other classes 
 who are to be admitted to the government ; but, not being as 
 yet strong enough to rule without the law, they make the law
 
 THE POLITICS 97 
 
 represent their wishes. When this power is intensified by a 
 further diminution of their numbers and increase of their prop- 
 erty, there arises a third and further stage of oligarchy, in 
 which the governing class keep the offices in their own hands, 
 and the law ordains that the son shall succeed the father. 
 When, again, the rulers have great wealth and numerous 
 friends, this sort of dynastid or family despotism approaches 
 a monarchy; individuals rule and not the law. This is the 
 fourth sort of oligarchy, and is analogous to the last sort of 
 democracy. 
 
 There are still two forms besides democracy and oligarchy; 
 one of them is universally recognized and included among 
 the four principal forms of government which are said to be 
 (i) monarchy, (2) oligarchy, (3) democracy, and (4) the 
 so-called aristocracy or government of the best. But there is 
 also a fifth, which retains the generic name of polity or con- 
 stitutional government; this is not common, and therefore 
 has not been noticed by writers who attempt to enumerate the 
 different kinds of government; like Plato in his books about 
 the State, they recognize four only. The term " aristocracy " 
 is rightly applied to the form of government which is described 
 in the first part of our treatise; for that only can be rightly 
 called aristocracy [the government of the best] which is a 
 government formed of the best men absolutely, and not merely 
 of men who are good when tried by any given standard. In 
 the perfect State the good man is absolutely the same as the 
 good citizen ; whereas in other States the good citizen is only 
 good relatively to his own form of government. But there 
 are some States differing from oligarchies and also differing 
 from the so-called polity or constitutional government ; these 
 are termed aristocracies, and in them magistrates are certainly 
 chosen, both according to their wealth and according to their 
 merit. Such a form of government is not the same with the 
 two just no\v mentioned, and is termed an aristocracy. For 
 indeed in States which do not make virtue the aim of the 
 community, men of merit and reputation for virtue may be 
 found. And so where a government has regard to wealth, 
 virtue, and numbers, as at Carthage, that is aristocracy; and 
 also where it has regard only to two out of three, as at Lace- 
 daemon, to virtue and numbers, and the two principles of de- 
 mocracy and virtue temper each other. There are these two 
 7
 
 9 8 ARISTOTLE 
 
 forms of aristocracy in addition to the first and perfect State, 
 and there is a third form, viz., the polities which incline to- 
 wards oligarchy. 
 
 I have yet to speak of the so-called polity and of tyranny. 
 I put them in this order, not because a polity or constitutional 
 government is to be regarded as a perversion any more than 
 the above-mentioned aristocracies. The truth is, that they all 
 fall short of the most perfect form of government, and so 
 they are reckoned among perversions, and other forms (sc. 
 the really perverted forms) are perversions of these, as I said 
 before. Last of all I will speak of tyranny, which I place last 
 in the series because I am inquiring into the constitutions of 
 States, and this is the very reverse of a constitution. 
 
 Having explained why I have adopted this order, I will 
 proceed to consider constitutional government; of which the 
 nature will be clearer now that oligarchy and democracy have 
 been defined. For polity or constitutional government may 
 be described generally as a fusion of oligarchy and democracy ; 
 but the term is usually applied to those forms of government 
 which incline towards democracy, and the term aristocracy to 
 those which incline towards oligarchy, because birth and educa- 
 tion are commonly the accompaniments of wealth. Moreover, 
 the rich already possess the external advantages the want of 
 which is a temptation to crime, and hence they are called noble- 
 men and gentlemen. And inasmuch as aristocracy seeks to 
 give predominance to the best of the citizens, people say also of 
 oligarchies that they are composed of noblemen and gentle- 
 men. Now it appears to be an impossible thing that the State 
 which is governed by the best citizens should be ill-governed, 
 and equally impossible that the State which is ill-governed 
 should be governed by the best. But we must remember that 
 good laws, if they are not obeyed, do not constitute good gov- 
 ernment. For there are two parts of good government; one 
 is the actual obedience of citizens to the laws, the other part 
 is the goodness of the laws which they obey; they may obey 
 bad laws as well as good. And there may be a further sub- 
 division ; they may obey either the best laws which are attain- 
 able to them, or the best absolutely. 
 
 The distribution of offices according to merit is a special 
 characteristic of aristocracy, for the principle of an aristocracy 
 is virtue, as wealth is of an oligarchy, and freedom of a de-
 
 THE POLITICS 99 
 
 mocracy. In all of them there of course exists the right of 
 the majority, and whatever seems good to the majority of 
 those who share in the government has authority. Generally, 
 however, a State of this kind is called a constitutional govern- 
 ment [not an aristocracy], for the fusion goes no further than 
 the attempt to unite the freedom of the poor and the wealth 
 of the rich, who commonly take the place of the noble. And 
 as there are three grounds on which men claim an equal share 
 in the government, freedom, wealth, and virtue (for the fourth 
 or good birth is the result of the two last, being only ancient 
 wealth and virtue), it is clear that the admixture of the two 
 elements, that is to say, of the rich and poor, is to be called 
 a polity or constitutional government ; and the union of the 
 three is to be called aristocracy or the government of the 
 best, and more than any other form of government, except 
 the true and ideal, has a right to this name. 
 
 Thus far I have described the different forms of States which 
 exist besides monarchy, democracy, and oligarchy, and what 
 they are and in what aristocracies differ from one another, 
 and polities from aristocracies that the two latter are not 
 very unlike is obvious. 
 
 Next we have to consider how by the side of oligarchy and 
 democracy the so-called polity or constitutional government 
 springs up, and how it should be organized. The nature of 
 it will be at once understood from a comparison of oligarchy 
 and democracy; we must ascertain their different character- 
 istics, and taking a portion from each, put the two together, 
 like the parts of an indenture. Now there are three modes 
 in which fusions of government may be effected. The nature 
 of the fusion will be made intelligible by an example of the 
 manner in which different governments legislate, say con- 
 cerning the administration of justice. In oligarchies they im- 
 pose a fine on the rich if they do not serve as judges, and to 
 the poor they give no pay; but in democracies they give 
 pay to the poor and do not fine the rich. Now ( I ) the union 
 of these two modes is a common or middle term between 
 them, and is therefore characteristic of a constitutional gov- 
 ernment, for it is a combination of both. This is one mode of 
 uniting the two elements. Or (2) a mean may be taken be- 
 tween the enactments of the two: thus democracies require 
 no property qualification, or only a small one, from members
 
 100 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 of the assembly, oligarchies a high one ; here neither of these 
 is the common term, but a mean between them. (3) There 
 is a third mode, in which something is borrowed from the 
 oligarchical and something from the democratical principle. 
 For example, the appointment of magistrates by lot is demo- 
 cratical, and the election of them oligarchical; democratical 
 again when there is no property qualification, oligarchical 
 when there is. In the aristocratical or constitutional State, 
 one element will be taken from each from oligarchy the 
 mode of electing to offices, from democracy the disregard of 
 qualification. Such are the various modes of combination. 
 
 There is a true union of oligarchy and democracy when the 
 same State may be termed either a democracy or an oligarchy ; 
 those who use both names evidently feel that the fusion is 
 complete. Such a fusion there is also in the mean ; for both 
 extremes appear in it. The Lacedaemonian constitution, for 
 example, is often described as a democracy, because it has 
 many democratical features. In the first place the youth re- 
 ceive a democratical education. For the sons of the poor are 
 brought up with the sons of the rich, who are educated in 
 such a manner as to make it possible for the sons of the poor 
 to be educated like them. A similar equality prevails in the 
 following period of life, and when the citizens are grown up 
 to manhood the same rule is observed ; there is no distinction 
 between the rich and the poor. In like manner they all have 
 the same food at their public tables, and the rich wear only 
 such clothing as any poor man can afford. Again, the people 
 elect to one of the two greatest offices of State, and in the 
 other they share ; for they elect the Senators and share in the 
 ephoralty. By others the Spartan constitution is said to be 
 an oligarchy, because it has many oligarchical elements. That 
 all offices are filled by election and none by lot, is one of these 
 oligarchical characteristics; that the power of inflicting death 
 or banishment rests with a few persons is another ; and there 
 are others. In a well attempered polity there should appear to 
 be both elements and yet neither ; also the government should 
 rely on itself, and not on foreign aid, nor on the goodwill of 
 a majority of foreign States they might be equally well dis- 
 posed when there is a vicious form of government but on the 
 general willingness of all classes in the State to maintain the 
 constitution.
 
 THE POLITICS loi 
 
 Enough of the manner in which a constitutional government, 
 and in which the so-called aristocracies ought to be framed. 
 Of the nature of tyranny I have still to speak, in order that 
 it may have its place in our inquiry, since even tyranny is 
 reckoned by us to be a form of government, although there 
 is not much to be said about it. I have already in the former 
 part of this treatise discussed royalty or kingship according 
 to the most usual meaning of the term, and considered whether 
 it is or is not advantageous to States, and what kind of royalty 
 should be established, and whence, and how it arises. 
 
 When speaking of royalty we also spoke of two forms of 
 tyranny, which are both according to law, and therefore easily 
 pass into royalty. Among barbarians there are elected mon- 
 archs who exercise a despotic power; despotic rulers were 
 also elected in ancient Hellas, called ^Esymnetes, or dictators. 
 These monarchies, when compared with one another, exhibit 
 certain differences. And they are, as I said before, royal, in 
 so far as the monarch rules according to law and over willing 
 subjects; but they are tyrannical in so far as he is despotic 
 and rules according to his own fancy. There is also a third 
 kind of tyranny, which is the most typical form, and is the 
 counterpart of the perfect monarchy. This tyranny is just 
 that arbitrary power of an individual which is responsible to 
 no one, and governs all alike, whether equals or betters, with 
 a view to its own advantage, not to that of its subjects, and 
 therefore against their will. No freeman, if he can escape 
 from it, will endure such a government. 
 
 The kinds of tyranny are such and so many, and for the 
 reasons which I have given. 
 
 We have now to inquire what is the best constitution for 
 most States, and the best life for most men, neither assuming 
 a standard of virtue which is above ordinary persons, nor an 
 education which is exceptionally favored by nature and cir- 
 cumstances, nor yet an ideal State which is an aspiration only, 
 but having regard to the life in which the majority are able 
 to share, and to the form of government which States in gen- 
 eral can attain. As to those aristocracies, as they are called, 
 of which we were just now speaking, they either lie beyond 
 the possibilities of the greater number of States, or they ap- 
 proximate to the so-called constitutional government, and 
 therefore need no separate discussion. And in fact the con-
 
 103 ARISTOTLE 
 
 elusion at which we arrive respecting all these forms rests 
 upon the same grounds. For if it has been truly said in the 
 " Ethics "f that the happy life is the life according to unim- 
 peded virtue, and that virtue is a mean, then the life which 
 is in a mean, and in a mean attainable by everyone, must be 
 the best. And the same principles of virtue and vice are char- 
 acteristic of cities and of constitutions ; for the constitution 
 is in a figure the life of a city. 
 
 Now in all States there are three elements; one class is 
 very rich, another very poor, and a third in a mean. It is 
 admitted that moderation and the mean are best, and therefore 
 it will clearly be best to possess the gifts of fortune in modera- 
 tion; for in that condition of life men are most ready to 
 listen to reason. But he who greatly excels in beauty, strength, 
 birth or wealth, or on the other hand who is very poor, or 
 very weak, or very much disgraced, finds it difficult to follow 
 reason.g Of these two the one sort grow into violent and 
 great criminals, the others into rogues and petty rascals. And 
 two sorts of offences correspond to them,/' the one committed 
 from violence, the other from roguery. The petty rogues are 
 disinclined to hold office, whether military or civil, and their 
 aversion to these two duties is as great an injury to the State 
 as their tendency to crime. Again, those who have too much 
 of the goods of fortune, strength, wealth, friends, and the like, 
 are neither willing nor able to submit to authority. The evil 
 begins at home: for when they are boys, by reason of the 
 luxury in which they are brought up, they never learn, even 
 at school, the habit of obedience. On the other hand, the 
 very poor, who are in the opposite extreme, are too degraded. 
 So that the one class cannot obey, and can only rule despoti- 
 cally; the other knows not how to command and must be 
 ruled like slaves. Thus arises a city, not of freemen, but of 
 masters and slaves, the one despising, the other envying; and 
 nothing can be more fatal to friendship and good-fellowship 
 in States than this: for good-fellowship tends to friendship; 
 when men are at enmity with one another, they would rather 
 not even share the same path. But a city ought to be 
 composed, as far as possible, of equals and similars; and 
 these are generally the middle classes. Wherefore the city 
 which is composed of middle-class citizens is necessarily best 
 
 f N. Eth. vii. 13, 2. g Cp. PI. Rep. iv. 421 c, D S. 
 
 h Laws viii. 831 E.
 
 THE POLITICS 103 
 
 governed ; they are, as we say, the natural elements of a State. 
 And this is the class of citizens which is most secure in a 
 State, for they do not, like the poor, covet their neighbors' 
 goods ; nor do others covet theirs, as the poor covet the goods 
 of the rich; and as they neither plot against others, nor are 
 themselves plotted against, they pass through life safely. 
 Wisely then did Phocylides pray, " Many things are best in 
 the mean ; I desire to be of a middle condition in my city." 
 
 Thus it is manifest that the best political community is 
 formed by citizens of the middle class, and that those States 
 are likely to be well administered, in which the middle class 
 is large, and larger if possible than both the other classes, 
 or at any rate than either singly; for the addition of the 
 middle class turns the scale, and prevents either of the extremes 
 from being dominant. Great then is the good fortune of a 
 State in which the citizens have a moderate and sufficient 
 property ; for where some possess much, and the others noth- 
 ing, there may arise an extreme democracy, or a pure oli- 
 garchy ; or a tyranny may grow out of either extreme either 
 out of the most rampant democracy, or out of an oligarchy; 
 but it is not so likely to arise out of a middle and nearly equal 
 condition. I will explain the reason of this hereafter, when 
 I speak of the revolutions of States. The mean condition of 
 States is clearly best, for no other is free from faction; and 
 where the middle class is large, there are least likely to be 
 factions and dissensions. For a similar reason large States 
 are less liable to faction than small ones, because in them the 
 middle class is large; whereas in small States it is easy to 
 divide all the citizens into two classes who are either rich or 
 poor, and to leave nothing in the middle. And democracies are 
 safer and more permanent than oligarchies, because they have 
 a middle class which is more numerous and has a greater 
 share in the government; for when there is no middle class, 
 and the poor greatly exceed in number, troubles arise, and the 
 State soon comes to an end. A proof of the superiority of the 
 middle class is that the best legislators have been of a middle 
 condition; for example, Solon, as his own verses tesify; and 
 Lycurgus, for he was not a king ; and Charondas, and almost 
 all legislators. 
 
 These considerations will help us to understand why most 
 governments are either democratical or oligarchical. The rea-
 
 io 4 ARISTOTLE 
 
 son is that the middle class is seldom numerous in them, and 
 whichever party, whether the rich or the common people, 
 transgresses the mean and predominates, draws the govern- 
 ment to itself, and thus arises either oligarchy or democracy. 
 There is another reason the poor and the rich quarrel with 
 one another, and whichever side gets the better, instead of 
 establishing a just or popular government, regards political 
 supremacy as the prize of victory, and the one party sets up 
 a democracy and the other an oligarchy. Both the parties 
 which had the supremacy in Hellas looked only to the interest 
 of their own form of government, and established in States, 
 the one, democracies, and the other, oligarchies ; they thought 
 of their own advantage, of the public not at all. For these 
 reasons the middle form of governments has rarely, if ever, 
 existed, and among a very few only. One man alone of all 
 who ever ruled in Hellas was induced to give this middle con- 
 stitution to States. But it has now become a habit among 
 the citizens of States, not even to care about equality; all 
 men are seeking for dominion, or, if conquered, are willing to 
 submit. 
 
 What then is the best form of government, and what makes 
 it the best is evident ; and of other States, since we say that 
 there are many kinds of democracy and many of oligarchy, 
 it is not difficult to see which has the first and which the second 
 or any other place in the order of excellence, now that we have 
 determined which is the best. For that which is nearest to 
 the best must of necessity be better, and that which is furthest 
 from it worse, if we are judging absolutely and not relatively 
 to given conditions : I say " relatively to given conditions," 
 since a particular government may be preferable for some, 
 but another form may be better for others. 
 
 We have now to consider what and what kind of govern- 
 ment is suitable to what and what kind of men. I may begin 
 by assuming, as a general principle common to all govern- 
 ments, that the portion of the State which desires permanence 
 ought to be stronger than that which desires the reverse. Now 
 every city is composed of quality and quantity. By quality 
 I mean freedom, wealth, education, good birth, and by quantity, 
 superiority of numbers. Quality may exist in one of the 
 classes which make up the State, and quantity in the other. 
 For example, the meanly born may be more in number than
 
 THE POLITICS 105 
 
 the well-born, or the poor than the rich, yet they may not so 
 much exceed in quantity as they fall short in quality; and 
 therefore there must be a comparison of quantity and quality. 
 Where the number of the poor is more than proportioned to 
 the wealth of the rich, there will naturally be a democracy, 
 varying in form with the sort of people who compose it in 
 each case. If, for example, the husbandmen exceed in num- 
 ber, the first form of democracy will then arise ; if the artisans 
 and laboring class, the last; and so with the intermediate 
 forms. But where the rich and the notables exceed in quality 
 more than they fall short in quantity, there oligarchy arises, 
 similarly assuming various forms according to the kind of 
 superiority possessed by the oligarchs. 
 
 The legislator should always include the middle class in 
 his government; if he makes his laws oligarchical, to the 
 middle class let him look ; if he makes them democratical, 
 he should equally by his laws try to attach this class to the 
 State. There only can the government ever be stable where 
 the middle class exceeds one or both of the others, and in that 
 case there will be no fear that the rich will unite with the 
 poor against the rulers. For neither of them will ever be 
 willing to serve the other, and if they look for some form of 
 government more suitable to both, they will find none better 
 than this, for the rich and the poor will never consent to rule 
 in turn, because they mistrust one another. The arbiter is 
 always the one trusted, and he who is in the middle is an 
 arbiter. The more perfect the admixture of the political ele- 
 ments, the more lasting will be the State. Many even of those 
 who desire to form aristocratical governments make a mis- 
 take, not only in giving too much power to the rich, but in 
 attempting to overreach the people. There comes a time 
 when out of a false good there arises a true evil, since the 
 encroachments of the rich are more destructive to the State 
 than those of the people. 
 
 The devices by which oligarchies deceive the people are 
 five in number; they relate to (i) the assembly; (2) the 
 magistracies; (3) the courts of law; (4) the use of arms; 
 (5) gymnastic exercises, (i) The assemblies are thrown 
 open to all, but either the rich only are fined for non-attendance, 
 or a much larger fine is inflicted upon them. (2) As to magis- 
 tracies, those who are qualified by property cannot decline
 
 I0 6 ARISTOTLE 
 
 office upon oath, but the poor may. (3) In the law courts the 
 rich, and the rich only, are fined if they do not serve, the 
 poor are let off with impunity, or, as in the laws of Charondas, 
 a large fine is inflicted on the rich, and a smaller one on the 
 poor. In some States all the citizens who have registered them- 
 selves are allowed to attend the assembly and try causes; but 
 if after registration they do not attend in the assembly or at 
 the courts, heavy fines are imposed upon them. The intention 
 is that through fear of the fines they may avoid registering 
 themselves, and then they cannot sit in the law courts or in 
 the assembly. (4) Concerning the possession of arms, and (5) 
 gymnastic exercises, they legislate in a similar spirit. For 
 the poor are not obliged to have arms, but the rich are fined 
 for not having them ; and in like manner no penalty is inflicted 
 on the poor for non-attendance at the gymnasium, and con- 
 sequently, having nothing to fear, they do not attend, whereas 
 the rich are liable to a fine, and therefore they take care to 
 attend. 
 
 These are the devices of oligarchical legislators, and in de- 
 mocracies they have counter-devices. They pay the poor for 
 attending the assemblies and the law courts, and they inflict 
 no penalty on the rich for non-attendance. It is obvious that 
 he who would duly mix the two principles should combine 
 the practice of both, and provide that the poor should be 
 paid to attend, and the rich fined if they do riot attend, for 
 then all will take part ; if there is no such combination, power 
 will be in the hands of one party only. The government 
 should be confined to those who carry arms. As to the prop- 
 erty qualification, no absolute rule can be laid down, but we 
 must see what is the highest qualification sufficiently com- 
 prehensive to secure that the number of those who have the 
 rights of citizens exceeds the number of those excluded. Even 
 if they have no share in office, the poor, provided only that 
 they are not outraged or deprived of their property, will be 
 quiet enough. 
 
 But to secure gentle treatment for the poor is not an easy 
 thing, since a ruling class is not always humane. And in 
 time of war the poor are apt to hesitate unless they are fed ; 
 when fed, they are willing enough to fight. In some States 
 the government is vested, not only in those who are actually 
 serving, but also in those who have served ; among the Malians,
 
 THE POLITICS 107 
 
 for example, the governing body consisted of the latter, while 
 the magistrates were chosen from those actually on service. 
 And the earliest government which existed among the Hel- 
 lenes, after the overthrow of the kingly power, grew up out 
 of the warrior class, and was originally taken from the knights 
 (for strength and superiority in war at that time depended on 
 cavalry) ; indeed, without discipline, infantry are useless, and 
 in ancient times there was no military knowledge or tactics, 
 and therefore the strength of armies lay in their cavalry. But 
 when cities increased and the heavy-armed grew in strength, 
 more had a share in the government; and this is the reason 
 why the States, which we call constitutional governments, 
 have been hitherto called democracies. Ancient constitutions, 
 as might be expected, were oligarchical and royal ; their popu- 
 lation being small they had no considerable middle class; the 
 people were weak in numbers and organization, and were there- 
 fore more contented to be governed. 
 
 I have explained why there are various forms of govern- 
 ment, and why there are more than is generally supposed; 
 for democracy, as well as other constitutions, has more than 
 one form: also what their differences are, and whence they 
 arise, and what is the best form of government, speaking gen- 
 erally, and to whom the various forms of government are best 
 suited; all this has now been explained. 
 
 Having thus gained an appropriate basis of discussion we 
 will proceed to speak of the points which follow next in order. 
 We will consider the subject not only in general but with 
 reference to particular States. All States have three elements, 
 and the good law-giver has to regard what is expedient for 
 each State. When they are well ordered, the State is well 
 ordered, and as they differ from one another, constitutions 
 differ. What is the element first (i) which deliberates about 
 public affairs ; secondly (2) which is concerned with the magis- 
 trates and determines what they should be, over whom they 
 should exercise authority, and what should be the mode of 
 electing them; and thirdly (3) which has judicial power? 
 
 The deliberative element has authority in matters of war 
 and peace, in making and unmaking alliances ; it passes laws, 
 inflicts death, exile, confiscation, audits the accounts of magis- 
 trates. All these powers must be assigned either to all the 
 citizens or to some of them, for example, to one or more magis-
 
 108 ARISTOTLE 
 
 tracies; or different causes to different magistracies, or some 
 of them to all, and others of them only to some. That all things 
 should be decided by all is characteristic of democracy; this 
 is the sort of equality which the people desire. But there are 
 various ways in which all may share in the government ; they 
 may deliberate, not all in one body, but by turns, as in the 
 constitution of Telecles the Milesian. There are other States 
 in which the boards of magistrates meet and deliberate, but 
 come into office by turns, and are elected out of the tribes and 
 the very smallest divisions of the State, until everyone has 
 obtained office in his turn. The citizens, on the other hand, 
 are assembled only for the purposes of legislation,, and to con- 
 sult about the constitution, and to hear the edicts of the magis- 
 trates. In another variety of democracy the citizens form one 
 assembly, but meet only to elect magistrates, to pass laws, to 
 advise about war and peace, and to make scrutinies. Other 
 matters are referred severally to special magistrates, who are 
 elected by vote or by Jot out of all the citizens. Or again, the 
 citizens meet about election to offices and about scrutinies, 
 and deliberate concerning war or alliances, while other matters 
 are administered by the magistrates, who, as far as is possible, 
 are elected by vote. I am speaking of those magistracies in 
 which special knowledge is required. A fourth form of de- 
 mocracy is when all the citizens meet to deliberate about every- 
 thing, and the magistrates decide nothing, but only make the 
 preliminary inquiries; and that is the way in which the last 
 and worst form of democracy, corresponding, as we main- 
 tain, to the close family oligarchy and to tyranny, is at present 
 administered. All these modes are democratical. 
 
 On the other hand, that some should deliberate about all 
 is oligarchical. This again is a mode which, like the demo- 
 cratical, has many forms. When the deliberative class being 
 elected out of those who have a moderate qualification are 
 numerous and they respect and obey the law without altering 
 it, and anyone who has the required qualification shares in the 
 government, then, just because of this moderation, the oli- 
 garchy inclines towards polity. But when only selected indi- 
 viduals and not the whole people share in the deliberations 
 of the State, then, although, as in the former case, they ob- 
 serve the law, the government is a pure oligarchy. Or, again, 
 when those who have the power of deliberation are self-elected,
 
 THE POLITICS 109 
 
 and son succeeds father, and they and not the laws are su- 
 preme the government is of necessity oligarchical. Where, 
 again, particular persons have authority in particular matters ; 
 for example, when the whole people decide about peace and 
 war and hold scrutinies, but the magistrates regulate every- 
 thing else, and they are elected either by vote or by lot there 
 the form of government is an aristocracy or polity. And if 
 some questions are decided by magistrates elected by vote, 
 and others by magistrates elected by lot, either absolutely or 
 out of select candidates, or elected both by vote and by lot 
 these practices are partly characteristic of an aristocratical gov- 
 ernment, and partly of a pure constitutional government. 
 
 These are the various forms of the deliberative body ; they 
 correspond to the various forms of government. And the 
 government of each State is administered according to one 
 or other of the principles which have been laid down. Now it 
 is for the interest of democracy, according to the most prev- 
 alent notion of it (I am speaking of that extreme form of 
 democracy, in which the people are supreme even over the 
 laws), with a view to better deliberation to adopt the custom 
 of oligarchies respecting courts of law. For in oligarchies the 
 rich who are wanted to be judges are compelled to attend under 
 pain of a fine, whereas in democracies the poor are paid to 
 attend. And this practice of oligarchies should be adopted 
 by democracies in their public assemblies, for they will ad- 
 vise better if they all deliberate together the people with the 
 notables and the notables with the people. It is also a good 
 plan that those who deliberate should be elected by vote or by 
 lot in equal numbers out of the different classes ; and that if 
 the people greatly exceed in number those who have political 
 training, pay should not be given to all, but only to as many 
 as would balance the number of the notables, or that the num- 
 ber in excess should be eliminated by lot. But in oligarchies, 
 either certain persons should be chosen out of the mass, or a 
 class of officers should be appointed such as exist in some States, 
 who are termed probuli and guardians of the law; and the 
 citizens should occupy themselves exclusively with matters on 
 which these have previously deliberated ; for so the people will 
 have a share in the deliberations of the State, but will not be 
 able to disturb the principles of the constitution. Again, in 
 oligarchies either the people ought to accept the measures of
 
 , IO ARISTOTLE 
 
 the government, or not to pass anything contrary to them; 
 or, if all are allowed to share in counsel, the decision should 
 rest with the magistrates. The opposite of what is done in 
 constitutional governments should be the rule in oligarchies; 
 the veto of the majority should be final, their assent not final, 
 but the proposal should be referred back to the magistrates. 
 Whereas in constitutional governments they take the contrary 
 course; the few have the negative not the affirmative power; 
 the affirmation of everything rests with the multitude. 
 
 These, then, are our conclusions respecting the deliberative, 
 that is, the supreme element in States. 
 
 Next we will proceed to consider the distribution of offices ; 
 this, too, being a part of politics concerning which many ques- 
 tions arise: What shall their number be? Over what shall 
 they preside, and what shall be their duration? Sometimes 
 they last for six months, sometimes for less; sometimes they 
 are annual, whilst in other cases offices are held for still longer 
 periods. Shall they be for life or for a long term of years; 
 or, if for a short term only, shall the same persons hold them 
 over and over again, or once only? Also about the appoint- 
 ment to them from whom are they to be chosen, by whom, 
 and how? We should first be in a position to say what are 
 the possible varieties of them, and then we may proceed to 
 determine which are suited to different forms of government. 
 But what are to be included under the term " offices " ? That 
 is a question not quite so easily answered. For a political com- 
 munity requires many officers ; and not everyone who is chosen 
 by vote or by lot is to be regarded as a ruler. In the first place 
 there are the priests, who must be distinguished from political 
 officers; masters of choruses and heralds, even ambassadors, 
 are elected by vote [but still they are not political officers]. 
 Some duties of superintendence again are political, extending 
 either to all the citizens in a single sphere of action, like the 
 office of the general who superintends them when they are 
 in the field, or to a section of them only, like the inspector- 
 ships of women or of youth. Other offices are concerned with 
 household management, like that of the corn measurers who 
 exist in many States and are elected officers. There are also 
 menial offices which the rich have executed by their slaves. 
 Speaking generally, they are to be called offices to which the 
 duties are assigned of deliberating about certain measures and
 
 THE POLITICS in 
 
 of judging and commanding, especially the last; for to com- 
 mand is the especial duty of a magistrate. But the question is 
 not of any importance in practice; no one has ever brought 
 into court the meaning of the word, although such problems 
 have a speculative interest. 
 
 What kinds of offices, and how many, are necessary to the 
 existence of a State, and which, if not necessary, yet conduce 
 to its well-being, are much more important considerations, 
 affecting all States, but more especially small ones. For in 
 great States it is possible, and indeed necessary, that every 
 office should have a special function; where the citizens are 
 numerous, many may hold office. And so it happens that 
 vacancies occur in some offices only after long intervals, or the 
 office is held once only; and certainly every work is better 
 done which receives the sole, and not the divided, attention 
 of the worker. But in small States it is necessary to combine 
 many offices in a few hands, since the small number of citizens 
 does not admit of many holding office : for who will there be 
 to succeed them? And yet small States at times require the 
 same offices and laws as large ones ; the difference is that the 
 one want them often, the others only after long intervals. 
 Hence there is no reason why the care of many offices should 
 not be imposed on the same person, for they will not interfere 
 with each other. When the population is small, offices should 
 be like the spits which also serve to hold a lamp. We must 
 first ascertain how many magistrates are necessary in every 
 State, and also how many are not exactly necessary, but are 
 nevertheless useful, and then there will be no difficulty in 
 judging what offices can be combined in one. We should also 
 know when local tribunals ought to have jurisdiction over 
 many different matters, and when authority should be central- 
 ized : for example, should one person keep order in the market 
 and another in some other place, or should the same person 
 be responsible everywhere? Again, should offices be divided 
 according to the subjects with which they deal, or according to 
 the persons with whom they deal : I mean to say, should one 
 person see to good order in general, or one look after the boys, 
 another after the women, and so on ? Further, under different 
 constitutions, should the magistrates be the same or different? 
 For example, in democracy, oligarchy, aristocracy, monarchy, 
 should there be the same magistrates, although they are elected,
 
 112 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 not out of equal or similar classes of citizens, but differently 
 under different constitutions in aristocracies, for example, 
 they are chosen from the educated, in oligarchies from the 
 wealthy, and in democracies from the free or are there differ- 
 ent offices proper to different constitutions, and may the same 
 be suitable to some, but unsuitable to others? For in some 
 States it may be convenient that the same office should have 
 a more extensive, in other States a narrower sphere. Special 
 offices are peculiar to certain forms of government: for ex- 
 ample [to oligarchies] that of probuli, which is not a demo- 
 cratic office, although a bonle, or council, is. There must be 
 some body of men whose duty is to prepare measures for the 
 people in order that they may not be diverted from their busi- 
 ness ; when these ar-^ few in number, the State inclines to an 
 oligarchy : or rather the probuli must always be few, and are 
 therefore an oligarchical element. But when both institutions 
 exist in a State, the probuli are a check on the council ; for the 
 counsellor is a democratic element, but the probuli are oli- 
 garchical. Even the power of the council disappears when 
 democracy has taken that extreme form, in which the people 
 themselves are always meeting and deliberating about every- 
 thing. This is the case when the members of the assembly 
 are wealthy or receive pay; for they have nothing to do and 
 are always holding assemblies and deciding everything for 
 themselves. A magistracy which controls the boys or the 
 women, or any similar office, is suited to an aristocracy rather 
 than to a democracy; for how can the magistrates prevent 
 the w r ives of the poor from going out of doors? Neither is it 
 an oligarchical office; for the wives of the oligarchs are too 
 fine to be controlled. 
 
 Enough of these matters. I will now inquire into the ap- 
 pointment of offices. There are three questions to be answered, 
 and the combinations of answers give all possible differences: 
 first, who appoints? secondly, from whom? and thirdly, how? 
 Each of these three may further differ in three ways: (i) 
 All the citizens, or only some, appoint; (2) Either the magis- 
 trates are chosen out of all or out of some who are distin- 
 guished either by a property qualification, or by birth, or merit, 
 or for some special reason, as at Megara only those were eligible 
 who had returned from exile and fought together against 
 the democracy; (3) They may be appointed either by vote or
 
 <HE POLITICS 113 
 
 by lot. Again, these several modes may be combined, I mean 
 that some officers may be elected by some, others by all, and 
 some again out of some, and others out of all, and some by 
 vote and others by lot. Each of these differences admits of 
 four variations. ( i ) Either all may elect out of all by vote, 01 
 all out of all by lot; and either out of all collectively or by 
 sections, as, for example, by tribes, and wards, and phratries, 
 until all the citizens have been gone through ; or the citizens 
 may be in all cases eligible indiscriminately, and in some cases 
 they may be elected by vote, and in some by lot. Again (2), 
 if only some appoint, they may appoint out of all by vote, or 
 out of all by lot; or out of some by vote, out of some by lot, 
 and some officers may be appointed in one way and some in 
 another, I mean if they are appointed by all they may be ap- 
 pointed partly by vote and partly by lot. Thus there will be 
 twelve forms of appointment without including the two com- 
 binations in the mode of election. Of these varieties two are 
 democratic forms, namely, when the choice is made by all the 
 people out of all by vote or by lot, or by both, that is to say, 
 some by lot and some by vote. The cases in which they do not 
 all appoint at one time, but some appoint out of all or out of 
 some by vote or by lot or by both (I mean some by lot and 
 some by vote), or some out of all and others out of some 
 both by lot and vote, are characteristic of a polity or constitu- 
 tional government. That some should be appointed out of all 
 by vote or by lot or by both, is oligarchical, and still more oli- 
 garchical when some are elected from all and some from some. 
 Th^at some should be elected out of all and some out of some, 
 or again some by vote and others by lot, is characteristic of a 
 constitutional government, which inclines to an aristocracy. 
 That some should be chosen out of some, and some taken by 
 lot out of some, is oligarchical though not equally oligarchical ; 
 oligarchical, too, is the appointment of some out of some in 
 both ways, and of some out of all. But that all should elect 
 by vote out of some is aristocratical. 
 
 These are the different ways of constituting magistrates, 
 and in this manner officers correspond to different forms of 
 government : which are proper to which, or how they ought 
 to be established, will be evident when we determine the nature 
 of their powers. By powers I mean such power as a magistrate 
 exercises over the revenue or in defence of the country; for 
 8
 
 H 4 ARISTOTLE 
 
 there are various kinds of power: the power of the general, 
 for example, is not the same with that which regulates con- 
 tracts in the market. 
 
 Of the three parts of government, the judicial remains to be 
 considered, and this we shall divide on the same principle. 
 There are three points on which the varieties of law courts 
 depend : The persons from whom they are appointed, the 
 matters with which they are concerned, and the manner of 
 their appointment. I mean, (i) are the judges taken from all, 
 or from some only? (2) how many kinds of law courts are 
 there? (3) are the judges chosen by vote or by lot? 
 
 First, let me determine how many kinds of law courts there 
 are. They are eight in number : One is the court of audits or 
 scrutinies; a second takes cognizance of [ordinary] offences 
 against the State ; a third is concerned with treason against the 
 government; the fourth determines disputes respecting penal- 
 ties, whether raised by magistrates or by private persons ; the 
 fifth decides the more important civil cases ; the sixth tries cases 
 of homicide, which are of various kinds, (i) premeditated, (2) 
 unpremeditated, (3) cases in which the guilt is confessed but 
 the justice is disputed; and there may be a fourth court (4) in 
 which murderers who have fled from justice are tried after 
 their return; such as the Court of Phreatto is said to be at 
 Athens. But cases of this sort rarely happen at all even in large 
 cities. The different kinds of homicide may be tried either by 
 the same or by different courts. -(7) There are courts for 
 strangers: of these there are two subdivisions, (i) for the 
 settlement of their disputes with one another, (2) for the set- 
 tlement of disputes between them and the citizens. And be- 
 sides all these there must be (8) courts for small suits about 
 sums of a drachma up to five drachmas, or a little more, which 
 have to be determined, but they do not require many judges. 
 
 Nothing more need be said of these small suits, nor of the 
 courts for homicide and for strangers : I would rather speak 
 of political cases, which, when mismanaged, create division 
 and disturbances in States. 
 
 Now if all the citizens judge, in all the different cases which 
 I have distinguished, they may be appointed by vote or by lot, 
 or sometimes by lot and sometimes by vote. Or when a cer- 
 tain class of causes are tried, the judges who decide them may 
 be appointed, some by vote, and some by lot. These then are
 
 THE POLITICS 115 
 
 the four modes of appointing judges from the whole people, and 
 there will be likewise four modes, if they are elected from a 
 part only ; for they may be appointed from some by vote and 
 judge in all causes ; or they may be appointed from some by lot 
 and judge in all causes ; or they may be elected in some cases 
 by vote, and in some cases taken by lot, or some courts, even 
 when judging the same causes, may be composed of members 
 some appointed by vote and some by lot. These then are the 
 ways in which the aforesaid judges may be appointed. 
 
 Once more, the modes of appointment may be combined, I 
 mean, that some may be chosen out of the whole people, others 
 out of some, some out of both ; for example, the same tribunal 
 may be composed of some who were elected out of all, and of 
 others who were elected out of some, either by vote or by lot or 
 by both. 
 
 In how many forms law courts can be established has now 
 been considered. The first form, viz., that in which the judges 
 are taken from all the citizens, and in which all causes are 
 tried, is democratical ; the second, which is composed of a 
 few only who try all causes, oligarchical; the third, in which 
 some courts are taken from all classes, and some from certain 
 classes only, aristocratical and constitutional.
 
 BOOK V 
 
 THE design which we proposed to ourselves is now nearly 
 completed. Next in order follow the causes of revolu- 
 tion in States, how many, and of what nature they are ; 
 what elements work ruin in particular States, and out of what, 
 and into what they mostly change ; also what are the elements 
 of preservation in States generally, or in a particular State, and 
 by what means each State may be best preserved : these ques- 
 tions remain to be considered. 
 
 In the first place we assume as our starting-point that in the 
 many forms of government which have sprung up there has 
 always been an acknowledgment of justice and proportionate 
 equality, although mankind fail in attaining them, as indeed I 
 have already explained. Democracy, for example, arises out 
 of the notion that those who are equal in any respect are equal 
 in all respects ; because men are equally free, they claim to be 
 absolutely equal. Oligarchy is based on the notion that those 
 who are unequal in one respect are in all respects unequal ; being 
 unequal, that is, in property, they suppose themselves to be un- 
 equal absolutely. The democrats think that as they are equal 
 they ought to be equal in all things ; while the oligarchs, under 
 the idea that they are unequal, claim too much, which is one 
 form of inequality. All these forms of government have a 
 kind of justice, but, tried by an absolute standard, they are 
 faulty ; and, therefore, both parties, whenever their share in the 
 government does not accord with their preconceived ideas, 
 stir up revolution. Those who excel in virtue have the best 
 right of all to rebel (for they alone can with reason be deemed 
 absolutely unequal), but then they are of all men the least in- 
 clined to do so. There is also a superiority which is claimed 
 by men of rank ; for they are thought noble because they spring 
 from wealthy and virtuous ancestors. Here then, so to speak, 
 are opened the very springs and fountains of revolution ; and 
 hence arise two sorts of changes in governments; the one 
 
 116
 
 THE POLITICS 117 
 
 affecting the constitution, when men seek to change from an 
 existing form into some other, for example, from democracy 
 into oligarchy, and from oligarchy into democracy, or from 
 either of them into constitutional government or aristocracy, 
 and conversely ; the other not affecting the constitution, when, 
 without disturbing the form of government, whether oligarchy, 
 or monarchy, or any other, they try to get the administration 
 into their own hands. Further, there is a question of degree ; 
 an oligarchy, for example, may become more or less oligarchical, 
 and a democracy more or less democratical ; and in like manner 
 the characteristics of the other forms of government may be 
 more or less strictly maintained. Or, the revolution may be 
 directed against a portion of the constitution only, e.g. the 
 establishment or overthrow of a particular office : as at Sparta 
 it is said that Lysander attempted to overthrow the monarchy, 
 and King Pausanias, the ephoralty. At Epidamnus, too, the 
 change was partial. For instead of phylarchs or heads of tribes, 
 a council was appointed ; but to this day the magistrates are the 
 only members of the ruling class who are compelled to go to 
 the Helisea when an election takes place, and the office of the 
 single archon [survives, which] is another oligarchical feature. 
 Everywhere inequality is a cause of revolution, but an in- 
 equality in which there is no proportion, for instance, a per- 
 petual monarchy among equals ; and always it is the desire 
 of equality which rises in rebellion. 
 
 Now equality is of two kinds, numerical and proportional; 
 by the first I mean sameness or equality in number or size ; by 
 the second, equality of ratios. For example, the excess of three 
 over two is equal to the excess of two over one ; whereas four 
 exceeds two in the same ratio in which two exceeds one, for 
 two is the same part of four that one is of two, namely, the 
 half. As I was saying before, men agree about justice in the 
 abstract, but they differ about proportion ; some think that if 
 they are equal in any respect they are equal absolutely, others 
 that if they are unequal in any respect they are unequal in all. 
 Hence there are two principal forms of government, democ- 
 racy and oligarchy; for good birth and virtue are rare, but 
 wealth and numbers are more common. In what city shall we 
 find a hundred persons of good birth and of virtue? whereas 
 the poor everywhere abound. That a State should be ordered, 
 simply and wholly, according to either kind of equality, is not
 
 Il8 ARISTOTLE 
 
 a good thing ; the proof is the fact that such forms of govern- 
 ment never last. They are originally based on a mistake, and, 
 as they begin badly, cannot fail to end badly. The inference is 
 that both kinds of equality should be employed; numerical in 
 some cases, and proportionate in others. 
 
 Still democracy appears to be safer and less liable to revolu- 
 tion than oligarchy. For in oligarchies there is the double 
 danger of the oligarchs falling out among themselves and also 
 with the people; but in democracies there is only the danger 
 of a quarrel with the oligarchs. No dissension worth men- 
 tioning arises among the people themselves. And we may 
 further remark that a government which is composed of the 
 middle class more nearly approximates to democracy than to 
 oligarchy, and is the safest of the imperfect forms of govern- 
 ment. 
 
 In considering how dissensions and political revolutions 
 arise, we must first of all ascertain the beginnings and causes 
 of them which affect constitutions generally. They may be 
 said to be three in number ; and we have now to give an outline 
 of each. We want to know (i) what is the feeling? and (2) 
 what are the motives of those who make them? (3) whence 
 arise political disturbances and quarrels? The universal and 
 chief cause of this revolutionary feeling has been already men- 
 tioned ; viz. the desire of equality, when men think that they are 
 equal to others who have more than themselves ; or, again, the 
 desire of inequality and superiority, when conceiving them- 
 selves to be superior they think that they have not more but 
 the same or less than their inferiors ; pretensions which may 
 and may not be just. Inferiors revolt in order that they may 
 be equal, and equals that they may be superior. Such is the 
 state of mind which creates revolutions. The motives for mak- 
 ing them are the desire of gain and honor, or the fear of dis- 
 honor and loss ; the authors of them want to divert punishment 
 or dishonor from themselves or their friends. The causes and 
 reasons of these motives and dispositions which are excited in 
 men, about the things which I have mentioned, viewed in one 
 way, may be regarded as seven, and in another as more than 
 seven. Two of them have been already noticed ; but they act 
 in a different manner, for men are excited against one another 
 by the love of gain and honor not, as in the case which I have 
 just supposed, in order to obtain them for themselves, but at
 
 THE POLITICS 119 
 
 seeing others, justly or unjustly, engrossing them. Other 
 causes are insolence, fear, love of superiority, contempt, dis- 
 proportionate increase in some part of the State ; causes of an- 
 other sort are election intrigues, carelessness, neglect about 
 trifles, dissimilarity of elements. 
 
 What share insolence and avarice have in creating revolu- 
 tions, and how they work, is plain enough. When the magis- 
 trates are insolent and grasping they conspire against one an- 
 other and also against the constitution from which they derive 
 their power, making their gains either at the expense of indi- 
 viduals or of the public. It is evident, again, what an influence 
 honor exerts and how it is a cause of revolution. Men who are 
 themselves dishonored and who see others obtaining honors rise 
 in rebellion ; the honor or dishonor when undeserved is unjust ; 
 and just when awarded according to merit. Again, superiority 
 is a cause of revolution when one or more persons have a 
 power which is too much for the State and the power of the 
 government; this is a condition of affairs out of which there 
 arises a monarchy, or a family oligarchy. And, therefore, in 
 some places, as at Athens and Argos, they have recourse to 
 ostracism. But how much better to provide from the first that 
 there should be no such pre-eminent individuals instead of 
 letting them come into existence and then finding a remedy ? 
 
 Another cause of revolution is fear. Either men have com- 
 mitted wrong, and are afraid of punishment, or they are ex- 
 pecting to suffer wrong and are desirous of anticipating their 
 enemy. Thus at Rhodes the notables conspired against the 
 people through fear of the suits that were brought against them. 
 Contempt is also a cause of insurrection and revolution ; for ex- 
 ample, in oligarchies when those who have no share in the 
 State are the majority, they revolt, because they think that they 
 are the stronger. Or, again, in democracies, the rich despise 
 the disorder and anarchy of the State ; at Thebes, for example, 
 where, after the battle of (Enophyta, the bad administration of 
 the democracy led to its ruin. At Megara the fall of the de- 
 mocracy was due to a defeat occasioned by disorder and anarchy. 
 And at Syracuse the democracy was overthrown before the 
 tyranny of Gelo arose ; at Rhodes before the insurrection. 
 
 Political revolutions also spring from a disproportionate in- 
 crease in any part of the State. For as a body is made up of 
 many members, and every member ought to grow in proper-
 
 i 2 o ARISTOTLE 
 
 tion, that symmetry may be preserved; but loses its nature if 
 the foot be four cubits long and the rest of the body two spans ; 
 and, should the abnormal increase be one of quality as well as 
 of quantity, may even take the form of another animal : even so 
 a State has many parts of which some one may often grow im- 
 perceptibly; for example, the number of poor in democracies 
 and in constitutional States. And this disproportion may some- 
 times happen by an accident, as at Tarentum, from a defeat in 
 which many of the notables were slain in a battle with the lapy- 
 gians just after the Persian War, the constitutional government 
 in consequence becoming a democracy ; or, as was the case at 
 Argos, where, after the battle at Hebdome, the Argives, after 
 their army had been cut to pieces by Cleomenes the Lacedaemo- 
 nian, were compelled to admit to citizenship some of their 
 Periceci; and at Athens, when, after frequent defeats of their 
 infantry in the times of the Peloponnesian War, the notables 
 were reduced in number, because the soldiers had to be taken 
 from the roll of citizens. Revolutions arise from this cause in 
 democracies as well as in other forms of government, but not 
 to so great an extent. When the rich grow numerous or prop- 
 erties increase, the form of government changes into an oligar- 
 chy or a government of families. Forms of government also 
 change sometimes even without revolution, owing to election 
 contests, as at Heraea (where, instead of electing their magis- 
 trates, they took them by lot, because the electors were in the 
 habit of choosing their own partisans) ; or owing to careless- 
 ness, when disloyal persons are allowed to find their way into 
 the highest offices, as at Oreus, where, upon the accession of He- 
 racleodorus to office the oligarchy was overthrown, and changed 
 by him into a constitutional and democratical government. 
 
 Again, the revolution may be accomplished by small degrees : 
 I mean that a great change may sometimes slip into the con- 
 stitution through neglect of a small matter; at Ambracia, for 
 instance, the qualification for office, small at first, was eventu- 
 ally reduced to nothing. For the Ambraciots thought that a 
 small qualification was much the same as none at all. 
 
 Another cause of revolution is difference of races which do 
 not at once acquire a common spirit; for a State is not the 
 growth of a day, neither is it a multitude brought together by 
 accident. Hence the reception of strangers in colonies, either 
 at the time of their foundation or afterwards, has generally
 
 THE POLITICS 121 
 
 produced revolution ; for example, the Achaeans who joined the 
 Troezenians in the foundation of Sybaris, being the more nu- 
 merous, afterwards expelled them; hence the curse fell upon 
 Sybaris. At Thurii the Sybarites quarrelled with their fellow- 
 colonists ; thinking that the land belonged to them, they wanted 
 too much of it and were driven out. At Byzantium the new 
 colonists were detected in a conspiracy, and were expelled by 
 force of arms; the people of Antissa, who had received the 
 Chian exiles, fought with them, and drove them out; and the 
 Zancleans, after having received the Samians, were driven by 
 them out of their own city. The citizens of Apollonia on the 
 Euxine, after the introduction of a fresh body of colonists, had 
 a revolution; the Syracusans, after the expulsion of their 
 tyrants, having admitted strangers and mercenaries to the 
 rights of citizenship, quarrelled and came to blows ; the people 
 of Amphipolis, having received Chalcidian colonists, were 
 nearly all expelled by them. 
 
 Now, in oligarchies the masses make revolution under the 
 idea that they are unjustly treated, because, as I said before, 
 they are equals, and have not an equal share, and in democracies 
 the notables revolt, because they are not equals, and yet have 
 only an equal share. 
 
 Again, the situation of cities is a cause of revolution when 
 the country is not naturally adapted to preserve the unity of 
 the State. For example, the Chytrians at Clazomenae did not 
 agree with the people of the island ; and the people of Colophon 
 quarrelled with the Notians ; at Athens, too, the inhabitants of 
 the Piraeus are more democratic than those who live in the city. 
 For just as in war, the impediment of a ditch, though ever so 
 small, may break a regiment, so every cause of difference, how- 
 ever slight, makes a breach in a city. The greatest opposition 
 is confessedly that of virtue and vice ; next comes that of wealth 
 and poverty ; and there are other antagonistic elements, greater 
 or less, of which one is this difference of place. 
 
 In revolutions the occasions may be trifling, but great inter- 
 ests are at stake. Trifles are most important when they concern 
 the rulers, as was the case of old at Syracuse ; for the Syracusan 
 constitution was once changed by a love-quarrel of two young 
 men, who were in the government. The story is that while one 
 of them was away from home his beloved was gained over by 
 his companion, and he to revenge himself seduced the other's
 
 12 i ARISTOTLE 
 
 wife. They then drew all the members of the ruling class into 
 their quarrel and made a revolution. We learn from this story 
 that we should be on our guard against the beginnings of such 
 evils, and should put an end to the quarrels of chiefs and mighty 
 men. The mistake lies in the beginning as the proverb says 
 " Well begun is half done " ; so an error at the beginning, 
 though quite small, has the proportion of a half to the whole 
 matter. In general, when the notables quarrel, the whole city 
 is involved, as happened in Hestiaea after the Persian War. 
 The occasion was the division of an inheritance; one of two 
 brothers refused to give an account of their father's property 
 and the treasure which he had found : so the poorer of the two 
 quarrelled with him and enlisted in his cause the popular party, 
 the other, who was very rich, the wealthy classes. 
 
 At Delphi, again, a quarrel about a marriage was the begin- 
 ning of all the troubles which followed. In this case the bride- 
 groom, fancying some occurrence to be of evil omen, came to 
 the bride, and went away without taking her. Whereupon her 
 relations, thinking that they were insulted by him, put some of 
 the sacred treasure [among his offerings] while he was sacri- 
 ficing, and then slew him, pretending that he had been robbing 
 the temple. At Mitylene, too, a dispute about heiresses was 
 the beginning of many misfortunes, and led to the war with 
 the Athenians in which Paches took their city. A wealthy 
 citizen, named Timophanes, left two daughters ; Doxander, an- 
 other citizen, wanted to obtain them for his sons ; but he was 
 rejected in his suit, whereupon he stirred up a revolution, and 
 instigated the Athenians (of whom he was proxenus} to inter- 
 fere. A similar quarrel about an heiress arose at Phocis be- 
 tween Mnaseas the father of Mnason, and Euthycrates the 
 father of Onomarchus ; this was the beginning of the Sacred 
 War. A marriage-quarrel was also the cause of a change in 
 the government of Epidamnus. A certain man betrothed his 
 daughter secretly to a person whose father, having been made 
 a, magistrate, fined the father of the girl, and the latter, stung 
 by the insult, conspired with the unenfranchised classes to over- 
 throw the State. 
 
 Governments also change into oligarchy or into democracy 
 or into a constitutional government because the magistrates, or 
 some other section of the State, increase in power or renown. 
 Thus at Athens the reputation gained by the court of the Areop-
 
 THE POLITICS 123 
 
 agus, in the Persian War, seemed to tighten the reins of gov- 
 ernment. On the other hand, the victory of Salamis, which was 
 gained by the common people who served in the fleet, and won 
 for the Athenians the empire of the sea, strengthened the de- 
 mocracy. At Argos, the notables, having distinguished them- 
 selves against the Lacedaemonians in the battle of Mantinea, at- 
 tempted to put down the democracy. At Syracuse, the people 
 having been the chief authors of the victory in the war with 
 the Athenians, changed the constitutional government into de- 
 mocracy. At Chalcis, the people, uniting with the notables, 
 killed Phoxus the tyrant, and then seized the government. At 
 Ambracia, the people, in like manner, having joined with the 
 conspirators in expelling the tyrant Periander, transferred the 
 government to themselves. And generally, it should be re- 
 membered that those who have secured power to the State, 
 whether private citizens, or magistrates, or tribes, or any other 
 part or section of the State, are apt to cause revolutions. For 
 either envy of their greatness draws others into rebellion, or 
 they themselves, in their pride of superiority, are unwilling to 
 remain on a level with others. 
 
 Revolutions break out when opposite parties, e.g., the rich 
 and the poor, are equally balanced, and there is little or nothing 
 between them ; for, if either party were manifestly superior, 
 the other would not risk an attack upon them. And, for this 
 reason, those who are eminent in virtue do not stir up insurrec- 
 tions, being always a minority. Such are the beginnings and 
 causes of the disturbances and revolutions to which every form 
 of government is liable. 
 
 Revolutions are effected in two ways, by force and by fraud. 
 Force may be applied either at the time of making the revolu- 
 tion or afterwards. Fraud, again, is of two kinds; for (i) 
 sometimes the citizens are deceived into a change of govern- 
 ment, and afterwards they are held in subjection against their 
 will. This was what happened in the case of the Four Hun- 
 dred, who deceived the people by telling them that the King 
 would provide money for the war against the Lacedaemonians, 
 and when the deception was over, still endeavored to retain the 
 government. (2) In other cases the people are persuaded at 
 first, and afterwards, by a repetition of the persuasion, their 
 goodwill and allegiance are retained. The revolutions which 
 affect constitutions generally spring from the above-mentioned 
 causes.
 
 124 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 And now, taking each constitution separately, we must see 
 what follows from the principles already laid down. 
 
 Revolutions in democracies are generally caused by the in- 
 temperance of demagogues, who either in their private capacity 
 lay information against rich men until they compel them to 
 combine (for a common danger unites even the bitterest ene- 
 mies), or coming forward in public they stir up the people 
 against them. The truth of this remark is proved by a variety 
 of examples. At Cos the democracy was overthrown because 
 wicked demagogues arose, and the notables combined. At 
 Rhodes the demagogues not only provided pay for the multi- 
 tude, but prevented them from making good to the trierarchs 
 the sums which had been expended by them; and they, in 
 consequence of the suits which were brought against them, 
 were compelled to combine and put down the democracy. The 
 democracy at Heraclea was overthrown shortly after the 
 foundation of the colony by the injustice of the demagogues, 
 which drove out the notables, who came back in a body and 
 put an end to the democracy. Much in the same manner the 
 democracy at Megara was overturned ; there the demagogues 
 drove out many of the notables in order that they might be 
 able to confiscate their property. At length the exiles, be- 
 coming numerous, returned, and engaging and defeating the 
 people, established an oligarchy. The same thing happened 
 with the democracy of Cyme which was overthrown by Thrasy- 
 machus. And we may observe that in most States the changes 
 have been of this character. For sometimes the demagogues, 
 in order to curry favor with the people, wrong the notables and 
 so force them to combine; either they make a division of 
 their property, or diminish their incomes by the imposition of 
 public services, and sometimes they bring accusations against 
 the rich that they may have their wealth to confiscate. 
 
 Of old, the demagogue was also a general, and then de- 
 mocracies changed into tyrannies. Most of the ancient tyrants 
 were originally demagogues.** They are not so now, but they 
 were then ; and the reason is that they were generals and not 
 orators, for oratory had not yet come into fashion. Whereas 
 in our day, when the art of rhetoric has made such progress, 
 the orators lead the people, but their ignorance of military 
 matters prevents them from usurping power; at any rate 
 a Plato, Rep. viii. 565 D.
 
 THE POLITICS 125 
 
 instances to the contrary are few and slight. Formerly tyran- 
 nies were more common than they now are, because great power 
 was often placed in the hands of individuals ; thus a tyranny 
 arose at Miletus out of the office of the Prytanis, who had 
 supreme authority in many important matters. Moreover, in 
 those days, when cities were not large, the people dwelt in 
 the fields, busy at their work; and their chiefs, if they pos- 
 sessed any military talent, seized the opportunity, and winning 
 the confidence of the masses by professing their hatred of 
 the wealthy, they succeeded in obtaining the tyranny. Thus 
 at .Athens Pisistratus led a faction against the men of the 
 plain,^ and Theagenes at Megara slaughtered the cattle of the 
 wealthy, which he found by the riverside where they had put 
 them to graze. Dionysius, again, was thought worthy of the 
 tyranny because he denounced Daphnasus and the rich; his 
 enmity to the notables won for him the confidence of the 
 people. Changes also take place from the ancient to the latest 
 form of democracy; for where there is a popular election of 
 the magistrates and no property qualification, the aspirants 
 for office get hold of the people, and contrive at last even to 
 set them above the laws. A more or less complete cure for this 
 State of things is for the separate tribes, and not the whole 
 people, to elect the magistrates. 
 
 These are the principal causes of revolutions in democracies. 
 
 There are two patent causes of revolutions in oligarchies 
 [one coming from without, the other from within the govern- 
 ment] : ( i ) First, when the oligarchs oppress the people, for 
 then anybody is good enough to be their champion, especially 
 if he is himself a member of the oligarchy, as Lygdamis at 
 Naxos, who afterwards came to be tyrant. But revolutions 
 which commence outside the governing class may be further 
 subdivided. Sometimes, when the government is very ex- 
 clusive, the revolution is brought about by persons of the 
 wealthy class who are excluded, as happened at Massalia and 
 Istros and Heraclea, and other cities. Those who had no share 
 in the government created a disturbance, until first the elder 
 brothers, and then the younger, were admitted ; for in some 
 places father and son, in others elder and younger brothers, 
 do not hold office together. At Massalia the oligarchy became 
 more like a constitutional government, but at Istros ended in 
 b See Herod, i. 59.
 
 LO ARISTOTLE 
 
 a democracy, and at Heraclea was enlarged to 600. At Cnidos, 
 again, the oligarchy underwent a considerable change. For 
 the notables fell out amongst themselves, because only a few 
 shared in the government ; there existed among them the rule 
 already mentioned, that father and son could not hold office 
 together, and, if there were several brothers, only the eldest 
 was admitted. The people took advantage of the quarrel, and 
 choosing one of the notables to be their leader, attacked and 
 conquered the oligarchs, who were divided, and division is 
 always a source of weakness. The city of Erythrse, too, in old 
 times was ruled, and ruled well, by the Basilidae, but the people 
 took offence at the narrowness of the oligarchy and changed 
 the government. 
 
 (2) Of internal causes of revolutions in oligarchies one is the 
 personal rivalry of the oligarchs, which leads them to play the 
 demagogue. Now, the oligarchical demagogue is of two sorts : 
 either (i) he practises upon the oligarchs themselves (for, 
 although the oligarchy are quite a small number, there may be 
 a demagogue among them, as at Athens the party of Charicles 
 predominated among the Thirty, that of Phrynichus in the 
 Four Hundred) ; or (2) the oligarchs may play the demagogue 
 with the people. This was the case at Larissa, where the 
 guardians of the citizens endeavored to gain over the people 
 because they were elected by them; and such is the fate of 
 all oligarchies in which the magistrates are elected, as at Aby- 
 dos, not by the class to which they belong, but by the heavy- 
 armed or by the people, although they may be required to have 
 a high qualification, or to be members of a political club ; or, 
 again, where the law courts are independent of the government, 
 the oligarchs flatter the people in order to obtain a decision 
 in their own favor, and so they change the constitution ; this 
 happened at Heraclea in Pontus. Again, oligarchies change 
 whenever any attempt is made to narrow them ; for then those 
 who desire equal rights are compelled to call in the people. 
 Changes in the oligarchy also occur when the oligarchs waste 
 their private property by extravagant living; for then they 
 want to innovate, and either try to make themselves tyrants, 
 or install someone else in the tyranny, as Hipparinus did Dio- 
 nysius at Syracuse, and as at Amphipolis a man named Cleoti- 
 mus introduced Chalcidian colonists, and when they arrived, 
 stirred them up against the rich. For a like reason in JEgina
 
 THE POLITICS 127 
 
 the person who carried on the negotiation with Chares en- 
 deavored to revolutionize the State. Sometimes a party among 
 the oligarchs try to create a political change; sometimes they 
 rob the treasury, and then, either the other oligarchs quarrel 
 with the thieves, as happened at Apollonia in Pontus, or they 
 with the other oligarchs. But an oligarchy which is at unity 
 with itself is not easily destroyed from within ; of this we may 
 see an example at Pharsalus, for there, although the rulers 
 are few in number, they govern a large city, because they have 
 a good understanding among themselves. 
 
 Oligarchies, again, are overthrown when another oligarchy 
 is created within the original one, that is to say, when the 
 whole governing body is small and yet they do not all share 
 in tne highest offices. Thus at Elis the governing body was 
 a small Senate; and very few ever found their way into it, 
 because, although in number ninety, the Senators were elected 
 for life and out of certain families in a manner similar to 
 the Lacedaemonian elders. Oligarchy is liable to revolutions 
 alike in war and in peace ; in war because, not being able to 
 trust the people, the oligarchs are compelled to hire mercena- 
 ries, and the general who is in command of them often ends 
 in becoming a tyrant, as Timophanes did at Corinth ; or if 
 there are more generals than one they make themselves into 
 a company of tyrants. Sometimes the oligarchs, fearing this 
 danger, give the people a share in the government because their 
 services are necessary to them. And in time of peace, from 
 mutual distrust, the two parties hand over the defence of the 
 State to the army and to an arbiter between the two factions 
 who often ends the master of both. This happened at Larissa 
 when Simos and the Aleuadae had the government, and at 
 Abydos in the days of Iphiades and the political clubs. Revolu- 
 tions also arise out of marriages or lawsuits which lead to the 
 overthrow of one party among the oligarchs by another. Of 
 quarrels about marriages I have already mentioned some in- 
 stances; another occurred at Eretria, where Diagoras over- 
 turned the oligarchy of the knights because he had been 
 wronged about a marriage. A revolution at Heraclea, and an- 
 other at Thebes, both arose out of decisions of law courts 
 upon a charge of adultery ; in both cases the punishment was 
 just, but executed in the spirit of the party, at Heraclea upon 
 Eurytion, and at Thebes upon Archias ; for their enemies
 
 123 ARISTOTLE 
 
 were jealous of them and so had them pilloried in the agora. 
 Many oligarchies have been destroyed by some members of 
 the ruling class taking offence at their excessive despotism ; 
 for example the oligarchy at Cnidus and at Chios. 
 
 Changes of constitutional governments, and also of oli- 
 garchies which limit the office of counsellor, judge, or other 
 magistrate to persons having a certain money qualification, 
 often occur by accident. The qualification may have been 
 originally fixed according to the circumstances of the time, 
 in such a manner as to include in an oligarchy a few only, or 
 in a constitutional government the middle class. But after a 
 time of prosperity, whether arising from peace or some other 
 good fortune, the same property becomes many times as large, 
 and then everybody participates in every office; this happens 
 sometimes gradually and insensibly, and sometimes quickly. 
 These are the causes of changes and revolutions in oligarchies. 
 
 We must remark generally, both of democracies and oli- 
 garchies, that they sometimes change, not into the opposite 
 forms of government, but only into another variety of the 
 same class ; I mean to say, from those forms of democracy and 
 oligarchy which are regulated by law into those which are 
 arbitrary, and conversely. 
 
 In aristocracies revolutions are stirred up when a few only 
 share in the honors of the State ; a cause which has been 
 already shown to affect oligarchies; for an aristocracy is a 
 sort of oligarchy, and, like an oligarchy, is the government of 
 a few, although the few are the virtuous and not the wealthy ; 
 hence the two are often confounded. And revolutions will 
 be most likely to happen, and must happen, when the major- 
 ity of the people are high-spirited, and have a notion that 
 they are as good as their rulers. Thus at Lacedaemon the 
 so-called Partheniae, who were the [illegitimate] sons of the 
 Spartan peers, attempted a revolution, and, being detected, 
 were sent away to colonize Tarentum. Again, revolutions 
 occur when great men who are at least of equal merit are 
 dishonored by those higher in office, as Lysander was by the 
 kings of Sparta: or, when a brave man is excluded from 
 the honors of the State, like Cinadon, who conspired against 
 the Spartans under Agesilaus ; or, again, when some are very 
 poor and others very rich, a state of society which is most 
 often the result of war, as at Lacedaemon in the days of the
 
 THE POLITICS 129 
 
 Messenian War; this is proved from the poem of Tyrtaeus, 
 entitled " Good Order " ; for he speaks of certain citizens 
 who were ruined by the war and wanted to have a redistribu- 
 tion of the land. Again, revolutions arise when an individual 
 who is great, and might be greater, wants to rule alone, as 
 at Lacedaemon, Pausanias, who was general in the Persian 
 War, or like Hanno at Carthage. 
 
 Constitutional governments and aristocracies are commonly 
 overthrown owing to some deviation from justice in the con- 
 stitution itself; the cause of the downfall is, in the former, 
 the ill-mingling of the two elements, democracy and oligarchy ; 
 in the latter, of the three elements, democracy, oligarchy, and 
 virtue, but especially democracy and oligarchy. For to com- 
 bine these is the endeavor of constitutional governments ; and 
 most of the so-called aristocracies have a like aim, but differ 
 from polities by the addition of virtue; hence some of them 
 are more and some less permanent. Those which incline more 
 to oligarchy are called aristocracies, and those which incline 
 to democracy constitutional governments. And therefore the 
 latter are the safer of the two ; for the greater the number, the 
 greater the strength, and when men are equal they are con- 
 tented. But the rich, if the government gives them power, are 
 apt to be insolent and avaricious ; and, in general, whichever 
 way the constitution inclines, in that direction it changes as 
 either party gains strength, a constitutional government be- 
 coming a democracy, an aristocracy, an oligarchy. But the 
 process may be reversed, and aristocracy may change into de- 
 mocracy. This happens when the poor, under the idea that 
 they are being wronged, force the constitution to take an op- 
 posite form. In like manner constitutional governments change 
 into oligarchies. The only stable principle of government is 
 equality according to proportion, and for every man to enjoy 
 his own. 
 
 What I have just mentioned actually happened at Thurii. 
 where the qualification for office, though at first high, was 
 reduced, and the magistrates increased in number. The 
 notables had previously acquired the whole of the land con- 
 trary to law ; for the government tended to oligarchy, and 
 they were able to encroach. But the people, who had been 
 trained by war, soon got the better of the guards kept by the 
 oligarchs, until those who had too much gave up their land. 
 9
 
 i jo 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 Again, since all aristocratical governments incline to oli- 
 garchy, the notables are apt to be grasping; thus at Lace- 
 daemon, where property has passed into few hands, the notables 
 can do too much as they like, and are allowed to marry whom 
 they please. The city of Locri was ruined by a marriage con- 
 nection with Dionysius, but such a thing could never have 
 happened in a democracy, or in a well-balanced aristocracy. 
 
 I have already remarked that in all States revolutions are 
 occasioned by trifles. In aristocracies, above all, they are of 
 a gradual and imperceptible nature. The citizens begin by 
 giving up some part of the constitution, and so with greater 
 ease the government change something else which is a little 
 more important, until they have undermined the whole fabric 
 of the State. At Thurii there was a law that generals should 
 only be re-elected after an interval of five years, and some high- 
 spirited young men who were popular with the soldiers of the 
 guard, despising the magistrates and thinking that they would 
 easily gain their purpose, wanted to abolish this law and allow 
 their generals to hold perpetual commands; for they well 
 knew that the people would be glad enough to elect them. 
 Whereupon the magistrates who had charge of these matters, 
 and who are called councillors, at first determined to resist, 
 but they afterwards consented, thinking that, if only this one 
 law was changed, no further inroad would be made on the 
 constitution. But other changes soon followed which they in 
 vain attempted to oppose ; and the State passed into the hands 
 of the revolutionists who established a dynastic oligarchy. 
 
 All constitutions are overthrown either from within or from 
 without ; the latter, when there is some government close at 
 hand having an opposite interest, or at a distance, but power- 
 ful. This was exemplified in the old times of the Athenians 
 and the Lacedaemonians ; the Athenians everywhere put down 
 the oligarchies, and the Lacedaemonians the democracies. 
 
 I have now explained what are the chief causes of revolu- 
 tions and dissensions in States. 
 
 We have next to consider what means there are of pre- 
 serving States in general, and also in particular cases. In the 
 first place it is evident that if we know the causes which destroy 
 States, we shall also know the causes which preserve them ; 
 for opposites produce opposites, and destruction is the oppo- 
 site of preservation.^ 
 
 c Cp. Nic. Eth. v. i, 4.
 
 THE POLITICS 131 
 
 In all well-attempered governments there is nothing which 
 should be more jealously maintained than the spirit of obedi- 
 ence to law, more especially in small matters ; for transgression 
 creeps in unperceived and at last ruins the State, just as the 
 constant recurrence of small expenses in time eats up a fortune. 
 The change does not take place all at once, and therefore is not 
 observed; the mind is deceived, as in the fallacy which says 
 that " if each part is little, then the whole is little." And this 
 is true in one way, but not in another, for the whole and the 
 all are not little, although they are made up of littles. 
 
 In the first place, then, men should guard against the be- 
 ginning of change, and in the second place they should not 
 rely upon the political devices of which I have already spoken, 
 invented only to deceive the people, for they are proved by 
 experience to be useless. Further we note that oligarchies as 
 well as aristocracies may last, not from any inherent stability 
 in such forms of government, but because the rulers are on 
 good terms both with the unenfranchised and with the gov- 
 erning classes, not maltreating any who are excluded from 
 the government, but introducing into it the leading spirits 
 among them. They should never wrong the ambitious in a 
 matter of honor, or the common people in a matter of money ; 
 and they should treat one another and their fellow-citizens in 
 a spirit of equality. The equality which the friends of de- 
 mocracy seek to establish for the multitude is not only just but 
 likewise expedient among equals. Hence, if the governing 
 class are numerous, many democratic institutions are useful; 
 for example, the restriction of the tenure of offices to six 
 months, that all those who are of equal rank may share in 
 them. Indeed, equals or peers when they are numerous be- 
 come a kind of democracy, and therefore demagogues are 
 very likely to arise among them, as I have already remarked. 
 The short tenure of office prevents oligarchies and aristocracies 
 from falling into the hands of families; it is not easy for a 
 person to do any great harm when his tenure of office is short, 
 whereas long possession begets tyranny in oligarchies and de- 
 mocracies. For the aspirants to tyranny are either the princi- 
 pal men of the State, who in democracies are demagogues 
 and in oligarchies members of ruling houses, or those who 
 hold great offices, and have a long tenure of them. 
 
 States are preserved when their destroyers are at a distance,
 
 132 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 and sometimes also because they are near, for the fear of them 
 makes the government keep in hand the State. Wherefore 
 the ruler \yho has a care of the State should invent terrors, 
 and bring distant dangers near, in order that the citizens may 
 be on their guard, and, like sentinels in a night-watch, never 
 relax their attention. He should endeavor too by help of the 
 laws to control the contentions and quarrels of the notables, 
 and to prevent those who have not hitherto taken part in them 
 from being drawn in. No ordinary man can discern the be- 
 ginning of evil, but only the true statesman. 
 
 As to the change produced in oligarchies and constitutional 
 governments by the alteration of the qualification, when this 
 arises, not out of any variation in the census, but only out of 
 the increase of money, it is well to compare the general valua- 
 tion of property with that of past years, annually in those 
 cities in which the census is taken annually, and in larger cities 
 every third or fifth year. If the whole is many times greater 
 or many times less than when the rates were fixed at the pre- 
 vious census, there should be power given by law to raise or 
 lower the qualification as the amount is greater or less. Where 
 in the absence of any such provision the standard is raised, a 
 constitutional government passes into an oligarchy, and an oli- 
 garchy is narrowed to a rule of families ; where the standard 
 is lowered, constitutional government becomes democracy, and 
 oligarchy either constitutional government or democracy. 
 
 Tt is a principle common to democracy, oligarchy, and every 
 other form of government not to allow the disproportionate 
 increase of any citizen, but to give moderate honor for a long 
 time rather than great honor for a short time. For men are 
 easily spoilt; not everyone can bear prosperity. But if this 
 rule is not observed, at any rate the honors which are given 
 all at once should be taken away by degrees and not all at 
 once. Especially should the laws provide against anyone 
 having too much power, whether derived from friends or 
 money; if he has, he and his followers should be sent out 
 of the country. And since innovations creep in through the 
 private life of individuals, there ought to be a magistracy 
 which will have an eye to those whose life is not in harmony 
 with the government, whether oligarchy or democracy or any 
 other. And for a like reason an increase of prosperity in any 
 part of the State should be carefully watched. The proper
 
 THE POLITICS 133 
 
 remedy for this evil is always to give the management of 
 affairs and offices of state to opposite elements ; such opposites 
 are the virtuous and the many, or the rich and the poor. An- 
 other way is to combine the poor and the rich in one body, or 
 to increase the middle class : thus an end will be put to the 
 revolutions which arise from inequality. 
 
 But above all every State should be so administered and 
 so regulated by law that its magistrates cannot possibly make 
 money. In oligarchies special precautions should be used 
 against this evil. For the people do not take any great offence 
 at being kept out of the government indeed they are rather 
 pleased than otherwise at having leisure for their private busi- 
 ness but what irritates them is to think that their rulers 
 are stealing the public money; then they are doubly annoyed; 
 for they lose both honor and profit. If office brought no profit, 
 then and then only could democracy and aristocracy be com- 
 bined; for both notables and people might have their wishes 
 gratified. All would be able to hold office, which is the aim of 
 democracy, and the notables would be magistrates, which is 
 the aim of aristocracy. And this result may be accomplished 
 when there is no possibility of making money out of the 
 offices; for the poor will not want to have them when there 
 is nothing to be gained from them they would rather be 
 attending to their own concerns; and the rich, who do not 
 want money from the public treasury, will be able to take them ; 
 and so the poor will keep to their work and grow rich, and 
 the notables will not be governed by the lower class. In order to 
 avoid peculation of the public money, the transfer of the revenue 
 should be made at a general assembly of the citizens, and dupli- 
 cates of the accounts deposited with the different brotherhoods, 
 companies, and tribes. And honors should be given by law 
 to magistrates who have the reputation of being incorruptible. 
 In democracies the rich should be spared ; not only should 
 their property not be divided, but their incomes also, which in 
 some States are taken from them imperceptibly, should be pro- 
 tected. It is a good thing to prevent the wealthy citizens, even 
 if they are willing, from undertaking expensive and useless 
 public services, such as the giving of choruses, torch-races, 
 and the like. In an oligarchy, on the other hand, great care 
 should be taken of the poor, and lucrative offices should go 
 to them ; if any of the wealthy classes insult them, the offender
 
 134 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 should be punished more severely than one of their own class 
 for a like offence. Provisions should be made that estates 
 pass by inheritance and not by gift, and no person should have 
 more than one inheritance ; for in this way properties will be 
 equalized, and more of the poor rise to competency. It is 
 also expedient both in democracy and in an oligarchy to assign 
 to those who have less share in the government (for example, 
 to the rich in a democracy and to the poor in an oligarchy) an 
 equality or preference in all but the principal offices of state. 
 The latter should be entrusted chiefly or only to members of 
 the governing class. 
 
 There are three qualifications required in those who have 
 to fill the highest offices (i) first of all, loyalty to the estab- 
 lished constitution; (2) the greatest administrative capacity; 
 (3) virtue and justice of the kind proper to each form of gov- 
 ernment; for, if what is just is not the same in all govern- 
 ments, the quality of justice must also differ. There may be 
 a doubt however, when all these qualities do not meet in the 
 same person, how the selection is to be made ; suppose, for 
 example, a good general is a bad man and not a friend to the 
 constitution, and another man is loyal and just, which should 
 we choose? In making the election ought we not to consider 
 two points? what qualities are common, and what are rare. 
 Thus in the choice of a general, we should regard his skill 
 rather than his virtue; for few have military skill, but many 
 have virtue. In keeping watch or in any office of steward- 
 ship, on the other hand, the opposite rule should be observed ; 
 for more virtue than ordinary is required in the holder of 
 such an office, but the necessary knowledge is of a sort which 
 all men possess. 
 
 It may, however, be asked what a man wants with virtue 
 if he have political ability and is loyal, since these two qualities 
 alone will make him do what is for the public interest. But 
 may not men have both of them and yet be deficient in self- 
 control? If, knowing and loving their own interests, they 
 do not always attend to them, may they not be equally neg- 
 ligent of the interests of the public? 
 
 Speaking generally, we may say that whatever legal enact- 
 ments are held to be for the interest of States, all these pre- 
 serve States. And the great preserving principle is the one 
 which has been repeatedly mentioned to have a care that the
 
 THE POLITICS 135 
 
 loyal citizens should outnumber the disloyal. Neither should 
 we forget the mean, which at the present day is lost sight ot 
 in perverted forms of government; for many practices which 
 appear to be democratical are the ruin of democracies, and 
 many which appear to be oligarchical are the ruin of oligarchies. 
 Those who think that all virtue is to be found in their own 
 party principles push matters to extremes; they do not con- 
 sider that disproportion destroys a State. A nose which varies 
 from the ideal of straightness to a hook or snub may still be 
 of good shape and agreeable to the eye; but if the excess 
 be very great, all symmetry is lost, and the nose at last ceases 
 to be a nose at all on account of some excess in one direction 
 or defect in the other; and this is true of every other part of 
 the human body. The same law of proportion equally holds 
 in States. Oligarchy or democracy, although a departure from 
 the most perfect form, may yet be a good enough government, 
 but if anyone attempts to push the principles of either to an 
 extreme, he will begin by spoiling the government and end 
 by having none at all. Wherefore the legislator and the states- 
 man ought to know what democratical measures save and 
 what destroy a democracy, and what oligarchical measures 
 save or destroy an oligarchy. For neither the one nor the 
 other can exist or continue to exist unless both rich and poor 
 are included in it. If equality of property is introduced, the 
 State must of necessity take another form ; for when by laws 
 carried to excess one or other element in the State is ruined, 
 the constitution is ruined. 
 
 There is an error common both to oligarchies and to democ- 
 racies : in the latter the demagogues, when the multitude are 
 above the law, are always cutting the city in two by quarrels 
 with the rich, whereas they should always profess to be main- 
 taining their cause ; just as in oligarchies, the oligarchs should 
 profess to maintain the cause of the people, and should take 
 oaths the opposite of those which they now take. For there 
 are cities in which they swear " I will be an enemy to the 
 people, and will devise all the harm against them which I can " ; 
 but they ought to exhibit and to entertain the very opposite 
 feeling; in the form of their oath there should be an express 
 declaration " I will do no wrong to the people." 
 
 But of all the things which I have mentioned that which 
 most contributes to the permanence of constitutions is the
 
 136 ARISTOTLE 
 
 adaptation of education to the form of government, and yet 
 in our own day this principle is universally neglected. The best 
 laws, though sanctioned by every citizen of the State, will be 
 of no avail unless the young are trained by habit and educa- 
 tion in the spirit of the constitution, if the laws are democratical, 
 democratically, or oligarchically, if the laws are oligarchical. 
 For there may be a want of self-discipline in States as well as in 
 individuals. Now, to have been educated in the spirit of the 
 constitution is not to perform the actions in which oligarchs 
 or democrats delight, but those by which the existence of an 
 oligarchy or of a democracy is made possible. Whereas among 
 ourselves the sons of the ruling class in an oligarchy live in 
 luxury, but the sons of the poor are hardened by exercise and 
 toil, and hence they are both more inclined and better able 
 to make a revolution.^ And in democracies of the more ex- 
 treme type there has arisen a false idea of freedom which is 
 contradictory to the true interests of the State. For two prin- 
 ciples are characteristic of democracy, the government of the 
 majority and freedom. Men think that what is just is equal ; 
 and that equality is the supremacy of the popular will; and 
 that freedom and equality mean the doing what a man likes. 
 In such democracies everyone lives as he pleases, or in the 
 words of Euripides, " according to his fancy." But this is 
 all wrong; men should not think it slavery to live according 
 to the rule of the constitution ; for it is their salvation. 
 
 I have now discussed generally the causes of the revolution 
 and destruction of States, and the means of their preservation 
 and continuance. 
 
 I have still to speak of monarchy, and the causes of its 
 destruction and preservation. What I have said already re- 
 specting other forms of government applies almost equally to 
 royal and to tyrannical rule. For royal rule is of the nature of 
 an aristocracy, and a tyranny is a compound of oligarchy and 
 democracy in their most extreme forms; it is therefore most 
 injurious to its subjects, being made up of two evil forms 
 of government, and having the perversions and errors of both. 
 These two forms of monarchy differ in their very origin. The 
 appointment of a king is the resource of the better classes 
 against the people, and he is elected by them out of their own 
 number, because either he himself or his family excel in virtue 
 d Cp. PI. Rep. viii. 556 D.
 
 THE POLITICS 137 
 
 and virtuous actions ; whereas a tyrant is chosen from the 
 people to be their protector against the notables, and in order 
 to prevent them from being injured. History shows that 
 almost all tyrants have been demagogues who gained the favor 
 of the people by their accusation of the notables.? At any 
 rate this was the manner in which the tyrannies arose in the 
 days when cities had increased in power. Others which were 
 older originated in the ambition of kings wanting to overstep 
 the limits of their hereditary power and become despots. Others 
 again grew out of the class which were chosen to be chief 
 magistrates ; for in ancient times the people who elected them 
 gave the magistrates, whether civil or religious, a long tenure. 
 Others arose out of the custom which oligarchies had of making 
 some individual supreme over the highest offices. In any of 
 these ways an ambitious man had no difficulty, if he desired, 
 in creating a tyranny, since he had the power in his hands 
 already, either as king or as one of the officers of state. Thus 
 Pheidon at Argos and several others were originally kings, 
 and ended by becoming tyrants ; Phalaris, on the other hand, 
 and the Ionian tyrants, acquired the tyranny by holding great 
 offices. Whereas Panaetius at Leontini, Cypselus at Corinth, 
 Pisistratus at Athens, Dionysius at Syracuse, and several 
 others who afterwards became tyrants, were at first dema- 
 gogues. 
 
 And so, as I was saying, royalty ranks with aristocracy, for 
 it is based upon merit, whether of the individual or of his 
 family, or on benefits conferred, or on these claims with power 
 added to them. For all who have obtained this honor have 
 benefited, or had in their power to benefit, States and nations ; 
 some, like Codrus, have prevented the State from being en- 
 slaved in war; others, like Cyrus, have given their country 
 freedom, or have settled or gained a territory, like the Lace- 
 daemonian, Macedonian, and Molossian kings. The idea of a 
 king is to be a protector of the rich against unjust treatment, 
 of the people against insult and oppression. Whereas a tyrant, 
 as has often been repeated, has no regard to any public interest, 
 but only to his private ends ; his aim is pleasure, the aim of 
 a king, honor. Wherefore also in their desires they differ: 
 the tyrant is desirous of riches, the king, of what brings honor. 
 And the guards of a king are citizens, but of a tyrant merce- 
 naries. 
 
 e Plato, Rep. 565 D.
 
 138 ARISTOTLE 
 
 That tyranny has all the vices both of democracy and oli- 
 garchy is evident. As of oligarchy so of tyranny, the end is 
 wealth (for by wealth only can the tyrant maintain either his 
 guard or his luxury). Both mistrust the people, and therefore 
 deprive them of their arms. Both agree too in injuring the 
 people and driving them out of the city and dispersing them. 
 From democracy tyrants have borrowed the art of making 
 war upon the notables and destroying them secretly or openly, 
 or of exiling them because they are rivals and stand in the 
 way of their power; and also because plots against them are 
 contrived by men of this class, who either want to rule or to 
 escape subjection. Hence Periander advised Thrasybulus to 
 cut off the tops of the tallest ears of corn, meaning that he 
 must always put out of the way the citizens who overtop the 
 rest. And so, as I have already intimated, the beginnings of 
 change are the same in monarchies as in other forms of gov- 
 ernment; subjects attack their sovereigns out of fear or con- 
 tempt, or because they have been unjustly treated by them. 
 And of injustice, the most common form is insult, another 
 is confiscation of property. 
 
 The ends sought by conspiracies against monarchies, whether 
 tyrannies or royalties, are the same as the ends sought by 
 conspiracies against other forms of government. Monarchs 
 have great wealth and honor which are objects of desire to all 
 mankind. The attacks are made sometimes against their lives, 
 sometimes against the office; where the sense of insult is the 
 motive, against their lives. Any sort of insult (and there are 
 many) may stir up anger, and when men are angry, they 
 commonly act out of revenge, and not from ambition. For 
 example, the attempt made upon the Pisistratidae arose out of 
 the public dishonor offered to the sister of Harmodius and the 
 insult to himself. He attacked the tyrant for his sister's sake, 
 and Aristogeiton joined in the attack for the sake of Harmodius. 
 A conspiracy was also formed against Periander, the tyrant of 
 Ambracia, because, when drinking with a favorite youth, he 
 asked him whether by this time he was not with child by him. 
 Philip, too, was attacked by Pausanias because he permitted 
 him to be insulted by Attalus and his friends, and Amyntas 
 the little, by Derdas, because he boasted of having enjoyed his 
 youth. Evagoras of Cyprus, again, was slain by the eunuch 
 to revenge an insult; for his wife had been carried off by
 
 THE POLITICS 139 
 
 Evagoras's son. Many conspiracies have originated in shame- 
 ful attempts made by sovereigns on the persons of their sub- 
 jects. Such was the attack of Crataeus upon Archelaus; he 
 had always hated the connection with him, and so, when Arche- 
 laus, having promised him one of his two daughters in mar- 
 riage, did not give him either of them, but broke his word and 
 married the elder to the King of Elymaea, when he was hard 
 pressed in a war against Sirrhas and Arrhibaeus, and the 
 younger to his own son Amyntas, under the idea that he would 
 then be less likely to quarrel with the son of Cleopatra Cratasus 
 made this slight a pretext for attacking Archelaus, though even 
 a less reason would have sufficed, for the real cause of the 
 estrangement was the disgust which he felt at his connection 
 with the King. And from a like motive Hellanocrates of 
 Larissa conspired with him; for when Archelaus, who was 
 his lover, did not fulfil his promise of restoring him to his 
 country, he thought that the connection between them had 
 originated, not in affection, but in the wantonness of power. 
 Parrhon, too, and Heracleides of /Enos, slew Cotys in order 
 to avenge their father, and Adamas revolted from Cotys in 
 revenge for the wanton outrage which he had committed in 
 mutilating him when a child. 
 
 Many, too, irritated at blows inflicted on the person which 
 they deemed an insult, have either killed or attempted to kill 
 officers of state and royal princes by whom they have been 
 injured. Thus, at Mitylene, Megacles and his friends attacked 
 and slew the Penthalidse, as they were going about and striking 
 people with clubs. At a later date Smerdis, who had been 
 beaten and torn away from his wife by Penthilus, slew him. 
 In the conspiracy against Archelaus, Decamnichus stimulated 
 the fury of the assassins and led the attack ; he was enraged be- 
 cause Archelaus had delivered him to Euripides to be scourged ; 
 for the poet had been irritated at some remark made by Decam- 
 nichus on the foulness of his breath. Many other examples 
 might be cited of murders and conspiracies which have arisen 
 from similar causes. 
 
 Fear is another motive which has caused conspiracies as 
 well in monarchies as in more popular forms of government. 
 Thus Artapanes conspired against Xerxes and slew him, fear- 
 ing that he would be accused of hanging Darius against his 
 orders he being under the impression that Xerxes would
 
 I 4 o ARISTOTLE 
 
 forget what he had said in the middle of a meal, and that the 
 offence would be forgiven. 
 
 Another motive is contempt, as in the case of Sardanapalus, 
 whom someone saw carding wool with his women, if the story- 
 tellers say truly; and the tale may be true, if not of him, of 
 someone else. Dion attacked the younger Dionysius because 
 he despised him, and saw that he was equally despised by 
 his own subjects, and that he was always drunk. Even the 
 friends of a tyrant will sometimes attack him out of contempt ; 
 for the confidence which he reposes in them breeds contempt, 
 and they think that they will not be found out. The expecta- 
 tion of success is likewise a sort of contempt; the assailants 
 are ready to strike, and think nothing of the danger, because 
 they seem to have the power in their hands. Thus generals 
 of armies attack monarchs ; as, for example, Cyrus attacked 
 Astyages, despising the effeminacy of his life, and believing 
 that his power was worn out. Thus, again, Seuthes the 
 Thracian conspired against Amadocus, whose general he was. 
 
 And sometimes men are actuated by more than one motive, 
 like Mithridates, who conspired against Ariobarzanes, partly 
 out of contempt and partly from the love of gain. 
 
 Bold natures, placed by their sovereigns in a high military 
 position, are most likely to make the attempt in the expecta- 
 tion of success ; for courage is emboldened by power, and the 
 union of the two inspires them with the hope of an easy victory. 
 
 Attempts of which the motive is ambition arise from other 
 causes. There are men who will not risk their lives in the 
 hope of gains and rewards however great, but who nevertheless 
 regard the killing of a tyrant simply as an extraordinary 
 action which will make them famous and honorable in the 
 world ; they wish to acquire, not a kingdom, but a name. It 
 is rare, however, to find such men ; he who would kill a tyrant 
 must be prepared to lose his life if he fail. He must have the 
 resolution of Dion, who, when he made war upon Dionysius, 
 took with him very few troops, saying " that whatever meas- 
 ure of success he might attain would be enough for him, even 
 if he were to die the moment he landed ; such a death would 
 be welcome to him." But this is a temper to which few can 
 attain. 
 
 Once more, tyrannies, like all other governments, are de- 
 stroyed from without by some opposite and more powerful form
 
 THE POLITICS 141 
 
 of government. That such a government will have the will 
 to attack them is clear ; for the two are opposed in principle ; 
 and all men, if they can, do what they will. Democracy is 
 also antagonistic to tyranny, on the principle of Hesiod, " Potter 
 hates potter," because they are nearly akin, for the extreme 
 form of democracy is tyranny; and royalty and aristocracy 
 are both alike opposed to tyranny, because they are constitu- 
 tions of a different type. And therefore the Lacedaemonians 
 put down most of the tyrannies, and so did the Syracusans 
 during the time when they were well-governed. 
 
 Again, tyrannies are destroyed from within, when the reign- 
 ing families are divided among themselves, as that of Gelo 
 was, and more recently that of Dionysius ; in the case of Gelo 
 because Thrasybulus, the brother of Hiero, flattered the son 
 of Gelo and led him into excesses in order that he might rule 
 in his name. Whereupon the family conspired to get rid of 
 Thrasybulus and save the tyranny; but the party who con- 
 spired with them seized the opportunity and drove them all 
 out. In the case of Dionysius, Dion, his own relative, attacked 
 and expelled him with the assistance of the people; he after- 
 wards perished himself. 
 
 There are two chief motives which induce men to attack 
 tyrannies hatred and contempt. Hatred of tyrants is inevi- 
 table, and contempt is also a frequent cause of their destruc- 
 tion. Thus we see that most of those who have acquired, have 
 retained their power, but those who have inherited/ have lost 
 it, almost at once; for living in luxurious ease, they have 
 become contemptible, and offer many opportunities to their 
 assailants. Anger, too, must be included under hatred, and 
 produces the same effects. It is oftentimes even more ready 
 to strike the angry are more impetuous in making an attack, 
 for they do not listen to reason. And men are very apt to give 
 way to their passions when they are insulted. To this cause 
 is to be attributed the fall of the Pisistratidae and of many 
 others. Hatred is more reasonable, but anger is accompanied 
 by pain, which is an impediment to reason, whereas hatred 
 is painless.g 
 
 In a word, all the causes which I have mentioned as destroy- 
 ing the last and most unmixed form of oligarchy, and the ex- 
 treme form of democracy, may be assumed to affect tyranny; 
 
 /Cp. Plato, Laws, iii. 695. g Cp. Rhetoric, ii. 4, 31.
 
 142 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 indeed the extreme forms of both are only tyrannies distributed 
 among several persons. Kingly rule is little affected by ex- 
 ternal causes, and is, therefore, lasting; it is generally de- 
 stroyed from within. And there are two ways in which the 
 destruction may come about; (i) when the members of the 
 royal family quarrel among themselves, and (2) when the kings 
 attempt to administer the State too much after the fashion of 
 a tyranny, and to extend their authority contrary to the law. 
 There are now no royalties; monarchies, where they exist, 
 are tyrannies. For the rule of a king is over voluntary sub- 
 jects, and he is supreme in all important matters; but in our 
 own day men are more upon an equality, and no one is so 
 immeasurably superior to others as to represent adequately 
 the greatness and dignity of the office. Hence mankind will 
 not, if they can help, endure it, and anyone who obtains power 
 by force or fraud is at once thought to be a tyrant. In heredi- 
 tary monarchies a further cause of destruction is the fact that 
 kings often fall into contempt, and, although possessing not 
 tyrannical but only royal power, are apt to outrage others. 
 Their overthrow is then readily effected ; for there is an end 
 to the king when his subjects do not want to have him, but 
 the tyrant lasts, whether they like him or not. 
 
 The destruction of monarchies is to be attributed to these 
 and the like causes. 
 
 And they are preserved, to speak generally, by the opposite 
 causes ; or, if we consider them separately, ( I ) royalty is pre- 
 served by the limitation of its powers. The more restricted the 
 functions of kings, the longer their power will last unimpaired ; 
 for then they are more moderate and not so despotic in their 
 ways; and they are less envied by their subjects. This is 
 the reason why the kingly office has lasted so long among the 
 Molossians. And for a similar reason it has continued among 
 the Lacedaemonians, because there it was always divided be- 
 tween two, and afterwards further limited by Theopompus in 
 various respects, more particularly by the establishment of the 
 ephoralty. He diminished the power of the kings, but estab- 
 lished on a more lasting basis the kingly office, which was 
 thus made in a certain sense not less, but greater. There is 
 a story that when his wife once asked him whether he was 
 not ashamed to leave to his sons a royal power which was 
 less than he had inherited from his father, " No indeed," he
 
 THE POLITICS 143 
 
 replied, " for the power which I leave to them will be more 
 lasting." 
 
 As to (2) tyrannies, they are preserved in two most opposite 
 ways. One of them is the old traditional method in which 
 most tyrants administer their government. Of such arts 
 Periander of Corinth is said to have been the great master, 
 and many similar devices may be gathered from the Persians 
 in the administration of their government. There are also 
 the ancient prescriptions for the preservation of a tyranny, in 
 so far as this is possible; viz., that the tyrant should lop off 
 those who are too high; he must put to death men of spirit; 
 he must not allow common meals, clubs, education, and the 
 like; he must be upon his guard against anything which is 
 likely to inspire either courage or confidence among his sub- 
 jects ; he must prohibit literary assemblies or other meetings for 
 discussion, and he must take every means to prevent people 
 from knowing one another (for acquaintance begets mutual 
 confidence). Further he must compel the inhabitants to appear 
 in public and live at his gates; then he will know what they 
 are doing: if they are always kept under, they will learn to 
 be humble. In short he should practice these and the like Per- 
 sian and barbaric arts which all have the same object. A 
 tyrant should also endeavor to know what each of his sub- 
 jects says or does, and should employ spies, like the " female 
 detectives " at Syracuse, and the eavesdroppers whom Hiero 
 was in the habit of sending to any place of resort or meeting ; 
 for the fear of informers prevents people from speaking their 
 minds, and if they do, they are more easily found out. Another 
 art of the tyrant is to sow quarrels amongst the citizens; 
 friends should be embroiled with friends, the people with 'the 
 notables, and the rich with one another. Also he should im- 
 poverish his subjects; he thus provides money for the sup- 
 port of his guards, and the people, having to keep hard at 
 work, are prevented from conspiring. The Pyramids of 
 Egypt afford an example of this policy; also the offerings 
 of the family of Cypselus, and the building of the temple of 
 Olympian Zeus by the Pisistratidae, and the great Polycratean 
 monuments at Samos ; all these works were alike intended 
 to occupy the people and keep them poor. Another practice 
 of tyrants is to multiply taxes, after the manner of Dionysius 
 at Syracuse, who contrived that within five years his subjects
 
 144 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 should bring into the treasury their whole property. The 
 tyrant is also fond of making war in order that his subjects 
 may have something to do and be always in want of a leader. 
 And whereas the power of a king is preserved by his friends, 
 the characteristic of a tyrant is to distrust his friends, because 
 he knows that all men want to overthrow him, and they above 
 all have the power. 
 
 Again, the evil practices of the last and worst form of de- 
 mocracy are all found in tyrannies. Such are the power given 
 to women in their families in the hope that they will inform 
 against their husbands, and the license which is allowed to 
 slaves in order that they may betray their masters ; for slaves 
 and women do not conspire against tyrants; and they are of 
 course friendly to tyrannies and also to democracies, since 
 under them they have a good time. For the people too would 
 fain be a monarch, and therefore by them, as well as by the 
 tyrant, the flatterer is held in honor ; in democracies he is the 
 demagogue; and the tyrant also has hib humble companions 
 who flatter him. 
 
 Hence tyrants are always fond of bad men, because they 
 love to be flattered, but no man who has the spirit of a free- 
 man in him will demean himself by flattery; good men love 
 others, but they do not flatter anybody. Moreover the bad 
 are useful for bad purposes ; " nail knocks out nail," as the 
 proverb says. It is characteristic of a tyrant to dislike every- 
 one who has dignity or independence ; he wants to be alone 
 in his glory, but anyone who claims a like dignity or asserts 
 his independence encroaches upon his prerogative, and is hated 
 by him as an enemy to his power. Another mark of a tyrant 
 is that he likes foreigners better than citizens, and lives with 
 them and invites them to his table ; for the one are enemies, 
 but the others enter into no rivalry with him. 
 
 Such are the notes of the tyrant and the arts by which he 
 preserves his power ; there is no wickedness too great for him. 
 All that we have said may be summed up under three heads, 
 which answer to the three aims of the tyrant. These are, ( I ) 
 the humiliation of his subjects ; he knows that a mean-spirited 
 man will not conspire against anybody: (2) the creation of 
 mistrust among them; for a tyrant is not overthrown until 
 men begin to have confidence in one another; and this is the 
 reason why tyrants are at war with the good ; they are under
 
 THE POLITICS 145 
 
 the idea that their power is endangered by them, not only be- 
 cause they will not be ruled despotically, but also because they 
 are loyal to one another, and to other men, and do not inform 
 against one another or against other men: (3) the tyrant 
 desires that his subjects shall be incapable of action, for no 
 one attempts what is impossible, and they will not attempt 
 to overthrow a tyranny, if they are powerless. Under these 
 three heads the whole policy of a tyrant may be summed up, 
 and to one or other of them all his ideas may be referred : 
 (i) he sows distrust among his subjects; (2) he takes away 
 their pow r er; (3) he humbles them. 
 
 This then is one of the two methods by which tyrannies are 
 preserved ; and there is another which proceeds upon a dif- 
 ferent principle of action. The nature of this latter method 
 may be gathered from a comparison of the causes which de- 
 stroy kingdoms, for as one mode of destroying kingly power 
 is to make the office of king more tyrannical, so the salvation 
 of a tyranny is to make it more like the rule of a king. But 
 of one thing the tyrant must be careful ; he must keep power 
 enough to rule over his subjects, whether they like him or 
 not, for if he once gives this up he gives up his tyranny. But 
 though power must be retained as the foundation, in all else 
 the tyrant should act or appear to act in the character of a 
 king. In the first place he should pretend a care of the public 
 revenues and not waste money in making- presents of a sort 
 at which the common people get excited when they see their 
 miserable earnings taken from them and lav , lied on courtesans 
 and strangers and artists. He should give an account of what 
 he receives and of what he spends (a practice which has been 
 adopted by some tyrants) ; for then he will seem to be the 
 manager of a household rather than a tyrant; nor need he 
 fear that, while he is the lord of the city, he will ever be in 
 want of money. Such a policy is much more advantageous 
 for the tyrant when he goes from home, than to leave behind 
 him a hoard, for then the garrison who remain in the city 
 will be less likely to attack his power; and a tyrant, when he 
 is absent from home, has more reason to fear the guardians 
 of his treasure than the citizens, for the one accompany him, 
 but the others remain behind. In the second place, he should 
 appear to collect taxes and to require public services only for 
 state purposes, and that he may form a fund in case of war, 
 10
 
 I4 6 ARISTOTLE 
 
 he ought to make himself the guardian and treasurer of them, 
 as if they belonged, not to him, but to the public. He should 
 appear, not harsh, but dignified, and when men meet him 
 they should look upon him with reverence, and not with fear. 
 Yet it is hard for him to be respected if he inspires no respect, 
 and therefore whatever virtues he may neglect, at least he 
 should maintain the character of a statesman, and produce 
 the impression that he is one. Neither he nor any of his as- 
 sociates should ever be guilty of the least offence against 
 modesty towards the young of either sex who are his sub- 
 jects, and the women of his family should observe a like self- 
 control towards other women; the insolence of women has 
 ruined many tyrannies. In the indulgence of pleasures he 
 should be the opposite of our modern tyrants, who not only 
 begin at dawn and pass whole days in sensuality, but want 
 other men to see them, that they may admire their happy 
 and blessed lot. In these things a tyrant should be especi- 
 ally moderate or at any rate should not parade his vices 
 to the world; for a drunken and drowsy tyrant is soon de- 
 spised and attacked; not so he who is temperate and wide 
 awake. His conduct should be the very reverse of nearly 
 everything which has been said before about tyrants. He ought 
 to adorn and improve his city, as though he were not a tyrant, 
 but the guardian of the State. Also he should appear to be 
 particularly earnest in the service of the gods; for if men 
 think that a ruler is religious and has a reverence for the 
 gods, they are less afraid of suffering injustice at his hands, 
 and they are less disposed to conspire against him, because 
 they believe him to have the very gods fighting on his side. At 
 the same time his religion must not be thought foolish. And he 
 should honor men of merit, and make them think that they 
 would not be held in more honor by the citizens if they had 
 a free government. The honor he should distribute himself, 
 but the punishment should be inflicted by officers and courts 
 of law. It is a precaution which is taken by all monarchs 
 not to make one person great ; but if one, then two or more 
 should be raised, that they may look sharply after one another. 
 If after all some one has to be made great, he should not be a 
 man of bold spirit ; for such dispositions are ever most inclined 
 to strike. And if anyone is to be deprived of his power, let 
 it be diminished gradually, not taken from him all at once.
 
 THE POLITICS 147 
 
 The tyrant should abstain from all outrage ; in particular from 
 personal violence and from wanton conduct towards the young. 
 He should be especially careful of his behaviour to men who 
 are lovers of honor; for as the lovers of money are offended 
 when their property is touched, so are the lovers of honor and 
 the virtuous when their honor is affected. Therefore a tyrant 
 ought either not to use force at all ; or he should be thought 
 only to employ fatherly correction, and not to trample upon 
 others and his acquaintance with youth should be supposed 
 to arise from affection, and not from the insolence of power, 
 and in general he should compensate the appearance of dis- 
 honor by the increase of honor. 
 
 Of those who attempt assassination they are the most dan- 
 gerous, and require to be most carefully watched who do not 
 care to survive, if they effect their purpose. Therefore special 
 precaution should be taken about any who think that either 
 they or their relatives have been insulted; for when men are 
 led away by passion to assault others they are regardless of 
 themselves. As Heracleitus says, " It is difficult to fight against 
 anger; for a man will buy revenge with life." 
 
 And whereas States consist of two classes, of poor men and 
 of rich, the tyrant should lead both to imagine that they are 
 preserved and prevented from harming one another by his 
 rule, and whichever of the two is stronger he should attach 
 to his government ; for, having this advantage, he has no need 
 either to emancipate slaves or to disarm the citizens; either 
 party added to the force which he already has, will make him 
 stronger than his assailants. 
 
 But enough of these details; what should be the general 
 policy of a tyrant is obvious. He ought to show himself to 
 his subjects in the light, not of a tyrant, but of the master of a 
 household and of a king. He should not appropriate what is 
 theirs, but should be their guardian; he should be moderate, 
 not extravagant in his way of life ; he should be the companion 
 of the notables, and the hero of the multitude. For then his 
 rule will of necessity be nobler and happier, because he will rule 
 over better men whose spirits are not crushed, over men to 
 whom he himself is not an object of hatred, and of whom he is 
 not afraid. His power, too, will be more lasting. Let his dis- 
 position be virtuous, or at least half virtuous ; and if he must be 
 wicked, let him be half wicked only.
 
 148 ARISTOTLE 
 
 Yet no forms of government are so short-lived as oligarchy 
 and tyranny. The tyranny which lasted longest was that of 
 Orthagoras and his sons at Sicyon; this continued for a hun- 
 dred years. The reason was that they treated their subjects 
 with moderation, and to a great extent observed the laws ; and 
 in various ways gained the favor of the people by the care which 
 they took of them. Cleisthenes, in particular, was respected 
 for his military ability. If report may be believed, he crowned 
 the judge who decided against him in the games ; and, as some 
 say, the sitting statue in the Agora of Sicyon is the likeness of 
 this person. (A similar story is told of Pisistratus, who is 
 said on one occasion to have allowed himself to be summoned 
 and tried before the Areopagus.) 
 
 Next in duration to the tyranny of Orthagoras was that of 
 the Cypselidae at Corinth, which lasted seventy-three years and 
 six months: Cypselus reigned thirty years, Periander forty- 
 four, and Psammetichus the son of Gordius three. Their con- 
 tinuance was due to similar causes : Cypselus was a popular 
 man, who during the whole time of his rule never had a body- 
 guard; and Periander, although he was a tyrant, was a great 
 soldier. Third in duration was the rule of the Pisistratidae at 
 Athens, but it was interrupted; for Pisistratus was twice 
 driven out, so that during three and thirty years he reigned only 
 seventeen ; and his sons reigned eighteen altogether thirty-five 
 years. Of other tyrannies, that of Hiero and Gelo at Syracuse 
 was the most lasting. Even this, however, was short, not more 
 than eighteen years in all ; for Gelo continued tyrant for seven 
 years, and died in the eighth ; Hiero reigned for ten years, and 
 Thrasybulus \vas driven out in the eleventh month. In fact, 
 tyrannies generally have been of quite short duration. 
 
 I have now gone through all the causes by which constitu- 
 tional governments and monarchies are either destroyed or 
 preserved. 
 
 In the " Republic " of Plato,& Socrates treats of revolutions, 
 but not well, for he mentions no cause of change which pecu- 
 liarly affects the first or perfect State. He only says that noth- 
 ing is abiding, but that all things change in a certain cycle ; and 
 that the origin of the change is a base of numbers which are in 
 the ratio of four to three, and this when combined with a figure 
 of five gives two harmonies (he means when the number of 
 
 h Rep. viii. 546.
 
 THE POLITICS 149 
 
 this figure becomes solid) ; he conceives that nature will then 
 produce bad men who will not submit to education; in which 
 latter particular he may very likely be not far wrong, for there 
 may well be some men who cannot be educated and made virtu- 
 ous. But why is such a cause of change peculiar to his ideal 
 State, and not rather common to all States, nay, to everything 
 which comes into being at all ? Or how is the State specially 
 changed by the agency of time, which, as he declares, makes all 
 things change? And things which did not begin together, 
 change together, for example, if something has come into being 
 the day before the completion of the cycle, it will change with 
 it. Further, why should the perfect state change into the Spar- 
 tan ? For governments more often take an opposite form than 
 one akin to them. The same remark is applicable to the other 
 changes ; he says that the Spartan constitution changes into an 
 oligarchy, and this into a democracy, and this again into a 
 tyranny. And yet the contrary happens quite as often ; for a 
 democracy is even more likely to change into an oligarchy than 
 into a monarchy. Further, he never says whether tyranny is, 
 or is not, liable to revolutions, and if it is, what is the cause 
 of them, or into what form it changes. And the reason is, that 
 he could not very well have told : for there is no rule ; according 
 to him it should revert to the first and best, and then there would 
 be a complete cycle. But in point of fact a tyranny often changes 
 into a tyranny, as that at Sicyon changed from the tyranny 
 of Myron into that of Cleisthenes ; into oligarchy, as the tyranny 
 of Antileon did at Chalcis ; into democracy, as that of Gelo did 
 at Syracuse ; into aristocracy, as at Carthage, and the tyranny 
 of Charilaus at Lacedsemon. Often an oligarchy changes into 
 a tyranny, like most of the ancient oligarchies in Sicily; for ex- 
 ample, the oligarchy at Leontini changed into the tyranny of 
 Panaetius ; that at Gela into the tyranny of Oleander ; that at 
 Rhegium into the tyranny of Anaxilaus; the same thing has 
 happened in many other States. And it is absurd to suppose 
 that the State changes into oligarchy merely because, [as Plato 
 says,] the ruling class are lovers and makers of money, and 
 not because the very rich think it unfair that the very poor 
 should have an equal share in the government with themselves. 
 Moreover in many oligarchies there are laws against making 
 money in trade. But at Carthage, which is a democracy, there 
 t Rep. via. 550 E.
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 is no such prohibition; and yet to this day the Carthaginians 
 have never had a revolution. It is absurd, too, for him to say 
 that an oligarchy is two cities, one of the rich, and the other of 
 the poor.) Is not this just as much the case in the Spartan con- 
 stitution, or in any other in which either all do not possess equal 
 property, or in which all are not equally good men? Nobody 
 need be any poorer than he was before, and yet the oligarchy 
 may change all the same into a democracy, if the poor form the 
 majority; and a democracy may change into an oligarchy, if 
 the wealthy class are stronger than the people, and the one are 
 energetic, the other indifferent. Once more, although the 
 causes of revolutions are very numerous, he mentions only one,*? 
 which is, that the citizens become poor through dissipation and 
 debt, as though he thought that all, or the majority of them, 
 were originally rich. This is not true : though it is true that 
 when any of the leaders lose their property they are ripe for 
 revolution ; but, when anybody else, it is no great matter. And 
 an oligarchy does not more often pass into a democracy than 
 into any other form of government. Again, if men are de- 
 prived of the honors of State, and are wronged, and insulted, 
 they make revolutions, and change forms of government, even 
 although they have not wasted their substance because they 
 might do what they liked of which extravagance he declares 
 excessive freedom to be the cause./ 
 
 Finally, although there are many forms of oligarchies and 
 democracies, Socrates speaks of their revolutions as though 
 there were only one form of either of them. 
 
 /Rep. viii. 551 a k Ibid., 555 D. /Ibid., 564.
 
 BOOK VI 
 
 WE have now considered the varieties of the deliberative 
 or supreme power in States, and the various arrange- 
 ments of law courts and State offices, and which of 
 them are adapted to different forms of government. We have 
 also spoken of the destruction and preservation of States, how 
 and from what causes they arise. 
 
 Of democracy and all other forms of government there are 
 many kinds ; and it will be well to assign to them severally the 
 modes of organization which are proper and advantageous to 
 each, adding what remains to be said about them. Moreover, 
 we ought to consider the various combinations of these modes 
 themselves; for such combinations make constitutions overlap 
 one another, so that aristocracies have an oligarchical character, 
 and constitutional governments incline to democracies. 
 
 When I speak of the combinations which remain to be con- 
 sidered, and thus far have not been considered by us, I mean 
 such as these: when the deliberative part of the government 
 and the election of officers is constituted oligarchically, and the 
 law courts aristocratically, or when the courts and the delibera- 
 tive part of the State are oligarchical, and the election to offices 
 aristocratical, or when in any other way there is a want of 
 harmony in the composition of a State. 
 
 I have shown already what forms of democracy are suited 
 to particular cities, and what of oligarchy to particular peoples, 
 and to whom each of the other forms of government is suited. 
 Further, we must not only show which of these governments 
 is the best for each State, but also briefly proceed to consider 
 how these and other forms of government are to be established. 
 
 First of all let us speak of democracy, which will also bring 
 to light the opposite form of government commonly called 
 oligarchy. For the purposes of this inquiry we need to ascer- 
 tain all the elements and characteristics of democracy, since 
 from the combinations of these the varieties of democratic
 
 I5 a ARISTOTLE 
 
 government arise. There are several of these differing from 
 each other, and the difference is due to two causes. One ( I ) 
 has been already mentioned differences of population; for 
 the popular element may consist of husbandmen, or of me- 
 chanics, or of laborers, and if the first of these be added to the 
 second, or the third to the two others, not only does the democ- 
 racy become better or worse, but its very nature is changed. .A 
 second cause (2) remains to be mentioned: the various proper^ 
 ties and characteristics of democracy, when variously combined, 
 make a difference. For one democracy will have less and an- 
 other will have more, and another will have all of these charac- 
 teristics. There is an advantage in knowing them all, whether 
 a man wishes to establish some new form of democracy, or only 
 to remodel an existing one. Founders of States try to bring 
 together all the elements which accord with the ideas of the 
 several constitutions ; but this is a mistake of theirs, as I have 
 already remarked when speaking of the destruction and preser- 
 vation of States. We will now set forth the principles, char- 
 acteristics, and aims of such States. 
 
 The basis of a democratic State is liberty ; which, according 
 to the common opinion of men, can only be enjoyed in such a 
 State; this they affirm to be the great end of every democ- 
 racy .o One principle of liberty is for all to rule and be ruled 
 in turn, and indeed democratic justice is the application of 
 numerical not proportionate equality; whence it follows that 
 the majority must be supreme, and that whatever the majority 
 approve must be the end and the just. Every citizen, it is 
 said, must have equality, and therefore in a democracy the poor 
 have more power than the rich, because there are more of them, 
 and the will of the majority is supreme. This, then, is one 
 note of liberty which all democrats affirm to be the principle 
 of their State. Another is that a man should live as he likes. 
 This, they say, is the privilege of a freeman, and, on the other 
 hand, not to live as a man likes is the mark of a slave. This 
 is the second characteristic of democracy, whence has arisen 
 the claim of men to be ruled by none, if possible, or, if this 
 is impossible, to rule and be ruled in turns ; and so it coin- 
 cides with the freedom based upon equality [which was the 
 first characteristic]. 
 
 Such being our foundation and such the nature of democracy, 
 a Cp. Plato, Rep. viii. 557 foil.
 
 THE POLITICS 
 
 153 
 
 its characteristics are as follows: the election of officers by 
 all out of all; and that all should rule over each, and each in 
 his turn over all ; that the appointment to all offices, or to all but 
 those which require experience and skill, should be made by 
 lot; that no property qualification should be required for 
 offices, or only a very low one; that no one should hold the 
 same office twice, or not often except in the case of military 
 offices ; that the tenure of all offices, or of as many as possible, 
 should be brief; that all men should sit in judgment, or that 
 judges selected out of all should judge in all matters, or in 
 most, or in the greatest and most important such as the 
 scrutiny of accounts, the constitution, and private contracts; 
 that the assembly should be supreme over all causes, or at 
 any rate over the most important, and the magistrates over 
 none or only over a very few. Of all institutions, a council 
 is the most democratic when there is not the means of pay- 
 ing all the citizens, but when they are paid even this is robbed 
 of its power ; for the people then draw all cases to themselves, 
 as I said in the previous discussion. The next characteristic of 
 democracy is payment for services; assembly, law courts, 
 magistrates, everybody receives pay, when it is to be had; 
 or when it is not to be had for all, then it is given to the law 
 courts and to the stated assemblies, to the council and to the 
 magistrates, or at least to any of them who are compelled 
 to have their meals together. And whereas oligarchy is char- 
 acterized by birth, wealth, and education, the notes of de- 
 mocracy appear to be the opposite of these low birth, poverty, 
 mean employment. Another note is that no magistracy is 
 perpetual, but if any such have survived some ancient change 
 in the constitution it should be stripped of its power, and the 
 holders should be elected by lot and no longer by vote. These 
 are points common to all democracies; but democracy and 
 demos in their truest form are based upon the recognized prin- 
 ciple of democratic justice, that all should count equally; for 
 equality implies that the rich should have no more share in 
 the government than the poor, and should not be the only 
 rulers, but that all should rule equally according to their num- 
 bers. And in this way men think that they will secure equality 
 and freedom in their State. 
 
 Next comes the question, how is this equality to be obtained ? 
 Is the qualification to be so distributed that five hundred
 
 154 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 rich shall be equal to a thousand poor? and shall we give the 
 thousand a power equal to that of the five hundred ? or, if this 
 is not to be the mode, ought we, still retaining the same ratio, 
 to take equal numbers from each and give them the contrQl of 
 the elections and of the courts? Which, according to the 
 democratical notion, is the juster form of the constitution 
 this or one based on numbers only? Democrats say that jus- 
 tice is that to which the majority agree, oligarchs that to 
 which the wealthier class ; in their opinion the decision should 
 be given according to the amount of property. In both prin- 
 ciples there is some inequality and injustice. For if justice 
 is the will of the few, any one person who has more wealth 
 than all the rest of his class put together, ought, upon the 
 oligarchical principle, to have the sole power but this would 
 be tyranny; or if justice is the will of the majority, as I was 
 before saying, they will unjustly confiscate the property of 
 the wealthy minority. To find a principle of equality in which 
 they both agree we must inquire into their respective ideas 
 of justice. 
 
 Now they agree in saying that whatever is decided by the 
 majority of the citizens is to be deemed law. Granted : but 
 not without some reserve; since there are two classes out of 
 which a State is composed the poor and the rich that is 
 to be deemed law, on which both or the greater part of both 
 agree; and if they disagree, that which is approved by the 
 greater number, and by those who have the higher qualifica- 
 tion. For example, suppose that there are ten rich and twenty 
 poor, and some measure is approved by six of the rich and is 
 disapproved by fifteen of the poor, and the remaining four of 
 the rich join with the party of the poor, and the remaining 
 five of the poor with that of the rich ; in such a case the will 
 of those whose qualifications, when both sides are added up, 
 are the greatest, should prevail. If they turn out to be equal, 
 there is no greater difficulty than at present, when, if the 
 assembly or the courts are divided, recourse is had to the lot, 
 or to some similar expedient. But, although it may be diffi- 
 cult in theory to know what is just and equal, the practical 
 difficulty of inducing those to forbear who can, if they like, 
 encroach, is far greater, for the weaker are always asking 
 for equality and justice, but the stronger b care for none of 
 these things. 
 
 b Or, " care nothing for the weaker."
 
 THE POLITICS 155 
 
 Of the four kinds of democracy, as was said in the previous 
 discussion, the best is that which comes first in order; it is 
 also the oldest of them all. I am speaking of them according 
 to the natural classification of their inhabitants. For the best 
 material of democracy is an agricultural population; there is 
 no difficulty in forming a democracy where the mass of the 
 people live by agriculture or tending of cattle. Being poor, 
 they have no leisure, and therefore do not often attend the 
 assembly, and not having the necessaries of life they are 
 always at work, and do not covet the property of others. In- 
 deed, they find their employment pleasanter than the cares of 
 government or office where no great gains can be made out 
 of them, for the many are more desirous of gain than of honor. 
 A proof is that even the ancient tyrannies were patiently en- 
 dured by them, as they still endure oligarchies, if they are 
 allowed to work and are not deprived of their property; for 
 some of them grow quickly rich and the others are well enough 
 off. Moreover they have the power of electing the magistrates 
 and calling them to account ; their ambition, if they have any, 
 is thus satisfied; and in some democracies, although they do 
 not all share in the appointment of offices, except through 
 representatives elected in turn out of the whole people, as at 
 Mantinea; yet, if they have the power of deliberating, the 
 many are contented. Even this form of government may be 
 regarded as a democracy, and was such at Mantinea. Hence it 
 is both expedient and customary in such a democracy that all 
 should elect to offices, and conduct scrutinies, and sit in the 
 law courts, but that the great offices should be filled up by 
 election and from persons having a qualification ; the greater 
 requiring a greater qualification, or, if there be no offices 
 for which a qualification is required, then those who are 
 marked out by special ability should be appointed. Under 
 such a form of government the citizens are sure to be gov- 
 erned well (for the offices will always be held by the best per- 
 sons; the people are willing enough to elect them and are 
 not jealous of the good). The good and the notables will 
 then be satisfied, for they will not be governed by men who 
 are their inferiors, and the persons elected will rule justly, 
 because others will call them to account. Every man should 
 be responsible to others, nor should anyone be allowed to do 
 just as he pleases; for where absolute freedom is allowed
 
 156 ARISTOTLE 
 
 there is nothing to restrain the evil which is inherent in every 
 man. But the principle of responsibility secures that which 
 is the greatest good in States ; the right persons rule and are 
 prevented from doing wrong, and the people have their due. 
 It is evident that this is the best kind of democracy, and why? 
 because the people are drawn from a certain class. The ancient 
 laws of many States which aimed at making the people hus- 
 bandmen were excellent. They provided either that no one 
 should possess more than a certain quantity of land, or that, if 
 he did, the land should not be within a certain distance from 
 the town or the acropolis. Formerly in many States there was 
 a law forbidding anyone to sell his original allotment of land. 
 There is a similar law attributed to Oxylus, which is to the 
 effect that there should be a certain portion of every man's 
 property on which he could not borrow money. A useful cor- 
 rective to the evil of which I am speaking would be the law 
 of the Aphytaeans, who, although they are numerous, and do 
 not possess much land, are all of them husbandmen. For 
 their properties are reckoned in the census, not entire, but 
 only in such small portions that even the poor may have more 
 than the amount required. 
 
 Next best to an agricultural, and in many respects similar, 
 are a pastoral people, who live by their flocks ; they are the 
 best trained o"f any for war, robust in body and able to camp 
 out. The people of whom other democracies consist are far 
 inferior to them, for their life is inferior; there is no room 
 for moral excellence in any of their employments, whether 
 they be mechanics or traders or laborers. Besides, people of 
 this class can readily come to the assembly, because they are 
 continually moving about in the city and in the agora; whereas 
 husbandmen are scattered over the country and do not meet, 
 or equally feel the want of assembling together. Where the 
 territory extends to a distance from the city, there is no diffi- 
 culty in making an excellent democracy or constitutional gov- 
 ernment ; for the people are compelled to settle in the country, 
 and even if there is a town population the assembly ought not 
 to meet when the country people cannot come. We have thus 
 explained how the first and best form of democracy should 
 be constituted ; it is clear that the other or inferior sorts will 
 deviate in a regular order, and the population which is ex- 
 cluded will at each stage be of a lower kind.
 
 THE POLITICS 157 
 
 The last form of democracy, that in which all share alike, 
 is one which cannot be borne by all States, and will not last 
 long unless well regulated by laws and customs. The more 
 general causes which tend to destroy this or other kinds of 
 government have now been pretty fully considered. In order 
 to constitute such a democracy and strengthen the people, the 
 leaders have been in the habit of including as many as they 
 can, and making citizens not only of those who are legitimate, 
 but even of the illegitimate, and of those who have only one 
 parent a citizen, whether father or mother; for nothing of 
 this sort comes amiss to such a democracy. This is the way 
 in which demagogues proceed. Whereas the right thing would 
 be to make no more additions when the number of the com- 
 monalty exceeds that of the notables or of the middle class 
 beyond this not to go. When in excess of this point the 
 State becomes disorderly, and the notables grow excited and 
 impatient of the democracy, as in the insurrection at Cyrene ; 
 for no notice is taken of a little evil, but when it increases it 
 strikes the eye. Measures like those which Cleisthenes passed 
 when he wanted to increase the power of the democracy at 
 Athens, or such as were taken by the founders of popular gov- 
 ernment at Cyrene, are useful in the extreme form of democ- 
 racy. Fresh tribes and brotherhoods should be established ; the 
 private rites of families should be restricted and converted into 
 public ones ; in short, every contrivance should be adopted 
 which will mingle the citizens with one another and get rid of old 
 connections. Again, the measures which are taken by tyrants 
 appear all of them to be democratic ; such, for instance, as the 
 license permitted to slaves (which may be to a certain extent 
 advantageous) and also that of women and children, and the 
 allowing everybody to live as he likes. Such a government 
 will have many supporters, for most persons would rather live 
 in a disorderly than in a sober manner. 
 
 The mere establishment of a democracy is not the only or 
 principal business of the legislator, or of those who wish to 
 create such a state, for any State, however badly constituted, 
 may last one, two, or three days; a far greater difficulty is 
 the preservation of it. The legislator should therefore en- 
 deavor to have a firm foundation according to the principles 
 already laid down concerning the preservation and destruction 
 of States; he should guard against the destructive elements,
 
 15 8 ARISTOTLE 
 
 and should make laws, whether written or unwritten, which 
 will contain all the preservatives of States. He must not think 
 the truly democratical or oligarchical measure to be that which 
 will give the greatest amount of democracy or oligarchy, but 
 that which will make them last longest. The demagogues of 
 our own day often get property confiscated in the law courts 
 in order to please the people. But those who have the welfare 
 of the State at heart should counteract them, and make a 
 law that the property of the condemned which goes into the 
 treasure should not be public but sacred. Thus offenders will 
 be as much afraid, for they will be punished all the same, and 
 the people, having nothing to gain, will not be so ready to 
 condemn the accused. Care should also be taken that State trials 
 are as few as possible, and heavy penalties should be inflicted 
 on those who bring groundless accusations ; for it is the 
 practice to indict, not members of the popular party, but the 
 notables, although the citizens ought to be all equally attached 
 to the State, or at any rate should not regard their rulers as 
 enemies. 
 
 Now, since in the last and worst form of democracy the 
 citizens are very numerous, and can hardly be made to as- 
 semble unless they are paid, and to pay them when there are 
 no revenues presses hardly upon the notables (for the money 
 must be obtained by a property tax and confiscations and cor- 
 rupt practices of the courts, things which have before now 
 overthrown many democracies) ; where, I say, there are no 
 revenues, the government should hold few assemblies, and the 
 law courts should consist of many persons, but sit for a few 
 days only. This system has two advantages: first, the rich 
 do not fear the expense, even although they are unpaid them- 
 selves when the poor are paid ; and secondly, causes are better 
 tried, for wealthy persons, although they do not like to be 
 long absent from their own affairs, do not mind going for 
 a few days to the law courts. Where there are revenues the 
 demagogues should not be allowed after their manner to dis- 
 tribute the surplus ; the poor are always receiving and always 
 wanting more and more, for such help is like water poured 
 into a leaky cask. Yet the true friend of the people should 
 see that they be not too poor, for extreme poverty lowers the 
 character of the democracy ; measures also should be taken 
 which will give them lasting prosperity ; and as this is equally
 
 THE POLITICS 159 
 
 the interest of all classes, the proceeds of the public revenues 
 should be accumulated and distributed among them, if pos- 
 sible, in such quantities as may enable them to purchase a 
 little farm, or, at any rate, make a beginning in trade and hus- 
 bandry. And if this benevolence cannot be extended to all, 
 money should be distributed in turn according to tribes or 
 other divisions, and in the mean time the rich should pay the 
 fee for the attendance of the poor at the necessary assemblies ; 
 and should in return be excused from useless public services. 
 By administering the State in this spirit the Carthaginians 
 retain the affections of the people ; their policy is from time to 
 time to send some of them into their dependent towns, where 
 they grow rich. It is also worthy of a generous and sensible 
 nobility to divide the poor amongst them, and give them the 
 means of going to work. The example of the people of Taren- 
 tum is also well deserving of imitation, for, by sharing the 
 use of their own property with the poor, they gain their good 
 will. Moreover, they divide all their offices into two classes, 
 one-half of them being elected by vote, the other by lot; the 
 latter, that the people may participate in them, and the former, 
 that the State may be better administered. A like result may 
 be gained by dividing the same offices, so as to have two classes 
 of magistrates, one chosen by vote, the other by lot. 
 
 Enough has been said of the manner in which democracies 
 ought to be constituted. 
 
 From these considerations there will be no difficulty in see- 
 ing what should be the constitution of oligarchies. We have 
 only to reason from opposites and compare each form of 
 oligarchy with the corresponding form of democracy. 
 
 The first and best attempered of oligarchies is akin to a con- 
 stitutional government. In this there ought to be two stand- 
 ards of qualification; the one high, the other low the lower 
 qualifying for the humbler yet indispensable offices and the 
 higher for the superior ones. He who acquires the prescribed 
 qualification should have the rights of citizenship. The nature 
 of those admitted should be such as will make the entire gov- 
 erning body stronger than those who are excluded, and the 
 new citizen should be always taken out of the better class of 
 the people. The principle, narrowed a little, gives another 
 form of oligarchy ; until at length we reach the most cliquish 
 and tyrannical of them all, answering to the extreme democ-
 
 j6o ARISTOTLE 
 
 racy, which, being the worst, requires vigilance in proportion 
 to its badness. For as healthy bodies and ships well provided 
 with sailors may undergo many mishaps and survive them, 
 whereas sickly constitutions and rotten ill-manned ships are 
 ruined by the very least mistake, so do the worst forms of 
 government require the greatest care. The populousness of 
 democracies generally preserves them (for number is to de- 
 mocracy in the place of justice based on proportion) ; whereas 
 the preservation of an oligarchy clearly depends on an op- 
 posite principle, viz., good order. 
 
 As there are four chief divisions of the common people 
 husbandmen, mechanics, retail traders, laborers ; so also there 
 are four kinds of military forces the cavalry, the heavy in- 
 fantry, the light-armed troops, the navy. When the country 
 is adapted for cavalry, then a strong oligarchy is likely to be 
 established. For the security of the inhabitants depends upon 
 a force of this sort, and only rich men can afford to keep 
 horses. The second form of oligarchy prevails when there 
 are heavy infantry; for this service is better suited to the 
 rich than to the poor. But the light-armed and the naval ele- 
 ment are wholly democratic; and nowadays, when they are 
 so numerous, if the two parties quarrel, the oligarchy are 
 often worsted by them in the struggle. A remedy for this 
 state of things may be found in the practice of generals who 
 combine a proper contingent of light-armed troops, with cav- 
 alry and heavy-armed. And this is the way in which the 
 poor get the better of the rich in civil contests ; being lightly 
 armed, they fight with advantage against cavalry and heavy 
 infantry. An oligarchy which raises such a force out of the 
 lower classes raises power against itself. And therefore, since 
 the ages of the citizens vary and some are older and some 
 younger, the fathers should have their own sons, while they 
 are still young, taught the agile movements of light-armed 
 troops ; and some, when they grow up, should be selected out 
 of the youth, and become light-armed warriors in reality. The 
 oligarchy should also yield a share in the government to the 
 people, either, as I said before, to those who have a property 
 qualification, or, as in the case of Thebes, to those who have 
 abstained for a certain number of years from mean employ- 
 ments, or, as at Massalia, to men of merit who are selected 
 for their worthiness, whether [previously] citizens or not.
 
 THE POLITICS 161 
 
 The magistracies of the highest rank, which ought to be in 
 the hands of the governing body, should have expensive duties 
 attached to them, and then the people will not desire them 
 and will take no offence at the privileges of their rulers when 
 they see that they pay a heavy fine for their dignity. It is 
 fitting also that the magistrates on entering office should offer 
 magnificent sacrifices or erect some public edifice, and then 
 the people who participate in the entertainments, and like to 
 see the city decorated with votive offerings and buildings, 
 will not desire an alteration in the government, and the notables 
 will have memorials of their munificence. This, however, is 
 anything but the fashion of our modern oligarchs, who are 
 as covetous of gain as they are of honor; oligarchies like 
 theirs may be well described as petty democracies. Enough 
 of the manner in which democracies and oligarchies should 
 be organized. 
 
 Next in order follows the right distribution of offices, their 
 number, their nature, their duties, of which indeed we have 
 already spoken. No State can exist not having the necessary 
 offices, and no State can be well administered not having the 
 offices which tend to preserve harmony and good order. In 
 small States, as we have already remarked, there need not be 
 many of them, but in larger there must be a larger number, 
 and we should carefully consider which offices may properly 
 be united and which separated. 
 
 First among necessary offices is that which has the care of 
 the market ; a magistrate should be appointed to inspect con- 
 tracts and to maintain order. For in every State there must 
 inevitably be buyers and sellers who will supply one another's 
 wants; this is the readiest way to make a State self-sufficing 
 and so fulfil the purpose for which men come together into 
 one States A second office of a similar kind undertakes the 
 supervision and embellishment of public and private build- 
 ings, the maintaining and repairing of houses and roads, the 
 prevention of disputes about boundaries and other concerns 
 of a like nature. This is commonly called the office of city 
 warden, and has various departments, which, in more popu- 
 lous towns, are shared among different persons, one, for ex- 
 ample, taking charge of the walls, another of the fountains, a 
 third of harbors. There is another equally necessary office, and 
 
 c Nic. Eth. v. 6, 4 ; PI. Rep. ii. 369. 
 II
 
 x62 ARISTOTLE 
 
 of a similar kind, having to do with the same matters without 
 the walls and in the country: the magistrates who hold this 
 office are called wardens of the country, or inspectors of the 
 woods. Besides these three there is a fourth office of receivers 
 of taxes, who have under their charge the revenue which they 
 distribute among the various departments ; these are called 
 receivers or treasurers. Another officer registers all private 
 contracts, and decisions of the courts, all public indictments, 
 and also all preliminary proceedings. This office again is 
 sometimes subdivided, in which case one officer is appointed 
 over all the rest. These officers are called recorders or sacred 
 recorders, presidents, and the like. 
 
 Next to these comes an office of which the duties are the 
 most necessary and also the most difficult, viz., that to which 
 is committed the execution of punishments, or the exaction of 
 fines from those who are posted up according to the registers ; 
 and also the custody of prisoners. The difficulty of this office 
 arises out of the odium which is attached to it; no one will 
 undertake it unless great profits are to be made, and anyone 
 who does is loath to execute the law. Still the office is neces- 
 sary; for judicial decisions are useless if they take no effect; 
 and if society cannot exist without them, neither can it exist 
 without the execution of them. It is an office which, being 
 so unpopular, should not be entrusted to one person, but di- 
 vided among several taken from different courts. In like 
 manner an effort should be made to distribute among different 
 persons the writing up of those who are on the register of the 
 condemned. Some sentences should be executed by officers 
 who have other functions ; penalties for new offences should 
 be exacted by new offices ; and as regards those which are 
 not new, when one court has given judgment, another should 
 exact the penalty ; for example, the wardens of the city should 
 exact the fines imposed by the wardens of the agora, and 
 others again should exact the fines imposed by them. For 
 penalties are more likely to be exacted when less odium at- 
 taches to the exaction of them ; but a double odium is incurred 
 when the judges who have passed also execute the sentence, 
 and if they are always the executioners, they will be the ene- 
 mies of all. 
 
 In many places one magistracy has the custody of the pris- 
 oners, while another executes the sentence, as, for example,
 
 THE POLITICS 163 
 
 " the Eleven " at Athens. It is well to separate off the jailer- 
 ship, and try by some device to render the office less unpopular. 
 For it is quite as necessary as that of the executioner; but 
 good men do all they can to avoid it, and worthless persons 
 cannot safely be trusted with it; for they themselves require 
 a guard, and are not fit to guard others. There ought not 
 therefore to be a single or permanent officer set apart for this 
 duty ; but it should be entrusted to the young, wherever they 
 are organized into a band or guard, and different magistrates 
 acting in turn should take charge of it. 
 
 These are the indispensable officers, and should be ranked 
 first : next in order follow others, equally necessary, but of 
 higher rank, and requiring great experience and fidelity. Such 
 are the offices to which are committed the guard of the city, 
 and other military functions. Not only in time of war but of 
 peace their duty will be to defend the walls and gates, and 
 to muster and marshal the citizens. In some States there are 
 many such offices ; in others there are a few only, while small 
 States are content with one ; these officers are called generals 
 or commanders. Again, if a State has cavalry or light-armed 
 troops or archers or a naval force, it will sometimes happen 
 that each of these departments has separate officers, who arc 
 called admirals, or generals of cavalry or of infantry. And 
 there are subordinate officers called naval and military cap- 
 tains, and captains of horse; having others under them: 
 all these are included in the department of war. Thus much 
 of military command. 
 
 But since many, not to say all, of these offices handle the 
 public money, there must of necessity be another office which 
 examines and audits them, and has no other functions. Such 
 officers are called by various names scrutineers, auditors, ac- 
 countants, controllers. Besides all these offices there is an- 
 other which is supreme over them, and to this, which in a 
 democracy presides over the assembly, is often entrusted both 
 the introduction and the ratification of measures. For that 
 power which convenes the people must of necessity be the 
 head of the State. In some places they are called probuli, 
 because they hold previous deliberations, but in a democracy 
 more commonly " councillors." These are the chief political 
 offices. 
 
 Another set of officers is concerned with the maintenance
 
 164 ARISTOTLE 
 
 
 
 of religion ; priests and guardians see to the preservation and 
 repair of the temples of the gods and to other matters of re- 
 ligion. One office of this sort may be enough in small places, 
 but in larger ones there are a great many besides the priest- 
 hood; for example superintendents of sacrifices, guardians 
 of shrines, treasurers of the sacred revenues. Nearly con- 
 nected with these there are also the officers appointed for the 
 performance of the public sacrifices, except any which the law 
 assigns to the priests; such officers derive their dignity from 
 the public hearth of the city. They are sometimes called 
 archons, sometimes kings, and sometimes prytanes. 
 
 These, then, are the necessary offices, which may be summed 
 up as follows: offices concerned with matters of religion, 
 with war, with the revenue and expenditure, with the market, 
 with the city, with the harbors, with the country; also with 
 the courts of law, with the records of contracts, with execution 
 of sentences with custody of prisoners, with audits and scruti- 
 nies and accounts of magistrates ; lastly, there are those which 
 preside over the public deliberations of the State. There are 
 likewise magistracies characteristic of States which are peace- 
 ful and prosperous, and at the same time have a regard to 
 good order : such as*the offices of guardians of women, guard- 
 ians of the laws, guardians of children, and directors of gym- 
 nastics ; also superintendents of gymnastic and Dionysiac 
 contests, and of other similar spectacles. Some of these are 
 clearly not democratic offices ; for example, the guardianships 
 of women and children the poor, not having any slaves, must 
 employ both their women and children as servants. 
 
 Once more: there are three forms of the highest elective 
 offices in States guardians of the law, probuli, councillors 
 of these, the guardians of the law are an aristocratical, ths 
 probuli an oligarchical, the council a democratical institution. 
 Enough of the different kinds of offices.
 
 BOOK VII 
 
 HE who would duly inquire about the best form of a 
 State ought first to determine which is the most 
 eligible life; while this remains uncertain the best 
 form of the State must also be uncertain; for, in the natural 
 order of things, those may be expected to lead the best life 
 who are governed in the best manner of which their circum- 
 stances admit. We ought therefore to ascertain, first of all, 
 which is the most generally eligible life, and then whether the 
 same life is or is not best for the State and for individuals. 
 Assuming that enough has been already said in exoteric 
 discourses concerning the best life, we will now only repeat 
 the statements contained in them. Certainly no one will dis- 
 pute the propriety of that partition of goods which separates 
 them into three classes,** viz., external goods, goods of the 
 body, and goods of the soul, or deny that the happy man must 
 have all three. For no one would maintain that he is happy 
 who has not in him a particle of courage or temperance or 
 justice or prudence, who is afraid of every insect which flutters 
 past him, and will commit any crime, however great, in order 
 to gratify his lust of meat or drink, who will sacrifice his 
 dearest friend for the sake of half a farthing, and is as feeble 
 and false in mind as a child or a madman. These proposi- 
 tions are universally acknowledged as soon as they are uttered, 
 but men differ about the degree or relative superiority of this 
 or that good. Some think that a very moderate amount of 
 virtue is enough, but set no limit to their desires of wealth, 
 property, power, reputation, and the like. To whom we 
 reply by an appeal to facts, which easily prove that man- 
 kind do not acquire or preserve virtue by the help of external 
 goods, but external goods by the help of virtue, and that happi- 
 ness, whether consisting in pleasure or virtue, or both, is more 
 often found with those who are most highly cultivated in 
 a Cp. N. Eth. i. 8, 2. 
 165
 
 1 66 ARISTOTLE 
 
 their mind and in their character, and have only a moderate 
 share of external goods, than among those who possess ex- 
 ternal goods to a useless extent but are deficient in higher 
 qualities; and this is not only matter of experience, but, if 
 reflected upon, will easily appear to be in accordance with 
 reason. For, whereas external goods have a limit, like any 
 other instrument, and all things useful are of such a nature 
 that where there is too much of them they must either do 
 harm, or at any rate be of no use, to their possessors, every 
 good of the soul, the greater it is, is also of greater use, if 
 the epithet useful as well as noble is appropriate to such sub- 
 jects. No proof is required to show that the best state of one 
 thing in relation to another is proportioned to the degree of 
 excellence by which the natures corresponding to those states 
 are separated from each other: so that, if the soul is more 
 noble than our possessions or our bodies, both absolutely and 
 in relation to us, it must be admitted that the best state of 
 either has a similar ratio to the other. Again, if it is for the 
 sake of the soul that goods external and goods of the body 
 are eligible at all, and all wise men ought to choose them for 
 the sake of the soul, and not the soul for the sake of them. 
 
 Let us acknowledge then that each one has just so much 
 of happiness as he has of virtue and wisdom, and of virtuous 
 and wise action. God is a witness to us of this truth,& for 
 he is happy and blessed, not by reason of any external good, 
 but in himself and by reason of his own nature. And herein 
 of necessity lies the difference between good fortune and hap- 
 piness; for external goods come of themselves, and chance is 
 the author of them, but no one is just or temperate by or 
 through chance. c In like manner, and by a similar train of 
 argument, the happy State may be shown to be that which is 
 [morally] best and which acts rightly; and rightly it cannot 
 act without doing right actions, and neither individual nor 
 State can do right actions without virtue and wisdom. Thus 
 the courage, justice, and wisdom of a State have the same 
 form and nature as the qualities which give the individual who 
 possesses them the name of just, wise, or temperate. 
 
 Thus much may suffice by way of preface : for I could not 
 avoid touching upon these questions, neither could I go 
 
 & N. Eth. x. 8, 7 ; Met. xii. 7. c Ethics i. 9, 6.
 
 THE POLITICS 167 
 
 through all the arguments affecting them; these must be re- 
 served for another discussion. 
 
 Let us assume then that the best life, both for individuals 
 and States, is the life of virtue, having external goods enough 
 for the performance of good actions. If there are any who 
 controvert our assertion, we will in this treatise pass them 
 over, and consider their objections hereafter. 
 
 There remains to be discussed the question, Whether the 
 happiness of the individual is the same as that of the State, 
 or different? Here again there can be no doubt no one de- 
 nies that they are the same. For those who hold that the well- 
 being of the individual consists in his wealth, also think that 
 riches make the happiness of the wealth, also think that riches 
 make the happiness of the whole State, and those who value 
 most highly the life of a tyrant deem that city the happiest 
 which rules over the greatest number; while they who ap- 
 prove an individual for his virtue say that the more virtuous 
 a city is, the happier it is. Two points here present them- 
 selves for consideration : first ( I ) , which is the more eligible 
 life, that of a citizen who is a member of a State, or that of 
 an alien who has no political ties; and again (2), which is the 
 best form of constitution or the best condition of a State, 
 either on the supposition that political privileges are given 
 to all, or that they are given to a majority only? Since the 
 good of the State and not of the individual is the proper sub- 
 ject of political thought and speculation, and we are engaged 
 in a political discussion, while the first of these two points has 
 a secondary interest for us, the latter will be the main subject 
 of our inquiry. 
 
 Now it is evident that the form of government is best in 
 which every man, whoever he is, can act for the best and live 
 happily. But even those who agree in thinking that the life 
 of virtue is the most eligible raise a question, whether the 
 life of business and politics is or is not more eligible than 
 one which is wholly independent of external goods, I mean 
 than a contemplative life, which by some is maintained to be 
 the only one worthy of a philosopher. For these two lives 
 the life of the philosopher and the life of the statesman 
 appear to have been preferred by those who have been most 
 keen in the pursuit of virtue, both in our own and in other 
 ages. Which is the better is a question of no small moment;
 
 !68 ARISTOTLE 
 
 for the wise man, like the wise State, will necessarily regu- 
 late his life according to the best end. There are some who 
 think that while a despotic rule over others is the greatest 
 injustice, to exercise a constitutional rule over them, even 
 though not unjust, is a great impediment to a man's individual 
 well-being. Others take an opposite view ; they maintain that 
 the true life of man is the practical and political, and that 
 every virtue admits of being practised, quite as much by states- 
 men and rulers as by private individuals. Others, again, are 
 of opinion that arbitrary and tyrannical rule alone consists 
 with happiness; indeed, in some States the entire aim of the 
 laws is to give men despotic power over their neighbors. And, 
 therefore, although in most cities the laws may be said gener- 
 ally to be in a chaotic state, still, if they aim at anything, they 
 aim at the maintenance of power: thus in Lacedsemon and 
 Crete the system of education and the greater part of the laws 
 are framed with a view to war.d And in all nations which 
 are able to gratify their ambition military power is held in 
 esteem, for example among the Scythians and Persians and 
 Thracians and Celts. In some nations there are even laws 
 tending to stimulate the warlike virtues, as at Carthage, where 
 we are told that men obtain the honor of wearing as many 
 rings as they have served campaigns. There was once a law 
 in Macedonia that he who had not killed an enemy should wear 
 a halter^ and among the Scythians no one who had not slain 
 his man was allowed to drink out of the cup which was handed 
 round at a certain feast. Among the Iberians, a warlike na- 
 tion, the number of enemies whom a man has slain is indicated 
 by the number of obelisks which are fixed in the earth round 
 his tomb ; and there are numerous practices among other na- 
 tions of a like kind, some of them established by law and 
 others by custom. Yet to a reflecting mind it must appear 
 very strange that the statesman should be always considering 
 how he can dominate and tyrannize over others, whether they 
 will or not. How can that which is not even lawful be the 
 business of the statesman or the legislator? Unlawful it cer- 
 tainly is to rule without regard to justice, for there may be 
 might where there is no right. The other arts and sciences 
 offer no parallel ; a physician is not expected to persuade or 
 coerce his patients, nor a pilot the passengers in his ship. 
 d Cp. Plato, Laws i. 633 ff.
 
 THE POLITICS 169 
 
 Yet many appear to think that a despotic government is a 
 true political form, and what men affirm to be unjust and 
 'inexpedient in their own case they are not ashamed of prac- 
 tising towards others; they demand justice for themselves, 
 but where other men are concerned they care nothing about 
 it. Such behavior is irrational ; unless the one party is born 
 to command, and the other born to serve, in which case men 
 have a right to command, not indeed all their fellows, but 
 only those who are intended to be subjects ; just as we ought 
 not to hunt mankind, whether for food or sacrifice, but only 
 the animals which are intended for food or sacrifice, that is 
 to say, such wild animals as are eatable. And surely there 
 may be a city happy in isolation, which we will assume to be 
 well governed (for it is quite possible that a city thus isolated 
 might be well administered and have good laws) ; but such 
 a city would not be constituted with any view to war or the 
 conquest of enemies all that sort of thing must be excluded. 
 Hence we see very plainly that warlike pursuits, although 
 generally to be deemed honorable, are not the supreme end 
 of all things, but only means. And the good lawgiver should 
 inquire how States and races of men and communities may 
 participate in a good life, and in the happiness which is attain- 
 able by them. His enactments will not be always the same; 
 and where there are neighbors he will have to deal with them 
 according to their characters, and to see what duties are to 
 be performed towards each. The end at which the best form 
 of government should aim may be properly made a matter 
 of future consideration. 
 
 Let us now address those who, while they agree that the life 
 of virtue is the most eligible, differ about the manner of prac- 
 tising it. For some renounce political power, and think that 
 the life of a freeman is different from the life of the statesman 
 and the best of all ; but others think the life of the statesman 
 best. The argument of the latter is that he who does nothing 
 cannot do well, and that virtuous activity is identical with 
 happiness. To both we say : " you are partly right and partly 
 wrong." The first class are right in affirming that the life 
 of the freeman is better than the life of the despot ; for there 
 is nothing grand or noble in having the use of a slave, in so 
 far as he is a slave ; or in issuing commands about necessary 
 things. But it is an error to suppose that every sort of rule
 
 170 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 is despotic like that of a master over slaves, for there is as 
 great a difference between the rule over freemen and the rule 
 over slaves as there is between slavery by nature and freedom 
 by nature, about which I have said enough at the commence- 
 ment of this treatise. And it is equally a mistake to place 
 inactivity above action, for happiness is activity, and the ac- 
 tions of the just and wise are the realization of much that is 
 noble. 
 
 But perhaps someone, accepting these premises, may still 
 maintain that supreme power is the best of all things, because 
 the possessors of it are able to perform the greatest number 
 of noble actions. If so, the man who is able to rule, instead of 
 giving up anything to his neighbor, ought rather to take away 
 his power ; and the father should make no account of his son, 
 nor the son of his father, nor friend of friend; they shou!4 
 not bestow a thought on one another in comparison with this 
 higher object, for the best is the most eligible and " doing 
 well " is the best. There might be some truth in such a view 
 if we assume that robbers and plunderers attain the chief good. 
 But this can never be; and hence we infer the view to be 
 false. For the actions of a ruler cannot really be honorable, 
 unless he is as much superior to other men as a husband 
 is to a wife, or a father to his children, or a master to his 
 slaves. And therefore he who violates the law can never re- 
 cover by any success, however great, what he has already lost 
 in departing from virtue. For equals share alike in the honor- , 
 able and the just, as is just and equal. But that the unequal 
 should be given to equals, and the unlike to those who are 
 like, is contrary to nature, and nothing which is contrary to 
 nature is good. If, therefore, there is anyone superior in 
 virtue and in the power of performing the best actions, him 
 we ought to follow and obey, but he must have the capacity 
 for action as well as virtue. 
 
 If we are right in our view, and happiness is assumed to 
 be virtuous activity, the active life will be the best, both for 
 the city collectively, and for individuals. Not that a life of 
 action must necessarily have relation to others, as some per- 
 sons think, nor are those ideas only to be regarded as practical 
 which are pursued for the sake of practical results, but much 
 more the thoughts and contemplations which are independent 
 and complete in themselves ; since virtuous activity, and there-
 
 THE POLITICS 171 
 
 fore action, is an end, and even in the case of external actions 
 the directing mind is most truly said to act. Neither, again, 
 is it necessary that States which are cut off from others and 
 choose to live alone should be inactive ; for there may be ac- 
 tivity also in the parts; there are many ways in which the 
 members of a State act upon one another. The same thing is 
 equally true of every individual. If this were otherwise, Go. 
 and the Universe, who have no external actions over and 
 above their own energies, would be far enough from perfec- 
 tion. Hence it is evident that the same life is best for each 
 individual, and for States, and for mankind collectively. 
 
 Thus far by way of introduction. In what has preceded 
 I have discussed other forms of government ; in what remains 
 the first point to be considered is what should be the conditions 
 of the ideal or perfect State; for the perfect State cannot 
 exist without a due supply of the means of life. And there- 
 fore we must presuppose many purely imaginary conditions, 
 but nothing impossible. There will be a certain number of 
 citizens, a country in which to place them, and the like. As 
 the weaver or shipbuilder or any other artisan must have 
 the material proper for his work (and in proportion as this 
 is better prepared, so will the result of his art be nobler), so 
 the statesman or legislator must also have the materials suited 
 to him. 
 
 First among the materials required by the statesman is popu- 
 lation : he will consider what should be the number and char- 
 acter of the citizens, and then what should be the size and 
 character of the country! Most persons think that a State in 
 order to be happy ought to be large ; but even if they are right, 
 they have no idea what is a large and what a small State. For 
 they judge of the size of the city by the number of the in- 
 habitants; whereas they ought to regard, not their number, 
 but their power. A city too, like an individual, has a work 
 to do; and that city which is best adapted to the fulfilment 
 of its work is to be deemed greatest, in the same sense of the 
 word great in which Hippocrates might be called greater, not 
 as a man, but as a physician, than someone else who was 
 taller. And even if we reckon greatness by numbers, we ought 
 not to include everybody, for there must always be in cities 
 a multitude of slaves and sojourners and foreigners ; but we 
 should include those only who are members of the State,
 
 172 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 and who form an essential part of it. The number of the 
 latter is a proof of the greatness of a city; but a city which 
 produces numerous artisans and comparatively few soldiers 
 cannot be great, for a great city is not to be confounded with 
 a populous one. Moreover, experience shows that a very popu- 
 lous city can rarely, if ever, be well governed ; since all cities 
 which have a reputation for good government have a limit 
 of population. We may argue on grounds of reason, and the 
 same result will follow. For law is order, and good law is 
 good order; but a very great multitude cannot be orderly: 
 to introduce order into the unlimited is the work of a divine 
 power of such a power as holds together the universe. 
 Beauty is realized in number and magnitude,* and the State 
 which combines magnitude with good order must necessarily 
 be the most beautiful. To the size of States there is a limit, 
 as there is to other things, plants, animals, implements; for 
 none of these retain their natural power when they are too 
 large or too small, but they either wholly lose their nature, 
 or are spoiled. For example, a ship which is only a span 
 long will not be a ship at all, nor a ship a quarter of a mile 
 long; yet there may be a ship of a certain size, either too 
 large or too small, which will still be a ship, but bad for sailing. 
 In like manner a State when composed of too few is not as a 
 State ought to be, self-sufficing; when of too many, though 
 self-sufficing in all mere necessaries, it is a nation and not a 
 State, being almost incapable of constitutional government. 
 For who can be the general of such a vast multitude, or who 
 the herald, unless he have the voice of a Stentor? 
 
 A State then only begins to exist when it has attained a 
 population sufficient for a good life in the political community : 
 it may indeed somewhat exceed this number. But, as I was 
 saying, there must be a limit. What should be the limit will 
 be easily ascertained by experience. For both governors and 
 governed have duties to perform ; the special functions of a 
 governor are to command and to judge. But if the citizens 
 of a State are to judge and to distribute offices according to 
 merit, then they must know each other's characters ; where 
 they do not possess this knowledge, both the election to offices 
 and the decision of lawsuits will go wrong. When the popula- 
 tion is very large they are manifestly settled at haphazard, 
 e Cp. Poet. 7, 4.
 
 THE POLITICS 173 
 
 which clearly ought not to be. Besides, in an overpopulous 
 State foreigners and metics will readily acquire the rights of 
 citizens; for who will find them out? Clearly then the best 
 limit of the population of a State is the largest number which 
 suffices for the purposes of life, and can be taken in at a single 
 view. Enough concerning the size of a city. 
 
 Much the same principle will apply to the territory of the 
 State: everyone would agree in praising the State which is 
 most entirely self-sufficing; and that must be the State which 
 is all-producing, for to have all things and to want nothing 
 is sufficiency. In size and extent it should be such as may 
 enable the inhabitants to live temperately and liberally in the 
 enjoyment of leisure. Whether we are right or wrong in lay- 
 ing down this limit we will inquire more precisely hereafter, 
 when we have occasion to consider what is the right use of 
 property and wealth: a matter which is much disputed, be- 
 cause men are inclined to rush into one of two extremes, 
 some into meanness, others into luxury. 
 
 It is not difficult to determine the general character of the 
 territory which is required ; there are, however, some points 
 on which military authorities should be heard ; they tell us 
 that it should be difficult of access to the enemy, and easy of 
 egress to the inhabitants. Further, we require that the land 
 as well as the inhabitants of whom we were just now speaking 
 should be taken in at a single view, for a country which is 
 easily seen can be easily protected. As to the position of the 
 city, if we could have what we wish, it should be well situated 
 in regard both to sea or land. This then is one principle, that 
 it should be a convenient centre for the protection of the whole 
 country : the other is, that it should be suitable for receiving 
 the fruits of the soil, and also for the bringing in of timber 
 and any other products. 
 
 Whether a communication with the sea is beneficial to a 
 well-ordered State or not is a question which has often been 
 asked. It is argued that the introduction of strangers brought 
 up under other laws, and the increase of population, will be 
 adverse to good order ( for a maritime people will always have 
 a crowd of merchants coming and going), and that intercourse 
 by sea is inimical to good government/ Apart from these 
 considerations, it would be undoubtedly better, both with a 
 / Cp. Plato, Laws iv. 704 ff.
 
 174 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 view to safety and to the provision of necessaries, that the 
 city and territory should be connected with the sea; the de- 
 fenders of a country, if they are to maintain themselves 
 against an enemy, should be easily relieved both by land and 
 by sea; and even if they are not able to attack by sea and 
 land at once, they will have less difficulty in doing mischief 
 to their assailants on one element, if they themselves can use 
 both. Moreover, it is necessary that they should import from 
 abroad what is not found in their own country, and that they 
 should export what they have in excess ; for a city ought 
 to be a market, not indeed for others, but for herself. 
 
 Those who make themselves a market for the world only 
 do so for the sake of revenue, and if a State ought not to de- 
 sire profit of this kind it ought not to have such an emporium. 
 Nowadays we often see in countries and cities dockyards and 
 harbors very conveniently placed outside the city, but not too 
 far off; and they are kept in dependence by walls and similar 
 fortifications. Cities thus situated manifestly reap the benefit 
 of intercourse with their ports ; and any harm which is likely 
 to accrue may be easily guarded against by the laws, which 
 will pronounce and determine who may hold communication 
 with one another, and who may not. 
 
 There can be no doubt that the possession of a moderate 
 naval force is advantageous to a city ; the citizens require such 
 a force for their own needs, and they should also be formidable 
 to their neighbors in certain cases, or, if necessary, able to assist 
 them by sea as well as by land. The proper number or magni- 
 tude of this naval force is relative to the character of the State ; 
 for if her function is to take a leading part in politics, her 
 naval power should be commensurate with the scale of her 
 enterprises. The population of the State need not be much in- 
 creased, since there is no necessity that the sailors should be 
 citizens : the marines who have the control and command 
 will be freemen, and belong also to the infantry ; and wherever 
 there is a dense population of Periceci and husbandmen, there 
 will always be sailors more than enough. Of this we see in- 
 stances at the present day. The city of Heraclea, for example, 
 although small in comparison with many others, can man a 
 considerable fleet. Such are our conclusions respecting the 
 territory of the State, its harbor, its towns, its relations to the 
 sea, and its maritime power.
 
 THE POLITICS !75 
 
 Having spoken of the number of the citizens, we will pro- 
 ceed to speak of what should be their character. This is a 
 subject which can be easily understood by anyone who casts 
 his eye on the more celebrated States of Hellas, and gener- 
 ally on the distribution of races in the habitable world. Those 
 who live in a cold climate and in [northern] Europe are full 
 of spirit, but wanting in intelligence and skill ; and therefore 
 they keep their freedom, but have no political organization, 
 and are incapable of ruling over others. Whereas the natives 
 of Asia are intelligent and inventive, but they are wanting 
 in spirit, and therefore they are always in a state of sub- 
 jection and slavery. But the Hellenic race, which is situated 
 between them, is likewise intermediate in character, being high- 
 spirited and also intelligent.^ Hence it continues free, and is 
 the best-governed of any nation, and, if it could be formed 
 into one State, would be able to rule the world. There are 
 also similar differences in the different tribes of Hellas; for 
 some of them are of a one-sided nature, and are intelligent 
 or courageous only, while in others there is a happy com- 
 bination of both qualities. And clearly those whom the legis- 
 lator will most easily lead to virtue may be expected to be 
 both intelligent and courageous. Some [like Plato^] say that 
 the guardians should be friendly towards those whom they 
 know, fierce towards whom they do not know. Now, passion 
 is the quality of the soul which begets friendship and inspires 
 affection ; notably the spirit within us is more stirred against 
 our friends and acquaintances than against those who are 
 unknown to us, when we think that we are despised by them ; 
 for which reason Archilochus, complaining of his friends, very 
 naturally addresses his soul in these words, 
 
 " For wert thou not plagued on account of friends?" 
 
 The power of command and the love of freedom are in all 
 men based upon this quality, for passion is commanding and 
 invincible. Nor is it right to say that the guardians should 
 be fierce towards those whom they do not know, for we ought 
 not to be out of temper with anyone ; and a lofty spirit is not 
 fierce by nature, but only when excited against evil-doers. And 
 this, as I was saying before, is a feeling which men show most 
 strongly towards their friends if they think they have received 
 g Cp. Plato, Rep. iv. 435 E, 436 A. h Rep. ii. 375.
 
 176 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 a wrong at their hands : as indeed is reasonable ; for, besides 
 the actual injury, they seem to be deprived of a benefit by 
 those who owe them one. Hence the saying, 
 
 " Cruel is the strife of brethren " ;' 
 and again, 
 
 " They who love in excess also hate in excess." 
 
 Thus we have nearly determined the number and character 
 of the citizens of our State, and also the size and nature of their 
 territory. I say " nearly," for we ought not to require the same 
 minuteness in theory as in fact. 
 
 As in other natural compounds the conditions of a com- 
 posite whole are not necessarily organic parts of it, so in a 
 State or in any other combination forming a unity not every- 
 thing is a part, which is a necessary condition. The members 
 of an association have necessarily some one thing the same 
 and common to all, in which they share equally or unequally ; 
 for example, food or land or any other thing. But where 
 there are two things of which one is a means and the other 
 an end, they have nothing in common except that the one re- 
 ceives what the other produces. Such, for example, is the 
 relation in which workmen and tools stand to their work ; the 
 house and the builder have nothing in common, but the art of 
 the builder is for the sake of the house. And so States require 
 property, but property, even though living beings are included 
 in it, is no part of a State ; for a State is not a community of 
 living beings only, but a community of equals, aiming at the 
 best life possible. Now, whereas happiness is the highest good, 
 being a realization and perfect practice of virtue, which some 
 attain, while others have little or none of it, the various qual- 
 ities of men are clearly the reason why there are various kinds 
 of States and many forms of government ; for different men 
 seek after happiness in different ways and by different means, 
 and so make for themselves different modes of life and forms 
 of government. We must see also how many things are in- 
 dispensable to the existence of a State, for what we call the 
 parts of a State will be found among them. Let us then enu- 
 merate the functions of a State, and we shall easily elicit what 
 we want : 
 
 First, there must be food ; secondly, arts, for life requires 
 Eurip. Frag. 51 Dindorf.
 
 THE POLITICS 177 
 
 many instruments; thirdly, there must be arms, for the mem- 
 bers of a community have need of them in order to maintain 
 authority both against disobedient subjects and against exter- 
 nal assailants ; fourthly, there must be a certain amount of rev- 
 enue, both for internal needs, and for the purposes of war; 
 fifthly, or rather first, there must be a care of religion, which is 
 commonly called worship; sixthly, and most necessary of all, 
 there must be a power of deciding what is for the public in- 
 terest, and what is just in men's dealings with one another. 
 
 These are the things which every State may be said to need. 
 For a State is not a mere aggregate of persons, but a union of 
 them sufficing for the purposes of life; and if any of these 
 things be wanting, it is simply impossible that the community 
 can be self-sufficing. A State then should be framed with a 
 view to the fulfilment of these functions. There must be hus- 
 bandmen to procure food, and artisans, and a warlike and a 
 wealthy class, and priests, and judges to decide what is just and 
 expedient. 
 
 Having determined these points, we have in the next place 
 to consider whether all ought to share in every sort of occupa- 
 tion. Shall every man be at once husbandman, artisan, coun- 
 cillor, judge, or shall we suppose the several occupations just 
 mentioned assigned to different persons? or, thirdly, shall 
 some employments be assigned to individuals and others com- 
 mon to all? The question, however, does not occur in every 
 State ; as we were saying, all may be shared by all, or not all 
 by all, but only some by some ; and hence arise the differences 
 of States, for in democracies all share in all, in oligarchies the 
 opposite practice prevails. Now, since we are here speaking 
 of the best form of government, and that under which the State 
 will be most happy (and happiness, as has been already said, 
 cannot exist without virtue), it clearly follows that in the State 
 which is best governed the citizens who are absolutely and not 
 merely relatively just men must not lead the life of mechanics 
 or tradesmen, for such a life is ignoble and inimical to virtue.; 
 Neither must they be husbandmen, since leisure is necessary 
 both for the development of virtue and the performance of 
 political duties. 
 
 Again, there is in a State a class of warriors, and another 
 of councillors, who advise about the expedient and determine 
 j Cp. Plato, Laws xi. 919. 
 
 12
 
 I 7 8 ARISTOTLE 
 
 matters of law, and these seem in an especial manner parts of 
 a State. Now, should these two classes be distinguished, or 
 are both functions to be assigned to the same persons? Here 
 again there is no difficulty in seeing that both functions will 
 in one way belong to the same, in another, to different persons. 
 To different persons in so far as their employments are suited 
 to different ages of life, for the one requires wisdom, and the 
 other strength. But on the other hand, since it is an impos- 
 sible thing that those who are able to use or to resist force 
 should be willing to remain always in subjection, from this 
 point of view the persons are the same ; for those who carry 
 arms can always determine the fate of the constitution. It 
 remains therefore that both functions of government should 
 be entrusted to the same persons, not, however, at the same 
 time, but in the order prescribed by nature, who has given to 
 young men strength and to older men wisdom. Such a dis- 
 tribution of duties will be expedient and also just, and is 
 founded upon a principle of proportion. Besides, the ruling 
 class should be the owners of property, for they are citizens, 
 and the citizens of a State should be in good circumstances; 
 whereas mechanics or any other class whose art excludes the 
 art of virtue have no share in the State. This follows from 
 our first principle, for happiness cannot exist without virtue, 
 and a city is not to be termed happy in regard to a portion 
 of the citizens, but in regard to them all. And clearly property 
 should be in their hands, since the husbandmen will of neces- 
 sity be slaves or barbarians or Periceci. 
 
 Of the classes enumerated there remain only the priests, and 
 the manner in which their office is to be regulated is obvious. 
 No husbandman or mechanic should be appointed to it ; for 
 the gods should receive honor from the citizens only. Now 
 since the body of the citizens is divided into two classes, the 
 warriors and the councillors; and it is beseeming that the 
 worship of the gods should be duly performed, and also a rest 
 provided in their service for those who from age have given 
 up active life to the old men of these two classes should be 
 assigned the duties of the priesthood. 
 
 We have shown what are the necessary conditions, and what 
 the parts of a State : husbandmen, craftsmen, and laborers of 
 all kinds are necessary to the existence of States, but the parts 
 of the State are the warriors and councillors. And these are
 
 THE POLITICS 179 
 
 distinguished severally from one another, the distinction being 
 in some cases permanent, in others not. 
 
 It is no new or recent discovery of political philosophers 
 that the State ought to be divided into classes, and that the 
 warriors should be separated from the husbandmen. The sys- 
 tem has continued in Egypt and in Crete to this day, and was 
 established, as tradition says, by a law of Sesostris in Egypt 
 and of Minos in Crete. The institution of common tables also 
 appears to be of ancient date, being in Crete as old as the reign 
 of Minos, and in Italy far older. The Italian historians say 
 that there was a certain Italus king of CEnotria, from whom 
 the CEnotrians were called Italians, and who gave the name 
 of Italy to the promontory of Europe lying between the Scyl- 
 letic and Lametic gulfs, which are distant from one another 
 only half-a-day's journey. They say that this Italus converted 
 the CEnotrians from shepherds into husbandmen, and besides 
 other laws which he gave them, was the founder of their com- 
 mon meals; even in our day some who are derived from him 
 retain this institution and certain other laws of his. On the 
 side of Italy towards Tyrrhenia dwelt the Opici, who are now, 
 as of old, called Ausones; and on the side towards lapygia 
 and the Ionian Gulf, in the district called Syrtis, the Chones, 
 who are likewise of CEnotrian race. From this part of the 
 world originally came the institution of common tables; the 
 separation into castes [which was much older] from Egypt, 
 for the reign of Sesostris is of far greater antiquity than that 
 of Minos. It is true indeed that these and many other things 
 have been invented several times over k in the course of ages, 
 or rather times without number ; for necessity may be supposed 
 to have taught men the inventions which were absolutely re- 
 quired, and when these were provided, it was natural that 
 other things which would adorn and enrich life should grow 
 up by degrees. And we may infer that in political institutions 
 the same rule holds. Egypt I witnesses to the antiquity of all 
 things, for the Egyptians appear to be of all people the most 
 ancient ; and they have laws and a regular constitution [exist- 
 ing from time immemorial]. We should therefore make the 
 
 k Cp. Plato, Laws iii. 676 ; Aristotle, Metaph. xi. 8. 1074 b. 10 ; and 
 Pol. ii. 5. 16 (note). 
 
 /Cp. Metaph. i. c. i. 16; Meteor, i. 14, 352 b. 19; Plato, Timaeus 
 22 B ; Laws ii. 656, 657.
 
 x8o ARISTOTLE 
 
 best use of what has been already discovered, and try to sup- 
 ply defects. 
 
 I have already remarked that the land ought to belong to 
 those who possess arms and have a share in the government, 
 and that the husbandmen ought to be a class distinct from 
 them; and I have determined what should be the extent and 
 nature of the territory. Let me proceed to discuss the dis- 
 tribution of the land, and the character of the agricultural 
 class; for I do not think that property ought to be common, 
 as some maintain, but only that by friendly consent there should 
 be a common use of it ; and that no citizen should be in want 
 of subsistence. 
 
 As to common meals, there is a general agreement that a 
 well-ordered city should have them; and we will hereafter 
 explain what are our own reasons for taking this view. They 
 ought, however, to be open to all the citizens. And yet it is 
 not easy for the poor to contribute the requisite sum out of 
 their private means, and to provide also for their household. 
 The expense of religious worship should likewise be a public 
 charge. The land must therefore be divided into two parts, 
 one public and the other private, and each part should be sub- 
 divided, half of the public land being appropriated to the ser- 
 vice of the gods, and the other half used to defray the cost 
 of the common meals; while of the private land, half should 
 be near the border, and the other near the city, so that each 
 citizen having two lots they may all of them have land in 
 both places; there is justice and fairness in such a division,** 
 and it tends to inspire unanimity among the people in their 
 border wars. Where there is not this arrangement, some of 
 them are too ready to come to blows with their neighbors, 
 while others are so cautious that they quite lose the sense of 
 honor. Wherefore there is a law in some places which forbids 
 those who dwell near the border to take part in public delib- 
 erations about wars with neighbors, on the ground that their 
 interests will pervert their judgment. For the reasons already 
 mentioned then, the land should be divided in the manner 
 described. The very best thing of all would be that the hus- 
 bandmen should be slaves, not all of the same race and not 
 
 m Cp. Plato, Laws v. 745, where the same proposal is found. Aris- 
 totle, in Book ii., condemns the division of lots which he here adopts. 
 n Cp. Plato, Laws vi. 777.
 
 THE POLITICS 181 
 
 spirited, for if they have no spirit they will be better suited 
 for their work, and there will be no danger of their making 
 a revolution. The next best thing would be that they should 
 be Perioeci of foreign race, and of a like inferior nature ; some 
 of them should be the slaves of individuals, and employed on 
 the private estates of men of property, the remainder should 
 be the property of the State and employed on the common 
 land. I will hereafter explain what is the proper treatment of 
 slaves, and why it is expedient that liberty should be always 
 held out to them as the reward of their services. 
 
 We have already said that the city should be open to the 
 land and to the sea, and to the whole country as far as possible. 
 In respect of the place itself our wish would be to find a situa- 
 tion for it, fortunate in four things. The first, health this 
 is a necessity : cities which lie towards the east, and are blown 
 upon by winds coming from the east, are the healthiest; next 
 in healthfulness are those which are sheltered from the north 
 wind, for they have a milder winter. The site of the city 
 should likewise be convenient both for political administration 
 and for war. With a view to the latter it should afford easy 
 egress to the citizens, and at the same time be inaccessible and 
 difficult of capture to enemies. There should be a natural 
 abundance of springs and fountains in the town, or, if there 
 is a deficiency of them, great reservoirs may be established for 
 the collection of rain-water, such as will not fail when the 
 inhabitants are cut off from the country by war. Special care 
 should be taken of the health of the inhabitants, which will 
 depend chiefly on the healthiness of the locality and of the 
 quarter to which they are exposed, and secondly, on the use of 
 pure water; this latter point is by no means a secondary con- 
 sideration. For the elements which we use most and oftenest 
 for the support of the body contribute most to health, and 
 among these are water and air. Wherefore, in all wise States, 
 if there is a want of pure water, and the supply is not all 
 equally good, the drinking water ought to be separated from 
 that which is used for other purposes. 
 
 As to strongholds, what is suitable to different forms of 
 government varies : thus an acropolis is suited to an oligarchy 
 or a monarchy, but a plain to a democracy; neither to an 
 aristocracy, but rather a number of strong places. The ar- 
 rangement of private houses is considered to be more agree-
 
 i8 2 ARISTOTLE 
 
 able and generally more convenient, if the streets are regularly 
 laid out after the modern fashion which Hippodamus intro- 
 duced, but for security in war the antiquated mode of building, 
 which made it difficult for strangers to get out of a town and 
 for assailants to find their way in, is preferable. A city should 
 therefore adopt both plans of building : it is possible to arrange 
 the houses irregularly, as husbandmen plant their vines in 
 what are called " clumps." The whole town should not be 
 laid out in straight lines, but only certain quarters and regions ; 
 thus security and beauty will be combined. 
 
 As to walls, those who say o that cities making any pre- 
 tension to military virtue should not have them are quite out 
 of date in their notions ; and they may see the cities which 
 prided themselves of this fancy confuted by facts. True, there 
 is little courage shown in seeking for safety behind a ram- 
 part when an enemy is similar in character and not much 
 superior in number; but the superiority of the besiegers may 
 be and often is beyond the power of men to resist, and too 
 much for the valor of a few ; and if they are to be saved and 
 to escape defeat and outrage, the strongest wall will be the 
 best defence of the warrior, more especially now that catapults 
 and siege engines have been brought to such perfection. To 
 have no walls would be as foolish as to choose a site for a 
 town in an exposed country, and to level the heights ; or as 
 if an individual were to leave his house unwalled, lest the in- 
 mates should become cowards. Nor must we forget that 
 those who have their cities surrounded by walls may either 
 take advantage of them or not, but cities which are unwalled 
 have no choice. 
 
 If our conclusions are just, not only should cities have walls, 
 but care should be taken to make them ornamental, as well as 
 useful for warlike purposes, and adapted to resist modern in- 
 ventions. For as the assailants of a city do all they can to 
 gain an advantage, so the defenders should make use of any 
 means of defence which have been already discovered, and 
 should devise and invent others, for when men are well pre- 
 pared no enemy even thinks of attacking them. 
 
 As the walls are to be divided by guardhouses and towers 
 built at suitable intervals, and the body of citizens must be 
 distributed at common tables, the idea will naturally occur that 
 o Cp. Plato, Laws vi. 778, 779.
 
 THE POLITICS 183 
 
 we should establish some of the common tables in the guard- 
 houses. The arrangement might be as follows: the principal 
 common tables of the magistrates will occupy a suitable place, 
 and there also will be the buildings appropriated to religious 
 worship except in the case of those rites which the law or 
 the Pythian oracle has restricted to a special locality./' The 
 site should be a spot seen far and wide, which gives due eleva- 
 tion to virtue and towers over the neighborhood. Near this 
 spot should be established an agora, such as that which the 
 Thessalians call the "freemen's agora"; from this all trade 
 should be excluded, and no mechanic, husbandman, or any such 
 person allowed to enter, unless he be summoned by the magis- 
 trates. It would be a charming use of the place, if the gym- 
 nastic exercises of the elder men were performed there. For 
 in this noble practice different ages should be separated, and 
 some of the magistrates should stay with the boys, while the 
 grown-up men remain with the magistrates [i.e. in the free- 
 man's agora] ; for the presence of the magistrates is the best 
 mode of inspiring true modesty and ingenuous fear. There 
 should also be a traders' agora, distinct and apart from the 
 other, in a situation which is convenient for the reception of 
 goods both by sea and land. 
 
 But in speaking of the magistrates we must not forget an- 
 other section of the citizens, viz., the priests, for whom public 
 tables should likewise be provided in their proper place near 
 the temples. The magistrates who deal with contracts, indict- 
 ments, summonses, and the like, and those who have the care 
 of the agora and of the city respectively, ought to be estab- 
 lished near the agora and in some public place of meeting ; the 
 neighborhood of the traders' agora will be a suitable spot ; the 
 upper agora we devote to the life of leisure, the other is in- 
 tended for the necessities of trade. 
 
 The same order should prevail in the country, for there too 
 the magistrates, called by some " inspectors of forests," and 
 by others " wardens of the country," must have guardhouses 
 and common tables while they are on duty; temples should 
 also be scattered throughout the country, dedicated, some to 
 gods, and some to heroes. 
 
 But it would be a waste of time for us to linger over details 
 like these. The difficulty is not in imagining but in carrying 
 /> Cp. Plato, Laws vi. 778; viii. 848; v. 738; vi. 759.
 
 i84 ARISTOTLE 
 
 them out. We may talk about them as much as we like, but 
 the execution of them will depend upon fortune. Wherefore 
 let us say no more about these matters for the present. 
 
 Returning to the constitution itself, let us seek to determine 
 out of what and what sort of elements the State which is to 
 be happy and well governed should be composed. There are 
 two things in which all well-being consists, one of them is the 
 choice of a right end and aim of action, and the other the dis- 
 covery of the actions which are means towards it; for the 
 means and the end may agree or disagree. Sometimes the 
 right end is set before men, but in practice they fail to attain 
 it ; in other cases they are successful in all the means, but they 
 propose to themselves a bad end, and sometimes they fail in 
 both. Take, for example, the art of medicine; physicians do 
 not always understand the nature of health, and also the means 
 which they use may not effect the desired end. In all arts 
 and sciences both the end and the means should be equally 
 within our control. 
 
 The happiness and well-being which all men manifestly de- 
 sire, some have the power of attaining, but to others, from some 
 accident or defect of nature, the attainment of them is not 
 granted ; for a good life requires a supply of external goods, 
 in a less degree when men are in a good state, in a greater degree 
 when they are in a lower state. Others again, who possess 
 the condition of happiness, go utterly wrong from the first in 
 the pursuit of it. But since our object is to discover the best 
 form of government, that, namely, under which a city will bs 
 best governed, and since the city is best governed which has 
 the greatest opportunity of obtaining happiness, it is evident 
 that we must clearly ascertain the nature of happiness. 
 
 We have said in the " Ethics,"? if the arguments there 
 adduced are of any value, that happiness is the realization 
 and perfect exercise of virtue, and this not conditional, but 
 absolute. And I used the term " conditional " to express that 
 which is indispensable, and " absolute " to express that which 
 is good in itself. Take the case of just actions ; just punish- 
 ments and chastisements do indeed spring from a good prin- 
 ciple, but they are good only because we cannot do without 
 them it would be better that neither individuals nor States 
 should need anything of the sort but actions which aim at 
 q Cp. Nic. Eth i. 7. 15; x. 6. 2.
 
 THE POLITICS 185 
 
 honor and advantage are absolutely the best. The conditional 
 action is only the choice of a lesser evil ; whereas these are the 
 foundation and creation of good. A good man may make the 
 best even of poverty and disease, and the other ills of life ; but 
 he can only attain happiness under the opposite conditions.*' 
 As we have already said in the " Ethics,"* the good man is he 
 to whom, because he is virtuous, the absolute good is his 
 good. It is also plain that his use of other goods must be 
 virtuous and in the absolute sense good. This makes men 
 fancy that external goods are the cause of happiness, yet we 
 might as well say that a brilliant performance on the lyre 
 was to be attributed to the instrument and not to the skill 
 of the performer. 
 
 It follows then from what has been said that some things 
 the legislator must find ready to his hand in a State, others 
 he must provide. And therefore we can only say: May our 
 State be constituted in such a manner as to be blessed with 
 the goods of which fortune disposes (for we acknowledge 
 her power) : whereas virtue and goodness in the State are not 
 a matter of chance, but the result of knowledge and purpose. 
 A city can be virtuous only when the citizens who have a 
 share in the government are virtuous, and in our State all 
 the citizens share in the government ; let us then inquire how 
 a man becomes virtuous. For even if we could suppose all 
 the citizens to be virtuous, and not each of them, yet the latter 
 would be better, for in the virtue of each the virtue of all is 
 involved. 
 
 There are three things which make men good and virtuous : 
 these are nature, habit, reason.' In the first place, everyone 
 must be born a man and not some other animal ; in the second 
 place, he must have a certain character, both of body and soul. 
 But some qualities there is no use in having at birth, for they 
 are altered by habit, and there are some gifts of nature which 
 may be turned by habit to good or bad. Most animals lead 
 a life of nature, although in lesser particulars some are in- 
 fluenced by habit as well. Man has reason, in addition, and 
 man only. Wherefore nature, habit, reason must be in har- 
 mony with one another [for they do not always agree] ; men 
 
 rNic. Eth. i. c. 10. 12-14. 
 
 s Ibid. iii. c. 4. 4, 5 ; E. E. vii. 15. 4 ; M. M. ii. 9. 5 3. 
 
 f Cp. N. Eth. x. 9. 6.
 
 i86 ARISTOTLE 
 
 do many things against habit and nature, if reason persuades 
 them that they ought. We have already determined what 
 natures are likely to be most easily moulded by the hands of 
 the legislator. All else is the work of education; we learn 
 some things by habit and some by instruction. 
 
 Since every political society is composed of rulers and sub- 
 jects, let us consider whether the relations of one to the other 
 should interchange or be permanent. For the education of the 
 citizens will necessarily vary with the answer given to this 
 question. Now, if some men excelled others in the same degree 
 in which gods and heroes are supposed to excel mankind in 
 general, having in the first place a great advantage even in 
 their bodies, and secondly in their minds, so that the superiority 
 of the governors over their subjects was patent and undis- 
 puted, it would clearly be better that once for all the one 
 class should rule and the other serve. But since this is unat- 
 tainable, and kings have no marked superiority over their sub- 
 jects, such as Scylax affirms to be found among the Indians, 
 it is obviously necessary on many grounds that all the citizens 
 alike should take their turn of governing and being governed. 
 Equality consists in the same treatment of similar persons, and 
 no government can stand which is not founded upon justice. 
 For [if the government be unjust] everyone in the country 
 unites with the governed in the desire to have a revolution, 
 and it is an impossibility that the members of the government 
 can be so numerous as to be stronger than all their enemies 
 put together. Yet that governors should excel their subjects 
 is undeniable. How all this is to be effected, and in what way 
 they will respectively share in the government, the legislator 
 has to consider. The subject has been already mentioned. 
 Nature herself has given the principle of choice when she made 
 a difference between old and young (though they are really the 
 same in kind), of whom she fitted the one to govern and the 
 others to be governed. No one takes offence at being governed 
 when he is young, nor does he think himself better than his 
 governors, especially if he will enjoy the same privilege when 
 he reaches the required age.. 
 
 We conclude that from one point of view governors and 
 governed are identical, and from another different. And there- 
 fore their education must be the same and also different. For 
 he who would learn to command well must, as men say, first
 
 THE POLITICS 187 
 
 of all learn to obey. As I observed in the first part of this 
 treatise, there is one rule which is for the sake of the rulers 
 and another rule which is for the sake of the ruled ; the former 
 is a despotic, the latter a free government. Some commands 
 differ not in the thing commanded, but in the intention with 
 which they are imposed. Wherefore, many apparently menial 
 offices are an honor to the free youth by whom they are per- 
 formed; for actions do not differ as honorable or dishonor- 
 able in themselves so much as in the end and intention of 
 them. But since we say that the virtue of the citizen and ruler 
 is the same as that of the good man, and that the same person 
 must first be a subject and then a ruler, the legislator has to 
 see that they become good men, and by what means this may 
 be accomplished, and what is the end of the perfect life. 
 
 Now the soul of man is divided into two parts, one of which 
 has reason in itself, and the other, not having reason in itself, 
 is able to obey reason." And we call a man good because he 
 has the virtues of these two parts. In which of them the end 
 is more likely to be found is no matter of doubt to those who 
 adopt our division ; for in the world both of nature and of 
 art the inferior always exists for the sake of the better or 
 superior, and the better or superior is that which has reason. 
 The reason too, in our ordinary way of speaking, is divided 
 into two parts, for there is a practical and a speculative rea- 
 son,*' and there must be a corresponding division of actions ; 
 the actions of the naturally better principle are to be preferred 
 by those who have it in their power to attain to both or to 
 all, for that is always to everyone the most eligible which is 
 the highest attainable by him. The whole of life is further 
 divided into two parts, business and leisure,*" war and peace, 
 and all actions into those which are necessary and useful, and 
 those which are honorable. And the preference given to one 
 or the other class of actions must necessarily be like the prefer- 
 ence given to one or other part of the soul and its actions over 
 the other; there must be war for the sake of peace, business 
 for the sake of leisure, things useful and necessary for the 
 sake of things honorable. All these points the statesman should 
 keep in view when he frames his laws ; he should consider the 
 parts of the soul and their functions, and above all the better 
 
 Cp. Nic. Eth. i. 13. 18, 19. 
 if Ibid. vi. i. 5; ii. 4. wN. E. x. 7. 5 6.
 
 i88 ARISTOTLE 
 
 and the end ; he should also remember the diversities of human 
 lives and actions. For men must engage in business and go 
 to war, but leisure and peace are better; they must do what 
 is necessary and useful, but what is honorable is better. In 
 such principles children and persons of every age which re- 
 quires education should be trained. Whereas even the Hel- 
 lenes of the present day, who are reputed to be best governed, 
 and the legislators who gave them their constitutions, do not 
 appear to have framed their governments with a regard to the 
 best end, or to have given them laws and education with a view; 
 to all the virtues, but in a vulgar spirit have fallen back on 
 those which promised to be more useful and profitable. Many 
 modern writers have taken a similar view : they commend the 
 Lacedaemonian constitution, and praise the legislator for 
 making conquest and war his sole aim,* a doctrine which may 
 be refuted by argument and has long ago been refuted by 
 facts. For most men desire empire in the hope of accumulat- 
 ing the goods of fortune ; and on this ground Thibron and all 
 those who have written about the Lacedaemonian constitution 
 have praised their legislator, because the Lacedaemonians, by 
 a training in hardships, gained great power. But surely they 
 are not a happy people now that their empire has passed away, 
 nor was their legislator right. How ridiculous is the result, 
 if, while they are continuing in the observance of his laws 
 and no one interferes with them, they have lost the better 
 part of life. These writers further err about the sort of gov- 
 ernment which the legislator should approve, for the govern- 
 ment of freemen is noble, and implies more virtue than despotic 
 government. Neither is a city to be deemed happy or a legis- 
 lator to be praised because he trains his citizens to conquer 
 and obtain dominion over their neighbors, for there is great 
 evil in this. On a similar principle any citizen who could, would 
 obviously try to obtain the power in his own State the crime 
 which the Lacedaemonians accuse King Pausanias of attempt- 
 ing, although he had so great honor already. No such prin- 
 ciple and no law having this object is either statesmanlike or 
 useful or right. For the same things are best both for indi- 
 viduals and for States, and these are the things which the 
 legislator ought to implant in the minds of his citizens. Neither 
 should men study war with a view to the enslavement of those 
 x Plato, Laws i. 628, 638.
 
 THE POLITICS 189 
 
 who do not deserve to be enslaved ; but first of all they should 
 provide against their own enslavement, and in the second place 
 obtain empire for the good of the governed, and not for the 
 sake of exercising a general despotism, a^id in the third place 
 they should seek to be masters only over those who deserve 
 to be slaves. Facts, as well as arguments, prove that the legis- 
 lator should direct all his military and other measures to the 
 provision of leisure and the establishment of peace. For most 
 of these military States are safe only while they are at war, but 
 fall when they have acquired their empire; like unused iron 
 they rust y in time of peace. And for this the legislator is to 
 blame, he never having taught them how to lead the life of 
 peace. 
 
 Since the end of individuals and of States is the same, the 
 end of the best man and of the best State must also be the 
 same ; it is therefore evident that there ought to exist in both 
 of them the virtues of leisure; for peace, as has been often 
 repeated, is the end of war, and leisure of toil. But leisure and 
 cultivation may be promoted, not only by those virtues which 
 are practised in leisure, but also by some of those which are 
 useful to business.2 For many necessaries of life have to be 
 supplied before we can have leisure. Therefore a city must 
 be temperate and brave, and able to endure : for truly, as the 
 proverb says, " There is no leisure for slaves," and those who 
 cannot face danger like men are the slaves of any invader. 
 Courage and endurance are required for business and phi- 
 losophy for leisure, temperance and justice for both, more 
 especially in times of peace and leisure, for war compels men 
 to be just and temperate, whereas the enjoyment of good 
 fortune and the leisure which comes with peace tends to make 
 them insolent. Those then, who seem to be the best-off and 
 to be in the possession of every good, have special need of 
 justice and temperance for example, those (if such there be, 
 as the poets say) who dwell in the Islands of the Blest ; they 
 above all will need philosophy and temperance and justice, 
 and all the more the more leisure they have, living in the 
 midst of abundance. There is no difficulty in seeing why the 
 State that would be happy and good ought to have these virtues. 
 
 y Lit. " they lose their edge." 
 
 z i.e. " not only by some of the speculative but also by some of the 
 practical virtues."
 
 I9 o ARISTOTLE 
 
 If it be disgraceful in man not to be able to use the goods 
 of life, it is peculiarly disgraceful not to be able to use them 
 in time of peace to show excellent qualities in action and 
 war, and when they have peace and leisure to be no better 
 than slaves. Wherefore we should not practice virtue after 
 the manner of the Lacedaemonians. For they, while agree- 
 ing with other men in their conception of the highest goods, 
 differ from the rest of mankind in thinking that they are to 
 be obtained by the practice of a single virtue. And since these 
 goods and the enjoyment of them are clearly greater than 
 the enjoyment derived from the virtues of which they are the 
 end, we must now consider how and by what means they are 
 to be attained. 
 
 We have already determined that nature and habit and 
 reason are required, and what should be the character of the 
 citizens has also been defined by us. But we have still to con- 
 sider whether the training of early life is to be that of reason 
 or habit, for these two must accord, and when in accord they 
 will then form the best of harmonies. Reason may make mis- 
 takes and fail in attaining the highest ideal of life, and there 
 may be a like evil influence of habit. Thus much is clear in 
 the first place, that, as in all other things, birth implies some 
 antecedent principle, and that the end of anything has a be- 
 ginning in some former end. Now, in men reason and mind 
 are the end towards which nature strives, so that the birth and 
 moral discipline of the citizens ought to be ordered with a 
 view to them. In the second place, as the soul and body are 
 two, we see that there are two parts of the soul, the rational 
 and the irrational,^ and two corresponding states reason and 
 appetite. And as the body is prior in order of generation to 
 the soul, so the irrational is prior to the rational. The proof 
 is that anger and will and desire are implanted in children 
 from their very birth, but reason and understanding are de- 
 veloped as they grow older. Wherefore, the care of the body 
 ought to precede that of the soul, and the training of the 
 appetitive part should follow; none the less our care of it 
 must be for the sake of the reason, and our care of the body 
 for the sake of the soul.* 
 
 Since the legislator should begin by considering how the 
 frames of the children whom he is rearing may be as good as 
 a Cp. N. Eth. i. 13. 9 ff. b Cp. Plato Rep. iii. 410.
 
 THE POLITICS 191 
 
 possible, his first care will be about marriage at what age 
 should his citizens marry, and who are fit to marry? In legis- 
 lating on this subject he ought to consider the persons and their 
 relative ages, that there may be no disproportion in them, and 
 that they may not differ in their bodily powers, as will be the 
 case if the man is still able to beget children while the woman 
 is unable to bear them, or the woman able to bear while the 
 man is unable to beget, for from these causes arise quarrels 
 and differences between married persons. Secondly, he must 
 consider the time at which the children will succeed to their 
 parents; there ought not to be too great an interval of age, 
 for then the parents will be too old to derive any pleasure 
 from their affection, or to be of any use to them. Nor ought 
 they to be too nearly of an age ; to youthful marriages there 
 are many objections the children will be wanting in respect 
 to the parents, who will seem to be their contemporaries, 
 and disputes will arise in the management of the household. 
 Thirdly, and this is the point from which we digressed, the 
 legislator must mould to his will the frames of newly born 
 children. Almost all these objects may be secured by attention 
 to one point. Since the time of generation is commonly limited 
 within the age of seventy years in the case of a man, and of 
 fifty in the case of a woman, the commencement of the union 
 should conform to these periods. The union of male and female 
 when too young is bad for the procreation of children ; in all 
 other animals the offspring of the young are small and ill- 
 developed, and generally of the female sex, and therefore also 
 in man, as is proved by the fact that in those cities in which 
 men and women are accustomed to marry young, the people 
 are small and weak; in childbirth also younger women suffer 
 more, and more of them die ; some persons say that this was 
 the meaning of the response once given to the Troezenians 
 {" Shear not the young field "] the oracle really meant that 
 many died because they married too young; it had nothing 
 to do with the ingathering of the harvest. It also conduces 
 to temperance not to marry too soon; for women who marry 
 early are apt to be wanton ; and in men too the bodily frame 
 is stunted if they marry while they are growing (for there is 
 a time when the growth of the body ceases). Women should 
 marry when they are about eighteen years of age, and men 
 at seven and thirty; then they are in the prime of life, and
 
 192 ARISTOTLE 
 
 the decline in the powers of both will coincide. Further, the 
 children, if their birth takes place at the time that may rea- 
 sonably be expected, will succeed in their prime, when the 
 fathers are already in the decline of life, and have nearly 
 reached their term of three-score years and ten. 
 
 Thus much of the age proper for marriage: the season of 
 the year should also be considered; according to our present 
 custom, people generally limit marriage to the season of winter, 
 and they are right. The precepts of physicians and natural 
 philosophers about generation should also be studied by the 
 parents themselves; the physicians give good advice about 
 the right age of the body, and the natural philosophers about 
 the winds; of which they prefer the north to the south. 
 
 What constitution in the parent is most advantageous to 
 the offspring is a subject which we will hereafter consider 
 when we speak of the education of children, and we will only 
 make a few general remarks at present. The temperament 
 of an athlete is not suited to the life of a citizen, or to health, 
 or to the procreation of children, any more than the valetudi- 
 narian or exhausted constitution, but one which is in a mean 
 between them. A man's constitution should be inured to labor, 
 but not to labor which is excessive or of one sort only, such 
 as is practised by athletes; he should be capable of all the 
 actions of a freeman. These remarks apply equally to both 
 parents. 
 
 Women who afe with child should be careful of themselves ; 
 they should take exercise and have a nourishing diet. The 
 first of these prescriptions the legislator will easily carry into 
 effect by requiring that they shall take a walk daily to some 
 temple, where they can worship the gods who preside over 
 births Their minds, however, unlike their bodies, they ought 
 to keep unexercised, for the offspring derive their natures from 
 their mothers as plants do from the earth. 
 
 As to the exposure and rearing of children, let there be a 
 law that no deformed child shall live, but where there are 
 too many (for in our State population has a limit), when 
 couples have children in excess, and the state of feeling is 
 averse to the exposure of offspring, let abortion be procured 
 before sense and life have begun ; what may or may not be law- 
 fully done in these cases depends on the question of life and 
 
 sensation. 
 
 c Cp. Plato, Laws vii. 789.
 
 THE POLITICS 193 
 
 And now, having determined at what ages men and women 
 are to begin their union, let us also determine how long they 
 shall continue to beget and bear offspring for the State; men 
 who are too old, like men who are too young, produce chil- 
 dren who are defective in body and mind ; the children of very 
 old men are weakly. The limit, then, should be the age which 
 is the prime of their intelligence, and this in most persons, 
 according to the notion of some poets who measure life by 
 periods of seven years, is about fifty ;d at four or five years 
 later, they should cease from having families; and from that 
 time forwards only cohabit with one another for the sake of 
 health, or for some similar reason. 
 
 As to adultery, let it be held disgraceful for any man or 
 woman to be unfaithful when they are married, and called 
 husband and wife. If during the time of bearing children any- 
 thing of the sort occur, let the guilty person be punished with 
 a loss of privileges in proportion to the offence.^ 
 
 After the children have been born, the manner of rearing 
 them may be supposed to have a great effect on their bodily 
 strength. It would appear from the example of animals, and 
 of those nations who desire to create the military habit, that 
 the food which has most milk in it is best suited to human 
 beings; but the less wine the better, if they would escape 
 diseases. Also all the motions to which children can be sub- 
 jected at their early age are very useful. But in order to pre- 
 serve their tender limbs from distortion, some nations have 
 had recourse to mechanical appliances which straighten their 
 bodies. To accustom children to the cold from their earliest 
 years is also an excellent practice, which greatly conduces 
 to health, and hardens them for military service. Hence many 
 barbarians have a custom of plunging their children at birth 
 into a cold stream ; others, like the Celts, clothe them in a light 
 wrapper only. For human nature should be early habituated 
 to endure all which by habit it can be made to endure; but 
 the process must be gradual. And children, from their natural 
 warmth, may be easily trained to bear cold. Such care should 
 attend them in the first stage of life. 
 
 The next period lasts to the age of five; during this no 
 demand should be made upon the child for study or labor, 
 lest its growth be impeded; and there should be sufficient 
 d Cp. Solon, Fragm. 25 Bergk. e Cp. Laws viii. 841. 
 
 13
 
 194 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 motion to prevent the limbs from being inactive. This can 
 be secured, among other ways, by amusement, but the amuse- 
 ment should not be vulgar or tiring or riotous. The direct- 
 ors of education, as they are termed, should be careful 
 what tales or stories the children hear/ for the sports of chil- 
 dren are designed to prepare the way for the business of later 
 life, and should be for the most part imitations of the occupa- 
 tions which they will hereafter pursue in earnest.^ Those are 
 wrong who [like Plato] in the Laws attempt to check the 
 loud crying and screaming of children, for these contribute 
 towards their growth, and, in a manner, exercise their bodies.^ 
 Straining the voice has an effect similar to that produced by 
 the retention of the breath in violent exertions. Besides other 
 duties, the directors of education should have an eye to their 
 bringing up, and should take care that they are left as little 
 as possible with slaves. For until they are seven years old 
 they must live at home ; and therefore, even at this early age, 
 all that is mean and low should be banished from their sight 
 and hearing. Indeed, there is nothing which the legislator 
 should be more careful to drive away than indecency of speech ; 
 for the light utterance of shameful words is akin to shameful 
 actions. The young especially should never be allowed to 
 repeat or hear anything of the sort. A freeman who is found 
 saying or doing what is forbidden, if he be too young as yet 
 to have the privilege of a place at the public tables, should be 
 disgraced and beaten, and an elder person degraded as his 
 slavish conduct deserves. And since we do not allow improper 
 language, clearly we should also banish pictures or tales which 
 are indecent. Let the rulers take care that there be no image 
 or picture representing unseemly actions, except in the temples 
 of those gods at whose festivals the law permits even ribaldry, 
 and whom the law also permits to be worshipped by persons 
 of mature age on behalf of themselves, their children, and 
 their wives. But the legislator should not allow youth to be 
 hearers of satirical Iambic verses or spectators of comedy until 
 they are of an age to sit at the public tables and to drink 
 strong wine; by that time education will have armed them 
 against the evil influences of such representations. 
 
 We have made these remarks in a cursory manner they 
 
 f Plato, Rep. ii. 377 ff. g Plato, Laws i. 643 ; vii. 799. 
 
 h Ibid. vii. 792.
 
 THE POLITICS 195 
 
 are enough for the present occasion; but hereafter we will 
 return to the subject and after a fuller discussion determine 
 whether such liberty should or should not be granted, and in 
 what way granted, if at all. Theodorus, the tragic actor, was 
 quite right in saying that he would not allow any other actor, 
 not even if he were quite second-rate, to enter before him- 
 self, because the spectators grew fond of the voices which 
 they first heard. And the same principle of association ap- 
 plies universally to things as well as persons, for we always 
 like best whatever comes first. And therefore youth should 
 be kept strangers to all that is bad, and especially to things 
 which suggest vice or hate. When the five years have passed 
 away, during the two following years they must look on at the 
 pursuits which they are hereafter to learn. There are two 
 periods of life into which education has to be divided, from 
 seven to the age of puberty, and onwards to the age of one 
 and twenty. [The poets] who divide ages by sevens are not 
 always right: we should rather adhere to the divisions actu- 
 ally made by nature; for the deficiencies of nature are what 
 art and education seek to fill up. 
 
 Let us then first inquire if any regulations are to be laid 
 down about children, and secondly, whether the care of them 
 should be the concern of the State or of private individuals, 
 which latter is in our own day the common custom, and in 
 the third place, what these regulations should be.
 
 BOOK VIII 
 
 NO one will doubt that the legislator should direct his 
 attention above all to the education of youth, or that 
 the neglect of education does harm to States. The 
 citizen should be moulded to suit the form of government 
 under which he lives.o For each government has a peculiar 
 character which originally formed and which continues to 
 preserve it. The character of democracy creates democracy, 
 and the character of oligarchy creates oligarchy; and always 
 the better the character, the better the government. 
 
 Now for the exercise of any faculty or art a previous train- 
 ing and habituation are required ; clearly therefore for the 
 practice of virtue. And since the whole city has one end, it 
 is manifest that education should be one and the same for all, 
 and that it should be public, and not private not as at present, 
 when everyone looks after his own children separately, and 
 gives them separate instruction of the sort which he thinks 
 best; the training in things which are of common interest 
 should be the same for all. Neither must we suppose that 
 anyone of the citizens belongs to himself, for they all belong to 
 the State, and are each of them a part of the State, and the 
 care of each part is inseparable from the care of the whole. 
 In this particular the Lacedaemonians are to be praised, for 
 they take the greatest pains about their children, and make 
 education the business of the State. 
 
 That education should be regulated by law and should be 
 an affair of state is not to be denied, but what should be the 
 character of this public education, and how young persons 
 should be educated, are questions which remain to be con- 
 sidered. For mankind are by no means agreed about the 
 things to be taught, whether we look to virtue or the best life. 
 Neither it is clear whether education is more concerned with 
 intellectual or with moral virtue. The existing practice is per- 
 
 oCp. Nic. Eth. x. 9. 13. 
 196
 
 THE POLITICS 197 
 
 plexing; no one knows on what principle we should proceed 
 should the useful in life, or should virtue, or should the 
 higher knowledge, be the aim of our training ; all three opin- 
 ions have been entertained. Again, about the means there is 
 no agreement; for different persons, starting with different 
 ideas about the nature of virtue, naturally disagree about the 
 practice of it. There can be no doubt that children should 
 be taught those useful things which are really necessary, but 
 not all things; for occupations are divided into liberal and 
 illiberal ; and to young children should be imparted only such 
 kinds of knowledge as will be useful to them without vulgar- 
 izing them. And any occupation, art, or science, which makes 
 the body or soul or mind of the freeman less fit for the prac- 
 tice or exercise of virtue, is vulgar; wherefore we call those 
 arts vulgar which tend to deform the body, and likewise all 
 paid employments, for they absorb and degrade the mind. 
 There are also some liberal arts quite proper for a freeman 
 to acquire, but only in a certain degree, and if he attend to 
 them too closely, in order to attain perfection in them, the 
 same evil effects will follow. The object also which a man sets 
 before him makes a great difference ; if he does or learns any- 
 thing for his own sake or for the sake of his friends, or with 
 a view to excellence, the action will not appear illiberal ; but 
 if done for the sake of others, the very same action will be 
 thought menial and servile. The received subjects of instruc- 
 tion, as I have already remarked, are partly of a liberal and 
 partly of an illiberal character. 
 
 The customary branches of education are in number four; 
 they are (i) reading and writing, (2) gymnastic exercises, 
 (3) music, to which is sometimes added (4) drawing. Of 
 these, reading and writing and drawing are regarded as use- 
 ful for the purposes of life in a variety of ways, and gymnastic 
 exercises are thought to infuse courage. Concerning music 
 a doubt may be raised in our own day most men cultivate it 
 for the sake of pleasure, but originally it was included in educa- 
 tion, because nature herself, as has been often said, requires 
 that we should be able, not only to work well, but to use 
 leisure well; for, as I must repeat once and again,& the first 
 principle of all action is leisure. Both are required, but 
 leisure is better than occupation : and therefore the question 
 b As in Nic. Eth. x. 6.
 
 198 ARISTOTLE 
 
 must be asked in good earnest, what ought we to do when at 
 leisure? Clearly we ought not to be amusing ourselves, for 
 then amusement would be the end of life. But if this is in- 
 conceivable, and yet amid serious occupations amusement is 
 needed more than at other times (for he who is hard at work 
 has need of relaxation, and amusement gives relaxation, 
 whereas occupation is always accompanied with exertion and 
 effort), at suitable times we should introduce amusements, 
 and they should be our medicines, for the emotion which they 
 create in the soul is a relaxation, and from the pleasure we 
 obtain rest. Leisure of itself gives pleasure and happiness 
 and enjoyment of life, which are experienced, not by the busy 
 man, but by those who have leisure. For he who is occupied 
 has in view some end which he has not attained ; but happiness 
 is an end which all men deem to be accompanied with pleasure 
 and not with pain. This pleasure, however, is regarded dif- 
 ferently by different persons, and varies according to the 
 habit of individuals ; the pleasure of the best man is the best, 
 and springs from the noblest sources. It is clear then that 
 there are branches of learning and education which we must 
 study with a view to the enjoyment of leisure, and these are to 
 be valued for their own sake ; whereas those kinds of knowledge 
 which are useful in business are to be deemed necessary, and 
 exist for the sake of other things. And therefore our fathers 
 admitted music into education, not on the ground either of its 
 necessity or utility, for it is not necessary, nor indeed useful in 
 the same manner as reading and writing, which are useful in 
 money-making, in the management of a household, in the ac- 
 quisition of knowledge and in political life, nor like drawing, 
 useful for a more correct judgment of the works of artists, nor 
 again like gymnastic, which gives health and strength; for 
 neither of these is to be gained from music. There remains, 
 then, the use of music for intellectual enjoyment in leisure; 
 which appears to have been the reason of its introduction, this 
 being one of the ways in which it is thought that a freeman 
 should pass his leisure; as Homer says 
 
 " How good is it to invite men to the pleasant feast," 
 
 and afterwards he speaks of others whom he describes as in- 
 viting 
 
 " The bard who would delight them all/*
 
 THE POLITICS 199 
 
 And in another place Odysseus says there is no better way of 
 passing life than when " Men's hearts are merry and the ban- 
 queters in the hall, sitting in order, hear the voice of the 
 minstrel." c It is evident, then, that there is a sort of educa- 
 tion in which parents should train their sons, not as being 
 useful or necessary, but because it is liberal or noble. Whether 
 this is of one kind only, or of more than one, and if so, what 
 they are, and how they are to be imparted, must hereafter be 
 determined. Thus much we are now in a position to say that 
 the ancients witness to us ; for their opinion may be gathered 
 from the fact that music is one of the received and traditional 
 branches of education. Further, it is clear that children should 
 be instructed in some useful things for example, in reading 
 and writing not only for their usefulness, but also because 
 many other sorts of knowledge are required through them. 
 With a like view they may be taught drawing, not to prevent 
 their making mistakes in their own purchases, or in order that 
 they may not be imposed upon in the buying or selling of 
 articles, but rather because it makes them judges of the beauty 
 of the human form. To be always seeking after the useful 
 does not become free and exalted souls.d Now it is clear that 
 in education habit must go before reason, and the body before 
 the mind; and therefore boys should be handed over to the 
 trainer, who creates in them the proper habit of body, and to 
 the wrestling-master, who teaches them their exercises. 
 
 Of those States which in our own day seem to take the 
 greatest care of children, some aim at producing in them an 
 athletic habit, but they only injure their forms and stunt their 
 growth. Although the Lacedaemonians have not fallen into 
 this mistake, yet they brutalize their children by laborious ex- 
 ercises which they think will make them courageous. But in 
 truth, as we have often repeated, education should not be ex- 
 clusively directed to this or to any other single end. And even 
 if we suppose the Lacedaemonians to be right in their end, they 
 do not attain it. For among barbarians and among animals 
 courage is found associated, not with the greatest ferocity, 
 but with a gentle and lion-like temper. There are many races 
 who are ready enough to kill and eat men, such as the 
 Achaeans and Heniochi, who both live about the Black Sea ;? and 
 there are other inland tribes, as bad or worse, who all live by 
 
 c Od. ix. 7. d Cp. Plato Rep. vii. 525 ff. e Cp. N. Eth. vii. 5. 2.
 
 200 ARISTOTLE 
 
 plunder, but have no courage. It is notorious that the La- 
 cedaemonians, while they were themselves assiduous in their 
 laborious drill, were superior to others, but now they are beaten 
 both in war and gymnastic exercises. For their ancient supe- 
 riority did not depend on their mode of training their youth, 
 but only on the circumstance that they trained them at a time 
 when others did not. Hence we may infer that what is noble, 
 not what is brutal, should have the first place; no wolf or 
 other wild animal will face a really noble danger ; such dangers 
 are for the brave man/ And parents who devote their chil- 
 dren to gymnastics while they neglect their necessary educa- 
 tion, in reality vulgarize them ; for they make them useful to 
 the State in one quality only, and even in this the argument 
 proves them to be inferior to others. We should judge the 
 Lacedaemonians not from what they have been, but from what 
 they are; for now they have rivals who compete with their 
 education ; formerly they had none. 
 
 It is an admitted principle that gymnastic exercises should 
 be employed in education, and that for children they should 
 be of a lighter kind, avoiding severe regimen or painful toil, 
 lest the growth of the body be impaired. The evil of excessive 
 training in early years is strikingly proved by the example 
 of the Olympic victors; for not more than two or three of 
 them have gained a prize both as boys and as men ; their early 
 training and severe gymnastic exercises exhausted their con- 
 stitutions. When boyhood is over, three years should be spent 
 in other studies; the period of life which follows may then 
 be devoted to hard exercise and strict regimen. Men ought 
 not to labor at the same time with their minds and with their 
 bodies ; g for the two kinds of labor are opposed to one an- 
 other, the labor of the body impedes the mind, and the labor 
 of the mind the body. 
 
 Concerning music there are some questions which we have 
 already raised ; these we may now resume and carry further ; 
 and our remarks will serve as a prelude to this or any other 
 discussion of the subject. It is not easy to determine the 
 nature of music, or why anyone should have a knowledge of 
 it. Shall we say, for the sake of amusement and relaxation, 
 like sleep or drinking, which are not good in themselves, but 
 are pleasant, and at the same time " make care to cease," as 
 /Cp. Nic. Eth. iii. 6. 8. g Cp. Plato, Rep. vii. 537 B.
 
 THE POLITICS 201 
 
 Euripides h says ? And therefore men rank them with music, 
 and make use of all three sleep, drinking, music to which 
 some add dancing. Or shall we argue that music conduces 
 to virtue, on the ground that it can form our minds and habitu- 
 ate us to true pleasures as our bodies are made by gymnastic 
 to be of a certain character ? Or shall we say that it contributes 
 to the enjoyment of leisure and mental cultivation, which is 
 a third alternative? Now obviously youth are not to be in- 
 structed with a view to their amusement, for learning is no 
 pleasure, but is accompanied with pain. Neither is intellectual 
 enjoyment suitable to boys of that age, for it is the end, and 
 that which is imperfect cannot attain the perfect or end. But 
 perhaps it may be said that boys learn music for the sake of 
 the amusement which they will have when they are grown up, 
 If so, why should they learn themselves, and not, like the 
 Persian and Median kings, enjoy the pleasure and instruction 
 which are derived from hearing others? (for surely skilled 
 persons who have made music the business and profession of 
 their lives will be better performers than those who practise 
 only to learn). If they must learn music, on the same principle 
 they should learn cookery, which is absurd. And even granting 
 that music may form the character, the objection still holds: 
 why should we learn ourselves? Why cannot we attain true 
 pleasure and form a correct judgment from hearing others, 
 like the Lacedaemonians? for they, without learning music, 
 nevertheless can correctly judge, as they say, of good and bad 
 melodies. Or again, if music should be used to promote cheer- 
 fulness and refined intellectual enjoyment, the objection still 
 remains why should we learn ourselves instead of enjoying 
 the performances of others? We may illustrate what we are 
 saying by our conception of the gods; for in the poets Zeus 
 does not himself sing or play on the lyre. Nay, we call pro- 
 fessional performers vulgar; no freeman would play or sing 
 unless he were intoxicated or in jest. But these matters may 
 be left for the present. 
 
 The first question is whether music is or is not to be a part 
 of education. Of the three things mentioned in our discussion, 
 which is it? Education or amusement or intellectual enjoy- 
 ment, for it may be reckoned under all three, and seems to 
 share in the nature of all of them. Amusement is for the sake 
 h Bacchae, 380.
 
 202 ARISTOTLE 
 
 of relaxation, and relaxation is of necessity sweet, for it is the 
 remedy of pain caused by toil, and intellectual enjoyment is 
 universally acknowledged to contain an element not only of 
 the noble but of the pleasant, for happiness is made up of 
 both. All men agree that music is one of the pleasantest things, 
 whether with or without song; as Musaeus says, 
 
 " Song is to mortals of all things the sweetest." 
 
 Hence and with good reason it is introduced into social gather- 
 ings and entertainments, because it makes the hearts of men 
 glad: so that on this ground alone we may assume that the 
 young ought to be trained in it. For innocent pleasures are 
 not only in harmony with the perfect end of life, but they 
 also provide relaxation. And whereas men rarely attain the 
 end, but often rest by the way and amuse themselves, not only 
 with a view to some good, but also for the pleasure's sake, it 
 may be well for them at times to find a refreshment in music. 
 It sometimes happens that men make amusement the end, 
 for the end probably contains some element of pleasure, though 
 not any ordinary or lower pleasure ; but they mistake the 
 lower for the higher, and in seeking for the one find the other, 
 since every pleasure has a likeness to the end of action.*' For 
 the end is not eligible, nor do the pleasures which we have 
 described exist, for the sake of any future good but of tha 
 past, that is to say, they are the alleviation of past toils and 
 pains. And we may infer this to be the reason why men seek 
 happiness from common pleasures. But music is pursued, not 
 only as an alleviation of past toil, but also as providing recrea- 
 tion. And who can say whether, having this use, it may not 
 also have a nobler one ? In addition to this common pleasure, 
 felt and shared in by all (for the pleasure given by music is 
 natural, and therefore adapted to all ages and characters), may 
 it not have also some influence over the character and the soul ? 
 It must have such an influence if characters are affected by it. 
 And that they are so affected is proved by the power which 
 the songs of Olympus and of many others exercise ; for beyond 
 question they inspire enthusiasm, and enthusiasm is an emotion 
 of the ethical part of the soul. Besides, when men hear imita- 
 tions, even unaccompanied by melody or rhythm, their feelings 
 move in sympathy. Since then music is a pleasure, and virtue 
 * Cp. N. Eth. vii. 13. I 6.
 
 THE POLITICS 
 
 203 
 
 consists in rejoicing and loving and hating aright, there is clear- 
 ly nothing which we are so much concerned to acquire and to 
 cultivate as the power of forming right judgments, and of 
 taking delight in good dispositions and noble actions./ Rhythm 
 and melody supply imitations of anger and gentleness, and 
 also of courage and temperance and of virtues and vices in 
 general, which hardly fall short of the actual affections, as 
 we know from our own experience, for in listening to such 
 strains our souls undergo a change. The habit of feeling 
 pleasure or pain at mere representations is not far removed 
 from the same feeling about realities ; k for example, if any- 
 one delights in the sight of a statue for its beauty only, it 
 necessarily follows that the sight of the original will be pleasant 
 to him. No other sense, such as taste or touch, has any resem- 
 blance to moral qualities; in sight only there is a little, for 
 figures are to some extent of a moral character, and [so far] 
 all participate in the feeling about them. Again, figures and 
 colors are not imitations, but signs of moral habits, indications 
 which the body gives of states of feeling. The connection of 
 them with morals is slight, but in so far as there is any, young 
 men should be taught to look, not at the works of Pauson, but 
 at those of Polygnotus,/ or any other painter or statuary 
 who expresses moral ideas. On the other hand, even in mere 
 melodies t there is an imitation of character, for the musical 
 modes differ essentially from one another, and those who hear 
 them are differently affected by each. Some of them make 
 men sad and grave, like the so-called Mixolydian, others en- 
 feeble the mind, like the relaxed harmonies, others, again, 
 produce a moderate and settled temper, which appears to be 
 the peculiar effect of the Dorian; the Phrygian inspires 
 enthusiasm. The whole subject has been well treated by philo- 
 sophical writers on this branch of education, and they confirm 
 their arguments by facts. The same principles 'apply to 
 rhythms :n some have a character of rest, others of motion, 
 and of these latter again, some have a more vulgar, others a 
 nobler movement. Enough has been said to show that music 
 has a power of forming the character, and should therefore 
 be introduced into the education of the young. The study is 
 
 L /- f(, Cp - ?! at0 ' Rep - "' 401 ' 402 : Laws ii. 658, 659. 
 k Cp. Plato, Rep. m. 395. / Cp. Poet. 2. 2 ; 6. 15 
 
 m Cp. Plato, Rep. ni. 398, 399. n Rep. iii. 399 E , 400.
 
 204 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 suited to the stage of youth, for young persons will not, if 
 they can help, endure anything which is not sweetened by 
 pleasure, and music has a natural sweetness. There seems to 
 be in us a sort of affinity to harmonies and rhythms, which 
 makes some philosophers say that the soul is a harmony, others, 
 that she possesses harmony. 
 
 And now we have to determine the question which has been 
 already raised, whether children should be themselves taught 
 to sing and play or not. Clearly there is a considerable differ- 
 ence made in the character by the actual practice of the art. 
 It is difficult, if not impossible, for those who do not perform 
 to be good judges of the performance of others. Besides, 
 children should have something to do, and the rattle of archy- 
 tas, which people give to their children in order to amuse 
 them and prevent them from breaking anything in the house, 
 was a capital invention, for a young thing cannot be quiet. 
 The rattle is a toy suited to the infant mind, and [musical], 
 education is a rattle or toy for children of a larger growth. 
 We conclude then that they should be taught music in such a 
 way as to become not only critics but performers. 
 
 The question what is or is not suitable for different age: 
 may be easily answered; nor is there any difficulty in meet- 
 ing the objection of those who say that the study of music 
 is vulgar. We reply (i) in the first place, that they who are 
 to be judges must also be performers, and that they should 
 begin to practise early, although when they are older they may 
 be spared the execution ; they must have learned to appreciate 
 what is good and to delight in it, thanks to the knowledge 
 which they acquired in their youth. As to (2) the vulgarizing 
 effect which music is supposed to exercise, this is a question 
 [of degree], which we shall have no difficulty in determining, 
 when we have considered to what extent freemen who are being 
 trained to political virtue should pursue the art, what melodies 
 and what rhythms they should be allowed to use, and what in- 
 struments should be employed in teaching them to play, for 
 even the instrument makes a difference. The answer to the 
 objection turns upon these distinctions; for it is quite pos- 
 sible that certain methods of teaching and learning music do 
 really have a degrading effect. It is evident then that the 
 learning of music ought not to impede the business of riper 
 years, or to degrade the body or render it unfit for civil or
 
 THE POLITICS 
 
 military duties, whether for the early practice or for the later 
 study of them. 
 
 The right measure will be attained if students of music 
 stop short of the arts which are practised in professional con- 
 tests, and do not seek to acquire those fantastic marvels of 
 execution which are now the fashion in such contests, and 
 from these have passed into education. Let the young pursue 
 their studies until they are able to feel delight in noble melodies 
 and rhythms, and not merely in that common part of music 
 in which every slave or child, and even some animals find 
 pleasure. 
 
 From these principles we may also infer what instruments 
 should be used. The flute, or any other instrument which re- 
 quires great skill, as for example the harp, ought not to be 
 admitted into education, but only such as will make intelligent 
 students of music or of the other parts of education. Besides, 
 the flute is not an instrument which has a good moral effect; 
 it is too exciting. The proper time for using it is when the 
 performance aims not at instruction, but at the relief of the 
 passions. And there is a further objection; the impediment 
 which the flute presents to the use of the voice detracts from 
 its educational value. The ancients therefore were right in for- 
 bidding the flute to youths and freemen, although they had 
 once allowed it. For when their wealth gave them greater 
 leisure, and they had loftier no-ions of excellence, being also 
 elated with their success, both before and after the Persian 
 War, with more zeal than discernment they pursued every kind 
 of knowledge, and so they introduced the flute into education. 
 At Lacedsemon there was a choragus who led the chorus with 
 a flute, and at Athens the instrument became so popular that 
 most freemen could play upon it. The popularity is shown by, 
 the tablet which Thrasippus dedicated when he furnished the 
 chorus to Ecphantides. Later experience enabled men to judge 
 what was or was not really conducive to virtue, and they 
 rejected both the flute and several other old-fashioned instru- 
 ments, such as the Lydian harp, the many-stringed lyre, the 
 heptagon, triangle, sambuca, and the like which are intended 
 only to give pleasure to the hearer, and require extraordinary 
 skill of hand.o There is a meaning also in the myth of the 
 ancients, which tells how Athene invented the flute and then 
 o Cp. Plato, Rep. iii. 399 D.
 
 ao6 ARISTOTLE 
 
 threw it away. It was not a bad idea of theirs, that the goddess 
 disliked the instrument because it made the face ugly; but 
 with still more reason may we say that she rejected it because 
 the acquirement of flute-playing contributes nothing to the 
 mind, since to Athene we ascribe both knowledge and art. 
 
 Thus then we reject the professional instruments and also 
 the professional mode of education in music and by profes- 
 sional we mean that which is adopted in contests, for in this 
 the performer practises the art, not for the sake of his own im- 
 provement, but in order to give pleasure, and that of a vulgar 
 sort, to his hearers. For this reason the execution of such 
 music is not the part of a freeman but of a paid performer, 
 and the result is that the performers are vulgarized, for the 
 end at which they aim is bad. The vulgarity of the spectator 
 tends to lower the character of the music and therefore of the 
 performers ; they look to him he makes them what they are, 
 and fashions even their bodies by the movements which he 
 expects them to exhibit. 
 
 We have also to consider rhythms and harmonies. Shall 
 we use them all in education or make a distinction ? and shall 
 the distinction be that which is made by those who are en- 
 gaged in education, or shall it be some other? For we see 
 that music is produced by melody and rhythm, and we ought 
 to know what influence these have respectively on education 
 and whether we should prefer excellence in melody or excel- 
 lence in rhythm. But as the subject has been very well treated 
 fr' many musicians of the present day, and also by philosophers 
 who have had considerable experience of musical education, 
 to these we would refer the more exact student of the subject; 
 we shall only speak of it now after the manner of the legislator, 
 having regard to general principles. 
 
 We accept the division of melodies proposed by certain phi- 
 losophers into ethical melodies, melodies of action, and passion- 
 ate or inspiring melodies, each having, as they say, a mode 
 or harmony corresponding to it. But we maintain further that 
 music should be studied, not for the sake of one, but of many 
 benefits, that is to say, with a view to (i) education, (2) 
 purification (the word " purification " we use at present with- 
 out explanation, but when hereafter we speak of poetry fl we 
 will treat the subject with more precision) ; music may also 
 p Cp. Plato, Laws iii. 700. q Cp. Poet. c. 6.
 
 THE POLITICS 207 
 
 serve (3) for intellectual enjoyment, for relaxation and for 
 recreation after exertion. It is clear, therefore, that all the 
 harmonies must be employed by us, but not all of them in 
 the same manner. In education ethical melodies are to be pre- 
 ferred, but we may listen to the melodies of action and passion 
 when they are performed by others. For feelings such as 
 pity and fear, or, again, enthusiasm, exist very strongly in 
 some souls, and have more or less influence over all. Some 
 persons fall into a religious frenzy, whom we see disenthralled 
 by the use of mystic melodies, which bring healing and purifica- 
 tion to the soul. Those who are influenced by pity or fear 
 and every emotional nature have a like experience, others in 
 their degree are stirred by something which specially affects 
 them, and all are in a manner purified and their souls lightened 
 and delighted. The melodies of purification likewise give an 
 innocent pleasure to mankind. Such are the harmonies and 
 the melodies in which those who perform music at the theatre 
 should be invited to compete. But since the spectators are 
 of two kinds the one free and educated, and the other a vulgar 
 crowd composed of mechanics, laborers, and the like there 
 ought to be contests and exhibitions instituted for the relaxa- 
 tion of the second class also. And the melodies will correspond 
 to their minds; for as their minds are perverted from the 
 natural state, so there are exaggerated and corrupted har- 
 monies which are in like manner a perversion. A man receives 
 pleasure from what is natural to him, and therefore profes- 
 sional musicians may be allowed to practise this lower sort of 
 music before an audience of a lower type. But, for the pur- 
 poses of education, as I have already said, those modes and 
 melodies should be employed which are ethical, such as the 
 Dorian; though we may include any others which are ap- 
 proved by philosophers who have had a musical education. 
 The Socrates of the " Republic "r is wrong in retaining only 
 the Phrygian mode along with the Dorian, and the more so 
 because he rejects the flute ; for the Phrygian is to the modes 
 what the flute is to musical instruments both of them are 
 exciting and emotional. Poetry proves this, for Bacchic frenzy 
 and all similar emotions are most suitably expressed by the 
 flute, and are better set to the Phrygian than to any other 
 harmony. The dithyramb, for example, is acknowledged to 
 r Plato, Rep. iii. 399-
 
 ao8 ARISTOTLE 
 
 be Phrygian, a fact of which the connoisseurs of music offer 
 many proofs, saying, among other things, that Philoxenus. 
 having attempted to compose his Tales ^ as a dithyramb in the 
 Dorian mode, found it impossible, and fell back into the more 
 appropriate Phrygian. All men agree that the Dorian music 
 is the gravest and manliest. And whereas we say that the 
 extremes should be avoided and the mean followed, and 
 whereas the Dorian is a mean between the other harmonies 
 [the Phrygian and the Lydian], it is evident that our youth 
 should be taught the Dorian music. 
 
 Two principles have to be kept in view, what is possible, 
 what is becoming : at these every man ought to aim. But even 
 these are relative to age ; the old who have lost their powers 
 cannot very well sing the severe melodies, and nature her- 
 self seems to suggest that their songs should be of the more 
 relaxed kind. Wherefore the musicians likewise blame Soc- 
 rates, and with justice, for rejecting the relaxed harmonies in 
 education under the idea that they are intoxicating, not in the 
 ordinary sense of intoxication (for wine rather tends to ex- 
 cite men), but because they have no strength in them. And 
 so, with a view to a time of life when men begin to grow old, 
 they ought to practise the gentler harmonies and melodies as 
 well as the others. And if there be any harmony, such as the 
 Lydian above all others appears to be, which is suited to chil- 
 dren of tender age, and possesses the elements both of order 
 and of education, clearly [we ought to use it, for] education 
 should be based upon three principles the mean, the possible, 
 the becoming, these three. 
 
 sCp. Poet c. 2. 9 7.
 
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