Epistles

while some of them persuade themselves that they have been sufficiently instructed in the whole subject and no longer require any further effort. Now this test proves the clearest and most infallible in dealing with those who are luxurious and incapable of enduring labor, since it prevents any of them from ever casting the blame on his instructor instead of on himself and his own inability to pursue all the studies which are accessory to his subject. This, then, was the purport of what I said to Dionysius on that occasion. I did not, however, expound the matter fully, nor did Dionysius ask me to do so; for he claimed that he himself knew many of the most important doctrines and was sufficiently informed owing to the versions he had heard from his other teachers. And I am even told that later on he himself wrote a treatise on the subjects in which I then instructed him, composing it as though it were something of his own invention and quite different from what he had heard; but of all this I know nothing. I know indeed that certain others have written about these same subjects; but what manner of men they are not even themselves know. [*](Probably an allusion to the proverbial maxim Know thyself.) But thus much I can certainly declare concerning all these writers, or prospective writers, who claim to know the subjects which I seriously study, whether as hearers of mine or of other teachers, or from their own discoveries; it is impossible, in my judgement at least, that these men should understand anything about this subject. There does not exist, nor will there ever exist, any treatise of mine dealing therewith. For it does not at all admit of verbal expression like other studies, but, as a result of continued application to the subject itself and communion therewith, it is brought to birth in the soul on a sudden, [*](cf. Plat. Sym. 210e for the suddenness of the mystic vision of the Idea.) as light that is kindled by a leaping spark, and thereafter it nourishes itself. Notwithstanding, of thus much I am certain, that the best statement of these doctrines in writing or in speech would be my own statement; and further, that if they should be badly stated in writing, it is I who would be the person most deeply pained. And if I had thought that these subjects ought to be fully stated in writing or in speech to the public, [*](On the danger of writing such doctrines cf. Plat. L. 2.314c ff.; and for philosophy as possible only for the few cf. Plat. Rep. 494a.) what nobler action could I have performed in my life than that of writing what is of great benefit to mankind and bringing forth to the light for all men the nature of reality?

But were I to undertake this task it would not, as I think, prove a good thing for men, save for some few who are able to discover the truth themselves with but little instruction; for as to the rest, some it would most unseasonably fill with a mistaken contempt, and others with an overweening and empty aspiration, as though they had learnt some sublime mysteries. But concerning these studies I am minded to speak still more at length; since the subject with which I am dealing [*](Cf. Plat. L. 7.341c.) will perhaps be clearer when I have thus spoken. For there is a certain true argument which confronts the man who ventures to write anything at all of these matters, an argument which, although I have frequently stated it in the past, seems to require statement also at the present time. Every existing object has three things [*](cf. Plat. Laws 895d, where Essence, Definition, and Name are enumerated; also Plat. Parm. 142a.) which are the necessary means by which knowledge of that object is acquired; and the knowledge itself is a fourth thing; and as a fifth one must postulate the object itself which is cognizable and true. First of these comes the name; secondly the definition; thirdly the image; fourthly the knowledge. If you wish, then, to understand what I am now saying, take a single example and learn from it what applies to all. There is an object called a circle, which has for its name the word we have just mentioned and, secondly, it has a definition, composed of names and verbs; for that which is everywhere equidistant from the extremities to the center will be the definition of that object which has for its name round and spherical and circle. [*](For the definition of circle cf. Plat. Tim. 33b, Plat. Parm. 137e.) And in the third place there is that object which is in course of being portrayed and obliterated, or of being shaped with a lathe, and falling into decay; but none of these affections is suffered by the circle itself, whereto all these others are related inasmuch as it is distinct therefrom. Fourth comes knowledge and intelligence and true opinion regarding these objects; and these we must assume to form a single whole, which does not exist in vocal utterance or in bodily forms but in souls; whereby it is plain that it differs both from the nature of the circle itself and from the three previously mentioned. And of those four intelligence approaches most nearly in kinship and similarity to the fifth, [*](This echoes the language of Plat. Rep. 490b.) and the rest are further removed. The same is true alike of the straight and of the spherical form, and of color, and of the good and the fair and the just, and of all bodies whether manufactured or naturally produced (such as fire and water and all such substances), and of all living creatures, and of all moral actions or passions in souls. For unless a man somehow or other grasps the four of these, he will never perfectly acquire knowledge of the fifth.

Moreover, these four attempt to express the quality of each object no less than its real essence, owing to the weakness inherent in language [*](cf. Plat. Crat. 438d, Plat. Crat. 438e.); and for this reason, no man of intelligence will ever venture to commit to it the concepts of his reason, especially when it is unalterable—as is the case with what is formulated in writing. But here again you must learn further the meaning of this last statement. Every one of the circles which are drawn in geometric exercises or are turned by the lathe is full of what is opposite to the fifth, since it is in contact with the straight everywhere [*](i.e. any number of straight tangents to a circle may be drawn; or, a circle, like a straight line, is composed of points, therefore the circular is full of the elements of the straight.); whereas the circle itself, as we affirm, contains within itself no share greater or less of the opposite nature. And none of the objects, we affirm, has any fixed name, nor is there anything to prevent forms which are now called round from being called straight, and the straight round [*](f. Plat. Crat. 384d, Plat. Crat. 384e for the view that names are not natural but conventional fixities.); and men will find the names no less firmly fixed when they have shifted them and apply them in an opposite sense. Moreover, the same account holds good of the Definition also, that, inasmuch as it is compounded of names and verbs, it is in no case fixed with sufficient firmness. [*](cf. Plat. Theaet. 208b ff. for the instability of Definitions.) And so with each of the Four, their inaccuracy is an endless topic; but, as we mentioned a moment ago, the main point is this, that while there are two separate things, the real essence and the quality, and the soul seeks to know not the quality but the essence, each of the Four proffers to the soul either in word or in concrete form that which is not sought; and by thus causing each object which is described or exhibited to be always easy of refutation by the senses, it fills practically all men with all manner of perplexity and uncertainty. In respect, however, of those other objects the truth of which, owing to our bad training, we usually do not so much as seek—being content with such of the images as are proffered,—those of us who answer are not made to look ridiculous by those who question, we being capable of analysing and convicting the Four. But in all cases where we compel a man to give the Fifth as his answer and to explain it, anyone who is able and willing to upset the argument gains the day, and makes the person who is expounding his view by speech or writing or answers appear to most of his hearers to be wholly ignorant of the subjects about which he is attempting to write or speak; for they are ignorant sometimes of the fact that it is not the soul of the writer or speaker that is being convicted but the nature of each of the Four, which is essentially defective. But it is the methodical study of all these stages, passing in turn from one to another, up and down, which with difficulty implants knowledge, when the man himself, like his object, is of a fine nature;

but if his nature is bad—and, in fact, the condition of most men’s souls in respect of learning and of what are termed morals is either naturally bad or else corrupted,—then not even Lynceus [*](An Argonaut, noted for his keeness of sight; here, by a playful hyperbole, he is supposed to be also a producer of sight in others; cf. Aristoph.Plut. 210.) himself could make such folk see. In one word, neither receptivity nor memory will ever produce knowledge in him who has no affinity with the object, since it does not germinate to start with in alien states of mind; consequently neither those who have no natural connection or affinity with things just, and all else that is fair, although they are both receptive and retentive in various ways of other things, nor yet those who possess such affinity but are unreceptive and unretentive—none, I say, of these will ever learn to the utmost possible extent the truth of virtue nor yet of vice. For in learning these objects it is necessary to learn at the same time both what is false and what is true of the whole of Existence, [*](cf. Plat. Laws 816d.) and that through the most diligent and prolonged investigation, as I said at the commencement [*](Cf. Plat. L. 7.341c.); and it is by means of the examination of each of these objects, comparing one with another—names and definitions, visions and sense-perceptions,—proving them by kindly proofs and employing questionings and answerings that are void of envy—it is by such means, and hardly so, that there bursts out the light of intelligence and reason regarding each object in the mind of him who uses every effort of which mankind is capable. And this is the reason why every serious man in dealing with really serious subjects [*](For legislation as not a serious subject but playful see Plat. Laws 769a; cf. Plat. Stat. 294a.) carefully avoids writing, lest thereby he may possibly cast them as a prey to the envy and stupidity of the public. In one word, then, our conclusion must be that whenever one sees a man’s written compositions—whether they be the laws of a legislator or anything else in any other form,—these are not his most serious works, if so be that the writer himself is serious: rather those works abide in the fairest region he possesses. [*](i.e. in his head, the abode of unexpressed thoughts; cf. Plat. Tim. 44d.) If, however, these really are his serious efforts, and put into writing, it is not the gods but mortal men who

Then of a truth themselves have utterly ruined his senses.

rather, if he wrote at all, it was to gratify his base love of glory, either by giving out the doctrines as his own discoveries, or else by showing, forsooth, that he shared a culture which he by no means deserved because of his lust for the fame accruing from its possession. Well, then, if such was the effect produced on Dionysius by our one conversation, perhaps it was so; but how this effect was produced

God troweth,

1. There yet again to traverse the length of deadly Charybdis;

He, however, tried to talk me over and entreated me to remain, as he thought it would not be to his own credit that I should hurry away in person to convey such tidings; and when he failed to persuade me he promised to provide a passage for me himself. For I was proposing to embark and sail in the trading-vessels; because I was enraged and thought that I ought to stop at nothing, in case I were hindered, seeing that I was manifestly doing no wrong but suffering wrong. But when he saw that I had no inclination to remain he devised a scheme of the following kind to secure my remaining over that sailing-season. On the following day he came and addressed me in these plausible terms: You and I, he said, must get Dion and Dion’s affairs cleared out of the way, to stop our frequent disputes about them. And this, said he, is what I will do for Dion for your sake. I require that he shall remove his property and reside in the Peloponnese, not, however, as an exile but possessing the right to visit this country also whenever it is mutually agreed by him and by me and by you his friends. But this is on condition that he does not conspire against me; and you and your associates [*](Amongst Plato’s companions on this visit were Speusippus and Xenocrates) and Dion’s here in Sicily shall be the guarantors of these terms, and he shall furnish you with his security. And all the property he shall take shall be deposited in the Peloponnese and Athens with such persons as you shall think fit; and he shall enjoy the income from it but shall not be authorized to remove it without your consent. For I do not altogether trust him to act justly towards me if he had the use of these funds—for they will be by no means small; and I put more trust in you and your friends. So consider whether this arrangement contents you, and remain on these terms for the present year, and when next season arrives depart and take with you these funds of Dion. And I am well assured that Dion will be most grateful to you for having effected this arrangement on his behalf. And I, when I heard this speech, was annoyed, but none the less I replied that I would think it over and let him know next day my decision about the matter; and to this we both then agreed. So after this, when I was by myself, I was thinking it over, very much perturbed. And in my deliberation the first and foremost reflection was this— Come now, suppose that Dionysius has no intention of performing any of his promises, and suppose that on my departure he sends a plausible note to Dion—both writing himself and charging many of his friends also to do so—stating the proposal he is now making to me, and how in spite of his wish I had refused to do what he had invited me to do, and had taken no interest at all in Dion’s affairs;