Complete Works

by Plato, Cooper, John M. , Hutchinson, D. S.

  A line of Euripides comes appropriately to my mind: “Thou’lt pray for [d] such a helper at thy side.”1 Let me remind you also that most of the other tragic poets, when they bring in a tyrant who is being assassinated, make him cry out: “O wretched me! for lack of friends I die.” But no one has [310] ever portrayed him as dying for lack of money. And these other lines, too, make sense to sensible men:

  It is not gold, though a shining rarity in mortals’ hopeless life,

  Nor gems, nor silver couches, that brighten the eyes of men,

  Nor broad and self-sufficient fields laden with the harvest,

  But the approving thought of upright men.

  [b] Farewell. May you realize how much you have lost in me and so conduct yourself better toward others.

  1. Frg. 956.

  II

  PLATO TO DIONYSIUS, WELFARE.

  Archedemus1 tells me you think that not only I but my friends also should keep quiet about you and refrain from saying or doing anything to your discredit, Dion alone excepted. This very statement, that you except [c] Dion, shows that I have no power over my friends; for if I could control you and Dion and the others as you suggest, it would be much better for us, I maintain, and for all the other Greeks. As it is, I am conspicuous in showing willingness to follow my own precept. But I say this without implying that there is any truth in the reports of Cratistolus and Polyxenus, [d] one of whom told you, I hear, that while at Olympia he heard many of my companions speak ill of you. He must have much sharper hearing than I, for I heard nothing of the sort. But this is what you must do, I think, in the future; whenever you hear anything like this said of one of us, write and inquire of me, and I will tell you the truth without shame or hesitation.

  So far as the relations between you and me are concerned the situation [e] is this. We are both known to practically every Greek, and our connection with each other is no secret. Remember, too, that it will be no secret to future generations, for those who hear of it will be as great in number as our friendship has been long continued and open. What do I mean by saying this now? Let me begin with a general truth. It is a law of nature that wisdom and great power go together; they exert a mutual attraction and are forever seeking to be united. And men love to converse with one another about them, and to listen to what the poets say. For example, [311] when men talk of Hiero and Pausanias the Lacedaemonian, they like to recall Simonides’ connection with them and what he said and did. Likewise they usually celebrate together Periander of Corinth and Thales of Miletus, Pericles and Anaxagoras, and again Croesus and Solon, as wise men, with Cyrus, as ruler. In the same strain the poets couple Creon and Tiresias, [b] Polyeidus and Minos, Agamemnon and Nestor, Odysseus and Palamedes. And our early ancestors, if I am not mistaken, linked Prometheus with Zeus in much the same manner. Of these men some are sung about as coming together in conflict, others for friendship; and some as being friends at one time and enemies at another, and agreeing in some things and disagreeing in others. I say all this to show you that when we are dead, [c] men will still talk about us, and we must have a care for their opinions. It is necessary, I think, that we should be concerned about the future, since it is the nature of an utterly slavish man to give it no thought, whereas men of superior virtue do everything in their power to have themselves well spoken of after they are dead. This very attitude is to me an indication that the dead have some perception of what is going on here; for superior minds divine that this is so, while those of no account deny it; and of these [d] two the intimations of good men are the more worthy of credence. It is my belief that the men whom I have mentioned above would be only too eager, if it were possible to rectify their associations with one another so as to have a better account given of them than is now current. This is still possible for us, please God; if there has been any fault in our past relations we can still correct it by our words and actions; for the account which will be given of true philosophy, and the reputation that it will enjoy, will be [e] better or worse, I say, according as we act nobly or basely. Indeed we can show no greater piety than to act always with this concern, nor greater impiety than to neglect it.

  Shall I tell you then what we ought to do and what justice requires? When I came to Sicily my reputation was high among philosophers, and I came to Syracuse to make you my witness, so that philosophy might [312] gain favor with the multitude. In this I failed ingloriously, as is well known. But I deny that the cause was what many persons might think. Instead, it is because you showed that you did not quite trust me, but desired to send me away and summon others to find out from them what my purposes were, apparently mistrusting me. Many people thereupon bruited it about that you held me in contempt and were interested in other things. This, [b] as you know, was the general report. Hear now what in consequence you ought to do, and this will answer your question how you and I should behave towards each other. If you feel nothing but contempt for philosophy, then let it alone; or if from your own studies or from the teachings of others you have found better doctrines than mine, give them your allegiance. But if, as I think, you favor my principles, then you ought to honor them and me in particular. Now, as at the beginning, if you lead I will follow. If you honor me, I will honor you; if not, I will keep silent. [c] Furthermore, if you take the lead in honoring me, you will get the reputation of honoring philosophy; and the very fact that you once were considering other philosophers will bring you commendation from many persons as being yourself a philosopher. But if I pay you honor without any honor from you, it will look as if I had my eyes on your money, and we know that this attitude has an evil name among men. In short, if you honor me it will be a tribute to us both; if I honor you, it will bring us both disgrace.

  [d] Enough of these matters. The sphere is not correct. Archedemus will explain it to you when he comes. And upon that other question of weightier and more sublime import about which you say you have difficulties, let him by all means enlighten you. According to his report, you say that the nature of “the first” has not been sufficiently explained. I must speak of this matter to you in enigmas, in order that if anything should happen to these tablets “in the recesses of the sea or land,” whoever reads them may [e] not understand our meaning. It is like this. Upon the king of all do all things turn; he is the end of all things and the cause of all good. Things of the second order turn upon the second principle, and those of the third order upon the third. Now the soul of man longs to understand what sort of things these principles are, and it looks toward the things that are akin [313] to itself, though none of them is adequate; clearly the king and the other principles mentioned are not of that sort. The soul thereupon asks, What then is the nature of these principles? This is the question, O son of Dionysius and Doris, that causes all the trouble; or rather, this it is that produces in the soul the pains of childbirth, from which she must be delivered, or she will never really attain truth. You yourself once told me, under the [b] laurel trees in your garden, that you understood this matter, having found the answer yourself; and I replied that if you thought so, you had spared me many words. I said, however, that I had never met anyone who had discovered this truth, and that most of my own study was devoted to it. Perhaps you once heard something from someone and providentially started on the track of the answer, but then, thinking you had it safe, neglected to fix fast the proofs of it, which now dart here and there2 about some object of your fancy, whereas the reality itself is quite different. You [c] are not alone in this experience; I assure you that everyone at first hearing is affected in just this way, and though some have more difficulty than others, there is almost no one who escapes with but little effort.

  Considering thus our past and our present circumstances, we can fairly say we have found the answer to the question in your letter about our relations toward each other. For now that you are conversing with other [d] philosophers and are testing my doctrines, both by themselves and by comparing them with others, these teachings will take root this time, if your examinatio
n is sincere, and you will become attached both to them and to me.

  Now how can this and all else that I have mentioned be brought about? It was quite proper of you to send Archedemus to me; do likewise in the future, for when he reaches you and gives you my answers you may still have difficulties. You will then send Archedemus back to me, if you are well advised, and he will return to you, like a good merchant. After you have done this two or three times and have thoroughly examined the answers I send to you, I shall be much surprised if the matters which are [e] now troubling you do not appear in an altogether different light. So be bold and inquire of me in this way; for you could not order, nor could Archedemus secure for you, any nobler or diviner merchandise.

  Only take care that these letters do not fall into the hands of uninstructed [314] men. Nothing, I dare say, could sound more ridiculous to the multitude than these sayings, just as to gifted persons nothing could be more admirable and inspiring. One must talk about them and hear them expounded again and again, perhaps for many years, and even then their gold is with the utmost difficulty separated and refined. The most surprising thing about it is this: many a man of able understanding and tenacious memory has become old in the hearing of these doctrines and has told me that [b] after more than thirty years of hearing them expounded, after examining them and testing them in every way, those points which at the beginning seemed most doubtful he now thinks to be the clearest and most self-evident of all, while the matters he then thought most credible are now quite the contrary. Keep this in mind and take care that you have no occasion in the future to feel remorse for now exposing these doctrines unworthily. The best precaution is not to write them down, but to commit them to memory; for it is impossible that things written should not become [c] known to others. This is why I have never written on these subjects. There is no writing of Plato’s, nor will there ever be; those that are now called so come from an idealized and youthful3 Socrates. Farewell and heed my warning; read this letter again and again, then burn it.

  Enough of these matters. You were surprised that I sent Polyxenus to you; but about him as well as Lycophron and the other men now at your [d] court, I repeat the opinion that I have long had; you are far superior to them in dialectic, both by natural aptitude and by your method of disputation; and none of them lets himself be defeated intentionally, as some people suppose, but only because he cannot help it. You seem, however, to have dealt with them quite fairly and rewarded them properly. But enough, and more than enough, about such men. As for Philistion,4 if you [e] still need him, by all means keep him there; but if it is possible, release him and let Speusippus have his services. Speusippus joins me in this request, and Philistion also assured me that he would be glad to come to Athens if you would let him go. You did well to release the man from the rock quarries; and my petition about Hegesippus, the son of Ariston, and his family is easy to grant, for you wrote me that if anyone ever tried to do him or them an injury and you knew of it you would prevent it. The [315] truth should be told about Lysiclides; he is the only man who has come from Sicily to Athens who has not given a distorted report of the relations between us; he continues, as always, to put the best interpretation upon what happened.

  1. See Letters III, 319a, and VII, 339a, 349d.

  2. Reading a(i)ttousi in b7.

  3. Alternatively, ‘modernized’.

  4. A doctor.

  III

  PLATO TO DIONYSIUS, GREETINGS.

  Is this the most appropriate way to address you, or should I wish you [b] welfare, as I usually do in letters to my friends? You yourself, so I am told by those who were with you on the embassy to Delphi, addressed the god with this fawning expression, writing, they say,

  Greetings to you! May you continue the pleasant life of the tyrant!

  [c] For my part I should not address such an exhortation even to a man, far less to a god. To God it would be enjoining something contrary to nature, since the divine has its seat far removed from pleasure and pain; and as for man, pleasure and pain more often do harm, by breeding stupidity, forgetfulness, folly, and insolence in his soul. But enough from me on the subject of salutations; read this and make whatever use you please of it.

  [d] Not a few persons have reported to me that you are telling it about among the ambassadors to your court that once, when I heard you announce your intention to resettle the Greek cities in Sicily and relieve Syracuse by changing your government from a tyranny to a kingship, I dissuaded you, you say, though you were very eager; but that now I am instructing Dion [e] to do these very things, and thus we are using your own ideas to wrest your empire from you. You know best whether you gain anything by such tales; in any case you are doing me wrong in telling the exact opposite of what happened. I have been slandered enough by Philistides and numerous other persons before the mercenaries and the people of Syracuse, because I was living in the citadel; and those outside, if any mistake was made, blamed it all on me, saying that you obeyed me in all things. You yourself [316] know quite well that on political matters I willingly labored with you on only a few things at the beginning, when I thought I could do some good. Besides other minor matters, I did considerable work on the preambles to the laws, i.e., on those parts distinct from what you or someone else has added. For I hear that some of you have since been revising them; but which parts are mine and which yours will be obvious to anyone who is able to judge of my character.1 But as I have just said, I don’t need to be further misrepresented, either to the people of Syracuse or to anyone else whom these words of yours may influence; rather I need to be defended [b] against those earlier charges as well as against these graver and more malicious ones that have since appeared. Since, then, I am accused on two counts, I must make a twofold defense and show, first, that it was reasonable of me to avoid taking part in your affairs of state, and secondly, that it was not my advice that prevented you, as you say, and stood in your way when you were going to resettle the Greek cities. So now hear first [c] my defense on the former of these two points.

  I came to Syracuse at the joint invitation of you and Dion. The latter was an old and well-tried friend of mine, of mature age and settled character; and these qualities, as any man with a grain of sense can see, were absolutely necessary for advising upon problems as important as yours were at that time. You, on the contrary, were quite young, with almost no experience in the affairs with which you should have been acquainted, and were quite unknown to me. Shortly after—whether it was a man, or [d] God, or chance working through you that was responsible—Dion was banished. Do you think that I could then co-operate with you in state affairs, when I had lost my wise colleague and saw the foolish one left, a ruler only in his own imagination, in reality being ruled by the crowd of unscrupulous men around him? What was my duty under those conditions? Was it not to do what I did, i.e., to let public affairs alone from that [e] time on, protecting myself against the slanders of those who envied me, and trying above all to make you [and Dion] friends again, if possible, despite the differences that had arisen to separate you? You yourself can testify that this is the end for which I never ceased to labor. Eventually, though with difficulty, we came to an agreement. Since you had a war on your hands, I was to take ship for home; but after peace had been brought [317] about, both Dion and I were to return to Syracuse and you were to summon us. These are the facts of my first visit to Syracuse and my safe return home.

  When peace had come you sent for me a second time, not, however, in accordance with our agreement, for you invited me only, promising to recall Dion later. On this account I refused to come, much to Dion’s displeasure, for he thought it would be better for me to come as you commanded. [b] A year later a trireme arrived with letters from you, the main import of which was that if I would come, Dion’s affairs would be settled in accordance with my desires, but the contrary if I did not. I hesitate to say how many letters at that time came from you and from others in Italy and Sicily who wrote at your request, and to how many of my friends and
[c] acquaintances they were sent, all urging in the strongest terms that I accede to your request and go. Thus it seemed to everyone, beginning with Dion, that I ought to take ship without hesitation. I kept protesting to them that I was old, and insisting that you would not be strong enough to resist those who were slandering me and wished to make us enemies. For I saw then as I see now that a great and swollen fortune, whether the possessor be a private person or a monarch, generally produces an equally numerous [d] and mighty progeny of talebearers and companions in shameless pleasures; this is the worst result of wealth or power of any sort. Nevertheless I dismissed all these thoughts and came to you, determined that no friend of mine should ever be able to claim that he had lost all his goods when they could have been saved by my efforts. Upon my arrival (you know, [e] of course, all that happened thereafter) I demanded, in accordance with the promises made in your letters, first that you recall Dion and make him your friend—urging that friendship which, if you had then listened to me, would probably have been better for you and for Syracuse and for the rest of Greece than what we now have, or so my inner oracle tells me. In the second place I asked that Dion’s property be held by his family, instead [318] of being apportioned among the executors whose names I need not mention. Furthermore, I thought that my presence with you made it more rather than less obligatory upon you to continue the annual revenues you had been sending to Dion. Failing in each of these requests, I asked permission to depart. Your next move was to urge me to remain for the year, saying that you would sell the whole of Dion’s property and send half the proceeds to Corinth, retaining the other half there in Syracuse for [b] Dion’s son. I could mention many promises that you made and did not keep, but they are numerous and I must be brief. After you had sold all his property and without Dion’s consent (though you had said you would not sell it without his consent), then, my fine friend, you put the colophon on all your broken promises. You hit upon a scheme that was neither honorable nor fitting, nor just nor advantageous, to frighten me into ignoring what was going on so that I would not even ask for the dispatch of [c] Dion’s money. After you had banished Heraclides (an act which neither I nor the people of Syracuse thought just), the fact that I had joined with Theodotes and Eurybius in begging you not to do this you took as a sufficient pretext and said that it had long been clear that I cared nothing for you, but only for Dion and his friends and followers; and that now when accusations had been made against Heraclides and Theodotes, who [d] were friends of Dion, I was doing all in my power to keep them from being punished.