The Republic
And the second principle is like unto it:—With God is no variableness
or change of form. Reason teaches us this; for if we suppose a change
in God, he must be changed either by another or by himself. By
another?—but the best works of nature and art and the noblest qualities
of mind are least liable to be changed by any external force. By
himself?—but he cannot change for the better; he will hardly change for
the worse. He remains for ever fairest and best in his own image.
Therefore we refuse to listen to the poets who tell us of Here begging
in the likeness of a priestess or of other deities who prowl about at
night in strange disguises; all that blasphemous nonsense with which
mothers fool the manhood out of their children must be suppressed. But
some one will say that God, who is himself unchangeable, may take a
form in relation to us. Why should he? For gods as well as men hate the
lie in the soul, or principle of falsehood; and as for any other form
of lying which is used for a purpose and is regarded as innocent in
certain exceptional cases—what need have the gods of this? For they are
not ignorant of antiquity like the poets, nor are they afraid of their
enemies, nor is any madman a friend of theirs. God then is true, he is
absolutely true; he changes not, he deceives not, by day or night, by
word or sign. This is our second great principle—God is true. Away with
the lying dream of Agamemnon in Homer, and the accusation of Thetis
against Apollo in Aeschylus...
In order to give clearness to his conception of the State, Plato
proceeds to trace the first principles of mutual need and of division
of labour in an imaginary community of four or five citizens. Gradually
this community increases; the division of labour extends to countries;
imports necessitate exports; a medium of exchange is required, and
retailers sit in the market-place to save the time of the producers.
These are the steps by which Plato constructs the first or primitive
State, introducing the elements of political economy by the way. As he
is going to frame a second or civilized State, the simple naturally
comes before the complex. He indulges, like Rousseau, in a picture of
primitive life—an idea which has indeed often had a powerful influence
on the imagination of mankind, but he does not seriously mean to say
that one is better than the other (Politicus); nor can any inference be
drawn from the description of the first state taken apart from the
second, such as Aristotle appears to draw in the Politics. We should
not interpret a Platonic dialogue any more than a poem or a parable in
too literal or matter-of-fact a style. On the other hand, when we
compare the lively fancy of Plato with the dried-up abstractions of
modern treatises on philosophy, we are compelled to say with
Protagoras, that the ‘mythus is more interesting’ (Protag.)
Several interesting remarks which in modern times would have a place in
a treatise on Political Economy are scattered up and down the writings
of Plato: especially Laws, Population; Free Trade; Adulteration; Wills
and Bequests; Begging; Eryxias, (though not Plato’s), Value and Demand;
Republic, Division of Labour. The last subject, and also the origin of
Retail Trade, is treated with admirable lucidity in the second book of
the Republic. But Plato never combined his economic ideas into a
system, and never seems to have recognized that Trade is one of the
great motive powers of the State and of the world. He would make retail
traders only of the inferior sort of citizens (Rep., Laws), though he
remarks, quaintly enough (Laws), that ‘if only the best men and the
best women everywhere were compelled to keep taverns for a time or to
carry on retail trade, etc., then we should knew how pleasant and
agreeable all these things are.’
The disappointment of Glaucon at the ‘city of pigs,’ the ludicrous
description of the ministers of luxury in the more refined State, and
the afterthought of the necessity of doctors, the illustration of the
nature of the guardian taken from the dog, the desirableness of
offering some almost unprocurable victim when impure mysteries are to
be celebrated, the behaviour of Zeus to his father and of Hephaestus to
his mother, are touches of humour which have also a serious meaning. In
speaking of education Plato rather startles us by affirming that a
child must be trained in falsehood first and in truth afterwards. Yet
this is not very different from saying that children must be taught
through the medium of imagination as well as reason; that their minds
can only develope gradually, and that there is much which they must
learn without understanding. This is also the substance of Plato’s
view, though he must be acknowledged to have drawn the line somewhat
differently from modern ethical writers, respecting truth and
falsehood. To us, economies or accommodations would not be allowable
unless they were required by the human faculties or necessary for the
communication of knowledge to the simple and ignorant. We should insist
that the word was inseparable from the intention, and that we must not
be ‘falsely true,’ i.e. speak or act falsely in support of what was
right or true. But Plato would limit the use of fictions only by
requiring that they should have a good moral effect, and that such a
dangerous weapon as falsehood should be employed by the rulers alone
and for great objects.
A Greek in the age of Plato attached no importance to the question
whether his religion was an historical fact. He was just beginning to
be conscious that the past had a history; but he could see nothing
beyond Homer and Hesiod. Whether their narratives were true or false
did not seriously affect the political or social life of Hellas. Men
only began to suspect that they were fictions when they recognised them
to be immoral. And so in all religions: the consideration of their
morality comes first, afterwards the truth of the documents in which
they are recorded, or of the events natural or supernatural which are
told of them. But in modern times, and in Protestant countries perhaps
more than in Catholic, we have been too much inclined to identify the
historical with the moral; and some have refused to believe in religion
at all, unless a superhuman accuracy was discernible in every part of
the record. The facts of an ancient or religious history are amongst
the most important of all facts; but they are frequently uncertain, and
we only learn the true lesson which is to be gathered from them when we
place ourselves above them. These reflections tend to show that the
difference between Plato and ourselves, though not unimportant, is not
so great as might at first sight appear. For we should agree with him
in placing the moral before the historical truth of religion; and,
generally, in disregarding those errors or misstatements of fact which
necessarily occur in the early stages of all religions. We know also
that changes in the traditions of a country cannot be made in a day;
and are therefore tolerant of many things which science and criticism
would condemn.
We note in passing that the allegorical interpretation of mythology,
said to have been first introduced as early as the sixth century before
Christ by Theagenes of Rhegium, was well established in the age of
Plato, and here, as in the Phaedrus, though for a different reason, was
rejected by him. That anachronisms whether of religion or law, when men
have reached another stage of civilization, should be got rid of by
fictions is in accordance with universal experience. Great is the art
of interpretation; and by a natural process, which when once discovered
was always going on, what could not be altered was explained away. And
so without any palpable inconsistency there existed side by side two
forms of religion, the tradition inherited or invented by the poets and
the customary worship of the temple; on the other hand, there was the
religion of the philosopher, who was dwelling in the heaven of ideas,
but did not therefore refuse to offer a cock to Aesculapius, or to be
seen saying his prayers at the rising of the sun. At length the
antagonism between the popular and philosophical religion, never so
great among the Greeks as in our own age, disappeared, and was only
felt like the difference between the religion of the educated and
uneducated among ourselves. The Zeus of Homer and Hesiod easily passed
into the ‘royal mind’ of Plato (Philebus); the giant Heracles became
the knight-errant and benefactor of mankind. These and still more
wonderful transformations were readily effected by the ingenuity of
Stoics and neo-Platonists in the two or three centuries before and
after Christ. The Greek and Roman religions were gradually permeated by
the spirit of philosophy; having lost their ancient meaning, they were
resolved into poetry and morality; and probably were never purer than
at the time of their decay, when their influence over the world was
waning.
A singular conception which occurs towards the end of the book is the
lie in the soul; this is connected with the Platonic and Socratic
doctrine that involuntary ignorance is worse than voluntary. The lie in
the soul is a true lie, the corruption of the highest truth, the
deception of the highest part of the soul, from which he who is
deceived has no power of delivering himself. For example, to represent
God as false or immoral, or, according to Plato, as deluding men with
appearances or as the author of evil; or again, to affirm with
Protagoras that ‘knowledge is sensation,’ or that ‘being is becoming,’
or with Thrasymachus ‘that might is right,’ would have been regarded by
Plato as a lie of this hateful sort. The greatest unconsciousness of
the greatest untruth, e.g. if, in the language of the Gospels (John),
‘he who was blind’ were to say ‘I see,’ is another aspect of the state
of mind which Plato is describing. The lie in the soul may be further
compared with the sin against the Holy Ghost (Luke), allowing for the
difference between Greek and Christian modes of speaking. To this is
opposed the lie in words, which is only such a deception as may occur
in a play or poem, or allegory or figure of speech, or in any sort of
accommodation,—which though useless to the gods may be useful to men in
certain cases. Socrates is here answering the question which he had
himself raised about the propriety of deceiving a madman; and he is
also contrasting the nature of God and man. For God is Truth, but
mankind can only be true by appearing sometimes to be partial, or
false. Reserving for another place the greater questions of religion or
education, we may note further, (1) the approval of the old traditional
education of Greece; (2) the preparation which Plato is making for the
attack on Homer and the poets; (3) the preparation which he is also
making for the use of economies in the State; (4) the contemptuous and
at the same time euphemistic manner in which here as below he alludes
to the ‘Chronique Scandaleuse’ of the gods.
BOOK III. There is another motive in purifying religion, which is to
banish fear; for no man can be courageous who is afraid of death, or
who believes the tales which are repeated by the poets concerning the
world below. They must be gently requested not to abuse hell; they may
be reminded that their stories are both untrue and discouraging. Nor
must they be angry if we expunge obnoxious passages, such as the
depressing words of Achilles—‘I would rather be a serving-man than rule
over all the dead;’ and the verses which tell of the squalid mansions,
the senseless shadows, the flitting soul mourning over lost strength
and youth, the soul with a gibber going beneath the earth like smoke,
or the souls of the suitors which flutter about like bats. The terrors