Plato Complete Works – World’s Best Collection E-Book

Plato

• Herausgeber: Imagination Books
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Seitenzahl: 6841

Beschreibung

Plato Complete Works – World’s Best Collection

This is the world’s best Plato collection, including the most complete set of Plato’s works available plus many free bonus materials.

Plato

Plato was a philosopher in Ancient Greece, a student of Socrates, writer of philosophical dialogues, and founder of the Academy in Athens, the first institution of higher learning in the Western world. Plato, with his teacher Socrates, and student, Aristotle, Plato helped to lay the foundations of Western philosophy and science

The ‘Must-Have’ Complete Collection

In this irresistible collection you get all of Plato’s work, including all his dialogues and other writings, with several comprehensive set of notes, interpretations and annotations of Plato’s writings . Plus Bonus Material.

Works Included:

Each Dialogue contains both the dialogue and an in depth introduction and analysis, including all Plato's works, such as:

Republic

Symposium

Timaeus

Meno

Phaedo

Gorgias

Sophist

Statesman

Philebus

Laws

Your Free Special Bonuses

Introduction To The Philosophy And Writings Of Plato - Explanations Of Certain Platonic Terms

Plato And Platonism – A biography of Plato’s life, and a commentary on Plato’s works.

Essentials of Plato's Philosophy - Written specially for this collection.

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Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Title Page

Essential Elements of Plato’s Philosophy

THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO - PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION

PREFACE TO THE SECOND AND THIRD EDITIONS

CHARMIDES.

LYSIS.

LACHES.

PROTAGORAS.

EUTHYDEMUS.

CRATYLUS.

PHAEDRUS.

ION.

SYMPOSIUM.

MENO.

EUTHYPHRO.

APOLOGY.

CRITO.

PHAEDO.

GORGIAS.

APPENDIX I.

LESSER HIPPIAS.

ALCIBIADES I.

MENEXENUS.

APPENDIX II. - ALCIBIADES II, ERYXIAS

ALCIBIADES II.

ERYXIAS.

THE REPUBLIC.

TIMAEUS.

CRITIAS.

PARMENIDES.

THEAETETUS.

SOPHIST.

STATESMAN.

PHILEBUS.

LAWS

PLATO AND PLATONISM

INTRODUCTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY AND WRITINGS OF PLATO

PLATO COMPLETE WORKS WORLD’S BEST COLLECTION

Edited by Darryl Marks

PLATO COMPLETE WORKS WORLD’S BEST COLLECTION - Original Publication Dates Works and writings of Plato – circa 347 BC Analysis and Translation – Benjamin Jowett – 1892 Plato And Platonism - Walter Horatio Pater – circa 1835 Introduction To The Philosophy And Writings Of Plato - Thomas Taylor – 1910 First Imagination Books edition published 2018 Copyright © 2018 by Darryl Marks and Infinite Eternity Entertainment LLC All Rights Reserved "Essential Elements of Plato’s Philosophy" Copyright © 2018 by Darryl Marks and Infinite Eternity Entertainment LLC All Rights Reserved.

Introduction

Plato was born about 2400 years ago, in Athens, born into a wealthy family and he devoted his life to one goal: helping people reach a state of being fulfilled, of becoming content and happy.

Plato is often confused with Socrates. This was because Plato’s work is mostly made up of dialogues between famous philosophers and celebrities of the time, discussing concepts, illustrating what Plato himself believed. Socrates was often given a big role in these dialogues and so this form of dialogue is known as a Socratic Discussion (hence the confusion of name, with Plato writing Socratic Discussions and Dialogues) .

Socrates feature so prominently, because he was a friend, mentor and teacher of Plato. Plato greatly admired him and so he made him the star of almost all his works.

The Life of Plato

Plato was born at Athens in May 429 BCE, the son of Ariston and Perectonia. Originally, his name was Aristocles. Some say that he received the name Plato because of the largeness of his shoulders (this is possible but improbable as Plato was a common name at Athens at that time).

Plato and his family were the descendants of a noble, rich and illustrious family, and so Plato was very well educated, he was trained with rigorous gymnastic exercises; and he was also well schooled in many disciplines from poetry to geometry. This education is probably was sparked the eventual creation of his amazing works.

Plato’s literary career began by the writing of poems and plays. Yet he was quite unimpressed with his own work when he was introduced to Socrates at the age of twenty.

Learning from Socrates, Plato examined his literary creations with scrutiny and found them lacking greatly. His response was to burn them all.

From that point on, he devoted himself to higher ideals and studied with Socrates for eight years, up until Socrates death.

After the death of Socrates, Plato began to travel to many different countries, intent on learning and increasing his knowledge of the world. He visited Megara, Thebes, Elis, Magna Græcia, Philolaus, Archytas, and Eurytus. He passed into Sicily, and examined the eruptions of Mount Etna, before visiting Egypt.

After his travels, Plato returned to Athens and set up a school called the Academy, in the groves of Academus (a neighborhood in Athens). For forty years, Plato devoted himself entirely to learning, teaching, and writing, without any interest in political affairs – this made him even more sought after by his students and increased attendance at the Academy.

His mode of dress, appearance and his way of interacting with others was simple, elegant and modest. He was not given to being ostentatious or to be seeking admiration. All that was important to him was wisdom and virtue.

As an example of this, during one of the times Plato attended the Olympian games, he stayed with a family of complete strangers as a form of ancient Airbnb. During this stay, he never once told them who he truly was, and took part in their daily lives with great pleasure.

In the same manner as his modest and simple appearance and manners, Plato’s diet was also moderate, and he never over indulged in food or alcohol. He was healthy and lived to an extremely ripe old age of eighty-five, which was quite unusual in ancient times.

He died on his birth-day, and according to many he died easily and without pain while enjoying a play or form of entertainment (although Cicero says he died while writing).

Essential Elements of Plato’s Theories:

Plato’s works are famous and they cover a great deal of ground, but there are some essential elements about Plato’s views of the world:

Plato On Love:

In The Symposium, Plato explains his view on Love, and that view is very different to how we view love today.

The common view of love we have (as echoed in many stories and movies) is that you love someone just the way they are and they love you just the way you are.

Plato’s view was quite different – he believed that the person you love should change you…and you in turn should change them.

It sounds like the terrible old idea of people not being content with each other, pointing out all the flaws each other has, and trying to change those flaws.

But this isn’t what Plato was implying.

Instead, Plato said we should (and in some unconscious way we probably do) choose partner because we see qualities in them that we lack in ourselves.

As an example, a disorganized person may choose to be with a very organized person. A very rigid person may choose to be with someone who is more free-spirited.

Plato believed that as time went on, by the process of the partners being closer, they would influence each other in subtle ways to take on those traits that they had lacked in the first place, and thereby they could grow to the full potential.

Again, Plato suggested that a couple shouldn’t love each other exactly as they are right now but how they could be the best version of themselves in the future.

Some could argue that the idea of being committed to growing together in love and become better versions of ourselves together, is even more romantic than just loving each other ‘as we are’.

Plato On Politics:

Although it sounds strange coming from an Athenian, the birthplace of Democracy, Plato was not a fan of Democracy.

Again, this sounds bad, as if Plato believed in Authoritarianism, or some strange, communal ruling body.

This isn’t the case.

Instead, it means that Plato believed that the problem with the Democratic process was that the vast majority of people didn’t think and reason properly before they vote.

Many people didn’t properly understand a politician’s true motives and were more swayed by the charismas of the candidate instead of their actual potential for leading.

This resulted in substandard rulers.

Plato was concerned that instead of focusing on a logical argument or discourse about the politicians up for election, their abilities and plans and if they genuinely wanted to help the country improve, the majority of people instead focused on popular opinion and on status and charm.

Plato didn’t want to remove democracy – instead he wanted to educate people properly, so that could see through a politician’s patter and instead focus on thinking about the true issues, thinking rationally and logically before making a vote.

This idea of thinking rationally is Plato’s idea of ‘Philosopher’ and Plato wanted everybody to learn to think in this critical way, to become a Philosopher.

Plato on Politicians:

As you may have guessed, Plato was also not a big fan of Politicians.

Same as the votes, Plato felt Politicians didn’t do a lot of rational and logical thinking either.

As is many times the case even today, according to Plato, politicians were more concerned with power and status than with thinking rationally and logically about what was the best for the community and the country.

Once again, Plato’s solution to this problem was for the Politician to be taught to think rationally, or even better, for Philosophers (clear logical thinkers) to be in charge of running the country.

Either way, from Plato’s point of view, a ruler who was thinking rationally and logically would make less bad decisions based on ego, and more good decisions based on sound logic.

He had a famous saying in this regard: “The world is not right until kings become philosophers and philosophers become kings …”

Plato on Art:

Plato spent some time considering what it was that made art beautiful and why we all, as a general rule, admired the beauty of some form of art, usually some form of art that is very specific to us.

According to Plato, when we perceived beauty in something (especially art or a creative work) we unconsciously saw and sensed something in the art, some qualities that we needed, but were missing in our daily lives. These could be qualities such as gentleness, harmony, strength, perseverance and many, many others.

In this regard, Plato believed that art was very important to help us and it functioned as a form of therapy.

Bearing this in mind, Plato felt it was the duty of poets and painters (from a modern perspective: novelists, movie producers and designers) to consider this function of art as therapy, as speaking to the qualities in us that we lacked. These creative people should create art that helped us on that therapeutic journey.

Plato On Society:

As you might expect, Plato saw many problems with society.

The first, as we have mentioned with Plato’s view on Democracy, Plato felt that one of the main problems people had was that they didn’t think in the right way.

Plato felt that people often don’t take time to think carefully and logically about our lives and how to lead them. He felt that sometimes we all just go along with popular opinions, and instead think about the wrong thing.

Plato felt that this popular opinion (and so-called ‘common sense’) had many problems we were all blind to - errors, prejudices and superstitions.

Some of the problems Plato identified are still the problems in our society now: that to be famous is the greatest thing, following your heart is important, and money is the key to a good life.

Plato felt that these popular opinions led peoples towards the wrong families, the wrong careers and the wrong relationships.

Plato's answer was to know yourself, to understand yourself by thinking more and more about your life and what you want out of it, using proper logical reasoning. This rigorous self-examination, to Plato, was better than acting on impulse and being pulled around by other people’s beliefs.

Plato also felt that society in general was not set up correctly.

As an example of how a city should be set up, he spoke of rival city of Athens – Sparta.

He felt Sparta was correctly set up, in that it was geared towards one thing: creating amazing soldiers. Everything it did, from how it had sex, raised their children, organized their economy, whom they admired, everything was tailored about that one goal and so because of it Sparta was hugely successful from military point of view.

Of course, Plato did not want to make soldiers, but he felt that society should be set up for producing the one goal: Producing happy people.

He felt that if all of society was geared towards that, more and more people would be fulfilled.

Plato on Role Models and Celebrities:

As you can tell from Plato’s views on fame and money, Plato also had a lot to say about who the majority of people looked up to in a society.

Plato wasn’t impressed with the role models people in his society looked up to, because according to him, the role models we admire influence our outlook on life, our ideas and conduct in society.

If we look up to ‘bad’ role models, it gives credence to the wrong ideals and we would all strive to emulate the flaws in the character of these role models.

Plato therefore felt that the role models people looked up to should be replaced with ideally wise and good people, which he called Guardians. These role models would be for everyone's good development, and these people would be distinguished by their record of public service, modesty, simple habits, and their dislike of the limelight.

Plato’s Allegory of the Cave:

In his masterpiece, The Republic, one Plato’s famous stories is the Allegory of the Cave.

In this story, Plato tells us about a group of people living imprisoned in a cave. They have always lived in this cave and don’t even have a concept of the outside world, knowing nothing of it at all.

Inside the cave, there is no natural light and the inhabitants become fascinated by shadows on the damp, dark walls, cast by a fire.

The cave dwellers see these reflections of animals, plants and people and assume that these shadows are real. They don't realize that they are looking at shadows and come to believe that if they pay attention to these flickering, dark shadows, they will understand all about life.

They believe the shadows contain all the wisdom and instruction they need about how to become successful in life.

Then one day, one of the people from the cave accidentally discovers a way outside…

He is overwhelmed by the brilliance of light outside, and he sees the true forms of all the shadows he and the others have been watching.

Instead of just dark shadows, he sees real flowers, the true colors of birds, the real movements of the stars and planets, and he grasps the true nature of the universe. As Plato describes, “He is nearer to the true nature of being…”

This newly enlightened man decides he needs to leave the shining, beautiful world and go back into the cave to help his companions, to tell them the truth and show them the beauty outside, so the no longer worship the shadows.

As he goes back inside, because his eyes are still used to the shining bright sun, he can hardly see and he stumbles and falls as he re-enters the cave…

Falling to the ground, to the other cave-dwellers, he looks foolish.

Yet, once he gets up, he explains about the outside world and the beauty it contains: what the Sun is, what a real tree is, what the universe is, what the truth behind the shadows are.

Unfortunately, the cave dwellers, still unimpressed by his previous foolishness become sarcastic with him, eventually becoming very angry about what he is saying.

Eventually, they even plot to kill him…

For Plato, the story of the cave is an allegory for Life and enlightenment. The cave dwellers are people and the bright, shining Sun is philosophy and reason.

Plato illustrates that the alienation of the returned man (philosopher) is the same alienation that all truth tellers can expect when they take their knowledge back to people who have not devoted themselves to the same kind of logical thinking.

Also, Plato is saying that mostly all of us live in the cave, worshipping and admiring the shadows on the wall, excited about things such as fame, finding the perfect partner, attaining a high status job, wealth, amongst many others things.

But all of these things are just shadows – they are not as important or ‘real’ as we believe them to be. They are just dark shadows projected by culture onto the walls of our cave-like minds.

And of course, and unfortunately, everyone around insists that these shadows are real, and so we also become convinced and indoctrinated into the shadow way of thinking from a very young age.

Plato’s Theory of Forms:

Plato believed there was much more to existence than what we saw here on Earth.

Another of Plato’s theories, and another pseudo-implication of his Allegory of the Cave (with the cave-dwellers becoming amazed by the shadows, the pale imitations of the real object outside the cave) was that Plato felt that was we saw in our real world were also just pale imitations of the real objects that existed somewhere out there, or on a different plane of existence.

In other words, Plato believed that the perfect Form of all objects and concepts existed on a different plane of existence, and what we saw here on earth were just imperfect copies of them.

For Plato, every concept, whether abstract or concrete had a true, perfect form somewhere (outside the cave) that we ‘remembered’ seeing. He believed that everybody was born with all the knowledge in the universe and that learning was actually remembering. He believed that we all had the knowledge of those perfect Forms in our heads, and that everything we really ‘knew’ about an object or concept, was just part of that half-remembered Form that we already had knowledge of.

For example, everything we think we know about love is actually a half remembered shadow of the true concept of love, the true Form of love, that we knew before we were born and forgot, that exists somewhere on a different plane of existence.

And it’s the same for every concept, from cats to democracy.

This sounds quite strange, so what is Plato’s real meaning?

For Plato, these ethereal ‘Forms’ were the Ideal versions of something. To Plato, from a philosophical and logical thinking point of view, by focusing on the ideal version of something, we can better understand what that thing should be like, and so we can more clearly define and move towards that ideal Form, ultimately making everything in the world closer to this ideal and therefore making the world a better place.

And Plato was very clear in the way he phrased this discussion into moving the world closer to this ideal state, and it is why he used the word ‘Forms’. He didn’t ask “What is the ideal friendship?” or “What is the ideal chair?” or “What is the ideal love?” Instead, he asked “What is the form of friendship?” or “What is the form of a chair?” or “What is the form of love?”

This still sound strange, but consider this example: If you wanted to create a copy of a painting in order to further your painting skill, you would need the true and real painting in front of you to do it. The true and real painting is the Form of the painting and for you to create the copy you need to know that Form very well in order to try and duplicate it as much as possible.

This is Plato's Form, the guide you need that shows you how to do something well. If you know and have the Form in your head of something you want to create (the Form of a painting) or the Form in your head of something you want in your life (the Form of a romantic relationship), then you have a blue print in your head on how that painting or relationship should look like. And by knowing this Form, you are guided towards that ideal.

According to Plato, it is philosophy (thinking clearly and looking for the truth behind the shadows on the wall) that can guide us to these true Forms.

For example, the Form of a friendship is the mental model of what a really good friendship actually involves. As long as you understand this model and it is active in your mind, then you will know how to be a good friend and what you can expect from other friends.

Of course, the question is “How do you know what the best mental model for friendship is?” The answer again lies in philosophy, in thinking, in reasoning and asking questions about life, about people and arriving at a realistic view of what that Form of friendship should be.

And of course, to be wary of the shadows on the walls, the fantasy projections that we may believe is what a Form of friendship is. We should try to see the true object behind this shadow and discover the real Form.

It sounds like this could lead to an idealistic view of many things, and Plato was indeed an idealist, and it would be natural to adopt a more realistic view of the Form of friendship. Yet, Plato would actually push for people to push to try to understand and attain these Forms, so that the world would be brought more into harmony.

THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO - PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION

The Text which has been mostly followed in this Translation of Plato is the latest edition of Stallbaum; the principal deviations are noted at the bottom of the page.

I have to acknowledge many obligations to old friends and pupils. These are:—Mr. John Purves, Fellow of Balliol College, with whom I have revised about half of the entire Translation; the Rev. Professor Campbell, of St. Andrews, who has helped me in the revision of several parts of the work, especially of the Theaetetus, Sophist, and Politicus; Mr. Robinson Ellis, Fellow of Trinity College, and Mr. Alfred Robinson, Fellow of New College, who read with me the Cratylus and the Gorgias; Mr. Paravicini, Student of Christ Church, who assisted me in the Symposium; Mr. Raper, Fellow of Queen’s College, Mr. Monro, Fellow of Oriel College, and Mr. Shadwell, Student of Christ Church, who gave me similar assistance in the Laws. Dr. Greenhill, of Hastings, has also kindly sent me remarks on the physiological part of the Timaeus, which I have inserted as corrections under the head of errata at the end of the Introduction. The degree of accuracy which I have been enabled to attain is in great measure due to these gentlemen, and I heartily thank them for the pains and time which they have bestowed on my work.

I have further to explain how far I have received help from other labourers in the same field. The books which I have found of most use are Steinhart and Müller’s German Translation of Plato with Introductions; Zeller’s ‘Philosophie der Griechen,’ and ‘Platonische Studien;’ Susemihl’s ‘Genetische Entwickelung der Platonischen Philosophie;’ Hermann’s ‘Geschichte der Platonischen Philosophie;’ Bonitz, ‘Platonische Studien;’ Stallbaum’s Notes and Introductions; Professor Campbell’s editions of the ‘Theaetetus,’ the ‘Sophist,’ and the ‘Politicus;’ Professor Thompson’s ‘Phaedrus;’ Th. Martin’s ‘Études sur le Timée;’ Mr. Poste’s edition and translation of the ‘Philebus;’ the Translation of the ‘Republic,’ by Messrs. Davies and Vaughan, and the Translation of the ‘Gorgias,’ by Mr. Cope.

I have also derived much assistance from the great work of Mr. Grote, which contains excellent analyses of the Dialogues, and is rich in original thoughts and observations. I agree with him in rejecting as futile the attempt of Schleiermacher and others to arrange the Dialogues of Plato into a harmonious whole. Any such arrangement appears to me not only to be unsupported by evidence, but to involve an anachronism in the history of philosophy. There is a common spirit in the writings of Plato, but not a unity of design in the whole, nor perhaps a perfect unity in any single Dialogue. The hypothesis of a general plan which is worked out in the successive Dialogues is an after–thought of the critics who have attributed a system to writings belonging to an age when system had not as yet taken possession of philosophy.

If Mr. Grote should do me the honour to read any portion of this work he will probably remark that I have endeavoured to approach Plato from a point of view which is opposed to his own. The aim of the Introductions in these volumes has been to represent Plato as the father of Idealism, who is not to be measured by the standard of utilitarianism or any other modern philosophical system. He is the poet or maker of ideas, satisfying the wants of his own age, providing the instruments of thought for future generations. He is no dreamer, but a great philosophical genius struggling with the unequal conditions of light and knowledge under which he is living. He may be illustrated by the writings of moderns, but he must be interpreted by his own, and by his place in the history of philosophy. We are not concerned to determine what is the residuum of truth which remains for ourselves. His truth may not be our truth, and nevertheless may have an extraordinary value and interest for us.

I cannot agree with Mr. Grote in admitting as genuine all the writings commonly attributed to Plato in antiquity, any more than with Schaarschmidt and some other German critics who reject nearly half of them. The German critics, to whom I refer, proceed chiefly on grounds of internal evidence; they appear to me to lay too much stress on the variety of doctrine and style, which must be equally acknowledged as a fact, even in the Dialogues regarded by Schaarschmidt as genuine, e.g. in the Phaedrus, or Symposium, when compared with the Laws. He who admits works so different in style and matter to have been the composition of the same author, need have no difficulty (see vol. iv, Appendix) in admitting the Sophist or the Politicus. [The negative argument adduced by the same school of critics, which is based on the silence of Aristotle, is not worthy of much consideration. For why should Aristotle, because he has quoted several Dialogues of Plato, have quoted them all? Something must be allowed to chance, and to the nature of the subjects treated of in them.] On the other hand, Mr. Grote trusts mainly to the Alexandrian Canon. But I hardly think that we are justified in attributing much weight to the authority of the Alexandrian librarians in an age when there was no regular publication of books, and every temptation to forge them; and in which the writings of a school were naturally attributed to the founder of the school. And even without intentional fraud, there was an inclination to believe rather than to enquire. Would Mr. Grote accept as genuine all the writings which he finds in the lists of learned ancients attributed to Hippocrates, to Xenophon, to Aristotle? The Alexandrian Canon of the Platonic writings is deprived of credit by the admission of the Epistles, which are not only unworthy of Plato, and in several passages plagiarized from him, but flagrantly at variance with historical fact. It will be seen also that I do not agree with Mr. Grote’s views about the Sophists; nor with the low estimate which he has formed of Plato’s Laws; nor with his opinion respecting Plato’s doctrine of the rotation of the earth. But I ‘am not going to lay hands on my father Parmenides’ [Soph. 241 D], who will, I hope, forgive me for differing from him on these points. I cannot close this Preface without expressing my deep respect for his noble and gentle character, and the great services which he has rendered to Greek Literature.

Balliol College,

January, 1871

PREFACE TO THE SECOND AND THIRD EDITIONS

In publishing a Second Edition (1875) of the Dialogues of Plato in English, I had to acknowledge the assistance of several friends: of the Rev. G. G. Bradley, Master of University College, now Dean of Westminster, who sent me some valuable remarks on the Phaedo; of Dr. Greenhill, who had again revised a portion of the Timaeus; of Mr. R. L. Nettleship, Fellow and Tutor of Balliol College, to whom I was indebted for an excellent criticism of the Parmenides; and, above all, of the Rev. Professor Campbell of St. Andrews, and Mr. Paravicini, late Student of Christ Church and Tutor of Balliol College, with whom I had read over the greater part of the translation. I was also indebted to Mr. Evelyn Abbott, Fellow and Tutor of Balliol College, for a complete and accurate index.

In this, the Third Edition, I am under very great obligations to Mr. Matthew Knight, who has not only favoured me with valuable suggestions throughout the work, but has largely extended the Index (from 61 to 175 pages) and translated the Eryxias and Second Alcibiades; and to Mr. Frank Fletcher, of Balliol College, my Secretary, who has assisted me chiefly in Vols. iii, iv, and v. I am also considerably indebted to Mr. J. W. Mackail, late Fellow of Balliol College, who read over the Republic in the Second Edition and noted several inaccuracies.

In both editions the Introductions to the Dialogues have been enlarged, and essays on subjects having an affinity to the Platonic Dialogues have been introduced into several of them. The analyses have been corrected, and innumerable alterations have been made in the Text. There have been added also, in the Third Edition, headings to the pages and a marginal analysis to the text of each dialogue.

At the end of a long task, the translator may without impropriety point out the difficulties which he has had to encounter. These have been far greater than he would have anticipated; nor is he at all sanguine that he has succeeded in overcoming them. Experience has made him feel that a translation, like a picture, is dependent for its effect on very minute touches; and that it is a work of infinite pains, to be returned to in many moods and viewed in different lights.

I. An English translation ought to be idiomatic and interesting, not only to the scholar, but to the unlearned reader. Its object should not simply be to render the words of one language into the words of another or to preserve the construction and order of the original;—this is the ambition of a schoolboy, who wishes to show that he has made a good use of his Dictionary and Grammar; but is quite unworthy of the translator, who seeks to produce on his reader an impression similar or nearly similar to that produced by the original. To him the feeling should be more important than the exact word. He should remember Dryden’s quaint admonition not to ‘lacquey by the side of his author, but to mount up behind him .’ He must carry in his mind a comprehensive view of the whole work, of what has preceded and of what is to follow,—as well as of the meaning of particular passages. His version should be based, in the first instance, on an intimate knowledge of the text; but the precise order and arrangement of the words may be left to fade out of sight, when the translation begins to take shape. He must form a general idea of the two languages, and reduce the one to the terms of the other. His work should be rhythmical and varied, the right admixture of words and syllables, and even of letters, should be carefully attended to; above all, it should be equable in style. There must also be quantity, which is necessary in prose as well as in verse: clauses, sentences, paragraphs, must be in due proportion. Metre and even rhyme may be rarely admitted; though neither is a legitimate element of prose writing, they may help to lighten a cumbrous expression (cp. Symp. 185 D, 197, 198). The translation should retain as far as possible the characteristic qualities of the ancient writer — his freedom, grace, simplicity, stateliness, weight, precision; or the best part of him will be lost to the English reader. It should read as an original work, and should also be the most faithful transcript which can be made of the language from which the translation is taken, consistently with the first requirement of all, that it be English. Further, the translation being English, it should also be perfectly intelligible in itself without reference to the Greek, the English being really the more lucid and exact of the two languages. In some respects it may be maintained that ordinary English writing, such as the newspaper article, is superior to Plato: at any rate it is couched in language which is very rarely obscure. On the other hand, the greatest writers of Greece, Thucydides, Plato, Æschylus, Sophocles, Pindar, Demosthenes, are generally those which are found to be most difficult and to diverge most widely from the English idiom. The translator will often have to convert the more abstract Greek into the more concrete English, or vice versa, and he ought not to force upon one language the character of another. In some cases, where the order is confused, the expression feeble, the emphasis misplaced, or the sense somewhat faulty, he will not strive in his rendering to reproduce these characteristics, but will re–write the passage as his author would have written it at first, had he not been ‘nodding’; and he will not hesitate to supply anything which, owing to the genius of the language or some accident of composition, is omitted in the Greek, but is necessary to make the English clear and consecutive.

It is difficult to harmonize all these conflicting elements. In a translation of Plato what may be termed the interests of the Greek and English are often at war with one another. In framing the English sentence we are insensibly diverted from the exact meaning of the Greek; when we return to the Greek we are apt to cramp and overlay the English. We substitute, we compromise, we give and take, we add a little here and leave out a little there. The translator may sometimes be allowed to sacrifice minute accuracy for the sake of clearness and sense. But he is not therefore at liberty to omit words and turns of expression which the English language is quite capable of supplying. He must be patient and self–controlled; he must not be easily run away with. Let him never allow the attraction of a favourite expression, or a sonorous cadence, to overpower his better judgment, or think much of an ornament which is out of keeping with the general character of his work. He must ever be casting his eyes upwards from the copy to the original, and down again from the original to the copy (Rep. vi. 501 A). His calling is not held in much honour by the world of scholars; yet he himself may be excused for thinking it a kind of glory to have lived so many years in the companionship of one of the greatest of human intelligences, and in some degree, more perhaps than others, to have had the privilege of understanding him (cp. Sir Joshua Reynolds’ Lectures: Disc. xv. sub fin.).

There are fundamental differences in Greek and English, of which some may be managed while others remain intractable. (1). The structure of the Greek language is partly adversative and alternative, and partly inferential; that is to say, the members of a sentence are either opposed to one another, or one of them expresses the cause or effect or condition or reason of another. The two tendencies may be called the horizontal and perpendicular lines of the language; and the opposition or inference is often much more one of words than of ideas. But modern languages have rubbed off this adversative and inferential form: they have fewer links of connexion, there is less mortar in the interstices, and they are content to place sentences side by side, leaving their relation to one another to be gathered from their position or from the context. The difficulty of preserving the effect of the Greek is increased by the want of adversative and inferential particles in English, and by the nice sense of tautology which characterizes all modern languages. We cannot have two ‘buts’ or two ‘fors’ in the same sentence where the Greek repeats ἀλλὰ or γάρ. There is a similar want of particles expressing the various gradations of objective and subjective thought—που, δὴ, μὴ–, μέντοι, and the like, which are so thickly scattered over the Greek page. Further, we can only realize to a very imperfect degree the common distinction between οὐ and μή, and the combination of the two suggests a subtle shade of negation which cannot be expressed in English. And while English is more dependent than Greek upon the apposition of clauses and sentences, yet there is a difficulty in using this form of construction owing to the want of case endings. For the same reason there cannot be an equal variety in the order of words or an equal nicety of emphasis in English as in Greek.

(2). The formation of the sentence and of the paragraph greatly differs in Greek and English. The lines by which they are divided are generally much more marked in modern languages than in ancient. Both sentences and paragraphs are more precise and definite—they do not run into one another. They are also more regularly developed from within. The sentence marks another step in an argument or a narrative or a statement; in reading a paragraph we silently turn over the page and arrive at some new view or aspect of the subject. Whereas in Plato we are not always certain where a sentence begins and ends; and paragraphs are few and far between. The language is distributed in a different way, and less articulated than in English. For it was long before the true use of the period was attained by the classical writers both in poetry or prose; it was πολλη̂ς πείρας τελευταîον ἐπιγέννημα. The balance of sentences and the introduction of paragraphs at suitable intervals must not be neglected if the harmony of the English language is to be preserved. And still a caution has to be added on the other side, that we must avoid giving it a numerical or mechanical character.

(3). This, however, is not one of the greatest difficulties of the translator; much greater is that which arises from the restriction of the use of the genders. Men and women in English are masculine and feminine, and there is a similar distinction of sex in the words denoting animals; but all things else, whether outward objects or abstract ideas, are relegated to the class of neuters. Hardly in some flight of poetry do we ever endue any of them with the characteristics of a sentient being, and then only by speaking of them in the feminine gender. The virtues may be pictured in female forms, but they are not so described in language; a ship is humorously supposed to be the sailor’s bride; more doubtful are the personifications of church and country as females. Now the genius of the Greek language is the opposite of this. The same tendency to personification which is seen in the Greek mythology is common also in the language; and genders are attributed to things as well as persons according to their various degrees of strength and weakness; or from fanciful resemblances to the male or female form, or some analogy too subtle to be discovered. When the gender of any object was once fixed, a similar gender was naturally assigned to similar objects, or to words of similar formation. This use of genders in the denotation of objects or ideas not only affects the words to which genders are attributed, but the words with which they are construed or connected, and passes into the general character of the style. Hence arises a difficulty in translating Greek into English which cannot altogether be overcome. Shall we speak of the soul and its qualities, of virtue, power, wisdom, and the like, as feminine or neuter? The usage of the English language does not admit of the former, and yet the life and beauty of the style are impaired by the latter. Often the translator will have recourse to the repetition of the word, or to the ambiguous ‘they,’ ‘their,’ &c.; for fear of spoiling the effect of the sentence by introducing ‘it.’ Collective nouns in Greek and English create a similar but lesser awkwardness.

(4). The use of relation is far more extended in Greek than in English. Partly the greater variety of genders and cases makes the connexion of relative and antecedent less ambiguous: partly also the greater number of demonstrative and relative pronouns, and the use of the article, make the correlation of ideas simpler and more natural. The Greek appears to have had an ear or intelligence for a long and complicated sentence which is rarely to be found in modern nations; and in order to bring the Greek down to the level of the modern, we must break up the long sentence into two or more short ones. Neither is the same precision required in Greek as in Latin or English, nor in earlier Greek as in later; there was nothing shocking to the contemporary of Thucydides and Plato in anacolutha and repetitions. In such cases the genius of the English language requires that the translation should be more intelligible than the Greek. The want of more distinctions between the demonstrative pronouns is also greatly felt. Two genitives dependent on one another, unless familiarised by idiom, have an awkward effect in English. Frequently the noun has to take the place of the pronoun. ‘This’ and ‘that’ are found repeating themselves to weariness in the rough draft of a translation. As in the previous case, while the feeling of the modern language is more opposed to tautology, there is also a greater difficulty in avoiding it.

(5). Though no precise rule can be laid down about the repetition of words, there seems to be a kind of impertinence in presenting to the reader the same thought in the same words, repeated twice over in the same passage without any new aspect or modification of it. And the evasion of tautology—that is, the substitution of one word of precisely the same meaning for another—is resented by us equally with the repetition of words. Yet on the other hand the least difference of meaning or the least change of form from a substantive to an adjective, or from a participle to a verb, will often remedy the unpleasant effect. Rarely and only for the sake of emphasis or clearness can we allow an important word to be used twice over in two successive sentences or even in the same paragraph. The particles and pronouns, as they are of most frequent occurrence, are also the most troublesome. Strictly speaking, except a few of the commonest of them, ‘and,’ ‘the,’ &c., they ought not to occur twice in the same sentence. But the Greek has no such precise rules; and hence any literal translation of a Greek author is full of tautology. The tendency of modern languages is to become more correct as well as more perspicuous than ancient. And, therefore, while the English translator is limited in the power of expressing relation or connexion, by the law of his own language increased precision and also increased clearness are required of him. The familiar use of logic, and the progress of science, have in these two respects raised the standard. But modern languages, while they have become more exacting in their demands, are in many ways not so well furnished with powers of expression as the ancient classical ones.

Such are a few of the difficulties which have to be overcome in the work of translation; and we are far from having exhausted the list. (6). The excellence of a translation will consist, not merely in the faithful rendering of words, or in the composition of a sentence only, or yet of a single paragraph, but in the colour and style of the whole work. Equability of tone is best attained by the exclusive use of familiar and idiomatic words. But great care must be taken; for an idiomatic phrase, if an exception to the general style, is of itself a disturbing element. No word, however expressive and exact, should be employed, which makes the reader stop to think, or unduly attracts attention by difficulty and peculiarity, or disturbs the effect of the surrounding language. In general the style of one author is not appropriate to another; as in society, so in letters, we expect every man to have ‘a good coat of his own,’ and not to dress himself out in the rags of another. (a) Archaic expressions are therefore to be avoided. Equivalents may be occasionally drawn from Shakspere, who is the common property of us all; but they must be used sparingly. For, like some other men of genius of the Elizabethan and Jacobean age, he outdid the capabilities of the language, and many of the expressions which he introduced have been laid aside and have dropped out of use. (b) A similar principle should be observed in the employment of Scripture. Having a greater force and beauty than other language, and a religious association, it disturbs the even flow of the style. It may be used to reproduce in the translation the quaint effect of some antique phrase in the original, but rarely; and when adopted, it should have a certain freshness and a suitable ‘entourage.’ It is strange to observe that the most effective use of Scripture phraseology arises out of the application of it in a sense not intended by the author. (c) Another caution: metaphors differ in different languages, and the translator will often be compelled to substitute one for another, or to paraphrase them, not giving word for word, but diffusing over several words the more concentrated thought of the original. The Greek of Plato often goes beyond the English in its imagery: cp. Laws iii. 695 C, ω̂̔ν καὶ νν̂ν ἔτι σμικρὰ ὀνείρατα λέλειπται; Rep. i. 345 E; ix. 588 C, &c. Or again the modern word, which in substance is the nearest equivalent to the Greek, may be found to include associations alien to Greek life: e.g. δικασταί, ‘jurymen,’ τὰ μέσα τŵν πολιτŵν, ‘the bourgeoisie.’ (d) The translator has also to provide expressions for philosophical terms of very indefinite meaning in the more definite language of modern philosophy. And he must not allow discordant elements to enter into the work. For example, in translating Plato, it would equally be an anachronism to intrude on him the feeling and spirit of the Jewish or Christian Scriptures or the technical terms of the Hegelian or Darwinian philosophy.

(7). As no two words are precise equivalents (just as no two leaves of the forest are exactly similar), it is a mistaken attempt at precision always to translate the same Greek word by the same English word. There is no reason why in the New Testament δικαιοσύνη should always be rendered ‘righteousness,’ or διαθήκη ‘covenant.’ In such cases the translator may be allowed to employ two words —sometimes when the two meanings occur in the same passage, varying them by an ‘or’—e.g. ἐπιστήμη, ‘science’ or ‘knowledge,’ εɩ̓̂δος, ‘idea’ or ‘class,’ σωϕροσύνη, ‘temperance’ or ‘prudence,’—at the point where the change of meaning occurs. If translations are intended not for the Greek scholar but for the general reader, their worst fault will be that they sacrifice the general effect and meaning to the over–precise rendering of words and forms of speech.

(8). There is no kind of literature in English which corresponds to the Greek Dialogue; nor is the English language easily adapted to it. The rapidity and abruptness of question and answer, the constant repetition of ἧ δ’ ὅς, εɩ̓̂πε, ἔϕη, &c., which Cicero avoided in Latin (de Amicit. c. 1), the frequent occurrence of expletives, would, if reproduced in a translation, give offence to the reader. Greek has a freer and more frequent use of the Interrogative, and is of a more passionate and emotional character, and therefore lends itself with greater readiness to the dialogue form. Most of the so–called English Dialogues are but poor imitations of Plato, which fall very far short of the original. The breath of conversation, the subtle adjustment of question and answer, the lively play of fancy, the power of drawing characters, are wanting in them. But the Platonic dialogue is a drama as well as a dialogue, of which Socrates is the central figure, and there are lesser performers as well:—the insolence of Thrasymachus, the anger of Callicles and Anytus, the patronizing style of Protagoras, the self–consciousness of Prodicus and Hippias, are all part of the entertainment. To reproduce this living image the same sort of effort is required as in translating poetry. The language, too, is of a finer quality; the mere prose English is slow in lending itself to the form of question and answer, and so the ease of conversation is lost, and at the same time the dialectical precision with which the steps of the argument are drawn out is apt to be impaired.

II. In the Introductions to the Dialogues there have been added some essays on modern philosophy, and on political and social life. The chief subjects discussed in these are Utility, Communism, the Kantian and Hegelian philosophies, Psychology, and the Origin of Language .

Ancient and modern philosophy throw a light upon one another: but they should be compared, not confounded. Although the connexion between them is sometimes accidental, it is often real. The same questions are discussed by them under different conditions of language and civilization; but in some cases a mere word has survived, while nothing or hardly anything of the pre–Socratic, Platonic, or Aristotelian meaning is retained. There are other questions familiar to the moderns, which have no place in ancient philosophy. The world has grown older in two thousand years, and has enlarged its stock of ideas and methods of reasoning. Yet the germ of modern thought is found in ancient, and we may claim to have inherited, notwithstanding many accidents of time and place, the spirit of Greek philosophy. There is, however, no continuous growth of the one into the other, but a new beginning, partly artificial, partly arising out of the questionings of the mind itself, and also receiving a stimulus from the study of ancient writings.

Considering the great and fundamental differences which exist in ancient and modern philosophy, it seems best that we should at first study them separately, and seek for the interpretation of either, especially of the ancient, from itself only, comparing the same author with himself and with his contemporaries, and with the general state of thought and feeling prevalent in his age. Afterwards comes the remoter light which they cast on one another. We begin to feel that the ancients had the same thoughts as ourselves, the same difficulties which characterize all periods of transition, almost the same opposition between science and religion. Although we cannot maintain that ancient and modern philosophy are one and continuous (as has been affirmed with more truth respecting ancient and modern history), for they are separated by an interval of a thousand years, yet they seem to recur in a sort of cycle, and we are surprised to find that the new is ever old, and that the teaching of the past has still a meaning for us.

III. In the preface to the first edition I expressed a strong opinion at variance with Mr. Grote’s, that the so–called Epistles of Plato were spurious. His friend and editor, Professor Bain, thinks that I ought to give the reasons why I differ from so eminent an authority. Reserving the fuller discussion of the question for another place, I will shortly defend my opinion by the following arguments:—

(a) Because almost all epistles purporting to be of the classical age of Greek literature are forgeries . Of all documents this class are the least likely to be preserved and the most likely to be invented. The ancient world swarmed with them; the great libraries stimulated the demand for them; and at a time when there was no regular publication of books, they easily crept into the world.

(b) When one epistle out of a number is spurious, the remainder of the series cannot be admitted to be genuine, unless there be some independent ground for thinking them so: when all but one are spurious, overwhelming evidence is required of the genuineness of the one: when they are all similar in style or motive, like witnesses who agree in the same tale, they stand or fall together. But no one, not even Mr. Grote, would maintain that all the Epistles of Plato are genuine, and very few critics think that more than one of them is so. And they are clearly all written from the same motive, whether serious or only literary. Nor is there an example in Greek antiquity of a series of Epistles, continuous and yet coinciding with a succession of events extending over a great number of years.

The external probability therefore against them is enormous, and the internal probability is not less: for they are trivial and unmeaning, devoid of delicacy and subtlety, wanting in a single fine expression. And even if this be matter of dispute, there can be no dispute that there are found in them many plagiarisms, inappropriately borrowed, which is a common note of forgery (compare 330 C foll. with Rep. iv. 425 E, 426 B, vi. 488 A: 347 E with Phaedrus 249 D: 326 A, B and 328 A with Rep. v. 473 C, D, &c.). They imitate Plato, who never imitates either himself or any one else; reminiscences of the Republic and the Laws are continually recurring in them; they are too like him and also too unlike him, to be genuine (see especially Karsten, Commentatio Critica de Platonis quae feruntur Epistolis, p. 111 foll.). They are full of egotism, self–assertion, affectation, faults which of all writers Plato was most careful to avoid, and into which he was least likely to fall (ib. p. 99 foll.). They abound in obscurities, irrelevancies, solecisms, pleonasms, inconsistencies (ib. p. 96 foll.), awkwardnesses of construction, wrong uses of words (ib. pp. 58, 59, 117, 121). They also contain historical blunders, such as the statement respecting Hipparinus and Nysaeus, the nephews of Dion (328 A), who are said to ‘have been well inclined to philosophy, and well able to dispose the mind of their brother Dionysius in the same course,’ at a time when they could not have been more than six or seven years of age—also foolish allusions, such as the comparison of the Athenian empire to the empire of Darius (332 A, B), which show a spirit very different from that of Plato; and mistakes of fact, as e.g. about the Thirty Tyrants (p. 324 C), whom the writer of the letters seems to have confused with certain inferior magistrates, making them in all fifty–one. These palpable errors and absurdities are absolutely irreconcileable with their genuineness. And as they appear to have a common parentage, the more they are studied, the more they will be found to furnish evidence against themselves. The Seventh, which is thought to be the most important of these Epistles, has affinities with the Third and the Eighth, and is quite as impossible and inconsistent as the rest. It is therefore involved in the same condemnation.—The final conclusion is that neither the Seventh nor any other of them, when carefully analyzed, can be imagined to have proceeded from the hand or mind of Plato. The other testimonies to the voyages of Plato to Sicily and the court of Dionysius are all of them later by several centuries than the events to which they refer. No extant writer mentions them older than Cicero and Cornelius Nepos. It does not seem impossible that so attractive a theme as the meeting of a philosopher and a tyrant, once imagined by the genius of a Sophist, may have passed into a romance which became famous in Hellas and the world. It may have created one of the mists of history, like the Trojan war or the legend of Arthur, which we are unable to penetrate. In the age of Cicero, and still more in that of Diogenes Laertius and Appuleius, many other legends had gathered around the personality of Plato,—more voyages, more journeys to visit tyrants and Pythagorean philosophers. But if, as we agree with Karsten in supposing, they are the forgery of some rhetorician or sophist, we cannot agree with him in also supposing that they are of any historical value, the rather as there is no early independent testimony by which they are supported or with which they can be compared.

IV. There is another subject to which I must briefly call attention, lest I should seem to have overlooked it. Dr. Henry Jackson, of Trinity College, Cambridge, in a series of articles which he has contributed to the Journal of Philology (1881–6; Vol. x. 132–150, 253–293; xi. 287–331; xiii. 1–40; xiv. 173–230, extending to about 200 pages), has put forward an entirely new explanation of the Platonic ‘Ideas.’ He supposes that in the mind of Plato they took, at different times in his life, two essentially different forms:— an earlier one which is found chiefly in the Republic and the Phaedo, and a later, which appears in the Theaetetus, Philebus, Sophist, Politicus, Parmenides, Timaeus. In the first stage of his philosophy Plato attributed Ideas to all things, at any rate to all things which have classes or common notions: these he supposed to exist only by participation in them. In the later Dialogues he no longer included in them manufactured articles and ideas of relation, but restricted them to ‘types of nature,’ and having become convinced that the many cannot be parts of the one, for the idea of participation in them he substituted imitation of them (xi. 292). To quote Dr. Jackson’s own expressions (x. 297),—‘whereas in the period of the Republic and the Phaedo, it was proposed to pass through ontology to the sciences, in the period of the Parmenides and the Philebus, it is proposed to pass through the sciences to ontology’: or, as he repeats in nearly the same words (xi. 320),—‘whereas in the Republic and in the Phaedo he had dreamt of passing through ontology to the sciences, he is now content to pass through the sciences to ontology.’

This theory is supposed to be based on Aristotle’s Metaphysics (Book I. c. 6), a passage containing an account of the ideas, which hitherto scholars have found impossible to reconcile with the statements of Plato himself. The preparations for the new departure are discovered in the Parmenides and in the Theaetetus; and it is said to be expressed under a different form by the πέρας and the ἄπειρον of the Philebus (vol. x. 275 foll.). The πέρας of the Philebus is the principle which gives form and measure to the ἄπειρον; and in the ‘Later Theory’ is held to be the πόσον or μέτριον which converts the Infinite or Indefinite into ideas. They are neither περαίνοντα nor ἄπειρα, but belong to the μικτὸν γένος which partakes of both.

With great respect for the learning and ability of Dr. Jackson, I find myself unable to agree in this newly fashioned doctrine of the Ideas, which he ascribes to Plato. I have not the space to go into the question fully; but I will briefly state some objections which are, I think, fatal to it.