The Seventh Letter

by
Plato
Translated by John Harward (1858-)
[360 !"
eBooks@Adelaide
2004
PL#T$ T$ TH% &%L#T'(%S #)* +&'%)*S $+ *'$),
-%L+#&%,
You write to me that I must consider your views the same as those of Dion, and you urge
me to aid your cause so far as I can in word and deed. My answer is that, if you have the
same opinion and desire as he had, I consent to aid your cause; but if not, I shall think
more than once about it. Now what his purpose and desire was, I can inform you from no
mere conecture but from positive knowledge. !or when I made my first visit to "icily,
being then about forty years old, Dion was of the same age as #ipparinos is now, and the
opinion which he then formed was that which he always retained, I mean the belief that
the "yracusans ought to be free and governed by the best laws. "o it is no matter for
surprise if some $od should make #ipparinos adopt the same opinion as Dion about
forms of government. %ut it is well worth while that you should all, old as well as young,
hear the way in which this opinion was formed, and I will attempt to give you an account
of it from the beginning. !or the present is a suitable opportunity.
In my youth I went through the same e&perience as many other men. I fancied that if,
early in life, I became my own master, I should at once embark on a political career. 'nd
I found myself confronted with the following occurrences in the public affairs of my own
city. (he e&isting constitution being generally condemned, a revolution took place, and
fifty)one men came to the front as rulers of the revolutionary government, namely eleven
in the city and ten in the *eiraeus)each of these bodies being in charge of the market and
municipal matters)while thirty were appointed rulers with full powers over public affairs
as a whole. "ome of these were relatives and ac+uaintances of mine, and they at once
invited me to share in their doings, as something to which I had a claim. (he effect on me
was not surprising in the case of a young man. I considered that they would, of course, so
manage the "tate as to bring men out of a bad way of life into a good one. "o I watched
them very closely to see what they would do.
'nd seeing, as I did, that in +uite a short time they made the former government seem by
comparison something precious as gold)for among other things they tried to send a friend
of mine, the aged "ocrates, whom I should scarcely scruple to describe as the most
upright man of that day, with some other persons to carry off one of the citi,ens by force
to e&ecution, in order that, whether he wished it, or not, he might share the guilt of their
conduct; but he would not obey them, risking all conse+uences in preference to becoming
a partner in their ini+uitous deeds)seeing all these things and others of the same kind on a
considerable scale, I disapproved of their proceedings, and withdrew from any
connection with the abuses of the time.
Not long after that a revolution terminated the power of the thirty and the form of
government as it then was. 'nd once more, though with more hesitation, I began to be
moved by the desire to take part in public and political affairs. -ell, even in the new
government, unsettled as it was, events occurred which one would naturally view with
disapproval; and it was not surprising that in a period of revolution e&cessive penalties
were inflicted by some persons on political opponents, though those who had returned
from e&ile at that time showed very considerable forbearance. %ut once more it happened
that some of those in power brought my friend "ocrates, whom I have mentioned, to trial
before a court of law, laying a most ini+uitous charge against him and one most
inappropriate in his case. for it was on a charge of impiety that some of them prosecuted
and others condemned and e&ecuted the very man who would not participate in the
ini+uitous arrest of one of the friends of the party then in e&ile, at the time when they
themselves were in e&ile and misfortune.
's I observed these incidents and the men engaged in public affairs, the laws too and the
customs, the more closely I e&amined them and the farther I advanced in life, the more
difficult it seemed to me to handle public affairs aright. !or it was not possible to be
active in politics without friends and trustworthy supporters; and to find these ready to
my hand was not an easy matter, since public affairs at 'thens were not carried on in
accordance with the manners and practices of our fathers; nor was there any ready
method by which I could make new friends. (he laws too, written and unwritten, were
being altered for the worse, and the evil was growing with startling rapidity. (he result
was that, though at first I had been full of a strong impulse towards political life, as I
looked at the course of affairs and saw them being swept in all directions by contending
currents, my head finally began to swim; and, though I did not stop looking to see if there
was any likelihood of improvement in these symptoms and in the general course of public
life, I postponed action till a suitable opportunity should arise. !inally, it became clear to
me, with regard to all e&isting cornmunities, that they were one and all misgoverned. !or
their laws have got into a state that is almost incurable, e&cept by some e&traordinary
reform with good luck to support it. 'nd I was forced to say, when praising true
philosophy that it is by this that men are enabled to see what ustice in public and private
life really is. (herefore, I said, there will be no cessation of evils for the sons of men, till
either those who are pursuing a right and true philosophy receive sovereign power in the
"tates, or those in power in the "tates by some dispensation of providence become true
philosophers.
-ith these thoughts in my mind I came to Italy and "icily on my first visit. My first
impressions on arrival were those of strong disapproval)disapproval of the kind of life
which was there called the life of happiness, stuffed full as it was with the ban+uets of the
Italian $reeks and "yracusans, who ate to repletion twice every day, and were never
without a partner for the night; and disapproval of the habits which this manner of life
produces. !or with these habits formed early in life, no man under heaven could possibly
attain to wisdom)human nature is not capable of such an e&traordinary combination.
(emperance also is out of the +uestion for such a man; and the same applies to virtue
generally. No city could remain in a state of tran+uillity under any laws whatsoever,
when men think it right to s+uander all their property in e&travagant, and consider it a
duty to be idle in everything else e&cept eating and drinking and the laborious
prosecution of debauchery. It follows necessarily that the constitutions of such cities must
be constantly changing, tyrannies, oligarchies and democracies succeeding one another,
while those who hold the power cannot so much as endure the name of any form of
government which maintains ustice and e+uality of rights.
-ith a mind full of these thoughts, on the top of my previous convictions, I crossed over
to "yracuse)led there perhaps by chance)but it really looks as if some higher power was
even then planning to lay a foundation for all that has now come to pass with regard to
Dion and "yracuse)and for further troubles too, I fear, unless you listen to the advice
which is now for the second time offered by me. -hat do I mean by saying that my
arrival in "icily at that movement proved to be the foundation on which all the se+uel
rests/ I was brought into close intercourse with Dion who was then a young man, and
e&plained to him my views as to the ideals at which men should aim, advising him to
carry them out in practice. In doing this I seem to have been unaware that I was, in a
fashion, without knowing it, contriving the overthrow of the tyranny which; subse+uently
took place. !or Dion, who rapidly assimilated my teaching as he did all forms of
knowledge, listened to me with an eagerness which I had never seen e+ualled in any
young man, and resolved to live for the future in a better way than the maority of Italian
and "icilian $reeks, having set his affection on virtue in preference to pleasure and self)
indulgence. (he result was that until the death of Dionysios he lived in a way which
rendered him somewhat unpopular among those whose manner of life was that which is
usual in the courts of despots.
'fter that event he came to the conclusion that this conviction, which he himself had
gained under the influence of good teaching, was not likely to be confined to himself.
Indeed, he saw it being actually implanted in other minds)not many perhaps, but certainly
in some; and he thought that with the aid of the $ods, Dionysios might perhaps become
one of these, and that, if such a thing did come to pass, the result would be a life of
unspeakable happiness both for himself and for the rest of the "yracusans. !urther, he
thought it essential that I should come to "yracuse by all manner of means and with the
utmost possible speed to be his partner in these plans, remembering in his own case how
readily intercourse with me had produced in him a longing for the noblest and best life.
'nd if it should produce a similar effect on Dionysios, as his aim was that it should, he
had great hope that, without bloodshed, loss of life, and those disastrous events which
have now taken place, he would be able to introduce the true life of happiness throughout
the whole territory.
#olding these sound views, Dion persuaded Dionysios to send for me; he also wrote
himself entreating me to come by all manner of means and with the utmost possible
speed, before certain other persons coming in contact with Dionysios should turn him
aside into some way of life other than the best. -hat he said, though perhaps it is rather
long to repeat, was as follows. 0-hat opportunities,1 he said, 0shall we wait for, greater
than those now offered to us by *rovidence/1 'nd he described the "yracusan empire in
Italy and "icily, his own influential position in it, and the youth of Dionysios and how
strongly his desire was directed towards philosophy and education. #is own nephews and
relatives, he said, would be readily attracted towards the principles and manner of life
described by me, and would be most influential in attracting Dionysios in the same
direction, so that, now if ever, we should see the accomplishment of every hope that the
same persons might actually become both philosophers and the rulers of great "tates.
(hese were the appeals addressed to me and much more to the same effect.
My own opinion, so far as the young men were concerned, and the probable line which
their conduct would take, was full of apprehension)for young men are +uick in forming
desires, which often take directions conflicting with one another. %ut I knew that the
character of Dion2s mind was naturally a stable one and had also the advantage of
somewhat advanced years.
(herefore, I pondered the matter and was in two minds as to whether I ought to listen to
entreaties and go, or how I ought to act; and finally the scale turned in favour of the view
that, if ever anyone was to try to carry out in practice my ideas about laws and
constitutions, now was the time for making the attempt; for if only I could fully convince
one man, I should have secured thereby the accomplishment of all good things.
-ith these views and thus nerved to the task, I sailed from home, in the spirit which
some imagined, but principally through a feeling of shame with regard to myself, lest I
might some day appear to myself wholly and solely a mere man of words, one who
would never of his own will lay his hand to any act. 'lso there was reason to think that I
should be betraying first and foremost my friendship and comradeship with Dion, who in
very truth was in a position of considerable danger. If therefore anything should happen
to him, or if he were banished by Dionysios and his other enemies and coming to us as
e&ile addressed this +uestion to me. 0*lato, I have come to you as a fugitive, not for want
of hoplites, nor because I had no cavalry for defence against my enemies, but for want of
words and power of persuasion, which I knew to be a special gift of yours, enabling you
to lead young men into the path of goodness and ustice, and to establish in every case
relations of friendship and comradeship among them. It is for the want of this assistance
on your part that I have left "yracuse and am here now. 'nd the disgrace attaching to
your treatment of me is a small matter. %ut philosophy)whose praises you are always
singing, while you say she is held in dishonour by the rest of mankind)must we not say
that philosophy along with me has now been betrayed, so far as your action was
concerned/ #ad I been living at Megara, you would certainly have come to give me your
aid towards the obects for which I asked it; or you would have thought yourself the most
contemptible of mankind. %ut as it is, do you think that you will escape the reputation of
cowardice by making e&cuses about the distance of the ourney, the length of the sea
voyage, and the amount of labour involved/ !ar from it.1 (o reproaches of this kind what
creditable reply could I have made/ "urely none.
I took my departure, therefore, acting, so far as a man can act, in obedience to reason and
ustice, and for these reasons leaving my own occupations, which were certainly not
discreditable ones, to put myself under a tyranny which did not seem likely to harmonise
with my teaching or with myself. %y my departure I secured my own freedom from the
displeasure of 3eus 4enios, and made myself clear of any charge on the part of
philosophy, which would have been e&posed to detraction, if any disgrace had come upon
me for faint)heartedness and cowardice.
5n my arrival, to cut a long story short, I found the court of Dionysios full of intrigues
and of attempts to create in the sovereign ill)feeling against Dion. I combated these as far
as I could, but with very little success; and in the fourth month or thereabouts, charging
Dion with conspiracy to sei,e the throne, Dionysios put him on board a small boat and
e&pelled him from "yracuse with ignominy. 'll of us who were Dion2s friends were
afraid that he might take vengeance on one or other of us as an accomplice in Dion2s
conspiracy. -ith regard to me, there was even a rumour current in "yracuse that I had
been put to death by Dionysios as the cause of all that had occurred. *erceiving that we
were all in this state of mind and apprehending that our fears might lead to some serious
conse+uence, he now tried to win all of us over by kindness. me in particular he
encouraged, bidding me be of good cheer and entreating me on all grounds to remain. !or
my flight from him was not likely to redound to his credit, but my staying might do so.
(herefore, he made a great pretence of entreating me. 'nd we know that the entreaties of
sovereigns are mi&ed with compulsion. "o to secure his obect he proceeded to render my
departure impossible, bringing me into the acropolis, and establishing me in +uarters
from which not a single ship2s captain would have taken me away against the will of
Dionysios, nor indeed without a special messenger sent by him to order my removal. Nor
was there a single merchant, or a single official in charge of points of departure from the
country, who would have allowed me to depart unaccompanied, and would not have
promptly sei,ed me and taken me back to Dionysios, especially since a statement had
now been circulated contradicting the previous rumours and giving out that Dionysios
was becoming e&traordinarily attached to *lato. -hat were the facts about this
attachment/ I must tell the truth. 's time went on, and as intercourse made him
ac+uainted with my disposition and character, he did become more and more attached to
me, and wished me to praise him more than I praised Dion, and to look upon him as more
specially my friend than Dion, and he was e&traordinarily eager about this sort of thing.
%ut when confronted with the one way in which this might have been done, if it was to be
done at all, he shrank from coming into close and intimate relations with me as a pupil
and listener to my discourses on philosophy, fearing the danger suggested by mischief)
makers, that he might be ensnared, and so Dion would prove to have accomplished all his
obect. I endured all this patiently, retaining the purpose with which I had come and the
hope that he might come to desire the philosophic life. %ut his resistance prevailed
against me.
(he time of my first visit to "icily and my stay there was taken up with all these
incidents. 5n a later occasion I left home and again came on an urgent summons from
Dionysios. %ut before giving the motives and particulars of my conduct then and showing
how suitable and right it was, I must first, in order that I may not treat as the main point
what is only a side issue, give you my advice as to what your acts should be in the present
position of affairs; afterwards, to satisfy those who put the +uestion why I came a second
time, I will deal fully with the facts about my second visit; what I have now to say is this.
#e who advises a sick man, whose manner of life is preudicial to health, is clearly bound
first of all to change his patient2s manner of life, and if the patient is willing to obey him,
he may go on to give him other advice. %ut if he is not willing, I shall consider one who
declines to advise such a patient to be a man and a physician, and one who gives in to
him to be unmanly and unprofessional. In the same way with regard to a "tate, whether it
be under a single ruler or more than one, if, while the government is being carried on
methodically and in a right course, it asks advice about any details of policy, it is the part
of a wise man to advise such people. %ut when men are travelling altogether outside the
path of right government and flatly refuse to move in the right path, and start by giving
notice to their adviser that he must leave the government alone and make no change in it
under penalty of death)if such men should order their counsellors to pander to their
wishes and desires and to advise them in what way their obect may most readily and
easily be once for all accomplished, I should consider as unmanly one who accepts the
duty of giving such forms of advice, and one who refuses it to be a true man.
#olding these views, whenever anyone consults me about any of the weightiest matters
affecting his own life, as, for instance, the ac+uisition of property or the proper treatment
of body or mind, if it seems to me that his daily life rests on any system, or if he seems
likely to listen to advice about the things on which he consults me, I advise him with
readiness, and do not content myself with giving him a merely perfunctory answer. %ut if
a man does not consult me at all, or evidently does not intend to follow my advice, I do
not take the initiative in advising such a man, and will not use compulsion to him, even if
he be my own son. I would advise a slave under such circumstances, and would use
compulsion to him if he were unwilling. (o a father or mother I do not think that piety
allows one to offer compulsion, unless they are suffering from an attack of insanity; and
if they are following any regular habits of life which please them but do not please me, I
would not offend them by offering useless, advice, nor would I flatter them or truckle to
them, providing them with the means of satisfying desires which I myself would sooner
die than cherish. (he wise man should go through life with the same attitude of mind
towards his country. If she should appear to him to be following a policy which is not a
good one, he should say so, provided that his words are not likely either to fall on deaf
ears or to lead to the loss of his own life. %ut force against his native land he should not
use in order to bring about a change of constitution, when it is not possible for the best
constitution to be introduced without driving men into e&ile or putting them to death; he
should keep +uiet and offer up prayers for his own welfare and for that of his country.
(hese are the principles in accordance with which I should advise you, as also, ointly
with Dion, I advised Dionysios, bidding him in the first place to live his daily life in a
way that would make him as far as possible master of himself and able to gain faithful
friends and supporters, in order that he might not have the same e&perience as his father.
!or his father, having taken under his rule many great cities of "icily which had been
utterly destroyed by the barbarians, was not able to found them afresh and to establish in
them trustworthy governments carried on by his own supporters, either by men who had
no ties of blood with him, or by his brothers whom he had brought up when they were
younger, and had raised from humble station to high office and from poverty to immense
wealth. Not one of these was he able to work upon by persuasion, instruction, services
and ties of kindred, so as to make him a partner in his rule; and he showed himself
inferior to Darius with a sevenfold inferiority. !or Darius did not put his trust in brothers
or in men whom he had brought up, but only in his confederates in the overthrow of the
Mede and 6unuch; and to these he assigned portions of his empire, seven in number, each
of them greater than all "icily; and they were faithful to him and did not attack either him
or one another. (hus he showed a pattern of what the good lawgiver and king ought to be;
for he drew up laws by which he has secured the *ersian empire in safety down to the
present time.
'gain, to give another instance, the 'thenians took under their rule very many cities not
founded by themselves, which had been hard hit by the barbarians but were still in
e&istence, and maintained their rule over these for seventy years, because they had in
each them men whom they could trust. %ut Dionysios, who had gathered the whole of
"icily into a single city, and was so clever that he trusted no one, only secured his own
safety with great difficulty. !or he was badly off for trustworthy friends; and there is no
surer criterion of virtue and vice than this, whether a man is or is not destitute of such
friends.
(his, then, was the advice which Dion and I gave to Dionysios, since, owing to bringing
up which he had received from his father, he had had no advantages in the way of
education or of suitable lessons, in the first place...; and, in the second place, that, after
starting in this way, he should make friends of others among his connections who were of
the same age and were in sympathy with his pursuit of virtue, but above all that he should
be in harmony with himself; for this it was of which he was remarkably in need. (his we
did not say in plain words, for that would not have been safe; but in covert language we
maintained that every man in this way would save both himself and those whom he was
leading, and if he did not follow this path, he would do ust the opposite of this. 'nd after
proceeding on the course which we described, and making himself a wise and temperate
man, if he were then to found again the cities of "icily which had been laid waste, and
bind them together by laws and constitutions, so as to be loyal to him and to one another
in their resistance to the attacks of the barbarians, he would, we told him, make his
father2s empire not merely double what it was but many times greater. !or, if these things
were done, his way would be clear to a more complete subugation of the 7arthaginians
than that which befell them in $elon2s time, whereas in our own day his father had
followed the opposite course of levying attribute for the barbarians. (his was the
language and these the e&hortations given by us, the conspirators against Dionysios
according to the charges circulated from various sources)charges which, prevailing as
they did with Dionysios, caused the e&pulsion of Dion and reduced me to a state of
apprehension. %ut when)to summarise great events which happened in no great time)
Dion returned from the *eloponnese and 'thens, his advice to Dionysios took the form of
action.
(o proceed)when Dion had twice over delivered the city and restored it to the citi,ens,
the "yracusans went through the same changes of feeling towards him as Dionysios had
gone through, when Dion attempted first to educate him and train him to be a sovereign
worthy of supreme power and, when that was done, to be his coadutor in all the details
of his career. Dionysios listened to those who circulated slanders to the effect that Dion
was aiming at the tyranny in all the steps which he took at that time his intention being
that Dionysios, when his mind had fallen under the spell of culture, should neglect the
government and leave it in his hands, and that he should then appropriate it for himself
and treacherously depose Dionysios. (hese slanders were victorious on that occasion;
they were so once more when circulated among the "yracusans, winning a victory which
took an e&traordinary course and proved disgraceful to its authors. (he story of what then
took place is one which deserves careful attention on the part of those who are inviting
me to deal with the present situation.
I, an 'thenian and friend of Dion, came as his ally to the court of Dionysios, in order that
I might create good will in place of a state war; in my conflict with the authors of these
slanders I was worsted. -hen Dionysios tried to persuade me by offers of honours and
wealth to attach myself to him, and with a view to giving a decent colour to Dion2s
e&pulsion a witness and friend on his side, he failed completely in his attempt. 8ater on,
when Dion returned from e&ile, he took with him from 'thens two brothers, who had
been his friends, not from community in philosophic study, but with the ordinary
companionship common among most friends, which they form as the result of relations
of hospitality and the intercourse which occurs when one man initiates the other in the
mysteries. It was from this kind of intercourse and from services connected with his
return that these two helpers in his restoration became his companions. #aving come to
"icily, when they perceived that Dion had been misrepresented to the "icilian $reeks,
whom he had liberated, as one that plotted to become monarch, they not only betrayed
their companion and friend, but shared personally in the guilt of his murder, standing by
his murderers as supporters with weapons in their hands. (he guilt and impiety of their
conduct I neither e&cuse nor do I dwell upon it. !or many others make it their business to
harp upon it, and will make it their business in the future. %ut I do take e&ception to the
statement that, because they were 'thenians, they have brought shame upon this city. !or
I say that he too is an 'thenian who refused to betray this same Dion, when he had the
offer of riches and many other honours. !or his was no common or vulgar friendship, but
rested on community in liberal education, and this is the one thing in which a wise man
will put his trust, far more than in ties of personal and bodily kinship. "o the two
murderers of Dion were not of sufficient importance to be causes of disgrace to this city,
as though they had been men of any note.
'll this has been said with a view to counselling the friends and family of Dion. 'nd in
addition to this I give for the third time to you the same advice and counsel which I have
given twice before to others)not to enslave "icily or any other "tate to despots)this my
counsel but)to put it under the rule of laws)for the other course is better neither for the
enslavers nor for the enslaved, for themselves, their children2s children and descendants;
the attempt is in every way fraught with disaster. It is only small and mean natures that
are bent upon sei,ing such gains for themselves, natures that know nothing of goodness
and ustice, divine as well as human, in this life and in the ne&t.
(hese are the lessons which I tried to teach, first to Dion, secondly to Dionysios, and now
for the third time to you. Do you obey me thinking of 3eus the *reserver, the patron of
third ventures, and looking at the lot of Dionysios and Dion, of whom the one who
disobeyed me is living in dishonour, while he who obeyed me has died honourably. !or
the one thing which is wholly right and noble is to strive for that which is most
honourable for a man2s self and for his country, and to face the conse+uences whatever
they may be. !or none of us can escape death, nor, if a man could do so, would it, as the
vulgar suppose, make him happy. !or nothing evil or good, which is worth mentioning at
all, belongs to things soulless; but good or evil will be the portion of every soul, either
while attached to the body or when separated from it.
'nd we should in very truth always believe those ancient and sacred teachings, which
declare that the soul is immortal, that it has udges, and suffers the greatest penalties
when it has been separated from the body. (herefore also we should consider it a lesser
evil to suffer great wrongs and outrages than to do them. (he covetous man,
impoverished as he is in the soul, turns a deaf ear to this teaching; or if he hears it, he
laughs it to scorn with fancied superiority, and shamelessly snatches for himself from
every source whatever his bestial fancy supposes will provide for him the means of eating
or drinking or glutting himself with that slavish and gross pleasure which is falsely called
after the goddess of love. #e is blind and cannot see in those acts of plunder which are
accompanied by impiety what heinous guilt is attached to each wrongful deed, and that
the offender must drag with him the burden of this impiety while he moves about on
earth, and when he has travelled beneath the earth on a ourney which has every
circumstance of shame and misery.
It was by urging these and other like truths that I convinced Dion, and it is I who have the
best right to be angered with his murderers in much the same way as I have with
Dionysios. !or both they and he have done the greatest inury to me, and I might almost
say to all mankind, they by slaying the man that was willing to act righteously, and he by
refusing to act righteously during the whole of his rule, when he held supreme power, in
which rule if philosophy and power had really met together, it would have sent forth a
light to all men, $reeks and barbarians, establishing fully for all the true belief that there
can be no happiness either for the community or for the individual man, unless he passes
his life under the rule of righteousness with the guidance of wisdom, either possessing
these virtues in himself, or living under the rule of godly men and having received a right
training and education in morals. (hese were the aims which Dionysios inured, and for
me everything else is a trifling inury compared with this.
(he murderer of Dion has, without knowing it, done the same as Dionysios. !or as
regards Dion, I know right well, so far as it is possible for a man to say anything
positively about other men, that, if he had got the supreme power, he would never have
turned his mind to any other form of rule, but that, dealing first with "yracuse, his own
native land, when he had made an end of her slavery, clothed her in bright apparel, and
given her the garb of freedom, he would then by every means in his power have ordered
aright the lives of his fellow)citi,ens by suitable and e&cellent laws; and the thing ne&t in
order, which he would have set his heart to accomplish, was to found again all the "tates
of "icily and make them free from the barbarians, driving out some and subduing others,
an easier task for him than it was for #iero. If these things had been accomplished by a
man who was ust and brave and temperate and a philosopher, the same belief with regard
to virtue would have been established among the maority which, if Dionysios had been
won over, would have been established, I might almost say, among all mankind and
would have given them salvation. %ut now some higher power or avenging fiend has
fallen upon them, inspiring them with lawlessness, godlessness and acts of recklessness
issuing from ignorance, the seed from which all evils for all mankind take root and grow
and will in future bear the bitterest harvest for those who brought them into being. (his
ignorance it was which in that second venture wrecked and ruined everything.
'nd now, for good luck2s sake, let us on this third venture abstain from words of ill
omen. %ut, nevertheless, I advise you, his friends, to imitate in Dion his love for his
country and his temperate habits of daily life, and to try with better auspices to carry out
his wishes)what these were, you have heard from me in plain words. 'nd whoever
among you cannot live the simple Dorian life according to the customs of your
forefathers, but follows the manner of life of Dion2s murderers and of the "icilians, do
not invite this man to oin you, or e&pect him to do any loyal or salutary act; but invite all
others to the work of resettling all the "tates of "icily and establishing e+uality under the
laws, summoning them from "icily itself and from the whole *eloponnese)and have no
fear even of 'thens; for there, also, are men who e&cel all mankind in their devotion to
virtue and in hatred of the reckless acts of those who shed the blood of friends.
%ut if, after all, this is work for a future time, whereas immediate action is called for by
the disorders of all sorts and kinds which arise every day from your state of civil strife,
every man to whom *rovidence has given even a moderate share of right intelligence
ought to know that in times of civil strife there is no respite from trouble till the victors
make an end of feeding their grudge by combats and banishments and e&ecutions, and of
wreaking their vengeance on their enemies. (hey should master themselves and, enacting
impartial laws, framed not to gratify themselves more than the con+uered party, should
compel men to obey these by two restraining forces, respect and fear; fear, because they
are the masters and can display superior force; respect, because they rise superior to
pleasures and are willing and able to be servants to the laws. (here is no other way save
this for terminating the troubles of a city that is in a state of civil strife; but a constant
continuance of internal disorders, struggles, hatred and mutual distrust is the common lot
of cities which are in that plight.
(herefore, those who have for the time being gained the upper hand, when they desire to
secure their position, must by their own act and choice select from all #ellas men whom
they have ascertained to be the best for the purpose. (hese must in the first place be men
of mature years, who have children and wives at home, and, as far as possible, a long line
of ancestors of good repute, and all must be possessed of sufficient property. !or a city of
ten thousand householders their numbers should be fifty; that is enough. (hese they must
induce to come from their own homes by entreaties and the promise of the highest
honours; and having induced them to come they must entreat and command them to draw
up laws after binding themselves by oath to show no partiality either to con+uerors or to
con+uered, but to give e+ual and common rights to the whole "tate.
-hen laws have been enacted, what everything then hinges on is this. If the con+uerors
show more obedience to the laws than the con+uered, the whole "tate will be full of
security and happiness, and there will be an escape from all your troubles. %ut if they do
not, then do not summon me or any other helper to aid you against those who do not obey
the counsel I now give you. !or this course is akin to that which Dion and I attempted to
carry out with our hearts set on the welfare of "yracuse. It is indeed a second best course.
(he first and best was that scheme of welfare to all mankind which we attempted to carry
out with the co)operation of Dionysios; but some chance, mightier than men, brought it to
nothing. Do you now, with good fortune attending you and with #eaven2s help, try to
bring your efforts to a happier issue.
8et this be the end of my advice and inunction and of the narrative of my first visit to
Dionysios. -hoever wishes may ne&t hear of my second ourney and voyage, and learn
that it was a reasonable and suitable proceeding. My first period of residence in "icily
was occupied in the way which I related before giving my advice to the relatives and
friends of Dion. 'fter those events I persuaded Dionysios by such arguments as I could to
let me go; and we made an agreement as to what should be done when peace was made;
for at that time there was a state of war in "icily. Dionysios said that, when he had put the
affairs of his empire in a position of greater safety for himself, he would send for Dion
and me again; and he desired that Dion should regard what had befallen him not as an
e&ile, but as a change of residence. I agreed to come again on these conditions.
-hen peace had been made, he began sending for me; he re+uested that Dion should wait
for another year, but begged that I should by all means come. Dion now kept urging and
entreating me to go. !or persistent rumours came from "icily that Dionysios was now
once more possessed by an e&traordinary desire for philosophy. !or this reason Dion
pressed me urgently not to decline his invitation. %ut though I was well aware that as
regards philosophy such symptoms were not uncommon in young men, still it seemed to
me safer at that time to part company altogether with Dion and Dionysios; and I offended
both of them by replying that I was an old man, and that the steps now being taken were
+uite at variance with the previous agreement.
'fter this, it seems, 'rchytes came to the court of Dionysios. %efore my departure I had
brought him and his (arentine circle into friendly relations with Dionysios. (here were
some others in "yracuse who had received some instruction from Dion, and others had
learnt from these, getting their heads full of erroneous teaching on philosophical
+uestions. (hese, it seems, were attempting to hold discussions with Dionysios on
+uestions connected with such subects, in the idea that he had been fully instructed in my
views. Now is not at all devoid of natural gifts for learning, and he has a great craving for
honour and glory. -hat was said probably pleased him, and he felt some shame when it
became clear that he had not taken advantage of my teaching during my visit. !or these
reasons he conceived a desire for more definite instruction, and his love of glory was an
additional incentive to him. (he real reasons why he had learnt nothing during my
previous visit have ust been set forth in the preceding narrative. 'ccordingly, now that I
was safe at home and had refused his second invitation, as I ust now related, Dionysios
seems to have felt all manner of an&iety lest certain people should suppose that I was
unwilling to visit him again because I had formed a poor opinion of his natural gifts and
character, and because, knowing as I did his manner of life, I disapproved of it.
It is right for me to speak the truth, and make no complaint if anyone, after hearing the
facts, forms a poor opinion of my philosophy, and thinks that the tyrant was in the right.
Dionysios now invited me for the third time, sending a trireme to ensure me comfort on
the voyage; he sent also 'rchedemos)one of those who had spent some time with
'rchytes, and of whom he supposed that I had a higher opinion than of any of the "icilian
$reeks)and, with him, other men of repute in "icily. (hese all brought the same report,
that Dionysios had made progress in philosophy. #e also sent a very long letter, knowing
as he did my relations with Dion and Dion2s eagerness also that I should take ship and go
to "yracuse. (he letter was framed in its opening sentences to meet all these conditions,
and the tenor of it was as follows. 0Dionysios to *lato,1 here followed the customary
greeting and immediately after it he said, 0If in compliance with our re+uest you come
now, in the first place, Dion2s affairs will be dealt with in whatever way you yourself
desire; I know that you will desire what is reasonable, and I shall consent to it. %ut if not,
none of Dion2s affairs will have results in accordance with your wishes, with regard
either to Dion himself or to other matters.1 (his he said in these words; the rest it would
be tedious and inopportune to +uote. 5ther letters arrived from 'rchytes and the
(arentines, praising the philosophical studies of Dionysios and saying that, if I did not
now come, I should cause a complete rupture in their friendship with Dionysios, which
had been brought about by me and was of no small importance to their political interests.
-hen this invitation came to me at that time in such terms, and those who had come from
"icily and Italy were trying to drag me thither, while my friends at 'thens were literally
pushing me out with their urgent entreaties, it was the same old tale)that I must not betray
Dion and my (arentine friends and supporters. 'lso I myself had a lurking feeling that
there was nothing surprising in the fact that a young man, +uick to learn, hearing talk of
the great truths of philosophy, should feel a craving for the higher life. I thought therefore
that I must put the matter definitely to the test to see whether his desire was genuine or
the reverse, and on no account leave such an impulse unaided nor make myself
responsible for such a deep and real disgrace, if the reports brought by anyone were really
true. "o blindfolding myself with this reflection, I set out, with many fears and with no
very favourable anticipations, as was natural enough. #owever, I went, and my action on
this occasion at any rate was really a case of 0the third to the *reserver,1 for I had the
good fortune to return safely; and for this I must, ne&t to the $od, thank Dionysios,
because, though many wished to make an end of me, he prevented them and paid some
proper respect to my situation.
5n my arrival, I thought that first I must put to the test the +uestion whether Dionysios
had really been kindled with the fire of philosophy, or whether all the reports which had
come to 'thens were empty rumours. Now there is a way of putting such things to the
test which is not to be despised and is well suited to monarchs, especially to those who
have got their heads full of erroneous teaching, which immediately my arrival I found to
be very much the case with Dionysios. 5ne should show such men what philosophy is in
all its e&tent; what their range of studies is by which it is approached, and how much
labour it involves. !or the man who has heard this, if he has the true philosophic spirit
and that godlike temperament which makes him a kin to philosophy and worthy of it,
thinks that he has been told of a marvellous road lying before him, that he must forthwith
press on with all his strength, and that life is not worth living if he does anything else.
'fter this he uses to the full his own powers and those of his guide in the path, and
rela&es not his efforts, till he has either reached the end of the whole course of study or
gained such power that he is not incapable of directing his steps without the aid of a
guide. (his is the spirit and these are the thoughts by which such a man guides his life,
carrying out his work, whatever his occupation may be, but throughout it all ever
cleaving to philosophy and to such rules of diet in his daily life as will give him inward
sobriety and therewith +uickness in learning, a good memory, and reasoning power; the
kind of life which is opposed to this he consistently hates. (hose who have not the true
philosophic temper, but a mere surface colouring of opinions penetrating, like sunburn,
only skin deep, when they see how great the range of studies is, how much labour is
involved in it, and how necessary to the pursuit it is to have an orderly regulation of the
daily life, come to the conclusion that the thing is difficult and impossible for them, and
are actually incapable of carrying out the course of study; while some of them persuade
themselves that they have sufficiently studied the whole matter and have no need of any
further effort. (his is the sure test and is the safest one to apply to those who live in
lu&ury and are incapable of continuous effort; it ensures that such a man shall not throw
the blame upon his teacher but on himself, because he cannot bring to the pursuit all the
+ualities necessary to it. (hus it came about that I said to Dionysios what I did say on that
occasion.
I did not, however, give a complete e&position, nor did Dionysios ask for one. !or he
professed to know many, and those the most important, points, and to have a sufficient
hold of them through instruction given by others. I hear also that he has since written
about what he heard from me, composing what professes to be his own handbook, very
different, so he says, from the doctrines which he heard from me; but of its contents I
know nothing; I know indeed that others have written on the same subects; but who they
are, is more than they know themselves. (hus much at least, I can say about all writers,
past or future, who say they know the things to which I devote myself, whether by
hearing the teaching of me or of others, or by their own discoveries)that according to my
view it is not possible for them to have any real skill in the matter. (here neither is nor
ever will be a treatise of mine on the subect. !or it does not admit of e&position like
other branches of knowledge; but after much converse about the matter itself and a life
lived together, suddenly a light, as it were, is kindled in one soul by a flame that leaps to
it from another, and thereafter sustains itself. Yet this much I know)that if the things were
written or put into words, it would be done best by me, and that, if they were written
badly, I should be the person most pained. 'gain, if they had appeared to me to admit
ade+uately of writing and e&position, what task in life could I have performed nobler than
this, to write what is of great service to mankind and to bring the nature of things into the
light for all to see/ %ut I do not think it a good thing for men that there should be a
dis+uisition, as it is called, on this topic)e&cept for some few, who are able with a little
teaching to find it out for themselves. 's for the rest, it would fill some of them +uite
illogically with a mistaken feeling of contempt, and others with lofty and vain)glorious
e&pectations, as though they had learnt something high and mighty.
5n this point I intend to speak a little more at length; for perhaps, when I have done so,
things will be clearer with regard to my present subect. (here is an argument which
holds good against the man ventures to put anything whatever into writing on +uestions
of this nature; it has often before been stated by me, and it seems suitable to the present
occasion.
!or everything that e&ists there are three instruments by which the knowledge of it is
necessarily imparted; fourth, there is the knowledge itself, and, as fifth, we must count
the thing itself which is known and truly e&ists. (he first is the name, the, second the
definition, the third. the image, and the fourth the knowledge. If you wish to learn what I
mean, take these in the case of one instance, and so understand them in the case of all. '
circle is a thing spoken of, and its name is that very word which we have ust uttered. (he
second thing belonging to it is its definition, made up names and verbal forms. !or that
which has the name 0round,1 0annular,1 or, 0circle,1 might be defined as that which has
the distance from its circumference to its centre everywhere e+ual. (hird, comes that
which is drawn and rubbed out again, or turned on a lathe and broken up)none of which
things can happen to the circle itself)to which the other things, mentioned have reference;
for it is something of a different order from them. !ourth, comes knowledge, intelligence
and right opinion about these things. 9nder this one head we must group everything
which has its e&istence, not in words nor in bodily shapes, but in souls)from which it is
dear that it is something different from the nature of the circle itself and from the three
things mentioned before. 5f these things intelligence comes closest in kinship and
likeness to the fifth, and the others are farther distant.
(he same applies to straight as well as to circular form, to colours, to the good, the,
beautiful, the ust, to all bodies whether manufactured or coming into being in the course
of nature, to fire, water, and all such things, to every living being, to character in souls,
and to all things done and suffered. !or in the case of all these, no one, if he has not some
how or other got hold of the four things first mentioned, can ever be completely a
partaker of knowledge of the fifth. !urther, on account of the weakness of language, these
:i.e., the four; attempt to show what each thing is like, not less than what each thing is.
!or this reason no man of intelligence will venture to e&press his philosophical views in
language, especially not in language that is unchangeable, which is true of that which is
set down in written characters.
'gain you must learn the point which comes ne&t. 6very circle, of those which are by the
act of man drawn or even turned on a lathe, is full of that which is opposite to the fifth
thing. !or everywhere it has contact with the straight. %ut the circle itself, we say, has
nothing in either smaller or greater, of that which is its opposite. -e say also that the
name is not a thing of permanence for any of them, and that nothing prevents the things
now called round from being called straight, and the straight things round; for those who
make changes and call things by opposite names, nothing will be less permanent :than a
name;. 'gain with regard to the definition, if it is made up of names and verbal forms,
the same remark holds that there is no sufficiently durable permanence in it. 'nd there is
no end to the instances of the ambiguity from which each of the four suffers; but the
greatest of them is that which we mentioned a little earlier, that, whereas there are two
things, that which has real being, and that which is only a +uality, when the soul is
seeking to know, not the +uality, but the essence, each of the four, presenting to the soul
by word and in act that which it is not seeking :i.e., the +uality;, a thing open to refutation
by the senses, being merely the thing presented to the soul in each particular case whether
by statement or the act of showing, fills, one may say, every man with pu,,lement and
perple&ity.
Now in subects in which, by reason of our defective education, we have not been
accustomed even to search for the truth, but are satisfied with whatever images are
presented to us, we are not held up to ridicule by one another, the +uestioned by
+uestioners, who can pull to pieces and criticise the four things. %ut in subects where we
try to compel a man to give a clear answer about the fifth, any one of those who are
capable of overthrowing an antagonist gets the better of us, and makes the man, who
gives an e&position in speech or writing or in replies to +uestions, appear to most of his
hearers to know nothing of the things on which he is attempting to write or speak; for
they are sometimes not aware that it is not the mind of the writer or speaker which is
proved to be at fault, but the defective nature of each of the four instruments. (he process
however of dealing with all of these, as the mind moves up and down to each in turn,
does after much effort give birth in a well)constituted mind to knowledge of that which is
well constituted. %ut if a man is ill)constituted by nature :as the state of the soul is
naturally in the maority both in its capacity for learning and in what is called moral
character;)or it may have become so by deterioration)not even 8ynceus could endow
such men with the power of sight.
In one word, the man who has no natural kinship with this matter cannot be made akin to
it by +uickness of learning or memory; for it cannot be engendered at all in natures which
are foreign to it. (herefore, if men are not by nature kinship allied to ustice and all other
things that are honourable, though they may be good at learning and remembering other
knowledge of various kinds)or if they have the kinship but are slow learners and have no
memory)none of all these will ever learn to the full the truth about virtue and vice. !or
both must be learnt together; and together also must be learnt, by complete and long
continued study, as I said at the beginning, the true and the false about all that has real
being. 'fter much effort, as names, definitions, sights, and other data of sense, are
brought into contact and friction one with another, in the course of scrutiny and kindly
testing by men who proceed by +uestion and answer without ill will, with a sudden flash
there shines forth understanding about every problem, and an intelligence whose efforts
reach the furthest limits of human powers. (herefore every man of worth, when dealing
with matters of worth, will be far from e&posing them to ill feeling and misunderstanding
among men by committing them to writing. In one word, then, it may be known from this
that, if one sees written treatises composed by anyone, either the laws of a lawgiver, or in
any other form whatever, these are not for that man the things of most worth, if he is a
man of worth, but that his treasures are laid up in the fairest spot that he possesses. %ut if
these things were worked at by him as things of real worth, and committed to writing,
then surely, not gods, but men 0have themselves bereft him of his wits.1
'nyone who has followed this discourse and digression will know well that, if Dionysios
or anyone else, great or small, has written a treatise on the highest matters and the first
principles of things, he has, so I say, neither heard nor learnt any sound teaching about
the subect of his treatise; otherwise, he would have had the same reverence for it, which
I have, and would have shrunk from putting it forth into a world of discord and
uncomeliness. !or he wrote it, not as an aid to memory)since there is no risk of forgetting
it, if a man2s soul has once laid hold of it; for it is e&pressed in the shortest of statements)
but if he wrote it at all, it was from a mean craving for honour, either putting it forth as
his own invention, or to figure as a man possessed of culture, of which he was not
worthy, if his heart was set on the credit of possessing it. If then Dionysios gained this
culture from the one lesson which he had from me, we may perhaps grant him the
possession of it, though how he ac+uired it)$od wot, as the (heban says; for I gave him
the teaching, which I have described, on that one occasion and never again.
(he ne&t point which re+uires to be made clear to anyone who wishes to discover how
things really happened, is the reason why it came about that I did not continue my
teaching in a second and third lesson and yet oftener. Does Dionysios, after a single
lesson, believe himself to know the matter, and has he an ade+uate knowledge of it, either
as having discovered it for himself or learnt it before from others, or does he believe my
teaching to be worthless, or, thirdly, to be beyond his range and too great for him, and
himself to be really unable to live as one who gives his mind to wisdom and virtue/ !or if
he thinks it worthless, he will have to contend with many who say the opposite, and who
would be held in far higher repute as udges than Dionysios, if on the other hand, he
thinks he has discovered or learnt the things and that they are worth having as part of a
liberal education, how could he, unless he is an e&traordinary person, have so recklessly
dishonoured the master who has led the way in these subects/ #ow he dishonoured him,
I will now state.
9p to this time he had allowed Dion to remain in possession of his property and to
receive the income from it. %ut not long after the foregoing events, as if he had entirely
forgotten his letter to that effect, he no longer allowed Dion2s trustees to send him
remittances to the *eloponnese, on the pretence that the owner of the property was not
Dion but Dion2s son, his own nephew, of whom he himself was legally the trustee. (hese
were the actual facts which occurred up to the point which we have reached. (hey had
opened my eyes as to the value of Dionysios2 desire for philosophy, and I had every right
to complain, whether I wished to do so or not. Now by this time it was summer and the
season for sea voyages; therefore I decided that I must not be ve&ed with Dionysios
rather than with myself and those who had forced me to come for the third time into the
strait of "cylla,
that once again I might
(o fell 7harybdis measure back my course,
but must tell Dionysios that it was impossible for me to remain after this outrage had
been put upon Dion. #e tried to soothe me and begged me to remain, not thinking it
desirable for himself that I should arrive post haste in person as the bearer of such tidings.
-hen his entreaties produced no effect, he promised that he himself would provide me
with transport. !or my intention was to embark on one of the trading ships and sail away,
being indignant and thinking it my duty to face all dangers, in case I was prevented from
going)since plainly and obviously I was doing no wrong, but was the party wronged.
"eeing me not at all inclined to stay, he devised the following scheme to make me stay
during that sading season. 5n the ne&t day he came to me and made a plausible proposal.
08et us put an end,1 he said, 0to these constant +uarrels between you and me about Dion
and his affairs. !or your sake I will do this for Dion. I re+uire him to take his own
property and reside in the *eloponnese, not as an e&ile, but on the understanding that it is
open for him to migrate here, when this step has the oint approval of himself, me, and
you his friends; and this shall be open to him on the understanding that he does not plot
against me. You and your friends and Dion2s friends here must be sureties for him in this,
and he must give you security. 8et the funds which he receives be deposited in the
*eloponnese and at 'thens, with persons approved by you, and let Dion enoy the income
from them but have no power to take them out of deposit without the approval of you and
your friends. !or I have no great confidence in him, that, if he has this property at his
disposal, he will act ustly towards me, for it will be no small amount; but I have more
confidence in you and your friends. "ee if this satisfies you; and on these conditions
remain for the present year, and at the ne&t season you shall depart taking the property
with you. I am +uite sure that Dion will be grateful to you, if you accomplish so much on
his behalf.1
-hen I heard this proposal I was ve&ed, but after reflection said I would let him know
my view of it on the following day. -e agreed to that effect for the moment, and
afterwards when I was by myself I pondered the matter in much distress. (he first
reflection that came up, leading the way in my self)communing, was this. 07ome suppose
that Dionysios intends to do none of the things which he has mentioned, but that, after my
departure, he writes a plausible letter to Dion, and orders several of his creatures to write
to the same effect, telling him of the proposal which he has now made to me, making out
that he was willing to do what he proposed, but that I refused and completely neglected
Dion2s interests. !urther, suppose that he is not willing to allow my departure, and
without giving personal orders to any of the merchants, makes it clear, as he easily can, to
all that he not wish me to sail, will anyone consent to take me as a passenger, when I
leave the house. of Dionysios/1
!or in addition to my other troubles, I was lodging at that time in the garden which
surround his house, from which even the gatekeeper would have refused to let me go,
unless an order had been sent to him from Dionysios. 0"uppose however that I wait for
the year, I shall be able to write word of these things to Dion, stating the position in
which I am, and the steps which I am trying to take. 'nd if Dionysios does any of the
things which he says, I shall have accomplished something that is not altogether to be
sneered at; for Dion2s property is, at a fair estimate, perhaps not less than a hundred
talents. If however the prospect which I see looming in the future takes the course which
may reasonably be e&pected, I know not what I shall do with myself. "till it is perhaps
necessary to go on working for a year, and to attempt to prove by actual fact the
machinations of Dionysios.1
#aving come to this decision, on the following day I said to Dionysios, 0I have decided
to remain. %ut,1 I continued, 0I must ask that you will not regard me as empowered to act
for Dion, but will along with me write a letter to him, stating what has now been decided,
and en+uire whether this course satisfies him. If it does not, and if he has other wishes
and demands, he must write particulars of them as soon as possible, and you must not as
yet take any hasty step with regard to his interests.1
(his was what was said and this was the agreement which was made, almost in these
words. -ell, after this the trading)ships took their departure, and it was no longer
possible for me to take mine, when Dionysios, if you please, addressed me with the
remark that half the property must be regarded as belonging to Dion and half to his son.
(herefore, he said, he would sell it, and when it was sold would give half to me to take
away, and would leave half on the spot for the son. (his course, he said, was the most
ust. (his proposal was a blow to me, and I thought it absurd to argue any longer with
him; however, I said that we must wait for Dion2s letter, and then once more write to tell
him of this new proposal. #is ne&t step was the brilliant one of selling the whole of
Dion2s property, using his own discretion with regard to the manner and terms of the sale
and of the purchasers. #e spoke not a word to me about the matter from beginning to end,
and I followed his e&ample and never talked to him again about Dion2s affairs; for I did
not think that I could do any good by doing so. (his is the history so far of my efforts to
come to the rescue of philosophy and of my friends.
'fter this Dionysios and I went on with our daily life, I with my eyes turned abroad like a
bird yearning to fly from its perch, and he always devising some new way of scaring me
back and of keeping a tight hold on Dion2s property. #owever, we gave out to all "icily
that we were friends. Dionysios, now deserting the policy of his father, attempted to
lower the pay of the older members of his body guard. (he soldiers were furious, and,
assembling in great numbers, declared that they would not submit. #e attempted to use
force to them, shutting the gates of the acropolis; but they charged straight for the walls,
yelling out an unintelligible and ferocious war cry. Dionysios took fright and conceded
all their demands and more to the peltasts then assembled.
' rumour soon spread that #eracleides had been the cause of all the trouble. #earing this,
#eracleides kept out of the way. Dionysios was trying to get hold of him, and being
unable to do so, sent for (heodotes to come to him in his garden. It happened that I was
walking in the garden at the same time. I neither know nor did I hear the rest of what
passed between them, but what (heodotes said to Dionysios in my presence I know and
remember. 0*lato,1 he said, 0I am trying to convince our friend Dionysios that, if I am
able to bring #eracleides before us to defend himself on the charges which have been
made against him, and if he decides that #eracleides must no longer live in "icily, he
should be allowed :this is my point; to take his son and wife and sail to the *eloponnese
and reside there, taking no action there against Dionysios and enoying the income of his
property. I have already sent for him and will send for him again; and if he comes in
obedience either to my former message or to this one)well and good. %ut I beg and
entreat Dionysios that, if anyone finds #eracleides either in the country or here, no harm
shall come to him, but that he may retire from the country till Dionysios comes to some
other decision. Do you agree to this/1 he added, addressing Dionysios. 0I agree,1 he
replied, 0that even if he is found at your house, no harm shall be done to him beyond
what has now been said.1
5n the following day 6urybios and (heodotes came to me in the evening, both greatly
disturbed. (heodotes said, 0*lato, you were present yesterday during the promises made
by Dionysios to me and to you about #eracleides/1 07ertainly,1 I replied. 0-ell,1 he
continued, 0at this moment peltasts are scouring the country seeking to arrest
#eracleides; and he must be somewhere in this neighbourhood. !or #eaven2s sake come
with us to Dionysios.1 "o we went and stood in the presence of Dionysios; and those two
stood shedding silent tears, while I said. 0(hese men are afraid that you may take strong
measures with regard to #eracleides contrary to what was agreed yesterday. !or it seems
that he has returned and has been seen somewhere about here.1 5n hearing this he bla,ed
up and turned all colours, as a man would in a rage. (heodotes, falling before him in
tears, took his hand and entreated him to do nothing of the sort. %ut I broke in and tried to
encourage him, saying. 0%e of good cheer, (heodotes; Dionysios will not have the heart
to take any fresh step contrary to his promises of yesterday.1 !i&ing his eye on me, and
assuming his most autocratic air he said, 0(o you I promised nothing small or great.1 0%y
the gods,1 I said, 0you did promise that forbearance for which our friend here now
appeals.1 -ith these words I turned away and went out. 'fter this he continued the hunt
for #eracleides, and (heodotes, sending messages, urged #eracleides to take flight.
Dionysios sent out (eisias and some peltasts with orders to pursue him. %ut #eracleides,
as it was said, was ust in time, by a small fraction of a day, in making his escape into
7arthaginian territory.
'fter this Dionysios thought that his long cherished scheme not to restore Dion2s
property would give him a plausible e&cuse for hostility towards me; and first of all he
sent me out of the acropolis, finding a prete&t that the women were obliged to hold a
sacrificial service for ten days in the garden in which I had my lodging. #e therefore
ordered me to stay outside in the house of 'rchedemos during this period. -hile I was
there, (heodotes sent for me and made a great outpouring of indignation at these
occurrences, throwing the blame on Dionysios. #earing that I had been to see (heodotes
he regarded this, as another e&cuse, sister to the previous one, for +uarrelling with me.
"ending a messenger he en+uired if I had really been conferring with (heodotes on his
invitation 07ertainly,1 I replied, 0-ell,1 continued the messenger, 0he ordered me to tell
you that you are not acting at all well in preferring always Dion and Dion2s friends to
him.1 'nd he did not send for me to return to his house, as though it were now clear that
(heodotes and #eracleides were my friends, and he my enemy. #e also thought that I
had no kind feelings towards him because the property of Dion was now entirely done
for.
'fter this I resided outside the acropolis among the mercenaries. <arious people then
came to me, among them those of the ships2 crews who came from 'thens, my own
fellow citi,ens, and reported that I was evil spoken of among the peltasts, and that some
of them were threatening to make an end of me, if they could ket hold of me 'ccordingly
I devised the following plan for my safety.
I sent to 'rchytes and my other friends in (aras, telling them the plight I was in. !inding
some e&cuse for an embassy from their city, they sent a thirty)oared galley with
8amiscos, one of themselves, who came and entreated Dionysios about me, saying that I
wanted to go, and that he should on no account stand in my way. #e consented and
allowed me to go, giving me money for the ourney. %ut for Dion2s property I made no
further re+uest, nor was any of it restored.
I made my way to the *eloponnese to 5lympia, where I found Dion a spectator at the
$ames, and told him what had occurred. 7alling 3eus to be his witness, he at once urged
me with my relatives and friends to make preparations for taking vengeance on
Dionysios)our ground for action being the breach of faith to a guest)so he put it and
regarded it, while his own was his unust e&pulsion and banishment. #earing this, I told
him that he might call my friends to his aid, if they wished to go; 0%ut for myself,1 I
continued, 0you and others in a way forced me to be the sharer of Dionysios2 table and
hearth and his associate in the acts of religion. #e probably believed the current slanders,
that I was plotting with you against him and his despotic rule; yet feelings of scruple
prevailed with him, and he spared my life. 'gain, I am hardly of the age for being
comrade in arms to anyone; also I stand as a neutral between you, if ever you desire
friendship and wish to benefit one another; so long as you aim at inuring one another,
call others to your aid.1 (his I said, because I was disgusted with my misguided
ourneyings to "icily and my ill)fortune there. %ut they disobeyed me and would not
listen to my attempts at reconciliation, and so brought on their own heads all the evils
which have since taken place. !or if Dionysios had restored to Dion his property or been
reconciled with him on any terms, none of these things would have happened, so far as
human foresight can foretell. Dion would have easily been kept in check by my wishes
and influence. %ut now, rushing upon one another, they have caused universal disaster.
Dion2s aspiration however was the same that I should say my own or that of any other
right)minded man ought to be. -ith regard to his own power, his friends and his country
the ideal of such a man would be to win the greatest power and honour by rendering the
greatest services. 'nd this end is not attained if a man gets riches for himself, his
supporters and his country, by forming plots and getting together conspirators, being all
the while a poor creature, not master of himself, overcome by the cowardice which fears
to fight against pleasures; nor is it attained if he goes on to kill the men of substance,
whom he speaks of as the enemy, and to plunder their possessions, and invites his
confederates and supporters to do the same, with the obect that no one shall say that it is
his fault, if he complains of being poor. (he same is true if anyone renders services of
this kind to the "tate and receives honours from her for distributing by decrees the
property of the few among the many)or if, being in charge the affairs of a great "tate
which rules over many small ones, he unustly appropriates to his own "tate the
possessions of the small ones. !or neither a Dion nor any other man will, with his eyes
open, make his way by steps like these to a power which will be fraught with destruction
to himself and his descendants for all time; but he will advance towards constitutional
government and the framing of the ustest and best laws, reaching these ends without
e&ecutions and murders even on the smallest scale.
(his course Dion actually followed, thinking it preferable to suffer ini+uitous deeds
rather than to do them; but, while taking precautions against them, he nevertheless, when
he had reached the clima& of victory over his enemies, took a false step and fell, a
catastrophe not at all surprising. !or a man of piety, temperance and wisdom, when
dealing with the impious, would not be entirely blind to the character of such men, but it
would perhaps not be surprising if he suffered the catastrophe that might befall a good
ship2s captain, who would not be entirely unaware of the approach of a storm, but might
be unaware of its e&traordinary and startling violence, and might therefore be
overwhelmed by its force. (he same thing caused Dion2s downfall. !or he was not
unaware that his assailants were thoroughly bad men, but he was unaware how high a
pitch of infatuation and of general wickedness and greed they had reached. (his was the
cause of his downfall, which has involved "icily in countless sorrows.
's to the steps which should be taken after the events which I have now related, my
advice has been given pretty fully and may be regarded as finished; and if you ask my
reasons for recounting the story of my second ourney to "icily, it seemed to me essential
that an account of it must be given because of the strange and parado&ical character of the
incidents. If in this present account of them they appear to anyone more intelligible, and
seem to anyone to show sufficient grounds in view of the circumstances, the present
statement is ade+uate and not too lengthy.
TH% %)*
Rendered into HTML on Sun Mar 2 16:36:16 2003, by Steve Thomas for The University
of de!aide Library "!e#troni# Te$ts %o!!e#tion&