Persons of the Dialogue
SOCRATES
CRITIAS
TIMAEUS
HERMOCRATES
Socrates. One, two, three;
but where, my dear Timaeus, is the fourth of those
who were yesterday my guests and are to be my
entertainers to-day?
Timaeus. He has been taken ill, Socrates; for
he would not willingly have been absent from this
gathering.
Soc. Then, if he is not coming, you and the
two others must supply his place.
Tim. Certainly, and we will do all that we
can; having been handsomely entertained by you
yesterday, those of us who remain should be only too
glad to return your hospitality.
Soc. Do you remember what were the points of
which I required you to speak?
Tim. We remember some of them, and you will
be here to remind us of anything which we have
forgotten: or rather, if we are not troubling you,
will you briefly recapitulate the whole, and then
the particulars will be more firmly fixed in our
memories?
Soc. To be sure I will: the chief theme of my
yesterday's discourse was the State-how constituted
and of what citizens composed it would seem likely
to be most perfect.
Tim. Yes, Socrates; and what you said of it
was very much to our mind.
Soc. Did we not begin by separating the
husbandmen and the artisans from the class of
defenders of the State?
Tim. Yes.
Soc. And when we had given to each one that
single employment and particular art which was
suited to his nature, we spoke of those who were
intended to be our warriors, and said that they were
to be guardians of the city against attacks from
within as well as from without, and to have no other
employment; they were to be merciful in judging
their subjects, of whom they were by nature friends,
but fierce to their enemies, when they came across
them in battle.
Tim. Exactly.
Soc. We said, if I am not mistaken, that the
guardians should be gifted with a temperament in a
high degree both passionate and philosophical; and
that then they would be as they ought to be, gentle
to their friends and fierce with their enemies.
Tim. Certainly.
Soc. And what did we say of their education?
Were they not to be trained in gymnastic, and music,
and all other sorts of knowledge which were proper
for them?
Tim. Very true.
Soc. And being thus trained they were not to
consider gold or silver or anything else to be their
own private property; they were to be like hired
troops, receiving pay for keeping guard from those
who were protected by them-the pay was to be no more
than would suffice for men of simple life; and they
were to spend in common, and to live together in the
continual practice of virtue, which was to be their
sole pursuit.
Tim. That was also said.
Soc. Neither did we forget the women; of whom
we declared, that their natures should be
assimilated and brought into harmony with those of
the men, and that common pursuits should be assigned
to them both in time of war and in their ordinary
life.
Tim. That, again, was as you say.
Soc. And what about the procreation of
children? Or rather not the proposal too singular to
be forgotten? for all wives and children were to be
in common, to the intent that no one should ever
know his own child, but they were to imagine that
they were all one family; those who were within a
suitable limit of age were to be brothers and
sisters, those who were of an elder generation
parents and grandparents, and those of a younger
children and grandchildren.
Tim. Yes, and the proposal is easy to
remember, as you say.
Soc. And do you also remember how, with a
view of securing as far as we could the best breed,
we said that the chief magistrates, male and female,
should contrive secretly, by the use of certain
lots, so to arrange the nuptial meeting, that the
bad of either sex and the good of either sex might
pair with their like; and there was to be no
quarrelling on this account, for they would imagine
that the union was a mere accident, and was to be
attributed to the lot?
Tim. I remember.
Soc. And you remember how we said that the
children of the good parents were to be educated,
and the children of the bad secretly dispersed among
the inferior citizens; and while they were all
growing up the rulers were to be on the look-out,
and to bring up from below in their turn those who
were worthy, and those among themselves who were
unworthy were to take the places of those who came
up?
Tim. True.
Soc. Then have I now given you all the heads
of our yesterday's discussion? Or is there anything
more, my dear Timaeus, which has been omitted?
Tim. Nothing, Socrates; it was just as you
have said.
Soc. I should like, before proceeding
further, to tell you how I feel about the State
which we have described. I might compare myself to a
person who, on beholding beautiful animals either
created by the painter's art, or, better still,
alive but at rest, is seized with a desire of seeing
them in motion or engaged in some struggle or
conflict to which their forms appear suited; this is
my feeling about the State which we have been
describing. There are conflicts which all cities
undergo, and I should like to hear some one tell of
our own city carrying on a struggle against her
neighbours, and how she went out to war in a
becoming manner, and when at war showed by the
greatness of her actions and the magnanimity of her
words in dealing with other cities a result worthy
of her training and education. Now I, Critias and
Hermocrates, am conscious that I myself should never
be able to celebrate the city and her citizens in a
befitting manner, and I am not surprised at my own
incapacity; to me the wonder is rather that the
poets present as well as past are no better-not that
I mean to depreciate them; but every one can see
that they are a tribe of imitators, and will imitate
best and most easily the life in which they have
been brought up; while that which is beyond the
range of a man's education he finds hard to carry
out in action, and still harder adequately to
represent in language. I am aware that the Sophists
have plenty of brave words and fair conceits, but I
am afraid that being only wanderers from one city to
another, and having never had habitations of their
own, they may fail in their conception of
philosophers and statesmen, and may not know what
they do and say in time of war, when they are
fighting or holding parley with their enemies. And
thus people of your class are the only ones
remaining who are fitted by nature and education to
take part at once both in politics and philosophy.
Here is Timaeus, of Locris in Italy, a city which
has admirable laws, and who is himself in wealth and
rank the equal of any of his fellow-citizens; he has
held the most important and honourable offices in
his own state, and, as I believe, has scaled the
heights of all philosophy; and here is Critias, whom
every Athenian knows to be no novice in the matters
of which we are speaking; and as to, Hermocrates, I
am assured by many witnesses that his genius and
education qualify him to take part in any
speculation of the kind. And therefore yesterday
when I saw that you wanted me to describe the
formation of the State, I readily assented, being
very well aware, that, if you only would, none were
better qualified to carry the discussion further,
and that when you had engaged our city in a suitable
war, you of all men living could best exhibit her
playing a fitting part. When I had completed my
task, I in return imposed this other task upon you.
You conferred together and agreed to entertain me
to-day, as I had entertained you, with a feast of
discourse. Here am I in festive array, and no man
can be more ready for the promised banquet.
Her. And we too, Socrates, as Timaeus says,
will not be wanting in enthusiasm; and there is no
excuse for not complying with your request. As soon
as we arrived yesterday at the guest-chamber of
Critias, with whom we are staying, or rather on our
way thither, we talked the matter over, and he told
us an ancient tradition, which I wish, Critias, that
you would repeat to Socrates, so that he may help us
to judge whether it will satisfy his requirements or
not.
Crit. I will, if Timaeus, who is our other
partner, approves.
Tim. I quite approve.
Crit. Then listen, Socrates, to a tale which,
though strange, is certainly true, having been
attested by Solon, who was the wisest of the seven
sages. He was a relative and a dear friend of my
great-grandfather, Dropides, as he himself says in
many passages of his poems; and he told the story to
Critias, my grandfather, who remembered and repeated
it to us. There were of old, he said, great and
marvellous actions of the Athenian city, which have
passed into oblivion through lapse of time and the
destruction of mankind, and one in particular,
greater than all the rest. This we will now
rehearse. It will be a fitting monument of our
gratitude to you, and a hymn of praise true and
worthy of the goddess, on this her day of festival.
Soc. Very good. And what is this ancient
famous action of the Athenians, which Critias
declared, on the authority of Solon, to be not a
mere legend, but an actual fact?
Crit. I will tell an old-world story which I
heard from an aged man; for Critias, at the time of
telling it, was as he said, nearly ninety years of
age, and I was about ten. Now the day was that day
of the Apaturia which is called the Registration of
Youth, at which, according to custom, our parents
gave prizes for recitations, and the poems of
several poets were recited by us boys, and many of
us sang the poems of Solon, which at that time had
not gone out of fashion. One of our tribe, either
because he thought so or to please Critias, said
that in his judgment Solon was not only the wisest
of men, but also the noblest of poets. The old man,
as I very well remember, brightened up at hearing
this and said, smiling: Yes, Amynander, if Solon had
only, like other poets, made poetry the business of
his life, and had completed the tale which he
brought with him from Egypt, and had not been
compelled, by reason of the factions and troubles
which he found stirring in his own country when he
came home, to attend to other matters, in my opinion
he would have been as famous as Homer or Hesiod, or
any poet.
And what was the tale about, Critias? said
Amynander.
About the greatest action which the Athenians ever
did, and which ought to have been the most famous,
but, through the lapse of time and the destruction
of the actors, it has not come down to us.
Tell us, said the other, the whole story, and how
and from whom Solon heard this veritable tradition.
He replied:-In the Egyptian Delta, at the head of
which the river Nile divides, there is a certain
district which is called the district of Sais, and
the great city of the district is also called Sais,
and is the city from which King Amasis came. The
citizens have a deity for their foundress; she is
called in the Egyptian tongue Neith, and is asserted
by them to be the same whom the Hellenes call
Athene; they are great lovers of the Athenians, and
say that they are in some way related to them. To
this city came Solon, and was received there with
great honour; he asked the priests who were most
skilful in such matters, about antiquity, and made
the discovery that neither he nor any other Hellene
knew anything worth mentioning about the times of
old. On one occasion, wishing to draw them on to
speak of antiquity, he began to tell about the most
ancient things in our part of the world-about
Phoroneus, who is called "the first man," and about
Niobe; and after the Deluge, of the survival of
Deucalion and Pyrrha; and he traced the genealogy of
their descendants, and reckoning up the dates, tried
to compute how many years ago the events of which he
was speaking happened. Thereupon one of the priests,
who was of a very great age, said: O Solon, Solon,
you Hellenes are never anything but children, and
there is not an old man among you. Solon in return
asked him what he meant. I mean to say, he replied,
that in mind you are all young; there is no old
opinion handed down among you by ancient tradition,
nor any science which is hoary with age. And I will
tell you why. There have been, and will be again,
many destructions of mankind arising out of many
causes; the greatest have been brought about by the
agencies of fire and water, and other lesser ones by
innumerable other causes. There is a story, which
even you have preserved, that once upon a time
Paethon, the son of Helios, having yoked the steeds
in his father's chariot, because he was not able to
drive them in the path of his father, burnt up all
that was upon the earth, and was himself destroyed
by a thunderbolt. Now this has the form of a myth,
but really signifies a declination of the bodies
moving in the heavens around the earth, and a great
conflagration of things upon the earth, which recurs
after long intervals; at such times those who live
upon the mountains and in dry and lofty places are
more liable to destruction than those who dwell by
rivers or on the seashore. And from this calamity
the Nile, who is our never-failing saviour, delivers
and preserves us. When, on the other hand, the gods
purge the earth with a deluge of water, the
survivors in your country are herdsmen and shepherds
who dwell on the mountains, but those who, like you,
live in cities are carried by the rivers into the
sea. Whereas in this land, neither then nor at any
other time, does the water come down from above on
the fields, having always a tendency to come up from
below; for which reason the traditions preserved
here are the most ancient.
The fact is, that wherever the extremity of winter
frost or of summer does not prevent, mankind exist,
sometimes in greater, sometimes in lesser numbers.
And whatever happened either in your country or in
ours, or in any other region of which we are
informed-if there were any actions noble or great or
in any other way remarkable, they have all been
written down by us of old, and are preserved in our
temples. Whereas just when you and other nations are
beginning to be provided with letters and the other
requisites of civilized life, after the usual
interval, the stream from heaven, like a pestilence,
comes pouring down, and leaves only those of you who
are destitute of letters and education; and so you
have to begin all over again like children, and know
nothing of what happened in ancient times, either
among us or among yourselves. As for those
genealogies of yours which you just now recounted to
us, Solon, they are no better than the tales of
children. In the first place you remember a single
deluge only, but there were many previous ones; in
the next place, you do not know that there formerly
dwelt in your land the fairest and noblest race of
men which ever lived, and that you and your whole
city are descended from a small seed or remnant of
them which survived. And this was unknown to you,
because, for many generations, the survivors of that
destruction died, leaving no written word. For there
was a time, Solon, before the great deluge of all,
when the city which now is Athens was first in war
and in every way the best governed of all cities, is
said to have performed the noblest deeds and to have
had the fairest constitution of any of which
tradition tells, under the face of heaven.
Solon marvelled at his words, and earnestly
requested the priests to inform him exactly and in
order about these former citizens. You are welcome
to hear about them, Solon, said the priest, both for
your own sake and for that of your city, and above
all, for the sake of the goddess who is the common
patron and parent and educator of both our cities.
She founded your city a thousand years before ours,
receiving from the Earth and Hephaestus the seed of
your race, and afterwards she founded ours, of which
the constitution is recorded in our sacred registers
to be eight thousand years old. As touching your
citizens of nine thousand years ago, I will briefly
inform you of their laws and of their most famous
action; the exact particulars of the whole we will
hereafter go through at our leisure in the sacred
registers themselves. If you compare these very laws
with ours you will find that many of ours are the
counterpart of yours as they were in the olden time.
In the first place, there is the caste of priests,
which is separated from all the others; next, there
are the artificers, who ply their several crafts by
themselves and do not intermix; and also there is
the class of shepherds and of hunters, as well as
that of husbandmen; and you will observe, too, that
the warriors in Egypt are distinct from all the
other classes, and are commanded by the law to
devote themselves solely to military pursuits;
moreover, the weapons which they carry are shields
and spears, a style of equipment which the goddess
taught of Asiatics first to us, as in your part of
the world first to you. Then as to wisdom, do you
observe how our law from the very first made a study
of the whole order of things, extending even to
prophecy and medicine which gives health, out of
these divine elements deriving what was needful for
human life, and adding every sort of knowledge which
was akin to them. All this order and arrangement the
goddess first imparted to you when establishing your
city; and she chose the spot of earth in which you
were born, because she saw that the happy
temperament of the seasons in that land would
produce the wisest of men. Wherefore the goddess,
who was a lover both of war and of wisdom, selected
and first of all settled that spot which was the
most likely to produce men likest herself. And there
you dwelt, having such laws as these and still
better ones, and excelled all mankind in all virtue,
as became the children and disciples of the gods.
Many great and wonderful deeds are recorded of your
state in our histories. But one of them exceeds all
the rest in greatness and valour. For these
histories tell of a mighty power which unprovoked
made an expedition against the whole of Europe and
Asia, and to which your city put an end. This power
came forth out of the Atlantic Ocean, for in those
days the Atlantic was navigable; and there was an
island situated in front of the straits which are by
you called the Pillars of Heracles; the island was
larger than Libya and Asia put together, and was the
way to other islands, and from these you might pass
to the whole of the opposite continent which
surrounded the true ocean; for this sea which is
within the Straits of Heracles is only a harbour,
having a narrow entrance, but that other is a real
sea, and the surrounding land may be most truly
called a boundless continent. Now in this island of
Atlantis there was a great and wonderful empire
which had rule over the whole island and several
others, and over parts of the continent, and,
furthermore, the men of Atlantis had subjected the
parts of Libya within the columns of Heracles as far
as Egypt, and of Europe as far as Tyrrhenia. This
vast power, gathered into one, endeavoured to subdue
at a blow our country and yours and the whole of the
region within the straits; and then, Solon, your
country shone forth, in the excellence of her virtue
and strength, among all mankind. She was pre-eminent
in courage and military skill, and was the leader of
the Hellenes. And when the rest fell off from her,
being compelled to stand alone, after having
undergone the very extremity of danger, she defeated
and triumphed over the invaders, and preserved from
slavery those who were not yet subjugated, and
generously liberated all the rest of us who dwell
within the pillars. But afterwards there occurred
violent earthquakes and floods; and in a single day
and night of misfortune all your warlike men in a
body sank into the earth, and the island of Atlantis
in like manner disappeared in the depths of the sea.
For which reason the sea in those parts is
impassable and impenetrable, because there is a
shoal of mud in the way; and this was caused by the
subsidence of the island.
I have told you briefly, Socrates, what the aged
Critias heard from Solon and related to us. And when
you were speaking yesterday about your city and
citizens, the tale which I have just been repeating
to you came into my mind, and I remarked with
astonishment how, by some mysterious coincidence,
you agreed in almost every particular with the
narrative of Solon; but I did not like to speak at
the moment. For a long time had elapsed, and I had
forgotten too much; I thought that I must first of
all run over the narrative in my own mind, and then
I would speak. And so I readily assented to your
request yesterday, considering that in all such
cases the chief difficulty is to find a tale
suitable to our purpose, and that with such a tale
we should be fairly well provided.
And therefore, as Hermocrates has told you, on my
way home yesterday I at once communicated the tale
to my companions as I remembered it; and after I
left them, during the night by thinking I recovered
nearly the whole it. Truly, as is often said, the
lessons of our childhood make wonderful impression
on our memories; for I am not sure that I could
remember all the discourse of yesterday, but I
should be much surprised if I forgot any of these
things which I have heard very long ago. I listened
at the time with childlike interest to the old man's
narrative; he was very ready to teach me, and I
asked him again and again to repeat his words, so
that like an indelible picture they were branded
into my mind. As soon as the day broke, I rehearsed
them as he spoke them to my companions, that they,
as well as myself, might have something to say. And
now, Socrates, to make an end my preface, I am ready
to tell you the whole tale. I will give you not only
the general heads, but the particulars, as they were
told to me. The city and citizens, which you
yesterday described to us in fiction, we will now
transfer to the world of reality. It shall be the
ancient city of Athens, and we will suppose that the
citizens whom you imagined, were our veritable
ancestors, of whom the priest spoke; they will
perfectly harmonise, and there will be no
inconsistency in saying that the citizens of your
republic are these ancient Athenians. Let us divide
the subject among us, and all endeavour according to
our ability gracefully to execute the task which you
have imposed upon us. Consider then, Socrates, if
this narrative is suited to the purpose, or whether
we should seek for some other instead.
Soc. And what other, Critias, can we find
that will be better than this, which is natural and
suitable to the festival of the goddess, and has the
very great advantage of being a fact and not a
fiction? How or where shall we find another if we
abandon this? We cannot, and therefore you must tell
the tale, and good luck to you; and I in return for
my yesterday's discourse will now rest and be a
listener.
Crit. Let me proceed to explain to you,
Socrates, the order in which we have arranged our
entertainment. Our intention is, that Timaeus, who
is the most of an astronomer amongst us, and has
made the nature of the universe his special study,
should speak first, beginning with the generation of
the world and going down to the creation of man;
next, I am to receive the men whom he has created of
whom some will have profited by the excellent
education which you have given them; and then, in
accordance with the tale of Solon, and equally with
his law, we will bring them into court and make them
citizens, as if they were those very Athenians whom
the sacred Egyptian record has recovered from
oblivion, and thenceforward we will speak of them as
Athenians and fellow-citizens.
Soc. I see that I shall receive in my turn a
perfect and splendid feast of reason. And now,
Timaeus, you, I suppose, should speak next, after
duly calling upon the Gods.
Tim. All men, Socrates, who have any degree
of right feeling, at the beginning of every
enterprise, whether small or great, always call upon
God. And we, too, who are going to discourse of the
nature of the universe, how created or how existing
without creation, if we be not altogether out of our
wits, must invoke the aid of Gods and Goddesses and
pray that our words may be acceptable to them and
consistent with themselves. Let this, then, be our
invocation of the Gods, to which I add an
exhortation of myself to speak in such manner as
will be most intelligible to you, and will most
accord with my own intent.
First then, in my judgment, we must make a
distinction and ask, What is that which always is
and has no becoming; and what is that which is
always becoming and never is? That which is
apprehended by intelligence and reason is always in
the same state; but that which is conceived by
opinion with the help of sensation and without
reason, is always in a process of becoming and
perishing and never really is. Now everything that
becomes or is created must of necessity be created
by some cause, for without a cause nothing can be
created. The work of the creator, whenever he looks
to the unchangeable and fashions the form and nature
of his work after an unchangeable pattern, must
necessarily be made fair and perfect; but when he
looks to the created only, and uses a created
pattern, it is not fair or perfect. Was the heaven
then or the world, whether called by this or by any
other more appropriate name-assuming the name, I am
asking a question which has to be asked at the
beginning of an enquiry about anything-was the
world, I say, always in existence and without
beginning? or created, and had it a beginning?
Created, I reply, being visible and tangible and
having a body, and therefore sensible; and all
sensible things are apprehended by opinion and sense
and are in a process of creation and created. Now
that which is created must, as we affirm, of
necessity be created by a cause. But the father and
maker of all this universe is past finding out; and
even if we found him, to tell of him to all men
would be impossible. And there is still a question
to be asked about him: Which of the patterns had the
artificer in view when he made the world-the pattern
of the unchangeable, or of that which is created? If
the world be indeed fair and the artificer good, it
is manifest that he must have looked to that which
is eternal; but if what cannot be said without
blasphemy is true, then to the created pattern.
Every one will see that he must have looked to, the
eternal; for the world is the fairest of creations
and he is the best of causes. And having been
created in this way, the world has been framed in
the likeness of that which is apprehended by reason
and mind and is unchangeable, and must therefore of
necessity, if this is admitted, be a copy of
something. Now it is all-important that the
beginning of everything should be according to
nature. And in speaking of the copy and the original
we may assume that words are akin to the matter
which they describe; when they relate to the lasting
and permanent and intelligible, they ought to be
lasting and unalterable, and, as far as their nature
allows, irrefutable and immovable-nothing less. But
when they express only the copy or likeness and not
the eternal things themselves, they need only be
likely and analogous to the real words. As being is
to becoming, so is truth to belief. If then,
Socrates, amid the many opinions about the gods and
the generation of the universe, we are not able to
give notions which are altogether and in every
respect exact and consistent with one another, do
not be surprised. Enough, if we adduce probabilities
as likely as any others; for we must remember that I
who am the speaker, and you who are the judges, are
only mortal men, and we ought to accept the tale
which is probable and enquire no further.
Soc. Excellent, Timaeus; and we will do
precisely as you bid us. The prelude is charming,
and is already accepted by us-may we beg of you to
proceed to the strain?
Tim. Let me tell you then why the creator
made this world of generation. He was good, and the
good can never have any jealousy of anything. And
being free from jealousy, he desired that all things
should be as like himself as they could be. This is
in the truest sense the origin of creation and of
the world, as we shall do well in believing on the
testimony of wise men: God desired that all things
should be good and nothing bad, so far as this was
attainable. Wherefore also finding the whole visible
sphere not at rest, but moving in an irregular and
disorderly fashion, out of disorder he brought
order, considering that this was in every way better
than the other. Now the deeds of the best could
never be or have been other than the fairest; and
the creator, reflecting on the things which are by
nature visible, found that no unintelligent creature
taken as a whole was fairer than the intelligent
taken as a whole; and that intelligence could not be
present in anything which was devoid of soul. For
which reason, when he was framing the universe, he
put intelligence in soul, and soul in body, that he
might be the creator of a work which was by nature
fairest and best. Wherefore, using the language of
probability, we may say that the world became a
living creature truly endowed with soul and
intelligence by the providence of God.
This being supposed, let us proceed to the next
stage: In the likeness of what animal did the
Creator make the world? It would be an unworthy
thing to liken it to any nature which exists as a
part only; for nothing can be beautiful which is
like any imperfect thing; but let us suppose the
world to be the very image of that whole of which
all other animals both individually and in their
tribes are portions. For the original of the
universe contains in itself all intelligible beings,
just as this world comprehends us and all other
visible creatures. For the Deity, intending to make
this world like the fairest and most perfect of
intelligible beings, framed one visible animal
comprehending within itself all other animals of a
kindred nature. Are we right in saying that there is
one world, or that they are many and infinite? There
must be one only, if the created copy is to accord
with the original. For that which includes all other
intelligible creatures cannot have a second or
companion; in that case there would be need of
another living being which would include both, and
of which they would be parts, and the likeness would
be more truly said to resemble not them, but that
other which included them. In order then that the
world might be solitary, like the perfect animal,
the creator made not two worlds or an infinite
number of them; but there is and ever will be one
only-begotten and created heaven.
Now that which is created is of necessity corporeal,
and also visible and tangible. And nothing is
visible where there is no fire, or tangible which
has no solidity, and nothing is solid without earth.
Wherefore also God in the beginning of creation made
the body of the universe to consist of fire and
earth. But two things cannot be rightly put together
without a third; there must be some bond of union
between them. And the fairest bond is that which
makes the most complete fusion of itself and the
things which it combines; and proportion is best
adapted to effect such a union. For whenever in any
three numbers, whether cube or square, there is a
mean, which is to the last term what the first term
is to it; and again, when the mean is to the first
term as the last term is to the mean-then the mean
becoming first and last, and the first and last both
becoming means, they will all of them of necessity
come to be the same, and having become the same with
one another will be all one. If the universal frame
had been created a surface only and having no depth,
a single mean would have sufficed to bind together
itself and the other terms; but now, as the world
must be solid, and solid bodies are always compacted
not by one mean but by two, God placed water and air
in the mean between fire and earth, and made them to
have the same proportion so far as was possible (as
fire is to air so is air to water, and as air is to
water so is water to earth); and thus he bound and
put together a visible and tangible heaven. And for
these reasons, and out of such elements which are in
number four, the body of the world was created, and
it was harmonised by proportion, and therefore has
the spirit of friendship; and having been reconciled
to itself, it was indissoluble by the hand of any
other than the framer.
Now the creation took up the whole of each of the
four elements; for the Creator compounded the world
out of all the fire and all the water and all the
air and all the earth, leaving no part of any of
them nor any power of them outside. His intention
was, in the first place, that the animal should be
as far as possible a perfect whole and of perfect
parts: secondly, that it should be one, leaving no
remnants out of which another such world might be
created: and also that it should be free from old
age and unaffected by disease. Considering that if
heat and cold and other powerful forces which unite
bodies surround and attack them from without when
they are unprepared, they decompose them, and by
bringing diseases and old age upon them, make them
waste away-for this cause and on these grounds he
made the world one whole, having every part entire,
and being therefore perfect and not liable to old
age and disease. And he gave to the world the figure
which was suitable and also natural. Now to the
animal which was to comprehend all animals, that
figure was suitable which comprehends within itself
all other figures. Wherefore he made the world in
the form of a globe, round as from a lathe, having
its extremes in every direction equidistant from the
centre, the most perfect and the most like itself of
all figures; for he considered that the like is
infinitely fairer than the unlike. This he finished
off, making the surface smooth all around for many
reasons; in the first place, because the living
being had no need of eyes when there was nothing
remaining outside him to be seen; nor of ears when
there was nothing to be heard; and there was no
surrounding atmosphere to be breathed; nor would
there have been any use of organs by the help of
which he might receive his food or get rid of what
he had already digested, since there was nothing
which went from him or came into him: for there was
nothing beside him. Of design he was created thus,
his own waste providing his own food, and all that
he did or suffered taking place in and by himself.
For the Creator conceived that a being which was
self-sufficient would be far more excellent than one
which lacked anything; and, as he had no need to
take anything or defend himself against any one, the
Creator did not think it necessary to bestow upon
him hands: nor had he any need of feet, nor of the
whole apparatus of walking; but the movement suited
to his spherical form was assigned to him, being of
all the seven that which is most appropriate to mind
and intelligence; and he was made to move in the
same manner and on the same spot, within his own
limits revolving in a circle. All the other six
motions were taken away from him, and he was made
not to partake of their deviations. And as this
circular movement required no feet, the universe was
created without legs and without feet.
Such was the whole plan of the eternal God about the
god that was to be, to whom for this reason he gave
a body, smooth and even, having a surface in every
direction equidistant from the centre, a body entire
and perfect, and formed out of perfect bodies. And
in the centre he put the soul, which he diffused
throughout the body, making it also to be the
exterior environment of it; and he made the universe
a circle moving in a circle, one and solitary, yet
by reason of its excellence able to converse with
itself, and needing no other friendship or
acquaintance. Having these purposes in view he
created the world a blessed god.
Now God did not make the soul after the body,
although we are speaking of them in this order; for
having brought them together he would never have
allowed that the elder should be ruled by the
younger; but this is a random manner of speaking
which we have, because somehow we ourselves too are
very much under the dominion of chance. Whereas he
made the soul in origin and excellence prior to and
older than the body, to be the ruler and mistress,
of whom the body was to be the subject. And he made
her out of the following elements and on this wise:
Out of the indivisible and unchangeable, and also
out of that which is divisible and has to do with
material bodies, he compounded a third and
intermediate kind of essence, partaking of the
nature of the same and of the other, and this
compound he placed accordingly in a mean between the
indivisible, and the divisible and material. He took
the three elements of the same, the other, and the
essence, and mingled them into one form, compressing
by force the reluctant and unsociable nature of the
other into the same. When he had mingled them with
the essence and out of three made one, he again
divided this whole into as many portions as was
fitting, each portion being a compound of the same,
the other, and the essence. And he proceeded to
divide after this manner:-First of all, he took away
one part of the whole [1], and then he separated a
second part which was double the first [2], and then
he took away a third part which was half as much
again as the second and three times as much as the
first [3], and then he took a fourth part which was
twice as much as the second [4], and a fifth part
which was three times the third [9], and a sixth
part which was eight times the first [8], and a
seventh part which was twenty-seven times the first
[27]. After this he filled up the double intervals
[i.e. between 1, 2, 4, 8] and the triple [i.e.
between 1, 3, 9, 27] cutting off yet other portions
from the mixture and placing them in the intervals,
so that in each interval there were two kinds of
means, the one exceeding and exceeded by equal parts
of its extremes [as for example 1, 4/3, 2, in which
the mean 4/3 is one-third of 1 more than 1, and
one-third of 2 less than 2], the other being that
kind of mean which exceeds and is exceeded by an
equal number. Where there were intervals of 3/2 and
of 4/3 and of 9/8, made by the connecting terms in
the former intervals, he filled up all the intervals
of 4/3 with the interval of 9/8, leaving a fraction
over; and the interval which this fraction expressed
was in the ratio of 256 to 243. And thus the whole
mixture out of which he cut these portions was all
exhausted by him. This entire compound he divided
lengthways into two parts, which he joined to one
another at the centre like the letter X, and bent
them into a circular form, connecting them with
themselves and each other at the point opposite to
their original meeting-point; and, comprehending
them in a uniform revolution upon the same axis, he
made the one the outer and the other the inner
circle. Now the motion of the outer circle he called
the motion of the same, and the motion of the inner
circle the motion of the other or diverse. The
motion of the same he carried round by the side to
the right, and the motion of the diverse diagonally
to the left. And he gave dominion to the motion of
the same and like, for that he left single and
undivided; but the inner motion he divided in six
places and made seven unequal circles having their
intervals in ratios of two-and three, three of each,
and bade the orbits proceed in a direction opposite
to one another; and three [Sun, Mercury, Venus] he
made to move with equal swiftness, and the remaining
four [Moon, Saturn, Mars, Jupiter] to move with
unequal swiftness to the three and to one another,
but in due proportion.
Now when the Creator had framed the soul according
to his will, he formed within her the corporeal
universe, and brought the two together, and united
them centre to centre. The soul, interfused
everywhere from the centre to the circumference of
heaven, of which also she is the external
envelopment, herself turning in herself, began a
divine beginning of never ceasing and rational life
enduring throughout all time. The body of heaven is
visible, but the soul is invisible, and partakes of
reason and harmony, and being made by the best of
intellectual and everlasting natures, is the best of
things created. And because she is composed of the
same and of the other and of the essence, these
three, and is divided and united in due proportion,
and in her revolutions returns upon herself, the
soul, when touching anything which has essence,
whether dispersed in parts or undivided, is stirred
through all her powers, to declare the sameness or
difference of that thing and some other; and to what
individuals are related, and by what affected, and
in what way and how and when, both in the world of
generation and in the world of immutable being. And
when reason, which works with equal truth, whether
she be in the circle of the diverse or of the
same-in voiceless silence holding her onward course
in the sphere of the self-moved-when reason, I say,
is hovering around the sensible world and when the
circle of the diverse also moving truly imparts the
intimations of sense to the whole soul, then arise
opinions and beliefs sure and certain. But when
reason is concerned with the rational, and the
circle of the same moving smoothly declares it, then
intelligence and knowledge are necessarily
perfected. And if any one affirms that in which
these two are found to be other than the soul, he
will say the very opposite of the truth.
When the father creator saw the creature which he
had made moving and living, the created image of the
eternal gods, he rejoiced, and in his joy determined
to make the copy still more like the original; and
as this was eternal, he sought to make the universe
eternal, so far as might be. Now the nature of the
ideal being was everlasting, but to bestow this
attribute in its fulness upon a creature was
impossible. Wherefore he resolved to have a moving
image of eternity, and when he set in order the
heaven, he made this image eternal but moving
according to number, while eternity itself rests in
unity; and this image we call time. For there were
no days and nights and months and years before the
heaven was created, but when he constructed the
heaven he created them also. They are all parts of
time, and the past and future are created species of
time, which we unconsciously but wrongly transfer to
the eternal essence; for we say that he "was," he
"is," he "will be," but the truth is that "is" alone
is properly attributed to him, and that "was" and
"will be" only to be spoken of becoming in time, for
they are motions, but that which is immovably the
same cannot become older or younger by time, nor
ever did or has become, or hereafter will be, older
or younger, nor is subject at all to any of those
states which affect moving and sensible things and
of which generation is the cause. These are the
forms of time, which imitates eternity and revolves
according to a law of number. Moreover, when we say
that what has become is become and what becomes is
becoming, and that what will become is about to
become and that the non-existent is non-existent-all
these are inaccurate modes of expression. But
perhaps this whole subject will be more suitably
discussed on some other occasion.
Time, then, and the heaven came into being at the
same instant in order that, having been created
together, if ever there was to be a dissolution of
them, they might be dissolved together. It was
framed after the pattern of the eternal nature, that
it might resemble this as far as was possible; for
the pattern exists from eternity, and the created
heaven has been, and is, and will be, in all time.
Such was the mind and thought of God in the creation
of time. The sun and moon and five other stars,
which are called the planets, were created by him in
order to distinguish and preserve the numbers of
time; and when he had made-their several bodies, he
placed them in the orbits in which the circle of the
other was revolving-in seven orbits seven stars.
First, there was the moon in the orbit nearest the
earth, and next the sun, in the second orbit above
the earth; then came the morning star and the star
sacred to Hermes, moving in orbits which have an
equal swiftness with the sun, but in an opposite
direction; and this is the reason why the sun and
Hermes and Lucifer overtake and are overtaken by
each other. To enumerate the places which he
assigned to the other stars, and to give all the
reasons why he assigned them, although a secondary
matter, would give more trouble than the primary.
These things at some future time, when we are at
leisure, may have the consideration which they
deserve, but not at present.
Now, when all the stars which were necessary to the
creation of time had attained a motion suitable to
them,-and had become living creatures having bodies
fastened by vital chains, and learnt their appointed
task, moving in the motion of the diverse, which is
diagonal, and passes through and is governed by the
motion of the same, they revolved, some in a larger
and some in a lesser orbit-those which had the
lesser orbit revolving faster, and those which had
the larger more slowly. Now by reason of the motion
of the same, those which revolved fastest appeared
to be overtaken by those which moved slower although
they really overtook them; for the motion of the
same made them all turn in a spiral, and, because
some went one way and some another, that which
receded most slowly from the sphere of the same,
which was the swiftest, appeared to follow it most
nearly. That there might be some visible measure of
their relative swiftness and slowness as they
proceeded in their eight courses, God lighted a
fire, which we now call the sun, in the second from
the earth of these orbits, that it might give light
to the whole of heaven, and that the animals, as
many as nature intended, might participate in
number, learning arithmetic from the revolution of
the same and the like. Thus then, and for this
reason the night and the day were created, being the
period of the one most intelligent revolution. And
the month is accomplished when the moon has
completed her orbit and overtaken the sun, and the
year when the sun has completed his own orbit.
Mankind, with hardly an exception, have not remarked
the periods of the other stars, and they have no
name for them, and do not measure them against one
another by the help of number, and hence they can
scarcely be said to know that their wanderings,
being infinite in number and admirable for their
variety, make up time. And yet there is no
difficulty in seeing that the perfect number of time
fulfils the perfect year when all the eight
revolutions, having their relative degrees of
swiftness, are accomplished together and attain
their completion at the same time, measured by the
rotation of the same and equally moving. After this
manner, and for these reasons, came into being such
of the stars as in their heavenly progress received
reversals of motion, to the end that the created
heaven might imitate the eternal nature, and be as
like as possible to the perfect and intelligible
animal.
Thus far and until the birth of time the created
universe was made in the likeness of the original,
but inasmuch as all animals were not yet
comprehended therein, it was still unlike. What
remained, the creator then proceeded to fashion
after the nature of the pattern. Now as in the ideal
animal the mind perceives ideas or species of a
certain nature and number, he thought that this
created animal ought to have species of a like
nature and number. There are four such; one of them
is the heavenly race of the gods; another, the race
of birds whose way is in the air; the third, the
watery species; and the fourth, the pedestrian and
land creatures. Of the heavenly and divine, he
created the greater part out of fire, that they
might be the brightest of all things and fairest to
behold, and he fashioned them after the likeness of
the universe in the figure of a circle, and made
them follow the intelligent motion of the supreme,
distributing them over the whole circumference of
heaven, which was to be a true cosmos or glorious
world spangled with them all over. And he gave to
each of them two movements: the first, a movement on
the same spot after the same manner, whereby they
ever continue to think consistently the same
thoughts about the same things; the second, a
forward movement, in which they are controlled by
the revolution of the same and the like; but by the
other five motions they were unaffected, in order
that each of them might attain the highest
perfection. And for this reason the fixed stars were
created, to be divine and eternal animals,
ever-abiding and revolving after the same manner and
on the same spot; and the other stars which reverse
their motion and are subject to deviations of this
kind, were created in the manner already described.
The earth, which is our nurse, clinging around the
pole which is extended through the universe, he
framed to be the guardian and artificer of night and
day, first and eldest of gods that are in the
interior of heaven. Vain would be the attempt to
tell all the figures of them circling as in dance,
and their juxtapositions, and the return of them in
their revolutions upon themselves, and their
approximations, and to say which of these deities in
their conjunctions meet, and which of them are in
opposition, and in what order they get behind and
before one another, and when they are severally
eclipsed to our sight and again reappear, sending
terrors and intimations of the future to those who
cannot calculate their movements-to attempt to tell
of all this without a visible representation of the
heavenly system would be labour in vain. Enough on
this head; and now let what we have said about the
nature of the created and visible gods have an end.
To know or tell the origin of the other divinities
is beyond us, and we must accept the traditions of
the men of old time who affirm themselves to be the
offspring of the gods-that is what they say-and they
must surely have known their own ancestors. How can
we doubt the word of the children of the gods?
Although they give no probable or certain proofs,
still, as they declare that they are speaking of
what took place in their own family, we must conform
to custom and believe them. In this manner, then,
according to them, the genealogy of these gods is to
be received and set forth.
Oceanus and Tethys were the children of Earth and
Heaven, and from these sprang Phorcys and Cronos and
Rhea, and all that generation; and from Cronos and
Rhea sprang Zeus and Here, and all those who are
said to be their brethren, and others who were the
children of these.
Now, when all of them, both those who visibly appear
in their revolutions as well as those other gods who
are of a more retiring nature, had come into being,
the creator of the universe addressed them in these
words: "Gods, children of gods, who are my works,
and of whom I am the artificer and father, my
creations are indissoluble, if so I will. All that
is bound may be undone, but only an evil being would
wish to undo that which is harmonious and happy.
Wherefore, since ye are but creatures, ye are not
altogether immortal and indissoluble, but ye shall
certainly not be dissolved, nor be liable to the
fate of death, having in my will a greater and
mightier bond than those with which ye were bound at
the time of your birth. And now listen to my
instructions:-Three tribes of mortal beings remain
to be created-without them the universe will be
incomplete, for it will not contain every kind of
animal which it ought to contain, if it is to be
perfect. On the other hand, if they were created by
me and received life at my hands, they would be on
an equality with the gods. In order then that they
may be mortal, and that this universe may be truly
universal, do ye, according to your natures, betake
yourselves to the formation of animals, imitating
the power which was shown by me in creating you. The
part of them worthy of the name immortal, which is
called divine and is the guiding principle of those
who are willing to follow justice and you-of that
divine part I will myself sow the seed, and having
made a beginning, I will hand the work over to you.
And do ye then interweave the mortal with the
immortal, and make and beget living creatures, and
give them food, and make them to grow, and receive
them again in death."
Thus he spake, and once more into the cup in which
he had previously mingled the soul of the universe
he poured the remains of the elements, and mingled
them in much the same manner; they were not,
however, pure as before, but diluted to the second
and third degree. And having made it he divided the
whole mixture into souls equal in number to the
stars, and assigned each soul to a star; and having
there placed them as in a chariot, he showed them
the nature of the universe, and declared to them the
laws of destiny, according to which their first
birth would be one and the same for all,-no one
should suffer a disadvantage at his hands; they were
to be sown in the instruments of time severally
adapted to them, and to come forth the most
religious of animals; and as human nature was of two
kinds, the superior race would here after be called
man. Now, when they should be implanted in bodies by
necessity, and be always gaining or losing some part
of their bodily substance, then in the first place
it would be necessary that they should all have in
them one and the same faculty of sensation, arising
out of irresistible impressions; in the second
place, they must have love, in which pleasure and
pain mingle; also fear and anger, and the feelings
which are akin or opposite to them; if they
conquered these they would live righteously, and if
they were conquered by them, unrighteously. He who
lived well during his appointed time was to return
and dwell in his native star, and there he would
have a blessed and congenial existence. But if he
failed in attaining this, at the second birth he
would pass into a woman, and if, when in that state
of being, he did not desist from evil, he would
continually be changed into some brute who resembled
him in the evil nature which he had acquired, and
would not cease from his toils and transformations
until he followed the revolution of the same and the
like within him, and overcame by the help of reason
the turbulent and irrational mob of later
accretions, made up of fire and air and water and
earth, and returned to the form of his first and
better state. Having given all these laws to his
creatures, that he might be guiltless of future evil
in any of them, the creator sowed some of them in
the earth, and some in the moon, and some in the
other instruments of time; and when he had sown them
he committed to the younger gods the fashioning of
their mortal bodies, and desired them to furnish
what was still lacking to the human soul, and having
made all the suitable additions, to rule over them,
and to pilot the mortal animal in the best and
wisest manner which they could, and avert from him
all but self-inflicted evils.
When the creator had made all these ordinances he
remained in his own accustomed nature, and his
children heard and were obedient to their father's
word, and receiving from him the immortal principle
of a mortal creature, in imitation of their own
creator they borrowed portions of fire, and earth,
and water, and air from the world, which were
hereafter to be restored-these they took and welded
them together, not with the indissoluble chains by
which they were themselves bound, but with little
pegs too small to be visible, making up out of all
the four elements each separate body, and fastening
the courses of the immortal soul in a body which was
in a state of perpetual influx and efflux. Now these
courses, detained as in a vast river, neither
overcame nor were overcome; but were hurrying and
hurried to and fro, so that the whole animal was
moved and progressed, irregularly however and
irrationally and anyhow, in all the six directions
of motion, wandering backwards and forwards, and
right and left, and up and down, and in all the six
directions. For great as was the advancing and
retiring flood which provided nourishment, the
affections produced by external contact caused still
greater tumult-when the body of any one met and came
into collision with some external fire, or with the
solid earth or the gliding waters, or was caught in
the tempest borne on the air, and the motions
produced by any of these impulses were carried
through the body to the soul. All such motions have
consequently received the general name of
"sensations," which they still retain. And they did
in fact at that time create a very great and mighty
movement; uniting with the ever flowing stream in
stirring up and violently shaking the courses of the
soul, they completely stopped the revolution of the
same by their opposing current, and hindered it from
predominating and advancing; and they so disturbed
the nature of the other or diverse, that the three
double intervals [i.e. between 1, 2, 4, 8], and the
three triple intervals [i.e. between 1, 3, 9, 27],
together with the mean terms and connecting links
which are expressed by the ratios of 3 : 2, and 4 :
3, and of 9 : 8-these, although they cannot be
wholly undone except by him who united them, were
twisted by them in all sorts of ways, and the
circles were broken and disordered in every possible
manner, so that when they moved they were tumbling
to pieces, and moved irrationally, at one time in a
reverse direction, and then again obliquely, and
then upside down, as you might imagine a person who
is upside down and has his head leaning upon the
ground and his feet up against something in the air;
and when he is in such a position, both he and the
spectator fancy that the right of either is his
left, and left right. If, when powerfully
experiencing these and similar effects, the
revolutions of the soul come in contact with some
external thing, either of the class of the same or
of the other, they speak of the same or of the other
in a manner the very opposite of the truth; and they
become false and foolish, and there is no course or
revolution in them which has a guiding or directing
power; and if again any sensations enter in
violently from without and drag after them the whole
vessel of the soul, then the courses of the soul,
though they seem to conquer, are really conquered.
And by reason of all these affections, the soul,
when encased in a mortal body, now, as in the
beginning, is at first without intelligence; but
when the flood of growth and nutriment abates, and
the courses of the soul, calming down, go their own
way and become steadier as time goes on, then the
several circles return to their natural form, and
their revolutions are corrected, and they call the
same and the other by their right names, and make
the possessor of them to become a rational being.
And if these combine in him with any true nurture or
education, he attains the fulness and health of the
perfect man, and escapes the worst disease of all;
but if he neglects education he walks lame to the
end of his life, and returns imperfect and good for
nothing to the world below. This, however, is a
later stage; at present we must treat more exactly
the subject before us, which involves a preliminary
enquiry into the generation of the body and its
members, and as to how the soul was created-for what
reason and by what providence of the gods; and
holding fast to probability, we must pursue our way.
First, then, the gods, imitating the spherical shape
of the universe, enclosed the two divine courses in
a spherical body, that, namely, which we now term
the head, being the most divine part of us and the
lord of all that is in us: to this the gods, when
they put together the body, gave all the other
members to be servants, considering that it partook
of every sort of motion. In order then that it might
not tumble about among the high and deep places of
the earth, but might be able to get over the one and
out of the other, they provided the body to be its
vehicle and means of locomotion; which consequently
had length and was furnished with four limbs
extended and flexible; these God contrived to be
instruments of locomotion with which it might take
hold and find support, and so be able to pass
through all places, carrying on high the
dwelling-place of the most sacred and divine part of
us. Such was the origin of legs and hands, which for
this reason were attached to every man; and the
gods, deeming the front part of man to be more
honourable and more fit to command than the hinder
part, made us to move mostly in a forward direction.
Wherefore man must needs have his front part unlike
and distinguished from the rest of his body.
And so in the vessel of the head, they first of all
put a face in which they inserted organs to minister
in all things to the providence of the soul, and
they appointed this part, which has authority, to be
by nature the part which is in front. And of the
organs they first contrived the eyes to give light,
and the principle according to which they were
inserted was as follows: So much of fire as would
not burn, but gave a gentle light, they formed into
a substance akin to the light of every-day life; and
the pure fire which is within us and related thereto
they made to flow through the eyes in a stream
smooth and dense, compressing the whole eye, and
especially the centre part, so that it kept out
everything of a coarser nature, and allowed to pass
only this pure element. When the light of day
surrounds the stream of vision, then like falls upon
like, and they coalesce, and one body is formed by
natural affinity in the line of vision, wherever the
light that falls from within meets with an external
object. And the whole stream of vision, being
similarly affected in virtue of similarity, diffuses
the motions of what it touches or what touches it
over the whole body, until they reach the soul,
causing that perception which we call sight. But
when night comes on and the external and kindred
fire departs, then the stream of vision is cut off;
for going forth to an unlike element it is changed
and extinguished, being no longer of one nature with
the surrounding atmosphere which is now deprived of
fire: and so the eye no longer sees, and we feel
disposed to sleep. For when the eyelids, which the
gods invented for the preservation of sight, are
closed, they keep in the internal fire; and the
power of the fire diffuses and equalises the inward
motions; when they are equalised, there is rest, and
when the rest is profound, sleep comes over us
scarce disturbed by dreams; but where the greater
motions still remain, of whatever nature and in
whatever locality, they engender corresponding
visions in dreams, which are remembered by us when
we are awake and in the external world. And now
there is no longer any difficulty in understanding
the creation of images in mirrors and all smooth and
bright surfaces. For from the communion of the
internal and external fires, and again from the
union of them and their numerous transformations
when they meet in the mirror, all these appearances
of necessity arise, when the fire from the face
coalesces with the fire from the eye on the bright
and smooth surface. And right appears left and left
right, because the visual rays come into contact
with the rays emitted by the object in a manner
contrary to the usual mode of meeting; but the right
appears right, and the left left, when the position
of one of the two concurring lights is reversed; and
this happens when the mirror is concave and its
smooth surface repels the right stream of vision to
the left side, and the left to the right. Or if the
mirror be turned vertically, then the concavity
makes the countenance appear to be all upside down,
and the lower rays are driven upwards and the upper
downwards.
All these are to be reckoned among the second and
co-operative causes which God, carrying into
execution the idea of the best as far as possible,
uses as his ministers. They are thought by most men
not to be the second, but the prime causes of all
things, because they freeze and heat, and contract
and dilate, and the like. But they are not so, for
they are incapable of reason or intellect; the only
being which can properly have mind is the invisible
soul, whereas fire and water, and earth and air, are
all of them visible bodies. The lover of intellect
and knowledge ought to explore causes of intelligent
nature first of all, and, secondly, of those things
which, being moved by others, are compelled to move
others. And this is what we too must do. Both kinds
of causes should be acknowledged by us, but a
distinction should be made between those which are
endowed with mind and are the workers of things fair
and good, and those which are deprived of
intelligence and always produce chance effects
without order or design. Of the second or
co-operative causes of sight, which help to give to
the eyes the power which they now possess, enough
has been said. I will therefore now proceed to speak
of the higher use and purpose for which God has
given them to us. The sight in my opinion is the
source of the greatest benefit to us, for had we
never seen the stars, and the sun, and the heaven,
none of the words which we have spoken about the
universe would ever have been uttered. But now the
sight of day and night, and the months and the
revolutions of the years, have created number, and
have given us a conception of time, and the power of
enquiring about the nature of the universe; and from
this source we have derived philosophy, than which
no greater good ever was or will be given by the
gods to mortal man. This is the greatest boon of
sight: and of the lesser benefits why should I
speak? even the ordinary man if he were deprived of
them would bewail his loss, but in vain. Thus much
let me say however: God invented and gave us sight
to the end that we might behold the courses of
intelligence in the heaven, and apply them to the
courses of our own intelligence which are akin to
them, the unperturbed to the perturbed; and that we,
learning them and partaking of the natural truth of
reason, might imitate the absolutely unerring
courses of God and regulate our own vagaries. The
same may be affirmed of speech and hearing: they
have been given by the gods to the same end and for
a like reason. For this is the principal end of
speech, whereto it most contributes. Moreover, so
much of music as is adapted to the sound of the
voice and to the sense of hearing is granted to us
for the sake of harmony; and harmony, which has
motions akin to the revolutions of our souls, is not
regarded by the intelligent votary of the Muses as
given by them with a view to irrational pleasure,
which is deemed to be the purpose of it in our day,
but as meant to correct any discord which may have
arisen in the courses of the soul, and to be our
ally in bringing her into harmony and agreement with
herself; and rhythm too was given by them for the
same reason, on account of the irregular and
graceless ways which prevail among mankind
generally, and to help us against them.
Thus far in what we have been saying, with small
exception, the works of intelligence have been set
forth; and now we must place by the side of them in
our discourse the things which come into being
through necessity-for the creation is mixed, being
made up of necessity and mind. Mind, the ruling
power, persuaded necessity to bring the greater part
of created things to perfection, and thus and after
this manner in the beginning, when the influence of
reason got the better of necessity, the universe was
created. But if a person will truly tell of the way
in which the work was accomplished, he must include
the other influence of the variable cause as well.
Wherefore, we must return again and find another
suitable beginning, as about the former matters, so
also about these. To which end we must consider the
nature of fire, and water, and air, and earth, such
as they were prior to the creation of the heaven,
and what was happening to them in this previous
state; for no one has as yet explained the manner of
their generation, but we speak of fire and the rest
of them, whatever they mean, as though men knew
their natures, and we maintain them to be the first
principles and letters or elements of the whole,
when they cannot reasonably be compared by a man of
any sense even to syllables or first compounds. And
let me say thus much: I will not now speak of the
first principle or principles of all things, or by
whatever name they are to be called, for this
reason-because it is difficult to set forth my
opinion according to the method of discussion which
we are at present employing. Do not imagine, any
more than I can bring myself to imagine, that I
should be right in undertaking so great and
difficult a task. Remembering what I said at first
about probability, I will do my best to give as
probable an explanation as any other-or rather, more
probable; and I will first go back to the beginning
and try to speak of each thing and of all. Once
more, then, at the commencement of my discourse, I
call upon God, and beg him to be our saviour out of
a strange and unwonted enquiry, and to bring us to
the haven of probability. So now let us begin again.
This new beginning of our discussion of the universe
requires a fuller division than the former; for then
we made two classes, now a third must be revealed.
The two sufficed for the former discussion: one,
which we assumed, was a pattern intelligible and
always the same; and the second was only the
imitation of the pattern, generated and visible.
There is also a third kind which we did not
distinguish at the time, conceiving that the two
would be enough. But now the argument seems to
require that we should set forth in words another
kind, which is difficult of explanation and dimly
seen. What nature are we to attribute to this new
kind of being? We reply, that it is the receptacle,
and in a manner the nurse, of all generation. I have
spoken the truth; but I must express myself in
clearer language, and this will be an arduous task
for many reasons, and in particular because I must
first raise questions concerning fire and the other
elements, and determine what each of them is; for to
say, with any probability or certitude, which of
them should be called water rather than fire, and
which should be called any of them rather than all
or some one of them, is a difficult matter. How,
then, shall we settle this point, and what questions
about the elements may be fairly raised?
In the first place, we see that what we just now
called water, by condensation, I suppose, becomes
stone and earth; and this same element, when melted
and dispersed, passes into vapour and air. Air,
again, when inflamed, becomes fire; and again fire,
when condensed and extinguished, passes once more
into the form of air; and once more, air, when
collected and condensed, produces cloud and mist;
and from these, when still more compressed, comes
flowing water, and from water comes earth and stones
once more; and thus generation appears to be
transmitted from one to the other in a circle. Thus,
then, as the several elements never present
themselves in the same form, how can any one have
the assurance to assert positively that any of them,
whatever it may be, is one thing rather than
another? No one can. But much the safest plan is to
speak of them as follows:-Anything which we see to
be continually changing, as, for example, fire, we
must not call "this" or "that," but rather say that
it is "of such a nature"; nor let us speak of water
as "this"; but always as "such"; nor must we imply
that there is any stability in any of those things
which we indicate by the use of the words "this" and
"that," supposing ourselves to signify something
thereby; for they are too volatile to be detained in
any such expressions as "this," or "that," or
"relative to this," or any other mode of speaking
which represents them as permanent. We ought not to
apply "this" to any of them, but rather the word
"such"; which expresses the similar principle
circulating in each and all of them; for example,
that should be called "fire" which is of such a
nature always, and so of everything that has
generation. That in which the elements severally
grow up, and appear, and decay, is alone to be
called by the name "this" or "that"; but that which
is of a certain nature, hot or white, or anything
which admits of opposite equalities, and all things
that are compounded of them, ought not to be so
denominated. Let me make another attempt to explain
my meaning more clearly. Suppose a person to make
all kinds of figures of gold and to be always
transmuting one form into all the rest-somebody
points to one of them and asks what it is. By far
the safest and truest answer is, That is gold; and
not to call the triangle or any other figures which
are formed in the gold "these," as though they had
existence, since they are in process of change while
he is making the assertion; but if the questioner be
willing to take the safe and indefinite expression,
"such," we should be satisfied. And the same
argument applies to the universal nature which
receives all bodies-that must be always called the
same; for, while receiving all things, she never
departs at all from her own nature, and never in any
way, or at any time, assumes a form like that of any
of the things which enter into her; she is the
natural recipient of all impressions, and is stirred
and informed by them, and appears different from
time to time by reason of them. But the forms which
enter into and go out of her are the likenesses of
real existences modelled after their patterns in
wonderful and inexplicable manner, which we will
hereafter investigate. For the present we have only
to conceive of three natures: first, that which is
in process of generation; secondly, that in which
the generation takes place; and thirdly, that of
which the thing generated is a resemblance. And we
may liken the receiving principle to a mother, and
the source or spring to a father, and the
intermediate nature to a child; and may remark
further, that if the model is to take every variety
of form, then the matter in which the model is
fashioned will not be duly prepared, unless it is
formless, and free from the impress of any of these
shapes which it is hereafter to receive from
without. For if the matter were like any of the
supervening forms, then whenever any opposite or
entirely different nature was stamped upon its
surface, it would take the impression badly, because
it would intrude its own shape. Wherefore, that
which is to receive all forms should have no form;
as in making perfumes they first contrive that the
liquid substance which is to receive the scent shall
be as inodorous as possible; or as those who wish to
impress figures on soft substances do not allow any
previous impression to remain, but begin by making
the surface as even and smooth as possible. In the
same way that which is to receive perpetually and
through its whole extent the resemblances of all |