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data/aristotle_categories.txt

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+Produced by Glyn Hughes.  HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+The Categories
+
+By
+
+Aristotle
+
+Translated by E. M. Edghill
+
+Section 1
+
+Part 1
+
+Things are said to be named 'equivocally' when, though they have a
+common name, the definition corresponding with the name differs for
+each. Thus, a real man and a figure in a picture can both lay claim to
+the name 'animal'; yet these are equivocally so named, for, though they
+have a common name, the definition corresponding with the name differs
+for each. For should any one define in what sense each is an animal,
+his definition in the one case will be appropriate to that case only.
+
+On the other hand, things are said to be named 'univocally' which have
+both the name and the definition answering to the name in common. A man
+and an ox are both 'animal', and these are univocally so named,
+inasmuch as not only the name, but also the definition, is the same in
+both cases: for if a man should state in what sense each is an animal,
+the statement in the one case would be identical with that in the other.
+
+Things are said to be named 'derivatively', which derive their name
+from some other name, but differ from it in termination. Thus the
+grammarian derives his name from the word 'grammar', and the courageous
+man from the word 'courage'.
+
+Part 2
+
+Forms of speech are either simple or composite. Examples of the latter
+are such expressions as 'the man runs', 'the man wins'; of the former
+'man', 'ox', 'runs', 'wins'.
+
+Of things themselves some are predicable of a subject, and are never
+present in a subject. Thus 'man' is predicable of the individual man,
+and is never present in a subject.
+
+By being 'present in a subject' I do not mean present as parts are
+present in a whole, but being incapable of existence apart from the
+said subject.
+
+Some things, again, are present in a subject, but are never predicable
+of a subject. For instance, a certain point of grammatical knowledge is
+present in the mind, but is not predicable of any subject; or again, a
+certain whiteness may be present in the body (for colour requires a
+material basis), yet it is never predicable of anything.
+
+Other things, again, are both predicable of a subject and present in a
+subject. Thus while knowledge is present in the human mind, it is
+predicable of grammar.
+
+There is, lastly, a class of things which are neither present in a
+subject nor predicable of a subject, such as the individual man or the
+individual horse. But, to speak more generally, that which is
+individual and has the character of a unit is never predicable of a
+subject. Yet in some cases there is nothing to prevent such being
+present in a subject. Thus a certain point of grammatical knowledge is
+present in a subject.
+
+Part 3
+
+When one thing is predicated of another, all that which is predicable
+of the predicate will be predicable also of the subject. Thus, 'man' is
+predicated of the individual man; but 'animal' is predicated of 'man';
+it will, therefore, be predicable of the individual man also: for the
+individual man is both 'man' and 'animal'.
+
+If genera are different and co-ordinate, their differentiae are
+themselves different in kind. Take as an instance the genus 'animal'
+and the genus 'knowledge'. 'With feet', 'two-footed', 'winged',
+'aquatic', are differentiae of 'animal'; the species of knowledge are
+not distinguished by the same differentiae. One species of knowledge
+does not differ from another in being 'two-footed'.
+
+But where one genus is subordinate to another, there is nothing to
+prevent their having the same differentiae: for the greater class is
+predicated of the lesser, so that all the differentiae of the predicate
+will be differentiae also of the subject.
+
+Part 4
+
+Expressions which are in no way composite signify substance, quantity,
+quality, relation, place, time, position, state, action, or affection.
+To sketch my meaning roughly, examples of substance are 'man' or 'the
+horse', of quantity, such terms as 'two cubits long' or 'three cubits
+long', of quality, such attributes as 'white', 'grammatical'. 'Double',
+'half', 'greater', fall under the category of relation; 'in the
+market place', 'in the Lyceum', under that of place; 'yesterday', 'last
+year', under that of time. 'Lying', 'sitting', are terms indicating
+position, 'shod', 'armed', state; 'to lance', 'to cauterize', action;
+'to be lanced', 'to be cauterized', affection.
+
+No one of these terms, in and by itself, involves an affirmation; it is
+by the combination of such terms that positive or negative statements
+arise. For every assertion must, as is admitted, be either true or
+false, whereas expressions which are not in any way composite such as
+'man', 'white', 'runs', 'wins', cannot be either true or false.
+
+Part 5
+
+Substance, in the truest and primary and most definite sense of the
+word, is that which is neither predicable of a subject nor present in a
+subject; for instance, the individual man or horse. But in a secondary
+sense those things are called substances within which, as species, the
+primary substances are included; also those which, as genera, include
+the species. For instance, the individual man is included in the
+species 'man', and the genus to which the species belongs is 'animal';
+these, therefore--that is to say, the species 'man' and the genus
+'animal,-are termed secondary substances.
+
+It is plain from what has been said that both the name and the
+definition of the predicate must be predicable of the subject. For
+instance, 'man' is predicated of the individual man. Now in this case
+the name of the species 'man' is applied to the individual, for we use
+the term 'man' in describing the individual; and the definition of
+'man' will also be predicated of the individual man, for the individual
+man is both man and animal. Thus, both the name and the definition of
+the species are predicable of the individual.
+
+With regard, on the other hand, to those things which are present in a
+subject, it is generally the case that neither their name nor their
+definition is predicable of that in which they are present. Though,
+however, the definition is never predicable, there is nothing in
+certain cases to prevent the name being used. For instance, 'white'
+being present in a body is predicated of that in which it is present,
+for a body is called white: the definition, however, of the colour
+'white' is never predicable of the body.
+
+Everything except primary substances is either predicable of a primary
+substance or present in a primary substance. This becomes evident by
+reference to particular instances which occur. 'Animal' is predicated
+of the species 'man', therefore of the individual man, for if there
+were no individual man of whom it could be predicated, it could not be
+predicated of the species 'man' at all. Again, colour is present in
+body, therefore in individual bodies, for if there were no individual
+body in which it was present, it could not be present in body at all.
+Thus everything except primary substances is either predicated of
+primary substances, or is present in them, and if these last did not
+exist, it would be impossible for anything else to exist.
+
+Of secondary substances, the species is more truly substance than the
+genus, being more nearly related to primary substance. For if any one
+should render an account of what a primary substance is, he would
+render a more instructive account, and one more proper to the subject,
+by stating the species than by stating the genus. Thus, he would give a
+more instructive account of an individual man by stating that he was
+man than by stating that he was animal, for the former description is
+peculiar to the individual in a greater degree, while the latter is too
+general. Again, the man who gives an account of the nature of an
+individual tree will give a more instructive account by mentioning the
+species 'tree' than by mentioning the genus 'plant'.
+
+Moreover, primary substances are most properly called substances in
+virtue of the fact that they are the entities which underlie everything
+else, and that everything else is either predicated of them or present
+in them. Now the same relation which subsists between primary substance
+and everything else subsists also between the species and the genus:
+for the species is to the genus as subject is to predicate, since the
+genus is predicated of the species, whereas the species cannot be
+predicated of the genus. Thus we have a second ground for asserting
+that the species is more truly substance than the genus.
+
+Of species themselves, except in the case of such as are genera, no one
+is more truly substance than another. We should not give a more
+appropriate account of the individual man by stating the species to
+which he belonged, than we should of an individual horse by adopting
+the same method of definition. In the same way, of primary substances,
+no one is more truly substance than another; an individual man is not
+more truly substance than an individual ox.
+
+It is, then, with good reason that of all that remains, when we exclude
+primary substances, we concede to species and genera alone the name
+'secondary substance', for these alone of all the predicates convey a
+knowledge of primary substance. For it is by stating the species or the
+genus that we appropriately define any individual man; and we shall
+make our definition more exact by stating the former than by stating
+the latter. All other things that we state, such as that he is white,
+that he runs, and so on, are irrelevant to the definition. Thus it is
+just that these alone, apart from primary substances, should be called
+substances.
+
+Further, primary substances are most properly so called, because they
+underlie and are the subjects of everything else. Now the same relation
+that subsists between primary substance and everything else subsists
+also between the species and the genus to which the primary substance
+belongs, on the one hand, and every attribute which is not included
+within these, on the other. For these are the subjects of all such. If
+we call an individual man 'skilled in grammar', the predicate is
+applicable also to the species and to the genus to which he belongs.
+This law holds good in all cases.
+
+It is a common characteristic of all substance that it is never present
+in a subject. For primary substance is neither present in a subject nor
+predicated of a subject; while, with regard to secondary substances, it
+is clear from the following arguments (apart from others) that they are
+not present in a subject. For 'man' is predicated of the individual
+man, but is not present in any subject: for manhood is not present in
+the individual man. In the same way, 'animal' is also predicated of the
+individual man, but is not present in him. Again, when a thing is
+present in a subject, though the name may quite well be applied to that
+in which it is present, the definition cannot be applied. Yet of
+secondary substances, not only the name, but also the definition,
+applies to the subject: we should use both the definition of the
+species and that of the genus with reference to the individual man.
+Thus substance cannot be present in a subject.
+
+Yet this is not peculiar to substance, for it is also the case that
+differentiae cannot be present in subjects. The characteristics
+'terrestrial' and 'two-footed' are predicated of the species 'man', but
+not present in it. For they are not in man. Moreover, the definition of
+the differentia may be predicated of that of which the differentia
+itself is predicated. For instance, if the characteristic 'terrestrial'
+is predicated of the species 'man', the definition also of that
+characteristic may be used to form the predicate of the species 'man':
+for 'man' is terrestrial.
+
+The fact that the parts of substances appear to be present in the
+whole, as in a subject, should not make us apprehensive lest we should
+have to admit that such parts are not substances: for in explaining the
+phrase 'being present in a subject', we stated' that we meant
+'otherwise than as parts in a whole'.
+
+It is the mark of substances and of differentiae that, in all
+propositions of which they form the predicate, they are predicated
+univocally. For all such propositions have for their subject either the
+individual or the species. It is true that, inasmuch as primary
+substance is not predicable of anything, it can never form the
+predicate of any proposition. But of secondary substances, the species
+is predicated of the individual, the genus both of the species and of
+the individual. Similarly the differentiae are predicated of the
+species and of the individuals. Moreover, the definition of the species
+and that of the genus are applicable to the primary substance, and that
+of the genus to the species. For all that is predicated of the
+predicate will be predicated also of the subject. Similarly, the
+definition of the differentiae will be applicable to the species and to
+the individuals. But it was stated above that the word 'univocal' was
+applied to those things which had both name and definition in common.
+It is, therefore, established that in every proposition, of which
+either substance or a differentia forms the predicate, these are
+predicated univocally.
+
+All substance appears to signify that which is individual. In the case
+of primary substance this is indisputably true, for the thing is a
+unit. In the case of secondary substances, when we speak, for instance,
+of 'man' or 'animal', our form of speech gives the impression that we
+are here also indicating that which is individual, but the impression
+is not strictly true; for a secondary substance is not an individual,
+but a class with a certain qualification; for it is not one and single
+as a primary substance is; the words 'man', 'animal', are predicable of
+more than one subject.
+
+Yet species and genus do not merely indicate quality, like the term
+'white'; 'white' indicates quality and nothing further, but species and
+genus determine the quality with reference to a substance: they signify
+substance qualitatively differentiated. The determinate qualification
+covers a larger field in the case of the genus that in that of the
+species: he who uses the word 'animal' is herein using a word of wider
+extension than he who uses the word 'man'.
+
+Another mark of substance is that it has no contrary. What could be the
+contrary of any primary substance, such as the individual man or
+animal? It has none. Nor can the species or the genus have a contrary.
+Yet this characteristic is not peculiar to substance, but is true of
+many other things, such as quantity. There is nothing that forms the
+contrary of 'two cubits long' or of 'three cubits long', or of 'ten',
+or of any such term. A man may contend that 'much' is the contrary of
+'little', or 'great' of 'small', but of definite quantitative terms no
+contrary exists.
+
+Substance, again, does not appear to admit of variation of degree. I do
+not mean by this that one substance cannot be more or less truly
+substance than another, for it has already been stated that this is
+the case; but that no single substance admits of varying degrees within
+itself. For instance, one particular substance, 'man', cannot be more
+or less man either than himself at some other time or than some other
+man. One man cannot be more man than another, as that which is white
+may be more or less white than some other white object, or as that
+which is beautiful may be more or less beautiful than some other
+beautiful object. The same quality, moreover, is said to subsist in a
+thing in varying degrees at different times. A body, being white, is
+said to be whiter at one time than it was before, or, being warm, is
+said to be warmer or less warm than at some other time. But substance
+is not said to be more or less that which it is: a man is not more
+truly a man at one time than he was before, nor is anything, if it is
+substance, more or less what it is. Substance, then, does not admit of
+variation of degree.
+
+The most distinctive mark of substance appears to be that, while
+remaining numerically one and the same, it is capable of admitting
+contrary qualities. From among things other than substance, we should
+find ourselves unable to bring forward any which possessed this mark.
+Thus, one and the same colour cannot be white and black. Nor can the
+same one action be good and bad: this law holds good with everything
+that is not substance. But one and the selfsame substance, while
+retaining its identity, is yet capable of admitting contrary qualities.
+The same individual person is at one time white, at another black, at
+one time warm, at another cold, at one time good, at another bad. This
+capacity is found nowhere else, though it might be maintained that a
+statement or opinion was an exception to the rule. The same statement,
+it is agreed, can be both true and false. For if the statement 'he is
+sitting' is true, yet, when the person in question has risen, the same
+statement will be false. The same applies to opinions. For if any one
+thinks truly that a person is sitting, yet, when that person has risen,
+this same opinion, if still held, will be false. Yet although this
+exception may be allowed, there is, nevertheless, a difference in the
+manner in which the thing takes place. It is by themselves changing
+that substances admit contrary qualities. It is thus that that which
+was hot becomes cold, for it has entered into a different state.
+Similarly that which was white becomes black, and that which was bad
+good, by a process of change; and in the same way in all other cases it
+is by changing that substances are capable of admitting contrary
+qualities. But statements and opinions themselves remain unaltered in
+all respects: it is by the alteration in the facts of the case that the
+contrary quality comes to be theirs. The statement 'he is sitting'
+remains unaltered, but it is at one time true, at another false,
+according to circumstances. What has been said of statements applies
+also to opinions. Thus, in respect of the manner in which the thing
+takes place, it is the peculiar mark of substance that it should be
+capable of admitting contrary qualities; for it is by itself changing
+that it does so.
+
+If, then, a man should make this exception and contend that statements
+and opinions are capable of admitting contrary qualities, his
+contention is unsound. For statements and opinions are said to have
+this capacity, not because they themselves undergo modification, but
+because this modification occurs in the case of something else. The
+truth or falsity of a statement depends on facts, and not on any power
+on the part of the statement itself of admitting contrary qualities. In
+short, there is nothing which can alter the nature of statements and
+opinions. As, then, no change takes place in themselves, these cannot
+be said to be capable of admitting contrary qualities.
+
+But it is by reason of the modification which takes place within the
+substance itself that a substance is said to be capable of admitting
+contrary qualities; for a substance admits within itself either disease
+or health, whiteness or blackness. It is in this sense that it is said
+to be capable of admitting contrary qualities.
+
+To sum up, it is a distinctive mark of substance, that, while remaining
+numerically one and the same, it is capable of admitting contrary
+qualities, the modification taking place through a change in the
+substance itself.
+
+Let these remarks suffice on the subject of substance.
+
+Part 6
+
+Quantity is either discrete or continuous. Moreover, some quantities
+are such that each part of the whole has a relative position to the
+other parts: others have within them no such relation of part to part.
+
+Instances of discrete quantities are number and speech; of continuous,
+lines, surfaces, solids, and, besides these, time and place.
+
+In the case of the parts of a number, there is no common boundary at
+which they join. For example: two fives make ten, but the two fives
+have no common boundary, but are separate; the parts three and seven
+also do not join at any boundary. Nor, to generalize, would it ever be
+possible in the case of number that there should be a common boundary
+among the parts; they are always separate. Number, therefore, is a
+discrete quantity.
+
+The same is true of speech. That speech is a quantity is evident: for
+it is measured in long and short syllables. I mean here that speech
+which is vocal. Moreover, it is a discrete quantity for its parts have
+no common boundary. There is no common boundary at which the syllables
+join, but each is separate and distinct from the rest.
+
+A line, on the other hand, is a continuous quantity, for it is possible
+to find a common boundary at which its parts join. In the case of the
+line, this common boundary is the point; in the case of the plane, it
+is the line: for the parts of the plane have also a common boundary.
+Similarly you can find a common boundary in the case of the parts of a
+solid, namely either a line or a plane.
+
+Space and time also belong to this class of quantities. Time, past,
+present, and future, forms a continuous whole. Space, likewise, is a
+continuous quantity; for the parts of a solid occupy a certain space,
+and these have a common boundary; it follows that the parts of space
+also, which are occupied by the parts of the solid, have the same
+common boundary as the parts of the solid. Thus, not only time, but
+space also, is a continuous quantity, for its parts have a common
+boundary.
+
+Quantities consist either of parts which bear a relative position each
+to each, or of parts which do not. The parts of a line bear a relative
+position to each other, for each lies somewhere, and it would be
+possible to distinguish each, and to state the position of each on the
+plane and to explain to what sort of part among the rest each was
+contiguous. Similarly the parts of a plane have position, for it could
+similarly be stated what was the position of each and what sort of
+parts were contiguous. The same is true with regard to the solid and to
+space. But it would be impossible to show that the parts of a number had
+a relative position each to each, or a particular position, or to state
+what parts were contiguous. Nor could this be done in the case of time,
+for none of the parts of time has an abiding existence, and that which
+does not abide can hardly have position. It would be better to say that
+such parts had a relative order, in virtue of one being prior to
+another. Similarly with number: in counting, 'one' is prior to 'two',
+and 'two' to 'three', and thus the parts of number may be said to
+possess a relative order, though it would be impossible to discover any
+distinct position for each. This holds good also in the case of speech.
+None of its parts has an abiding existence: when once a syllable is
+pronounced, it is not possible to retain it, so that, naturally, as the
+parts do not abide, they cannot have position. Thus, some quantities
+consist of parts which have position, and some of those which have not.
+
+Strictly speaking, only the things which I have mentioned belong to the
+category of quantity: everything else that is called quantitative is a
+quantity in a secondary sense. It is because we have in mind some one
+of these quantities, properly so called, that we apply quantitative
+terms to other things. We speak of what is white as large, because the
+surface over which the white extends is large; we speak of an action or
+a process as lengthy, because the time covered is long; these things
+cannot in their own right claim the quantitative epithet. For instance,
+should any one explain how long an action was, his statement would be
+made in terms of the time taken, to the effect that it lasted a year,
+or something of that sort. In the same way, he would explain the size
+of a white object in terms of surface, for he would state the area
+which it covered. Thus the things already mentioned, and these alone,
+are in their intrinsic nature quantities; nothing else can claim the
+name in its own right, but, if at all, only in a secondary sense.
+
+Quantities have no contraries. In the case of definite quantities this
+is obvious; thus, there is nothing that is the contrary of 'two cubits
+long' or of 'three cubits long', or of a surface, or of any such
+quantities. A man might, indeed, argue that 'much' was the contrary of
+'little', and 'great' of 'small'. But these are not quantitative, but
+relative; things are not great or small absolutely, they are so called
+rather as the result of an act of comparison. For instance, a mountain
+is called small, a grain large, in virtue of the fact that the latter
+is greater than others of its kind, the former less. Thus there is a
+reference here to an external standard, for if the terms 'great' and
+'small' were used absolutely, a mountain would never be called small or
+a grain large. Again, we say that there are many people in a village,
+and few in Athens, although those in the city are many times as
+numerous as those in the village: or we say that a house has many in
+it, and a theatre few, though those in the theatre far outnumber those
+in the house. The terms 'two cubits long', 'three cubits long', and so
+on indicate quantity, the terms 'great' and 'small' indicate relation,
+for they have reference to an external standard. It is, therefore,
+plain that these are to be classed as relative.
+
+Again, whether we define them as quantitative or not, they have no
+contraries: for how can there be a contrary of an attribute which is
+not to be apprehended in or by itself, but only by reference to
+something external? Again, if 'great' and 'small' are contraries, it
+will come about that the same subject can admit contrary qualities at
+one and the same time, and that things will themselves be contrary to
+themselves. For it happens at times that the same thing is both small
+and great. For the same thing may be small in comparison with one
+thing, and great in comparison with another, so that the same thing
+comes to be both small and great at one and the same time, and is of
+such a nature as to admit contrary qualities at one and the same
+moment. Yet it was agreed, when substance was being discussed, that
+nothing admits contrary qualities at one and the same moment. For
+though substance is capable of admitting contrary qualities, yet no one
+is at the same time both sick and healthy, nothing is at the same time
+both white and black. Nor is there anything which is qualified in
+contrary ways at one and the same time.
+
+Moreover, if these were contraries, they would themselves be contrary
+to themselves. For if 'great' is the contrary of 'small', and the same
+thing is both great and small at the same time, then 'small' or 'great'
+is the contrary of itself. But this is impossible. The term 'great',
+therefore, is not the contrary of the term 'small', nor 'much' of
+'little'. And even though a man should call these terms not relative
+but quantitative, they would not have contraries.
+
+It is in the case of space that quantity most plausibly appears to
+admit of a contrary. For men define the term 'above' as the contrary of
+'below', when it is the region at the centre they mean by 'below'; and
+this is so, because nothing is farther from the extremities of the
+universe than the region at the centre. Indeed, it seems that in
+defining contraries of every kind men have recourse to a spatial
+metaphor, for they say that those things are contraries which, within
+the same class, are separated by the greatest possible distance.
+
+Quantity does not, it appears, admit of variation of degree. One thing
+cannot be two cubits long in a greater degree than another. Similarly
+with regard to number: what is 'three' is not more truly three than
+what is 'five' is five; nor is one set of three more truly three than
+another set. Again, one period of time is not said to be more truly
+time than another. Nor is there any other kind of quantity, of all that
+have been mentioned, with regard to which variation of degree can be
+predicated. The category of quantity, therefore, does not admit of
+variation of degree.
+
+The most distinctive mark of quantity is that equality and inequality
+are predicated of it. Each of the aforesaid quantities is said to be
+equal or unequal. For instance, one solid is said to be equal or
+unequal to another; number, too, and time can have these terms applied
+to them, indeed can all those kinds of quantity that have been
+mentioned.
+
+That which is not a quantity can by no means, it would seem, be termed
+equal or unequal to anything else. One particular disposition or one
+particular quality, such as whiteness, is by no means compared with
+another in terms of equality and inequality but rather in terms of
+similarity. Thus it is the distinctive mark of quantity that it can be
+called equal and unequal.
+
+Section 2
+
+Part 7
+
+Those things are called relative, which, being either said to be of
+something else or related to something else, are explained by reference
+to that other thing. For instance, the word 'superior' is explained by
+reference to something else, for it is superiority over something else
+that is meant. Similarly, the expression 'double' has this external
+reference, for it is the double of something else that is meant. So it
+is with everything else of this kind. There are, moreover, other
+relatives, e.g. habit, disposition, perception, knowledge, and
+attitude. The significance of all these is explained by a reference to
+something else and in no other way. Thus, a habit is a habit of
+something, knowledge is knowledge of something, attitude is the
+attitude of something. So it is with all other relatives that have been
+mentioned. Those terms, then, are called relative, the nature of which
+is explained by reference to something else, the preposition 'of' or
+some other preposition being used to indicate the relation. Thus, one
+mountain is called great in comparison with another; for the
+mountain claims this attribute by comparison with something. Again,
+that which is called similar must be similar to something else, and all
+other such attributes have this external reference. It is to be noted
+that lying and standing and sitting are particular attitudes, but
+attitude is itself a relative term. To lie, to stand, to be seated, are
+not themselves attitudes, but take their name from the aforesaid
+attitudes.
+
+It is possible for relatives to have contraries. Thus virtue has a
+contrary, vice, these both being relatives; knowledge, too, has a
+contrary, ignorance. But this is not the mark of all relatives;
+'double' and 'triple' have no contrary, nor indeed has any such term.
+
+It also appears that relatives can admit of variation of degree. For
+'like' and 'unlike', 'equal' and 'unequal', have the modifications
+'more' and 'less' applied to them, and each of these is relative in
+character: for the terms 'like' and 'unequal' bear a
+reference to something external. Yet, again, it is not every relative
+term that admits of variation of degree. No term such as 'double'
+admits of this modification. All relatives have correlatives: by the
+term 'slave' we mean the slave of a master, by the term 'master', the
+master of a slave; by 'double', the double of its half; by 'half', the
+half of its double; by 'greater', greater than that which is less; by
+'less', less than that which is greater.
+
+So it is with every other relative term; but the case we use to express
+the correlation differs in some instances. Thus, by knowledge we mean
+knowledge of the knowable; by the knowable, that which is to be
+apprehended by knowledge; by perception, perception of the perceptible;
+by the perceptible, that which is apprehended by perception.
+
+Sometimes, however, reciprocity of correlation does not appear to
+exist. This comes about when a blunder is made, and that to which the
+relative is related is not accurately stated. If a man states that a
+wing is necessarily relative to a bird, the connexion between these two
+will not be reciprocal, for it will not be possible to say that a bird
+is a bird by reason of its wings. The reason is that the original
+statement was inaccurate, for the wing is not said to be relative to
+the bird qua bird, since many creatures besides birds have wings, but
+qua winged creature. If, then, the statement is made accurate, the
+connexion will be reciprocal, for we can speak of a wing, having
+reference necessarily to a winged creature, and of a winged creature as
+being such because of its wings.
+
+Occasionally, perhaps, it is necessary to coin words, if no word exists
+by which a correlation can adequately be explained. If we define a
+rudder as necessarily having reference to a boat, our definition will
+not be appropriate, for the rudder does not have this reference to a
+boat qua boat, as there are boats which have no rudders. Thus we cannot
+use the terms reciprocally, for the word 'boat' cannot be said to find
+its explanation in the word 'rudder'. As there is no existing word, our
+definition would perhaps be more accurate if we coined some word like
+'ruddered' as the correlative of 'rudder'. If we express ourselves thus
+accurately, at any rate the terms are reciprocally connected, for the
+'ruddered' thing is 'ruddered' in virtue of its rudder. So it is in all
+other cases. A head will be more accurately defined as the correlative
+of that which is 'headed', than as that of an animal, for the animal
+does not have a head qua animal, since many animals have no head.
+
+Thus we may perhaps most easily comprehend that to which a thing is
+related, when a name does not exist, if, from that which has a name, we
+derive a new name, and apply it to that with which the first is
+reciprocally connected, as in the aforesaid instances, when we derived
+the word 'winged' from 'wing' and from 'rudder'.
+
+All relatives, then, if properly defined, have a correlative. I add
+this condition because, if that to which they are related is stated as
+haphazard and not accurately, the two are not found to be
+interdependent. Let me state what I mean more clearly. Even in the case
+of acknowledged correlatives, and where names exist for each, there
+will be no interdependence if one of the two is denoted, not by that
+name which expresses the correlative notion, but by one of irrelevant
+significance. The term 'slave', if defined as related, not to a master,
+but to a man, or a biped, or anything of that sort, is not reciprocally
+connected with that in relation to which it is defined, for the
+statement is not exact. Further, if one thing is said to be correlative
+with another, and the terminology used is correct, then, though all
+irrelevant attributes should be removed, and only that one attribute
+left in virtue of which it was correctly stated to be correlative with
+that other, the stated correlation will still exist. If the correlative
+of 'the slave' is said to be 'the master', then, though all irrelevant
+attributes of the said 'master', such as 'biped', 'receptive of
+knowledge', 'human', should be removed, and the attribute 'master'
+alone left, the stated correlation existing between him and the slave
+will remain the same, for it is of a master that a slave is said to be
+the slave. On the other hand, if, of two correlatives, one is not
+correctly termed, then, when all other attributes are removed and that
+alone is left in virtue of which it was stated to be correlative, the
+stated correlation will be found to have disappeared.
+
+For suppose the correlative of 'the slave' should be said to be 'the
+man', or the correlative of 'the wing' is 'the bird'; if the attribute
+'master' be withdrawn from 'the man', the correlation between 'the man'
+and 'the slave' will cease to exist, for if the man is not a master,
+the slave is not a slave. Similarly, if the attribute 'winged' be
+withdrawn from 'the bird', 'the wing' will no longer be relative; for
+if the so-called correlative is not winged, it follows that 'the wing'
+has no correlative.
+
+Thus it is essential that the correlated terms should be exactly
+designated; if there is a name existing, the statement will be easy; if
+not, it is doubtless our duty to construct names. When the terminology
+is thus correct, it is evident that all correlatives are interdependent.
+
+Correlatives are thought to come into existence simultaneously. This is
+for the most part true, as in the case of the double and the half. The
+existence of the half necessitates the existence of that of which it is
+a half. Similarly the existence of a master necessitates the existence
+of a slave, and that of a slave implies that of a master; these are
+merely instances of a general rule. Moreover, they cancel one another;
+for if there is no double it follows that there is no half, and vice
+versa; this rule also applies to all such correlatives. Yet it does not
+appear to be true in all cases that correlatives come into existence
+simultaneously. The object of knowledge would appear to exist before
+knowledge itself, for it is usually the case that we acquire knowledge
+of objects already existing; it would be difficult, if not impossible,
+to find a branch of knowledge the beginning of the existence of which
+was contemporaneous with that of its object.
+
+Again, while the object of knowledge, if it ceases to exist, cancels at
+the same time the knowledge which was its correlative, the converse of
+this is not true. It is true that if the object of knowledge does not
+exist there can be no knowledge: for there will no longer be anything
+to know. Yet it is equally true that, if knowledge of a certain object
+does not exist, the object may nevertheless quite well exist. Thus, in
+the case of the squaring of the circle, if indeed that process is an
+object of knowledge, though it itself exists as an object of knowledge,
+yet the knowledge of it has not yet come into existence. Again, if all
+animals ceased to exist, there would be no knowledge, but there might
+yet be many objects of knowledge.
+
+This is likewise the case with regard to perception: for the object of
+perception is, it appears, prior to the act of perception. If the
+perceptible is annihilated, perception also will cease to exist; but
+the annihilation of perception does not cancel the existence of the
+perceptible. For perception implies a body perceived and a body in
+which perception takes place. Now if that which is perceptible is
+annihilated, it follows that the body is annihilated, for the body is a
+perceptible thing; and if the body does not exist, it follows that
+perception also ceases to exist. Thus the annihilation of the
+perceptible involves that of perception.
+
+But the annihilation of perception does not involve that of the
+perceptible. For if the animal is annihilated, it follows that
+perception also is annihilated, but perceptibles such as body, heat,
+sweetness, bitterness, and so on, will remain.
+
+Again, perception is generated at the same time as the perceiving
+subject, for it comes into existence at the same time as the animal.
+But the perceptible surely exists before perception; for fire and water
+and such elements, out of which the animal is itself composed, exist
+before the animal is an animal at all, and before perception. Thus it
+would seem that the perceptible exists before perception.
+
+It may be questioned whether it is true that no substance is relative,
+as seems to be the case, or whether exception is to be made in the case
+of certain secondary substances. With regard to primary substances, it
+is quite true that there is no such possibility, for neither wholes nor
+parts of primary substances are relative. The individual man or ox is
+not defined with reference to something external. Similarly with the
+parts: a particular hand or head is not defined as a particular hand or
+head of a particular person, but as the hand or head of a particular
+person. It is true also, for the most part at least, in the case of
+secondary substances; the species 'man' and the species 'ox' are not
+defined with reference to anything outside themselves. Wood, again, is
+only relative in so far as it is some one's property, not in so far as
+it is wood. It is plain, then, that in the cases mentioned substance is
+not relative. But with regard to some secondary substances there is a
+difference of opinion; thus, such terms as 'head' and 'hand' are
+defined with reference to that of which the things indicated are a
+part, and so it comes about that these appear to have a relative
+character. Indeed, if our definition of that which is relative was
+complete, it is very difficult, if not impossible, to prove that no
+substance is relative. If, however, our definition was not complete, if
+those things only are properly called relative in the case of which
+relation to an external object is a necessary condition of existence,
+perhaps some explanation of the dilemma may be found.
+
+The former definition does indeed apply to all relatives, but the fact
+that a thing is explained with reference to something else does not
+make it essentially relative.
+
+From this it is plain that, if a man definitely apprehends a relative
+thing, he will also definitely apprehend that to which it is relative.
+Indeed this is self-evident: for if a man knows that some particular
+thing is relative, assuming that we call that a relative in the case of
+which relation to something is a necessary condition of existence, he
+knows that also to which it is related. For if he does not know at all
+that to which it is related, he will not know whether or not it is
+relative. This is clear, moreover, in particular instances. If a man
+knows definitely that such and such a thing is 'double', he will also
+forthwith know definitely that of which it is the double. For if there
+is nothing definite of which he knows it to be the double, he does not
+know at all that it is double. Again, if he knows that a thing is more
+beautiful, it follows necessarily that he will forthwith definitely
+know that also than which it is more beautiful. He will not merely know
+indefinitely that it is more beautiful than something which is less
+beautiful, for this would be supposition, not knowledge. For if he does
+not know definitely that than which it is more beautiful, he can no
+longer claim to know definitely that it is more beautiful than
+something else which is less beautiful: for it might be that nothing
+was less beautiful. It is, therefore, evident that if a man apprehends
+some relative thing definitely, he necessarily knows that also
+definitely to which it is related.
+
+Now the head, the hand, and such things are substances, and it is
+possible to know their essential character definitely, but it does not
+necessarily follow that we should know that to which they are related.
+It is not possible to know forthwith whose head or hand is meant. Thus
+these are not relatives, and, this being the case, it would be true to
+say that no substance is relative in character. It is perhaps a
+difficult matter, in such cases, to make a positive statement without
+more exhaustive examination, but to have raised questions with regard
+to details is not without advantage.
+
+Part 8
+
+By 'quality' I mean that in virtue of which people are said to be such
+and such.
+
+Quality is a term that is used in many senses. One sort of quality let
+us call 'habit' or 'disposition'. Habit differs from disposition in
+being more lasting and more firmly established. The various kinds of
+knowledge and of virtue are habits, for knowledge, even when acquired
+only in a moderate degree, is, it is agreed, abiding in its character
+and difficult to displace, unless some great mental upheaval takes
+place, through disease or any such cause. The virtues, also, such as
+justice, self-restraint, and so on, are not easily dislodged or
+dismissed, so as to give place to vice.
+
+By a disposition, on the other hand, we mean a condition that is easily
+changed and quickly gives place to its opposite. Thus, heat, cold,
+disease, health, and so on are dispositions. For a man is disposed in
+one way or another with reference to these, but quickly changes,
+becoming cold instead of warm, ill instead of well. So it is with all
+other dispositions also, unless through lapse of time a disposition has
+itself become inveterate and almost impossible to dislodge: in which
+case we should perhaps go so far as to call it a habit.
+
+It is evident that men incline to call those conditions habits which
+are of a more or less permanent type and difficult to displace; for
+those who are not retentive of knowledge, but volatile, are not said to
+have such and such a 'habit' as regards knowledge, yet they are
+disposed, we may say, either better or worse, towards knowledge. Thus
+habit differs from disposition in this, that while the latter in
+ephemeral, the former is permanent and difficult to alter.
+
+Habits are at the same time dispositions, but dispositions are not
+necessarily habits. For those who have some specific habit may be said
+also, in virtue of that habit, to be thus or thus disposed; but those
+who are disposed in some specific way have not in all cases the
+corresponding habit.
+
+Another sort of quality is that in virtue of which, for example, we
+call men good boxers or runners, or healthy or sickly: in fact it
+includes all those terms which refer to inborn capacity or incapacity.
+Such things are not predicated of a person in virtue of his
+disposition, but in virtue of his inborn capacity or incapacity to do
+something with ease or to avoid defeat of any kind. Persons are called
+good boxers or good runners, not in virtue of such and such a
+disposition, but in virtue of an inborn capacity to accomplish
+something with ease. Men are called healthy in virtue of the inborn
+capacity of easy resistance to those unhealthy influences that may
+ordinarily arise; unhealthy, in virtue of the lack of this capacity.
+Similarly with regard to softness and hardness. Hardness is predicated
+of a thing because it has that capacity of resistance which enables it
+to withstand disintegration; softness, again, is predicated of a thing
+by reason of the lack of that capacity.
+
+A third class within this category is that of affective qualities and
+affections. Sweetness, bitterness, sourness, are examples of this sort
+of quality, together with all that is akin to these; heat, moreover,
+and cold, whiteness, and blackness are affective qualities. It is
+evident that these are qualities, for those things that possess them
+are themselves said to be such and such by reason of their presence.
+Honey is called sweet because it contains sweetness; the body is called
+white because it contains whiteness; and so in all other cases.
+
+The term 'affective quality' is not used as indicating that those
+things which admit these qualities are affected in any way. Honey is
+not called sweet because it is affected in a specific way, nor is this
+what is meant in any other instance. Similarly heat and cold are called
+affective qualities, not because those things which admit them are
+affected. What is meant is that these said qualities are capable of
+producing an 'affection' in the way of perception. For sweetness has
+the power of affecting the sense of taste; heat, that of touch; and so
+it is with the rest of these qualities.
+
+Whiteness and blackness, however, and the other colours, are not said
+to be affective qualities in this sense, but because they themselves
+are the results of an affection. It is plain that many changes of
+colour take place because of affections. When a man is ashamed, he
+blushes; when he is afraid, he becomes pale, and so on. So true is
+this, that when a man is by nature liable to such affections, arising
+from some concomitance of elements in his constitution, it is a
+probable inference that he has the corresponding complexion of skin.
+For the same disposition of bodily elements, which in the former
+instance was momentarily present in the case of an access of shame,
+might be a result of a man's natural temperament, so as to produce the
+corresponding colouring also as a natural characteristic. All
+conditions, therefore, of this kind, if caused by certain permanent and
+lasting affections, are called affective qualities. For pallor and
+duskiness of complexion are called qualities, inasmuch as we are said
+to be such and such in virtue of them, not only if they originate in
+natural constitution, but also if they come about through long disease
+or sunburn, and are difficult to remove, or indeed remain throughout
+life. For in the same way we are said to be such and such because of
+these.
+
+Those conditions, however, which arise from causes which may easily be
+rendered ineffective or speedily removed, are called, not qualities,
+but affections: for we are not said to be such in virtue of them. The man
+who blushes through shame is not said to be a constitutional blusher,
+nor is the man who becomes pale through fear said to be
+constitutionally pale. He is said rather to have been affected.
+
+Thus such conditions are called affections, not qualities. In like
+manner there are affective qualities and affections of the soul. That
+temper with which a man is born and which has its origin in certain
+deep-seated affections is called a quality. I mean such conditions as
+insanity, irascibility, and so on: for people are said to be mad or
+irascible in virtue of these. Similarly those abnormal psychic states
+which are not inborn, but arise from the concomitance of certain other
+elements, and are difficult to remove, or altogether permanent, are
+called qualities, for in virtue of them men are said to be such and
+such.
+
+Those, however, which arise from causes easily rendered ineffective are
+called affections, not qualities. Suppose that a man is irritable when
+vexed: he is not even spoken of as a bad-tempered man, when in such
+circumstances he loses his temper somewhat, but rather is said to be
+affected. Such conditions are therefore termed, not qualities, but
+affections.
+
+The fourth sort of quality is figure and the shape that belongs to a
+thing; and besides this, straightness and curvedness and any other
+qualities of this type; each of these defines a thing as being such and
+such. Because it is triangular or quadrangular a thing is said to have
+a specific character, or again because it is straight or curved; in
+fact a thing's shape in every case gives rise to a qualification of it.
+
+Rarity and density, roughness and smoothness, seem to be terms
+indicating quality: yet these, it would appear, really belong to a
+class different from that of quality. For it is rather a certain
+relative position of the parts composing the thing thus qualified
+which, it appears, is indicated by each of these terms. A thing is
+dense, owing to the fact that its parts are closely combined with one
+another; rare, because there are interstices between the parts; smooth,
+because its parts lie, so to speak, evenly; rough, because some parts
+project beyond others.
+
+There may be other sorts of quality, but those that are most properly
+so called have, we may safely say, been enumerated.
+
+These, then, are qualities, and the things that take their name from
+them as derivatives, or are in some other way dependent on them, are
+said to be qualified in some specific way. In most, indeed in almost
+all cases, the name of that which is qualified is derived from that of
+the quality. Thus the terms 'whiteness', 'grammar', 'justice', give us
+the adjectives 'white', 'grammatical', 'just', and so on.
+
+There are some cases, however, in which, as the quality under
+consideration has no name, it is impossible that those possessed of it
+should have a name that is derivative. For instance, the name given to
+the runner or boxer, who is so called in virtue of an inborn capacity,
+is not derived from that of any quality; for both those capacities have
+no name assigned to them. In this, the inborn capacity is distinct from
+the science, with reference to which men are called, e.g. boxers or
+wrestlers. Such a science is classed as a disposition; it has a name,
+and is called 'boxing' or 'wrestling' as the case may be, and the name
+given to those disposed in this way is derived from that of the
+science. Sometimes, even though a name exists for the quality, that
+which takes its character from the quality has a name that is not a
+derivative. For instance, the upright man takes his character from the
+possession of the quality of integrity, but the name given him is not
+derived from the word 'integrity'. Yet this does not occur often.
+
+We may therefore state that those things are said to be possessed of
+some specific quality which have a name derived from that of the
+aforesaid quality, or which are in some other way dependent on it.
+
+One quality may be the contrary of another; thus justice is the
+contrary of injustice, whiteness of blackness, and so on. The things,
+also, which are said to be such and such in virtue of these qualities,
+may be contrary the one to the other; for that which is unjust is
+contrary to that which is just, that which is white to that which is
+black. This, however, is not always the case. Red, yellow, and such
+colours, though qualities, have no contraries.
+
+If one of two contraries is a quality, the other will also be a
+quality. This will be evident from particular instances, if we apply
+the names used to denote the other categories; for instance, granted
+that justice is the contrary of injustice and justice is a quality,
+injustice will also be a quality: neither quantity, nor relation, nor
+place, nor indeed any other category but that of quality, will be
+applicable properly to injustice. So it is with all other contraries
+falling under the category of quality.
+
+Qualities admit of variation of degree. Whiteness is predicated of one
+thing in a greater or less degree than of another. This is also the
+case with reference to justice. Moreover, one and the same thing may
+exhibit a quality in a greater degree than it did before: if a thing is
+white, it may become whiter.
+
+Though this is generally the case, there are exceptions. For if we
+should say that justice admitted of variation of degree, difficulties
+might ensue, and this is true with regard to all those qualities which
+are dispositions. There are some, indeed, who dispute the possibility
+of variation here. They maintain that justice and health cannot very
+well admit of variation of degree themselves, but that people vary in
+the degree in which they possess these qualities, and that this is the
+case with grammatical learning and all those qualities which are
+classed as dispositions. However that may be, it is an incontrovertible
+fact that the things which in virtue of these qualities are said to be
+what they are vary in the degree in which they possess them; for one
+man is said to be better versed in grammar, or more healthy or just,
+than another, and so on.
+
+The qualities expressed by the terms 'triangular' and 'quadrangular' do
+not appear to admit of variation of degree, nor indeed do any that have
+to do with figure. For those things to which the definition of the
+triangle or circle is applicable are all equally triangular or
+circular. Those, on the other hand, to which the same definition is not
+applicable, cannot be said to differ from one another in degree; the
+square is no more a circle than the rectangle, for to neither is the
+definition of the circle appropriate. In short, if the definition of
+the term proposed is not applicable to both objects, they cannot be
+compared. Thus it is not all qualities which admit of variation of
+degree.
+
+Whereas none of the characteristics I have mentioned are peculiar to
+quality, the fact that likeness and unlikeness can be predicated with
+reference to quality only, gives to that category its distinctive
+feature. One thing is like another only with reference to that in
+virtue of which it is such and such; thus this forms the peculiar mark
+of quality.
+
+We must not be disturbed because it may be argued that, though
+proposing to discuss the category of quality, we have included in it
+many relative terms. We did say that habits and dispositions were
+relative. In practically all such cases the genus is relative, the
+individual not. Thus knowledge, as a genus, is explained by reference
+to something else, for we mean a knowledge of something. But particular
+branches of knowledge are not thus explained. The knowledge of grammar
+is not relative to anything external, nor is the knowledge of music,
+but these, if relative at all, are relative only in virtue of their
+genera; thus grammar is said be the knowledge of something, not the
+grammar of something; similarly music is the knowledge of something,
+not the music of something.
+
+Thus individual branches of knowledge are not relative. And it is
+because we possess these individual branches of knowledge that we are
+said to be such and such. It is these that we actually possess: we are
+called experts because we possess knowledge in some particular branch.
+Those particular branches, therefore, of knowledge, in virtue of which
+we are sometimes said to be such and such, are themselves qualities,
+and are not relative. Further, if anything should happen to fall within
+both the category of quality and that of relation, there would be
+nothing extraordinary in classing it under both these heads.
+
+Section 3
+
+Part 9
+
+Action and affection both admit of contraries and also of variation of
+degree. Heating is the contrary of cooling, being heated of being
+cooled, being glad of being vexed. Thus they admit of contraries. They
+also admit of variation of degree: for it is possible to heat in a
+greater or less degree; also to be heated in a greater or less degree.
+Thus action and affection also admit of variation of degree. So much,
+then, is stated with regard to these categories.
+
+We spoke, moreover, of the category of position when we were dealing
+with that of relation, and stated that such terms derived their names
+from those of the corresponding attitudes.
+
+As for the rest, time, place, state, since they are easily
+intelligible, I say no more about them than was said at the beginning,
+that in the category of state are included such states as 'shod',
+'armed', in that of place 'in the Lyceum' and so on, as was explained
+before.
+
+Part 10
+
+The proposed categories have, then, been adequately dealt with. We must
+next explain the various senses in which the term 'opposite' is used.
+Things are said to be opposed in four senses: (i) as correlatives to
+one another, (ii) as contraries to one another, (iii) as privatives to
+positives, (iv) as affirmatives to negatives.
+
+Let me sketch my meaning in outline. An instance of the use of the word
+'opposite' with reference to correlatives is afforded by the
+expressions 'double' and 'half'; with reference to contraries by 'bad'
+and 'good'. Opposites in the sense of 'privatives' and 'positives' are
+'blindness' and 'sight'; in the sense of affirmatives and negatives, the
+propositions 'he sits', 'he does not sit'.
+
+(i) Pairs of opposites which fall under the category of relation are
+explained by a reference of the one to the other, the reference being
+indicated by the preposition 'of' or by some other preposition. Thus,
+double is a relative term, for that which is double is explained as the
+double of something. Knowledge, again, is the opposite of the thing
+known, in the same sense; and the thing known also is explained by its
+relation to its opposite, knowledge. For the thing known is explained
+as that which is known by something, that is, by knowledge. Such
+things, then, as are opposite the one to the other in the sense of
+being correlatives are explained by a reference of the one to the other.
+
+(ii) Pairs of opposites which are contraries are not in any way
+interdependent, but are contrary the one to the other. The good is not
+spoken of as the good of the bad, but as the contrary of the bad, nor
+is white spoken of as the white of the black, but as the contrary of
+the black. These two types of opposition are therefore distinct. Those
+contraries which are such that the subjects in which they are naturally
+present, or of which they are predicated, must necessarily contain
+either the one or the other of them, have no intermediate, but those in
+the case of which no such necessity obtains, always have an
+intermediate. Thus disease and health are naturally present in the body
+of an animal, and it is necessary that either the one or the other
+should be present in the body of an animal. Odd and even, again, are
+predicated of number, and it is necessary that the one or the other
+should be present in numbers. Now there is no intermediate between the
+terms of either of these two pairs. On the other hand, in those
+contraries with regard to which no such necessity obtains, we find an
+intermediate. Blackness and whiteness are naturally present in the
+body, but it is not necessary that either the one or the other should
+be present in the body, inasmuch as it is not true to say that
+everybody must be white or black. Badness and goodness, again, are
+predicated of man, and of many other things, but it is not necessary
+that either the one quality or the other should be present in that of
+which they are predicated: it is not true to say that everything that
+may be good or bad must be either good or bad. These pairs of
+contraries have intermediates: the intermediates between white and
+black are grey, sallow, and all the other colours that come between;
+the intermediate between good and bad is that which is neither the one
+nor the other.
+
+Some intermediate qualities have names, such as grey and sallow and all
+the other colours that come between white and black; in other cases,
+however, it is not easy to name the intermediate, but we must define it
+as that which is not either extreme, as in the case of that which is
+neither good nor bad, neither just nor unjust.
+
+(iii) 'privatives' and 'positives' have reference to the same subject.
+Thus, sight and blindness have reference to the eye. It is a universal
+rule that each of a pair of opposites of this type has reference to
+that to which the particular 'positive' is natural. We say that that is
+capable of some particular faculty or possession has suffered privation
+when the faculty or possession in question is in no way present in that
+in which, and at the time at which, it should naturally be present. We
+do not call that toothless which has not teeth, or that blind which has
+not sight, but rather that which has not teeth or sight at the time
+when by nature it should. For there are some creatures which from birth
+are without sight, or without teeth, but these are not called toothless
+or blind.
+
+To be without some faculty or to possess it is not the same as the
+corresponding 'privative' or 'positive'. 'Sight' is a 'positive',
+'blindness' a 'privative', but 'to possess sight' is not equivalent to
+'sight', 'to be blind' is not equivalent to 'blindness'. Blindness is a
+'privative', to be blind is to be in a state of privation, but is not a
+'privative'. Moreover, if 'blindness' were equivalent to 'being blind',
+both would be predicated of the same subject; but though a man is said
+to be blind, he is by no means said to be blindness.
+
+To be in a state of 'possession' is, it appears, the opposite of being
+in a state of 'privation', just as 'positives' and 'privatives'
+themselves are opposite. There is the same type of antithesis in both
+cases; for just as blindness is opposed to sight, so is being blind
+opposed to having sight.
+
+That which is affirmed or denied is not itself affirmation or denial.
+By 'affirmation' we mean an affirmative proposition, by 'denial' a
+negative. Now, those facts which form the matter of the affirmation or
+denial are not propositions; yet these two are said to be opposed in
+the same sense as the affirmation and denial, for in this case also the
+type of antithesis is the same. For as the affirmation is opposed to
+the denial, as in the two propositions 'he sits', 'he does not sit', so
+also the fact which constitutes the matter of the proposition in one
+case is opposed to that in the other, his sitting, that is to say, to
+his not sitting.
+
+It is evident that 'positives' and 'privatives' are not opposed each to
+each in the same sense as relatives. The one is not explained by
+reference to the other; sight is not sight of blindness, nor is any
+other preposition used to indicate the relation. Similarly blindness is
+not said to be blindness of sight, but rather, privation of sight.
+Relatives, moreover, reciprocate; if blindness, therefore, were a
+relative, there would be a reciprocity of relation between it and that
+with which it was correlative. But this is not the case. Sight is not
+called the sight of blindness.
+
+That those terms which fall under the heads of 'positives' and
+'privatives' are not opposed each to each as contraries, either, is
+plain from the following facts: Of a pair of contraries such that they
+have no intermediate, one or the other must needs be present in the
+subject in which they naturally subsist, or of which they are
+predicated; for it is those, as we proved, in the case of which this
+necessity obtains, that have no intermediate. Moreover, we cited health
+and disease, odd and even, as instances. But those contraries which
+have an intermediate are not subject to any such necessity. It is not
+necessary that every substance, receptive of such qualities, should be
+either black or white, cold or hot, for something intermediate between
+these contraries may very well be present in the subject. We proved,
+moreover, that those contraries have an intermediate in the case of
+which the said necessity does not obtain. Yet when one of the two
+contraries is a constitutive property of the subject, as it is a
+constitutive property of fire to be hot, of snow to be white, it is
+necessary determinately that one of the two contraries, not one or the
+other, should be present in the subject; for fire cannot be cold, or
+snow black. Thus, it is not the case here that one of the two must
+needs be present in every subject receptive of these qualities, but
+only in that subject of which the one forms a constitutive property.
+Moreover, in such cases it is one member of the pair determinately, and
+not either the one or the other, which must be present.
+
+In the case of 'positives' and 'privatives', on the other hand, neither
+of the aforesaid statements holds good. For it is not necessary that a
+subject receptive of the qualities should always have either the one or
+the other; that which has not yet advanced to the state when sight is
+natural is not said either to be blind or to see. Thus 'positives' and
+'privatives' do not belong to that class of contraries which consists
+of those which have no intermediate. On the other hand, they do not
+belong either to that class which consists of contraries which have an
+intermediate. For under certain conditions it is necessary that either
+the one or the other should form part of the constitution of every
+appropriate subject. For when a thing has reached the stage when it is
+by nature capable of sight, it will be said either to see or to be
+blind, and that in an indeterminate sense, signifying that the capacity
+may be either present or absent; for it is not necessary either that it
+should see or that it should be blind, but that it should be either in
+the one state or in the other. Yet in the case of those contraries
+which have an intermediate we found that it was never necessary that
+either the one or the other should be present in every appropriate
+subject, but only that in certain subjects one of the pair should be
+present, and that in a determinate sense. It is, therefore, plain that
+'positives' and 'privatives' are not opposed each to each in either of
+the senses in which contraries are opposed.
+
+Again, in the case of contraries, it is possible that there should be
+changes from either into the other, while the subject retains its
+identity, unless indeed one of the contraries is a constitutive
+property of that subject, as heat is of fire. For it is possible that
+that that which is healthy should become diseased, that which is white,
+black, that which is cold, hot, that which is good, bad, that which is
+bad, good. The bad man, if he is being brought into a better way of
+life and thought, may make some advance, however slight, and if he
+should once improve, even ever so little, it is plain that he might
+change completely, or at any rate make very great progress; for a man
+becomes more and more easily moved to virtue, however small the
+improvement was at first. It is, therefore, natural to suppose that he
+will make yet greater progress than he has made in the past; and as
+this process goes on, it will change him completely and establish him
+in the contrary state, provided he is not hindered by lack of time. In
+the case of 'positives' and 'privatives', however, change in both
+directions is impossible. There may be a change from possession to
+privation, but not from privation to possession. The man who has become
+blind does not regain his sight; the man who has become bald does not
+regain his hair; the man who has lost his teeth does not grow a new
+set.
+
+(iv) Statements opposed as affirmation and negation belong
+manifestly to a class which is distinct, for in this case, and in this
+case only, it is necessary for the one opposite to be true and the
+other false.
+
+Neither in the case of contraries, nor in the case of correlatives, nor
+in the case of 'positives' and 'privatives', is it necessary for one to
+be true and the other false. Health and disease are contraries: neither
+of them is true or false. 'Double' and 'half' are opposed to each other
+as correlatives: neither of them is true or false. The case is the
+same, of course, with regard to 'positives' and 'privatives' such as
+'sight' and 'blindness'. In short, where there is no sort of
+combination of words, truth and falsity have no place, and all the
+opposites we have mentioned so far consist of simple words.
+
+At the same time, when the words which enter into opposed statements
+are contraries, these, more than any other set of opposites, would seem
+to claim this characteristic. 'Socrates is ill' is the contrary of
+'Socrates is well', but not even of such composite expressions is it
+true to say that one of the pair must always be true and the other
+false. For if Socrates exists, one will be true and the other false,
+but if he does not exist, both will be false; for neither 'Socrates is
+ill' nor 'Socrates is well' is true, if Socrates does not exist at all.
+
+In the case of 'positives' and 'privatives', if the subject does not
+exist at all, neither proposition is true, but even if the subject
+exists, it is not always the fact that one is true and the other false.
+For 'Socrates has sight' is the opposite of 'Socrates is blind' in the
+sense of the word 'opposite' which applies to possession and privation.
+Now if Socrates exists, it is not necessary that one should be true and
+the other false, for when he is not yet able to acquire the power of
+vision, both are false, as also if Socrates is altogether non-existent.
+
+But in the case of affirmation and negation, whether the subject exists
+or not, one is always false and the other true. For manifestly, if
+Socrates exists, one of the two propositions 'Socrates is ill',
+'Socrates is not ill', is true, and the other false. This is likewise
+the case if he does not exist; for if he does not exist, to say that he
+is ill is false, to say that he is not ill is true. Thus it is in the
+case of those opposites only, which are opposite in the sense in which
+the term is used with reference to affirmation and negation, that the
+rule holds good, that one of the pair must be true and the other false.
+
+Part 11
+
+That the contrary of a good is an evil is shown by induction: the
+contrary of health is disease, of courage, cowardice, and so on. But
+the contrary of an evil is sometimes a good, sometimes an evil. For
+defect, which is an evil, has excess for its contrary, this also being
+an evil, and the mean, which is a good, is equally the contrary of the
+one and of the other. It is only in a few cases, however, that we see
+instances of this: in most, the contrary of an evil is a good.
+
+In the case of contraries, it is not always necessary that if one
+exists the other should also exist: for if all become healthy there
+will be health and no disease, and again, if everything turns white,
+there will be white, but no black. Again, since the fact that Socrates
+is ill is the contrary of the fact that Socrates is well, and two
+contrary conditions cannot both obtain in one and the same individual
+at the same time, both these contraries could not exist at once: for if
+that Socrates was well was a fact, then that Socrates was ill could not
+possibly be one.
+
+It is plain that contrary attributes must needs be present in subjects
+which belong to the same species or genus. Disease and health require
+as their subject the body of an animal; white and black require a body,
+without further qualification; justice and injustice require as their
+subject the human soul.
+
+Moreover, it is necessary that pairs of contraries should in all cases
+either belong to the same genus or belong to contrary genera or be
+themselves genera. White and black belong to the same genus, colour;
+justice and injustice, to contrary genera, virtue and vice; while good
+and evil do not belong to genera, but are themselves actual genera,
+with terms under them.
+
+Part 12
+
+There are four senses in which one thing can be said to be 'prior' to
+another. Primarily and most properly the term has reference to time: in
+this sense the word is used to indicate that one thing is older or more
+ancient than another, for the expressions 'older' and 'more ancient'
+imply greater length of time.
+
+Secondly, one thing is said to be 'prior' to another when the sequence
+of their being cannot be reversed. In this sense 'one' is 'prior' to
+'two'. For if 'two' exists, it follows directly that 'one' must exist,
+but if 'one' exists, it does not follow necessarily that 'two' exists:
+thus the sequence subsisting cannot be reversed. It is agreed, then,
+that when the sequence of two things cannot be reversed, then that one
+on which the other depends is called 'prior' to that other.
+
+In the third place, the term 'prior' is used with reference to any
+order, as in the case of science and of oratory. For in sciences which
+use demonstration there is that which is prior and that which is
+posterior in order; in geometry, the elements are prior to the
+propositions; in reading and writing, the letters of the alphabet are
+prior to the syllables. Similarly, in the case of speeches, the
+exordium is prior in order to the narrative.
+
+Besides these senses of the word, there is a fourth. That which is
+better and more honourable is said to have a natural priority. In
+common parlance men speak of those whom they honour and love as 'coming
+first' with them. This sense of the word is perhaps the most
+far-fetched.
+
+Such, then, are the different senses in which the term 'prior' is used.
+
+Yet it would seem that besides those mentioned there is yet another.
+For in those things, the being of each of which implies that of the
+other, that which is in any way the cause may reasonably be said to be
+by nature 'prior' to the effect. It is plain that there are instances
+of this. The fact of the being of a man carries with it the truth of
+the proposition that he is, and the implication is reciprocal: for if a
+man is, the proposition wherein we allege that he is true, and
+conversely, if the proposition wherein we allege that he is true, then
+he is. The true proposition, however, is in no way the cause of the
+being of the man, but the fact of the man's being does seem somehow to
+be the cause of the truth of the proposition, for the truth or falsity
+of the proposition depends on the fact of the man's being or not being.
+
+Thus the word 'prior' may be used in five senses.
+
+Part 13
+
+The term 'simultaneous' is primarily and most appropriately applied to
+those things the genesis of the one of which is simultaneous with that
+of the other; for in such cases neither is prior or posterior to the
+other. Such things are said to be simultaneous in point of time. Those
+things, again, are 'simultaneous' in point of nature, the being of each
+of which involves that of the other, while at the same time neither is
+the cause of the other's being. This is the case with regard to the
+double and the half, for these are reciprocally dependent, since, if
+there is a double, there is also a half, and if there is a half, there
+is also a double, while at the same time neither is the cause of the
+being of the other.
+
+Again, those species which are distinguished one from another and
+opposed one to another within the same genus are said to be
+'simultaneous' in nature. I mean those species which are distinguished
+each from each by one and the same method of division. Thus the
+'winged' species is simultaneous with the 'terrestrial' and the 'water'
+species. These are distinguished within the same genus, and are opposed
+each to each, for the genus 'animal' has the 'winged', the
+'terrestrial', and the 'water' species, and no one of these is prior or
+posterior to another; on the contrary, all such things appear to be
+'simultaneous' in nature. Each of these also, the terrestrial, the
+winged, and the water species, can be divided again into subspecies.
+Those species, then, also will be 'simultaneous' in point of nature,
+which, belonging to the same genus, are distinguished each from each by
+one and the same method of differentiation.
+
+But genera are prior to species, for the sequence of their being cannot
+be reversed. If there is the species 'water-animal', there will be the
+genus 'animal', but granted the being of the genus 'animal', it does
+not follow necessarily that there will be the species 'water-animal'.
+
+Those things, therefore, are said to be 'simultaneous' in nature, the
+being of each of which involves that of the other, while at the same
+time neither is in any way the cause of the other's being; those
+species, also, which are distinguished each from each and opposed
+within the same genus. Those things, moreover, are 'simultaneous' in
+the unqualified sense of the word which come into being at the same
+time.
+
+Part 14
+
+There are six sorts of movement: generation, destruction, increase,
+diminution, alteration, and change of place.
+
+It is evident in all but one case that all these sorts of movement are
+distinct each from each. Generation is distinct from destruction,
+increase and change of place from diminution, and so on. But in the
+case of alteration it may be argued that the process necessarily
+implies one or other of the other five sorts of motion. This is not
+true, for we may say that all affections, or nearly all, produce in us
+an alteration which is distinct from all other sorts of motion, for
+that which is affected need not suffer either increase or diminution or
+any of the other sorts of motion. Thus alteration is a distinct sort of
+motion; for, if it were not, the thing altered would not only be
+altered, but would forthwith necessarily suffer increase or diminution
+or some one of the other sorts of motion in addition; which as a matter
+of fact is not the case. Similarly that which was undergoing the
+process of increase or was subject to some other sort of motion would,
+if alteration were not a distinct form of motion, necessarily be
+subject to alteration also. But there are some things which undergo
+increase but yet not alteration. The square, for instance, if a gnomon
+is applied to it, undergoes increase but not alteration, and so it is
+with all other figures of this sort. Alteration and increase,
+therefore, are distinct.
+
+Speaking generally, rest is the contrary of motion. But the different
+forms of motion have their own contraries in other forms; thus
+destruction is the contrary of generation, diminution of increase, rest
+in a place, of change of place. As for this last, change in the reverse
+direction would seem to be most truly its contrary; thus motion upwards
+is the contrary of motion downwards and vice versa.
+
+In the case of that sort of motion which yet remains, of those that
+have been enumerated, it is not easy to state what is its contrary. It
+appears to have no contrary, unless one should define the contrary here
+also either as 'rest in its quality' or as 'change in the direction of
+the contrary quality', just as we defined the contrary of change of
+place either as rest in a place or as change in the reverse direction.
+For a thing is altered when change of quality takes place; therefore
+either rest in its quality or change in the direction of the contrary
+may be called the contrary of this qualitative form of motion. In this
+way becoming white is the contrary of becoming black; there is
+alteration in the contrary direction, since a change of a qualitative
+nature takes place.
+
+Part 15
+
+The term 'to have' is used in various senses. In the first place it is
+used with reference to habit or disposition or any other quality, for
+we are said to 'have' a piece of knowledge or a virtue. Then, again, it
+has reference to quantity, as, for instance, in the case of a man's
+height; for he is said to 'have' a height of three or four cubits. It
+is used, moreover, with regard to apparel, a man being said to 'have' a
+coat or tunic; or in respect of something which we have on a part of
+ourselves, as a ring on the hand: or in respect of something which is a
+part of us, as hand or foot. The term refers also to content, as in the
+case of a vessel and wheat, or of a jar and wine; a jar is said to
+'have' wine, and a corn-measure wheat. The expression in such cases has
+reference to content. Or it refers to that which has been acquired; we
+are said to 'have' a house or a field. A man is also said to 'have' a
+wife, and a wife a husband, and this appears to be the most remote
+meaning of the term, for by the use of it we mean simply that the
+husband lives with the wife.
+
+Other senses of the word might perhaps be found, but the most ordinary
+ones have all been enumerated.

data/aristotle_poetics.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,1508 @@
+Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer
+
+THE POETICS OF ARISTOTLE
+
+By Aristotle
+
+A Translation By S. H. Butcher
+
+[Transcriber's Annotations and Conventions: the translator left
+intact some Greek words to illustrate a specific point of the original
+discourse. In this transcription, in order to retain the accuracy of
+this text, those words are rendered by spelling out each Greek letter
+individually, such as {alpha beta gamma delta...}. The reader can
+distinguish these words by the enclosing braces {}. Where multiple
+words occur together, they are separated by the "/" symbol for clarity.
+Readers who do not speak or read the Greek language will usually neither
+gain nor lose understanding by skipping over these passages. Those who
+understand Greek, however, may gain a deeper insight to the original
+meaning and distinctions expressed by Aristotle.]
+
+Analysis of Contents
+
+  I     'Imitation' the common principle of the Arts of Poetry.
+  II    The Objects of Imitation.
+  III   The Manner of Imitation.
+  IV    The Origin and Development of Poetry.
+  V     Definition of the Ludicrous, and a brief sketch of the rise of
+        Comedy.
+  VI    Definition of Tragedy.
+  VII   The Plot must be a Whole.
+  VIII  The Plot must be a Unity.
+  IX    (Plot continued.) Dramatic Unity.
+  X     (Plot continued.) Definitions of Simple and Complex Plots.
+  XI    (Plot continued.) Reversal of the Situation, Recognition, and
+        Tragic or disastrous Incident defined and explained.
+  XII   The 'quantitative parts' of Tragedy defined.
+  XIII  (Plot continued.) What constitutes Tragic Action.
+  XIV   (Plot continued.) The tragic emotions of pity and fear should
+        spring out of the Plot itself.
+  XV    The element of Character in Tragedy.
+  XVI   (Plot continued.) Recognition: its various kinds, with examples.
+  XVII  Practical rules for the Tragic Poet.
+  XVIII Further rules for the Tragic Poet.
+  XIX   Thought, or the Intellectual element, and Diction in Tragedy.
+  XX    Diction, or Language in general.
+  XXI   Poetic Diction.
+  XXII  (Poetic Diction continued.) How Poetry combines elevation of
+        language with perspicuity.
+  XXIII Epic Poetry.
+  XXIV  (Epic Poetry continued.) Further points of agreement with Tragedy.
+  XXV   Critical Objections brought against Poetry, and the principles on
+        which they are to be answered.
+  XXVI  A general estimate of the comparative worth of Epic Poetry and
+        Tragedy.
+
+ARISTOTLE'S POETICS
+
+I
+
+I propose to treat of Poetry in itself and of its various kinds, noting
+the essential quality of each; to inquire into the structure of the plot
+as requisite to a good poem; into the number and nature of the parts of
+which a poem is composed; and similarly into whatever else falls within
+the same inquiry. Following, then, the order of nature, let us begin
+with the principles which come first.
+
+Epic poetry and Tragedy, Comedy also and Dithyrambic: poetry, and the
+music of the flute and of the lyre in most of their forms, are all in
+their general conception modes of imitation. They differ, however, from
+one: another in three respects,--the medium, the objects, the manner or
+mode of imitation, being in each case distinct.
+
+For as there are persons who, by conscious art or mere habit, imitate
+and represent various objects through the medium of colour and form, or
+again by the voice; so in the arts above mentioned, taken as a whole,
+the imitation is produced by rhythm, language, or 'harmony,' either
+singly or combined.
+
+Thus in the music of the flute and of the lyre, 'harmony' and rhythm
+alone are employed; also in other arts, such as that of the shepherd's
+pipe, which are essentially similar to these. In dancing, rhythm alone
+is used without 'harmony'; for even dancing imitates character, emotion,
+and action, by rhythmical movement.
+
+There is another art which imitates by means of language alone, and
+that either in prose or verse--which, verse, again, may either combine
+different metres or consist of but one kind--but this has hitherto been
+without a name. For there is no common term we could apply to the mimes
+of Sophron and Xenarchus and the Socratic dialogues on the one hand;
+and, on the other, to poetic imitations in iambic, elegiac, or any
+similar metre. People do, indeed, add the word 'maker' or 'poet' to
+the name of the metre, and speak of elegiac poets, or epic (that is,
+hexameter) poets, as if it were not the imitation that makes the poet,
+but the verse that entitles them all indiscriminately to the name. Even
+when a treatise on medicine or natural science is brought out in verse,
+the name of poet is by custom given to the author; and yet Homer and
+Empedocles have nothing in common but the metre, so that it would be
+right to call the one poet, the other physicist rather than poet. On the
+same principle, even if a writer in his poetic imitation were to combine
+all metres, as Chaeremon did in his Centaur, which is a medley composed
+of metres of all kinds, we should bring him too under the general term
+poet. So much then for these distinctions.
+
+There are, again, some arts which employ all the means above mentioned,
+namely, rhythm, tune, and metre. Such are Dithyrambic and Nomic poetry,
+and also Tragedy and Comedy; but between them the difference is, that in
+the first two cases these means are all employed in combination, in the
+latter, now one means is employed, now another.
+
+Such, then, are the differences of the arts with respect to the medium
+of imitation.
+
+II
+
+Since the objects of imitation are men in action, and these men must be
+either of a higher or a lower type (for moral character mainly answers
+to these divisions, goodness and badness being the distinguishing marks
+of moral differences), it follows that we must represent men either as
+better than in real life, or as worse, or as they are. It is the same
+in painting. Polygnotus depicted men as nobler than they are, Pauson as
+less noble, Dionysius drew them true to life.
+
+Now it is evident that each of the modes of imitation above mentioned
+will exhibit these differences, and become a distinct kind in imitating
+objects that are thus distinct. Such diversities may be found even in
+dancing, flute-playing, and lyre-playing. So again in language, whether
+prose or verse unaccompanied by music. Homer, for example, makes men
+better than they are; Cleophon as they are; Hegemon the Thasian, the
+inventor of parodies, and Nicochares, the author of the Deiliad, worse
+than they are. The same thing holds good of Dithyrambs and Nomes;
+here too one may portray different types, as Timotheus and Philoxenus
+differed in representing their Cyclopes. The same distinction marks
+off Tragedy from Comedy; for Comedy aims at representing men as worse,
+Tragedy as better than in actual life.
+
+III
+
+There is still a third difference--the manner in which each of these
+objects may be imitated. For the medium being the same, and the objects
+the same, the poet may imitate by narration--in which case he can either
+take another personality as Homer does, or speak in his own person,
+unchanged--or he may present all his characters as living and moving
+before us.
+
+These, then, as we said at the beginning, are the three differences
+which distinguish artistic imitation,--the medium, the objects, and the
+manner. So that from one point of view, Sophocles is an imitator of the
+same kind as Homer--for both imitate higher types of character; from
+another point of view, of the same kind as Aristophanes--for both
+imitate persons acting and doing. Hence, some say, the name of 'drama'
+is given to such poems, as representing action. For the same reason the
+Dorians claim the invention both of Tragedy and Comedy. The claim to
+Comedy is put forward by the Megarians,--not only by those of Greece
+proper, who allege that it originated under their democracy, but also
+by the Megarians of Sicily, for the poet Epicharmus, who is much earlier
+than Chionides and Magnes, belonged to that country. Tragedy too is
+claimed by certain Dorians of the Peloponnese. In each case they appeal
+to the evidence of language. The outlying villages, they say, are by
+them called {kappa omega mu alpha iota}, by the Athenians {delta eta
+mu iota}: and they assume that Comedians were so named not from {kappa
+omega mu 'alpha zeta epsilon iota nu}, 'to revel,' but because they
+wandered from village to village (kappa alpha tau alpha / kappa omega mu
+alpha sigma), being excluded contemptuously from the city. They add
+also that the Dorian word for 'doing' is {delta rho alpha nu}, and the
+Athenian, {pi rho alpha tau tau epsilon iota nu}.
+
+This may suffice as to the number and nature of the various modes of
+imitation.
+
+IV
+
+Poetry in general seems to have sprung from two causes, each of them
+lying deep in our nature. First, the instinct of imitation is implanted
+in man from childhood, one difference between him and other animals
+being that he is the most imitative of living creatures, and through
+imitation learns his earliest lessons; and no less universal is the
+pleasure felt in things imitated. We have evidence of this in the facts
+of experience. Objects which in themselves we view with pain, we delight
+to contemplate when reproduced with minute fidelity: such as the forms
+of the most ignoble animals and of dead bodies. The cause of this again
+is, that to learn gives the liveliest pleasure, not only to philosophers
+but to men in general; whose capacity, however, of learning is more
+limited. Thus the reason why men enjoy seeing a likeness is, that in
+contemplating it they find themselves learning or inferring, and saying
+perhaps, 'Ah, that is he.' For if you happen not to have seen the
+original, the pleasure will be due not to the imitation as such, but to
+the execution, the colouring, or some such other cause.
+
+Imitation, then, is one instinct of our nature. Next, there is the
+instinct for 'harmony' and rhythm, metres being manifestly sections of
+rhythm. Persons, therefore, starting with this natural gift developed
+by degrees their special aptitudes, till their rude improvisations gave
+birth to Poetry.
+
+Poetry now diverged in two directions, according to the individual
+character of the writers. The graver spirits imitated noble actions, and
+the actions of good men. The more trivial sort imitated the actions of
+meaner persons, at first composing satires, as the former did hymns to
+the gods and the praises of famous men. A poem of the satirical kind
+cannot indeed be put down to any author earlier than Homer; though many
+such writers probably there were. But from Homer onward, instances
+can be cited,--his own Margites, for example, and other similar
+compositions. The appropriate metre was also here introduced; hence the
+measure is still called the iambic or lampooning measure, being that
+in which people lampooned one another. Thus the older poets were
+distinguished as writers of heroic or of lampooning verse.
+
+As, in the serious style, Homer is pre-eminent among poets, for he alone
+combined dramatic form with excellence of imitation, so he too first
+laid down the main lines of Comedy, by dramatising the ludicrous instead
+of writing personal satire. His Margites bears the same relation to
+Comedy that the Iliad and Odyssey do to Tragedy. But when Tragedy and
+Comedy came to light, the two classes of poets still followed their
+natural bent: the lampooners became writers of Comedy, and the Epic
+poets were succeeded by Tragedians, since the drama was a larger and
+higher form of art.
+
+Whether Tragedy has as yet perfected its proper types or not; and
+whether it is to be judged in itself, or in relation also to the
+audience,--this raises another question. Be that as it may, Tragedy--as
+also Comedy--was at first mere improvisation. The one originated with
+the authors of the Dithyramb, the other with those of the phallic songs,
+which are still in use in many of our cities. Tragedy advanced by slow
+degrees; each new element that showed itself was in turn developed.
+Having passed through many changes, it found its natural form, and there
+it stopped.
+
+Aeschylus first introduced a second actor; he diminished the importance
+of the Chorus, and assigned the leading part to the dialogue. Sophocles
+raised the number of actors to three, and added scene-painting.
+Moreover, it was not till late that the short plot was discarded for
+one of greater compass, and the grotesque diction of the earlier satyric
+form for the stately manner of Tragedy. The iambic measure then replaced
+the trochaic tetrameter, which was originally employed when the poetry
+was of the Satyric order, and had greater affinities with dancing. Once
+dialogue had come in, Nature herself discovered the appropriate measure.
+For the iambic is, of all measures, the most colloquial: we see it
+in the fact that conversational speech runs into iambic lines more
+frequently than into any other kind of verse; rarely into hexameters,
+and only when we drop the colloquial intonation. The additions to
+the number of 'episodes' or acts, and the other accessories of which
+tradition; tells, must be taken as already described; for to discuss
+them in detail would, doubtless, be a large undertaking.
+
+V
+
+Comedy is, as we have said, an imitation of characters of a lower type,
+not, however, in the full sense of the word bad, the Ludicrous being
+merely a subdivision of the ugly. It consists in some defect or ugliness
+which is not painful or destructive. To take an obvious example, the
+comic mask is ugly and distorted, but does not imply pain.
+
+The successive changes through which Tragedy passed, and the authors
+of these changes, are well known, whereas Comedy has had no history,
+because it was not at first treated seriously. It was late before the
+Archon granted a comic chorus to a poet; the performers were till then
+voluntary. Comedy had already taken definite shape when comic poets,
+distinctively so called, are heard of. Who furnished it with masks, or
+prologues, or increased the number of actors,--these and other similar
+details remain unknown. As for the plot, it came originally from
+Sicily; but of Athenian writers Crates was the first who, abandoning the
+'iambic' or lampooning form, generalised his themes and plots.
+
+Epic poetry agrees with Tragedy in so far as it is an imitation in verse
+of characters of a higher type. They differ, in that Epic poetry admits
+but one kind of metre, and is narrative in form. They differ, again,
+in their length: for Tragedy endeavours, as far as possible, to confine
+itself to a single revolution of the sun, or but slightly to exceed this
+limit; whereas the Epic action has no limits of time. This, then, is
+a second point of difference; though at first the same freedom was
+admitted in Tragedy as in Epic poetry.
+
+Of their constituent parts some are common to both, some peculiar to
+Tragedy, whoever, therefore, knows what is good or bad Tragedy, knows
+also about Epic poetry. All the elements of an Epic poem are found in
+Tragedy, but the elements of a Tragedy are not all found in the Epic
+poem.
+
+VI
+
+Of the poetry which imitates in hexameter verse, and of Comedy, we
+will speak hereafter. Let us now discuss Tragedy, resuming its formal
+definition, as resulting from what has been already said.
+
+Tragedy, then, is an imitation of an action that is serious, complete,
+and of a certain magnitude; in language embellished with each kind of
+artistic ornament, the several kinds being found in separate parts of
+the play; in the form of action, not of narrative; through pity and
+fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions. By 'language
+embellished,' I mean language into which rhythm, 'harmony,' and song
+enter. By 'the several kinds in separate parts,' I mean, that some parts
+are rendered through the medium of verse alone, others again with the
+aid of song.
+
+Now as tragic imitation implies persons acting, it necessarily follows,
+in the first place, that Spectacular equipment will be a part of
+Tragedy. Next, Song and Diction, for these are the medium of imitation.
+By 'Diction' I mean the mere metrical arrangement of the words: as for
+'Song,' it is a term whose sense every one understands.
+
+Again, Tragedy is the imitation of an action; and an action implies
+personal agents, who necessarily possess certain distinctive qualities
+both of character and thought; for it is by these that we qualify
+actions themselves, and these--thought and character--are the two
+natural causes from which actions spring, and on actions again all
+success or failure depends. Hence, the Plot is the imitation of the
+action: for by plot I here mean the arrangement of the incidents. By
+Character I mean that in virtue of which we ascribe certain qualities to
+the agents. Thought is required wherever a statement is proved, or, it
+may be, a general truth enunciated. Every Tragedy, therefore, must have
+six parts, which parts determine its quality--namely, Plot, Character,
+Diction, Thought, Spectacle, Song. Two of the parts constitute the
+medium of imitation, one the manner, and three the objects of imitation.
+And these complete the list. These elements have been employed, we may
+say, by the poets to a man; in fact, every play contains Spectacular
+elements as well as Character, Plot, Diction, Song, and Thought.
+
+But most important of all is the structure of the incidents. For Tragedy
+is an imitation, not of men, but of an action and of life, and life
+consists in action, and its end is a mode of action, not a quality. Now
+character determines men's qualities, but it is by their actions that
+they are happy or the reverse. Dramatic action, therefore, is not with
+a view to the representation of character: character comes in as
+subsidiary to the actions. Hence the incidents and the plot are the
+end of a tragedy; and the end is the chief thing of all. Again, without
+action there cannot be a tragedy; there may be without character.
+The tragedies of most of our modern poets fail in the rendering of
+character; and of poets in general this is often true. It is the same
+in painting; and here lies the difference between Zeuxis and Polygnotus.
+Polygnotus delineates character well: the style of Zeuxis is devoid
+of ethical quality. Again, if you string together a set of speeches
+expressive of character, and well finished in point of diction and
+thought, you will not produce the essential tragic effect nearly so well
+as with a play which, however deficient in these respects, yet has a
+plot and artistically constructed incidents. Besides which, the most
+powerful elements of emotional: interest in Tragedy Peripeteia or
+Reversal of the Situation, and Recognition scenes--are parts of the
+plot. A further proof is, that novices in the art attain to finish: of
+diction and precision of portraiture before they can construct the plot.
+It is the same with almost all the early poets.
+
+The Plot, then, is the first principle, and, as it were, the soul of
+a tragedy: Character holds the second place. A similar fact is seen in
+painting. The most beautiful colours, laid on confusedly, will not give
+as much pleasure as the chalk outline of a portrait. Thus Tragedy is
+the imitation of an action, and of the agents mainly with a view to the
+action.
+
+Third in order is Thought,--that is, the faculty of saying what is
+possible and pertinent in given circumstances. In the case of oratory,
+this is the function of the Political art and of the art of rhetoric:
+and so indeed the older poets make their characters speak the language
+of civic life; the poets of our time, the language of the rhetoricians.
+Character is that which reveals moral purpose, showing what kind of
+things a man chooses or avoids. Speeches, therefore, which do not make
+this manifest, or in which the speaker does not choose or avoid anything
+whatever, are not expressive of character. Thought, on the other hand,
+is found where something is proved to be, or not to be, or a general
+maxim is enunciated.
+
+Fourth among the elements enumerated comes Diction; by which I mean, as
+has been already said, the expression of the meaning in words; and its
+essence is the same both in verse and prose.
+
+Of the remaining elements Song holds the chief place among the
+embellishments.
+
+The Spectacle has, indeed, an emotional attraction of its own, but, of
+all the parts, it is the least artistic, and connected least with the
+art of poetry. For the power of Tragedy, we may be sure, is felt
+even apart from representation and actors. Besides, the production of
+spectacular effects depends more on the art of the stage machinist than
+on that of the poet.
+
+VII
+
+These principles being established, let us now discuss the proper
+structure of the Plot, since this is the first and most important thing
+in Tragedy.
+
+Now, according to our definition, Tragedy is an imitation of an action
+that is complete, and whole, and of a certain magnitude; for there may
+be a whole that is wanting in magnitude. A whole is that which has a
+beginning, a middle, and an end. A beginning is that which does not
+itself follow anything by causal necessity, but after which something
+naturally is or comes to be. An end, on the contrary, is that which
+itself naturally follows some other thing, either by necessity, or as
+a rule, but has nothing following it. A middle is that which follows
+something as some other thing follows it. A well constructed plot,
+therefore, must neither begin nor end at haphazard, but conform to these
+principles.
+
+Again, a beautiful object, whether it be a living organism or any whole
+composed of parts, must not only have an orderly arrangement of parts,
+but must also be of a certain magnitude; for beauty depends on magnitude
+and order. Hence a very small animal organism cannot be beautiful;
+for the view of it is confused, the object being seen in an almost
+imperceptible moment of time. Nor, again, can one of vast size be
+beautiful; for as the eye cannot take it all in at once, the unity and
+sense of the whole is lost for the spectator; as for instance if there
+were one a thousand miles long. As, therefore, in the case of animate
+bodies and organisms a certain magnitude is necessary, and a magnitude
+which may be easily embraced in one view; so in the plot, a certain
+length is necessary, and a length which can be easily embraced by the
+memory. The limit of length in relation to dramatic competition and
+sensuous presentment, is no part of artistic theory. For had it been the
+rule for a hundred tragedies to compete together, the performance would
+have been regulated by the water-clock,--as indeed we are told was
+formerly done. But the limit as fixed by the nature of the drama itself
+is this: the greater the length, the more beautiful will the piece be
+by reason of its size, provided that the whole be perspicuous. And
+to define the matter roughly, we may say that the proper magnitude is
+comprised within such limits, that the sequence of events, according
+to the law of probability or necessity, will admit of a change from bad
+fortune to good, or from good fortune to bad.
+
+VIII
+
+Unity of plot does not, as some persons think, consist in the Unity of
+the hero. For infinitely various are the incidents in one man's life
+which cannot be reduced to unity; and so, too, there are many actions of
+one man out of which we cannot make one action. Hence, the error, as it
+appears, of all poets who have composed a Heracleid, a Theseid, or other
+poems of the kind. They imagine that as Heracles was one man, the story
+of Heracles must also be a unity. But Homer, as in all else he is of
+surpassing merit, here too--whether from art or natural genius--seems
+to have happily discerned the truth. In composing the Odyssey he did not
+include all the adventures of Odysseus--such as his wound on Parnassus,
+or his feigned madness at the mustering of the host--incidents between
+which there was no necessary or probable connection: but he made the
+Odyssey, and likewise the Iliad, to centre round an action that in our
+sense of the word is one. As therefore, in the other imitative arts, the
+imitation is one when the object imitated is one, so the plot, being an
+imitation of an action, must imitate one action and that a whole, the
+structural union of the parts being such that, if any one of them is
+displaced or removed, the whole will be disjointed and disturbed. For a
+thing whose presence or absence makes no visible difference, is not an
+organic part of the whole.
+
+IX
+
+It is, moreover, evident from what has been said, that it is not
+the function of the poet to relate what has happened, but what may
+happen,--what is possible according to the law of probability or
+necessity. The poet and the historian differ not by writing in verse or
+in prose. The work of Herodotus might be put into verse, and it would
+still be a species of history, with metre no less than without it. The
+true difference is that one relates what has happened, the other what
+may happen. Poetry, therefore, is a more philosophical and a higher
+thing than history: for poetry tends to express the universal, history
+the particular. By the universal, I mean how a person of a certain type
+will on occasion speak or act, according to the law of probability or
+necessity; and it is this universality at which poetry aims in the names
+she attaches to the personages. The particular is--for example--what
+Alcibiades did or suffered. In Comedy this is already apparent: for here
+the poet first constructs the plot on the lines of probability, and then
+inserts characteristic names;--unlike the lampooners who write about
+particular individuals. But tragedians still keep to real names, the
+reason being that what is possible is credible: what has not happened
+we do not at once feel sure to be possible: but what has happened is
+manifestly possible: otherwise it would not have happened. Still there
+are even some tragedies in which there are only one or two well known
+names, the rest being fictitious. In others, none are well known, as in
+Agathon's Antheus, where incidents and names alike are fictitious, and
+yet they give none the less pleasure. We must not, therefore, at all
+costs keep to the received legends, which are the usual subjects of
+Tragedy. Indeed, it would be absurd to attempt it; for even subjects
+that are known are known only to a few, and yet give pleasure to all.
+It clearly follows that the poet or 'maker' should be the maker of plots
+rather than of verses; since he is a poet because he imitates, and what
+he imitates are actions. And even if he chances to take an historical
+subject, he is none the less a poet; for there is no reason why some
+events that have actually happened should not conform to the law of the
+probable and possible, and in virtue of that quality in them he is their
+poet or maker.
+
+Of all plots and actions the epeisodic are the worst. I call a plot
+'epeisodic' in which the episodes or acts succeed one another without
+probable or necessary sequence. Bad poets compose such pieces by their
+own fault, good poets, to please the players; for, as they write show
+pieces for competition, they stretch the plot beyond its capacity, and
+are often forced to break the natural continuity.
+
+But again, Tragedy is an imitation not only of a complete action, but of
+events inspiring fear or pity. Such an effect is best produced when the
+events come on us by surprise; and the effect is heightened when, at the
+same time, they follow as cause and effect. The tragic wonder will thee
+be greater than if they happened of themselves or by accident; for even
+coincidences are most striking when they have an air of design. We may
+instance the statue of Mitys at Argos, which fell upon his murderer
+while he was a spectator at a festival, and killed him. Such events seem
+not to be due to mere chance. Plots, therefore, constructed on these
+principles are necessarily the best.
+
+X
+
+Plots are either Simple or Complex, for the actions in real life, of
+which the plots are an imitation, obviously show a similar distinction.
+An action which is one and continuous in the sense above defined, I call
+Simple, when the change of fortune takes place without Reversal of the
+Situation and without Recognition.
+
+A Complex action is one in which the change is accompanied by such
+Reversal, or by Recognition, or by both. These last should arise from
+the internal structure of the plot, so that what follows should be the
+necessary or probable result of the preceding action. It makes all the
+difference whether any given event is a case of propter hoc or post hoc.
+
+XI
+
+Reversal of the Situation is a change by which the action veers round
+to its opposite, subject always to our rule of probability or necessity.
+Thus in the Oedipus, the messenger comes to cheer Oedipus and free
+him from his alarms about his mother, but by revealing who he is, he
+produces the opposite effect. Again in the Lynceus, Lynceus is being led
+away to his death, and Danaus goes with him, meaning, to slay him; but
+the outcome of the preceding incidents is that Danaus is killed and
+Lynceus saved. Recognition, as the name indicates, is a change from
+ignorance to knowledge, producing love or hate between the persons
+destined by the poet for good or bad fortune. The best form of
+recognition is coincident with a Reversal of the Situation, as in the
+Oedipus. There are indeed other forms. Even inanimate things of the most
+trivial kind may in a sense be objects of recognition. Again, we may
+recognise or discover whether a person has done a thing or not. But the
+recognition which is most intimately connected with the plot and action
+is, as we have said, the recognition of persons. This recognition,
+combined, with Reversal, will produce either pity or fear; and actions
+producing these effects are those which, by our definition, Tragedy
+represents. Moreover, it is upon such situations that the issues of good
+or bad fortune will depend. Recognition, then, being between persons,
+it may happen that one person only is recognised by the other-when the
+latter is already known--or it may be necessary that the recognition
+should be on both sides. Thus Iphigenia is revealed to Orestes by the
+sending of the letter; but another act of recognition is required to
+make Orestes known to Iphigenia.
+
+Two parts, then, of the Plot--Reversal of the Situation and
+Recognition--turn upon surprises. A third part is the Scene of
+Suffering. The Scene of Suffering is a destructive or painful action,
+such as death on the stage, bodily agony, wounds and the like.
+
+XII
+
+[The parts of Tragedy which must be treated as elements of the whole
+have been already mentioned. We now come to the quantitative parts,
+and the separate parts into which Tragedy is divided, namely, Prologue,
+Episode, Exode, Choric song; this last being divided into Parode and
+Stasimon. These are common to all plays: peculiar to some are the songs
+of actors from the stage and the Commoi.
+
+The Prologue is that entire part of a tragedy which precedes the Parode
+of the Chorus. The Episode is that entire part of a tragedy which
+is between complete choric songs. The Exode is that entire part of a
+tragedy which has no choric song after it. Of the Choric part the Parode
+is the first undivided utterance of the Chorus: the Stasimon is a Choric
+ode without anapaests or trochaic tetrameters: the Commos is a joint
+lamentation of Chorus and actors. The parts of Tragedy which must
+be treated as elements of the whole have been already mentioned. The
+quantitative parts the separate parts into which it is divided--are here
+enumerated.]
+
+XIII
+
+As the sequel to what has already been said, we must proceed to consider
+what the poet should aim at, and what he should avoid, in constructing
+his plots; and by what means the specific effect of Tragedy will be
+produced.
+
+A perfect tragedy should, as we have seen, be arranged not on the simple
+but on the complex plan. It should, moreover, imitate actions which
+excite pity and fear, this being the distinctive mark of tragic
+imitation. It follows plainly, in the first place, that the change, of
+fortune presented must not be the spectacle of a virtuous man brought
+from prosperity to adversity: for this moves neither pity nor fear; it
+merely shocks us. Nor, again, that of a bad man passing from adversity
+to prosperity: for nothing can be more alien to the spirit of Tragedy;
+it possesses no single tragic quality; it neither satisfies the moral
+sense nor calls forth pity or fear. Nor, again, should the downfall of
+the utter villain be exhibited. A plot of this kind would, doubtless,
+satisfy the moral sense, but it would inspire neither pity nor fear; for
+pity is aroused by unmerited misfortune, fear by the misfortune of a man
+like ourselves. Such an event, therefore, will be neither pitiful
+nor terrible. There remains, then, the character between these two
+extremes,--that of a man who is not eminently good and just,-yet whose
+misfortune is brought about not by vice or depravity, but by some error
+or frailty. He must be one who is highly renowned and prosperous,--a
+personage like Oedipus, Thyestes, or other illustrious men of such
+families.
+
+A well constructed plot should, therefore, be single in its issue,
+rather than double as some maintain. The change of fortune should be not
+from bad to good, but, reversely, from good to bad. It should come about
+as the result not of vice, but of some great error or frailty, in a
+character either such as we have described, or better rather than
+worse. The practice of the stage bears out our view. At first the poets
+recounted any legend that came in their way. Now, the best tragedies
+are founded on the story of a few houses, on the fortunes of Alcmaeon,
+Oedipus, Orestes, Meleager, Thyestes, Telephus, and those others who
+have done or suffered something terrible. A tragedy, then, to be perfect
+according to the rules of art should be of this construction. Hence
+they are in error who censure Euripides just because he follows this
+principle in his plays, many of which end unhappily. It is, as we have
+said, the right ending. The best proof is that on the stage and in
+dramatic competition, such plays, if well worked out, are the most
+tragic in effect; and Euripides, faulty though he may be in the general
+management of his subject, yet is felt to be the most tragic of the
+poets.
+
+In the second rank comes the kind of tragedy which some place first.
+Like the Odyssey, it has a double thread of plot, and also an opposite
+catastrophe for the good and for the bad. It is accounted the best
+because of the weakness of the spectators; for the poet is guided in
+what he writes by the wishes of his audience. The pleasure, however,
+thence derived is not the true tragic pleasure. It is proper rather to
+Comedy, where those who, in the piece, are the deadliest enemies--like
+Orestes and Aegisthus--quit the stage as friends at the close, and no
+one slays or is slain.
+
+XIV
+
+Fear and pity may be aroused by spectacular means; but they may also
+result from the inner structure of the piece, which is the better way,
+and indicates a superior poet. For the plot ought to be so constructed
+that, even without the aid of the eye, he who hears the tale told will
+thrill with horror and melt to pity at what takes place. This is the
+impression we should receive from hearing the story of the Oedipus. But
+to produce this effect by the mere spectacle is a less artistic method,
+and dependent on extraneous aids. Those who employ spectacular means
+to create a sense not of the terrible but only of the monstrous, are
+strangers to the purpose of Tragedy; for we must not demand of Tragedy
+any and every kind of pleasure, but only that which is proper to it. And
+since the pleasure which the poet should afford is that which comes from
+pity and fear through imitation, it is evident that this quality must be
+impressed upon the incidents.
+
+Let us then determine what are the circumstances which strike us as
+terrible or pitiful.
+
+Actions capable of this effect must happen between persons who are
+either friends or enemies or indifferent to one another. If an enemy
+kills an enemy, there is nothing to excite pity either in the act or
+the intention,--except so far as the suffering in itself is pitiful.
+So again with indifferent persons. But when the tragic incident occurs
+between those who are near or dear to one another--if, for example, a
+brother kills, or intends to kill, a brother, a son his father, a mother
+her son, a son his mother, or any other deed of the kind is done--these
+are the situations to be looked for by the poet. He may not indeed
+destroy the framework of the received legends--the fact, for instance,
+that Clytemnestra was slain by Orestes and Eriphyle by Alcmaeon but he
+ought to show invention of his own, and skilfully handle the traditional
+material. Let us explain more clearly what is meant by skilful handling.
+
+The action may be done consciously and with knowledge of the persons, in
+the manner of the older poets. It is thus too that Euripides makes Medea
+slay her children. Or, again, the deed of horror may be done, but
+done in ignorance, and the tie of kinship or friendship be discovered
+afterwards. The Oedipus of Sophocles is an example. Here, indeed, the
+incident is outside the drama proper; but cases occur where it falls
+within the action of the play: one may cite the Alcmaeon of Astydamas,
+or Telegonus in the Wounded Odysseus. Again, there is a third case,--<to
+be about to act with knowledge of the persons and then not to act. The
+fourth case is> when some one is about to do an irreparable deed through
+ignorance, and makes the discovery before it is done. These are the only
+possible ways. For the deed must either be done or not done,--and that
+wittingly or unwittingly. But of all these ways, to be about to act
+knowing the persons, and then not to act, is the worst. It is shocking
+without being tragic, for no disaster follows. It is, therefore, never,
+or very rarely, found in poetry. One instance, however, is in the
+Antigone, where Haemon threatens to kill Creon. The next and better way
+is that the deed should be perpetrated. Still better, that it should be
+perpetrated in ignorance, and the discovery made afterwards. There
+is then nothing to shock us, while the discovery produces a startling
+effect. The last case is the best, as when in the Cresphontes Merope is
+about to slay her son, but, recognising who he is, spares his life. So
+in the Iphigenia, the sister recognises the brother just in time. Again
+in the Helle, the son recognises the mother when on the point of giving
+her up. This, then, is why a few families only, as has been already
+observed, furnish the subjects of tragedy. It was not art, but happy
+chance, that led the poets in search of subjects to impress the tragic
+quality upon their plots. They are compelled, therefore, to have
+recourse to those houses whose history contains moving incidents like
+these.
+
+Enough has now been said concerning the structure of the incidents, and
+the right kind of plot.
+
+XV
+
+In respect of Character there are four things to be aimed at. First, and
+most important, it must be good. Now any speech or action that manifests
+moral purpose of any kind will be expressive of character: the character
+will be good if the purpose is good. This rule is relative to each
+class. Even a woman may be good, and also a slave; though the woman
+may be said to be an inferior being, and the slave quite worthless. The
+second thing to aim at is propriety. There is a type of manly valour;
+but valour in a woman, or unscrupulous cleverness, is inappropriate.
+Thirdly, character must be true to life: for this is a distinct thing
+from goodness and propriety, as here described. The fourth point is
+consistency: for though the subject of the imitation, who suggested the
+type, be inconsistent, still he must be consistently inconsistent. As an
+example of motiveless degradation of character, we have Menelaus in
+the Orestes: of character indecorous and inappropriate, the lament of
+Odysseus in the Scylla, and the speech of Melanippe: of inconsistency,
+the Iphigenia at Aulis,--for Iphigenia the suppliant in no way resembles
+her later self.
+
+As in the structure of the plot, so too in the portraiture of character,
+the poet should always aim either at the necessary or the probable. Thus
+a person of a given character should speak or act in a given way, by the
+rule either of necessity or of probability; just as this event should
+follow that by necessary or probable sequence. It is therefore evident
+that the unravelling of the plot, no less than the complication, must
+arise out of the plot itself, it must not be brought about by the 'Deus
+ex Machina'--as in the Medea, or in the Return of the Greeks in the
+Iliad. The 'Deus ex Machina' should be employed only for events external
+to the drama,--for antecedent or subsequent events, which lie beyond the
+range of human knowledge, and which require to be reported or foretold;
+for to the gods we ascribe the power of seeing all things. Within the
+action there must be nothing irrational. If the irrational cannot be
+excluded, it should be outside the scope of the tragedy. Such is the
+irrational element in the Oedipus of Sophocles.
+
+Again, since Tragedy is an imitation of persons who are above the common
+level, the example of good portrait-painters should be followed. They,
+while reproducing the distinctive form of the original, make a likeness
+which is true to life and yet more beautiful. So too the poet, in
+representing men who are irascible or indolent, or have other defects
+of character, should preserve the type and yet ennoble it. In this way
+Achilles is portrayed by Agathon and Homer.
+
+These then are rules the poet should observe. Nor should he neglect
+those appeals to the senses, which, though not among the essentials, are
+the concomitants of poetry; for here too there is much room for error.
+But of this enough has been said in our published treatises.
+
+XVI
+
+What Recognition is has been already explained. We will now enumerate
+its kinds.
+
+First, the least artistic form, which, from poverty of wit, is
+most commonly employed recognition by signs. Of these some are
+congenital,--such as 'the spear which the earth-born race bear on their
+bodies,' or the stars introduced by Carcinus in his Thyestes. Others are
+acquired after birth; and of these some are bodily marks, as scars; some
+external tokens, as necklaces, or the little ark in the Tyro by which
+the discovery is effected. Even these admit of more or less skilful
+treatment. Thus in the recognition of Odysseus by his scar, the
+discovery is made in one way by the nurse, in another by the swineherds.
+The use of tokens for the express purpose of proof--and, indeed,
+any formal proof with or without tokens--is a less artistic mode of
+recognition. A better kind is that which comes about by a turn of
+incident, as in the Bath Scene in the Odyssey.
+
+Next come the recognitions invented at will by the poet, and on that
+account wanting in art. For example, Orestes in the Iphigenia reveals
+the fact that he is Orestes. She, indeed, makes herself known by the
+letter; but he, by speaking himself, and saying what the poet, not what
+the plot requires. This, therefore, is nearly allied to the fault above
+mentioned:--for Orestes might as well have brought tokens with him.
+Another similar instance is the 'voice of the shuttle' in the Tereus of
+Sophocles.
+
+The third kind depends on memory when the sight of some object awakens
+a feeling: as in the Cyprians of Dicaeogenes, where the hero breaks into
+tears on seeing the picture; or again in the 'Lay of Alcinous,' where
+Odysseus, hearing the minstrel play the lyre, recalls the past and
+weeps; and hence the recognition.
+
+The fourth kind is by process of reasoning. Thus in the Choephori: 'Some
+one resembling me has come: no one resembles me but Orestes: therefore
+Orestes has come.' Such too is the discovery made by Iphigenia in the
+play of Polyidus the Sophist. It was a natural reflection for Orestes to
+make, 'So I too must die at the altar like my sister.' So, again, in
+the Tydeus of Theodectes, the father says, 'I came to find my son, and
+I lose my own life.' So too in the Phineidae: the women, on seeing the
+place, inferred their fate:--'Here we are doomed to die, for here
+we were cast forth.' Again, there is a composite kind of recognition
+involving false inference on the part of one of the characters, as in
+the Odysseus Disguised as a Messenger. A said <that no one else was able
+to bend the bow;... hence B (the disguised Odysseus) imagined that A
+would> recognise the bow which, in fact, he had not seen; and to bring
+about a recognition by this means that the expectation A would recognise
+the bow is false inference.
+
+But, of all recognitions, the best is that which arises from the
+incidents themselves, where the startling discovery is made by natural
+means. Such is that in the Oedipus of Sophocles, and in the Iphigenia;
+for it was natural that Iphigenia should wish to dispatch a letter.
+These recognitions alone dispense with the artificial aid of tokens or
+amulets. Next come the recognitions by process of reasoning.
+
+XVII
+
+In constructing the plot and working it out with the proper diction,
+the poet should place the scene, as far as possible, before his eyes. In
+this way, seeing everything with the utmost vividness, as if he were a
+spectator of the action, he will discover what is in keeping with it,
+and be most unlikely to overlook inconsistencies. The need of such a
+rule is shown by the fault found in Carcinus. Amphiaraus was on his way
+from the temple. This fact escaped the observation of one who did not
+see the situation. On the stage, however, the piece failed, the audience
+being offended at the oversight.
+
+Again, the poet should work out his play, to the best of his power, with
+appropriate gestures; for those who feel emotion are most convincing
+through natural sympathy with the characters they represent; and one
+who is agitated storms, one who is angry rages, with the most life-like
+reality. Hence poetry implies either a happy gift of nature or a strain
+of madness. In the one case a man can take the mould of any character;
+in the other, he is lifted out of his proper self.
+
+As for the story, whether the poet takes it ready made or constructs it
+for himself, he should first sketch its general outline, and then
+fill in the episodes and amplify in detail. The general plan may be
+illustrated by the Iphigenia. A young girl is sacrificed; she disappears
+mysteriously from the eyes of those who sacrificed her; She is
+transported to another country, where the custom is to offer up all
+strangers to the goddess. To this ministry she is appointed. Some time
+later her own brother chances to arrive. The fact that the oracle for
+some reason ordered him to go there, is outside the general plan of the
+play. The purpose, again, of his coming is outside the action proper.
+However, he comes, he is seized, and, when on the point of being
+sacrificed, reveals who he is. The mode of recognition may be either
+that of Euripides or of Polyidus, in whose play he exclaims very
+naturally:--'So it was not my sister only, but I too, who was doomed to
+be sacrificed'; and by that remark he is saved.
+
+After this, the names being once given, it remains to fill in the
+episodes. We must see that they are relevant to the action. In the case
+of Orestes, for example, there is the madness which led to his capture,
+and his deliverance by means of the purificatory rite. In the drama, the
+episodes are short, but it is these that give extension to Epic poetry.
+Thus the story of the Odyssey can be stated briefly. A certain man is
+absent from home for many years; he is jealously watched by Poseidon,
+and left desolate. Meanwhile his home is in a wretched plight--suitors
+are wasting his substance and plotting against his son. At length,
+tempest-tost, he himself arrives; he makes certain persons acquainted
+with him; he attacks the suitors with his own hand, and is himself
+preserved while he destroys them. This is the essence of the plot; the
+rest is episode.
+
+XVIII
+
+Every tragedy falls into two parts,--Complication and Unravelling or
+Denouement. Incidents extraneous to the action are frequently combined
+with a portion of the action proper, to form the Complication; the rest
+is the Unravelling. By the Complication I mean all that extends from
+the beginning of the action to the part which marks the turning-point
+to good or bad fortune. The Unravelling is that which extends from the
+beginning of the change to the end. Thus, in the Lynceus of Theodectes,
+the Complication consists of the incidents presupposed in the drama, the
+seizure of the child, and then again, The Unravelling extends from
+the accusation of murder to the end.
+
+There are four kinds of Tragedy, the Complex, depending entirely on
+Reversal of the Situation and Recognition; the Pathetic (where the
+motive is passion),--such as the tragedies on Ajax and Ixion; the
+Ethical (where the motives are ethical),--such as the Phthiotides and
+the Peleus. The fourth kind is the Simple <We here exclude the purely
+spectacular element>, exemplified by the Phorcides, the Prometheus, and
+scenes laid in Hades. The poet should endeavour, if possible, to combine
+all poetic elements; or failing that, the greatest number and those the
+most important; the more so, in face of the cavilling criticism of the
+day. For whereas there have hitherto been good poets, each in his own
+branch, the critics now expect one man to surpass all others in their
+several lines of excellence.
+
+In speaking of a tragedy as the same or different, the best test to take
+is the plot. Identity exists where the Complication and Unravelling are
+the same. Many poets tie the knot well, but unravel it ill. Both arts,
+however, should always be mastered.
+
+Again, the poet should remember what has been often said, and not make
+an Epic structure into a Tragedy--by an Epic structure I mean one with
+a multiplicity of plots--as if, for instance, you were to make a tragedy
+out of the entire story of the Iliad. In the Epic poem, owing to its
+length, each part assumes its proper magnitude. In the drama the result
+is far from answering to the poet's expectation. The proof is that the
+poets who have dramatised the whole story of the Fall of Troy, instead
+of selecting portions, like Euripides; or who have taken the whole
+tale of Niobe, and not a part of her story, like Aeschylus, either fail
+utterly or meet with poor success on the stage. Even Agathon has been
+known to fail from this one defect. In his Reversals of the Situation,
+however, he shows a marvellous skill in the effort to hit the popular
+taste,--to produce a tragic effect that satisfies the moral sense. This
+effect is produced when the clever rogue, like Sisyphus, is outwitted,
+or the brave villain defeated. Such an event is probable in Agathon's
+sense of the word: 'it is probable,' he says, 'that many things should
+happen contrary to probability.'
+
+The Chorus too should be regarded as one of the actors; it should be an
+integral part of the whole, and share in the action, in the manner not
+of Euripides but of Sophocles. As for the later poets, their choral
+songs pertain as little to the subject of the piece as to that of any
+other tragedy. They are, therefore, sung as mere interludes, a practice
+first begun by Agathon. Yet what difference is there between introducing
+such choral interludes, and transferring a speech, or even a whole act,
+from one play to another?
+
+XIX
+
+It remains to speak of Diction and Thought, the other parts of Tragedy
+having been already discussed. Concerning Thought, we may assume what
+is said in the Rhetoric, to which inquiry the subject more strictly
+belongs. Under Thought is included every effect which has to be produced
+by speech, the subdivisions being,--proof and refutation; the excitation
+of the feelings, such as pity, fear, anger, and the like; the suggestion
+of importance or its opposite. Now, it is evident that the dramatic
+incidents must be treated from the same points of view as the dramatic
+speeches, when the object is to evoke the sense of pity, fear,
+importance, or probability. The only difference is, that the incidents
+should speak for themselves without verbal exposition; while the effects
+aimed at in speech should be produced by the speaker, and as a result of
+the speech. For what were the business of a speaker, if the Thought were
+revealed quite apart from what he says?
+
+Next, as regards Diction. One branch of the inquiry treats of the Modes
+of Utterance. But this province of knowledge belongs to the art
+of Delivery and to the masters of that science. It includes, for
+instance,--what is a command, a prayer, a statement, a threat, a
+question, an answer, and so forth. To know or not to know these things
+involves no serious censure upon the poet's art. For who can admit
+the fault imputed to Homer by Protagoras,--that in the words, 'Sing,
+goddess, of the wrath,' he gives a command under the idea that he utters
+a prayer? For to tell some one to do a thing or not to do it is, he
+says, a command. We may, therefore, pass this over as an inquiry that
+belongs to another art, not to poetry.
+
+XX
+
+[Language in general includes the following parts:--Letter, Syllable,
+Connecting word, Noun, Verb, Inflexion or Case, Sentence or Phrase.
+
+A Letter is an indivisible sound, yet not every such sound, but only
+one which can form part of a group of sounds. For even brutes utter
+indivisible sounds, none of which I call a letter. The sound I mean
+may be either a vowel, a semi-vowel, or a mute. A vowel is that which
+without impact of tongue or lip has an audible sound. A semi-vowel, that
+which with such impact has an audible sound, as S and R. A mute, that
+which with such impact has by itself no sound, but joined to a vowel
+sound becomes audible, as G and D. These are distinguished according
+to the form assumed by the mouth and the place where they are produced;
+according as they are aspirated or smooth, long or short; as they are
+acute, grave, or of an intermediate tone; which inquiry belongs in
+detail to the writers on metre.
+
+A Syllable is a non-significant sound, composed of a mute and a
+vowel: for GR without A is a syllable, as also with A,--GRA. But the
+investigation of these differences belongs also to metrical science.
+
+A Connecting word is a non-significant sound, which neither causes nor
+hinders the union of many sounds into one significant sound; it may
+be placed at either end or in the middle of a sentence. Or, a
+non-significant sound, which out of several sounds, each of them
+significant, is capable of forming one significant sound,--as {alpha mu
+theta iota}, {pi epsilon rho iota}, and the like. Or, a non-significant
+sound, which marks the beginning, end, or division of a sentence; such,
+however, that it cannot correctly stand by itself at the beginning of a
+sentence, as {mu epsilon nu}, {eta tau omicron iota}, {delta epsilon}.
+
+A Noun is a composite significant sound, not marking time, of which no
+part is in itself significant: for in double or compound words we do not
+employ the separate parts as if each were in itself significant. Thus
+in Theodorus, 'god-given,' the {delta omega rho omicron nu} or 'gift' is
+not in itself significant.
+
+A Verb is a composite significant sound, marking time, in which, as in
+the noun, no part is in itself significant. For 'man,' or 'white' does
+not express the idea of 'when'; but 'he walks,' or 'he has walked' does
+connote time, present or past.
+
+Inflexion belongs both to the noun and verb, and expresses either the
+relation 'of,' 'to,' or the like; or that of number, whether one or
+many, as 'man' or 'men '; or the modes or tones in actual delivery, e.g.
+a question or a command. 'Did he go?' and 'go' are verbal inflexions of
+this kind.
+
+A Sentence or Phrase is a composite significant sound, some at least of
+whose parts are in themselves significant; for not every such group
+of words consists of verbs and nouns--'the definition of man,' for
+example--but it may dispense even with the verb. Still it will always
+have some significant part, as 'in walking,' or 'Cleon son of Cleon.' A
+sentence or phrase may form a unity in two ways,--either as signifying
+one thing, or as consisting of several parts linked together. Thus the
+Iliad is one by the linking together of parts, the definition of man by
+the unity of the thing signified.]
+
+XXI
+
+Words are of two kinds, simple and double. By simple I mean those
+composed of non-significant elements, such as {gamma eta}. By double
+or compound, those composed either of a significant and non-significant
+element (though within the whole word no element is significant), or
+of elements that are both significant. A word may likewise be triple,
+quadruple, or multiple in form, like so many Massilian expressions, e.g.
+'Hermo-caico-xanthus who prayed to Father Zeus>.'
+
+Every word is either current, or strange, or metaphorical, or
+ornamental, or newly-coined, or lengthened, or contracted, or altered.
+
+By a current or proper word I mean one which is in general use among
+a people; by a strange word, one which is in use in another country.
+Plainly, therefore, the same word may be at once strange and current,
+but not in relation to the same people. The word {sigma iota gamma
+upsilon nu omicron nu}, 'lance,' is to the Cyprians a current term but
+to us a strange one.
+
+Metaphor is the application of an alien name by transference either from
+genus to species, or from species to genus, or from species to species,
+or by analogy, that is, proportion. Thus from genus to species, as:
+'There lies my ship'; for lying at anchor is a species of lying. From
+species to genus, as: 'Verily ten thousand noble deeds hath Odysseus
+wrought'; for ten thousand is a species of large number, and is here
+used for a large number generally. From species to species, as: 'With
+blade of bronze drew away the life,' and 'Cleft the water with the
+vessel of unyielding bronze.' Here {alpha rho upsilon rho alpha iota},
+'to draw away,' is used for {tau alpha mu epsilon iota nu}, 'to cleave,'
+and {tau alpha mu epsilon iota nu} again for {alpha rho upsilon alpha
+iota},--each being a species of taking away. Analogy or proportion is
+when the second term is to the first as the fourth to the third. We
+may then use the fourth for the second, or the second for the fourth.
+Sometimes too we qualify the metaphor by adding the term to which the
+proper word is relative. Thus the cup is to Dionysus as the shield to
+Ares. The cup may, therefore, be called 'the shield of Dionysus,' and
+the shield 'the cup of Ares.' Or, again, as old age is to life, so is
+evening to day. Evening may therefore be called 'the old age of
+the day,' and old age, 'the evening of life,' or, in the phrase
+of Empedocles, 'life's setting sun.' For some of the terms of the
+proportion there is at times no word in existence; still the metaphor
+may be used. For instance, to scatter seed is called sowing: but the
+action of the sun in scattering his rays is nameless. Still this process
+bears to the sun the same relation as sowing to the seed. Hence the
+expression of the poet 'sowing the god-created light.' There is another
+way in which this kind of metaphor may be employed. We may apply an
+alien term, and then deny of that term one of its proper attributes; as
+if we were to call the shield, not 'the cup of Ares,' but 'the wineless
+cup.'
+
+{An ornamental word...}
+
+A newly-coined word is one which has never been even in local use, but
+is adopted by the poet himself. Some such words there appear to be: as
+{epsilon rho nu upsilon gamma epsilon sigma}, 'sprouters,' for {kappa
+epsilon rho alpha tau alpha}, 'horns,' and {alpha rho eta tau eta rho},
+'supplicator,' for {iota epsilon rho epsilon upsilon sigma}, 'priest.'
+
+A word is lengthened when its own vowel is exchanged for a longer one,
+or when a syllable is inserted. A word is contracted when some part of
+it is removed. Instances of lengthening are,--{pi omicron lambda eta
+omicron sigma} for {pi omicron lambda epsilon omega sigma}, and {Pi eta
+lambda eta iota alpha delta epsilon omega} for {Pi eta lambda epsilon
+iota delta omicron upsilon}: of contraction,--{kappa rho iota}, {delta
+omega}, and {omicron psi}, as in {mu iota alpha / gamma iota nu epsilon
+tau alpha iota / alpha mu phi omicron tau episilon rho omega nu /
+omicron psi}.
+
+An altered word is one in which part of the ordinary form is left
+unchanged, and part is re-cast; as in {delta epsilon xi iota-tau epsilon
+rho omicron nu / kappa alpha tau alpha / mu alpha zeta omicron nu},
+{delta epsilon xi iota tau epsilon rho omicron nu} is for {delta epsilon
+xi iota omicron nu}.
+
+[Nouns in themselves are either masculine, feminine, or neuter.
+Masculine are such as end in {nu}, {rho}, {sigma}, or in some letter
+compounded with {sigma},--these being two, and {xi}. Feminine, such as
+end in vowels that are always long, namely {eta} and {omega}, and--of
+vowels that admit of lengthening--those in {alpha}. Thus the number of
+letters in which nouns masculine and feminine end is the same; for {psi}
+and {xi} are equivalent to endings in {sigma}. No noun ends in a mute
+or a vowel short by nature. Three only end in {iota},--{mu eta lambda
+iota}, {kappa omicron mu mu iota}, {pi epsilon pi epsilon rho iota}:
+five end in {upsilon}. Neuter nouns end in these two latter vowels; also
+in {nu} and {sigma}.]
+
+XXII
+
+The perfection of style is to be clear without being mean. The clearest
+style is that which uses only current or proper words; at the same
+time it is mean:--witness the poetry of Cleophon and of Sthenelus. That
+diction, on the other hand, is lofty and raised above the commonplace
+which employs unusual words. By unusual, I mean strange (or rare) words,
+metaphorical, lengthened,--anything, in short, that differs from the
+normal idiom. Yet a style wholly composed of such words is either a
+riddle or a jargon; a riddle, if it consists of metaphors; a jargon, if
+it consists of strange (or rare) words. For the essence of a riddle is
+to express true facts under impossible combinations. Now this cannot be
+done by any arrangement of ordinary words, but by the use of metaphor it
+can. Such is the riddle:--'A man I saw who on another man had glued the
+bronze by aid of fire,' and others of the same kind. A diction that
+is made up of strange (or rare) terms is a jargon. A certain infusion,
+therefore, of these elements is necessary to style; for the strange (or
+rare) word, the metaphorical, the ornamental, and the other kinds above
+mentioned, will raise it above the commonplace and mean, while the use
+of proper words will make it perspicuous. But nothing contributes more
+to produce a clearness of diction that is remote from commonness than
+the lengthening, contraction, and alteration of words. For by deviating
+in exceptional cases from the normal idiom, the language will gain
+distinction; while, at the same time, the partial conformity with usage
+will give perspicuity. The critics, therefore, are in error who censure
+these licenses of speech, and hold the author up to ridicule. Thus
+Eucleides, the elder, declared that it would be an easy matter to be
+a poet if you might lengthen syllables at will. He caricatured the
+practice in the very form of his diction, as in the verse: '{Epsilon pi
+iota chi alpha rho eta nu / epsilon iota delta omicron nu / Mu alpha rho
+alpha theta omega nu alpha delta epsilon / Beta alpha delta iota zeta
+omicron nu tau alpha}, or, {omicron upsilon kappa / alpha nu / gamma /
+epsilon rho alpha mu epsilon nu omicron sigma / tau omicron nu / epsilon
+kappa epsilon iota nu omicron upsilon /epsilon lambda lambda epsilon
+beta omicron rho omicron nu}. To employ such license at all obtrusively
+is, no doubt, grotesque; but in any mode of poetic diction there must
+be moderation. Even metaphors, strange (or rare) words, or any similar
+forms of speech, would produce the like effect if used without propriety
+and with the express purpose of being ludicrous. How great a difference
+is made by the appropriate use of lengthening, may be seen in Epic
+poetry by the insertion of ordinary forms in the verse. So, again, if
+we take a strange (or rare) word, a metaphor, or any similar mode of
+expression, and replace it by the current or proper term, the truth of
+our observation will be manifest. For example Aeschylus and Euripides
+each composed the same iambic line. But the alteration of a single word
+by Euripides, who employed the rarer term instead of the ordinary one,
+makes one verse appear beautiful and the other trivial. Aeschylus in his
+Philoctetes says: {Phi alpha gamma epsilon delta alpha iota nu alpha /
+delta / eta / mu omicron upsilon / sigma alpha rho kappa alpha sigma /
+epsilon rho theta iota epsilon iota / pi omicron delta omicron sigma}.
+
+Euripides substitutes {Theta omicron iota nu alpha tau alpha iota}
+'feasts on' for {epsilon sigma theta iota epsilon iota} 'feeds on.'
+Again, in the line, {nu upsilon nu / delta epsilon / mu /epsilon omega
+nu / omicron lambda iota gamma iota gamma upsilon sigma / tau epsilon /
+kappa alpha iota / omicron upsilon tau iota delta alpha nu omicron sigma
+/ kappa alpha iota / alpha epsilon iota kappa eta sigma), the difference
+will be felt if we substitute the common words, {nu upsilon nu / delta
+epsilon / mu / epsilon omega nu / mu iota kappa rho omicron sigma /
+tau epsilon / kappa alpha iota / alpha rho theta epsilon nu iota kappa
+omicron sigma / kappa alpha iota / alpha epsilon iota delta gamma
+sigma}. Or, if for the line, {delta iota phi rho omicron nu / alpha
+epsilon iota kappa epsilon lambda iota omicron nu / kappa alpha tau
+alpha theta epsilon iota sigma / omicron lambda iota gamma eta nu /
+tau epsilon / tau rho alpha pi epsilon iota sigma / omicron lambda iota
+gamma eta nu / tau epsilon / tau rho alpha pi epsilon zeta alpha nu,}
+We read, {delta iota phi rho omicron nu / mu omicron chi theta eta rho
+omicron nu / kappa alpha tau alpha theta epsilon iota sigma / mu iota
+kappa rho alpha nu / tau epsilon / tau rho alpha pi epsilon zeta alpha
+nu}.
+
+Or, for {eta iota omicron nu epsilon sigma / beta omicron omicron omega
+rho iota nu, eta iota omicron nu epsilon sigma kappa rho alpha zeta
+omicron upsilon rho iota nu}
+
+Again, Ariphrades ridiculed the tragedians for using phrases which no
+one would employ in ordinary speech: for example, {delta omega mu alpha
+tau omega nu / alpha pi omicron} instead of {alpha pi omicron / delta
+omega mu alpha tau omega nu}, {rho epsilon theta epsilon nu}, {epsilon
+gamma omega / delta epsilon / nu iota nu}, {Alpha chi iota lambda lambda
+epsilon omega sigma / pi epsilon rho iota} instead of {pi epsilon rho
+iota / 'Alpha chi iota lambda lambda epsilon omega sigma}, and the like.
+It is precisely because such phrases are not part of the current idiom
+that they give distinction to the style. This, however, he failed to
+see.
+
+It is a great matter to observe propriety in these several modes of
+expression, as also in compound words, strange (or rare) words, and so
+forth. But the greatest thing by far is to have a command of metaphor.
+This alone cannot be imparted by another; it is the mark of genius, for
+to make good metaphors implies an eye for resemblances.
+
+Of the various kinds of words, the compound are best adapted to
+Dithyrambs, rare words to heroic poetry, metaphors to iambic. In heroic
+poetry, indeed, all these varieties are serviceable. But in iambic
+verse, which reproduces, as far as may be, familiar speech, the most
+appropriate words are those which are found even in prose. These
+are,--the current or proper, the metaphorical, the ornamental.
+
+Concerning Tragedy and imitation by means of action this may suffice.
+
+XXIII
+
+As to that poetic imitation which is narrative in form and employs
+a single metre, the plot manifestly ought, as in a tragedy, to be
+constructed on dramatic principles. It should have for its subject a
+single action, whole and complete, with a beginning, a middle, and
+an end. It will thus resemble a living organism in all its unity, and
+produce the pleasure proper to it. It will differ in structure from
+historical compositions, which of necessity present not a single action,
+but a single period, and all that happened within that period to one
+person or to many, little connected together as the events may be. For
+as the sea-fight at Salamis and the battle with the Carthaginians in
+Sicily took place at the same time, but did not tend to any one result,
+so in the sequence of events, one thing sometimes follows another, and
+yet no single result is thereby produced. Such is the practice, we may
+say, of most poets. Here again, then, as has been already observed, the
+transcendent excellence of Homer is manifest. He never attempts to make
+the whole war of Troy the subject of his poem, though that war had
+a beginning and an end. It would have been too vast a theme, and not
+easily embraced in a single view. If, again, he had kept it within
+moderate limits, it must have been over-complicated by the variety of
+the incidents. As it is, he detaches a single portion, and admits as
+episodes many events from the general story of the war--such as the
+Catalogue of the ships and others--thus diversifying the poem. All other
+poets take a single hero, a single period, or an action single indeed,
+but with a multiplicity of parts. Thus did the author of the Cypria
+and of the Little Iliad. For this reason the Iliad and the Odyssey
+each furnish the subject of one tragedy, or, at most, of two; while the
+Cypria supplies materials for many, and the Little Iliad for eight--the
+Award of the Arms, the Philoctetes, the Neoptolemus, the Eurypylus, the
+Mendicant Odysseus, the Laconian Women, the Fall of Ilium, the Departure
+of the Fleet.
+
+XXIV
+
+Again, Epic poetry must have as many kinds as Tragedy: it must be
+simple, or complex, or 'ethical,' or 'pathetic.' The parts also, with
+the exception of song and spectacle, are the same; for it requires
+Reversals of the Situation, Recognitions, and Scenes of Suffering.
+Moreover, the thoughts and the diction must be artistic. In all these
+respects Homer is our earliest and sufficient model. Indeed each of
+his poems has a twofold character. The Iliad is at once simple and
+'pathetic,' and the Odyssey complex (for Recognition scenes run through
+it), and at the same time 'ethical.' Moreover, in diction and thought
+they are supreme.
+
+Epic poetry differs from Tragedy in the scale on which it is
+constructed, and in its metre. As regards scale or length, we have
+already laid down an adequate limit:--the beginning and the end must be
+capable of being brought within a single view. This condition will be
+satisfied by poems on a smaller scale than the old epics, and answering
+in length to the group of tragedies presented at a single sitting.
+
+Epic poetry has, however, a great--a special--capacity for enlarging
+its dimensions, and we can see the reason. In Tragedy we cannot imitate
+several lines of actions carried on at one and the same time; we must
+confine ourselves to the action on the stage and the part taken by the
+players. But in Epic poetry, owing to the narrative form, many events
+simultaneously transacted can be presented; and these, if relevant to
+the subject, add mass and dignity to the poem. The Epic has here an
+advantage, and one that conduces to grandeur of effect, to diverting the
+mind of the hearer, and relieving the story with varying episodes. For
+sameness of incident soon produces satiety, and makes tragedies fail on
+the stage.
+
+As for the metre, the heroic measure has proved its fitness by the test
+of experience. If a narrative poem in any other metre or in many metres
+were now composed, it would be found incongruous. For of all measures
+the heroic is the stateliest and the most massive; and hence it most
+readily admits rare words and metaphors, which is another point in which
+the narrative form of imitation stands alone. On the other hand, the
+iambic and the trochaic tetrameter are stirring measures, the latter
+being akin to dancing, the former expressive of action. Still more
+absurd would it be to mix together different metres, as was done by
+Chaeremon. Hence no one has ever composed a poem on a great scale in any
+other than heroic verse. Nature herself, as we have said, teaches the
+choice of the proper measure.
+
+Homer, admirable in all respects, has the special merit of being the
+only poet who rightly appreciates the part he should take himself. The
+poet should speak as little as possible in his own person, for it is not
+this that makes him an imitator. Other poets appear themselves upon the
+scene throughout, and imitate but little and rarely. Homer, after a few
+prefatory words, at once brings in a man, or woman, or other personage;
+none of them wanting in characteristic qualities, but each with a
+character of his own.
+
+The element of the wonderful is required in Tragedy. The irrational, on
+which the wonderful depends for its chief effects, has wider scope in
+Epic poetry, because there the person acting is not seen. Thus, the
+pursuit of Hector would be ludicrous if placed upon the stage--the
+Greeks standing still and not joining in the pursuit, and Achilles
+waving them back. But in the Epic poem the absurdity passes unnoticed.
+Now the wonderful is pleasing: as may be inferred from the fact that
+every one tells a story with some addition of his own, knowing that his
+hearers like it. It is Homer who has chiefly taught other poets the
+art of telling lies skilfully. The secret of it lies in a fallacy, For,
+assuming that if one thing is or becomes, a second is or becomes, men
+imagine that, if the second is, the first likewise is or becomes. But
+this is a false inference. Hence, where the first thing is untrue, it is
+quite unnecessary, provided the second be true, to add that the first
+is or has become. For the mind, knowing the second to be true, falsely
+infers the truth of the first. There is an example of this in the Bath
+Scene of the Odyssey.
+
+Accordingly, the poet should prefer probable impossibilities to
+improbable possibilities. The tragic plot must not be composed of
+irrational parts. Everything irrational should, if possible, be
+excluded; or, at all events, it should lie outside the action of the
+play (as, in the Oedipus, the hero's ignorance as to the manner of
+Laius' death); not within the drama,--as in the Electra, the messenger's
+account of the Pythian games; or, as in the Mysians, the man who
+has come from Tegea to Mysia and is still speechless. The plea that
+otherwise the plot would have been ruined, is ridiculous; such a plot
+should not in the first instance be constructed. But once the irrational
+has been introduced and an air of likelihood imparted to it, we must
+accept it in spite of the absurdity. Take even the irrational incidents
+in the Odyssey, where Odysseus is left upon the shore of Ithaca. How
+intolerable even these might have been would be apparent if an inferior
+poet were to treat the subject. As it is, the absurdity is veiled by the
+poetic charm with which the poet invests it.
+
+The diction should be elaborated in the pauses of the action, where
+there is no expression of character or thought. For, conversely,
+character and thought are merely obscured by a diction that is over
+brilliant.
+
+XXV
+
+With respect to critical difficulties and their solutions, the number
+and nature of the sources from which they may be drawn may be thus
+exhibited.
+
+The poet being an imitator, like a painter or any other artist, must
+of necessity imitate one of three objects,--things as they were or are,
+things as they are said or thought to be, or things as they ought to be.
+The vehicle of expression is language,--either current terms or, it
+may be, rare words or metaphors. There are also many modifications of
+language, which we concede to the poets. Add to this, that the standard
+of correctness is not the same in poetry and politics, any more than in
+poetry and any other art. Within the art of poetry itself there are
+two kinds of faults, those which touch its essence, and those which are
+accidental. If a poet has chosen to imitate something, <but has imitated
+it incorrectly> through want of capacity, the error is inherent in
+the poetry. But if the failure is due to a wrong choice if he has
+represented a horse as throwing out both his off legs at once, or
+introduced technical inaccuracies in medicine, for example, or in any
+other art the error is not essential to the poetry. These are the points
+of view from which we should consider and answer the objections raised
+by the critics.
+
+First as to matters which concern the poet's own art. If he describes
+the impossible, he is guilty of an error; but the error may be
+justified, if the end of the art be thereby attained (the end being that
+already mentioned), if, that is, the effect of this or any other part of
+the poem is thus rendered more striking. A case in point is the pursuit
+of Hector. If, however, the end might have been as well, or better,
+attained without violating the special rules of the poetic art, the
+error is not justified: for every kind of error should, if possible, be
+avoided.
+
+Again, does the error touch the essentials of the poetic art, or some
+accident of it? For example,--not to know that a hind has no horns is a
+less serious matter than to paint it inartistically.
+
+Further, if it be objected that the description is not true to fact, the
+poet may perhaps reply,--'But the objects are as they ought to be': just
+as Sophocles said that he drew men as they ought to be; Euripides,
+as they are. In this way the objection may be met. If, however, the
+representation be of neither kind, the poet may answer,--This is how men
+say the thing is.' This applies to tales about the gods. It may well be
+that these stories are not higher than fact nor yet true to fact: they
+are, very possibly, what Xenophanes says of them. But anyhow, 'this
+is what is said.' Again, a description may be no better than the fact:
+'still, it was the fact'; as in the passage about the arms: 'Upright
+upon their butt-ends stood the spears.' This was the custom then, as it
+now is among the Illyrians.
+
+Again, in examining whether what has been said or done by some one is
+poetically right or not, we must not look merely to the particular act
+or saying, and ask whether it is poetically good or bad. We must also
+consider by whom it is said or done, to whom, when, by what means, or
+for what end; whether, for instance, it be to secure a greater good, or
+avert a greater evil.
+
+Other difficulties may be resolved by due regard to the usage of
+language. We may note a rare word, as in {omicron upsilon rho eta alpha
+sigma / mu epsilon nu / pi rho omega tau omicron nu}, where the poet
+perhaps employs {omicron upsilon rho eta alpha sigma} not in the sense
+of mules, but of sentinels. So, again, of Dolon: 'ill-favoured indeed
+he was to look upon.' It is not meant that his body was ill-shaped, but
+that his face was ugly; for the Cretans use the word {epsilon upsilon
+epsilon iota delta epsilon sigma}, 'well-favoured,' to denote a fair
+face. Again, {zeta omega rho omicron tau epsilon rho omicron nu /
+delta epsilon / kappa epsilon rho alpha iota epsilon}, 'mix the drink
+livelier,' does not mean `mix it stronger' as for hard drinkers, but
+'mix it quicker.'
+
+Sometimes an expression is metaphorical, as 'Now all gods and men were
+sleeping through the night,'--while at the same time the poet says:
+'Often indeed as he turned his gaze to the Trojan plain, he marvelled
+at the sound of flutes and pipes.' 'All' is here used metaphorically for
+'many,' all being a species of many. So in the verse,--'alone she hath
+no part...,' {omicron iota eta}, 'alone,' is metaphorical; for the best
+known may be called the only one.
+
+Again, the solution may depend upon accent or breathing. Thus Hippias of
+Thasos solved the difficulties in the lines,--{delta iota delta omicron
+mu epsilon nu (delta iota delta omicron mu epsilon nu) delta epsilon
+/ omicron iota,} and { tau omicron / mu epsilon nu / omicron upsilon
+(omicron upsilon) kappa alpha tau alpha pi upsilon theta epsilon tau
+alpha iota / omicron mu beta rho omega}.
+
+Or again, the question may be solved by punctuation, as in
+Empedocles,--'Of a sudden things became mortal that before had learnt to
+be immortal, and things unmixed before mixed.'
+
+Or again, by ambiguity of meaning,--as {pi alpha rho omega chi eta kappa
+epsilon nu / delta epsilon / pi lambda epsilon omega / nu upsilon xi},
+where the word {pi lambda epsilon omega} is ambiguous.
+
+Or by the usage of language. Thus any mixed drink is called {omicron
+iota nu omicron sigma}, 'wine.' Hence Ganymede is said 'to pour the wine
+to Zeus,' though the gods do not drink wine. So too workers in iron
+are called {chi alpha lambda kappa epsilon alpha sigma}, or workers in
+bronze. This, however, may also be taken as a metaphor.
+
+Again, when a word seems to involve some inconsistency of meaning, we
+should consider how many senses it may bear in the particular passage.
+For example: 'there was stayed the spear of bronze'--we should ask
+in how many ways we may take 'being checked there.' The true mode
+of interpretation is the precise opposite of what Glaucon mentions.
+Critics, he says, jump at certain groundless conclusions; they pass
+adverse judgment and then proceed to reason on it; and, assuming that
+the poet has said whatever they happen to think, find fault if a thing
+is inconsistent with their own fancy. The question about Icarius
+has been treated in this fashion. The critics imagine he was a
+Lacedaemonian. They think it strange, therefore, that Telemachus should
+not have met him when he went to Lacedaemon. But the Cephallenian story
+may perhaps be the true one. They allege that Odysseus took a wife from
+among themselves, and that her father was Icadius not Icarius. It is
+merely a mistake, then, that gives plausibility to the objection.
+
+In general, the impossible must be justified by reference to artistic
+requirements, or to the higher reality, or to received opinion. With
+respect to the requirements of art, a probable impossibility is to
+be preferred to a thing improbable and yet possible. Again, it may be
+impossible that there should be men such as Zeuxis painted. 'Yes,' we
+say, 'but the impossible is the higher thing; for the ideal type must
+surpass the reality.' To justify the irrational, we appeal to what is
+commonly said to be. In addition to which, we urge that the irrational
+sometimes does not violate reason; just as 'it is probable that a thing
+may happen contrary to probability.'
+
+Things that sound contradictory should be examined by the same rules as
+in dialectical refutation whether the same thing is meant, in the same
+relation, and in the same sense. We should therefore solve the question
+by reference to what the poet says himself, or to what is tacitly
+assumed by a person of intelligence.
+
+The element of the irrational, and, similarly, depravity of character,
+are justly censured when there is no inner necessity for introducing
+them. Such is the irrational element in the introduction of Aegeus by
+Euripides and the badness of Menelaus in the Orestes.
+
+Thus, there are five sources from which critical objections are drawn.
+Things are censured either as impossible, or irrational, or morally
+hurtful, or contradictory, or contrary to artistic correctness. The
+answers should be sought under the twelve heads above mentioned.
+
+XXVI
+
+The question may be raised whether the Epic or Tragic mode of imitation
+is the higher. If the more refined art is the higher, and the more
+refined in every case is that which appeals to the better sort of
+audience, the art which imitates anything and everything is manifestly
+most unrefined. The audience is supposed to be too dull to comprehend
+unless something of their own is thrown in by the performers, who
+therefore indulge in restless movements. Bad flute-players twist and
+twirl, if they have to represent 'the quoit-throw,' or hustle the
+coryphaeus when they perform the 'Scylla.' Tragedy, it is said, has
+this same defect. We may compare the opinion that the older actors
+entertained of their successors. Mynniscus used to call Callippides
+'ape' on account of the extravagance of his action, and the same view
+was held of Pindarus. Tragic art, then, as a whole, stands to Epic in
+the same relation as the younger to the elder actors. So we are told
+that Epic poetry is addressed to a cultivated audience, who do not need
+gesture; Tragedy, to an inferior public. Being then unrefined, it is
+evidently the lower of the two.
+
+Now, in the first place, this censure attaches not to the poetic but to
+the histrionic art; for gesticulation may be equally overdone in
+epic recitation, as by Sosi-stratus, or in lyrical competition, as by
+Mnasitheus the Opuntian. Next, all action is not to be condemned any
+more than all dancing--but only that of bad performers. Such was the
+fault found in Callippides, as also in others of our own day, who are
+censured for representing degraded women. Again, Tragedy like Epic
+poetry produces its effect even without action; it reveals its power
+by mere reading. If, then, in all other respects it is superior, this
+fault, we say, is not inherent in it.
+
+And superior it is, because it has all the epic elements--it may even
+use the epic metre--with the music and spectacular effects as important
+accessories; and these produce the most vivid of pleasures. Further,
+it has vividness of impression in reading as well as in representation.
+Moreover, the art attains its end within narrower limits; for the
+concentrated effect is more pleasurable than one which is spread over a
+long time and so diluted. What, for example, would be the effect of the
+Oedipus of Sophocles, if it were cast into a form as long as the Iliad?
+Once more, the Epic imitation has less unity; as is shown by this, that
+any Epic poem will furnish subjects for several tragedies. Thus if
+the story adopted by the poet has a strict unity, it must either be
+concisely told and appear truncated; or, if it conform to the Epic canon
+of length, it must seem weak and watery. <Such length implies some loss
+of unity,> if, I mean, the poem is constructed out of several actions,
+like the Iliad and the Odyssey, which have many such parts, each with a
+certain magnitude of its own. Yet these poems are as perfect as possible
+in structure; each is, in the highest degree attainable, an imitation of
+a single action.
+
+If, then, Tragedy is superior to Epic poetry in all these respects, and,
+moreover, fulfils its specific function better as an art for each art
+ought to produce, not any chance pleasure, but the pleasure proper to
+it, as already stated it plainly follows that Tragedy is the higher art,
+as attaining its end more perfectly.
+
+Thus much may suffice concerning Tragic and Epic poetry in general;
+their several kinds and parts, with the number of each and their
+differences; the causes that make a poem good or bad; the objections of
+the critics and the answers to these objections.
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poetics, by Aristotle

data/epictetus_enchiridion.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,1283 @@
+The Library of Liberal Arts
+                     OSKAR PIEST, _General Editor_
+                             [NUMBER EIGHT]
+
+                               EPICTETUS
+                            The Enchiridion
+
+                            The Enchiridion
+                                   By
+                               EPICTETUS
+
+                             Translated by
+                          THOMAS W. HIGGINSON
+
+                        With an Introduction by
+                             ALBERT SALOMON
+                        _Professor of Sociology
+                    New School for Social Research_
+
+                         THE LIBERAL ARTS PRESS
+                                NEW YORK
+
+                            COPYRIGHT, 1948
+                      THE LIBERAL ARTS PRESS, INC.
+
+                     First Edition, _October, 1948_
+                               Reprinted
+                    _December, 1950_; _August, 1954_
+                    Second Edition, _November, 1955_
+
+         Published at 153 West 72nd Street, New York 23, N. Y.
+                Printed in the United States of America
+
+                                CONTENTS
+
+  Note on the Text
+  Introduction
+  Selected Bibliography
+  The Enchiridion
+
+                            NOTE ON THE TEXT
+
+The text of the second edition is a reprint of the first edition except
+for a few minor corrections in style, punctuation, and spelling, which
+have been revised to conform to current American usage.
+
+The editorial staff of the publishers has added a few explanatory notes
+which are set in brackets and marked "Ed."
+
+                                                                    O.P.
+
+                              INTRODUCTION
+
+The little book by Epictetus called _Enchiridion_ or "manual" has played
+a disproportionately large role in the rise of modern attitudes and
+modern philosophy. As soon as it had been translated into the vernacular
+languages, it became a bestseller among independent intellectuals, among
+anti-Christian thinkers, and among philosophers of a subjective cast.
+Montaigne had a copy of the _Enchiridion_ among his books. Pascal
+violently rejected the megalomaniac pride of the Stoic philosopher.
+Frederick the Great carried the book with him on all campaigns. It was a
+source of inspiration and encouragement to Anthony, Earl of Shaftesbury,
+in the serious illness which ended only in his death; many pages of his
+diaries contain passages copied from the _Enchiridion_. It has been
+studied and widely quoted by Scottish philosophers like Francis
+Hutcheson, Adam Smith, and Adam Ferguson who valued Stoic moral
+philosophy for its reconciliation of social dependency and personal
+independence.
+
+That there was a rebirth of Stoicism in the centuries of rebirth which
+marked the emergence of the modern age was not mere chance.
+Philosophical, moral, and social conditions of the time united to cause
+it. Roman Stoicism had been developed in times of despotism as a
+philosophy of lonely and courageous souls who had recognized the
+redeeming power of philosophical reason in all the moral and social
+purposes of life. Philosophy as a way of life makes men free. It is the
+last ditch stand of liberty in a world of servitude. Many elements in the
+new age led to thought which had structural affinity with Roman Stoicism.
+Modern times had created the independent thinker, the free intellectual
+in a secular civilization. Modern times had destroyed medieval liberties
+and had established the new despotism of the absolute state supported by
+ecclesiastical authority. Modern philosophies continued the basic trend
+in Stoicism in making the subjective consciousness the foundation of
+philosophy. The Stoic emphasis on moral problems was also appealing in an
+era of rapid transition when all the values which had previously been
+taken for granted were questioned and reconsidered.
+
+While it is interesting to observe how varied were the effects produced
+by this small volume, this epitome of the Stoic system of moral
+philosophy, these effects seem still more remarkable when we consider
+that it was not intended to be a philosophical treatise on Stoicism for
+students. It was, rather, to be a guide for the advanced student of
+Stoicism to show him the best roads toward the goal of becoming a true
+philosopher. Thus Epictetus and his _Enchiridion_ have a unique position
+in Roman Stoicism. Seneca and Marcus Aurelius had selected Stoic
+philosophy as the most adequate system for expressing their existential
+problems of independence, solitude, and history. In this enterprise,
+Seneca made tremendous strides toward the insights of social psychology
+as a by-product of his consciousness of decadence (in this he was close
+to Nietzsche), but he was not primarily concerned with the unity of the
+Stoic system. Marcus Aurelius changed the philosophical doctrine into the
+regimen of the lonesome ruler. In contrast to both, Epictetus was
+teaching Stoic philosophy as a doctrine and as a way of life. The
+_Enchiridion_ is a summary of theoretical and applied Stoicism.
+
+Epictetus was the son of a woman slave, born between 50 and 60 A.D. at
+Hieropolis in Phrygia. We do not know how he came to Rome. He was there
+as slave to one of Nero's distinguished freedmen who served as the
+Emperor's secretary. While still in service, Epictetus took courses with
+Musonius Rufus, the fashionable Stoic philosopher, who was impressed by
+the sincere and dynamic personality of the young slave and trained him to
+be a Stoic philosopher. Epictetus became a free man and began teaching
+philosophy on street corners, in the market, but he was not successful.
+During the rule of Domitian, Epictetus with many other philosophers was
+exiled from Rome, probably between 89 and 92 A.D. He went to Nicopolis,
+across Actium in Epirus, where he conducted his own school. He was so
+well regarded and highly esteemed that he established the reputation of
+the place as the town of Epictetus' school. Students came from Athens and
+Rome to attend his classes. Private citizens came to ask his advice and
+guidance. Some of his students returned to their homes to enter the
+traditional careers to which they were socially obligated. Others assumed
+the philosophic way of life in order to escape into the sphere of Stoic
+freedom.
+
+Among the students was a young Roman, Flavius Arrian, who took courses at
+Nicopolis when Epictetus was already old. Flavius, who was born in 108
+A.D., was one of the intimates of Hadrian, who made him consul in 130
+A.D. He probably studied with Epictetus between the years 123 and 126
+A.D. The informal philosophical talks which Epictetus had with his
+students fascinated him. Needless to say there were also systematic
+courses in the fields of philosophy. But it was the informal discourses
+which convinced Arrian that he had finally discovered a Stoic Socrates or
+a Stoic Diogenes, who was not merely teaching a doctrine, but also living
+the truth. Arrian recorded many of the discourses and informal
+conversations of Epictetus with his intimate students. He took them down
+in shorthand in order not to lose the ineffable liveliness, grace, and
+wit of the beloved teacher. Arrian retired into private life after the
+death of Hadrian in 138 A.D. and dedicated himself to his literary work.
+He published his notes on Epictetus' teaching under the title:
+_Discourses in Four Books_. The _Enchiridion_, which was also arranged by
+Arrian, is a brief summary of the basic ideas of Stoic philosophy and an
+introduction to the techniques required to transform Stoic philosophy
+into a way of life.
+
+Thus we do not have any original writings of Epictetus. Like G. H. Mead
+in recent times, he was completely dedicated to the human and
+intellectual problems of his students. He left it for them to preserve
+what they considered to be the lasting message of the teacher. In
+contrast to Seneca and Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus had no subjective
+approach to the Stoic doctrines. Moral philosophy was the center of his
+teaching, and epistemology was only instrumental. It is even permissible
+to say that he took physics or cosmology too lightly. If this is granted,
+we must admit that he is completely absorbed by the fundamentals of Stoic
+thought as presented in the _Enchiridion_. Epictetus' personality is
+totally integrated in the act of reasoning which establishes conformity
+with nature.
+
+A remarkable difference between the _Discourses_ and the _Enchiridion_
+should be mentioned. The _Discourses_ are a living image of the teacher
+in action; they present the process of philosophizing, not the finished
+product. They show the enthusiastic and sober, the realistic and pathetic
+moralist in constantly changing perspectives determined by the changing
+students with their various concerns, problems, and questions; his
+teachings, his formulations, have direct reference to the various life
+situations in which the students should apply and practice the master's
+Stoic teaching. No human situation is omitted; as a guide to conduct,
+philosophy has relevance for all. Whether the students have to attend a
+dinner party, whether they are among competitors in a stadium or in a
+swimming pool, whether they have to present themselves at court or in an
+office, whether they are in the company of their mothers and sisters or
+of girl friends, in all human situations the philosopher knows the
+correct advice for the philosophical apprentice. Thus, in the
+_Discourses_, Arrian presents the unique individuality of the philosopher
+and of his applied moral method in living contact with various students
+in concrete situations. Epictetus as teacher anticipates very modern
+educational methods in his regard for the structure of situations and the
+changing perspectives in human relationships.
+
+Nothing like this is revealed in the _Enchiridion_. Gone is the Stoic
+philosopher as living spirit. What remains is the living spirit of
+Stoicism. The _Enchiridion_ is a manual for the combat officer. This
+analogy should be taken seriously. The Roman Stoics coined the formula:
+_Vivere militare!_ (Life is being a soldier.) The student of philosophy
+is a private, the advancing Stoic is a non-commissioned officer, and the
+philosopher is the combat officer. For this reason all Roman Stoics apply
+metaphors and images derived from military life. Apprentice students of
+Stoicism are described as messengers, as scouts of God, as
+representatives of divine nature. The advancing student who is close to
+the goal of being a philosopher has the rank of an officer. He is already
+able to establish inner freedom and independence. He understands the
+basic Stoic truth of subjective consciousness, which is to distinguish
+what is in our power from what is not in our power. Not in our power are
+all the elements which constitute our environment, such as wealth,
+health, reputation, social prestige, power, the lives of those we love,
+and death. In our power are our thinking, our intentions, our desires,
+our decisions. These make it possible for us to control ourselves and to
+make of ourselves elements and parts of the universe of nature. This
+knowledge of ourselves makes us free in a world of dependencies. This
+superiority of our powers enables us to live in conformity with nature.
+The rational philosophy of control of Self and of adjustment to the Whole
+implies an asceticism of the emotional and the sensitive life. The
+philosopher must examine and control his passions, his love, his
+tenderness at all times in order always to be ready for the inevitable
+moment of farewell. The Stoics practiced a Jesuitism _avant la lettre_.
+They were able to live in the world as if they did not live in it. To the
+Stoic, life is a military camp, a play on the stage, a banquet to which
+we are invited. The _Enchiridion_ briefly indicated the techniques which
+the philosopher should apply in acting well the diverse roles which God
+might assign to those whom he loves, the Stoic philosophers. From the
+rules of social conduct to the recommendations of sexual asceticism
+before marriage, and the method of true thinking, the advanced Stoic will
+find all principles of perfection and all precepts for realizing
+philosophical principles in his conduct in this tiny volume.
+
+Thus the _Enchiridion_ was liberating for all intellectuals who learned
+from it that there are philosophical ways of self-redemption. From its
+time, the secular thinker could feel jubilant because he was not in need
+of a divine grace. Epictetus had taught him that philosophical reason
+could make him free and that he was capable of redeeming himself by sound
+reasoning.
+
+In the Stoic distinctions of personality and world, of I and mine, of
+subjective consciousness and the world of objects, of freedom and
+dependence, we find implicit the basic elements of modern philosophies of
+rationalism and of objective idealism or pantheism. For this reason there
+is a continuous renascence of Stoicism from Descartes, Grotius, and
+Bishop Butler, to Montesquieu, Adam Smith, and Kant. In this long
+development in modern times, the tiny _Enchiridion_ of Epictetus played a
+remarkable part.
+
+The translations of Epictetus and of all other Stoics had the widest
+effect on philosophers, theologians, and lay thinkers. They were studied
+by the clergy of the various Christian denominations, by the scientists
+who were striving for a natural religion, and by the independent
+philosophers who were eager to separate philosophy from religion. There
+were many outstanding bishops in the Catholic and Anglican Churches who
+were eager to transform the traditions of Roman Stoicism into Christian
+Stoicism. Among the Calvinistic denominations were many thinkers who were
+in sympathy with Stoic moral principles because of their praise of the
+austerity of life and of the control of passions. Likewise the adherents
+of natural religion were propagating Stoicism as the ideal pattern of
+universally valid and intelligible religion. Renascent Stoicism had three
+functions in the rise of the modern world. First, it reconciled Christian
+traditions to modern rationalistic philosophies; secondly, it established
+an ideal pattern of natural religion; and, thirdly, it opened the way for
+the autonomy of morals.
+
+                                                          ALBERT SALOMON
+
+  The New School
+    for Social Research
+  _July, 1948_
+
+                         SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
+
+                       _Epictetus: Life and Work_
+
+Arnim, Hans V., "Epictetos" in Pauli-Wissowa (ed), _Real-Encyclopaedie
+        der classischen Altertumswissenschaft_, VI, col. 126-131.
+
+Arnold, E. V., "Epictetus" in Hastings, _Encyclopedia of Religion and
+        Ethics_, 1912. Vol. V, pp. 323, 324.
+
+Bonhoeffer, A., _Epiktet und die Stoa_. Stuttgart, 1890.
+
+----, _Ethik des Stoikers Epiktet_. Stuttgart, 1894.
+
+----, _Epiktet und das Neue Testament_. Giessen, 1911.
+
+Bruns, Ivo, _De schola Epicteti_. Kiel, 1897.
+
+Bultmann, Rudolf, "Das religiöse Moment in der ethischen Unterweisung des
+        Epiktets und das Neue Testament," _Zeitschrift für die
+        neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde des Urchristentums_,
+        Vol. XIII, 1912; pp. 97-110; 177-191.
+
+Colardeau, Th., _Etude sur Epictète_. Paris, 1903.
+
+Hartmann, K., "Arrian und Epiktet," _Neue Jahrbücher für das klassische
+        Altertum_, Vol. XV, 1905.
+
+Jagu, Amand, _Epictète et Platon_. Paris, 1944.
+
+Lagrange, M. J., "La philosophie religieuse d'Epictète et le
+        Christianisme," _Revue Biblique_, Vol. IX, 1912; pp. 5-21,
+        192-212.
+
+Oldfather, W. A., "Introduction" to _Epictetus_, "Loeb Classics," Vol. I.
+
+Souilhé, J., "Introduction" to _Entretiens_. Paris, 1943.
+
+Weber, Louis, "La morale d'Epictète et les besoins présents de
+        l'enseignment moral," _Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale_, 1905,
+        pp. 830-858; 1906, pp. 342-360; 1907, pp. 327-347; 1909, pp.
+        203-326.
+
+             _Main Works on Stoicism and Related Problems_
+
+Arnold, E. V., _Roman Stoicism_. Cambridge, E., 1911.
+
+Bevan, E., _Stoics and Sceptics_. Oxford, 1913.
+
+Brochard, V., _Etudes de philosophie ancienne et de philosophie moderne_,
+        Paris, 1912.
+
+Hicks, R. D., _Stoic and Epicurean_. New York, 1910.
+
+Martha, C., _Les moralistes sur l'Empire Romain_. Paris, 1886.
+
+Murray, Gilbert, _Stoic, Christian, Humanist_. London, 1940.
+
+Robin, L., _La morale antique_. Paris, 1938, pp. 57, 130, 152, 167.
+
+Wendland, Paul, _Philo und die cynisch-stoische Diatribe_. Berlin, 1895.
+
+----, _Die hellenistische Kultur in ihren Beziehungen zum Judentum und
+        Christentum_. Tübingen, 1912.
+
+Zanta, L., _La renaissance du Stoicisme au XVIième siècle_. Paris, 1914.
+
+Zeller, E., _The Stoics, Epicureans, and Sceptics_. London, 1892.
+
+                        _Influence of Stoicism_
+
+Busson, Henry, _La pensée religieuse Française de Charron à Pascal_.
+        Paris, 1933. Chap. VIII: Stoiciens et Epicuriens, pp. 379-429.
+
+Dilthey, Wilhelm, _Gesammelte Werke_, Vol. II. "Einfluss der Stoa auf die
+        Ausbildung des natürlichen Systems der Geisteswissenschaften,"
+        pp. 153-162; "Anthropologie, Stoa und natürliches System im XVII.
+        Jahrhundert," pp. 439-457.
+
+Groethuysen, Bernard, _Philosophische Anthropologie_. München, 1928.
+        (Chap. "Die römisch-griechische Lebensphilosophie.")
+
+Rand, B., _The Life, Letters, etc. of Anthony, Earl of Shaftesbury_.
+        London, 1900.
+
+Saunders, Jason L., _Justus Lipsius. The Philosophy of Renaissance
+        Stoicism_. New York, 1955.
+
+Wenley, R. M., _Stoicism and Its Influence_. New York, 1927.
+
+                            THE ENCHIRIDION
+
+                                   I
+
+There are things which are within our power, and there are things which
+are beyond our power. Within our power are opinion, aim, desire,
+aversion, and, in one word, whatever affairs are our own. Beyond our
+power are body, property, reputation, office, and, in one word, whatever
+are not properly our own affairs.
+
+Now the things within our power are by nature free, unrestricted,
+unhindered; but those beyond our power are weak, dependent, restricted,
+alien. Remember, then, that if you attribute freedom to things by nature
+dependent and take what belongs to others for your own, you will be
+hindered, you will lament, you will be disturbed, you will find fault
+both with gods and men. But if you take for your own only that which is
+your own and view what belongs to others just as it really is, then no
+one will ever compel you, no one will restrict you; you will find fault
+with no one, you will accuse no one, you will do nothing against your
+will; no one will hurt you, you will not have an enemy, nor will you
+suffer any harm.
+
+Aiming, therefore, at such great things, remember that you must not allow
+yourself any inclination, however slight, toward the attainment of the
+others; but that you must entirely quit some of them, and for the present
+postpone the rest. But if you would have these, and possess power and
+wealth likewise, you may miss the latter in seeking the former; and you
+will certainly fail of that by which alone happiness and freedom are
+procured.
+
+Seek at once, therefore, to be able to say to every unpleasing semblance,
+"You are but a semblance and by no means the real thing." And then
+examine it by those rules which you have; and first and chiefly by this:
+whether it concerns the things which are within our own power or those
+which are not; and if it concerns anything beyond our power, be prepared
+to say that it is nothing to you.
+
+                                   II
+
+Remember that desire demands the attainment of that of which you are
+desirous; and aversion demands the avoidance of that to which you are
+averse; that he who fails of the object of his desires is disappointed;
+and he who incurs the object of his aversion is wretched. If, then, you
+shun only those undesirable things which you can control, you will never
+incur anything which you shun; but if you shun sickness, or death, or
+poverty, you will run the risk of wretchedness. Remove [the habit of]
+aversion, then, from all things that are not within our power, and apply
+it to things undesirable which are within our power. But for the present,
+altogether restrain desire; for if you desire any of the things not
+within our own power, you must necessarily be disappointed; and you are
+not yet secure of those which are within our power, and so are legitimate
+objects of desire. Where it is practically necessary for you to pursue or
+avoid anything, do even this with discretion and gentleness and
+moderation.
+
+                                  III
+
+With regard to whatever objects either delight the mind or contribute to
+use or are tenderly beloved, remind yourself of what nature they are,
+beginning with the merest trifles: if you have a favorite cup, that it is
+but a cup of which you are fond of--for thus, if it is broken, you can
+bear it; if you embrace your child or your wife, that you embrace a
+mortal--and thus, if either of them dies, you can bear it.
+
+                                   IV
+
+When you set about any action, remind yourself of what nature the action
+is. If you are going to bathe, represent to yourself the incidents usual
+in the bath--some persons pouring out, others pushing in, others scolding,
+others pilfering. And thus you will more safely go about this action if
+you say to yourself, "I will now go to bathe and keep my own will in
+harmony with nature." And so with regard to every other action. For thus,
+if any impediment arises in bathing, you will be able to say, "It was not
+only to bathe that I desired, but to keep my will in harmony with nature;
+and I shall not keep it thus if I am out of humor at things that happen."
+
+                                   V
+
+Men are disturbed not by things, but by the views which they take of
+things. Thus death is nothing terrible, else it would have appeared so to
+Socrates. But the terror consists in our notion of death, that it is
+terrible. When, therefore, we are hindered or disturbed, or grieved, let
+us never impute it to others, but to ourselves--that is, to our own views.
+It is the action of an uninstructed person to reproach others for his own
+misfortunes; of one entering upon instruction, to reproach himself; and
+one perfectly instructed, to reproach neither others nor himself.
+
+                                   VI
+
+Be not elated at any excellence not your own. If a horse should be
+elated, and say, "I am handsome," it might be endurable. But when you are
+elated and say, "I have a handsome horse," know that you are elated only
+on the merit of the horse. What then is your own? The use of the
+phenomena of existence. So that when you are in harmony with nature in
+this respect, you will be elated with some reason; for you will be elated
+at some good of your own.
+
+                                  VII
+
+As in a voyage, when the ship is at anchor, if you go on shore to get
+water, you may amuse yourself with picking up a shellfish or a truffle in
+your way, but your thoughts ought to be bent toward the ship, and
+perpetually attentive, lest the captain should call, and then you must
+leave all these things, that you may not have to be carried on board the
+vessel, bound like a sheep; thus likewise in life, if, instead of a
+truffle or shellfish, such a thing as a wife or a child be granted you,
+there is no objection; but if the captain calls, run to the ship, leave
+all these things, and never look behind. But if you are old, never go far
+from the ship, lest you should be missing when called for.
+
+                                  VIII
+
+Demand not that events should happen as you wish; but wish them to happen
+as they do happen, and you will go on well.
+
+                                   IX
+
+Sickness is an impediment to the body, but not to the will unless itself
+pleases. Lameness is an impediment to the leg, but not to the will; and
+say this to yourself with regard to everything that happens. For you will
+find it to be an impediment to something else, but not truly to yourself.
+
+                                   X
+
+Upon every accident, remember to turn toward yourself and inquire what
+faculty you have for its use. If you encounter a handsome person, you
+will find continence the faculty needed; if pain, then fortitude; if
+reviling, then patience. And when thus habituated, the phenomena of
+existence will not overwhelm you.
+
+                                   XI
+
+Never say of anything, "I have lost it," but, "I have restored it." Has
+your child died? It is restored. Has your wife died? She is restored. Has
+your estate been taken away? That likewise is restored. "But it was a bad
+man who took it." What is it to you by whose hands he who gave it has
+demanded it again? While he permits you to possess it, hold it as
+something not your own, as do travelers at an inn.
+
+                                  XII
+
+If you would improve, lay aside such reasonings as these: "If I neglect
+my affairs, I shall not have a maintenance; if I do not punish my
+servant, he will be good for nothing." For it were better to die of
+hunger, exempt from grief and fear, than to live in affluence with
+perturbation; and it is better that your servant should be bad than you
+unhappy.
+
+Begin therefore with little things. Is a little oil spilled or a little
+wine stolen? Say to yourself, "This is the price paid for peace and
+tranquillity; and nothing is to be had for nothing." And when you call
+your servant, consider that it is possible he may not come at your call;
+or, if he does, that he may not do what you wish. But it is not at all
+desirable for him, and very undesirable for you, that it should be in his
+power to cause you any disturbance.
+
+                                  XIII
+
+If you would improve, be content to be thought foolish and dull with
+regard to externals. Do not desire to be thought to know anything; and
+though you should appear to others to be somebody, distrust yourself. For
+be assured, it is not easy at once to keep your will in harmony with
+nature and to secure externals; but while you are absorbed in the one,
+you must of necessity neglect the other.
+
+                                  XIV
+
+If you wish your children and your wife and your friends to live forever,
+you are foolish, for you wish things to be in your power which are not
+so, and what belongs to others to be your own. So likewise, if you wish
+your servant to be without fault, you are foolish, for you wish vice not
+to be vice but something else. But if you wish not to be disappointed in
+your desires, that is in your own power. Exercise, therefore, what is in
+your power. A man's master is he who is able to confer or remove whatever
+that man seeks or shuns. Whoever then would be free, let him wish
+nothing, let him decline nothing, which depends on others; else he must
+necessarily be a slave.
+
+                                   XV
+
+Remember that you must behave as at a banquet. Is anything brought round
+to you? Put out your hand and take a moderate share. Does it pass by you?
+Do not stop it. Is it not yet come? Do not yearn in desire toward it, but
+wait till it reaches you. So with regard to children, wife, office,
+riches; and you will some time or other be worthy to feast with the gods.
+And if you do not so much as take the things which are set before you,
+but are able even to forego them, then you will not only be worthy to
+feast with the gods, but to rule with them also. For, by thus doing,
+Diogenes and Heraclitus, and others like them, deservedly became divine,
+and were so recognized.
+
+                                  XVI
+
+When you see anyone weeping for grief, either that his son has gone
+abroad or that he has suffered in his affairs, take care not to be
+overcome by the apparent evil, but discriminate and be ready to say,
+"What hurts this man is not this occurrence itself--for another man might
+not be hurt by it--but the view he chooses to take of it." As far as
+conversation goes, however, do not disdain to accommodate yourself to him
+and, if need be, to groan with him. Take heed, however, not to groan
+inwardly, too.
+
+                                  XVII
+
+Remember that you are an actor in a drama of such sort as the Author
+chooses--if short, then in a short one; if long, then in a long one. If it
+be his pleasure that you should enact a poor man, or a cripple, or a
+ruler, or a private citizen, see that you act it well. For this is your
+business--to act well the given part, but to choose it belongs to another.
+
+                                 XVIII
+
+When a raven happens to croak unluckily, be not overcome by appearances,
+but discriminate and say, "Nothing is portended to _me_, either to my
+paltry body, or property, or reputation, or children, or wife. But to
+_me_ all portents are lucky if I will. For whatsoever happens, it belongs
+to me to derive advantage therefrom."
+
+                                  XIX
+
+You can be unconquerable if you enter into no combat in which it is not
+in your own power to conquer. When, therefore, you see anyone eminent in
+honors or power, or in high esteem on any other account, take heed not to
+be bewildered by appearances and to pronounce him happy; for if the
+essence of good consists in things within our own power, there will be no
+room for envy or emulation. But, for your part, do not desire to be a
+general, or a senator, or a consul, but to be free; and the only way to
+this is a disregard of things which lie not within our own power.
+
+                                   XX
+
+Remember that it is not he who gives abuse or blows, who affronts, but
+the view we take of these things as insulting. When, therefore, anyone
+provokes you, be assured that it is your own opinion which provokes you.
+Try, therefore, in the first place, not to be bewildered by appearances.
+For if you once gain time and respite, you will more easily command
+yourself.
+
+                                  XXI
+
+Let death and exile, and all other things which appear terrible, be daily
+before your eyes, but death chiefly; and you will never entertain an
+abject thought, nor too eagerly covet anything.
+
+                                  XXII
+
+If you have an earnest desire toward philosophy, prepare yourself from
+the very first to have the multitude laugh and sneer, and say, "He is
+returned to us a philosopher all at once"; and, "Whence this supercilious
+look?" Now, for your part, do not have a supercilious look indeed, but
+keep steadily to those things which appear best to you, as one appointed
+by God to this particular station. For remember that, if you are
+persistent, those very persons who at first ridiculed will afterwards
+admire you. But if you are conquered by them, you will incur a double
+ridicule.
+
+                                 XXIII
+
+If you ever happen to turn your attention to externals, for the pleasure
+of anyone, be assured that you have ruined your scheme of life. Be
+content, then, in everything, with being a philosopher; and if you wish
+to seem so likewise to anyone, appear so to yourself, and it will suffice
+you.
+
+                                  XXIV
+
+Let not such considerations as these distress you: "I shall live in
+discredit and be nobody anywhere." For if discredit be an evil, you can
+no more be involved in evil through another than in baseness. Is it any
+business of yours, then, to get power or to be admitted to an
+entertainment? By no means. How then, after all, is this discredit? And
+how it is true that you will be nobody anywhere when you ought to be
+somebody in those things only which are within your own power, in which
+you may be of the greatest consequence? "But my friends will be
+unassisted." What do you mean by "unassisted"? They will not have money
+from you, nor will you make them Roman citizens. Who told you, then, that
+these are among the things within our own power, and not rather the
+affairs of others? And who can give to another the things which he
+himself has not? "Well, but get them, then, that we too may have a
+share." If I can get them with the preservation of my own honor and
+fidelity and self-respect, show me the way and I will get them; but if
+you require me to lose my own proper good, that you may gain what is no
+good, consider how unreasonable and foolish you are. Besides, which would
+you rather have, a sum of money or a faithful and honorable friend?
+Rather assist me, then, to gain this character than require me to do
+those things by which I may lose it. Well, but my country, say you, as
+far as depends upon me, will be unassisted. Here, again, what assistance
+is this you mean? It will not have porticos nor baths of your providing?
+And what signifies that? Why, neither does a smith provide it with shoes,
+nor a shoemaker with arms. It is enough if everyone fully performs his
+own proper business. And were you to supply it with another faithful and
+honorable citizen, would not he be of use to it? Yes. Therefore neither
+are you yourself useless to it. "What place, then," say you, "shall I
+hold in the state?" Whatever you can hold with the preservation of your
+fidelity and honor. But if, by desiring to be useful to that, you lose
+these, how can you serve your country when you have become faithless and
+shameless?
+
+                                  XXV
+
+Is anyone preferred before you at an entertainment, or in courtesies, or
+in confidential intercourse? If these things are good, you ought to
+rejoice that he has them; and if they are evil, do not be grieved that
+you have them not. And remember that you cannot be permitted to rival
+others in externals without using the same means to obtain them. For how
+can he who will not haunt the door of any man, will not attend him, will
+not praise him, have an equal share with him who does these things? You
+are unjust, then, and unreasonable if you are unwilling to pay the price
+for which these things are sold, and would have them for nothing. For how
+much are lettuces sold? An obulus, for instance. If another, then, paying
+an obulus, takes the lettuces, and you, not paying it, go without them,
+do not imagine that he has gained any advantage over you. For as he has
+the lettuces, so you have the obulus which you did not give. So, in the
+present case, you have not been invited to such a person's entertainment
+because you have not paid him the price for which a supper is sold. It is
+sold for praise; it is sold for attendance. Give him, then, the value if
+it be for your advantage. But if you would at the same time not pay the
+one, and yet receive the other, you are unreasonable and foolish. Have
+you nothing, then, in place of the supper? Yes, indeed, you have--not to
+praise him whom you do not like to praise; not to bear the insolence of
+his lackeys.
+
+                                  XXVI
+
+The will of nature may be learned from things upon which we are all
+agreed. As when our neighbor's boy has broken a cup, or the like, we are
+ready at once to say, "These are casualties that will happen"; be
+assured, then, that when your own cup is likewise broken, you ought to be
+affected just as when another's cup was broken. Now apply this to greater
+things. Is the child or wife of another dead? There is no one who would
+not say, "This is an accident of mortality." But if anyone's own child
+happens to die, it is immediately, "Alas! how wretched am I!" It should
+be always remembered how we are affected on hearing the same thing
+concerning others.
+
+                                 XXVII
+
+As a mark[1] is not set up for the sake of missing the aim, so neither
+does the nature of evil exist in the world.
+
+                                 XXVIII
+
+If a person had delivered up your body to some passer-by, you would
+certainly be angry. And do you feel no shame in delivering up your own
+mind to any reviler, to be disconcerted and confounded?
+
+                                XXIX[2]
+
+In every affair consider what precedes and what follows, and then
+undertake it. Otherwise you will begin with spirit, indeed, careless of
+the consequences, and when these are developed, you will shamefully
+desist. "I would conquer at the Olympic Games." But consider what
+precedes and what follows, and then, if it be for your advantage, engage
+in the affair. You must conform to rules, submit to a diet, refrain from
+dainties; exercise your body, whether you choose it or not, at a stated
+hour, in heat and cold; you must drink no cold water, and sometimes no
+wine--in a word, you must give yourself up to your trainer as to a
+physician. Then, in the combat, you may be thrown into a ditch, dislocate
+your arm, turn your ankle, swallow an abundance of dust, receive stripes
+[for negligence], and, after all, lose the victory. When you have
+reckoned up all this, if your inclination still holds, set about the
+combat. Otherwise, take notice, you will behave like children who
+sometimes play wrestlers, sometimes gladiators, sometimes blow a trumpet,
+and sometimes act a tragedy, when they happen to have seen and admired
+these shows. Thus you too will be at one time a wrestler, and another a
+gladiator; now a philosopher, now an orator; but nothing in earnest. Like
+an ape you mimic all you see, and one thing after another is sure to
+please you, but is out of favor as soon as it becomes familiar. For you
+have never entered upon anything considerately; nor after having surveyed
+and tested the whole matter, but carelessly, and with a halfway zeal.
+Thus some, when they have seen a philosopher and heard a man speaking
+like Euphrates[3]--though, indeed, who can speak like him?--have a mind to
+be philosophers, too. Consider first, man, what the matter is, and what
+your own nature is able to bear. If you would be a wrestler, consider
+your shoulders, your back, your thighs; for different persons are made
+for different things. Do you think that you can act as you do and be a
+philosopher, that you can eat, drink, be angry, be discontented, as you
+are now? You must watch, you must labor, you must get the better of
+certain appetites, must quit your acquaintances, be despised by your
+servant, be laughed at by those you meet; come off worse than others in
+everything--in offices, in honors, before tribunals. When you have fully
+considered all these things, approach, if you please--that is, if, by
+parting with them, you have a mind to purchase serenity, freedom, and
+tranquillity. If not, do not come hither; do not, like children, be now a
+philosopher, then a publican, then an orator, and then one of Caesar's
+officers. These things are not consistent. You must be one man, either
+good or bad. You must cultivate either your own reason or else externals;
+apply yourself either to things within or without you--that is, be either
+a philosopher or one of the mob.
+
+                                  XXX
+
+Duties are universally measured by relations. Is a certain man your
+father? In this are implied taking care of him, submitting to him in all
+things, patiently receiving his reproaches, his correction. But he is a
+bad father. Is your natural tie, then, to a _good_ father? No, but to a
+father. Is a brother unjust? Well, preserve your own just relation toward
+him. Consider not what _he_ does, but what _you_ are to do to keep your
+own will in a state conformable to nature, for another cannot hurt you
+unless you please. You will then be hurt when you consent to be hurt. In
+this manner, therefore, if you accustom yourself to contemplate the
+relations of neighbor, citizen, commander, you can deduce from each the
+corresponding duties.
+
+                                  XXXI
+
+Be assured that the essence of piety toward the gods lies in this--to form
+right opinions concerning them, as existing and as governing the universe
+justly and well. And fix yourself in this resolution, to obey them, and
+yield to them, and willingly follow them amidst all events, as being
+ruled by the most perfect wisdom. For thus you will never find fault with
+the gods, nor accuse them of neglecting you. And it is not possible for
+this to be affected in any other way than by withdrawing yourself from
+things which are not within our own power, and by making good or evil to
+consist only in those which are. For if you suppose any other things to
+be either good or evil, it is inevitable that, when you are disappointed
+of what you wish or incur what you would avoid, you should reproach and
+blame their authors. For every creature is naturally formed to flee and
+abhor things that appear hurtful and that which causes them; and to
+pursue and admire those which appear beneficial and that which causes
+them. It is impracticable, then, that one who supposes himself to be hurt
+should rejoice in the person who, as he thinks, hurts him, just as it is
+impossible to rejoice in the hurt itself. Hence, also, a father is
+reviled by his son when he does not impart the things which seem to be
+good; and this made Polynices and Eteocles[4] mutually enemies--that
+empire seemed good to both. On this account the husbandman reviles the
+gods; [and so do] the sailor, the merchant, or those who have lost wife
+or child. For where our interest is, there, too, is piety directed. So
+that whoever is careful to regulate his desires and aversions as he ought
+is thus made careful of piety likewise. But it also becomes incumbent on
+everyone to offer libations and sacrifices and first fruits, according to
+the customs of his country, purely, and not heedlessly nor negligently;
+not avariciously, nor yet extravagantly.
+
+                                 XXXII
+
+When you have recourse to divination, remember that you know not what the
+event will be, and you come to learn it of the diviner; but of what
+nature it is you knew before coming; at least, if you are of philosophic
+mind. For if it is among the things not within our own power, it can by
+no means be either good or evil. Do not, therefore, bring with you to the
+diviner either desire or aversion--else you will approach him
+trembling--but first clearly understand that every event is indifferent
+and nothing to _you_, of whatever sort it may be; for it will be in your
+power to make a right use of it, and this no one can hinder. Then come
+with confidence to the gods as your counselors; and afterwards, when any
+counsel is given you, remember what counselors you have assumed, and
+whose advice you will neglect if you disobey. Come to divination as
+Socrates prescribed, in cases of which the whole consideration relates to
+the event, and in which no opportunities are afforded by reason or any
+other art to discover the matter in view. When, therefore, it is our duty
+to share the danger of a friend or of our country, we ought not to
+consult the oracle as to whether we shall share it with them or not. For
+though the diviner should forewarn you that the auspices are unfavorable,
+this means no more than that either death or mutilation or exile is
+portended. But we have reason within us; and it directs us, even with
+these hazards, to stand by our friend and our country. Attend, therefore,
+to the greater diviner, the Pythian God, who once cast out of the temple
+him who neglected to save his friend.[5]
+
+                                 XXXIII
+
+Begin by prescribing to yourself some character and demeanor, such as you
+may preserve both alone and in company.
+
+Be mostly silent, or speak merely what is needful, and in few words. We
+may, however, enter sparingly into discourse sometimes, when occasion
+calls for it; but let it not run on any of the common subjects, as
+gladiators, or horse races, or athletic champions, or food, or drink--the
+vulgar topics of conversation--and especially not on men, so as either to
+blame, or praise, or make comparisons. If you are able, then, by your own
+conversation, bring over that of your company to proper subjects; but if
+you happen to find yourself among strangers, be silent.
+
+Let not your laughter be loud, frequent, or abundant.
+
+Avoid taking oaths, if possible, altogether; at any rate, so far as you
+are able.
+
+Avoid public and vulgar entertainments; but if ever an occasion calls you
+to them, keep your attention upon the stretch, that you may not
+imperceptibly slide into vulgarity. For be assured that if a person be
+ever so pure himself, yet, if his companion be corrupted, he who
+converses with him will be corrupted likewise.
+
+Provide things relating to the body no further than absolute need
+requires, as meat, drink, clothing, house, retinue. But cut off
+everything that looks toward show and luxury.
+
+Before marriage guard yourself with all your ability from unlawful
+intercourse with women; yet be not uncharitable or severe to those who
+are led into this, nor boast frequently that you yourself do otherwise.
+
+If anyone tells you that a certain person speaks ill of you, do not make
+excuses about what is said of you, but answer: "He was ignorant of my
+other faults, else he would not have mentioned these alone."
+
+It is not necessary for you to appear often at public spectacles; but if
+ever there is a proper occasion for you to be there, do not appear more
+solicitous for any other than for yourself--that is, wish things to be
+only just as they are, and only the best man to win; for thus nothing
+will go against you. But abstain entirely from acclamations and derision
+and violent emotions. And when you come away, do not discourse a great
+deal on what has passed and what contributes nothing to your own
+amendment. For it would appear by such discourse that you were dazzled by
+the show.
+
+Be not prompt or ready to attend private recitations; but if you do
+attend, preserve your gravity and dignity, and yet avoid making yourself
+disagreeable.
+
+When you are going to confer with anyone, and especially with one who
+seems your superior, represent to yourself how Socrates or Zeno[6] would
+behave in such a case, and you will not be at a loss to meet properly
+whatever may occur.
+
+When you are going before anyone in power, fancy to yourself that you may
+not find him at home, that you may be shut out, that the doors may not be
+opened to you, that he may not notice you. If, with all this, it be your
+duty to go, bear what happens and never say to yourself, "It was not
+worth so much"; for this is vulgar, and like a man bewildered by
+externals.
+
+In company, avoid a frequent and excessive mention of your own actions
+and dangers. For however agreeable it may be to yourself to allude to the
+risks you have run, it is not equally agreeable to others to hear your
+adventures. Avoid likewise an endeavor to excite laughter, for this may
+readily slide you into vulgarity, and, besides, may be apt to lower you
+in the esteem of your acquaintance. Approaches to indecent discourse are
+likewise dangerous. Therefore, when anything of this sort happens, use
+the first fit opportunity to rebuke him who makes advances that way, or,
+at least, by silence and blushing and a serious look show yourself to be
+displeased by such talk.
+
+                                 XXXIV
+
+If you are dazzled by the semblance of any promised pleasure, guard
+yourself against being bewildered by it; but let the affair wait your
+leisure, and procure yourself some delay. Then bring to your mind both
+points of time--that in which you shall enjoy the pleasure, and that in
+which you will repent and reproach yourself, after you have enjoyed
+it--and set before you, in opposition to these, how you will rejoice and
+applaud yourself if you abstain. And even though it should appear to you
+a seasonable gratification, take heed that its enticements and
+allurements and seductions may not subdue you, but set in opposition to
+this how much better it is to be conscious of having gained so great a
+victory.
+
+                                  XXXV
+
+When you do anything from a clear judgment that it ought to be done,
+never shrink from being seen to do it, even though the world should
+misunderstand it; for if you are not acting rightly, shun the action
+itself; if you are, why fear those who wrongly censure you?
+
+                                 XXXVI
+
+As the proposition, "either it is day or it is night," has much force in
+a disjunctive argument, but none at all in a conjunctive one, so, at a
+feast, to choose the largest share is very suitable to the bodily
+appetite, but utterly inconsistent with the social spirit of the
+entertainment. Remember, then, when you eat with another, not only the
+value to the body of those things which are set before you, but also the
+value of proper courtesy toward your host.
+
+                                 XXXVII
+
+If you have assumed any character beyond your strength, you have both
+demeaned yourself ill in that and quitted one which you might have
+supported.
+
+                                XXXVIII
+
+As in walking you take care not to tread upon a nail, or turn your foot,
+so likewise take care not to hurt the ruling faculty of your mind. And if
+we were to guard against this in every action, we should enter upon
+action more safely.
+
+                                 XXXIX
+
+The body is to everyone the proper measure of its possessions, as the
+foot is of the shoe. If, therefore, you stop at this, you will keep the
+measure; but if you move beyond it, you must necessarily be carried
+forward, as down a precipice; as in the case of a shoe, if you go beyond
+its fitness to the foot, it comes first to be gilded, then purple, and
+then studded with jewels. For to that which once exceeds the fit measure
+there is no bound.
+
+                                   XL
+
+Women from fourteen years old are flattered by men with the title of
+mistresses. Therefore, perceiving that they are regarded only as
+qualified to give men pleasure, they begin to adorn themselves, and in
+that to place all their hopes. It is worth while, therefore, to try that
+they may perceive themselves honored only so far as they appear beautiful
+in their demeanor and modestly virtuous.
+
+                                  XLI
+
+It is a mark of want of intellect to spend much time in things relating
+to the body, as to be immoderate in exercises, in eating and drinking,
+and in the discharge of other animal functions. These things should be
+done incidentally and our main strength be applied to our reason.
+
+                                  XLII
+
+When any person does ill by you, or speaks ill of you, remember that he
+acts or speaks from an impression that it is right for him to do so. Now
+it is not possible that he should follow what appears right to you, but
+only what appears so to himself. Therefore, if he judges from false
+appearances, he is the person hurt, since he, too, is the person
+deceived. For if anyone takes a true proposition to be false, the
+proposition is not hurt, but only the man is deceived. Setting out, then,
+from these principles, you will meekly bear with a person who reviles
+you, for you will say upon every occasion, "It seemed so to him."
+
+                                 XLIII
+
+Everything has two handles: one by which it may be borne, another by
+which it cannot. If your brother acts unjustly, do not lay hold on the
+affair by the handle of his injustice, for by that it cannot be borne,
+but rather by the opposite--that he is your brother, that he was brought
+up with you; and thus you will lay hold on it as it is to be borne.
+
+                                  XLIV
+
+These reasonings have no logical connection: "I am richer than you,
+therefore I am your superior." "I am more eloquent than you, therefore I
+am your superior." The true logical connection is rather this: "I am
+richer than you, therefore my possessions must exceed yours." "I am more
+eloquent than you, therefore my style must surpass yours." But you, after
+all, consist neither in property nor in style.
+
+                                  XLV
+
+Does anyone bathe hastily? Do not say that he does it ill, but hastily.
+Does anyone drink much wine? Do not say that he does ill, but that he
+drinks a great deal. For unless you perfectly understand his motives, how
+should you know if he acts ill? Thus you will not risk yielding to any
+appearances but such as you fully comprehend.
+
+                                  XLVI
+
+Never proclaim yourself a philosopher, nor make much talk among the
+ignorant about your principles, but show them by actions. Thus, at an
+entertainment, do not discourse how people ought to eat, but eat as you
+ought. For remember that thus Socrates also universally avoided all
+ostentation. And when persons came to him and desired to be introduced by
+him to philosophers, he took them and introduced them; so well did he
+bear being overlooked. So if ever there should be among the ignorant any
+discussion of principles, be for the most part silent. For there is great
+danger in hastily throwing out what is undigested. And if anyone tells
+you that you know nothing, and you are not nettled at it, then you may be
+sure that you have really entered on your work. For sheep do not hastily
+throw up the grass to show the shepherds how much they have eaten, but,
+inwardly digesting their food, they produce it outwardly in wool and
+milk. Thus, therefore, do you not make an exhibition before the ignorant
+of your principles, but of the actions to which their digestion gives
+rise.
+
+                                 XLVII
+
+When you have learned to nourish your body frugally, do not pique
+yourself upon it; nor, if you drink water, be saying upon every occasion,
+"I drink water." But first consider how much more frugal are the poor
+than we, and how much more patient of hardship. If at any time you would
+inure yourself by exercise to labor and privation, for your own sake and
+not for the public, do not attempt great feats; but when you are
+violently thirsty, just rinse your mouth with water, and tell nobody.
+
+                                 XLVIII
+
+The condition and characteristic of a vulgar person is that he never
+looks for either help or harm from himself, but only from externals. The
+condition and characteristic of a philosopher is that he looks to himself
+for all help or harm. The marks of a proficient are that he censures no
+one, praises no one, blames no one, accuses no one; says nothing
+concerning himself as being anybody or knowing anything. When he is in
+any instance hindered or restrained, he accuses himself; and if he is
+praised, he smiles to himself at the person who praises him; and if he is
+censured, he makes no defense. But he goes about with the caution of a
+convalescent, careful of interference with anything that is doing well
+but not yet quite secure. He restrains desire; he transfers his aversion
+to those things only which thwart the proper use of our own will; he
+employs his energies moderately in all directions; if he appears stupid
+or ignorant, he does not care; and, in a word, he keeps watch over
+himself as over an enemy and one in ambush.
+
+                                  XLIX
+
+When anyone shows himself vain on being able to understand and interpret
+the works of Chrysippus,[7] say to yourself: "Unless Chrysippus had
+written obscurely, this person would have had nothing to be vain of. But
+what do I desire? To understand nature, and follow her. I ask, then, who
+interprets her; and hearing that Chrysippus does, I have recourse to him.
+I do not understand his writings. I seek, therefore, one to interpret
+_them_." So far there is nothing to value myself upon. And when I find an
+interpreter, what remains is to make use of his instructions. This alone
+is the valuable thing. But if I admire merely the interpretation, what do
+I become more than a grammarian, instead of a philosopher, except,
+indeed, that instead of Homer I interpret Chrysippus? When anyone,
+therefore, desires me to read Chrysippus to him, I rather blush when I
+cannot exhibit actions that are harmonious and consonant with his
+discourse.
+
+                                   L
+
+Whatever rules you have adopted, abide by them as laws, and as if you
+would be impious to transgress them; and do not regard what anyone says
+of you, for this, after all, is no concern of yours. How long, then, will
+you delay to demand of yourself the noblest improvements, and in no
+instance to transgress the judgments of reason? You have received the
+philosophic principles with which you ought to be conversant; and you
+have been conversant with them. For what other master, then, do you wait
+as an excuse for this delay in self-reformation? You are no longer a boy
+but a grown man. If, therefore, you will be negligent and slothful, and
+always add procrastination to procrastination, purpose to purpose, and
+fix day after day in which you will attend to yourself, you will
+insensibly continue to accomplish nothing and, living and dying, remain
+of vulgar mind. This instant, then, think yourself worthy of living as a
+man grown up and a proficient. Let whatever appears to be the best be to
+you an inviolable law. And if any instance of pain or pleasure, glory or
+disgrace, be set before you, remember that now is the combat, now the
+Olympiad comes on, nor can it be put off; and that by one failure and
+defeat honor may be lost or--won. Thus Socrates became perfect, improving
+himself by everything, following reason alone. And though you are not yet
+a Socrates, you ought, however, to live as one seeking to be a Socrates.
+
+                                   LI
+
+The first and most necessary topic in philosophy is the practical
+application of principles, as, _We ought not to lie_; the second is that
+of demonstrations as, _Why it is that we ought not to lie_; the third,
+that which gives strength and logical connection to the other two, as,
+_Why this is a demonstration_. For what is demonstration? What is a
+consequence? What a contradiction? What truth? What falsehood? The third
+point is then necessary on account of the second; and the second on
+account of the first. But the most necessary, and that whereon we ought
+to rest, is the first. But we do just the contrary. For we spend all our
+time on the third point and employ all our diligence about that, and
+entirely neglect the first. Therefore, at the same time that we lie, we
+are very ready to show how it is demonstrated that lying is wrong.
+
+Upon all occasions we ought to have these maxims ready at hand:
+
+  Conduct me, Zeus, and thou, O Destiny,
+  Wherever your decrees have fixed my lot.
+  I follow cheerfully; and, did I not,
+  Wicked and wretched, I must follow still.[8]
+
+  Who'er yields properly to Fate is deemed
+  Wise among men, and knows the laws of Heaven.[9]
+
+And this third:
+
+  "O Crito, if it thus pleases the gods, thus let it be."[10]
+
+  "Anytus and Melitus may kill me indeed; but hurt me they cannot."[11]
+
+                               Footnotes
+
+[1]Happiness, the effect of virtue, is the mark which God has set up for
+   us to aim at. Our missing it is no work of His; nor so properly
+   anything real, as a mere negative and failure of our own.
+
+[2][Chapter XV of the third book of the _Discourses_, which, with the
+   exception of some very trifling differences, is the same as chapter
+   XXIX of the _Enchiridion_.--Ed.]
+
+[3]Euphrates was a philosopher of Syria, whose character is described,
+   with the highest encomiums, by Pliny the Younger, _Letters_ I. 10.
+
+[4][The two inimical sons of Oedipus, who killed each other in
+   battle.--Ed.]
+
+[5][This refers to an anecdote given in full by Simplicius, in his
+   commentary on this passage, of a man assaulted and killed on his way
+   to consult the oracle, while his companion, deserting him, took refuge
+   in the temple till cast out by the Deity.--Tr.]
+
+[6][Reference is to Zeno of Cyprus (335-263 B.C.), the founder of the
+   Stoic school.--Ed.]
+
+[7][Chrysippus (_c._ 280-207 B.C.) was a Stoic philosopher who became
+   head of the Stoa after Cleanthes. His works, which are lost, were most
+   influential and were generally accepted as the authoritative
+   interpretation of orthodox Stoic philosophy.--Ed.]
+
+[8]Cleanthes, in Diogenes Laertius, quoted also by Seneca, _Epistle_ 107.
+
+[9]Euripides, Fragments.
+
+[10]Plato, _Crito_, Chap. XVII.
+
+[11]Plato, _Apology_, Chap. XVIII.
+
+                      The Library of Liberal Arts
+
+  Aeschylus: _Prometheus Bound_. Tr. E. B. Browning. (LLA 24)        .40
+  *Alembert, d': _Introduction to the Encyclopédie of 1751_. Tr. T.
+          D. Lockwood. (LLA 88)                                      .80
+  *Aristotle: _Nicomachean Ethics_. Tr. M. Ostwald. (LLA 75)         .80
+  ----: _On the Art of Poetry_. Tr. S. H. Butcher. (LLA 6)             .50
+  *----: _On Poetry and Style_. Tr. G. M. A. Grube. (LLA 68)           .75
+  Augustine: _On Christian Doctrine_. Tr. D. W. Robertson, Jr. (LLA
+          80)                                                        .95
+  *Bacon: _The New Organon_. (LLA 97)                               1.00
+  *Beccaria: _Of Crimes and Punishments_. Tr. H. Paolucci & V.
+          Caporale. (LLA 107)                                        .60
+  Bergson: _An Introduction to Metaphysics_. Tr. T. E. Hulme. (LLA
+          10)                                                        .40
+  *Berkeley: _An Essay Toward a New Theory of Vision & The Theory
+          of Vision Vindicated_. (LLA 83)                            .80
+  ----: _A Treatise Concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge_.
+          (LLA 53)                                                   .75
+  ----: _Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous_. (LLA 39)        .75
+  _Boccaccio on Poetry._ Tr. C. G. Osgood. (LLA 82)     _cl. $3.50_ 1.25
+  *Boethius: _The Consolation of Philosophy_. Tr. R. H. Green. (LLA
+          86)                                                        .95
+  Bonaventura: _The Mind's Road to God_. Tr. G. Boas. (LLA 32)       .50
+  Bowman: _The Absurdity of Christianity and Other Essays_. (LLA
+          56)                                                        .75
+  Bradley: _Ethical Studies (Selected Essays)_. (LLA 28) _cl. $2.00_ .85
+  *Burke: _On the Sublime and Beautiful_. (LLA 99)                   .90
+  ----: _Reflections on the Revolution in France_. (LLA 46)
+                                                        _cl. $3.50_ 1.25
+  Butler: _Five Sermons_. (LLA 21)                                   .60
+  Calvin: _On the Christian Faith_. (LLA 93)                         .95
+  ----: _On God and Political Duty_. (LLA 23)                          .60
+  *_The Cid._ Tr. J. G. Markley. (LLA 77)                            .75
+  Cornford: _Plato and Parmenides_. (LLA 102)                       1.60
+  ----: _Plato's Cosmology_. (LLA 101)                                1.75
+  ----: _Plato's Theory of Knowledge_. (LLA 100)                      1.75
+  *Dante: _De vulgari eloquentia_. Tr. W. T. H. Jackson. (LLA 85)    .60
+  ----: _On World-Government (De Monarchia)_. Tr. H. W. Schneider.
+          (LLA 15)                                                   .60
+  Descartes: _Discourse on Method_. Tr. L. J. Lafleur. (LLA 19)      .50
+  *----: _Discourse on Method and Meditations_. Tr. L. J. Lafleur.
+          (LLA 89)                                                   .90
+  ----: _Meditations_. Tr. L. J. Lafleur. (LLA 29)                     .60
+  Dostoevski: _The Grand Inquisitor on the Nature of Man_. Tr. C.
+          Garnett. (LLA 63)                                          .40
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data/plato_apology.txt

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+Produced by Sue Asscher, and David Widger
+
+Apology
+
+by Plato
+
+Translated by Benjamin Jowett
+
+Contents
+
+ INTRODUCTION
+ APOLOGY
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+In what relation the "Apology" of Plato stands to the real defence of
+Socrates, there are no means of determining. It certainly agrees in
+tone and character with the description of Xenophon, who says in the
+"Memorabilia" that Socrates might have been acquitted "if in any
+moderate degree he would have conciliated the favour of the dicasts;"
+and who informs us in another passage, on the testimony of Hermogenes,
+the friend of Socrates, that he had no wish to live; and that the
+divine sign refused to allow him to prepare a defence, and also that
+Socrates himself declared this to be unnecessary, on the ground that
+all his life long he had been preparing against that hour. For the
+speech breathes throughout a spirit of defiance, "_ut non supplex aut
+reus sed magister aut dominus videretur esse judicum_" (Cic. "de Orat."
+i. 54); and the loose and desultory style is an imitation of the
+"accustomed manner" in which Socrates spoke in "the _agora_ and among
+the tables of the money-changers." The allusion in the "Crito" (45 B)
+may, perhaps, be adduced as a further evidence of the literal accuracy
+of some parts (37 C, D). But in the main it must be regarded as the
+ideal of Socrates, according to Plato's conception of him, appearing in
+the greatest and most public scene of his life, and in the height of
+his triumph, when he is weakest, and yet his mastery over mankind is
+greatest, and his habitual irony acquires a new meaning and a sort of
+tragic pathos in the face of death. The facts of his life are summed
+up, and the features of his character are brought out as if by accident
+in the course of the defence. The conversational manner, the seeming
+want of arrangement, the ironical simplicity, are found to result in a
+perfect work of art, which is the portrait of Socrates.
+
+Yet some of the topics may have been actually used by Socrates; and the
+recollection of his very words may have rung in the ears of his
+disciple. The "Apology" of Plato may be compared generally with those
+speeches of Thucydides in which he has embodied his conception of the
+lofty character and policy of the great Pericles, and which at the same
+time furnish a commentary on the situation of affairs from the point of
+view of the historian. So in the "Apology" there is an ideal rather
+than a literal truth; much is said which was not said, and is only
+Plato's view of the situation. Plato was not, like Xenophon, a
+chronicler of facts; he does not appear in any of his writings to have
+aimed at literal accuracy. He is not therefore to be supplemented from
+the Memorabilia and Symposium of Xenophon, who belongs to an entirely
+different class of writers. The Apology of Plato is not the report of
+what Socrates said, but an elaborate composition, quite as much so in
+fact as one of the Dialogues. And we may perhaps even indulge in the
+fancy that the actual defence of Socrates was as much greater than the
+Platonic defence as the master was greater than the disciple. But in
+any case, some of the words used by him must have been remembered, and
+some of the facts recorded must have actually occurred. It is
+significant that Plato is said to have been present at the defence
+(Apol.), as he is also said to have been absent at the last scene in
+the "Phædo". Is it fanciful to suppose that he meant to give the stamp
+of authenticity to the one and not to the other?--especially when we
+consider that these two passages are the only ones in which Plato makes
+mention of himself. The circumstance that Plato was to be one of his
+sureties for the payment of the fine which he proposed has the
+appearance of truth. More suspicious is the statement that Socrates
+received the first impulse to his favourite calling of cross-examining
+the world from the Oracle of Delphi; for he must already have been
+famous before Chaerephon went to consult the Oracle (Riddell), and the
+story is of a kind which is very likely to have been invented. On the
+whole we arrive at the conclusion that the "Apology" is true to the
+character of Socrates, but we cannot show that any single sentence in
+it was actually spoken by him. It breathes the spirit of Socrates, but
+has been cast anew in the mould of Plato.
+
+There is not much in the other Dialogues which can be compared with the
+"Apology". The same recollection of his master may have been present to
+the mind of Plato when depicting the sufferings of the Just in the
+"Republic". The "Crito" may also be regarded as a sort of appendage to
+the "Apology", in which Socrates, who has defied the judges, is
+nevertheless represented as scrupulously obedient to the laws. The
+idealization of the sufferer is carried still further in the
+"Georgias", in which the thesis is maintained, that "to suffer is
+better than to do evil;" and the art of rhetoric is described as only
+useful for the purpose of self-accusation. The parallelisms which occur
+in the so-called "Apology" of Xenophon are not worth noticing, because
+the writing in which they are contained is manifestly spurious. The
+statements of the "Memorabilia" respecting the trial and death of
+Socrates agree generally with Plato; but they have lost the flavour of
+Socratic irony in the narrative of Xenophon.
+
+The "Apology" or Platonic defence of Socrates is divided into three
+parts: 1st. The defence properly so called; 2nd. The shorter address in
+mitigation of the penalty; 3rd. The last words of prophetic rebuke and
+exhortation.
+
+The first part commences with an apology for his colloquial style; he
+is, as he has always been, the enemy of rhetoric, and knows of no
+rhetoric but truth; he will not falsify his character by making a
+speech. Then he proceeds to divide his accusers into two classes;
+first, there is the nameless accuser--public opinion. All the world from
+their earliest years had heard that he was a corrupter of youth, and
+had seen him caricatured in the "Clouds" of Aristophanes. Secondly,
+there are the professed accusers, who are but the mouth-piece of the
+others. The accusations of both might be summed up in a formula. The
+first say, "Socrates is an evil-doer and a curious person, searching
+into things under the earth and above the heaven; and making the worse
+appear the better cause, and teaching all this to others." The second,
+"Socrates is an evil-doer and corrupter of the youth, who does not
+receive the gods whom the state receives, but introduces other new
+divinities." These last words appear to have been the actual indictment
+(compare Xen. Mem.); and the previous formula, which is a summary of
+public opinion, assumes the same legal style.
+
+The answer begins by clearing up a confusion. In the representations of
+the Comic poets, and in the opinion of the multitude, he had been
+identified with the teachers of physical science and with the Sophists.
+But this was an error. For both of them he professes a respect in the
+open court, which contrasts with his manner of speaking about them in
+other places. (Compare for Anaxagoras, Phædo, Laws; for the Sophists,
+Meno, Republic, Tim., Theaet., Soph., etc.) But at the same time he
+shows that he is not one of them. Of natural philosophy he knows
+nothing; not that he despises such pursuits, but the fact is that he is
+ignorant of them, and never says a word about them. Nor is he paid for
+giving instruction--that is another mistaken notion:--he has nothing to
+teach. But he commends Evenus for teaching virtue at such a "moderate"
+rate as five minæ. Something of the "accustomed irony," which may
+perhaps be expected to sleep in the ear of the multitude, is lurking
+here.
+
+He then goes on to explain the reason why he is in such an evil name.
+That had arisen out of a peculiar mission which he had taken upon
+himself. The enthusiastic Chaerephon (probably in anticipation of the
+answer which he received) had gone to Delphi and asked the oracle if
+there was any man wiser than Socrates; and the answer was, that there
+was no man wiser. What could be the meaning of this--that he who knew
+nothing, and knew that he knew nothing, should be declared by the
+oracle to be the wisest of men? Reflecting upon the answer, he
+determined to refute it by finding "a wiser;" and first he went to the
+politicians, and then to the poets, and then to the craftsmen, but
+always with the same result--he found that they knew nothing, or hardly
+anything more than himself; and that the little advantage which in some
+cases they possessed was more than counter-balanced by their conceit of
+knowledge. He knew nothing, and knew that he knew nothing: they knew
+little or nothing, and imagined that they knew all things. Thus he had
+passed his life as a sort of missionary in detecting the pretended
+wisdom of mankind; and this occupation had quite absorbed him and taken
+him away both from public and private affairs. Young men of the richer
+sort had made a pastime of the same pursuit, "which was not unamusing."
+And hence bitter enmities had arisen; the professors of knowledge had
+revenged themselves by calling him a villainous corrupter of youth, and
+by repeating the commonplaces about atheism and materialism and
+sophistry, which are the stock-accusations against all philosophers
+when there is nothing else to be said of them.
+
+The second accusation he meets by interrogating Meletus, who is present
+and can be interrogated. "If he is the corrupter, who is the improver
+of the citizens?" (Compare Meno.) "All men everywhere." But how absurd,
+how contrary to analogy is this! How inconceivable too, that he should
+make the citizens worse when he has to live with them. This surely
+cannot be intentional; and if unintentional, he ought to have been
+instructed by Meletus, and not accused in the court.
+
+But there is another part of the indictment which says that he teaches
+men not to receive the gods whom the city receives, and has other new
+gods. "Is that the way in which he is supposed to corrupt the youth?"
+"Yes, it is." "Has he only new gods, or none at all?" "None at all."
+"What, not even the sun and moon?" "No; why, he says that the sun is a
+stone, and the moon earth." That, replies Socrates, is the old
+confusion about Anaxagoras; the Athenian people are not so ignorant as
+to attribute to the influence of Socrates notions which have found
+their way into the drama, and may be learned at the theatre. Socrates
+undertakes to show that Meletus (rather unjustifiably) has been
+compounding a riddle in this part of the indictment: "There are no
+gods, but Socrates believes in the existence of the sons of gods, which
+is absurd."
+
+Leaving Meletus, who has had enough words spent upon him, he returns to
+the original accusation. The question may be asked, Why will he persist
+in following a profession which leads him to death? Why?--because he
+must remain at his post where the god has placed him, as he remained at
+Potidaea, and Amphipolis, and Delium, where the generals placed him.
+Besides, he is not so overwise as to imagine that he knows whether
+death is a good or an evil; and he is certain that desertion of his
+duty is an evil. Anytus is quite right in saying that they should never
+have indicted him if they meant to let him go. For he will certainly
+obey God rather than man; and will continue to preach to all men of all
+ages the necessity of virtue and improvement; and if they refuse to
+listen to him he will still persevere and reprove them. This is his way
+of corrupting the youth, which he will not cease to follow in obedience
+to the god, even if a thousand deaths await him.
+
+He is desirous that they should let him live--not for his own sake, but
+for theirs; because he is their heaven-sent friend (and they will never
+have such another), or, as he may be ludicrously described, he is the
+gadfly who stirs the generous steed into motion. Why then has he never
+taken part in public affairs? Because the familiar divine voice has
+hindered him; if he had been a public man, and had fought for the
+right, as he would certainly have fought against the many, he would not
+have lived, and could therefore have done no good. Twice in public
+matters he has risked his life for the sake of justice--once at the
+trial of the generals; and again in resistance to the tyrannical
+commands of the Thirty.
+
+But, though not a public man, he has passed his days in instructing the
+citizens without fee or reward--this was his mission. Whether his
+disciples have turned out well or ill, he cannot justly be charged with
+the result, for he never promised to teach them anything. They might
+come if they liked, and they might stay away if they liked: and they
+did come, because they found an amusement in hearing the pretenders to
+wisdom detected. If they have been corrupted, their elder relatives (if
+not themselves) might surely come into court and witness against him,
+and there is an opportunity still for them to appear. But their fathers
+and brothers all appear in court (including "this" Plato), to witness
+on his behalf; and if their relatives are corrupted, at least they are
+uncorrupted; "and they are my witnesses. For they know that I am
+speaking the truth, and that Meletus is lying."
+
+This is about all that he has to say. He will not entreat the judges to
+spare his life; neither will he present a spectacle of weeping
+children, although he, too, is not made of "rock or oak." Some of the
+judges themselves may have complied with this practice on similar
+occasions, and he trusts that they will not be angry with him for not
+following their example. But he feels that such conduct brings
+discredit on the name of Athens: he feels too, that the judge has sworn
+not to give away justice; and he cannot be guilty of the impiety of
+asking the judge to break his oath, when he is himself being tried for
+impiety.
+
+As he expected, and probably intended, he is convicted. And now the
+tone of the speech, instead of being more conciliatory, becomes more
+lofty and commanding. Anytus proposes death as the penalty: and what
+counter-proposition shall he make? He, the benefactor of the Athenian
+people, whose whole life has been spent in doing them good, should at
+least have the Olympic victor's reward of maintenance in the Prytaneum.
+Or why should he propose any counter-penalty when he does not know
+whether death, which Anytus proposes, is a good or an evil? And he is
+certain that imprisonment is an evil, exile is an evil. Loss of money
+might be an evil, but then he has none to give; perhaps he can make up
+a mina. Let that be the penalty, or, if his friends wish, thirty minæ;
+for which they will be excellent securities.
+
+           [_He is condemned to death._]
+
+He is an old man already, and the Athenians will gain nothing but
+disgrace by depriving him of a few years of life. Perhaps he could have
+escaped, if he had chosen to throw down his arms and entreat for his
+life. But he does not at all repent of the manner of his defence; he
+would rather die in his own fashion than live in theirs. For the
+penalty of unrighteousness is swifter than death; that penalty has
+already overtaken his accusers as death will soon overtake him.
+
+And now, as one who is about to die, he will prophesy to them. They
+have put him to death in order to escape the necessity of giving an
+account of their lives. But his death "will be the seed" of many
+disciples who will convince them of their evil ways, and will come
+forth to reprove them in harsher terms, because they are younger and
+more inconsiderate.
+
+He would like to say a few words, while there is time, to those who
+would have acquitted him. He wishes them to know that the divine sign
+never interrupted him in the course of his defence; the reason of
+which, as he conjectures, is that the death to which he is going is a
+good and not an evil. For either death is a long sleep, the best of
+sleeps, or a journey to another world in which the souls of the dead
+are gathered together, and in which there may be a hope of seeing the
+heroes of old--in which, too, there are just judges; and as all are
+immortal, there can be no fear of any one suffering death for his
+opinions.
+
+Nothing evil can happen to the good man either in life or death, and
+his own death has been permitted by the gods, because it was better for
+him to depart; and therefore he forgives his judges because they have
+done him no harm, although they never meant to do him any good.
+
+He has a last request to make to them--that they will trouble his sons
+as he has troubled them, if they appear to prefer riches to virtue, or
+to think themselves something when they are nothing.
+
+"Few persons will be found to wish that Socrates should have defended
+himself otherwise,"--if, as we must add, his defence was that with which
+Plato has provided him. But leaving this question, which does not admit
+of a precise solution, we may go on to ask what was the impression
+which Plato in the "Apology" intended to give of the character and
+conduct of his master in the last great scene? Did he intend to
+represent him (1) as employing sophistries; (2) as designedly
+irritating the judges? Or are these sophistries to be regarded as
+belonging to the age in which he lived and to his personal character,
+and this apparent haughtiness as flowing from the natural elevation of
+his position?
+
+For example, when he says that it is absurd to suppose that one man is
+the corrupter and all the rest of the world the improvers of the youth;
+or, when he argues that he never could have corrupted the men with whom
+he had to live; or, when he proves his belief in the gods because he
+believes in the sons of gods, is he serious or jesting? It may be
+observed that these sophisms all occur in his cross-examination of
+Meletus, who is easily foiled and mastered in the hands of the great
+dialectician. Perhaps he regarded these answers as good enough for his
+accuser, of whom he makes very light. Also there is a touch of irony in
+them, which takes them out of the category of sophistry. (Compare
+Euthyph.)
+
+That the manner in which he defends himself about the lives of his
+disciples is not satisfactory, can hardly be denied. Fresh in the
+memory of the Athenians, and detestable as they deserved to be to the
+newly restored democracy, were the names of Alcibiades, Critias,
+Charmides. It is obviously not a sufficient answer that Socrates had
+never professed to teach them anything, and is therefore not justly
+chargeable with their crimes. Yet the defence, when taken out of this
+ironical form, is doubtless sound: that his teaching had nothing to do
+with their evil lives. Here, then, the sophistry is rather in form than
+in substance, though we might desire that to such a serious charge
+Socrates had given a more serious answer.
+
+Truly characteristic of Socrates is another point in his answer, which
+may also be regarded as sophistical. He says that "if he has corrupted
+the youth, he must have corrupted them involuntarily." But if, as
+Socrates argues, all evil is involuntary, then all criminals ought to
+be admonished and not punished. In these words the Socratic doctrine of
+the involuntariness of evil is clearly intended to be conveyed. Here
+again, as in the former instance, the defence of Socrates is untrue
+practically, but may be true in some ideal or transcendental sense. The
+commonplace reply, that if he had been guilty of corrupting the youth
+their relations would surely have witnessed against him, with which he
+concludes this part of his defence, is more satisfactory.
+
+Again, when Socrates argues that he must believe in the gods because he
+believes in the sons of gods, we must remember that this is a
+refutation not of the original indictment, which is consistent
+enough--"Socrates does not receive the gods whom the city receives, and
+has other new divinities"--but of the interpretation put upon the words
+by Meletus, who has affirmed that he is a downright atheist. To this
+Socrates fairly answers, in accordance with the ideas of the time, that
+a downright atheist cannot believe in the sons of gods or in divine
+things. The notion that demons or lesser divinities are the sons of
+gods is not to be regarded as ironical or sceptical. He is arguing "ad
+hominem" according to the notions of mythology current in his age. Yet
+he abstains from saying that he believed in the gods whom the State
+approved. He does not defend himself, as Xenophon has defended him, by
+appealing to his practice of religion. Probably he neither wholly
+believed, nor disbelieved, in the existence of the popular gods; he had
+no means of knowing about them. According to Plato (compare Phædo;
+Symp.), as well as Xenophon (Memor.), he was punctual in the
+performance of the least religious duties; and he must have believed in
+his own oracular sign, of which he seemed to have an internal witness.
+But the existence of Apollo or Zeus, or the other gods whom the State
+approves, would have appeared to him both uncertain and unimportant in
+comparison of the duty of self-examination, and of those principles of
+truth and right which he deemed to be the foundation of religion.
+(Compare Phaedr.; Euthyph.; Republic.)
+
+The second question, whether Plato meant to represent Socrates as
+braving or irritating his judges, must also be answered in the
+negative. His irony, his superiority, his audacity, "regarding not the
+person of man," necessarily flow out of the loftiness of his situation.
+He is not acting a part upon a great occasion, but he is what he has
+been all his life long, "a king of men." He would rather not appear
+insolent, if he could avoid it (ouch os authadizomenos touto lego).
+Neither is he desirous of hastening his own end, for life and death are
+simply indifferent to him. But such a defence as would be acceptable to
+his judges and might procure an acquittal, it is not in his nature to
+make. He will not say or do anything that might pervert the course of
+justice; he cannot have his tongue bound even "in the throat of death."
+With his accusers he will only fence and play, as he had fenced with
+other "improvers of youth," answering the Sophist according to his
+sophistry all his life long. He is serious when he is speaking of his
+own mission, which seems to distinguish him from all other reformers of
+mankind, and originates in an accident. The dedication of himself to
+the improvement of his fellow-citizens is not so remarkable as the
+ironical spirit in which he goes about doing good only in vindication
+of the credit of the oracle, and in the vain hope of finding a wiser
+man than himself. Yet this singular and almost accidental character of
+his mission agrees with the divine sign which, according to our
+notions, is equally accidental and irrational, and is nevertheless
+accepted by him as the guiding principle of his life. Socrates is
+nowhere represented to us as a freethinker or sceptic. There is no
+reason to doubt his sincerity when he speculates on the possibility of
+seeing and knowing the heroes of the Trojan war in another world. On
+the other hand, his hope of immortality is uncertain;--he also conceives
+of death as a long sleep (in this respect differing from the Phædo),
+and at last falls back on resignation to the divine will, and the
+certainty that no evil can happen to the good man either in life or
+death. His absolute truthfulness seems to hinder him from asserting
+positively more than this; and he makes no attempt to veil his
+ignorance in mythology and figures of speech. The gentleness of the
+first part of the speech contrasts with the aggravated, almost
+threatening, tone of the conclusion. He characteristically remarks that
+he will not speak as a rhetorician, that is to say, he will not make a
+regular defence such as Lysias or one of the orators might have
+composed for him, or, according to some accounts, did compose for him.
+But he first procures himself a hearing by conciliatory words. He does
+not attack the Sophists; for they were open to the same charges as
+himself; they were equally ridiculed by the Comic poets, and almost
+equally hateful to Anytus and Meletus. Yet incidentally the antagonism
+between Socrates and the Sophists is allowed to appear. He is poor and
+they are rich; his profession that he teaches nothing is opposed to
+their readiness to teach all things; his talking in the marketplace to
+their private instructions; his tarry-at-home life to their wandering
+from city to city. The tone which he assumes towards them is one of
+real friendliness, but also of concealed irony. Towards Anaxagoras, who
+had disappointed him in his hopes of learning about mind and nature, he
+shows a less kindly feeling, which is also the feeling of Plato in
+other passages (Laws). But Anaxagoras had been dead thirty years, and
+was beyond the reach of persecution.
+
+It has been remarked that the prophecy of a new generation of teachers
+who would rebuke and exhort the Athenian people in harsher and more
+violent terms was, as far as we know, never fulfilled. No inference can
+be drawn from this circumstance as to the probability of the words
+attributed to him having been actually uttered. They express the
+aspiration of the first martyr of philosophy, that he would leave
+behind him many followers, accompanied by the not unnatural feeling
+that they would be fiercer and more inconsiderate in their words when
+emancipated from his control.
+
+The above remarks must be understood as applying with any degree of
+certainty to the Platonic Socrates only. For, although these or similar
+words may have been spoken by Socrates himself, we cannot exclude the
+possibility, that like so much else, _e.g._ the wisdom of Critias, the
+poem of Solon, the virtues of Charmides, they may have been due only to
+the imagination of Plato. The arguments of those who maintain that the
+Apology was composed during the process, resting on no evidence, do not
+require a serious refutation. Nor are the reasonings of Schleiermacher,
+who argues that the Platonic defence is an exact or nearly exact
+reproduction of the words of Socrates, partly because Plato would not
+have been guilty of the impiety of altering them, and also because many
+points of the defence might have been improved and strengthened, at all
+more conclusive. (See English Translation.) What effect the death of
+Socrates produced on the mind of Plato, we cannot certainly determine;
+nor can we say how he would or must have written under the
+circumstances. We observe that the enmity of Aristophanes to Socrates
+does not prevent Plato from introducing them together in the Symposium
+engaged in friendly intercourse. Nor is there any trace in the
+Dialogues of an attempt to make Anytus or Meletus personally odious in
+the eyes of the Athenian public.
+
+APOLOGY
+
+How you, O Athenians, have been affected by my accusers, I cannot tell;
+but I know that they almost made me forget who I was--so persuasively
+did they speak; and yet they have hardly uttered a word of truth. But
+of the many falsehoods told by them, there was one which quite amazed
+me;--I mean when they said that you should be upon your guard and not
+allow yourselves to be deceived by the force of my eloquence. To say
+this, when they were certain to be detected as soon as I opened my lips
+and proved myself to be anything but a great speaker, did indeed appear
+to me most shameless--unless by the force of eloquence they mean the
+force of truth; for if such is their meaning, I admit that I am
+eloquent. But in how different a way from theirs! Well, as I was
+saying, they have scarcely spoken the truth at all; but from me you
+shall hear the whole truth: not, however, delivered after their manner
+in a set oration duly ornamented with words and phrases. No, by heaven!
+but I shall use the words and arguments which occur to me at the
+moment; for I am confident in the justice of my cause (Or, I am certain
+that I am right in taking this course.): at my time of life I ought not
+to be appearing before you, O men of Athens, in the character of a
+juvenile orator--let no one expect it of me. And I must beg of you to
+grant me a favour:--If I defend myself in my accustomed manner, and you
+hear me using the words which I have been in the habit of using in the
+agora, at the tables of the money-changers, or anywhere else, I would
+ask you not to be surprised, and not to interrupt me on this account.
+For I am more than seventy years of age, and appearing now for the
+first time in a court of law, I am quite a stranger to the language of
+the place; and therefore I would have you regard me as if I were really
+a stranger, whom you would excuse if he spoke in his native tongue, and
+after the fashion of his country:--Am I making an unfair request of you?
+Never mind the manner, which may or may not be good; but think only of
+the truth of my words, and give heed to that: let the speaker speak
+truly and the judge decide justly.
+
+And first, I have to reply to the older charges and to my first
+accusers, and then I will go on to the later ones. For of old I have
+had many accusers, who have accused me falsely to you during many
+years; and I am more afraid of them than of Anytus and his associates,
+who are dangerous, too, in their own way. But far more dangerous are
+the others, who began when you were children, and took possession of
+your minds with their falsehoods, telling of one Socrates, a wise man,
+who speculated about the heaven above, and searched into the earth
+beneath, and made the worse appear the better cause. The disseminators
+of this tale are the accusers whom I dread; for their hearers are apt
+to fancy that such enquirers do not believe in the existence of the
+gods. And they are many, and their charges against me are of ancient
+date, and they were made by them in the days when you were more
+impressible than you are now--in childhood, or it may have been in
+youth--and the cause when heard went by default, for there was none to
+answer. And hardest of all, I do not know and cannot tell the names of
+my accusers; unless in the chance case of a Comic poet. All who from
+envy and malice have persuaded you--some of them having first convinced
+themselves--all this class of men are most difficult to deal with; for I
+cannot have them up here, and cross-examine them, and therefore I must
+simply fight with shadows in my own defence, and argue when there is no
+one who answers. I will ask you then to assume with me, as I was
+saying, that my opponents are of two kinds; one recent, the other
+ancient: and I hope that you will see the propriety of my answering the
+latter first, for these accusations you heard long before the others,
+and much oftener.
+
+Well, then, I must make my defence, and endeavour to clear away in a
+short time, a slander which has lasted a long time. May I succeed, if
+to succeed be for my good and yours, or likely to avail me in my cause!
+The task is not an easy one; I quite understand the nature of it. And
+so leaving the event with God, in obedience to the law I will now make
+my defence.
+
+I will begin at the beginning, and ask what is the accusation which has
+given rise to the slander of me, and in fact has encouraged Meletus to
+proof this charge against me. Well, what do the slanderers say? They
+shall be my prosecutors, and I will sum up their words in an affidavit:
+"Socrates is an evil-doer, and a curious person, who searches into
+things under the earth and in heaven, and he makes the worse appear the
+better cause; and he teaches the aforesaid doctrines to others." Such
+is the nature of the accusation: it is just what you have yourselves
+seen in the comedy of Aristophanes (Aristoph., Clouds.), who has
+introduced a man whom he calls Socrates, going about and saying that he
+walks in air, and talking a deal of nonsense concerning matters of
+which I do not pretend to know either much or little--not that I mean to
+speak disparagingly of any one who is a student of natural philosophy.
+I should be very sorry if Meletus could bring so grave a charge against
+me. But the simple truth is, O Athenians, that I have nothing to do
+with physical speculations. Very many of those here present are
+witnesses to the truth of this, and to them I appeal. Speak then, you
+who have heard me, and tell your neighbours whether any of you have
+ever known me hold forth in few words or in many upon such
+matters...You hear their answer. And from what they say of this part of
+the charge you will be able to judge of the truth of the rest.
+
+As little foundation is there for the report that I am a teacher, and
+take money; this accusation has no more truth in it than the other.
+Although, if a man were really able to instruct mankind, to receive
+money for giving instruction would, in my opinion, be an honour to him.
+There is Gorgias of Leontium, and Prodicus of Ceos, and Hippias of
+Elis, who go the round of the cities, and are able to persuade the
+young men to leave their own citizens by whom they might be taught for
+nothing, and come to them whom they not only pay, but are thankful if
+they may be allowed to pay them. There is at this time a Parian
+philosopher residing in Athens, of whom I have heard; and I came to
+hear of him in this way:--I came across a man who has spent a world of
+money on the Sophists, Callias, the son of Hipponicus, and knowing that
+he had sons, I asked him: "Callias," I said, "if your two sons were
+foals or calves, there would be no difficulty in finding some one to
+put over them; we should hire a trainer of horses, or a farmer
+probably, who would improve and perfect them in their own proper virtue
+and excellence; but as they are human beings, whom are you thinking of
+placing over them? Is there any one who understands human and political
+virtue? You must have thought about the matter, for you have sons; is
+there any one?" "There is," he said. "Who is he?" said I; "and of what
+country? and what does he charge?" "Evenus the Parian," he replied; "he
+is the man, and his charge is five minæ." Happy is Evenus, I said to
+myself, if he really has this wisdom, and teaches at such a moderate
+charge. Had I the same, I should have been very proud and conceited;
+but the truth is that I have no knowledge of the kind.
+
+I dare say, Athenians, that some one among you will reply, "Yes,
+Socrates, but what is the origin of these accusations which are brought
+against you; there must have been something strange which you have been
+doing? All these rumours and this talk about you would never have
+arisen if you had been like other men: tell us, then, what is the cause
+of them, for we should be sorry to judge hastily of you." Now I regard
+this as a fair challenge, and I will endeavour to explain to you the
+reason why I am called wise and have such an evil fame. Please to
+attend then. And although some of you may think that I am joking, I
+declare that I will tell you the entire truth. Men of Athens, this
+reputation of mine has come of a certain sort of wisdom which I
+possess. If you ask me what kind of wisdom, I reply, wisdom such as may
+perhaps be attained by man, for to that extent I am inclined to believe
+that I am wise; whereas the persons of whom I was speaking have a
+superhuman wisdom which I may fail to describe, because I have it not
+myself; and he who says that I have, speaks falsely, and is taking away
+my character. And here, O men of Athens, I must beg you not to
+interrupt me, even if I seem to say something extravagant. For the word
+which I will speak is not mine. I will refer you to a witness who is
+worthy of credit; that witness shall be the God of Delphi--he will tell
+you about my wisdom, if I have any, and of what sort it is. You must
+have known Chaerephon; he was early a friend of mine, and also a friend
+of yours, for he shared in the recent exile of the people, and returned
+with you. Well, Chaerephon, as you know, was very impetuous in all his
+doings, and he went to Delphi and boldly asked the oracle to tell him
+whether--as I was saying, I must beg you not to interrupt--he asked the
+oracle to tell him whether anyone was wiser than I was, and the Pythian
+prophetess answered, that there was no man wiser. Chaerephon is dead
+himself; but his brother, who is in court, will confirm the truth of
+what I am saying.
+
+Why do I mention this? Because I am going to explain to you why I have
+such an evil name. When I heard the answer, I said to myself, What can
+the god mean? and what is the interpretation of his riddle? for I know
+that I have no wisdom, small or great. What then can he mean when he
+says that I am the wisest of men? And yet he is a god, and cannot lie;
+that would be against his nature. After long consideration, I thought
+of a method of trying the question. I reflected that if I could only
+find a man wiser than myself, then I might go to the god with a
+refutation in my hand. I should say to him, "Here is a man who is wiser
+than I am; but you said that I was the wisest." Accordingly I went to
+one who had the reputation of wisdom, and observed him--his name I need
+not mention; he was a politician whom I selected for examination--and
+the result was as follows: When I began to talk with him, I could not
+help thinking that he was not really wise, although he was thought wise
+by many, and still wiser by himself; and thereupon I tried to explain
+to him that he thought himself wise, but was not really wise; and the
+consequence was that he hated me, and his enmity was shared by several
+who were present and heard me. So I left him, saying to myself, as I
+went away: Well, although I do not suppose that either of us knows
+anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than he is,--for he
+knows nothing, and thinks that he knows; I neither know nor think that
+I know. In this latter particular, then, I seem to have slightly the
+advantage of him. Then I went to another who had still higher
+pretensions to wisdom, and my conclusion was exactly the same.
+Whereupon I made another enemy of him, and of many others besides him.
+
+Then I went to one man after another, being not unconscious of the
+enmity which I provoked, and I lamented and feared this: but necessity
+was laid upon me,--the word of God, I thought, ought to be considered
+first. And I said to myself, Go I must to all who appear to know, and
+find out the meaning of the oracle. And I swear to you, Athenians, by
+the dog I swear!--for I must tell you the truth--the result of my mission
+was just this: I found that the men most in repute were all but the
+most foolish; and that others less esteemed were really wiser and
+better. I will tell you the tale of my wanderings and of the
+"Herculean" labours, as I may call them, which I endured only to find
+at last the oracle irrefutable. After the politicians, I went to the
+poets; tragic, dithyrambic, and all sorts. And there, I said to myself,
+you will be instantly detected; now you will find out that you are more
+ignorant than they are. Accordingly, I took them some of the most
+elaborate passages in their own writings, and asked what was the
+meaning of them--thinking that they would teach me something. Will you
+believe me? I am almost ashamed to confess the truth, but I must say
+that there is hardly a person present who would not have talked better
+about their poetry than they did themselves. Then I knew that not by
+wisdom do poets write poetry, but by a sort of genius and inspiration;
+they are like diviners or soothsayers who also say many fine things,
+but do not understand the meaning of them. The poets appeared to me to
+be much in the same case; and I further observed that upon the strength
+of their poetry they believed themselves to be the wisest of men in
+other things in which they were not wise. So I departed, conceiving
+myself to be superior to them for the same reason that I was superior
+to the politicians.
+
+At last I went to the artisans. I was conscious that I knew nothing at
+all, as I may say, and I was sure that they knew many fine things; and
+here I was not mistaken, for they did know many things of which I was
+ignorant, and in this they certainly were wiser than I was. But I
+observed that even the good artisans fell into the same error as the
+poets;--because they were good workmen they thought that they also knew
+all sorts of high matters, and this defect in them overshadowed their
+wisdom; and therefore I asked myself on behalf of the oracle, whether I
+would like to be as I was, neither having their knowledge nor their
+ignorance, or like them in both; and I made answer to myself and to the
+oracle that I was better off as I was.
+
+This inquisition has led to my having many enemies of the worst and
+most dangerous kind, and has given occasion also to many calumnies. And
+I am called wise, for my hearers always imagine that I myself possess
+the wisdom which I find wanting in others: but the truth is, O men of
+Athens, that God only is wise; and by his answer he intends to show
+that the wisdom of men is worth little or nothing; he is not speaking
+of Socrates, he is only using my name by way of illustration, as if he
+said, He, O men, is the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows that his
+wisdom is in truth worth nothing. And so I go about the world, obedient
+to the god, and search and make enquiry into the wisdom of any one,
+whether citizen or stranger, who appears to be wise; and if he is not
+wise, then in vindication of the oracle I show him that he is not wise;
+and my occupation quite absorbs me, and I have no time to give either
+to any public matter of interest or to any concern of my own, but I am
+in utter poverty by reason of my devotion to the god.
+
+There is another thing:--young men of the richer classes, who have not
+much to do, come about me of their own accord; they like to hear the
+pretenders examined, and they often imitate me, and proceed to examine
+others; there are plenty of persons, as they quickly discover, who
+think that they know something, but really know little or nothing; and
+then those who are examined by them instead of being angry with
+themselves are angry with me: This confounded Socrates, they say; this
+villainous misleader of youth!--and then if somebody asks them, Why,
+what evil does he practise or teach? they do not know, and cannot tell;
+but in order that they may not appear to be at a loss, they repeat the
+ready-made charges which are used against all philosophers about
+teaching things up in the clouds and under the earth, and having no
+gods, and making the worse appear the better cause; for they do not
+like to confess that their pretence of knowledge has been
+detected--which is the truth; and as they are numerous and ambitious and
+energetic, and are drawn up in battle array and have persuasive
+tongues, they have filled your ears with their loud and inveterate
+calumnies. And this is the reason why my three accusers, Meletus and
+Anytus and Lycon, have set upon me; Meletus, who has a quarrel with me
+on behalf of the poets; Anytus, on behalf of the craftsmen and
+politicians; Lycon, on behalf of the rhetoricians: and as I said at the
+beginning, I cannot expect to get rid of such a mass of calumny all in
+a moment. And this, O men of Athens, is the truth and the whole truth;
+I have concealed nothing, I have dissembled nothing. And yet, I know
+that my plainness of speech makes them hate me, and what is their
+hatred but a proof that I am speaking the truth?--Hence has arisen the
+prejudice against me; and this is the reason of it, as you will find
+out either in this or in any future enquiry.
+
+I have said enough in my defence against the first class of my
+accusers; I turn to the second class. They are headed by Meletus, that
+good man and true lover of his country, as he calls himself. Against
+these, too, I must try to make a defence:--Let their affidavit be read:
+it contains something of this kind: It says that Socrates is a doer of
+evil, who corrupts the youth; and who does not believe in the gods of
+the state, but has other new divinities of his own. Such is the charge;
+and now let us examine the particular counts. He says that I am a doer
+of evil, and corrupt the youth; but I say, O men of Athens, that
+Meletus is a doer of evil, in that he pretends to be in earnest when he
+is only in jest, and is so eager to bring men to trial from a pretended
+zeal and interest about matters in which he really never had the
+smallest interest. And the truth of this I will endeavour to prove to
+you.
+
+Come hither, Meletus, and let me ask a question of you. You think a
+great deal about the improvement of youth?
+
+Yes, I do.
+
+Tell the judges, then, who is their improver; for you must know, as you
+have taken the pains to discover their corrupter, and are citing and
+accusing me before them. Speak, then, and tell the judges who their
+improver is.--Observe, Meletus, that you are silent, and have nothing to
+say. But is not this rather disgraceful, and a very considerable proof
+of what I was saying, that you have no interest in the matter? Speak
+up, friend, and tell us who their improver is.
+
+The laws.
+
+But that, my good sir, is not my meaning. I want to know who the person
+is, who, in the first place, knows the laws.
+
+The judges, Socrates, who are present in court.
+
+What, do you mean to say, Meletus, that they are able to instruct and
+improve youth?
+
+Certainly they are.
+
+What, all of them, or some only and not others?
+
+All of them.
+
+By the goddess Here, that is good news! There are plenty of improvers,
+then. And what do you say of the audience,--do they improve them?
+
+Yes, they do.
+
+And the senators?
+
+Yes, the senators improve them.
+
+But perhaps the members of the assembly corrupt them?--or do they too
+improve them?
+
+They improve them.
+
+Then every Athenian improves and elevates them; all with the exception
+of myself; and I alone am their corrupter? Is that what you affirm?
+
+That is what I stoutly affirm.
+
+I am very unfortunate if you are right. But suppose I ask you a
+question: How about horses? Does one man do them harm and all the world
+good? Is not the exact opposite the truth? One man is able to do them
+good, or at least not many;--the trainer of horses, that is to say, does
+them good, and others who have to do with them rather injure them? Is
+not that true, Meletus, of horses, or of any other animals? Most
+assuredly it is; whether you and Anytus say yes or no. Happy indeed
+would be the condition of youth if they had one corrupter only, and all
+the rest of the world were their improvers. But you, Meletus, have
+sufficiently shown that you never had a thought about the young: your
+carelessness is seen in your not caring about the very things which you
+bring against me.
+
+And now, Meletus, I will ask you another question--by Zeus I will: Which
+is better, to live among bad citizens, or among good ones? Answer,
+friend, I say; the question is one which may be easily answered. Do not
+the good do their neighbours good, and the bad do them evil?
+
+Certainly.
+
+And is there anyone who would rather be injured than benefited by those
+who live with him? Answer, my good friend, the law requires you to
+answer--does any one like to be injured?
+
+Certainly not.
+
+And when you accuse me of corrupting and deteriorating the youth, do
+you allege that I corrupt them intentionally or unintentionally?
+
+Intentionally, I say.
+
+But you have just admitted that the good do their neighbours good, and
+the evil do them evil. Now, is that a truth which your superior wisdom
+has recognized thus early in life, and am I, at my age, in such
+darkness and ignorance as not to know that if a man with whom I have to
+live is corrupted by me, I am very likely to be harmed by him; and yet
+I corrupt him, and intentionally, too--so you say, although neither I
+nor any other human being is ever likely to be convinced by you. But
+either I do not corrupt them, or I corrupt them unintentionally; and on
+either view of the case you lie. If my offence is unintentional, the
+law has no cognizance of unintentional offences: you ought to have
+taken me privately, and warned and admonished me; for if I had been
+better advised, I should have left off doing what I only did
+unintentionally--no doubt I should; but you would have nothing to say to
+me and refused to teach me. And now you bring me up in this court,
+which is a place not of instruction, but of punishment.
+
+It will be very clear to you, Athenians, as I was saying, that Meletus
+has no care at all, great or small, about the matter. But still I
+should like to know, Meletus, in what I am affirmed to corrupt the
+young. I suppose you mean, as I infer from your indictment, that I
+teach them not to acknowledge the gods which the state acknowledges,
+but some other new divinities or spiritual agencies in their stead.
+These are the lessons by which I corrupt the youth, as you say.
+
+Yes, that I say emphatically.
+
+Then, by the gods, Meletus, of whom we are speaking, tell me and the
+court, in somewhat plainer terms, what you mean! for I do not as yet
+understand whether you affirm that I teach other men to acknowledge
+some gods, and therefore that I do believe in gods, and am not an
+entire atheist--this you do not lay to my charge,--but only you say that
+they are not the same gods which the city recognizes--the charge is that
+they are different gods. Or, do you mean that I am an atheist simply,
+and a teacher of atheism?
+
+I mean the latter--that you are a complete atheist.
+
+What an extraordinary statement! Why do you think so, Meletus? Do you
+mean that I do not believe in the godhead of the sun or moon, like
+other men?
+
+I assure you, judges, that he does not: for he says that the sun is
+stone, and the moon earth.
+
+Friend Meletus, you think that you are accusing Anaxagoras: and you
+have but a bad opinion of the judges, if you fancy them illiterate to
+such a degree as not to know that these doctrines are found in the
+books of Anaxagoras the Clazomenian, which are full of them. And so,
+forsooth, the youth are said to be taught them by Socrates, when there
+are not unfrequently exhibitions of them at the theatre (Probably in
+allusion to Aristophanes who caricatured, and to Euripides who borrowed
+the notions of Anaxagoras, as well as to other dramatic poets.) (price
+of admission one drachma at the most); and they might pay their money,
+and laugh at Socrates if he pretends to father these extraordinary
+views. And so, Meletus, you really think that I do not believe in any
+god?
+
+I swear by Zeus that you believe absolutely in none at all.
+
+Nobody will believe you, Meletus, and I am pretty sure that you do not
+believe yourself. I cannot help thinking, men of Athens, that Meletus
+is reckless and impudent, and that he has written this indictment in a
+spirit of mere wantonness and youthful bravado. Has he not compounded a
+riddle, thinking to try me? He said to himself:--I shall see whether the
+wise Socrates will discover my facetious contradiction, or whether I
+shall be able to deceive him and the rest of them. For he certainly
+does appear to me to contradict himself in the indictment as much as if
+he said that Socrates is guilty of not believing in the gods, and yet
+of believing in them--but this is not like a person who is in earnest.
+
+I should like you, O men of Athens, to join me in examining what I
+conceive to be his inconsistency; and do you, Meletus, answer. And I
+must remind the audience of my request that they would not make a
+disturbance if I speak in my accustomed manner:
+
+Did ever man, Meletus, believe in the existence of human things, and
+not of human beings?...I wish, men of Athens, that he would answer, and
+not be always trying to get up an interruption. Did ever any man
+believe in horsemanship, and not in horses? or in flute-playing, and
+not in flute-players? No, my friend; I will answer to you and to the
+court, as you refuse to answer for yourself. There is no man who ever
+did. But now please to answer the next question: Can a man believe in
+spiritual and divine agencies, and not in spirits or demigods?
+
+He cannot.
+
+How lucky I am to have extracted that answer, by the assistance of the
+court! But then you swear in the indictment that I teach and believe in
+divine or spiritual agencies (new or old, no matter for that); at any
+rate, I believe in spiritual agencies,--so you say and swear in the
+affidavit; and yet if I believe in divine beings, how can I help
+believing in spirits or demigods;--must I not? To be sure I must; and
+therefore I may assume that your silence gives consent. Now what are
+spirits or demigods? Are they not either gods or the sons of gods?
+
+Certainly they are.
+
+But this is what I call the facetious riddle invented by you: the
+demigods or spirits are gods, and you say first that I do not believe
+in gods, and then again that I do believe in gods; that is, if I
+believe in demigods. For if the demigods are the illegitimate sons of
+gods, whether by the nymphs or by any other mothers, of whom they are
+said to be the sons--what human being will ever believe that there are
+no gods if they are the sons of gods? You might as well affirm the
+existence of mules, and deny that of horses and asses. Such nonsense,
+Meletus, could only have been intended by you to make trial of me. You
+have put this into the indictment because you had nothing real of which
+to accuse me. But no one who has a particle of understanding will ever
+be convinced by you that the same men can believe in divine and
+superhuman things, and yet not believe that there are gods and demigods
+and heroes.
+
+I have said enough in answer to the charge of Meletus: any elaborate
+defence is unnecessary, but I know only too well how many are the
+enmities which I have incurred, and this is what will be my destruction
+if I am destroyed;--not Meletus, nor yet Anytus, but the envy and
+detraction of the world, which has been the death of many good men, and
+will probably be the death of many more; there is no danger of my being
+the last of them.
+
+Some one will say: And are you not ashamed, Socrates, of a course of
+life which is likely to bring you to an untimely end? To him I may
+fairly answer: There you are mistaken: a man who is good for anything
+ought not to calculate the chance of living or dying; he ought only to
+consider whether in doing anything he is doing right or wrong--acting
+the part of a good man or of a bad. Whereas, upon your view, the heroes
+who fell at Troy were not good for much, and the son of Thetis above
+all, who altogether despised danger in comparison with disgrace; and
+when he was so eager to slay Hector, his goddess mother said to him,
+that if he avenged his companion Patroclus, and slew Hector, he would
+die himself--"Fate," she said, in these or the like words, "waits for
+you next after Hector;" he, receiving this warning, utterly despised
+danger and death, and instead of fearing them, feared rather to live in
+dishonour, and not to avenge his friend. "Let me die forthwith," he
+replies, "and be avenged of my enemy, rather than abide here by the
+beaked ships, a laughing-stock and a burden of the earth." Had Achilles
+any thought of death and danger? For wherever a man's place is, whether
+the place which he has chosen or that in which he has been placed by a
+commander, there he ought to remain in the hour of danger; he should
+not think of death or of anything but of disgrace. And this, O men of
+Athens, is a true saying.
+
+Strange, indeed, would be my conduct, O men of Athens, if I who, when I
+was ordered by the generals whom you chose to command me at Potidaea
+and Amphipolis and Delium, remained where they placed me, like any
+other man, facing death--if now, when, as I conceive and imagine, God
+orders me to fulfil the philosopher's mission of searching into myself
+and other men, I were to desert my post through fear of death, or any
+other fear; that would indeed be strange, and I might justly be
+arraigned in court for denying the existence of the gods, if I
+disobeyed the oracle because I was afraid of death, fancying that I was
+wise when I was not wise. For the fear of death is indeed the pretence
+of wisdom, and not real wisdom, being a pretence of knowing the
+unknown; and no one knows whether death, which men in their fear
+apprehend to be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good. Is not
+this ignorance of a disgraceful sort, the ignorance which is the
+conceit that a man knows what he does not know? And in this respect
+only I believe myself to differ from men in general, and may perhaps
+claim to be wiser than they are:--that whereas I know but little of the
+world below, I do not suppose that I know: but I do know that injustice
+and disobedience to a better, whether God or man, is evil and
+dishonourable, and I will never fear or avoid a possible good rather
+than a certain evil. And therefore if you let me go now, and are not
+convinced by Anytus, who said that since I had been prosecuted I must
+be put to death; (or if not that I ought never to have been prosecuted
+at all); and that if I escape now, your sons will all be utterly ruined
+by listening to my words--if you say to me, Socrates, this time we will
+not mind Anytus, and you shall be let off, but upon one condition, that
+you are not to enquire and speculate in this way any more, and that if
+you are caught doing so again you shall die;--if this was the condition
+on which you let me go, I should reply: Men of Athens, I honour and
+love you; but I shall obey God rather than you, and while I have life
+and strength I shall never cease from the practice and teaching of
+philosophy, exhorting any one whom I meet and saying to him after my
+manner: You, my friend,--a citizen of the great and mighty and wise city
+of Athens,--are you not ashamed of heaping up the greatest amount of
+money and honour and reputation, and caring so little about wisdom and
+truth and the greatest improvement of the soul, which you never regard
+or heed at all? And if the person with whom I am arguing, says: Yes,
+but I do care; then I do not leave him or let him go at once; but I
+proceed to interrogate and examine and cross-examine him, and if I
+think that he has no virtue in him, but only says that he has, I
+reproach him with undervaluing the greater, and overvaluing the less.
+And I shall repeat the same words to every one whom I meet, young and
+old, citizen and alien, but especially to the citizens, inasmuch as
+they are my brethren. For know that this is the command of God; and I
+believe that no greater good has ever happened in the state than my
+service to the God. For I do nothing but go about persuading you all,
+old and young alike, not to take thought for your persons or your
+properties, but first and chiefly to care about the greatest
+improvement of the soul. I tell you that virtue is not given by money,
+but that from virtue comes money and every other good of man, public as
+well as private. This is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine which
+corrupts the youth, I am a mischievous person. But if any one says that
+this is not my teaching, he is speaking an untruth. Wherefore, O men of
+Athens, I say to you, do as Anytus bids or not as Anytus bids, and
+either acquit me or not; but whichever you do, understand that I shall
+never alter my ways, not even if I have to die many times.
+
+Men of Athens, do not interrupt, but hear me; there was an
+understanding between us that you should hear me to the end: I have
+something more to say, at which you may be inclined to cry out; but I
+believe that to hear me will be good for you, and therefore I beg that
+you will not cry out. I would have you know, that if you kill such an
+one as I am, you will injure yourselves more than you will injure me.
+Nothing will injure me, not Meletus nor yet Anytus--they cannot, for a
+bad man is not permitted to injure a better than himself. I do not deny
+that Anytus may, perhaps, kill him, or drive him into exile, or deprive
+him of civil rights; and he may imagine, and others may imagine, that
+he is inflicting a great injury upon him: but there I do not agree. For
+the evil of doing as he is doing--the evil of unjustly taking away the
+life of another--is greater far.
+
+And now, Athenians, I am not going to argue for my own sake, as you may
+think, but for yours, that you may not sin against the God by
+condemning me, who am his gift to you. For if you kill me you will not
+easily find a successor to me, who, if I may use such a ludicrous
+figure of speech, am a sort of gadfly, given to the state by God; and
+the state is a great and noble steed who is tardy in his motions owing
+to his very size, and requires to be stirred into life. I am that
+gadfly which God has attached to the state, and all day long and in all
+places am always fastening upon you, arousing and persuading and
+reproaching you. You will not easily find another like me, and
+therefore I would advise you to spare me. I dare say that you may feel
+out of temper (like a person who is suddenly awakened from sleep), and
+you think that you might easily strike me dead as Anytus advises, and
+then you would sleep on for the remainder of your lives, unless God in
+his care of you sent you another gadfly. When I say that I am given to
+you by God, the proof of my mission is this:--if I had been like other
+men, I should not have neglected all my own concerns or patiently seen
+the neglect of them during all these years, and have been doing yours,
+coming to you individually like a father or elder brother, exhorting
+you to regard virtue; such conduct, I say, would be unlike human
+nature. If I had gained anything, or if my exhortations had been paid,
+there would have been some sense in my doing so; but now, as you will
+perceive, not even the impudence of my accusers dares to say that I
+have ever exacted or sought pay of any one; of that they have no
+witness. And I have a sufficient witness to the truth of what I say--my
+poverty.
+
+Some one may wonder why I go about in private giving advice and busying
+myself with the concerns of others, but do not venture to come forward
+in public and advise the state. I will tell you why. You have heard me
+speak at sundry times and in divers places of an oracle or sign which
+comes to me, and is the divinity which Meletus ridicules in the
+indictment. This sign, which is a kind of voice, first began to come to
+me when I was a child; it always forbids but never commands me to do
+anything which I am going to do. This is what deters me from being a
+politician. And rightly, as I think. For I am certain, O men of Athens,
+that if I had engaged in politics, I should have perished long ago, and
+done no good either to you or to myself. And do not be offended at my
+telling you the truth: for the truth is, that no man who goes to war
+with you or any other multitude, honestly striving against the many
+lawless and unrighteous deeds which are done in a state, will save his
+life; he who will fight for the right, if he would live even for a
+brief space, must have a private station and not a public one.
+
+I can give you convincing evidence of what I say, not words only, but
+what you value far more--actions. Let me relate to you a passage of my
+own life which will prove to you that I should never have yielded to
+injustice from any fear of death, and that "as I should have refused to
+yield" I must have died at once. I will tell you a tale of the courts,
+not very interesting perhaps, but nevertheless true. The only office of
+state which I ever held, O men of Athens, was that of senator: the
+tribe Antiochis, which is my tribe, had the presidency at the trial of
+the generals who had not taken up the bodies of the slain after the
+battle of Arginusae; and you proposed to try them in a body, contrary
+to law, as you all thought afterwards; but at the time I was the only
+one of the Prytanes who was opposed to the illegality, and I gave my
+vote against you; and when the orators threatened to impeach and arrest
+me, and you called and shouted, I made up my mind that I would run the
+risk, having law and justice with me, rather than take part in your
+injustice because I feared imprisonment and death. This happened in the
+days of the democracy. But when the oligarchy of the Thirty was in
+power, they sent for me and four others into the rotunda, and bade us
+bring Leon the Salaminian from Salamis, as they wanted to put him to
+death. This was a specimen of the sort of commands which they were
+always giving with the view of implicating as many as possible in their
+crimes; and then I showed, not in word only but in deed, that, if I may
+be allowed to use such an expression, I cared not a straw for death,
+and that my great and only care was lest I should do an unrighteous or
+unholy thing. For the strong arm of that oppressive power did not
+frighten me into doing wrong; and when we came out of the rotunda the
+other four went to Salamis and fetched Leon, but I went quietly home.
+For which I might have lost my life, had not the power of the Thirty
+shortly afterwards come to an end. And many will witness to my words.
+
+Now do you really imagine that I could have survived all these years,
+if I had led a public life, supposing that like a good man I had always
+maintained the right and had made justice, as I ought, the first thing?
+No indeed, men of Athens, neither I nor any other man. But I have been
+always the same in all my actions, public as well as private, and never
+have I yielded any base compliance to those who are slanderously termed
+my disciples, or to any other. Not that I have any regular disciples.
+But if any one likes to come and hear me while I am pursuing my
+mission, whether he be young or old, he is not excluded. Nor do I
+converse only with those who pay; but any one, whether he be rich or
+poor, may ask and answer me and listen to my words; and whether he
+turns out to be a bad man or a good one, neither result can be justly
+imputed to me; for I never taught or professed to teach him anything.
+And if any one says that he has ever learned or heard anything from me
+in private which all the world has not heard, let me tell you that he
+is lying.
+
+But I shall be asked, Why do people delight in continually conversing
+with you? I have told you already, Athenians, the whole truth about
+this matter: they like to hear the cross-examination of the pretenders
+to wisdom; there is amusement in it. Now this duty of cross-examining
+other men has been imposed upon me by God; and has been signified to me
+by oracles, visions, and in every way in which the will of divine power
+was ever intimated to any one. This is true, O Athenians, or, if not
+true, would be soon refuted. If I am or have been corrupting the youth,
+those of them who are now grown up and have become sensible that I gave
+them bad advice in the days of their youth should come forward as
+accusers, and take their revenge; or if they do not like to come
+themselves, some of their relatives, fathers, brothers, or other
+kinsmen, should say what evil their families have suffered at my hands.
+Now is their time. Many of them I see in the court. There is Crito, who
+is of the same age and of the same deme with myself, and there is
+Critobulus his son, whom I also see. Then again there is Lysanias of
+Sphettus, who is the father of Aeschines--he is present; and also there
+is Antiphon of Cephisus, who is the father of Epigenes; and there are
+the brothers of several who have associated with me. There is
+Nicostratus the son of Theosdotides, and the brother of Theodotus (now
+Theodotus himself is dead, and therefore he, at any rate, will not seek
+to stop him); and there is Paralus the son of Demodocus, who had a
+brother Theages; and Adeimantus the son of Ariston, whose brother Plato
+is present; and Aeantodorus, who is the brother of Apollodorus, whom I
+also see. I might mention a great many others, some of whom Meletus
+should have produced as witnesses in the course of his speech; and let
+him still produce them, if he has forgotten--I will make way for him.
+And let him say, if he has any testimony of the sort which he can
+produce. Nay, Athenians, the very opposite is the truth. For all these
+are ready to witness on behalf of the corrupter, of the injurer of
+their kindred, as Meletus and Anytus call me; not the corrupted youth
+only--there might have been a motive for that--but their uncorrupted
+elder relatives. Why should they too support me with their testimony?
+Why, indeed, except for the sake of truth and justice, and because they
+know that I am speaking the truth, and that Meletus is a liar.
+
+Well, Athenians, this and the like of this is all the defence which I
+have to offer. Yet a word more. Perhaps there may be some one who is
+offended at me, when he calls to mind how he himself on a similar, or
+even a less serious occasion, prayed and entreated the judges with many
+tears, and how he produced his children in court, which was a moving
+spectacle, together with a host of relations and friends; whereas I,
+who am probably in danger of my life, will do none of these things. The
+contrast may occur to his mind, and he may be set against me, and vote
+in anger because he is displeased at me on this account. Now if there
+be such a person among you,--mind, I do not say that there is,--to him I
+may fairly reply: My friend, I am a man, and like other men, a creature
+of flesh and blood, and not "of wood or stone," as Homer says; and I
+have a family, yes, and sons, O Athenians, three in number, one almost
+a man, and two others who are still young; and yet I will not bring any
+of them hither in order to petition you for an acquittal. And why not?
+Not from any self-assertion or want of respect for you. Whether I am or
+am not afraid of death is another question, of which I will not now
+speak. But, having regard to public opinion, I feel that such conduct
+would be discreditable to myself, and to you, and to the whole state.
+One who has reached my years, and who has a name for wisdom, ought not
+to demean himself. Whether this opinion of me be deserved or not, at
+any rate the world has decided that Socrates is in some way superior to
+other men. And if those among you who are said to be superior in wisdom
+and courage, and any other virtue, demean themselves in this way, how
+shameful is their conduct! I have seen men of reputation, when they
+have been condemned, behaving in the strangest manner: they seemed to
+fancy that they were going to suffer something dreadful if they died,
+and that they could be immortal if you only allowed them to live; and I
+think that such are a dishonour to the state, and that any stranger
+coming in would have said of them that the most eminent men of Athens,
+to whom the Athenians themselves give honour and command, are no better
+than women. And I say that these things ought not to be done by those
+of us who have a reputation; and if they are done, you ought not to
+permit them; you ought rather to show that you are far more disposed to
+condemn the man who gets up a doleful scene and makes the city
+ridiculous, than him who holds his peace.
+
+But, setting aside the question of public opinion, there seems to be
+something wrong in asking a favour of a judge, and thus procuring an
+acquittal, instead of informing and convincing him. For his duty is,
+not to make a present of justice, but to give judgment; and he has
+sworn that he will judge according to the laws, and not according to
+his own good pleasure; and we ought not to encourage you, nor should
+you allow yourselves to be encouraged, in this habit of perjury--there
+can be no piety in that. Do not then require me to do what I consider
+dishonourable and impious and wrong, especially now, when I am being
+tried for impiety on the indictment of Meletus. For if, O men of
+Athens, by force of persuasion and entreaty I could overpower your
+oaths, then I should be teaching you to believe that there are no gods,
+and in defending should simply convict myself of the charge of not
+believing in them. But that is not so--far otherwise. For I do believe
+that there are gods, and in a sense higher than that in which any of my
+accusers believe in them. And to you and to God I commit my cause, to
+be determined by you as is best for you and me.
+
+There are many reasons why I am not grieved, O men of Athens, at the
+vote of condemnation. I expected it, and am only surprised that the
+votes are so nearly equal; for I had thought that the majority against
+me would have been far larger; but now, had thirty votes gone over to
+the other side, I should have been acquitted. And I may say, I think,
+that I have escaped Meletus. I may say more; for without the assistance
+of Anytus and Lycon, any one may see that he would not have had a fifth
+part of the votes, as the law requires, in which case he would have
+incurred a fine of a thousand drachmae.
+
+And so he proposes death as the penalty. And what shall I propose on my
+part, O men of Athens? Clearly that which is my due. And what is my
+due? What return shall be made to the man who has never had the wit to
+be idle during his whole life; but has been careless of what the many
+care for--wealth, and family interests, and military offices, and
+speaking in the assembly, and magistracies, and plots, and parties.
+Reflecting that I was really too honest a man to be a politician and
+live, I did not go where I could do no good to you or to myself; but
+where I could do the greatest good privately to every one of you,
+thither I went, and sought to persuade every man among you that he must
+look to himself, and seek virtue and wisdom before he looks to his
+private interests, and look to the state before he looks to the
+interests of the state; and that this should be the order which he
+observes in all his actions. What shall be done to such an one?
+Doubtless some good thing, O men of Athens, if he has his reward; and
+the good should be of a kind suitable to him. What would be a reward
+suitable to a poor man who is your benefactor, and who desires leisure
+that he may instruct you? There can be no reward so fitting as
+maintenance in the Prytaneum, O men of Athens, a reward which he
+deserves far more than the citizen who has won the prize at Olympia in
+the horse or chariot race, whether the chariots were drawn by two
+horses or by many. For I am in want, and he has enough; and he only
+gives you the appearance of happiness, and I give you the reality. And
+if I am to estimate the penalty fairly, I should say that maintenance
+in the Prytaneum is the just return.
+
+Perhaps you think that I am braving you in what I am saying now, as in
+what I said before about the tears and prayers. But this is not so. I
+speak rather because I am convinced that I never intentionally wronged
+any one, although I cannot convince you--the time has been too short; if
+there were a law at Athens, as there is in other cities, that a capital
+cause should not be decided in one day, then I believe that I should
+have convinced you. But I cannot in a moment refute great slanders;
+and, as I am convinced that I never wronged another, I will assuredly
+not wrong myself. I will not say of myself that I deserve any evil, or
+propose any penalty. Why should I? because I am afraid of the penalty
+of death which Meletus proposes? When I do not know whether death is a
+good or an evil, why should I propose a penalty which would certainly
+be an evil? Shall I say imprisonment? And why should I live in prison,
+and be the slave of the magistrates of the year--of the Eleven? Or shall
+the penalty be a fine, and imprisonment until the fine is paid? There
+is the same objection. I should have to lie in prison, for money I have
+none, and cannot pay. And if I say exile (and this may possibly be the
+penalty which you will affix), I must indeed be blinded by the love of
+life, if I am so irrational as to expect that when you, who are my own
+citizens, cannot endure my discourses and words, and have found them so
+grievous and odious that you will have no more of them, others are
+likely to endure me. No indeed, men of Athens, that is not very likely.
+And what a life should I lead, at my age, wandering from city to city,
+ever changing my place of exile, and always being driven out! For I am
+quite sure that wherever I go, there, as here, the young men will flock
+to me; and if I drive them away, their elders will drive me out at
+their request; and if I let them come, their fathers and friends will
+drive me out for their sakes.
+
+Some one will say: Yes, Socrates, but cannot you hold your tongue, and
+then you may go into a foreign city, and no one will interfere with
+you? Now I have great difficulty in making you understand my answer to
+this. For if I tell you that to do as you say would be a disobedience
+to the God, and therefore that I cannot hold my tongue, you will not
+believe that I am serious; and if I say again that daily to discourse
+about virtue, and of those other things about which you hear me
+examining myself and others, is the greatest good of man, and that the
+unexamined life is not worth living, you are still less likely to
+believe me. Yet I say what is true, although a thing of which it is
+hard for me to persuade you. Also, I have never been accustomed to
+think that I deserve to suffer any harm. Had I money I might have
+estimated the offence at what I was able to pay, and not have been much
+the worse. But I have none, and therefore I must ask you to proportion
+the fine to my means. Well, perhaps I could afford a mina, and
+therefore I propose that penalty: Plato, Crito, Critobulus, and
+Apollodorus, my friends here, bid me say thirty minæ, and they will be
+the sureties. Let thirty minæ be the penalty; for which sum they will
+be ample security to you.
+
+Not much time will be gained, O Athenians, in return for the evil name
+which you will get from the detractors of the city, who will say that
+you killed Socrates, a wise man; for they will call me wise, even
+although I am not wise, when they want to reproach you. If you had
+waited a little while, your desire would have been fulfilled in the
+course of nature. For I am far advanced in years, as you may perceive,
+and not far from death. I am speaking now not to all of you, but only
+to those who have condemned me to death. And I have another thing to
+say to them: you think that I was convicted because I had no words of
+the sort which would have procured my acquittal--I mean, if I had
+thought fit to leave nothing undone or unsaid. Not so; the deficiency
+which led to my conviction was not of words--certainly not. But I had
+not the boldness or impudence or inclination to address you as you
+would have liked me to do, weeping and wailing and lamenting, and
+saying and doing many things which you have been accustomed to hear
+from others, and which, as I maintain, are unworthy of me. I thought at
+the time that I ought not to do anything common or mean when in danger:
+nor do I now repent of the style of my defence; I would rather die
+having spoken after my manner, than speak in your manner and live. For
+neither in war nor yet at law ought I or any man to use every way of
+escaping death. Often in battle there can be no doubt that if a man
+will throw away his arms, and fall on his knees before his pursuers, he
+may escape death; and in other dangers there are other ways of escaping
+death, if a man is willing to say and do anything. The difficulty, my
+friends, is not to avoid death, but to avoid unrighteousness; for that
+runs faster than death. I am old and move slowly, and the slower runner
+has overtaken me, and my accusers are keen and quick, and the faster
+runner, who is unrighteousness, has overtaken them. And now I depart
+hence condemned by you to suffer the penalty of death,--they too go
+their ways condemned by the truth to suffer the penalty of villainy and
+wrong; and I must abide by my award--let them abide by theirs. I suppose
+that these things may be regarded as fated,--and I think that they are
+well.
+
+And now, O men who have condemned me, I would fain prophesy to you; for
+I am about to die, and in the hour of death men are gifted with
+prophetic power. And I prophesy to you who are my murderers, that
+immediately after my departure punishment far heavier than you have
+inflicted on me will surely await you. Me you have killed because you
+wanted to escape the accuser, and not to give an account of your lives.
+But that will not be as you suppose: far otherwise. For I say that
+there will be more accusers of you than there are now; accusers whom
+hitherto I have restrained: and as they are younger they will be more
+inconsiderate with you, and you will be more offended at them. If you
+think that by killing men you can prevent some one from censuring your
+evil lives, you are mistaken; that is not a way of escape which is
+either possible or honourable; the easiest and the noblest way is not
+to be disabling others, but to be improving yourselves. This is the
+prophecy which I utter before my departure to the judges who have
+condemned me.
+
+Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like also to talk with
+you about the thing which has come to pass, while the magistrates are
+busy, and before I go to the place at which I must die. Stay then a
+little, for we may as well talk with one another while there is time.
+You are my friends, and I should like to show you the meaning of this
+event which has happened to me. O my judges--for you I may truly call
+judges--I should like to tell you of a wonderful circumstance. Hitherto
+the divine faculty of which the internal oracle is the source has
+constantly been in the habit of opposing me even about trifles, if I
+was going to make a slip or error in any matter; and now as you see
+there has come upon me that which may be thought, and is generally
+believed to be, the last and worst evil. But the oracle made no sign of
+opposition, either when I was leaving my house in the morning, or when
+I was on my way to the court, or while I was speaking, at anything
+which I was going to say; and yet I have often been stopped in the
+middle of a speech, but now in nothing I either said or did touching
+the matter in hand has the oracle opposed me. What do I take to be the
+explanation of this silence? I will tell you. It is an intimation that
+what has happened to me is a good, and that those of us who think that
+death is an evil are in error. For the customary sign would surely have
+opposed me had I been going to evil and not to good.
+
+Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is great
+reason to hope that death is a good; for one of two things--either death
+is a state of nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or, as men say,
+there is a change and migration of the soul from this world to another.
+Now if you suppose that there is no consciousness, but a sleep like the
+sleep of him who is undisturbed even by dreams, death will be an
+unspeakable gain. For if a person were to select the night in which his
+sleep was undisturbed even by dreams, and were to compare with this the
+other days and nights of his life, and then were to tell us how many
+days and nights he had passed in the course of his life better and more
+pleasantly than this one, I think that any man, I will not say a
+private man, but even the great king will not find many such days or
+nights, when compared with the others. Now if death be of such a
+nature, I say that to die is gain; for eternity is then only a single
+night. But if death is the journey to another place, and there, as men
+say, all the dead abide, what good, O my friends and judges, can be
+greater than this? If indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the world
+below, he is delivered from the professors of justice in this world,
+and finds the true judges who are said to give judgment there, Minos
+and Rhadamanthus and Aeacus and Triptolemus, and other sons of God who
+were righteous in their own life, that pilgrimage will be worth making.
+What would not a man give if he might converse with Orpheus and Musaeus
+and Hesiod and Homer? Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again.
+I myself, too, shall have a wonderful interest in there meeting and
+conversing with Palamedes, and Ajax the son of Telamon, and any other
+ancient hero who has suffered death through an unjust judgment; and
+there will be no small pleasure, as I think, in comparing my own
+sufferings with theirs. Above all, I shall then be able to continue my
+search into true and false knowledge; as in this world, so also in the
+next; and I shall find out who is wise, and who pretends to be wise,
+and is not. What would not a man give, O judges, to be able to examine
+the leader of the great Trojan expedition; or Odysseus or Sisyphus, or
+numberless others, men and women too! What infinite delight would there
+be in conversing with them and asking them questions! In another world
+they do not put a man to death for asking questions: assuredly not. For
+besides being happier than we are, they will be immortal, if what is
+said is true.
+
+Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, and know of a
+certainty, that no evil can happen to a good man, either in life or
+after death. He and his are not neglected by the gods; nor has my own
+approaching end happened by mere chance. But I see clearly that the
+time had arrived when it was better for me to die and be released from
+trouble; wherefore the oracle gave no sign. For which reason, also, I
+am not angry with my condemners, or with my accusers; they have done me
+no harm, although they did not mean to do me any good; and for this I
+may gently blame them.
+
+Still I have a favour to ask of them. When my sons are grown up, I
+would ask you, O my friends, to punish them; and I would have you
+trouble them, as I have troubled you, if they seem to care about
+riches, or anything, more than about virtue; or if they pretend to be
+something when they are really nothing,--then reprove them, as I have
+reproved you, for not caring about that for which they ought to care,
+and thinking that they are something when they are really nothing. And
+if you do this, both I and my sons will have received justice at your
+hands.
+
+The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways--I to die, and you
+to live. Which is better God only knows.
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Apology, by Plato

data/plato_crito.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,665 @@
+This etext was prepared by Sue Asscher <asschers@aia.net.au>
+
+CRITO
+
+by Plato
+
+Translated by Benjamin Jowett
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+The Crito seems intended to exhibit the character of Socrates in one light
+only, not as the philosopher, fulfilling a divine mission and trusting in
+the will of heaven, but simply as the good citizen, who having been
+unjustly condemned is willing to give up his life in obedience to the laws
+of the state...
+
+The days of Socrates are drawing to a close; the fatal ship has been seen
+off Sunium, as he is informed by his aged friend and contemporary Crito,
+who visits him before the dawn has broken; he himself has been warned in a
+dream that on the third day he must depart.  Time is precious, and Crito
+has come early in order to gain his consent to a plan of escape.  This can
+be easily accomplished by his friends, who will incur no danger in making
+the attempt to save him, but will be disgraced for ever if they allow him
+to perish.  He should think of his duty to his children, and not play into
+the hands of his enemies.  Money is already provided by Crito as well as by
+Simmias and others, and he will have no difficulty in finding friends in
+Thessaly and other places.
+
+Socrates is afraid that Crito is but pressing upon him the opinions of the
+many:  whereas, all his life long he has followed the dictates of reason
+only and the opinion of the one wise or skilled man.  There was a time when
+Crito himself had allowed the propriety of this.  And although some one
+will say 'the many can kill us,' that makes no difference; but a good life,
+in other words, a just and honourable life, is alone to be valued.  All
+considerations of loss of reputation or injury to his children should be
+dismissed:  the only question is whether he would be right in attempting to
+escape.  Crito, who is a disinterested person not having the fear of death
+before his eyes, shall answer this for him.  Before he was condemned they
+had often held discussions, in which they agreed that no man should either
+do evil, or return evil for evil, or betray the right.  Are these
+principles to be altered because the circumstances of Socrates are altered?
+Crito admits that they remain the same.  Then is his escape consistent with
+the maintenance of them?  To this Crito is unable or unwilling to reply.
+
+Socrates proceeds:--Suppose the Laws of Athens to come and remonstrate with
+him:  they will ask 'Why does he seek to overturn them?' and if he replies,
+'they have injured him,' will not the Laws answer, 'Yes, but was that the
+agreement?  Has he any objection to make to them which would justify him in
+overturning them?  Was he not brought into the world and educated by their
+help, and are they not his parents?  He might have left Athens and gone
+where he pleased, but he has lived there for seventy years more constantly
+than any other citizen.'  Thus he has clearly shown that he acknowledged
+the agreement, which he cannot now break without dishonour to himself and
+danger to his friends.  Even in the course of the trial he might have
+proposed exile as the penalty, but then he declared that he preferred death
+to exile.  And whither will he direct his footsteps?  In any well-ordered
+state the Laws will consider him as an enemy.  Possibly in a land of
+misrule like Thessaly he may be welcomed at first, and the unseemly
+narrative of his escape will be regarded by the inhabitants as an amusing
+tale.  But if he offends them he will have to learn another sort of lesson.
+Will he continue to give lectures in virtue?  That would hardly be decent.
+And how will his children be the gainers if he takes them into Thessaly,
+and deprives them of Athenian citizenship?  Or if he leaves them behind,
+does he expect that they will be better taken care of by his friends
+because he is in Thessaly?  Will not true friends care for them equally
+whether he is alive or dead?
+
+Finally, they exhort him to think of justice first, and of life and
+children afterwards.  He may now depart in peace and innocence, a sufferer
+and not a doer of evil.  But if he breaks agreements, and returns evil for
+evil, they will be angry with him while he lives; and their brethren the
+Laws of the world below will receive him as an enemy.  Such is the mystic
+voice which is always murmuring in his ears.
+
+That Socrates was not a good citizen was a charge made against him during
+his lifetime, which has been often repeated in later ages.  The crimes of
+Alcibiades, Critias, and Charmides, who had been his pupils, were still
+recent in the memory of the now restored democracy.  The fact that he had
+been neutral in the death-struggle of Athens was not likely to conciliate
+popular good-will.  Plato, writing probably in the next generation,
+undertakes the defence of his friend and master in this particular, not to
+the Athenians of his day, but to posterity and the world at large.
+
+Whether such an incident ever really occurred as the visit of Crito and the
+proposal of escape is uncertain:  Plato could easily have invented far more
+than that (Phaedr.); and in the selection of Crito, the aged friend, as the
+fittest person to make the proposal to Socrates, we seem to recognize the
+hand of the artist.  Whether any one who has been subjected by the laws of
+his country to an unjust judgment is right in attempting to escape, is a
+thesis about which casuists might disagree.  Shelley (Prose Works) is of
+opinion that Socrates 'did well to die,' but not for the 'sophistical'
+reasons which Plato has put into his mouth.  And there would be no
+difficulty in arguing that Socrates should have lived and preferred to a
+glorious death the good which he might still be able to perform.  'A
+rhetorician would have had much to say upon that point.'  It may be
+observed however that Plato never intended to answer the question of
+casuistry, but only to exhibit the ideal of patient virtue which refuses to
+do the least evil in order to avoid the greatest, and to show his master
+maintaining in death the opinions which he had professed in his life.  Not
+'the world,' but the 'one wise man,' is still the paradox of Socrates in
+his last hours.  He must be guided by reason, although her conclusions may
+be fatal to him.  The remarkable sentiment that the wicked can do neither
+good nor evil is true, if taken in the sense, which he means, of moral
+evil; in his own words, 'they cannot make a man wise or foolish.'
+
+This little dialogue is a perfect piece of dialectic, in which granting the
+'common principle,' there is no escaping from the conclusion.  It is
+anticipated at the beginning by the dream of Socrates and the parody of
+Homer.  The personification of the Laws, and of their brethren the Laws in
+the world below, is one of the noblest and boldest figures of speech which
+occur in Plato.
+
+CRITO
+
+by
+
+Plato
+
+Translated by Benjamin Jowett
+
+PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE:  Socrates, Crito.
+
+SCENE:  The Prison of Socrates.
+
+SOCRATES:  Why have you come at this hour, Crito? it must be quite early.
+
+CRITO:  Yes, certainly.
+
+SOCRATES:  What is the exact time?
+
+CRITO:  The dawn is breaking.
+
+SOCRATES:  I wonder that the keeper of the prison would let you in.
+
+CRITO:  He knows me because I often come, Socrates; moreover.  I have done
+him a kindness.
+
+SOCRATES:  And are you only just arrived?
+
+CRITO:  No, I came some time ago.
+
+SOCRATES:  Then why did you sit and say nothing, instead of at once
+awakening me?
+
+CRITO:  I should not have liked myself, Socrates, to be in such great
+trouble and unrest as you are--indeed I should not:  I have been watching
+with amazement your peaceful slumbers; and for that reason I did not awake
+you, because I wished to minimize the pain.  I have always thought you to
+be of a happy disposition; but never did I see anything like the easy,
+tranquil manner in which you bear this calamity.
+
+SOCRATES:  Why, Crito, when a man has reached my age he ought not to be
+repining at the approach of death.
+
+CRITO:  And yet other old men find themselves in similar misfortunes, and
+age does not prevent them from repining.
+
+SOCRATES:  That is true.  But you have not told me why you come at this
+early hour.
+
+CRITO:  I come to bring you a message which is sad and painful; not, as I
+believe, to yourself, but to all of us who are your friends, and saddest of
+all to me.
+
+SOCRATES:  What?  Has the ship come from Delos, on the arrival of which I
+am to die?
+
+CRITO:  No, the ship has not actually arrived, but she will probably be
+here to-day, as persons who have come from Sunium tell me that they have
+left her there; and therefore to-morrow, Socrates, will be the last day of
+your life.
+
+SOCRATES:  Very well, Crito; if such is the will of God, I am willing; but
+my belief is that there will be a delay of a day.
+
+CRITO:  Why do you think so?
+
+SOCRATES:  I will tell you.  I am to die on the day after the arrival of
+the ship?
+
+CRITO:  Yes; that is what the authorities say.
+
+SOCRATES:  But I do not think that the ship will be here until to-morrow;
+this I infer from a vision which I had last night, or rather only just now,
+when you fortunately allowed me to sleep.
+
+CRITO:  And what was the nature of the vision?
+
+SOCRATES:  There appeared to me the likeness of a woman, fair and comely,
+clothed in bright raiment, who called to me and said:  O Socrates,
+
+'The third day hence to fertile Phthia shalt thou go.'  (Homer, Il.)
+
+CRITO:  What a singular dream, Socrates!
+
+SOCRATES:  There can be no doubt about the meaning, Crito, I think.
+
+CRITO:  Yes; the meaning is only too clear.  But, oh! my beloved Socrates,
+let me entreat you once more to take my advice and escape.  For if you die
+I shall not only lose a friend who can never be replaced, but there is
+another evil:  people who do not know you and me will believe that I might
+have saved you if I had been willing to give money, but that I did not
+care.  Now, can there be a worse disgrace than this--that I should be
+thought to value money more than the life of a friend?  For the many will
+not be persuaded that I wanted you to escape, and that you refused.
+
+SOCRATES:  But why, my dear Crito, should we care about the opinion of the
+many?  Good men, and they are the only persons who are worth considering,
+will think of these things truly as they occurred.
+
+CRITO:  But you see, Socrates, that the opinion of the many must be
+regarded, for what is now happening shows that they can do the greatest
+evil to any one who has lost their good opinion.
+
+SOCRATES:  I only wish it were so, Crito; and that the many could do the
+greatest evil; for then they would also be able to do the greatest good--
+and what a fine thing this would be!  But in reality they can do neither;
+for they cannot make a man either wise or foolish; and whatever they do is
+the result of chance.
+
+CRITO:  Well, I will not dispute with you; but please to tell me, Socrates,
+whether you are not acting out of regard to me and your other friends:  are
+you not afraid that if you escape from prison we may get into trouble with
+the informers for having stolen you away, and lose either the whole or a
+great part of our property; or that even a worse evil may happen to us?
+Now, if you fear on our account, be at ease; for in order to save you, we
+ought surely to run this, or even a greater risk; be persuaded, then, and
+do as I say.
+
+SOCRATES:  Yes, Crito, that is one fear which you mention, but by no means
+the only one.
+
+CRITO:  Fear not--there are persons who are willing to get you out of
+prison at no great cost; and as for the informers they are far from being
+exorbitant in their demands--a little money will satisfy them.  My means,
+which are certainly ample, are at your service, and if you have a scruple
+about spending all mine, here are strangers who will give you the use of
+theirs; and one of them, Simmias the Theban, has brought a large sum of
+money for this very purpose; and Cebes and many others are prepared to
+spend their money in helping you to escape.  I say, therefore, do not
+hesitate on our account, and do not say, as you did in the court (compare
+Apol.), that you will have a difficulty in knowing what to do with yourself
+anywhere else.  For men will love you in other places to which you may go,
+and not in Athens only; there are friends of mine in Thessaly, if you like
+to go to them, who will value and protect you, and no Thessalian will give
+you any trouble.  Nor can I think that you are at all justified, Socrates,
+in betraying your own life when you might be saved; in acting thus you are
+playing into the hands of your enemies, who are hurrying on your
+destruction.  And further I should say that you are deserting your own
+children; for you might bring them up and educate them; instead of which
+you go away and leave them, and they will have to take their chance; and if
+they do not meet with the usual fate of orphans, there will be small thanks
+to you.  No man should bring children into the world who is unwilling to
+persevere to the end in their nurture and education.  But you appear to be
+choosing the easier part, not the better and manlier, which would have been
+more becoming in one who professes to care for virtue in all his actions,
+like yourself.  And indeed, I am ashamed not only of you, but of us who are
+your friends, when I reflect that the whole business will be attributed
+entirely to our want of courage.  The trial need never have come on, or
+might have been managed differently; and this last act, or crowning folly,
+will seem to have occurred through our negligence and cowardice, who might
+have saved you, if we had been good for anything; and you might have saved
+yourself, for there was no difficulty at all.  See now, Socrates, how sad
+and discreditable are the consequences, both to us and you.  Make up your
+mind then, or rather have your mind already made up, for the time of
+deliberation is over, and there is only one thing to be done, which must be
+done this very night, and if we delay at all will be no longer practicable
+or possible; I beseech you therefore, Socrates, be persuaded by me, and do
+as I say.
+
+SOCRATES:  Dear Crito, your zeal is invaluable, if a right one; but if
+wrong, the greater the zeal the greater the danger; and therefore we ought
+to consider whether I shall or shall not do as you say.  For I am and
+always have been one of those natures who must be guided by reason,
+whatever the reason may be which upon reflection appears to me to be the
+best; and now that this chance has befallen me, I cannot repudiate my own
+words:  the principles which I have hitherto honoured and revered I still
+honour, and unless we can at once find other and better principles, I am
+certain not to agree with you; no, not even if the power of the multitude
+could inflict many more imprisonments, confiscations, deaths, frightening
+us like children with hobgoblin terrors (compare Apol.).  What will be the
+fairest way of considering the question?  Shall I return to your old
+argument about the opinions of men?--we were saying that some of them are
+to be regarded, and others not.  Now were we right in maintaining this
+before I was condemned?  And has the argument which was once good now
+proved to be talk for the sake of talking--mere childish nonsense?  That is
+what I want to consider with your help, Crito:--whether, under my present
+circumstances, the argument appears to be in any way different or not; and
+is to be allowed by me or disallowed.  That argument, which, as I believe,
+is maintained by many persons of authority, was to the effect, as I was
+saying, that the opinions of some men are to be regarded, and of other men
+not to be regarded.  Now you, Crito, are not going to die to-morrow--at
+least, there is no human probability of this, and therefore you are
+disinterested and not liable to be deceived by the circumstances in which
+you are placed.  Tell me then, whether I am right in saying that some
+opinions, and the opinions of some men only, are to be valued, and that
+other opinions, and the opinions of other men, are not to be valued.  I ask
+you whether I was right in maintaining this?
+
+CRITO:  Certainly.
+
+SOCRATES:  The good are to be regarded, and not the bad?
+
+CRITO:  Yes.
+
+SOCRATES:  And the opinions of the wise are good, and the opinions of the
+unwise are evil?
+
+CRITO:  Certainly.
+
+SOCRATES:  And what was said about another matter?  Is the pupil who
+devotes himself to the practice of gymnastics supposed to attend to the
+praise and blame and opinion of every man, or of one man only--his
+physician or trainer, whoever he may be?
+
+CRITO:  Of one man only.
+
+SOCRATES:  And he ought to fear the censure and welcome the praise of that
+one only, and not of the many?
+
+CRITO:  Clearly so.
+
+SOCRATES:  And he ought to act and train, and eat and drink in the way
+which seems good to his single master who has understanding, rather than
+according to the opinion of all other men put together?
+
+CRITO:  True.
+
+SOCRATES:  And if he disobeys and disregards the opinion and approval of
+the one, and regards the opinion of the many who have no understanding,
+will he not suffer evil?
+
+CRITO:  Certainly he will.
+
+SOCRATES:  And what will the evil be, whither tending and what affecting,
+in the disobedient person?
+
+CRITO:  Clearly, affecting the body; that is what is destroyed by the evil.
+
+SOCRATES:  Very good; and is not this true, Crito, of other things which we
+need not separately enumerate?  In questions of just and unjust, fair and
+foul, good and evil, which are the subjects of our present consultation,
+ought we to follow the opinion of the many and to fear them; or the opinion
+of the one man who has understanding? ought we not to fear and reverence
+him more than all the rest of the world:  and if we desert him shall we not
+destroy and injure that principle in us which may be assumed to be improved
+by justice and deteriorated by injustice;--there is such a principle?
+
+CRITO:  Certainly there is, Socrates.
+
+SOCRATES:  Take a parallel instance:--if, acting under the advice of those
+who have no understanding, we destroy that which is improved by health and
+is deteriorated by disease, would life be worth having?  And that which has
+been destroyed is--the body?
+
+CRITO:  Yes.
+
+SOCRATES:  Could we live, having an evil and corrupted body?
+
+CRITO:  Certainly not.
+
+SOCRATES:  And will life be worth having, if that higher part of man be
+destroyed, which is improved by justice and depraved by injustice?  Do we
+suppose that principle, whatever it may be in man, which has to do with
+justice and injustice, to be inferior to the body?
+
+CRITO:  Certainly not.
+
+SOCRATES:  More honourable than the body?
+
+CRITO:  Far more.
+
+SOCRATES:  Then, my friend, we must not regard what the many say of us:
+but what he, the one man who has understanding of just and unjust, will
+say, and what the truth will say.  And therefore you begin in error when
+you advise that we should regard the opinion of the many about just and
+unjust, good and evil, honorable and dishonorable.--'Well,' some one will
+say, 'but the many can kill us.'
+
+CRITO:  Yes, Socrates; that will clearly be the answer.
+
+SOCRATES:  And it is true; but still I find with surprise that the old
+argument is unshaken as ever.  And I should like to know whether I may say
+the same of another proposition--that not life, but a good life, is to be
+chiefly valued?
+
+CRITO:  Yes, that also remains unshaken.
+
+SOCRATES:  And a good life is equivalent to a just and honorable one--that
+holds also?
+
+CRITO:  Yes, it does.
+
+SOCRATES:  From these premisses I proceed to argue the question whether I
+ought or ought not to try and escape without the consent of the Athenians:
+and if I am clearly right in escaping, then I will make the attempt; but if
+not, I will abstain.  The other considerations which you mention, of money
+and loss of character and the duty of educating one's children, are, I
+fear, only the doctrines of the multitude, who would be as ready to restore
+people to life, if they were able, as they are to put them to death--and
+with as little reason.  But now, since the argument has thus far prevailed,
+the only question which remains to be considered is, whether we shall do
+rightly either in escaping or in suffering others to aid in our escape and
+paying them in money and thanks, or whether in reality we shall not do
+rightly; and if the latter, then death or any other calamity which may
+ensue on my remaining here must not be allowed to enter into the
+calculation.
+
+CRITO:  I think that you are right, Socrates; how then shall we proceed?
+
+SOCRATES:  Let us consider the matter together, and do you either refute me
+if you can, and I will be convinced; or else cease, my dear friend, from
+repeating to me that I ought to escape against the wishes of the Athenians:
+for I highly value your attempts to persuade me to do so, but I may not be
+persuaded against my own better judgment.  And now please to consider my
+first position, and try how you can best answer me.
+
+CRITO:  I will.
+
+SOCRATES:  Are we to say that we are never intentionally to do wrong, or
+that in one way we ought and in another way we ought not to do wrong, or is
+doing wrong always evil and dishonorable, as I was just now saying, and as
+has been already acknowledged by us?  Are all our former admissions which
+were made within a few days to be thrown away?  And have we, at our age,
+been earnestly discoursing with one another all our life long only to
+discover that we are no better than children?  Or, in spite of the opinion
+of the many, and in spite of consequences whether better or worse, shall we
+insist on the truth of what was then said, that injustice is always an evil
+and dishonour to him who acts unjustly?  Shall we say so or not?
+
+CRITO:  Yes.
+
+SOCRATES:  Then we must do no wrong?
+
+CRITO:  Certainly not.
+
+SOCRATES:  Nor when injured injure in return, as the many imagine; for we
+must injure no one at all?  (E.g. compare Rep.)
+
+CRITO:  Clearly not.
+
+SOCRATES:  Again, Crito, may we do evil?
+
+CRITO:  Surely not, Socrates.
+
+SOCRATES:  And what of doing evil in return for evil, which is the morality
+of the many--is that just or not?
+
+CRITO:  Not just.
+
+SOCRATES:  For doing evil to another is the same as injuring him?
+
+CRITO:  Very true.
+
+SOCRATES:  Then we ought not to retaliate or render evil for evil to any
+one, whatever evil we may have suffered from him.  But I would have you
+consider, Crito, whether you really mean what you are saying.  For this
+opinion has never been held, and never will be held, by any considerable
+number of persons; and those who are agreed and those who are not agreed
+upon this point have no common ground, and can only despise one another
+when they see how widely they differ.  Tell me, then, whether you agree
+with and assent to my first principle, that neither injury nor retaliation
+nor warding off evil by evil is ever right.  And shall that be the premiss
+of our argument?  Or do you decline and dissent from this?  For so I have
+ever thought, and continue to think; but, if you are of another opinion,
+let me hear what you have to say.  If, however, you remain of the same mind
+as formerly, I will proceed to the next step.
+
+CRITO:  You may proceed, for I have not changed my mind.
+
+SOCRATES:  Then I will go on to the next point, which may be put in the
+form of a question:--Ought a man to do what he admits to be right, or ought
+he to betray the right?
+
+CRITO:  He ought to do what he thinks right.
+
+SOCRATES:  But if this is true, what is the application?  In leaving the
+prison against the will of the Athenians, do I wrong any? or rather do I
+not wrong those whom I ought least to wrong?  Do I not desert the
+principles which were acknowledged by us to be just--what do you say?
+
+CRITO:  I cannot tell, Socrates, for I do not know.
+
+SOCRATES:  Then consider the matter in this way:--Imagine that I am about
+to play truant (you may call the proceeding by any name which you like),
+and the laws and the government come and interrogate me:  'Tell us,
+Socrates,' they say; 'what are you about? are you not going by an act of
+yours to overturn us--the laws, and the whole state, as far as in you lies?
+Do you imagine that a state can subsist and not be overthrown, in which the
+decisions of law have no power, but are set aside and trampled upon by
+individuals?'  What will be our answer, Crito, to these and the like words?
+Any one, and especially a rhetorician, will have a good deal to say on
+behalf of the law which requires a sentence to be carried out.  He will
+argue that this law should not be set aside; and shall we reply, 'Yes; but
+the state has injured us and given an unjust sentence.'  Suppose I say
+that?
+
+CRITO:  Very good, Socrates.
+
+SOCRATES:  'And was that our agreement with you?' the law would answer; 'or
+were you to abide by the sentence of the state?'  And if I were to express
+my astonishment at their words, the law would probably add:  'Answer,
+Socrates, instead of opening your eyes--you are in the habit of asking and
+answering questions.  Tell us,--What complaint have you to make against us
+which justifies you in attempting to destroy us and the state?  In the
+first place did we not bring you into existence?  Your father married your
+mother by our aid and begat you.  Say whether you have any objection to
+urge against those of us who regulate marriage?'  None, I should reply.
+'Or against those of us who after birth regulate the nurture and education
+of children, in which you also were trained?  Were not the laws, which have
+the charge of education, right in commanding your father to train you in
+music and gymnastic?'  Right, I should reply.  'Well then, since you were
+brought into the world and nurtured and educated by us, can you deny in the
+first place that you are our child and slave, as your fathers were before
+you?  And if this is true you are not on equal terms with us; nor can you
+think that you have a right to do to us what we are doing to you.  Would
+you have any right to strike or revile or do any other evil to your father
+or your master, if you had one, because you have been struck or reviled by
+him, or received some other evil at his hands?--you would not say this?
+And because we think right to destroy you, do you think that you have any
+right to destroy us in return, and your country as far as in you lies?
+Will you, O professor of true virtue, pretend that you are justified in
+this?  Has a philosopher like you failed to discover that our country is
+more to be valued and higher and holier far than mother or father or any
+ancestor, and more to be regarded in the eyes of the gods and of men of
+understanding? also to be soothed, and gently and reverently entreated when
+angry, even more than a father, and either to be persuaded, or if not
+persuaded, to be obeyed?  And when we are punished by her, whether with
+imprisonment or stripes, the punishment is to be endured in silence; and if
+she lead us to wounds or death in battle, thither we follow as is right;
+neither may any one yield or retreat or leave his rank, but whether in
+battle or in a court of law, or in any other place, he must do what his
+city and his country order him; or he must change their view of what is
+just:  and if he may do no violence to his father or mother, much less may
+he do violence to his country.'  What answer shall we make to this, Crito?
+Do the laws speak truly, or do they not?
+
+CRITO:  I think that they do.
+
+SOCRATES:  Then the laws will say:  'Consider, Socrates, if we are speaking
+truly that in your present attempt you are going to do us an injury.  For,
+having brought you into the world, and nurtured and educated you, and given
+you and every other citizen a share in every good which we had to give, we
+further proclaim to any Athenian by the liberty which we allow him, that if
+he does not like us when he has become of age and has seen the ways of the
+city, and made our acquaintance, he may go where he pleases and take his
+goods with him.  None of us laws will forbid him or interfere with him.
+Any one who does not like us and the city, and who wants to emigrate to a
+colony or to any other city, may go where he likes, retaining his property.
+But he who has experience of the manner in which we order justice and
+administer the state, and still remains, has entered into an implied
+contract that he will do as we command him.  And he who disobeys us is, as
+we maintain, thrice wrong:  first, because in disobeying us he is
+disobeying his parents; secondly, because we are the authors of his
+education; thirdly, because he has made an agreement with us that he will
+duly obey our commands; and he neither obeys them nor convinces us that our
+commands are unjust; and we do not rudely impose them, but give him the
+alternative of obeying or convincing us;--that is what we offer, and he
+does neither.
+
+'These are the sort of accusations to which, as we were saying, you,
+Socrates, will be exposed if you accomplish your intentions; you, above all
+other Athenians.'  Suppose now I ask, why I rather than anybody else? they
+will justly retort upon me that I above all other men have acknowledged the
+agreement.  'There is clear proof,' they will say, 'Socrates, that we and
+the city were not displeasing to you.  Of all Athenians you have been the
+most constant resident in the city, which, as you never leave, you may be
+supposed to love (compare Phaedr.).  For you never went out of the city
+either to see the games, except once when you went to the Isthmus, or to
+any other place unless when you were on military service; nor did you
+travel as other men do.  Nor had you any curiosity to know other states or
+their laws:  your affections did not go beyond us and our state; we were
+your especial favourites, and you acquiesced in our government of you; and
+here in this city you begat your children, which is a proof of your
+satisfaction.  Moreover, you might in the course of the trial, if you had
+liked, have fixed the penalty at banishment; the state which refuses to let
+you go now would have let you go then.  But you pretended that you
+preferred death to exile (compare Apol.), and that you were not unwilling
+to die.  And now you have forgotten these fine sentiments, and pay no
+respect to us the laws, of whom you are the destroyer; and are doing what
+only a miserable slave would do, running away and turning your back upon
+the compacts and agreements which you made as a citizen.  And first of all
+answer this very question:  Are we right in saying that you agreed to be
+governed according to us in deed, and not in word only?  Is that true or
+not?'  How shall we answer, Crito?  Must we not assent?
+
+CRITO:  We cannot help it, Socrates.
+
+SOCRATES:  Then will they not say:  'You, Socrates, are breaking the
+covenants and agreements which you made with us at your leisure, not in any
+haste or under any compulsion or deception, but after you have had seventy
+years to think of them, during which time you were at liberty to leave the
+city, if we were not to your mind, or if our covenants appeared to you to
+be unfair.  You had your choice, and might have gone either to Lacedaemon
+or Crete, both which states are often praised by you for their good
+government, or to some other Hellenic or foreign state.  Whereas you, above
+all other Athenians, seemed to be so fond of the state, or, in other words,
+of us her laws (and who would care about a state which has no laws?), that
+you never stirred out of her; the halt, the blind, the maimed, were not
+more stationary in her than you were.  And now you run away and forsake
+your agreements.  Not so, Socrates, if you will take our advice; do not
+make yourself ridiculous by escaping out of the city.
+
+'For just consider, if you transgress and err in this sort of way, what
+good will you do either to yourself or to your friends?  That your friends
+will be driven into exile and deprived of citizenship, or will lose their
+property, is tolerably certain; and you yourself, if you fly to one of the
+neighbouring cities, as, for example, Thebes or Megara, both of which are
+well governed, will come to them as an enemy, Socrates, and their
+government will be against you, and all patriotic citizens will cast an
+evil eye upon you as a subverter of the laws, and you will confirm in the
+minds of the judges the justice of their own condemnation of you.  For he
+who is a corrupter of the laws is more than likely to be a corrupter of the
+young and foolish portion of mankind.  Will you then flee from well-ordered
+cities and virtuous men? and is existence worth having on these terms?  Or
+will you go to them without shame, and talk to them, Socrates?  And what
+will you say to them?  What you say here about virtue and justice and
+institutions and laws being the best things among men?  Would that be
+decent of you?  Surely not.  But if you go away from well-governed states
+to Crito's friends in Thessaly, where there is great disorder and licence,
+they will be charmed to hear the tale of your escape from prison, set off
+with ludicrous particulars of the manner in which you were wrapped in a
+goatskin or some other disguise, and metamorphosed as the manner is of
+runaways; but will there be no one to remind you that in your old age you
+were not ashamed to violate the most sacred laws from a miserable desire of
+a little more life?  Perhaps not, if you keep them in a good temper; but if
+they are out of temper you will hear many degrading things; you will live,
+but how?--as the flatterer of all men, and the servant of all men; and
+doing what?--eating and drinking in Thessaly, having gone abroad in order
+that you may get a dinner.  And where will be your fine sentiments about
+justice and virtue?  Say that you wish to live for the sake of your
+children--you want to bring them up and educate them--will you take them
+into Thessaly and deprive them of Athenian citizenship?  Is this the
+benefit which you will confer upon them?  Or are you under the impression
+that they will be better cared for and educated here if you are still
+alive, although absent from them; for your friends will take care of them?
+Do you fancy that if you are an inhabitant of Thessaly they will take care
+of them, and if you are an inhabitant of the other world that they will not
+take care of them?  Nay; but if they who call themselves friends are good
+for anything, they will--to be sure they will.
+
+'Listen, then, Socrates, to us who have brought you up.  Think not of life
+and children first, and of justice afterwards, but of justice first, that
+you may be justified before the princes of the world below.  For neither
+will you nor any that belong to you be happier or holier or juster in this
+life, or happier in another, if you do as Crito bids.  Now you depart in
+innocence, a sufferer and not a doer of evil; a victim, not of the laws,
+but of men.  But if you go forth, returning evil for evil, and injury for
+injury, breaking the covenants and agreements which you have made with us,
+and wronging those whom you ought least of all to wrong, that is to say,
+yourself, your friends, your country, and us, we shall be angry with you
+while you live, and our brethren, the laws in the world below, will receive
+you as an enemy; for they will know that you have done your best to destroy
+us.  Listen, then, to us and not to Crito.'
+
+This, dear Crito, is the voice which I seem to hear murmuring in my ears,
+like the sound of the flute in the ears of the mystic; that voice, I say,
+is humming in my ears, and prevents me from hearing any other.  And I know
+that anything more which you may say will be vain.  Yet speak, if you have
+anything to say.
+
+CRITO:  I have nothing to say, Socrates.
+
+SOCRATES:  Leave me then, Crito, to fulfil the will of God, and to follow
+whither he leads.