The Parmenides and the Republic

Plato’s first attempt to turn Dionysius into a philosopher-king, which took place in 367-366, ended with a compact between the two: Dionysius’ would invite Plato back ‘as soon as he had made his own power more secure’ and Plato promised that he would return (Seventh Letter 338a5-b2). When Plato arrived to Sicily as promised (in 361), he pointed out to Dionysius what true philosophy was all about, how many preliminary subjects it entailed and how much labour: ‘For on hearing this, if the pupil be truly philosophic … he believes that he has been shown a marvellous pathway and that he must brace himself at once to follow it … after this he braces both himself and him who is guiding him on the path, nor does he desist until either he has reached the goal of all his studies, or else has gained such power as to be capable of directing his own steps without the aid of the instructor … this, then, was the purport of what I said to Dionysius on that occasion’ (340b7-341a8, tr. Bury). Clearly, Plato was prepared to devote the rest of his life to this task, which means that ever since he returned to Athens in 366 he faced the task of preparing his disciples in the Academy for doing philosophy without him, or rather, how to ensure his spiritual presence among them after his physical departure.

Plato’s conception of the state ruled by philosophers as the only properly governed state stands and falls with his theory of Forms. Therefore, all those who feared Plato’s influence on the court of Dionysius must have been interested in debunking Plato’s Forms, and so were the sophists invited to the court. Aristotle’s Metaphysics indicates that even in Plato’s Academy arguments against the Forms were in vogue. And so in the Parmenides Plato undertook to defend the Forms by voicing the cardinal arguments against them, pointing out that although such arguments of necessity pertained to the Forms, they had no validity in the eyes of those who could see the Forms. This dialogue fulfils this task jointly with the Republic, to which the eyes of the readers are directed in its opening line: ‘When we arrived at Athens from our home in Clazomenae, we met Adeimantus and Glaucon in the Agora.’ In the Republic these two brothers of Plato compel Socrates to transcend his philosophic ignorance (Republic 357a-368c) and outline the state governed by philosophers, that is by those who can see the Forms.

Although the Parmenides fulfils the task of defending the Forms jointly with the Republic, let me consider their specific contributions, beginning with the former, the dramatic setting of which suggests that Plato had been acquainted with arguments against the Forms in his early days, and that he found those arguments irrelevant. For Plato’s half-brother Antiphon, only a few years younger than Plato, diligently rehearsed arguments against the Forms in his teens (meirakion ȏn), to which his brother Adeimantus testifies (Parm. 126c6-7).

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The modern Platonic scholarship has deprived itself of the possibility to perceive and appreciate this point ever since it was ‘definitely established’ that the ancient tradition, according to which Plato’s first dialogue was the Phaedrus, was ‘patently absurd’ (Cf. e.g. R. Hackforth’s ‘Introduction’ to his translation of the Phaedrus, Cambridge, 1972, p. 3), for in the Phaedrus Plato brings the Forms prominently into view. (I defend the ancient tradition concerning the dating of the Phaedrus in The Lost Plato on my website.)

Another misconception that has bearing on this problem is the belief that ‘Diogenes 3. 6 reports that Plato knew Socrates only from the age of twenty’. (Debra Nails, The People of Plato, Hackett Publishing Company, 2002, p. 156). Plato must have known Socrates from his childhood; his uncle Charmides was a friend of Socrates as we know both from Plato and from Xenophon.

Aristotle, one of the Thirty (ton tȏn triakonta genomenon, Parm. 127d2-3), was Parmenides’ discussion partner in the Parmenides, and Plato says in the Seventh Letter that some of the Thirty were actually close connexions and acquaintances of his (oikeioi te kai gnȏrimoi, 324d1-2). And so it is likely that Plato was acquainted with Parmenides’ arguments against Socrates’ theory of Forms yet before his half-brother Antiphon began to learn them by heart. As the dialogue suggests, Parmenides’ criticism left Socrates in the state of a self-reflected philosophic ignorance, which a philosophically minded young man could not find very attractive.

What Diogenes says in 3. 5-6 is the following: ‘At first Plato used to study philosophy in the Academy, and afterwards in the garden at Colonus, as a follower of Heraclitus. Afterwards, when he was about to compete for the prize with a tragedy, he listened to Socrates in front of the theatre of Dionysius, and then consigned his poems to the flames, with the words ‘Come hither, O fire-god, Plato now has need of thee.’ From that time onward, having reached his twentieth year (so it is said), he was the pupil of Socrates.’ This does not mean ‘that Plato knew Socrates only from the age of twenty’; it means that at the age of twenty Plato had a dramatic philosophic encounter with Socrates as a result of which he not only burnt the tragedy with which he was about to compete, but ceased to be a follower of Heraclitus and became a disciple of Socrates.

Aristotle informs us that Plato, who in his youth became a Heraclitean, believing that all sensible things are in constant flux and there is no knowledge about them, encountered Socrates who fixed his mind (brought his mind to a standstill) on definitions of moral concepts (peri horismȏn epistêsantos tên dianoian), and that because of this – that is because he saw that Socrates brought his mind to a standstill, fixed on the definitions of moral concepts – he conceived (hupelaben) that this must have been happening concerning different things (hȏs peri heterȏn touto gignomenon), things that are different from sensible things (ou tȏn aisthêtȏn): ‘this kind of beings he called Forms’ (ta men toiauta tȏn ontȏn ideas prosêgoreuse). (Arist. Met. A, 987a32-b8).

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In the Parmenides 128e6-129a6 Socrates challenges Zeno and Parmenides with a theory of Forms: ‘Do you not acknowledge that there exists, alone by itself, a certain Form of similarity, and another which is opposite to it, which is dissimilar; and that you and I and the other things we call many get a share of these two things. And that things that get a share of similarity become similar in the respect and to the degree that they get a share; things that get a share of dissimilarity become dissimilar, and that things that get a share of both become both?’ – Socrates’ eyes are directed at things that have a similar form, which leads him to suppose that there must be a single Form, in which they all get a share. It is this derivation of the Forms from things around on which Parmenides bases his criticism: ‘I think that the reason why you think that each Form is one is like this: When many things appear to you to be large, there perhaps seems to be some Form, which is one and the same, as you look on them all; whence you believe the large is one’. Socrates: ‘True’. (132a1-5)

As Aristotle indicates, Plato arrived at the Forms in a very different way, by conceiving the Forms to which Socrates’ fixation of mind on definitions pointed. Republic V, where Plato introduces the Forms, corroborates Aristotle’s testimony. At 473c-e Socrates proclaims that only philosophers can govern a state properly. Challenged by Glaucon to justify his pronouncement, Socrates defines philosophers as those who can see the truth and love seeing it (tous tês alêtheias philotheamonas). When Glaucon asks, what he means by it, Socrates explains: ‘Since beauty is the opposite of ugliness, they are two? – And inasmuch as they are two, each of them is one? – And of just and unjust, good and evil, and of every other Form, the same mark holds: taken singly, each of them is one; but from the various combinations of them with actions and bodies and with one another (têi de tȏn praxeȏn kai sȏmatȏn kai allêlȏn koinȏniai), they are seen in all sorts of lights and appear many (pantachou phantazomena polla phainesthai hekaston)? – And this is the distinction which I draw between the sight-loving (philotheamonas), art-loving (philotechnous), practical class (praktikous) which you have mentioned, and those of whom I am speaking, and who are alone worthy of the name of philosophers. – The lovers of sounds and sights are fond of fine tones and colours and forms and all the artificial products that are made out of them, but their mind is incapable of seeing or loving absolute beauty (autou de tou kalou adunatos autȏn hê dianoia tên phusin idein te kai aspasasthai). – Few are they who are able to attain to this ideal beauty and contemplate it.’ (475e4-476b11, tr. Jowett)

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In the Parmenides, after finishing his exposition of the greatest difficulty concerning the Forms, Parmenides reflects on the whole preceding discussion concerning the Forms: ‘These, and many other difficulties on top of these, necessarily pertain to the Forms, if these Forms of beings exist (ei eisin hautai hai ideai tȏn ontȏn), and if one is going to define each Form itself. The result is that the hearer is perplexed and contends that they do not exist, and that even if their existence is conceded, they are necessarily unknowable by human nature. In saying this, he seems to be saying something (dokein te ti legein) and, as we just remarked, it’s astonishingly hard to convince him to the contrary. Only a man of considerable natural gifts will be able to learn that there is a certain kind of each thing (hȏs esti ti genos hekastou), being that is alone by itself (ousia autê kath’ hautên), and it will take a man more remarkable still to discover it (eti de thaumastoterou tou heurêsontos) and be able to instruct someone else (kai allon dunêsomenou didaxai) who has examined all these difficulties with sufficient care (tauta panta hikanȏs dieukrinêsamenon).’ (134e9-135b2)

Allen remarks: ‘It will be observed that Parmenides does not suppose that the arguments against participation cannot be solved. He rather supposes they can be solved, but that it will take a man of remarkable gifts to solve them. It is evident from this single passage that Parmenides does not suppose that his criticisms of the theory of Ideas are a mere tissue of fallacies. On the contrary, they are deep and serious, and raise difficulties that must be thought through if the theory of Ideas is to be sustained. Socrates, young and inexperienced, has not yet thought them through with sufficient care.’ (R. E. Allen, ‘Comment’, in Plato’s Parmenides, Yale University Press, 1997, p. 203)

As I have noted in ‘Allen’s misrepresentation of Plato’s Parmenides’ (posted on November 12, 2015), nothing in what Parmenides said suggests that he supposes ‘that his criticisms, and many other difficulties on top of these’ (134e9-135a1) can be solved. On the contrary, he maintains that these difficulties ‘necessarily pertain to the Forms’ (135a1), and yet he views all these criticisms of the theory of Ideas as false. When he says that a man who voices such criticisms ‘seems to be saying something’ (dokein ti legein), he implies that ‘he is saying nothing’ (ouden legei).

In the Parmenides itself the criticisms that Parmenides had raised against the Forms are thus viewed as irrelevant to a person who finds the Forms. But Parmenides’ words ‘as we just remarked’ (135a6) refer to his words ‘one could not show to the objector that he is saying a falsity (hoti pseudetai), unless he happened to be a man of great experience and natural ability, willing to follow a man who would show him the Forms in the course of a copious and lengthy undertaking .’ (133b6-9) The words ‘willing to follow a man who would show him the Forms in the course of a copious and lengthy undertaking’ take us to the Republic.

In Republic II to IV Socrates constructs a proto-ideal state and by inspecting its composition consisting of three main classes, labourers, soldiers, and the wise guardians, he discovers the four cardinal virtues, courage, wisdom, temperance and justice. He then finds analogous three parts in the human soul and in it the corresponding virtues. On that occasion he remarks: ‘I must impress upon you, Glaucon, that in my opinion our present methods of argument are not at all adequate to the accurate solution of this question: the true method is another and longer one (435c9-d3).’ It is only in Book VI that Socrates gets to the point at which he can outline the true method; he tells Adeimantus: ‘You may remember that we divided the soul into three parts; and by relating them to each other, distinguished the several natures of justice, temperance, courage, and wisdom? …  We were saying that he who wanted to see them in their perfect beauty must take a longer and more circuitous way, at the end of which they would appear … the guardian of the State must be required to take the longer circuit or he will never arrive at the highest knowledge which most belongs to him.’ (504a4-d3, tr. Jowett)

This longer road leads to the Form of the Good (tên tou agathou idean) ‘which imparts truth to the known and the power of knowing to the knower’ (to tên alêtheian parechon tois gignȏskomenois kai tȏi gignȏskonti tên dunamin parechon, 508e1-3). ‘The good not only infuses the power of being known into all things known, but also bestow upon them their being and existence, and yet the good is not existence, but lies far beyond it in dignity and power.’ (509b6-10) ‘All things known’ are here the Forms, for only the Forms can be known. All things perceived by our senses are the province of mere opinion, they have no true being, they belong to the sphere that is intermediary between being and not-being: ‘The many notions which the multitude entertain about the beautiful and about all other things are tossing about in some region which is half-way between pure being and pure not-being’ (479d3-5, tr. Jowett). It is from within this region that for Plato of the Republic all objections against the Forms are derived; this is why they merely ‘appear to say something’ from the point of view of Plato in the Parmenides (135a6).

When we realize that Plato dramatically staged the Parmenides so as to direct the reader’s mind towards the Republic, we can appreciate the significance of Adeimantus’ brief characterization of Antiphon ‘when Antiphon was young, he diligently and thoroughly rehearsed (eu mala diemeletêse) the arguments, though now, like his grandfather of the same name, he spends most of his time on horses’. As a youngster, Antiphon delighted in arguments against the Forms: ‘Youngsters, when they first get the taste for arguments, they argue for amusement, always using arguments to effect contradiction (aei eis antilogian chrȏmenoi)’, Socrates points out to Glaucon in Republic 539b2-5. Such spiritual nourishment could not generate in Antiphon a lasting commitment to philosophy; those, whose mind is turned to real philosophy, become committed to it and delight in it the more the older they get.

Plato’s Symposium in the light of his Second Letter

I have suggested that Plato wrote the Parmenides after his return from Sicily in 366 to function as his substitute jointly with the Republic after his planned definitive departure from Athens, i. e. before leaving Athens for Sicily in 360. Jointly, these two dialogues were to protect his disciples against the hostile questioning of the theory of Forms. But as Plato informs us in the Seventh Letter, he left Sicily in 366 having agreed to return there when Dionysius would invite him back, after making the affairs in Sicily safe for him, ending the war in which he was engaged. This means that his main preoccupation must have been with his forthcoming departure for Sicily, and thus with Dionysius; the Second Letter, written in this period, corroborates this supposition.

Plato opens the Second Letter by voicing Dionysius’ disquiet: ‘I hear from Archedemus that you think that not only I myself should keep quiet but my friends also from doing or saying anything bad about you’. After insisting that Dionysius’ worries are groundless, caused by false insinuations of sophists, Plato answers Dionysius’ question how ‘after this (meta tauta) you and I ought to behave to each other’: ‘If you altogether despise philosophy, leave it alone. If, again, you have been taught by someone else or have yourself invented better doctrines than mine, hold them in honour. But if you are contented with my doctrines (ei ara ta par hêmȏn soi areskei), then you should hold me also in special honour … if you honour me, you will be thought to be honouring philosophy (philosophian doxeis timan); and the very fact that you have studied other systems as well (hoti dieskopeis kai allous) will gain you the credit, in the eyes of many, of being a philosopher yourself.’ (312b2-c4, tr. Bury).

In the Parmenides Plato leaves ‘unanswered’ the objections against the Forms raised by Parmenides, noting that those objections, and many others on top of those, pertain to the Forms of necessity’ (anankaion echein ta eidê, 135a1), so that ‘only a man of considerable natural gifts’ will be able to understand that there are the Forms (135a5-b2). As the introductory scene to the dialogue clearly indicates, Plato himself was acquainted with such objections since his early days; the message, which is thus incorporated in the Parmenides, is that no objections against the Forms can sway a man who can properly contemplate them. This message was relevant both concerning Dionysius and Plato’s disciples in the Academy. The Parmenides points to the Republic, where the road to the Forms is delineated; the philosophical problem concerning ‘the King of All’, which Dionysius wants Plato to clarify to him, and which Plato in the Second Letter explains ‘in riddles’, points to the Good, in which Plato’s theory of the Forms culminates in the Republic, yet the Republic was far from ideal as a point of reference as far as Dionysius was concerned, for it was inseparably linked to the main thought that brought Plato to Sicily in the first place, the thought that philosophers should obtain royal power or kings become philosophers, and thus with Dionysius’ fears concerning Dion’s and possibly even Plato’s political aspirations. (Dion was brother-in-law and son-in-law of Dionysius’ father, Dionysius I. When Dionysius died in 367, Dion believed that the young Dionysius might become the philosopher-king under the guidance of Plato.)

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Plutarch says in the Life of Dion: ‘Dion had hopes, as it seems likely, that by means of the visit of Plato he could mitigate the arrogance and excessive severity of the tyranny, and convert Dionysius into a fit and lawful ruler; but if Dionysius should oppose his efforts and refuse to be softened, he had determined to depose him and restore the civil power to the Syracusan people; not that he approved of a democracy, but he thought it altogether better than a tyranny in lack of a sound and healthy aristocracy. Such was the condition of affairs when Plato came to Sicily, and in the first instances he met with astonishing friendliness and honour. For a royal chariot, magnificently adorned, awaited him as he left his trireme, and the tyrant offered a sacrifice of thanksgiving for the great blessing that had been bestowed upon his government. Moreover, the modesty that characterized his banquets, the decorum of the courtiers, and the mildness of the tyrant himself in all his dealings with the public, inspired the citizens with marvellous hopes of his reformation. There was also something like a general rush for letters and philosophy, and the palace was filled with dust, as they say, owing to the multitude of geometricians there (the translator Bernadotte Perrin notes: ‘Geometrical figures were traced in loose sand strewn upon the floor.’). After a few days had passed, there was one of the customary sacrifices of the country in the palace grounds; and when the herald, as was the custom, prayed that the tyranny might abide unshaken for many generations, it is said that Dionysius, who was standing near, cried: “Stop cursing us!” This quite vexed Philistius and his party, who thought that time and familiarity would render Plato’s influence almost irresistible, if now, after a brief intimacy, he had so altered and transformed the sentiments of the youthful prince. They therefore no longer abused Dion one by one and secretly, but all together and openly, saying that he was manifestly enchanting and bewitching Dionysius with Plato’s doctrines, in order that the tyrant might of his own accord relinquish and give up the power, which Dion would then assume … As a consequence of all this, Dionysius became at first suspicious, and afterwards more openly angry and hostile …’ (Plutarch, Dion xii. 2 - xiv. 4, tr. Bernadotte Perrin) – As we can learn from Plutarch’s Life of Dion xxxvi, he drew on the best available historical sources: Ephorus of Cume (c. 405-330 B.C.) and Timaeus of Tauromenium (c.356-260 B.C.).

Plutarch’s account resonates with Plato’s account in the Seventh Letter: ‘On my arrival I found Dionysius’s kingdom all full of civil strife and of slanderous stories brought to the court concerning Dion. So I defended him, so far as I was able, though it was little I could do; but about three months later, charging Dion with plotting against the tyranny, Dionysius set him aboard a small vessel and drove him out with ignominy. After that all of us who were Dion’s friends were in alarm lest he should punish any of us on a charge of being accomplices in Dion’s plot; and regarding me a report actually went abroad in Syracuse that I had been put to death by Dionysius as being responsible for all the events of that time. But when Dionysius perceived us all in this state of mind, he was alarmed lest our fears should bring about some worse result; so he was for receiving us all back in a friendly manner; and, moreover, he kept consoling me and bidding me be of good courage and begging me by all means to remain (329b7-d5) … He became indeed more and more devoted as time advanced, according as he grew familiar with my disposition and character, but he was desirous that I should praise him more than Dion and regard him rather than Dion as my special friend, and this triumph he was marvellously akin to achieve (kai thaumastȏs ephilonikei pros to toiouton). But the best way to achieve this, if it was to be achieved – namely, by occupying himself in learning and in listening to discourses on philosophy and by associating with me – this he always shirked owing to his dread of the talk of slanderers, lest he might be hampered in some measure and Dion might accomplish his designs. I, however, put up with all this, holding fast the original purpose with which I had come, in the hope that he might possibly gain a desire for the philosophic life; but he, with his resistance, won the day (330a2-b7, tr. Bury).’

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I have pointed out that Plato wrote the Parmenides to help his disciples in disregarding and discarding any arguments against the Forms as irrelevant, and that it could do so only hand in hand with the Republic in which the Forms are demonstrated as the only objects that can be truly known – all other objects are subjects of mere opinion. In so far as it was designed to function as a substitute for Plato in his absence, the Parmenides was as relevant for Dionysius after Plato’s departure from Sicily in 366 and before his planned return, as it was to be relevant for Plato’s disciples in the Academy after Plato’s planned departure from Athens. But since the Parmenides could not fulfil this function on its own, and since the reference to the Republic was unhelpful, to say the least, Plato had to write a new text with Dionysius in mind, which would fulfil the same role concerning him that the Republic was to play concerning the Academy. Plato’s brothers Adeimantus and Glaucon figure prominently in the introductory scene in the Parmenides, pointing the reader to the Republic, in which they play a leading role side by side with Socrates. Glaucon links the Parmenides to the Symposium. I shall argue that in the light of the Second Letter, Plato wrote the Symposium after the Parmenides, so that these two dialogues should defend his philosophic position during his absence from Sicily. Glaucon was the obvious choice for the task of linking these two dialogues and supplanting the Republic as far as Dionysius was concerned. In the Republic Socrates characterizes Glaucon as a man devoted to Eros (anêr erȏtikos, 474d4) just after telling him that ‘until philosophers are kings in their cities, or the kings and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness (dunamis politikê) and wisdom (philosophia) meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have rest of their evils’ (Rep. 473c11-d5, tr. B. Jowett); in the Symposium Glaucon is eager to hear all the speeches devoted to Eros (peri tȏn erȏtikȏn logȏn, 172b2), which were spoken at Agathon’s banquet. As Plutarch pointed out, after Plato’s arrival to Sicily Dionysius did not abandon his predilection for banquets, but these were now characterized by modesty (aidȏs sumposiȏn, xiii, 3); the Symposium was an obvious theme for a text that in Plato’s absence Dionysius was to compare with anything that the sophists at his court could present him with.

Envisaging his return to Sicily, Plato had to compose a writing that would successfully compete not only with any writings of the sophists, but with anything they could offer Dionysius in their lectures and discussions on philosophy. In the Symposium Plato does his best to fulfil this task: ‘the Symposium is perhaps the most brilliant of all Plato’s achievements as a dramatic artist’. (A. E. Taylor, Plato, 1926, p. 209) But Plato had to make it clear to Dionysius that if he really wanted to devote himself to philosophy, no writing of his, however brilliant it might be, could be a substitute for his presence and the power of his spoken word. This is why he says in the Second Letter, referring to ‘the King of All’, i.e. the Good that reigns as King in the intellectual sphere in the Republic (basileuein tou noêtou genous te kai topou, Rep. 509d2): ‘I myself have never yet written anything on these subjects, and no treatise of Plato exists or will exist, but those which now bear his name belong to a Socrates become fair and young ‘(314c2-4, tr. Bury). This pronouncement performs both these tasks; it ostensibly refers to all Plato’s writings, but in particular to the Parmenides, in which Plato presents us with a young Socrates, and even more so to the Symposium, in which Apollodorus ‘met Socrates fresh from the bath and sandalled’. And as the sight of Socrates wearing sandals was unusual, Apollodorus ‘asked him whither he was going that he had been converted into such a beau: - “To a banquet at Agathon’s”, he replied … “I have put on my finery, because he is such a fine man” (hina kalos para kalon iȏ).’ (174a3-9, tr. Jowett). Socrates in the Symposium made himself unusually beautiful, and in his contribution to the banquet he takes us to his youth; Socrates presented in the speech was presumably even younger than he is in the Parmenides.

In the Second Letter Plato sets aside the view of the Republic that the philosophers can accomplish the greatest things (ta megista) as philosophers only when they acquire royal power (Rep. 497a); it is only an advisory role to Dionysius, as a teacher and companion, that he now appears to aspire to: ‘It is natural for wisdom and great power to come together, and they are for ever pursuing and seeking each other and consorting together’ (310e5-6, tr. Bury).

Referring to his doctrine concerning the Good, the King of All, Plato tells Dionysius: ‘There are hardly any doctrines, I believe, which sound more absurd than these to the vulgar, or, on the other hand, more admirable and inspired (thaumastotera kai enthousiastikȏtera) to men of fine disposition (pros tous euphueis)’ (314a2-5, tr. Bury). The Symposium presents the ascent to the Form of Beauty as the most admirable and inspired journey, which only a man of fine disposition can aspire to.

Plato in the Second Letter appealed to Dionysius’ philotimia, his love of glory: ‘Now as for you and me, the relation in which we stand to each other is really this. There is not a single Greek, one may say, to whom we are unknown, and our intercourse is a matter of common talk; and you may be sure of this, that it will be common talk also in days to come, because so many have heard tell of it owing to its duration and its publicity (310d6-e4) … Now my object in saying all this is to make it clear, that when we ourselves die men’s talk about us will not likewise be silenced; so that we must be careful about it. We must necessarily, it seems, have a care also for the future, seeing that, by some law of nature, the most slavish men pay no regard to it, whereas the most upright do all they can to ensure that they shall be well spoken in the future’ (311c1-7, tr. Bury).

In the Seventh Letter Plato characterizes Dionysius as follows: ‘Now besides being naturally gifted otherwise (ho de oute allȏs estin aphuês) with a capacity for learning (pros tên tou manthanein dunamin) Dionysius has an extraordinary love of glory (philotimos te thaumastȏs)’ (338d6-7, tr. Bury).’ In the Symposium Plato points to the love of glory as a step in the ascent to the Form of Beauty. Diotima tells Socrates: ‘I am persuaded that all men do all things, and the better they are the more they do them (hosȏi an ameinous ȏsi, tosoutȏi mallon) in the hope of the glorious fame of immortal virtue (huper arêtes athanatou kai toiautês doxês eukleous); for they desire the immortal’ (208d7-e1, tr. Jowett).

Bury translates the lines 338d6-7 in the Seventh Letter as if Plato put his finger on three distinct character traits of Dionysius: ‘being naturally gifted otherwise’, ‘with a capacity for learning’, and ‘having an extraordinary love of glory’. But Plato speaks of only two character traits, for he links Dionysius’ extraordinary love of glory with his capacity for learning; it was his capacity for learning of which he was extraordinarily proud and which attracted him to Plato even after the expulsion of Dion. It is to this trait that Plato appeals in the Symposium, where Diotima extols wisdom (phronêsin), and in particular ‘the greatest and fairest sort of wisdom by far, which is concerned with the ordering of states and families, and which is called temperance and justice’ (209a5-8, tr. Jowett).

In the Symposium Plato chose a priestess Diotima as the accomplished guide to the Form of Beauty; she can extol the virtue of a statesman without arousing any suspicion that she herself aspired to political supremacy by bringing philosophy and true politics into personal unity. In the Epistle VIII – ‘written some months after the seventh letter, i.e. shortly before Callippus, the murderer of Dion, had been driven out in turn by Hipparinus, the son of Dionysius the Elder and the nephew of Dion’ – Plato advises the three antagonistic parties to unite and choose three kings, who were to be the chief priests. (See Bury’s ’Prefatory note’ to Epistle VIII)

In the Symposium Aristophanes in his speech refers to the dispersal of the Arcadians into villages by the Lacedaemonians, which took place in 385 B.C., fourteen years after the death of Socrates (193a); Diotima in her speech to the young Socrates refers to Aristophanes’ speech as ‘a myth’ (legetai de tis logos, 205d10); when Socrates ended Diotima’s narrative, Aristophanes ‘was beginning to say something in answer to the allusion which Socrates has made to his own speech’ (212c4-6). With Dionysius in mind, Plato thus emphasizes that Diotima’s speech was his speech, composed for Dionysius’ benefit.

By far the most important connection between the Second Letter and the Symposium is the dramatization in the latter of ‘the question, which is the cause of all the mischief’ (to erȏtêma ho pantȏn aition esti kakȏn, 313a4), formulated in the former. In the Second Letter Plato says: ‘The human soul strives to learn, looking to the things that are akin to itself, whereof none is fully perfect. But as to the King and the objects I have mentioned (hapanta ta kala, ‘all the beautiful things’ in 312e3), they are of quite different quality. In the next place the soul inquires – “Well then, what quality have they?” But the cause of all the mischief, O son of Dionysius and Doris, lies in this very question, or rather in the travail which this question creates in the soul; and unless a man delivers himself from this he will never really attain the truth.’ (312e4-313a6, tr. Bury)

Bury’s “Well then, what quality have they?” stands for Plato’s alla poion ti mên; when we consider this question and Agathon’s opening to his speech in the original, it becomes apparent that Agathon’s speech in the Symposium can be seen as a dramatization of this question in the Second Letter. In Jowett’s translation, Agathon opens his speech as follows: ‘The previous speakers, instead of praising the god of Love, and unfolding his nature, appear to have congratulated mankind on the benefits which he confers upon them. But I would rather praise the god first, and then speak of his gifts; this is always the right way of praising everything.’ (194e5-195a3) Jowett’s ‘But I would rather praise the god first, and then speak of his gifts; this is always the right way of praising everything’ stands for hopoios de tis autos ȏn (but of what quality is he) tauta edȏrêsato (who gave these gifts), oudeis eirêken (nobody has said). Heis de tropos orthos pantos epainou peri pantos (but there is one right way of praising everything), logȏi dielthein (to discourse in detail) hoios hoiȏn aitios ȏn tunchanei peri hou an ho logos êi (of what quality happens to be he of whom one speaks and of what quality are the things of which he is the cause, 194e7-195a3). To make the connection apparent, I used Bury’s ‘of what quality’ to render Agathon’s hopoios, hoios, and hoiȏn, which correspond to poion in the Second Letter.

Socrates in his speech praises Agathon’s approach, yet shows him that he went all wrong in his praise of Eros. One must first find out who (what) is the object of the praise, and only then ask of what quality he (it) is: dei dê (one must), hȏsper su diêgêsȏ (as you have set out), dielthein auton prȏton (to explain him first), tis estin ho Erȏs (who is Eros) kai poios tis (and of what quality he is), epeita ta erga autou (and then his deeds, 201d8-e2). The question ‘who’ (tis) or ‘what’ (ti) must precede the question ‘of what quality’.

Let me yet observe that Plato playfully presents the Symposium in its closing scene both as a corrective of the Republic and as its affirmation. In the Republic Socrates tells Adeimantus: ‘Even when two species of imitation are nearly allied, the same persons cannot succeed in both, as for example, the writers of tragedy and comedy – did you not just now call them imitations?’ Adeimantus replies: ‘Yes, I did; and you are right in thinking tht the same persons cannot succeed in both.’ (395a3-7, tr. Jowett)

In the closing scene of the Symposium Socrates compelled Agathon and Aristophanes ‘to acknowledge that the genius of comedy was the same with that of tragedy, and that the true artist in tragedy was an artist in comedy also. To this they were constrained to assent, being drowsy, and not quite following the argument. And first of all Aristophanes dropped off, then, when the day was already dawning, Agathon. Socrates, having laid them to sleep, rose to depart. At the Lyceum he took a bath, and passed the day as usual. In the evening he retired to rest at his own home.’ (223d3-12, tr. Jowett) Here Plato dramatizes the tripartite soul of the Republic (435a-441c): comedy appeals to desires, epithumiai, the lowest part of the soul – Aristophanes, a writer of comedies, is the first to fall asleep; tragedy appeals to passions, thumos, which is the intermediary part of the soul – Agathon, a writer of tragedies, is the next to fall asleep; intellect, nous, is the highest part of the soul – Socrates, a philosopher, is the only one who remains waking, leaves the party, and spends his day in Lyceum discussing philosophy as usual.

Plato's Second Letter and the Parmenides

I ended 'Plato's dialogues (Republic, Theaetetus, Parmenides, Symposium) and his Seventh and Second Letters’ with a hypothesis that the Parmenides was written not only to arm his disciples in the Academy against the hostile questioning of the theory of Forms, but to prepare Dionysius for Plato’s promised return to Syracuse as well, and that Plato’s Letters might corroborate this hypothesis.

Plato’s Second Letter, written to Dionysius, opens as follows: ‘I hear from Archedemus [‘A disciple of Archytas of Tarentum, the Pythagorean scientist’, notes Bury] that you think that not only I myself should keep quiet but my friends also from doing or saying anything bad about you … I do not say this as though what Cratistolus and Polyxenus have told you is to be trusted; for it is said that one of these men declares that at Olympia he heard quite a number of my companions maligning you..’ (310a4-d2, tr. Bury) The Olympic Festival referred to took place in 364; the Second Letter was written two years after Plato’s return to Athens.

Dionysius appears to have been puzzled (aporoumenos) about ‘the nature of the First’ (peri tês tou prȏtou phuseȏs), complaining that it had not been demonstrated clearly enough to him. Plato explains ‘in a riddling way’ (di’ ainigmȏn, 312d7-8): ‘All things are related to the King of All, for whose sake they all are, and which (ekeino) is the cause of all things fair’ (312e1-3). The King of All can be identified with the Good of the Republic, which bestows on all things their being (to einai) and existence (kai tên ousian), and yet it is not existence (ouk ousias ontos tou agathou), but lies far beyond it in dignity and power (all’ eti epekeina tês ousias presbeiai kai dunamei huperechontos, 509b7-10); the Good is neuter, and in the Second Letter Plato slips from the King of All in line 312e1-2, who is masculine, to neuter ekeino in line 312e2 and to in line 313c1.

Plato reminds Dionysius of the discussion they had ‘in the garden, under the laurels’ (313a7), when he revealed to him the truth concerning ‘the First’. Dionysius declared that he had formed this notion himself and that it was a discovery of his own (313a6-b1). Plato recollects: ‘I said, however, that I had never met with any other person (ou mên allȏi ge pot’ ephên entetuchêkenai) who had made this discovery (touth’ hêurêkoti); on the contrary most of the trouble I had (all’ hê pollê moi pragmateia) was about this very problem (peri tout’ eiê).’ So then, after you had either, as is probable, got the true solution from someone else, or had possibly (by Heaven’s favour) hit on it yourself, you fancied you had a firm grip on the proofs of it, and so you omitted to make them fast; thus your view of the truth sways now this way, now that, round about the apparent object; whereas the true object is totally different.’ (313b3-c1, tr. Bury)

This resonates with the Parmenides where Socrates confronted Zeno and Parmenides with a theory of Forms and the latter asked: ‘Now tell me, have you yourself thus distinguished (autos su houtȏ diêirêsai), as you say (hȏs legeis), certain Forms separately by themselves (chȏris men eidê auta atta), and separately again the things that have a share in them (chȏris de ta toutȏn au metechonta, 130b1-3)?’ Without waiting for Socrates’ answer, he went on asking: ‘And likeness itself, does it seem to you to be something separate from the likeness which we have, and ‘one’ of course (kai hen dê) and ‘many’ (kai polla) and all those things (kai panta) that you just heard from Zeno?’ Socrates answered: ‘It seems so to me (Emoige).’ (130b3-5) The question, whether Socrates himself conceived the theory, is broached but left unanswered, as is the question whether Dionysius had heard the doctrine concerning the First principle from someone else (su de isȏs men akousas tou), or hit on it himself (kata tout’ hormêsas, Epist.II, 313b4-6). ‘But your view of what you imagined to be true jumps now this way, now that’ (all’ aittei soi tote men houtȏs, tote de allȏs peri to phantazomenon, 313b7-c1) says Plato to Dionysius in the Second Letter; Parmenides makes Socrates’ view of the Forms ‘jump now this way, now that’ in course of his questioning in the Parmenides.

In the Second Letter Plato rounds off the censure of Dionysius by indicating what it takes to reach the truth: ‘Nor are you alone in this experience; on the contrary, there has never yet been anyone, I assure you, who has not suffered the same confusion at the beginning, when he first learnt this doctrine from me (mou to prȏton akousanta); and they all overcome it with difficulty, one man having more trouble (echȏn pragmata) and another less, but scarcely a single one of them escapes with but a little.’ (313c1-5, tr. Bury) In the dialogue Parmenides rounds off his questioning of Socrates by pointing out that one could not show (endeixasthai) to an objector against the Forms ‘that he is saying a falsity (hoti pseudetai), unless he happened to be a man of great experience and natural ability, willing to follow a man who would show him the Forms in the course of a copious and lengthy undertaking’ (panu polla kai porrȏthen pragmateuomenou, 133b6-c1). These words echo the words that Plato said to Dionysius in the garden under the laurels: ‘most of the trouble I had (all’ hê pollê moi pragmateia) was about this very problem’ (313b4). English translations of these two passages obfuscate their affinity.

In the Parmenides Plato leaves ‘unanswered’ the objections against the Forms raised by Parmenides, who notes that those objections, and many others on top of those, pertain to the Forms of necessity (anankaion echein ta eidê, 135a1), so that ‘only a man of considerable natural gifts’ will be able to understand that there are the Forms (135a5-b2). As the introductory scene to the dialogue clearly indicates, Plato himself was acquainted with such objections since his early days; the message, which is thus incorporated in the Parmenides, is that no objections against the Forms can sway a man who can properly contemplate them. This message was relevant both concerning Dionysius and Plato’s disciples in the Academy.

Dionysius’ court appears to have been teeming with sophists bent on refuting Plato’s theory; as in the Academy, Plato did not bother with attempting to argue against their ‘refutations’ of the Forms. In the Second Letter Plato wrote to Dionysius: ‘You were surprised at my sending Polyxenus to you’ (peri de Polyxenou ethaumasas hoti pempsaimi soi, 314c7-d1) – Polyxenus appears to have invented the ‘Third Man’ argument against the Forms. Plato responds to Dionysius’ surprise: ‘Now as of old I repeat the same statement about Lycophron [‘A contemporary sophist’, notes Bury; Novotný notes ‘Sine dubio sophista qui nonnullis Aristotelis locis commemoratur’.] also and the others you have with you, that, as respects dialectic, you are far superior to them all both in natural intelligence and in argumentative ability’ (314d1-4, tr. Bury). His voicing Parmenides’ objections against the Forms in the Parmenides without ostensibly arguing against them goes hand in hand with his sending Polyxenus to Dionysius.

Plato's dialogues (Republic, Theaetetus, Parmenides, Symposium) and his Seventh and Second Letters

As I have argued, Plato wrote the Parmenides after returning from his journey to Sicily in 366 and before he went to Sicily in 361 to help his disciples in the Academy to protect the theory of Forms against arguments that had been or might be raised against it; the introduction to the dialogue points to the Republic, so that the Parmenides and the Republic were designated to work jointly as a protective shield against any hostile questioning of the theory, and as the road leading to the Forms. Then I noted that the introductory scene in the Symposium is dramatically linked to the introductory scenes in the Parmenides and in the Republic. In 'The Parmenides and the Symposium - their dating’ I suggested that Plato wrote the Symposium after the Parmenides to present the ascent to the Forms in a concise and appealing manner, so that these three dialogues could represent Plato in the Academy after his leaving it. The question is whether Plato’s Letters, which are related to this period, can shed any light on this trio of dialogues, especially the Seventh Letter, in which Plato explains why he undertook his journeys to Sicily, and the Second Letter, which he wrote to Dionysius after he returned from Sicily, in 364.

In the Seventh Letter Plato explains that from his youth he wanted to do politics in Athens, but that as he looked at all the States which then existed, he ‘was compelled to declare’: ‘The classes of mankind will have no cessation from evils until either the class of those who are right and true philosophers attains political supremacy, or else the class of those who hold power in the States becomes, by some dispensation of Heaven, really philosophic.’ (326a5-b4, tr. Bury). In the Republic, Socrates tells Glaucon: ‘Until philosophers are kings in their cities, or the kings and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness (dunamis politikê) and wisdom (philosophia) meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have rest of their evils.’ (Rep. 473c11-d5, tr. B. Jowett)

In the Parmenides we meet Glaucon and his brother Adeimantus in the opening sentence of the dialogue: ‘When we arrived at Athens from our home in Clazomenae, we met Adeimantus and Glaucon in the Agora’ (126a1-2, tr. Allen). In the Republic these two brothers compel Socrates to transcend his philosophic ignorance (Republic 357a-368c) and construct the state ruled by philosophers.

The thought that human society can be properly governed only if philosophers become kings or kings become philosophers profoundly influenced Plato’s subsequent life. In the Seventh Letter he says: ‘With this thought in mind I came to Italy and Sicily on my first visit’ (326b5-6), ‘being then about forty years old’ (324a6). This thought he implanted in the soul of Dion, brother-in-law and son-in-law of Dionysius I. When Dionysius died in 367, Dion believed that under the guidance of Plato the young Dionysius might become the philosopher-king of Plato’s ideal state; he urged Plato to come to Syracuse ‘by all means with all speed (327d8-e1) … And these were the terms in which his request was couched: “What opportunities are we to wait for that could be better than those that have now been presented by a stroke of divine good fortune?” And he dwelt in detail on the extent of the empire in Italy and Sicily and his own power therein, and the youth of Dionysius, mentioning also how great a desire he had for philosophy and education, and he spoke of his own nephews and connections, and how they would be not only easily converted themselves to the doctrines and the life I always taught, but also most useful in helping to influence Dionysius; so that now, if ever (he concluded), all our hopes will be fulfilled of seeing the same persons at once philosophers and rulers of mighty states (327e8-328b1) … what plausible answer should I have had to such pleadings? There is none. Well then, I came for good and just reasons so far as it is possible for men to do so; and it was because of such motives that I left my own occupations, which were anything but ignoble.’ (329a5-b2, tr. Bury)

Clearly, Plato had no time to prepare his disciples for the Academy after his departure, the Academy without him.

But the things did not go as Dion and Plato expected: ‘On my arrival I found Dionysius’ kingdom all full of civil strife and of slanderous stories brought to the court concerning Dion. So I defended him, so far as I was able, though it was little I could do; but about three months later, charging Dion with plotting against tyranny, Dionysius sent him aboard a small vessel and drove him out with ignominy. After that all of us who were Dion’s friends were in alarm lest he should punish any of us on a charge of being accomplices in Dion’s plot; and regarding me a report actually went abroad in Syracuse that I had been put to death by Dionysius as being responsible for all the events of that time. But when Dionysius perceived us all in this state of mind, he was alarmed lest our fears should bring about some worse result; so he was for receiving us all back in a friendly manner; and, moreover, he kept consoling me and bidding me be of good courage and begging me by all means to remain.’ (329b7-d5, tr. Bury)

Plato stayed with Dionysius for a year and left Sicily in 366, agreeing to return: ‘At that time there was a state of war in Sicily. Dionysius said that, when he had put the affairs of his empire in a position of greater safety for himself, he would send for Dion and me again … I agreed to come again on these conditions.’ (Seventh Letter, 338a4-b2, tr. J. Harward). He had thus five years to prepare his disciples for his ultimate departure, for life in the Academy without him; he returned to Sicily in 361.

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In the Second Letter, in which Plato responds to a letter he received from Dionysius, he reflects on his first attempt to transform him into a philosopher: ‘You say you have not had a sufficient demonstration of the doctrine concerning the nature of “the First” (peri tês tou prȏtou phuseȏs) … The matter stands thus: Related to the King of All (peri ton pantȏn basilea) are all things (pant’ esti), and for his sake they are (kai ekeinou heneka panta), and of all things fair he is the cause (kai ekeino aition hapantȏn tȏn kalȏn) … About these (peri auta), then, the human soul (hê oun anthrȏpinê psuchê) strives to learn (oregetai mathein poi’ atta esti ), looking to the things that are akin to itself (blepousa eis ta hautês sungenê), whereof none is fully perfect (hȏn ouden hikanȏs echei). But as to the King and the objects I have mentioned, they are of quite different quality. In the first place the soul inquires (to dê meta touto hê psuchê phêsi)– “Well then, what quality have they (alla poion ti mên)?” But the cause of all the mischief lies in this very question (tout’ esti to erȏtêma ho pantȏn aition esti kakȏn), or rather in the travail this question creates in the soul (mallon de hê peri toutou ȏdis en têi psuchêi engignomenê); and unless a man delivers himself from this (hên ei mê tis exairethêsetai) he will never really attain the truth (tês alêtheias ontȏs ou mê pote tuchêi). You, however, declared to me in the garden, under the laurels, that you had formed this notion yourself and that it was a discovery of your own; and I made answer that if it was plain to you that this was so, you would have saved me from a long discourse (pollȏn an logȏn eiês eme apolelukȏs). (312d5-313b2, tr. Bury).

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Bury remarks on the words ’if it was plain to you that this was so, you would have saved me from a long discourse’: “This phrase echoes Theaet. 188c.” The reference is wrong; František Novotný in his Latin commentary correctly refers to Theaet. 185e, where Socrates says to Theaetetus: ‘you’ve done me a favour: you’ve let me off a very long argument’ (eu epoiêsas me mala suchnou logou apallaxas, 185e5-6, tr. McDowell). It appears that Bury was led astray by the Theaetetus version, where the logos is in the singular, for in the Second Letter pollȏn an logȏn is in the plural. We realize the significance of the plural, if we remember that ‘the King of All’ of the Second Letter, to whom all things are related, for whose sake they all are, and who is the cause of all fair things, can be identified with the Good of the Republic, where Plato says: ‘The Good not only infuses the power of being known into all things known, but also bestows upon them their being and existence, and yet the good is not existence, but lies far beyond it in dignity and power (159b6-10, tr. B. Jowett).’ In the ascent to the Idea of the Good in the Republic Plato’s philosophy culminates. Had Dionysius reached the Good on his own, had he really seen it, he would have saved Plato from all discourses leading towards it; they could simply contemplate it together. But the very fact that Dionysius was puzzled about it (aporoumenos) and asked Archedemus to tell Plato that he did not sufficiently demonstrate it to him (ouch hikanȏs apodedeichthai soi, 312d5-6) clearly shows that Dionysius was far from getting it. And so Plato writes to him:

‘You fancied you had a firm grip on the proofs of it, and so you omitted to make them fast; thus your view of the truth sways now this way, now that, round about the apparent object; whereas the true object is wholly different. Nor are you alone in this experience; on the contrary, there has never yet been anyone, I assure you, who has not suffered the same confusion at the beginning, when he first learnt this doctrine from me; and they all overcome it with difficulty, one man having more trouble and another less, but scarcely a single one of them escapes with but a little.’ (313b6-c5, tr. Bury)

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While Plato’s image of the ‘King of All’ in the Second Letter points to the Republic, the subsequent lines recall the Theaetetus, beginning with the line ‘the travail this question creates in the soul (mallon de hê peri toutou ȏdis en têi psuchêi engignomenê); and unless a man delivers himself from this (hên ei mê tis exairethêsetai) he will never really attain the truth (tês alêtheias ontȏs uou mê pote tuchêi)’ (313a4-6), which recalls Theaet. 151a-c, where Socrates says to Theaetetus: ‘There’s another experience which the people who associate with me have in common with women in childbirth: they feel pain (ȏdinousi gar), and they’re full of difficulties (kai aporias empimplantai) … I suspect you’re suffering pain – as indeed you think yourself – because you’re pregnant with something inside you. So put yourself in my hands … and do your best to answer whatever I ask you as well as you can. And if, when I inspect the things you say, I take one of them to be an imitation, not something true (hêgêsomai eidȏlon kai mê alêthes), and so ease it out (eita hupexairȏmai) and throw it away, you mustn’t be angry with me.’

It appears that Plato presupposes that Dionysius knows the Theaetetus, for if he does, Plato’s related words in the Second Letter obtain much greater pregnancy. Plato’s following words in the Second Letter indicate that Dionysius was well versed in Plato’s dialogues: ‘Seeing that you are testing my doctrines (epei gar basanizeis auta) both by attending the lectures of other teachers (sungignomenos te allois) and by examining my teaching side by side with theirs (kai paratheȏmenos para ta tȏn allȏn), as well as by itself (kai auta kath’ hauta), then, if the test you make is a true one (ei alêthês ho basanos), not only will these doctrines implant themselves now in your mind (nun soi tauta te prosphusetai), but you also will be devoted both to them and to us (kai oikeios toutois te kai hêmin esêi).’ (313c7-d3, tr. Bury) Let me add here the testimony of Plato’s Thirteenth Letter, which Plato wrote shortly after return from Sicily in 366. Plato asks Dionysius to send three tunics as a gift for the daughters of Cebes: ‘You know well the name of Cebes (epieikȏs de gignȏskeis t’ounoma Kebêtos), for he is depicted in the Socratic discourses conversing with Socrates, in company of Simmias, in the discourse on the soul (en tȏi peri psuchês logȏi, i.e. in the Phaedo) (363a3-7).

This means that the Parmenides and the Symposium, which I have dated as written after Plato’s return from Sicily in 366 and before his leaving Athens for Sicily in 360, were written not only to protect his disciples against the hostile questioning of the theory of Forms after his leaving the Academy, but to prepare Dionysius for Plato’s promised return to Syracuse as well. If so, these two dialogues were written with special urgency, for they were of vital importance to Plato himself; I believe that Plato’s Letters can corroborate this hypothesis.

The Good in the Republic, the King of All in the Second Letter, and Aristotle's criticism of Plato

Plato’s 2^nd Letter, written after his 2nd journey to Sicily, is addressed to Dionysius II, the tyrant of Syracuse. With reference to discussions on philosophy that Plato and Dionysius had held during Plato’s previous visit Plato writes: ‘You say that you have not had a sufficient demonstration of the doctrine concerning the nature of “the First” (peri tês tou prȏtou phuseȏs)… The matter stands thus: Related to the King of All (peri ton pantȏn basilea) are all things (pant’ esti), and for his sake they are (kai ekeinou heneka panta), and of all things fair he is the cause (kai ekeino aition hapantȏn tȏn kalȏn).’ (312 D-E, tr. R. G. Bury). Bury says in his ‘Prefatory Note’ to the Letter: ‘What is here said of “the King of All” is closely parallel to the description of the Idea of Good in Republic 509 B, D, 517 C;  so it is natural to equate the First Principle and the first grade of Being with the Idea of Good.’ (Plato IX, LCL 234, pp. 400-401). Plato’s 2^nd Letter makes this identification a virtual certainty, for he slips from talking about the king, who is masculine (peri ton pantȏn basilea), to thinking of the Good, which is neuter (kai ekeino aition hapantȏn tȏn kalȏn). In Republic 509 B Plato says: ‘The good not only infuses the power of being known into all things known (Kai tois gignȏskomenois toinun mê monon to gignȏskesthai phanai hupo tou agathou pareinai), but also bestows upon them their being and existence (alla kai to einai te kai tên ousian hup’ ekeinou autois proseinai), and yet the good is not existence (ouk ousias ontos tou agathou), but lies far beyond it in dignity and power (all’ eti epekeina tês ousias presbeiai kai dunamei huperechontos, tr. B. Jowett).’

There is a profound difference between the passage concerning the Good in the 2^nd Letter and the related passages in the Republic. The thought ‘all things are for the sake of the Good’ (kai ekeinou heneka panta) is missing in the Republic. Aristotle says in Metaphysics A. at 988 a 9-11 that Plato ‘has used only two causes, that of the essence and the material cause (for the Forms are the causes of the essence of all other things, and the One is the cause of the essence of the Forms)’ (tr. W. D. Ross). Ross remarks that Aristotle ignores ‘various suggestions of a final cause – the ultimate good or hou charin of Philebus 20 D, 53 E, the object of the creator’s purpose in Timaeus 29 D ff., and in Laws 903 C.’ (Aristotle’s Metaphysics, ‘A revised text with Introduction and Commentary by W. D. Ross’, Oxford University Press 1924, pp. 176-7).

In my entry of October 16, 2014 entitled ‘A note on the 3^rd book of Aristotle’s Metaphysics’ I argued that Aristotle wrote the 1^st book of the Metaphysics after Plato left Athens for Sicily and before he returned. On this dating of Metaphysics A Ross’ criticism of Aristotle appears to be unjustified, for the Philebus, Timaeus, and Laws are late dialogues, which can be safely dated after Plato returned from his 3^rd journey to Sicily. Plato’s attempts to do justice to the final cause in these three dialogues can be viewed as his response to Aristotle’s Metaphysics A, and Plato’s 2^nd Letter represents a powerful corroboration of Siebeck’s theory that Plato in the Parmenides responded to Aristotle’s oral criticism of Plato’s theory of Forms in the Academy.

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In Metaphysics A Aristotle proposes four original causes of things: 1) the substance or the essence (tên ousian kai to ti ên einai), i.e. the formal cause, 2) the matter or substratum (tên hulên kai to hupokeimenon), i.e. the material cause, 3) the source of the movement (hothen hê archê tês kinêseȏs), i.e. the efficient or moving cause, 4) the purpose and the good (to hou heneka kai t’agathon), that is the final cause, which is opposed (antikeimenên) to the third cause, for it is the end (telos gar) of all generation and movement (geneseȏs kai kinêseȏs pasês) (983a24-32). Aristotle says that ‘it is clear (phaneron) that Plato has used only two causes (duoin aitiain monon kechrêtai), that of the essence (têi te tou ti esti) and the material cause (kai têi kata tên hulên), for the Forms (ta gar eidê) are the causes of the essence (tou ti estin aitia) of all other things (tois allois), and the One is the cause of the essence of the Forms (tois d’ eidesi to hen). (988a7-11, tr. Ross)

W. D. Ross notes: ‘Aristotle ignores various suggestions of an efficient cause in Plato – the self-moving soul of Phaedrus 245C, D, Laws 891-899, the demiurge of Sophist 265 B-D and of Timaeus 28C ff., the aitia tês mixeȏs (‘cause of the mixture’) of Philebus 23d, 26 E- 27 B, and various suggestions of a final cause – the ultimate good or hou charin (‘for the sake of what’) Philebus 20 D, 53 E, the object of the creator’s purpose in Timaeus 29 D ff., and in Laws 903 C. He doubtless thinks Plato’s treatment of these causes inadequate, but that does not justify him in speaking as if Plato had ignored them completely.’ (Ross’ Commentary on Aristotle’s Metaphysics, op. cit. p. 176-7)

Since Ross believes that Plato wrote all books of the Metaphysics after the death of Plato, he cannot but accuse Aristotle of misrepresenting Plato. On the dating that I have proposed – Aristotle wrote Metaphysics A after Plato went to Sicily in 361 BC and before he returned to Athens in 360 BC – the matter appears to be very different. According to the currently accepted dating of Plato’s dialogues, those mentioned by Ross followed his Sicilian adventure, so that Plato’s attempts to do justice to the efficient and the final cause may be viewed as his response to Aristotle’s criticism.

Does this mean that I should recant my dating of the Phaedrus as Plato’s first dialogue? (For my dating of the Phaedrus see The Lost Plato on my website www.juliustomin.org, especially Ch. 2 ‘A critical review of doctrinal arguments for and against the late dating of the Phaedrus’, Ch. 3 ‘Stylometric arguments for and against the late dating of the Phaedrus’, and Ch. 4 ‘The dating of the Phaedrus: Ancient Sources’.) No, it does not, for in Metaphysics Λ Aristotle writes that ‘Plato can’t say (oude Platȏni hoion te legein) that “that which moves itself” (to auto heauto kinoun) is the primary cause (archên einai), which he sometimes views as such (hên oietai eniote), for the soul is later and coeval with heavens (husteron gar kai hama ouranȏi hê psuchê), according to his account (hȏs phêsin)’ (1071b37-1072a3). The expression to auto heauto kinoun is used by Plato in the Phaedrus, where it figures as the definition of the soul (245e7-246a1) and the first principle of motion (kinêseȏs archê to auto hauto kinoun, 245d7). Aristotle’s quoting it clearly indicates that he had the Phaedrus in front of his mind when he wrote the given passage. There is a major difference between the Phaedrus and the Laws. In the Phaedrus Plato defines the soul, ‘that which moves itself’ as a first principle, which cannot come into being (archê de agenêton), for anything that comes to be must come to be from the first principle (ex archês gar anangkê pan to gignomenon gignesthai), whereas the first principle cannot come to be from anything whatsoever (autên de mêd’ ex henos, 245d1). In the Laws Plato emphatically insists that the soul, that is ‘motion that moves itself’, is a created cause, genomenên 895b4, 896b3, c1; the creation of the soul is described in Timaeus 41d. The Phaedran view that the soul is an uncreated first principle of motion must have been discarded by Plato himself as a youthful aberration.