Concerning
his first journey to Sicily (hote prȏton aphikomên), Plato says in the Seventh Letter: ‘When I came I was in no wise pleased at all
with “the blissful life,” as it is there termed (ho tautêi legomenos au bios
eudaimȏn), replete as
it is with Italian and Syracusan banquetings’ (326b6-8, tr. Bury). Bury
remarks: ‘Cf. Rep. 404 D.’
In the Republic, at 404 b Socrates begins to
discuss with Glaucon a diet appropriate for the soldiers-guardians of the city;
at 404 c he says that Homer never mentions seasonings (hêdusmata, i.e. additives that are designed to
make food more pleasurable; hêdu: ‘pleasant
to the taste’): ‘All professional athletes are well aware that a man who is to
be in good condition should take nothing of the kind.’ – Glaucon: ‘Yes, and
knowing this, they are quite right in not taking them.’ – Socrates: ‘Then you
would not approve of Syracusan dinners, and the refinements of Sicilian
cookery?’ Glaucon: ‘I think not.’ (404c7-d4, tr. Jowett)
From this
brief reflection on Syracusan dinners and Sicilian cookery one could hardly
contemplate the influence that Plato’s first Sicilian journey had on his
conception of the Republic, on the
austere life-style of the guardians of the city in particular. Concerning this,
the Seventh Letter gives us a valuable
insight into the Republic; in the
letter Plato goes on to say: ‘for thus one’s existence is spent in gorging food
twice a day (dis de tês hêmeras empimplamenon zên) and never
sleeping alone at night (kai mêdepote koimȏmenon monon nuktȏr), and all
the practices which accompany this mode of living (kai hosa toutȏi epitêdeumata sunepetai tȏi biȏi). For not a
single man of all who live beneath the heavens could ever become wise if these
were his practices from his youth (ek gar
toutȏn tȏn ethȏn out’ an phronimos oudeis pote genesthai tȏn hupo ton ouranon anthrȏpȏn ek neou epitêdeuȏn dunaito),
since none will be found to possess a nature so admirably compounded (ouch houtȏs thaumastêi phusei krathêsetai); nor would he ever be likely to
become temperate (sȏphrȏn de oud’ an mellêsai pote genesthai); and the same may truly be said of all other forms of virtue (kai peri tês allês arêtes ho autos logos an eiê). And no state would remain stable under laws of any
kind (polis de oudemia an êremêsai kata nomous
houstinasoun), if
its citizens (andrȏn), while
supposing that they ought to spend everywhere to excess (oiomenȏn analiskein men dein
panta eis huperbolas),
yet believed that they ought to cease from all exertion (argȏn de eis hapanta hêgoumenȏn au dein gignesthai) except feastings and drinkings and
the vigorous pursuit of their amours (plên es euȏchias kai potous kai
aphrodisiȏn spoudas diaponoumenas). Of necessity these States never
cease changing into tyrannies, oligarchies, and democracies (anankaion de einai tautas tas poleis
turannidas te kai oligarchias kai dêmokratias metaballousas
mêdepote lêgein), and the men who hold power in them
cannot endure so much as the name of a just government with equal laws (dikaiou de kai isonomou politeias tous en
autais dunasteuontas mêd’ onoma akouontas
anechesthai).’
(326b8-d6, tr. Bury)
When Plato
speaks here of ‘these States’ in which ‘the men who hold power in them cannot
endure so much as the name of a just government with equal laws’, we may
presume he refers to Dionysius I in the first place, for he goes on to say concerning
Dion, who wholeheartedly embraced his teachings, that ‘his way of life was in
ill-odour with those who were conforming to the customary practices of the
tyranny, until the death of Dionysius occurred [in 367 B.C.].’ (327b4-6, tr.
Bury) Concerning Plato’s view of Dionysius I, we must supplement his Seventh Letter, viewed as his
autobiography, by turning to the Republic.
In Republic IX Socrates opens his
description of the tyrant as follows: ‘I should have a judge (axiȏn krinein peri autȏn ekeinon) whose
mind can enter into and see through human nature (hos dunatai têi dianoiai eis andros ethos endus diidein)
… May I suppose that the judgment is given in the hearing of us all by one who
is able to judge (ei oun oioimên dein ekeinou pantas hêmas akouein, tou
dunatou men krinai),
and has dwelt in the same place with him (sunȏikêkotos de en tȏi autȏi), and been present (kai paragegonotos) at his domestic life (en te tais kat’ oikian praxesin) and
known him in his family relations (hȏs pros hekastous tous oikeious echei), where
he may best be seen stripped of his tragedy attire (en hois malista gumnos an ophtheiê tês tragikês skeuês), and again in the hour of public
danger (kai en au tois dêmosiois kindunois)– he shall tell us about the
happiness and misery of the tyrant when compared with other men (kai tauta panta idonta keleuoimen
exangellein pȏs echei eudaimonias kai
athliotêtos ho turannos pros tous allous)?’ (577a1-b4, tr. Jowett)
Adam
remarks: ‘We are all to be silent and listen to Plato himself … he had lived
under the same roof with Dionysius I of Syracuse.’
Socrates
resumes his tale, asking Glaucon: ‘Do you permit me, then (Boulei oun), to assume (prospoiêsȏmetha) that we
ourselves are able and experienced judges (hêmeis einai tȏn dunatȏn krinai) who
have before now met with such persons (kai
êdê entuxhontȏn toioutois)? We shall then have some one who
will answer our inquiries (hina echȏmen hostis apokeineitai ha erȏtȏmen).’ –
Glaucon: ‘By all means.’ (577b6-9, tr. Jowett)
Adam notes:
‘Plato cannot appear in propria persona,
so that it is necessary for Socrates and Glaucon to pretend that they also
belong to the number of those “who would be able to judge” and have met with turannoi and turannikoi.’ [I am quoting Adam from my notes on the margins of my
Oxford edition of Plato, notes made some thirty years ago when I was reading
the Republic with Adam’s Commentary in the Bodleian Library.]
Socrates
ends his detailed analysis of the tyrant’s soul by asking Glaucon: ’Come then (Ithi dê moi), and as a final judge in a
competition proclaims the result (nun êdê hȏsper ho dia pantȏn kritês apophainetai – Adam notes: ‘The comparison is borrowed from
the Athenian method of judging in musical and dramatical competitions.’), do
you also decide who in your opinion is first in the scale of happiness, and who
second, and in what order the others follow: there are five of them in all - they are the royal, timocratical,
oligarchical, democratical, tyrannical.’ – Glaucon: ‘The decision will be
easily given; the order of the entrance of these choruses upon the stage is
also their order of merit in respect of virtue and vice, happiness and misery.’
– Socrates: ‘Need we hire a herald (Misthȏsȏmetha
oun kêruka), or shall I announce (ê
autos aneipȏ), that the son of Ariston (hoti
ho Aristȏnos huos) has decided that the best and justest is also the
happiest ton (ariston te kai dikaiotaton
eudaimonestaton ekrine), and that this is he who is the most royal man (touton einai ton basilikȏtaton) and king
over himself (kai basileuonta hautou);
and that the worst and most unjust man is also the most miserable (ton de kakiston te kai adikȏtaton
athliȏtaton), and that this is he (touton
de au tunchanein onta) who being the greatest tyrant of himself (hos an turannikȏtatos ȏn hautou te hoti
malista) is also the greatest tyrant of the State (turannêi te kai tês poleȏs)? – The son of Ariston: ‘You may make
that proclamation’ (Aneirêsthȏ soi). (580a9-c5,
tr. Jowett)
Plato was, as well as Glaucon, ‘the
son of Ariston’. Note that ariston is
the superlative of agathon ‘good’,
i.e. ‘the best’.
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