Dating of Plato’s birth

Diogenes Laertius in his Lives of eminent philosophers gives two dates of Plato’s birth. At III 2 he says: ‘Apollodorus in his Chronology fixes the date of Plato’s birth in the 88^th Olympiad (Kai ginetai Platȏn, hȏs phȇsin Apollodȏros en Chronikois, ogdoȇi kai ogdoȇkostȇi Olumpiadi) [that is in the year 427 B.C.], on the seventh day of the month Thargelion (Thargȇliȏnos hebdomȇi), the same day which the Delians say that Apollo himself was born (kath’ hȇn Dȇlioi ton Apollȏna genestha phasi).’

At III 3 he says that Plato was born in the archonship of Ameinias, in the year of Pericles’ death, i.e in 429 B.C.

J.K. Davies in Athenian Propertied Families warns about mythologizing influences on calculations of Plato’s life: one was the desire that Plato be born in the year of Pericles’ death, 430/29. Another was to give Plato a precise Apolline date of birth, 7 Thargelion of the 88 Olympiad. (Cf. Debra Nails, The People of Plato, p. 243).

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I shall try to establish the date of Plato’s birth with the help of the opening passages of Plato’s Seventh Letter, in which he narrates the events that led to his leaving Athens and going ‘to Italy and Sicily’ (eis Italian te kai Sikelian, 326b5) when he was about forty (shedon tettarakonta etȇ gegonȏs, 324a5-6). He commences his narrative with the words ‘In the days of my youth (Neos egȏ pote ȏn) my experience was the same as that of many others (pollois dȇ t’auton epathon). I thought (ȏiȇthȇn) that as soon as I should become my own master (ei thatton emautou genoimȇn kurios) I would immediately enter into public life (epi ta koina tȇs poleȏs euthus ienai). But it so happened, I found, that the following changes occurred in the political situation (kai moi tuchai tines tȏn tȇs poleȏs pragmatȏn toiaide parepeson).

In the government then existing, reviled as it was by many, a revolution took place (hupo pollȏn gar tȇs tote politeias loidoroumnȇs metabolȇ gignetai); and the revolution was headed by fifty-one leaders (kai tȇs metabolȇs heis kai pentȇkonta andres proustȇsan archontes), of whom eleven were in the City (hendeka men en astei) and ten in the Piraeus (deka d’ en Peiraiei) [one of the ten in Piraeus was Plato’s uncle Charmides] – each of these sections dealing with the market (peri te agoran hekateroi toutȏn) and with all principal matters requiring management (hosa t’ en tois astesi dioikein edei) – and Thirty were established as irresponsible leaders of all (triakonta de pantȏn archontes katestȇsan autokratores). Now of these some were actually connexions and acquaintances of mine (toutȏn de tines oikeioi te ontes kai gnȏrimoi etunchanon emoi); and indeed they invited me at once to join their administration, thinking it would be congenial (kai dȇ kai parekaloun euthus hȏs epi prosȇkonta pragmata me).

The feelings I then experienced, owing to my youth, were in no way surprising (kai egȏ thaumaston ouden epathon hupo neotȇtos): for I imagined (ȏiȇthȇn gar autous) that they would administer the State by leading it out of an unjust way of life into a just way (ek tinos adikou biou epi dikaion tropon agontas dioikȇsein dȇ tȇn polin), and consequently I gave my mind to them very diligently (hȏste autois sphodra proseichon ton noun), to see what they would do (ti praxoien). And indeed I saw how these men (kai horȏn dȇpou tous andras) within a short time (en chronȏi oligȏi) caused men to look back on the former government as a golden age (chruson apodeixantas tȇn emprosten politeian); and above all (ta te alla kai) how they treated my aged friend Socrates (philon andra emoi presbuteron Sȏkratȇ), whom I would hardly scruple (hon egȏ schedon ouk an aischunoimȇn) to call the most just of men then living (eipȏn dikaiotaton einai tȏn tote), when they tried to send him, along with others, after one of the citizens (epi tina tȏn politȏn meth’ heterȏn epempon), to fetch him by force (biai axonta) that he might be put to death (hȏs apothanoumenon) – their object being that Socrates, whether he wished or no, might be made to share in their political actions (hina dȇ metechoi tȏn pragmatȏn autois, eite bouloito eite mȇ); he however, refused to obey (ho d’ ouk epeitheto) and risked the utmost penalties (pan de parekinduneusen pathein) rather than being a partaker in their unholy deeds (prin anosiȏn autois ergȏn genesthai koinȏnos). So when I beheld all these things (ha dȇ panta kathorȏn) and others of a similar grave kind (kai tin’ alla toiauta ou smikra), I was indignant (eduscherana te), and I withdrew myself from (kai emauton epanȇgagon apo) the evils of those days (tȏn tote kakȏn).

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Bury translates apo tȏn tote kakȏn ‘from the evil practices then going on’. Bury is wrong. Plato’s kai emauton epanȇgagon apo tȏn tote kakȏn ‘and I withdrew myself from the evils of those days’ implies that Plato was involved ‘in the evils of those days’, not in ’the evil practices then going on’.

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But in no long time (chronȏi de ou pollȏi) the power of the Thirty was overthrown (metepese ta tȏn triakonta) together with the whole government which then existed (te kai pasa hȇ tote politeia). Then once again I was really, though less urgently, impelled with a desire to take part in public and political affairs (palin de braduteron men, heilken de me homȏs hȇ peri to prattein ta koina kai politika epithumia). Many deplorable events, however, were still happening in those times, troublous as they were (ȇn oun kai en ekeinois, hate tetaragmenois, polla gignomena ha tis an duscheraneie), and it was not surprising (kai ouden ti thaumaston ȇn) that in some instances, during these revolutions, men were avenging themselves on their foes too fiercely (timȏrias echthrȏn gignesthai tinȏn tisin meizous en metabolais); yet, notwithstanding, the exiles who then returned exercised no little moderation (kaitoi pollȇi ge echrȇsanto hoi tote katelthontes epieikeiai). But, as ill-luck would have it (kata de tina tuchȇn au), certain men of authority summoned our comrade Socrates before the law-courts (ton hetairon hȇmȏn Sȏkratȇ touton dunasteuontes tines eisagousin eis dikastȇrion), laying a charge against him which was most unholy (anosiȏtatȇn aitian epiballontes), and which Socrates of all men least deserved (kai pantȏn hȇkista Sȏkratei prosȇkousan); for it was on the charge of impiety that those men summoned him (hȏs asebȇ gar hoi men eisȇgagon) and the rest condemned (hoi de katepsȇphisanto) and slew him (kai apekteinan) – the very man who on the former occasion, when they themselves had the misfortune to be in exile, had refused to take part in the unholy arrest of one of the friends of the men then exiled (ton tote tȇs anosiou agȏgȇs ouk ethelȇsanta metaschein peri hena tȏn tote pheugontȏn philȏn, hote pheugontes edustuchoun autoi).

When, therefore, I considered all this (Skopounti dȇ moi tauta te), and the type of men (kai tous anthrȏpous) who were administering the affairs of State (tous prattontas ta politika), with their laws too (kai tous nomous ge) and their customs (kai ethȇ), the more I considered them (hosȏi mallon dieskopoun) and the more I advanced in years myself (hȇlikias te eis to prosthe proubainon), the more difficult appeared to me (tosoutȏi chalepȏteron ephaineto) the task of managing affairs of State rightly (orthȏs einai moi ta politika dioikein). For it was impossible to take action without friends and trusty companions (oute gar aneu philȏn andrȏn kai hetairȏn pistȏn hoion t’ einai prattein); and these it was not easy to find ready to hand (hous outh’ huparchontas ȇn heurein eupetes), since our State was no longer managed according to the principles and institutions of our forefathers (ou gar eti en tois tȏn paterȏn ȇthesin kai epitȇdeumasin hȇ polis hȇmȏn diȏikeito); while to acquire other new friends with any facility was a thing impossible (kainous te allous adunaton ȇn ktasthai meta tinos raistȏnȇs). Moreover, both the written laws and the customs were being corrupted, and that with surprising rapidity (ta te tȏn nomȏn grammata kai ethȇ diephtheireto kai epedidou thaumaston hoson). Consequently, although at first I was filled with an ardent desire to engage in public affairs (hȏste me, to prȏton pollȇs meston onta hormȇs epi to prattein ta koina), when I considered all this (bleponta eis tauta) and saw how things were shifting about anyhow in all directions (kai pheromena horȏnta pantȇi pantȏs), I finally became dizzy (teleutȏnta ilingian); and although I continued to consider (kai tou men skopein mȇ apostȇnai) by what means some betterment could be brought about not only in these matters but also in the government as a whole (mȇ pote ameinon an gignoito peri auta tauta kai dȇ kai peri tȇn pasan politeian), yet as regards political action I kept constantly waiting for an opportune moment (tou de prattein aei perimenȏn tous kairous); until, finally, looking at all the States which now exist, I perceived that one and all they are badly governed (teleutȏnta de noȇsai peri pasȏn tȏn nun poleȏn hoti kakȏs sumpasai politeuontai); for the state of their laws is such as to be almost incurable (ta gar tȏn nomȏn autais schedon aniatȏs echonta estin) without some marvellous overhauling (aneu paraskeuȇs thaumastȇs tinos) and good-luck to boot (meta tuchȇs). So in my praise of the right philosophy I was compelled to declare (legein te ȇnankasthȇn, epainȏn tȇn orthȇn philosophian,) that by it (hȏs ek tautȇs estin) one is enabled to discern all forms of justice both political and individual (ta te politika dikaia kai ta tȏn idiȏtȏn panta katidein). Wherefore the classes of mankind will have no cessation of evils (kakȏn oun ou lȇxein ta anthrȏpina genȇ) until either the class of those who are right and true philosophers attain political supremacy (prin an ȇ to tȏn philosophountȏn orthȏs kai alȇthȏs genos eis archas elthȇi tas politikas), or else the class of those who hold power in the States (ȇ to tȏn dunasteuontȏn en tais polesin) becomes, by some dispensation of Heaven, really philosophic (ek tinos moiras theias ontȏs philosophȇsȇi). This was the view I held (Tautȇn dȇ tȇn dianoian echȏn) when I came to Italy and Sicily (eis Italian kai Sikelian ȇlthon), at the time of my first arrival (hote prȏton aphikomȇn). (Translation R.G. Bury)

Appositely, in his note on the text Bury refers to Republic V, 473 D, where Socrates says:

‘Unless either philosophers become kings in our states (Ean mȇ ȇ hoi philosophoi basileusȏsi en tais polesi) or those whom we now call our kings and rulers (ȇ hoi basilȇs nun legomenoi kai dunastai) take to the pursuit of philosophy seriously and adequately (philosophȇsȏsi gnȇsiȏs te kai hikanȏs), and there is a conjunction of these two things (kai touto eis t’auton sumpesȇi), political power and philosophic intelligence (dunamis te politikȇ kai philosophia), while the motley horde of the natures who at present pursue either apart from the other (tȏn de nun poreuomenȏn chȏris eph’ hekateron hai pollai phuseis) are completely excluded (ex anankȇs apokleisthȏsin), there can be no cessation of troubles (ouk esti kakȏn paula), dear Glaucon (ȏ phile Glaukȏn [Glaucon was Plato’s younger brother), for our states (tais polesi), nor, I fancy (dokȏ d’), for the human race either (oude tȏi anthrȏpinȏi genei).’ (Translation Paul Shorey; just as I have been using Bury’ translation in discussing Plato’s Seventh Letter, I shall be using Shorey’s translation concerning Plato’s Republic.)

Let us see, how Plato came to this ideal of the conjunction of philosophy and political power. Socrates opens the fifth book by reflecting on the three preceding books: ‘To such a city, then, I apply the terms good and right (agathȇn men toinun tȇn toiautȇn polin te kai politeian kai orthȇn kalȏ).’ Next, he intends to narrate other constitutions, which fall under four forms of badness. But at that moment Polemarchus, in whose house the whole narrative of the Republic takes place, whispers to Adeimantus (Plato’s elder brother; Adeimantus and Glaucon are Socrates’ main interlocutors in Republic II to X) ‘of which we overheard nothing else (hȏn allo men ouden katȇkousamen)’, says Socrates, ‘save only this (tode de) “Shall we let him off then (Aphȇsomen oun)”, he said (ephȇ), “or what shall we do (ȇ ti drasomen)?” “By no means (Hȇkista ge),” said Adeimantus (ephȇ ho Adeimantos), now raising his voice (mega ȇdȇ legȏn).’ When Socrates asks, what they are referring to, Adeimantus explains that Socrates left unexplained “that, of course (hȏs ara), in respect of women and children (peri gunaikȏn te kai andrȏn) it is obvious to everybody (panti dȇlon) that the possessions of friends will be in common (hoti koina ta philȏn estai, 449c4-5) … so now (nun oun), since you are beginning on another constitution (epeidȇ allȇs epilambanȇi politeias) before sufficiently defining this (prin tauta hikanȏs dielesthai), we are firmly resolved (dedoktai hȇmin touto), as you overheard (ho su ȇkousas), not to let you go (to se mȇ methienai) till you have expounded all this as fully as you did the rest (prin an tauta panta hȏsper t’alla dielthȇis).” “Set me down, too (Kai eme toinun),” said Glaucon (ho Glaukȏn ephȇ), “as voting for this ticket (koinȏnon tȇs psȇphou tautȇs tithete).” “Surely (Amelei),” said Thrasymachus (ȇ d’ hos ho Thrasumachos) [a famous sophist, Socrates’ interlocuter in Republic I.], “you may consider it a joint resolution of us all (pasi tauta dedogmena hȇmin nomidze), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates)” (449d6-450a6).’

In the preceding three books, that is in books II.-IV., Socrates unfolded a picture of the ideal city, built on communist principles; now, compelled by his friends, he describes the common possession of women and children (hȇ koinȏnia gunaikȏn te kai paidȏn) as consistent with the communist constitution of the ideal city outlined in those preceding three books (hȏs de hepomenȇ te tȇi allȇi politeiai), and as being by far the best (kai makrȏi beltistȇ). To argue this point, Socrates asks ‘what we could name as the greatest good (ti pote to megisthon agathon echomen eipein) for the constitution of a state (eis poleȏs kataskeuȇn), and what would be the greatest evil (kai ti to megiston kakon). Do we know of any greater evil for a state (echomen oun ti meizon kakon tȇi polei) than the thing (ȇ ekeino) that distracts it (ho an autȇn diaspai) and makes it many instead of one (kai poiȇi pollas anti mias), or greater good (ȇ meizon agathon) than that which binds it together (tou ho an sundȇi te) and makes it one (kai poiȇi mian)? Is not, then (oukoun), the community of pleasure and pain (hȇ men hȇdonȇs te kai lupȇs koinȏnia) the tie that binds (sundei), when (hotan), as far as may be (hoti malista), all the citizens (pantes hoi politai) rejoice and grieve alike at the same births and deaths (tȏn autȏn gignomenȏn te kai spollumenȏn paraplȇsiȏs chairȏsi kai lupȏntai)?’ Socrates concludes: ‘That city, then, is best ordered in which the greatest number use the expression “mine” and “not mine” of the same things in the same way (en hȇitini dȇ polei pleistoi epi to auto kata t’auta touto legousi to emon kai to ouk emon, hautȇ arista dioikeitai).’ (Rep. V., 462a-c, tr. Paul Shorey)

It is Plato’s ideal of state govern on the principles of communism that on Rogers’ views becomes the target of Aristophanes’ humour in his comedy Ecclesiazousae (Women at the Assembley). On his view, Ecclesiazousae was staged in 393, which means that Plato’s Republic II.-V must have been put into circulation in Athens in 394. Since according to the Seventh Letter Plato left Athens for Italy and Sicily when he became almost forty years old (schedon etȇ tessarakonta gegonȏs, S.L. 324a6) and that he did so when he reached the view that ‘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 Stats becomes, by some dispensation of Heaven, really philosophic’, that is the view reached in Republic V, Plato became forty in 394, not in 389, as is supposed on the basis of the dating of Plato’s birth in Diogenes Laertius – Diogenes gives us two dates of Plato’s birth: In III. 2, he says that according to Apollodorus Plato was born I 427 B.C. ‘on the seventh day of the month Thargelion, the same day on which the Delians say that Apollo was born; in III. 3, he says that Plato was born in 429, the year of Pericles’ death. Both these dates deserve J.K. Davies’ warning about mythologizing influences on calculations of Plato’s life. If Rogers is right, and in 394 B.C. Plato circulated books II-V of the Republic, Plato was born in 434 B.C.

Plato’s birth in 434 can be supported by other considerations. As has been seen, Plato tells us in his Seventh Letter that his friends and relatives among the men leading the aristocratic revolution in 404 B.C. ‘at once invited him to join their administration, thinking it would be congenial’. This makes sense, if Plato was ‘about 30’ (schedon triakonta) at the time, not 25, as he would have been if born in 429 B.C.

 

Plato’s Republic and the Ecclesiazusae of Aristophanes

B.B. Rogers in the ‘Introduction’ to his edition of Aristophanes’ Ecclesiazusae (Assemblywomen) argues that the comedy was exhibited in the spring of the year B.C. 393, and that Plato wrote the Republic, or at least books II-V prior to it, which must have come into the hands of the Athenians before the termination of B.C. 394,

Before explaining Rogers’ dating of the Ecclesiazusae, I must say a few words on the main plot of the comedy. At Skirois, a festival celebrated by women alone, the women of Athens, under the leadership of Praxagora, decided to take the public affairs into their hands. To accomplish this, they dressed as men, attended the assembly early at dawn to get their seats in front, and, with the unfailing support of the Chorus, Praxagora persuaded the assembly to accept her proposal. Roger says that in the passage of her speech, which is crucial for the dating of the comedy, Praxagora ‘arraigns the policy of the people for its total want of continuity; she avers that they are perpetually chopping and changing; enamoured of one course today, and of the opposite tomorrow.’ In illustration she says:

‘Then again this alliance (to summachikon au touth’), when we were deliberating about it (hot’ eskopoumetha), they vowed (ephaskon) that not to conclude it (ei mȇ genoit’) would be the ruin of the state (apolein tȇn polin): but when once it was concluded (hote dȇ d’ egenet’); they were disgusted with it (ȇchthonto); and the orator who persuaded them into it (ho tout’ anapeisas) had straightaway to cut and run (euthus apodras ȏicheto).’ (193-196, tr. Rogers).

As Rogers points out, the alliance, to which Praxagora referred, was the Anti-Spartan League; it was accepted by the Assembly without a dissentient vote (B.C. 395) At first, everything seemed to promise well. And when in the following spring and summer (B.C.394) a large army, composed of contingents from all the members of the League, was gathered together at Corinth, the confidence of the leaders was unbounded. They decided to march on Sparta, and marched as far as the valley of Nemea, but then had to quickly retrace their steps to repel an attack of Sparta on their own headquarters. The battle between these two mighty Hellenic armies resulted in the total rout of the army of the League, and the main body of the Athenian troops, assailed at once in front and on their left flank by the Lacedaemonians, suffered more severely than any other contingent.

Thus within a few weeks the entire aspect of affairs had, as regards Athens, undergone a serious change for the worse. She had lost many citizens without any beneficial results; the bright hopes with which the year B.C.394 had commenced, had altogether died away. And it was quite natural that the Athenians should become disgusted, ȇchthonto, at the failure of those brilliant expectations, through which they had been induced, less than two years before, to take an active part in the formation of the Anti-Spartan League.

It was at this juncture, at the commencement of the year B.C.393, that Praxagora comes forward to condemn the vacillating policy of the men, and to propose that the government of Athens shall be henceforth entrusted to the women, as the more stable and conservative sex.

Rogers argues that Ecclesiazusae could not have been conceived and staged in B.C.392: ‘Before the spring of B.C.392 had arrived, a brilliant and marvellous change, one might almost say a resurrection, had taken place in the affairs of Athens. Conon had returned, bringing the Persian fleet, and an ample supply of Persian gold to secure her safety; the Long Walls had risen again, the fortifications of Piraeus were restored, and Athens was entirely delivered from the doubts and the dangers which had so long beset her. At the commencement of B.C.393 Athens was in a state of disquiet and perplexity, still halting between two courses. There was no doubt or wavering at the commencement of B.C.392. Her safety was assured. She has been finally launched on a new carrier of prosperity.

But how does Plato’s Republic come into all this? Rogers says: ‘Reverting now to Praxagora and her scheme of future government of Athens, we find that the main argument put forward in support of her proposed gunaikokratia [government by women] is based on the more conservative character of the female sex. Men, she says, are always in quest of novelty and change. Women abide by their principles, and the women of the present day use the same customs and follow the same practices that their predecessors have used and followed throughout all generations. Athens, imperilled by the restlessness of men, will be saved by the steadfast and sober adherence of women to ancient methods and venerable traditions. Yet no sooner does Praxagora by these arguments and for these purposes obtain the reins of power, than she develops a scheme so startling and novel, as to throw altogether into the shade the wildest extravagances of men. It is a scheme of naked socialism, involving the community of goods, the abolition of marriage, and the community of women.

How can we account for this singular phenomenon? It has no parallel in any other comedy of Aristophanes. The Chorus indeed will frequently go over to the side which it began opposing, and sometimes one of the principal characters will yield to argument, or the stress of circumstances; but there is always enough in the play itself to determine and explain the change. Here, however, the heroine, who has been earnestly seeking power for one purpose, immediately employs it for the opposite purpose: her special mission being to put a stop to all political novelties, she at once introduces a political novelty so vast and revolutionary, that she doubts if the men can be brought to accept it. And there is not a syllable in the play to justify or account for the sudden change. It is therefore necessary to look for the determining cause in something outside the play itself. And it seems impossible to doubt that the cause is to be found in the appearance, whilst Aristophanes was engaged on the Ecclesiazusae, of the Republic of Plato, or at all events of that part of the work which now constitutes Books II to V of the Republic. Plato’s Republic, either in its present, or in an incomplete, shape came into the hands of the Athenian people before the termination of B.C. 394.

Aristophanes’ Praxagora obtained supreme power in Athens, which she was to use to give free reign to the conservative character of women, with all the humorous situations it offered for comedy, when Aristophanes suddenly finds, all ready to his hand, the elaborate communistic schemes developed by Plato in the new philosophic treatise. Aristophanes was not the man to let such an opportunity to escape him. What mattered Praxagora’s consistency compared with the brilliant opening for philosophic chaff? And so the greatest novelty of all, a system of undiluted communism, is at once introduced, by the opponent of all novelty, into the practical everyday life of the people of Athens.

Rogers finds it strange that anyone could doubt or ignore the very obvious fact that in the latter half of the Ecclesiazusae Aristophanes is laughing at the communistic theories of the Platonic Republic. He notes that in his ‘Commentary’ he refers to many similarities of thought and diction between the Praxagorean and Platonic schemes. In the ‘Introduction’ he considers a single instance. In both systems children will be unable to recognize their parents, and parents their children. In both cases this fact is only brought out in answer to a question. In both cases the question is propounded in the same form, not ‘Will they recognize?’ but ‘How will they recognize?’ (pȏs diagnȏsontai, Plato; pȏs dunatos estai diagignȏskein, Aristophanes) the answer being of course, that no recognition is possible; all youths must consider themselves the children of the old people. Out of this novel state of things a variety of strange and startling results might arise; but in both cases one, and one only, and that by no means the most obvious, is selected, viz. the greater security of the old people.  For now, if a youth should assault (tuptȇi, Plato, Aristophanes) his elder, the bystanders would at once interfere; since, for all they can tell, they may themselves be the children (Plato adds “or the brothers or the parents”) of the sufferer. Is the identity of this particular train of thought, couched, as it is, in such similar phraseology, merely the result of an accident?

Herodotus and Plato, enter Aristophanes

After disposing of the Magi, the seven Persian noblemen discussed the future government. Otanes pleaded for democracy, Megabyzos for oligarchy, Darius for Monarchy, and the four remaining noblemen adhered to the proposal of Darius.

Then Otanes, whose proposal of equality under law for everyone was defeated, made another speech: ’Fellow partisans (Andres stasiȏtai) it is clear (dȇla gar dȇ) that one of us will have to be the king (hoti dei hena ge tina hȇmeȏn basilea genesthai) … I will not compete with you (egȏ men nun humin ouk enagȏnieumai), for I have no wish to rule or to be ruled either (oute gar archein oute archesthai ethelȏ). And on this condition (epi toutȏi de) I withdraw from the competition (hupexistamai tȇs archȇs), on which (ep’ hȏi te) I will not be ruled by any one of you (hup’ oudenos humeȏn arxomai), neither I myself (oute autos egȏ) nor any of my descendants (oute hoi ap’ emeu aei ginomenoi).’ The six having accepted this condition, Otanes stood down.

Herodotus remarks: ‘To this day the family of Otanes continues to be the only free family in Persia, submitting to the king only in so far as they wish to, while not disobeying the laws of Persia.’ (III.83)

The remaining six then discussed the fairest way of deciding who should be the king. They decided to mount their horses on the outskirts of the city, and he, whose horse neighed first after the sun went up, was to have the monarchy, thus leaving the matter to chance (III. 84). Darius’ crucial argument for Monarchy was: ‘One ruler, provided he is the best.’ But the remaining six didn’t even raise the question of who from among them was the best. But only five of the remaining six left the matter to chance.

Darius had a clever groom called Oebares, to whom he turned for help. As soon as it was dark, Oebares took from the stables the mare Darius’ horse was particularly fond of, and tied her on the outskirts of the city. Then he brought along the stallion and led him round and round the mare, getting closer and closer in narrowing circles, and finally allowed him to mount her. Next morning just before dawn the six men, according to their agreement, came riding on their horses through the city suburb, and when they reached the spot where the mare had been tethered, Darius’ horse started forward and neighed. At the same instant, though the sky was clear, there was a flesh of lightening and a clap of thunder; it was a sign from heaven; the election of Darius was assured, and the other five leapt from their saddles and bowed to the ground at his feet. (III. 85-86)

Herodotus says that Darius’ first act was to erect a stone monument with a carving of a man on horseback, and the following inscription: “Darius, son of Hystaspes, by the virtue of his horse (giving the name of the horse to ounoma legȏn) and of his groom Oebares, won the kingdom of Persia (ektȇsato tȇn Perseȏn basilȇiȇn).” (III. 88)

***

Herodotus is a great narrator and we may presume that he was widely read in Athens. The Athenians would have found especially appealing Darius’ speech in favour of monarchy, in which Darius conjures up a democracy that develops towards the rule of the best man, which must have reminded every Athenian of the Athenian democracy in the days of Pericles: “Again, in a democracy (dȇmou te au archontos), malpractices are bound to occur (adunata mȇ ou kakotȇta engignesthai); in this case, however, corrupt dealings in government services (kakotȇtos toinun engignomenȇs es ta koina) lead not to private feuds (echtea men ouk engignetai toisi kakoisi) [as in oligarchy], but to close personal associations (philiai de ischurai), the men responsible for them (hoi gar kakountes ta koina) putting their heads together and mutually supporting one another (sunkupsantes poieusi). And so it goes on (touto de toiouto ginetai), until somebody or other comes forward as the people’s champion (es ho an prostas tis tou dȇmou) and breaks up the cliques (tous toioutous pausȇi). This (ek de autȏn) wins him the admiration (thaumazetai houtos dȇ) of the people (hupo tou dȇmou), and as a result (thȏmazomenos de an ȏn) he soon finds himself entrusted with absolute power (ephanȇ mounarchos eȏn) – all of which is another proof (kai en toutȏi dȇloi kai houtos) that the best form of government is monarchy (hȏs hȇ mounarchiȇ kratiston).”

When Plato in the Palinode in the Phaedrus gave voice to the view that the best should rule, he did not leave the choice of the best man to chance:

‘The region above the heavens (ton de huperouranion topon) has never yet been celebrated as it deserves by any earthly poet, nor will it ever be (oute tis humnȇse pȏ tȏn tȇide poiȇtȇs oute pote humnȇsei kat’ axian). But it is like this (echei de hȏde) – for one must be bold enough (tolmȇteon gar oun) to say what is true (to ge alȇthes eipein), especially (allȏs te) when speaking about truth (kai peri alȇtheias legonta). This region is occupied by being which really is, which is without colour or shape, intangible, observable by the steersman of the soul alone, by intellect, and to which the class of true knowledge relates (hȇ gar achrȏmatos te kai aschȇmatistos kai anaphȇs ousia ontȏs ousa, psuchȇs kubernȇtȇi monȏi theatȇ nȏi, peri hȇn to tȇs alȇthous epistȇmȇs genos, touton echei ton topon).’ (Pl. Phdr. 247c3-d1, tr. C.J. Rowe)

Clearly, only the man who has the true knowledge, who knows the truth, is entitled to rule the city.

***

Aristophanes’ comedy of the Frogs was produced during the Lenaean festival, at the commencement of the year B.C. 405; its production thus (roughly) coincided with the Phaedran Palinode of Plato (see ‘The Phaedrus and the Charmides: Plato in Athens 405-404’, History of Political Thought, Summer 2022). The comedy was so admired (houtȏ de ethaumasthȇ), that the Frogs were staged again (hȏste kai anedidachthȇ), as we learn from Dikaearchos, referred to in two ancient introductions to the play.

I shall argue that Plato wrote his Palinode inspired by the song in Aristophanes’ Frogs, in which the chorus celebrates Aeschylus’ forthcoming return to Athens: ‘Blest is the man (makarios g’ anȇr) who possesses keen intelligent mind (echȏn xunesin ȇkribȏmenȇn). This full often we find (para de polloisin mathein). For this man (hode gar), having shown that his thinking was propitious (eu phronein dokȇsas), now to earth reascends (palin apeisin oikad’ au), for the good of the citizens (ep’ agathȏi men tois politais), for the good of his relatives and his friends (ep’ agathȏi de tois heautou sungenesi te kai philoisi), just because he possesses a keen intelligent mind (dia to sunetos einai).’ (1482-1490)

The song that follows, I believe, is the addition made by Aristophanes for the re-staging of the Frogs in response to Plato’s Phaedran Palinode:

‘Right it is and befitting (charien oun), not by Socrates sitting (mȇ Sȏkratei parakathȇmenon), idle talk to pursue (lalein), stripping tragedy-art of all things noble and true (apobalonta mousikȇn ta te megista paraliponta tȇs tragȏidikȇs technȇs). Surely the mind to school fine-drawn quibbles to seek, fine-set phrases to speak, is but the part of a fool (to d’ epi semnoisi logoisi kai skariphȇsmoisi lȇrȏn diatribȇn argon poieistai, paraphronountos andros). (1491-1499, tr. B.B. Rogers)

The only comment on this passage I could find is that of B.B. Rogers: ‘Nobody could be long in the company of Socrates without being drawn into some argumentative conversation. This perpetual talking which surrounded Socrates is in truth the adoleschia of which the comic poets speak, and to which Plato makes such a pathetic reference in the Phaedo (70c1).’ Rogers appears to have missed Plato’s reference to adoleschia in Phaedrus 269e1-270a8: ‘It is not surprising, I suppose, my good fellow, that Pericles (kinduneuei, ȏ ariste, eikotȏs ho Periklȇs) turned out to be the most complete of all with respect to rhetoric (pantȏn teleȏtatos eis tȇn rȇtorikȇn genesthai). All sciences of importance (pasai hosai megalai tȏn technȏn) require the addition of babbling (prosdeontai adoleschias) and lofty talk about nature (kai meteȏrologias phuseȏs peri); for the relevant high-mindedness (to gar hupsȇlonoun touto) and effectiveness in all directions (kai pantȇi telesiourgon) seem to come to a man from some such sort as that (eoiken enteuthen pothen eisienai). This is something that Pericles acquired in addition to his natural ability (ho kai Periklȇs pros tȏi euphuȇs einai ektȇsato); for I think because he fell in with Anaxagoras, who was just such a person (prospesȏn gar oimai toioutȏi onti Anaxagorai), and became filled with such lofty talk (meteȏrologias emplȇstheis), and arrived at the nature of mind and the absence of mind (kai epi phusin nou te kai anoias aphikomenos), which were the very subjects about which Anaxagoras used to talk so much (hȏn dȇ peri ton polun logon epoieito Anaxagoras), he was able to draw from there and apply (enteuthen heilkusen) to the science of speaking (epi tȇn tȏn logȏn technȇn) what was applicable to it (to prosphoron autȇi).’ (Translation C.J. Rowe)

Aristophanes in the Frogs does not mention Pericles by name, but Pericles was very much on his mind just as he was very much on the mind of his audience. When Dionysus could not decide whether to prefer Euripides or Aeschylus as tragedians, he asked them to declare what plan of safety for Athens each of them has got (peri tȇs poleȏs hȇntin’ echeton sȏterian, 1436). Aeschylus suggested that Athens will be safe ‘when the Athenians shall count the enemy’s soil as their own (tȇn gȇn hotan nomisȏsi tȇn tȏn polemiȏn einai spheteran), and theirs the enemy’s (tȇn de spheteran tȏn polemiȏn): when they know that ships are their true wealth (poron de tas naus), their so-called wealth delusion (aporian de ton poron).’ Rogers notes: ‘It is, as the Scholiast remarks, the counsel which was given by Pericles at the commencement of the war.’

But let me return to the lines 1491-1499. Clearly, with the words – ‘Right it is and befitting (charien oun), not by Socrates sitting (mȇ Sȏkratei parakathȇmenon), idle talk to pursue (lalein) – the chorus introduces these lines as one of Socrates’ associates. At whom but Plato can Aristophanes be pointing at? Indicative are the words apobalonta mousikȇn ‘having thrown away the art’ – which Rogers leaves untranslated – which refer to Plato’s first philosophic encounter with Socrates: ‘When Plato was about to compete for the prize with a tragedy (mellȏn agȏnieisthai tragȏidiai), he listened to Socrates in front of the theatre of Dionysus (pro tou Dionusiakou theatrou Sȏkratous akousas), and then consigned his poems to the flames (katephlexe ta poiȇmata) (Dion. Laert. III. 5).’

The Phaedran Palinode made it possible for Aristophanes to gesture towards Plato as the man who could bring about peace, and save Athens. The opening scene of the Phaedrus brings us to the time of Nicias’ peace: Socrates and Phaedrus leave the city walls, both barefooted, enjoying their walk along the river Ilissus, and finding a nice place below a plane tree, where they then spend the whole day in philosophic discussions.

Socrates: ‘By Hera (Nȇ tȇn Hȇran), a fine stopping place (kalȇ ge hȇ katagȏgȇ)! This plane-tree (hȇ te gar platanos hautȇ) is very spreading (mal’ amphilaphȇs te) and tall (kai hupsȇlȇ), and the tallness and shadiness of the agnus (tou te agnou to hupsos kai to suskion) are quite lovely (pankalon); and being in full flower (kai hȏs akmȇn echei tȇs anthȇs) it seems to make the place smell as sweetly as it could (hȏs an euȏdestaton parechoi ton topon). The stream, too (hȇ te au pȇgȇ), flows very attractively under the plane (chariestatȇ hupo tȇs platanou rei), with the coolest weather (mala psuchrou hudatos), to judge by my foot (hȏste ge tȏi podi tekmȇrasthai). From the figurines and statuettes, the spot seems to be sacred to some Nymphs and to Achelous (Numphȏn de tinȏn kai Achelȏiou hieron apo tȏn korȏn te kai agalmatȏn eoiken einai). Then again, if you like (ei d’ au boulei), how welcome it is, the freshness of the place (to eupnoun tou topou hȏs agapȇton), and very pleasant (kai sphodra hȇdu); it echoes with a summery shrillness (therinon te kai liguron hupȇchei) to the cicadas’ song (tȏi tȏn thettigȏn chorȏi). Most delightful of all is the matter of the grass (pantȏn de kompsotaton to tȇs poas), growing on a gentle slope (hoti en erȇma prosantei) and thick enough to be just right (hikanȇ pehuke) to rest one’s head upon (kataklinenti tȇn kephalȇn pankalȏs echein).’ (229b2-c5, tr. C.J. Rowe)

In the days, when these lines were written, the city being surrounded by the forces of the enemy, one could only dream about staying outside the city walls and experiencing such delights. Reading these lines, one could not but berate bitterly the idiocy of Cleophon, the leading demagogue, because of whom the offer of peace by Sparta was rejected (the offer was made in 406, after the naval victory of the Athenians at the battle of Arginousae.

The chorus of the Frogs ends the play with the words ‘Let Cleophon now and his band battle, if battle they must, far away in their own fatherland.’ It would be better to say ‘in their own motherland’ if one could say it in English; Cleophon’s mother was from Thessaly.

Clearly, Plato and Aristophanes were in accord in their desire for peace; this unity of purpose animates both the opening scene of the Phaedrus and Frogs 1491-1499: ‘Right it is and befitting, not by Socrates sitting, idle talk to pursue …’ But there is a problem: How many Athenians would have read the opening scene of Plato’s Phaedrus? A few dozens at best. But the choric song of Frogs 1491-1499 presupposes that the audience as a whole, enthused by the vision of peace with which the Frogs culminate, realises that the associate of Socrates to whom Aristophanes alludes can become the new Pericles, can bring about peace and save Athens. Let me quote the closing choric song:

‘First (prȏta men), as the poet triumphant [i.e. Aeschylus] is passing away to the light, grant him success on his journey (euodian agathȇn apionti poiȇtȇi es phaos ornumenȏi dote), ye powers that are ruling below [i.e. in Hades] (daimones hoi kata gaias). Grant that he find for the city good councils to guide her aright (tȇi te polei megalȏn agathȏn agathas epinoias); so we at last shall be freed from the anguish, the fear, and the woe (panchu gar ek megalȏn acheȏn pausaimeth’ an houtȏs), freed from the onset of war (argaleȏn t’ en hoplois xunodȏn). Let Cleophon now and his band battle, if battle they must, far away in their own fatherland (Kleophȏn de machesthȏ k’allos ho boulomenos toutȏn patriois en arourais).’ (Tr. B.B. Rogers)

It is here that Herodotus’ implicit mediation is essential. The information that Plato’s view of the best man’s rule coincided with Darius’ view could spread through the audience as a whole while the chorus sang the lines 1491-1499.

So let me end with Herodotus’ Darius: “Again, in a democracy, malpractices are bound to occur; in this case, however, corrupt dealings in government services lead not to private feuds [as in oligarchy], but to close personal associations, the men responsible for them putting their heads together and mutually supporting one another. And so it goes on, until somebody or other comes forward as the people’s champion and breaks up the cliques. This wins him the admiration of the people, and as a result he soon finds himself entrusted with absolute power – all of which is another proof that the best form of government is monarchy.” (Herodotus III. 82, tr. Aubry de Sélincourt, revised by A.R. Burn).

2a Herodotus and Plato

The seven foremost Persian aristocrats took on the two Magi, who usurped the power. When they killed them, they cut off their heads and ran out of the palace, calling on Persians and showing them the heads. Then every Persian found it right to kill any Magi they could put their hands on. Had not the night fall on, all Magi would have been wiped out on that day.

Five days later, when the situation calmed down, the seven discussed the future government. Otanes, who was the first to speak, rejected the monarchy as neither pleasant (oute gar hȇdu) nor good (oute agathon): ‘How could a monarchy ever be the right system of government, in which a monarch may do whatever he likes without any responsibility or control? Becoming a monarch, even the best of man is bound to change for the worse; the typical vices of monarch are envy (phthonos) and insolence (hubris).’ Having rejected monarchy, Otanes pleaded for democracy: ‘First, it has the finest name of all names to describe it, equality under law (isonomiȇn); and, secondly, the people in power (plȇthos de archon) do none of the things that monarchs do; a magistrate is appointed by lot (palȏi men archas archei) and is held responsible for his conduct in office (hupeuthunon de archȇn echei), and all resolutions (bouleumata de panta) he puts up for open debate (es to koinon anapherei).  I therefore propose (tithemai ȏn gnȏmȇn) that we do away with the monarchy (metentas hȇmeas mounarchiȇn) and raise the people to power (to plȇthos aexein). (III. 81)

Then Megabyzos, enlarging on the weaknesses of democracy, pleaded for oligarchy: ‘What Otanes said against monarchy, I agree with him (lelechthȏ k’amoi tauta); but in asking us to transfer power to people (ta d’ es to plȇthos anȏge pherein to kratos) he missed the best proposal (gnȏmȇs tȇs aristȇs hȇmartȇke); for there is nothing more witless and wantonly violent than useless mob (homilou gar achrȇiou ouden esti asunetȏteron oude hubristoteron). Let us choose a certain number of the best men (hȇmeis de andrȏn tȏn aristȏn epilexantes homiliȇn) and give the power to them (toutoisi peritheȏmen to kratos); and the best men (aristȏn de andrȏn) will presumably (oikos), produce the best policy (arista bouleumata gignesthai).

 Darius was the third (III. 82):

‘I support all Megabyzus’ remarks about the masses (ta men Megabuzos eipe eis to plȇthos) but I do not agree with what he said about oligarchy. Take the three forms of government we are considering – democracy, oligarchy, and monarchy – and suppose each of them to be the best of its kind; I maintain that the third is greatly preferable to the other two. One ruler: it is impossible to improve upon that – provided he is the best. His judgment will be in keeping with his character; his control of the people will be beyond reproach; his measures against enemies and traitors will be kept secret more easily than under other forms of government. In an oligarchy, the fact that a number of men are competing for distinction in the public service (en oligarchiai polloisi aretȇn epaskeousi es to koinon) cannot but lead to violent personal feuds; each of them wants to get to the top, and to see his own proposals carried; so they quarrel. Personal quarrels (echthea) lead to open dissension (ex hȏn stasies engignontai), and then to bloodshed (ek de tȏn stasiȏn phonos); and from that state of affairs the only way out is monarchy (ek de tou phonou apebȇ eis mounarchiȇn) – a clear proof that (kai en toutȏi diedexe) monarchy is the best (hosȏi esti touto ariston). Again, in a democracy, malpractices are bound to occur; in this case, however, corrupt dealings in government services lead not to private feuds, but to close personal associations, the men responsible for them putting their heads together and mutually supporting one another. And so it goes on (touto de toiouto ginetai), until somebody or other comes forward as the people’s champion (es ho an prostas tis tou dȇmou) and breaks up the cliques (tous toioutous pausȇi). This (ek de autȏn) wins him the admiration (thaumazetai houtos dȇ) of the people (hupo tou dȇmou), and being admired (thȏmazomenos de an ȏn) he became a monarch (ephanȇ mounarchos eȏn) – all of which is another proof that the best form of government is monarchy. To sum up: where did we get our freedom from, and who gave it to us? Is it the result of democracy, or of oligarchy, or of monarchy? We were set free by one man [Darius was pressing on; Otanes was procrastinating] and therefore I propose that we should preserve that form of government, and, further, that we should refrain from changing ancient laws, which have served us well in the past. To do so would lead only to disaster.’

These were the three views set out (Gnȏmai men dȇ treis hautai proekeato), and the four of the seven men (hoi de tesseres tȏn hepta andrȏn) sided with this proposal (prosethento tautȇi).

 

What have I done?

 

I ended my previous post with a detailed description of a particularly serious intrusion into my work. The question is, what have I done to deserve it?

Two days ago, on Wednesday June 7, I contacted the Department of Education with a complaint, which the Department duly acknowledged:

Thank you for getting in touch. We can confirm that we have received the information you submitted. A copy of your submission is below. Disclosure details: Since my arrival at Oxford in 1980 I addressed philosophers with a request 'Let us discuss Plato'. In vain. Nothing would please me more than if Arif Ahmed found me wrong in my conviction that philosophers at Oxford cannot discuss Plato with me