Timaeus ................................................................................................................................................................1

Plato.........................................................................................................................................................1

INTRODUCTION AND ANALYSIS. ....................................................................................................1

TIMAEUS. .............................................................................................................................................48

Of all the writings of Plato the Timaeus is the most obscure and repulsive to the modern reader, and has

nevertheless had the greatest influence over the ancient and mediaeval world. The obscurity arises in the

infancy of physical science, out of the confusion of theological, mathematical, and physiological notions, out

of the desire to conceive the whole of nature without any adequate knowledge of the parts, and from a greater

perception of similarities which lie on the surface than of differences which are hidden from view. To bring

sense under the control of reason; to find some way through the mist or labyrinth of appearances, either the

highway of mathematics, or more devious paths suggested by the analogy of man with the world, and of the

world with man; to see that all things have a cause and are tending towards an endthis is the spirit of the

ancient physical philosopher. He has no notion of trying an experiment and is hardly capable of observing the

curiosities of nature which are 'tumbling out at his feet,' or of interpreting even the most obvious of them. He

is driven back from the nearer to the more distant, from particulars to generalities, from the earth to the stars.

He lifts up his eyes to the heavens and seeks to guide by their motions his erring footsteps. But we neither

appreciate the conditions of knowledge to which he was subjected, nor have the ideas which fastened upon

his imagination the same hold upon us. For he is hanging between matter and mind; he is under the dominion

at the same time both of sense and of abstractions; his impressions are taken almost at random from the

outside of nature; he sees the light, but not the objects which are revealed by the light; and he brings into

juxtaposition things which to us appear wide as the poles asunder, because he finds nothing between them.

He passes abruptly from persons to ideas and numbers, and from ideas and numbers to persons,from the

heavens to man, from astronomy to physiology; he confuses, or rather does not distinguish, subject and

object, first and final causes, and is dreaming of geometrical figures lost in a flux of sense. He contrasts the

perfect movements of the heavenly bodies with the imperfect representation of them (Rep.), and he does not

always require strict accuracy even in applications of number and figure (Rep.). His mind lingers around the

forms of mythology, which he uses as symbols or translates into figures of speech. He has no implements of

observation, such as the telescope or microscope; the great science of chemistry is a blank to him. It is only

by an effort that the modern thinker can breathe the atmosphere of the ancient philosopher, or understand

how, under such unequal conditions, he seems in many instances, by a sort of inspiration, to have anticipated

The influence with the Timaeus has exercised upon posterity is due partly to a misunderstanding. In the

supposed depths of this dialogue the Neo Platonists found hidden meanings and connections with the Jewish

and Christian Scriptures, and out of them they elicited doctrines quite at variance with the spirit of Plato.

Believing that he was inspired by the Holy Ghost, or had received his wisdom from Moses, they seemed to

find in his writings the Christian Trinity, the Word, the Church, the creation of the world in a Jewish sense, as

they really found the personality of God or of mind, and the immortality of the soul. All religions and

philosophies met and mingled in the schools of Alexandria, and the NeoPlatonists had a method of

interpretation which could elicit any meaning out of any words. They were really incapable of distinguishing

between the opinions of one philosopher and anotherbetween Aristotle and Plato, or between the serious

thoughts of Plato and his passing fancies. They were absorbed in his theology and were under the dominion

of his name, while that which was truly great and truly characteristic in him, his effort to realize and connect

abstractions, was not understood by them at all. Yet the genius of Plato and Greek philosophy reacted upon

the East, and a Greek element of thought and language overlaid and partly reduced to order the chaos of

Orientalism. And kindred spirits, like St. Augustine, even though they were acquainted with his writings only

through the medium of a Latin translation, were profoundly affected by them, seeming to find 'God and his

There is no danger of the modern commentators on the Timaeus falling into the absurdities of the

NeoPlatonists. In the present day we are well aware that an ancient philosopher is to be interpreted from

himself and by the contemporary history of thought. We know that mysticism is not criticism. The fancies of

the NeoPlatonists are only interesting to us because they exhibit a phase of the human mind which prevailed

widely in the first centuries of the Christian era, and is not wholly extinct in our own day. But they have

nothing to do with the interpretation of Plato, and in spirit they are opposed to him. They are the feeble

expression of an age which has lost the power not only of creating great works, but of understanding them.

They are the spurious birth of a marriage between philosophy and tradition, between Hellas and the

East(Greek) (Rep.). Whereas the socalled mysticism of Plato is purely Greek, arising out of his imperfect

knowledge and high aspirations, and is the growth of an age in which philosophy is not wholly separated

A greater danger with modern interpreters of Plato is the tendency to regard the Timaeus as the centre of his

system. We do not know how Plato would have arranged his own dialogues, or whether the thought of

arranging any of them, besides the two 'Trilogies' which he has expressly connected; was ever present to his

mind. But, if he had arranged them, there are many indications that this is not the place which he would have

assigned to the Timaeus. We observe, first of all, that the dialogue is put into the mouth of a Pythagorean

philosopher, and not of Socrates. And this is required by dramatic propriety; for the investigation of nature

was expressly renounced by Socrates in the Phaedo. Nor does Plato himself attribute any importance to his

guesses at science. He is not at all absorbed by them, as he is by the IDEA of good. He is modest and

hesitating, and confesses that his words partake of the uncertainty of the subject (Tim.). The dialogue is

primarily concerned with the animal creation, including under this term the heavenly bodies, and with man

only as one among the animals. But we can hardly suppose that Plato would have preferred the study of

nature to man, or that he would have deemed the formation of the world and the human frame to have the

same interest which he ascribes to the mystery of being and notbeing, or to the great political problems

which he discusses in the Republic and the Laws. There are no speculations on physics in the other dialogues

of Plato, and he himself regards the consideration of them as a rational pastime only. He is beginning to feel

the need of further divisions of knowledge; and is becoming aware that besides dialectic, mathematics, and

the arts, there is another field which has been hitherto unexplored by him. But he has not as yet defined this

intermediate territory which lies somewhere between medicine and mathematics, and he would have felt that

there was as great an impiety in ranking theories of physics first in the order of knowledge, as in placing the

It is true, however, that the Timaeus is by no means confined to speculations on physics. The deeper

foundations of the Platonic philosophy, such as the nature of God, the distinction of the sensible and

intellectual, the great original conceptions of time and space, also appear in it. They are found principally in

the first half of the dialogue. The construction of the heavens is for the most part ideal; the cyclic year serves

as the connection between the world of absolute being and of generation, just as the number of population in

the Republic is the expression or symbol of the transition from the ideal to the actual state. In some passages

we are uncertain whether we are reading a description of astronomical facts or contemplating processes of the

human mind, or of that divine mind (Phil.) which in Plato is hardly separable from it. The characteristics of

man are transferred to the worldanimal, as for example when intelligence and knowledge are said to be

perfected by the circle of the Same, and true opinion by the circle of the Other; and conversely the motions of

the worldanimal reappear in man; its amorphous state continues in the child, and in both disorder and chaos

are gradually succeeded by stability and order. It is not however to passages like these that Plato is referring

when he speaks of the uncertainty of his subject, but rather to the composition of bodies, to the relations of

colours, the nature of diseases, and the like, about which he truly feels the lamentable ignorance prevailing in

We are led by Plato himself to regard the Timaeus, not as the centre or inmost shrine of the edifice, but as a

detached building in a different style, framed, not after the Socratic, but after some Pythagorean model. As in

the Cratylus and Parmenides, we are uncertain whether Plato is expressing his own opinions, or appropriating

and perhaps improving the philosophical speculations of others. In all three dialogues he is exerting his

dramatic and imitative power; in the Cratylus mingling a satirical and humorous purpose with true principles

of language; in the Parmenides overthrowing Megarianism by a sort of ultraMegarianism, which discovers

contradictions in the one as great as those which have been previously shown to exist in the ideas. There is a

similar uncertainty about the Timaeus; in the first part he scales the heights of transcendentalism, in the latter

part he treats in a bald and superficial manner of the functions and diseases of the human frame. He uses the

thoughts and almost the words of Parmenides when he discourses of being and of essence, adopting from old

religion into philosophy the conception of God, and from the Megarians the IDEA of good. He agrees with

Empedocles and the Atomists in attributing the greater differences of kinds to the figures of the elements and

their movements into and out of one another. With Heracleitus, he acknowledges the perpetual flux; like

Anaxagoras, he asserts the predominance of mind, although admitting an element of necessity which reason

is incapable of subduing; like the Pythagoreans he supposes the mystery of the world to be contained in

number. Many, if not all the elements of the PreSocratic philosophy are included in the Timaeus. It is a

composite or eclectic work of imagination, in which Plato, without naming them, gathers up into a kind of

If we allow for the difference of subject, and for some growth in Plato's own mind, the discrepancy between

the Timaeus and the other dialogues will not appear to be great. It is probable that the relation of the ideas to

God or of God to the world was differently conceived by him at different times of his life. In all his later

dialogues we observe a tendency in him to personify mind or God, and he therefore naturally inclines to view

creation as the work of design. The creator is like a human artist who frames in his mind a plan which he

executes by the help of his servants. Thus the language of philosophy which speaks of first and second causes

is crossed by another sort of phraseology: 'God made the world because he was good, and the demons

ministered to him.' The Timaeus is cast in a more theological and less philosophical mould than the other

dialogues, but the same general spirit is apparent; there is the same dualism or opposition between the ideal

and actualthe soul is prior to the body, the intelligible and unseen to the visible and corporeal. There is the

same distinction between knowledge and opinion which occurs in the Theaetetus and Republic, the same

enmity to the poets, the same combination of music and gymnastics. The doctrine of transmigration is still

held by him, as in the Phaedrus and Republic; and the soul has a view of the heavens in a prior state of being.

The ideas also remain, but they have become types in nature, forms of men, animals, birds, fishes. And the

attribution of evil to physical causes accords with the doctrine which he maintains in the Laws respecting the

The style and plan of the Timaeus differ greatly from that of any other of the Platonic dialogues. The

language is weighty, abrupt, and in some passages sublime. But Plato has not the same mastery over his

instrument which he exhibits in the Phaedrus or Symposium. Nothing can exceed the beauty or art of the

introduction, in which he is using words after his accustomed manner. But in the rest of the work the power

of language seems to fail him, and the dramatic form is wholly given up. He could write in one style, but not

in another, and the Greek language had not as yet been fashioned by any poet or philosopher to describe

physical phenomena. The early physiologists had generally written in verse; the prose writers, like

Democritus and Anaxagoras, as far as we can judge from their fragments, never attained to a periodic style.

And hence we find the same sort of clumsiness in the Timaeus of Plato which characterizes the philosophical

poem of Lucretius. There is a want of flow and often a defect of rhythm; the meaning is sometimes obscure,

and there is a greater use of apposition and more of repetition than occurs in Plato's earlier writings. The

sentences are less closely connected and also more involved; the antecedents of demonstrative and relative

pronouns are in some cases remote and perplexing. The greater frequency of participles and of absolute

constructions gives the effect of heaviness. The descriptive portion of the Timaeus retains traces of the first

Greek prose composition; for the great master of language was speaking on a theme with which he was

imperfectly acquainted, and had no words in which to express his meaning. The rugged grandeur of the

opening discourse of Timaeus may be compared with the more harmonious beauty of a similar passage in the

To the same cause we may attribute the want of plan. Plato had not the command of his materials which

would have enabled him to produce a perfect work of art. Hence there are several new beginnings and

resumptions and formal or artificial connections; we miss the 'callida junctura' of the earlier dialogues. His

speculations about the Eternal, his theories of creation, his mathematical anticipations, are supplemented by

desultory remarks on the one immortal and the two mortal souls of man, on the functions of the bodily organs

in health and disease, on sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. He soars into the heavens, and then, as if his

wings were suddenly clipped, he walks ungracefully and with difficulty upon the earth. The greatest things in

the world, and the least things in man, are brought within the compass of a short treatise. But the intermediate

links are missing, and we cannot be surprised that there should be a want of unity in a work which embraces

It is not easy to determine how Plato's cosmos may be presented to the reader in a clearer and shorter form; or

how we may supply a thread of connexion to his ideas without giving greater consistency to them than they

possessed in his mind, or adding on consequences which would never have occurred to him. For he has

glimpses of the truth, but no comprehensive or perfect vision. There are isolated expressions about the nature

of God which have a wonderful depth and power; but we are not justified in assuming that these had any

greater significance to the mind of Plato than language of a neutral and impersonal character . . . With a view

to the illustration of the Timaeus I propose to divide this Introduction into sections, of which the first will

contain an outline of the dialogue: (2) I shall consider the aspects of nature which presented themselves to

Plato and his age, and the elements of philosophy which entered into the conception of them: (3) the theology

and physics of the Timaeus, including the soul of the world, the conception of time and space, and the

composition of the elements: (4) in the fourth section I shall consider the Platonic astronomy, and the position

of the earth. There will remain, (5) the psychology, (6) the physiology of Plato, and (7) his analysis of the

senses to be briefly commented upon: (8) lastly, we may examine in what points Plato approaches or

Socrates begins the Timaeus with a summary of the Republic. He lightly touches upon a few points,the

division of labour and distribution of the citizens into classes, the double nature and training of the guardians,

the community of property and of women and children. But he makes no mention of the second education, or

And now he desires to see the ideal State set in motion; he would like to know how she behaved in some

great struggle. But he is unable to invent such a narrative himself; and he is afraid that the poets are equally

incapable; for, although he pretends to have nothing to say against them, he remarks that they are a tribe of

imitators, who can only describe what they have seen. And he fears that the Sophists, who are plentifully

supplied with graces of speech, in their erratic way of life having never had a city or house of their own, may

through want of experience err in their conception of philosophers and statesmen. 'And therefore to you I

turn, Timaeus, citizen of Locris, who are at once a philosopher and a statesman, and to you, Critias, whom all

Athenians know to be similarly accomplished, and to Hermocrates, who is also fitted by nature and education

HERMOCRATES: 'We will do our best, and have been already preparing; for on our way home, Critias told

us of an ancient tradition, which I wish, Critias, that you would repeat to Socrates.' 'I will, if Timaeus

approves.' 'I approve.' Listen then, Socrates, to a tale of Solon's, who, being the friend of Dropidas my

greatgrandfather, told it to my grandfather Critias, and he told me. The narrative related to ancient famous

actions of the Athenian people, and to one especially, which I will rehearse in honour of you and of the

goddess. Critias when he told this tale of the olden time, was ninety years old, I being not more than ten. The

occasion of the rehearsal was the day of the Apaturia called the Registration of Youth, at which our parents

gave prizes for recitation. Some poems of Solon were recited by the boys. They had not at that time gone out

of fashion, and the recital of them led some one to say, perhaps in compliment to Critias, that Solon was not

only the wisest of men but also the best of poets. The old man brightened up at hearing this, and said: Had

Solon only had the leisure which was required to complete the famous legend which he brought with him

from Egypt he would have been as distinguished as Homer and Hesiod. 'And what was the subject of the

poem?' said the person who made the remark. The subject was a very noble one; he described the most

famous action in which the Athenian people were ever engaged. But the memory of their exploits has passed

away owing to the lapse of time and the extinction of the actors. 'Tell us,' said the other, 'the whole story, and

where Solon heard the story.' He replied There is at the head of the Egyptian Delta, where the river Nile

divides, a city and district called Sais; the city was the birthplace of King Amasis, and is under the protection

of the goddess Neith or Athene. The citizens have a friendly feeling towards the Athenians, believing

themselves to be related to them. Hither came Solon, and was received with honour; and here he first learnt,

by conversing with the Egyptian priests, how ignorant he and his countrymen were of antiquity. Perceiving

this, and with the view of eliciting information from them, he told them the tales of Phoroneus and Niobe,

and also of Deucalion and Pyrrha, and he endeavoured to count the generations which had since passed.

Thereupon an aged priest said to him: 'O Solon, Solon, you Hellenes are ever young, and there is no old man

who is a Hellene.' 'What do you mean?' he asked. 'In mind,' replied the priest, 'I mean to say that you are

children; there is no opinion or tradition of knowledge among you which is white with age; and I will tell you

why. Like the rest of mankind you have suffered from convulsions of nature, which are chiefly brought about

by the two great agencies of fire and water. The former is symbolized in the Hellenic tale of young Phaethon

who drove his father's horses the wrong way, and having burnt up the earth was himself burnt up by a

thunderbolt. For there occurs at long intervals a derangement of the heavenly bodies, and then the earth is

destroyed by fire. At such times, and when fire is the agent, those who dwell by rivers or on the seashore are

safer than those who dwell upon high and dry places, who in their turn are safer when the danger is from

water. Now the Nile is our saviour from fire, and as there is little rain in Egypt, we are not harmed by water;

whereas in other countries, when a deluge comes, the inhabitants are swept by the rivers into the sea. The

memorials which your own and other nations have once had of the famous actions of mankind perish in the

waters at certain periods; and the rude survivors in the mountains begin again, knowing nothing of the world

before the flood. But in Egypt the traditions of our own and other lands are by us registered for ever in our

temples. The genealogies which you have recited to us out of your own annals, Solon, are a mere children's

story. For in the first place, you remember one deluge only, and there were many of them, and you know

nothing of that fairest and noblest race of which you are a seed or remnant. The memory of them was lost,

because there was no written voice among you. For in the times before the great flood Athens was the

greatest and best of cities and did the noblest deeds and had the best constitution of any under the face of

heaven.' Solon marvelled, and desired to be informed of the particulars. 'You are welcome to hear them,' said

the priest, 'both for your own sake and for that of the city, and above all for the sake of the goddess who is the

common foundress of both our cities. Nine thousand years have elapsed since she founded yours, and eight

thousand since she founded ours, as our annals record. Many laws exist among us which are the counterpart

of yours as they were in the olden time. I will briefly describe them to you, and you shall read the account of

them at your leisure in the sacred registers. In the first place, there was a caste of priests among the ancient

Athenians, and another of artisans; also castes of shepherds, hunters, and husbandmen, and lastly of warriors,

who, like the warriors of Egypt, were separated from the rest, and carried shields and spears, a custom which

the goddess first taught you, and then the Asiatics, and we among Asiatics first received from her. Observe

again, what care the law took in the pursuit of wisdom, searching out the deep things of the world, and

applying them to the use of man. The spot of earth which the goddess chose had the best of climates, and

produced the wisest men; in no other was she herself, the philosopher and warrior goddess, so likely to have

votaries. And there you dwelt as became the children of the gods, excelling all men in virtue, and many

famous actions are recorded of you. The most famous of them all was the overthrow of the island of Atlantis.

This great island lay over against the Pillars of Heracles, in extent greater than Libya and Asia put together,

and was the passage to other islands and to a great ocean of which the Mediterranean sea was only the

harbour; and within the Pillars the empire of Atlantis reached in Europe to Tyrrhenia and in Libya to Egypt.

This mighty power was arrayed against Egypt and Hellas and all the countries bordering on the

Mediterranean. Then your city did bravely, and won renown over the whole earth. For at the peril of her own

existence, and when the other Hellenes had deserted her, she repelled the invader, and of her own accord gave

liberty to all the nations within the Pillars. A little while afterwards there were great earthquakes and floods,

and your warrior race all sank into the earth; and the great island of Atlantis also disappeared in the sea. This

is the explanation of the shallows which are found in that part of the Atlantic ocean.'

Such was the tale, Socrates, which Critias heard from Solon; and I noticed when listening to you yesterday,

how close the resemblance was between your city and citizens and the ancient Athenian State. But I would

not speak at the time, because I wanted to refresh my memory. I had heard the old man when I was a child,

and though I could not remember the whole of our yesterday's discourse, I was able to recall every word of

this, which is branded into my mind; and I am prepared, Socrates, to rehearse to you the entire narrative. The

imaginary State which you were describing may be identified with the reality of Solon, and our antediluvian

ancestors may be your citizens. 'That is excellent, Critias, and very appropriate to a Panathenaic festival; the

truth of the story is a great advantage.' Then now let me explain to you the order of our entertainment; first,

Timaeus, who is a natural philosopher, will speak of the origin of the world, going down to the creation of

man, and then I shall receive the men whom he has created, and some of whom will have been educated by

you, and introduce them to you as the lost Athenian citizens of whom the Egyptian record spoke. As the law

of Solon prescribes, we will bring them into court and acknowledge their claims to citizenship. 'I see,' replied

Socrates, 'that I shall be well entertained; and do you, Timaeus, offer up a prayer and begin.'

TIMAEUS: All men who have any right feeling, at the beginning of any enterprise, call upon the Gods; and

he who is about to speak of the origin of the universe has a special need of their aid. May my words be

acceptable to them, and may I speak in the manner which will be most intelligible to you and will best

First, I must distinguish between that which always is and never becomes and which is apprehended by

reason and reflection, and that which always becomes and never is and is conceived by opinion with the help

of sense. All that becomes and is created is the work of a cause, and that is fair which the artificer makes after

an eternal pattern, but whatever is fashioned after a created pattern is not fair. Is the world created or

uncreated?that is the first question. Created, I reply, being visible and tangible and having a body, and

therefore sensible; and if sensible, then created; and if created, made by a cause, and the cause is the ineffable

father of all things, who had before him an eternal archetype. For to imagine that the archetype was created

would be blasphemy, seeing that the world is the noblest of creations, and God is the best of causes. And the

world being thus created according to the eternal pattern is the copy of something; and we may assume that

words are akin to the matter of which they speak. What is spoken of the unchanging or intelligible must be

certain and true; but what is spoken of the created image can only be probable; being is to becoming what

truth is to belief. And amid the variety of opinions which have arisen about God and the nature of the world

we must be content to take probability for our rule, considering that I, who am the speaker, and you, who are

SOCRATES: Excellent, Timaeus, I like your manner of approaching the subjectproceed.

TIMAEUS: Why did the Creator make the world?...He was good, and therefore not jealous, and being free

from jealousy he desired that all things should be like himself. Wherefore he set in order the visible world,

which he found in disorder. Now he who is the best could only create the fairest; and reflecting that of visible

things the intelligent is superior to the unintelligent, he put intelligence in soul and soul in body, and framed

the universe to be the best and fairest work in the order of nature, and the world became a living soul through

In the likeness of what animal was the world made?that is the third question...The form of the perfect

animal was a whole, and contained all intelligible beings, and the visible animal, made after the pattern of

Are there many worlds or one only?that is the fourth question...One only. For if in the original there had

been more than one they would have been the parts of a third, which would have been the true pattern of the

world; and therefore there is, and will ever be, but one created world. Now that which is created is of

necessity corporeal and visible and tangible, visible and therefore made of fire,tangible and therefore

solid and made of earth. But two terms must be united by a third, which is a mean between them; and had the

earth been a surface only, one mean would have sufficed, but two means are required to unite solid bodies.

And as the world was composed of solids, between the elements of fire and earth God placed two other

and so put together a visible and palpable heaven, having harmony and friendship in the union of the four

elements; and being at unity with itself it was indissoluble except by the hand of the framer. Each of the

elements was taken into the universe whole and entire; for he considered that the animal should be perfect

and one, leaving no remnants out of which another animal could be created, and should also be free from old

age and disease, which are produced by the action of external forces. And as he was to contain all things, he

was made in the allcontaining form of a sphere, round as from a lathe and every way equidistant from the

centre, as was natural and suitable to him. He was finished and smooth, having neither eyes nor ears, for there

was nothing without him which he could see or hear; and he had no need to carry food to his mouth, nor was

there air for him to breathe; and he did not require hands, for there was nothing of which he could take hold,

nor feet, with which to walk. All that he did was done rationally in and by himself, and he moved in a circle

turning within himself, which is the most intellectual of motions; but the other six motions were wanting to

And so the thought of God made a God in the image of a perfect body, having intercourse with himself and

needing no other, but in every part harmonious and selfcontained and truly blessed. The soul was first made

by himthe elder to rule the younger; not in the order in which our wayward fancy has led us to describe

them, but the soul first and afterwards the body. God took of the unchangeable and indivisible and also of the

divisible and corporeal, and out of the two he made a third nature, essence, which was in a mean between

them, and partook of the same and the other, the intractable nature of the other being compressed into the

same. Having made a compound of all the three, he proceeded to divide the entire mass into portions related

to one another in the ratios of 1, 2, 3, 4, 9, 8, 27, and proceeded to fill up the double and triple intervals

over 1, 4/3, 3/2, over 2, 8/3, 3, over 4, 16/3, 6, over 8: over 1, 3/2, 2, over 3, 9/2, 6, over 9,

in which double series of numbers are two kinds of means; the one exceeds and is exceeded by equal parts of

the extremes, e.g. 1, 4/3, 2; the other kind of mean is one which is equidistant from the extremes2, 4, 6. In

this manner there were formed intervals of thirds, 3:2, of fourths, 4:3, and of ninths, 9:8. And next he filled

up the intervals of a fourth with ninths, leaving a remnant which is in the ratio of 256:243. The entire

compound was divided by him lengthways into two parts, which he united at the centre like the letter X, and

bent into an inner and outer circle or sphere, cutting one another again at a point over against the point at

which they cross. The outer circle or sphere was named the sphere of the samethe inner, the sphere of the

other or diverse; and the one revolved horizontally to the right, the other diagonally to the left. To the sphere

of the same which was undivided he gave dominion, but the sphere of the other or diverse was distributed

into seven unequal orbits, having intervals in ratios of twos and threes, three of either sort, and he bade the

orbits move in opposite directions to one anotherthree of them, the Sun, Mercury, Venus, with equal

swiftness, and the remaining fourthe Moon, Saturn, Mars, Jupiter, with unequal swiftness to the three and

When the Creator had made the soul he made the body within her; and the soul interfused everywhere from

the centre to the circumference of heaven, herself turning in herself, began a divine life of rational and

everlasting motion. The body of heaven is visible, but the soul is invisible, and partakes of reason and

harmony, and is the best of creations, being the work of the best. And being composed of the same, the other,

and the essence, these three, and also divided and bound in harmonical proportion, and revolving within

herselfthe soul when touching anything which has essence, whether divided or undivided, is stirred to utter

the sameness or diversity of that and some other thing, and to tell how and when and where individuals are

affected or related, whether in the world of change or of essence. When reason is in the neighbourhood of

sense, and the circle of the other or diverse is moving truly, then arise true opinions and beliefs; when reason

is in the sphere of thought, and the circle of the same runs smoothly, then intelligence is perfected.

When the Father who begat the world saw the image which he had made of the Eternal Gods moving and

living, he rejoiced; and in his joy resolved, since the archetype was eternal, to make the creature eternal as far

as this was possible. Wherefore he made an image of eternity which is time, having an uniform motion

according to number, parted into months and days and years, and also having greater divisions of past,

present, and future. These all apply to becoming in time, and have no meaning in relation to the eternal

nature, which ever is and never was or will be; for the unchangeable is never older or younger, and when we

say that he 'was' or 'will be,' we are mistaken, for these words are applicable only to becoming, and not to true

being; and equally wrong are we in saying that what has become IS become and that what becomes IS

becoming, and that the nonexistent IS non existent...These are the forms of time which imitate eternity and

Thus was time made in the image of the eternal nature; and it was created together with the heavens, in order

that if they were dissolved, it might perish with them. And God made the sun and moon and five other

wanderers, as they are called, seven in all, and to each of them he gave a body moving in an orbit, being one

of the seven orbits into which the circle of the other was divided. He put the moon in the orbit which was

nearest to the earth, the sun in that next, the morning star and Mercury in the orbits which move opposite to

the sun but with equal swiftnessthis being the reason why they overtake and are overtaken by one another.

All these bodies became living creatures, and learnt their appointed tasks, and began to move, the nearer

more swiftly, the remoter more slowly, according to the diagonal movement of the other. And since this was

controlled by the movement of the same, the seven planets in their courses appeared to describe spirals; and

that appeared fastest which was slowest, and that which overtook others appeared to be overtaken by them.

And God lighted a fire in the second orbit from the earth which is called the sun, to give light over the whole

heaven, and to teach intelligent beings that knowledge of number which is derived from the revolution of the

same. Thus arose day and night, which are the periods of the most intelligent nature; a month is created by

the revolution of the moon, a year by that of the sun. Other periods of wonderful length and complexity are

not observed by men in general; there is moreover a cycle or perfect year at the completion of which they all

meet and coincide...To this end the stars came into being, that the created heaven might imitate the eternal

Thus far the universal animal was made in the divine image, but the other animals were not as yet included in

him. And God created them according to the patterns or species of them which existed in the divine original.

There are four of them: one of gods, another of birds, a third of fishes, and a fourth of animals. The gods were

made in the form of a circle, which is the most perfect figure and the figure of the universe. They were

created chiefly of fire, that they might be bright, and were made to know and follow the best, and to be

scattered over the heavens, of which they were to be the glory. Two kinds of motion were assigned to

themfirst, the revolution in the same and around the same, in peaceful unchanging thought of the same;

and to this was added a forward motion which was under the control of the same. Thus then the fixed stars

were created, being divine and eternal animals, revolving on the same spot, and the wandering stars, in their

courses, were created in the manner already described. The earth, which is our nurse, clinging around the pole

extended through the universe, he made to be the guardian and artificer of night and day, first and eldest of

gods that are in the interior of heaven. Vain would be the labour of telling all the figures of them, moving as

in dance, and their juxtapositions and approximations, and when and where and behind what other stars they

appear to disappearto tell of all this without looking at a plan of them would be labour in vain.

The knowledge of the other gods is beyond us, and we can only accept the traditions of the ancients, who

were the children of the gods, as they said; for surely they must have known their own ancestors. Although

they give no proof, we must believe them as is customary. They tell us that Oceanus and Tethys were the

children of Earth and Heaven; that Phoreys, Cronos, and Rhea came in the next generation, and were

When all of them, both those who show themselves in the sky, and those who retire from view, had come into

being, the Creator addressed them thus: 'Gods, sons of gods, my works, if I will, are indissoluble. That

which is bound may be dissolved, but only an evil being would dissolve that which is harmonious and happy.

And although you are not immortal you shall not die, for I will hold you together. Hear me, then:Three

tribes of mortal beings have still to be created, but if created by me they would be like gods. Do ye therefore

make them; I will implant in them the seed of immortality, and you shall weave together the mortal and

immortal, and provide food for them, and receive them again in death.' Thus he spake, and poured the

remains of the elements into the cup in which he had mingled the soul of the universe. They were no longer

pure as before, but diluted; and the mixture he distributed into souls equal in number to the stars, and

assigned each to a starthen having mounted them, as in a chariot, he showed them the nature of the

universe, and told them of their future birth and human lot. They were to be sown in the planets, and out of

them was to come forth the most religious of animals, which would hereafter be called man. The souls were

to be implanted in bodies, which were in a perpetual flux, whence, he said, would arise, first, sensation;

secondly, love, which is a mixture of pleasure and pain; thirdly, fear and anger, and the opposite affections:

and if they conquered these, they would live righteously, but if they were conquered by them, unrighteously.

He who lived well would return to his native star, and would there have a blessed existence; but, if he lived

ill, he would pass into the nature of a woman, and if he did not then alter his evil ways, into the likeness of

some animal, until the reason which was in him reasserted her sway over the elements of fire, air, earth,

water, which had engrossed her, and he regained his first and better nature. Having given this law to his

creatures, that he might be guiltless of their future evil, he sowed them, some in the earth, some in the moon,

and some in the other planets; and he ordered the younger gods to frame human bodies for them and to make

the necessary additions to them, and to avert from them all but selfinflicted evil.

Having given these commands, the Creator remained in his own nature. And his children, receiving from him

the immortal principle, borrowed from the world portions of earth, air, fire, water, hereafter to be returned,

which they fastened together, not with the adamantine bonds which bound themselves, but by little invisible

pegs, making each separate body out of all the elements, subject to influx and efflux, and containing the

courses of the soul. These swelling and surging as in a river moved irregularly and irrationally in all the six

possible ways, forwards, backwards, right, left, up and down. But violent as were the internal and alimentary

fluids, the tide became still more violent when the body came into contact with flaming fire, or the solid

earth, or gliding waters, or the stormy wind; the motions produced by these impulses pass through the body to

the soul and have the name of sensations. Uniting with the everflowing current, they shake the courses of

the soul, stopping the revolution of the same and twisting in all sorts of ways the nature of the other, and the

harmonical ratios of twos and threes and the mean terms which connect them, until the circles are bent and

disordered and their motion becomes irregular. You may imagine a position of the body in which the head is

resting upon the ground, and the legs are in the air, and the top is bottom and the left right. And something

similar happens when the disordered motions of the soul come into contact with any external thing; they say

the same or the other in a manner which is the very opposite of the truth, and they are false and foolish, and

have no guiding principle in them. And when external impressions enter in, they are really conquered, though

By reason of these affections the soul is at first without intelligence, but as time goes on the stream of

nutriment abates, and the courses of the soul regain their proper motion, and apprehend the same and the

other rightly, and become rational. The soul of him who has education is whole and perfect and escapes the

worst disease, but, if a man's education be neglected, he walks lamely through life and returns good for

nothing to the world below. This, however, is an afterstageat present, we are only concerned with the

The two divine courses were encased by the gods in a sphere which is called the head, and is the god and lord

of us. And to this they gave the body to be a vehicle, and the members to be instruments, having the power of

flexion and extension. Such was the origin of legs and arms. In the next place, the gods gave a forward

motion to the human body, because the front part of man was the more honourable and had authority. And

they put in a face in which they inserted organs to minister in all things to the providence of the soul. They

first contrived the eyes, into which they conveyed a light akin to the light of day, making it flow through the

pupils. When the light of the eye is surrounded by the light of day, then like falls upon like, and they unite

and form one body which conveys to the soul the motions of visible objects. But when the visual ray goes

forth into the darkness, then unlike falls upon unlikethe eye no longer sees, and we go to sleep. The fire or

light, when kept in by the eyelids, equalizes the inward motions, and there is rest accompanied by few

dreams; only when the greater motions remain they engender in us corresponding visions of the night. And

now we shall be able to understand the nature of reflections in mirrors. The fires from within and from

without meet about the smooth and bright surface of the mirror; and because they meet in a manner contrary

to the usual mode, the right and left sides of the object are transposed. In a concave mirror the top and bottom

These are the second causes which God used as his ministers in fashioning the world. They are thought by

many to be the prime causes, but they are not so; for they are destitute of mind and reason, and the lover of

mind will not allow that there are any prime causes other than the rational and invisible onesthese he

investigates first, and afterwards the causes of things which are moved by others, and which work by chance

and without order. Of the second or concurrent causes of sight I have already spoken, and I will now speak of

the higher purpose of God in giving us eyes. Sight is the source of the greatest benefits to us; for if our eyes

had never seen the sun, stars, and heavens, the words which we have spoken would not have been uttered.

The sight of them and their revolutions has given us the knowledge of number and time, the power of

enquiry, and philosophy, which is the great blessing of human life; not to speak of the lesser benefits which

even the vulgar can appreciate. God gave us the faculty of sight that we might behold the order of the heavens

and create a corresponding order in our own erring minds. To the like end the gifts of speech and hearing

were bestowed upon us; not for the sake of irrational pleasure, but in order that we might harmonize the

courses of the soul by sympathy with the harmony of sound, and cure ourselves of our irregular and graceless

Thus far we have spoken of the works of mind; and there are other works done from necessity, which we

must now place beside them; for the creation is made up of both, mind persuading necessity as far as possible

to work out good. Before the heavens there existed fire, air, water, earth, which we suppose men to know,

though no one has explained their nature, and we erroneously maintain them to be the letters or elements of

the whole, although they cannot reasonably be compared even to syllables or first compounds. I am not now

speaking of the first principles of things, because I cannot discover them by our present mode of enquiry. But

as I observed the rule of probability at first, I will begin anew, seeking by the grace of God to observe it still.

In our former discussion I distinguished two kinds of beingthe unchanging or invisible, and the visible or

changing. But now a third kind is required, which I shall call the receptacle or nurse of generation. There is a

difficulty in arriving at an exact notion of this third kind, because the four elements themselves are of inexact

natures and easily pass into one another, and are too transient to be detained by any one name; wherefore we

are compelled to speak of water or fire, not as substances, but as qualities. They may be compared to images

made of gold, which are continually assuming new forms. Somebody asks what they are; if you do not know,

the safest answer is to reply that they are gold. In like manner there is a universal nature out of which all

things are made, and which is like none of them; but they enter into and pass out of her, and are made after

patterns of the true in a wonderful and inexplicable manner. The containing principle may be likened to a

mother, the source or spring to a father, the intermediate nature to a child; and we may also remark that the

matter which receives every variety of form must be formless, like the inodorous liquids which are prepared

to receive scents, or the smooth and soft materials on which figures are impressed. In the same way space or

matter is neither earth nor fire nor air nor water, but an invisible and formless being which receives all things,

and in an incomprehensible manner partakes of the intelligible. But we may say, speaking generally, that fire

is that part of this nature which is inflamed, water that which is moistened, and the like.

Let me ask a question in which a great principle is involved: Is there an essence of fire and the other

elements, or are there only fires visible to sense? I answer in a word: If mind is one thing and true opinion

another, then there are selfexistent essences; but if mind is the same with opinion, then the visible and

corporeal is most real. But they are not the same, and they have a different origin and nature. The one comes

to us by instruction, the other by persuasion, the one is rational, the other is irrational; the one is movable by

persuasion, the other immovable; the one is possessed by every man, the other by the gods and by very few

men. And we must acknowledge that as there are two kinds of knowledge, so there are two kinds of being

corresponding to them; the one uncreated, indestructible, immovable, which is seen by intelligence only; the

other created, which is always becoming in place and vanishing out of place, and is apprehended by opinion

and sense. There is also a third naturethat of space, which is indestructible, and is perceived by a kind of

spurious reason without the help of sense. This is presented to us in a dreamy manner, and yet is said to be

necessary, for we say that all things must be somewhere in space. For they are the images of other things and

must therefore have a separate existence and exist in something (i.e. in space). But true reason assures us that

while two things (i.e. the idea and the image) are different they cannot inhere in one another, so as to be one

To sum up: Being and generation and space, these three, existed before the heavens, and the nurse or vessel

of generation, moistened by water and inflamed by fire, and taking the forms of air and earth, assumed

various shapes. By the motion of the vessel, the elements were divided, and like grain winnowed by fans, the

close and heavy particles settled in one place, the light and airy ones in another. At first they were without

reason and measure, and had only certain faint traces of themselves, until God fashioned them by figure and

number. In this, as in every other part of creation, I suppose God to have made things, as far as was possible,

And now I will explain to you the generation of the world by a method with which your scientific training

will have made you familiar. Fire, air, earth, and water are bodies and therefore solids, and solids are

contained in planes, and plane rectilinear figures are made up of triangles. Of triangles there are two kinds;

one having the opposite sides equal (isosceles), the other with unequal sides (scalene). These we may fairly

assume to be the original elements of fire and the other bodies; what principles are prior to these God only

knows, and he of men whom God loves. Next, we must determine what are the four most beautiful figures

which are unlike one another and yet sometimes capable of resolution into one another...Of the two kinds of

triangles the equalsided has but one form, the unequalsided has an infinite variety of forms; and there is

none more beautiful than that which forms the half of an equilateral triangle. Let us then choose two

triangles; one, the isosceles, the other, that form of scalene which has the square of the longer side three times

as great as the square of the lesser side; and affirm that, out of these, fire and the other elements have been

I was wrong in imagining that all the four elements could be generated into and out of one another. For as

they are formed, three of them from the triangle which has the sides unequal, the fourth from the triangle

which has equal sides, three can be resolved into one another, but the fourth cannot be resolved into them nor

they into it. So much for their passage into one another: I must now speak of their construction. From the

triangle of which the hypotenuse is twice the lesser side the three first regular solids are formedfirst, the

equilateral pyramid or tetrahedron; secondly, the octahedron; thirdly, the icosahedron; and from the isosceles

triangle is formed the cube. And there is a fifth figure (which is made out of twelve pentagons), the

Let us now assign the geometrical forms to their respective elements. The cube is the most stable of them

because resting on a quadrangular plane surface, and composed of isosceles triangles. To the earth then,

which is the most stable of bodies and the most easily modelled of them, may be assigned the form of a cube;

and the remaining forms to the other elements,to fire the pyramid, to air the octahedron, and to water the

icosahedron,according to their degrees of lightness or heaviness or power, or want of power, of

penetration. The single particles of any of the elements are not seen by reason of their smallness; they only

become visible when collected. The ratios of their motions, numbers, and other properties, are ordered by the

The probable conclusion is as follows:Earth, when dissolved by the more penetrating element of fire,

whether acting immediately or through the medium of air or water, is decomposed but not transformed.

Water, when divided by fire or air, becomes one part fire, and two parts air. A volume of air divided becomes

two of fire. On the other hand, when condensed, two volumes of fire make a volume of air; and two and a

half parts of air condense into one of water. Any element which is fastened upon by fire is cut by the

sharpness of the triangles, until at length, coalescing with the fire, it is at rest; for similars are not affected by

similars. When two kinds of bodies quarrel with one another, then the tendency to decomposition continues

until the smaller either escapes to its kindred element or becomes one with its conqueror. And this tendency

in bodies to condense or escape is a source of motion...Where there is motion there must be a mover, and

where there is a mover there must be something to move. These cannot exist in what is uniform, and therefore

motion is due to want of uniformity. But then why, when things are divided after their kinds, do they not

cease from motion? The answer is, that the circular motion of all things compresses them, and as 'nature

abhors a vacuum,' the finer and more subtle particles of the lighter elements, such as fire and air, are thrust

into the interstices of the larger, each of them penetrating according to their rarity, and thus all the elements

are on their way up and down everywhere and always into their own places. Hence there is a principle of

In the next place, we may observe that there are different kinds of fire (1) flame, (2) light that burns not,

(3) the red heat of the embers of fire. And there are varieties of air, as for example, the pure aether, the

opaque mist, and other nameless forms. Water, again, is of two kinds, liquid and fusile. The liquid is

composed of small and unequal particles, the fusile of large and uniform particles and is more solid, but

nevertheless melts at the approach of fire, and then spreads upon the earth. When the substance cools, the fire

passes into the air, which is displaced, and forces together and condenses the liquid mass. This process is

called cooling and congealment. Of the fusile kinds the fairest and heaviest is gold; this is hardened by

filtration through rock, and is of a bright yellow colour. A shoot of gold which is darker and denser than the

rest is called adamant. Another kind is called copper, which is harder and yet lighter because the interstices

are larger than in gold. There is mingled with it a fine and small portion of earth which comes out in the form

of rust. These are a few of the conjectures which philosophy forms, when, leaving the eternal nature, she

Water which is mingled with fire is called liquid because it rolls upon the earth, and soft because its bases

give way. This becomes more equable when separated from fire and air, and then congeals into hail or ice, or

the looser forms of hoar frost or snow. There are other waters which are called juices and are distilled through

plants. Of these we may mention, first, wine, which warms the soul as well as the body; secondly, oily

substances, as for example, oil or pitch; thirdly, honey, which relaxes the contracted parts of the mouth and so

produces sweetness; fourthly, vegetable acid, which is frothy and has a burning quality and dissolves the

flesh. Of the kinds of earth, that which is filtered through water passes into stone; the water is broken up by

the earth and escapes in the form of airthis in turn presses upon the mass of earth, and the earth,

compressed into an indissoluble union with the remaining water, becomes rock. Rock, when it is made up of

equal particles, is fair and transparent, but the reverse when of unequal. Earth is converted into pottery when

the watery part is suddenly drawn away; or if moisture remains, the earth, when fused by fire, becomes, on

cooling, a stone of a black colour. When the earth is finer and of a briny nature then two halfsolid bodies are

formed by separating the water,soda and salt. The strong compounds of earth and water are not soluble by

water, but only by fire. Earth itself, when not consolidated, is dissolved by water; when consolidated, by fire

only. The cohesion of water, when strong, is dissolved by fire only; when weak, either by air or fire, the

former entering the interstices, the latter penetrating even the triangles. Air when strongly condensed is

indissoluble by any power which does not reach the triangles, and even when not strongly condensed is only

resolved by fire. Compounds of earth and water are unaffected by water while the water occupies the

interstices in them, but begin to liquefy when fire enters into the interstices of the water. They are of two

kinds, some of them, like glass, having more earth, others, like wax, having more water in them.

Having considered objects of sense, we now pass on to sensation. But we cannot explain sensation without

explaining the nature of flesh and of the mortal soul; and as we cannot treat of both together, in order that we

may proceed at once to the sensations we must assume the existence of body and soul.

What makes fire burn? The fineness of the sides, the sharpness of the angles, the smallness of the particles,

the quickness of the motion. Moreover, the pyramid, which is the figure of fire, is more cutting than any

other. The feeling of cold is produced by the larger particles of moisture outside the body trying to eject the

smaller ones in the body which they compress. The struggle which arises between elements thus unnaturally

brought together causes shivering. That is hard to which the flesh yields, and soft which yields to the flesh,

and these two terms are also relative to one another. The yielding matter is that which has the slenderest base,

whereas that which has a rectangular base is compact and repellent. Light and heavy are wrongly explained

with reference to a lower and higher in place. For in the universe, which is a sphere, there is no opposition of

above or below, and that which is to us above would be below to a man standing at the antipodes. The greater

or less difficulty in detaching any element from its like is the real cause of heaviness or of lightness. If you

draw the earth into the dissimilar air, the particles of earth cling to their native element, and you more easily

detach a small portion than a large. There would be the same difficulty in moving any of the upper elements

towards the lower. The smooth and the rough are severally produced by the union of evenness with

Pleasure and pain are the most important of the affections common to the whole body. According to our

general doctrine of sensation, parts of the body which are easily moved readily transmit the motion to the

mind; but parts which are not easily moved have no effect upon the patient. The bones and hair are of the

latter kind, sight and hearing of the former. Ordinary affections are neither pleasant nor painful. The

impressions of sight afford an example of these, and are neither violent nor sudden. But sudden

replenishments of the body cause pleasure, and sudden disturbances, as for example cuttings and burnings,

>From sensations common to the whole body, we proceed to those of particular parts. The affections of the

tongue appear to be caused by contraction and dilation, but they have more of roughness or smoothness than

is found in other affections. Earthy particles, entering into the small veins of the tongue which reach to the

heart, when they melt into and dry up the little veins are astringent if they are rough; or if not so rough, they

are only harsh, and if excessively abstergent, like potash and soda, bitter. Purgatives of a weaker sort are

called salt and, having no bitterness, are rather agreeable. Inflammatory bodies, which by their lightness are

carried up into the head, cutting all that comes in their way, are termed pungent. But when these are refined

by putrefaction, and enter the narrow veins of the tongue, and meet there particles of earth and air, two kinds

of globules are formedone of earthy and impure liquid, which boils and ferments, the other of pure and

transparent water, which are called bubbles; of all these affections the cause is termed acid. When, on the

other hand, the composition of the deliquescent particles is congenial to the tongue, and disposes the parts

Smells are not divided into kinds; all of them are transitional, and arise out of the decomposition of one

element into another, for the simple air or water is without smell. They are vapours or mists, thinner than

water and thicker than air: and hence in drawing in the breath, when there is an obstruction, the air passes, but

there is no smell. They have no names, but are distinguished as pleasant and unpleasant, and their influence

Hearing is the effect of a stroke which is transmitted through the ears by means of the air, brain, and blood to

the soul, beginning at the head and extending to the liver. The sound which moves swiftly is acute; that which

moves slowly is grave; that which is uniform is smooth, and the opposite is harsh. Loudness depends on the

Colours are flames which emanate from all bodies, having particles corresponding to the sense of sight. Some

of the particles are less and some larger, and some are equal to the parts of the sight. The equal particles

appear transparent; the larger contract, and the lesser dilate the sight. White is produced by the dilation, black

by the contraction, of the particles of sight. There is also a swifter motion of another sort of fire which forces

a way through the passages of the eyes, and elicits from them a union of fire and water which we call tears.

The inner fire flashes forth, and the outer finds a way in and is extinguished in the moisture, and all sorts of

colours are generated by the mixture. This affection is termed by us dazzling, and the object which produces

it is called bright. There is yet another sort of fire which mingles with the moisture of the eye without

flashing, and produces a colour like bloodto this we give the name of red. A bright element mingling with

red and white produces a colour which we call auburn. The law of proportion, however, according to which

compound colours are formed, cannot be determined scientifically or even probably. Red, when mingled with

black and white, gives a purple hue, which becomes umber when the colours are burnt and there is a larger

admixture of black. Flamecolour is a mixture of auburn and dun; dun of white and black; yellow of white

and auburn. White and bright meeting, and falling upon a full black, become dark blue; dark blue mingling

with white becomes a light blue; the union of flamecolour and black makes leekgreen. There is no

difficulty in seeing how other colours are probably composed. But he who should attempt to test the truth of

this by experiment, would forget the difference of the human and divine nature. God only is able to

These are the elements of necessity which the Creator received in the world of generation when he made the

allsufficient and perfect creature, using the secondary causes as his ministers, but himself fashioning the

good in all things. For there are two sorts of causes, the one divine, the other necessary; and we should seek

to discover the divine above all, and, for their sake, the necessary, because without them the higher cannot be

Having now before us the causes out of which the rest of our discourse is to be framed, let us go back to the

point at which we began, and add a fair ending to our tale. As I said at first, all things were originally a chaos

in which there was no order or proportion. The elements of this chaos were arranged by the Creator, and out

of them he made the world. Of the divine he himself was the author, but he committed to his offspring the

creation of the mortal. From him they received the immortal soul, but themselves made the body to be its

vehicle, and constructed within another soul which was mortal, and subject to terrible affectionspleasure,

the inciter of evil; pain, which deters from good; rashness and fear, foolish counsellors; anger hard to be

appeased; hope easily led astray. These they mingled with irrational sense and alldaring love according to

necessary laws and so framed man. And, fearing to pollute the divine element, they gave the mortal soul a

separate habitation in the breast, parted off from the head by a narrow isthmus. And as in a house the

women's apartments are divided from the men's, the cavity of the thorax was divided into two parts, a higher

and a lower. The higher of the two, which is the seat of courage and anger, lies nearer to the head, between

the midriff and the neck, and assists reason in restraining the desires. The heart is the house of guard in which

all the veins meet, and through them reason sends her commands to the extremity of her kingdom. When the

passions are in revolt, or danger approaches from without, then the heart beats and swells; and the creating

powers, knowing this, implanted in the body the soft and bloodless substance of the lung, having a porous

and springy nature like a sponge, and being kept cool by drink and air which enters through the trachea.

The part of the soul which desires meat and drink was placed between the midriff and navel, where they

made a sort of manger; and here they bound it down, like a wild animal, away from the councilchamber, and

leaving the better principle undisturbed to advise quietly for the good of the whole. For the Creator knew that

the belly would not listen to reason, and was under the power of idols and fancies. Wherefore he framed the

liver to connect with the lower nature, contriving that it should be compact, and bright, and sweet, and also

bitter and smooth, in order that the power of thought which originates in the mind might there be reflected,

terrifying the belly with the elements of bitterness and gall, and a suffusion of bilious colours when the liver

is contracted, and causing pain and misery by twisting out of its place the lobe and closing up the vessels and

gates. And the converse happens when some gentle inspiration coming from intelligence mirrors the opposite

fancies, giving rest and sweetness and freedom, and at night, moderation and peace accompanied with

prophetic insight, when reason and sense are asleep. For the authors of our being, in obedience to their

Father's will and in order to make men as good as they could, gave to the liver the power of divination, which

is never active when men are awake or in health; but when they are under the influence of some disorder or

enthusiasm then they receive intimations, which have to be interpreted by others who are called prophets, but

should rather be called interpreters of prophecy; after death these intimations become unintelligible. The

spleen which is situated in the neighbourhood, on the left side, keeps the liver bright and clean, as a napkin

does a mirror, and the evacuations of the liver are received into it; and being a hollow tissue it is for a time

swollen with these impurities, but when the body is purged it returns to its natural size.

The truth concerning the soul can only be established by the word of God. Still, we may venture to assert

The creative powers were aware of our tendency to excess. And so when they made the belly to be a

receptacle for food, in order that men might not perish by insatiable gluttony, they formed the convolutions of

the intestines, in this way retarding the passage of food through the body, lest mankind should be absorbed in

The creation of bones and flesh was on this wise. The foundation of these is the marrow which binds together

body and soul, and the marrow is made out of such of the primary triangles as are adapted by their perfection

to produce all the four elements. These God took and mingled them in due proportion, making as many kinds

of marrow as there were hereafter to be kinds of souls. The receptacle of the divine soul he made round, and

called that portion of the marrow brain, intending that the vessel containing this substance should be the head.

The remaining part he divided into long and round figures, and to these as to anchors, fastening the mortal

soul, he proceeded to make the rest of the body, first forming for both parts a covering of bone. The bone was

formed by sifting pure smooth earth and wetting it with marrow. It was then thrust alternately into fire and

water, and thus rendered insoluble by either. Of bone he made a globe which he placed around the brain,

leaving a narrow opening, and around the marrow of the neck and spine he formed the vertebrae, like hinges,

which extended from the head through the whole of the trunk. And as the bone was brittle and liable to

mortify and destroy the marrow by too great rigidity and susceptibility to heat and cold, he contrived sinews

and fleshthe first to give flexibility, the second to guard against heat and cold, and to be a protection

against falls, containing a warm moisture, which in summer exudes and cools the body, and in winter is a

defence against cold. Having this in view, the Creator mingled earth with fire and water and mixed with them

a ferment of acid and salt, so as to form pulpy flesh. But the sinews he made of a mixture of bone and

unfermented flesh, giving them a mean nature between the two, and a yellow colour. Hence they were more

glutinous than flesh, but softer than bone. The bones which have most of the living soul within them he

covered with the thinnest film of flesh, those which have least of it, he lodged deeper. At the joints he

diminished the flesh in order not to impede the flexure of the limbs, and also to avoid clogging the

perceptions of the mind. About the thighs and arms, which have no sense because there is little soul in the

marrow, and about the inner bones, he laid the flesh thicker. For where the flesh is thicker there is less

feeling, except in certain parts which the Creator has made solely of flesh, as for example, the tongue. Had

the combination of solid bone and thick flesh been consistent with acute perceptions, the Creator would have

given man a sinewy and fleshy head, and then he would have lived twice as long. But our creators were of

opinion that a shorter life which was better was preferable to a longer which was worse, and therefore they

covered the head with thin bone, and placed the sinews at the extremity of the head round the neck, and

fastened the jawbones to them below the face. And they framed the mouth, having teeth and tongue and lips,

with a view to the necessary and the good; for food is a necessity, and the river of speech is the best of rivers.

Still, the head could not be left a bare globe of bone on account of the extremes of heat and cold, nor be

allowed to become dull and senseless by an overgrowth of flesh. Wherefore it was covered by a peel or skin

which met and grew by the help of the cerebral humour. The diversity of the sutures was caused by the

struggle of the food against the courses of the soul. The skin of the head was pierced by fire, and out of the

punctures came forth a moisture, part liquid, and part of a skinny nature, which was hardened by the pressure

of the external cold and became hair. And God gave hair to the head of man to be a light covering, so that it

might not interfere with his perceptions. Nails were formed by combining sinew, skin, and bone, and were

made by the creators with a view to the future when, as they knew, women and other animals who would

The gods also mingled natures akin to that of man with other forms and perceptions. Thus trees and plants

were created, which were originally wild and have been adapted by cultivation to our use. They partake of

that third kind of life which is seated between the midriff and the navel, and is altogether passive and

When the creators had furnished all these natures for our sustenance, they cut channels through our bodies as

in a garden, watering them with a perennial stream. Two were cut down the back, along the back bone, where

the skin and flesh meet, one on the right and the other on the left, having the marrow of generation between

them. In the next place, they divided the veins about the head and interlaced them with each other in order

that they might form an additional link between the head and the body, and that the sensations from both

sides might be diffused throughout the body. In the third place, they contrived the passage of liquids, which

may be explained in this way:Finer bodies retain coarser, but not the coarser the finer, and the belly is

capable of retaining food, but not fire and air. God therefore formed a network of fire and air to irrigate the

veins, having within it two lesser nets, and stretched cords reaching from both the lesser nets to the extremity

of the outer net. The inner parts of the net were made by him of fire, the lesser nets and their cavities of air.

The two latter he made to pass into the mouth; the one ascending by the air pipes from the lungs, the other

by the side of the airpipes from the belly. The entrance to the first he divided into two parts, both of which

he made to meet at the channels of the nose, that when the mouth was closed the passage connected with it

might still be fed with air. The cavity of the network he spread around the hollows of the body, making the

entire receptacle to flow into and out of the lesser nets and the lesser nets into and out of it, while the outer

net found a way into and out of the pores of the body, and the internal heat followed the air to and fro. These,

as we affirm, are the phenomena of respiration. And all this process takes place in order that the body may be

watered and cooled and nourished, and the meat and drink digested and liquefied and carried into the veins.

The causes of respiration have now to be considered. The exhalation of the breath through the mouth and

nostrils displaces the external air, and at the same time leaves a vacuum into which through the pores the air

which is displaced enters. Also the vacuum which is made when the air is exhaled through the pores is filled

up by the inhalation of breath through the mouth and nostrils. The explanation of this double phenomenon is

as follows:Elements move towards their natural places. Now as every animal has within him a fountain of

fire, the air which is inhaled through the mouth and nostrils, on coming into contact with this, is heated; and

when heated, in accordance with the law of attraction, it escapes by the way it entered toward the place of

fire. On leaving the body it is cooled and drives round the air which it displaces through the pores into the

empty lungs. This again is in turn heated by the internal fire and escapes, as it entered, through the pores.

The phenomena of medical cuppingglasses, of swallowing, and of the hurling of bodies, are to be explained

on a similar principle; as also sounds, which are sometimes discordant on account of the inequality of them,

and again harmonious by reason of equality. The slower sounds reaching the swifter, when they begin to

pause, by degrees assimilate with them: whence arises a pleasure which even the unwise feel, and which to

the wise becomes a higher sense of delight, being an imitation of divine harmony in mortal motions. Streams

flow, lightnings play, amber and the magnet attract, not by reason of attraction, but because 'nature abhors a

vacuum,' and because things, when compounded or dissolved, move different ways, each to its own place.

I will now return to the phenomena of respiration. The fire, entering the belly, minces the food, and as it

escapes, fills the veins by drawing after it the divided portions, and thus the streams of nutriment are diffused

through the body. The fruits or herbs which are our daily sustenance take all sorts of colours when

intermixed, but the colour of red or fire predominates, and hence the liquid which we call blood is red, being

the nurturing principle of the body, whence all parts are watered and empty places filled.

The process of repletion and depletion is produced by the attraction of like to like, after the manner of the

universal motion. The external elements by their attraction are always diminishing the substance of the body:

the particles of blood, too, formed out of the newly digested food, are attracted towards kindred elements

within the body and so fill up the void. When more is taken away than flows in, then we decay; and when

The young of every animal has the triangles new and closely locked together, and yet the entire frame is soft

and delicate, being newly made of marrow and nurtured on milk. These triangles are sharper than those which

enter the body from without in the shape of food, and therefore they cut them up. But as life advances, the

triangles wear out and are no longer able to assimilate food; and at length, when the bonds which unite the

triangles of the marrow become undone, they in turn unloose the bonds of the soul; and if the release be

according to nature, she then flies away with joy. For the death which is natural is pleasant, but that which is

Every one may understand the origin of diseases. They may be occasioned by the disarrangement or

disproportion of the elements out of which the body is framed. This is the origin of many of them, but the

worst of all owe their severity to the following causes: There is a natural order in the human frame according

to which the flesh and sinews are made of blood, the sinews out of the fibres, and the flesh out of the

congealed substance which is formed by separation from the fibres. The glutinous matter which comes away

from the sinews and the flesh, not only binds the flesh to the bones, but nourishes the bones and waters the

But when the flesh wastes and returns into the veins there is discoloured blood as well as air in the veins,

having acid and salt qualities, from which is generated every sort of phlegm and bile. All things go the wrong

way and cease to give nourishment to the body, no longer preserving their natural courses, but at war with

themselves and destructive to the constitution of the body. The oldest part of the flesh which is hard to

decompose blackens from long burning, and from being corroded grows bitter, and as the bitter element

refines away, becomes acid. When tinged with blood the bitter substance has a red colour, and this when

mixed with black takes the hue of grass; or again, the bitter substance has an auburn colour, when new flesh

is decomposed by the internal flame. To all which phenomena some physician or philosopher who was able

to see the one in many has given the name of bile. The various kinds of bile have names answering to their

colours. Lymph or serum is of two kinds: first, the whey of blood, which is gentle; secondly, the secretion of

dark and bitter bile, which, when mingled under the influence of heat with salt, is malignant and is called acid

phlegm. There is also white phlegm, formed by the decomposition of young and tender flesh, and covered

with little bubbles, separately invisible, but becoming visible when collected. The water of tears and

perspiration and similar substances is also the watery part of fresh phlegm. All these humours become

sources of disease when the blood is replenished in irregular ways and not by food or drink. The danger,

however, is not so great when the foundation remains, for then there is a possibility of recovery. But when the

substance which unites the flesh and bones is diseased, and is no longer renewed from the muscles and

sinews, and instead of being oily and smooth and glutinous becomes rough and salt and dry, then the fleshy

parts fall away and leave the sinews bare and full of brine, and the flesh gets back again into the circulation of

the blood, and makes the previously mentioned disorders still greater. There are other and worse diseases

which are prior to these; as when the bone through the density of the flesh does not receive sufficient air, and

becomes stagnant and gangrened, and crumbling away passes into the food, and the food into the flesh, and

the flesh returns again into the blood. Worst of all and most fatal is the disease of the marrow, by which the

whole course of the body is reversed. There is a third class of diseases which are produced, some by wind and

some by phlegm and some by bile. When the lung, which is the steward of the air, is obstructed, by rheums,

and in one part no air, and in another too much, enters in, then the parts which are unrefreshed by air corrode,

and other parts are distorted by the excess of air; and in this manner painful diseases are produced. The most

painful are caused by wind generated within the body, which gets about the great sinews of the

shouldersthese are termed tetanus. The cure of them is difficult, and in most cases they are relieved only

by fever. White phlegm, which is dangerous if kept in, by reason of the air bubbles, is not equally dangerous

if able to escape through the pores, although it variegates the body, generating diverse kinds of leprosies. If,

when mingled with black bile, it disturbs the courses of the head in sleep, there is not so much danger; but if

it assails those who are awake, then the attack is far more dangerous, and is called epilepsy or the sacred

Inflammations originate in bile, which is sometimes relieved by boils and swellings, but when detained, and

above all when mingled with pure blood, generates many inflammatory disorders, disturbing the position of

the fibres which are scattered about in the blood in order to maintain the balance of rare and dense which is

necessary to its regular circulation. If the bile, which is only stale blood, or liquefied flesh, comes in little by

little, it is congealed by the fibres and produces internal cold and shuddering. But when it enters with more of

a flood it overcomes the fibres by its heat and reaches the spinal marrow, and burning up the cables of the

soul sets her free from the body. When on the other hand the body, though wasted, still holds out, then the

bile is expelled, like an exile from a factious state, causing associating diarrhoeas and dysenteries and similar

disorders. The body which is diseased from the effects of fire is in a continual fever; when air is the agent, the

fever is quotidian; when water, the fever intermits a day; when earth, which is the most sluggish element, the

Of mental disorders there are two sorts, one madness, the other ignorance, and they may be justly attributed

to disease. Excessive pleasures or pains are among the greatest diseases, and deprive men of their senses.

When the seed about the spinal marrow is too abundant, the body has too great pleasures and pains; and

during a great part of his life he who is the subject of them is more or less mad. He is often thought bad, but

this is a mistake; for the truth is that the intemperance of lust is due to the fluidity of the marrow produced by

the loose consistency of the bones. And this is true of vice in general, which is commonly regarded as

disgraceful, whereas it is really involuntary and arises from a bad habit of the body and evil education. In like

manner the soul is often made vicious by the influence of bodily pain; the briny phlegm and other bitter and

bilious humours wander over the body and find no exit, but are compressed within, and mingle their own

vapours with the motions of the soul, and are carried to the three places of the soul, creating infinite varieties

of trouble and melancholy, of rashness and cowardice, of forgetfulness and stupidity. When men are in this

evil plight of body, and evil forms of government and evil discourses are superadded, and there is no

education to save them, they are corrupted through two causes; but of neither of them are they really the

authors. For the planters are to blame rather than the plants, the educators and not the educated. Still, we

should endeavour to attain virtue and avoid vice; but this is part of another subject.

Enough of diseaseI have now to speak of the means by which the mind and body are to be preserved, a

higher theme than the other. The good is the beautiful, and the beautiful is the symmetrical, and there is no

greater or fairer symmetry than that of body and soul, as the contrary is the greatest of deformities. A leg or

an arm too long or too short is at once ugly and unserviceable, and the same is true if body and soul are

disproportionate. For a strong and impassioned soul may 'fret the pigmy body to decay,' and so produce

convulsions and other evils. The violence of controversy, or the earnestness of enquiry, will often generate

inflammations and rheums which are not understood, or assigned to their true cause by the professors of

medicine. And in like manner the body may be too much for the soul, darkening the reason, and quickening

the animal desires. The only security is to preserve the balance of the two, and to this end the mathematician

or philosopher must practise gymnastics, and the gymnast must cultivate music. The parts of the body too

must be treated in the same waythey should receive their appropriate exercise. For the body is set in

motion when it is heated and cooled by the elements which enter in, or is dried up and moistened by external

things; and, if given up to these processes when at rest, it is liable to destruction. But the natural motion, as in

the world, so also in the human frame, produces harmony and divides hostile powers. The best exercise is the

spontaneous motion of the body, as in gymnastics, because most akin to the motion of mind; not so good is

the motion of which the source is in another, as in sailing or riding; least good when the body is at rest and

the motion is in parts only, which is a species of motion imparted by physic. This should only be resorted to

by men of sense in extreme cases; lesser diseases are not to be irritated by medicine. For every disease is akin

to the living being and has an appointed term, just as life has, which depends on the form of the triangles, and

cannot be protracted when they are worn out. And he who, instead of accepting his destiny, endeavours to

prolong his life by medicine, is likely to multiply and magnify his diseases. Regimen and not medicine is the

Enough of the nature of man and of the body, and of training and education. The subject is a great one and

cannot be adequately treated as an appendage to another. To sum up all in a word: there are three kinds of

soul located within us, and any one of them, if remaining inactive, becomes very weak; if exercised, very

The divine soul God lodged in the head, to raise us, like plants which are not of earthly origin, to our kindred;

for the head is nearest to heaven. He who is intent upon the gratification of his desires and cherishes the

mortal soul, has all his ideas mortal, and is himself mortal in the truest sense. But he who seeks after

knowledge and exercises the divine part of himself in godly and immortal thoughts, attains to truth and

immortality, as far as is possible to man, and also to happiness, while he is training up within him the divine

principle and indwelling power of order. There is only one way in which one person can benefit another; and

that is by assigning to him his proper nurture and motion. To the motions of the soul answer the motions of

the universe, and by the study of these the individual is restored to his original nature.

Thus we have finished the discussion of the universe, which, according to our original intention, has now

been brought down to the creation of man. Completeness seems to require that something should be briefly

said about other animals: first of women, who are probably degenerate and cowardly men. And when they

degenerated, the gods implanted in men the desire of union with them, creating in man one animate substance

and in woman another in the following manner:The outlet for liquids they connected with the living

principle of the spinal marrow, which the man has the desire to emit into the fruitful womb of the woman;

this is like a fertile field in which the seed is quickened and matured, and at last brought to light. When this

desire is unsatisfied the man is overmastered by the power of the generative organs, and the woman is

subjected to disorders from the obstruction of the passages of the breath, until the two meet and pluck the

The race of birds was created out of innocent, lightminded men, who thought to pursue the study of the

heavens by sight; these were transformed into birds, and grew feathers instead of hair. The race of wild

animals were men who had no philosophy, and never looked up to heaven or used the courses of the head, but

followed only the influences of passion. Naturally they turned to their kindred earth, and put their forelegs to

the ground, and their heads were crushed into strange oblong forms. Some of them have four feet, and some

of them more than four,the latter, who are the more senseless, drawing closer to their native element; the

most senseless of all have no limbs and trail their whole body on the ground. The fourth kind are the

inhabitants of the waters; these are made out of the most senseless and ignorant and impure of men, whom

God placed in the uttermost parts of the world in return for their utter ignorance, and caused them to respire

water instead of the pure element of air. Such are the laws by which animals pass into one another.

And so the world received animals, mortal and immortal, and was fulfilled with them, and became a visible

God, comprehending the visible, made in the image of the Intellectual, being the one perfect onlybegotten

Nature in the aspect which she presented to a Greek philosopher of the fourth century before Christ is not

easily reproduced to modern eyes. The associations of mythology and poetry have to be added, and the

unconscious influence of science has to be subtracted, before we can behold the heavens or the earth as they

appeared to the Greek. The philosopher himself was a child and also a mana child in the range of his

attainments, but also a great intelligence having an insight into nature, and often anticipations of the truth. He

was full of original thoughts, and yet liable to be imposed upon by the most obvious fallacies. He

occasionally confused numbers with ideas, and atoms with numbers; his a priori notions were out of all

proportion to his experience. He was ready to explain the phenomena of the heavens by the most trivial

analogies of earth. The experiments which nature worked for him he sometimes accepted, but he never tried

experiments for himself which would either prove or disprove his theories. His knowledge was unequal;

while in some branches, such as medicine and astronomy, he had made considerable proficiency, there were

others, such as chemistry, electricity, mechanics, of which the very names were unknown to him. He was the

natural enemy of mythology, and yet mythological ideas still retained their hold over him. He was

endeavouring to form a conception of principles, but these principles or ideas were regarded by him as real

powers or entities, to which the world had been subjected. He was always tending to argue from what was

near to what was remote, from what was known to what was unknown, from man to the universe, and back

again from the universe to man. While he was arranging the world, he was arranging the forms of thought in

his own mind; and the light from within and the light from without often crossed and helped to confuse one

another. He might be compared to a builder engaged in some great design, who could only dig with his hands

because he was unprovided with common tools; or to some poet or musician, like Tynnichus (Ion), obliged to

The Hesiodic and Orphic cosmogonies were a phase of thought intermediate between mythology and

philosophy and had a great influence on the beginnings of knowledge. There was nothing behind them; they

were to physical science what the poems of Homer were to early Greek history. They made men think of the

world as a whole; they carried the mind back into the infinity of past time; they suggested the first

observation of the effects of fire and water on the earth's surface. To the ancient physics they stood much in

the same relation which geology does to modern science. But the Greek was not, like the enquirer of the last

generation, confined to a period of six thousand years; he was able to speculate freely on the effects of

infinite ages in the production of physical phenomena. He could imagine cities which had existed time out of

mind (States.; Laws), laws or forms of art and music which had lasted, 'not in word only, but in very truth, for

ten thousand years' (Laws); he was aware that natural phenomena like the Delta of the Nile might have

slowly accumulated in long periods of time (Hdt.). But he seems to have supposed that the course of events

was recurring rather than progressive. To this he was probably led by the fixedness of Egyptian customs and

the general observation that there were other civilisations in the world more ancient than that of Hellas.

The ancient philosophers found in mythology many ideas which, if not originally derived from nature, were

easily transferred to hersuch, for example, as love or hate, corresponding to attraction or repulsion; or the

conception of necessity allied both to the regularity and irregularity of nature; or of chance, the nameless or

unknown cause; or of justice, symbolizing the law of compensation; are of the Fates and Furies, typifying the

fixed order or the extraordinary convulsions of nature. Their own interpretations of Homer and the poets were

supposed by them to be the original meaning. Musing in themselves on the phenomena of nature, they were

relieved at being able to utter the thoughts of their hearts in figures of speech which to them were not figures,

and were already consecrated by tradition. Hesiod and the Orphic poets moved in a region of

halfpersonification in which the meaning or principle appeared through the person. In their vaster

conceptions of Chaos, Erebus, Aether, Night, and the like, the first rude attempts at generalization are dimly

seen. The Gods themselves, especially the greater Gods, such as Zeus, Poseidon, Apollo, Athene, are

universals as well as individuals. They were gradually becoming lost in a common conception of mind or

God. They continued to exist for the purposes of ritual or of art; but from the sixth century onwards or even

earlier there arose and gained strength in the minds of men the notion of 'one God, greatest among Gods and

Under the influence of such ideas, perhaps also deriving from the traditions of their own or of other nations

scraps of medicine and astronomy, men came to the observation of nature. The Greek philosopher looked at

the blue circle of the heavens and it flashed upon him that all things were one; the tumult of sense abated, and

the mind found repose in the thought which former generations had been striving to realize. The first

expression of this was some element, rarefied by degrees into a pure abstraction, and purged from any

tincture of sense. Soon an inner world of ideas began to be unfolded, more absorbing, more overpowering,

more abiding than the brightest of visible objects, which to the eye of the philosopher looking inward,

seemed to pale before them, retaining only a faint and precarious existence. At the same time, the minds of

men parted into the two great divisions of those who saw only a principle of motion, and of those who saw

only a principle of rest, in nature and in themselves; there were born Heracliteans or Eleatics, as there have

been in later ages born Aristotelians or Platonists. Like some philosophers in modern times, who are accused

of making a theory first and finding their facts afterwards, the advocates of either opinion never thought of

applying either to themselves or to their adversaries the criterion of fact. They were mastered by their ideas

and not masters of them. Like the Heraclitean fanatics whom Plato has ridiculed in the Theaetetus, they were

incapable of giving a reason of the faith that was in them, and had all the animosities of a religious sect. Yet,

doubtless, there was some first impression derived from external nature, which, as in mythology, so also in

philosophy, worked upon the minds of the first thinkers. Though incapable of induction or generalization in

the modern sense, they caught an inspiration from the external world. The most general facts or appearances

of nature, the circle of the universe, the nutritive power of water, the air which is the breath of life, the

destructive force of fire, the seeming regularity of the greater part of nature and the irregularity of a remnant,

the recurrence of day and night and of the seasons, the solid earth and the impalpable aether, were always

The great source of error and also the beginning of truth to them was reasoning from analogy; they could see

resemblances, but not differences; and they were incapable of distinguishing illustration from argument.

Analogy in modern times only points the way, and is immediately verified by experiment. The dreams and

visions, which pass through the philosopher's mind, of resemblances between different classes of substances,

or between the animal and vegetable world, are put into the refiner's fire, and the dross and other elements

which adhere to them are purged away. But the contemporary of Plato and Socrates was incapable of

resisting the power of any analogy which occurred to him, and was drawn into any consequences which

seemed to follow. He had no methods of difference or of concomitant variations, by the use of which he

could distinguish the accidental from the essential. He could not isolate phenomena, and he was helpless

Yet without this crude use of analogy the ancient physical philosopher would have stood still; he could not

have made even 'one guess among many' without comparison. The course of natural phenomena would have

passed unheeded before his eyes, like fair sights or musical sounds before the eyes and ears of an animal.

Even the fetichism of the savage is the beginning of reasoning; the assumption of the most fanciful of causes

indicates a higher mental state than the absence of all enquiry about them. The tendency to argue from the

higher to the lower, from man to the world, has led to many errors, but has also had an elevating influence on

philosophy. The conception of the world as a whole, a person, an animal, has been the source of hasty

generalizations; yet this general grasp of nature led also to a spirit of comprehensiveness in early philosophy,

which has not increased, but rather diminished, as the fields of knowledge have become more divided. The

modern physicist confines himself to one or perhaps two branches of science. But he comparatively seldom

rises above his own department, and often falls under the narrowing influence which any single branch, when

pursued to the exclusion of every other, has over the mind. Language, two, exercised a spell over the

beginnings of physical philosophy, leading to error and sometimes to truth; for many thoughts were

suggested by the double meanings of words (Greek), and the accidental distinctions of words sometimes led

the ancient philosopher to make corresponding differences in things (Greek). 'If they are the same, why have

they different names; or if they are different, why have they the same name?'is an argument not easily

answered in the infancy of knowledge. The modern philosopher has always been taught the lesson which he

still imperfectly learns, that he must disengage himself from the influence of words. Nor are there wanting in

Plato, who was himself too often the victim of them, impressive admonitions that we should regard not words

but things (States.). But upon the whole, the ancients, though not entirely dominated by them, were much

more subject to the influence of words than the moderns. They had no clear divisions of colours or

substances; even the four elements were undefined; the fields of knowledge were not parted off. They were

bringing order out of disorder, having a small grain of experience mingled in a confused heap of a priori

notions. And yet, probably, their first impressions, the illusions and mirages of their fancy, created a greater

intellectual activity and made a nearer approach to the truth than any patient investigation of isolated facts,

There was one more illusion to which the ancient philosophers were subject, and against which Plato in his

later dialogues seems to be strugglingthe tendency to mere abstractions; not perceiving that pure

abstraction is only negation, they thought that the greater the abstraction the greater the truth. Behind any pair

of ideas a new idea which comprehended themthe (Greek), as it was technically termedbegan at once to

appear. Two are truer than three, one than two. The words 'being,' or 'unity,' or essence,' or 'good,' became

sacred to them. They did not see that they had a word only, and in one sense the most unmeaning of words.

They did not understand that the content of notions is in inverse proportion to their universalitythe element

which is the most widely diffused is also the thinnest; or, in the language of the common logic, the greater the

extension the less the comprehension. But this vacant idea of a whole without parts, of a subject without

predicates, a rest without motion, has been also the most fruitful of all ideas. It is the beginning of a priori

thought, and indeed of thinking at all. Men were led to conceive it, not by a love of hasty generalization, but

by a divine instinct, a dialectical enthusiasm, in which the human faculties seemed to yearn for enlargement.

We know that 'being' is only the verb of existence, the copula, the most general symbol of relation, the first

and most meagre of abstractions; but to some of the ancient philosophers this little word appeared to attain

divine proportions, and to comprehend all truth. Being or essence, and similar words, represented to them a

supreme or divine being, in which they thought that they found the containing and continuing principle of the

universe. In a few years the human mind was peopled with abstractions; a new world was called into

existence to give law and order to the old. But between them there was still a gulf, and no one could pass

Number and figure were the greatest instruments of thought which were possessed by the Greek philosopher;

having the same power over the mind which was exerted by abstract ideas, they were also capable of practical

application. Many curious and, to the early thinker, mysterious properties of them came to light when they

were compared with one another. They admitted of infinite multiplication and construction; in Pythagorean

triangles or in proportions of 1:2:4:8 and 1:3:9:27, or compounds of them, the laws of the world seemed to be

more than half revealed. They were also capable of infinite subdivisiona wonder and also a puzzle to the

ancient thinker (Rep.). They were not, like being or essence, mere vacant abstractions, but admitted of

progress and growth, while at the same time they confirmed a higher sentiment of the mind, that there was

order in the universe. And so there began to be a real sympathy between the world within and the world

without. The numbers and figures which were present to the mind's eye became visible to the eye of sense;

the truth of nature was mathematics; the other properties of objects seemed to reappear only in the light of

number. Law and morality also found a natural expression in number and figure. Instruments of such power

and elasticity could not fail to be 'a most gracious assistance' to the first efforts of human intelligence.

There was another reason why numbers had so great an influence over the minds of early thinkersthey

were verified by experience. Every use of them, even the most trivial, assured men of their truth; they were

everywhere to be found, in the least things and the greatest alike. One, two, three, counted on the fingers was

a 'trivial matter (Rep.), a little instrument out of which to create a world; but from these and by the help of

these all our knowledge of nature has been developed. They were the measure of all things, and seemed to

give law to all things; nature was rescued from chaos and confusion by their power; the notes of music, the

motions of the stars, the forms of atoms, the evolution and recurrence of days, months, years, the military

divisions of an army, the civil divisions of a state, seemed to afford a 'present witness' of themwhat would

have become of man or of the world if deprived of number (Rep.)? The mystery of number and the mystery

of music were akin. There was a music of rhythm and of harmonious motion everywhere; and to the real

connexion which existed between music and number, a fanciful or imaginary relation was superadded. There

was a music of the spheres as well as of the notes of the lyre. If in all things seen there was number and

figure, why should they not also pervade the unseen world, with which by their wonderful and unchangeable

Two other points strike us in the use which the ancient philosophers made of numbers. First, they applied to

external nature the relations of them which they found in their own minds; and where nature seemed to be at

variance with number, as for example in the case of fractions, they protested against her (Rep.; Arist.

Metaph.). Having long meditated on the properties of 1:2:4:8, or 1:3:9:27, or of 3, 4, 5, they discovered in

them many curious correspondences and were disposed to find in them the secret of the universe. Secondly,

they applied number and figure equally to those parts of physics, such as astronomy or mechanics, in which

the modern philosopher expects to find them, and to those in which he would never think of looking for them,

such as physiology and psychology. For the sciences were not yet divided, and there was nothing really

irrational in arguing that the same laws which regulated the heavenly bodies were partially applied to the

erring limbs or brain of man. Astrology was the form which the lively fancy of ancient thinkers almost

necessarily gave to astronomy. The observation that the lower principle, e.g. mechanics, is always seen in the

higher, e.g. in the phenomena of life, further tended to perplex them. Plato's doctrine of the same and the

other ruling the courses of the heavens and of the human body is not a mere vagary, but is a natural result of

When in modern times we contemplate the heavens, a certain amount of scientific truth imperceptibly blends,

even with the cursory glance of an unscientific person. He knows that the earth is revolving round the sun,

and not the sun around the earth. He does not imagine the earth to be the centre of the universe, and he has

some conception of chemistry and the cognate sciences. A very different aspect of nature would have been

present to the mind of the early Greek philosopher. He would have beheld the earth a surface only, not

mirrored, however faintly, in the glass of science, but indissolubly connected with some theory of one, two,

or more elements. He would have seen the world pervaded by number and figure, animated by a principle of

motion, immanent in a principle of rest. He would have tried to construct the universe on a quantitative

principle, seeming to find in endless combinations of geometrical figures or in the infinite variety of their

sizes a sufficient account of the multiplicity of phenomena. To these a priori speculations he would add a

rude conception of matter and his own immediate experience of health and disease. His cosmos would

necessarily be imperfect and unequal, being the first attempt to impress form and order on the primaeval

The ancient physical philosophers have been charged by Dr. Whewell and others with wasting their fine

intelligences in wrong methods of enquiry; and their progress in moral and political philosophy has been

sometimes contrasted with their supposed failure in physical investigations. 'They had plenty of ideas,' says

Dr. Whewell, 'and plenty of facts; but their ideas did not accurately represent the facts with which they were

acquainted.' This is a very crude and misleading way of describing ancient science. It is the mistake of an

uneducated personuneducated, that is, in the higher sense of the wordwho imagines every one else to be

like himself and explains every other age by his own. No doubt the ancients often fell into strange and

fanciful errors: the time had not yet arrived for the slower and surer path of the modern inductive philosophy.

But it remains to be shown that they could have done more in their age and country; or that the contributions

which they made to the sciences with which they were acquainted are not as great upon the whole as those

made by their successors. There is no single step in astronomy as great as that of the nameless Pythagorean

who first conceived the world to be a body moving round the sun in space: there is no truer or more

comprehensive principle than the application of mathematics alike to the heavenly bodies, and to the particles

of matter. The ancients had not the instruments which would have enabled them to correct or verify their

anticipations, and their opportunities of observation were limited. Plato probably did more for physical

science by asserting the supremacy of mathematics than Aristotle or his disciples by their collections of facts.

When the thinkers of modern times, following Bacon, undervalue or disparage the speculations of ancient

philosophers, they seem wholly to forget the conditions of the world and of the human mind, under which

they carried on their investigations. When we accuse them of being under the influence of words, do we

suppose that we are altogether free from this illusion? When we remark that Greek physics soon became

stationary or extinct, may we not observe also that there have been and may be again periods in the history of

modern philosophy which have been barren and unproductive? We might as well maintain that Greek art was

not real or great, because it had nihil simile aut secundum, as say that Greek physics were a failure because

The charge of premature generalization which is often urged against ancient philosophers is really an

anachronism. For they can hardly be said to have generalized at all. They may be said more truly to have

cleared up and defined by the help of experience ideas which they already possessed. The beginnings of

thought about nature must always have this character. A true method is the result of many ages of experiment

and observation, and is ever going on and enlarging with the progress of science and knowledge. At first men

personify nature, then they form impressions of nature, at last they conceive 'measure' or laws of nature. They

pass out of mythology into philosophy. Early science is not a process of discovery in the modern sense; but

rather a process of correcting by observation, and to a certain extent only, the first impressions of nature,

which mankind, when they began to think, had received from poetry or language or unintelligent sense. Of all

scientific truths the greatest and simplest is the uniformity of nature; this was expressed by the ancients in

many ways, as fate, or necessity, or measure, or limit. Unexpected events, of which the cause was unknown

to them, they attributed to chance (Thucyd.). But their conception of nature was never that of law interrupted

by exceptions,a somewhat unfortunate metaphysical invention of modern times, which is at variance with

Plato's account of the soul is partly mythical or figurative, and partly literal. Not that either he or we can draw

a line between them, or say, 'This is poetry, this is philosophy'; for the transition from the one to the other is

imperceptible. Neither must we expect to find in him absolute consistency. He is apt to pass from one level or

stage of thought to another without always making it apparent that he is changing his ground. In such

passages we have to interpret his meaning by the general spirit of his writings. To reconcile his

inconsistencies would be contrary to the first principles of criticism and fatal to any true understanding of

There is a further difficulty in explaining this part of the Timaeusthe natural order of thought is inverted.

We begin with the most abstract, and proceed from the abstract to the concrete. We are searching into things

which are upon the utmost limit of human intelligence, and then of a sudden we fall rather heavily to the

earth. There are no intermediate steps which lead from one to the other. But the abstract is a vacant form to us

until brought into relation with man and nature. God and the world are mere names, like the Being of the

Eleatics, unless some human qualities are added on to them. Yet the negation has a kind of unknown meaning

to us. The priority of God and of the world, which he is imagined to have created, to all other existences,

gives a solemn awe to them. And as in other systems of theology and philosophy, that of which we know

There is no use in attempting to define or explain the first God in the Platonic system, who has sometimes

been thought to answer to God the Father; or the world, in whom the Fathers of the Church seemed to

recognize 'the firstborn of every creature.' Nor need we discuss at length how far Plato agrees in the later

Jewish idea of creation, according to which God made the world out of nothing. For his original conception

of matter as something which has no qualities is really a negation. Moreover in the Hebrew Scriptures the

creation of the world is described, even more explicitly than in the Timaeus, not as a single act, but as a work

or process which occupied six days. There is a chaos in both, and it would be untrue to say that the Greek,

any more than the Hebrew, had any definite belief in the eternal existence of matter. The beginning of things

vanished into the distance. The real creation began, not with matter, but with ideas. According to Plato in the

Timaeus, God took of the same and the other, of the divided and undivided, of the finite and infinite, and

made essence, and out of the three combined created the soul of the world. To the soul he added a body

formed out of the four elements. The general meaning of these words is that God imparted determinations of

thought, or, as we might say, gave law and variety to the material universe. The elements are moving in a

disorderly manner before the work of creation begins; and there is an eternal pattern of the world, which, like

the 'idea of good,' is not the Creator himself, but not separable from him. The pattern too, though eternal, is a

creation, a world of thought prior to the world of sense, which may be compared to the wisdom of God in the

book of Ecclesiasticus, or to the 'God in the form of a globe' of the old Eleatic philosophers. The visible,

which already exists, is fashioned in the likeness of this eternal pattern. On the other hand, there is no truth of

which Plato is more firmly convinced than of the priority of the soul to the body, both in the universe and in

man. So inconsistent are the forms in which he describes the works which no tongue can utterhis language,

as he himself says, partaking of his own uncertainty about the things of which he is speaking.

We may remark in passing, that the Platonic compared with the Jewish description of the process of creation

has less of freedom or spontaneity. The Creator in Plato is still subject to a remnant of necessity which he

cannot wholly overcome. When his work is accomplished he remains in his own nature. Plato is more

sensible than the Hebrew prophet of the existence of evil, which he seeks to put as far as possible out of the

way of God. And he can only suppose this to be accomplished by God retiring into himself and committing

the lesser works of creation to inferior powers. (Compare, however, Laws for another solution of the

Nor can we attach any intelligible meaning to his words when he speaks of the visible being in the image of

the invisible. For how can that which is divided be like that which is undivided? Or that which is changing be

the copy of that which is unchanging? All the old difficulties about the ideas come back upon us in an altered

form. We can imagine two worlds, one of which is the mere double of the other, or one of which is an

imperfect copy of the other, or one of which is the vanishing ideal of the other; but we cannot imagine an

intellectual world which has no qualities'a thing in itself'a point which has no parts or magnitude, which

is nowhere, and nothing. This cannot be the archetype according to which God made the world, and is in

reality, whether in Plato or in Kant, a mere negative residuum of human thought.

There is another aspect of the same difficulty which appears to have no satisfactory solution. In what relation

does the archetype stand to the Creator himself? For the idea or pattern of the world is not the thought of

God, but a separate, selfexistent nature, of which creation is the copy. We can only reply, (1) that to the

mind of Plato subject and object were not yet distinguished; (2) that he supposes the process of creation to

take place in accordance with his own theory of ideas; and as we cannot give a consistent account of the one,

neither can we of the other. He means (3) to say that the creation of the world is not a material process of

working with legs and arms, but ideal and intellectual; according to his own fine expression, 'the thought of

God made the God that was to be.' He means (4) to draw an absolute distinction between the invisible or

unchangeable which is or is the place of mind or being, and the world of sense or becoming which is visible

and changing. He means (5) that the idea of the world is prior to the world, just as the other ideas are prior to

sensible objects; and like them may be regarded as eternal and self existent, and also, like the IDEA of

There are several other questions which we might ask and which can receive no answer, or at least only an

answer of the same kind as the preceding. How can matter be conceived to exist without form? Or, how can

the essences or forms of things be distinguished from the eternal ideas, or essence itself from the soul? Or,

how could there have been motion in the chaos when as yet time was not? Or, how did chaos come into

existence, if not by the will of the Creator? Or, how could there have been a time when the world was not, if

time was not? Or, how could the Creator have taken portions of an indivisible same? Or, how could space or

anything else have been eternal when time is only created? Or, how could the surfaces of geometrical figures

have formed solids? We must reply again that we cannot follow Plato in all his inconsistencies, but that the

gaps of thought are probably more apparent to us than to him. He would, perhaps, have said that 'the first

things are known only to God and to him of men whom God loves.' How often have the gaps in Theology

been concealed from the eye of faith! And we may say that only by an effort of metaphysical imagination can

we hope to understand Plato from his own point of view; we must not ask for consistency. Everywhere we

find traces of the Platonic theory of knowledge expressed in an objective form, which by us has to be

translated into the subjective, before we can attach any meaning to it. And this theory is exhibited in so many

different points of view, that we cannot with any certainty interpret one dialogue by another; e.g. the Timaeus

The soul of the world may also be conceived as the personification of the numbers and figures in which the

heavenly bodies move. Imagine these as in a Pythagorean dream, stripped of qualitative difference and

reduced to mathematical abstractions. They too conform to the principle of the same, and may be compared

with the modern conception of laws of nature. They are in space, but not in time, and they are the makers of

time. They are represented as constantly thinking of the same; for thought in the view of Plato is equivalent to

truth or law, and need not imply a human consciousness, a conception which is familiar enough to us, but has

no place, hardly even a name, in ancient Greek philosophy. To this principle of the same is opposed the

principle of the otherthe principle of irregularity and disorder, of necessity and chance, which is only

partially impressed by mathematical laws and figures. (We may observe by the way, that the principle of the

other, which is the principle of plurality and variation in the Timaeus, has nothing in common with the 'other'

of the Sophist, which is the principle of determination.) The element of the same dominates to a certain extent

over the otherthe fixed stars keep the 'wanderers' of the inner circle in their courses, and a similar principle

of fixedness or order appears to regulate the bodily constitution of man. But there still remains a rebellious

seed of evil derived from the original chaos, which is the source of disorder in the world, and of vice and

But what did Plato mean by essence, (Greek), which is the intermediate nature compounded of the Same and

the Other, and out of which, together with these two, the soul of the world is created? It is difficult to explain

a process of thought so strange and unaccustomed to us, in which modern distinctions run into one another

and are lost sight of. First, let us consider once more the meaning of the Same and the Other. The Same is the

unchanging and indivisible, the heaven of the fixed stars, partaking of the divine nature, which, having law in

itself, gives law to all besides and is the element of order and permanence in man and on the earth. It is the

rational principle, mind regarded as a work, as creationnot as the creator. The old tradition of Parmenides

and of the Eleatic Being, the foundation of so much in the philosophy of Greece and of the world, was

lingering in Plato's mind. The Other is the variable or changing element, the residuum of disorder or chaos,

which cannot be reduced to order, nor altogether banished, the source of evil, seen in the errors of man and

also in the wanderings of the planets, a necessity which protrudes through nature. Of this too there was a

shadow in the Eleatic philosophy in the realm of opinion, which, like a mist, seemed to darken the purity of

truth in itself.So far the words of Plato may perhaps find an intelligible meaning. But when he goes on to

speak of the Essence which is compounded out of both, the track becomes fainter and we can only follow him

with hesitating steps. But still we find a trace reappearing of the teaching of Anaxagoras: 'All was confusion,

and then mind came and arranged things.' We have already remarked that Plato was not acquainted with the

modern distinction of subject and object, and therefore he sometimes confuses mind and the things of

mind(Greek) and (Greek). By (Greek) he clearly means some conception of the intelligible and the

intelligent; it belongs to the class of (Greek). Matter, being, the Same, the eternal,for any of these terms,

being almost vacant of meaning, is equally suitable to express indefinite existence,are compared or united

with the Other or Diverse, and out of the union or comparison is elicited the idea of intelligence, the 'One in

many,' brighter than any Promethean fire (Phil.), which co existing with them and so forming a new

existence, is or becomes the intelligible world...So we may perhaps venture to paraphrase or interpret or put

into other words the parable in which Plato has wrapped up his conception of the creation of the world. The

The entire compound was divided by the Creator in certain proportions and reunited; it was then cut into two

strips, which were bent into an inner circle and an outer, both moving with an uniform motion around a

centre, the outer circle containing the fixed, the inner the wandering stars. The soul of the world was diffused

everywhere from the centre to the circumference. To this God gave a body, consisting at first of fire and

earth, and afterwards receiving an addition of air and water; because solid bodies, like the world, are always

connected by two middle terms and not by one. The world was made in the form of a globe, and all the

The proportions in which the soul of the world as well as the human soul is divided answer to a series of

numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 9, 8, 27, composed of the two Pythagorean progressions 1, 2, 4, 8 and 1, 3, 9, 27, of which

the number 1 represents a point, 2 and 3 lines, 4 and 8, 9 and 27 the squares and cubes respectively of 2 and

3. This series, of which the intervals are afterwards filled up, probably represents (1) the diatonic scale

according to the Pythagoreans and Plato; (2) the order and distances of the heavenly bodies; and (3) may

possibly contain an allusion to the music of the spheres, which is referred to in the myth at the end of the

Republic. The meaning of the words that 'solid bodies are always connected by two middle terms' or mean

proportionals has been much disputed. The most received explanation is that of Martin, who supposes that

Plato is only speaking of surfaces and solids compounded of prime numbers (i.e. of numbers not made up of

two factors, or, in other words, only measurable by unity). The square of any such number represents a

surface, the cube a solid. The squares of any two such numbers (e.g. 2 squared, 3 squared = 4, 9), have

always a single mean proportional (e.g. 4 and 9 have the single mean 6), whereas the cubes of primes (e.g. 3

cubed and 5 cubed) have always two mean proportionals (e.g. 27:45:75:125). But to this explanation of

Martin's it may be objected, (1) that Plato nowhere says that his proportion is to be limited to prime numbers;

(2) that the limitation of surfaces to squares is also not to be found in his words; nor (3) is there any evidence

to show that the distinction of prime from other numbers was known to him. What Plato chiefly intends to

express is that a solid requires a stronger bond than a surface; and that the double bond which is given by two

means is stronger than the single bond given by one. Having reflected on the singular numerical phenomena

of the existence of one mean proportional between two square numbers are rather perhaps only between the

two lowest squares; and of two mean proportionals between two cubes, perhaps again confining his attention

to the two lowest cubes, he finds in the latter symbol an expression of the relation of the elements, as in the

former an image of the combination of two surfaces. Between fire and earth, the two extremes, he remarks

that there are introduced, not one, but two elements, air and water, which are compared to the two mean

proportionals between two cube numbers. The vagueness of his language does not allow us to determine

Leaving the further explanation of details, which the reader will find discussed at length in Boeckh and

Martin, we may now return to the main argument: Why did God make the world? Like man, he must have a

purpose; and his purpose is the diffusion of that goodness or good which he himself is. The term 'goodness' is

not to be understood in this passage as meaning benevolence or love, in the Christian sense of the term, but

rather law, order, harmony, like the idea of good in the Republic. The ancient mythologers, and even the

Hebrew prophets, had spoken of the jealousy of God; and the Greek had imagined that there was a Nemesis

always attending the prosperity of mortals. But Plato delights to think of God as the author of order in his

works, who, like a father, lives over again in his children, and can never have too much of good or friendship

among his creatures. Only, as there is a certain remnant of evil inherent in matter which he cannot get rid of,

he detaches himself from them and leaves them to themselves, that he may be guiltless of their faults and

Between the ideal and the sensible Plato interposes the two natures of time and space. Time is conceived by

him to be only the shadow or image of eternity which ever is and never has been or will be, but is described

in a figure only as past or future. This is one of the great thoughts of early philosophy, which are still as

difficult to our minds as they were to the early thinkers; or perhaps more difficult, because we more distinctly

see the consequences which are involved in such an hypothesis. All the objections which may be urged

against Kant's doctrine of the ideality of space and time at once press upon us. If time is unreal, then all

which is contained in time is unrealthe succession of human thoughts as well as the flux of sensations;

there is no connecting link between (Greek) and (Greek). Yet, on the other hand, we are conscious that

knowledge is independent of time, that truth is not a thing of yesterday or tomorrow, but an 'eternal now.' To

the 'spectator of all time and all existence' the universe remains at rest. The truths of geometry and arithmetic

in all their combinations are always the same. The generations of men, like the leaves of the forest, come and

go, but the mathematical laws by which the world is governed remain, and seem as if they could never

change. The everpresent image of space is transferred to timesuccession is conceived as extension. (We

remark that Plato does away with the above and below in space, as he has done away with the absolute

existence of past and future.) The course of time, unless regularly marked by divisions of number, partakes of

the indefiniteness of the Heraclitean flux. By such reflections we may conceive the Greek to have attained the

metaphysical conception of eternity, which to the Hebrew was gained by meditation on the Divine Being. No

one saw that this objective was really a subjective, and involved the subjectivity of all knowledge. 'Non in

tempore sed cum tempore finxit Deus mundum,' says St. Augustine, repeating a thought derived from the

Timaeus, but apparently unconscious of the results to which his doctrine would have led.

The contradictions involved in the conception of time or motion, like the infinitesimal in space, were a source

of perplexity to the mind of the Greek, who was driven to find a point of view above or beyond them. They

had sprung up in the decline of the Eleatic philosophy and were very familiar to Plato, as we gather from the

Parmenides. The consciousness of them had led the great Eleatic philosopher to describe the nature of God or

Being under negatives. He sings of 'Being unbegotten and imperishable, unmoved and neverending, which

never was nor will be, but always is, one and continuous, which cannot spring from any other; for it cannot be

said or imagined not to be.' The idea of eternity was for a great part a negation. There are regions of

speculation in which the negative is hardly separable from the positive, and even seems to pass into it. Not

only Buddhism, but Greek as well as Christian philosophy, show that it is quite possible that the human mind

should retain an enthusiasm for mere negations. In different ages and countries there have been forms of light

in which nothing could be discerned and which have nevertheless exercised a lifegiving and illumining

power. For the higher intelligence of man seems to require, not only something above sense, but above

knowledge, which can only be described as Mind or Being or Truth or God or the unchangeable and eternal

element, in the expression of which all predicates fail and fall short. Eternity or the eternal is not merely the

unlimited in time but the truest of all Being, the most real of all realities, the most certain of all knowledge,

which we nevertheless only see through a glass darkly. The passionate earnestness of Parmenides contrasts

Space is said by Plato to be the 'containing vessel or nurse of generation.' Reflecting on the simplest kinds of

external objects, which to the ancients were the four elements, he was led to a more general notion of a

substance, more or less like themselves, out of which they were fashioned. He would not have them too

precisely distinguished. Thus seems to have arisen the first dim perception of (Greek) or matter, which has

played so great a part in the metaphysical philosophy of Aristotle and his followers. But besides the material

out of which the elements are made, there is also a space in which they are contained. There arises thus a

second nature which the senses are incapable of discerning and which can hardly be referred to the

intelligible class. For it is and it is not, it is nowhere when filled, it is nothing when empty. Hence it is said to

be discerned by a kind of spurious or analogous reason, partaking so feebly of existence as to be hardly

perceivable, yet always reappearing as the containing mother or nurse of all things. It had not that sort of

consistency to Plato which has been given to it in modern times by geometry and metaphysics. Neither of the

Greek words by which it is described are so purely abstract as the English word 'space' or the Latin 'spatium.'

Neither Plato nor any other Greek would have spoken of (Greek) or (Greek) in the same manner as we speak

Yet space is also of a very permanent or even eternal nature; and Plato seems more willing to admit of the

unreality of time than of the unreality of space; because, as he says, all things must necessarily exist in space.

We, on the other hand, are disposed to fancy that even if space were annihilated time might still survive. He

admits indeed that our knowledge of space is of a dreamy kind, and is given by a spurious reason without the

help of sense. (Compare the hypotheses and images of Rep.) It is true that it does not attain to the clearness of

ideas. But like them it seems to remain, even if all the objects contained in it are supposed to have vanished

away. Hence it was natural for Plato to conceive of it as eternal. We must remember further that in his

attempt to realize either space or matter the two abstract ideas of weight and extension, which are familiar to

Thus far God, working according to an eternal pattern, out of his goodness has created the same, the other,

and the essence (compare the three principles of the Philebusthe finite, the infinite, and the union of the

two), and out of them has formed the outer circle of the fixed stars and the inner circle of the planets, divided

according to certain musical intervals; he has also created time, the moving image of eternity, and space,

existing by a sort of necessity and hardly distinguishable from matter. The matter out of which the world is

formed is not absolutely void, but retains in the chaos certain germs or traces of the elements. These Plato,

like Empedocles, supposed to be four in numberfire, air, earth, and water. They were at first mixed

together; but already in the chaos, before God fashioned them by form and number, the greater masses of the

elements had an appointed place. Into the confusion (Greek) which preceded Plato does not attempt further to

penetrate. They are called elements, but they are so far from being elements (Greek) or letters in the higher

sense that they are not even syllables or first compounds. The real elements are two triangles, the rectangular

isosceles which has but one form, and the most beautiful of the many forms of scalene, which is half of an

equilateral triangle. By the combination of these triangles which exist in an infinite variety of sizes, the

That there were only five regular solids was already known to the ancients, and out of the surfaces which he

has formed Plato proceeds to generate the four first of the five. He perhaps forgets that he is only putting

together surfaces and has not provided for their transformation into solids. The first solid is a regular

pyramid, of which the base and sides are formed by four equilateral or twentyfour scalene triangles. Each of

the four solid angles in this figure is a little larger than the largest of obtuse angles. The second solid is

composed of the same triangles, which unite as eight equilateral triangles, and make one solid angle out of

four plane anglessix of these angles form a regular octahedron. The third solid is a regular icosahedron,

having twenty triangular equilateral bases, and therefore 120 rectangular scalene triangles. The fourth regular

solid, or cube, is formed by the combination of four isosceles triangles into one square and of six squares into

a cube. The fifth regular solid, or dodecahedron, cannot be formed by a combination of either of these

triangles, but each of its faces may be regarded as composed of thirty triangles of another kind. Probably

Plato notices this as the only remaining regular polyhedron, which from its approximation to a globe, and

possibly because, as Plutarch remarks, it is composed of 12 x 30 = 360 scalene triangles (Platon. Quaest.),

representing thus the signs and degrees of the Zodiac, as well as the months and days of the year, God may be

said to have 'used in the delineation of the universe.' According to Plato earth was composed of cubes, fire of

regular pyramids, air of regular octahedrons, water of regular icosahedrons. The stability of the last three

The elements are supposed to pass into one another, but we must remember that these transformations are not

the transformations of real solids, but of imaginary geometrical figures; in other words, we are composing

and decomposing the faces of substances and not the substances themselvesit is a house of cards which we

are pulling to pieces and putting together again (compare however Laws). Yet perhaps Plato may regard these

sides or faces as only the forms which are impressed on preexistent matter. It is remarkable that he should

speak of each of these solids as a possible world in itself, though upon the whole he inclines to the opinion

that they form one world and not five. To suppose that there is an infinite number of worlds, as Democritus

(Hippolyt. Ref. Haer. I.) had said, would be, as he satirically observes, 'the characteristic of a very indefinite

The twenty triangular faces of an icosahedron form the faces or sides of two regular octahedrons and of a

regular pyramid (20 = 8 x 2 + 4); and therefore, according to Plato, a particle of water when decomposed is

supposed to give two particles of air and one of fire. So because an octahedron gives the sides of two

The transformation is effected by the superior power or number of the conquering elements. The manner of

the change is (1) a separation of portions of the elements from the masses in which they are collected; (2) a

resolution of them into their original triangles; and (3) a reunion of them in new forms. Plato himself

proposes the question, Why does motion continue at all when the elements are settled in their places? He

answers that although the force of attraction is continually drawing similar elements to the same spot, still the

revolution of the universe exercises a condensing power, and thrusts them again out of their natural places.

Thus want of uniformity, the condition of motion, is produced. In all such disturbances of matter there is an

alternative for the weaker element: it may escape to its kindred, or take the form of the strongerbecoming

denser, if it be denser, or rarer if rarer. This is true of fire, air, and water, which, being composed of similar

triangles, are interchangeable; earth, however, which has triangles peculiar to itself, is capable of dissolution,

but not of change. Of the interchangeable elements, fire, the rarest, can only become a denser, and water, the

densest, only a rarer: but air may become a denser or a rarer. No single particle of the elements is visible, but

only the aggregates of them are seen. The subordinate species depend, not upon differences of form in the

original triangles, but upon differences of size. The obvious physical phenomena from which Plato has

gathered his views of the relations of the elements seem to be the effect of fire upon air, water, and earth, and

the effect of water upon earth. The particles are supposed by him to be in a perpetual process of circulation

caused by inequality. This process of circulation does not admit of a vacuum, as he tells us in his strange

Of the phenomena of light and heavy he speaks afterwards, when treating of sensation, but they may be more

conveniently considered by us in this place. They are not, he says, to be explained by 'above' and 'below,'

which in the universal globe have no existence, but by the attraction of similars towards the great masses of

similar substances; fire to fire, air to air, water to water, earth to earth. Plato's doctrine of attraction implies

not only (1) the attraction of similar elements to one another, but also (2) of smaller bodies to larger ones.

Had he confined himself to the latter he would have arrived, though, perhaps, without any further result or

any sense of the greatness of the discovery, at the modern doctrine of gravitation. He does not observe that

water has an equal tendency towards both water and earth. So easily did the most obvious facts which were

The general physical doctrines of the Timaeus may be summed up as follows: (1) Plato supposes the greater

masses of the elements to have been already settled in their places at the creation: (2) they are four in number,

and are formed of rectangular triangles variously combined into regular solid figures: (3) three of them, fire,

air, and water, admit of transformation into one another; the fourth, earth, cannot be similarly transformed:

(4) different sizes of the same triangles form the lesser species of each element: (5) there is an attraction of

like to likesmaller masses of the same kind being drawn towards greater: (6) there is no void, but the

particles of matter are ever pushing one another round and round (Greek). Like the atomists, Plato attributes

the differences between the elements to differences in geometrical figures. But he does not explain the

process by which surfaces become solids; and he characteristically ridicules Democritus for not seeing that

The astronomy of Plato is based on the two principles of the same and the other, which God combined in the

creation of the world. The soul, which is compounded of the same, the other, and the essence, is diffused

from the centre to the circumference of the heavens. We speak of a soul of the universe; but more truly

regarded, the universe of the Timaeus is a soul, governed by mind, and holding in solution a residuum of

matter or evil, which the author of the world is unable to expel, and of which Plato cannot tell us the origin.

The creation, in Plato's sense, is really the creation of order; and the first step in giving order is the division of

the heavens into an inner and outer circle of the other and the same, of the divisible and the indivisible,

answering to the two spheres, of the planets and of the world beyond them, all together moving around the

earth, which is their centre. To us there is a difficulty in apprehending how that which is at rest can also be in

motion, or that which is indivisible exist in space. But the whole description is so ideal and imaginative, that

we can hardly venture to attribute to many of Plato's words in the Timaeus any more meaning than to his

mythical account of the heavens in the Republic and in the Phaedrus. (Compare his denial of the

'blasphemous opinion' that there are planets or wandering stars; all alike move in circlesLaws.) The stars

are the habitations of the souls of men, from which they come and to which they return. In attributing to the

fixed stars only the most perfect motionthat which is on the same spot or circulating around the samehe

might perhaps have said that to 'the spectator of all time and all existence,' to borrow once more his own

grand expression, or viewed, in the language of Spinoza, 'sub specie aeternitatis,' they were still at rest, but

appeared to move in order to teach men the periods of time. Although absolutely in motion, they are

relatively at rest; or we may conceive of them as resting, while the space in which they are contained, or the

The universe revolves around a centre once in twentyfour hours, but the orbits of the fixed stars take a

different direction from those of the planets. The outer and the inner sphere cross one another and meet again

at a point opposite to that of their first contact; the first moving in a circle from left to right along the side of a

parallelogram which is supposed to be inscribed in it, the second also moving in a circle along the diagonal of

the same parallelogram from right to left; or, in other words, the first describing the path of the equator, the

second, the path of the ecliptic. The motion of the second is controlled by the first, and hence the oblique line

in which the planets are supposed to move becomes a spiral. The motion of the same is said to be undivided,

whereas the inner motion is split into seven unequal orbitsthe intervals between them being in the ratio of

two and three, three of either:the Sun, moving in the opposite direction to Mercury and Venus, but with

equal swiftness; the remaining four, Moon, Saturn, Mars, Jupiter, with unequal swiftness to the former three

and to one another. Thus arises the following progression: Moon 1, Sun 2, Venus 3, Mercury 4, Mars 8,

Jupiter 9, Saturn 27. This series of numbers is the compound of the two Pythagorean ratios, having the same

intervals, though not in the same order, as the mixture which was originally divided in forming the soul of the

Plato was struck by the phenomenon of Mercury, Venus, and the Sun appearing to overtake and be overtaken

by one another. The true reason of this, namely, that they lie within the circle of the earth's orbit, was

unknown to him, and the reason which he givesthat the two former move in an opposite direction to the

latteris far from explaining the appearance of them in the heavens. All the planets, including the sun, are

carried round in the daily motion of the circle of the fixed stars, and they have a second or oblique motion

which gives the explanation of the different lengths of the sun's course in different parts of the earth. The

fixed stars have also two movementsa forward movement in their orbit which is common to the whole

circle; and a movement on the same spot around an axis, which Plato calls the movement of thought about the

same. In this latter respect they are more perfect than the wandering stars, as Plato himself terms them in the

The revolution of the world around earth, which is accomplished in a single day and night, is described as

being the most perfect or intelligent. Yet Plato also speaks of an 'annus magnus' or cyclical year, in which

periods wonderful for their complexity are found to coincide in a perfect number, i.e. a number which equals

the sum of its factors, as 6 = 1 + 2 + 3. This, although not literally contradictory, is in spirit irreconcilable

with the perfect revolution of twentyfour hours. The same remark may be applied to the complexity of the

appearances and occultations of the stars, which, if the outer heaven is supposed to be moving around the

centre once in twenty four hours, must be confined to the effects produced by the seven planets. Plato seems

to confuse the actual observation of the heavens with his desire to find in them mathematical perfection. The

same spirit is carried yet further by him in the passage already quoted from the Laws, in which he affirms

their wanderings to be an appearance only, which a little knowledge of mathematics would enable men to

We have now to consider the much discussed question of the rotation or immobility of the earth. Plato's

doctrine on this subject is contained in the following words:'The earth, which is our nurse, compacted (OR

revolving) around the pole which is extended through the universe, he made to be the guardian and artificer

of night and day, first and eldest of gods that are in the interior of heaven'. There is an unfortunate doubt in

this passage (1) about the meaning of the word (Greek), which is translated either 'compacted' or 'revolving,'

and is equally capable of both explanations. A doubt (2) may also be raised as to whether the words 'artificer

of day and night' are consistent with the mere passive causation of them, produced by the immobility of the

earth in the midst of the circling universe. We must admit, further, (3) that Aristotle attributed to Plato the

doctrine of the rotation of the earth on its axis. On the other hand it has been urged that if the earth goes

round with the outer heaven and sun in twentyfour hours, there is no way of accounting for the alternation

of day and night; since the equal motion of the earth and sun would have the effect of absolute immobility.

To which it may be replied that Plato never says that the earth goes round with the outer heaven and sun;

although the whole question depends on the relation of earth and sun, their movements are nowhere precisely

described. But if we suppose, with Mr. Grote, that the diurnal rotation of the earth on its axis and the

revolution of the sun and outer heaven precisely coincide, it would be difficult to imagine that Plato was

unaware of the consequence. For though he was ignorant of many things which are familiar to us, and often

confused in his ideas where we have become clear, we have no right to attribute to him a childish want of

reasoning about very simple facts, or an inability to understand the necessary and obvious deductions from

geometrical figures or movements. Of the causes of day and night the preSocratic philosophers, and

especially the Pythagoreans, gave various accounts, and therefore the question can hardly be imagined to

have escaped him. On the other hand it may be urged that the further step, however simple and obvious, is

just what Plato often seems to be ignorant of, and that as there is no limit to his insight, there is also no limit

to the blindness which sometimes obscures his intelligence (compare the construction of solids out of

surfaces in his account of the creation of the world, or the attraction of similars to similars). Further, Mr.

Grote supposes, not that (Greek) means 'revolving,' or that this is the sense in which Aristotle understood the

word, but that the rotation of the earth is necessarily implied in its adherence to the cosmical axis. But (a) if,

as Mr Grote assumes, Plato did not see that the rotation of the earth on its axis and of the sun and outer

heavens around the earth in equal times was inconsistent with the alternation of day and night, neither need

we suppose that he would have seen the immobility of the earth to be inconsistent with the rotation of the

axis. And (b) what proof is there that the axis of the world revolves at all? (c) The comparison of the two

passages quoted by Mr Grote (see his pamphlet on 'The Rotation of the Earth') from Aristotle De Coelo,

Book II (Greek) clearly shows, although this is a matter of minor importance, that Aristotle, as Proclus and

Simplicius supposed, understood (Greek) in the Timaeus to mean 'revolving.' For the second passage, in

which motion on an axis is expressly mentioned, refers to the first, but this would be unmeaning unless

(Greek) in the first passage meant rotation on an axis. (4) The immobility of the earth is more in accordance

with Plato's other writings than the opposite hypothesis. For in the Phaedo the earth is described as the centre

of the world, and is not said to be in motion. In the Republic the pilgrims appear to be looking out from the

earth upon the motions of the heavenly bodies; in the Phaedrus, Hestia, who remains immovable in the house

of Zeus while the other gods go in procession, is called the first and eldest of the gods, and is probably the

symbol of the earth. The silence of Plato in these and in some other passages (Laws) in which he might be

expected to speak of the rotation of the earth, is more favourable to the doctrine of its immobility than to the

opposite. If he had meant to say that the earth revolves on its axis, he would have said so in distinct words,

and have explained the relation of its movements to those of the other heavenly bodies. (5) The meaning of

the words 'artificer of day and night' is literally true according to Plato's view. For the alternation of day and

night is not produced by the motion of the heavens alone, or by the immobility of the earth alone, but by both

together; and that which has the inherent force or energy to remain at rest when all other bodies are moving,

may be truly said to act, equally with them. (6) We should not lay too much stress on Aristotle or the writer

De Caelo having adopted the other interpretation of the words, although Alexander of Aphrodisias thinks that

he could not have been ignorant either of the doctrine of Plato or of the sense which he intended to give to the

word (Greek). For the citations of Plato in Aristotle are frequently misinterpreted by him; and he seems

hardly ever to have had in his mind the connection in which they occur. In this instance the allusion is very

slight, and there is no reason to suppose that the diurnal revolution of the heavens was present to his mind.

After weighing one against the other all these complicated probabilities, the final conclusion at which we

arrive is that there is nearly as much to be said on the one side of the question as on the other, and that we are

not perfectly certain, whether, as Bockh and the majority of commentators, ancient as well as modern, are

inclined to believe, Plato thought that the earth was at rest in the centre of the universe, or, as Aristotle and

Mr. Grote suppose, that it revolved on its axis. Whether we assume the earth to be stationary in the centre of

the universe, or to revolve with the heavens, no explanation is given of the variation in the length of days and

nights at different times of the year. The relations of the earth and heavens are so indistinct in the Timaeus

and so figurative in the Phaedo, Phaedrus and Republic, that we must give up the hope of ascertaining how

they were imagined by Plato, if he had any fixed or scientific conception of them at all.

The soul of the world is framed on the analogy of the soul of man, and many traces of anthropomorphism

blend with Plato's highest flights of idealism. The heavenly bodies are endowed with thought; the principles

of the same and other exist in the universe as well as in the human mind. The soul of man is made out of the

remains of the elements which had been used in creating the soul of the world; these remains, however, are

diluted to the third degree; by this Plato expresses the measure of the difference between the soul human and

divine. The human soul, like the cosmical, is framed before the body, as the mind is before the soul of

eitherthis is the order of the divine workand the finer parts of the body, which are more akin to the soul,

such as the spinal marrow, are prior to the bones and flesh. The brain, the containing vessel of the divine part

of the soul, is (nearly) in the form of a globe, which is the image of the gods, who are the stars, and of the

There is, however, an inconsistency in Plato's manner of conceiving the soul of man; he cannot get rid of the

element of necessity which is allowed to enter. He does not, like Kant, attempt to vindicate for men a

freedom out of space and time; but he acknowledges him to be subject to the influence of external causes, and

leaves hardly any place for freedom of the will. The lusts of men are caused by their bodily constitution,

though they may be increased by bad education and bad laws, which implies that they may be decreased by

good education and good laws. He appears to have an inkling of the truth that to the higher nature of man evil

is involuntary. This is mixed up with the view which, while apparently agreeing with it, is in reality the

opposite of it, that vice is due to physical causes. In the Timaeus, as well as in the Laws, he also regards vices

and crimes as simply involuntary; they are diseases analogous to the diseases of the body, and arising out of

the same causes. If we draw together the opposite poles of Plato's system, we find that, like Spinoza, he

The soul of man is divided by him into three parts, answering roughly to the charioteer and steeds of the

Phaedrus, and to the (Greek) of the Republic and Nicomachean Ethics. First, there is the immortal nature of

which the brain is the seat, and which is akin to the soul of the universe. This alone thinks and knows and is

the ruler of the whole. Secondly, there is the higher mortal soul which, though liable to perturbations of her

own, takes the side of reason against the lower appetites. The seat of this is the heart, in which courage,

anger, and all the nobler affections are supposed to reside. There the veins all meet; it is their centre or house

of guard whence they carry the orders of the thinking being to the extremities of his kingdom. There is also a

third or appetitive soul, which receives the commands of the immortal part, not immediately but mediately,

through the liver, which reflects on its surface the admonitions and threats of the reason.

The liver is imagined by Plato to be a smooth and bright substance, having a store of sweetness and also of

bitterness, which reason freely uses in the execution of her mandates. In this region, as ancient superstition

told, were to be found intimations of the future. But Plato is careful to observe that although such knowledge

is given to the inferior parts of man, it requires to be interpreted by the superior. Reason, and not enthusiasm,

is the true guide of man; he is only inspired when he is demented by some distemper or possession. The

ancient saying, that 'only a man in his senses can judge of his own actions,' is approved by modern

philosophy too. The same irony which appears in Plato's remark, that 'the men of old time must surely have

known the gods who were their ancestors, and we should believe them as custom requires,' is also manifest in

The appetitive soul is seated in the belly, and there imprisoned like a wild beast, far away from the council

chamber, as Plato graphically calls the head, in order that the animal passions may not interfere with the

deliberations of reason. Though the soul is said by him to be prior to the body, yet we cannot help seeing that

it is constructed on the model of the bodythe threefold division into the rational, passionate, and appetitive

corresponding to the head, heart and belly. The human soul differs from the soul of the world in this respect,

that it is enveloped and finds its expression in matter, whereas the soul of the world is not only enveloped or

diffused in matter, but is the element in which matter moves. The breath of man is within him, but the air or

Pleasure and pain are attributed in the Timaeus to the suddenness of our sensationsthe first being a sudden

restoration, the second a sudden violation, of nature (Phileb.). The sensations become conscious to us when

they are exceptional. Sight is not attended either by pleasure or pain, but hunger and the appeasing of hunger

I shall not attempt to connect the physiological speculations of Plato either with ancient or modern medicine.

What light I can throw upon them will be derived from the comparison of them with his general system.

There is no principle so apparent in the physics of the Timaeus, or in ancient physics generally, as that of

continuity. The world is conceived of as a whole, and the elements are formed into and out of one another;

the varieties of substances and processes are hardly known or noticed. And in a similar manner the human

body is conceived of as a whole, and the different substances of which, to a superficial observer, it appears to

be composedthe blood, flesh, sinewslike the elements out of which they are formed, are supposed to

pass into one another in regular order, while the infinite complexity of the human frame remains unobserved.

And diseases arise from the opposite processwhen the natural proportions of the four elements are

disturbed, and the secondary substances which are formed out of them, namely, blood, flesh, sinews, are

Plato found heat and air within the human frame, and the blood circulating in every part. He assumes in

language almost unintelligible to us that a network of fire and air envelopes the greater part of the body. This

outer net contains two lesser nets, one corresponding to the stomach, the other to the lungs; and the entrance

to the latter is forked or divided into two passages which lead to the nostrils and to the mouth. In the process

of respiration the external net is said to find a way in and out of the pores of the skin: while the interior of it

and the lesser nets move alternately into each other. The whole description is figurative, as Plato himself

implies when he speaks of a 'fountain of fire which we compare to the network of a creel.' He really means by

this what we should describe as a state of heat or temperature in the interior of the body. The 'fountain of fire'

or heat is also in a figure the circulation of the blood. The passage is partly imagination, partly fact.

He has a singular theory of respiration for which he accounts solely by the movement of the air in and out of

the body; he does not attribute any part of the process to the action of the body itself. The air has a double

ingress and a double exit, through the mouth or nostrils, and through the skin. When exhaled through the

mouth or nostrils, it leaves a vacuum which is filled up by other air finding a way in through the pores, this

air being thrust out of its place by the exhalation from the mouth and nostrils. There is also a corresponding

process of inhalation through the mouth or nostrils, and of exhalation through the pores. The inhalation

through the pores appears to take place nearly at the same time as the exhalation through the mouth; and

conversely. The internal fire is in either case the propelling cause outwardsthe inhaled air, when heated by

it, having a natural tendency to move out of the body to the place of fire; while the impossibility of a vacuum

Thus we see that this singular theory is dependent on two principles largely employed by Plato in explaining

the operations of nature, the impossibility of a vacuum and the attraction of like to like. To these there has to

be added a third principle, which is the condition of the action of the other two,the interpenetration of

particles in proportion to their density or rarity. It is this which enables fire and air to permeate the flesh.

Plato's account of digestion and the circulation of the blood is closely connected with his theory of

respiration. Digestion is supposed to be effected by the action of the internal fire, which in the process of

respiration moves into the stomach and minces the food. As the fire returns to its place, it takes with it the

minced food or blood; and in this way the veins are replenished. Plato does not enquire how the blood is

Of the anatomy and functions of the body he knew very little,e.g. of the uses of the nerves in conveying

motion and sensation, which he supposed to be communicated by the bones and veins; he was also ignorant

of the distinction between veins and arteries;the latter term he applies to the vessels which conduct air

from the mouth to the lungs;he supposes the lung to be hollow and bloodless; the spinal marrow he

conceives to be the seed of generation; he confuses the parts of the body with the states of the bodythe

network of fire and air is spoken of as a bodily organ; he has absolutely no idea of the phenomena of

respiration, which he attributes to a law of equalization in nature, the air which is breathed out displacing

other air which finds a way in; he is wholly unacquainted with the process of digestion. Except the general

divisions into the spleen, the liver, the belly, and the lungs, and the obvious distinctions of flesh, bones, and

the limbs of the body, we find nothing that reminds us of anatomical facts. But we find much which is

derived from his theory of the universe, and transferred to man, as there is much also in his theory of the

universe which is suggested by man. The microcosm of the human body is the lesser image of the

macrocosm. The courses of the same and the other affect both; they are made of the same elements and

therefore in the same proportions. Both are intelligent natures endued with the power of self motion, and the

same equipoise is maintained in both. The animal is a sort of 'world' to the particles of the blood which

circulate in it. All the four elements entered into the original composition of the human frame; the bone was

formed out of smooth earth; liquids of various kinds pass to and fro; the network of fire and air irrigates the

veins. Infancy and childhood is the chaos or first turbid flux of sense prior to the establishment of order; the

intervals of time which may be observed in some intermittent fevers correspond to the density of the

elements. The spinal marrow, including the brain, is formed out of the finest sorts of triangles, and is the

connecting link between body and mind. Health is only to be preserved by imitating the motions of the world

in space, which is the mother and nurse of generation. The work of digestion is carried on by the superior

sharpness of the triangles forming the substances of the human body to those which are introduced into it in

the shape of food. The freshest and acutest forms of triangles are those that are found in children, but they

become more obtuse with advancing years; and when they finally wear out and fall to pieces, old age and

As in the Republic, Plato is still the enemy of the purgative treatment of physicians, which, except in extreme

cases, no man of sense will ever adopt. For, as he adds, with an insight into the truth, 'every disease is akin to

the nature of the living being and is only irritated by stimulants.' He is of opinion that nature should be left to

herself, and is inclined to think that physicians are in vain (Lawswhere he says that warm baths would be

more beneficial to the limbs of the aged rustic than the prescriptions of a not overwise doctor). If he seems

to be extreme in his condemnation of medicine and to rely too much on diet and exercise, he might appeal to

nearly all the best physicians of our own age in support of his opinions, who often speak to their patients of

the worthlessness of drugs. For we ourselves are sceptical about medicine, and very unwilling to submit to

the purgative treatment of physicians. May we not claim for Plato an anticipation of modern ideas as about

some questions of astronomy and physics, so also about medicine? As in the Charmides he tells us that the

body cannot be cured without the soul, so in the Timaeus he strongly asserts the sympathy of soul and body;

any defect of either is the occasion of the greatest discord and disproportion in the other. Here too may be a

presentiment that in the medicine of the future the interdependence of mind and body will be more fully

recognized, and that the influence of the one over the other may be exerted in a manner which is not now

In Plato's explanation of sensation we are struck by the fact that he has not the same distinct conception of

organs of sense which is familiar to ourselves. The senses are not instruments, but rather passages, through

which external objects strike upon the mind. The eye is the aperture through which the stream of vision

passes, the ear is the aperture through which the vibrations of sound pass. But that the complex structure of

the eye or the ear is in any sense the cause of sight and hearing he seems hardly to be aware.

The process of sight is the most complicated (Rep.), and consists of three elementsthe light which is

supposed to reside within the eye, the light of the sun, and the light emitted from external objects. When the

light of the eye meets the light of the sun, and both together meet the light issuing from an external object,

this is the simple act of sight. When the particles of light which proceed from the object are exactly equal to

the particles of the visual ray which meet them from within, then the body is transparent. If they are larger

and contract the visual ray, a black colour is produced; if they are smaller and dilate it, a white. Other

phenomena are produced by the variety and motion of light. A sudden flash of fire at once elicits light and

moisture from the eye, and causes a bright colour. A more subdued light, on mingling with the moisture of

the eye, produces a red colour. Out of these elements all other colours are derived. All of them are

combinations of bright and red with white and black. Plato himself tells us that he does not know in what

proportions they combine, and he is of opinion that such knowledge is granted to the gods only. To have seen

the affinity of them to each other and their connection with light, is not a bad basis for a theory of colours.

We must remember that they were not distinctly defined to his, as they are to our eyes; he saw them, not as

they are divided in the prism, or artificially manufactured for the painter's use, but as they exist in nature,

We can hardly agree with him when he tells us that smells do not admit of kinds. He seems to think that no

definite qualities can attach to bodies which are in a state of transition or evaporation; he also makes the

subtle observation that smells must be denser than air, though thinner than water, because when there is an

The affections peculiar to the tongue are of various kinds, and, like many other affections, are caused by

contraction and dilation. Some of them are produced by rough, others by abstergent, others by inflammatory

substances,these act upon the testing instruments of the tongue, and produce a more or less disagreeable

sensation, while other particles congenial to the tongue soften and harmonize them. The instruments of taste

reach from the tongue to the heart. Plato has a lively sense of the manner in which sensation and motion are

communicated from one part of the body to the other, though he confuses the affections with the organs.

Hearing is a blow which passes through the ear and ends in the region of the liver, being transmitted by

means of the air, the brain, and the blood to the soul. The swifter sound is acute, the sound which moves

slowly is grave. A great body of sound is loud, the opposite is low. Discord is produced by the swifter and

slower motions of two sounds, and is converted into harmony when the swifter motions begin to pause and

The general phenomena of sensation are partly internal, but the more violent are caused by conflict with

external objects. Proceeding by a method of superficial observation, Plato remarks that the more sensitive

parts of the human frame are those which are least covered by flesh, as is the case with the head and the

elbows. Man, if his head had been covered with a thicker pulp of flesh, might have been a longerlived

animal than he is, but could not have had as quick perceptions. On the other hand, the tongue is one of the

most sensitive of organs; but then this is made, not to be a covering to the bones which contain the marrow or

We have now to consider how far in any of these speculations Plato approximated to the discoveries of

modern science. The modern physical philosopher is apt to dwell exclusively on the absurdities of ancient

ideas about science, on the haphazard fancies and a priori assumptions of ancient teachers, on their confusion

of facts and ideas, on their inconsistency and blindness to the most obvious phenomena. He measures them

not by what preceded them, but by what has followed them. He does not consider that ancient physical

philosophy was not a free enquiry, but a growth, in which the mind was passive rather than active, and was

incapable of resisting the impressions which flowed in upon it. He hardly allows to the notions of the ancients

the merit of being the steppingstones by which he has himself risen to a higher knowledge. He never

reflects, how great a thing it was to have formed a conception, however imperfect, either of the human frame

as a whole, or of the world as a whole. According to the view taken in these volumes the errors of ancient

physicists were not separable from the intellectual conditions under which they lived. Their genius was their

own; and they were not the rash and hasty generalizers which, since the days of Bacon, we have been apt to

suppose them. The thoughts of men widened to receive experience; at first they seemed to know all things as

in a dream: after a while they look at them closely and hold them in their hands. They begin to arrange them

in classes and to connect causes with effects. General notions are necessary to the apprehension of particular

facts, the metaphysical to the physical. Before men can observe the world, they must be able to conceive it.

To do justice to the subject, we should consider the physical philosophy of the ancients as a whole; we should

remember, (1) that the nebular theory was the received belief of several of the early physicists; (2) that the

development of animals out of fishes who came to land, and of man out of the animals, was held by

Anaximander in the sixth century before Christ (Plut. Symp. Quaest; Plac. Phil.); (3) that even by Philolaus

and the early Pythagoreans, the earth was held to be a body like the other stars revolving in space around the

sun or a central fire; (4) that the beginnings of chemistry are discernible in the 'similar particles' of

Anaxagoras. Also they knew or thought (5) that there was a sex in plants as well as in animals; (6) they were

aware that musical notes depended on the relative length or tension of the strings from which they were

emitted, and were measured by ratios of number; (7) that mathematical laws pervaded the world; and even

qualitative differences were supposed to have their origin in number and figure; (8) the annihilation of matter

was denied by several of them, and the seeming disappearance of it held to be a transformation only. For,

although one of these discoveries might have been supposed to be a happy guess, taken together they seem to

We should also remember, when we attribute to the ancients hasty generalizations and delusions of language,

that physical philosophy and metaphysical too have been guilty of similar fallacies in quite recent times. We

by no means distinguish clearly between mind and body, between ideas and facts. Have not many discussions

arisen about the Atomic theory in which a point has been confused with a material atom? Have not the

natures of things been explained by imaginary entities, such as life or phlogiston, which exist in the mind

only? Has not disease been regarded, like sin, sometimes as a negative and necessary, sometimes as a positive

or malignant principle? The 'idols' of Bacon are nearly as common now as ever; they are inherent in the

human mind, and when they have the most complete dominion over us, we are least able to perceive them.

Such reflections, although this is not the place in which to dwell upon them at length, lead us to take a

favourable view of the speculations of the Timaeus. We should consider not how much Plato actually knew,

but how far he has contributed to the general ideas of physics, or supplied the notions which, whether true or

false, have stimulated the minds of later generations in the path of discovery. Some of them may seem

oldfashioned, but may nevertheless have had a great influence in promoting system and assisting enquiry,

while in others we hear the latest word of physical or metaphysical philosophy. There is also an intermediate

class, in which Plato falls short of the truths of modern science, though he is not wholly unacquainted with

them. (1) To the first class belongs the teleological theory of creation. Whether all things in the world can be

explained as the result of natural laws, or whether we must not admit of tendencies and marks of design also,

has been a question much disputed of late years. Even if all phenomena are the result of natural forces, we

must admit that there are many things in heaven and earth which are as well expressed under the image of

mind or design as under any other. At any rate, the language of Plato has been the language of natural

theology down to our own time, nor can any description of the world wholly dispense with it. The notion of

first and second or cooperative causes, which originally appears in the Timaeus, has likewise survived to

our own day, and has been a great peace maker between theology and science. Plato also approaches very

near to our doctrine of the primary and secondary qualities of matter. (2) Another popular notion which is

found in the Timaeus, is the feebleness of the human intellect'God knows the original qualities of things;

man can only hope to attain to probability.' We speak in almost the same words of human intelligence, but

not in the same manner of the uncertainty of our knowledge of nature. The reason is that the latter is assured

to us by experiment, and is not contrasted with the certainty of ideal or mathematical knowledge. But the

ancient philosopher never experimented: in the Timaeus Plato seems to have thought that there would be

impiety in making the attempt; he, for example, who tried experiments in colours would 'forget the difference

of the human and divine natures.' Their indefiniteness is probably the reason why he singles them out, as

especially incapable of being tested by experiment. (Compare the saying of AnaxagorasSext. Pyrrh.that

The greatest 'divination' of the ancients was the supremacy which they assigned to mathematics in all the

realms of nature; for in all of them there is a foundation of mechanics. Even physiology partakes of figure

and number; and Plato is not wrong in attributing them to the human frame, but in the omission to observe

how little could be explained by them. Thus we may remark in passing that the most fanciful of ancient

philosophies is also the most nearly verified in fact. The fortunate guess that the world is a sum of numbers

and figures has been the most fruitful of anticipations. The 'diatonic' scale of the Pythagoreans and Plato

suggested to Kepler that the secret of the distances of the planets from one another was to be found in

mathematical proportions. The doctrine that the heavenly bodies all move in a circle is known by us to be

erroneous; but without such an error how could the human mind have comprehended the heavens?

Astronomy, even in modern times, has made far greater progress by the high a priori road than could have

been attained by any other. Yet, strictly speakingand the remark applies to ancient physics generally this

high a priori road was based upon a posteriori grounds. For there were no facts of which the ancients were so

well assured by experience as facts of number. Having observed that they held good in a few instances, they

applied them everywhere; and in the complexity, of which they were capable, found the explanation of the

equally complex phenomena of the universe. They seemed to see them in the least things as well as in the

greatest; in atoms, as well as in suns and stars; in the human body as well as in external nature. And now a

favourite speculation of modern chemistry is the explanation of qualitative difference by quantitative, which

is at present verified to a certain extent and may hereafter be of far more universal application. What is this

but the atoms of Democritus and the triangles of Plato? The ancients should not be wholly deprived of the

credit of their guesses because they were unable to prove them. May they not have had, like the animals, an

Besides general notions we seem to find in the Timaeus some more precise approximations to the discoveries

of modern physical science. First, the doctrine of equipoise. Plato affirms, almost in so many words, that

nature abhors a vacuum. Whenever a particle is displaced, the rest push and thrust one another until equality

is restored. We must remember that these ideas were not derived from any definite experiment, but were the

original reflections of man, fresh from the first observation of nature. The latest word of modern philosophy

is continuity and development, but to Plato this is the beginning and foundation of science; there is nothing

that he is so strongly persuaded of as that the world is one, and that all the various existences which are

contained in it are only the transformations of the same soul of the world acting on the same matter. He

would have readily admitted that out of the protoplasm all things were formed by the gradual process of

creation; but he would have insisted that mind and intelligence not meaning by this, however, a conscious

mind or personwere prior to them, and could alone have created them. Into the workings of this eternal

mind or intelligence he does not enter further; nor would there have been any use in attempting to investigate

Lastly, there remain two points in which he seems to touch great discoveries of modern timesthe law of

(1) The law of gravitation, according to Plato, is a law, not only of the attraction of lesser bodies to larger

ones, but of similar bodies to similar, having a magnetic power as well as a principle of gravitation. He

observed that earth, water, and air had settled down to their places, and he imagined fire or the exterior aether

to have a place beyond air. When air seemed to go upwards and fire to pierce through airwhen water and

earth fell downward, they were seeking their native elements. He did not remark that his own explanation did

not suit all phenomena; and the simpler explanation, which assigns to bodies degrees of heaviness and

lightness proportioned to the mass and distance of the bodies which attract them, never occurred to him. Yet

the affinities of similar substances have some effect upon the composition of the world, and of this Plato may

be thought to have had an anticipation. He may be described as confusing the attraction of gravitation with

the attraction of cohesion. The influence of such affinities and the chemical action of one body upon another

(2) Plato is perfectly awareand he could hardly be ignorantthat blood is a fluid in constant motion. He

also knew that blood is partly a solid substance consisting of several elements, which, as he might have

observed in the use of 'cuppingglasses', decompose and die, when no longer in motion. But the specific

discovery that the blood flows out on one side of the heart through the arteries and returns through the veins

on the other, which is commonly called the circulation of the blood, was absolutely unknown to him.

A further study of the Timaeus suggests some afterthoughts which may be conveniently brought together in

this place. The topics which I propose briefly to reconsider are (a) the relation of the Timaeus to the other

dialogues of Plato and to the previous philosophy; (b) the nature of God and of creation (c) the morality of

(a) The Timaeus is more imaginative and less scientific than any other of the Platonic dialogues. It is

conjectural astronomy, conjectural natural philosophy, conjectural medicine. The writer himself is constantly

repeating that he is speaking what is probable only. The dialogue is put into the mouth of Timaeus, a

Pythagorean philosopher, and therefore here, as in the Parmenides, we are in doubt how far Plato is

expressing his own sentiments. Hence the connexion with the other dialogues is comparatively slight. We

may fill up the lacunae of the Timaeus by the help of the Republic or Phaedrus: we may identify the same and

other with the (Greek) of the Philebus. We may find in the Laws or in the Statesman parallels with the

account of creation and of the first origin of man. It would be possible to frame a scheme in which all these

various elements might have a place. But such a mode of proceeding would be unsatisfactory, because we

have no reason to suppose that Plato intended his scattered thoughts to be collected in a system. There is a

common spirit in his writings, and there are certain general principles, such as the opposition of the sensible

and intellectual, and the priority of mind, which run through all of them; but he has no definite forms of

words in which he consistently expresses himself. While the determinations of human thought are in process

of creation he is necessarily tentative and uncertain. And there is least of definiteness, whenever either in

describing the beginning or the end of the world, he has recourse to myths. These are not the fixed modes in

which spiritual truths are revealed to him, but the efforts of imagination, by which at different times and in

various manners he seeks to embody his conceptions. The clouds of mythology are still resting upon him, and

he has not yet pierced 'to the heaven of the fixed stars' which is beyond them. It is safer then to admit the

inconsistencies of the Timaeus, or to endeavour to fill up what is wanting from our own imagination, inspired

by a study of the dialogue, than to refer to other Platonic writings,and still less should we refer to the

More light is thrown upon the Timaeus by a comparison of the previous philosophies. For the physical

science of the ancients was traditional, descending through many generations of Ionian and Pythagorean

philosophers. Plato does not look out upon the heavens and describe what he sees in them, but he builds upon

the foundations of others, adding something out of the 'depths of his own selfconsciousness.' Socrates had

already spoken of God the creator, who made all things for the best. While he ridiculed the superficial

explanations of phenomena which were current in his age, he recognised the marks both of benevolence and

of design in the frame of man and in the world. The apparatus of winds and waters is contemptuously rejected

by him in the Phaedo, but he thinks that there is a power greater than that of any Atlas in the 'Best' (Phaedo;

Arist. Met.). Plato, following his master, affirms this principle of the best, but he acknowledges that the best

is limited by the conditions of matter. In the generation before Socrates, Anaxagoras had brought together

'Chaos' and 'Mind'; and these are connected by Plato in the Timaeus, but in accordance with his own mode of

thinking he has interposed between them the idea or pattern according to which mind worked. The circular

impulse (Greek) of the one philosopher answers to the circular movement (Greek) of the other. But unlike

Anaxagoras, Plato made the sun and stars living beings and not masses of earth or metal. The Pythagoreans

again had framed a world out of numbers, which they constructed into figures. Plato adopted their

speculations and improved upon them by a more exact knowledge of geometry. The Atomists too made the

world, if not out of geometrical figures, at least out of different forms of atoms, and these atoms resembled

the triangles of Plato in being too small to be visible. But though the physiology of the Timaeus is partly

borrowed from them, they are either ignored by Plato or referred to with a secret contempt and dislike. He

looks with more favour on the Pythagoreans, whose intervals of number applied to the distances of the

planets reappear in the Timaeus. It is probable that among the Pythagoreans living in the fourth century B.C.,

there were already some who, like Plato, made the earth their centre. Whether he obtained his circles of the

Same and Other from any previous thinker is uncertain. The four elements are taken from Empedocles; the

interstices of the Timaeus may also be compared with his (Greek). The passage of one element into another is

common to Heracleitus and several of the Ionian philosophers. So much of a syncretist is Plato, though not

after the manner of the Neoplatonists. For the elements which he borrows from others are fused and

transformed by his own genius. On the other hand we find fewer traces in Plato of early Ionic or Eleatic

speculation. He does not imagine the world of sense to be made up of opposites or to be in a perpetual flux,

but to vary within certain limits which are controlled by what he calls the principle of the same. Unlike the

Eleatics, who relegated the world to the sphere of notbeing, he admits creation to have an existence which is

real and even eternal, although dependent on the will of the creator. Instead of maintaining the doctrine that

the void has a necessary place in the existence of the world, he rather affirms the modern thesis that nature

abhors a vacuum, as in the Sophist he also denies the reality of notbeing (Aristot. Metaph.). But though in

these respects he differs from them, he is deeply penetrated by the spirit of their philosophy; he differs from

them with reluctance, and gladly recognizes the 'generous depth' of Parmenides (Theaet.).

There is a similarity between the Timaeus and the fragments of Philolaus, which by some has been thought to

be so great as to create a suspicion that they are derived from it. Philolaus is known to us from the Phaedo of

Plato as a Pythagorean philosopher residing at Thebes in the latter half of the fifth century B.C., after the

dispersion of the original Pythagorean society. He was the teacher of Simmias and Cebes, who became

disciples of Socrates. We have hardly any other information about him. The story that Plato had purchased

three books of his writings from a relation is not worth repeating; it is only a fanciful way in which an ancient

biographer dresses up the fact that there was supposed to be a resemblance between the two writers. Similar

gossiping stories are told about the sources of the Republic and the Phaedo. That there really existed in

antiquity a work passing under the name of Philolaus there can be no doubt. Fragments of this work are

preserved to us, chiefly in Stobaeus, a few in Boethius and other writers. They remind us of the Timaeus, as

well as of the Phaedrus and Philebus. When the writer says (Stob. Eclog.) that all things are either finite

(definite) or infinite (indefinite), or a union of the two, and that this antithesis and synthesis pervades all art

and nature, we are reminded of the Philebus. When he calls the centre of the world (Greek), we have a

parallel to the Phaedrus. His distinction between the world of order, to which the sun and moon and the stars

belong, and the world of disorder, which lies in the region between the moon and the earth, approximates to

Plato's sphere of the Same and of the Other. Like Plato (Tim.), he denied the above and below in space, and

said that all things were the same in relation to a centre. He speaks also of the world as one and

indestructible: 'for neither from within nor from without does it admit of destruction' (Tim). He mentions ten

heavenly bodies, including the sun and moon, the earth and the counterearth (Greek), and in the midst of

them all he places the central fire, around which they are movingthis is hidden from the earth by the

counterearth. Of neither is there any trace in Plato, who makes the earth the centre of his system. Philolaus

magnifies the virtues of particular numbers, especially of the number 10 (Stob. Eclog.), and descants upon

odd and even numbers, after the manner of the later Pythagoreans. It is worthy of remark that these mystical

fancies are nowhere to be found in the writings of Plato, although the importance of number as a form and

also an instrument of thought is ever present to his mind. Both Philolaus and Plato agree in making the world

move in certain numerical ratios according to a musical scale: though Bockh is of opinion that the two scales,

of Philolaus and of the Timaeus, do not correspond...We appear not to be sufficiently acquainted with the

early Pythagoreans to know how far the statements contained in these fragments corresponded with their

doctrines; and we therefore cannot pronounce, either in favour of the genuineness of the fragments, with

Bockh and Zeller, or, with Valentine Rose and Schaarschmidt, against them. But it is clear that they throw

but little light upon the Timaeus, and that their resemblance to it has been exaggerated.

That there is a degree of confusion and indistinctness in Plato's account both of man and of the universe has

been already acknowledged. We cannot tell (nor could Plato himself have told) where the figure or myth ends

and the philosophical truth begins; we cannot explain (nor could Plato himself have explained to us) the

relation of the ideas to appearance, of which one is the copy of the other, and yet of all things in the world

they are the most opposed and unlike. This opposition is presented to us in many forms, as the antithesis of

the one and many, of the finite and infinite, of the intelligible and sensible, of the unchangeable and the

changing, of the indivisible and the divisible, of the fixed stars and the planets, of the creative mind and the

primeval chaos. These pairs of opposites are so many aspects of the great opposition between ideas and

phenomenathey easily pass into one another; and sometimes the two members of the relation differ in

kind, sometimes only in degree. As in Aristotle's matter and form the connexion between them is really

inseparable; for if we attempt to separate them they become devoid of content and therefore

indistinguishable; there is no difference between the idea of which nothing can be predicated, and the chaos

or matter which has no perceptible qualitiesbetween Being in the abstract and Nothing. Yet we are

frequently told that the one class of them is the reality and the other appearance; and one is often spoken of as

the double or reflection of the other. For Plato never clearly saw that both elements had an equal place in

mind and in nature; and hence, especially when we argue from isolated passages in his writings, or attempt to

draw what appear to us to be the natural inferences from them, we are full of perplexity. There is a similar

confusion about necessity and free will, and about the state of the soul after death. Also he sometimes

supposes that God is immanent in the world, sometimes that he is transcendent. And having no distinction of

objective and subjective, he passes imperceptibly from one to the other; from intelligence to soul, from

eternity to time. These contradictions may be softened or concealed by a judicious use of language, but they

cannot be wholly got rid of. That an age of intellectual transition must also be one of inconsistency; that the

creative is opposed to the critical or defining habit of mind or time, has been often repeated by us. But, as

Plato would say, 'there is no harm in repeating twice or thrice' (Laws) what is important for the understanding

It has not, however, been observed, that the confusion partly arises out of the elements of opposing

philosophies which are preserved in him. He holds these in solution, he brings them into relation with one

another, but he does not perfectly harmonize them. They are part of his own mind, and he is incapable of

placing himself outside of them and criticizing them. They grow as he grows; they are a kind of composition

with which his own philosophy is overlaid. In early life he fancies that he has mastered them: but he is also

mastered by them; and in language (Sophist) which may be compared with the hesitating tone of the

Timaeus, he confesses in his later years that they are full of obscurity to him. He attributes new meanings to

the words of Parmenides and Heracleitus; but at times the old Eleatic philosophy appears to go beyond him;

then the world of phenomena disappears, but the doctrine of ideas is also reduced to nothingness. All of them

are nearer to one another than they themselves supposed, and nearer to him than he supposed. All of them are

antagonistic to sense and have an affinity to number and measure and a presentiment of ideas. Even in Plato

they still retain their contentious or controversial character, which was developed by the growth of dialectic.

He is never able to reconcile the first causes of the preSocratic philosophers with the final causes of

Socrates himself. There is no intelligible account of the relation of numbers to the universal ideas, or of

universals to the idea of good. He found them all three, in the Pythagorean philosophy and in the teaching of

Socrates and of the Megarians respectively; and, because they all furnished modes of explaining and

arranging phenomena, he is unwilling to give up any of them, though he is unable to unite them in a

Lastly, Plato, though an idealist philosopher, is Greek and not Oriental in spirit and feeling. He is no mystic

or ascetic; he is not seeking in vain to get rid of matter or to find absorption in the divine nature, or in the

Soul of the universe. And therefore we are not surprised to find that his philosophy in the Timaeus returns at

last to a worship of the heavens, and that to him, as to other Greeks, nature, though containing a remnant of

evil, is still glorious and divine. He takes away or drops the veil of mythology, and presents her to us in what

appears to him to be the form fairer and truer farof mathematical figures. It is this element in the

Timaeus, no less than its affinity to certain Pythagorean speculations, which gives it a character not wholly in

(b) The Timaeus contains an assertion perhaps more distinct than is found in any of the other dialogues (Rep.;

Laws) of the goodness of God. 'He was good himself, and he fashioned the good everywhere.' He was not 'a

jealous God,' and therefore he desired that all other things should be equally good. He is the IDEA of good

who has now become a person, and speaks and is spoken of as God. Yet his personality seems to appear only

in the act of creation. In so far as he works with his eye fixed upon an eternal pattern he is like the human

artificer in the Republic. Here the theory of Platonic ideas intrudes upon us. God, like man, is supposed to

have an ideal of which Plato is unable to tell us the origin. He may be said, in the language of modern

The first work of creation is perfected, the second begins under the direction of inferior ministers. The

supreme God is withdrawn from the world and returns to his own accustomed nature (Tim.). As in the

Statesman, he retires to his place of view. So early did the Epicurean doctrine take possession of the Greek

mind, and so natural is it to the heart of man, when he has once passed out of the stage of mythology into that

of rational religion. For he sees the marks of design in the world; but he no longer sees or fancies that he sees

God walking in the garden or haunting stream or mountain. He feels also that he must put God as far as

possible out of the way of evil, and therefore he banishes him from an evil world. Plato is sensible of the

difficulty; and he often shows that he is desirous of justifying the ways of God to man. Yet on the other hand,

in the Tenth Book of the Laws he passes a censure on those who say that the Gods have no care of human

The creation of the world is the impression of order on a previously existing chaos. The formula of

Anaxagoras'all things were in chaos or confusion, and then mind came and disposed them'is a summary

of the first part of the Timaeus. It is true that of a chaos without differences no idea could be formed. All was

not mixed but one; and therefore it was not difficult for the later Platonists to draw inferences by which they

were enabled to reconcile the narrative of the Timaeus with the Mosaic account of the creation. Neither when

we speak of mind or intelligence, do we seem to get much further in our conception than circular motion,

which was deemed to be the most perfect. Plato, like Anaxagoras, while commencing his theory of the

universe with ideas of mind and of the best, is compelled in the execution of his design to condescend to the

of it. The difficulty which Plato feels, is that which all of us feel, and which is increased in our own day by

the progress of physical science, how the responsibility of man is to be reconciled with his dependence on

natural causes. And sometimes, like other men, he is more impressed by one aspect of human life, sometimes

by the other. In the Republic he represents man as freely choosing his own lot in a state prior to birtha

conception which, if taken literally, would still leave him subject to the dominion of necessity in his after life;

in the Statesman he supposes the human race to be preserved in the world only by a divine interposition;

while in the Timaeus the supreme God commissions the inferior deities to avert from him all but

selfinflicted evilswords which imply that all the evils of men are really self inflicted. And here, like

Plato (the insertion of a note in the text of an ancient writer is a literary curiosity worthy of remark), we may

take occasion to correct an error. For we too hastily said that Plato in the Timaeus regarded all 'vices and

crimes as involuntary.' But the fact is that he is inconsistent with himself; in one and the same passage vice is

attributed to the relaxation of the bodily frame, and yet we are exhorted to avoid it and pursue virtue. It is also

admitted that good and evil conduct are to be attributed respectively to good and evil laws and institutions.

These cannot be given by individuals to themselves; and therefore human actions, in so far as they are

dependent upon them, are regarded by Plato as involuntary rather than voluntary. Like other writers on this

subject, he is unable to escape from some degree of self contradiction. He had learned from Socrates that

vice is ignorance, and suddenly the doctrine seems to him to be confirmed by observing how much of the

good and bad in human character depends on the bodily constitution. So in modern times the speculative

The Timaeus also contains an anticipation of the stoical life according to nature. Man contemplating the

heavens is to regulate his erring life according to them. He is to partake of the repose of nature and of the

order of nature, to bring the variable principle in himself into harmony with the principle of the same. The

ethics of the Timaeus may be summed up in the single idea of 'law.' To feel habitually that he is part of the

order of the universe, is one of the highest ethical motives of which man is capable. Something like this is

what Plato means when he speaks of the soul 'moving about the same in unchanging thought of the same.' He

does not explain how man is acted upon by the lesser influences of custom or of opinion; or how the

commands of the soul watching in the citadel are conveyed to the bodily organs. But this perhaps, to use once

more expressions of his own, 'is part of another subject' or 'may be more suitably discussed on some other

There is no difficulty, by the help of Aristotle and later writers, in criticizing the Timaeus of Plato, in pointing

out the inconsistencies of the work, in dwelling on the ignorance of anatomy displayed by the author, in

showing the fancifulness or unmeaningness of some of his reasons. But the Timaeus still remains the greatest

effort of the human mind to conceive the world as a whole which the genius of antiquity has bequeathed to

One more aspect of the Timaeus remains to be consideredthe mythological or geographical. Is it not a

wonderful thing that a few pages of one of Plato's dialogues have grown into a great legend, not confined to

Greece only, but spreading far and wide over the nations of Europe and reaching even to Egypt and Asia?

Like the tale of Troy, or the legend of the Ten Tribes (Ewald, Hist. of Isr.), which perhaps originated in a few

verses of II Esdras, it has become famous, because it has coincided with a great historical fact. Like the

romance of King Arthur, which has had so great a charm, it has found a way over the seas from one country

and language to another. It inspired the navigators of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; it foreshadowed

the discovery of America. It realized the fiction so natural to the human mind, because it answered the

enquiry about the origin of the arts, that there had somewhere existed an ancient primitive civilization. It

might find a place wherever men chose to look for it; in North, South, East, or West; in the Islands of the

Blest; before the entrance of the Straits of Gibraltar, in Sweden or in Palestine. It mattered little whether the

description in Plato agreed with the locality assigned to it or not. It was a legend so adapted to the human

mind that it made a habitation for itself in any country. It was an island in the clouds, which might be seen

anywhere by the eye of faith. It was a subject especially congenial to the ponderous industry of certain French

and Swedish writers, who delighted in heaping up learning of all sorts but were incapable of using it.

M. Martin has written a valuable dissertation on the opinions entertained respecting the Island of Atlantis in

ancient and modern times. It is a curious chapter in the history of the human mind. The tale of Atlantis is the

fabric of a vision, but it has never ceased to interest mankind. It was variously regarded by the ancients

themselves. The stronger heads among them, like Strabo and Longinus, were as little disposed to believe in

the truth of it as the modern reader in Gulliver or Robinson Crusoe. On the other hand there is no kind or

degree of absurdity or fancy in which the more foolish writers, both of antiquity and of modern times, have

not indulged respecting it. The NeoPlatonists, loyal to their master, like some commentators on the

Christian Scriptures, sought to give an allegorical meaning to what they also believed to be an historical fact.

It was as if some one in our own day were to convert the poems of Homer into an allegory of the Christian

religion, at the same time maintaining them to be an exact and veritable history. In the Middle Ages the

legend seems to have been halfforgotten until revived by the discovery of America. It helped to form the

Utopia of Sir Thomas More and the New Atlantis of Bacon, although probably neither of those great men

were at all imposed upon by the fiction. It was most prolific in the seventeenth or in the early part of the

eighteenth century, when the human mind, seeking for Utopias or inventing them, was glad to escape out of

the dulness of the present into the romance of the past or some ideal of the future. The later forms of such

narratives contained features taken from the Edda, as well as from the Old and New Testament; also from the

The various opinions respecting the Island of Atlantis have no interest for us except in so far as they illustrate

the extravagances of which men are capable. But this is a real interest and a serious lesson, if we remember

that now as formerly the human mind is liable to be imposed upon by the illusions of the past, which are ever

When we have shaken off the rubbish of ages, there remain one or two questions of which the investigation

1. Did Plato derive the legend of Atlantis from an Egyptian source? It may be replied that there is no such

legend in any writer previous to Plato; neither in Homer, nor in Pindar, nor in Herodotus is there any mention

of an Island of Atlantis, nor any reference to it in Aristotle, nor any citation of an earlier writer by a later one

in which it is to be found. Nor have any traces been discovered hitherto in Egyptian monuments of a

connexion between Greece and Egypt older than the eighth or ninth century B.C. It is true that Proclus,

writing in the fifth century after Christ, tells us of stones and columns in Egypt on which the history of the

Island of Atlantis was engraved. The statement may be falsethere are similar tales about columns set up 'by

the Canaanites whom Joshua drove out' (Procop.); but even if true, it would only show that the legend, 800

years after the time of Plato, had been transferred to Egypt, and inscribed, not, like other forgeries, in books,

but on stone. Probably in the Alexandrian age, when Egypt had ceased to have a history and began to

appropriate the legends of other nations, many such monuments were to be found of events which had

become famous in that or other countries. The oldest witness to the story is said to be Crantor, a Stoic

philosopher who lived a generation later than Plato, and therefore may have borrowed it from him. The

statement is found in Proclus; but we require better assurance than Proclus can give us before we accept this

Secondly, passing from the external to the internal evidence, we may remark that the story is far more likely

to have been invented by Plato than to have been brought by Solon from Egypt. That is another part of his

legend which Plato also seeks to impose upon us. The verisimilitude which he has given to the tale is a

further reason for suspecting it; for he could easily 'invent Egyptian or any other tales' (Phaedrus). Are not the

words, 'The truth of the story is a great advantage,' if we read between the lines, an indication of the fiction?

It is only a legend that Solon went to Egypt, and if he did he could not have conversed with Egyptian priests

or have read records in their temples. The truth is that the introduction is a mosaic work of small touches

which, partly by their minuteness, and also by their seeming probability, win the confidence of the reader.

Who would desire better evidence than that of Critias, who had heard the narrative in youth when the

memory is strongest at the age of ten from his grandfather Critias, an old man of ninety, who in turn had

heard it from Solon himself? Is not the famous expression'You Hellenes are ever children and there is no

knowledge among you hoary with age,' really a compliment to the Athenians who are described in these

words as 'ever young'? And is the thought expressed in them to be attributed to the learning of the Egyptian

priest, and not rather to the genius of Plato? Or when the Egyptian says'Hereafter at our leisure we will

take up the written documents and examine in detail the exact truth about these things'what is this but a

literary trick by which Plato sets off his narrative? Could any war between Athens and the Island of Atlantis

have really coincided with the struggle between the Greeks and Persians, as is sufficiently hinted though not

expressly stated in the narrative of Plato? And whence came the tradition to Egypt? or in what does the story

consist except in the war between the two rival powers and the submersion of both of them? And how was

the tale transferred to the poem of Solon? 'It is not improbable,' says Mr. Grote, 'that Solon did leave an

unfinished Egyptian poem' (Plato). But are probabilities for which there is not a tittle of evidence, and which

are without any parallel, to be deemed worthy of attention by the critic? How came the poem of Solon to

disappear in antiquity? or why did Plato, if the whole narrative was known to him, break off almost at the

While therefore admiring the diligence and erudition of M. Martin, we cannot for a moment suppose that the

tale was told to Solon by an Egyptian priest, nor can we believe that Solon wrote a poem upon the theme

which was thus suggested to hima poem which disappeared in antiquity; or that the Island of Atlantis or

the antediluvian Athens ever had any existence except in the imagination of Plato. Martin is of opinion that

Plato would have been terrified if he could have foreseen the endless fancies to which his Island of Atlantis

has given occasion. Rather he would have been infinitely amused if he could have known that his gift of

invention would have deceived M. Martin himself into the belief that the tradition was brought from Egypt by

Solon and made the subject of a poem by him. M. Martin may also be gently censured for citing without

sufficient discrimination ancient authors having very different degrees of authority and value.

2. It is an interesting and not unimportant question which is touched upon by Martin, whether the Atlantis of

Plato in any degree held out a guiding light to the early navigators. He is inclined to think that there is no real

connexion between them. But surely the discovery of the New World was preceded by a prophetic

anticipation of it, which, like the hope of a Messiah, was entering into the hearts of men? And this hope was

nursed by ancient tradition, which had found expression from time to time in the celebrated lines of Seneca

and in many other places. This tradition was sustained by the great authority of Plato, and therefore the

legend of the Island of Atlantis, though not closely connected with the voyages of the early navigators, may

The Timaeus of Plato, like the Protagoras and several portions of the Phaedrus and Republic, was translated

by Cicero into Latin. About a fourth, comprehending with lacunae the first portion of the dialogue, is

preserved in several MSS. These generally agree, and therefore may be supposed to be derived from a single

original. The version is very faithful, and is a remarkable monument of Cicero's skill in managing the

difficult and intractable Greek. In his treatise De Natura Deorum, he also refers to the Timaeus, which,

The commentary of Proclus on the Timaeus is a wonderful monument of the silliness and prolixity of the

Alexandrian Age. It extends to about thirty pages of the book, and is thirty times the length of the original. It

is surprising that this voluminous work should have found a translator (Thomas Taylor, a kindred spirit, who

was himself a NeoPlatonist, after the fashion, not of the fifth or sixteenth, but of the nineteenth century

A.D.). The commentary is of little or no value, either in a philosophical or philological point of view. The

writer is unable to explain particular passages in any precise manner, and he is equally incapable of grasping

the whole. He does not take words in their simple meaning or sentences in their natural connexion. He is

thinking, not of the context in Plato, but of the contemporary Pythagorean philosophers and their wordy

strife. He finds nothing in the text which he does not bring to it. He is full of Porphyry, Iamblichus and

Plotinus, of misapplied logic, of misunderstood grammar, and of the Orphic theology.

Although such a work can contribute little or nothing to the understanding of Plato, it throws an interesting

light on the Alexandrian times; it realizes how a philosophy made up of words only may create a deep and

widespread enthusiasm, how the forms of logic and rhetoric may usurp the place of reason and truth, how all

philosophies grow faded and discoloured, and are patched and made up again like wornout garments, and

retain only a secondhand existence. He who would study this degeneracy of philosophy and of the Greek

mind in the original cannot do better than devote a few of his days and nights to the commentary of Proclus

A very different account must be given of the short work entitled 'Timaeus Locrus,' which is a brief but clear

analysis of the Timaeus of Plato, omitting the introduction or dialogue and making a few small additions. It

does not allude to the original from which it is taken; it is quite free from mysticism and NeoPlatonism. In

length it does not exceed a fifth part of the Timaeus. It is written in the Doric dialect, and contains several

words which do not occur in classical Greek. No other indication of its date, except this uncertain one of

language, appears in it. In several places the writer has simplified the language of Plato, in a few others he

has embellished and exaggerated it. He generally preserves the thought of the original, but does not copy the

words. On the whole this little tract faithfully reflects the meaning and spirit of the Timaeus.

From the garden of the Timaeus, as from the other dialogues of Plato, we may still gather a few flowers and

present them at parting to the reader. There is nothing in Plato grander and simpler than the conversation

between Solon and the Egyptian priest, in which the youthfulness of Hellas is contrasted with the antiquity of

Egypt. Here are to be found the famous words, 'O Solon, Solon, you Hellenes are ever young, and there is not

an old man among you'which may be compared to the lively saying of Hegel, that 'Greek history began

with the youth Achilles and left off with the youth Alexander.' The numerous arts of verisimilitude by which

Plato insinuates into the mind of the reader the truth of his narrative have been already referred to. Here occur

a sentence or two not wanting in Platonic irony (Greeka word to the wise). 'To know or tell the origin of

the other divinities is beyond us, and we must accept the traditions of the men of old time who affirm

themselves to be the offspring of the Godsthat is what they sayand they must surely have known their

own ancestors. How can we doubt the word of the children of the Gods? Although they give no probable or

certain proofs, still, as they declare that they are speaking of what took place in their own family, we must

conform to custom and believe them.' 'Our creators well knew that women and other animals would some day

be framed out of men, and they further knew that many animals would require the use of nails for many

purposes; wherefore they fashioned in men at their first creation the rudiments of nails.' Or once more, let us

reflect on two serious passages in which the order of the world is supposed to find a place in the human soul

and to infuse harmony into it. 'The soul, when touching anything that has essence, whether dispersed in parts

or undivided, is stirred through all her powers to declare the sameness or difference of that thing and some

other; and to what individuals are related, and by what affected, and in what way and how and when, both in

the world of generation and in the world of immutable being. And when reason, which works with equal

truth, whether she be in the circle of the diverse or of the same,in voiceless silence holding her onward

course in the sphere of the selfmoved,when reason, I say, is hovering around the sensible world, and

when the circle of the diverse also moving truly imparts the intimations of sense to the whole soul, then arise

opinions and beliefs sure and certain. But when reason is concerned with the rational, and the circle of the

same moving smoothly declares it, then intelligence and knowledge are necessarily perfected;' where,

proceeding in a similar path of contemplation, he supposes the inward and the outer world mutually to imply

each other. 'God invented and gave us sight to the end that we might behold the courses of intelligence in the

heaven, and apply them to the courses of our own intelligence which are akin to them, the unperturbed to the

perturbed; and that we, learning them and partaking of the natural truth of reason, might imitate the

absolutely unerring courses of God and regulate our own vagaries.' Or let us weigh carefully some other

profound thoughts, such as the following. 'He who neglects education walks lame to the end of his life, and

returns imperfect and good for nothing to the world below.' 'The father and maker of all this universe is past

finding out; and even if we found him, to tell of him to all men would be impossible.' 'Let me tell you then

why the Creator made this world of generation. He was good, and the good can never have jealousy of

anything. And being free from jealousy, he desired that all things should be as like himself as they could be.

This is in the truest sense the origin of creation and of the world, as we shall do well in believing on the

testimony of wise men: God desired that all things should be good and nothing bad, so far as this was

attainable.' This is the leading thought in the Timaeus, just as the IDEA of Good is the leading thought of the

Republic, the one expression describing the personal, the other the impersonal Good or God, differing in form

rather than in substance, and both equally implying to the mind of Plato a divine reality. The slight touch,

perhaps ironical, contained in the words, 'as we shall do well in believing on the testimony of wise men,' is

SOCRATES: One, two, three; but where, my dear Timaeus, is the fourth of those who were yesterday my

TIMAEUS: He has been taken ill, Socrates; for he would not willingly have been absent from this gathering.

SOCRATES: Then, if he is not coming, you and the two others must supply his place.

TIMAEUS: Certainly, and we will do all that we can; having been handsomely entertained by you yesterday,

SOCRATES: Do you remember what were the points of which I required you to speak?

TIMAEUS: We remember some of them, and you will be here to remind us of anything which we have

forgotten: or rather, if we are not troubling you, will you briefly recapitulate the whole, and then the

SOCRATES: To be sure I will: the chief theme of my yesterday's discourse was the Statehow constituted

SOCRATES: Did we not begin by separating the husbandmen and the artisans from the class of defenders of

SOCRATES: And when we had given to each one that single employment and particular art which was

suited to his nature, we spoke of those who were intended to be our warriors, and said that they were to be

guardians of the city against attacks from within as well as from without, and to have no other employment;

they were to be merciful in judging their subjects, of whom they were by nature friends, but fierce to their

SOCRATES: We said, if I am not mistaken, that the guardians should be gifted with a temperament in a

high degree both passionate and philosophical; and that then they would be as they ought to be, gentle to their

SOCRATES: And what did we say of their education? Were they not to be trained in gymnastic, and music,

SOCRATES: And being thus trained they were not to consider gold or silver or anything else to be their own

private property; they were to be like hired troops, receiving pay for keeping guard from those who were

protected by themthe pay was to be no more than would suffice for men of simple life; and they were to

spend in common, and to live together in the continual practice of virtue, which was to be their sole pursuit.

SOCRATES: Neither did we forget the women; of whom we declared, that their natures should be

assimilated and brought into harmony with those of the men, and that common pursuits should be assigned to

SOCRATES: And what about the procreation of children? Or rather was not the proposal too singular to be

forgotten? for all wives and children were to be in common, to the intent that no one should ever know his

own child, but they were to imagine that they were all one family; those who were within a suitable limit of

age were to be brothers and sisters, those who were of an elder generation parents and grandparents, and

SOCRATES: And do you also remember how, with a view of securing as far as we could the best breed, we

said that the chief magistrates, male and female, should contrive secretly, by the use of certain lots, so to

arrange the nuptial meeting, that the bad of either sex and the good of either sex might pair with their like;

and there was to be no quarrelling on this account, for they would imagine that the union was a mere

SOCRATES: And you remember how we said that the children of the good parents were to be educated, and

the children of the bad secretly dispersed among the inferior citizens; and while they were all growing up the

rulers were to be on the lookout, and to bring up from below in their turn those who were worthy, and those

among themselves who were unworthy were to take the places of those who came up?

SOCRATES: Then have I now given you all the heads of our yesterday's discussion? Or is there anything

SOCRATES: I should like, before proceeding further, to tell you how I feel about the State which we have

described. I might compare myself to a person who, on beholding beautiful animals either created by the

painter's art, or, better still, alive but at rest, is seized with a desire of seeing them in motion or engaged in

some struggle or conflict to which their forms appear suited; this is my feeling about the State which we have

been describing. There are conflicts which all cities undergo, and I should like to hear some one tell of our

own city carrying on a struggle against her neighbours, and how she went out to war in a becoming manner,

and when at war showed by the greatness of her actions and the magnanimity of her words in dealing with

other cities a result worthy of her training and education. Now I, Critias and Hermocrates, am conscious that I

myself should never be able to celebrate the city and her citizens in a befitting manner, and I am not surprised

at my own incapacity; to me the wonder is rather that the poets present as well as past are no betternot that

I mean to depreciate them; but every one can see that they are a tribe of imitators, and will imitate best and

most easily the life in which they have been brought up; while that which is beyond the range of a man's

education he finds hard to carry out in action, and still harder adequately to represent in language. I am aware

that the Sophists have plenty of brave words and fair conceits, but I am afraid that being only wanderers from

one city to another, and having never had habitations of their own, they may fail in their conception of

philosophers and statesmen, and may not know what they do and say in time of war, when they are fighting

or holding parley with their enemies. And thus people of your class are the only ones remaining who are

fitted by nature and education to take part at once both in politics and philosophy. Here is Timaeus, of Locris

in Italy, a city which has admirable laws, and who is himself in wealth and rank the equal of any of his

fellowcitizens; he has held the most important and honourable offices in his own state, and, as I believe, has

scaled the heights of all philosophy; and here is Critias, whom every Athenian knows to be no novice in the

matters of which we are speaking; and as to Hermocrates, I am assured by many witnesses that his genius and

education qualify him to take part in any speculation of the kind. And therefore yesterday when I saw that

you wanted me to describe the formation of the State, I readily assented, being very well aware, that, if you

only would, none were better qualified to carry the discussion further, and that when you had engaged our

city in a suitable war, you of all men living could best exhibit her playing a fitting part. When I had

completed my task, I in return imposed this other task upon you. You conferred together and agreed to

entertain me today, as I had entertained you, with a feast of discourse. Here am I in festive array, and no

HERMOCRATES: And we too, Socrates, as Timaeus says, will not be wanting in enthusiasm; and there is

no excuse for not complying with your request. As soon as we arrived yesterday at the guestchamber of

Critias, with whom we are staying, or rather on our way thither, we talked the matter over, and he told us an

ancient tradition, which I wish, Critias, that you would repeat to Socrates, so that he may help us to judge

CRITIAS: Then listen, Socrates, to a tale which, though strange, is certainly true, having been attested by

Solon, who was the wisest of the seven sages. He was a relative and a dear friend of my greatgrandfather,

Dropides, as he himself says in many passages of his poems; and he told the story to Critias, my grandfather,

who remembered and repeated it to us. There were of old, he said, great and marvellous actions of the

Athenian city, which have passed into oblivion through lapse of time and the destruction of mankind, and one

in particular, greater than all the rest. This we will now rehearse. It will be a fitting monument of our

gratitude to you, and a hymn of praise true and worthy of the goddess, on this her day of festival.

SOCRATES: Very good. And what is this ancient famous action of the Athenians, which Critias declared,

CRITIAS: I will tell an oldworld story which I heard from an aged man; for Critias, at the time of telling it,

was, as he said, nearly ninety years of age, and I was about ten. Now the day was that day of the Apaturia

which is called the Registration of Youth, at which, according to custom, our parents gave prizes for

recitations, and the poems of several poets were recited by us boys, and many of us sang the poems of Solon,

which at that time had not gone out of fashion. One of our tribe, either because he thought so or to please

Critias, said that in his judgment Solon was not only the wisest of men, but also the noblest of poets. The old

man, as I very well remember, brightened up at hearing this and said, smiling: Yes, Amynander, if Solon had

only, like other poets, made poetry the business of his life, and had completed the tale which he brought with

him from Egypt, and had not been compelled, by reason of the factions and troubles which he found stirring

in his own country when he came home, to attend to other matters, in my opinion he would have been as

About the greatest action which the Athenians ever did, and which ought to have been the most famous, but,

through the lapse of time and the destruction of the actors, it has not come down to us.

Tell us, said the other, the whole story, and how and from whom Solon heard this veritable tradition.

He replied:In the Egyptian Delta, at the head of which the river Nile divides, there is a certain district

which is called the district of Sais, and the great city of the district is also called Sais, and is the city from

which King Amasis came. The citizens have a deity for their foundress; she is called in the Egyptian tongue

Neith, and is asserted by them to be the same whom the Hellenes call Athene; they are great lovers of the

Athenians, and say that they are in some way related to them. To this city came Solon, and was received there

with great honour; he asked the priests who were most skilful in such matters, about antiquity, and made the

discovery that neither he nor any other Hellene knew anything worth mentioning about the times of old. On

one occasion, wishing to draw them on to speak of antiquity, he began to tell about the most ancient things in

our part of the worldabout Phoroneus, who is called 'the first man,' and about Niobe; and after the Deluge,

of the survival of Deucalion and Pyrrha; and he traced the genealogy of their descendants, and reckoning up

the dates, tried to compute how many years ago the events of which he was speaking happened. Thereupon

one of the priests, who was of a very great age, said: O Solon, Solon, you Hellenes are never anything but

children, and there is not an old man among you. Solon in return asked him what he meant. I mean to say, he

replied, that in mind you are all young; there is no old opinion handed down among you by ancient tradition,

nor any science which is hoary with age. And I will tell you why. There have been, and will be again, many

destructions of mankind arising out of many causes; the greatest have been brought about by the agencies of

fire and water, and other lesser ones by innumerable other causes. There is a story, which even you have

preserved, that once upon a time Paethon, the son of Helios, having yoked the steeds in his father's chariot,

because he was not able to drive them in the path of his father, burnt up all that was upon the earth, and was

himself destroyed by a thunderbolt. Now this has the form of a myth, but really signifies a declination of the

bodies moving in the heavens around the earth, and a great conflagration of things upon the earth, which

recurs after long intervals; at such times those who live upon the mountains and in dry and lofty places are

more liable to destruction than those who dwell by rivers or on the seashore. And from this calamity the Nile,

who is our neverfailing saviour, delivers and preserves us. When, on the other hand, the gods purge the

earth with a deluge of water, the survivors in your country are herdsmen and shepherds who dwell on the

mountains, but those who, like you, live in cities are carried by the rivers into the sea. Whereas in this land,

neither then nor at any other time, does the water come down from above on the fields, having always a

tendency to come up from below; for which reason the traditions preserved here are the most ancient. The

fact is, that wherever the extremity of winter frost or of summer sun does not prevent, mankind exist,

sometimes in greater, sometimes in lesser numbers. And whatever happened either in your country or in ours,

or in any other region of which we are informedif there were any actions noble or great or in any other

way remarkable, they have all been written down by us of old, and are preserved in our temples. Whereas just

when you and other nations are beginning to be provided with letters and the other requisites of civilized life,

after the usual interval, the stream from heaven, like a pestilence, comes pouring down, and leaves only those

of you who are destitute of letters and education; and so you have to begin all over again like children, and

know nothing of what happened in ancient times, either among us or among yourselves. As for those

genealogies of yours which you just now recounted to us, Solon, they are no better than the tales of children.

In the first place you remember a single deluge only, but there were many previous ones; in the next place,

you do not know that there formerly dwelt in your land the fairest and noblest race of men which ever lived,

and that you and your whole city are descended from a small seed or remnant of them which survived. And

this was unknown to you, because, for many generations, the survivors of that destruction died, leaving no

written word. For there was a time, Solon, before the great deluge of all, when the city which now is Athens

was first in war and in every way the best governed of all cities, is said to have performed the noblest deeds

and to have had the fairest constitution of any of which tradition tells, under the face of heaven. Solon

marvelled at his words, and earnestly requested the priests to inform him exactly and in order about these

former citizens. You are welcome to hear about them, Solon, said the priest, both for your own sake and for

that of your city, and above all, for the sake of the goddess who is the common patron and parent and

educator of both our cities. She founded your city a thousand years before ours (Observe that Plato gives the

same date (9000 years ago) for the foundation of Athens and for the repulse of the invasion from Atlantis

(Crit.).), receiving from the Earth and Hephaestus the seed of your race, and afterwards she founded ours, of

which the constitution is recorded in our sacred registers to be 8000 years old. As touching your citizens of

9000 years ago, I will briefly inform you of their laws and of their most famous action; the exact particulars

of the whole we will hereafter go through at our leisure in the sacred registers themselves. If you compare

these very laws with ours you will find that many of ours are the counterpart of yours as they were in the

olden time. In the first place, there is the caste of priests, which is separated from all the others; next, there

are the artificers, who ply their several crafts by themselves and do not intermix; and also there is the class of

shepherds and of hunters, as well as that of husbandmen; and you will observe, too, that the warriors in Egypt

are distinct from all the other classes, and are commanded by the law to devote themselves solely to military

pursuits; moreover, the weapons which they carry are shields and spears, a style of equipment which the

goddess taught of Asiatics first to us, as in your part of the world first to you. Then as to wisdom, do you

observe how our law from the very first made a study of the whole order of things, extending even to

prophecy and medicine which gives health, out of these divine elements deriving what was needful for human

life, and adding every sort of knowledge which was akin to them. All this order and arrangement the goddess

first imparted to you when establishing your city; and she chose the spot of earth in which you were born,

because she saw that the happy temperament of the seasons in that land would produce the wisest of men.

Wherefore the goddess, who was a lover both of war and of wisdom, selected and first of all settled that spot

which was the most likely to produce men likest herself. And there you dwelt, having such laws as these and

still better ones, and excelled all mankind in all virtue, as became the children and disciples of the gods.

Many great and wonderful deeds are recorded of your state in our histories. But one of them exceeds all the

rest in greatness and valour. For these histories tell of a mighty power which unprovoked made an expedition

against the whole of Europe and Asia, and to which your city put an end. This power came forth out of the

Atlantic Ocean, for in those days the Atlantic was navigable; and there was an island situated in front of the

straits which are by you called the Pillars of Heracles; the island was larger than Libya and Asia put together,

and was the way to other islands, and from these you might pass to the whole of the opposite continent which

surrounded the true ocean; for this sea which is within the Straits of Heracles is only a harbour, having a

narrow entrance, but that other is a real sea, and the surrounding land may be most truly called a boundless

continent. Now in this island of Atlantis there was a great and wonderful empire which had rule over the

whole island and several others, and over parts of the continent, and, furthermore, the men of Atlantis had

subjected the parts of Libya within the columns of Heracles as far as Egypt, and of Europe as far as

Tyrrhenia. This vast power, gathered into one, endeavoured to subdue at a blow our country and yours and

the whole of the region within the straits; and then, Solon, your country shone forth, in the excellence of her

virtue and strength, among all mankind. She was preeminent in courage and military skill, and was the

leader of the Hellenes. And when the rest fell off from her, being compelled to stand alone, after having

undergone the very extremity of danger, she defeated and triumphed over the invaders, and preserved from

slavery those who were not yet subjugated, and generously liberated all the rest of us who dwell within the

pillars. But afterwards there occurred violent earthquakes and floods; and in a single day and night of

misfortune all your warlike men in a body sank into the earth, and the island of Atlantis in like manner

disappeared in the depths of the sea. For which reason the sea in those parts is impassable and impenetrable,

because there is a shoal of mud in the way; and this was caused by the subsidence of the island.

I have told you briefly, Socrates, what the aged Critias heard from Solon and related to us. And when you

were speaking yesterday about your city and citizens, the tale which I have just been repeating to you came

into my mind, and I remarked with astonishment how, by some mysterious coincidence, you agreed in almost

every particular with the narrative of Solon; but I did not like to speak at the moment. For a long time had

elapsed, and I had forgotten too much; I thought that I must first of all run over the narrative in my own mind,

and then I would speak. And so I readily assented to your request yesterday, considering that in all such cases

the chief difficulty is to find a tale suitable to our purpose, and that with such a tale we should be fairly well

And therefore, as Hermocrates has told you, on my way home yesterday I at once communicated the tale to

my companions as I remembered it; and after I left them, during the night by thinking I recovered nearly the

whole of it. Truly, as is often said, the lessons of our childhood make a wonderful impression on our

memories; for I am not sure that I could remember all the discourse of yesterday, but I should be much

surprised if I forgot any of these things which I have heard very long ago. I listened at the time with childlike

interest to the old man's narrative; he was very ready to teach me, and I asked him again and again to repeat

his words, so that like an indelible picture they were branded into my mind. As soon as the day broke, I

rehearsed them as he spoke them to my companions, that they, as well as myself, might have something to

say. And now, Socrates, to make an end of my preface, I am ready to tell you the whole tale. I will give you

not only the general heads, but the particulars, as they were told to me. The city and citizens, which you

yesterday described to us in fiction, we will now transfer to the world of reality. It shall be the ancient city of

Athens, and we will suppose that the citizens whom you imagined, were our veritable ancestors, of whom the

priest spoke; they will perfectly harmonize, and there will be no inconsistency in saying that the citizens of

your republic are these ancient Athenians. Let us divide the subject among us, and all endeavour according to

our ability gracefully to execute the task which you have imposed upon us. Consider then, Socrates, if this

narrative is suited to the purpose, or whether we should seek for some other instead.

SOCRATES: And what other, Critias, can we find that will be better than this, which is natural and suitable

to the festival of the goddess, and has the very great advantage of being a fact and not a fiction? How or

where shall we find another if we abandon this? We cannot, and therefore you must tell the tale, and good

luck to you; and I in return for my yesterday's discourse will now rest and be a listener.

CRITIAS: Let me proceed to explain to you, Socrates, the order in which we have arranged our

entertainment. Our intention is, that Timaeus, who is the most of an astronomer amongst us, and has made the

nature of the universe his special study, should speak first, beginning with the generation of the world and

going down to the creation of man; next, I am to receive the men whom he has created, and of whom some

will have profited by the excellent education which you have given them; and then, in accordance with the

tale of Solon, and equally with his law, we will bring them into court and make them citizens, as if they were

those very Athenians whom the sacred Egyptian record has recovered from oblivion, and thenceforward we

SOCRATES: I see that I shall receive in my turn a perfect and splendid feast of reason. And now, Timaeus,

TIMAEUS: All men, Socrates, who have any degree of right feeling, at the beginning of every enterprise,

whether small or great, always call upon God. And we, too, who are going to discourse of the nature of the

universe, how created or how existing without creation, if we be not altogether out of our wits, must invoke

the aid of Gods and Goddesses and pray that our words may be acceptable to them and consistent with

themselves. Let this, then, be our invocation of the Gods, to which I add an exhortation of myself to speak in

such manner as will be most intelligible to you, and will most accord with my own intent.

First then, in my judgment, we must make a distinction and ask, What is that which always is and has no

becoming; and what is that which is always becoming and never is? That which is apprehended by

intelligence and reason is always in the same state; but that which is conceived by opinion with the help of

sensation and without reason, is always in a process of becoming and perishing and never really is. Now

everything that becomes or is created must of necessity be created by some cause, for without a cause nothing

can be created. The work of the creator, whenever he looks to the unchangeable and fashions the form and

nature of his work after an unchangeable pattern, must necessarily be made fair and perfect; but when he

looks to the created only, and uses a created pattern, it is not fair or perfect. Was the heaven then or the

world, whether called by this or by any other more appropriate nameassuming the name, I am asking a

question which has to be asked at the beginning of an enquiry about anythingwas the world, I say, always

in existence and without beginning? or created, and had it a beginning? Created, I reply, being visible and

tangible and having a body, and therefore sensible; and all sensible things are apprehended by opinion and

sense and are in a process of creation and created. Now that which is created must, as we affirm, of necessity

be created by a cause. But the father and maker of all this universe is past finding out; and even if we found

him, to tell of him to all men would be impossible. And there is still a question to be asked about him: Which

of the patterns had the artificer in view when he made the worldthe pattern of the unchangeable, or of that

which is created? If the world be indeed fair and the artificer good, it is manifest that he must have looked to

that which is eternal; but if what cannot be said without blasphemy is true, then to the created pattern. Every

one will see that he must have looked to the eternal; for the world is the fairest of creations and he is the best

of causes. And having been created in this way, the world has been framed in the likeness of that which is

apprehended by reason and mind and is unchangeable, and must therefore of necessity, if this is admitted, be

a copy of something. Now it is allimportant that the beginning of everything should be according to nature.

And in speaking of the copy and the original we may assume that words are akin to the matter which they

describe; when they relate to the lasting and permanent and intelligible, they ought to be lasting and

unalterable, and, as far as their nature allows, irrefutable and immovablenothing less. But when they

express only the copy or likeness and not the eternal things themselves, they need only be likely and

analogous to the real words. As being is to becoming, so is truth to belief. If then, Socrates, amid the many

opinions about the gods and the generation of the universe, we are not able to give notions which are

altogether and in every respect exact and consistent with one another, do not be surprised. Enough, if we

adduce probabilities as likely as any others; for we must remember that I who am the speaker, and you who

are the judges, are only mortal men, and we ought to accept the tale which is probable and enquire no further.

SOCRATES: Excellent, Timaeus; and we will do precisely as you bid us. The prelude is charming, and is

TIMAEUS: Let me tell you then why the creator made this world of generation. He was good, and the good

can never have any jealousy of anything. And being free from jealousy, he desired that all things should be as

like himself as they could be. This is in the truest sense the origin of creation and of the world, as we shall do

well in believing on the testimony of wise men: God desired that all things should be good and nothing bad,

so far as this was attainable. Wherefore also finding the whole visible sphere not at rest, but moving in an

irregular and disorderly fashion, out of disorder he brought order, considering that this was in every way

better than the other. Now the deeds of the best could never be or have been other than the fairest; and the

creator, reflecting on the things which are by nature visible, found that no unintelligent creature taken as a

whole was fairer than the intelligent taken as a whole; and that intelligence could not be present in anything

which was devoid of soul. For which reason, when he was framing the universe, he put intelligence in soul,

and soul in body, that he might be the creator of a work which was by nature fairest and best. Wherefore,

using the language of probability, we may say that the world became a living creature truly endowed with

This being supposed, let us proceed to the next stage: In the likeness of what animal did the Creator make the

world? It would be an unworthy thing to liken it to any nature which exists as a part only; for nothing can be

beautiful which is like any imperfect thing; but let us suppose the world to be the very image of that whole of

which all other animals both individually and in their tribes are portions. For the original of the universe

contains in itself all intelligible beings, just as this world comprehends us and all other visible creatures. For

the Deity, intending to make this world like the fairest and most perfect of intelligible beings, framed one

visible animal comprehending within itself all other animals of a kindred nature. Are we right in saying that

there is one world, or that they are many and infinite? There must be one only, if the created copy is to accord

with the original. For that which includes all other intelligible creatures cannot have a second or companion;

in that case there would be need of another living being which would include both, and of which they would

be parts, and the likeness would be more truly said to resemble not them, but that other which included them.

In order then that the world might be solitary, like the perfect animal, the creator made not two worlds or an

infinite number of them; but there is and ever will be one onlybegotten and created heaven.

Now that which is created is of necessity corporeal, and also visible and tangible. And nothing is visible

where there is no fire, or tangible which has no solidity, and nothing is solid without earth. Wherefore also

God in the beginning of creation made the body of the universe to consist of fire and earth. But two things

cannot be rightly put together without a third; there must be some bond of union between them. And the

fairest bond is that which makes the most complete fusion of itself and the things which it combines; and

proportion is best adapted to effect such a union. For whenever in any three numbers, whether cube or square,

there is a mean, which is to the last term what the first term is to it; and again, when the mean is to the first

term as the last term is to the meanthen the mean becoming first and last, and the first and last both

becoming means, they will all of them of necessity come to be the same, and having become the same with

one another will be all one. If the universal frame had been created a surface only and having no depth, a

single mean would have sufficed to bind together itself and the other terms; but now, as the world must be

solid, and solid bodies are always compacted not by one mean but by two, God placed water and air in the

mean between fire and earth, and made them to have the same proportion so far as was possible (as fire is to

air so is air to water, and as air is to water so is water to earth); and thus he bound and put together a visible

and tangible heaven. And for these reasons, and out of such elements which are in number four, the body of

the world was created, and it was harmonized by proportion, and therefore has the spirit of friendship; and

having been reconciled to itself, it was indissoluble by the hand of any other than the framer.

Now the creation took up the whole of each of the four elements; for the Creator compounded the world out

of all the fire and all the water and all the air and all the earth, leaving no part of any of them nor any power

of them outside. His intention was, in the first place, that the animal should be as far as possible a perfect

whole and of perfect parts: secondly, that it should be one, leaving no remnants out of which another such

world might be created: and also that it should be free from old age and unaffected by disease. Considering

that if heat and cold and other powerful forces which unite bodies surround and attack them from without

when they are unprepared, they decompose them, and by bringing diseases and old age upon them, make

them waste awayfor this cause and on these grounds he made the world one whole, having every part

entire, and being therefore perfect and not liable to old age and disease. And he gave to the world the figure

which was suitable and also natural. Now to the animal which was to comprehend all animals, that figure was

suitable which comprehends within itself all other figures. Wherefore he made the world in the form of a

globe, round as from a lathe, having its extremes in every direction equidistant from the centre, the most

perfect and the most like itself of all figures; for he considered that the like is infinitely fairer than the unlike.

This he finished off, making the surface smooth all round for many reasons; in the first place, because the

living being had no need of eyes when there was nothing remaining outside him to be seen; nor of ears when

there was nothing to be heard; and there was no surrounding atmosphere to be breathed; nor would there have

been any use of organs by the help of which he might receive his food or get rid of what he had already

digested, since there was nothing which went from him or came into him: for there was nothing beside him.

Of design he was created thus, his own waste providing his own food, and all that he did or suffered taking

place in and by himself. For the Creator conceived that a being which was selfsufficient would be far more

excellent than one which lacked anything; and, as he had no need to take anything or defend himself against

any one, the Creator did not think it necessary to bestow upon him hands: nor had he any need of feet, nor of

the whole apparatus of walking; but the movement suited to his spherical form was assigned to him, being of

all the seven that which is most appropriate to mind and intelligence; and he was made to move in the same

manner and on the same spot, within his own limits revolving in a circle. All the other six motions were taken

away from him, and he was made not to partake of their deviations. And as this circular movement required

Such was the whole plan of the eternal God about the god that was to be, to whom for this reason he gave a

body, smooth and even, having a surface in every direction equidistant from the centre, a body entire and

perfect, and formed out of perfect bodies. And in the centre he put the soul, which he diffused throughout the

body, making it also to be the exterior environment of it; and he made the universe a circle moving in a circle,

one and solitary, yet by reason of its excellence able to converse with itself, and needing no other friendship

or acquaintance. Having these purposes in view he created the world a blessed god.

Now God did not make the soul after the body, although we are speaking of them in this order; for having

brought them together he would never have allowed that the elder should be ruled by the younger; but this is

a random manner of speaking which we have, because somehow we ourselves too are very much under the

dominion of chance. Whereas he made the soul in origin and excellence prior to and older than the body, to

be the ruler and mistress, of whom the body was to be the subject. And he made her out of the following

elements and on this wise: Out of the indivisible and unchangeable, and also out of that which is divisible and

has to do with material bodies, he compounded a third and intermediate kind of essence, partaking of the

nature of the same and of the other, and this compound he placed accordingly in a mean between the

indivisible, and the divisible and material. He took the three elements of the same, the other, and the essence,

and mingled them into one form, compressing by force the reluctant and unsociable nature of the other into

the same. When he had mingled them with the essence and out of three made one, he again divided this

whole into as many portions as was fitting, each portion being a compound of the same, the other, and the

essence. And he proceeded to divide after this manner:First of all, he took away one part of the whole (1),

and then he separated a second part which was double the first (2), and then he took away a third part which

was half as much again as the second and three times as much as the first (3), and then he took a fourth part

which was twice as much as the second (4), and a fifth part which was three times the third (9), and a sixth

part which was eight times the first (8), and a seventh part which was twentyseven times the first (27). After

this he filled up the double intervals (i.e. between 1, 2, 4, 8) and the triple (i.e. between 1, 3, 9, 27) cutting off

yet other portions from the mixture and placing them in the intervals, so that in each interval there were two

kinds of means, the one exceeding and exceeded by equal parts of its extremes (as for example 1, 4/3, 2, in

which the mean 4/3 is onethird of 1 more than 1, and onethird of 2 less than 2), the other being that kind of

Where there were intervals of 3/2 and of 4/3 and of 9/8, made by the connecting terms in the former intervals,

he filled up all the intervals of 4/3 with the interval of 9/8, leaving a fraction over; and the interval which this

And thus the whole mixture out of which he cut these portions was all exhausted by him. This entire

compound he divided lengthways into two parts, which he joined to one another at the centre like the letter X,

and bent them into a circular form, connecting them with themselves and each other at the point opposite to

their original meetingpoint; and, comprehending them in a uniform revolution upon the same axis, he made

the one the outer and the other the inner circle. Now the motion of the outer circle he called the motion of the

same, and the motion of the inner circle the motion of the other or diverse. The motion of the same he carried

round by the side (i.e. of the rectangular figure supposed to be inscribed in the circle of the Same) to the right,

and the motion of the diverse diagonally (i.e. across the rectangular figure from corner to corner) to the left.

And he gave dominion to the motion of the same and like, for that he left single and undivided; but the inner

motion he divided in six places and made seven unequal circles having their intervals in ratios of two and

three, three of each, and bade the orbits proceed in a direction opposite to one another; and three (Sun,

Mercury, Venus) he made to move with equal swiftness, and the remaining four (Moon, Saturn, Mars,

Jupiter) to move with unequal swiftness to the three and to one another, but in due proportion.

Now when the Creator had framed the soul according to his will, he formed within her the corporeal universe,

and brought the two together, and united them centre to centre. The soul, interfused everywhere from the

centre to the circumference of heaven, of which also she is the external envelopment, herself turning in

herself, began a divine beginning of neverceasing and rational life enduring throughout all time. The body

of heaven is visible, but the soul is invisible, and partakes of reason and harmony, and being made by the best

of intellectual and everlasting natures, is the best of things created. And because she is composed of the same

and of the other and of the essence, these three, and is divided and united in due proportion, and in her

revolutions returns upon herself, the soul, when touching anything which has essence, whether dispersed in

parts or undivided, is stirred through all her powers, to declare the sameness or difference of that thing and

some other; and to what individuals are related, and by what affected, and in what way and how and when,

both in the world of generation and in the world of immutable being. And when reason, which works with

equal truth, whether she be in the circle of the diverse or of the samein voiceless silence holding her

onward course in the sphere of the selfmovedwhen reason, I say, is hovering around the sensible world

and when the circle of the diverse also moving truly imparts the intimations of sense to the whole soul, then

arise opinions and beliefs sure and certain. But when reason is concerned with the rational, and the circle of

the same moving smoothly declares it, then intelligence and knowledge are necessarily perfected. And if any

one affirms that in which these two are found to be other than the soul, he will say the very opposite of the

When the father and creator saw the creature which he had made moving and living, the created image of the

eternal gods, he rejoiced, and in his joy determined to make the copy still more like the original; and as this

was eternal, he sought to make the universe eternal, so far as might be. Now the nature of the ideal being was

everlasting, but to bestow this attribute in its fulness upon a creature was impossible. Wherefore he resolved

to have a moving image of eternity, and when he set in order the heaven, he made this image eternal but

moving according to number, while eternity itself rests in unity; and this image we call time. For there were

no days and nights and months and years before the heaven was created, but when he constructed the heaven

he created them also. They are all parts of time, and the past and future are created species of time, which we

unconsciously but wrongly transfer to the eternal essence; for we say that he 'was,' he 'is,' he 'will be,' but the

truth is that 'is' alone is properly attributed to him, and that 'was' and 'will be' are only to be spoken of

becoming in time, for they are motions, but that which is immovably the same cannot become older or

younger by time, nor ever did or has become, or hereafter will be, older or younger, nor is subject at all to any

of those states which affect moving and sensible things and of which generation is the cause. These are the

forms of time, which imitates eternity and revolves according to a law of number. Moreover, when we say

that what has become IS become and what becomes IS becoming, and that what will become IS about to

become and that the nonexistent IS nonexistentall these are inaccurate modes of expression (compare

Parmen.). But perhaps this whole subject will be more suitably discussed on some other occasion.

Time, then, and the heaven came into being at the same instant in order that, having been created together, if

ever there was to be a dissolution of them, they might be dissolved together. It was framed after the pattern of

the eternal nature, that it might resemble this as far as was possible; for the pattern exists from eternity, and

the created heaven has been, and is, and will be, in all time. Such was the mind and thought of God in the

creation of time. The sun and moon and five other stars, which are called the planets, were created by him in

order to distinguish and preserve the numbers of time; and when he had made their several bodies, he placed

them in the orbits in which the circle of the other was revolving,in seven orbits seven stars. First, there was

the moon in the orbit nearest the earth, and next the sun, in the second orbit above the earth; then came the

morning star and the star sacred to Hermes, moving in orbits which have an equal swiftness with the sun, but

in an opposite direction; and this is the reason why the sun and Hermes and Lucifer overtake and are

overtaken by each other. To enumerate the places which he assigned to the other stars, and to give all the

reasons why he assigned them, although a secondary matter, would give more trouble than the primary. These

things at some future time, when we are at leisure, may have the consideration which they deserve, but not at

Now, when all the stars which were necessary to the creation of time had attained a motion suitable to them,

and had become living creatures having bodies fastened by vital chains, and learnt their appointed task,

moving in the motion of the diverse, which is diagonal, and passes through and is governed by the motion of

the same, they revolved, some in a larger and some in a lesser orbitthose which had the lesser orbit

revolving faster, and those which had the larger more slowly. Now by reason of the motion of the same, those

which revolved fastest appeared to be overtaken by those which moved slower although they really overtook

them; for the motion of the same made them all turn in a spiral, and, because some went one way and some

another, that which receded most slowly from the sphere of the same, which was the swiftest, appeared to

follow it most nearly. That there might be some visible measure of their relative swiftness and slowness as

they proceeded in their eight courses, God lighted a fire, which we now call the sun, in the second from the

earth of these orbits, that it might give light to the whole of heaven, and that the animals, as many as nature

intended, might participate in number, learning arithmetic from the revolution of the same and the like. Thus

then, and for this reason the night and the day were created, being the period of the one most intelligent

revolution. And the month is accomplished when the moon has completed her orbit and overtaken the sun,

and the year when the sun has completed his own orbit. Mankind, with hardly an exception, have not

remarked the periods of the other stars, and they have no name for them, and do not measure them against

one another by the help of number, and hence they can scarcely be said to know that their wanderings, being

infinite in number and admirable for their variety, make up time. And yet there is no difficulty in seeing that

the perfect number of time fulfils the perfect year when all the eight revolutions, having their relative degrees

of swiftness, are accomplished together and attain their completion at the same time, measured by the rotation

of the same and equally moving. After this manner, and for these reasons, came into being such of the stars as

in their heavenly progress received reversals of motion, to the end that the created heaven might imitate the

eternal nature, and be as like as possible to the perfect and intelligible animal.

Thus far and until the birth of time the created universe was made in the likeness of the original, but

inasmuch as all animals were not yet comprehended therein, it was still unlike. What remained, the creator

then proceeded to fashion after the nature of the pattern. Now as in the ideal animal the mind perceives ideas

or species of a certain nature and number, he thought that this created animal ought to have species of a like

nature and number. There are four such; one of them is the heavenly race of the gods; another, the race of

birds whose way is in the air; the third, the watery species; and the fourth, the pedestrian and land creatures.

Of the heavenly and divine, he created the greater part out of fire, that they might be the brightest of all things

and fairest to behold, and he fashioned them after the likeness of the universe in the figure of a circle, and

made them follow the intelligent motion of the supreme, distributing them over the whole circumference of

heaven, which was to be a true cosmos or glorious world spangled with them all over. And he gave to each of

them two movements: the first, a movement on the same spot after the same manner, whereby they ever

continue to think consistently the same thoughts about the same things; the second, a forward movement, in

which they are controlled by the revolution of the same and the like; but by the other five motions they were

unaffected, in order that each of them might attain the highest perfection. And for this reason the fixed stars

were created, to be divine and eternal animals, everabiding and revolving after the same manner and on the

same spot; and the other stars which reverse their motion and are subject to deviations of this kind, were

created in the manner already described. The earth, which is our nurse, clinging (or 'circling') around the pole

which is extended through the universe, he framed to be the guardian and artificer of night and day, first and

eldest of gods that are in the interior of heaven. Vain would be the attempt to tell all the figures of them

circling as in dance, and their juxtapositions, and the return of them in their revolutions upon themselves, and

their approximations, and to say which of these deities in their conjunctions meet, and which of them are in

opposition, and in what order they get behind and before one another, and when they are severally eclipsed to

our sight and again reappear, sending terrors and intimations of the future to those who cannot calculate their

movementsto attempt to tell of all this without a visible representation of the heavenly system would be

labour in vain. Enough on this head; and now let what we have said about the nature of the created and

To know or tell the origin of the other divinities is beyond us, and we must accept the traditions of the men of

old time who affirm themselves to be the offspring of the godsthat is what they sayand they must surely

have known their own ancestors. How can we doubt the word of the children of the gods? Although they give

no probable or certain proofs, still, as they declare that they are speaking of what took place in their own

family, we must conform to custom and believe them. In this manner, then, according to them, the genealogy

Oceanus and Tethys were the children of Earth and Heaven, and from these sprang Phorcys and Cronos and

Rhea, and all that generation; and from Cronos and Rhea sprang Zeus and Here, and all those who are said to

Now, when all of them, both those who visibly appear in their revolutions as well as those other gods who are

of a more retiring nature, had come into being, the creator of the universe addressed them in these words:

'Gods, children of gods, who are my works, and of whom I am the artificer and father, my creations are

indissoluble, if so I will. All that is bound may be undone, but only an evil being would wish to undo that

which is harmonious and happy. Wherefore, since ye are but creatures, ye are not altogether immortal and

indissoluble, but ye shall certainly not be dissolved, nor be liable to the fate of death, having in my will a

greater and mightier bond than those with which ye were bound at the time of your birth. And now listen to

my instructions:Three tribes of mortal beings remain to be createdwithout them the universe will be

incomplete, for it will not contain every kind of animal which it ought to contain, if it is to be perfect. On the

other hand, if they were created by me and received life at my hands, they would be on an equality with the

gods. In order then that they may be mortal, and that this universe may be truly universal, do ye, according to

your natures, betake yourselves to the formation of animals, imitating the power which was shown by me in

creating you. The part of them worthy of the name immortal, which is called divine and is the guiding

principle of those who are willing to follow justice and youof that divine part I will myself sow the seed,

and having made a beginning, I will hand the work over to you. And do ye then interweave the mortal with

the immortal, and make and beget living creatures, and give them food, and make them to grow, and receive

Thus he spake, and once more into the cup in which he had previously mingled the soul of the universe he

poured the remains of the elements, and mingled them in much the same manner; they were not, however,

pure as before, but diluted to the second and third degree. And having made it he divided the whole mixture

into souls equal in number to the stars, and assigned each soul to a star; and having there placed them as in a

chariot, he showed them the nature of the universe, and declared to them the laws of destiny, according to

which their first birth would be one and the same for all,no one should suffer a disadvantage at his hands;

they were to be sown in the instruments of time severally adapted to them, and to come forth the most

religious of animals; and as human nature was of two kinds, the superior race would hereafter be called man.

Now, when they should be implanted in bodies by necessity, and be always gaining or losing some part of

their bodily substance, then in the first place it would be necessary that they should all have in them one and

the same faculty of sensation, arising out of irresistible impressions; in the second place, they must have love,

in which pleasure and pain mingle; also fear and anger, and the feelings which are akin or opposite to them; if

they conquered these they would live righteously, and if they were conquered by them, unrighteously. He

who lived well during his appointed time was to return and dwell in his native star, and there he would have a

blessed and congenial existence. But if he failed in attaining this, at the second birth he would pass into a

woman, and if, when in that state of being, he did not desist from evil, he would continually be changed into

some brute who resembled him in the evil nature which he had acquired, and would not cease from his toils

and transformations until he followed the revolution of the same and the like within him, and overcame by

the help of reason the turbulent and irrational mob of later accretions, made up of fire and air and water and

earth, and returned to the form of his first and better state. Having given all these laws to his creatures, that he

might be guiltless of future evil in any of them, the creator sowed some of them in the earth, and some in the

moon, and some in the other instruments of time; and when he had sown them he committed to the younger

gods the fashioning of their mortal bodies, and desired them to furnish what was still lacking to the human

soul, and having made all the suitable additions, to rule over them, and to pilot the mortal animal in the best

and wisest manner which they could, and avert from him all but selfinflicted evils.

When the creator had made all these ordinances he remained in his own accustomed nature, and his children

heard and were obedient to their father's word, and receiving from him the immortal principle of a mortal

creature, in imitation of their own creator they borrowed portions of fire, and earth, and water, and air from

the world, which were hereafter to be restoredthese they took and welded them together, not with the

indissoluble chains by which they were themselves bound, but with little pegs too small to be visible, making

up out of all the four elements each separate body, and fastening the courses of the immortal soul in a body

which was in a state of perpetual influx and efflux. Now these courses, detained as in a vast river, neither

overcame nor were overcome; but were hurrying and hurried to and fro, so that the whole animal was moved

and progressed, irregularly however and irrationally and anyhow, in all the six directions of motion,

wandering backwards and forwards, and right and left, and up and down, and in all the six directions. For

great as was the advancing and retiring flood which provided nourishment, the affections produced by

external contact caused still greater tumultwhen the body of any one met and came into collision with

some external fire, or with the solid earth or the gliding waters, or was caught in the tempest borne on the air,

and the motions produced by any of these impulses were carried through the body to the soul. All such

motions have consequently received the general name of 'sensations,' which they still retain. And they did in

fact at that time create a very great and mighty movement; uniting with the everflowing stream in stirring up

and violently shaking the courses of the soul, they completely stopped the revolution of the same by their

opposing current, and hindered it from predominating and advancing; and they so disturbed the nature of the

other or diverse, that the three double intervals (i.e. between 1, 2, 4, 8), and the three triple intervals (i.e.

between 1, 3, 9, 27), together with the mean terms and connecting links which are expressed by the ratios of

3:2, and 4:3, and of 9:8these, although they cannot be wholly undone except by him who united them,

were twisted by them in all sorts of ways, and the circles were broken and disordered in every possible

manner, so that when they moved they were tumbling to pieces, and moved irrationally, at one time in a

reverse direction, and then again obliquely, and then upside down, as you might imagine a person who is

upside down and has his head leaning upon the ground and his feet up against something in the air; and when

he is in such a position, both he and the spectator fancy that the right of either is his left, and the left right. If,

when powerfully experiencing these and similar effects, the revolutions of the soul come in contact with

some external thing, either of the class of the same or of the other, they speak of the same or of the other in a

manner the very opposite of the truth; and they become false and foolish, and there is no course or revolution

in them which has a guiding or directing power; and if again any sensations enter in violently from without

and drag after them the whole vessel of the soul, then the courses of the soul, though they seem to conquer,

And by reason of all these affections, the soul, when encased in a mortal body, now, as in the beginning, is at

first without intelligence; but when the flood of growth and nutriment abates, and the courses of the soul,

calming down, go their own way and become steadier as time goes on, then the several circles return to their

natural form, and their revolutions are corrected, and they call the same and the other by their right names,

and make the possessor of them to become a rational being. And if these combine in him with any true

nurture or education, he attains the fulness and health of the perfect man, and escapes the worst disease of all;

but if he neglects education he walks lame to the end of his life, and returns imperfect and good for nothing to

the world below. This, however, is a later stage; at present we must treat more exactly the subject before us,

which involves a preliminary enquiry into the generation of the body and its members, and as to how the soul

was createdfor what reason and by what providence of the gods; and holding fast to probability, we must

First, then, the gods, imitating the spherical shape of the universe, enclosed the two divine courses in a

spherical body, that, namely, which we now term the head, being the most divine part of us and the lord of all

that is in us: to this the gods, when they put together the body, gave all the other members to be servants,

considering that it partook of every sort of motion. In order then that it might not tumble about among the

high and deep places of the earth, but might be able to get over the one and out of the other, they provided the

body to be its vehicle and means of locomotion; which consequently had length and was furnished with four

limbs extended and flexible; these God contrived to be instruments of locomotion with which it might take

hold and find support, and so be able to pass through all places, carrying on high the dwellingplace of the

most sacred and divine part of us. Such was the origin of legs and hands, which for this reason were attached

to every man; and the gods, deeming the front part of man to be more honourable and more fit to command

than the hinder part, made us to move mostly in a forward direction. Wherefore man must needs have his

And so in the vessel of the head, they first of all put a face in which they inserted organs to minister in all

things to the providence of the soul, and they appointed this part, which has authority, to be by nature the part

which is in front. And of the organs they first contrived the eyes to give light, and the principle according to

which they were inserted was as follows: So much of fire as would not burn, but gave a gentle light, they

formed into a substance akin to the light of everyday life; and the pure fire which is within us and related

thereto they made to flow through the eyes in a stream smooth and dense, compressing the whole eye, and

especially the centre part, so that it kept out everything of a coarser nature, and allowed to pass only this pure

element. When the light of day surrounds the stream of vision, then like falls upon like, and they coalesce,

and one body is formed by natural affinity in the line of vision, wherever the light that falls from within

meets with an external object. And the whole stream of vision, being similarly affected in virtue of similarity,

diffuses the motions of what it touches or what touches it over the whole body, until they reach the soul,

causing that perception which we call sight. But when night comes on and the external and kindred fire

departs, then the stream of vision is cut off; for going forth to an unlike element it is changed and

extinguished, being no longer of one nature with the surrounding atmosphere which is now deprived of fire:

and so the eye no longer sees, and we feel disposed to sleep. For when the eyelids, which the gods invented

for the preservation of sight, are closed, they keep in the internal fire; and the power of the fire diffuses and

equalizes the inward motions; when they are equalized, there is rest, and when the rest is profound, sleep

comes over us scarce disturbed by dreams; but where the greater motions still remain, of whatever nature and

in whatever locality, they engender corresponding visions in dreams, which are remembered by us when we

are awake and in the external world. And now there is no longer any difficulty in understanding the creation

of images in mirrors and all smooth and bright surfaces. For from the communion of the internal and external

fires, and again from the union of them and their numerous transformations when they meet in the mirror, all

these appearances of necessity arise, when the fire from the face coalesces with the fire from the eye on the

bright and smooth surface. And right appears left and left right, because the visual rays come into contact

with the rays emitted by the object in a manner contrary to the usual mode of meeting; but the right appears

right, and the left left, when the position of one of the two concurring lights is reversed; and this happens

when the mirror is concave and its smooth surface repels the right stream of vision to the left side, and the left

to the right (He is speaking of two kinds of mirrors, first the plane, secondly the concave; and the latter is

supposed to be placed, first horizontally, and then vertically.). Or if the mirror be turned vertically, then the

concavity makes the countenance appear to be all upside down, and the lower rays are driven upwards and

All these are to be reckoned among the second and cooperative causes which God, carrying into execution

the idea of the best as far as possible, uses as his ministers. They are thought by most men not to be the

second, but the prime causes of all things, because they freeze and heat, and contract and dilate, and the like.

But they are not so, for they are incapable of reason or intellect; the only being which can properly have mind

is the invisible soul, whereas fire and water, and earth and air, are all of them visible bodies. The lover of

intellect and knowledge ought to explore causes of intelligent nature first of all, and, secondly, of those things

which, being moved by others, are compelled to move others. And this is what we too must do. Both kinds of

causes should be acknowledged by us, but a distinction should be made between those which are endowed

with mind and are the workers of things fair and good, and those which are deprived of intelligence and

always produce chance effects without order or design. Of the second or cooperative causes of sight, which

help to give to the eyes the power which they now possess, enough has been said. I will therefore now

proceed to speak of the higher use and purpose for which God has given them to us. The sight in my opinion

is the source of the greatest benefit to us, for had we never seen the stars, and the sun, and the heaven, none of

the words which we have spoken about the universe would ever have been uttered. But now the sight of day

and night, and the months and the revolutions of the years, have created number, and have given us a

conception of time, and the power of enquiring about the nature of the universe; and from this source we have

derived philosophy, than which no greater good ever was or will be given by the gods to mortal man. This is

the greatest boon of sight: and of the lesser benefits why should I speak? even the ordinary man if he were

deprived of them would bewail his loss, but in vain. Thus much let me say however: God invented and gave

us sight to the end that we might behold the courses of intelligence in the heaven, and apply them to the

courses of our own intelligence which are akin to them, the unperturbed to the perturbed; and that we,

learning them and partaking of the natural truth of reason, might imitate the absolutely unerring courses of

God and regulate our own vagaries. The same may be affirmed of speech and hearing: they have been given

by the gods to the same end and for a like reason. For this is the principal end of speech, whereto it most

contributes. Moreover, so much of music as is adapted to the sound of the voice and to the sense of hearing is

granted to us for the sake of harmony; and harmony, which has motions akin to the revolutions of our souls,

is not regarded by the intelligent votary of the Muses as given by them with a view to irrational pleasure,

which is deemed to be the purpose of it in our day, but as meant to correct any discord which may have arisen

in the courses of the soul, and to be our ally in bringing her into harmony and agreement with herself; and

rhythm too was given by them for the same reason, on account of the irregular and graceless ways which

Thus far in what we have been saying, with small exception, the works of intelligence have been set forth;

and now we must place by the side of them in our discourse the things which come into being through

necessityfor the creation is mixed, being made up of necessity and mind. Mind, the ruling power,

persuaded necessity to bring the greater part of created things to perfection, and thus and after this manner in

the beginning, when the influence of reason got the better of necessity, the universe was created. But if a

person will truly tell of the way in which the work was accomplished, he must include the other influence of

the variable cause as well. Wherefore, we must return again and find another suitable beginning, as about the

former matters, so also about these. To which end we must consider the nature of fire, and water, and air, and

earth, such as they were prior to the creation of the heaven, and what was happening to them in this previous

state; for no one has as yet explained the manner of their generation, but we speak of fire and the rest of them,

whatever they mean, as though men knew their natures, and we maintain them to be the first principles and

letters or elements of the whole, when they cannot reasonably be compared by a man of any sense even to

syllables or first compounds. And let me say thus much: I will not now speak of the first principle or

principles of all things, or by whatever name they are to be called, for this reasonbecause it is difficult to

set forth my opinion according to the method of discussion which we are at present employing. Do not

imagine, any more than I can bring myself to imagine, that I should be right in undertaking so great and

difficult a task. Remembering what I said at first about probability, I will do my best to give as probable an

explanation as any otheror rather, more probable; and I will first go back to the beginning and try to speak

of each thing and of all. Once more, then, at the commencement of my discourse, I call upon God, and beg

him to be our saviour out of a strange and unwonted enquiry, and to bring us to the haven of probability. So

This new beginning of our discussion of the universe requires a fuller division than the former; for then we

made two classes, now a third must be revealed. The two sufficed for the former discussion: one, which we

assumed, was a pattern intelligible and always the same; and the second was only the imitation of the pattern,

generated and visible. There is also a third kind which we did not distinguish at the time, conceiving that the

two would be enough. But now the argument seems to require that we should set forth in words another kind,

which is difficult of explanation and dimly seen. What nature are we to attribute to this new kind of being?

We reply, that it is the receptacle, and in a manner the nurse, of all generation. I have spoken the truth; but I

must express myself in clearer language, and this will be an arduous task for many reasons, and in particular

because I must first raise questions concerning fire and the other elements, and determine what each of them

is; for to say, with any probability or certitude, which of them should be called water rather than fire, and

which should be called any of them rather than all or some one of them, is a difficult matter. How, then, shall

we settle this point, and what questions about the elements may be fairly raised?

In the first place, we see that what we just now called water, by condensation, I suppose, becomes stone and

earth; and this same element, when melted and dispersed, passes into vapour and air. Air, again, when

inflamed, becomes fire; and again fire, when condensed and extinguished, passes once more into the form of

air; and once more, air, when collected and condensed, produces cloud and mist; and from these, when still

more compressed, comes flowing water, and from water comes earth and stones once more; and thus

generation appears to be transmitted from one to the other in a circle. Thus, then, as the several elements

never present themselves in the same form, how can any one have the assurance to assert positively that any

of them, whatever it may be, is one thing rather than another? No one can. But much the safest plan is to

speak of them as follows: Anything which we see to be continually changing, as, for example, fire, we

must not call 'this' or 'that,' but rather say that it is 'of such a nature'; nor let us speak of water as 'this'; but

always as 'such'; nor must we imply that there is any stability in any of those things which we indicate by the

use of the words 'this' and 'that,' supposing ourselves to signify something thereby; for they are too volatile to

be detained in any such expressions as 'this,' or 'that,' or 'relative to this,' or any other mode of speaking which

represents them as permanent. We ought not to apply 'this' to any of them, but rather the word 'such'; which

expresses the similar principle circulating in each and all of them; for example, that should be called 'fire'

which is of such a nature always, and so of everything that has generation. That in which the elements

severally grow up, and appear, and decay, is alone to be called by the name 'this' or 'that'; but that which is of

a certain nature, hot or white, or anything which admits of opposite qualities, and all things that are

compounded of them, ought not to be so denominated. Let me make another attempt to explain my meaning

more clearly. Suppose a person to make all kinds of figures of gold and to be always transmuting one form

into all the rest; somebody points to one of them and asks what it is. By far the safest and truest answer is,

That is gold; and not to call the triangle or any other figures which are formed in the gold 'these,' as though

they had existence, since they are in process of change while he is making the assertion; but if the questioner

be willing to take the safe and indefinite expression, 'such,' we should be satisfied. And the same argument

applies to the universal nature which receives all bodiesthat must be always called the same; for, while

receiving all things, she never departs at all from her own nature, and never in any way, or at any time,

assumes a form like that of any of the things which enter into her; she is the natural recipient of all

impressions, and is stirred and informed by them, and appears different from time to time by reason of them.

But the forms which enter into and go out of her are the likenesses of real existences modelled after their

patterns in a wonderful and inexplicable manner, which we will hereafter investigate. For the present we have

only to conceive of three natures: first, that which is in process of generation; secondly, that in which the

generation takes place; and thirdly, that of which the thing generated is a resemblance. And we may liken the

receiving principle to a mother, and the source or spring to a father, and the intermediate nature to a child;

and may remark further, that if the model is to take every variety of form, then the matter in which the model

is fashioned will not be duly prepared, unless it is formless, and free from the impress of any of those shapes

which it is hereafter to receive from without. For if the matter were like any of the supervening forms, then

whenever any opposite or entirely different nature was stamped upon its surface, it would take the impression

badly, because it would intrude its own shape. Wherefore, that which is to receive all forms should have no

form; as in making perfumes they first contrive that the liquid substance which is to receive the scent shall be

as inodorous as possible; or as those who wish to impress figures on soft substances do not allow any

previous impression to remain, but begin by making the surface as even and smooth as possible. In the same

way that which is to receive perpetually and through its whole extent the resemblances of all eternal beings

ought to be devoid of any particular form. Wherefore, the mother and receptacle of all created and visible and

in any way sensible things, is not to be termed earth, or air, or fire, or water, or any of their compounds or any

of the elements from which these are derived, but is an invisible and formless being which receives all things

and in some mysterious way partakes of the intelligible, and is most incomprehensible. In saying this we shall

not be far wrong; as far, however, as we can attain to a knowledge of her from the previous considerations,

we may truly say that fire is that part of her nature which from time to time is inflamed, and water that which

is moistened, and that the mother substance becomes earth and air, in so far as she receives the impressions of

Let us consider this question more precisely. Is there any selfexistent fire? and do all those things which we

call selfexistent exist? or are only those things which we see, or in some way perceive through the bodily

organs, truly existent, and nothing whatever besides them? And is all that which we call an intelligible

essence nothing at all, and only a name? Here is a question which we must not leave unexamined or

undetermined, nor must we affirm too confidently that there can be no decision; neither must we interpolate

in our present long discourse a digression equally long, but if it is possible to set forth a great principle in a

Thus I state my view:If mind and true opinion are two distinct classes, then I say that there certainly are

these selfexistent ideas unperceived by sense, and apprehended only by the mind; if, however, as some say,

true opinion differs in no respect from mind, then everything that we perceive through the body is to be

regarded as most real and certain. But we must affirm them to be distinct, for they have a distinct origin and

are of a different nature; the one is implanted in us by instruction, the other by persuasion; the one is always

accompanied by true reason, the other is without reason; the one cannot be overcome by persuasion, but the

other can: and lastly, every man may be said to share in true opinion, but mind is the attribute of the gods and

of very few men. Wherefore also we must acknowledge that there is one kind of being which is always the

same, uncreated and indestructible, never receiving anything into itself from without, nor itself going out to

any other, but invisible and imperceptible by any sense, and of which the contemplation is granted to

intelligence only. And there is another nature of the same name with it, and like to it, perceived by sense,

created, always in motion, becoming in place and again vanishing out of place, which is apprehended by

opinion and sense. And there is a third nature, which is space, and is eternal, and admits not of destruction

and provides a home for all created things, and is apprehended without the help of sense, by a kind of

spurious reason, and is hardly real; which we beholding as in a dream, say of all existence that it must of

necessity be in some place and occupy a space, but that what is neither in heaven nor in earth has no

existence. Of these and other things of the same kind, relating to the true and waking reality of nature, we

have only this dreamlike sense, and we are unable to cast off sleep and determine the truth about them. For an

image, since the reality, after which it is modelled, does not belong to it, and it exists ever as the fleeting

shadow of some other, must be inferred to be in another (i.e. in space), grasping existence in some way or

other, or it could not be at all. But true and exact reason, vindicating the nature of true being, maintains that

while two things (i.e. the image and space) are different they cannot exist one of them in the other and so be

Thus have I concisely given the result of my thoughts; and my verdict is that being and space and generation,

these three, existed in their three ways before the heaven; and that the nurse of generation, moistened by

water and inflamed by fire, and receiving the forms of earth and air, and experiencing all the affections which

accompany these, presented a strange variety of appearances; and being full of powers which were neither

similar nor equally balanced, was never in any part in a state of equipoise, but swaying unevenly hither and

thither, was shaken by them, and by its motion again shook them; and the elements when moved were

separated and carried continually, some one way, some another; as, when grain is shaken and winnowed by

fans and other instruments used in the threshing of corn, the close and heavy particles are borne away and

settle in one direction, and the loose and light particles in another. In this manner, the four kinds or elements

were then shaken by the receiving vessel, which, moving like a winnowing machine, scattered far away from

one another the elements most unlike, and forced the most similar elements into close contact. Wherefore

also the various elements had different places before they were arranged so as to form the universe. At first,

they were all without reason and measure. But when the world began to get into order, fire and water and

earth and air had only certain faint traces of themselves, and were altogether such as everything might be

expected to be in the absence of God; this, I say, was their nature at that time, and God fashioned them by

form and number. Let it be consistently maintained by us in all that we say that God made them as far as

possible the fairest and best, out of things which were not fair and good. And now I will endeavour to show

you the disposition and generation of them by an unaccustomed argument, which I am compelled to use; but I

believe that you will be able to follow me, for your education has made you familiar with the methods of

In the first place, then, as is evident to all, fire and earth and water and air are bodies. And every sort of body

possesses solidity, and every solid must necessarily be contained in planes; and every plane rectilinear figure

is composed of triangles; and all triangles are originally of two kinds, both of which are made up of one right

and two acute angles; one of them has at either end of the base the half of a divided right angle, having equal

sides, while in the other the right angle is divided into unequal parts, having unequal sides. These, then,

proceeding by a combination of probability with demonstration, we assume to be the original elements of fire

and the other bodies; but the principles which are prior to these God only knows, and he of men who is the

friend of God. And next we have to determine what are the four most beautiful bodies which are unlike one

another, and of which some are capable of resolution into one another; for having discovered thus much, we

shall know the true origin of earth and fire and of the proportionate and intermediate elements. And then we

shall not be willing to allow that there are any distinct kinds of visible bodies fairer than these. Wherefore we

must endeavour to construct the four forms of bodies which excel in beauty, and then we shall be able to say

that we have sufficiently apprehended their nature. Now of the two triangles, the isosceles has one form only;

the scalene or unequalsided has an infinite number. Of the infinite forms we must select the most beautiful,

if we are to proceed in due order, and any one who can point out a more beautiful form than ours for the

construction of these bodies, shall carry off the palm, not as an enemy, but as a friend. Now, the one which

we maintain to be the most beautiful of all the many triangles (and we need not speak of the others) is that of

which the double forms a third triangle which is equilateral; the reason of this would be long to tell; he who

disproves what we are saying, and shows that we are mistaken, may claim a friendly victory. Then let us

choose two triangles, out of which fire and the other elements have been constructed, one isosceles, the other

having the square of the longer side equal to three times the square of the lesser side.

Now is the time to explain what was before obscurely said: there was an error in imagining that all the four

elements might be generated by and into one another; this, I say, was an erroneous supposition, for there are

generated from the triangles which we have selected four kindsthree from the one which has the sides

unequal; the fourth alone is framed out of the isosceles triangle. Hence they cannot all be resolved into one

another, a great number of small bodies being combined into a few large ones, or the converse. But three of

them can be thus resolved and compounded, for they all spring from one, and when the greater bodies are

broken up, many small bodies will spring up out of them and take their own proper figures; or, again, when

many small bodies are dissolved into their triangles, if they become one, they will form one large mass of

another kind. So much for their passage into one another. I have now to speak of their several kinds, and

show out of what combinations of numbers each of them was formed. The first will be the simplest and

smallest construction, and its element is that triangle which has its hypotenuse twice the lesser side. When

two such triangles are joined at the diagonal, and this is repeated three times, and the triangles rest their

diagonals and shorter sides on the same point as a centre, a single equilateral triangle is formed out of six

triangles; and four equilateral triangles, if put together, make out of every three plane angles one solid angle,

being that which is nearest to the most obtuse of plane angles; and out of the combination of these four angles

arises the first solid form which distributes into equal and similar parts the whole circle in which it is

inscribed. The second species of solid is formed out of the same triangles, which unite as eight equilateral

triangles and form one solid angle out of four plane angles, and out of six such angles the second body is

completed. And the third body is made up of 120 triangular elements, forming twelve solid angles, each of

them included in five plane equilateral triangles, having altogether twenty bases, each of which is an

equilateral triangle. The one element (that is, the triangle which has its hypotenuse twice the lesser side)

having generated these figures, generated no more; but the isosceles triangle produced the fourth elementary

figure, which is compounded of four such triangles, joining their right angles in a centre, and forming one

equilateral quadrangle. Six of these united form eight solid angles, each of which is made by the combination

of three plane right angles; the figure of the body thus composed is a cube, having six plane quadrangular

equilateral bases. There was yet a fifth combination which God used in the delineation of the universe.

Now, he who, duly reflecting on all this, enquires whether the worlds are to be regarded as indefinite or

definite in number, will be of opinion that the notion of their indefiniteness is characteristic of a sadly

indefinite and ignorant mind. He, however, who raises the question whether they are to be truly regarded as

one or five, takes up a more reasonable position. Arguing from probabilities, I am of opinion that they are

one; another, regarding the question from another point of view, will be of another mind. But, leaving this

enquiry, let us proceed to distribute the elementary forms, which have now been created in idea, among the

To earth, then, let us assign the cubical form; for earth is the most immoveable of the four and the most

plastic of all bodies, and that which has the most stable bases must of necessity be of such a nature. Now, of

the triangles which we assumed at first, that which has two equal sides is by nature more firmly based than

that which has unequal sides; and of the compound figures which are formed out of either, the plane

equilateral quadrangle has necessarily a more stable basis than the equilateral triangle, both in the whole and

in the parts. Wherefore, in assigning this figure to earth, we adhere to probability; and to water we assign that

one of the remaining forms which is the least moveable; and the most moveable of them to fire; and to air that

which is intermediate. Also we assign the smallest body to fire, and the greatest to water, and the intermediate

in size to air; and, again, the acutest body to fire, and the next in acuteness to air, and the third to water. Of all

these elements, that which has the fewest bases must necessarily be the most moveable, for it must be the

acutest and most penetrating in every way, and also the lightest as being composed of the smallest number of

similar particles: and the second body has similar properties in a second degree, and the third body in the

third degree. Let it be agreed, then, both according to strict reason and according to probability, that the

pyramid is the solid which is the original element and seed of fire; and let us assign the element which was

next in the order of generation to air, and the third to water. We must imagine all these to be so small that no

single particle of any of the four kinds is seen by us on account of their smallness: but when many of them

are collected together their aggregates are seen. And the ratios of their numbers, motions, and other

properties, everywhere God, as far as necessity allowed or gave consent, has exactly perfected, and

From all that we have just been saying about the elements or kinds, the most probable conclusion is as

follows:earth, when meeting with fire and dissolved by its sharpness, whether the dissolution take place in

the fire itself or perhaps in some mass of air or water, is borne hither and thither, until its parts, meeting

together and mutually harmonising, again become earth; for they can never take any other form. But water,

when divided by fire or by air, on reforming, may become one part fire and two parts air; and a single

volume of air divided becomes two of fire. Again, when a small body of fire is contained in a larger body of

air or water or earth, and both are moving, and the fire struggling is overcome and broken up, then two

volumes of fire form one volume of air; and when air is overcome and cut up into small pieces, two and a half

parts of air are condensed into one part of water. Let us consider the matter in another way. When one of the

other elements is fastened upon by fire, and is cut by the sharpness of its angles and sides, it coalesces with

the fire, and then ceases to be cut by them any longer. For no element which is one and the same with itself

can be changed by or change another of the same kind and in the same state. But so long as in the process of

transition the weaker is fighting against the stronger, the dissolution continues. Again, when a few small

particles, enclosed in many larger ones, are in process of decomposition and extinction, they only cease from

their tendency to extinction when they consent to pass into the conquering nature, and fire becomes air and

air water. But if bodies of another kind go and attack them (i.e. the small particles), the latter continue to be

dissolved until, being completely forced back and dispersed, they make their escape to their own kindred, or

else, being overcome and assimilated to the conquering power, they remain where they are and dwell with

their victors, and from being many become one. And owing to these affections, all things are changing their

place, for by the motion of the receiving vessel the bulk of each class is distributed into its proper place; but

those things which become unlike themselves and like other things, are hurried by the shaking into the place

Now all unmixed and primary bodies are produced by such causes as these. As to the subordinate species

which are included in the greater kinds, they are to be attributed to the varieties in the structure of the two

original triangles. For either structure did not originally produce the triangle of one size only, but some larger

and some smaller, and there are as many sizes as there are species of the four elements. Hence when they are

mingled with themselves and with one another there is an endless variety of them, which those who would

Unless a person comes to an understanding about the nature and conditions of rest and motion, he will meet

with many difficulties in the discussion which follows. Something has been said of this matter already, and

something more remains to be said, which is, that motion never exists in what is uniform. For to conceive that

anything can be moved without a mover is hard or indeed impossible, and equally impossible to conceive that

there can be a mover unless there be something which can be movedmotion cannot exist where either of

these are wanting, and for these to be uniform is impossible; wherefore we must assign rest to uniformity and

motion to the want of uniformity. Now inequality is the cause of the nature which is wanting in uniformity;

and of this we have already described the origin. But there still remains the further pointwhy things when

divided after their kinds do not cease to pass through one another and to change their placewhich we will

now proceed to explain. In the revolution of the universe are comprehended all the four elements, and this

being circular and having a tendency to come together, compresses everything and will not allow any place to

be left void. Wherefore, also, fire above all things penetrates everywhere, and air next, as being next in rarity

of the elements; and the two other elements in like manner penetrate according to their degrees of rarity. For

those things which are composed of the largest particles have the largest void left in their compositions, and

those which are composed of the smallest particles have the least. And the contraction caused by the

compression thrusts the smaller particles into the interstices of the larger. And thus, when the small parts are

placed side by side with the larger, and the lesser divide the greater and the greater unite the lesser, all the

elements are borne up and down and hither and thither towards their own places; for the change in the size of

each changes its position in space. And these causes generate an inequality which is always maintained, and

In the next place we have to consider that there are divers kinds of fire. There are, for example, first, flame;

and secondly, those emanations of flame which do not burn but only give light to the eyes; thirdly, the

remains of fire, which are seen in redhot embers after the flame has been extinguished. There are similar

differences in the air; of which the brightest part is called the aether, and the most turbid sort mist and

darkness; and there are various other nameless kinds which arise from the inequality of the triangles. Water,

again, admits in the first place of a division into two kinds; the one liquid and the other fusile. The liquid kind

is composed of the small and unequal particles of water; and moves itself and is moved by other bodies

owing to the want of uniformity and the shape of its particles; whereas the fusile kind, being formed of large

and uniform particles, is more stable than the other, and is heavy and compact by reason of its uniformity.

But when fire gets in and dissolves the particles and destroys the uniformity, it has greater mobility, and

becoming fluid is thrust forth by the neighbouring air and spreads upon the earth; and this dissolution of the

solid masses is called melting, and their spreading out upon the earth flowing. Again, when the fire goes out

of the fusile substance, it does not pass into a vacuum, but into the neighbouring air; and the air which is

displaced forces together the liquid and still moveable mass into the place which was occupied by the fire,

and unites it with itself. Thus compressed the mass resumes its equability, and is again at unity with itself,

because the fire which was the author of the inequality has retreated; and this departure of the fire is called

cooling, and the coming together which follows upon it is termed congealment. Of all the kinds termed fusile,

that which is the densest and is formed out of the finest and most uniform parts is that most precious

possession called gold, which is hardened by filtration through rock; this is unique in kind, and has both a

glittering and a yellow colour. A shoot of gold, which is so dense as to be very hard, and takes a black colour,

is termed adamant. There is also another kind which has parts nearly like gold, and of which there are several

species; it is denser than gold, and it contains a small and fine portion of earth, and is therefore harder, yet

also lighter because of the great interstices which it has within itself; and this substance, which is one of the

bright and denser kinds of water, when solidified is called copper. There is an alloy of earth mingled with it,

which, when the two parts grow old and are disunited, shows itself separately and is called rust. The

remaining phenomena of the same kind there will be no difficulty in reasoning out by the method of

probabilities. A man may sometimes set aside meditations about eternal things, and for recreation turn to

consider the truths of generation which are probable only; he will thus gain a pleasure not to be repented of,

and secure for himself while he lives a wise and moderate pastime. Let us grant ourselves this indulgence,

and go through the probabilities relating to the same subjects which follow next in order.

Water which is mingled with fire, so much as is fine and liquid (being so called by reason of its motion and

the way in which it rolls along the ground), and soft, because its bases give way and are less stable than those

of earth, when separated from fire and air and isolated, becomes more uniform, and by their retirement is

compressed into itself; and if the condensation be very great, the water above the earth becomes hail, but on

the earth, ice; and that which is congealed in a less degree and is only half solid, when above the earth is

called snow, and when upon the earth, and condensed from dew, hoarfrost. Then, again, there are the

numerous kinds of water which have been mingled with one another, and are distilled through plants which

grow in the earth; and this whole class is called by the name of juices or saps. The unequal admixture of these

fluids creates a variety of species; most of them are nameless, but four which are of a fiery nature are clearly

distinguished and have names. First, there is wine, which warms the soul as well as the body: secondly, there

is the oily nature, which is smooth and divides the visual ray, and for this reason is bright and shining and of

a glistening appearance, including pitch, the juice of the castor berry, oil itself, and other things of a like kind:

thirdly, there is the class of substances which expand the contracted parts of the mouth, until they return to

their natural state, and by reason of this property create sweetness;these are included under the general

name of honey: and, lastly, there is a frothy nature, which differs from all juices, having a burning quality

As to the kinds of earth, that which is filtered through water passes into stone in the following manner:The

water which mixes with the earth and is broken up in the process changes into air, and taking this form

mounts into its own place. But as there is no surrounding vacuum it thrusts away the neighbouring air, and

this being rendered heavy, and, when it is displaced, having been poured around the mass of earth, forcibly

compresses it and drives it into the vacant space whence the new air had come up; and the earth when

compressed by the air into an indissoluble union with water becomes rock. The fairer sort is that which is

made up of equal and similar parts and is transparent; that which has the opposite qualities is inferior. But

when all the watery part is suddenly drawn out by fire, a more brittle substance is formed, to which we give

the name of pottery. Sometimes also moisture may remain, and the earth which has been fused by fire

becomes, when cool, a certain stone of a black colour. A like separation of the water which had been

copiously mingled with them may occur in two substances composed of finer particles of earth and of a briny

nature; out of either of them a halfsolidbody is then formed, soluble in waterthe one, soda, which is

used for purging away oil and earth, the other, salt, which harmonizes so well in combinations pleasing to the

palate, and is, as the law testifies, a substance dear to the gods. The compounds of earth and water are not

soluble by water, but by fire only, and for this reason:Neither fire nor air melt masses of earth; for their

particles, being smaller than the interstices in its structure, have plenty of room to move without forcing their

way, and so they leave the earth unmelted and undissolved; but particles of water, which are larger, force a

passage, and dissolve and melt the earth. Wherefore earth when not consolidated by force is dissolved by

water only; when consolidated, by nothing but fire; for this is the only body which can find an entrance. The

cohesion of water again, when very strong, is dissolved by fire onlywhen weaker, then either by air or

firethe former entering the interstices, and the latter penetrating even the triangles. But nothing can

dissolve air, when strongly condensed, which does not reach the elements or triangles; or if not strongly

condensed, then only fire can dissolve it. As to bodies composed of earth and water, while the water occupies

the vacant interstices of the earth in them which are compressed by force, the particles of water which

approach them from without, finding no entrance, flow around the entire mass and leave it undissolved; but

the particles of fire, entering into the interstices of the water, do to the water what water does to earth and fire

to air (The text seems to be corrupt.), and are the sole causes of the compound body of earth and water

liquefying and becoming fluid. Now these bodies are of two kinds; some of them, such as glass and the

fusible sort of stones, have less water than they have earth; on the other hand, substances of the nature of wax

I have thus shown the various classes of bodies as they are diversified by their forms and combinations and

changes into one another, and now I must endeavour to set forth their affections and the causes of them. In

the first place, the bodies which I have been describing are necessarily objects of sense. But we have not yet

considered the origin of flesh, or what belongs to flesh, or of that part of the soul which is mortal. And these

things cannot be adequately explained without also explaining the affections which are concerned with

sensation, nor the latter without the former: and yet to explain them together is hardly possible; for which

reason we must assume first one or the other and afterwards examine the nature of our hypothesis. In order,

then, that the affections may follow regularly after the elements, let us presuppose the existence of body and

First, let us enquire what we mean by saying that fire is hot; and about this we may reason from the dividing

or cutting power which it exercises on our bodies. We all of us feel that fire is sharp; and we may further

consider the fineness of the sides, and the sharpness of the angles, and the smallness of the particles, and the

swiftness of the motionall this makes the action of fire violent and sharp, so that it cuts whatever it meets.

And we must not forget that the original figure of fire (i.e. the pyramid), more than any other form, has a

dividing power which cuts our bodies into small pieces (Kepmatizei), and thus naturally produces that

affection which we call heat; and hence the origin of the name (thepmos, Kepma). Now, the opposite of this

is sufficiently manifest; nevertheless we will not fail to describe it. For the larger particles of moisture which

surround the body, entering in and driving out the lesser, but not being able to take their places, compress the

moist principle in us; and this from being unequal and disturbed, is forced by them into a state of rest, which

is due to equability and compression. But things which are contracted contrary to nature are by nature at war,

and force themselves apart; and to this war and convulsion the name of shivering and trembling is given; and

the whole affection and the cause of the affection are both termed cold. That is called hard to which our flesh

yields, and soft which yields to our flesh; and things are also termed hard and soft relatively to one another.

That which yields has a small base; but that which rests on quadrangular bases is firmly posed and belongs to

the class which offers the greatest resistance; so too does that which is the most compact and therefore most

repellent. The nature of the light and the heavy will be best understood when examined in connexion with our

notions of above and below; for it is quite a mistake to suppose that the universe is parted into two regions,

separate from and opposite to each other, the one a lower to which all things tend which have any bulk, and

an upper to which things only ascend against their will. For as the universe is in the form of a sphere, all the

extremities, being equidistant from the centre, are equally extremities, and the centre, which is equidistant

from them, is equally to be regarded as the opposite of them all. Such being the nature of the world, when a

person says that any of these points is above or below, may he not be justly charged with using an improper

expression? For the centre of the world cannot be rightly called either above or below, but is the centre and

nothing else; and the circumference is not the centre, and has in no one part of itself a different relation to the

centre from what it has in any of the opposite parts. Indeed, when it is in every direction similar, how can one

rightly give to it names which imply opposition? For if there were any solid body in equipoise at the centre of

the universe, there would be nothing to draw it to this extreme rather than to that, for they are all perfectly

similar; and if a person were to go round the world in a circle, he would often, when standing at the antipodes

of his former position, speak of the same point as above and below; for, as I was saying just now, to speak of

the whole which is in the form of a globe as having one part above and another below is not like a sensible

man. The reason why these names are used, and the circumstances under which they are ordinarily applied by

us to the division of the heavens, may be elucidated by the following supposition:if a person were to stand

in that part of the universe which is the appointed place of fire, and where there is the great mass of fire to

which fiery bodies gatherif, I say, he were to ascend thither, and, having the power to do this, were to

abstract particles of fire and put them in scales and weigh them, and then, raising the balance, were to draw

the fire by force towards the uncongenial element of the air, it would be very evident that he could compel the

smaller mass more readily than the larger; for when two things are simultaneously raised by one and the same

power, the smaller body must necessarily yield to the superior power with less reluctance than the larger; and

the larger body is called heavy and said to tend downwards, and the smaller body is called light and said to

tend upwards. And we may detect ourselves who are upon the earth doing precisely the same thing. For we

often separate earthy natures, and sometimes earth itself, and draw them into the uncongenial element of air

by force and contrary to nature, both clinging to their kindred elements. But that which is smaller yields to

the impulse given by us towards the dissimilar element more easily than the larger; and so we call the former

light, and the place towards which it is impelled we call above, and the contrary state and place we call heavy

and below respectively. Now the relations of these must necessarily vary, because the principal masses of the

different elements hold opposite positions; for that which is light, heavy, below or above in one place will be

found to be and become contrary and transverse and every way diverse in relation to that which is light,

heavy, below or above in an opposite place. And about all of them this has to be considered:that the

tendency of each towards its kindred element makes the body which is moved heavy, and the place towards

which the motion tends below, but things which have an opposite tendency we call by an opposite name.

Such are the causes which we assign to these phenomena. As to the smooth and the rough, any one who sees

them can explain the reason of them to another. For roughness is hardness mingled with irregularity, and

The most important of the affections which concern the whole body remains to be consideredthat is, the

cause of pleasure and pain in the perceptions of which I have been speaking, and in all other things which are

perceived by sense through the parts of the body, and have both pains and pleasures attendant on them. Let us

imagine the causes of every affection, whether of sense or not, to be of the following nature, remembering

that we have already distinguished between the nature which is easy and which is hard to move; for this is the

direction in which we must hunt the prey which we mean to take. A body which is of a nature to be easily

moved, on receiving an impression however slight, spreads abroad the motion in a circle, the parts

communicating with each other, until at last, reaching the principle of mind, they announce the quality of the

agent. But a body of the opposite kind, being immobile, and not extending to the surrounding region, merely

receives the impression, and does not stir any of the neighbouring parts; and since the parts do not distribute

the original impression to other parts, it has no effect of motion on the whole animal, and therefore produces

no effect on the patient. This is true of the bones and hair and other more earthy parts of the human body;

whereas what was said above relates mainly to sight and hearing, because they have in them the greatest

amount of fire and air. Now we must conceive of pleasure and pain in this way. An impression produced in

us contrary to nature and violent, if sudden, is painful; and, again, the sudden return to nature is pleasant; but

a gentle and gradual return is imperceptible and vice versa. On the other hand the impression of sense which

is most easily produced is most readily felt, but is not accompanied by pleasure or pain; such, for example,

are the affections of the sight, which, as we said above, is a body naturally uniting with our body in the

daytime; for cuttings and burnings and other affections which happen to the sight do not give pain, nor is

there pleasure when the sight returns to its natural state; but the sensations are clearest and strongest

according to the manner in which the eye is affected by the object, and itself strikes and touches it; there is no

violence either in the contraction or dilation of the eye. But bodies formed of larger particles yield to the

agent only with a struggle; and then they impart their motions to the whole and cause pleasure and

painpain when alienated from their natural conditions, and pleasure when restored to them. Things which

experience gradual withdrawings and emptyings of their nature, and great and sudden replenishments, fail to

perceive the emptying, but are sensible of the replenishment; and so they occasion no pain, but the greatest

pleasure, to the mortal part of the soul, as is manifest in the case of perfumes. But things which are changed

all of a sudden, and only gradually and with difficulty return to their own nature, have effects in every way

opposite to the former, as is evident in the case of burnings and cuttings of the body.

Thus have we discussed the general affections of the whole body, and the names of the agents which produce

them. And now I will endeavour to speak of the affections of particular parts, and the causes and agents of

them, as far as I am able. In the first place let us set forth what was omitted when we were speaking of juices,

concerning the affections peculiar to the tongue. These too, like most of the other affections, appear to be

caused by certain contractions and dilations, but they have besides more of roughness and smoothness than is

found in other affections; for whenever earthy particles enter into the small veins which are the testing

instruments of the tongue, reaching to the heart, and fall upon the moist, delicate portions of fleshwhen, as

they are dissolved, they contract and dry up the little veins, they are astringent if they are rougher, but if not

so rough, then only harsh. Those of them which are of an abstergent nature, and purge the whole surface of

the tongue, if they do it in excess, and so encroach as to consume some part of the flesh itself, like potash and

soda, are all termed bitter. But the particles which are deficient in the alkaline quality, and which cleanse only

moderately, are called salt, and having no bitterness or roughness, are regarded as rather agreeable than

otherwise. Bodies which share in and are made smooth by the heat of the mouth, and which are inflamed, and

again in turn inflame that which heats them, and which are so light that they are carried upwards to the

sensations of the head, and cut all that comes in their way, by reason of these qualities in them, are all termed

pungent. But when these same particles, refined by putrefaction, enter into the narrow veins, and are duly

proportioned to the particles of earth and air which are there, they set them whirling about one another, and

while they are in a whirl cause them to dash against and enter into one another, and so form hollows

surrounding the particles that enterwhich watery vessels of air (for a film of moisture, sometimes earthy,

sometimes pure, is spread around the air) are hollow spheres of water; and those of them which are pure, are

transparent, and are called bubbles, while those composed of the earthy liquid, which is in a state of general

agitation and effervescence, are said to boil or fermentof all these affections the cause is termed acid. And

there is the opposite affection arising from an opposite cause, when the mass of entering particles, immersed

in the moisture of the mouth, is congenial to the tongue, and smooths and oils over the roughness, and relaxes

the parts which are unnaturally contracted, and contracts the parts which are relaxed, and disposes them all

according to their nature;that sort of remedy of violent affections is pleasant and agreeable to every man,

The faculty of smell does not admit of differences of kind; for all smells are of a halfformed nature, and no

element is so proportioned as to have any smell. The veins about the nose are too narrow to admit earth and

water, and too wide to detain fire and air; and for this reason no one ever perceives the smell of any of them;

but smells always proceed from bodies that are damp, or putrefying, or liquefying, or evaporating, and are

perceptible only in the intermediate state, when water is changing into air and air into water; and all of them

are either vapour or mist. That which is passing out of air into water is mist, and that which is passing from

water into air is vapour; and hence all smells are thinner than water and thicker than air. The proof of this is,

that when there is any obstruction to the respiration, and a man draws in his breath by force, then no smell

filters through, but the air without the smell alone penetrates. Wherefore the varieties of smell have no name,

and they have not many, or definite and simple kinds; but they are distinguished only as painful and pleasant,

the one sort irritating and disturbing the whole cavity which is situated between the head and the navel, the

other having a soothing influence, and restoring this same region to an agreeable and natural condition.

In considering the third kind of sense, hearing, we must speak of the causes in which it originates. We may in

general assume sound to be a blow which passes through the ears, and is transmitted by means of the air, the

brain, and the blood, to the soul, and that hearing is the vibration of this blow, which begins in the head and

ends in the region of the liver. The sound which moves swiftly is acute, and the sound which moves slowly is

grave, and that which is regular is equable and smooth, and the reverse is harsh. A great body of sound is

loud, and a small body of sound the reverse. Respecting the harmonies of sound I must hereafter speak.

There is a fourth class of sensible things, having many intricate varieties, which must now be distinguished.

They are called by the general name of colours, and are a flame which emanates from every sort of body, and

has particles corresponding to the sense of sight. I have spoken already, in what has preceded, of the causes

which generate sight, and in this place it will be natural and suitable to give a rational theory of colours.

Of the particles coming from other bodies which fall upon the sight, some are smaller and some are larger,

and some are equal to the parts of the sight itself. Those which are equal are imperceptible, and we call them

transparent. The larger produce contraction, the smaller dilation, in the sight, exercising a power akin to that

of hot and cold bodies on the flesh, or of astringent bodies on the tongue, or of those heating bodies which we

termed pungent. White and black are similar effects of contraction and dilation in another sphere, and for this

reason have a different appearance. Wherefore, we ought to term white that which dilates the visual ray, and

the opposite of this is black. There is also a swifter motion of a different sort of fire which strikes and dilates

the ray of sight until it reaches the eyes, forcing a way through their passages and melting them, and eliciting

from them a union of fire and water which we call tears, being itself an opposite fire which comes to them

from an opposite directionthe inner fire flashes forth like lightning, and the outer finds a way in and is

extinguished in the moisture, and all sorts of colours are generated by the mixture. This affection is termed

dazzling, and the object which produces it is called bright and flashing. There is another sort of fire which is

intermediate, and which reaches and mingles with the moisture of the eye without flashing; and in this, the

fire mingling with the ray of the moisture, produces a colour like blood, to which we give the name of red. A

bright hue mingled with red and white gives the colour called auburn (Greek). The law of proportion,

however, according to which the several colours are formed, even if a man knew he would be foolish in

telling, for he could not give any necessary reason, nor indeed any tolerable or probable explanation of them.

Again, red, when mingled with black and white, becomes purple, but it becomes umber (Greek) when the

colours are burnt as well as mingled and the black is more thoroughly mixed with them. Flamecolour

(Greek) is produced by a union of auburn and dun (Greek), and dun by an admixture of black and white; pale

yellow (Greek), by an admixture of white and auburn. White and bright meeting, and falling upon a full

black, become dark blue (Greek), and when dark blue mingles with white, a light blue (Greek) colour is

formed, as flamecolour with black makes leek green (Greek). There will be no difficulty in seeing how and

by what mixtures the colours derived from these are made according to the rules of probability. He, however,

who should attempt to verify all this by experiment, would forget the difference of the human and divine

nature. For God only has the knowledge and also the power which are able to combine many things into one

and again resolve the one into many. But no man either is or ever will be able to accomplish either the one or

These are the elements, thus of necessity then subsisting, which the creator of the fairest and best of created

things associated with himself, when he made the selfsufficing and most perfect God, using the necessary

causes as his ministers in the accomplishment of his work, but himself contriving the good in all his

creations. Wherefore we may distinguish two sorts of causes, the one divine and the other necessary, and may

seek for the divine in all things, as far as our nature admits, with a view to the blessed life; but the necessary

kind only for the sake of the divine, considering that without them and when isolated from them, these higher

things for which we look cannot be apprehended or received or in any way shared by us.

Seeing, then, that we have now prepared for our use the various classes of causes which are the material out

of which the remainder of our discourse must be woven, just as wood is the material of the carpenter, let us

revert in a few words to the point at which we began, and then endeavour to add on a suitable ending to the

As I said at first, when all things were in disorder God created in each thing in relation to itself, and in all

things in relation to each other, all the measures and harmonies which they could possibly receive. For in

those days nothing had any proportion except by accident; nor did any of the things which now have names

deserve to be named at allas, for example, fire, water, and the rest of the elements. All these the creator

first set in order, and out of them he constructed the universe, which was a single animal comprehending in

itself all other animals, mortal and immortal. Now of the divine, he himself was the creator, but the creation

of the mortal he committed to his offspring. And they, imitating him, received from him the immortal

principle of the soul; and around this they proceeded to fashion a mortal body, and made it to be the vehicle

of the soul, and constructed within the body a soul of another nature which was mortal, subject to terrible and

irresistible affections,first of all, pleasure, the greatest incitement to evil; then, pain, which deters from

good; also rashness and fear, two foolish counsellors, anger hard to be appeased, and hope easily led

astray;these they mingled with irrational sense and with alldaring love according to necessary laws, and

so framed man. Wherefore, fearing to pollute the divine any more than was absolutely unavoidable, they gave

to the mortal nature a separate habitation in another part of the body, placing the neck between them to be the

isthmus and boundary, which they constructed between the head and breast, to keep them apart. And in the

breast, and in what is termed the thorax, they encased the mortal soul; and as the one part of this was superior

and the other inferior they divided the cavity of the thorax into two parts, as the women's and men's

apartments are divided in houses, and placed the midriff to be a wall of partition between them. That part of

the inferior soul which is endowed with courage and passion and loves contention they settled nearer the

head, midway between the midriff and the neck, in order that it might be under the rule of reason and might

join with it in controlling and restraining the desires when they are no longer willing of their own accord to

The heart, the knot of the veins and the fountain of the blood which races through all the limbs, was set in the

place of guard, that when the might of passion was roused by reason making proclamation of any wrong

assailing them from without or being perpetrated by the desires within, quickly the whole power of feeling in

the body, perceiving these commands and threats, might obey and follow through every turn and alley, and

thus allow the principle of the best to have the command in all of them. But the gods, foreknowing that the

palpitation of the heart in the expectation of danger and the swelling and excitement of passion was caused by

fire, formed and implanted as a supporter to the heart the lung, which was, in the first place, soft and

bloodless, and also had within hollows like the pores of a sponge, in order that by receiving the breath and the

drink, it might give coolness and the power of respiration and alleviate the heat. Wherefore they cut the

airchannels leading to the lung, and placed the lung about the heart as a soft spring, that, when passion was

rife within, the heart, beating against a yielding body, might be cooled and suffer less, and might thus become

The part of the soul which desires meats and drinks and the other things of which it has need by reason of the

bodily nature, they placed between the midriff and the boundary of the navel, contriving in all this region a

sort of manger for the food of the body; and there they bound it down like a wild animal which was chained

up with man, and must be nourished if man was to exist. They appointed this lower creation his place here in

order that he might be always feeding at the manger, and have his dwelling as far as might be from the

councilchamber, making as little noise and disturbance as possible, and permitting the best part to advise

quietly for the good of the whole. And knowing that this lower principle in man would not comprehend

reason, and even if attaining to some degree of perception would never naturally care for rational notions, but

that it would be led away by phantoms and visions night and day,to be a remedy for this, God combined

with it the liver, and placed it in the house of the lower nature, contriving that it should be solid and smooth,

and bright and sweet, and should also have a bitter quality, in order that the power of thought, which proceeds

from the mind, might be reflected as in a mirror which receives likenesses of objects and gives back images

of them to the sight; and so might strike terror into the desires, when, making use of the bitter part of the

liver, to which it is akin, it comes threatening and invading, and diffusing this bitter element swiftly through

the whole liver produces colours like bile, and contracting every part makes it wrinkled and rough; and

twisting out of its right place and contorting the lobe and closing and shutting up the vessels and gates, causes

pain and loathing. And the converse happens when some gentle inspiration of the understanding pictures

images of an opposite character, and allays the bile and bitterness by refusing to stir or touch the nature

opposed to itself, but by making use of the natural sweetness of the liver, corrects all things and makes them

to be right and smooth and free, and renders the portion of the soul which resides about the liver happy and

joyful, enabling it to pass the night in peace, and to practise divination in sleep, inasmuch as it has no share in

mind and reason. For the authors of our being, remembering the command of their father when he bade them

create the human race as good as they could, that they might correct our inferior parts and make them to

attain a measure of truth, placed in the liver the seat of divination. And herein is a proof that God has given

the art of divination not to the wisdom, but to the foolishness of man. No man, when in his wits, attains

prophetic truth and inspiration; but when he receives the inspired word, either his intelligence is enthralled in

sleep, or he is demented by some distemper or possession. And he who would understand what he remembers

to have been said, whether in a dream or when he was awake, by the prophetic and inspired nature, or would

determine by reason the meaning of the apparitions which he has seen, and what indications they afford to

this man or that, of past, present or future good and evil, must first recover his wits. But, while he continues

demented, he cannot judge of the visions which he sees or the words which he utters; the ancient saying is

very true, that 'only a man who has his wits can act or judge about himself and his own affairs.' And for this

reason it is customary to appoint interpreters to be judges of the true inspiration. Some persons call them

prophets; they are quite unaware that they are only the expositors of dark sayings and visions, and are not to

Such is the nature of the liver, which is placed as we have described in order that it may give prophetic

intimations. During the life of each individual these intimations are plainer, but after his death the liver

becomes blind, and delivers oracles too obscure to be intelligible. The neighbouring organ (the spleen) is

situated on the lefthand side, and is constructed with a view of keeping the liver bright and pure,like a

napkin, always ready prepared and at hand to clean the mirror. And hence, when any impurities arise in the

region of the liver by reason of disorders of the body, the loose nature of the spleen, which is composed of a

hollow and bloodless tissue, receives them all and clears them away, and when filled with the unclean matter,

swells and festers, but, again, when the body is purged, settles down into the same place as before, and is

Concerning the soul, as to which part is mortal and which divine, and how and why they are separated, and

where located, if God acknowledges that we have spoken the truth, then, and then only, can we be confident;

still, we may venture to assert that what has been said by us is probable, and will be rendered more probable

The creation of the rest of the body follows next in order, and this we may investigate in a similar manner.

And it appears to be very meet that the body should be framed on the following principles:

The authors of our race were aware that we should be intemperate in eating and drinking, and take a good

deal more than was necessary or proper, by reason of gluttony. In order then that disease might not quickly

destroy us, and lest our mortal race should perish without fulfilling its end intending to provide against

this, the gods made what is called the lower belly, to be a receptacle for the superfluous meat and drink, and

formed the convolution of the bowels, so that the food might be prevented from passing quickly through and

compelling the body to require more food, thus producing insatiable gluttony, and making the whole race an

enemy to philosophy and music, and rebellious against the divinest element within us.

The bones and flesh, and other similar parts of us, were made as follows. The first principle of all of them

was the generation of the marrow. For the bonds of life which unite the soul with the body are made fast

there, and they are the root and foundation of the human race. The marrow itself is created out of other

materials: God took such of the primary triangles as were straight and smooth, and were adapted by their

perfection to produce fire and water, and air and earththese, I say, he separated from their kinds, and

mingling them in due proportions with one another, made the marrow out of them to be a universal seed of

the whole race of mankind; and in this seed he then planted and enclosed the souls, and in the original

distribution gave to the marrow as many and various forms as the different kinds of souls were hereafter to

receive. That which, like a field, was to receive the divine seed, he made round every way, and called that

portion of the marrow, brain, intending that, when an animal was perfected, the vessel containing this

substance should be the head; but that which was intended to contain the remaining and mortal part of the

soul he distributed into figures at once round and elongated, and he called them all by the name 'marrow'; and

to these, as to anchors, fastening the bonds of the whole soul, he proceeded to fashion around them the entire

framework of our body, constructing for the marrow, first of all a complete covering of bone.

Bone was composed by him in the following manner. Having sifted pure and smooth earth he kneaded it and

wetted it with marrow, and after that he put it into fire and then into water, and once more into fire and again

into waterin this way by frequent transfers from one to the other he made it insoluble by either. Out of this

he fashioned, as in a lathe, a globe made of bone, which he placed around the brain, and in this he left a

narrow opening; and around the marrow of the neck and back he formed vertebrae which he placed under one

another like pivots, beginning at the head and extending through the whole of the trunk. Thus wishing to

preserve the entire seed, he enclosed it in a stonelike casing, inserting joints, and using in the formation of

them the power of the other or diverse as an intermediate nature, that they might have motion and flexure.

Then again, considering that the bone would be too brittle and inflexible, and when heated and again cooled

would soon mortify and destroy the seed within having this in view, he contrived the sinews and the flesh,

that so binding all the members together by the sinews, which admitted of being stretched and relaxed about

the vertebrae, he might thus make the body capable of flexion and extension, while the flesh would serve as a

protection against the summer heat and against the winter cold, and also against falls, softly and easily

yielding to external bodies, like articles made of felt; and containing in itself a warm moisture which in

summer exudes and makes the surface damp, would impart a natural coolness to the whole body; and again in

winter by the help of this internal warmth would form a very tolerable defence against the frost which

surrounds it and attacks it from without. He who modelled us, considering these things, mixed earth with fire

and water and blended them; and making a ferment of acid and salt, he mingled it with them and formed soft

and succulent flesh. As for the sinews, he made them of a mixture of bone and unfermented flesh, attempered

so as to be in a mean, and gave them a yellow colour; wherefore the sinews have a firmer and more glutinous

nature than flesh, but a softer and moister nature than the bones. With these God covered the bones and

marrow, binding them together by sinews, and then enshrouded them all in an upper covering of flesh. The

more living and sensitive of the bones he enclosed in the thinnest film of flesh, and those which had the least

life within them in the thickest and most solid flesh. So again on the joints of the bones, where reason

indicated that no more was required, he placed only a thin covering of flesh, that it might not interfere with

the flexion of our bodies and make them unwieldy because difficult to move; and also that it might not, by

being crowded and pressed and matted together, destroy sensation by reason of its hardness, and impair the

memory and dull the edge of intelligence. Wherefore also the thighs and the shanks and the hips, and the

bones of the arms and the forearms, and other parts which have no joints, and the inner bones, which on

account of the rarity of the soul in the marrow are destitute of reasonall these are abundantly provided with

flesh; but such as have mind in them are in general less fleshy, except where the creator has made some part

solely of flesh in order to give sensation,as, for example, the tongue. But commonly this is not the case.

For the nature which comes into being and grows up in us by a law of necessity, does not admit of the

combination of solid bone and much flesh with acute perceptions. More than any other part the framework of

the head would have had them, if they could have coexisted, and the human race, having a strong and fleshy

and sinewy head, would have had a life twice or many times as long as it now has, and also more healthy and

free from pain. But our creators, considering whether they should make a longerlived race which was worse,

or a shorterlived race which was better, came to the conclusion that every one ought to prefer a shorter span

of life, which was better, to a longer one, which was worse; and therefore they covered the head with thin

bone, but not with flesh and sinews, since it had no joints; and thus the head was added, having more wisdom

and sensation than the rest of the body, but also being in every man far weaker. For these reasons and after

this manner God placed the sinews at the extremity of the head, in a circle round the neck, and glued them

together by the principle of likeness and fastened the extremities of the jawbones to them below the face, and

the other sinews he dispersed throughout the body, fastening limb to limb. The framers of us framed the

mouth, as now arranged, having teeth and tongue and lips, with a view to the necessary and the good

contriving the way in for necessary purposes, the way out for the best purposes; for that is necessary which

enters in and gives food to the body; but the river of speech, which flows out of a man and ministers to the

intelligence, is the fairest and noblest of all streams. Still the head could neither be left a bare frame of bones,

on account of the extremes of heat and cold in the different seasons, nor yet be allowed to be wholly covered,

and so become dull and senseless by reason of an overgrowth of flesh. The fleshy nature was not therefore

wholly dried up, but a large sort of peel was parted off and remained over, which is now called the skin. This

met and grew by the help of the cerebral moisture, and became the circular envelopment of the head. And the

moisture, rising up under the sutures, watered and closed in the skin upon the crown, forming a sort of knot.

The diversity of the sutures was caused by the power of the courses of the soul and of the food, and the more

these struggled against one another the more numerous they became, and fewer if the struggle were less

violent. This skin the divine power pierced all round with fire, and out of the punctures which were thus made

the moisture issued forth, and the liquid and heat which was pure came away, and a mixed part which was

composed of the same material as the skin, and had a fineness equal to the punctures, was borne up by its

own impulse and extended far outside the head, but being too slow to escape, was thrust back by the external

air, and rolled up underneath the skin, where it took root. Thus the hair sprang up in the skin, being akin to it

because it is like threads of leather, but rendered harder and closer through the pressure of the cold, by which

each hair, while in process of separation from the skin, is compressed and cooled. Wherefore the creator

formed the head hairy, making use of the causes which I have mentioned, and reflecting also that instead of

flesh the brain needed the hair to be a light covering or guard, which would give shade in summer and shelter

in winter, and at the same time would not impede our quickness of perception. From the combination of

sinew, skin, and bone, in the structure of the finger, there arises a triple compound, which, when dried up,

takes the form of one hard skin partaking of all three natures, and was fabricated by these second causes, but

women and other animals would some day be framed out of men, and they further knew that many animals

would require the use of nails for many purposes; wherefore they fashioned in men at their first creation the

rudiments of nails. For this purpose and for these reasons they caused skin, hair, and nails to grow at the

And now that all the parts and members of the mortal animal had come together, since its life of necessity

consisted of fire and breath, and it therefore wasted away by dissolution and depletion, the gods contrived the

following remedy: They mingled a nature akin to that of man with other forms and perceptions, and thus

created another kind of animal. These are the trees and plants and seeds which have been improved by

cultivation and are now domesticated among us; anciently there were only the wild kinds, which are older

than the cultivated. For everything that partakes of life may be truly called a living being, and the animal of

which we are now speaking partakes of the third kind of soul, which is said to be seated between the midriff

and the navel, having no part in opinion or reason or mind, but only in feelings of pleasure and pain and the

desires which accompany them. For this nature is always in a passive state, revolving in and about itself,

repelling the motion from without and using its own, and accordingly is not endowed by nature with the

power of observing or reflecting on its own concerns. Wherefore it lives and does not differ from a living

Now after the superior powers had created all these natures to be food for us who are of the inferior nature,

they cut various channels through the body as through a garden, that it might be watered as from a running

stream. In the first place, they cut two hidden channels or veins down the back where the skin and the flesh

join, which answered severally to the right and left side of the body. These they let down along the backbone,

so as to have the marrow of generation between them, where it was most likely to flourish, and in order that

the stream coming down from above might flow freely to the other parts, and equalize the irrigation. In the

next place, they divided the veins about the head, and interlacing them, they sent them in opposite directions;

those coming from the right side they sent to the left of the body, and those from the left they diverted

towards the right, so that they and the skin might together form a bond which should fasten the head to the

body, since the crown of the head was not encircled by sinews; and also in order that the sensations from both

sides might be distributed over the whole body. And next, they ordered the watercourses of the body in a

manner which I will describe, and which will be more easily understood if we begin by admitting that all

things which have lesser parts retain the greater, but the greater cannot retain the lesser. Now of all natures

fire has the smallest parts, and therefore penetrates through earth and water and air and their compounds, nor

can anything hold it. And a similar principle applies to the human belly; for when meats and drinks enter it, it

holds them, but it cannot hold air and fire, because the particles of which they consist are smaller than its own

These elements, therefore, God employed for the sake of distributing moisture from the belly into the veins,

weaving together a network of fire and air like a weel, having at the entrance two lesser weels; further he

constructed one of these with two openings, and from the lesser weels he extended cords reaching all round to

the extremities of the network. All the interior of the net he made of fire, but the lesser weels and their cavity,

of air. The network he took and spread over the newlyformed animal in the following manner:He let the

lesser weels pass into the mouth; there were two of them, and one he let down by the airpipes into the lungs,

the other by the side of the airpipes into the belly. The former he divided into two branches, both of which

he made to meet at the channels of the nose, so that when the way through the mouth did not act, the streams

of the mouth as well were replenished through the nose. With the other cavity (i.e. of the greater weel) he

enveloped the hollow parts of the body, and at one time he made all this to flow into the lesser weels, quite

gently, for they are composed of air, and at another time he caused the lesser weels to flow back again; and

the net he made to find a way in and out through the pores of the body, and the rays of fire which are bound

fast within followed the passage of the air either way, never at any time ceasing so long as the mortal being

holds together. This process, as we affirm, the namegiver named inspiration and expiration. And all this

movement, active as well as passive, takes place in order that the body, being watered and cooled, may

receive nourishment and life; for when the respiration is going in and out, and the fire, which is fast bound

within, follows it, and ever and anon moving to and fro, enters through the belly and reaches the meat and

drink, it dissolves them, and dividing them into small portions and guiding them through the passages where

it goes, pumps them as from a fountain into the channels of the veins, and makes the stream of the veins flow

Let us once more consider the phenomena of respiration, and enquire into the causes which have made it

what it is. They are as follows:Seeing that there is no such thing as a vacuum into which any of those

things which are moved can enter, and the breath is carried from us into the external air, the next point is, as

will be clear to every one, that it does not go into a vacant space, but pushes its neighbour out of its place, and

that which is thrust out in turn drives out its neighbour; and in this way everything of necessity at last comes

round to that place from whence the breath came forth, and enters in there, and following the breath, fills up

the vacant space; and this goes on like the rotation of a wheel, because there can be no such thing as a

vacuum. Wherefore also the breast and the lungs, when they emit the breath, are replenished by the air which

surrounds the body and which enters in through the pores of the flesh and is driven round in a circle; and

again, the air which is sent away and passes out through the body forces the breath inwards through the

passage of the mouth and the nostrils. Now the origin of this movement may be supposed to be as follows. In

the interior of every animal the hottest part is that which is around the blood and veins; it is in a manner an

internal fountain of fire, which we compare to the network of a creel, being woven all of fire and extended

through the centre of the body, while the outer parts are composed of air. Now we must admit that heat

naturally proceeds outward to its own place and to its kindred element; and as there are two exits for the heat,

the one out through the body, and the other through the mouth and nostrils, when it moves towards the one, it

drives round the air at the other, and that which is driven round falls into the fire and becomes warm, and that

which goes forth is cooled. But when the heat changes its place, and the particles at the other exit grow

warmer, the hotter air inclining in that direction and carried towards its native element, fire, pushes round the

air at the other; and this being affected in the same way and communicating the same impulse, a circular

motion swaying to and fro is produced by the double process, which we call inspiration and expiration.

The phenomena of medical cuppingglasses and of the swallowing of drink and of the projection of bodies,

whether discharged in the air or bowled along the ground, are to be investigated on a similar principle; and

swift and slow sounds, which appear to be high and low, and are sometimes discordant on account of their

inequality, and then again harmonical on account of the equality of the motion which they excite in us. For

when the motions of the antecedent swifter sounds begin to pause and the two are equalized, the slower

sounds overtake the swifter and then propel them. When they overtake them they do not intrude a new and

discordant motion, but introduce the beginnings of a slower, which answers to the swifter as it dies away,

thus producing a single mixed expression out of high and low, whence arises a pleasure which even the

unwise feel, and which to the wise becomes a higher sort of delight, being an imitation of divine harmony in

mortal motions. Moreover, as to the flowing of water, the fall of the thunderbolt, and the marvels that are

observed about the attraction of amber and the Heraclean stones,in none of these cases is there any

attraction; but he who investigates rightly, will find that such wonderful phenomena are attributable to the

combination of certain conditionsthe nonexistence of a vacuum, the fact that objects push one another

round, and that they change places, passing severally into their proper positions as they are divided or

Such as we have seen, is the nature and such are the causes of respiration, the subject in which this

discussion originated. For the fire cuts the food and following the breath surges up within, fire and breath

rising together and filling the veins by drawing up out of the belly and pouring into them the cut portions of

the food; and so the streams of food are kept flowing through the whole body in all animals. And fresh

cuttings from kindred substances, whether the fruits of the earth or herb of the field, which God planted to be

our daily food, acquire all sorts of colours by their intermixture; but red is the most pervading of them,

being created by the cutting action of fire and by the impression which it makes on a moist substance; and

hence the liquid which circulates in the body has a colour such as we have described. The liquid itself we call

blood, which nourishes the flesh and the whole body, whence all parts are watered and empty places filled.

Now the process of repletion and evacuation is effected after the manner of the universal motion by which all

kindred substances are drawn towards one another. For the external elements which surround us are always

causing us to consume away, and distributing and sending off like to like; the particles of blood, too, which

are divided and contained within the frame of the animal as in a sort of heaven, are compelled to imitate the

motion of the universe. Each, therefore, of the divided parts within us, being carried to its kindred nature,

replenishes the void. When more is taken away than flows in, then we decay, and when less, we grow and

The frame of the entire creature when young has the triangles of each kind new, and may be compared to the

keel of a vessel which is just off the stocks; they are locked firmly together and yet the whole mass is soft and

delicate, being freshly formed of marrow and nurtured on milk. Now when the triangles out of which meats

and drinks are composed come in from without, and are comprehended in the body, being older and weaker

than the triangles already there, the frame of the body gets the better of them and its newer triangles cut them

up, and so the animal grows great, being nourished by a multitude of similar particles. But when the roots of

the triangles are loosened by having undergone many conflicts with many things in the course of time, they

are no longer able to cut or assimilate the food which enters, but are themselves easily divided by the bodies

which come in from without. In this way every animal is overcome and decays, and this affection is called

old age. And at last, when the bonds by which the triangles of the marrow are united no longer hold, and are

parted by the strain of existence, they in turn loosen the bonds of the soul, and she, obtaining a natural

release, flies away with joy. For that which takes place according to nature is pleasant, but that which is

contrary to nature is painful. And thus death, if caused by disease or produced by wounds, is painful and

violent; but that sort of death which comes with old age and fulfils the debt of nature is the easiest of deaths,

Now every one can see whence diseases arise. There are four natures out of which the body is compacted,

earth and fire and water and air, and the unnatural excess or defect of these, or the change of any of them

from its own natural place into another, orsince there are more kinds than one of fire and of the other

elementsthe assumption by any of these of a wrong kind, or any similar irregularity, produces disorders

and diseases; for when any of them is produced or changed in a manner contrary to nature, the parts which

were previously cool grow warm, and those which were dry become moist, and the light become heavy, and

the heavy light; all sorts of changes occur. For, as we affirm, a thing can only remain the same with itself,

whole and sound, when the same is added to it, or subtracted from it, in the same respect and in the same

manner and in due proportion; and whatever comes or goes away in violation of these laws causes all manner

of changes and infinite diseases and corruptions. Now there is a second class of structures which are also

natural, and this affords a second opportunity of observing diseases to him who would understand them. For

whereas marrow and bone and flesh and sinews are composed of the four elements, and the blood, though

after another manner, is likewise formed out of them, most diseases originate in the way which I have

described; but the worst of all owe their severity to the fact that the generation of these substances proceeds in

a wrong order; they are then destroyed. For the natural order is that the flesh and sinews should be made of

blood, the sinews out of the fibres to which they are akin, and the flesh out of the clots which are formed

when the fibres are separated. And the glutinous and rich matter which comes away from the sinews and the

flesh, not only glues the flesh to the bones, but nourishes and imparts growth to the bone which surrounds the

marrow; and by reason of the solidity of the bones, that which filters through consists of the purest and

smoothest and oiliest sort of triangles, dropping like dew from the bones and watering the marrow. Now

when each process takes place in this order, health commonly results; when in the opposite order, disease.

For when the flesh becomes decomposed and sends back the wasting substance into the veins, then an

oversupply of blood of diverse kinds, mingling with air in the veins, having variegated colours and bitter

properties, as well as acid and saline qualities, contains all sorts of bile and serum and phlegm. For all things

go the wrong way, and having become corrupted, first they taint the blood itself, and then ceasing to give

nourishment to the body they are carried along the veins in all directions, no longer preserving the order of

their natural courses, but at war with themselves, because they receive no good from one another, and are

hostile to the abiding constitution of the body, which they corrupt and dissolve. The oldest part of the flesh

which is corrupted, being hard to decompose, from long burning grows black, and from being everywhere

corroded becomes bitter, and is injurious to every part of the body which is still uncorrupted. Sometimes,

when the bitter element is refined away, the black part assumes an acidity which takes the place of the

bitterness; at other times the bitterness being tinged with blood has a redder colour; and this, when mixed

with black, takes the hue of grass; and again, an auburn colour mingles with the bitter matter when new flesh

is decomposed by the fire which surrounds the internal flame;to all which symptoms some physician

perhaps, or rather some philosopher, who had the power of seeing in many dissimilar things one nature

deserving of a name, has assigned the common name of bile. But the other kinds of bile are variously

distinguished by their colours. As for serum, that sort which is the watery part of blood is innocent, but that

which is a secretion of black and acid bile is malignant when mingled by the power of heat with any salt

substance, and is then called acid phlegm. Again, the substance which is formed by the liquefaction of new

and tender flesh when air is present, if inflated and encased in liquid so as to form bubbles, which separately

are invisible owing to their small size, but when collected are of a bulk which is visible, and have a white

colour arising out of the generation of foamall this decomposition of tender flesh when intermingled with

air is termed by us white phlegm. And the whey or sediment of newlyformed phlegm is sweat and tears, and

includes the various daily discharges by which the body is purified. Now all these become causes of disease

when the blood is not replenished in a natural manner by food and drink but gains bulk from opposite sources

in violation of the laws of nature. When the several parts of the flesh are separated by disease, if the

foundation remains, the power of the disorder is only half as great, and there is still a prospect of an easy

recovery; but when that which binds the flesh to the bones is diseased, and no longer being separated from

the muscles and sinews, ceases to give nourishment to the bone and to unite flesh and bone, and from being

oily and smooth and glutinous becomes rough and salt and dry, owing to bad regimen, then all the substance

thus corrupted crumbles away under the flesh and the sinews, and separates from the bone, and the fleshy

parts fall away from their foundation and leave the sinews bare and full of brine, and the flesh again gets into

the circulation of the blood and makes the previouslymentioned disorders still greater. And if these bodily

affections be severe, still worse are the prior disorders; as when the bone itself, by reason of the density of the

flesh, does not obtain sufficient air, but becomes mouldy and hot and gangrened and receives no nutriment,

and the natural process is inverted, and the bone crumbling passes into the food, and the food into the flesh,

and the flesh again falling into the blood makes all maladies that may occur more virulent than those already

mentioned. But the worst case of all is when the marrow is diseased, either from excess or defect; and this is

the cause of the very greatest and most fatal disorders, in which the whole course of the body is reversed.

There is a third class of diseases which may be conceived of as arising in three ways; for they are produced

sometimes by wind, and sometimes by phlegm, and sometimes by bile. When the lung, which is the dispenser

of the air to the body, is obstructed by rheums and its passages are not free, some of them not acting, while

through others too much air enters, then the parts which are unrefreshed by air corrode, while in other parts

the excess of air forcing its way through the veins distorts them and decomposing the body is enclosed in the

midst of it and occupies the midriff; thus numberless painful diseases are produced, accompanied by copious

sweats. And oftentimes when the flesh is dissolved in the body, wind, generated within and unable to escape,

is the source of quite as much pain as the air coming in from without; but the greatest pain is felt when the

wind gets about the sinews and the veins of the shoulders, and swells them up, and so twists back the great

tendons and the sinews which are connected with them. These disorders are called tetanus and opisthotonus,

by reason of the tension which accompanies them. The cure of them is difficult; relief is in most cases given

by fever supervening. The white phlegm, though dangerous when detained within by reason of the

airbubbles, yet if it can communicate with the outside air, is less severe, and only discolours the body,

generating leprous eruptions and similar diseases. When it is mingled with black bile and dispersed about the

courses of the head, which are the divinest part of us, the attack if coming on in sleep, is not so severe; but

when assailing those who are awake it is hard to be got rid of, and being an affection of a sacred part, is most

justly called sacred. An acid and salt phlegm, again, is the source of all those diseases which take the form of

catarrh, but they have many names because the places into which they flow are manifold.

Inflammations of the body come from burnings and inflamings, and all of them originate in bile. When bile

finds a means of discharge, it boils up and sends forth all sorts of tumours; but when imprisoned within, it

generates many inflammatory diseases, above all when mingled with pure blood; since it then displaces the

fibres which are scattered about in the blood and are designed to maintain the balance of rare and dense, in

order that the blood may not be so liquefied by heat as to exude from the pores of the body, nor again become

too dense and thus find a difficulty in circulating through the veins. The fibres are so constituted as to

maintain this balance; and if any one brings them all together when the blood is dead and in process of

cooling, then the blood which remains becomes fluid, but if they are left alone, they soon congeal by reason

of the surrounding cold. The fibres having this power over the blood, bile, which is only stale blood, and

which from being flesh is dissolved again into blood, at the first influx coming in little by little, hot and

liquid, is congealed by the power of the fibres; and so congealing and made to cool, it produces internal cold

and shuddering. When it enters with more of a flood and overcomes the fibres by its heat, and boiling up

throws them into disorder, if it have power enough to maintain its supremacy, it penetrates the marrow and

burns up what may be termed the cables of the soul, and sets her free; but when there is not so much of it, and

the body though wasted still holds out, the bile is itself mastered, and is either utterly banished, or is thrust

through the veins into the lower or upper belly, and is driven out of the body like an exile from a state in

which there has been civil war; whence arise diarrhoeas and dysenteries, and all such disorders. When the

constitution is disordered by excess of fire, continuous heat and fever are the result; when excess of air is the

cause, then the fever is quotidian; when of water, which is a more sluggish element than either fire or air, then

the fever is a tertian; when of earth, which is the most sluggish of the four, and is only purged away in a

fourfold period, the result is a quartan fever, which can with difficulty be shaken off.

Such is the manner in which diseases of the body arise; the disorders of the soul, which depend upon the

body, originate as follows. We must acknowledge disease of the mind to be a want of intelligence; and of this

there are two kinds; to wit, madness and ignorance. In whatever state a man experiences either of them, that

state may be called disease; and excessive pains and pleasures are justly to be regarded as the greatest

diseases to which the soul is liable. For a man who is in great joy or in great pain, in his unreasonable

eagerness to attain the one and to avoid the other, is not able to see or to hear anything rightly; but he is mad,

and is at the time utterly incapable of any participation in reason. He who has the seed about the spinal

marrow too plentiful and overflowing, like a tree overladen with fruit, has many throes, and also obtains

many pleasures in his desires and their offspring, and is for the most part of his life deranged, because his

pleasures and pains are so very great; his soul is rendered foolish and disordered by his body; yet he is

regarded not as one diseased, but as one who is voluntarily bad, which is a mistake. The truth is that the

intemperance of love is a disease of the soul due chiefly to the moisture and fluidity which is produced in one

of the elements by the loose consistency of the bones. And in general, all that which is termed the

incontinence of pleasure and is deemed a reproach under the idea that the wicked voluntarily do wrong is not

justly a matter for reproach. For no man is voluntarily bad; but the bad become bad by reason of an ill

disposition of the body and bad education, things which are hateful to every man and happen to him against

his will. And in the case of pain too in like manner the soul suffers much evil from the body. For where the

acid and briny phlegm and other bitter and bilious humours wander about in the body, and find no exit or

escape, but are pent up within and mingle their own vapours with the motions of the soul, and are blended

with them, they produce all sorts of diseases, more or fewer, and in every degree of intensity; and being

carried to the three places of the soul, whichever they may severally assail, they create infinite varieties of

illtemper and melancholy, of rashness and cowardice, and also of forgetfulness and stupidity. Further, when

to this evil constitution of body evil forms of government are added and evil discourses are uttered in private

as well as in public, and no sort of instruction is given in youth to cure these evils, then all of us who are bad

become bad from two causes which are entirely beyond our control. In such cases the planters are to blame

rather than the plants, the educators rather than the educated. But however that may be, we should endeavour

as far as we can by education, and studies, and learning, to avoid vice and attain virtue; this, however, is part

There is a corresponding enquiry concerning the mode of treatment by which the mind and the body are to be

preserved, about which it is meet and right that I should say a word in turn; for it is more our duty to speak of

the good than of the evil. Everything that is good is fair, and the fair is not without proportion, and the animal

which is to be fair must have due proportion. Now we perceive lesser symmetries or proportions and reason

about them, but of the highest and greatest we take no heed; for there is no proportion or disproportion more

productive of health and disease, and virtue and vice, than that between soul and body. This however we do

not perceive, nor do we reflect that when a weak or small frame is the vehicle of a great and mighty soul, or

conversely, when a little soul is encased in a large body, then the whole animal is not fair, for it lacks the

most important of all symmetries; but the due proportion of mind and body is the fairest and loveliest of all

sights to him who has the seeing eye. Just as a body which has a leg too long, or which is unsymmetrical in

some other respect, is an unpleasant sight, and also, when doing its share of work, is much distressed and

makes convulsive efforts, and often stumbles through awkwardness, and is the cause of infinite evil to its own

selfin like manner we should conceive of the double nature which we call the living being; and when in

this compound there is an impassioned soul more powerful than the body, that soul, I say, convulses and fills

with disorders the whole inner nature of man; and when eager in the pursuit of some sort of learning or study,

causes wasting; or again, when teaching or disputing in private or in public, and strifes and controversies

arise, inflames and dissolves the composite frame of man and introduces rheums; and the nature of this

phenomenon is not understood by most professors of medicine, who ascribe it to the opposite of the real

cause. And once more, when a body large and too strong for the soul is united to a small and weak

intelligence, then inasmuch as there are two desires natural to man,one of food for the sake of the body,

and one of wisdom for the sake of the diviner part of usthen, I say, the motions of the stronger, getting the

better and increasing their own power, but making the soul dull, and stupid, and forgetful, engender

ignorance, which is the greatest of diseases. There is one protection against both kinds of disproportion:

that we should not move the body without the soul or the soul without the body, and thus they will be on their

guard against each other, and be healthy and well balanced. And therefore the mathematician or any one else

whose thoughts are much absorbed in some intellectual pursuit, must allow his body also to have due

exercise, and practise gymnastic; and he who is careful to fashion the body, should in turn impart to the soul

its proper motions, and should cultivate music and all philosophy, if he would deserve to be called truly fair

and truly good. And the separate parts should be treated in the same manner, in imitation of the pattern of the

universe; for as the body is heated and also cooled within by the elements which enter into it, and is again

dried up and moistened by external things, and experiences these and the like affections from both kinds of

motions, the result is that the body if given up to motion when in a state of quiescence is overmastered and

perishes; but if any one, in imitation of that which we call the fostermother and nurse of the universe, will

not allow the body ever to be inactive, but is always producing motions and agitations through its whole

extent, which form the natural defence against other motions both internal and external, and by moderate

exercise reduces to order according to their affinities the particles and affections which are wandering about

the body, as we have already said when speaking of the universe, he will not allow enemy placed by the side

of enemy to stir up wars and disorders in the body, but he will place friend by the side of friend, so as to

create health. Now of all motions that is the best which is produced in a thing by itself, for it is most akin to

the motion of thought and of the universe; but that motion which is caused by others is not so good, and worst

of all is that which moves the body, when at rest, in parts only and by some external agency. Wherefore of all

modes of purifying and re uniting the body the best is gymnastic; the next best is a surging motion, as in

sailing or any other mode of conveyance which is not fatiguing; the third sort of motion may be of use in a

case of extreme necessity, but in any other will be adopted by no man of sense: I mean the purgative

treatment of physicians; for diseases unless they are very dangerous should not be irritated by medicines,

since every form of disease is in a manner akin to the living being, whose complex frame has an appointed

term of life. For not the whole race only, but each individualbarring inevitable accidentscomes into the

world having a fixed span, and the triangles in us are originally framed with power to last for a certain time,

beyond which no man can prolong his life. And this holds also of the constitution of diseases; if any one

regardless of the appointed time tries to subdue them by medicine, he only aggravates and multiplies them.

Wherefore we ought always to manage them by regimen, as far as a man can spare the time, and not provoke

Enough of the composite animal, and of the body which is a part of him, and of the manner in which a man

may train and be trained by himself so as to live most according to reason: and we must above and before all

provide that the element which is to train him shall be the fairest and best adapted to that purpose. A minute

discussion of this subject would be a serious task; but if, as before, I am to give only an outline, the subject

I have often remarked that there are three kinds of soul located within us, having each of them motions, and I

must now repeat in the fewest words possible, that one part, if remaining inactive and ceasing from its natural

motion, must necessarily become very weak, but that which is trained and exercised, very strong. Wherefore

we should take care that the movements of the different parts of the soul should be in due proportion.

And we should consider that God gave the sovereign part of the human soul to be the divinity of each one,

being that part which, as we say, dwells at the top of the body, and inasmuch as we are a plant not of an

earthly but of a heavenly growth, raises us from earth to our kindred who are in heaven. And in this we say

truly; for the divine power suspended the head and root of us from that place where the generation of the soul

first began, and thus made the whole body upright. When a man is always occupied with the cravings of

desire and ambition, and is eagerly striving to satisfy them, all his thoughts must be mortal, and, as far as it is

possible altogether to become such, he must be mortal every whit, because he has cherished his mortal part.

But he who has been earnest in the love of knowledge and of true wisdom, and has exercised his intellect

more than any other part of him, must have thoughts immortal and divine, if he attain truth, and in so far as

human nature is capable of sharing in immortality, he must altogether be immortal; and since he is ever

cherishing the divine power, and has the divinity within him in perfect order, he will be perfectly happy. Now

there is only one way of taking care of things, and this is to give to each the food and motion which are

natural to it. And the motions which are naturally akin to the divine principle within us are the thoughts and

revolutions of the universe. These each man should follow, and correct the courses of the head which were

corrupted at our birth, and by learning the harmonies and revolutions of the universe, should assimilate the

thinking being to the thought, renewing his original nature, and having assimilated them should attain to that

perfect life which the gods have set before mankind, both for the present and the future.

Thus our original design of discoursing about the universe down to the creation of man is nearly completed.

A brief mention may be made of the generation of other animals, so far as the subject admits of brevity; in

this manner our argument will best attain a due proportion. On the subject of animals, then, the following

remarks may be offered. Of the men who came into the world, those who were cowards or led unrighteous

lives may with reason be supposed to have changed into the nature of women in the second generation. And

this was the reason why at that time the gods created in us the desire of sexual intercourse, contriving in man

one animated substance, and in woman another, which they formed respectively in the following manner. The

outlet for drink by which liquids pass through the lung under the kidneys and into the bladder, which receives

and then by the pressure of the air emits them, was so fashioned by them as to penetrate also into the body of

the marrow, which passes from the head along the neck and through the back, and which in the preceding

discourse we have named the seed. And the seed having life, and becoming endowed with respiration,

produces in that part in which it respires a lively desire of emission, and thus creates in us the love of

procreation. Wherefore also in men the organ of generation becoming rebellious and masterful, like an animal

disobedient to reason, and maddened with the sting of lust, seeks to gain absolute sway; and the same is the

case with the socalled womb or matrix of women; the animal within them is desirous of procreating

children, and when remaining unfruitful long beyond its proper time, gets discontented and angry, and

wandering in every direction through the body, closes up the passages of the breath, and, by obstructing

respiration, drives them to extremity, causing all varieties of disease, until at length the desire and love of the

man and the woman, bringing them together and as it were plucking the fruit from the tree, sow in the womb,

as in a field, animals unseen by reason of their smallness and without form; these again are separated and

matured within; they are then finally brought out into the light, and thus the generation of animals is

Thus were created women and the female sex in general. But the race of birds was created out of innocent

lightminded men, who, although their minds were directed toward heaven, imagined, in their simplicity, that

the clearest demonstration of the things above was to be obtained by sight; these were remodelled and

transformed into birds, and they grew feathers instead of hair. The race of wild pedestrian animals, again,

came from those who had no philosophy in any of their thoughts, and never considered at all about the nature

of the heavens, because they had ceased to use the courses of the head, but followed the guidance of those

parts of the soul which are in the breast. In consequence of these habits of theirs they had their frontlegs and

their heads resting upon the earth to which they were drawn by natural affinity; and the crowns of their heads

were elongated and of all sorts of shapes, into which the courses of the soul were crushed by reason of disuse.

And this was the reason why they were created quadrupeds and polypods: God gave the more senseless of

them the more support that they might be more attracted to the earth. And the most foolish of them, who trail

their bodies entirely upon the ground and have no longer any need of feet, he made without feet to crawl upon

the earth. The fourth class were the inhabitants of the water: these were made out of the most entirely

senseless and ignorant of all, whom the transformers did not think any longer worthy of pure respiration,

because they possessed a soul which was made impure by all sorts of transgression; and instead of the subtle

and pure medium of air, they gave them the deep and muddy sea to be their element of respiration; and hence

arose the race of fishes and oysters, and other aquatic animals, which have received the most remote

habitations as a punishment of their outlandish ignorance. These are the laws by which animals pass into one

We may now say that our discourse about the nature of the universe has an end. The world has received

animals, mortal and immortal, and is fulfilled with them, and has become a visible animal containing the

visiblethe sensible God who is the image of the intellectual, the greatest, best, fairest, most perfectthe