It is not within our purpose to discuss minutely the scientific or

theological theories of Pythagoras. In accordance with the abstruse

speculative character of the Ionic school of science, which inclined

to refer the origin of the universe to some one primordial principle,

he was led by his mathematical predilections to discover the cosmic

element in numbers, or proportion--a theory which savours of John

Dalton’s philosophy, now accepted in chemistry, and a virtual

enunciation of what we now call _quantitative_ science. Pythagoras

taught the Kopernican theory prematurely. He regarded the sun as more

_divine_ than the earth, and therefore set it in the _centre_ of the

earth and planets. The argument was surely a mark of genius, but it

was too transcendental for his contemporaries, even for Plato and

Aristotle. His elder contemporary, the celebrated Thales of Miletus,

with whom in his early youth he may have been acquainted, may claim,

indeed, to be the remote originator of the famous nebular hypothesis

of Laplace and modern astronomy. Another cardinal doctrine of the

Pythagorean school was the musical, from whence the idea, so popular

with the poets, of the “music of the spheres.” To music was attributed

the greatest influence in the control of the passions. In its larger

sense, by the Greeks generally, the term “Music” (_Musice_--pertaining

to the Muses) denoted, it is to be remembered, not alone the “concord

of sweet sounds,” but also an artistic and æsthetic education in

general--all humanising and refining instruction.

The famous doctrine of the Metempsychosis or Transmigration of

Souls also was, doubtless, a prominent feature in the Pythagorean

system; but it is probable that we may presume that by it Pythagoras

intended merely to convey to the “uninstructed,” by parable, the

sublime idea that the soul is gradually purified by a severe course

of discipline until finally it becomes fitted for a fleshless life

of immortality.[10] We are chiefly concerned with his attitude in

regard to flesh eating. There can be no question that abstinence was

a fundamental part of his system, yet certain modern critics--little

in sympathy with so practical a manifestation of the higher life,

or, indeed, with self-denial of any kind--have sometimes affected

either to doubt the fact or to pass it by in contemptuous silence,

thus ignoring what for the after ages stands out as by far the most

important residuum of Pythagoreanism. In support of this scepticism

the fact of the celebrated athlete Milo, whose prodigies of strength

have become proverbial, has been quoted. Yet if these critics had been

at the pains of inquiring somewhat further, they would have learned,

on the contrary, that the non-flesh diet is exactly that which is

most conducive to physical vigour; that in the East there are at this

day non-flesh eaters, who in feats of strength might put even our

strongest men to the blush. The extraordinary powers of the porters

and boatmen of Constantinople have been remarked by many travellers;

and the Chinese coolies and others are almost equally notorious for

their marvellous powers of endurance. Yet their food is not only of

the simplest--rice, dhourra (_i.e._, millet), onions, &c.--but of the

scantiest possible. Moreover, the elder Greek athletes themselves, for

the most part, trained on vegetarian diet. Not to multiply details,

the fact that, upon a moderate calculation, two-thirds at least of the

population of our globe--including the mass of the inhabitants of these

islands--live, _nolentes, volentes_, on a dietary from which flesh is

almost altogether necessarily excluded, is on the face of it sufficient

proof in itself of the non-necessity of the diet of the rich.

While the general consent of antiquity and of later times has received

as undoubted the obligation of strict abstinence on the part of the

immediate followers of Pythagoras, it seems that as regards the

uninitiated, or (to use the ecclesiastical term) _catechumens_, the

obligation was not so strict. Indeed relaxation of the rules of the

higher life was simply a _sine quâ non_ of securing the attention of

the mass of the community at all; and, like one still more eminent than

himself in an after age, he found it a matter of necessity to present

a teaching and a mode of living not too exalted and unattainable by

the grossness and “hardness of heart” of the multitude. Hence, in all

probability, the seeming contradictions in his teaching on this point

found in the narratives of his followers.

If his critics had been more intent on discovering the excellence of

his rules of abstinence than on discussing, with frivolous diligence,

the probable or possible reasons of his alleged prohibition of beans,

it would have redounded more to their credit for wisdom and love of

truth. Assuming the fact of the prohibition, in place of collecting

all the most absurd gossip of antiquity, they might perhaps have found

a more rational and more solid reason in the hypothesis that the bean

being, as used in the ballot, a symbol and outward and visible sign of

political life, was employed by Pythagoras parabolically to dissuade

his followers from participating in the idle strife of party faction,

and to exhort them to concentrate their efforts upon an attempt to

achieve the solid and lasting reformation of mankind.[11] But to be

much concerned in a patient inquiry after truth unhappily has been not

always the characteristic of professional commentators.

Blind hero-worship or idolatry of genius or intellect, even when

directed to high moral aims, is no part of our creed; and it is

sufficient to be assured that he was human, to be free to confess

that the historical founder of _akreophagy_ was not exempt from human

infirmity, and that he could not wholly rise above the wonder-loving

spirit of an uncritical age. Deducting all that has been imputed to

him of the fanciful or fantastic, enough still remains to force us to

recognise in the philosopher-prophet of Samos one of the master-spirits

of the world.[12]

III.

PLATO. 428-347 B.C.

The most renowned of all the prose writers of antiquity may be said to

have been almost the lineal descendant, in philosophy, of the teacher

of Samos. He belonged to the aristocratic families of Athens--“the

eye of Greece”--then and for long afterwards the centre of art and

science. His original name was Aristokles, which he might well have

retained. Like another equally famous leader in literature, François

Marie Arouet, he abandoned his birth-name, and he assumed or acquired

the name by which he is immortalised, to characterise, as it is said,

either the breadth of his brow or the extensiveness of his mental

powers. In very early youth he seems to have displayed his literary

aptitude and tastes in the various kinds of poetry--epic, tragic, and

lyric--as well as to have distinguished himself as an athlete in the

great national contests or “games,” as they were called, the grand

object of ambition of every Greek. He was instructed in the chief

and necessary parts of a liberal Greek education by the most able

professors of the time. He devoted himself with ardour to the pursuit

of knowledge, and sedulously studied the systems of philosophy which

then divided the literary world.

In his twentieth year he attached himself to Sokrates, who was then

at the height of his reputation as a moralist and dialectician. After

the judicial murder of his master, 399, he withdrew from his native

city, which, with a theological intolerance extremely rare in pagan

antiquity, had already been disgraced by the previous persecution of

another eminent teacher--Anaxagoras--the instructor of Euripides and of

Perikles. Plato then resided for some time at Megara, at a very short

distance from Athens, and afterwards set out, according to the custom

of the eager searchers after knowledge of that age, on a course of

travels.

He traversed the countries which had been visited by Pythagoras, but

his alleged visit to the further East is as traditional as that of

his predecessor. The most interesting fact or tradition in his first

travels is his alleged intimacy with the Greek prince of Syracuse,

the elder Dionysius, and his invitation to the western capital of

the Hellenic world. The story that he was given up by his perfidious

host to the Spartan envoy, and by him sold into slavery, though not

disprovable, may be merely an exaggerated account of the ill-treatment

which he actually received.

His grand purpose in going to Italy was, without doubt, the desire to

become personally known to the eminent Pythagoreans whose headquarters

were in the southern part of the Peninsula, and to secure the best

opportunities of making himself thoroughly acquainted with their

philosophic tenets. At that time the most eminent representative of

the school was the celebrated Archytas, one of the most extraordinary

mathematical geniuses and mechanicians of any age. Upon his return to

Athens, at about the age of forty, he established his ever-memorable

school in the suburban groves or “gardens” known as Ἀκαδημία--whence

the well-known _Academy_ by which the Platonic philosophy is

distinguished, and which, in modern days, has been so much vulgarised.

All the most eminent Athenians, present and future, attended his

lectures, and among them was Aristotle, who was destined to rival the

fame of his master. From about 388 to 347, the date of his death, he

continued to lecture in the Academy and to compose his Dialogues.

In the intervals of his literary and didactic labours he twice visited

Sicily; the first time at the invitation of his friend Dion, the

relative and minister of the two Dionysii, the younger of whom had

succeeded to his father’s throne, and whom Dion hoped to win to justice

and moderation by the eloquent wisdom of the Athenian sage. Such hopes

were doomed to bitter disappointment. His second visit to Syracuse

was undertaken at the urgent entreaties of his Pythagorean friends,

of whose tenets and dietetic principles he always remained an ardent

admirer. For whatever reason, it proved unsuccessful. Dion was driven

into exile, and Plato himself escaped only by the interposition of

Archytas. Thus the only chance of attempting the realisation of his

ideal of a communistic commonwealth--if he ever actually entertained

the hope of realising it--was frustrated. Almost the only source of the

biographies of Plato are the _Letters_ ascribed to him, commonly held

to be fictitious, but maintained to be genuine by Grote. The narrative

of the first visit to Sicily is found in the seventh Letter.

We can refer but briefly to the nature of the philosophy and

writings of Plato. In the notice of Pythagoras it has been stated

that Plato valued very highly that teacher’s methods and principles.

Pythagoreanism, in fact, enters very largely into the principal

writings of the great disciple and exponent (and, it may safely

be added, improver) of Sokrates, especially in the _Republic_

and the _Timæus_. The four cardinal virtues inculcated in the

_Republic_--justice or righteousness (Δικαιοσύνη), temperance or

self-control (Εγκρατεία or Σωφροσύνη), prudence or wisdom (Φρονήσις),

fortitude (Ἀνδρεία)--are eminently pythagorean.

The characteristic of the purely speculative portion of Platonism

is the theory of _ideas_ (used by the author in the new sense of

_unities_, the original meaning being _forms_ and _figures_), of which

it may be said that its merit depends upon its poetic fancy rather

than upon its scientific value. Divesting it of the verbiage of the

commentators, who have not succeeded in making it more intelligible,

all that need be said of this abstruse and fantastic notion is, that by

it he intended to convey that all sensible objects which, according to

him, are but the shadows and phantoms of things unseen, are ultimately

referable to certain abstract conceptions or ideas, which he termed

_unities_, that can only be reached by pure thinking. Hence he asserted

that “not being in a condition to grasp the idea of the Good with

full distinctness, we are able to approximate to it only so far as

we elevate the power of thinking to its proper purity.” Whatever may

be thought of the premiss, the truth and utility of the deduction

may be allowed to be as unquestionable as they are unheeded. This

characteristic theory may be traced to the belief of Plato not only

in the immortality, but also in the past eternity of the soul. In the

_Phædrus_, under the form of allegory, he describes the soul in its

former state of existence as traversing the circuit of the universe

where, if reason duly control the appetite, it is initiated, as it

were, into the essences of things which are there disclosed to its

gaze. And it is this ante-natal experience, which supplies the fleshly

mind or soul with its ideas of the beautiful and the true.

The subtlety of the Greek intellect and language was, apparently, an

irresistible temptation to their greatest ornaments to indulge in the

nicest and most mystic speculation, which, to the possessors of less

subtle intellects and of a far less flexible language, seems often

strangely unpractical and hyperbolic. Thus while it is impossible

not to be lost in admiration of the marvellous powers of the Greek

_dialectics_, one cannot but at the same time regret that faculties so

extraordinary should have been expended (we will not say altogether

wasted) in so many instances on unsubstantial phantoms. If, however,

the transcendentalism of the Platonic and other schools of Greek

thought is matter for regret, how must we not deplore the enormous

waste of time and labour apparent in the theological controversies

of the first three or four centuries of Christendom--at least of

Greek Christendom--when the omission or insertion of a single letter

could profoundly agitate the whole ecclesiastical world and originate

volumes upon volumes of refined, indeed, but useless verbiage. Yet

even the ecclesiastical Greek writers of the early centuries may lay

claim to a certain originality and merit of style which cannot be

conceded to the “schoolmen” of the mediæval ages, and of still later

times, whose solemn trifling--under the proud titles of Platonists and

Aristotelians, or Nominalists and Realists, and the numerous other

appellations assumed by them--for centuries was received with patience

and even applause. Nor, unfortunately, is this war of Phantoms by any

means unknown or extinct in our day. It was the lament of Seneca,

often echoed by the most earnest minds, that all, or at least the

greater part of, our learning is expended upon words rather than upon

the acquisition of wisdom.[13]

Plato deserves his high place among the Immortals not so much on

account of any very definite results from his philosophy as on

account of its general _tendency_ to elevate and direct human

thought and aspirations to sublime speculations and aims. Of all his

_Dialogues_, the most valuable and interesting, without doubt, is

the _Republic_--the one of his writings upon which he seems to have

bestowed the most pains, and in which he has recorded the outcome of

his most mature reflections. Next may be ranked the _Phædo_ and the

_Phædrus_--the former, it is well known, being a disquisition on the

immortality of the soul. In spite of certain fantastic conceptions,

it must always retain its interest, as well by reason of its

speculations on a subject which is (or rather which ought to be) the

most interesting that can engage the mind, as because it purports to

be the last discourse of Sokrates, who was expecting in his prison the

approaching sentence of death. The _Phædrus_ derives its unusual merit

from the beauty of the language and style, and from the fact of its

being one of the few writings of antiquity in which the charms of rural

nature are described with enthusiasm.

The _Republic_, with which we are here chiefly concerned, since it

is in that important work that the author reproduces the dietetic

principles of Pythagoras, may have been first published amongst his

earlier writings, about the year 395; but that it was published in a

larger and revised edition at a later period is sufficiently evident.

It consists of ten Books. The question of Dietetics is touched upon

in the second and third, in which Plato takes care to point out the

essential importance to the well-being of his ideal state, that both

the mass of the community and, in a special degree, the _guardians_ or

rulers, should be educated and trained in proper dietetic principles,

which, if not so definitely insisted upon as we could wish them to have

been, sufficiently reveal the bias of his mind towards Vegetarianism.

In the second Book the discussion turns principally upon the nature

of Justice; and there is one passage which, still more significant

for the age in which it was written, is not without instruction

for the present. While Sokrates is discussing the subject with his

interlocutors, one of them is represented as objecting:

“With much respect be it spoken, you who profess to be admirers

of justice, beginning with the heroes of old, have every one

of you, without exception, made the praise of Justice and the

condemnation of Injustice turn solely upon the reputation and

honour and gifts resulting from them. But what each is in itself,

by its own peculiar force as it resides in the soul of its

possessor, unseen either by gods or men, has never, in poetry or

prose, been adequately discussed, so as to show that Injustice is

the greatest bane that a soul can receive into itself, and Justice

the greatest blessing. Had this been the language held by you all

from the first, and had you tried to persuade us of this from our

childhood, we should not be on the watch to check one another in

the commission of injustice, because everyone would be his own

watchman, fearful lest by committing injustice he might attach to

himself the greatest of evils.”

Very useful and necessary for those times, and not wholly inapplicable

to less remote ages, is the incidental remark in the same book, that

“there are quacks and soothsayers who flock to the rich man’s doors,

and try to persuade him that they have a power at command which

they procure from heaven, and which enables them, by sacrifices and

incantations, performed amid feasting and indulgence, to make amends

for any crime committed either by the individual himself or by his

ancestors.... And in support of all these assertions they produce the

evidence of poets--some, to exhibit the facilities of vice, quoting the

words:--

“Whoso wickedness seeks, may even in masses obtain it

Easily. Smooth is the way, and short, for nigh is her dwelling.

Virtue, heaven has ordained, shall be reached by the sweat of

the forehead.”

--_Hesiod_, _Works and Days_, 287.[14]

It is the fifth Book, however, which has always excited the greatest

interest and controversy, for therein he introduces his Communistic

views. Our interest in it is increased by the fact that it is the

original of the ideal Communisms of modern writers--the prototype of

the _Utopia_ of More, of the _New Atlantis_ of Francis Bacon, the

_Oceanica_ of Harrington, and the _Gaudentio_ of Berkeley, &c.

In maintaining the perfect natural equality of women to men,[15] and

insisting upon an identity of education and training, he advances

propositions which perhaps only the more advanced of the assertors

of women’s rights might be prepared to entertain. Whatever may have

been said by the various admirers of Plato, who have been anxious to

present his political or social views in a light which might render

them less in conflict with modern Conservatism, there can be no doubt

for any candid reader of the _Republic_ that the author published to

the world his _bonâ fide_ convictions. One of the _dramatis personæ_

of the dialogue, while expressing his concurrence in the Communistic

legislation of Sokrates, at the same time objects to the difficulty of

realising it in actual life, and desires Sokrates to point out whether,

and how, it could be really practicable. Whereupon Sokrates (who it is

scarcely necessary to remark, is the convenient mouthpiece of Plato)

replies: “Do you think any the worse of an artist who has painted the

_beau idéal_ of human beauty, and has left nothing wanting in the

picture, because he cannot prove that such a one as he has painted

might possibly exist? Were not we, likewise, proposing to construct,

in theory, the pattern of a perfect State? Will our theory suffer at

all in your good opinion if we cannot prove that it is _possible_ for a

city to be organised in the manner proposed?”

As has been well paraphrased by the interpreters to whom we are

indebted for the English version: “The possibilities of realising such

a commonwealth in actual practice is quite a secondary consideration,

which does not in the least affect the soundness of the method or the

truth of the results. All that can fairly be demanded of him is to

show how the imperfect politics at present existing may be brought

most nearly into harmony with the perfect State which has just been

described. To bring about this great result one fundamental change

is necessary, and only one: the highest political power must, by

some means or other, be vested in philosophers.” The next point

to be determined is, What is, or ought to be, implied by the term

_philosopher_, and what are the characteristics of the true philosophic

disposition? “They are--(1) an eager desire for the knowledge of all

real existence; (2) hatred of falsehood, and devoted love of truth; (3)

contempt for the pleasures of the body; (4) indifference to money; (5)

high-mindedness and liberality; (6) justice and gentleness; (7) a quick

apprehension and a good memory; (8) a musical, regular, and harmonious

disposition.” But how is this disposition to be secured? Under the

present condition of things, and the corrupting influences of various

kinds, where temptations abound to compromise truth and substitute

expediency and self-interest, it would seem wellnigh impossible and

Utopian to expect it.

“How is this evil to be remedied? The State itself must regulate the

study of philosophy, and must take care that the students pursue it on

right principles, and at a right age. And now, surely, we may expect

to be believed when we assert that if a State is to prosper it must be

governed by philosophers. If such a contingency should ever take place

(and why should it not?), our ideal State will undoubtedly be realised.

So that, upon the whole, we come to this conclusion: The constitution

just described is the best, if it can be realised; and to realise it is

difficult, but not impossible.” At this moment, when the question of

compulsory education, under the immediate superintendence of the State,

is being fought with so much fierceness--on one side, at least--to

recur to Plato might not be without advantage.

In the most famous dialogue of Plato--the _Republic_, or, as it might

be termed _On Justice_--the principal interlocutors, besides Sokrates,

are Glaukon, Polymachus, and Adeimantus; and the whole piece originates

in the chance question which rose between them, “What is Justice?”

In the second Book, from which the following passage is taken, the

discussion turns upon the origin of society, which gives opportunity

to Sokrates to develop his opinions upon the diet best adapted for the

community--at all events, for the great majority:--

“‘They [the artisans and work-people generally] will live, I

suppose, on barley and wheat, baking cakes of the meal, and

kneading loaves of the flour. And spreading these excellent cakes

and loaves upon mats of straw or on clean leaves, and themselves

reclining on rude beds of yew or myrtle-boughs, they will make

merry, themselves and their children, drinking their wine, weaving

garlands, and singing the praises of the gods, enjoying one

another’s society, and not begetting children beyond their means,

through a prudent fear of poverty or war.’

“Glaukon here interrupted me, remarking, ‘Apparently you describe

your men feasting, without anything to relish their bread.’[16]

“‘True,’ I said, ‘I had forgotten. Of course they will have

something to relish their food. Salt, no doubt, and olives, and

cheese, together with the country fare of boiled onions and

cabbage. We shall also set before them a dessert, I imagine,

of figs, pease, and beans: they may roast myrtle-berries and

beech-nuts at the fire, taking wine with their fruit in moderation.

And thus, passing their days in tranquillity and sound health,

they will, in all probability, live to an advanced age, and dying,

bequeath to their children a life in which their own will be

reproduced.’

“Upon this Glaukon exclaimed, ‘Why, Sokrates, if you were founding

a community of swine, this is just the style in which you would

feed them up!’

“‘How, then,’ said I, ‘would you have them live, Glaukon?’

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