Mathematics are to be cultivated, not as in the Republic with a view to the science of the idea of good,—though the higher use of them is not altogether excluded,—but rather with a religious and political aim. They are a sacred study which teaches men how to distribute the portions of a state, and which is to be pursued in order that they may learn not to blaspheme about astronomy. Against three mathematical errors Plato is in profound earnest. First, the error of supposing that the three dimensions of length, breadth, and height, are really commensurable with one another. The difficulty which he feels is analogous to the difficulty which he formerly felt about the connexion of ideas, and is equally characteristic of ancient philosophy: he fixes his mind on the point of difference, and cannot at the same time take in the similarity. Secondly, he is puzzled about the nature of fractions: in the Republic, he is disposed to deny the possibility of their existence. Thirdly, his optimism leads him to insist (unlike the Spanish king who thought that he could have improved on the mechanism of the heavens) on the perfect or circular movement of the heavenly bodies. He appears to mean, that instead of regarding the stars as overtaking or being overtaken by one another, or as planets wandering in many paths, a more comprehensive survey of the heavens would enable us to infer that they all alike moved in a circle around a centre (compare Timaeus; Republic). He probably suspected, though unacquainted with the true cause, that the appearance of the heavens did not agree with the reality: at any rate, his notions of what was right or fitting easily overpowered the results of actual observation. To the early astronomers, who lived at the revival of science, as to Plato, there was nothing absurd in a priori astronomy, and they would probably have made fewer real discoveries of they had followed any other track. (Compare Introduction to the Republic.)
The science of dialectic is nowhere mentioned by name in the Laws, nor is anything said of the education of after-life. The child is to begin to learn at ten years of age: he is to be taught reading and writing for three years, from ten to thirteen, and no longer; and for three years more, from thirteen to sixteen, he is to be instructed in music. The great fault which Plato finds in the contemporary education is the almost total ignorance of arithmetic and astronomy, in which the Greeks would do well to take a lesson from the Egyptians (compare Republic). Dancing and wrestling are to have a military character, and women as well as men are to be taught the use of arms. The military spirit which Plato has vainly endeavoured to expel in the first two books returns again in the seventh and eighth. He has evidently a sympathy with the soldier, as well as with the poet, and he is no mean master of the art, or at least of the theory, of war (compare Laws; Republic), though inclining rather to the Spartan than to the Athenian practice of it (Laws). Of a supreme or master science which was to be the 'coping-stone' of the rest, few traces appear in the Laws. He seems to have lost faith in it, or perhaps to have realized that the time for such a science had not yet come, and that he was unable to fill up the outline which he had sketched. There is no requirement that the guardians of the law shall be philosophers, although they are to know the unity of virtue, and the connexion of the sciences. Nor are we told that the leisure of the citizens, when they are grown up, is to be devoted to any intellectual employment. In this respect we note a falling off from the Republic, but also there is 'the returning to it' of which Aristotle speaks in the Politics. The public and family duties of the citizens are to be their main business, and these would, no doubt, take up a great deal more time than in the modern world we are willing to allow to either of them. Plato no longer entertains the idea of any regular training to be pursued under the superintendence of the state from eighteen to thirty, or from thirty to thirty-five; he has taken the first step downwards on 'Constitution Hill' (Republic). But he maintains as earnestly as ever that 'to men living under this second polity there remains the greatest of all works, the education of the soul,' and that no bye-work should be allowed to interfere with it. Night and day are not long enough for the consummation of it.
Few among us are either able or willing to carry education into later life; five or six years spent at school, three or four at a university, or in the preparation for a profession, an occasional attendance at a lecture to which we are invited by friends when we have an hour to spare from house-keeping or money-making—these comprise, as a matter of fact, the education even of the educated; and then the lamp is extinguished 'more truly than Heracleitus' sun, never to be lighted again' (Republic). The description which Plato gives in the Republic of the state of adult education among his contemporaries may be applied almost word for word to our own age. He does not however acquiesce in this widely-spread want of a higher education; he would rather seek to make every man something of a philosopher before he enters on the duties of active life. But in the Laws he no longer prescribes any regular course of study which is to be pursued in mature years. Nor does he remark that the education of after-life is of another kind, and must consist with the majority of the world rather in the improvement of character than in the acquirement of knowledge. It comes from the study of ourselves and other men: from moderation and experience: from reflection on circumstances: from the pursuit of high aims: from a right use of the opportunities of life. It is the preservation of what we have been, and the addition of something more. The power of abstract study or continuous thought is very rare, but such a training as this can be given by every one to himself.
The singular passage in Book vii., in which Plato describes life as a pastime, like many other passages in the Laws is imperfectly expressed. Two thoughts seem to be struggling in his mind: first, the reflection, to which he returns at the end of the passage, that men are playthings or puppets, and that God only is the serious aim of human endeavours; this suggests to him the afterthought that, although playthings, they are the playthings of the Gods, and that this is the best of them. The cynical, ironical fancy of the moment insensibly passes into a religious sentiment. In another passage he says that life is a game of which God, who is the player, shifts the pieces so as to procure the victory of good on the whole. Or once more: Tragedies are acted on the stage; but the best and noblest of them is the imitation of the noblest life, which we affirm to be the life of our whole state. Again, life is a chorus, as well as a sort of mystery, in which we have the Gods for playmates. Men imagine that war is their serious pursuit, and they make war that they may return to their amusements. But neither wars nor amusements are the true satisfaction of men, which is to be found only in the society of the Gods, in sacrificing to them and propitiating them. Like a Christian ascetic, Plato seems to suppose that life should be passed wholly in the enjoyment of divine things. And after meditating in amazement on the sadness and unreality of the world, he adds, in a sort of parenthesis, 'Be cheerful, Sirs' (Shakespeare, Tempest.)
In one of the noblest passages of Plato, he speaks of the relation of the sexes. Natural relations between members of the same family have been established of old; a 'little word' has put a stop to incestuous connexions. But unnatural unions of another kind continued to prevail at Crete and Lacedaemon, and were even justified by the example of the Gods. They, too, might be banished, if the feeling that they were unholy and abominable could sink into the minds of men. The legislator is to cry aloud, and spare not, 'Let not men fall below the level of the beasts.' Plato does not shrink, like some modern philosophers, from 'carrying on war against the mightiest lusts of mankind;' neither does he expect to extirpate them, but only to confine them to their natural use and purpose, by the enactments of law, and by the influence of public opinion. He will not feed them by an over-luxurious diet, nor allow the healthier instincts of the soul to be corrupted by music and poetry. The prohibition of excessive wealth is, as he says, a very considerable gain in the way of temperance, nor does he allow of those enthusiastic friendships between older and younger persons which in his earlier writings appear to be alluded to with a certain degree of amusement and without reproof (compare Introduction to the Symposium). Sappho and Anacreon are celebrated by him in the Charmides and the Phaedrus; but they would have been expelled from the Magnesian state.
Yet he does not suppose that the rule of absolute purity can be enforced on all mankind. Something must be conceded to the weakness of human nature. He therefore adopts a 'second legal standard of honourable and dishonourable, having a second standard of right.' He would abolish altogether 'the connexion of men with men...As to women, if any man has to do with any but those who come into his house duly married by sacred rites, and he offends publicly in the face of all mankind, we shall be right in enacting that he be deprived of civic honours and privileges.' But feeling also that it is impossible wholly to control the mightiest passions of mankind,' Plato, like other legislators, makes a compromise. The offender must not be found out; decency, if not morality, must be respected. In this he appears to agree with the practice of all civilized ages and countries. Much may be truly said by the moralist on the comparative harm of open and concealed vice. Nor do we deny that some moral evils are better turned out to the light, because, like diseases, when exposed, they are more easily cured. And secrecy introduces mystery which enormously exaggerates their power; a mere animal want is thus elevated into a sentimental ideal. It may very well be that a word spoken in season about things which are commonly concealed may have an excellent effect. But having regard to the education of youth, to the innocence of children, to the sensibilities of women, to the decencies of society, Plato and the world in general are not wrong in insisting that some of the worst vices, if they must exist, should be kept out of sight; this, though only a second-best rule, is a support to the weakness of human nature. There are some things which may be whispered in the closet, but should not be shouted on the housetop. It may be said of this, as of many other things, that it is a great part of education to know to whom they are to be spoken of, and when, and where.
BOOK IX. Punishments of offences and modes of procedure come next in order. We have a sense of disgrace in making regulations for all the details of crime in a virtuous and well-ordered state. But seeing that we are legislating for men and not for Gods, there is no uncharitableness in apprehending that some one of our citizens may have a heart, like the seed which has touched the ox's horn, so hard as to be impenetrable to the law. Let our first enactment be directed against the robbing of temples. No well-educated citizen will be guilty of such a crime, but one of their servants, or some stranger, may, and with a view to him, and at the same time with a remoter eye to the general infirmity of human nature, I will lay down the law, beginning with a prelude. To the intending robber we will say—O sir, the complaint which troubles you is not human; but some curse has fallen upon you, inherited from the crimes of your ancestors, of which you must purge yourself: go and sacrifice to the Gods, associate with the good, avoid the wicked; and if you are cured of the fatal impulse, well; but if not, acknowledge death to be better than life, and depart.
These are the accents, soft and low, in which we address the would-be criminal. And if he will not listen, then cry aloud as with the sound of a trumpet: Whosoever robs a temple, if he be a slave or foreigner shall be branded in the face and hands, and scourged, and cast naked beyond the border. And perhaps this may improve him: for the law aims either at the reformation of the criminal, or the repression of crime. No punishment is designed to inflict useless injury. But if the offender be a citizen, he must be incurable, and for him death is the only fitting penalty. His iniquity, however, shall not be visited on his children, nor shall his property be confiscated.
As to the exaction of penalties, any person who is fined for an offence shall not be liable to pay the fine, unless he have property in excess of his lot. For the lots must never go uncultivated for lack of means; the guardians of the law are to provide against this. If a fine is inflicted upon a man which he cannot pay, and for which his friends are unwilling to give security, he shall be imprisoned and otherwise dishonoured. But no criminal shall go unpunished:—whether death, or imprisonment, or stripes, or fines, or the stocks, or banishment to a remote temple, be the penalty. Capital offences shall come under the cognizance of the guardians of the law, and a college of the best of the last year's magistrates. The order of suits and similar details we shall leave to the lawgivers of the future, and only determine the mode of voting. The judges are to sit in order of seniority, and the proceedings shall begin with the speeches of the plaintiff and the defendant; and then the judges, beginning with the eldest, shall ask questions and collect evidence during three days, which, at the end of each day, shall be deposited in writing under their seals on the altar of Hestia; and when they have evidence enough, after a solemn declaration that they will decide justly, they shall vote and end the case. The votes are to be given openly in the presence of the citizens.
Next to religion, the preservation of the constitution is the first object of the law. The greatest enemy of the state is he who attempts to set up a tyrant, or breeds plots and conspiracies; not far below him in guilt is a magistrate who either knowingly, or in ignorance, fails to bring the offender to justice. Any one who is good for anything will give information against traitors. The mode of proceeding at such trials will be the same as at trials for sacrilege; the penalty, death. But neither in this case nor in any other is the son to bear the iniquity of the father, unless father, grandfather, great-grandfather, have all of them been capitally convicted, and then the family of the criminal are to be sent off to the country of their ancestor, retaining their property, with the exception of the lot and its fixtures. And ten are to be selected from the younger sons of the other citizens—one of whom is to be chosen by the oracle of Delphi to be heir of the lot.