enunciated with greater precision than appears suitable to a first piece, and in which words occur, which suppose the existence of investigations not to be found except in subsequent dialogues? But any one must see at once how little that circumstance will avail against all that we have established; and thus, it may be left for every reader to explain for himself, how these few passages in the Phædrus arose from the dialectic tendency of the dialogue, even when the Platonic philosophy was yet in an entirely undeveloped state, so that there may be no occasion for the subterfuge, that they were first introduced on a subsequent elaboration of the work, although they look sufficiently as if they had been so introduced. Finally, without any reference to the Phædrus, there would be nothing to say in favour of so early a position of the Phædon, except that so elaborate a description of Socrates would have been in its place only a short time after his death, and that the passage in the Theætetus about the flight from this world, is intended to be an elucidation of the wish for death in the Phædon; and the allegation of such arguments is sufficiently tantamount to bringing to light the weakness of the cause.

This analysis, into which all that there was to say by way of preface upon the subject of the dialogue, has at the same time spontaneously worked itself, `will, it is hoped, secure to the Phædon its place between the Symposium and the Philebus. Beyond this, we find no immediate chronological traces, though several indications do indeed point to a somewhat advanced period. We will draw attention to two only. In the first place, the way in which Socrates not only in the myth describes the locality of the Hellenic education as the

worst district upon earth, but also expressly advises his disciples to seek for wisdom even without Hellas, among the races of barbarians, bears throughout the dress of a late period, where from an acquaintance probably with the Pythagoreans in particular, the passion for the wisdom of the East was excited, and has an entirely different bearing from particular commendations elsewhere bestowed upon the Egyptians, or Locrians, or Getæ. And in the next place, an acquaintance with the writings of Philolaus is manifestly here supposed, and the dialogue itself sufficiently teaches that these had not yet at that time become naturalized in Athens itself, because it is only to his Theban friends that a knowledge of the doctrines of the philosopher, who had lived there, is attributed; and a different style is usually observable in enquiries made after writings already known at Athens; so that the legend certainly acquires a degree of probability, that Plato brought these books home with him from his travels. as a present from his friend.

X. PHILEBUS.

FROM the earliest times to the present, the Philebus has been regarded as one of the most important of the works of Plato, and also, as one of the most difficult. Even those who, strangely enough, consider the great majority of his works only as play and pastime, do yet think that he is at last in this dialogue serious for once, and intends to say something that has a meaning. Pity only that this correct sentiment has never

grown into a clearer insight into the work, for those on the one hand, who have in general taken a right view of its most universal bearing, have not been so fortunate in their endeavours to penetrate into the details, and superadd, therefore, to the difficulty of the subject a perplexed style of expression, and confusion of language upon these points; while they who speak easily and intelligibly of the same, display little else than the narrowness of their own capacity to see the meaning of such works, and consequently a very deficient criticism.

Now in this result of the pains we have bestowed upon the dialogue, the place which it occupies, and its connection with the earlier, will contribute much to facilitate the understanding of it, with those who adhere to the indications already given. And, next to these, every reader who pays sufficient regard to the structure of the whole, and the way in which the connection is interrupted and again taken up, may get a clear conception of what is meant beyond what is actually said; following exactly the recommendations we were obliged to give in the case of the Sophist, to which dialogue the present bears an especial resemblance in its principal features. For here also we have a question, and that not an unimportant one, to which of the two, namely, in the life of man, the prize is due, pleasure or knowledge, proposed for decision just at the beginning of the work, and as soon as the question is satisfactorily answered the dialogue concludes, as if in this it had entirely exhausted its subject. But on closer consideration, we see that much that is of weight and importance is intermediately introduced, not essentially connected with the solution of that problem,

or of which, at least, as much as was necessary might have been incidentally brought in, as is here the case with much besides. And this circumstance excites at the same time à suspicion, that the question started just at the commencement is by no means the only one, nay, may not perhaps contain even the main purport of the dialogue. For, after the dialectic foundation, which proves that we are not at the outset to consider pleasure and good as two names of one thing, and consequently as identical, and after the allegation of proof, that neither pleasure nor knowledge are in themselves sufficient, nay more, that accurately speaking, for this is certainly implied in what is said, neither of the two ever appears in reality unmixed with the other, Socrates might have advanced at once to that masterly explanation of pleasure according to its inward essence, and of desire, and of the intermediate state between pleasure and pain, and might have shown how false pleasure, of which several kinds spontaneously present themselves to his notice solely from these explanations, cannot partake of that admixture with knowledge necessary in the life of man. And if he had there further shown in conclusion, how, on the other hand, the latter is harmless in all its degrees even to the lowest, and how every species of it is capable of being combined, and is already naturally combined with pure pleasure, the question started would have been thus satisfactorily answered. Such matter as would have entirely dropped out, supposing this uninterrupted progress to have been adopted, consists chiefly of the second dialectic piece, in which those two pairs of ideas, that of the indefinite, the defining, the compounded and compounding cause, are established. These ideas do indeed

come into application, in so far as it is shown of impure pleasure that it belongs to the indefinite, but no one will be disposed to maintain that they are set up here only for that purpose. Rather should we say, that the passage connects itself with that in the Sophist, which in a similar manner there forms the kernel of the whole. For in the Sophist also, he begins with speculations upon the nature of our notions of things (dóğa), and thus shows the necessary union, in knowledge, of the fluent and constant, and, correspondingly, the necessary union of existence and knowledge in that principle which is supreme and original. And in like manner in this dialogue, starting from the same point, he investigates more closely the mode and manner of created existence, and of the origin of the fluent and constant elements in it. For, if we take away everything connected with form in our notions of things, under which we must reckon all that can in any way be called measure or definite magnitude, there remains nothing to constitute the abstract essence of matter but the indefinite, entirely dependent upon conditions of comparison as apprehended in fallible perception; and which is precisely the same with the absolutely manifold, never self-identical, and consequently, not essentially existent. Now the fact that Plato here avoids this definition of the non-existent, current in the Sophist and elsewhere, and thereby, although certainly unintentionally, increases the difficulty of connecting the two passages, is in part the result of the same subject being in fact here viewed from a different side, and consequently needing different forms of expression; and moreover, Plato wished to avail himself of the language of the Pythagoreans, and that the more, because he is here