τὴν δὲ τῶν ὅρκων καὶ σπονδῶν σύγχυσιν, ἣν ὁ Πάνδαρος συνέχεεν, ἐάν τις φῇ διʼ Ἀθηνᾶς τε καὶ Διὸς γεγονέναι, οὐκ ἐπαινεσόμεθα, οὐδὲ θεῶν ἔριν τε καὶ κρίσιν διὰ Θέμιτός τε καὶ Διός, οὐδʼ αὖ, ὡς Αἰσχύλος λέγει, ἐατέον ἀκούειν τοὺς νέους, ὅτι— θεὸς μὲν αἰτίαν φύει βροτοῖς, / ὅταν κακῶσαι δῶμα παμπήδην θέλῃ. / ἀλλʼ ἐάν τις ποιῇ ἐν οἷς ταῦτα τὰ ἰαμβεῖα ἔνεστιν, τὰ τῆς Νιόβης πάθη, ἢ τὰ Πελοπιδῶν ἢ τὰ Τρωικὰ ἤ τι ἄλλο τῶν τοιούτων, ἢ οὐ θεοῦ ἔργα ἐατέον αὐτὰ λέγειν, ἢ εἰ θεοῦ, ἐξευρετέον αὐτοῖς σχεδὸν ὃν νῦν ἡμεῖς λόγον ζητοῦμεν, καὶ λεκτέον ὡς ὁ μὲν θεὸς δίκαιά τε καὶ ἀγαθὰ ἠργάζετο, οἱ δὲ ὠνίναντο κολαζόμενοι· ὡς δὲ ἄθλιοι μὲν οἱ δίκην διδόντες, ἦν δὲ δὴ ὁ δρῶν ταῦτα θεός, οὐκ ἐατέον λέγειν τὸν ποιητήν. ἀλλʼ εἰ μὲν ὅτι ἐδεήθησαν κολάσεως λέγοιεν ὡς ἄθλιοι οἱ κακοί, διδόντες δὲ δίκην ὠφελοῦντο ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ, ἐατέον· κακῶν δὲ αἴτιον φάναι θεόν τινι γίγνεσθαι ἀγαθὸν ὄντα, διαμαχετέον παντὶ τρόπῳ μήτε τινὰ λέγειν ταῦτα ἐν τῇ αὑτοῦ πόλει, εἰ μέλλει εὐνομήσεσθαι, μήτε τινὰ ἀκούειν, μήτε νεώτερον μήτε πρεσβύτερον, μήτʼ ἐν μέτρῳ μήτε ἄνευ μέτρου μυθολογοῦντα, ὡς οὔτε ὅσια ἂν λεγόμενα εἰ λέγοιτο, οὔτε σύμφορα ἡμῖν οὔτε σύμφωνα αὐτὰ αὑτοῖς. σύμψηφός σοί εἰμι, ἔφη, τούτου τοῦ νόμου, καί μοι ἀρέσκει. οὗτος μὲν τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, εἷς ἂν εἴη τῶν περὶ θεοὺς νόμων τε καὶ τύπων, ἐν ᾧ δεήσει τούς τε λέγοντας λέγειν καὶ τοὺς ποιοῦντας ποιεῖν, μὴ πάντων αἴτιον τὸν θεὸν ἀλλὰ τῶν ἀγαθῶν. καὶ μάλʼ, ἔφη, ἀπόχρη. τί δὲ δὴ ὁ δεύτερος ὅδε; ἆρα γόητα τὸν θεὸν οἴει εἶναι καὶ οἷον ἐξ ἐπιβουλῆς φαντάζεσθαι ἄλλοτε ἐν ἄλλαις ἰδέαις τοτὲ μὲν αὐτὸν γιγνόμενον, [καὶ] ἀλλάττοντα τὸ αὑτοῦ εἶδος εἰς πολλὰς μορφάς, τοτὲ δὲ ἡμᾶς ἀπατῶντα καὶ ποιοῦντα περὶ αὑτοῦ τοιαῦτα δοκεῖν, ἢ ἁπλοῦν τε εἶναι καὶ πάντων ἥκιστα τῆς ἑαυτοῦ ἰδέας ἐκβαίνειν; οὐκ ἔχω, ἔφη, νῦν γε οὕτως εἰπεῖν. τί δὲ τόδε; οὐκ ἀνάγκη, εἴπερ τι ἐξίσταιτο τῆς αὑτοῦ ἰδέας, ἢ αὐτὸ ὑφʼ ἑαυτοῦ μεθίστασθαι ἢ ὑπʼ ἄλλου; ἀνάγκη. οὐκοῦν ὑπὸ μὲν ἄλλου τὰ ἄριστα ἔχοντα ἥκιστα ἀλλοιοῦταί τε καὶ κινεῖται;
“But as to the violation of the oaths and the truce by Pandarus, if anyone affirms it to have been brought about by the action of Athena and Zeus, we will not approve, nor that the strife and contention of the gods was the doing of Themis and Zeus; nor again must we permit our youth to hear what Aeschylus says— A god implants the guilty cause in men / When he would utterly destroy a house, / but if any poets compose a ‘Sorrows of Niobe,’ the poem that contains these iambics, or a tale of the Pelopidae or of Troy, or anything else of the kind, we must either forbid them to say that these woes are the work of God, or they must devise some such interpretation as we now require, and must declare that what God did was righteous and good, and they were benefited by their chastisement. But that they were miserable who paid the penalty, and that the doer of this was God, is a thing that the poet must not be suffered to say; if on the other hand he should say that for needing chastisement the wicked were miserable and that in paying the penalty they were benefited by God, that we must allow. But as to saying that God, who is good, becomes the cause of evil to anyone, we must contend in every way that neither should anyone assert this in his own city if it is to be well governed, nor anyone hear it, neither younger nor older, neither telling a story in meter or without meter; for neither would the saying of such things, if they are said, be holy, nor would they be profitable to us or concordant with themselves.” “I cast my vote with yours for this law,” he said, “and am well pleased with it.” “This, then,” said I, “will be one of the laws and patterns concerning the gods to which speakers and poets will be required to conform, that God is not the cause of all things, but only of the good.” “And an entirely satisfactory one,” he said. “And what of this, the second. Do you think that God is a wizard and capable of manifesting himself by design, now in one aspect, now in another, at one time himself changing and altering his shape in many transformations and at another deceiving us and causing us to believe such things about him; or that he is simple and less likely than anything else to depart from his own form?” “I cannot say offhand,” he replied. “But what of this: If anything went out from its own form, would it not be displaced and changed, either by itself or by something else?” “Necessarily.” “Is it not true that to be altered and moved by something else happens least to things that are in the best condition, ”
οἷον σῶμα ὑπὸ σιτίων τε καὶ ποτῶν καὶ πόνων, καὶ πᾶν φυτὸν ὑπὸ εἱλήσεών τε καὶ ἀνέμων καὶ τῶν τοιούτων παθημάτων, οὐ τὸ ὑγιέστατον καὶ ἰσχυρότατον ἥκιστα ἀλλοιοῦται; πῶς δʼ οὔ; ψυχὴν δὲ οὐ τὴν ἀνδρειοτάτην καὶ φρονιμωτάτην ἥκιστʼ ἄν τι ἔξωθεν πάθος ταράξειέν τε καὶ ἀλλοιώσειεν; ναί. καὶ μήν που καὶ τά γε σύνθετα πάντα σκεύη τε καὶ οἰκοδομήματα καὶ ἀμφιέσματα κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν λόγον τὰ εὖ εἰργασμένα καὶ εὖ ἔχοντα ὑπὸ χρόνου τε καὶ τῶν ἄλλων παθημάτων ἥκιστα ἀλλοιοῦται. ἔστι δὴ ταῦτα. πᾶν δὴ τὸ καλῶς ἔχον ἢ φύσει ἢ τέχνῃ ἢ ἀμφοτέροις ἐλαχίστην μεταβολὴν ὑπʼ ἄλλου ἐνδέχεται. ἔοικεν. ἀλλὰ μὴν ὁ θεός γε καὶ τὰ τοῦ θεοῦ πάντῃ ἄριστα ἔχει. πῶς δʼ οὔ; ταύτῃ μὲν δὴ ἥκιστα ἂν πολλὰς μορφὰς ἴσχοι ὁ θεός. ἥκιστα δῆτα. ἀλλʼ ἆρα αὐτὸς αὑτὸν μεταβάλλοι ἂν καὶ ἀλλοιοῖ; δῆλον, ἔφη, ὅτι, εἴπερ ἀλλοιοῦται. πότερον οὖν ἐπὶ τὸ βέλτιόν τε καὶ κάλλιον μεταβάλλει ἑαυτὸν ἢ ἐπὶ τὸ χεῖρον καὶ τὸ αἴσχιον ἑαυτοῦ; ἀνάγκη, ἔφη, ἐπὶ τὸ χεῖρον, εἴπερ ἀλλοιοῦται· οὐ γάρ που ἐνδεᾶ γε φήσομεν τὸν θεὸν κάλλους ἢ ἀρετῆς εἶναι. ὀρθότατα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, λέγεις. καὶ οὕτως ἔχοντος δοκεῖ ἄν τίς σοι, ὦ Ἀδείμαντε, ἑκὼν αὑτὸν χείρω ποιεῖν ὁπῃοῦν ἢ θεῶν ἢ ἀνθρώπων; ἀδύνατον, ἔφη. ἀδύνατον ἄρα, ἔφην, καὶ θεῷ ἐθέλειν αὑτὸν ἀλλοιοῦν, ἀλλʼ ὡς ἔοικε, κάλλιστος καὶ ἄριστος ὢν εἰς τὸ δυνατὸν ἕκαστος αὐτῶν μένει ἀεὶ ἁπλῶς ἐν τῇ αὑτοῦ μορφῇ. ἅπασα, ἔφη, ἀνάγκη ἔμοιγε δοκεῖ. μηδεὶς ἄρα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὦ ἄριστε, λεγέτω ἡμῖν τῶν ποιητῶν, ὡς— […] θεοὶ ξείνοισιν ἐοικότες ἀλλοδαποῖσι, / παντοῖοι τελέθοντες, ἐπιστρωφῶσι πόληας· / μηδὲ Πρωτέως καὶ Θέτιδος καταψευδέσθω μηδείς, μηδʼ ἐν τραγῳδίαις μηδʼ ἐν τοῖς ἄλλοις ποιήμασιν εἰσαγέτω Ἥραν ἠλλοιωμένην, ὡς ἱέρειαν ἀγείρουσαν— Ἰνάχου Ἀργείου ποταμοῦ παισὶν βιοδώροις· / καὶ ἄλλα τοιαῦτα πολλὰ μὴ ἡμῖν ψευδέσθων. μηδʼ αὖ ὑπὸ τούτων ἀναπειθόμεναι αἱ μητέρες τὰ παιδία ἐκδειματούντων, λέγουσαι τοὺς μύθους κακῶς, ὡς ἄρα θεοί τινες περιέρχονται νύκτωρ πολλοῖς ξένοις καὶ παντοδαποῖς ἰνδαλλόμενοι, ἵνα μὴ ἅμα μὲν εἰς θεοὺς βλασφημῶσιν, ἅμα δὲ τοὺς παῖδας ἀπεργάζωνται δειλοτέρους. μὴ γάρ, ἔφη. ἀλλʼ ἆρα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, αὐτοὶ μὲν οἱ θεοί εἰσιν οἷοι μὴ μεταβάλλειν, ἡμῖν δὲ ποιοῦσιν δοκεῖν σφᾶς παντοδαποὺς φαίνεσθαι, ἐξαπατῶντες καὶ γοητεύοντες; ἴσως, ἔφη.
“as, for example, a body by food and drink and toil, and plants by the heat of the sun and winds and similar influences—is it not true that the healthiest and strongest is least altered?” “Certainly.” “And is it not the soul that is bravest and most intelligent, that would be least disturbed and altered by any external affection?” “Yes.” “And, again, it is surely true of all composite implements, edifices, and habiliments, by parity of reasoning, that those which are well made and in good condition are least liable to be changed by time and other influences.” “That is so.” “It is universally true, then, that that which is in the best state by nature or art or both admits least alteration by something else.” “So it seems.” “But God, surely, and everything that belongs to God is in every way in the best possible state.” “Of course.” “From this point of view, then, it would be least of all likely that there would be many forms in God.” “Least indeed.” “But would he transform and alter himself?” “Obviously,” he said, “if he is altered.” “Then does he change himself for the better and to something fairer, or for the worse and to something uglier than himself?” “It must necessarily,” said he, “be for the worse if he is changed. For we surely will not say that God is deficient in either beauty or excellence.” “Most rightly spoken,” said I. “And if that were his condition, do you think, Adeimantus, that any one god or man would of his own will worsen himself in any way?” “Impossible,” he replied. “It is impossible then,” said I, “even for a god to wish to alter himself, but, as it appears, each of them being the fairest and best possible abides for ever simply in his own form.” “An absolutely necessary conclusion to my thinking.” “No poet then,” I said, “my good friend, must be allowed to tell us that The gods, in the likeness of strangers, / Many disguises assume as they visit the cities of mortals. / Nor must anyone tell falsehoods about Proteus and Thetis, nor in any tragedy or in other poems bring in Hera disguised as a priestess collecting alms for the life-giving sons of Inachus, the Argive stream. / And many similar falsehoods they must not tell. Nor again must mothers under the influence of such poets terrify their children with harmful tales, how that there are certain gods whose apparitions haunt the night in the likeness of many strangers from all manner of lands, lest while they speak evil of the gods they at the same time make cowards of children.” “They must not,” he said. “But,” said I, “may we suppose that while the gods themselves are incapable of change they cause us to fancy that they appear in many shapes deceiving and practising magic upon us?” “Perhaps,” said he.
τί δέ; ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· ψεύδεσθαι θεὸς ἐθέλοι ἂν ἢ λόγῳ ἢ ἔργῳ φάντασμα προτείνων; οὐκ οἶδα, ἦ δʼ ὅς. οὐκ οἶσθα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὅτι τό γε ὡς ἀληθῶς ψεῦδος, εἰ οἷόν τε τοῦτο εἰπεῖν, πάντες θεοί τε καὶ ἄνθρωποι μισοῦσιν; πῶς, ἔφη, λέγεις; οὕτως, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὅτι τῷ κυριωτάτῳ που ἑαυτῶν ψεύδεσθαι καὶ περὶ τὰ κυριώτατα οὐδεὶς ἑκὼν ἐθέλει, ἀλλὰ πάντων μάλιστα φοβεῖται ἐκεῖ αὐτὸ κεκτῆσθαι. οὐδὲ νῦν πω, ἦ δʼ ὅς, μανθάνω. οἴει γάρ τί με, ἔφην, σεμνὸν λέγειν· ἐγὼ δὲ λέγω ὅτι τῇ ψυχῇ περὶ τὰ ὄντα ψεύδεσθαί τε καὶ ἐψεῦσθαι καὶ ἀμαθῆ εἶναι καὶ ἐνταῦθα ἔχειν τε καὶ κεκτῆσθαι τὸ ψεῦδος πάντες ἥκιστα ἂν δέξαιντο, καὶ μισοῦσι μάλιστα αὐτὸ ἐν τῷ τοιούτῳ. πολύ γε, ἔφη. ἀλλὰ μὴν ὀρθότατά γʼ ἄν, ὃ νυνδὴ ἔλεγον, τοῦτο ὡς ἀληθῶς ψεῦδος καλοῖτο, ἡ ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ ἄγνοια ἡ τοῦ ἐψευσμένου· ἐπεὶ τό γε ἐν τοῖς λόγοις μίμημά τι τοῦ ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ ἐστὶν παθήματος καὶ ὕστερον γεγονὸς εἴδωλον, οὐ πάνυ ἄκρατον ψεῦδος. ἢ οὐχ οὕτω; πάνυ μὲν οὖν. τὸ μὲν δὴ τῷ ὄντι ψεῦδος οὐ μόνον ὑπὸ θεῶν ἀλλὰ καὶ ὑπʼ ἀνθρώπων μισεῖται. δοκεῖ μοι. τί δὲ δὴ τὸ ἐν τοῖς λόγοις [ψεῦδος]; πότε καὶ τῷ χρήσιμον, ὥστε μὴ ἄξιον εἶναι μίσους; ἆρʼ οὐ πρός τε τοὺς πολεμίους καὶ τῶν καλουμένων φίλων, ὅταν διὰ μανίαν ἤ τινα ἄνοιαν κακόν τι ἐπιχειρῶσιν πράττειν, τότε ἀποτροπῆς ἕνεκα ὡς φάρμακον χρήσιμον γίγνεται; καὶ ἐν αἷς νυνδὴ ἐλέγομεν ταῖς μυθολογίαις, διὰ τὸ μὴ εἰδέναι ὅπῃ τἀληθὲς ἔχει περὶ τῶν παλαιῶν, ἀφομοιοῦντες τῷ ἀληθεῖ τὸ ψεῦδος ὅτι μάλιστα, οὕτω χρήσιμον ποιοῦμεν; καὶ μάλα, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὕτως ἔχει. κατὰ τί δὴ οὖν τούτων τῷ θεῷ τὸ ψεῦδος χρήσιμον; πότερον διὰ τὸ μὴ εἰδέναι τὰ παλαιὰ ἀφομοιῶν ἂν ψεύδοιτο; γελοῖον μεντἂν εἴη, ἔφη. ποιητὴς μὲν ἄρα ψευδὴς ἐν θεῷ οὐκ ἔνι. οὔ μοι δοκεῖ. ἀλλὰ δεδιὼς τοὺς ἐχθροὺς ψεύδοιτο; πολλοῦ γε δεῖ. ἀλλὰ διʼ οἰκείων ἄνοιαν ἢ μανίαν; ἀλλʼ οὐδείς, ἔφη, τῶν ἀνοήτων καὶ μαινομένων θεοφιλής. οὐκ ἄρα ἔστιν οὗ ἕνεκα ἂν θεὸς ψεύδοιτο. οὐκ ἔστιν. πάντῃ ἄρα ἀψευδὲς τὸ δαιμόνιόν τε καὶ τὸ θεῖον. παντάπασι μὲν οὖν, ἔφη.
“Consider,” said I; “would a god wish to deceive, or lie, by presenting in either word or action what is only appearance?” “I don’t know,” said he. “Don’t you know,” said I, “that the veritable lie, if the expression is permissible, is a thing that all gods and men abhor?” “What do you mean?” he said. “This,” said I, “that falsehood in the most vital part of themselves, and about their most vital concerns, is something that no one willingly accepts, but it is there above all that everyone fears it.” “I don’t understand yet either.” “That is because you suspect me of some grand meaning,” I said; “but what I mean is, that deception in the soul about realities, to have been deceived and to be blindly ignorant and to have and hold the falsehood there, is what all men would least of all accept, and it is in that case that they loathe it most of all.” “Quite so,” he said. “But surely it would be most wholly right, as I was just now saying, to describe this as in very truth falsehood—ignorance namely in the soul of the man deceived. For the falsehood in words is a copy of the affection in the soul, an after-rising image of it and not an altogether unmixed falsehood. Is not that so?” “By all means.” “Essential falsehood, then, is hated not only by gods but by men.” “I agree.” “But what of the falsehood in words, when and for whom is it serviceable so as not to merit abhorrence? Will it not be against enemies? And when any of those whom we call friends owing to madness or folly attempts to do some wrong, does it not then become useful to avert the evil—as a medicine? And also in the fables of which we were just now speaking owing to our ignorance of the truth about antiquity, we liken the false to the true as far as we may and so make it edifying.” “We most certainly do,” he said. “Tell me, then, on which of these grounds falsehood would be serviceable to God. Would he because of his ignorance of antiquity make false likenesses of it?” “An absurd supposition, that,” he said. “Then there is no lying poet in God.” “I think not.” “Well then, would it be through fear of his enemies that he would lie?” “Far from it.” “Would it be because of the folly or madness of his friends?” “Nay, no fool or madman is a friend of God.” “Then there is no motive for God to deceive.” “None.” “From every point of view the divine and the divinity are free from falsehood.” “By all means.”
κομιδῇ ἄρα ὁ θεὸς ἁπλοῦν καὶ ἀληθὲς ἔν τε ἔργῳ καὶ λόγῳ, καὶ οὔτε αὐτὸς μεθίσταται οὔτε ἄλλους ἐξαπατᾷ, οὔτε κατὰ φαντασίας οὔτε κατὰ λόγους οὔτε κατὰ σημείων πομπάς, οὔθʼ ὕπαρ οὐδʼ ὄναρ. οὕτως, ἔφη, ἔμοιγε καὶ αὐτῷ φαίνεται σοῦ λέγοντος. συγχωρεῖς ἄρα, ἔφην, τοῦτον δεύτερον τύπον εἶναι ἐν ᾧ δεῖ περὶ θεῶν καὶ λέγειν καὶ ποιεῖν, ὡς μήτε αὐτοὺς γόητας ὄντας τῷ μεταβάλλειν ἑαυτοὺς μήτε ἡμᾶς ψεύδεσι παράγειν ἐν λόγῳ ἢ ἐν ἔργῳ; συγχωρῶ. πολλὰ ἄρα Ὁμήρου ἐπαινοῦντες, ἀλλὰ τοῦτο οὐκ ἐπαινεσόμεθα, τὴν τοῦ ἐνυπνίου πομπὴν ὑπὸ Διὸς τῷ Ἀγαμέμνονι· οὐδὲ Αἰσχύλου, ὅταν φῇ ἡ Θέτις τὸν Ἀπόλλω ἐν τοῖς αὑτῆς γάμοις ᾄδοντα ἐνδατεῖσθαι τὰς ἑὰς εὐπαιδίας — νόσων τʼ ἀπείρους καὶ μακραίωνας βίους, / ξύμπαντά τʼ εἰπὼν θεοφιλεῖς ἐμὰς τύχας / παιᾶνʼ ἐπηυφήμησεν, εὐθυμῶν ἐμέ. / κἀγὼ τὸ Φοίβου θεῖον ἀψευδὲς στόμα / ἤλπιζον εἶναι, μαντικῇ βρύον τέχνῃ· / ὁ δʼ, αὐτὸς ὑμνῶν, αὐτὸς ἐν θοίνῃ παρών, / αὐτὸς τάδʼ εἰπών, αὐτός ἐστιν ὁ κτανὼν / τὸν παῖδα τὸν ἐμόν— / ὅταν τις τοιαῦτα λέγῃ περὶ θεῶν, χαλεπανοῦμέν τε καὶ χορὸν οὐ δώσομεν, οὐδὲ τοὺς διδασκάλους ἐάσομεν ἐπὶ παιδείᾳ χρῆσθαι τῶν νέων, εἰ μέλλουσιν ἡμῖν οἱ φύλακες θεοσεβεῖς τε καὶ θεῖοι γίγνεσθαι, καθʼ ὅσον ἀνθρώπῳ ἐπὶ πλεῖστον οἷόν τε. παντάπασιν, ἔφη, ἔγωγε τοὺς τύπους τούτους συγχωρῶ, καὶ ὡς νόμοις ἂν χρῴμην.
“Then God is altogether simple and true in deed and word, and neither changes himself nor deceives others by visions or words or the sending of signs in waking or in dreams.” “I myself think so,” he said, “when I hear you say it.” “You concur then,” I said, “this as our second norm or canon for speech and poetry about the gods,—that they are neither wizards in shape-shifting nor do they mislead us by falsehoods in words or deed?” “I concur.” “Then, though there are many other things that we praise in Homer, this we will not applaud, the sending of the dream by Zeus to Agamemnon, nor shall we approve of Aeschylus when his Thetis avers that Apollo singing at her wedding, foretold the happy fortunes of her issue — Their days prolonged, from pain and sickness free, / And rounding out the tale of heaven’s blessings, / Raised the proud paean, making glad my heart. / And I believed that Phoebus’ mouth divine, / Filled with the breath of prophecy, could not lie. / But he himself, the singer, himself who sat / At meat with us, himself who promised all, / Is now himself the slayer of my son. / When anyone says that sort of thing about the gods, we shall be wroth with him, we will refuse him a chorus, neither will we allow teachers to use him for the education of the young if our guardians are to be god-fearing men and god-like in so far as that is possible for humanity.” “By all means,” he said, “I accept these norms and would use them as canons and laws.”