Hence, then, the twofold incorrect opinions upon Plato and his writings which have been given almost from the earliest times. The one, that it is in vain to search in his writings for any thing entire, nay, even for the very first principles of a consistent and pervading philosophical turn of thought or doctrine; on the contrary, that every thing in them vacillates and wavers, and that scarce any thing whatever stands in regular relation to the rest; nay, that frequently one part contradicts another, because he is more of a dialectician than a logical Philosopher, more desirous of contradicting others, than capable of, or caring to produce, a well-founded structure of his own; and that when he has to deal with the plausibility of his own propositions, he first seeks up his elements sometimes from this, sometimes from that, elsewhere perhaps disputed doctrine, according as his object may be on each occasion. Now such an opinion is nothing else but a disguised confession of a total absence of any understanding of the Platonic works, and that especially on account of their form, when it is only the ground of the sentiment that is misapprehended, and instead of being looked for in the judge, it is transferred to the thing judged. But it is not necessary to honour this depreciating view with a lengthened discussion, as it yields in itself a sufficient testimony against itself. For while it adduces accusations about contradiction and want of connexion, it does not, however, prove that it has rightly understood the details; otherwise whence those strange inquiries, in what persons’ mouths Plato has brought forward his own opinion at least upon this or that subject; a question which, as it supposes that his dialogistic form is only a somewhat useless and more confusing than illustrative embellishment of the perfectly common method of expressing thoughts, can only be thrown out by one who does not understand Plato at all. This view, therefore, is founded upon nothing, and explains nothing, but leaves the whole problem as it was before, and may, without going further, be contradicted by fact, if a successful attempt is made to bring our Platonic works into a connexion by means of which every detail with the doctrines therein contained becomes intelligible. And the demand for such an attempt is in this point of view so much the more pressing, as the majority of those who pass so mean an opinion upon the writings of Plato still cannot resist a certain feeling of admiration for the Philosopher. Now as we have no other tangible proof of his greatness and preeminence except these writings, the two will not agree together, that opinion, I mean, and this admiration, and the latter will scarcely have any other object except those beauties of language and composition lavished on matter of no importance, or particular fine passages as they are called, or moral sentiments and principles, all pointing to very subordinate if not very dubious merit, so that if these men would advance uninterruptedly in their admiration, they must themselves wish to find something more in him than they have hitherto found. Hence, therefore, others, with quite as little of a correct insight but with more good will, induced partly by particular expressions of Plato himself, partly also by a far-spread tradition preserved from ancient times, of an esoteric and exoteric in his Philosophy, have adopted the opinion that in the writings of Plato his own peculiar wisdom is either not contained at all, or only in secret allusions, and those very difficult to discover. This notion, in itself utterly vague, has shaped itself into the most multifarious forms, and the writings of Plato have been robbed of sometimes more and sometimes less of their subject-matter, and his genuine wisdom, on the contrary, sought for in secret doctrines which he as good as not at all confided to these writings; nay, extensive investigations have been entered upon in order to determine what writings of Plato were exoteric and what esoteric, and so to discover where most a trace might be sought out of his genuine and secret wisdom. Setting aside therefore the truth contained in this proposition, in so far as what is secret and difficult to find out is so only in a relative point of view, and there may always be something obscure and hard to find for some person or other; the whole is only a tissue of mis-apprehensions and confused conceptions which must first of all be unravelled and exposed.

For these conceptions of an exoteric and esoteric philosophy demand a critical sifting, inasmuch as they appear at different times with quite different meanings. For among the earliest Pythagoreans this distinction referred so immediately to the matter, that subjects were denoted as esoteric concerning which they would not commit themselves without the limits of their most intimate circle of connections; and it is to be supposed that their political system occupied the place of the esoteric far more than their metaphysical speculations, which were as imperfect as unsuspicious. But at that time even Philosophy was bound up with political views, and the schools were connected by a practical fraternization which did not afterwards exist among the Hellenes. In later times, on the contrary, that was chiefly called esoteric which could not be communicated in the popular method of instruction, to which, after the admixture of the Sophists with the Socratic Philosophers, certain teachers condescended, and the distinction therefore referred immediately to the mode of delivery; and only mediately, and on account of the other first, to the subject-matter. Plato now stands in the intermediate period between these two; but in whichever of the two senses it should be attempted to apply these notions to the Platonic writings and Philosophy, in order thereby to divide the two into two parts, hesitation and doubt generally must ensue. For the last signification could hardly be embraced by those, who would make such an application of it, as they start with asserting that the works collectively are hardly intelligible, and consequently must allow that Plato might as easily have committed to them what was most difficult and mysterious in his wisdom, as what was otherwise. And as regards the first signification, of doctrines of his Philosophy, concerning which he purposely delivered himself, without the interior circle of his confidential friends, either not at all, or in mysterious hints, it must be either regularly maintained and demonstrated that such was the case by a connected exposition of such doctrines, and the indications referring to them, however slight, or at least shown in a less degree, by some kind of historical traces. Therefore, of all the advocates of this opinion, the so-called modern Platonists are deserving of most praise, inasmuch as they have actually attempted to accomplish the first. But the other parties would not have anything to show in support of their view of the subject. For apart from theosophistic matter, and unless they would ascribe to Plato some sort of physical sciences which he could not possess, and which his own writings moreover would at once disavow, they would be at a loss to discover anything in the whole region of philosophy upon which some opinion, either directly and distinctly, or at least as far as a notice of the principles goes, is not to be met with in these writings. And those indeed who reduce the distinction of what is esoteric, merely to the war against Polytheism and the vulgar religion, do, in fact, completely cancel the same, and reduce it to a piece of political caution, which would be unsatisfactory in the extreme, as Plato’s principles upon these points may be read distinctly enough in his writings, so that one can scarcely believe that his scholars needed still further instructions about them, from the publication of which he shrank, or to a puerile contrivance which indulged itself in delivering in a loud voice with closed doors, what might indeed have been as well said with open ones in a lower. And quite as little would really genuine historical traces be discoverable, supporting the opinion of a distinction between the esoteric and the exoteric in Plato. For if it refers merely to the subject-matter, and we are to suppose the secret doctrines to have been contained in the esoteric writings in the same manner in which the commoner are in the exoteric; the first and most indispensable point must then be to make it probable, somehow, that those writings were made public in some way different from these, since otherwise the whole endeavour would have been useless; but of doing this no one seems seriously to have thought. And, further, how should it happen that Aristotle, who indisputably was concerned with a true understanding of the true Philosophy of Plato, and from whom, as many years an intimate scholar of that philosopher, nothing could easily remain concealed, does never, notwithstanding, either appeal to other sources, or appear to found his own writings upon a secret understanding of these. On the contrary, he appeals in every instance in the most unconstrained and simple manner to the works open to ourselves, and even when, as is now and then the case, other lost writings or perhaps oral lectures are quoted, these quotations do in no way contain any thing unheard of in the writings we possess, or completely different from them. If therefore these either did not contain at all the true doctrines of Plato, or only conformably to a secret interpretation, how could Aristotle, especially considering the manner in which he attacks his master, have been able to escape the most severe censures from the genuine followers of that Philosopher, if, contrary to his better knowledge, he had then fought only against a shadow?

Now in order to make these misapprehensions and their causes perfectly manifest, and to bring even those who are involved in them to a confession and consciousness of the same, it is certainly a praiseworthy undertaking to work out analytically the philosophical subject-matter from the Platonic works, and thus to expose the Philosopher to view, dissected and in detail, divested of his superfluities and combinations, and with as little as may be of his own peculiar form. For if they could thus survey the pure treasure, and convince themselves on authentic grounds that it is actually taken from those writings, they must be fain to confess that it was the fault of themselves alone not to discern it, and that it is useless to lament over, or to dream of, other lost riches of Platonic wisdom. Thus much therefore may be attained by this method, that the ungrounded suspicion against the works of Plato vanishes, and the fact of his not being understood is brought more to light. And it is even certain that he who is thus to expose this truth thoroughly and completely must have himself understood Plato in the same degree: and quite as certain also is it, that the understanding of Plato as concerns others is neither facilitated nor advanced thereby: but that, on the contrary, whoever should stick exclusively to even the best exposition of this kind might easily attain to an imaginary knowledge only, and on that very account remove himself still further from the true. For though he must be accurately acquainted with the whole nature of a body who is to separate the particular vessels or bones in it for the purpose of comparison with corresponding parts of another similarly dissected, which would be the fullest use to which that philosophical process could be put; still the mere passive spectator of the exhibition and comparison of these parts will not attain, by those means alone, to a knowledge of the proper natures of the whole. So also will those spectators of the analysis fail altogether to attain to a knowledge of the Philosophy of Plato, for in that, if in any thing, form and subject are inseparable, and no proposition is to be rightly understood, except in its own place, and with the combinations and limitations which Plato has assigned to it. And still less will they comprehend the Philosopher himself; and least of all, will his purpose have succeeded in their case, tending as it did not only to exhibit vividly his own thought to others, but by that very means vividly to excite and awaken theirs. Hence, therefore, to that analytical exposition which we have now been in possession of for a short time, in a perfection far exceeding former attempts, it is a necessary supplementary process to restore to their natural connection those limbs, which without dissection, usually appear so very deplorably involved one with another, I mean, not the particular opinions but the particular works—to restore them to the connection in which, as expositions continuously more complete as they advance, they gradually developed the ideas of the writer, so that while every dialogue is taken not only as a whole in itself, but also in its connection with the rest, he may himself be at last understood as a Philosopher and a perfect Artist.

Now whether there is any such connection, and such an undertaking is not, perhaps, unsuitable to the subject and far too great ever to succeed, will best appear from the first conception which Plato himself suggests to us with regard to his writings and their objects, and which we shall shortly hear him propound in the Phædrus. Treating the subject in a somewhat trifling manner, he complains of the uncertainty which always attaches to written communication of thoughts, as to whether the mind also of the reader has spontaneously conformed to such communication, and in reality appropriated it to itself, or whether, with the mere ocular apprehension of the words and letters a vain conceit is excited in the mind that it understands what it does not understand. Hence, that it is folly to build too much upon this, and that true reliance can be placed only upon oral and living instruction. But, he continues to argue, writing must be hazarded at a venture, and more for what it is as regards the writer and those who already share in his knowledge, than for what it can do for those who as yet know nothing. Whoever then will consider what that so exalted preference for oral instruction means and upon what it rests, will find no other ground but this, that in this case the teacher, standing as he does in the presence of the learner, and in living communication with him, can tell every moment what he understands and what not, and thus assist the activity of his understanding when it fails; but the actual attainment of this advantage rests, as any one must see, upon the form of the dialogue, which, accordingly, truly living instruction must necessarily have. To this also is to be referred what Plato says, that a sentence orally delivered may always be supported by its Father and receive his protection, and that not only against the objections of one who thinks otherwise, but also against the intellectual stubbornness of one as yet ignorant, while the written sentence has no answer to make to any further inquiries. Whence it is at once clear, in passing, to what a degree that man has forfeited all right to utter even a single word about Plato who could take up with a notion that that Philosopher, in his esoteric and oral instruction could have availed himself of the Sophistical method of long and continuous discourses, when, even by his own declaration, such a method appears to Plato farthest removed from that preeminence which he gives to its opposite. But in every way, not accidentally only, or from practice and tradition, but necessarily and naturally Plato’s was a Socratic method, and indeed, as regards the uninterrupted and progressive reciprocation, and the deeper impression made upon the mind of the hearer, to be certainly as much preferred to that of his master, as the scholar excelled him as well in constructive Dialectics, as in richness and compass of subjective intuition. As then, notwithstanding this complaint, Plato wrote so much from the period of his early manhood to that of his most advanced age, it is clear that he must have endeavoured to make written instruction as like as possible to that better kind, and he must also have succeeded in that attempt. For even if we look only to the immediate purpose, that writing, as regarded himself and his followers was only to be a remembrance of thoughts already current among them; Plato considers all thought so much as spontaneous activity, that, with him, a remembrance of this kind of what has been already acquired, must necessarily be so of the first and original mode of acquisition. Hence on that account alone the dialogistic form, necessary as an imitation of that original and reciprocal communication, would be as indispensable and natural to his writings as to his oral instruction. Meanwhile this form does by no means exhaust the whole of his method, as it has been often applied both contemporaneously and at a later period to philosophical objects, without a trace of the spirit of Plato, or of his great adroitness in the management of it. But even in his oral instruction, and still more in the written imitation of it, when we consider further, that Plato’s object was to bring the still ignorant reader nearer to a state of knowledge, or that he at least felt the necessity of being cautious with regard to him not to give rise to an empty and conceited notion of his own knowledge in his mind, on both accounts it must have been the Philosopher’s chief object to conduct every investigation in such a manner from the beginning onwards, as that he might reckon upon the reader’s either being driven to an inward and self-originated creation of the thought in view, or submitting to surrender himself most decisively to the feeling of not having discovered or understood anything. To this end, then, it is requisite that the final object of the investigation be not directly enunciated and laid down in words, a process which might very easily serve to entangle many persons who are glad to rest content, provided only they are in possession of the final result, but that the mind be reduced to the necessity of seeking, and put into the way by which it may find it. The first is done by the mind’s being brought to so distinct a consciousness of its own state of ignorance, that it is impossible it should willingly continue therein. The other is effected either by an enigma being woven out of contradictions, to which the only possible solution is to be found in. the thought in view, and often several hints thrown out in a way apparently utterly foreign and accidental which can only be found and understood by one who does really investigate with an activity of his own. Or the real investigation is overdrawn with another, not like a veil, but, as it were, an adhesive skin, which conceals from the inattentive reader, and from him alone, the matter which is to be properly considered or discovered, while it only sharpens and clears the mind of an attentive one to perceive the inward connection. Or when the exposition of a whole is the object in view, this is only sketched by a few unconnected strokes, which, however, he who has the figure already before him in his own mind, can easily fill up and combine. These are something like the arts by which Plato succeeds with almost every one in either attaining to what he wishes, or, at least, avoiding what he fears. And thus this would be the only signification in which one could here speak of an esoteric and exoteric, I mean, as indicating only a state of the reader’s mind, according as he elevates himself or not to the condition of one truly sensible of the inward spirit; or if it is still to be referred to Plato himself, it can only be said that immediate instruction was his only esoteric process, while writing was only his exoteric. For in that certainly, after he was first sufficiently assured that his hearers had followed him as he desired, he could express his thoughts purely and perfectly, and perhaps even regularly work out in common with those hearers, and according to outlines framed in common with them, the particular philosophical sciences, after having first grasped in his mind their higher ground and connection. Meanwhile, since in the writings of Plato the exposition of Philosophy is in the same sense progressive from the very first excitement of the original and leading ideas, up to an all but perfected exposition of particular sciences, it follows, what has been above said being presumed, it follows, I say, that there must be a natural sequence and a necessary relation in these dialogues to one another. For he cannot advance further in another dialogue unless he supposes the effect proposed in an earlier one to have been produced, so that the same subject which is completed in the termination of the one, must be supposed as the beginning and foundation of another. Now if Plato ended with separate expositions of the several philosophical sciences, it might then be supposed that he had also advanced each for itself in gradual progression, and we should be compelled to look for two separate classes of dialogues, an ethical and a physical series. But as he represents them as a connected whole, and it is ever his peculiar theory to conceive of them generally as essentially connected and inseparable, so also are the preparations for them united in like manner, and made by considering their common principles and laws, and there are therefore not several unconnected and collaterally progressing series of Platonic Dialogues, but only one single one, comprehending every thing in it.

The restoration then of this natural order is, as every one sees, an object very far distinct from all attempts hitherto made at an arrangement of the works of Plato, inasmuch as these attempts in part terminate in nothing but vain and extravagant trifling, and in part proceed upon a systematic separation and combination according to the established divisions of Philosophy, in part also, only take particular points into consideration here and there, without having anything like a whole in view. The classification into tetralogies, which Diogenes has preserved for us after Thrasyllus, manifestly rests merely upon the almost dramatic form of these dialogues, which gave occasion to arrange them in the same manner as the works of the Tragic Poets spontaneously arranged themselves according to the regulations of the Athenian festival. And even on this poor chance-work the classification was ill kept and so ignorantly executed, that for the most part, no reason whatever can be discovered why, in particular instances, the results of it are at all as we find them. Not even is the resemblance carried on so far as that, as every dramatic tetralogy ended with a satirical piece, so also in this case the dialogues in which irony and epideictic polemics are most strongly preeminent, were assigned to the concluding portions; on the contrary, they are all heaped together in two tetralogies. Quite as little regard was had to an old tradition, and one, in itself, at first sight extremely probable, that Plato, when actually a pupil of Socrates, made some of his dialogues public; for how otherwise could those which refer to the condemnation and death of Socrates be the first, and the Lysis and Phædrus, which the ancients regard as works of so early a date, be thrown far into the middle of all? The only trace of an intelligent notion might perhaps be found in the fact that the Clitophon is placed before the Republic, as a justifying transition from the so-called investigative dialogues, and in appearance sceptical, to those that are immediately instructive and exponential, and in this case it is almost ridiculous that so suspicious a dialogue can boast of having suggested this solitary idea. The Trilogies of Aristophanes, although they proceed upon the same comparison, are more intelligible, at least in so far as that he is not for subjecting the whole mass of writings to this frolic of fancy, and constructs a trilogy only in cases in which Plato has himself, with sufficient clearness, projected a combination; or when such is implied by some external circumstance, leaving all the rest subordinate to that arrangement. Meanwhile both attempts may only serve to show how soon the true arrangement of the Platonic works was lost, excepting very few traces of it, and how ill suited that kind of criticism which the Alexandrian Philologists knew how to apply, was to discover the principles of a correct arrangement of Philosophical works. Less external, indeed, but otherwise not much better are the well known dialectic divisions of the dialogues which Diogenes likewise has prepared for us without indicating the author of them, and according to which moreover the editions usually mark every dialogue in the title. At first sight, indeed, this attempt does not seem deserving of any notice in this place, as its tendency is more to separate than connect, and it relates to matters which do not profess to indicate the exponent of the natural order. But the great division into the investigative and instructive might certainly, if properly understood, be a guide for marking the progress of the Platonic dialogues, at least in the main, since the former can only be preparatory to the latter as explanatory of positive theories. Provided only that the further subdivision were not made in the most utterly illogical manner, in the one according to the form alone of the investigation, in the other according to the subject, while the latter of the two methods again quite unplatonically arranges the works according to the different Philosophical sciences, so that even what Plato had himself expressly combined is split asunder, as the Sophist and the Politicus, the Timæus and the Critias, not to mention other most strange exhibitions of criticism in the details. The same unplatonic principle is followed also in the Syzygies of Seranus, which are therefore perfectly useless for the arrangement of Plato, and at the most can only serve as a register to any one wishing to inform himself of the opinion of Plato upon particular subjects, where he has to look for the decisive passages, although even this, considering the character of the Platonic writings, is ever very uncertain, and can only be productive of very deficient results. Besides these attempts at arrangement there is scarcely any other to mention, unless it be that of Jacob Geddes the Scotchman, and our own countryman Eberhard, in his treatise upon the Myths of Plato and the object of his Philosophy. The first would not indeed deserve to be mentioned, had not great merit been attributed to him in a variety of places, and even demands made that any future translator should arrange the works of Plato according to his plan. It is however impossible that these should be complied with, supposing even the best disposition to do so. For the man’s whole discovery amounts but to this, that certain dialogues of Plato reciprocally illustrate each other, and upon this principle he takes occasion to write a few at the most very meagre lines about each of them, shewing nothing so clearly as that there is scarce a single instance in which he has traced out Plato’s object with any thing like ordinary understanding. But even supposing all this to be better than it is, and that the greatest proofs of ignorance, as well as misapprehension of particular passages were not to be found, how can an argument be undertaken upon a principle of reciprocal illustration? For which of the dialogues thus reciprocal is to be the first, and according to what law? And as regards Eberhard’s attempt, he sets himself to prove a reference in all Plato’s works to a common object in his Philosophy, which, independent of the Philosophy itself, lies in the formation of the Athenian youths of rank to be virtuous citizens. Now in this, notwithstanding the very clear manner in which the position is enunciated, it is difficult to determine whether this object was to have been at the same time the basis for the discovery of all the higher speculations of Plato, which, I suppose, it would be somewhat overhazardous to maintain, and even disregarding the circle in which it is involved, as Philosophy must certainly determine what is the virtue of a citizen, it is far too subordinate a ground to rest the Philosophy itself upon. But if the opinion is to mean, that Plato invented his Philosophy independent of that particular object, and that this, the Philosophy, must be supposed, while the writings are to tend to that object of education, and were worked out in the manner in which, under the circumstances of that time, such an object might demand, this would be the strongest position ever taken up in favour of their exoteric character. Meanwhile, according to that view, the philosophical writings of Plato could only constitute a pædagogic, or rather a polemic series, in which, from its reference to external circumstances and events, all must be accidental, and thus it would be like enough to a string of pearls, only a capricious concatenation of productions, which, torn out of their organic place, would be, considering further the total failure in the object in view, a useless piece of ornamental finery. Equally worthless is the view maintained by others, that Plato published sometimes one part of his knowledge, sometimes another, either from mere vanity, or in opposition to that of other Philosophers. In all these endeavours, therefore, the restoration of the natural order of these writings, in reference to the progressive developement of the philosophy, is out of the question. Quite different, however, from all that has hitherto been done is the character of the attempt made in Tennemann’s system of the Platonic Philosophy; the first, at all events, with any pretensions to completeness, to discover the chronological order of the Platonic dialogues from various historical traces impressed upon them; for this is certainly critical in its principle, and a work worthy in every way of an historical investigator like the author of that treatise. In this undertaking, indeed, his view is directed less to discover, by the method he adopts, the real and essential relation of the works of Plato to one another, than to discover in general the dates of their composition, in order to avoid confounding early and imperfect attempts with an exposition of the Philosophy of the mature and perfect Plato. And to that undertaking, generally, the present is a necessary counterpart; and thus, on the other hand, that method, resting as it does entirely upon outward signs, provided it could only be universally applied, and definitely assign to any Platonic dialogue its place between any two others, would be the natural test of our own method, which goes entirely upon what is internal. It may not indeed be necessary on that account that the results of the two should perfectly coincide, for the reason that the external production of a work is subjected to other external and accidental conditions than its internal development, which follows only such as are inward and necessary, whence slight variations might easily arise, so that what was internally in existence sooner than something else, does not yet appear externally until a later period. But with due regard to these effects of accident, which would hardly escape an attentive eye, if we had the two series complete, and they could be accurately compared, they could not fail by a pervading coincidence mutually to confirm, in the most decisive manner, their respective correctness. We discover, however, in proceeding upon this method, but few definite points; and for the great majority of the dialogues only somewhat indefinite limits between which they must fall, and often an extreme limit only on one side is given. For in strictness the historical traces should not extend beyond the life of Socrates, within which indeed all the dialogues come, with the exception of the Laws, and the few which Plato makes others narrate, and in which, consequently, he had a later date at command; an advantage, however, which he has not always employed so as to leave a more accurate trace for us. Now the anachronisms which he occasionally allows himself, do indeed excite a hope of some little further historical evidence, so that one might wish that Plato had oftener been guilty of this fault; but even this slight advantage is made very ambiguous by the consideration that many of these facts may have been introduced on a subsequent recasting of the works in which Plato had naturally ceased to transport himself so vividly into the actual time of the dialogue, and might be more easily seduced to transgress its limits, unrestrained by fact. There might, perhaps, be yet another expedient hitherto unused with reference to this method. Thus the predominant rank given to Socrates, which, if the dialogues are placed in a certain order, gradually vanishes, might be regarded as a measure of the distance at any given point from the period of his life; or even the choice of the other personages might be regarded as a sign of the liveliness of the interest which Plato took in Athens and in public life then, which was in like manner blunted and destroyed as time advanced. But all this is subject to so many limitations, that any confident use of it might be more delusive than beneficial, and no inference thence drawn can decide any thing, but only yield a slight increase of probability. So that by this method it might hardly be possible to attain more than what it has been applied to in that work with praiseworthy moderation, though, it may be, not always according to correct hypotheses. At all events, the results arising from the consideration upon internal grounds of the Platonic works, can certainly be neither criticised nor contradicted upon that of those historical notices, as that operation only determines an order of reference, but not one chronological point. It must, however, be as much as possible called in to assist, in order to gain certain points by means of which that order also may be brought into connection with the external circumstances. Now, if the natural order of the Platonic works is to be restored out of the disarrangement in which they at present are, it would seem necessary to determine first what pieces are really Plato’s and what are not. For otherwise how can an attempt be made with any degree of certainty, or rather, in case of anything foreign being mixed up with the works of Plato, how can even what is genuine fail to appear quite in a false light, if violence be used to place what is ungenuine in connection with it? Or is it to be competent to take the problem given itself as a standard, and to declare, slashingly enough, that what will not adapt itself to that connection cannot belong to Plato? Scarcely any one, I suppose, would be found to favour this process, or not to see that this would be an extremely partial decision of a question to be answered upon quite different grounds, and that it is impossible that a notion arising from a consideration of the works assumed as Platonic, should pronounce at the same time upon the correctness of the assumption itself. Or more probably, the majority of readers will not expect to meet with the question about the Platonic writings perfectly entire, but regard it as one long since decided, with the exception of unimportant doubts touching only a few trifles, the adoption or rejection of which may be a matter of great indifference. Such, for instance, will be the opinion of all those who repose upon the long prescribed authority of editions. This authority does indeed coincide accurately enough with the list of Thrasyllus, in Diogenes, only that more modern criticism has withdrawn the Clitopho from our collection; and on the other hand, the explanations of words are wanting in that list; and these, therefore, would be the only dubious matters. Nay, we have still a better evidence in favour of this collection in that of the Grammarian Aristophanes, who has been already named, whose arranging catalogue Diogenes also had before him, and certainly would not have passed the matter over in silence if he had discovered anywhere a variation from it. But how, I would ask, can a searching criticism, even though it would pay no regard to the doubts which one’s own feelings suggest, rest upon those authorities? For not only, with the exception of a few poets, have spurious productions insinuated themselves into all considerable collections of works of particular authors preserved from antiquity, so that it would be matter of wonder if those of Plato were to make an exception, especially as philosophical literature has in a less degree employed the industry of critics; but in Plato’s case, an additional circumstance comes in, the importance of which does not seeem in this respect to have been sufficiently considered, that those critics have already rejected a considerable number of small dialogues out of the collection which they found at hand, as not belonging to Plato. For it is clearly manifest from this fact that at the period when this was done, these dialogues must have already maintained their place among other works of Plato for a considerable time, since otherwise no particular operation of criticism would have been necessary again to deprive them of it. And this usurpation, on the other hand, could not have taken place if there had been evidence of the spuriousness of these dialogues documentarily descended from the time of the genuine academicians; for, generally, as long as men were to be found, who preserved the genuine Platonic tradition with zeal for the cause, it is not conceivable that foreign work should have been commonly foisted upon Plato. Upon what ground, therefore, did these critics found their judgment when they adopted some dialogues and rejected others? If it should be said that they had, with regard to all not rejected, certain and sufficiently old evidence of their recognition by those who lived nearest after the time of their composition, we might rejoin that the silence of contemporaries, who do not take the case of a future confusion into consideration, and require an occasion for every quotation, is neither collectively nor in detail a ground for rejection, and they might, therefore, very easily have judged wrong. In like manner; also, various grounds of suspicion might be raised against the sufficiency of the proofs applied, as several examples both in former and even in modern times have shown at how early a period of antiquity suppositious writings have been adopted even by philologists and learned men into the list of genuine works. Now, if they judged chiefly upon internal grounds, no prescription is valid as regards these at all events; but they must remain fairly subject to renewed trial at every period, however late. Hence then arises, especially as in the mind of every attentive reader many doubts will suggest themselves against much that he meets with, a question whether these men did not in their criticism start from too limited a point of view; or whether they may not have failed to push principles, though correct, to their full extent, and consequently have preserved much that might have been quite as appropriately rejected. There are two circumstances that give particular encouragement to this doubt. First, that the dialogues at that time rejected are not all of them separated by a decisive line from all recognised at the same period, but whether we look to the subject-matter, or to the composition and mode of treatment, some of the first class approximate pretty near to the second. Again, that from the same period at which these authorities were commonly recognised, among the well known suspicious circumstances attaching to the Erastæ and Hipparchus, a stock of doubts has lived, which perhaps only require to be planted in a better critical soil to spread perceptibly to a considerable extent, and strike out in many other places. But if our confidence in the authenticity of the collection is thus shaken, any one endowed with any, however little, talent for such investigations, will be fain to allow that, in strictness, each particular work must itself be its own voucher that it is Platonic. Now this, to continue, can be done in no other way except by coming back to evidences again; and, looking at what has been said above, it might be doubted whether for us, at the present time, there is any other valid evidence but Aristotle. Meanwhile even with him various grounds of suspicion come in, partly on account of the doubtfulness of many pieces which bear his name, as spurious works are mixed up even with this collection, partly by reason of the bad state of the text, which seems to be far more loaded with glosses than has been hitherto remarked; and in part, lastly, from his manner of quoting, as he often mentions the titles only of Platonic dialogues without the composer, or even the name of Socrates when we expect that of Plato. But the philological consciousness which should here confidently decide whether Aristotle had Plato in his mind or not, and whether or no he ascribed to him the dialogues named, must indeed have approved itself in possession of a high degree of practice, not only in general, but especially to avoid arguing in a circle in this case, and founding, it may be, the judgment passed upon the quotations of Aristotle on one previously formed upon the Platonic writings. Hence, any quotation in the works of Aristotle introduced only in a cursory manner, and, as is not seldom the case, almost superfluously and for mere ornament, need not necessarily be a proof of the genuineness of a Platonic dialogue. Now the only thing which rescues us from this state of uncertainty is a system of criticism upon Plato pervading the greatest part of the genuine writings of Aristotle, particular parts of which, any one with a little practice may learn easily to distinguish. When, therefore, we find this employed upon passages out of our Platonic writings, or even only on ideas distinctly contained in them, we may then conclude with certainty that Aristotle had these writings in view as Platonic, even though, as is sometimes the case, he should not give us the name of the dialogue, but only mention it, in general, as one of Plato or of Socrates. To explain this more accurately would carry us far beyond the limits of the present introduction, and is the less necessary as among those who are ignorant of both sets of works the doubts are not sufficiently strong to require such a proceeding, while those who know them will hardly make objections to the result, that by this method we can scarcely fail of sure proofs of the genuineness of the greatest of Plato’s works, and of guides to the meaning of his philosophy in the most important of them. In these, then, lies that critical ground upon which every further investigation must build, and in fact no better is needed. For the Dialogues thus authenticated form a stock from which all the rest seem to be only offsets, so that a connection with them affords the best test whereby to judge of their origin. And for the next task likewise, that of arrangement, it follows from the nature of the case, that when we have that stock we are at once in possession of all the essential grounds of general connection. For it must have been natural for the first reviewer of the Platonic system to have especially taken a survey of all the most important developments of it without any exception, and thus we do actually find these in the instances of the works most accredited by Aristotle. As such, of a character which in both respects, as well as regards their genuineness as their importance, entitles them to constitute the first rank among the Platonic works, we count the Phædrus, the Protagoras, the Parmenides, the Theætetus, the Sophist and Politicus, Phædo, Philebus, and Republic, together with the Timæus and Critias connected with it. In these, therefore, we have a firm footing-point from which to advance further, both in the task of deciding the genuineness of the rest, and investigating the place which belongs to each of them; and the second may be accomplished simultaneously with the first, and without the two by their mutual relation contradicting one another, but either very naturally supporting each other mutually in a variety of ways, as, it is hoped, the following investigation will shew.

Now the first task, that of testing the remaining dialogues in our collection, and thus investigating whether or not they belong to Plato, is not without difficulty, for the reason that the character to be drawn from those that are proved genuine is made up of several traits and distinguishing features, and it seems unfair to expect that all should be united in an equal degree in all productions of Plato, and difficult to decide to which of these distinguishing marks we ought especially to look and what rank to assign to each. Now there are three things which come particularly under consideration: the peculiarity of the language, a certain common range of subject, and the particular form into which Plato usually moulds it. Now as regards the language, the matter in question would be fortunately dealt by, if any proof whatever could be drawn from that, regarding the origin of these pieces. But if we look to the philosophical part of them, there are among the dialogues whose claims to be considered as Plato’s it will nevertheless be necessary to investigate, some which treat in general of no scientific subjects, nor of any in the spirit of speculation; while the rest take their subject-matter so immediately from the range of the undoubtedly genuine dialogues, and are so manifestly inspired by the same mode of thinking, that it is impossible to recognise in them a later or a strange hand, and yet they might, as far as depends upon this point, come only from a scholar or an imitator who faithfully followed the footsteps of his master. But as regards the properly dialogistic part of the dialogues, scarcely any one could presume to select first from the common property of the period that which was the work of the Socratic school in particular, and from this again to distinguish with certainty the peculiarities of Plato. Or, considering the great compass which the language of an author who has wielded the pen so long must acquire, and moreover the great loss of contemporaneous and similar works, and, finally, if the small and already long since rejected dialogues are to be accounted as forming part of the whole to be judged, considering the great difference in value and subject; all these circumstances considered, is there any one now-a-days who would venture to profess himself sufficiently skilled in Greek to pass sentence upon any expression whatever even in these small dialogues, and to decide that it is unplatonic with such certainty that he would undertake for that reason alone to reject the piece? Rather might we say that it is not so much the indication of the presence of what is strange or the absence of what is native, the want of choice and embellishing dialogistic formulæ, that may draw down the sentence of rejection upon those dialogues already accredited as far as the language is concerned. Among those therefore which cannot be accused of that deficiency there is much that need not belong to Plato without its betraying itself in the language, so that this exclusively can scarcely decide anything. For when suspicions arise in our minds which depend more upon a general impression than upon any distinct grounds which we can bring forward in support of it, it may be assumed that these depend more upon the composition in general than upon the language alone. And such again might be the case when we would judge of the genuineness of the remaining works according to the subject-matter of those of the first class. For this might be done in two ways. Either it might be maintained that nothing can be Platonic which stands in contradiction with the subject-matter of these recognised dialogues. But Plato would thus be deprived of a right enjoyed by every one else, that of correcting or changing his opinions even after he has publicly explained them; and it would be at once supposed in his case, wonderful as such a supposition on consideration of our modern philosophy must appear, and so much so that it cannot be believed without the strongest proof, that from the period of his entrance upon his philosophical career, or still earlier, he always thought the same as he did afterwards. Or, if less regard be paid to the accurate coincidence of all the particular thoughts than to the quality and importance of the subject-matter generally, and a rule be laid down that every work of Plato’s must have the same importance and the same relation to the main idea of the philosophy, it would in that case be forgotten that external circumstances frequently occasion the production of heterogeneous works of a somewhat limited size by an author, who without the influence of such circumstances would never have produced them spontaneously. In occasional pieces, properly speaking, like these, it cannot be fairly demanded that those ideas of the author which belong to a higher sphere should develop themselves, and when traces of them are seen, their appearance is accidental and supererogatory, and may not even always be taken as an infallible proof of their origin from him. Equally manifest is it that every great artist of every kind will work up studies out of his own particular line, and though the adept will discover in them more or less of his style and spirit, yet they neither belong to the class of works which peculiarly characterize their author, nor advance his great views of art, or, what is more, he may in them, purposely perhaps, and for sake of some preparatory exercise, remove himself out of his accustomed circle of subjects, and even the method natural to him. There are clearly in our Platonic collection several pieces which can be ascribed to Plato only by regarding them in this point of view, and to endeavour to decide with respect to such from the trifling nature of the subject-matter, or from particular deviations in the treatment of it, might, according to this analogy, be a process very liable to mistake. These difficulties, then, clearly tend to show, that we should judge neither from the subject alone, nor from the language alone, but that we must look to a third and more certain something in which those two unite—the Form and Composition in general. For even in the language, what affords most proof consists not in particulars but in the whole tenor and peculiar colouring of it, which at once stands in the closest relation to the composition. In like manner this will betray itself in its principal features even in those studies in which we miss the important matter of these works of a higher class. Moreover, and it is this which must contribute to give us a correct idea of this genuine Platonic form, we need not first abstract it, like those other two tests, out of the larger works as an analogy, the limits of the applicability of which can still not be drawn with certainty; but it is, in every essential point, a natural consequence of Plato’s notions with regard to philosophical communication, and must therefore be found, generally, to the same extent in which this latter exists. For it is nothing but the immediate putting into practice of those methodical ideas which we developed from Plato’s first principle as to the mode in which writing operates. So that the same idiosyncracy of the philosopher which justifies us in looking for a pervading connection throughout his works, does also reveal to us that which yields the surest canon for judging of their genuineness, and thus the solution of both problems grows from a common root. Now the dialogistic dress has already been represented above as the external condition of this dialogistic form, and its almost indispensable scheme, but only where, vividly conceiving the purpose of imitating oral instruction, which always has to deal with a definite subject, it further adds thereto an especial characteristic, the admixture of which forms the Platonic dialogue. I speak of that mimic and dramatic quality by means of which persons and circumstances become individualized, and which, by general confession, spreads so much beauty and charm over the dialogues of Plato. His great and undisputed works plainly show us that he does not neglect this admixture even when he is most deeply absorbed in the subject, as on the other hand they shew us almost universally that he admits it most copiously when the subject-matter does not lead so far into the dark solemnity of speculation. Whence we may certainly conclude that this peculiar form can never be totally wanting, and that even in the most insignificant trifle which he undertook, whether as a study or an occasional piece, Plato will have applied something of this art. Moreover, the want of this is indisputably the first thing which, to the feeling of every reader, must distinguish as unplatonic the dialogues rejected from antiquity downwards; as it is also the correct basis upon which that old critical judgement rests, that all dialogues without Introductions are to be disavowed, except that this formula expresses the fact but very partially and imperfectly. And to the inward and essential condition of the Platonic form belongs every thing in the composition resulting from the purpose of compelling the mind of the reader to spontaneous production of ideas; that frequent recommencement of the investigation from another point of view, provided nevertheless that all these threads do actually unite in the common center-point; that progression, often in appearance capricious, and only excusable from the loose tenor which a dialogue might have, but which nevertheless is always full of meaning and of art; the concealment, further, of the more important object under one more trifling; the indirect commencement with some individual instance; the dialectic play with ideas, under which, however, the relation to the whole and to the original ideas is continually progressing: these are the conditions some of which must necessarily be found in all really Platonic works that have any philosophical bearing. Meanwhile it must be evident that this character can show itself in its full light only in proportion to the importance of the subject-matter, and we here see first how, when we are employed upon Plato, the task of proving the genuineness of any dialogue, and the investigation of its right place, mutually support and verify each other. For in any dialogue which at once recommends itself by its language, and which manifestly treats of Platonic subjects, the more perfectly this form is stamped upon it, we may not only pronounce it genuine with so much the more certainty, but since all those arts point back to what has gone before and forward to what is to come, it will necessarily be so much the easier to determine to what main dialogue it belongs or between which it lies, and in what region of the development of the Platonic philosophy it can furnish an illuminating point. And in like manner, conversely, the easier it is to assign to any dialogue its place in the list of the others, these relations must become more marked by means of those expedients, and the dialogue appropriates itself, with the greater certainty, to Plato. These dialogues, therefore, in which Platonic matter is united in proper proportion with Platonic form, and both appear sufficiently manifest, constitute a second class of Platonic works, which, even without looking to the pretty valid evidence which likewise appears in support of some of them, sufficiently authenticates itself by its relation to, and connection with, the first. But the more deficient a dialogue is in reference to the form, and when the subject-matter presents itself but slightly enough proportioned to it, the more suspicious, certainly, the genuineness of that dialogue becomes, especially as the other elements of the Platonic character must be less distinctly perceptible. For even the thoughts themselves will then betray less of the spirit of Plato, and the language also will have less opportunity to develope itself in all its power and beauty, as so much of both is connected with those peculiarities in the composition. Thus, as the distinctness of the form diminishes, the conviction of genuineness does so likewise in all respects, until, as more suspicions and doubts come into its place, it gradually becomes less credible that Plato, to whom it was so easy and natural to refer from all particular ideas and separate opinions to his great original principles, should have brought forward in a different manner any subject whatever in the province of philosophy, where every one may be so treated, because he must thus, without attaining any of his well known points and for no purpose, have transposed himself into a forced position. With respect to such dialogues it is therefore imperative to bring especial proof of the possibility of their being Platonic, and a preponderant probability at least must be shown in favour of them to prevent their rejection, and that with the most perfect justice. But even supposing the balance to waver, and that the matter could not be at all decided, even this continuing uncertainty will not throw the arranger of the Platonic works into any embarrassment. For dialogues of this kind do in no way belong to the list which it is his object to make out, for, even supposing their genuineness proved, this would only be the case when a particular object or an especial occasion for the existence of such heterogeneous productions was pointed out, so that in any case they can only be occasional pieces, which from their very nature are indifferent as regards this investigation. It is therefore easier also to decide upon the genuineness of all which can belong to the connected system which the arranger seeks, and all in which the investigation of their genuineness can either be not made out at all, or only upon other grounds, falls at once and of itself into a third, and for him an indifferent class. I speak not only of those pieces that are dubious from a certain misunderstanding of them, but also of those in the Platonic collection which do not fall in any degree within the province of philosophy, and whose genuineness, therefore, cannot be judged of according to the same rules with the others.

Thus, then, the privilege is reserved of investigating quite from the beginning upwards the connection of the Platonic writings, and placing them in such an order as shall possess the probability of deviating as little as may be from that in which Plato wrote them; and this undertaking is not endangered even supposing that a decided judgement upon the genuineness of many dialogues must continue in abeyance for future times, or for a sharper eyed and better furnished criticism. All therefore that now remains, since the marks of genuineness and the thence resulting different circumstances of the Platonic writings have been briefly sketched, is in like manner to lay before the reader the first principles of their connection and the arrangement resting thereupon, in the way of a preliminary survey of the whole in general. For to show in detail how every dialogue strikes into the rest, must remain in reserve for the particular introductions; while here we can only give an account of the principles which are the basis of the general plan.

If then, to continue, we keep to the somewhat contracted selection of the more important Platonic works in which alone the main thread of this connection, as has been already mentioned, is to be fonnd perfect, there are some of them distinguished above all the rest by the fact that they alone contain an objective scientific exposition; the Republic for instance, the Timæus and the Critias. Every thing coincides in assigning to these the last places, tradition, as well as internal character though in different degrees of the most advanced maturity and serious old age; and even the imperfect condition which, viewed in connection they exhibit. But more than all this, the nature of the thing decides the question; inasmuch as these expositions rest upon the investigations previously pursued, with which all the dialogues are more or less engaged; upon the nature of knowledge generally, and of philosophical knowledge in particular; and upon the applicability of the idea of science to the objects treated of in those works, Man himself, and Nature. It may indeed be the case that in point of time a long period intervened between the Republic and the Timæus; but it is not to be supposed that Plato during this interval composed any whatever of the works remaining to us, or even, generally, any that would properly come into connection with them, with the exception of the Laws, if those are to be counted as part of that connected series, for we have express testimony with regard to these that they were written after the books upon the Republic. But these books, together with the Timæus and Critias, form an inseparable whole, and if it should be said that the Republic, as properly representing ethical and political science, though written later than those dialogues in which the nature of virtue, its capability of being taught, and the idea of the good are treated of, might nevertheless have been very easily written earlier than the dialogues immediately preparatory to the Timæus, those namely, which endeavour to solve the problem of the inherence of ideas in things, and of the kind of knowledge we possess of nature; this would be not only as unplatonic, according to what has been said above as any thing could be, and would suppose the grossest ignorance of those preparatory works in which such a separation of subjects is not to be found; but it would thence follow in particular, that the Politicus, which is preparatory to the Republic, in exactly the same relation as the Sophist to the Timæus, was written earlier, and that by a considerable period than the Sophist itself, which does, nevertheless, in conjunction with the Politicus, constitute but one dialogue, and is in fact the first part of it. But the Republic, as being clearly the earliest of the properly expositive works, at once supposes the existence of all dialogues not belonging to this class, and this splendid structure contains, as it were let into its foundation, the key-stones of all these noble arches upon which it rests, and which, previous to entering that edifice whose support they are, if one considers them only in reference to themselves, and surveys them immediately within their own range, one might, not being able to divine their destination, pronounce objectless and imperfect. If, therefore the Republic will not admit of being separated by any means from the subsequently annexed Timæus and Critias, whoever would make any objection against the place they occupy in common, must assume that Plato premised, generally, the perfected exposition, and did not add until afterwards the elementary investigations into the principles. But every thing, as well the manner in which those principles are introduced into the expositive works themselves, and in which they are investigated in the preparatory ones, as also every possible conception of Plato’s spirit and style of thought, is so strongly repugnant to the adoption of such an inverted order, that it is hardly necessary to say anything upon that point; but we need only ask any one what dialogues he would read in this order, and then leave him to his own feelings as to the inverted process and the miserable expedient that the investigations leading back to the principles will now be necessarily instituted with persons knowing nothing of the preceding expositions, so to cut off all natural references to them. Moreover, instead of those references which he will in vain look for, other relations would spontaneously force themselves throughout upon the mind of any one reading in this order, clearly pointing to the opposite arrangement. It is hoped that no one will object that the case would, in the main, be the same with the order here proposed, inasmuch as according to this, a subject is not seldom anticipated mythically which does not appear until later in its scientific form. For the very fact of its being done only mythically does not only accurately agree with that main purpose of Plato to excite his readers to spontaneous origination of ideas, upon the recognition of which our whole arrangement rests, but it is even in itself a clear proof of how firmly convinced Plato was, that in philosophizing, properly so called, it is necessary to begin not with a composite theory but with the simple principles. Nay, whoever penetrates deeper into the study of Plato, will then, and not before, be aware how the gradual development and moulding of the Platonic myths form one fundamental myth, as well as the transition of much that is mythical into a scientific form, affords a new proof in favour of the correctness of the order in which all this may be most clearly perceived. The necessity, therefore, for assigning the last place to the constructive dialogues, is in every point of view so great, that if well-grounded historical traces were to be found of an earlier composition of the Republic prior to any one of those preparatory dialogues, though none such has yet been found, and, what is more, will not be found, we could not avoid falling into the most serious contradiction with our judgement upon Plato, and we should be much embarrassed how to reconcile this instance of unreason with his vast intelligence. As then, these constructive dialogues are indisputably the last, some, on the other hand, of the remaining ones distinguish themselves as clearly as the first; for instance, continuing to adhere only to those of the first rank, the Phædrus, Protagoras, and Parmenides. For these are contrasted with the former, first by a character of youthfulness quite peculiar to them, which may indeed be most easily recognized in the first two, but even in the last will not escape the attentive eye. Moreover by the circumstance, that as by the former all the rest are presupposed, so, conversely, many references are to be found throughout to these latter as previously existing; and even looking only to the particular thoughts, they appear in these dialogues still as it were in the first glitter and awkwardness of early youth. And further, these three dialogues are not indeed like those three last, worked up into one whole with a definite purpose and with much art, but notwithstanding, mutually connected in the closest manner by a similarity in the entire construction scarcely ever to be met with again to the same degree, by many like thoughts, and a number of particular allusions. But the most important thing yet in them is their internal matter, for in them are developed the first breathings of what is the basis of all that follows, of Logic as the instrument of Philosophy, of Ideas as its proper object, consequently of the possibility and the conditions of knowledge. These therefore, in conjunction with some dialogues attaching to them of the lesser kind, form the first, and, as it were, elementary part of the Platonic works. The others occupy the interval between these and the constructive, inasmuch as they treat progressively of the applicability of those principles, of the distinction between philosophical and common knowledge in their united application to two proposed and real sciences, that of Ethics, namely, and of Physics. In this respect also they stand in the middle between the constructive in which the practical and the theoretical are completely united, and the elementary, in which the two are kept separate more than any where else in Plato. These, then, form the second part, which is distinguished by an especial and almost difficult artificiality, as well in the construction of the particular dialogues as in their progressive connection, and which might be named for distinction’s sake, the indirect method, since it commences almost universally with the juxta-position of antitheses. In these three divisions therefore, the works of Plato are here to be given to the reader; so that while each part is arranged according to its obvious characteristics, the dialogues also of the second rank occupy precisely the places which, after due consideration of every point, seems to belong to them. Only it must be allowed that with respect to this more nice arrangement, everything has not equal certainty, inasmuch as there are two things necessary to be attended to in making it, the natural progression of the development of ideas, and a variety of particular allusions and references. With respect to the works of the first rank, the first of these two is generally perfectly decisive, and is never contravened by a characteristic of the second kind. Thus, in the first part, the development of the dialogistic method is the predominant object, and hence, manifestly, the Phædrus is the first and the Parmenides the last, partly as a most perfect exposition of it, partly as a transition to the second part, because it begins to philosophize upon the relation of ideas to actual things. In the second part, the explanation of knowledge and of the process of knowing in operation is the predominant subject, and at the head of that part stands the Theætetus, beyond the possibility of a mistake, taking up as it does this question by its first root, the Sophistes with the annexed Politicus in the middle, while the Phædo and Philebus close it as transitions to the third part; the first, from the anticipatory sketch of Natural Philosophy, the second, because in its discussion of the idea of the Good, it begins to approximate to a totally constructive exposition, and passes into the direct method. The arrangement of the collateral works of the second class, is not always quite so decisive, as several, in the first place, are only enlargements upon and appendages to the same principal work, as is the case in the first part with the Laches and Charmides in reference to the Protagoras, and in these therefore we can only follow certain particular, and not always very definite, indications; and, in the second place, several of them might be transitions between the same larger dialogues, as in the second part the Gorgias with the Menon and Euthydemus collectively are preludes diverging from the Theætetus, to the Politicus: so that we must rest satisfied with an accumulation of probabilities collected as accurately as may be from every source. The third part contains no other subordinate work except the Laws, to which, certainly, not only with reference to that important triple work, but also considered in itself, we must give that name, and say that, although copiously penetrated with philosophical matter, they still form only a collateral piece, although, from their extensive range and genuine Platonic origin, they are perfectly entitled to belong to the works of the first class. Lastly, as regards those dialogues, to which with reference to the point of view taken in the arrangement, we have assigned in common a third place, although they, in point of genuineness, have a very different value, they will be distributed into appendices under all three divisions, according as either historical or internal evidence, in so far as they are Platonic, assign them a probable place, or according as the critical examination of them is facilitated particularly by comparison with this or that dialogue. For they also shall have the privilege which belongs to them, of being provided with all that can be said in a short space towards elucidating them, and bringing their cause more near to a decision.

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