Complete Works (308 page)

[d] C
LINIAS
: You mean the way the public grumbles at old-fashioned ways of doing things?

A
THENIAN
: Exactly.

C
LINIAS
: Well, you won’t find us shutting our ears to that kind of argument—you couldn’t have a more sympathetic audience.

A
THENIAN
: So I should imagine.

C
LINIAS
: Go on then.

A
THENIAN
: Well now, let’s listen to the argument with even greater attention than usual, and expound it to each other with equal care. Change, we shall find, except in something evil, is extremely dangerous. This is true of seasons and winds, the regimen of the body and the character of [e] the soul—in short, of everything without exception (unless, as I said just now, the change affects something evil). Take as an example the way the body gets used to all sorts of food and drink and exercise. At first they upset it, but then in the course of time it’s this very regimen that is responsible for its putting on flesh. Then the regimen and the flesh form
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a kind of partnership, so that the body grows used to this congenial and familiar system, and lives a life of perfect happiness and health. But imagine someone forced to change again to one of the other recommended systems: initially, he’s troubled by illnesses, and only slowly, by getting used to his new way of life, does he get back to normal. Well, we must suppose that precisely the same thing happens to a man’s outlook and personality. [b] When the laws under which people are brought up have by some heaven-sent good fortune remained unchanged over a very long period, so that no one remembers or has heard of things ever being any different, the soul is filled with such respect for tradition that it shrinks from meddling with it in any way. Somehow or other the legislator must find a method of bringing about this situation in the state. Now here’s my own solution of the problem. All legislators suppose that an alteration to children’s [c] games really is just a ‘game’, as I said before, which leads to no serious or genuine damage. Consequently, so far from preventing change, they feebly give it their blessing. They don’t appreciate that if children introduce novelties into their games, they’ll inevitably turn out to be quite different people from the previous generation; being different, they’ll demand a different kind of life, and that will then make them want new institutions and laws. The next stage is what we described just now as the biggest evil that can affect a state—but not a single legislator takes fright at the prospect. Other changes, that affect only deportment, will do less harm, but it is a [d] very serious matter indeed to keep changing the criteria for praising or censuring a man’s moral character, and we must take great care to avoid doing so.

C
LINIAS
: Of course.

A
THENIAN
: Well then, are we still happy about the line we took earlier, when we said that rhythms and music in general were means of representing the characters of good men and bad? Or what? [e]

C
LINIAS
: Yes, our view remains exactly the same.

A
THENIAN
: So our position is this: we must do everything we possibly can to distract the younger generation from wanting to try their hand at presenting new subjects, either in dance or song; and we must also stop pleasure-mongers seducing them into the attempt.

C
LINIAS
: You’re absolutely right.

A
THENIAN
: Now, does any of us know of a better method of achieving
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such an object than that of the Egyptians?

C
LINIAS
: What method is that?

A
THENIAN
: To
sanctify
all our dances and music. The first job will be to settle the festivals by drawing up the year’s program, which should show the dates of the various holidays and the individual gods, children of gods, or spirits in whose honor they should be taken. Second, it has to be decided what hymn should be sung at the various sacrifices to the gods and the type of dancing that should dignify the ritual in question. These decisions [b] should be taken by some authority or other, and then the whole body of the citizens together should ratify them by sacrificing to the Fates and all the other gods, and by pouring a libation to consecrate the various songs to their respective divinities and other powers.

22. If anybody disobeys and introduces any different hymns or dances in honor of any god,
the priests
and priestesses, in association with the Guardians of the Laws, will have the backing of sacred and secular law in expelling him.

23. If he resists expulsion,
he must
be liable to a charge of impiety for the rest of his life at the hands of anyone who wishes to bring it.

C
LINIAS
: And serve him right.

A
THENIAN
: Now seeing that we’ve got on to this topic, we must watch [c] our step and behave ourselves.

C
LINIAS
: How do you mean?

A
THENIAN
: No young man, much less an old one, on seeing or hearing anything paradoxical or unfamiliar, is ever going to brush aside his doubts all in a hurry and reach a snap decision about it. More probably, like a [d] traveler who has come to a crossroads, alone or with others, and is rather uncertain about the right road, he’ll pause, and put the problem to himself or his companions; and he won’t continue his journey until he’s pretty sure of his direction and bearings. That’s precisely what we must do now. Our discussion has led us to a legal paradox, and naturally we must go into it in details and not—at our age—rashly claim to pontificate in such an important field off the cuff.

C
LINIAS
: You’re absolutely right.

[e] A
THENIAN
: So we won’t hurry over the problem, and only when we’ve looked into it properly shall we draw any firm conclusions. Still, there’s no point in being deterred from completing the formal presentation of these ‘laws’ we’re dealing with now, so let’s press on till we get to the end of them. God willing, the completion of the whole exposition may perhaps point to an adequate solution of our present problem.

C
LINIAS
: You’ve put it very well, sir; let’s do as you say.

A
THENIAN
: So let’s assume we’ve agreed on the paradox: our songs have turned into ‘nomes’ (apparently the ancients gave some such name to
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tunes on the lyre—perhaps they had some inkling of what we’re saying, thanks to the intuition of someone who saw a vision either in his sleep or while awake). However that may be, let’s adopt this as our agreed policy: no one shall sing a note, or perform any dance-movement, other than those in the canon of public songs, sacred music, and the general body of chorus performances of the young—any more than he would violate any other ‘nome’ or law. If a man obeys, he shall go unmolested by the law; but if he disobeys, the Guardians of the Laws and the priests and priestesses must punish him, as we said just now. Can we accept this as a statement [b] of policy?

C
LINIAS
: We can.

A
THENIAN
: Then how could one put these rules in proper legal form, without being laughed to scorn? Well now, there’s a new point we ought to notice: in this business, the safest method is to sketch a few model rules. Here’s one for you: imagine a sacrifice has been performed and the offerings [c] burnt as demanded by law and someone standing in a private capacity near the altar and offerings—a son or brother, say—breaks out into the most extreme blasphemy: wouldn’t his words fill his father and his other relations with alarm and despondency and forebodings of despair? Isn’t that what we’d expect?

C
LINIAS
: Of course.

A
THENIAN
: But it is hardly an exaggeration to say that in our corner of the world this is exactly what happens in pretty nearly every state. When an official has performed a public sacrifice, a chorus—or rather a mob of choruses—arrives and takes up position not far from the altar and sometimes [d] right next to it. Then they swamp the holy offerings with a flood of absolute blasphemy. With words and rhythms and music of the most morbid kind they work up the emotions of their audience to a tremendous pitch, and the prize is awarded to the chorus which succeeds best in making the community burst into tears—the very community which has just offered sacrifice. Well, that’s certainly a ‘nome’ on which we must pass an unfavorable verdict, isn’t it? If there is ever any real need for the public to listen to such lugubrious noises, on days that are unclean and [e] unlucky, it will be much better, and entirely appropriate, to hire some foreign choruses to sing such songs (just as one hires mourners to accompany funerals with Carian dirges). In particular, the costume appropriate for such funeral dirges will not be garlands or trappings of gilt, but—to polish off the topic as quickly as possible—quite the opposite kind of thing. I merely repeat the question we’re always asking ourselves: are we happy to adopt this, for a start, as one of our model rules of singing?

C
LINIAS
: What?

A
THENIAN
: The rule of auspicious language. This is the characteristic
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that is absolutely vital for our kind of song. Or shall I simply lay down the rule without repeating the question?

C
LINIAS
: Lay it down by all means: your law’s been approved without a single vote against it.

A
THENIAN
: After auspicious language, then, what will be the second law of music? Surely this: that the gods to whom we sacrifice should always be offered our prayers.

C
LINIAS
: Of course.

A
THENIAN
: And the third law, I suppose, will be this: poets should appreciate that prayers are requests for something from the gods, so they must take great care that they never inadvertently request an evil under [b] the impression that it is a benefit. What a ludicrous calamity it would be to offer that kind of prayer!

C
LINIAS
: It certainly would.

A
THENIAN
: Now didn’t our remarks a short time ago
¹¹
persuade us that ‘Gold and Silver, the gods of Wealth, ought to have neither temple nor home in our state’?

C
LINIAS
: Absolutely.

A
THENIAN
: So what lesson can we say this doctrine holds for us? Surely this: that authors in general are quite unable to tell good from bad. We [c] conclude that a composer who embodies this error in his words or even in his music, and who produces mistaken prayers, will make our citizens pray improperly when it comes to matters of importance—and, as we were saying, we shan’t find many more glaring mistakes than that. So can we establish this as one of our model laws of music?

C
LINIAS
: What?

[d] A
THENIAN
: That a poet should compose nothing that conflicts with society’s conventional notions of justice, goodness and beauty. No one should be allowed to show his work to any private person without first submitting it to the appointed assessors and to the Guardians of the Laws, and getting their approval. (In effect, we’ve got our assessors already appointed—I mean the legislators we chose to regulate the arts, and the person we elected as Minister of Education.) Well then, here’s the same question yet again: are we satisfied to adopt this as our third principle and our third model law? Or what do you think?

C
LINIAS
: Of course we’ll adopt it.

[e] A
THENIAN
: The next point is that it will be proper to sing hymns and panegyrics, combined with prayers, in honor of the gods. After the gods, we may similarly give the spirits and heroes their meed of praise, and pray to each of them as appropriate.

C
LINIAS
: Certainly.

A
THENIAN
: And the next law, which should be adopted quite ungrudgingly, will run as follows: deceased citizens who by their physical efforts or force of personality have conspicuous and strenuous achievements to their credit, and who have lived a life of obedience to the laws, should be regarded as proper subjects for our panegyrics.

C
LINIAS
: Of course.

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A
THENIAN
: But to honor a man with hymns and panegyrics during his lifetime is to invite trouble: we must wait until he has come to the end of the course after running the race of life successfully. (Men and women who have shown conspicuous merit should qualify for all these honors without distinction of sex.)

The following arrangements should be made with regard to singing and dancing. Among the works we’ve inherited from the past there are a great many grand old pieces of music—dances too, for occasions when we want to exercise our bodies—from which we should not hesitate to choose those [b] suitable and appropriate for the society we are organizing. Censors of at least fifty years of age should be appointed to make the selection, and any ancient composition that seems to come up to standard should be approved; absolutely unsuitable material must be totally rejected, and substandard pieces revised and re-arranged, on the advice of poets and musicians. (Although we shall exploit the creative talents of these people, we [c] shan’t—with rare exceptions—put our trust in their tastes and inclinations. Instead, we shall interpret the wishes of the lawgiver and arrange to
his
liking our dancing and singing and chorus performances in general.) Music composed in an undisciplined style is always infinitely improved by the imposition of form, even if that makes it less immediately attractive. But music doesn’t
have
to be disciplined to be pleasant. Take someone who has right from childhood till the age of maturity and discretion grown familiar with a controlled and restrained style of music. Play him some [d] of the other sort, and how he’ll loathe it! ‘What vulgar stuff!’ he’ll say. Yet, if he’s been brought up to enjoy the strong appeal of popular music, it’s the disciplined kind he’ll call frigid and repellent. So as I said just now, on the score of pleasure or the lack of it, neither type is superior nor inferior to the other. The difference is simply this: the one musical environment is invariably a good influence, the other a bad.