Letters (3.315-3.316)

Plato to Dionysius wishes joy! If I wrote thus, should I be hitting on the best mode of address? Or rather, by writing, according to my custom, Wishes well-doing, this being my usual mode of address, in my letters to my friends? You, indeed,—as was reported by the spectators then present—addressed even the God himself at Delphi in this same flattering phrase, and wrote, as they say, this verse—

I wish you joy! And may you always keep

The tyrant’s life a life of pleasantness.

But as for me, I would not call upon a man, and much less a god, and bid him enjoy himself—a god, because I would be imposing a task contrary to his nature (since the Deity has his abode far beyond pleasure or pain),—nor yet a man, because pleasure and pain generate mischief for the most part, since they breed in the soul mental sloth and forgetfulness and witlessness and insolence. [*] Let such, then, be my declaration regarding the mode of address; and you, when you read it, accept it in what sense you please. It is stated by not a few that you related to some of the ambassadors at your Court, that upon one occasion I heard you speaking of your intention to occupy the Greek cities in Italy and to relieve the Syracusans by changing the government to a monarchy instead of a tyranny, and at that time (as you assert) I stopped you from doing so, although you were most eager to do it, whereas now I am urging Dion to do precisely the same thing; and thus we are robbing you of your empire by means of your own plans. Whether you derive any benefit from this talk you know best yourself, but you certainly wrong me by saying what is contrary to the fact. For of false accusation I have had enough from Philistides [*] and many others who accused me to the mercenaries and to the Syracusan populace because I stayed in the acropolis; and the people outside, whenever a mistake occurred, ascribed it entirely to me, alleging that you obeyed me in all things.

But you yourself know for certain

that I willingly took part in some few of your political acts at the first, when I thought that I was doing some good by it and that I gave a fair amount of attention to the Preludes of the laws, [*] besides other small matters, apart from the additions in writing made by you or anyone else—for I am told that some of you afterwards revised my Preludes; but no doubt the several contributions will be evident to those who are competent to appreciate my style. Well then, as I said just now, what I need is not any further accusation to the Syracusans, or any others there may be who believe your story, but much rather a defence not only against the previous false accusations, but also against the graver and more violent accusation which is now being concocted to follow it. Against the two accusations I must necessarily make a twofold defence—stating, firstly, that I reasonably avoided sharing in your political transactions; and, secondly, that neither the advice was mine, nor yet the hindrance you alleged,—when you said that I had stopped you when you proposed to plant colonists in the Greek cities. So, listen first to the origin of the first of the accusations I have mentioned. It was on your invitation and Dion’s that I came to Syracuse. Dion was a tried comrade of mine and a guest-friend of old standing, and he was a man of staid middle age,—qualities that are specially required by men who possess even a particle of sense when they intend to advise concerning affairs so important as yours then were. You, on the other hand, were extremely young, and in your case I was quite without experience of those points regarding which experience was required, as I was totally unacquainted with you. Thereafter, some man or god or chance, with your assistance, cast out Dion, and you were left alone. Do you suppose, then, that I took any part with you in your political acts, when I had lost my wise partner and saw the unwise one left behind in the company of a crowd of evil men, not ruling himself, but being ruled by men of that sort, while fancying himself the ruler? In these circumstances what ought I to have done? Was I not bound to do as I did,—to bid farewell for the future to politics, shunning the slanders which proceed from envy, and to use every endeavor to make you and Dion as friendly to each other as possible, separated though you were and at variance with each other?