Plato · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
ATHENIAN: After assault, let one general rule about violent acts be stated: no one is to take or carry off anything belonging to another, and no one is to use anything of his neighbor's without the owner's consent. That is the root from which all the evils I've named have sprung, do spring, and will spring. Of the rest, the greatest are the license and outrageous behavior of the young, worst of all when directed at sacred things, and worse still when directed at public and holy things, or things held in common by members of a tribe or some other such group.
ATHENIAN: Offenses against private shrines and tombs come second in rank, offenses against parents third, apart from what I've already mentioned, whenever someone treats them outrageously. A fourth kind of outrage is when a person, disregarding the officials, takes, carries off, or uses something of theirs without their consent. Fifth would be the offense against the political rights of each individual citizen, calling for a lawsuit. Each of these must be given a common rule. Temple-robbery, whether by force or in secret, has already been dealt with, along with what should happen to the offender. But as for whatever a person does in word or deed to insult the gods, whoever lays down the preamble must also state what such a person ought to suffer. Here it is: no one who genuinely believes in the gods as the laws describe them has ever willingly done an impious deed or let loose a lawless word. Anyone who does so is in one of three conditions: either, as I said, he does not believe; or he believes the gods exist but pay no attention to human affairs; or third, he believes they are easily won over by sacrifices and prayers. CLEINIAS: Then what should we do or say to such people? ATHENIAN: My good friend, let's first listen to what I imagine they would say to us in mockery, out of contempt for us. CLEINIAS: What sort of thing? ATHENIAN: They might taunt us like this: 'Strangers of Athens, Sparta, and Knossos, you're right. Some of us don't believe in gods at all, others believe in gods of the sort you describe. We claim the right—just as you yourselves have claimed when it comes to laws—that before you threaten us harshly, you should first try to persuade and teach us that gods exist, offering adequate proof, and that they are too good to be turned aside from justice by bribes. As it stands, this is what we hear, from those said to be the finest poets, orators, prophets, priests, and countless others besides, and it doesn't turn most of us away from wrongdoing—instead, once we've done wrong, we try to make amends. But from lawgivers, who claim to be gentle rather than savage, we expect to be won over by persuasion first—if not with far better arguments about the gods' existence than others give, then at least with truer ones. So go ahead: if what we ask is reasonable, try to give us what we're calling for.'
CLEINIAS: Well, stranger, doesn't it seem easy enough to speak the truth and show that gods exist? ATHENIAN: How so? CLEINIAS: First, there's the earth, the sun, the stars, and everything in the heavens, and the seasons arranged so beautifully, divided into years and months. And besides, all people—Greeks and non-Greeks alike—believe gods exist. ATHENIAN: I'm afraid, my good man, of the wicked—I certainly wouldn't say I'm ashamed of them—that they might look down on us for this. You don't understand the real source of their disagreement; you assume it's simply weakness before pleasures and desires that drives their souls toward an impious life. CLEINIAS: Then what else could be the cause, stranger? ATHENIAN: Something you, living entirely outside of it, could hardly know—it would escape you completely. CLEINIAS: What is it you mean by that? ATHENIAN: A kind of ignorance, very stubborn, that passes itself off as the deepest wisdom. CLEINIAS: What do you mean? ATHENIAN: We have among us, in writing, arguments that don't exist among you—thanks, I gather, to the excellence of your constitution—some in verse, some in prose, speaking about the gods. The oldest of these tell how the first nature of the heavens and everything else came to be; and not far past the beginning, they go on to recount the birth of the gods, and how, once born, they dealt with one another. Whether these tales are good or bad for other purposes is not easy to judge, given their antiquity; but as concerns the honor and care owed to parents, I would never praise them as either beneficial or, in fact, altogether true. Let the tales of the ancients, then, be set aside and dismissed—let them be told however is pleasing to the gods. But the views of our modern so-called wise men must be blamed for the harm they cause. Here is what the arguments of such people accomplish: when you and I offer proof that gods exist by pointing to the sun, moon, stars, and earth as gods and divine beings, people persuaded by these clever men will say that these are just earth and stone, incapable of caring about human affairs at all, and that such claims have merely been dressed up in persuasive-sounding words. CLEINIAS: That's a difficult argument you've brought up, stranger, even if there were only one such thinker; but now that there are a great many, it's harder still.
ATHENIAN: Well then, what do we say? What must we do? Shall we mount a defense, as if someone had brought an accusation against us among impious men, who charge, in speaking against our legislation, that we do a terrible thing in making laws on the assumption that gods exist? Or shall we let that be and turn back to the laws themselves, so our preamble doesn't grow longer than the laws? The discussion would not be brief if it were stretched out—if we were to give the enthusiasts for impiety a reasonably adequate demonstration of the very things they demanded we discuss, turn them toward fear, and make them recoil from certain things, and only then, after that, go on to legislate as is fitting. CLEINIAS: But stranger, we've said this very thing several times already in a short space of time—that on the present occasion there's no reason to prefer brevity over length. No one, as the saying goes, is chasing us in haste. It would be ridiculous and shabby to appear to choose the shorter over the best. It matters a great deal that our arguments have some persuasive force—that gods exist and are good, honoring justice far more than men do. This, I think, would be about the finest and best preamble we could give for all our laws taken together. So without any reluctance or hurry, let's go through, as fully as we're able, whatever power we have to persuade people of such things, holding nothing back. ATHENIAN: What you've just said seems to call for a kind of prayer on my part, since you press forward so eagerly—there's no room left for delay. Come then, how can one speak about the existence of the gods without anger? For it's inevitable to feel resentment and hatred toward those who are and have been responsible for putting us in this position—people who refuse to trust the stories they heard as young children, still nursing at their mothers' and nurses' breasts, stories told half in play and half in earnest, like incantations, and heard again at sacrifices amid prayers, together with the sights that accompany them—sights a child delights most to see and hear performed—their own parents, in the greatest earnestness, on their own behalf and on behalf of their children, addressing the gods in prayers and supplications as beings that most certainly exist; and again, whenever sun or moon comes up or goes down, hearing and watching as Greeks and barbarians alike bow down in acts of reverence, in every sort of misfortune and good fortune, directed not to beings who don't exist but to beings who most certainly do, leaving no room whatsoever for suspicion that gods do not exist—
ATHENIAN: All of this, then, is what those people despise, without a single adequate argument, as anyone with even a little sense would agree, yet they now force us to say what we are saying. How could one, in gentle words, admonish and at the same time instruct such people, teaching them first that gods exist? Still, it must be attempted—for it would hardly do for some of us to be driven mad by gluttonous pleasure while others are driven mad by anger at people like this. Let this be our address, free of anger, spoken to those whose thinking has been so corrupted, speaking gently, our own anger extinguished, as though addressing one of them directly: 'My child, you are young, and time, as it goes on, will make you change many of the views you now hold, and adopt their opposites. So wait until then to become a judge of the most important matters—and the most important, though you now think it nothing, is whether one lives well or not by thinking rightly about the gods. Let me point out one great thing about them first, in which I could never be shown false. You are not the first, nor are your friends, to hold this opinion about the gods first or alone—there have always been people, more or fewer, afflicted with this same sickness. But here is something I can tell you, having encountered many of them: no one who has taken up this opinion about the gods from youth—that they do not exist—has ever persisted in that conviction all the way to old age. The other two states of mind concerning the gods do sometimes persist, though not in most people: that the gods exist but pay no heed to human affairs, and, following that, that they do care but are easily won over by sacrifices and prayers. As for the clearest judgment you'll be able to form about these matters, if you trust me, you will wait, examining whether things are this way or otherwise, inquiring both from others and, above all, from the lawgiver. In the meantime, do not dare commit any impiety toward the gods. For the one giving you these laws now, and in what follows, must try to teach you how these things truly stand.' CLEINIAS: What has been said so far, stranger, is excellent. ATHENIAN: Entirely so, Megillus and Cleinias—but we have, without noticing it, fallen into a remarkable argument. CLEINIAS: Which one do you mean? ATHENIAN: The one held by many to be the wisest of all arguments. CLEINIAS: Explain more clearly. ATHENIAN: Some say that all things that come to be, have come to be, and will come to be, arise partly by nature, partly by art, and partly by chance. CLEINIAS: Isn't that well said?
ATHENIAN: It's likely, I suppose, that wise men speak correctly. Still, let's follow them and consider what those on that side actually have in mind. CLEINIAS: By all means. ATHENIAN: It seems, they say, that nature and chance produce the greatest and finest things, while art produces the lesser ones—art, taking over from nature the generation of the great, primary works, then molding and fashioning all the smaller things, which we all call the products of art. CLEINIAS: What do you mean? ATHENIAN: I'll put it more clearly still. Fire, water, earth, and air, they say, all exist by nature and by chance, none of them by art; and the bodies that come after these—earth, sun, moon, and stars—came into being through these very elements, entirely soulless as they are. Each element, carried along by chance according to its own power, and however it happened to combine fittingly with its kin—hot with cold, dry with moist, soft with hard, and all such combinations as necessarily arose by chance from the mixture of opposites—in this way and by these means they generated the whole heaven and everything in it, and likewise all animals and plants, all the seasons arising from these same causes—not through intelligence, they say, nor through any god, nor through art, but, as I said, by nature and chance. Art came later, itself born of these things, itself mortal and born of mortal things, and it produced afterward certain playthings that have little share in truth, mere images akin to itself, such as painting and music create, and the other arts that serve alongside them. But such arts as do produce something serious are those that join their own power with nature—medicine, for instance, farming, and gymnastics. Politics too, they say, shares only a small part with nature, and is mostly a matter of art; and likewise all lawgiving is not by nature but by art, and its positions are not true. CLEINIAS: What do you mean?
ATHENIAN: These people say, my good friend, that the gods exist first of all by art, not by nature, but by certain conventions, and that these conventions differ from place to place, however each group agreed among themselves in making their laws. And they say that noble things are one thing by nature and another by law, and that just things do not exist by nature at all, but that people are forever disputing about them and constantly shifting them around, and whatever they shift them to, and whenever, that becomes authoritative at that time — coming about by art and by laws, not by any nature at all. These are the doctrines, my friends, that clever men spread among young people, both private thinkers and poets, who claim that the most just thing is whatever wins by force. From this impiety falls upon young people, as though the gods were not the kind the law demands we believe in, and factions arise on account of this, dragging people toward the life that is 'right by nature' — which in truth is a life of dominating others rather than being enslaved to them by law. CLEINIAS: What an argument you have laid out, stranger, and what ruin it brings on young people, both in the public life of cities and in private households. ATHENIAN: What you say is true, Cleinias. So what do you think the lawgiver should do, given that these doctrines have long since been prepared? Should he simply stand up in the city and threaten all the people, saying that if they do not admit the gods exist, and do not come to believe in them as the sort the law describes — and the same for noble things and just things and all the greatest matters, and whatever bears on virtue and vice, that they must act in these matters as the lawgiver has laid down in writing — and that whoever fails to render himself obedient to the laws must die, or another be punished with blows and imprisonment, another with loss of civic standing, others with poverty and exile? Should he give the people no persuasion at all when he lays down the laws for them, tame them by argument as far as possible? CLEINIAS: By no means, stranger. Rather, if there is even a little persuasion available in such matters, the lawgiver worth even a little must never grow weary, but must, as the saying goes, use every kind of voice to come to the aid of the ancient law with the argument that gods exist, and all you just now went through, and indeed to come to the defense of law itself and of art, on the ground that these too exist by nature, or no less than by nature, if indeed they are the offspring of mind according to right reason — which you seem to me to be saying, and which I now believe from you. ATHENIAN: Most eager Cleinias, well then — is it not hard to follow arguments spoken at such length to a general crowd, and besides, they run to enormous length?
CLEINIAS: What of it, stranger? On drunkenness and music we waited through such long speeches ourselves — shall we not endure it concerning the gods and such matters? And surely for lawgiving pursued with wisdom this is the greatest help, because prescriptions about laws, once set down in writing, remain perfectly still for all time, as though ready to give an account of themselves — so that there is no need to fear if they are hard to hear at the start, since even the slow learner will be able to go over them repeatedly; nor, if they are long but beneficial, does that give any reason to hold back — indeed it seems to me not even pious for any man to fail to help these arguments to the best of his power. MEGILLUS: What Cleinias says seems excellent to me, stranger. ATHENIAN: Very much so, Megillus, and we must do as he says. Indeed, if such doctrines had not been sown among practically all mankind, there would be no need at all for arguments defending the existence of the gods — but as it is, there is necessity. So when the greatest laws are being corrupted by wicked men, who is more fitting to come to their defense than the lawgiver? MEGILLUS: No one. ATHENIAN: Then tell me again, Cleinias, you too — for you must be a partner in the argument — the man who says these things presumably holds that the primary things of all are fire, water, earth, and air, and it is precisely to these that he gives the name 'nature,' with soul coming from them later. And it seems he is not merely likely but really does mean to signify this to us by his argument. CLEINIAS: Quite so. ATHENIAN: Then by Zeus, have we not discovered something like a spring of senseless opinion in all the men who have ever taken up inquiries about nature? Examine every argument closely — for it is no small difference if those who take hold of such arguments turn out to be impious, and leaders of others into the same error besides, using their arguments not well but mistakenly. This, then, is how the matter seems to me to stand. CLEINIAS: You put it well; but try to explain how. ATHENIAN: It seems, then, that we must take hold of rather unaccustomed arguments. CLEINIAS: Do not hesitate, stranger. I understand that you think you would be stepping outside lawgiving if we take hold of such arguments. But if there is no other way to agree that the gods now spoken of according to law are rightly conceived except by this route, then it must be said, admirable one, by this route too. ATHENIAN: Then I will speak, it seems, an argument that is by now nearly unfamiliar. Those who have fashioned the soul of impious men have declared that what is first, the cause of coming-to-be and passing-away of all things, is not first but comes later, and what is later, earlier; and from this they have erred concerning the true being of the gods.
CLEINIAS: I do not yet understand. ATHENIAN: Soul, my friend — nearly everyone, it seems, has failed to grasp what it really is and what power it has, both in other respects and especially concerning its origin: that it is among the first things, having come to be before all bodies, and that it rules more than anything else over their change and every rearrangement. But if this is so, must not the things akin to soul necessarily have come to be prior to the things that belong to body, since soul itself is older than body? CLEINIAS: Necessarily. ATHENIAN: Then opinion and care and mind and art and law would come before the hard and the soft, the heavy and the light; and indeed the great and primary works and actions would belong to art, being among the first things, while the things of nature and 'nature' itself — which they wrongly call by that very name — would be later, and would take their beginning from art and mind. CLEINIAS: Why wrongly? ATHENIAN: By 'nature' they mean to say the coming-to-be that concerns the first things. But if soul will be shown to be first — not fire nor air, but soul, having come to be among the first things — then it would be most correctly said to be, in a distinctive sense, by nature. This is so, if one can show that soul is older than body, but in no other way. CLEINIAS: What you say is most true. ATHENIAN: Then shall we set out toward this very point next? CLEINIAS: Of course. ATHENIAN: Let us then guard entirely against a deceptive argument, lest somehow, being old men ourselves, it beguile us by seeming youthful, and slip away and make us look ridiculous, and we seem to have aimed at big things and missed even the small ones. Consider, then: if the three of us had to cross a swiftly flowing river, and I, being the youngest of us and experienced with many currents, said that I ought to try it first by myself, leaving you in safety, to see whether it is fordable for you, being older, or how matters stand — and if it appeared fordable, then to call you and help you across with my experience, but if it were unfordable for you, then the risk would have fallen on me alone — I would seem to speak reasonably. And indeed the argument now before us is more forceful still, and perhaps nearly impassable for your strength.
ATHENIAN: So that it may not cause you dizziness and vertigo by sweeping you along and asking questions you are unused to answering, thereby breeding an unpleasant awkwardness and impropriety in you, it seems to me that I ought now to do the following: question myself first, with you listening in safety, and then afterward answer myself again, and go through the whole argument this way, until it has worked its way through concerning soul and shown that soul is prior to body. CLEINIAS: You seem to us to speak excellently, stranger; do as you say. ATHENIAN: Come then — if we must ever call upon a god, let this now be the occasion for doing so, since these men are being called upon in all earnestness to prove that they themselves exist. And holding fast as to some safe mooring-rope, let us step into the present argument. It seems safest to me, when questioned on such matters, to answer questions of this sort as follows: Stranger, when someone asks: does everything stand still, with nothing that moves? Or is the reverse the case? Or do certain things move while certain others stay at rest? — My answer will be: certain things move, and certain others stay at rest. — Now do not the things at rest stand still in some place, and the things in motion move in some place? — Of course. — And some of them would do this in a single seat, so to speak, and others in several. — You mean, we shall say, those that keep the position of standing things at their center move in one place, just as the revolution of circles said to 'stand still' turns? — Yes. — And we understand that in such a revolution, carrying around at once the largest and the smallest circle, this kind of motion distributes itself proportionally to the small and the large, being lesser and greater in due proportion; and this is why it has become the source of all wonders, moving great and small circles together with harmonized slownesses and speeds — an effect one would think impossible. — Most true. — And when you speak of things that move 'in many places,' I take you to be referring to whatever travels by locomotion, always shifting to another place, sometimes having the base of one center, sometimes of several by rolling around; and whenever such things meet with one another, if they meet what stands still they are split apart, but if they meet others coming from the opposite direction and moving toward them, they combine, becoming a mean and middle term between such things. — Yes, I say these things are so, as you say. —
ATHENIAN: And further, things that combine grow, and things that separate out then diminish, whenever the established condition of each persists; but if it does not persist, then through both processes it perishes. So when does the coming-to-be of everything occur — under what condition? Clearly whenever a beginning, having taken on growth, arrives at the second stage of change, and from this to the neighboring one, and having reached as far as three, gains perceptibility for perceiving beings. It is by changing and shifting in this way that everything comes to be; and a thing is truly existent whenever it remains, but once it has changed into another condition it is wholly destroyed. Have we not, then, named all the kinds of motion, taking them in their forms along with number — except, my friends, for two? CLEINIAS: Which two, then? ATHENIAN: Very nearly, my good man, those two for the sake of which our whole inquiry now exists. CLEINIAS: Speak more clearly. ATHENIAN: It was for the sake of soul somewhere, was it not? CLEINIAS: Quite so. ATHENIAN: Then let one kind of motion be that which is able to move other things but unable to move itself, always one particular motion; and let another be that which is always able to move both itself and other things, in combinations and separations, in growths and their opposite, and in comings-to-be and passings-away — this too being one further motion among all the motions. CLEINIAS: So let it be. ATHENIAN: Then shall we not set down as ninth the motion that always moves something else and is itself changed by another, while the motion that moves both itself and something else, fitting all doings and all sufferings, and truly called the change and motion of all existing things — this we shall call, I think, the tenth? CLEINIAS: Absolutely. ATHENIAN: Of our ten motions, then, which could we most rightly judge to be the strongest of all and preeminently effective? CLEINIAS: It is a thousand times necessary to say that the one able to move itself is superior, and all the others come after it. ATHENIAN: Well said. Should we then correct one or two of the points just wrongly stated? CLEINIAS: Which do you mean? ATHENIAN: What was said about the tenth was said, I think, not quite rightly. CLEINIAS: In what way? ATHENIAN: Like this. That which is first in origin and in strength stands first by reason; but the one we placed second to it we just now called, absurdly, ninth. CLEINIAS: What do you mean? ATHENIAN: This: whenever one thing changes another, and that other something else again, always in this way — will there ever be among such things some first thing that changes? And how, when it is moved by another, will it ever be first among the things that cause alteration? It is impossible.
ATHENIAN: But when a thing moves itself and thereby alters something else, and that in turn alters something else again, and so on until a thousand upon ten thousand things have been moved — will there be any starting point for all that motion other than the change brought about by the thing that moves itself? CLEINIAS: Beautifully put, and we must grant it. ATHENIAN: Let's put it this way too, and answer ourselves again. Suppose everything came to a stop all together, as most people who talk this way are bold enough to claim — which motion, of those we've named, would necessarily be the first to arise among them? Surely the one that moves itself. It could never be shifted first by anything else, since by hypothesis no prior shift exists among them. So we'll say that the motion which moves itself — whether it arises among things at rest or exists among things in motion — is necessarily the oldest and mightiest change of all, the first principle of every motion, while the change that is altered by something else, and in turn moves other things, is second. CLEINIAS: Very true. ATHENIAN: Now that we've reached this point in the argument, let's answer this. CLEINIAS: What? ATHENIAN: If we should see this self-moving motion arising in something earthy, or watery, or fiery, whether by itself or in combination — what would we say is happening in such a case? CLEINIAS: Are you asking whether we'll call it alive, when it moves itself? ATHENIAN: Yes. CLEINIAS: Alive — of course. ATHENIAN: And what of it? Whenever we see soul present in things, must we not agree that this is the very same thing — that it's alive? CLEINIAS: Nothing else. ATHENIAN: Then hold on, by Zeus — wouldn't you be willing to think of three things about each thing? CLEINIAS: What do you mean? ATHENIAN: One, its being; one, the definition of its being; one, its name. And in fact there are two kinds of questions about anything that is. CLEINIAS: Two, how? ATHENIAN: Sometimes each of us, when the name is put forward, demands the definition for it; other times, when the definition itself is put forward, we ask in turn for the name. Is this the sort of thing we mean now? CLEINIAS: What sort? ATHENIAN: Take something that's divided in two, as with other things and also with number. For this, taken numerically, the name is 'even,' and the definition is 'a number divided into two equal parts.' CLEINIAS: Yes. ATHENIAN: That's the sort of thing I mean. Don't we call the same thing by either approach, whether we're asked for the definition and give the name, or asked for the name and give the definition — calling the same thing 'even' by name, and by definition 'a number divided in two'? CLEINIAS: Absolutely so.
ATHENIAN: Now, for the thing whose name is 'soul' — what is its definition? Do we have any other than the one just given: the motion capable of moving itself? CLEINIAS: Are you saying that 'moving itself' gives the definition of that very being whose name we all call 'soul'? ATHENIAN: I am. And if that is so, do we still feel the lack of a sufficient proof that soul is the same thing as the first coming-to-be and motion of all things that are, have come to be, and will come to be, and of all things opposite to these as well — since it has been shown to be the cause of every change and motion for everything? CLEINIAS: No — it has been shown most sufficiently that soul is the oldest of all things, having become the source of motion. ATHENIAN: And isn't the motion that arises in one thing because of another, but never in itself provides motion to anything, a second kind — as many places down the list as one might wish to count it, being in reality the change of a body without soul? CLEINIAS: Correct. ATHENIAN: Then we would be speaking rightly, properly, most truly, and most completely, if we said that soul came to be before body for us, and body second and later, since soul rules and body, by nature, is ruled. CLEINIAS: Most true indeed. ATHENIAN: And we surely remember agreeing earlier that if soul should prove older than body, then the things of the soul would also be older than the things of the body. CLEINIAS: Certainly. ATHENIAN: So character, manner, will, reasoning, true belief, care, and memory would have come to be before the length, breadth, depth, and strength of bodies — if indeed soul came before body. CLEINIAS: Necessarily. ATHENIAN: Well then, mustn't we next agree that soul is the cause of good things and bad, of noble and shameful, of just and unjust, and of all opposites, if we are going to set it down as the cause of everything? CLEINIAS: How could it be otherwise? ATHENIAN: And soul, governing and dwelling in all things that move in every way — must we not say it governs the heavens too? CLEINIAS: Certainly. ATHENIAN: Is it one soul, or several? Several — I'll give the answer for the two of you. Let's set the number at no fewer than two: the one that does good, and the one capable of working the opposite. CLEINIAS: You've spoken quite rightly.
ATHENIAN: Very well. Soul, then, drives everything in heaven and earth and sea by its own motions, whose names are: wishing, considering, taking care, deliberating, believing truly or falsely, rejoicing, grieving, being confident, being afraid, hating, loving, and all the motions akin to these or that are their primary forms — which then take up the secondary motions of bodies and drive everything toward growth and decay, separation and combination, and the qualities that follow from these: heat and cold, heaviness and lightness, hard and soft, white and black, harsh and sweet, and everything soul makes use of. Whenever soul takes on understanding, an ever-present god, rightly guided toward the gods, it directs everything rightly and happily; but when it keeps company with folly, it produces everything the opposite of this. Shall we set this down as so, or are we still hesitant whether it might be otherwise? CLEINIAS: Not at all. ATHENIAN: Which kind of soul, then, shall we say has gained mastery over heaven and earth and the whole circuit — the one possessed of wisdom and full of excellence, or the one possessing neither? Would you like us to answer this way? CLEINIAS: How? ATHENIAN: Suppose, my friend, we hold that the whole path and motion of heaven, together with everything heaven holds, has a nature like the motion and revolution and reasoning of intelligence, and proceeds in kinship with it, then clearly we must say that the best soul cares for the whole cosmos and drives it along that same path. CLEINIAS: Right. ATHENIAN: But if it proceeds madly and in disorder, then it's the bad soul. CLEINIAS: That too is right. ATHENIAN: What nature, then, does the motion of intelligence have? This, my friends, is already a hard question to answer sensibly — so it's only fair that I take on the answering for you both now. CLEINIAS: Well said. ATHENIAN: Let's not, then, make our answer by staring straight at it as if at the sun, bringing on night at midday, as though we were going to see and know intelligence sufficiently with mortal eyes; it's safer to look at an image of the thing in question. CLEINIAS: How do you mean? ATHENIAN: Let's take, as our image, whichever of the ten motions we spoke of before intelligence most resembles; recalling it together with you, I'll give the answer jointly with you. CLEINIAS: You couldn't propose better. ATHENIAN: We still remember this much from before, that of all things, we set down some as moving and some as at rest? CLEINIAS: Yes.
ATHENIAN: And of the things in motion, some move in one place, while others travel through several. CLEINIAS: That's so. ATHENIAN: Of these two motions, the one that travels in one place must always move around some center, being a kind of copy of turned circles, and it must be as closely akin and similar as possible to the revolution of intelligence. CLEINIAS: How do you mean? ATHENIAN: Surely, in saying that intelligence and the motion that travels in one place both move in the same way, uniformly, in the same place, around the same things, in reference to the same things, by one account and one order — likening intelligence and the motion of a thing turned in one place to the revolutions of a turned sphere — we would hardly show ourselves poor craftsmen of fine images in speech. CLEINIAS: Very rightly said. ATHENIAN: And then again, the motion that is never uniform, nor in the same way, nor in the same place, nor around the same things, nor in reference to the same things, nor moving in one place, nor orderly, nor arranged, nor following any account — wouldn't that be akin to folly in every form? CLEINIAS: That would be most true indeed. ATHENIAN: Now it's no longer hard to say plainly that, since soul is what carries everything around for us, the revolution of the heavens must be said to be carried around, of necessity, by a soul that takes care of it and orders it — either the best soul, or the opposite one. CLEINIAS: But stranger, given what's been said now, it isn't even reverent to say anything but that it is a soul possessing every excellence — one soul, or more than one — that carries these things around. ATHENIAN: You have followed the argument beautifully, Cleinias. Now follow this further point too. CLEINIAS: What is it? ATHENIAN: If it is soul that drives round the sun, the moon, and the rest of the stars, does it not also drive each of them round singly? CLEINIAS: Of course. ATHENIAN: Then let's make our argument about one of them, which will turn out to fit all the stars alike. CLEINIAS: Which one? ATHENIAN: The sun. Every human being sees its body, but no one sees its soul — nor indeed the soul of any other body, whether of a living or a dying creature; but there's every reason to believe that this whole class is by nature imperceptible to all our bodily senses, and is an object of thought alone. Let's grasp this fact about it by intelligence and reasoning alone. CLEINIAS: How? ATHENIAN: If soul drives the sun, we won't be far wrong in saying it does one of three things.
ATHENIAN: Either it dwells within this visible round body and carries it about everywhere, just as our own soul carries us about everywhere; or, having procured a body for itself from outside — of fire, say, or some kind of air, as some claim — it pushes body against body by force; or, third, being itself entirely without body but possessing certain other powers that surpass wonder, it leads the way. CLEINIAS: Yes, this much is necessary — that soul, doing one or another of these things, drives everything along. ATHENIAN: Well then, whether this soul carries the sun for us with a chariot-like body, bringing light to all, or from outside, or in whatever way and manner — every man must consider it a god. Or how else? CLEINIAS: Yes, at least anyone who hasn't reached the utter extreme of folly must. ATHENIAN: And concerning all the stars and the moon, the years and months and all the seasons, what other account shall we give than this same one — that since soul, or souls, have been shown to be the cause of all these things, and good souls possessed of every excellence, we shall say they are gods, whether they dwell within bodies as living beings and order the whole heaven that way, or do so in some other way and manner? Is there anyone who, granting this, will still hold out against admitting that everything is full of gods? CLEINIAS: No one is so out of his mind as that, stranger. ATHENIAN: Then, Megillus and Cleinias, let's state the terms for the man who up to now has not believed in gods, and be done with him. CLEINIAS: What terms? ATHENIAN: Either he must teach us that we are wrong in laying it down that soul is the first coming-to-be of all things, and wrong in all the further conclusions we drew that follow from this; or, if he cannot argue better than we have, he must be persuaded by us and live out the rest of his life believing that the gods exist. Let's see, then, whether we've spoken adequately to those who don't believe in gods, that gods exist, or whether we've fallen short. CLEINIAS: Least of all, stranger — not short in any way at all. ATHENIAN: Then let our discussion with these people have its conclusion here. But the man who believes gods exist, yet holds that they take no thought for human affairs, must be gently persuaded otherwise. Let's say to him: Best of men, that you believe in gods at all is perhaps due to some divine kinship drawing you to honor and acknowledge your own kind; but the fortunes of wicked and unjust men, in private and public life — not truly happy, but held to be tremendously happy by opinion, though improperly so — sung of wrongly in the arts and in every kind of discourse alike, drive you toward impiety.
ATHENIAN: Or perhaps it's this: you've seen men reach old age, leaving their children's children in the highest honors, and this disturbs you now, seeing it in all these cases — or hearing of it, or even having witnessed it yourself firsthand — coming across many acts of impiety and terrible deeds done by certain people, who through these very acts rose from small beginnings to tyranny and the greatest power. Because of all this you're plainly unwilling to blame the gods as being responsible for such things, on account of your kinship with them, yet led on by faulty reasoning, and unable at the same time to resent the gods, you've arrived at this condition: believing that they exist, but that they despise and neglect human affairs. So that this belief you now hold doesn't grow into a greater impiety, but rather — if we're somehow able to head it off with argument before it takes hold — let's try. Let's take up the discussion we used from the start against the man who doesn't believe in gods at all, and put it to use now against this one. You two, Cleinias and Megillus, answer on behalf of the young man as before, taking turns; and if some difficulty crops up in the arguments, I'll take it over from you both, as I did just now, and ferry us across the river. CLEINIAS: You're right. You do that, and we'll do as you say to the best of our ability. ATHENIAN: Well, it probably won't be hard to show this much at least — that the gods care for small things no less, in fact more, than for things distinguished by their greatness. You were listening, I think, and present for what was just said — that being good, they possess care for everything as belonging most intimately to their virtue as a whole. CLEINIAS: Yes, I heard that closely. ATHENIAN: Next, then, let's jointly examine what virtue we mean when we agree that they are good. Come — do we say that self-control and possessing intelligence belong to virtue, and the opposites to vice? CLEINIAS: We do. ATHENIAN: And what about this — that courage belongs to virtue, and cowardice to vice? CLEINIAS: Certainly. ATHENIAN: And shall we say the former are shameful, the latter admirable? CLEINIAS: Necessarily. ATHENIAN: And that the shameful ones belong to us, if to anyone, whatever base things there are, while we'll say the gods have no part in such things, great or small? CLEINIAS: Everyone would agree to that as well. ATHENIAN: What then? Shall we count neglect, idleness, and self-indulgence as virtue of soul, or how do you put it? CLEINIAS: How could we? ATHENIAN: Rather as their opposite? CLEINIAS: Yes.
ATHENIAN: So the opposites of these belong to the opposite? CLEINIAS: The opposite. ATHENIAN: What then? Would every such person — self-indulgent, neglectful, and idle — become for us like what the poet called 'most like drones with no stingers'? CLEINIAS: Very rightly said. ATHENIAN: Now surely we mustn't say that god has such a character, since he himself hates it, and we mustn't allow anyone even attempting to say such a thing. CLEINIAS: No indeed — how could we? ATHENIAN: Now take someone whose proper business it is to act and take care of something in particular — if his mind cares for the great matters but neglects the small ones, on what grounds could we praise such conduct without going utterly wrong? Let's look at it this way. Doesn't the one who acts in such a fashion — whether god or man — act on one of two grounds? CLEINIAS: What two do we mean? ATHENIAN: Either because he thinks it makes no difference to the whole if the small things are neglected, or through laziness and self-indulgence he neglects them even though it does make a difference. Or is there some other way neglect comes about? For surely, when it's impossible to care for everything, there won't be neglect of the small or the great when someone — whether a god or some inferior being — fails to care for things he lacks the power to attend to. CLEINIAS: How could there be? ATHENIAN: Now then, let the two of you answer for the three of us — both of you agreeing that gods exist, but one of you holding they can be swayed by prayer, the other that they neglect small things. First: you both say gods know and see and hear everything, and that nothing can escape them of whatever falls within perception and knowledge. Is that how you hold it, or how? CLEINIAS: That's how. ATHENIAN: And further, that they're capable of everything within the capacity of both mortals and immortals? CLEINIAS: Of course they'll grant that this holds too. ATHENIAN: And indeed we've agreed, the five of us, that they're good, in fact the best. CLEINIAS: Very much so. ATHENIAN: So isn't it impossible for us to admit they do anything at all out of laziness and self-indulgence, given that they're the kind of beings we've agreed they are? For among us idleness is the offspring of cowardice, and laziness of idleness and self-indulgence. CLEINIAS: Very true. ATHENIAN: So no god neglects anything through idleness and laziness — since cowardice has no part in him. CLEINIAS: Quite right.
ATHENIAN: So what remains, if they neglect the small and few things concerning the whole, is that they'd do this either knowing that such things need no care at all, or — what else could remain except the opposite of knowing? CLEINIAS: Nothing. ATHENIAN: Which then, my excellent and noble friend, shall we take you to be saying — that they're ignorant, and neglect out of ignorance when they ought to care, or that they know they ought, yet, as the basest of men are said to do, knowing that other things are better to do than what they actually do, fail to do them because overcome by certain pleasures or pains? CLEINIAS: How could that be? ATHENIAN: And don't human affairs share in a living, ensouled nature, and isn't man the most god-fearing of all living creatures? CLEINIAS: So it seems, at any rate. ATHENIAN: And we say that all mortal creatures are possessions of the gods, as is the whole heaven besides. CLEINIAS: Of course. ATHENIAN: Well then, let someone call these things small or great to the gods — either way it wouldn't be fitting for their owners to neglect us, since they are most caring and best of all. Let's consider this further point too. CLEINIAS: What point? ATHENIAN: Concerning perception and power — aren't the two naturally opposed to each other where easiness and hardness are concerned? CLEINIAS: How so? ATHENIAN: To see and hear small things is harder than large ones, but to bear, master, and care for small and few things is easier for anyone than for their opposites. CLEINIAS: Much easier. ATHENIAN: Take a doctor charged with healing a whole body — willing and able to care for the major parts, but neglecting the small parts — will the whole ever be in good condition for him? CLEINIAS: Not at all. ATHENIAN: Nor indeed for pilots, generals, household managers, or any statesmen or anyone else of that sort — apart from a few small things, many great things go wrong; for stone-masons say that not even large stones lie well without small ones. CLEINIAS: How could they?
ATHENIAN: Let's not, then, ever judge god to be inferior to mortal craftsmen, who, the better they are, produce their proper works — small and great alike — all the more precisely and completely by a single skill; while god, who is wisest, and both willing and able to care for things, should care not at all for the things easier to care for because they're small — as if he were some idler or coward growing lazy through toil — but only for the great things. CLEINIAS: Let's never accept such an opinion about the gods, stranger; for in no way would thinking that be either pious or true. ATHENIAN: I think we've now argued quite adequately, in fact, with the man who loves to find fault about the gods' neglect. CLEINIAS: Yes. ATHENIAN: In that we've forced him by argument to admit he wasn't speaking correctly. Still, it seems to me he needs some further persuasive tales as incantations. CLEINIAS: What sort, good sir? ATHENIAN: Let's persuade the young man by argument that the one who cares for the whole has arranged everything with a view to the preservation and excellence of the whole, and that each part, so far as it can, undergoes and does what is proper to it. Rulers have been assigned over each of these parts, down to the smallest detail of every experience and action, carried through to the furthest point of division; and one of these parts — you unhappy man — is your own portion too, which, though utterly small, always strains toward the whole. But this very point escapes you — that all becoming happens for the sake of that whole, so that the whole, in its very being, may enjoy a blessed existence — not coming to be for your sake, but you for its sake. For every doctor and every skilled craftsman does everything for the sake of the whole, working toward what is best in common, fashioning each part to serve the whole rather than bending the whole to serve any part; and you're vexed because you don't know how what's best for you individually also turns out best for the whole and for you, according to the power of your shared origin. Since soul, always joined to a body — now this one, now that one — undergoes all manner of changes, either through itself or through another soul, nothing else remains for the divine player of the game except to move the character that becomes better into a better place, and the one that becomes worse into a worse place, each according to what is fitting, so that it may obtain its proper lot. CLEINIAS: What do you mean by this?
ATHENIAN: I mean to explain in just the way that would give the gods the greatest ease in caring for everything. For if someone were always shaping and remolding everything with a view to the whole — say, turning fire into living water, rather than producing a multitude from a single thing, or a single thing from a multitude, each partaking of a first, second, or even third birth — the arrangements to be rearranged would be endless in number; but as it stands, there's a wondrous ease for the one who cares for the whole. CLEINIAS: How do you mean, again? ATHENIAN: Like this. Since our king saw that all our actions are ensouled, and that there is much virtue in them, and much vice too, and that soul and body, once come to be, are indestructible though not eternal — as the gods established by law are, for there would never be generation of living creatures if either of these two perished — and he understood that whatever is naturally beneficial belongs to the good of soul, while whatever is harmful belongs to its evil; having grasped all this, he devised where each of the parts should be placed so that virtue might prevail and vice be defeated within the whole, in the easiest and best way possible. And he has devised, with a view to this whole matter, what sort of position each thing that comes to be of a certain character must take up and inhabit, and in what places; but as for the origin of what particular character each of us has, he left the causes to the wishes of each of us. For according to whatever each of us desires, and whatever sort of soul he has, in that way and to that character each of us becomes, for the most part, on each occasion. CLEINIAS: That's likely, at least. ATHENIAN: Everything, then, that has a share of soul changes, having within itself the cause of its own change; and in changing it is carried along according to the order and law of destiny: things that change in lesser ways in their character move a correspondingly small distance along the plane of the region, but things that undergo greater and more unjust changes move down into the depths, into those places called below — which men, naming them Hades and its related names, greatly fear and dream about, both while living and once released from their bodies. And whenever a soul takes on a greater share of vice or virtue, through its own will and the strong company it has kept, then, if it comes into contact with divine virtue and becomes exceedingly such, it changes correspondingly and moves to a different, holy place altogether, being transported to some better region; but when the opposite happens, it relocates its own life to the opposite place.
ATHENIAN: Such, then, is the sentence passed by the gods whose home is Olympus, my boy, you young man who fancies the gods have forgotten you: growing worse, you move toward the worse souls; growing better, toward the better; and in life, and in death after death, you undergo, and yourself carry out, whatever it befits like to do to like. From this justice neither you nor anyone else who has fallen into misfortune will ever boast of escaping the gods. It is the justice that its founders set above all other justices, and one must guard against it with everything in oneself. You will never be overlooked by it — you will not be so small that you can sink down into the depths of the earth, nor so lofty that you can fly up into the heavens, but you will pay it the penalty owed, whether you remain here, or pass through Hades, or are carried off to some place still wilder than these. The same account holds for those men you have seen rise from small beginnings to greatness by committing unholy acts or something of the kind, whom you supposed to have become happy out of wretchedness — and then, gazing on their doings as though in a mirror, you thought you had seen there the neglect of all things by all the gods, not knowing how their final outcome contributes to the whole. Do you not think you need to understand this, bravest of all men? Whoever fails to understand it could never even glimpse its outline, nor could he ever put together an account of life bearing on happiness and its opposite, unhappy fortune. If Cleinias here and this whole council of ours can persuade you of this — that you are speaking about the gods without knowing what you say — then may god himself come to your aid. But if you still feel the need of some further argument, listen to what we have to say concerning the third charge, if you have any sense left at all. That gods exist and that they care for human beings — I would say this has been demonstrated to us not at all badly. But that the gods can be won over by the wrongdoers, that they accept gifts — this must not be conceded to anyone, and it must be refuted with every means at our disposal. CLEINIAS: Beautifully said — let us do as you say. ATHENIAN: Come then, in the gods' own name, in what way could they be won over by us, if indeed they can be won over at all? And who or what sort of beings would they be? Those who are to govern the whole heaven continuously must, surely, be rulers of some kind. CLEINIAS: So it seems.
ATHENIAN: Well then, which rulers are they like? Or rather, which of those lesser beings whom we can liken to them, comparing small things to great, might they resemble? Would they be like charioteers in a contest of racing teams, or pilots of ships? Or perhaps they might be likened to certain commanders of armies; or they might resemble physicians guarding against the onslaught of disease in the body, or farmers anxiously awaiting the harsh seasons that threaten the growth of their crops, or even shepherds watching over their flocks. For since we have agreed among ourselves that heaven is full of many good things, and also of their opposites, though of more that are not — this, we say, is an undying battle, and one demanding wondrous vigilance, in which the gods and spirits are our allies, and we in turn are the possession of gods and spirits. Injustice and arrogance joined with folly destroy us, while justice and self-control joined with wisdom save us, and these dwell in the living powers of the gods; and a small trace of such a thing one might see clearly dwelling even here among us. But certain souls that live on earth, having acquired unjust gain, are plainly beastlike; falling before the souls of the guardians — whether of dogs, or of herdsmen, or of the very highest masters of all — they persuade them with flattering words and by certain incantations offered in prayer, as the reports of wicked men claim, that it is possible for them to go on profiting at the expense of others among men without suffering anything harsh. We say, surely, that what is now called wrongdoing — this taking more than one's share — is called disease when it occurs in bodies of flesh, and plague when it occurs in the seasons of years, and this very same thing, under a different name, is called injustice when it occurs in cities and constitutions. CLEINIAS: Absolutely so. ATHENIAN: This, then, is the account that anyone must give who says that the gods are always forgiving toward the unjust deeds and unjust men among mortals, provided one gives them a share of the spoils — just as if wolves gave small portions of their plunder to dogs, and the dogs, tamed by the gifts, allowed them to tear apart the flocks. Is this not the account given by those who claim the gods can be won over? CLEINIAS: It is indeed. ATHENIAN: To which, then, of the guardians we named before could one liken the gods without becoming utterly laughable to any human being? To pilots who are turned aside by a libation of wine and the savor of roasting meat, and who then capsize both ships and sailors? CLEINIAS: Not at all. ATHENIAN: Nor surely to charioteers arrayed in a race who, persuaded by a bribe, betray victory to other teams. CLEINIAS: That would indeed be a dreadful image, if you were to make that comparison. ATHENIAN: No, nor to generals, nor to physicians, nor to farmers, nor indeed to shepherds, nor to dogs bewitched by wolves.
CLEINIAS: Hush — how could it be so? ATHENIAN: But are not all the gods the greatest of all guardians, guardians over the greatest things entrusted to us? CLEINIAS: By far. ATHENIAN: Are we then to declare that the beings who keep watch over the noblest things, and who themselves excel in the guardian's virtue, rank below dogs and worse than middling men — men of the sort who would not sell out what is right in return for gifts that unjust hands offer impiously? CLEINIAS: In no way at all. That is an intolerable thing to say, and anyone who clings to this opinion runs the risk of being judged, most justly, the worst and most impious of all the impious, since it belongs to the very heart of impiety. ATHENIAN: Shall we say, then, that the three claims we set out — that the gods exist, that they are concerned with us, and that they are wholly incorruptible where justice is concerned — have been adequately demonstrated? CLEINIAS: How could they not be? And we cast our vote together with these arguments. ATHENIAN: And yet they have been spoken, I suppose, somewhat too vehemently, out of eagerness to defeat wicked men. It was for this reason, dear Cleinias, that we grew so contentious — so that the wicked might never suppose that by winning arguments they gain license to do whatever they please, all the many and terrible things they think about the gods. It is on this account that our eagerness led us to speak somewhat too youthfully. But if we have accomplished even a small measure of good toward persuading these men somehow to hate themselves and to come to love, in some way, the opposite character, then our prelude concerning impiety, as it applies to the laws, will have been well spoken. CLEINIAS: There is hope of it. But even if not, the nature of the argument itself will bring no blame upon the lawgiver. ATHENIAN: Once the prelude is finished, the fitting sequel is a pronouncement standing as interpreter to our laws, one that gives every impious man advance warning: abandon your own ways for the ways of reverence. For those who will not be persuaded, let this be the law concerning impiety: if anyone commits impiety in word or deed, whoever is present shall come to the law's defense by reporting it to the magistrates, and the first magistrates who learn of it shall bring the matter before the court appointed to judge such cases, according to the laws. And if any magistrate, upon hearing of it, fails to act, let that magistrate himself be liable to a charge of impiety at the hands of anyone willing to avenge the laws. If someone is convicted, let the court assess a separate penalty for each individual act of impiety committed.
ATHENIAN: Imprisonment, then, shall be imposed on all such offenders. And since there are to be three prisons in the city — one common prison near the marketplace, for the safekeeping of the persons of most people; another near the assembly-place of those who gather by night, called the house of correction; and yet a third in the middle of the countryside, in whatever place is most desolate and wildest, bearing a name suggesting retribution — and since impiety arises from three causes, which we have already gone through, and since two forms arise from each of these causes, there would be six kinds altogether worth distinguishing among those who transgress in matters concerning the divine, kinds that do not deserve equal or similar punishment. For whoever holds that the gods do not exist at all, but has by nature acquired a just character, becomes one who hates the wicked, and because he is repelled by injustice does not bring himself to commit such acts, and he avoids unjust men while cherishing the just. But those in whom, besides the belief that all things are godless, there fall also a lack of self-control over pleasures and pains, together with strong memory and sharp powers of learning — in both these types the failure to believe in gods will be a shared affliction, but in the harm they do to other people, the one will do less evil, the other more. For the one will be full of outspokenness concerning the gods, and concerning sacrifices and oaths, and by mocking others he would likely make others like himself, if he escapes punishment; but the other, holding the same opinion as the first, yet called naturally gifted, full of cunning and deceit — out of such men are fashioned many diviners and men active in every kind of trickery, and from among them arise, at times, tyrants and demagogues and generals, and those who plot through private mystery rites, and the contrivances of those called sophists. Of these there could be many kinds, but two deserve the setting of laws: of these, the ironic type deserves not one death penalty or two for its offense, while the other kind requires both admonition and imprisonment.
ATHENIAN: In the same way, the belief that the gods exist but are negligent produces two further types, and the belief that they can be won over produces two others. Since these are distinguished in this way, the judge shall place those who have become such through folly, without wickedness of temper or character, into the house of correction according to law for no less than five years; and during this time no other citizen shall have contact with them except the members of the nocturnal council, who shall converse with them for the sake of admonition and the saving of their souls. When the time of their confinement has run out, if any of them seems to have come to his senses, let him live among the sound-minded; but if not, and he is convicted again of the same offense, let him be punished with death. As for those who become beastlike, holding not only that the gods do not exist but that they are negligent or can be won over, and who, holding humankind in contempt, lead astray the souls of many of the living, claiming to summon the souls of the dead and promising to persuade the gods, as though bewitching them with sacrifices, prayers, and incantations, and who attempt for the sake of money to ruin utterly private individuals, whole households, and even cities — whoever among these is judged guilty, let the court assess for him, according to law, imprisonment in the prison in the middle of the countryside, and let no free person ever approach them, and let them receive a fixed ration of food from the slaves as determined by the guardians of the law. When such a man dies, let him be cast outside the borders unburied; and if any free person joins in burying him, let that person be liable to a charge of impiety at the hands of anyone willing to bring it. If he leaves behind children fit for the city, those who care for orphans shall care for these as well, as being orphans, treating them no worse than the others, from the day their father is convicted of the offense. And in addition to all this, a common law must be laid down, one that would make the majority of such men commit fewer offenses in word and deed against the gods, and indeed become less foolish, because it would not be lawful to deal with the divine contrary to law. For let this law be laid down for all, simply stated: let no one possess shrines of his own in private houses; but when anyone feels moved to sacrifice, let him go to the public shrines to make his offering, and let him place his victims in the hands of the priests and priestesses who have the purity of these rites in their keeping. And let him join in prayer himself, and whoever else he wishes may join him in prayer.
ATHENIAN: Let this be the reason such things happen. It's not easy to found shrines and set up gods, and doing so correctly takes a great deal of thought. But it's the custom of everyone, and especially of women, and of anyone who is sick or in danger or at a loss in any way whatsoever, and likewise, in the opposite case, when people come into some stroke of good fortune, to consecrate whatever is at hand at the moment, to vow sacrifices, and to promise shrines to gods and spirits and children of gods. And because of apparitions seen while awake, out of fear, and because of dreams, and in just the same way because they remember many visions, people make remedies for each of these by setting up altars and shrines in every house and every village, in open places and wherever else they happen to be. For all these reasons we must do everything in accordance with the law now being stated. But beyond this, we must also act for the sake of the impious, so that they don't compound their wrongdoing by such practices too — setting up shrines and altars secretly in private houses, thinking they can make the gods gracious to themselves through private sacrifices and prayers, and so increase their injustice without limit, bringing charges against themselves before the gods and against those who allow it, who are better people than they are — with the result that the whole city, in a way, justly shares in the punishment for their impiety. The god himself will not blame the lawgiver for this; so let this law be laid down: no one is to keep the gods' shrines within a private home. Should anyone come to light as owner of such shrines, celebrating worship apart from the public rites, then — provided the man or woman who has done this has committed no great or unholy wrong — whoever notices it should report it to the Guardians of the Law, and they should order the private shrines removed to the public ones; and if the offenders don't obey, they should be fined until the shrines are removed. But if someone is shown to have committed an act of impiety that is not a child's offense but the sort unholy men commit — whether by setting up shrines in private, or by sacrificing in public places to gods of any kind — then, since he sacrifices without being pure, he should be punished with death. As for whether the offense is a child's or not, the Guardians of the Law shall judge, and having brought the matter before the court in this way, they shall see the case for impiety carried through to judgment.