The works of Plato · Plato
SOCRATES, TIMÆUS, CRITIAS, HERMOCRATES.
XXXIX.—Having thus then pretty fully discussed the common affections of the whole body, and the appellations assigned to their effective causes, we must now endeavour to explain, as far as we can, the affections that arise in particular parts of us, as well as the causes by which they are induced. In the first place then, let us if possible complete the explanation of what we before left unfinished about those of the juices—namely, the particular affections subsisting about the tongue.[329] And these, as well as most others, appear to be produced by certain expansions and contractions, the impressions formed thereby depending more on smoothness and roughness than all other circumstances; because, whenever anything falls on the small veins round the tongue (which are the arbiters, as it were, of the taste stretching to the heart), in such a way as to penetrate the moist and delicate texture of the flesh, which through its earthy nature is in a melting state, it contracts and dries up the veins:—and where these penetrating substances are rougher than usual, they have an acrid taste (στρυφνά), if less so, only one of sourness (αὐστηρά). Those on the contrary which purge, and wash away whatever adheres to the tongue, if they do this to such an immoderate degree, as somewhat to liquefy its nature, as nitre does;—all such as these are termed _bitter_; while substances of inferior power to nitre, which purge only moderately, we conceive to be _salt_, without that rough bitterness, and to be more friendly to our nature. Again, things heated by the temperature of the mouth, and thereby softened—which reciprocally heat and are heated by it—and which through their lightness are elevated towards the senses of the head, dividing at the same time whatever comes in their way;—all these, owing to such properties, are termed _pungent_ (δριμέα).
Plato was not aware that the palate is the chief organ of taste, and that these sensations are transmitted to the sensorium by means of nerves (_i. e._ minute tubes filled with cerebral matter), all of which communicate either with the spinal marrow or the brain itself,—the centre of all sensation, as Herophilus and Erasistratus held long prior to Galen. Plato, on the contrary, maintained that these sensations were carried by certain small veins (or arteries,—for he makes no distinction between them), to the liver—regarded by him as the seat (comp. ch. xliv.) of the lower mortal soul. The heart was regarded by Aristotle as the centre of the sensations. ----- XL.—As respects the faculty of the nostrils, it admits of no classification: for all odours whatever are but half-begotten,—there being no substances so proportioned, as to give forth any particular smell. Besides, our veins surrounding the nose are too narrow to admit the various kinds of earth and water, and too broad for those of fire and air; and hence no one ever perceives an odour from any of these,—odours being produced from bodies that are damp, putrefying, liquid, or vaporous;—for odours are generated by the change of water into air, or air into water; and all these are either smoke or vapour. And of these, that which passes from air into water is _vapour_,—that which is changed from water into air, _smoke_;—whence it comes to pass that all odours are more subtile than water, and denser than air. And these facts are clearly shown, when any one, owing to any obstruction of the respiration, draws his breath inwards; for then no odour filters through, but breath only—unattended by any odours. This is why these two varieties of them are without a name, being formed neither from many nor from a simple species, the only two distinct terms respecting them, being _pleasant_ or _unpleasant_; the latter of which irritate and violently disturb the whole cavity lying between the top of the head and the navel, while the former soothe the same part, and kindly restore it to its natural condition.
XLI.—Let us next speak of and investigate the third kind of sense,—the hearing, and the causes giving rise to the affections peculiar thereto. Now we may generally define _voice_ as a certain pulsation of the air, penetrating through the ears, brain, and blood, as far as the soul; and the motion hence arising, which commences from the head and ends in the seat of the liver, _hearing_;—and that when this motion is swift, it emits a sharp sound, when slow, a flat one,—the former being uniform and smooth, the latter quite the reverse and rough:—likewise, that when the motion is on a large scale it will produce a loud sound, and when on a small scale only a low one. But respecting the harmony of these sounds we must speak in the subsequent part of this discourse. XLII.—The fourth kind of sense, which is still left for us to discuss, comprises a very large variety of what we generally term _colours_, which consist of a flame emanating from individual bodies, and having parts proportioned to the sight for producing sensation. But we have already considered the effective causes of sight.[330] Here then we ought to speak of colours, and what seems to us the most probable theory respecting them.
Among the particles that fall from other bodies on the sight, some are greater, others less than, and others equal to, those of the visual fire. Such as are equal, then, are imperceptible, and are termed transparent; while, as for those that are larger or smaller, the former contract, the latter dilate the sight, having a power resembling that of heat and cold on the flesh, or of things acrid, heating and pungent, on the tongue. Particles affecting the sight in this manner are called black and white;—having the property, indeed, of producing the same modifications in bodies, though, being produced in different parts of the organ, they still appear to produce different impressions. It is thus, then, that we ought to term them,—_white_, that which dilates the sight; and that which is opposite in its effect, _black_;—whereas, when a sharper motion, and that, too, from a foreign fire, falls on and divides the sight even as far as the eyes themselves, and both separates and moistens the openings of the eyes, so as to force from them that united flow of fire and water that we call tears, and which are of a fiery nature coming from without,—these two fires meeting together with a force like that of lightning, and then saturated and extinguished by moisture, produce a great variety of colours, the impressions from which we term _flashings_ (μαρμαρυγάς), and the objects producing them _bright_ and _lustrous_. Another kind of fire, intermediate between those just mentioned, and which reaches the moisture of the eyes, and mingles with it, though by no means lustrous, and in which the rays of fire are mingled with moisture, and form a bloody colour; this we denominate _red_.
A bright hue mingled with red and white forms the colour called _yellow_; but as regards the measure in which they mingle respectively, even a wise and thinking person could not explain it, were he ever so well informed on the matter, as he could not adduce concerning them any satisfactory reason, either necessary or probable. Again, red, when mingled with black and white, produces a _purple_ colour; and a very deep colour is the result of their being mingled and burnt together, with a further addition of black. A _tawny red_ is produced from the mixture of yellow and brown, and _brown_ from the mixture of black and white; and a pale colour from the mingling of white and yellow. A brilliant white, falling on a large quantity of black, constitutes a _dark blue_ (κυανοῦν); a deep blue mingled with white, a _grey_ colour; and a tawny red mingled with black forms a _green_. All the other tints it will be easy to conjecture from the above examples, if one only reasons fairly from analogy. Nevertheless, any one who would prove them by the test of experiment evinces great ignorance of the difference between a divine and human nature; for a god indeed may be able to mingle many things into one, and again dissolve the one into many, through his united power and intelligence; but no man living can accomplish either of these tasks, nor will any one in time to come.
XLIV. Just as we stated in the opening of our discourse,—when all sensible things were in disorder, the Deity made each individually to harmonize with itself and mutually with all the rest, so far as things could possibly be brought into symmetry and proportion; because formerly, nothing had any order except by accident, nor did anything whatever deserve the names that things receive at present; such, for instance, as fire, water, and the rest of the elements. All these, however, the Creator put in order first of all, and then out of these constructed the universe, as a single animal, containing within itself different kinds of animals, mortal and immortal,[331]—he himself being the artificer of Divine natures, but committing to his offspring (the junior gods) the charge of producing those that are mortal. The latter, in imitation of their father, receiving the immortal principle of the soul, next fashioned[332] the mortal body, making it entirely to be a vehicle thereto, and forming within it a separate mortal kind of soul, possessed of certain dire and necessary passions: first, pleasure, the chief lure to evil; next, pain, the desertion of what is good;—after these again, temerity and fear, both mad advisers; anger, hard to be appeased; hope, which is easily misled both by irrational sense, and all-daring love. By mingling these together, they [the junior gods] necessarily composed the mortal race. And on this account, fearing to defile the Divine nature more than was absolutely necessary they lodged man’s mortal portion separately from the Divine, in a different receptacle of the body; forming the head and breast, and placing the neck between, as an isthmus and limit to separate the two extremes.[333]
In the breast, indeed, and what is called the thorax [or trunk],[334] they seated the mortal part of the soul. And as one part of it was naturally better, and another worse, they formed the cavity of the thorax into two divisions (resembling the separate dwellings of our men and women), placing the midriff as a partition between them. That part of the soul, therefore, which partakes of fortitude and spirit, and loves contention, they seated nearer the head, between the midriff and the neck; as it is the business of the reason to unite with it in forcibly repressing the desires, whenever they will not obey the mandate and word issuing from the citadel above. ----- Footnote 331: Comp. ch. xi. p. 335 of this translation, and also the concluding sentence of the dialogue, p. 409. Footnote 332: Gr. περιετόρνευσαν, lit. _turned in a lathe_. Footnote 333: The _immortal_ soul Plato has already (ch. xix. xx.) placed in the head,—in which opinion Hippocrates and Galen both coincide;—and he composed it of two circles, and endowed it with three faculties—intelligence (νόησις), science (ἐπιστήμη), and true opinion (δόξα ἀληθής). Here, however, he speaks of the _mortal_ or sensuous soul, which he divides into two distinct parts,—the _male_ or spiritual portion (τὸ θυμικόν), and the _female_ or appetitive (τὸ ἐπιθυμητικόν). This seems to have been a notion of the Pythagoreans. Aristotle and Zeno placed the mortal soul in the heart only. On the three souls and their respective energies, comp. Martin’s admirable note, vol. ii. pp. 296-302, _Études, &c._
Footnote 334: Gr. θώρακι, a word used by Plato and Aristotle to mean not merely the upper part of the trunk, as by later writers, but the whole of it, from the collar-bone down to the pelvis. The word κοιλία in ch. xlvi. has a similar latitude of signification. ----- XLV.—The heart, which is the head and principle[335] of the veins, as well as the fountain of the blood that impetuously circulates through all the members, they placed in a kind of sentry-house, that, in case of any outburst of anger, being informed by the reason of any evil committed in its members, owing either to some foreign cause, or else internal passions, it (the heart) might transmit through all its channels the threatenings and exhortations of reason, so as once more to reduce the body to perfect obedience, and so permit what is the best within us to maintain supreme command. But as the gods foreknew, with respect to the palpitation of the heart under the dread of danger and the excitements of passion, that all such swellings of the inflamed spirit would be produced by fire, they formed the lungs to be a sort of protection thereto; first, of all, soft and bloodless,[336] and next, internally provided with cavities perforated like a sponge, in order to cool the breath which they receive, and give the heart easy respiration and repose in its excessive heat. On this account then, they led the channels of the windpipe into the lungs, which they placed like a soft cushion round the heart, in order that when anger rises in it to an extreme height, it might fall on some yielding substance, and so getting cool, yield cheerfully and with less trouble to the authority of reason.
XLVI. That part of the soul next, which has a desire for meats, drinks, and all else that is necessary for the natural supplies of the body, they placed between the midriff and the region of the navel; forming, as it were, in all this place a sort of manger for the nutriment of the body; and then they bound it on to it, like some savage animal, annexed as necessary to nourish the mortal race afterwards to be brought into existence. This place of course the gods assigned it, in order that ever feeding at its manger, and dwelling as far off as possible from the deliberative part of the soul, it might make the least possible degree of tumult and noise, and permit the best portion of our nature to consult in quiet for the common benefit of the whole. Knowing also that this part would not acquiesce with the reason, and, even if it had any faculty of sense, yet would not regard the processes of reasoning, but be chiefly lured away, both day and night, by images and phantasms,—reflecting on this, the Deity formed the liver, assigning it the place it occupies.
And he made it compact and smooth, shiny and sweet, and yet somewhat bitter,—in order that the multitude of thoughts falling on it from the intellect as on a mirror that receives and presents images to the view, might on the one side terrify it by employing a bitterness akin to its nature; and proceeding to dreadful threats, gradually mingle this bitterness with the whole liver so as to present the dark hues of bile, and by contracting it, render it throughout rough and wrinkled;—or on the other, partly by removing the liver from its right place and contracting it, partly by obstructing and closing its ventricles and gates, cause impressions of pain and disgust:—whereas, on the contrary, when a gentle inspiration—the result of intelligence—depicts on it images of quite an opposite character, softens its bitterness by avoiding to agitate or touch anything contrary to its own nature,—it then gives it a softness peculiarly its own, and makes all its parts regular, polished, and free,—giving joy and peace to that part of the soul which resides near the liver, and making it enjoy a suitable repose at night, with the power of divination during sleep, to make up for its want both of reason and wisdom.[337] ----- Footnote 337: Plato, in this purely fanciful description of the liver and spleen, seems to have been ignorant of the great use of the bile in promoting the digestion of the food during its passage through the duodenum; for in ch. lxiv. he considers it wholly in the light of a vicious secretion, though he acknowledges its presence in the healthy body as exercising a great influence over dreams and divination. Aristotle, while refuting Plato, is not a whit more correct as to this question in the animal economy. Hist. Anim. iv. 2.
The liver then was constructed for this purpose, and seated where we have mentioned, for the sake of prediction. And besides, in every living individual, this organ gives forth unusually clear indications; but in those deprived of life, it becomes blind and delivers oracles too obscure for their meaning to be made intelligible. The nature and position of the intestines, again, which is next to it [the liver], is on the left side, for the purpose of always, like a sponge,[339] keeping it clean and bright, ready to reflect images; on which account, therefore, when certain impurities are produced in the liver by bodily disease, then the spleen, by its rarity, receives and purifies them all, from being of a hollow and bloodless texture;—and hence, is it, that when filled with unclean matter, it grows to a large size and becomes wholly unsound. And again, when the body is purified, it subsides into its natural condition, as before. ----- Footnote 338: A distinction is to be observed between μάντεις and προφῆται,—the former referring to the _interpreters_, the latter to the _utterers_ only of the divine oracles; but the words, as Plato observes, have often been confounded. Footnote 339: Gr. ἐκμαγεῖον,—very wrongly rendered by some, _a mirror_,—the error of which was first shown by Barker in No. xlvi. of the Class. Journal, p. 201.
On this account then, the bones of the groin, legs, loins, the shoulders and the arms from the elbow to the wrist, and such other parts of our bodies as have no joints, and such inward bones as have no thought, owing to the scarcity of soul in the marrow, are fully provided with flesh;—whereas those that have thought, he covered with less, except the flesh were for perception, as in the case of the tongue. In other respects, the case is as we have described. For a being born and nurtured under necessity,[347] does not receive a hard bone united with plenty of flesh, and with it also a quickness of sensation. And yet the head would have been thus constructed, if the two had exercised any will in thus coalescing; and the human race, having a fleshy, tendinous, and robust head, would enjoy healthy and unmolested a life twice as long as the present, or even yet longer than that: but the artificers of our race, after thoroughly considering whether they had better make it more lasting and of worse condition, or shorter but of a more excellent character, were agreed that a shorter but better life was wholly preferable to one longer, but inferior:—and this was why they covered the head with a thin bone, and not with flesh and fibre,—because it had no joints. On all these accounts, then, the body was provided with a head, which was the more perceptive and reflecting, in proportion as it was [physically] weaker than all the rest of man’s structure. From these causes, then, and in this manner,[348] the Deity placing tendons round the lower extremity of the head, glued them, as it were, round the neck, and bound with them the lofty cheek-bones placed under the forehead;—and as for all the rest, he scattered them through all the members, connecting joint with joint.
LIII.—Again, it was not possible that the head could bear a mere covering of thin bone, owing to the extremes of the different seasons; nor again, could it be allowed to become clouded, blind, and unperceptive, through the overcrowding of flesh. Hence a fleshy membrane, not dried, was left separate from the rest,—that now termed cuticle (or scalp). This, then, being brought into union with itself by the moisture about the brain, grows around and circularly invests the head. And it is the moisture flowing under the sutures that moistens this membrane, and causes it to close at the crown, connecting it as in a knot. But as for the ever-varying classes of sutures, these are generated through the power of the periodic changes caused by nutriment in the flesh;[349] the variety becoming greater, when they struggle with each other more violently—less so, when less violently. All this membrane the Divine Being pierced all round with fire:—and hence, as it was wounded, and the moisture externally flowed through it, all that was pure of the moisture and heat was carried off, while that which was mixed, and of a nature allied to that of the membrane itself, being raised by the motion, was stretched outwards to a great size, having also a tenuity equal to the amount of puncture,—whereas, on the other hand, when continually thrust back through the slowness of its motion by the spirit surrounding it externally, it again revolves under the membrane and there becomes firmly rooted. And owing to these affections is it, that the hair springs up on the membrane of the head, being naturally allied, and serving as a rein to this membrane, but at the same time becoming harder and denser through the pressure of the cold, which hardens each hair, as it proceeds beyond the skin.[350] Thus, then, by the means above mentioned, did our Creator plant the head with hairs, reflecting at the same time that instead of flesh a light covering was needed to guard the brain, and give it shade and protection from the extremes of heat and cold without hindering its acuteness of sensation.
LV.—As the parts and members of the mortal animal however were all allied in nature, and their life necessarily resulted from fire and spirit, the decay and exhaustion of which would cause it to perish quickly, the gods provided for it the following remedy:—Intermingling a nature resembling that of man with other forms and senses, they planted as it were other animals,—such as kindly-disposed trees, plants, and seeds, which are made useful to us by the nurture and training of agriculture; though before there were only those of a rustic kind, which are more ancient than those that are cultivated.[351] Everything indeed that partakes of life we may justly and most correctly call an animal;—but that in particular, of which we are now speaking, is possessed of the third species of soul,[352] which we place between the midriff and the navel: and which has no share either in opinion, reason, or intellect, though possessing a sense of pleasure and pain, as well as desire. It effects all things indeed by passion (or appetite); and it does this by the evolution of its internal power and the employment of its own motion to the exclusion of every other, as it has not been formed with a nature capable of reasoning on its own concerns.[353] It thus lives in no way different from an animal, except in being firmly rooted in a fixed position and deprived of original motion.
LVI.—Now after the directing artificers of our structure had implanted all these organs for giving nutriment to our inferior nature, they directed various channels through our body, so as to water it like a garden, by the constant accession of flowing moisture.[354] And first, they cut two hidden channels beneath the juncture of the skin and flesh, viz. two veins going down the back to correspond with the double figure of the body, both on the right and left sides. These they placed close to the back-bone, so as to receive between them the marrow, the growth of which might be thus promoted, and that the flood supplied thence to other parts, might give an equable irrigation;—and then, dividing the veins about the head, and mutually interweaving them, they distributed them in opposite directions,—inclining some from the right to the left of the body, and some from the left to the right, that there might be a chain formed by the skin to unite the head to the body, there being no interlacing of tendons round the head,—and besides this, that the affection of sensation might from each of these parts pass round and through the body. It was in some such way as this, then, that they prepared the channel, of which we speak; and its truth we shall easily perceive by assenting to our previous position,—that all things composed of greater parts may envelop such as are less, while those consisting of less cannot envelop the greater. But fire is, of all classes of things, composed of the smallest parts; and hence it penetrates through water, earth, and air, and their several compounds,—and this to such an extent that nothing can retain it. The same remark is true of our belly, which is able to retain any food that has been introduced, but cannot hold spirit and fire, because they consist of smaller particles than those composing the belly.
Ideas discussed in this chapter
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