sly gives the impression that he is telling the truth
which mythology had corrupted.

The world, like a child, has readily, and for the most part
unhesitatingly, accepted the tale of the Island of Atlantis. In modern
times we hardly seek for traces of the submerged continent; but even
Mr. Grote is inclined to believe in the Egyptian poem of Solon of which
there is no evidence in antiquity; while others, like Martin, discuss
the Egyptian origin of the legend, or like M. de Humboldt, whom
he quotes, are disposed to find in it a vestige of a widely-spread
tradition. Others, adopting a different vein of reflection, regard the
Island of Atlantis as the anticipation of a still greater island--the
Continent of America. 'The tale,' says M. Martin, 'rests upon the
authority of the Egyptian priests; and the Egyptian priests took a
pleasure in deceiving the Greeks.' He never appears to suspect that
there is a greater deceiver or magician than the Egyptian priests, that
is to say, Plato himself, from the dominion of whose genius the critic
and natural philosopher of modern times are not wholly emancipated.
Although worthless in respect of any result which can be attained by
them, discussions like those of M. Martin (Timee) have an interest of
their own, and may be compared to the similar discussions regarding the
Lost Tribes (2 Esdras), as showing how the chance word of some poet
or philosopher has given birth to endless religious or historical
enquiries. (See Introduction to the Timaeus.)

In contrasting the small Greek city numbering about twenty thousand
inhabitants with the barbaric greatness of the island of Atlantis, Plato
probably intended to show that a state, such as the ideal Athens, was
invincible, though matched against any number of opponents (cp. Rep.).
Even in a great empire there might be a degree of virtue and justice,
such as the Greeks believed to have existed under the sway of the first
Persian kings. But all such empires were liable to degenerate, and soon
incurred the anger of the gods. Their Oriental wealth, and splendour of
gold and silver, and variety of colours, seemed also to be at variance
with the simplicity of Greek notions. In the island of Atlantis, Plato
is describing a sort of Babylonian or Egyptian city, to which he opposes
the frugal life of the true Hellenic citizen. It is remarkable that in
his brief sketch of them, he idealizes the husbandmen 'who are lovers
of honour and true husbandmen,' as