Laws are confessedly a Second-best, an inferior Ideal, to which
Plato has recourse, when he finds that the city of Philosophers is no
longer 'within the horizon of practical politics.' But it is curious
to observe that the higher Ideal is always returning (compare Arist.
Polit.), and that he is not much nearer the actual fact, nor more on
the level of ordinary life in the Laws than in the Republic. It is also
interesting to remark that the new Ideal is always falling away, and
that he hardly supposes the one to be more capable of being realized
than the other. Human beings are troublesome to manage; and the
legislator cannot adapt his enactments to the infinite variety of
circumstances; after all he must leave the administration of them to his
successors; and though he would have liked to make them as permanent
as they are in Egypt, he cannot escape from the necessity of change.
At length Plato is obliged to institute a Nocturnal Council which is
supposed to retain the mind of the legislator, and of which some of the
members are even supposed to go abroad and inspect the institutions of
foreign countries, as a foundation for changes in their own. The spirit
of such changes, though avoiding the extravagance of a popular assembly,
being only so much change as the conservative temper of old members
is likely to allow, is nevertheless inconsistent with the fixedness of
Egypt which Plato wishes to impress upon Hellenic institutions. He is
inconsistent with himself as the truth begins to dawn upon him that 'in
the execution things for the most part fall short of our conception of
them' (Republic).
And is not this true of ideals of government in general? We are always
disappointed in them. Nothing great can be accomplished in the
short space of human life; wherefore also we look forward to another
(Republic). As we grow old, we are sensible that we have no power
actively to pursue our ideals any longer. We have had our opportunity
and do not aspire to be more than men: we have received our 'wages and
are going home.' Neither do we despair of the future of mankind, because
we have been able to do so little in comparison of the whole. We look in
vain for consistency either in men or things. But we have seen enough of
improvement in our own time to justify us in the belief that the world
is worth working for and that a good man's life is not thrown away. Such
reflections may help us to bring home to ourselves by inward sympathy
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