plato's atlantis story and the birth of fiction

8/2/2019 Plato's Atlantis Story and the Birth of Fiction

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CHRISTOPHER GILL

PLATO'S ATLANTIS STORY AND THEBIRTH OF FICTION

T HERE IS A ~ E N S E in which Plato's Atlantis story is th e earliest exampleof narrative fiction in Greek literature; which is also to say it isth e earliest example in Western literature. I This may seem a surprisingclaim. Plato's story is introduced in th e Timaeu5 as the record of afactual event and as one which is "absolutely true." I f th e story isconceded, nonetheless, to be an invention, one might suppose thatearlier works of literature, such as Homer's epics, have an equal claimto be considered fictional. On th e other hand, it might be objectedthat the genre of narrative fiction (\vhat we call the romance or novel)did no t emerge in Greece until considerably later, in or around th efirst century B.C. A better understanding both of fiction and of theAtlantis story will, however, show my claim to be justified.

I f we describe a narrative as a fiction, we usually mean that it isan account of events which did not actually take place as they ar edescribed bu t which have been invented by the author. This, however,does no t distinguish between falsehood an d fiction. And, indeed, fictionis distinguishable from falsehood only by the presumptions of authoran d audience: th e author of fiction does not intend to deceive (noris the audience generally deceived) about the status of the narrative.It is also true (though in a different sense) that it is the presumptionsof author and audience that distinguish fictional from factual accounts.Fo r a fictional narrative in th e past tense is no t formally distinguishablefrom a narrative of past factual events; an d it is only certain conventionalan d extrinsic signals (like th e title of a book) which denote the classof the narrative. Moreover, an audience follows a fictional narrativewith much th e same kind of mental attention an d emotional involvementas it does a factual narrative: fictional events may seem, in a sense,as real as, or more real than, factual events. Yet, at some level, theaudience is aware that the fictional events ar e no t real in th e ordinarysense of the word but invented by the author; this awareness underlies

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CHRISTOPHER GILL 65an d characterizes the kind of attention, an d involvement, elicited byfictional narrative. Fiction, one ma y say, is a kind of game, in whichboth participants share in a willed pretense, treating what is unrealas real, and what is invented as actual.

The rules of the game of fiction are not intuitively obvious, butpresuppose a degree of cultural sophistication in a society or individual:in particular, the capacity to draw a dear distinction between fact an dfiction. This capacity cannot be reasonably attributed to the composersof Homeric epic, nor can th e poems (which ar e a chemical fusionof legends about the past and creative invention) accurately be classifiedby either term. The genre of deliberately fictional narrative (that is,the romance) di d no t emerge until historiography, factual recordingof th e past, was an established technique. Indeed, the romance seemsto have grown up as an imitation oC history, in which th e author playedthe game of recounting a sequence of past events. Xenophon's Educationof C)TUS (c. 36 0 R.C.), th e first self-consciously semi-fictional history,served as a suggestive prototype for later, more cOlnpletdy fictionalnarratives. 2 It is perhaps not accidental that Thucydides' attempt inth e fifth century to lay down criteria for v,rholly factual historiography(with none of th e romantic elaborations of the Homeric epics, 1.3,1.10, 1.22) was succeeded in the'fourth century by th e first philosophicalaccounts of th e truthstatus of literature; Aristotle, in fact, defines literarytruth through a contrast with historical truth (Poetics" 9). The clearerdelineation of fact promoted the desire to define fiction (or, at least,literary invention), as well as creating th e preconditions for the self-conscious production of fiction.

PI .ato ma y seem to be an enemy rather than an analyst of literature;an d hi s discussions undeniably have a polemical tone. But, closelyexamined, his treatment of literature in th e Repubhc, an d of th e kindsof truth an d falsity it possesses, goes far towards analyzing th e fictionalelement in l i t e r a t u r e . ~ Furthermore, the analysis can be seen to becontinued, in actual literary practice, in his intriguing Atlantis story;roughly contemporary with Xenophon's "'biography" of Cyrus, it to ocan be regarded as a pastiche of history used as a means of self-consciousexperiment in fiction. In fact, I think Plato deliberately frames hisstory in such a wa y as to invite hi s readers to play th e (still unfamiliar)game of fiction, to share in th e willing and conscious acceptance ofthe false as true.

Plato's first large-scale discussion of literature comes early in th eRepublic. The subject is th e role of literature in education, an d th emost relevant part is th e first section (377-92). He begins with th echallenging claim: "The class of narratives (muthoi) is, as a \-\.Thole, false,though it contains some truths" (377a). This sounds) excitingly, as though


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66 PHILOSOPHY AN D LITERATURE

Plato is announcing th e fictional nature of imaginative narrative, whileconceding it a capacity for, perhaps deeper-level, truth. Plato's viewin this section is in fact not fa r removed from this; but this is noteasily apparent. During much of the discussion, on e may reasonablyform th e impression that Plato is not explaining the sense in whichimaginative narrative, in general, is false, but is complaining aboutthe falsity of certain, specific, narratives. Fo r Plato complains, repeatedly,that Homer and Hesiod have told "Ues" about gods and semi-divineheroes, attributing to them actions they could no t have committed (e.g.377e-381e, 391). Indeed, Plato may well seem to be falling into thesame (partial) error as Thucydides, that of treating Homer as a historianof the distant past, an d faulting him for the inclusion of errors andimplausibilities in an account that has some pretensions to factual truth,But this is no t so. In a brief bu t important aside, Plato makes it plainthat he does no t believe there can be any factually accurate accountof th e distant past. "I n the kind of story-telling (muthologia) we havebeen discussing, we do no t know th e exact truth about events of thedistant past" (382dl-2). Therefore, all muthoi about the distant past(including those retailed by Homer, Hesiod, and th e tragedians, tojudge from Plato's examples), are, on the literal level, "false"; theyar e not the factual accounts they seem to be. However, this is no tth e falsity of which Plato, primarily, complains. As Plato goes on tosay (382d2-3), although any muthos about th e distant past is factuallyfalse, we can "assimilate our falsehood to the truth as fa r as possiblean d so make it useful." In saying this, Plato does not mean that wecan modify our imaginative account to correspond with the knownfacts of the remote past; for he has just denied that we know thesefacts. The criterion of truth and falsehood in such muthoi is on anotherlevel. OUf narratives approximate to truth an d falsehood insofar aswe give a more or less accurate representation of the entities aboutwhich we construct our narratives. The writer is like a portrait sculptoror painter, who achieves the "truth" by being faithful to the natureof his subject (377e), even if the narrative medium of his portraitureis imaginative or factually "false" (382d). Homer and Hesiod told"falsehoods" about the past because their imaginative narratives wereno t faithful to th e nature of their subjects (gods and semi-divine heroes);an d it is by reference to the falsity of their underlying assumptionsabout the nature of these subjects that Plato is able to stigmatize individualepisodes as false (380e-383c).

Plato, then, is not really treating Homer an d Hesiod as historiansand complaining that they ar c ba d ones. Indeed, his comment at 382dutterly rejects their claims to be treated as historians (a bold rejection,in view of the moral an d theological weight traditionally given to their


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picture of th e divine an d heroic past). Instead, he provides criteriafo r judging these writers which arc quite different from those of historicalaccuracy: namely, th e truth and falsity of their assumptions about thesubjects they present. For in this part of th e Republic-though no tin Book X-Plato treats literary composition as a process in whichtheoretical assumptions or concepts are clothed in narrative and dramaticform (379a ff., cf. 401-2); and he insists that these underlying assumptions should be true ones. But on the literal, or surface, level, Platoaccepts that narratives, at least about the distant past (and th e vastmajority of serious Greek literature xu set in th e distant past), arefalse; an d with this falsity Plato has no complaint. Indeed, he carefullydistinguishes conscious and unconscious falsity at 382a-c, and it isunconscious falsity, that is, ignorance, of which he is most critical.Conscious falsity is a less defective condition, an d ha s its uses (382c-d,389b). Indeed, Plato uses it himself, in the conscious construction ofa "noble falsehood" about the distant past, a foundation myth for hisimagined ideal state (414b--c).

Now, in th e conscious construction of a "noble falsehood," and, indeed,in this whole section on literature, Plato is motivated by th e socialand political concerns which underlie his whole Repubhc and no t bya disinterested desire to analyze contemporary literary practice. Yethi s picture of the writer as someone who, like a visual artist, giveshis own representation of his chosen subject, someone whose imaginativenarrative constitutes falsehood on th e literal level bu t illay still conveya deeper-level truth, no t only elucidates the character of th e epic poetryhe has most in mind bu t also that of th e creative writer in general.Indeed, we ma y well feel that Plato has gone some distance towardsdelineating the nature of fiction (more so, it would seem, than anyof his contemporaries). The one respect in which his account of the"falsity" of muthos is significantly not that of "fiction is that he docsno t seem to envisage an audience which is also conscious of this falsity.Of course, his own readers (if they accept his view of Homer) ,,,illno w be able to return to th e epic narrative with a neVI.' awareness ofits literal falsity. Bu t Plato--at least in th e ideal state he imaginativelyconstructs-does no t seem interested in creating a class of readers wh owill be trained to detect this falsity. He seems to accept th e fact thataudiences (children and adults alike) generally accept such accountsas literally true, and thus absorb the underlying assumptions of thewriter. What Plato wants to do is to ensure that writers create theirfalsehoods on the basis of true assumptions; then, \vhile th e literalfalsity passes unnoticed, the deeper truths VI.'ill be absorbed (379a ff.,40lh-d, 414b ff.). Thus Plato here does not make the audience anaccomplice to th e conscious lie. In this respect Book X (though even


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68 PHILOSOPHY AND LITERATURE

more fundamentally critical of th e writer) makes a significant advance.For here Plato does no t maintain that th e audience is deceived aboutthe surface-level falsehood of literature (even if it is led to falseconclusions about the writer). But this development in his view isobscured by th e fact that in Book X Plato adopts a different set ofterms: "what i s ' ~ an d "what a p p e a r s ' ~ in place of truth and falsehood.4

Plato's main aim in Book X was to dispute the traditional statusof Greek literature as a means of acquiring knowJedge of being,particularly knowledge of moral values (598e ff.). By contrast, Platoclaims that th e writer, qua writer, has no knowledge of what is: neitherpractical skills (such as politics) which can be applied to actual situations,no r knowledge of the absolute values which ca n underpin an d validatesuch practical skills. (Plato, fo r good historical reasons, always talksabout th e "poet". bu t I shall continue to use the generic term "writer",meaning creative writeL) The skill of th e writer goes no deeper thanthe surface of human life, its external appearance: the writer's distinctiveskill is th e ability to reproduce this appearance (as though with a mirror,596d-e), by creating an image which looks to the eye of the observeras th e world itself looks (598b-d). Homer, qua writer, knows nothingabout th e real nature of human excellence (or "virtue"); what he knowshow to do is to produce through words the image of a man wh oseems to most people to have something important an d real to sayabout the nature of virtue (600c-601b). To use Plato's terms moreexactly, th e poet, like the painter, is an imitator ( m m a t T ~ ) of theappearance (phantasma) , no t of what is (598b), and a maker of images,not of anything that is (600e). The audience's observation of this"phantasm"-world, an d involvement in its simulated emotions, is in-herently pleasant (605c-d). This pleasure does not derive from an yintellectual apprehension so gained since literature neither appeals to,no r satisfies, the reason (602e fL). The aesthetic experience, in fact,is a "c1osed l ' experience that discloses to us nothing about the worldof being, though our vicarious involvement with representations ofemotional self-abandonment may undermine our self-control in reallife (603c ff.).

Plato's account of literature in Book X is yet more negative thanth e previous discussion. He explicitly withdraws from the writer th ecapacity he earlier granted him, of basing his "imitation" on an intellectualgrasp of the being he imitates (600e; contrast 379a ff., 40lb ff.). Platohas his polemical reasons for this restrictive, and, in some \val's,implausible view of th e writer; bu t his second description has distinctadvantages, notably in isolating the fictional qualities of the writer.Book X (unlike the earlier discussion) does no t describe the writeras a maker of statements, a man in th e same general category as the


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historian or theologian. I t describes hi m as a maker of images. whichin tw o senses, "are not" (596-8), but are not, for that reason, trueor false in th e way factual statements about reality must be . This sec-on d description brings out the im portant idea of someone who createsa fantasy world 'which is distinct from th e real world but recognizablysimilar to it (even if this creation is described, with some simplification,as imitation).

It is worth noting, also, that Book X does not attribute to writersthe same kind of deception as does the earlier part of the Republic.In the earlier discussion, Plato seems to presume that audiences actuallybelieve th e falsehoods Homer tells. in a quite literal way; that theyactually believed that events happened in th e vvay they were describedby him (377e ff.). In Book X, Plato thinks that literature presentsso plausible an image of what is that audiences will suppose the authorunderstands what he seems to represent (598b ff., 601a ff.). But hedoes not maintain that they think that what is represented (in th etheatre, for instance) is actually happening, in the ordinary sense ofthe word, or (in th e case of epic). that it actually happened. Thephantasmworld of literature has a certain emotionally pow erful realityfo r us, bu t we ar e still. at some level, aware that this world is no tidentical with the one that "really is." "The best of us , when we listento Homer or one of the tragedians representing a hero in distress,stretching out a long speech of lamentation or chanting and beatinghis breas t-you know that we enjoy th e experience, give ourselves upto it, follow it in close sympathy and seriousness, and praise as a goodpoet the on e wh o most affects us in this way" (605d). In this description,th e surrender to th e fictional experience is a chosen involvement ina pleasurable sensation; subsequently, if not at th e time, we arc fullyaware of th e nature of th e experience and commend th e poet whomost successfully induces it.

Plato's two descriptions of the writer in the Republic are distinct an dnot easily reconcilable with each other. But despite their mutualinconsistency and their polemical tone, they constitute a remarkableexploration of th e fictional qualities of literature. At a time whcn factualand fictional writing were no t generally distinguished, Plato's accountof th e surfacelevel falsity of muthoi, and of th e p h a n t a ~ m - w o r l d ofth e poet, went fa r to isolate th e notion of fiction; and it did so inadvance of th e creation of an y wholly fictional genre of literature.Plato's account of th e writer is markedly negative; there arc only on eor two indications (401-2, 414b ff.) that what he describes is somethinghe might himself undertake. Yet, in th e prefaces to th e Adantis story,as I shall explain) there ar e unmistakable echoes of his ow n discussions;and this implies that he did, in away) se t ou t to undertake what he


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70 PHILOSOPHY AND LITERATUREha d analyzed. Indeed, even before this, in the presentation of the othernarratives periodically inserted into his dialogues (usually called Plato's"myths"), \ve ca n see signs of the reflections about narrative explicitlypursued in the Republc.

A number of Plato's myths concern th e life of th e soul after deathor events in the remote past; that is, they are the type of story-telling(muthologia) described at Republic 382d, in which we do not know theexact truth of what we describe, but make up what are, on thesurface-level, falsehoods, even if they are molded in th e light ofdeeper-level truths. In the presentation of Plato's myths, written aroundth e time of the Republic, we can see an increasing awareness on Plato'spart of th e ambiguity of their truthstatus. Let us consider, first, th ethree after-life myths, in their order of composition: GorgiaJ, Phaedo,Republic. These narratives ar e similar in their content, bu t differ inthe progressively greater detachment \O'ith which they ar e presented.In th e Gorgias, Socrates offers what he knows Callicles will regard asonly a story (muthos)-indeed, an ol d wives' tale (527a)-but \\'hichhe maintains is a true account (alithes logos, 523a). A similar accountis introduced into the Phaedo much more tentatively-"This is howthe story goes" (107d)-and it is concluded in similar terms. Whathas been told is a story (muthos) , indeed a kind of charm fo r Socratesto sing to himself; belief in it is a "risk," an d a risk only worth takingbecause of the connection of the surfacedetails of the story with anunderlying theory of whose truth Socrates is independently convinced(114d). In the Republic, the concluding myth is cast in the form ofa story attributed to an dbscure narrator (Er, the son of Armenius),who claimed to have died an d then returned to life (614b ff.). Inth e story itself, the sustained form of indirect discourse is a syntacticalreminder that Socrates, th e reporter of the story, is no t its author.All Socrates says is that "the story has been preserved, and wouldpreserve us if we believed it," though to th e truth of its message (theimmortality of the soul) he is more personally committed (621b-c).

In these three stories, we can see an increasing acknowledgementof the fictionality of the narrative) even if its underlying truth ismaintained. This distinction is made explicitly in th e Phaedrus (probablywritten shortly after the Republic). Socrates introduces a story as "atradition handed down from our forefathers; though they alone knowwhether it is true" (274c). When Phaedrus accuses him of making upthis allegedly "Egyptian" story, Socrates points out that what is importantis no t the source of the story but the truth of its message (275b-c);which is, virtually, to concede its surface-level fictionality. In anotherstory, in th e Statesman, probably written after the Phaedrus bu t beforethe Atlantis story, Plato's approach is more ambiguous, as though he


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CHRISTOPHER GII,t, 71

is playing with the reader's credulity. At first his account is introducedas a story (muthos), indeed, a "game" fo r his young interlocutor toplay (268d-e); and it is associated with traditional muthoi about thedistant past (268e ff.). Bu t then the narrator claims to be disclosingactual facts (about cosmic events) which underlie and explain thesemuthoi (26gb ff.); an d the interlocutor finds his account vcry plausible(270b). But, as it proceeds, this allegedly scientific explanation takeson much of the fantastic and supernatural character of traditional muthoi(270d ff.). An d it is gradually made plain that the whole account isitself a functional Tnuthos. designed to illustrate a point in th e argument(274b, 274e). In this story, which anticipates the Atlantis story at anunl.ber of points, Plato disposes us to expect a fiction. an d then, asit were, plays with th e reader, offering an account which might seemauthentically historical (or pre-historical), but which is gradually revealedas a functional fable. 5 The game \ .ith the reader (played out muchmore fully in the Atlantis story) is a minor feature in the Statesman.But in both cases it is as though Plato. having explained the distinctionbetween surface fiction an d deeper-Ie ....el truth, deliberately blurs th edistinction) if only temporarily, in order to sting his reader intorecognizing it fo r himself.

The ambiguity in the presentation of the Atlantis story is greaterthan that in th e Statesman. or in an y previous myth. There ar e twointroductions to the story, in the Timaeus an d the Cri/ias, an d bothof them in different ways predispose us initially to expect an inventedstory. But in both cases this expectation is contradicted when the storyis described as a historical report. Thus, at the start of th e Timaeus,Socrates summarizes the institutions of the ideal state delineated inth e R e p u b l i c ~ an d says he would like to hear a story which would bringou t the character of his state, by representing it in a major wa r (I9b-d).This prepares us fo r an invented fable, the narrative presentation ofa philosophical theme. Surprisingly, however, Crilias proposes to satisfySocrates' request with what he claims is a historical report of a factualevent. This report, he says, was preserved in his family: it was orallymemorized by successive generations (20e-21a, 26b-c). Solon, a distantrelative of his, obtained this report from certain Egyptian priests, whoserecords of th e past contain accurate information about events knownto the Greeks (if at all) only through myths (21e ff.). 9000 years before,primaeval Athens defended itself heroically against th e aggression ofa great maritime empire, Atlantis; and the institutions and characterof primaeval Athens are sufficiently close to those of Socrates' idealstate fo r the report of this war to be used as th e illustrative storySocrates requires. Nonetheless, suitable though it is, Crilias insists (andSocrates accepts) that his narrative is no t a made-up story (plaslhds


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muthos) bu t a true account (alahinos logos, 20d-2le, 26e).The Timaeus simply introduces a story which was to be told fullyin th e Critias (though in fact the project was never fully carried through).';At th e start of th e Critias, Critias seems preoccupied, no t with th eproblem of recalling accurately the details of his account (as he wasat Timaeus 2 6 b ~ c ) , bu t with th e problem of giving his narrative theillusory realism which he says audiences require (107). This concernseems more appropriate to a story-teller than a historian, and, in fact,Critias now describes himself as someone who is improvising a verbalperformance (107d-e). Correspondingly, Socrates compares him, alongwith Timaeus, to a poet-playwright competing before an audience ina theatre; and Hermocrates urges Critias to call Gike an epic poet)on the Muses fo r help (lOSa-c). Critias accedes to this urging; bu the also calls 'on th e mother of the Muses, Memory, an d by this neatswitch reassumes his role as th e reporter of a memorized history (108d),one later said to be based on a text transmitted from Solon (l13a-b).

This presentation of the story is ambiguous. Indeed, it is so ambiguousthat it has led readers, ancient an d Inodern, to draw two contradictoryconclusions: that the story is either a philosophical fable (a pureinvention), or an authentic piece of historical reportage. Some of thesereactions we shall look at later; bu t first it is worth studying morec10sely the actual wording of Plato's introductions, and the implicationsof this wording. The prefaces of Timaeus and Critias ar e stronglyreminiscent, in different ways, of th e discussions of literature in theRepublic. The Timaeus particularly recalls the earlier discussion in theRepublic; the Critias recalls Book X. Socrates in the Timaeus (as inthe first discussion of th e Republic) treats poets as people who givea more or less faithful representation (mimesis) of their subject (1gb-d).In th e Republic, he commonly compares verbal representation to sculpture or painting (377e, cf. Book X, /wHim), and, in fact, compareshis own delineation of the ideal state to th e work of such an artist(472c-e). In th e Timaeus, in an apparent extension of this image, heasks fo r artists who can, as it were, make his sculptures move (or inducemotion in the creatures he has brought to life); he asks fo r a narratorwho can illustrate th e characters of his state in an imagined action(1gb). Socrates needs a poet who has th e capacity he desiderates forartists in th e ideal state (at least, in th e first part of the Republic):that of representing a purely conceptual, an d moral, subject (40Ib-d).But he has clearly in mind the complaints he makes in th e seconddiscussion in th e Republic, that poets ar e merely imitators of perceptibleappearances: "The class of poets, being generically imitators, will imitatemost easily an d best the circumstances of their own upbringing; bu tthat which falls outside each individual's native environment is difficult


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fo r him to imitate well in action, and yet more difficult in words"(Timaeus 19d-e). But Plato does not make this remark in th e whollynegative way in which he makes similar statements in Republic X. Forhe ha s provided in the Timaeus a class of interlocutors whose uniquecombination of philosophical wisdom an d political experience enablethem to represent "how philosopherstatesmen would act and speakin each situation, while they engaged in war and battle, as well asnegotiation and consultation" (1ge). I t must be their special knowledgewhich enables Socrates to entrust to them a role similar to that finallyreserved fo r literature in Republic X, that is, th e creation of "hymnsto th e gods and eulogies of good men" (Republic 607a; cf. Timaeus19d, 2la, Critzas lOBe). Indeed, it enables Socrates to permit themalso to engage in th e limited "acting" role allowed in th e earlier discussionin th e Republic (though forbidden in Book X ) ~ - t h e impersonation, indialogue form, of good men (Republic 395c-396e, Tlmaeus 1ge).

These sustained echoes of th e Republic naturally lead us to th e followingconclusions. Plato seems to be indicating that he is about to experimentwith th e kind of consciously invented narrative that he envisages but(with th e exception of th e noble falsehood) does not actually attemptin the Republic (382c-d, 38gb). This narrative will be a representationof a morally good subject by an author who knows th e real natureof his subject (cf. 377e and 40lb-d), This narrative will be "true" toits good subject, and hence "usefuL" morally educative, fo r its audience,even if, judged by factual standards, this story will be a "falsehood"(cf. 382d). Bu t th e falsehood is not intended to deceive; for, by hisintroduction, with its allusions to his earlier discussions, Plato indicates,from th e start, that his story is an invention.In his preface to th e Tmaeus, Socrates makes it plain that he wan tsa man who possesses th e art of representation (a mim{te-s); he wantssomeone who can thus bring out th e true nature of a subject mostpeople do not understand. But, as is stressed again and again in RepublicX, writers generally have a different aim in their m i m e ~ ~ i s : that ofproviding a plausible simulacrum of human life, which will correspond,only too closely, to his audience's ignorant preconceptions about thenature of th e subject represented (59Bb-c, 601a-b, 602a-b). Critias,before he begins his narrative, shares this concern. He points out thatlanguage "is a means of representation (mimesis) and likenessmaking,like th e image-making of 'visual artists" (107b). And he is afraid thathis ow n representation of human phenomena will be less plausiblethan Timaeus' representation of celestial phenomena because th e standards of the audience (based on their familiarity with th e subject) ar ehigher. In th e case of celestial phenomena, we are content with "indistinctand deceptive techniques of shading," but "whenever anyone tries to


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represent human bodies, we ar e quick to perceive any deficienciesbecause of ou r close acquaintance with th e subject, and are harsh criticsof the man wh o does no t achieve an absolutely convincing likeness'!(107d). It is no t fidelity to his theoretical subject that bothers Critias(that is, whether he can express the true nature of the ideal state),nOf, it should be noted, fidelity to the details of his "historical" account.What concerns him is whether he can give his story the kind of surfacerealism that narrators of human action ar e expected to provide. Touse slightly different terms (those of Plato's Sophist, 235-56), Socratesasks fo r the kind of imitator who reproduces the true lineaments ofhis subject regardless of whether or no t its appearance correspondswith our usual impressions; whereas Critias is th e kind of imitatorwho is concerned, above all, with whether or no t his simulated worldcorresponds in appearance to conventional expectations.Thus, th e introductions of Socrates in th e Timaeus and Critias inth e Critias both evoke literary discussions of th e Republic; but theyevoke different discussions, with very different implications about therole of th e writer. What does this indicate? That Plato se t out to createa fictional narrative,.but on e stimulated by dist inct- indeed, opposed conceptions of the function of fiction? We can, perhaps, see the productsof this t w o ~ f o l d conception in th e closing pages of the Critias (113-21).The description of Atlantis-its topography, flora and fauna, engineerin g and architecture (all of them fabulous and o t h e r ~ w o r l d l y ) - i s givenwith remarkably graphic and detailed realism. These details may allhave relevance to Plato's underlying themes; 7 but their significanceis by no means on the surface. In the final paragraph of th e work,by contrast, Plato- i t seems, rather hastily-reminds us of the moralskeleton of his story (the conflict between th e just and the unjust state),by outlining th e moral corruption and inchoate punishment of Atlantis.In th e divergent tones of these two sections we may, perhaps, seePlato's two-fold literary motives at work (the philosophico-moral andth e more purely fictional). It is possible that an unreconcilable tensionbetween them explains why Plato breaks off his story in mid-sentenceimmediately after the moralizing paragraph. Yet th e two motives needno t have seemed irreconcilable when Plato conceived his story. Indeed,th e attempt to combine them, to create a philosophical fable whichwas more realistic than an y of his previous myths, which went furthertowards creating its own phantasm-world (like th e literature Platoanalyzed in th e Republic), ma y have been the guiding conception behindth e work, and on e adumbrated in its two introductions.

But if this is what Plato wishes to convey in his introductions, whydoes he combine these hints with the emphatic, and repeated, claimthat the story is no t an invention but an authentic historical record?


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Should we suppose that the account is, in fact, a historical record;an d that the preceding, misleading introductions ar e only devices toheighten th e surprise-value of Critias' claims to historicity? This is th eview taken by those who ihink Plato's story is based on fact; eventhough none of these scholars (including the proponents of the fashionable Minoan theory) has been able to discover a factual origin whichconvincingly matches Plato's story.H But, before embracing this view.it is worth studying more closely the way Critias presents his allegedhistory. His presentation is highly evocative of previous Creek histories.The picture of Solon interrogating Egyptian priests about the distantpast is highly evocative of Herodotus' Egyptian investigations (Timaeus,21-22; cf. Herodotus, 2, 99 ff.l, just as his account of primaeval Athens'repulse of Atlantis recalls Athens' repulse of Persia at Marathon(Timaeus, 25b--c, Herodotus, 7, 139). Further, Critias' claims of authenticity fo r his account (and of th e scale of the wa r he describes) evokeThucydides' introduction to his history (Tmaeus, 20-22, 23c, 24c; cf.Thucydides, 1, 22-23). The overall impression of these allusions isno t that Plato's narrative is actual historiography bu t rather a pasticheof historiography, almost a parody (since th e claims to exact authenticityar e combined with an implausibly vast time-scale). The historiographicalstyle is oddly blended with an almost epic us e of gods as agents inhuman affairs (notably, as patrons an d punishers of cities). Solon'sstory, we may note, was seen as a suitable basis for an epic poemto rival Homer an d Hesiod (Tz"maeus, 2lc). The more one reads Critias'summary of his story, th e rnore it seems no t th e unique factual documentit purports to be, but an elaborate literary collage-Plato's own reworkingof the theme of war, with significant allusions to previous treatmentsof the theme in th e histories of Herodotus and Thucydides (with Homer'sIliad an d Hesiod's T/ieogon)J in the background).

But if, as this suggests, Plato's story is not th e authentic history Critiassays it is, why should Plato put this claim into Critias' mouth? Theclaim to veracity might be seen as part of Plato's pastiche of historiography, setting th e tone, as it were, fo r the pastiche. That Plato was,in his later years, genuinely interested in history an d prehistory wecan tell, no t only from his speculative reconstruction of prehistoricAttica (entias, 10ge ff.), bu t also from the straightforwardly historicalsurvey of Lau).j'. III (which discusses explicitly th e historical events alludedto in th e Atlantis story). In the Atlantis story, Plato is, one may say,playing the game of being a historian; an d the fact that it is a gameis signalled by th e overt claim to historical truth in a context in whichwe ar e not disposed to accept the claim. 9

Plato, perhaps, also had a second, literary. reason for couching hisnarrative as a history, and as a "true" history. Critias' opening remarks


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76 PHILOSOPHY AND LITERATL'RE

in the Crilias (107) seem to proclaim Plato's interest in writing a storythat has something of the same effect on a reader as conventionalliterature; one that constitutes a plausible simulacrum of human behavior.As we have seen, parts of his work have precisely this quality, an dseem intended to be gratuitously interesting, independent of any moralmessage. In Plato's day, history was the genre of writing in whichthe events themselves, th e surface action, were put forward as intrinsicaHyinteresting and important. I t was natural, then, for Plato to choosehistory as his formal model (as well as the primary source of his buildingmaterials); an d to proclaim his model by using its distinctive claimof factual truth.

There is on e further literary reason (and that th e most interesting)fo r Plato to present his work as a history, in a context where we ar eunlikely to believe him. I have suggested that, in the Republlc, Platoexplored, with penetrating originality, certain crucial elements of fictionality in literature; an d I think his own story has th e self-consciousnessof its status which is essential fo r a work of fiction, as distinct frommyth or folk-tale. Plato knows the story he presents as true is false,an d that its apparent reality is only that of a plausible simulacrum, acopy of reality (though it is one whose creative originality beJies th enarrow limitations of Plato's own description of the writer as a mereI'imitator"). And he is not, despite appearances, trying to deceive hisreader into accepting his false story as true; he has given th e readerenough hints fo r him to be able to gauge th e real character of thework. Why, then, does he say his story is true? I think the reasonis that he is no t only writing fiction but, consciously, play ing the gameof fiction, the game, that is, of presenting the false as true, the unrealas real. And in his preface, he is inviting his reader to take part inth e same game, to pretend (to himself) to be deceived when he isnot, to take as true ",",'hat he knows is false. The reader may, in fact,be deceived; but what Plato wants is a willed s e l f ~ d e c e p t i o n , a chosensuspension of incredulity fo r the duration of the story. The game offiction was no t a familiar on e in Plato's day, as it is 10 US. In fact,th e complicity of the audience was the one element of fiction no texplicated by Plato in th e Republic (though it is not incompatible withthe willed self-surrender to illusion described at 605c-d). One mightsuppose that Plato was, in fact, exploring this element in fiction bymeans of this experiment in obtaining the reader's complicity. Thisne w element of intended complicity in th e fictional game makes hiswork th e first piece of deliberately fictional narrative in Greek literature.No doubt this was no t Plato's only reason fo r writing his story, andfo r couching it in the form he did; bu t it was, in many ways, themost striking of his motives.


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C H R I ~ T O P H E R GILL 77

That Plato's exact intentions in his composition were not fullyunderstood in antiquity is not surprising, given th e ambiguity integralto its presentation, as well as th e precocious originality of th e conception.Ancient commentators regarded it either as an authentic history oras an invented philosophical fable; that is, they took notice of Socrates'request in th e Timaeus, or of Critias' responsc) but did no t questionPlato's motives in combining these divergent indications about th e natureof his story. Thus, in the later fourth century or early third century,Aristotle's pupil Theophrastus and the contcm'porary Platonist Crantoraccepted th e historicity of th e story. Crantor, in fact, sent it to Egyptianpriests fo r verification (according to Proclus' commentary on the Timaeus,76b). Later geographers, like Posidonius (c. 115 to 50 B.C.) and Strabo(c. 64 B.C, to 21 A.D.), were disposed to accept its truth (Strabo, 2,102), though the elder Pliny (.:.Vatural ]-liJtor)" 11,92) was more sceptical. On th e other hand, neo-Platonist commentators like Porphyry andlamblichus (third to fourth century A.D.) regarded it as a spiritual andmetaphysical allegory (Proclus, ibid., 76c ff.). None of these commentators, it should be noted, seems to have an y access to Plato's intentionsexcept through th e texts we also possess.

On th e other hand, I think Plato's fictional intentions were not entirelyrnisunderstood in antiquity. Tw o writers of the fourth and third centuriesB.C., Euhemerus and Theopompus, created stories that are, roughly,in th e same genre as th e Atlantis story: that is, stories of fantasticconstitutions and climates set in remote and undiscoverable places. 1oBoth stories allude to th e Atlantis story, an d both seern to have beenmore or less overt fictions. These stories may be regarded, on th eone hand, (like th e Atlantis story) as elaborations of th e philosophicopolitical fable in th e direction of fiction; and on the other, as earlyexamples of the genre of travellers' tales, a fictional genre whose onlyextant instance is Lucian's avowedly false "True Story" (second centuryA.D.). Euhemerus and Theopompus took further steps in th e experimentation with conscious and virtually explicit fiction, a class of writingwhich was gradually being recognized by readers. In alluding to th eAtlantis story, and, to some degree, taking it as their prototype, thesewriters seem to acknowledge its status as an early experiment in fiction;and the recognition of these practicing writers is a partial compensationfor the impercipience of Platds other ancient readers.

UNIVERSITY COLLEGE OF WALES, ABERYST\VYTH

/ am g r a t ~ f l d for Iht slimulus, critiCIsm and help I hm x rutiveri from Julia A rmaJ, and fromffl) ' wlitagufJ in the UnivtrJi{)I of lValtJ, l\'oTman Gulley and ET)'an Reardon, in writing thisartic/t.


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78 PHILOSOPHY AN D LITERATUREl O n e might argue further that Plato's story is th e first example of self-conscious fictionin any form in Gre e k literature; bu t this would require a fuller discussion of, fo r instance,fifth-century drama than I can usefully attempt here2. See further B. E, Perry, The Ancimt RomanaJ (Berkeley: University of CaliforniaPress, 1967)3, Of recent discussions of Plato's treatment of literature, I have found most stimulatingN. Guliey, "Plato on Poetry," Grua an d Rome 24 (1977): IS4-69. Sec also G. F. Else,T h ~ Structure and Date of Book 10 of Plato's Rtpub/c (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1972),a suggestive though perverse book, an d Iris Murdoch, The Fire and Ihe S!m (Oxford:Clarendon Press, 1977). Fo r placing Plato's discussion in its hislDrical context, E. l\ .Havdock, Prefau to Plato (Cambridge, Mass; Harvard University Press, 1963) remainsvaluable.4. Of course, it is unwise to distinguish too sharply between discussion of truth anddiscussion of being in PlaID, since "what is" can often mean "what is the case" or "whatis true." Nonetheless, th e terminological difference here is worth noting, since it is anindex of a general difference of approach between th e two sections of th e Republic.5. Fo r a sustained comparison of the two slOries, see C. Gill, "Plato and Politics-theCniias an d th e Pofilicus," forthcoming in Phronesi.s, 1979.6. Despite th e recent claims of W. \Velliver, Character, Plot and Thought in P l a l o ~ Timaeus-C.,ilias (Leiden: BrilL 1977), there is no evidence that Plato intended his storyto have an unfinished appearance.7. Fo r a convincing analysis of their significance, see P. Vidal-NaquCl, "Athencs ctI'Atlantide," Rtuue des Etudts Cruques 77 (1964): 420-44; cf. L. Brisson, "D e la philosophicpolitique a 'epopce. Le 'Critias' de Platon," Revue de Mi/aph)'sique et dt. Moralt. 75 (1970):402-38.8. See, particularly, J. V. Luce, Tht End oj Atlantis (London: Thames an d Hudson,1969; published in U.S.A. as Los/ Atlantis, New York: McGraw-Hill, 1969). Luce's v i e w ~ ar c criticized by Rhys Carpenter, American Journal oj Archaeology 74 (1970): 302-303:J. M. Cook, Clossical R e v i ~ w 84, n.s. 20 (1970): 224-25; C. Gill, "The Origin of theAtlantis Myth," Trivium 11 (1976): 1-1l.9. See further R. Weil, L' "Arch/ologie" de Plalon (Paris: f'ludes tI CommenlnirtJ, no . 32,1959) an d C. Gill, "The Genre of th e Atlantis Story," ClaJJical Phdolngjl 7'2 (1977): 287-304.to . SeeJ. Ferguson, Utopias ufthe ClaSSical Wurid (London: Thames an d Hudson, 1975},chap. 14.

plato's atlantis story and the birth of fiction

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