No one knew better than Plato how to invent 'a noble lie.' Observe (1)
the innocent declaration of Socrates, that the truth of the story is
a great advantage: (2) the manner in which traditional names and
indications of geography are intermingled ('Why, here be truths!'): (3)
the extreme minuteness with which the numbers are given, as in the
Old Epic poetry: (4) the ingenious reason assigned for the Greek names
occurring in the Egyptian tale: (5) the remark that the armed statue
of Athena indicated the common warrior life of men and women: (6) the
particularity with which the third deluge before that of Deucalion is
affirmed to have been the great destruction: (7) the happy guess that
great geological changes have been effected by water: (8) the indulgence
of the prejudice against sailing beyond the Columns, and the popular
belief of the shallowness of the ocean in that part: (9) the confession
that the depth of the ditch in the Island of Atlantis was not to be
believed, and 'yet he could only repeat what he had heard', compared
with the statement made in an earlier passage that Poseidon, being a
God, found no difficulty in contriving the water-supply of the centre
island: (10) the mention of the old rivalry of Poseidon and Athene, and
the creation of the first inhabitants out of the soil. Plato here, as
elsewhere, ingeniously 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.)