mischief. Of old, law was supreme in every part of the State—especially in music, with its four primitive and simple divisions. Reverence, and the fear "which the coward never feels," prevailed; all classes were united, and fought for their common hearths and sepulchres; and the grand result was Marathon and Salamis. But gradually a change has come over our national character. There has been a growing lawlessness, beginning in the Music, and spreading thence throughout the community. We no longer any of us listen in respectful silence to the judgment of superior interests, but are one and all become accomplished critics, and every one knows everything. Awe and reverence have gone for ever; and there is a shameless disregard for authority, whether of parents, or elders, or rulers. Even the majesty of the gods is slighted, and the oaths sworn by them are made of no account.
Here, with the Third Book, ends "the prelude" to the "Laws." By a happy coincidence (says the Cretan in the Dialogue), his countrymen are just going to found a colony, and he is one of the ten commissioners appointed to give laws to the colonists. Will the Athenian give him some hints on the subject?
It is clear (replies the Athenian) that all legislation should aim at carrying out three principles—namely, freedom, unity, and wisdom; and that State will be best where the law is best administered by the rulers who are its servants, and where the happiness of the community is the sole object of their legislation.
