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tyrants, properly so called, especially such as Plato had himself become acquainted with, not rarely exhibiting this form in all its extravagance. The reader, however, very easily passes onward over all these little obstacles, since the striking description of the principal features carries him away with it. Among them a mysterious psychological factor is especially prominent, at the opening of the ninth book, an idea which is seldom quoted when the preindications of christianity in Plato are mentioned, but which to me appears to be the most profound sentiment he ever uttered in this feeling. It is, that the germs even of the most perverted extravagances lie concealed in the noblest and purest minds, but only stir in them during the suspension of the will in dreams, as they on the contrary, may break out into the most horrible actions when reason no longer maintains its supremacy in the mind. It is indeed undeniable generally, that the image of the tyrannical mind is not only the most important part with reference to the whole tendency of this section, inasmuch as it is that which exhibits injustice in perfection, but also in all its features in detail the most successful, and gives us at the same time a decisive impression of the boding anxiety with which Plato saw in general in the degenerate democracy of his native country such tyrannical dispositions developing themselves. Upon this description of the tyrannical mind there now follows quite close, and without any intermission, that threefold proof, properly completing the whole work, of the proposition that the just life alone is the truly desirable, and the unjust the contrary. A multiplicity of proofs for one and the same proposition, if they are not merely different forms of one and
the same proof, and consequently the multiplicity only apparent, do certainly excite our suspicion, because a want of confidence in each particular proof appears to lie at the bottom of that proof: and here it might be further said in particular, that upon any reader whom the previous description of a well regulated supremacy of reason does not convince as well as charm, all further proof must certainly be lost. And yet we should have been left without an important and striking explanation with regard to the relation of reason to the other two parts of the mind, if Plato had not subjoined these proofs. Now, even if it is not quite the case with these that, accurately taken, they are but one and the same, they are yet connected with one another in very natural gradation. The first, strictly understood, concerns only that state of perfect injustice. For if the desires become multiplied, and, forming the largest part of the mind, agree about a change of the government, because they cannot all be satisfied alike, it cannot then indeed be said that what the whole mind wills takes place, nor yet what the greatest part of it does not will, but this largest part remains free and is in unity with itself. Hence then, there follow further upon this particular proof two general ones, each implying the tripartite division of the mind, and supposing that each of the three parts has its own particular pleasure, and that the supremacy of each gives rise to a particular mode of life. Now if these modes. are to be compared together, this may be done by a more subjective method, if, says Plato, since there is no umpire to decide between them, there being nothing more existing in the mind, it is asked which of them can be qualified to pass a correct judgement upon the others as well as upon itself.
And then again it may be sought, more objectively, whether the solid content of pleasure which they afford cannot, purely as pleasure, be measured and estimated. And in this last proof much is presumed which was said upon the distinctions of pleasure in the Phaedo, but above all in the Philebus, which, viewed from this point, appears as the true and immediate introduction to our work. And Socrates crowns this perfect proof for the good cause of justice by a new image of the mind. I say new, because no true reader will be able to avoid, on occasion of the present image, recurring to that description in the Phaedrus of the chariot and its driver. Now if we compare the two, we shall find that that would yield an excellent work of art, if a sculptor or painter executed as Plato designed it; and even in words it developes a much-admired, and we may add, a truly admirable brilliancy of description and elegance of application. That at present under consideration, on the contrary, seems coarsely and almost negligently treated in the execution, and the application, extremely prosaically, is step by step in correspondence with the preceding didactic exposition. And should an attempt be made to express it as an image, it would, as Plato makes us feel distinctly enough, turn out a random performance, and acquit itself but little better than those well-known ascetic counterfeits of the human heart, in which the evil principle dwells, and from which all evil thoughts proceed. It is, however, excellently conceived for the purpose of clenching all the doctrines set up in this work with regard to the mind, and exhibiting in detail the different relations among them, and is perhaps only all the more effective as it will not bear the pencil or chisel, but can only be expressed in words. But if we consider how, if otherwise our arrangement is to be of any value, Plato's entire doctrine of the mind, in so far as he treats of it in a preponderantly ethical view, is confined as it were between these two images, we are then drawn deeper into the comparison. Neither of the two indeed represents the human mind as a perfect unity, or makes the distinct elements which may be discovered in it intelligible from a common centre-point; but still the strangely-compounded monster must ever be more a living unity than that chariot. The subdivision is in the main the same, but in the instance of which we are now speaking it comes out in much better relief, as the complexity of the principle of desire is here expressed, which in the other case is utterly wanting. And thus we come by degrees indulgently to attribute the luxurious abundance in the earlier picture, which has something of a coquettish character, partly to the rhetorical form of that work, and partly to the youthfulness of the composer, while in the one now before us we praise as meritorious the absence of all pretence to imitative virtuosity, which, standing as it does in strong contrast with the former, is at the same time perfectly in character with the philosophy of the work itself. And as this image recapitulates all that is properly ethical in the collective subject-matter of the work itself, it certainly appears to be a perfectly fit conclusion to the books themselves. For such it really is; the problem is solved, inasmuch as the superiority of the moral life is proved ; nay, even the conditions under which such a life is possible are laid down. And if questions, not falling within the limits of the problem, and referring only to the great image of the perfect Republic, interwoven with the whole work, are digressively answered, this noble image itself has as it were the spunge passed over it; for as when, after the completion of the structure, the scaffolding is again broken away, Socrates expressly declares that this republic exists only in imagination, and nowhere upon earth, and he leaves it standing only as a heavenly model, according to which every man is to regulate himself, and can then perform the duties of this constitution only, and of no other. At the end, then, of the ninth book every reader would go away satisfied, and miss nothing connected with the subject. But it can in no way be intended to be only an exhibition of the Socratic gluttony in conversation, when, as if he were yet far from the end, Socrates subjoins immediately something new, and that without even taking breath ; as if he were afraid that otherwise interlocutors and hearers would not let themselves be again brought to the task. On the contrary, we must be the more curious with respect to the subject-matter of this sixth grand division, which occupies the tenth book, forming the only real concluding piece, because it is clear that Plato must have felt himself imperiously called upon to make this addition before quitting his work, or he would not have done so. The composition of this part is as follows. The first section recurs once more to the subject of poetry, a subject out of whose province some matter is discussed in the third book, and being renewed in this, is to be here dispatched. It is, what the prevailing character should be in the descriptions given of men in order to be employed with advantage in the education of youth. And, as was said also in that book, this matter cannot be dispatched until the grand