enemies, and has destroyed others, and there is quiet respecting these, he first of all is ever exciting wars, that the people may be in need of a leader. Aye, that is likely. Is it not also then, that, being rendered poor by contributing to the public treasury, they may be compelled to be anxious for daily sustenance, and so less readily conspire against him? Plainly

And methinks, if he suspects that any of a free spirit will not allow him to govern,-in order that he may have some pretext for destroying them, he exposes them to the enemy; for all these reasons a tyrant must necessarily be always raising war. Necessarily so. And, while he is doing these things, he will necessarily become more hateful to the citizens. Of course. And, therefore, some of those who have been promoted along with him and are in power, use great plainness of speech, towards him and among themselves, finding fault with what is done, such at least, as are of a more manly spirit. Aye, probably so. The tyrant, therefore, if he means to govern, must cut off all these, till he leave no one, either friend or foe, worth anything. It is plain. He must carefully notice them, -who is courageous, who is magnanimous, who wise, who rich; and in this manner is he happy, that, willing or unwilling, he is under a necessity of being an enemy to all like these; and to form plots against them, till he has purged the state. A fine purging indeed! said he. Yes, said I, the reverse of what the physicians do with regard to animal bodies; for they take away the worst and leave the best; but he does the contrary. Because it seems, said he, if he is to govern, he must necessarily do so.

CHAP. XVIII-By a blessed necessity, then truly, is he bound, said I; which compels him either to live with a depraved multitude, hated by them too, or not live at all. In such necessity he is, he replied. And the more he is hated by the citizens whilst he does these things, will he not so much the more require a greater number of guards, and those more faithful? It is impossible he should not. Who then are the faithful, and whence shall he procure them? Many, said he, will come flying to him of their own accord, if he give them pay. By the dog, said I, you seem again to be talking of certain drones, both foreign and multiform. Aye, you think right, replied he. But those of the state itself, would he not desire to have them also as guards?

How? After he has taken away the slaves from the citizens, would he not give them their liberty, and make of them guards about his person? By all means, said he; for these are the most faithful to him. What a blessed possession of the tyrants, said I, is this which you mention, if he employ such friends and faithful men, after having destroyed the former ones! But at any rate, said he, such he surely does employ. And then his companions, said I, admire him, and the young citizens flock around him: but those that are respectable men both hate and fly from him. Of course they would. It is not without reason, then, said I, that tragedy is generally thought a wise thing, and that Euripides is thought to excel in it. Why? Because he uttered this, the result of deep reflection, that tyrants are wise, by intercourse with the wise; and he plainly said, those were wise with whom they hold converse. And he commends tyranny too, said he, as some divine thing, and says a great deal else about it, as do the other poets. Those composers then of tragedy, said I, as they are wise, will forgive both ourselves and others who establish governments analogous to our own, for not admitting them into our republic, as being panegyrists of tyranny. Methinks, said he, such of them, at least, as are well mannered, will forgive us. But they will go about through other states, methinks, drawing together the crowds, and put to sale their fine, magnificent, and persuasive words, and so draw over governments to tyrannies and democracies. Just so. And do they not further receive rewards and are specially honoured, first by tyrants, as is natural, and next by a democracy; but the higher they advance in the forms of government, the more does honour forsake them, disabled as it were by an asthma from pursuing its progress. Entirely so.

CHAP. XIX. Thus far, said I, have we digressed: and now let us go back and talk about the army of the tyrant, beautiful as it is numerous, multiform, and ever the same,how it is to be maintained. It is plain, said he, that whatever sacred things there be in the state, these they will despoil, and make the sale-proceeds therefrom to be such from time to time as to cause the commons to pay lighter taxes. But when these fail, what will they do? It is plain, said he, that he and his boon-companions, and associates, male and female, will be maintained out of his paternal inheritance.

I understand, said I:-the party that made the tyrant is to maintain him and his companions. Surely it must be so, replied he. How, say you? replied I:-if the people were to be enraged, and say, that it is not just for a son arrived at mature age to be maintained by the father, but on the contrary, the father by the son, and that he did not beget and bring him up for this purpose, to be himself a slave to his slaves after they have grown up, and to maintain him and his slaves with the rest of the riotous crew,*-but rather that under his auspices he might be liberated from the rich in the the state, [who are also called the good and worthy] :—and now he orders him and his companions to leave the state as a father drives from home his son and his rackety boon-fellows. By Zeus, then, the people, said he, such as they are, will know what sort of a creature they have begotten, embraced, and nurtured, and that being themselves the weaker party, they are still trying to drive out the stronger. How say you, replied I;-will the tyrant dare to offer violence to his father, and actually strike him if he will not yield? Yes, said he, for he has stripped him of his armour. The tyrant, said I, you call a parricide and a hard-hearted nourisher of old age; and this, as it seems, would be an acknowledged tyranny; and, as the saying is,-the common people, flying from the smoke of slavery among freemen, have fallen into the slavish fire of despotism, and instead of excessive and unreasonable liberty, they embrace the most rigorous and bitterest captivity of actual slaves. Aye, this is very much the case, rejoined he. What then, said I, may it not be concluded with due consideration, that we have shown in sufficient detail how tyranny arises out of democracy, and its nature also, when it does arise? Quite sufficiently, of course, replied he.

* Gr. ξυγκλύδων ἄλλων. The word ξύγκλυς means the vilest and most worthless scum of the people. Comp. Thucyd. vii. 5, where it is used in the same sense.

THE END OF THE EIGHTH BOOK.

BOOK IX.

ARGUMENT.

In the ninth book the discussion of tyranny is concluded with a view of its origin and nature in the individual man, who, when thus affected, is given up to all kinds of disordered passions that effectually exclude him from all chance of happiness. Hence is it, that, as good and healthy monarchical government is pre-eminently conducive to the highest happiness of the citizens,-so also tyranny is unfailingly productive of the most intense and general misery. This is proved also from an analysis of the mental faculties, and a pretty full account is here given of the desires, pleasures, and indulgences by which they are affected, and which must be kept in constant subjection by the dominance of

reason.

CHAP. I.—We have yet, said I, to consider the tyrannical man himself, how he arises out of the democratic,—and, when he does arise, what is his nature, and what kind of life he leads, whether wretched or happy. Yes, we have, said he. Know you, said I, what I still want? What? We do not seem to have sufficiently distinguished as regards the desires; what is their nature and amount; and how many; and while there is any defect in this, the inquiry we make will not be very clear. Is it not good time for that yet? I wish to know about them;-for it is this. Of pleasures and desires that are not necessary, some seem to me contrary to law,-which indeed seem engendered in all men :-though owing to the correction of the laws, and of improved desires aided by reason, they either forsake some men altogether, or are less numerous and feeble, while in others they are more powerful and more numerous. Will you inform me what these are? said he. Such, said I, as are excited in sleep, when the rest of the soul-which is rational, mild, and its governing principle, is asleep, and when that part which is savage and rude, being sated with food and drink, frisks about, drives away sleep, and seeks to go and accomplish its practices;

in such an one, you know, it dares to do everything, because it is loosed and disengaged from all modesty and prudence: for, if it pleases, it scruples not at the embraces, even of a mother, or any one else, whether gods, men, or beasts; nor to commit murder, nor abstain from any sort of meat,-and in one word, it is wanting neither in folly nor shamelessness. You speak most truly, replied he. But when a man is in good health, methinks, and lives temperately, and goes to sleep, after exciting his reason, and feasting it with noble reasonings and investigations, having thus attained to an internal harmony, and given up the appetites neither to want nor repletion, that they may be at rest, and not disturb that part which is best, either by joy or grief, but suffer it by itself alone without interruption to inquire and long to apprehend what it knows not, either something of what has existed, or now exists, or will exist hereafter; and so also, having soothed the spirited part of the soul, and not allowed it to be hurried into transports of anger, or to fall asleep with agitated passion; —but after having quieted these two parts of the soul, and roused to action that third part, in which wisdom dwells, he will thus take his rest;-you know, that by such an one the truth is best apprehended, and the visions of his dreams are then least of all portrayed contrary to the law. I am quite of this opinion, said he. We have digressed indeed a little too far in talking of these things ;-but what we want to be known is this, that in every one resides a certain species of desires that are terrible, savage, and irregular, even in some that we deem ever so moderate :-and this indeed becomes manifest in sleep.-Now consider, if I seem to be speaking to the purpose, and whether you agree with me. Aye, indeed, I do.

CHAP. II.-As for the people's man then, recollect how we described him, as being brought up somehow from infancy under a parsimonious father, who valued avaricious desires only; and despised all such as were unnecessary, arising only out of a love of amusement and finery.* Was he not? Yes. But getting acquainted with the more refined, who are full of the desires just mentioned, running into all sorts of insolence, and imbibing their manners through detes

* This refers to the description of the dηpoкparikòg in book viii.

ch. 12.