’June 3, 1833.—­I part with Plato with regret.  I could have wished to “enchant myself,” as Socrates would say, with him some days longer.  Eutyphron is excellent.  Tis the best specimen I have ever seen of that mode of convincing.  There is one passage in which Socrates, as if it were aside,—­since the remark is quite away from the consciousness of Eutyphron,—­declares, “qu’il aimerait incomparablement mieux des principes fixes et inebranlables a l’habilite de Dedale avec les tresors de Tantale.”  I delight to hear such things from those whose lives have given the right to say them.  For ’tis not always true what Lessing says, and I, myself, once thought,—­

      “F.—­Von was fur Tugenden spricht er denn? 
      MINNA.——­Er spricht von keiner; denn ihn fehlt keine.”

    For the mouth sometimes talketh virtue from the overflowing of
    the heart, as well as love, anger, &c.

’"Crito” I have read only once, but like it.  I have not got it in my heart though, so clearly as the others.  The “Apology” I deem only remarkable for the noble tone of sentiment, and beautiful calmness.  I was much affected by Phaedo, but think the argument weak in many respects.  The nature of abstract ideas is clearly set forth; but there is no justice in reasoning, from their existence, that our souls have lived previous to our present state, since it was as easy for the Deity to create at once the idea of beauty within us, as the sense which brings to the soul intelligence that it exists in some outward shape.  He does not clearly show his opinion of what the soul is; whether eternal as the Deity, created by the Deity, or how.  In his answer to Simmias, he takes advantage of the general meaning of the words harmony, discord, &c.  The soul might be a result, without being a harmony.  But I think too many things to write, and some I have not had time to examine.  Meanwhile I can think over parts, and say to myself, “beautiful,” “noble,” and use this as one of my enchantments.’

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’I send two of your German books.  It pains me to part with Ottilia.  I wish we could learn books, as we do pieces of music, and repeat them, in the author’s order, when taking a solitary walk.  But, now, if I set out with an Ottilia, this wicked fairy association conjures up such crowds of less lovely companions, that I often cease to feel the influence of the elect one.  I don’t like Goethe so well as Schiller now.  I mean, I am not so happy in reading him.  That perfect wisdom and merciless nature seems cold, after those seducing pictures of forms more beautiful than truth.  Nathless, I should like to read the second part of Goethe’s Memoirs, if you do not use it now.’

* * * * *

1832.—­I am thinking how I omitted to talk a volume to you about the “Elective Affinities.”  Now I shall never say half of it, for which I, on my own account, am sorry.  But two or three things I would ask:—­

    ’What do you think of Charlotte’s proposition, that the
    accomplished pedagogue must be tiresome in society?