and eloquently descants on this point, but would refer those who need to be convinced to his works.

But we go farther, and assert, that still another requisite to the comprehension, in the highest sense of that word, of a metaphysical system, is the possession of a type, or cast of mind, somewhat similar to that of the author of the system. For if you are not able to see through his eyes for a time, in other words, if your consciousness cannot be put into the same state with that of the author of the theory or system, his words may fall upon your ear, or strike your eye, but they will be words only; they will not be symbols of the ideas which they represented to him. This does not necessarily imply either a defect in you, or in the system. Your mind may be of an order which forbids your fully penetrating the meaning of an author so diverse from you; and it may be, on the other hand, that your system would be equally obscure and unsatisfactory to him. On this point we are happy to be able to quote an admirable passage from the work whose title stands at the head of this article, and which, valuable as it is on account of the ability and learning displayed in the general management of the subject of which it treats, is no less so an account of the many just and striking thoughts scattered through it. After observing that neither Plato nor Aristotle understood the other, he goes on:

"This assertion will be received with incredulity by many persons. How does this accord, it will be said, with the fact that Plato and Aristotle are called the greatest of philosophers, while you assert them to be incapable of understanding and appreciating each other? And especially how can it be said that Aristotle judged the Platonic philosophy so hardly, simply from a misconception of it, when he is acknowledged to have possessed the most acute and penetrating understanding?

"This objection, or doubt, will vanish so soon as we recognize the simple truth, so important in the history of science, that every mind can comprehend, in the widest sense of the word, only that object which it is able organically to produce, or re-produce, in itself. The living, up-shooting, and up-lighting, of a foreign thought in one's own inner consciousness, is properly understanding; all else is only a shadow-and-word-understanding, not a spiritual perception of the truth in question. There are two kinds of understanding. The words which Paul has written any learned man can translate and comment upon; but he cannot, therefore, say that he understands Paul, for that can be said by him alone who possesses a mind and character like Paul's.

"Aristotle saw and comprehended only the not-Aristotelian in Platonism; the peculiarly Platonic remained strange and unpenetrated by him. For had it attained a living development in his consciousness, this consciousness must have ceased to be organized and conditioned after an Aristotelian fashion, and have become Platonic. He could not have been a Platonizing thinker, if he had wished it. But he did not wish it, nor ought he to have done so, for in so doing he would have sinned against himself and the spirit of history. Even Schiller and Göthe, who gave themselves so much trouble to promise, and to render each other reciprocal justice, could never quite succeed; Schiller thought the poetry of Göthe would be better and finer if it were a little more Schillerlike, (Schillerischer,) and Göthe thought no less on his side."

The fact is, that ideas are not pieces of mental furniture which can be transferred at pleasure from one mind to another; their reception demands certain requisites on the part of the receiver, or rather they are not given and received, they are awakened in the mind by reflection, aided by the words which symbolize them; but never, strictly speaking, conveyed by those words. Consequently we cannot receive truth from others, we must make it our own by reflection, and whenever the words of another are made instrumental in imparting it to us, (we are speaking of course of abstract truth,) it is only that our minds have reached a point where they would shortly have discovered it unaided.

One more inference, and we proceed to our main subject. It is, that controversy, except within certain limits, and under certain conditions, is useless. What these limits and conditions are, it may not be possible to state under the form of a distinct proposition. In general, it may be said, that when we have reason to believe our opponent uninstructed on the subject of debate, or where his opinion has been adopted hastily, as the result of partial or prejudiced examination, there is ground for hope that a candid, fair, and dispassionate exhibition of the controverted point, may be useful. So, too, when the error relates to a matter of vital importance, so as, in our view, to endanger the eternal interests of him who holds it not only is it our right, but our imperative duty, to use all proper means to convince him of his error. But with these exceptions, and where a man's opinion on a certain point is evidently the result of his mental constitution, being of a piece with his opinions on other subjects, then we may let controversy rest. If men were mere intellectual beings,

and had no bad passions to be called into exercise, the case would be different. It might then be well enough that they should amuse themselves, and perhaps others, with the war of words, the clashing of pens and tongues. But when we see that even the wisest and best men lack the ability to preserve their tempers in the midst of a debate; how often dis=cussions, amicably begun, have ended in bitter mutual hostility; how seldom controversy changes the opinion of either party, and what an expense of time and temper is occasioned by them, one can hardly avoid assenting to the wisdom of Solomon's advice to let alone contention before it be meddled with.

Especially is controversy to be avoided in matters of religion. Most ruinous have been its effects on the church in = all ages. If we look over the pages of ecclesiastical history, we see every where the ensigns of war, and hear the din of battle, and the shouts of victory. Are these the followers of the Prince of Peace? Much may be said, we know, and much has been said, about the duty of contending for the faith, and no doubt it is a duty. But without being uncharitable, we may express a doubt whether half the ecclesiastical dissensions chronicled in the annals of the church, are not contentions for pride, self-interest, obstinacy, the love of party, rather than for the faith. Moreover, there are other and better ways of contending for the faith than by the war of words. Live it, and you take the most effectual means of preserving it from corruption. It is not too much to say, that truth goes out with a more convincing, persuasive, and victorious power, from the life of a truly godly and humble Christian, than from the pen of the most learned rabbi or doctor of the law that ever lived, who wrote from the love of controversy. Truth, translated into action, has a power which it can never exert in the abstract form of propositions and aphorisms.

The preceding remarks, which have extended to a much greater length than we had anticipated, are no otherwise connected with our main subject than as they are naturally suggested by every attempt to examine and comprehend the opinions of a truly independent mind. In tracing the relations and developments of Platonism, and comparing its peculiar character with that of other earlier and contemporaneous systems, the question can hardly fail to arise, why did Plato take just such views of truth, and no other?

Whence the peculiarity which made him a Plato, and not an Aristotle, a Zeno, or an Epicurus? In following out this, and some collateral trains of thought, we have taken a somewhat wide circuit; but trusting to the good-nature of our readers to pardon the fault, if it be one, we shall, without further apology, turn to Ackermann and his book.

Amidst the multitude of books that have been written about Plato and Platonism, there is no one within our knowledge in which the precise point here treated of, namely, the relation of Platonism to Christianity, is so fully and ably handled as in the present work. The spirit in which it is conceived, the general plan of its construction, and the ability, learning, and Christian feeling displayed in its execution, are equally admirable. Sensible of the inadequacy and impropriety of the method of investigation ordinarily employed on such subjects, namely, that of instituting a comparison be tween single passages and detached opinions, the author, after presenting some such points of resemblance, has abandoned this method for the genetic, described in the following passage: "An inward connection must unite all the subsequent points of our inquiry, and we must be led from one to the other by a spiritual necessity, so that the main idea of the investigation shall appear not as put together and drawn out by us, but as developing itself freely and spontaneously from the subject." How successful Ackermann has been in this attempt, is a point on which different minds will form a different opinion. The process of abstracting the true essence and flavor of a system, and presenting it in a definite shape, is a delicate one, and not likely to be performed so as to suit all minds. The fault with which he is most liable to be charged, is that of allowing too much merit to Platonism, and perceiving in it a nearer analogy to Christianity than really exists. Yet it is impossible to recognize, more distinctly than he does, the infinite disparity between every system of human invention and that scheme of revealed truth of which Jesus Christ is the foundation, subject, and end. Thus while the effect of his work is to impress us with profound admiration of the wonderful man on whom such light beamed amidst the darkness of paganism, it also strengthens our conviction that the highest efforts of human reason are powerless to provide a redemption from human guilt and misery.

The author has of course found it necessary to discuss

some preparatory and collateral topics of inquiry, before engaging directly in an investigation so difficult and so interesting as the one proposed. Passing over these, however, for the present, we prefer to enter at once upon the main question. What, then, is the peculiar essence, the intransferable element, first in Christianity and then in Platonism?

In prosecuting this inquiry with regard to Christianity, the author leads us to contemplate it in its relations to life. What does life aim at and strive after? It strives after perfect and free development, the complete and unhindered unfolding of all its capabilities, the satisfaction of all its tendencies and aspirations. In the life of nature we see something of this freedom and perfection. There is in it an inexhaustible strength, and fullness, and freshness; it is sound at the core, and all the hindrances and molestations it meets with come from without, and are things apart from it. All this, of course, is to be understood relatively, not absolutely; for nature itself, as St. Paul declares, waits and groans for redemption. Yet, relatively, it is true that the creation exults in the might of its sustainer. What a wealth of remedies and restoratives does nature reveal! What manifold resources for protection and defence! Meeting every injury with a counter healing influence, and filling the shell of the wounded muscle with pearls, and the clefts of the mountain with precious

ores.

Human life, viewed from one side, presents a similar refreshing and satisfying spectacle. Every want calls forth a corresponding gratification. "For the body, grow without fail its nourishment and its covering; wounds and diseases attract from afar the healing balsam; the senses meet every where what suffices for their quickening and refreshment; to the fancy is never wanting the excitement of abundant images; to the creative spirit of art there is presented every where a wealth of materials to be elaborated; for the social impulse is provided companionship and conversation; over every dark sorrow hope arches her bright bow of peace; the heart every where finds love, and the mind its world of thoughts." But there is another side to life-oh, how dif ferent! Yes, there is in life disappointment, regret, delusion, fear, abjectness, guilt, remorse, despair, death! To get at this view of the picture it is not needful to examine history; to search the annals of crime; to read of wars and persecutions; of tortures, bloodshed and imprisonment; of canni