virtue of the one, as humility is of the other. In his remarks on this point, just as they are, the author seems to contradict what he had before said of the humility and selfabnegation required by the Platonic philosophy. But, it should be remembered, that in both cases he speaks relatively, in the first instance, to other heathen systems; in the last, to Christianity. He goes on to observe, that to the pride of the human heart the self-exalting system of personal merit and ability is undoubtedly most pleasing, and quotes a remark from Goethe to the effect that there are plenty of heathens in the Christian church. The following passage is equally just and beautiful :

“Oh, it is, indeed, much sweeter and easier, with a Platonic flight, to soar to the height of the divine idea, than in quiet simplicity to fol low Christ, and bear after him the cross of self-renunciation! On which account the wise world of modern times, also, so soon as it has arrived at the conviction that some sort of striving after God is indispensable to human excellence, far rather chooses the easier and more brilliant way of thinking God, than the toilsome and painful way of the cross; and accordingly prefers an æsthetic-Platonic, or philosophical-moral system of religion, to the Christian.

"But be it as it may, so much is clear from the view of the Platonic and Christian anthropologies, that the gain to human dignity, in the former, is only apparent, and the loss real; in the latter, on the contrary, the loss is apparent, and the gain real. How comes it that classic heathenism, with all its exalting, yea, almost deification of human nature, has never been able to construct any adequate notion of freedom and personality; while Christianity, which appears almost to degrade man, by denying to his virtue any merit in the sight of God, is the one religion from which the doctrine of man's true dignity, personality and freedom, has most nobly developed itself? How comes it that the heathen philosophy, even in the excellent Plato, in spite of all its soaring, can never escape from a miserable fatalism; and, consequently, that it takes away with the left hand of religion, what it gave with the right of morality? Plato shows us man surrounded with a divine splendor; yet, alas! bearing the dark chains of a blind necessity."

There is, again, an apparent contradiction between Ackermann's remarks in this place, on the Platonic ideas of sin and redemption, compared with what he has previously said on these points. The resemblance of the Platonic to the Christian redemption, he observes, is rather apparent than real, consisting in a deliverance from error and delusion, the

defects of the thinking faculty. Indeed he could not do otherwise, consistently with the doctrine that virtue is inseparable from wisdom.

The bad, or moral evil, has, according to him, no real, positive, and efficient existence; it is a mere delusive appearance, incapable of perpetuating itself, or of maintaining any permanent and successful conflict with goodness.* Besides this point of difference, it may be added, that a redemption attainable only by the philosophic few, could be of little interest or value to the mass of mankind. This is a "limited atonement," indeed! Pity, that having seen so far, the great philosopher should have seen no farther! That to the light of his own mighty intellect-mighty in comparison with the powers of ordinary minds, yet how powerless to discover the mysteries of the kingdom of God-there should not have been added the brighter light of revelation! One cannot wonder at the feeling which gave rise to the tradition, in the early days of the church, that Plato was met by our Savior when "He descended into hell," and received from him illumination, and pardon, and eternal life. Ackermann concludes his work thus:

"But is Platonism, as we have seen in so many ways, by its stamp of ideality, its religious elevation, and the exceeding beauty of its dialectic form, so adapted to awaken the admiration and enthusiasm of the reflecting mind, and to win over to itself the hearts that yearn after the divine- how great, how infinitely great, must be the hidden might of that homely word which flowed from the poor life of Jesus! For, dispensing with the aid of those circumstances which have given to Platonism so attractive a power, it yet drew together, in a short time, a larger church than Platonism could ever assemble; and, moreover, triumphantly outlasted, in Platonism itself, its worthiest and most powerful rival. And if there is confessedly, in the whole philosophic literature of ancient and modern times, no system that can be compared to Platonism, either for æsthetic perfection of form, depth and richness of ideas, or for the lofty soarings of a divinely-kindled spirit, which we see in it-how incomparably high stands the despised religion of Jesus, when we find the noblest product of human art and wisdom so far beneath it!"

* This Platonic idea of the negative character of moral evil, has re-appeared in various other systems, both ancient and modern. See the writings of Origen, S. Augustin, Schleiermacher, and the third and fourth volumes of Coleridge's Literary Remains, passim.

Deeply interesting is it to contemplate the struggles of human reason after an end which it was destined never to attain; to see its dim and partial guesses, its earnest and repeated yearnings after the truth, which was hidden from it; to mark how it sometimes seems to approach the very verge of discovery, and then, as if drawn back by an unseen hand, to recede from it again, only to be anew shrouded in darkness! Such an interest, sad and painful, it is true, is excited by every attempt to scan the records of heathen antiquity, and to penetrate through the outward manifestation to the inner life. What wonders may lie locked up in those myths and mysteries, if we had but the key to unlock them! What revelations might be made to us by those seemingly fantastic and meaningless fables, if we could but see through them! And if, in the more plain and simple myths, we find a relation to human life, and a representation of human feelings and passions-as in the stories of Sisyphus and Tantalus, of Ixion and Prometheus-how reasonable is it to suppose, that in the more obscure fables there is also a distinct and profound meaning!

But to return to Plato. We have exhibited the general course of the investigation pursued by Ackermann, and the result at which he arrives. In conformity with our original design, we should be glad to retrace the path, and dwell more minutely on some points in the inquiry; but finding this course inexpedient, by reason of the length to which our remarks have already extended, we shall content ourselves with noticing one or two points in regard to Plato as a uriter, which may be of interest to those unacquainted with his works.

It should be understood, that, in the preceding view, Ackermann has given us what may be called the concentrated essence of Platonism. It is not the product which would be obtained from a single reading of Plato's writings, or even from a repeated reading; but is rather the result of a doublerefining process, requiring for its attainment not only a thorough and diligent study of the Platonic writings, but a power of penetrating into its very core, and laying bare its hidden germs, and half-developed tendencies. Let not, then, the unskilled reader imagine, that by taking down and turning over a volume or two of Plato's works, or even by reading them all, he shall attain at once such a view as has been here presented, or, indeed, any clear and definite view at all.

Much more likely will he be to doubt whether Plato had any system himself, or whether, if he had, he meant to make it known. For he will find himself plunged in confusion and uncertainty. On most points, the opinion of the philosopher is to be got at, not from a single, detached passage, but from a careful collation of many different ones, scattered here and there through the different dialogues, often contradictory,* and which are to be put together and reconciled as well as may be. Then there are pages upon pages of the dialogue, in which the only business of one of the interlocutors is to vary the forms of saying yes and no; pages more in which the argument does not seem to advance a single step, but rather to return upon itself; and others still where the subject of discussion is so trivial and common-place, that we are ready to fancy ourselves in the company of the school-men in the days of Duns Scotus and Abelard. Moreover, it is often the case that these discussions terminate in nothing, and leave us as wise as they found us, so far as any definite result is concerned, breaking off in the midst, just as our hopes are the strongest of a satisfactory solution. All these things prove great stumbling-blocks to the beginner in Plato, as we can testify from our own whilom experience, and as Ackermann himself is quite willing to admit.

"The feeling of extraordinary greatness will hardly be the first impression produced on us by the reading of Plato. Rather will it be that of deceived expectation. For it is generally the case, that the impression produced by objects whose renown for greatness or splendor is familiar to us, falls behind the expectation with which we approach them. Many persons, it is true, will not make this avowal, either to themselves or others, because they are ashamed to look without interest or emotion at objects which awaken a transport of enthusiasm in others. And this false shame

* Tennemann enumerates some of these in his System der Platonischen Philosophie. "In the Protagoras it appears as if he held the good and the agreeable for identical; in the Gorgias this opinion is combated." In the Cratylus he appears to favor the opinion that outward means of purification avail to the benefit of the soul; elsewhere he denies it. In the Hippias, he says, that those who lie and steal deliberately, are to be preferred to those who do it without thought; but elsewhere he asserts the opposite. In one place he says, that an action is good when it has good consequences; and in another, that we must do what is right, without reference to consequences.

There is one very convenient mode of getting rid of the difficulties in such a case, without loss of one's reputation for discernment- a mode which has been tried upon other writers besides Plato, e. g., S. T. Coleridge. It is to declare that the author in question has no system.

becomes only too easily an occasion of untruth; one counterfeits to himself and to others, emotions which he has never had."

A sin, alas! of which Plato is not the only occasion. This lying to oneself that we may lie without remorse to others, is but too common. But suppose that one has honesty enough to let his true sentiments be known, and moral strength enough to persevere in the study of Plato, in spite of the first unfavorable impression, it is certain that many of the repellent features we have mentioned will disappear entirely, all of them in a measure, and some will begin to appear as excellences and attractions. On this point we will hear Ackermann. What will be the first feature in Plato, he asks, which will rekindle the disappointed expectations of the reader? With the Germans he thinks it likely to be his moral earnestness and greatness, his love of the true and the good, his indignation against the base and the unworthy.

"To this first little germ of admiration or appreciation of the morally great in Plato, other elements are soon added, by the aid of which we attain to a better comprehension of his greatness as a writer and a philosopher. He who in a favorable state of mind enjoys a full and fresh contemplation of that incomparable image in the Phædrus, of the span of horses, in the representation of the heavenly life of the soul, and who, with an undivided and unfettered spirit, surrenders himself to the impression which the wonderfully splendid and yet mysterious pomp of this image is suited to awaken,

will he not feel himself powerfully excited, and his whole soul penetrated as by spirit and fire?.... The high flight of the Platonic inspiration of which we have heard here we feel its living presence and power. The poetical fulness and beauty of style which appears to be wanting in some of his works, here meets us in all its splendor. The spiritual depth of his thoughts, which we do not so clearly perceive in some other parts of his writingshere it is revealed to us at once with an almost unfathomable rich

ness.

"What a successful overture is to a good piece of music, that is the Phædrus to Plato's works. If the meaning and spirit of this dialogue has become clear to us, we shall soon find ourselves at home in the region of the Platonic spirit and striving, and learn to understand its peculiar excellences. For the deeper we penetrate into the contents of the Phædrus, the more plainly shall we perceive that it is by no means either the lofty enthusiasm or the poetically beautiful diction which exclusively or principally affects us, in the reading of this dialogue. Were it not so, our emotion would be rather a transient ebullition than a constantly increasing satisfaction