per

that he did not set off upon the chase after so-called truths, and as soon as he had brought down one, diligently serve it up to the public in an ornamented dish, with an inviting (appetitlich) sauce, that he does not do this is the source of the calm power which vades all his writings, and gives them a peculiar worth and meaning; for it knits together all the separate and detached parts into one great and rounded whole. In order to feel the full peculiarity and excellence of such a mode of composition, let us look at the originating cause of most works of our modern writers. They commonly write upon whatever runs across their path or through their thoughts; the first subject that presents itself will answer, so it be adapted to exhibit their talents or acquirements in an advantageous light; whether their single productions sustain any relation to each other, whether their works are a necessary birth of their inward thinking and knowing-this gives them little concern. They hit upon this or that subject, according as an impulse is given from without; they construct out of their full magazines now here and now there a stately wall; but when they have built long and much, yet at the end nothing is done: there are long and broad bits of masonry, extending in different directions, but no perfect and finished whole.

Far otherwise is it with Plato's works! They fit together by unobserved connections, and appear so related to each other and to their common end, that they form at last a magnificent temple, which receives its light from above through the arched ceiling.*

It is this distinguishing peculiarity of his works which prevents most readers from sympathizing at first in the admiration which ancient and modern times have awarded him. One rarely attains to the understanding and enjoyment of single dialogues, long as they are read singly and successively. On the contrary, one often feels that he knows not what to make of them; on which account we find among scholiasts and commentators of all times such wide and irreconcilable differences of opinion, as to the proper aim and ground-thought of each dialogue. The underxanding of single parts in Plato becomes possible only from the understanding of the whole. Only when one has gained the point where the threads from different directions meet and unice, can one explain those directions and find out where he is (sich in ihnen orientiren.) It is with Plato's works as with every great and noble symphony; we do not perceive its worth and beauty till we contemplate it as a symphony, in its whole and perfect life; for its single parts, played by different instruments, are not only misunderstood, but often impress us disagreeably, because we do not perceive the meaning which they have in relation to the whole. Nor is it otherwise with

It is to be understood, of course, that this unity is to be found in the general spirit rather than the minute parts of the whole, and that it is a product of Plato's genial power rather than of a distinct determination and effort.

the greatest of all symphonies, that of the world's history. The eye which contemplates the All of things, rests with pleasure on the moving picture, the single and out-jutting points of which confuse and harass us short-sighted creatures."

But that which, after all, ought to recommend Plato most strongly to all those who have a horror of mere "unprofitable speculations," is, that his philosophy was designed to be eminently practical, and to mould and remodel life. He does not philosophize for the sake of philosophizing, or seek truth that he may lock it up in a casket and boast of the possession.* He philosophizes in the interests of morality, and it was only because he believed a complete system of speculative truth to be essential to the highest attainments in virtue-because he believed that knowledge is power, in a far higher and deeper sense than is commonly given to those words, that he expended so much time and thought on the completion of such a system. Believing, as he did, that the knowledge of the good necessarily leads to its practice, that sin is the result of error, and that if all men could be enlightened, all men would become virtuous, he could not do otherwise than seek to prepare the way for the dissemination and reception of truth. In support of this opinion we quote the following passage from Tenneman's System der Platonischen Philosophie:

"The consideration of the corrupt manners, the prevalent evils and disorders of civil society, and the distractions of the state-which had kept him back from political life-excited his mind unceasingly to the investigation of the causes of this evil in human nature, and of the means by which it might be remeded. A continued reflection led to the conviction that not Ahens alone, but all other states known to him, needed a reformation which should not merely improve this or that part, but should extend itself through the whole constitution of the state; because the laws, the customs, and the moral and religious convictions implanted by education, had lost their purity and their influence. From all these investigations came this result, that without philosophy such

"Plato's system," remarks Dr. Ritter, " did not differ essentially from some other of the heathen systems, those of the east, for instance, in the end which it proposed to itself, namely, the restoration or regeneration (heil) of man, but in the means by which it sought to accomplish this end, namely, by an active practice of virtue, rather than by secluded contemplation of the Divinity, and ecstatic raptures in solitude.

a reform was not possible; that the ills of humanity never will cease, until, through philosophy, the principles of right and wrong, both as respects individuals and states, are unfolded and established... Plato regarded the establishment of a science of ethics, which he names the science of the good, or of the bad, as the highest and weightiest aim of philosophy. Yet he did not exclude the interests of theoretical knowledge from those of practical reason, but united both by subordinating the first to the second . . . Thus all his thinking and philosophizing set out from, and aimed at, one point. He sought to bring all departments of practical knowledge into a systematically arranged whole."*

In quoting from a work like the present, one hardly knows where to stop. We should like much to make still farther extracts; to present to our readers Ackermann's remarks on Plato's power of consecutive thinking, on his irony, his alleged sentimentality, and on the true meaning of the muchabused Platonic Ideas. Not that the author undertakes to give a neat and comprehensive definition of these same ideas, which shall make all plain, or, in his own words, to "drop the quintessence of the matter into a definition-spoon and

* The popular error respecting Plato is directly met and refuted in this passage, to which it would be easy to add others, of similar purport, from various writers. Indeed, no one acquainted with Plato's works would hesitate to admit the position here taken. Yet how often do we hear the Platonic philosophy described as a mystical and shadowy system, made up of abstruse and useless speculations, and entirely theoretical, not to say visionary in its character. If by practical, and useful, be meant that which contributes alone to the physical comforts or necessities of man, there is justice in denying to Platonism any claim to such epithets. But may there not be practical benefits of a still higher nature - benefits rendered to the soul instead of the body? We confess that we have been surprised to find a man of so much genius as Macaulay, drawing a parallel between Plato and Lord Bacon, very much to the disadvantage of the former, because he did not discover a cure for the toothache, or invent the safety-lamp. "To sum up the whole," he says, "we should say that the aim of the Platonic philosophy was to exalt man into a god. The aim of the Baconian philosophy was to provide man with what he requires while he continues to be man. The aim of the Platonic philosophy was to raise us far above vulgar wants. The aim of the Baconian philosophy was to supply our vulgar wants. The former aim was noble, but the latter was attainable." It may be so; and if so, we can but say, with one of old, malo cum Platone errare. We would rather aim unsuccessfully at a higher object, than attain a low one. To aim at a lofty end ennobles. It is better to fly towards heaven, even if our wings fail us before we reach it, than to grovel on the earth. And we conclude with another passage from the same parallel which we have just cited, regarding it as the highest eulogy which can be pronounced on the Grecian sage. "He (Plato) was not content with deterring from theft a man who still continued to be a thief at heart, with restraining a man who hated his mother from beating his mother. The only obedience on which he set much value was the obedience which an enlightened understanding yields to reason, and which a virtuous disposition yields to the precepts of virtue."

administer it to the learner-a process which, if it were possible, would make the study of philosophy very convenient and easy." But for the very reason that he does not attempt this, and gives us only a "few finger-points" towards the right path, his directions are the more valuable and trustworthy.

In quitting our subject, we would say, to those of our readers who have leisure and ability for the prosecution of such studies, and who feel impelled to seek a farther acquaintance with Plato-go on. Even if you do not at first find that help from him which you seek, yet you may surely take the word of thousands who have gone before you, that a persevering study will furnish those aids to thoughtfulness, self-acquaintance, and true wisdom, which you may require. We are not deterred from saying this by the recollection that there are minds so inveterately Aristotelian that they will find no congenial elements in Platonism; because it may be safely taken for granted that such persons will not be induced, either by our exhortations, or by any other excitement, to pursue the study. In the meantime, there is one consolation which may support us under the grievous affliction of not being able to make all men see with our eyes; namely, that "the truth endureth, and is always strong; it shall live and conquer for ever more."

ART. III.-1. The Anglo-Saxon Poems, -Beowulf, The Traveller's Song, and The Battle of Finnes-burh. Edited by JOHN M. KEMBLE, Esq., M. A. of Trinity College, Cambridge. London: 1835. Second Edition. 12mo. 2. A History of English Rhythms. By EDWIN GUEST, Esq., Fellow of Caius College, Cambridge. London: 1838. 2 vols. 8vo.

3. Rask's Anglo-Saxon Grammar. Part V. Of Versification. Copenhagen: 1830.

8vo.

4. Bosworth's Anglo-Saxon Grammar. Part IV. Prosody. London: 1823.

8vo.

WE propose, in the following paper, to direct our inquiries to the very earliest age of English poetry-to the time, even,

when the Angle roamed in his native wood on the continent, and hence it may be necessary for us to state, as briefly as possible, some leading historical facts, in order that the reader who is not familiar with Saxon history, may see that we are fairly entitled to claim all the Anglo-Saxon remains as English, even though written before they left the continent.

The foundation of the Anglo-Saxon confederacy was laid by these tribes, speaking the Low German, as it is now sometimes called. (1.) The Jutes, who gained a foothold in Kent, and some of the islands on the coast, about A. D. 449. They afterwards obtained possession of a part of Hampshire. (2.) The Saxons. These laid the foundations of three kingdoms: (a) the South-Saxons, or South-Sax, now Sussex, about A. D. 491. (b) The West-Saxons, or West-Seaxe, including Berks, Wilts, Dorset, Somerset, Devon, and a part of Hampshire and Cornwall, about A. D. 519. (c) The East-Saxons, or East-Sax, now Essex, including Essex, Middlesex, (Middle-Sax,) and a part of Hertfordshire, about A. D. 527. (3.) The Angle, or Engle, who gained a foothold in Britain, and laid the foundation of the kingdom of Angle, since East-Anglia, including Norfolk, Suffolk, Cambridge, and a part of Bedfordshire, about A. D. 527. Other kingdoms were subsequently established, until the whole of what now forms England had been subjected to the rule of these foreign invaders.

The Angles migrated so numerously, as to leave their former country destitute of inhabitants. They gave their new residence the name of Engla-land, subsequently contracted to England. The Angles, or Englen, became, therefore, extinct on the continent; and consequently the present English are their only successors. All remains of the literature of that tribe, may, therefore, with the utmost propriety, be called English. After the migration of the Saxons to Britain, those in Britain were called Saxons, and those on the continent, Old Saxons. Subsequently, on the union of the several kingdoms, the two leading tribes, the Angles and the Saxons, gave name and character to the whole, and have since borne the title of Anglo-Saxon. Hence, also, it follows, that all the productions of the Saxons anterior to their migration into England, belong equally to the English and the Saxon. The remains of the early literature of these tribes are few, but such as have come down to us, are clearly entitled to a place among the early English productions. At present we are