-" / ,1.6 . 2.V LIBRARY OF THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY PRINCETON, N. J. Presented by rnrs."?, \X^.3obes. n- ■ ■ sec Division Section ■ /I 'j CRITICAL ESSAYS, A FEW SUBJECTS CONNECTED WITH V^*. %? JAN r;G 1924 THE HISTORY AND PRESENT CONDITION SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY. By FRANCIS BOWEN, A. M. JIolXol Twv ri(av cpiXoaocpdv Xs'yovGi. LUCIAN. BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY H. B. WILLIAMS. 1842. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1842, by Francis Bo wen, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. CAMBRIDGE: METCALF, KEITH, AND NICHOLS, PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. PREFACE The following essays have all appeared, at various times, in the pages either of the " Christian Exam- iner," or of the '' North American Review." They are now printed by themselves, not from the mere ambition of making a book, but because they relate mainly to one subject, and fall naturally into a series, so that being read in connexion, there is a better chance, that their meaning and purpose will be clearly perceived. Some over partial friends had also ex- pressed a desire to see them in a distinct publication ; and as most of the pieces were written at their sug- gestion, or under their encouragement, comphance with their wishes seemed to be almost a duty. In some of the shorter essays, a few paragraphs, relating only to an estimate of the books under re- view, are here omitted. With this exception,^ the articles are reprinted without alteration, — without changing even the personal pronoun, the use of which is sanctioned by invariable custom in period- ical writings, in respect of the advantage it affords, in veiling the appearance of egotism. It is possible, therefore, that some repetitions and incongruities may be detected in different parts of the volume; and % IV i PREFACE. there are a few remarks in the earHest pieces, which I should now be wilUng to quahfy, or to state with considerable limitations. Study and reflection on such subjects would be profitless, if, after a consider- able lapse of time, they had produced no modifica- tion of opinion. In speculative philosophy, no one should ever cease to be a learner. But on all the important topics, which are here considered, farther labor and inquiry have only confirmed the writer in his views, and slight alterations it seemed hardly ad- visable to make, when time could not be spared for writing the whole work anew, and digesting it into a regular treatise. These articles, therefore, should be regarded as imperfect essays, — as the fruits of rather desultory studies in a favorite branch of in- quiry, which I once hoped to pursue with more care and method, though circumstances have now made it necessary to exchange them for other pursuits. The first essay was written only five years ago, but some of the anticipations expressed in it are already verified. The exclusive study and admira- tion of some foreign models, the effect of which was then visible only in the fantastic manner and garb assumed by certain writers, to which the criticism was chiefly directed, have now begun to modify opinions, and to excite controversy on subjects of great interest. Abstract speculations, when confined to the proper objects of philosophical inquiry, do not attract much notice ; but they acquire importance, and excite the attention of all reflecting persons, when they are made to bear on the vital principles of moral and religious truth. It becomes a duty, then, not only to watch them in their results, but to trace them to their sources, and to ascertain whether the PREFACE. V fountain is pure, the waters of which are conducted to the homes of men, and must serve either to impart heahh and strength, or to create and nourish disease. Philosophers have availed themselves of the intimate relation which exists between religious truth and their own objects of study, to gain an audience from persons, who would otherwise feel little interest in their researches. They must not complain, there- fore, if the process is reversed ; if their own theories are soifietimes viewed only in their religious aspect, and are taken or rejected, according as they lead to sound or erroneous opinions in theology. If meta- physics are made a test of the truth of Christianity, it is but equal justice to make Christianity a test of the correctness of metaphysics. When M. de Tocqueville, in his work upon the in- fluence of democracy on the opinions, manners, and social condition of the people of this country, deemed it necessary to devote one chapter to a consideration of the philosophical method of the Americans, he was obliged to confess, that there was no country in the civilized world, where they cared less about phi- losophy, than in the United States. The observa- tions on which his remarks were founded, were taken some years since, and at that time, perhaps, the state of opinions justified the assertion to its full extent. It would need to be qualified somewhat at the pres- ent day. But the traveller deserves great credit for his sagacity in detecting those features in the social and intellectual condition of the people, which led him to remark on their fondness for general ideas, and their aptitude for embracing a particular system in philosophy, if it should ever be brought to their notice. He might have modified his first remark, i* Vi PREFACE. therefore, by anticipating a time when philosophical studies would become a favorite pursuit among a certain class of our countrymen. No attentive ob- server can be ignorant of the fact, that such studies have acquired favor very rapidly of late, so that it may not appear too sanguine to believe, that a philo- sophical school will ultimately be established in this country, with a character quite distinctive, as that which belongs to the philosophy of England, France, and Germany. The collegiate coflrse of instruction in metaphysics is improved and enlarged. The latest European writers on the subject are eagerly studied, and translations and reprints of a few of their works are published, and find a ready sale. The effects of the prevalence of such a taste are already perceptible in the conduct of the religious, and some of the political controversies of the day. We might attribute this philosophical movement, — if we may give it such a name, — to local and tem- porary causes, if there were not some features in the character and condition of the people, which would seem to promise it a great extension and a permanent influence. As M. de Tocqueville has clearly shown, a love of theories and abstract speculations is fostered by the democratic character of our institutions. We are eminently a theorizing people. No traditional opinions, no hereditary prejudices of classes and fam- ilies can here exist, to fetter the wide range of thought. Each individual is but a unit among a multitude of equals, and the conclusions which he forms for himself, he is tempted to apply to all around him, because none are separated from him by any strongly marked line of station, power, or acquire- ments. He generalizes rapidly, and his common PREFACE. Vll discourse often consists in great measure of abstrac- tions. When he thinks most about his own rights he talks most about the rights of the people. This disposition to take wide and sweeping views is strengthened by the necessity, which the possession of a vote imposes upon him, of forming some opinion upon nearly all political topics. To reason from facts in matters of legislation and government, to correct the aberrations of theory by the slow inductions of experience, to limit the application of a rule by the particular circumstances of a single case, is a pro- tracted and difficult task. We are too busy and active a people, to give time and labor to such an undertaking. But general principles are soon stated and easily learned. By their aid, the most compli- cated and difficult questions are quickly settled, and any person will run the risk of applying them, since the consequences of the measure are not to aifect him alone, but will fall upon the community, of which he is only a part, and such a small part too, that he fancies his share of the evil will be very small. Hence, there is great readiness among us for the dis- cussion of general principles, and every person feels quite able to settle them for himself; but in the management of his private concerns, he will often ask the advice of another, and in all cases directly affecting an individual, he is slow to form an opinion, and distrustful of his own competency to direct. Few will venture to advise an experienced merchant about the conduct of a particular adventure, or an old farmer about the cultivation of a single field ; but all are able to decide questions of legislation, which are to affect the whole commerce and agricul- ture of the country, because the decision here seems Viil PREFACE. to depend only on general principles. As all doubts respecting the great subjects of foreign and internal policy may be determined with such facility, by the aid of a few abstract ideas and sweeping generaliza- tions, no wonder that the government itself has silently been altered, and that the legislative power is no longer exercised in the mode contemplated by the founders of the constitution. The theory of a representative government is, that the body of the people, having neither the leisure nor the ability to frame laws for themselves, should delegate this power to a few individuals selected for the purpose, and confide the affairs of state to their wisdom and integ- rity, always holding them responsible for a breach of the trust. But the temptation to exercise the legis- lative power directly is so strong, and all doubts respecting the proper policy are so quickly determined by a few general truths, that the real business of the country is now transacted, not in the halls of legisla- tion, but in the primary assemblies of the people. Legislators are chosen, not in respect to their char- acter and talents, but to the soundness of their prin- ciples ; and they are sent to the capitol, not to debate and decide among themselves, but to register the will of their constituents. At the most, only the details of legislation are confided to their discretion. It is not extravagant to suppose, that philosophical systems may come to be a favorite object of study among a people, who are so familiar with abstract reasoning and broad generalizations. General prin- ciples in politics do not differ so widely from the axioms of the metaphysician, that the transition from the one class to the other is a very difficult one. The habit of mind, which is created by long familiarity PREFACE. ix with universal ideas, involves both the disposition and the capacity to enter upon the broad field of philosophical speculation. And this tendency is in- creased by the intimate connexion between some speculative systems and those political topics and in- terests, which occupy the attention of the multitude. Philosophy, like religion, considers all men as equal. Its subject is the human mind, or man in general, considered apart from all the peculiarities, by which each person is distinguished from his fellows. Its conclusions are universal, having no respect to times, countries, or individuals. Some theory of natural rights, therefore, seems properly to be embodied in these conclusions. And many writers on the sub- ject have so considered it, and have made their whole theory of human nature subservient to the defence of a particular system of politics and government. Hobbes, for instance, founded his scheme of absolute despotism on his account of the origin of knowledge, and his explanation of the natural state and disposi- tion of man ,• and Locke's principles of toleration are the obvious results of the principles established in his essay on the human understanding. The present popularity of Cousin's writings in this country, is to be attributed in great measure to his brilliant decla- mation in favor of the rights of man, by which he sought and obtained the support of the strong demo- cratic party in France. When the habit is once established of dwelling upon first principles and abstract truths, to the exclu- sion of any regard to facts, or any respect for the limitations suggested by experience, it is not surpris- ing, that theories of society should be propounded from time to time, so novel and extravagant in their X PREFACE. character, that we are tempted to doubt the sanity of their advocates. Plans of universal reform and the regeneration of mankind, are proposed with a fre- quency, which appears rather marvellous to those who are accustomed to expatiate on the practical tendencies of the age. Indeed, such wild specula- tions may be attributed, in part, to a reaction against the narrow and selfish views, which are too common among the class of practical men. Mr. Owen con- trives one scheme for reforming all the evils of social life, and some enthusiasts in our own vicinity propose another ; and a single fact illustrates the soundness of the reasoning employed in both cases ; — that, starting from premises of an opposite character, they arrive at nearly the same results. The honesty and sincerity of these persons are beyond question, and, since they are far above the class of ignorant and foolish fanatics, we can ascribe their extravagances only to the abuse of general theories, when not lim- ited by experience. The possibility of widely affecting the minds of men by abstract speculations, even when their time is occupied in manual labor, or in very practical pur- suits, was fully proved by the philosophers, whose writings prepared the way for the first French revo- lution. The effect was more startling then, because it was repressed for a long time by outward circum- stances, and at last flamed out, as it were, in a single night. In that fearful convulsion, the wildest schemes for the regeneration of France, and the general im- provement of the human race, were proposed by men, who openly threw off all religious restraint, and whose actions showed equal disregard of common humanity and justice. They talked of nothing but PREFACE. Xi philanthropy and virtue, while their lives were sul- lied by every species of cruelty and vice. They de- stroyed the religion of the country, and rejected all belief in the existence of a God, in order to dissem- inate pure philosophy, and to worship the goddess of reason. The writings of the Encyclopedists, from which the revolution received its violent and peculiar char- acter, inculcated a high-toned philanthropy, and the greatest respect for all moral obligations, though they were based upon a philosophy, which was eminently sensual and irreligious. There is no reason to be- lieve, that these men were insincere in their profes- sions of regard for the interests of virtue and humanity. Many of them were probably enthusiasts in the cause, and were actuated by that earnest but vague desire for an opportunity to benefit all mankind, which is often the fruit of a life spent in study and contem- plation of abstract truths. The disastrous results of their speculations must be attributed to their real ignorance of human nature, and not to their ill inten- tions. By inflaming the minds of the people with their briUiant theories and kindling eloquence, they wielded a power of the magnitude of which they were fully conscious, though they could not tell in what direction its force would be spent. They had the power to destroy all old associations and preju- dices by the force of abstract reasoning, but they could neither restrain nor direct the enthusiasm, which they had created. It would be irrational to suppose, that a theorizing and speculative turn of mind will ever become so common in this country, as to prepare the way for the prevalence of a philosophy quite as heated and Xll PKEFACE. erratic, as that which obtained in France. We are secured from such a calamity, by the nature of the second cause, that here deserves remark, as fostering the growth of a native philosophy in this country. I mean the religious character of our ancestry, and of the institutions and habits of thought, which they bequeathed to their descendants. The rigid Puri- tanism of the fathers of New England left a deep imprint on the intellect and feelings of its inhabit- ants, which the lapse of centuries can hardly efface. Their creeds and systems of faith, it is true, were soon modified by the love of change, and the constant impulse of free inquiry. But the spirit of their tenets survived the body. Where their religious opinions were openly assailed, or quietly laid aside, their breath still animated the dispositions and prejudices of the people. A deep tone of seriousness, a self-denying spirit in regard to amusements, and extreme cautiousness in guarding the outward conduct were left ingrained in the character. These peculiarities attract the no- tice of foreign visitants at the present day. They are the most striking features in the general aspect of the population. Any speculative systems, that obtain a permanent footing here, must conform, in a greater or less de- gree, to these prevailing influences. A gay and mocking spirit, like that which animated the philos- ophy of Helvetius and Voltaire, will not be tolerated. A reckless and blasphemous one, like that of d'Hol- bach and Diderot, would be scouted with general in- dignation. If philosophers find themselves trammeled in their speculations, by the positive doctrines and unyielding spirit of Christianity, they must not pro- claim open war, but strive to weaken the enemy by PREFACE. Xiii a secret and insidious contest. They cannot triumph as avowed foes, b ut by borrowing the robes of the priest, and pretending to minister at the ahar, they may hope to desecrate the service, and to destroy the worship. A religious parentage has entailed upon us a mul- titude of religious controversies. While an interest in the general subject of revelation is kept alive by long habit and old associations, the freedom of inqui- ry and love of change, which mark the age, have led to an almost endless diversity of doctrine. The disputes, that arise, are conducted mainly by abstract reasoning, for a people impatient of any absolute au- thority insensibly lose the power of being convinced by appeals to Scripture. The arena of theological contests is thus opened to the layman, the logician, and the speculatist, and the weapons of attack and defence are borrowed from the popular philosophy of the day. We are not to wonder, therefore, that the questions at issue are made to turn upon these specu- lative dogmas, — that they relate less to the inter- pretation of texts, and more to what may be termed the metaphysics of Christianity. Here, again, we perceive the influence of that system of doctrine, which the Pilgrims brought with them to this coun- try, and which is still paramount in New England. Calvinism is eminently a metaphysical creed ; it pro- duced the only man, who has acquired an European reputation, by metaphysical writings published in America. Though no successor is found able to bend the bow of Edwards, the study of his works still keeps alive a taste for the science, of which he was so distinguished an ornament. The turn which he gave to the inquiry, treating it more as a philosopher b XIV PREFACE. than a divine, was a departure from the method common in his day. In this respect, future con- troversialists are more hkely to follow his example, than that of his contemporaries. A foreigner has remarked, that the clergy in this country have shown great skill in adapting them- selves to the opinions and institutions of the people among whom they are placed : that they have studi- ed conformity to the democratic instincts of the popu- lation, and thus have preserved their influence, by sacrificing a portion of their consistency. He forgot to remark, that the clergy are themselves a part of the people, and that their sentiments are moulded by the same general causes, which direct the forma- tion of public opinion. It is no impeachment of their sincerity, therefore, to say that the remark is well founded. Among a people, who are so much en- gaged in the pursuit of wealth, and so successful in its attainment, a religious doctrine, which should entirely proscribe any attachment to worldly goods, would find but few adherents. A compromise is eff'ected, therefore, between the temporal and spirit- ual interests of men, and the love of gain is tacitly sanctioned, when it does not directly interfere with religious practice. Self-denying principles in this respect are seldom inculcated. The consequence is, that religion is made wholly an affair of the inner life, a matter of abstract faith, and outward manifes- tations of it are somewhat neglected, while great importance is attached to purity of doctrine. This state of things naturally leads to a low esti- mate of the forms and external rites of Christianity, and such a tendency is increased by the strong de- sire, which a republican nation always entertains, PREFACE. XV for simplicity and frugality in its political adminis- tration. In matters both of religion and government, we are unwilling to submit to the burden of shows and ceremonies. We attribute but little importance to the details of worship. It is said, that even the Catholic priests of this country attach themselves rather to the spirit, than the letter of their church precepts, and allow the invocation of saints, and other special forms and means of worship, to be qui- etly laid aside. They content themselves with a recognition of the abstract principle, on Avhich these rites are founded, and allow the practice of them in some measure to be forgotten. A religious tempera- ment, therefore, finding few opportunities of express- ing itself in acts of outward worship, tends to create an abstract and contemplative frame of mind, and leads to an ideal life. Theological writings gradual- ly adapt themselves to this musing disposition, and speculative dogmas form its appropriate aliment. In these rather desultory remarks, I have endeav- ored to point out some peculiarities in the character and situation of our countrymen, which seem to favor th e growth of a native school of speculative philosophy. Some of them may appear of small importance, but their general tendency cannot be mistaken, even if they produce as yet no visible efiect. The consequence may appear more likely to follow, if we consider the fact, that in each of the respects above mentioned, the situation of the people here is the very opposite of that of our brethren in England, among whom, at the present day, meta- physical science is confessedly at a lower ebb, than either in France or Germany. Dugald Stewart has ended his long and honorable career, in which, XVI PREFACE. though he made the science respectable and popular by the weight and amiability of his character, and the elegance of his style, he did not materially con- tribute to its progress. His successor at Edinburgh appears to be more occupied with poetry and politics, than with the duties of his office, as professor of phi- losophy. His colleague, Sir WiUiam Hamilton, the accomplished professor of logic, has shown so much learning and acuteness in treating metaphysical questions, as to make the public regret, that he has published nothing but a few articles, written with great ability, in the Edinburgh Review. At present, he appears to be the sole representative of the Eng- lish school of philosophy. We may have greater hopes of the cause of mental science in this country, from the absence of those peculiar circumstances, which appear at present to obstruct its progress in England. It is natural to look with curiosity and interest on those influences, which, operating on the birth of American philosophy, may serve to determine its whole future character and tendency. It is remark- able, that the authors most studied among us at pres- ent do not belong to the English school, but to the French and German, and that the general features of their speculations off'er the strongest contrast to those traits, which have always distinguished the writers on the same subject in our mother country. It is not going too far to say, that Locke, Clarke, Berkeley, and Reid are not so much talked about in this coun- try, as Kant, Fichte, ScheUing, and Cousin. The reason probably is, that the only living writers of much note are of the continental school, and their works naturally first attract attention at the com- PREFACE. XVll mencement of our inquiries. They have written largely, also, on the character and influence of the labors of their predecessors, and their opinions and judgments are rather hastily adopted, before an op- portunity is gained for individual examination. The very partial and incorrect views, for instance, which many persons entertain of Locke's philosophy, can be explained only on the supposition, that Cousin's Criticism of the Essay on Human Uiider standing is much more studied than the Essay itself. In no other way can I account for the prevalence of the opinion, that Cousin's work is a masterpiece of philo- sophical criticism, when, — whatever may be its merits in refuting certain obnoxious doctrines, that are stated in it, — these doctrines are quite gratui- tously ascribed to Locke, with reference to whom, indeed, the whole work is but a tissue of misrepre- sentations. So also the belief, that Kant's philoso- phy is a refutation of skepticism, must rest on the assertion of some of his countrymen, among whom there exists a very different rule and estimate of what constitutes skepticism, from that which obtains in this country and in England. Instead of confut- ing his predecessor, Kant simply established Hume's doctrine on a diff'erent basis, and then carried out its principles and modes of reasoning, till they covered the whole field of knowledge ; and this work he performed with such an appearance of method, com- pleteness, and close deduction, as to change what was merely a philosophy of doubt and uncertainty, into a theory, which may be called the dogmatism of unbelief. Most of the following Essays were written in the hope of throwing some light on the character and h * XVIU PREFACE, tendency of a few of those foreign systems of phi- losophy, which have recently become popular among us. My object was to consider each of them as a whole, and in its probable operation on the course of thought in this country. Partial and fragmentary views of their doctrines are common enough ; but there are great obstacles in the way of forming full and correct notions of their nature and bearing. They are of great compass, and exist in many dis- tinct works ; they are wrapped in the darkness of a foreign language ; and many of them are further veiled in an obscure, intricate, and repulsive termi- nology. The few translations, that have appeared, are not executed with much skill, and contain, at the most, but the mere fragment of a theory. Be- fore their probable influence can be estimated, it is necessary to have some connected sketch of them as a whole, though the sketch be necessarily a very imperfect one. It is important, also, to consider them in the relations which they bear to other systems, to ascertain their points of departure from doctrines formerly received, and thereby to know whether they will probably aid or obstruct the progress of philosophy. This^fieral design I have kept in view, even in t^se Essays, like the two on the argument for the Divine Existence, which may ap- pear from their title, to relate to a wholly different subject. The influence of the study of foreign phi- losophy may now be perceived in the mode of think- ing and reasoning, which many persons have adopted, on topics that have only a remote connexion with metaphysical science. It may appear to some, that the writer entertains a strong prejudice in favor of the metaphysicians of PREFACE, XIX the English school. I am not conscious of any snch bias, so far as concerns the doctrines, which are taught, apart from the manner in which they are con- veyed, and the spirit with which the inquiry is con- ducted ; though the great names of Bacon, and Locke, and Berkeley, and Reid, stand as high in the general history of philosophy, as any others, of which any single country can boast. No one need to be asham- ed of a hearty admiration of their characters and ser- vices, though he may not admit, that their labors have exhausted the subject, and may search for fur- ther contributions to the science, wherever they can be found. But in all that relates to the mode of philosophizing, to the tone of argument and opinion, and to the manner and spirit in which the investiga- tion is conducted, we may fearlessly assert the great superiority of the English speculatists, over their brethren, on the continent. It was well said by Sir James Mackintosh, that '^ an amendment of the general habits of thought is, in most parts of knowl- edge, an object as important as even the discovery of new truths, though it is not so palpable, nor in its nature so capable of being estimated by superficial observers. In the mental and moral world, which scarcely admits of any thing which can be called discovery, the correction of the intellectual habits is probably the greatest service which can be rendered to science." If the writings of Bacon and Locke and their followers do not contain more discoveries, than those of any other school, they have certainly done more good to the minds and hearts of those who have studied them. The character of their speculations is eminently sound and healthful. They remove prejudices and vindicate the right of free XX PREFACE. inquiry ; they inculcate generous sentiments ; they discoumge the love of paradox and fanciful systems ; they show the compass of the human faculties, and while they animate the spirit of discovery, when direct- ed to proper objects, they tend to check its arrogant and hopeless endeavors ; they inspire the liberal and catholic feeling, which would make philosophy the property of the multitude, rather than the exclusive heritage of a few. If it argues a timid and slavish spirit, a blind adherence to the past, and distrust of the future, to recommend their example in these respects, there will be many, who will court the re- proach, and glory in the companionship, which they will have under the imputation. Some materials for instituting a comparison, in these particulars, between English philosophy and the speculations which had their birth in France and Germany, will be found, in the following pages. The bearing of these systems on the great truths of natural and revealed religion, is a point of so much importance in the general estimate of their character, that no apology need be made for the space given to its consideration. A science that is merely specula- tive, offers no boon of such great price, that it can compensate mankind for the loss of immortal faith and hope ; and if the reproach of an irreligious ten- dency be indelibly affixed to it, it will be the part of true wisdom to renounce its cultivation altogether. There are some allusions in these Essays to the speculative opinions, which have recently made some progress in this country ; but there is no mention of persons, or of distinct publications, except for the purpose of mere literary criticism. Doctrines may be examined and censured with perfect freedom, PREFACE. XXi without seeking to cast reproach on the individuals who entertain them. To the public, the sentiments which are published may be of great interest, while the individual is nothing. By forgetting this simple rule, a discussion of great general interest too often degenerates into a mere personal controversy. I hope the following Essays will be found free from objection in this respect, though other and serious faults and imperfections will be discovered in them, of which no one can be more sensible than the wri- ter. He covets the praise only of sincerity and good intentions. Boston, May, 1842, CONTENTS. £S3AT PaOE I. LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS, ... 1 II. KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, 33 III. FICHTE'S EXPOSITION OF KANT : PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY, 66 IV. THE PHILOSOPHY OP COUSIN, HI V. PALEY : THE ARGUMENT FOR THE BEING OF A GOD, 161 VI. SUBJECT CONTINUED: THE UNION OF THEOLOGY AND METAPHYSICS, 211 VIL BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, 264 VIII. ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE, 310 [X. POLITICAL ETHICS, 331 ESSAYS. I. LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS.* It is remarkable, that we have yet no well- written biog- raphy of Locke. The volumes by Lord King add little to our knowledge of his private life and character. They are made up chiefly of the sweepings of his writing-desk, — fragments of a correspondence, which he maintained with distinguished literary contemporaries, and imperfect drafts and abstracts of works, which were either subsequently published in a completed form, or were left by a change of purpose, or a want of time, among a heap of unexecuted projects. Yet they are not devoid of interest. We like to be admitted to the workshop of genius, and by inspection of the fragments scattered around, to gain some idea of the successive steps by which great works are evolved. Such disjecta memhra not only throw light on the history of the individual mind, but afford valuable hints to the general inquirer into the phenomena of thought and opinion. Ta- ken in connexion with the incidents in the life of a philoso- pher, they show the reciprocal workings of thought and action, and afford the most satisfactory proof of the sinceri- ty of published opinions. They are rendered interesting * From the Christian Examiner for November, 1837. 1 Ji LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. from the previously acquired reputation of tiie writer, and instructive from the insight they afford into the means by which that reputation was acquired. But the character of Locke hardly needed the illustration to be obtained from such sources as these. It is apparent on the very face of his larger works, and we rise from the perusal of them with much the same feelings, as those ex- cited by conversation with an old and valued friend. He never puts on the airs of an author professedly dictating sentences for the public ; but his thoughts flow from him with the same ease, simplicity, and not unfrequently the same vivacity, which we expect in the most unstudied table- talk. Part of the effect produced on the reader is undoubt- edly to be ascribed to the character of the style, which is always clear, homely, and repethional ; but more is to be attributed to the writer's peculiar turn of mind, and his entire freedom from any desire for effect. Though some- what positive in the statement of opinions, and pertinacious in their support, he never puts on the robes and declares his sentiments in the tone of a dogmatist. Hence, some peculiarities, which detract from the merit of his writings, enhance our admiration of his character as a man. Trite and puerile remarks are mingled with the most profound and sagacious observations, and the expression is as homely in the latter case, as in the former. His style is never or- namented but by accident, nor terse but from the nature of the argument. He uses perfect good faith with the reader, never attempting to hide the frivolity of an idea by a pomp- ous enunciation, or to cover his retreat from a difficulty in the argument, by raising a mist of words. Though an acute reasoner, he avoids the common error of logicians, who regard as incontrovertible truths those assertions, which, in the set forms of their art, they are unable to dis- prove. His strong good sense breaks away from the tram- LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. S mels of system, and cuts the Gordian knot, which his dia- lectical skill cannot untie. His intellect was distinguished rather for originality than depth. He threw a new light upon speculative philosophy, not by gaining a deeper insight into the questions of which it is composed, but by contemplating them from a new point of view. Thus his method in philosophy was like that of a great commander in war, whose opponents con- sole themselves under defeat, by the reflection that they have been beaten contrary to the rules. Grant the exclu- sive propriety of their system, and they ought to have con- quered. And in what did this originality consist ? Not in the love of paradox, which he cautiously and even conscien- tiously avoided. Not in keeping away from positions, which another had occupied before him. His mind was of that generous cast, which welcomed truth wherever it was to be found. He considered the triteness of a remark rather as evidence of its truth, than as an argument against its repeti- tion. But the novelty of his method consisted in treating the gravest and most abstract questions of philosophy with the same homeliness and perspicuity of manner, that one adopts in the discussion of the ordinary topics of every-day life. He examines man's claim to immortality, and the evidence for the being of a God, with as little effort after fine language, as a lawyer would make in settling the title deeds of an estate. Such a procedure aids not only the comprehension, but the solution, of metaphysical doubts. Difficulties vanish as language becomes less technical and involved. Such at least is the case, with subjects which the mind can effectu- ally grasp. On the other hand, when the faculties are tasked for purposes, to which they are entirely incompe- tent, simplicity of manner exposes the failure, which pomp- ous technicality only veils. The errors of Locke's system lie upon the surface, and he must be a tyro indeed, who 4 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. cannot detect them. But it is easier to criticise than to amend. Hence the opinion, which seems to be gaining ground of late, that the author of the " Essay on Human Understand- ing " was a clear but shallow reasoner. Men affect to praise the soundness of his judgment, but sneer at his pre- tensions to the title of a philosopher. He uses arguments which are nothing but virtual appeals to common sense, and these are alleged to be inconsistent with the character of a deep thinker and sound logician. But what do such charges amount to ? What is common sense, but the high- est philosophy applied to the usual purposes of practical life ? And what is philosophy, but common sense employ- ed in abstract investigations ? Genius consists in the bent of the faculties towards a particular pursuit, and may as frequently be displayed in the conduct of ordinary business, as in the prosecution of scientific research. It works with the same tools, though it looks to a different end. The sa- gacity employed in detecting minute differences of charac- ter among our friends is akin to the metaphysical tact, which distinguishes between neighboring affections of mind, that to common observers appear shaded into each other by imperceptible gradations. The wit which sparkles in con- versation, often astonishes us, when applied to the philoso- phy of mind, by the novelty of its suggestions and its quickness of vision. Each of these faculties is productive of good in its lower as in its higher avocations. In the former it is more practical, in the latter more comprehen- sive. But in thus asserting the equal appositeness of a plain style and simplicity of manner to philosophical subjects, we mean more than simply to defend Locke from the charge of a want of vigor and depth. What is alleged against him constitutes his peculiar merit. Whoever rescues any branch LOCKE AND THE TKANSCENDENTALISTS. 5 of literature or science from the hands of a sect, and by- divesting it of the jargon in which their pride and pedantry- had involved it, lays it open to the conn prehension and use of the multitude, does as much for the interests of learning, as those who have most distinguished themselves by the originality- of their views, and by the extent to which they have pushed their researches. To bring down philosophy from its high places is to enhance its real dignity by adding to its usefulness. This service was performed by Locke. He not only raised more from the field in which he labored than his predecessors had done, but he improved the soil, and increased the number of cultivators. He was as much the father of modern metaphysics, as Newton was of astro- nomical science, or Adam Smith of political economy. Hume borrowed his weapons from Locke, and from the desire of refuting the skeptical conclusions of the former, arose the Scotch and German schools, the opposite poles of modern philosophy. Up to a recent period, the authority of Locke, in all that related to style of thought and expression, was paramount among English philosophers. None adopted his doctrines to their full extent. His lively pupil, Shaftesbury, and others impugned them as soon as published. Hume, the French school of Condillac and Condorcet, received such portions as they found would form convenient premises for their own preconceived skeptical conclusions. Other wri- ters followed the opposite course ; they took what the skep- tics left, and abandoned what their opponents had adopted. Condillac fastened on that portion of Locke's system, which traces the origin of the mind's furniture to sensation ; Reid and Stewart on the other part, which refers the source of many ideas to reflection. Each party condemned what they did not find convenient for their own purposes. Both followed the manner of their common predecessor. The 1* b LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. same simplicity of statement, the same directness of argu- ment, equal caution in the use of figurative terms, and against the ambiguities arising from the nature of language, are found in the writings of all to whom we have alluded. They imitated neither the eloquent dreams of Plato, nor the mystical refinements of Plato's commentators. The mind was to them a subject of experiment and observation ; ex- perience was their guide, and they followed it, with caution indeed, but without the least suspicion that it was a blind guide, and that its proper name was empiricism. The sub- tilties and abstruse phraseology of the schoolmen were held as obsolete as their speculations in physics, and a follower of Newton would have reverted to the system of Ptolemy, or the vortices of Descartes, sooner than an English meta- physician, after the time of Locke, would have babbled in the vain jargon of the middle ages. They easily adopted modes of thought and language, which fell in with the na- tional character, and their philosophy harmonized with their manners and habits of life. But the fashion of the times has greatly altered. A change has come over the spirit of speculation, and tricked out its former plain garb in quaint devices and foreign fashions. A forced marriage has been effected between poetry and philosophy, the latter borrowing from the former a license to indulge in conceit and highly figurative expres- sion, and giving in return an abstruse and didactic form to the other's imaginative creations. One would think, that men were weary of common sense expressed in pure Eng- lish, and, from the mere love of change, were striving after what is uncommon and impure. Certain it is, that a revolution in taste and opinion is going on among our literary men, and that philosophical writing is assuming a phasis entirely new. Its former char- acteristics are decried, or at least designated by new terms, LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. 7 that imply a shade of reproach. If the alteration regard the dress more than the substance, if the transcendental philosophy as yet be a manner rather than a creed, still the departures from the old method are real, and involve im- portant consequences. But we believe, that the change is more sweeping in its nature. It is proposed, not to alter and enlarge, but to construct the fabric anew. The ques- tion does not concern an addition to our former stock of knowledge, but relates to the reality and value of all previ- ous acquisitions. It becomes, therefore, a matter worthy of all inquiry, whether the present revolution be, like that ef- fected by Lord Bacon, an evidence of intellectual progress, an epoch in the history of man, or whether it be the mere reaction of mind pushed too far to one extreme, the recoil of systems too much depreciated, and too long forgotten. We take this matter up seriously, but in a tone that is fully justified by the pretensions of a large class of writers. They would fain have us believe, that a new light has dawned, — that old things in philosophy have passed away, and that all things are becoming new. As yet, they are more busy in tearing down, than constructing anew. A sweeping censure is put on all that has been accomplished, and nothing definite is offered to supply its place. Now, we are no bigots to antiquity ; we are not attached to the old road, simply because it is old, but because it is the best which we have yet found to travel upon, and we will not diverge upon a by-path, that leads confessedly through many a swamp and thicket, until fully convinced, that we shall thereby reach our journey's end the sooner. The arrogant tone has been too quickly assumed, for the new philosophy wants even the first recommendation to notice. There is prima /acie evidence against it." It is ab- struse in its dogmas, fantastic in its dress, and foreign in its origin. It comes from Germany, and is one of the first 8 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. fruits of a diseased admiration of every thing from that source, which has been rapidly gaining ground of late, till in many individuals it amounts to sheer midsummer mad- ness. In the literary history of the last half century, there is nothing more striking to be recorded, than the various exhibitions of this German mania. It is curious to watch the developments of the passion through all the modes, in which the human mind exerts its powers. Poetry, theology, philosophy, — all have been infected. We believe, that there are more English translations of Faust than of the Iliad, and that most of them have been published within the last ten years. A version of one of Schiller's plays has a bet- ter chance of finding purchasers and readers, than an origi- nal drama. Sergeant Talfourd's success to the contrary notwithstanding. We have no wish to institute a parallel between the merits of the dramatic writers of the two countries. Perhaps the result of such a weighing in the balance might be unfavorable to our national pride. But our present reference is only to the disposition evinced by our literary men to translate, and by the public, to purchase and peruse. We would not be understood to decry the study of the language and fascinating literature of Germany. The characteristics of this last throw great light on the mind of the remarkable people to whom it belongs. Its extraordi- nary freshness and originality are more consonant with the works of the remotest antiquity, with the earliest efforts of the Greeks, for instance, than with the worn and polished traits of modern letters. But we have no sympathy with that ill-regulated admiration, which seeks to transplant German roots to an English soil, — to cultivate a hot-bed, where plants shall be forced till they lose their native char- acter. The peculiarities of the German mind are too striking to grace any other people than themselves. Imita- LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. \f tion is a poor business at all times, and the matter is not much improved, when, from long familiarity with foreign models, individuals adopt a borrowed cast of thought and language with greater ease than their native style. The history of English literature is full of instruction on this point. Foreign influence has ever proved its bane. The reign of Queen Anne was signalized by the triumph of French taste ; the authority of Boileau among the Eng- lish wits was hardly inferior to his influence at the court of Versailles. Yet do we look to that period, or to the EUza- bethan age, with the greatest pride ? Was Rowe or Ben Jonson (we will not drag a greater name into such a com- parison) the finer genius ? Dryden's example should have some weight, and does he appear to greater advantage in his rhyming plays, where he imitated the French, or in his English fables? It matters not, whether the Classical or the Romantic school be the object of imitation, nor does the question depend on the comparative merits of the two. Schlegel may be a better critic than Boileau ; Goethe and Schiller more worthy of admiration than Racine and Vol- taire. But to us, they are all foreigners, writing in a strange tongue for another people. Peculiarities of national character must create corresponding varieties of literary expression ; in this way only, are polite letters significant of the genius of the people among whom they have their birth. Cosmopolitism, if we may be allowed the word, does not belong to the external forms of literature, though it may to the spirit and substance. Unluckily, these traits of nationality are the most prominent of all to the eyes of a foreigner. They are the salient points on which the copyist fastens, and he is faithful to his original in propor- tion as he departs from the character of the very people, to whom his writings are addressed. As a people, the Germans are remarkable for their in- 10 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCExNDENTALISTS. tense national feeling. They will not fight under any- other than a Teutonic banner. The attempt of Frederick of Prussia, to introduce among them a French manner and French taste, failed entirely. They carefully weeded from their language every French word and idiom, which the in- fluence of that monarch had brought in, and then they be- came more German than ever. True, they are acquainted with the language and literature of every nation under the sun. But they have a strange power of digesting and as- similating this foreign nutriment, till it becomes true Ger- man flesh and blood. They naturalize the foreigners, who will entirely renounce their former manners and allegiance, but they never become naturalized into another country themselves. Yet we would express our admiration of the Germans, by abandoning the very peculiarity, which is the secret of their greatness ! We would fain conjure with the magician's wand reversed. But we leave what is merely a literary question for more relevant matter. Some speculations in theology, that have lately appeared in our neighborhood, indicate strongly the place of their birth. We do not allude to this subject by way of reproach, but simply to confirm the assertion re- specting the tendency of writers at present to seek inspira- tion from a foreign source. The country where the Refor- mation had its birth, holds its daring spirit of speculation in religious matters. The church of England has been asleep since the times of Elizabeth, and the dignitaries of the Holy Catholic Church, since the suppression of the order of Jesuits, have exerted their prescriptive right of nodding in their stalls. But the restless activity of the countrymen of Luther, besides doing every thing for biblical learning, has broken out in new and startling views of the origin, evidences, and nature of Christianity. The controversy between the upholders of Rationalism and Supernaturalism LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. 11 has driven one party to the verge of infidelity, and the other to the extremes of fanaticism and bigotry. The middle ground is broken up in the heat of dispute, and the moder- ate party is the smallest. And this battle is to be fought over again on our own religious soil. Whether its results are to be beneficial or injurious, whether the impulse re- ceived in point of activity and the disposition to inquire, will outweigh the evils of extravagance in opinion and of heated theological contests, is no question for us to deter- mine. We look only to the indisputable fact, that religious discussions here have suddenly received a turn, that mani- fests the attention paid to the writings of foreign theo- logians. The religious speculations of the Germans are closely connected with their philosophical opinions, if indeed they do not proceed entirely from this fountain. And this con- sideration brings us back to the main subject of inquiry, the influence of the study of German philosophy on our own speculative systems. The history of modern metaphysics in Germany begins properly with the publications of Kant. The writings of his predecessors, Leibnitz, Wolf, and others, have nothing distinctive in their character from the speculations of other philosophers. But Kant created a nation of metaphysicians, by constructing a system in which the peculiarities of the German mind are strongly marked. The study of philos- ophy henceforth became a passion with his countrymen, and successive systems were propounded and discussed with a degree of publicity and effect, which there is nothing to equal in the whole history of speculation. To this cause have been usually attributed the great boldness and freedom of inquiry, which have prevailed in Germany. Perhaps the reverse of this hypothesis is the truth. Inde- pendence of spirit always existed, and created the tendency 12 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. to philosophical inquiries, because these inquiries first af- forded an open field for its manifestation. The sacred character of religious subjects infused an awe into all who approached them, and novelties were proposed at first with reverence and hesitation. Politics were forbidden ground to the subjects of kings. Physical inquiries required a ma- terial apparatus, and speculations were too soon and too easily decided by the test of experiment. But the territory of metaphysics was boundless, and the inquirer might range at will, with no other check to his imagination than the one created by the imperfections of language, and the necessity of rendering himself intelligible to those whom no difficul- ties at first sight ever appalled. Common phraseology broke down in the first trial. The usual resources of language failed entirely in the hands of a man like Kant, the very personification of abstract and subtile thought. He therefore created a philosophical no- menclature of his own, which, in its original or a modified form, has been adopted by subsequent writers. How far by such a proceeding he increased the lucidness of state- ments, that could not be couched in ordinary terms, is a matter of serious question. That words have a power of reacting upon thought, was remarked by Bacon ; and this power is likely to exist even in a greater degree in newly coined terms, whose signification is not fixed by use, than in those of established authority and determinate meaning. Novelty of expression has the semblance of originality of thought. A phrase from a Latin poet may appear in the original to convey a striking and profound remark, and yet seem utterly trite and puerile in the translation. Most of the favorite quotations from Horace, when considered apart from the diction, are mere common-places. So the techni- calities of the logician give an apparent weight to common reasoning, and the familiar argument is not recognised in LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. 13 its scholastic garb. How far Kant imposed upon himself and his readers, by giving old opinions in a new dress, re- mains to be determined, when a competent person shall attempt to translate his doctrines into ordinary philosophical language. That, in the mist of his peculiar phraseology, he did not always perceive the true character and legitimate results of his own dogmas, is sufficiently evident. His avowed object in writing was to furnish an answer to the arguments of the skeptic, and yet his assertion, that space and time exist only as independent and original forms of thought, and have no objective reality, is a doctrine, that, properly carried out, leads directly to the deepest gulf of Pyrrhonism. Before we import this novel terminology into our own language, two questions must be satisfactorily determined. Has its use in Germany materially aided the progress of speculative science ? Does the greater inflexibility of the English tongue admit of any great accession to its vocabu- lary ; for all practical purposes, might not philosophical discussions among us as well be carried on at once in the Greek, Latin, or German languages, as in a sort of bastard English, enriched by words drawn entirely from foreign sources ? The expedient that has been devised, of using words in their primitive, etymological sense, as well as in their common meaning, is, in the first place, partial and in- sufficient ; and, secondly, is open to nearly the same objec- tions that apply to the introduction of foreign terms. Take for instance the words inform and intuitive^ which have been recently applied in this twofold fashion. Is not a knowledge of Latin as necessary to ascertain their primi- tive meaning, as if they were for the first time borrowed from that tongue } This remark would not obtain with the Saxon compounds, but these are few in number, and in most cases their common signification does not vary from 2 14 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. that indicated by the composition. Understanding is an exception, and this word, we believe, has been pressed into the service in its etymological sense. But we have no wish to discuss a mere question of phi- lology. The graver matter lies behind, and concerns the alleged defects of our language considered as a medium for philosophical discussion. We do not now dispute the con- venience, but the necessity of enlarging our philosophical vocabulary. In the material sciences, a discovery requires a name. Davy was obliged to invent terms for the metals, and Cavendish for the gases, which they respectively dis- covered. Even in moral and mental science, the assign- ment of a new faculty to the mind requires the creation of a peculiar and properly significant token. But speculations of this kind do not often increase the number of things, but concern the reality, modes, and relations of familiar objects of thought. As languages vary in copiousness and flexibili- ty, they afford greater or less means of expressing these re- lations with conciseness and elegance. What one language gives by a word, another must express by a circumlocution. A particle in Greek may convey a distinction, which a sen- tence is necessary to explain in English. Moreover, the various uses of a word expose an inquirer or disputant to error, from the risk of applying them unawares in a twofold signification. If the two meanings are nearly allied, the danger is proportionally greater. Yet a mistake may be avoided by proper caution, and the liability to err would not be removed, if two distinct sounds were in use, to ex- press the difTerent ideas. It would hardly be diminished, for the danger lies in confounding the thoughts, and not the expressions. The necessity of increasing the number of philosophical terms is therefore a false pretence. At the utmost, the question is one for the rhetorician to decide on grounds of mere expediency. That a philosophical writer LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. 15 is able to express himself with greater clearness, brevity, and force, in some other than his vernacular tongue, affords a reason perhaps for composing in that other language, but does not excuse him for contaminating his own by admix- ture of words of foreign derivation. He has no right to fashion out of his mother tongue a dialect appropriate to the uses of his peculiar science. Let the Transcendental- ists write in German at once, and there will be no farther dispute about the matter. The innovations, so far as executed, are conceived in the worst possible taste. The license assumed by Horace is assumed without any regard to the limitations of the rule; " si forte necesse est Indiciis monstrare lecentibus abdita rerum Fingere cinctutis non exaudita Cethegis Continget, dabiturque licentia svmpta piidenter." The analogy of the English language is entirely forgotten both in the mode of compounding words, and in the use of idiomatic phrases. Now, whatever apology may exist for bringing in new words, we humbly conceive, that there is none for the introduction of foreign idioms. The old Eng- lish prose writers are censured for their latinized phrases ; have modern authors a better right to indulge their predi- lection for German ? The quaintness in this way imparted to style is a quality of doubtful merit. It is poor wit, to put a bad joke in the mouth of a Frenchman, that its effect may be heightened by the broken English. And the la- bored attempt to be grotesque in style, by a mixture of foreign gibberish, is little better. " It is affectations, that 's the humor of it." But to hear such writings praised as mirrors of deep thought, and containing a world of philo- sophical meaning, is too great an infliction for any common stock of patience. 16 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. But the passion for German metaphysics is likely to pro- duce greater evils than the mere depravation of English style. The habit of poring over them must induce an un- healthy state of mind, either from the general characteris- tics of such a philosophical manner, or from the positive tendency of the doctrines advanced. We have no taste for the sublimated atheism of Fichte, or the downright panthe- ism of Schelling. Yet there are men familiar with the works of such authors, and loud in their praise, who are not ashamed to charge the philosophy of Locke with a sen- sualizing and degrading influence. We have a right to speak out upon this point. Among these men, and their number is rapidly increasing, the name of Locke has be- come a by-word of reproach. Yet, in the whole circle of English philosophers and literary men, not one can be found, whose writings breathe more uniformly the spirit of Christian purity, love, and truth. The champion of re- ligious toleration in an intolerant age, the mild but firm de- fender of his philosophical creed when rudely assailed, im- bued with a love of originality, which yet never betrayed him into paradox, and willing to accept the hurtful charac- ter of any just inference from his opinions, as demon- strating the unsoundness of the doctrine itself, — the study of his works cannot but impart a portion of the healthy spirit, in which they were written. How far he is answer- able for the skepticism and sensualizing dogmas, which the French philosophers of the last century founded on a par- tial view of his system, we leave to others to determine. Two things are certain ; that the view thus taken was in- complete, and his philosophy considered as a whole affords no ground for such conclusions ; and that no one would have regarded the opinions of Condillac and his coadjutors and followers with greater detestation than Locke himself. As an authority for this favorable judgment, we may be al- LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. 17 lowed to quote a passage written without reference to any sect, the members of which might find themselves censured by implication in the praises of another. . Alluding to the Essay on the Human Understanding, Mackintosh observes, that " few books have contributed more to rectify prejudice, to undermine established errors, to diffuse a just mode of thinking, to excite a fearless spirit of inquiry, and yet to contain it within the boundaries which nature has prescribed to the human understanding. In the mental and moral world, which scarcely admits of any thing which can be called discovery, the correction of the mental habits is probably the greatest service which can be rendered to science. In this respect, the merit of Locke is unrivalled. His writings have diffused throughout the civilized world the love of civil liberty, the spirit of toleration and charity in religious differences, the disposition to reject whatever is obscure, fantastic, or hypothetical in speculation, to reduce verbal disputes to their proper value, to abandon problems which admit of no solution, to distrust whatever cannot be clearly expressed, to render theory the simple expression of facts, and to prefer those studies which most directly contribute to human happiness." * Hinc illcE lacrymce. The Transcendentalists have good reason to decry the tendency of Locke's philosophical writings. That the spirit of German metaphysics is, in almost every particular, the opposite of that which is here por- trayed, is an assertion which could be safely made only by one, who possessed a thorough acquaintance with all the writings of the German philosophers. Without making any pretensions to such extensive knowledge, we may still judge the tree by its fruits, and assert, that the study of such writings tends to heat the imagination, and blind the * Edinburgh Reviezo. Vol. xxxvi. Art. Stewart's Dissertation. 2* 18 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. judgment ; — that it gives a dictatorial tone to the expression of opinion, and a harsh, imperious, and sometimes flippant manner to argumentative discussion; — that it injures the generous and catholic spirit of speculative philosophy, by raising up a sect of such a marked and distinctive character, that it can hold no fellowship either with former laborers in the cause, or with those, who, at the present time, in a different line of inquiry, are aiming at the same general objects. The difference in the mode of philosophizing between the old and new schools is radical. Either one party or the other is entirely in the wrong. To come over to the new system, we must read our former lessons back- wards, give up the old tests of correctness and sincerity, and rely no longer on meek and gentle features without, as indications of truth and goodness dwelling within. We are fully aware, that it is dangerous in speculation to appeal to the practical tendency of any doctrine, as evidence for or against its soundness. Men are inconsistent beings. Their actions are controlled by innumerable causes distinct from the direct influence of their speculative no- tions. But the assailants of Locke's philosophy have rested their objections to it mainly on this ground, and have in- vited a comparison, in this respect, of the dogmas and modes of reasoning adopted by the two schools. And there are reasons at the present day for paying especial regard to the immediate influence of speculation upon conduct. The defence of metaphysical pursuits consists chiefly in the advantages to be expected from them in disciplining and developing the mental and moral faculties. We may not reasonably look for great discoveries in mental science. Philosophers do much, if they succeed in dispersing the clouds, which their own eflx)rts have collected. Such, at least, is the common opinion. And if metaphysicians are to come from their studies with feelings worn, and their LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTaLISTS. 19 general sympathies with humanity diminished, better let them at once burn their books and renounce their vocation. There is an old reproach, that " no stone is harder than the heart of a thorough-bred metaphysician," which must be wiped off entirely, before one can account satisfactorily to his conscience, for engaging in the science of abstruse learning. Whatever course, therefore, tends to rive the philosophi- cal world into parties, to inflame discussion between them beyond all discreet bounds, to remove the objects of thought still farther from the common pursuits and interests of mankind, is so far positively pernicious and wrong. Let the Transcendentalists look to this point. Their efforts hitherto have tended to undermine the only foundation, on which they could safely rest. They have deepened the gulf between speculative and practical men, and, by their innovations in language, they are breaking down the only bridge that spans the chasm. Let them succeed in this end, and they perish by isolation. The insufferable arrogance of the new school, and their anxiety to place themselves apart from the mass of mankind, are shown in the very plea, by which all objections to their philosophy are commonly met ; that men do not understand the system, which they presume to criticise. True, men do not usually understand what is intentionally made unin- telligible. It is of the perverseness shown by this wilful and designed obscurity, that we complain. Si non vis in- telligi, dehes negligi. There is more point than truth in the saying of Coleridge, that we cannot understand Plato's ignorance, but must be ignorant of his understanding. How far is such a remark applicable ? Is the intellect of every author so much superior to that of his reader, that every want of understanding betv/een the two must necessarily be ascribed to the latter .? Do not cloudy minds sometimes 20 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. belong to men who write books, as well as to those who read them ? Do not authors now and then indulge in wil- ful mystification ? The plea is a very convenient one, but it proves nothing, because it proves too much. Jacob Boehme might have used it, as well as the plainest thinker that ever lived. The assertion has been so frequently repeated of late, and always with such a self-complaqent air on the part of the utterer, that no small courage is now required for a hearer or listener to confess honestly, that he does not know what his instructor is talking about. But we have less hesitation in urging an objection, which has come to be used by very respectable authority. Fichte is not remark- able for clearness of thought or perspicuity of manner ; yet he can speak out on this subject with sufficient plainness. *' As -to the charge of not understanding Kant, I do not consider that as implying any reproach ; for I hold, — and this I am willing to repeat as often as it may be required of me, — I hold the writings of that philosopher to be abso- lutely unintelligible to one, who does not know beforehand what they contain." On this principle, of course, the writings of the metaphysician of Konigsberg were as well understood a century before his birth, as they are at the present day. A poor spirit of exclusiveness is shown in this desire to wean philosophy from objects of common interest, to dimin- ish the number of its students, and give them the appear- ance of adepts in a mystical science. Such a disposition has actuated more than one sect of soi-disant philosophers, as the following vivid, though homely portraiture by Locke may testify. " The philosophers of old, (the disputing and wrangling philos- ophers I mean, such as Lucian wittingly and with reason taxes,) and the s(;hoolmen since, aiming at glory and esteem for their LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. 21 great and universal knowledge, found this a good expedient to cover their ignorance with a curious and inexplicable web of per- plexed words, and procure to themselves the admiration of others by unintelhgible terms, the apter to produce wonder, because they could not be understood ; whilst it appears in all history, that these profound doctors were no wiser nor more useful than their neigh- bors, and brought but small advantage to human life, or the socie- ties wherein they lived; unless the coining of new words, where they produced no new things to apply them to, or the perplexmg or obscuring the signification of old ones, and so bringing all things into question and dispute, were a thing profitable to the life of man, or worthy commendation and reward." When properly understood, metaphysical studies are closely allied to other human pursuits, for they concern the dearest and highest interests of our being. The nature of the soul, the mode in which its powers operate, the peculiar functions of each faculty, — these are no objects to be in- vestigated in the manner of a charlatan, who seeks to as- tound his hearers by paradox, or bewilder them by the use of incomprehensible terms. Real elevation of purpose seeks humility of manner. " Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop, Than when we soar." We like not this constant flapping of wings, — this contin- ued but vain effort of an ungainly bird to rise, when its own gravity fastens it to the earth. Owls cannot see in the sunshine. One writer talks of the revelations to be made, " when the obscuring daylight shall have withdrawn." W^e commend him to the remark of Bacon ; " this same truth is a naked and open daylight, that does not show the masques, and mummeries, and tri- umphs of the world, half so stately and daintily as candle- light. The first creature of God in the works of the days was the light of the sense ; the last was the light of reason ; 22 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. and his Sabbath work, ever since, is the illumination of his Spirit." We have spoken warmly of the Transcendental mode of thought and expression, without alluding to individuals, in whose writings the offensive characteristics are displayed. It would be an invidious task to point to publications in this vicinity, for illustration of what has been advanced. Be- sides, the feeling is as yet an under-current, that has per- verted, without completely infecting, the tone of speculation on many subjects, and has openly manifested itself among us, only in ephemeral and occasional writings. Coleridge and Carlyle have been the leaders of the sect in England, and it is somewhat remarkable, that the popularity of each is greater on this side of the Atlantic, than it is at home. We are proverbially fond of notions, and this surely is the most fantastic one yet imported. People are amused at the novelty, and stare at its grotesque manifestations, without regard to the more serious aspects in which the subject may be viewed. Farther developments may rouse indignation, by leading men to examine the extravagant character of the results, or the evil may work its own cure, by its ex- cess provoking contempt. We would touch reverently upon the character of Cole- ridge. Any mind capable of appreciating the exquisite sensibility displayed in his poetry, his gorgeousness of im- ao-ination, and his sympathy with all the works of creation, must approach with awe the failings of the man. But it does not happen to one to excel in all things. Coleridge was born much more for poetry than philosophy. Not that the rare qualities of his mind were unmeet or insufficient for the pursuit of wisdom, through any avenue by which it may be approached. But his imagination outgrew and overwreathed his judgment, as, under the tropics, an enor- mous vine covers, with the rank luxuriance of its growth, LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. 23 the tree which it clasps. He saw visions, and dreamed dreams in philosophy. Though he often arrived at brilliant and novel results, he could not trace, in a way satisfactory even to himself, the steps of his progress ; and the out- pourings of his mind on abstruse subjects resembled the fancies of a poet, or the prophecies of a seer, more than the stable and definite conclusions of well regulated inquiry. The texture of his mind was over finely wrought, and he lived on bodily and mental food, which half maddened him. He was for ever haunted with the dim scheme of a grand constructive philosophy, which, during his lifetime, he hardly commenced, and which he would not have completed, had he lived to the age of Methuselah. A daring innovator in speculation, he was an obstinate Conservative in politics. His Toryism was excessive. The rotten borough system was to him the corner-stone of the English constitution, and the worn-out articles of the English church were in every point the perfection of doctrine, the alpha and omega of Christianity. The system of Malthus was " a mon- strous, practical lie," and modern political economy " a solemn humbug." In short, he was Dr. Johnson in poli- tics, Emanuel Swedenborg in philosophy, and — himself in poetry. We cannot avoid the suspicion, that in the following pas- sage he had indistinct reference to himself. " Madness is liot simply a bodily disease. It is the sleep of the spirit with certain conditions of wakefulness ; that is to say, lucid intervals. During this sleep or recession of the spirit, the lower or bestial states of life rise up into action and promi- nence. It is an awful thing to be eternally tempted by the perverted senses. The reason may resist, — it does resist, — for a long time ; but too often, at length, it yields for a moment, and the man is mad for ever. I think it was Bishop Butler, who said, that he was all his life struggling 24 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. against the devilish suggestions of his senses, which would have maddened him, had he relaxed the stern wakefulness of his reason for a single moment." * To a mind like that of Coleridge, the study of German metaphysics was poison. It increased his appetite for the marvellous, rendered his speculations more abstract, crude, and daring, imparted virulence and coarseness to his re- plies to opponents, and lessened his interest in the common concerns of life. To his countrymen, he was an able in- terpreter of the writings of Kant, Fichte, and Schelling. He gilded the clouds of their raising with the warm hues of his own rich imagination. His eloquence recommended dogmatism, and while men sympathized with his aspirations for a higher and a nobler philosophy, they forgot to examine his premises, and yielded assent more as a matter of feeling than of judgment. We cannot argue against his positions, for they do not rest upon argument. Transcendental rea- soning can only be answered by a Transcendentalist. There is nothing tangible for a common person to strike at; even Don Quixote never thought of contending against a cloud. The admirers of Coleridge have been singularly injudi- cious in the praises, which they have heaped upon him. One recommends his philosophical writings as models of English prose, when we may safely declare, that, for the comprehension of a considerable portion of them, a fair knowledge of German and Greek is absolutely indispensa- ble. Besides, the sentences are often long and involved, the construction harsh, and the choice of words very unfor- tunate. It must be admitted, however, that his style is re- markably unequal. There are many and long passages, in which he shows wonderful command over the riches of his * Table-Talk, Vol. i. p. 88. Am. ed. LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. 25 native tongue, and expresses striking thoughts in concise, elevated, and nervous language. An easy and perspicuous manner was always beyond his reach. His faults are those of negligence and rapidity, and many of them arise from over fondness for abstruse expressions, and an unwillingness to incur the labor of translating the philosophical terms of one nation into those of another. Again, he has been commended for perfect amiableness of disposition, quietude under suffering, and meekness when reproachfully assailed. After some study of his prose writings, we are entirely at a loss how to ascertain the grounds on which this opinion rests. His temper appears querulous in the extreme. No one was ever more fortunate in obtaining disinterested admirers and assistants ; witness the Wedgwoods, and the kind surgeon in whose dwelling he passed the later portion of his life. Yet he was eternally complaining of the ingratitude of his friends and the malice of his enemies. We have no wish to allude to the state of his domestic relations. Our concern is only with those features of his character, that are apparent in his writings, and which may help to show the probable influ- ence of his works on those who are most fond of studying them. His ill-will occasionally breaks out into coarseness of language, which it would be difficult to match in the vilest pages of literary controversy. This is plain speaking, and we feel bound to support the charge. Take the following passage from the " Biographia Literaria," in which he alludes to the criticisms, that had appeared, of his own works and those of his friends. " Individuals below mediocrity, not less in natural power than acquired knowledge ; nay, bunglers that had failed in the lowest mechanic crafts, and whose presumption is in due proportion to their want of sense and sensibility ; men, who, being first scrib- blers from idleness and ignorance, next become libellers from envy 3 26 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. and malevolence, have been able to drive a successful trade in the employment of booksellers, nay, have raised themselves into tem- porary name and reputation with the public at large, by that most powerful of all adulation, the appeal to the bad and malignant passions of mankind. But as it is the nature of scorn, envy, and all malignant propensities, to require a quick change of objects, such writers are sure, sooner or later, to awake from their dream of vanity to disappointment and neglect, with embittered and en- venomed feelings. Even during their short-lived success, sen- sible, in spite of themselves, on what a shifting foundation it rest- ed, they resent the mere refusal of praise, as a robbery, and at the justest censures kindle at once into violent and undisciplined abuse ; till the acute disease changing into chronical, the more deadly as the less violent, they become the fit instruments of lit- erary detraction and moral slander. They are then no longer to be questioned without exposing the complainant to ridicule, be- cause, forsooth, they are anonymous critics, and authorized as ' synodical individuals ' to speak of themselves plurali majesta- tico!''* The " ungentle craft " have had many a lecture read to them, but we have yet seen nothing to equal the fiery wrath of this retort. The unconsciousness of the writer is admirable. In the very chapter which contains this pretty piece of denunciation, may be found the following remark. " Indignation at literary wrongs, I leave to men born under happier stars. / cannot afford it^ A single sentence will suffice to exemplify his mode of thinking on political sub- jects. " The Roman Catholic Emancipation Act, — carried in the violent, and, in fact, unprincipled manner it was, — was, in effect, a Surinam toad ; and the Reform Bill, the Dissenters' admission to the Universities, and the attack on the Church, are so many toadlets, one after another de- taching themselves from their parent brute." f No great sagacity is required to perceive the probable * Biog. Lit. p. 30. Am. ed. t Table-Talk, Vol. ii. p. 164. LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. 27 influence of the writings of Coleridge. Possessed of so marked a character, and by no means popular in their nature, the admirers of them would necessarily form a sect, and their admiration of their teacher be expressed in no measured terms. They would adopt the harshness of his manner towards opponents, imitate his enthusiastic dreams, and revel in the richness of his illustrations. Impatient of the restraints put upon their researches by the limited powers of the human mind, they would indulge in highly wrought and abstruse affirmations, in the hope that these might contain the elements of some truth, which they could not fully grasp and distinctly enunciate. Systematic in- quiry would be abandoned for the piecemeal promulgation of unconnected facts and desultory reasoning. The re- sults of immethodical research, connected by no chain in the mind even of the inquirer, would naturally be expressed in short essays and distinct aphorisms. Sanguine in their expectations, the possibility of weaving such materials into a new and satisfactory scheme of philosophy would ever be present to their minds, but the attempt to realize such a hope would constantly be postponed. But the most pernicious effect of the prose works of Coleridge must be ascribed to his fanciful and poetic mode of expression. The imagery, in which he delighted to clothe his mystic speculations, is the prominent object to the observer, who often adopts as a truth what is nothing but an ingenious illustration. The appeal is made to pas- sion and sentiment, not to the understanding ; and the re- sult is persuasion, rather than conviction. There is a falla- cy in such a proceeding, which deserves to be constantly guarded against. Poetic and philosophical truth are essen- tially distinct. They differ in kind. The former relates to propriety in the manner by which the emotive part of our nature is addressed, and does not aspire to accuracy either 28 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. in word or thought. The latter respects strict conformity to reality and fact ; absolute and entire correctness is its proper test. A painting may be true to nature, when the whole composition is ideal, and no archetype is to be found in the works of creation. We say, that Shakspeare does not violate truth in his most imaginative creations, — in his Calibans and Ariels, — his witches, fairies, and ghosts. But the reference is to the keeping of the portraiture, to its consistency with itself. Philosophical truth, of which the subject is man and the end is action, is the exhibition of things as they are, and demands the utmost severity of ex- pression. The value of a principle consists in its unity and entireness. An error in part vitiates the whole. Algebraic simplicity of language is therefore required in its enuncia- tion. All truths are linked together by innumerable rela- tions into an infinite series, the complete exhibition of which would constitute the only perfect scheme of philosophy. All hyperboles, all figures of speech, are therefore wilful departures from the only true road, — are the distorted, partial, or exaggerated expression of a principle, giving to it false relations, whereby its proper position and bearing cannot be ascertained. The inherent difficulties of the rigid method of philosophizing do not form the only objec- tion to it in the minds of most inquirers. Men are in love with the opposite mode from its pleasant vices. " Elo- quence, like the fair sex, has too prevailing beauties in it to sufl^er itself ever to be spoken against. And it is in vain to find fault with those arts of deceiving, wherein men find pleasure to be deceived." Undoubtedly, the artifices of rhetoric have their place among the means for the instruction and improvement of mankind. But their ofl^ice is in the enforcement of truth as a rule of conduct, not the discovery and original expression of that truth. Pure rays of light, passing a medium of fog. LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. 29 are refracted into a thousand gorgeous hues, that hold the spectator in mingled wonder and admiration. Yet the cen- tre of such a cloud is hardly the best place for distinct vis- ion, for perceiving things as they are. Objects appear en- larged, defects are hidden in the wreaths of vapor, and the general effect is grand and impressive. But there is a sim- ple beauty in the pure sunshine without, in the clear atmos- phere, and the sharp outlines of surrounding things, which one would hardly barter, after all, for the most striking illu- sion. This may appear too strong for an illustration, yet the heated and bewildering effect of the most brilliant pas- sages of Transcendental writing goes far to justify the com- parison. A sweeping statement is made, which, in the ob- vious and literal sense of the words, is a wild paradox, but in which every one fancies, that he can perceive the ele- ments of some truth, though probably no two interpreta- tions would be alike. There is no limit to the number of such apophthegms, except in the poverty or richness of the writer's fancy. Where positive truth is not the object of pursuit, the result will too often be nothing but a brilliant play upon words. Splendid generalizations are usually splendid follies. We are always suspicious of an (Edipus, who professes to explain the secret of the universe. A fair comparison of the different modes of inquiry and instruction adopted by Bacon and Locke on the one side, and by the members of the New School on the other, must be based on a consideration of the different ends in view. " In a historical, plain method," Locke professes to " con- sider the discerning faculties of a man, as they are em- ployed about the objects which they have to do with, and to give an account of the ways whereby our understandings come to attain those notions of things we have." Whatever may be thought of the importance of this object, or of the success with which he pursued it, nothing is more certain 3* 30 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. than that he rigidly adhered to his purpose. His book was the first in modern times to give an ample collection of facts, derived from observation, relating to the history of the human mind, and forming a broad basis, on which to erect a system of experimental philosophy. He was di- rectly concerned only with the "discerning faculties"; therefore the imagination and the moral powers are spoken of only incidentally, and, it must be admitted, with frequent mistakes. But to censure this omission is to blame Locke for leaving undone what he never proposed to accomplish. The leading proposition of his first book, which, owing to his inaccurate and unguarded use of language, has been so frequently assailed, is still one, which, couched in one form or another, expressed with greater or less caution, no phi- losopher since his time has ever thought of denying. Those who question the possibility of experience, who deny the reality and value of any scheme of experimental phi- losophy, certainly will not accept his conclusions. But do not let them assume the exclusive propriety of their own method, and then censure Locke for adopting a different course. He has chosen to reason from observation and facts ; they from " anticipated cognitions a priori^ He limited his task, gave up the consideration of problems which he believed to be insoluble, and aimed only at plain and literal truth. Do not let them charge his philosophy with a sensualizing and degrading influence, merely be- cause they have proposed to themselves a different and, it may be, a higher purpose. The results of his inquiries are expressed in a plain and homely garb, while they have caused poetry and eloquence to contribute to the embellish- ment of philosophy. Before they arrogate to themselves the superiority in this respect, let them consider the obser- vasion of Hume : " Nothing is more dangerous to reason, than the flights of the imagination, and nothing has been LOCKE AND THE TKANSCENDENTALISTS. 31 the occasion of more mistakes among philosophers. Men of bright fancies may in this respect be compared to those angels, whom the Scripture represents as covering their eyes with their wings." Originality has become the cant of the day, — the magic sign, whose worshippers would fain persuade themselves of the worthlessness of every thing, save that which is too strange, too wild, and fantastical, to have entered human thought before. In such a doctrine as this we have no share. There is that in Truth, which prevents the labors of the humblest of her admirers from becoming degrading or useless to himself or mankind. It is a maxim, which men are ever ready to acknowledge as true, but never to act upon, that the faithful instructer in virtue stands as high as the successful searcher after truth. He who lends one incitement to the cultivation of a single branch of knowledge, though that branch be as old as the creation, does as much good to society, as much honor to himself, as if he had been the author of any novel hypothesis, that has been framed since the time of Aristotle. If those who are most enthusiastic with regard to the progress of knowl- edge, would have their own dreams realized, they must learn to place a higher value upon humility as a philo- sophical virtue. There are mysteries in nature, which hu- man power cannot penetrate ; there are problems which the philosopher cannot solve. He may form theories, but his theories will be mere dreams, — the futile attempts of human intellect to scan the designs of that Being, " whose judgments are unsearchable, and His ways past finding out." Even in that field of discovery, which is open to the philosopher, he must seek to gratify his thirst for further knowledge only by persevering labor and humble trust. That eager self-confidence, which would fain grasp at con- clusions, without first examining the premises, which would 32 LOCKE AND THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS. reach the pinnacle without the previous toil of ascending the steps, must be restrained. Truth would lose its proper estimation, if it were a pearl that could be obtained without price. It can be purchased only by patient observation, by deep and thorough reflection. In the words of Bacon, " Homo^ naturce minister et inierpres^ tantum facit el in- telligit^ quantum de natures ordine re vel mente ohservavC' rit ; nil amplius scit aut potest.'''' KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 11. KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY* We cannot believe, that it is possible to translate the writings of Kant, in a way that will make them intelligible to the English reader, however conversant he may be with ordinary metaphysical speculations, and little apt to be dis- couraged by the first sight of abstruse doctrine and uncouth phraseology. A compend, or general exposition of his sys- tem, may be attempted with some chance of success ; but a literal version would probably be ten times more enig- matical than the original. The fact is, that Kant needs to be translated before he can be understood by the vast ma- jority of his own countrymen ; and though the eminent thinkers, who have stooped to this repulsive task in Ger- many, have succeeded in disentangling the main points of his system, and presenting to the popular view something like a connected whole, yet in the subsidiary portions, the filling up of the theory, a comparison of their respective works displays a mass of various and irreconcilable opin- ions. Kant aspired to invent a new science, and a new nomenclature for it, at the same time. Each is explicable only through the other ; and the student is, consequently, presented at the outset with an alternative of difficulties. The system can be comprehended only by one who is ac- quainted with its technical vocabulary, and a knowledge of * From the Korth American Reviejo, for July, 1839. Critick of Pure Reason; translated from the Original of Immanuel Kant. London : William Pickering. 1838. Svo. pp. 655. 34 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. the terms employed can be derived only from a previous familiarity with the principal doctrines and divisions of the theory itself. The case, therefore, is very nearly as bad as that of the Egyptian hieroglyphics, — the unknown writing of an unknown tongue. Other obstacles to the easy comprehension of Kantian metaphysics arise from defects of style, and the writer's in- ability, acknowledged by himself, to facilitate the study of his opinions by the clearness of their expression. The rambling and involved sentences, running on from page to page, and stuffed with repetitions and parenthetical matter, would frighten away any but the most determined student, at the very threshold of his endeavor. Kant was an acute logician, a systematic, profound, and original thinker ; but his power of argument and conception wholly outran his command over the resources of language, and he was re- duced to the use of words as symbols, in which his opinions were rather darkly implied, than openly enunciated. The very extent of his innovations in the vocabulary of science showed his inability to make a proper use of the ancient stores of his native tongue. The coining of new terms is the unfailing expedient of those, who cannot make a right application of old ones. The difficulties thus thrown in the student's way, are still further enhanced by the absolute dryness of the speculations, and the want of any relief from ingenious illustrations, or excursions into the flowery regions of eloquence and imagination. His genius never unbends. The flowers, with which other philosophers have strewed the path of their inquiries, were either beyond his reach, or he disdained to employ them ; and his writings accordingly appear an arid waste of abstract discussions, from which the taste instinctively recoils. Not one oasis blooms, not a single floweret springs, beside the path of the traveller through this African desert of metaphysics. In this respect, KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 35 how unlike the rich and fervid genius of Bacon, whose sol- emn and weighty teachings derive half their effect from the play of imagination and brilliancy of wit, in which they are enveloped ! Before the system of Kant can become generally known, or rightly appreciated, out of the small circle of scholars, who, in France and Germany, have resolutely grappled with its difficulties, the same service must be performed for him, which the generous and clear-headed Dumont afforded to his English contemporary, Bentham. It is not enough merely to translate ; the order of subjects must be changed, the course of argument and illustration arranged anew, and the whole work rewritten. The success of previous at- tempts at a close interpretation has not been such as to tempt further endeavor. The Latin version of Born, though executed under the eye of Kant himself, is not half so intelligible as the original. Indeed, the limited vocabu- lary of the Latin language formed an insuperable obstacle to the undertaking, though a vigorous attempt was made to conquer the difficulty by the introduction of barbarisms, that would have made " Quintilian stare and gasp." Should another scholar meditate a version into one of the ancient languages, we recommend to him to try the Greek, feeling quite confident, that, in such a case, he will at least equal in perspicuity some of the renowned fathers of Grecian philosophy. Futile as was this attempt to give universal reputation to the writings of Kant by translating them into the language of the learned world, the few writers, who, in France and England, have endeavored to make the same works known in their vernacular tongue, have met, if pos- sible, with still less success. In the latter country, indeed, little has been tried, and nothing effected. Among the countrymen of Locke, Hume, and Reid, the taste for meta- physical speculations has gradually died out ; while they 36 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. could not foster a philosophy of native growth, there was little chance of obtaining favor for an importation from Germany. Willich, a respectable German scholar, pub- lished a volume, entitled " Elements of the Critical Philos- ophy " ; but it hardly deserved the name of an introduction to these elements. A few pages of the work on " Pure Reason " are literally translated, and an unsuccessful effort is made to explain a few of the most difficult terms in the Kantian vocabulary. Wirgman, in some essays published in the " Encyclopaedia Londinensis," made greater preten- sions, but supported them with far less ability. The intro- ductory portion of the " Critique " is rendered into English with tolerable fidelity ; but the original matter in the " Es- says " only shows, that the writer was a weak and vain man, wholly unfitted for the task of comment and exposi- tion. Before printing his work, he submitted it to Dugald Stewart, with the amiable intention of preventing that phi- losopher from wasting further labor on his inquiry into the faculties of the human mind, after he had been entirely forestalled by his German rival. When the Scottish sage returned the manuscript, with a coldly polite refusal of the proffered assistance, Wirgman, as if eager with Dogberry to write himself down an ass, had the folly to publish the correspondence. His lamentations upon such blind perver- sity on the part of Stewart and others make up the larger portion of the trash, with which he has enveloped his im- perfect and jejune translation. " They order these matters better in France." Of all living writers, perhaps. Cousin is best qualified for the task of interpreting and making available to common minds the dark sayings of the philosopher of Konigsberg. His thor- ough acquaintance with the subject, attested by a copious infusion of Kantianism into his own philosophical system, — the learning and general ability, with which he has KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 37 reviewed the labors of others, — and the admirable clear- ness of his style, are qualities, that would insure him a great measure of success in the undertaking. He has long since promised to the world an exposition of Kant, and we would gladly see the pledge redeemed, though at the ex- pense of sacrificing some of the fruits of his original spec- ulations. The necessity for such a work is not removed by the labors of some of his countrymen, who have pre- ceded him in the same field, though they have done much to elucidate the subject, and to give a new direction to their own philosophical inquiries. The publication of Villers is the most important, in which, giving up all attempts at a literal version, he goes over the ground in his own way with great distinctness, though he sometimes unwittingly engrafts his own opinions upon those which he seeks to interpret. In an admirable sketch, published in the " Bio- graphie Universelle,''^ Stapfer has given a lucid and succinct account of the Kantian system, leaving nothing to be desired by those, who wish only for a general view of its scope and leading peculiarities. Those, who think the difficulties of the German language are the only obstacle to the right comprehension of Kant, may satisfy themselves by examining the volume, of which the title stands at the head of our article. The great work, containing the whole system of the Critical Philosophy, is here faithfully translated, sentence for sentence, and, — as far as the different nature of the two languages would per- mit, — word for word. The writer of it has thus ably executed the only task that he proposed to himself. The violations of English idiom are frequent, it is true, but no more so than was absolutely necessary in order to preserve the strictness of the original plan. And, while the object was merely to translate, not to rewrite and interpret, we are not sure, but that the wisest course was to follow this 4 38 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. method in all its severity. A freer version might give false notions of the original, while the only fault of the present volume must be, that, for the most part, it gives no no- tions at all. A false light is worse than utter darkness. A dreary task must the translator have had of it ; though we would rather engage in an undertaking like his, than in that of the student, who, without further aid than this work affords, should attempt to master the thorny sys- tem of Kantian metaphysics. The book presents a more accurate image of its prototype, than it would do, if exe- cuted on a more liberal plan, and with greater attention to rhetorical embellishment. The English style, harsh, awk- ward, and involved as it appears, is a fair picture of the original diction ; though the former is necessarily the more obscure, because, in German, far more frequently than in English, the composition of the technical terms indicates the precise shade of meaning attached to them. We have noticed a few wrong translations ; but they are unimportant, and do not lessen the credit due to the translator for having executed a most repulsive work with remarkable care, patience, and fidelity. But the question will surely be asked, Why spend so much labor on the interpretation of opinions, which the author himself has not cared, or has not been able, to make intelligible, and of which no practical application is possi- ble } What hidden wisdom is there in the writings of Kant, to extract which the learned world must toil as painfully, as they have done in deciphering the hieroglyphics of Egypt, and perhaps to as little purpose ? Why not leave his system in that obscurity, in which his uncouth style and barbarous nomenclature first enveloped it ? We cannot be satisfied with the answer of the men who maintain, that the diflSculties of this metaphysical theory do not arise from any defects in the exposition of it, but are fairly attributable KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 6V to the ignorance, the want of acuteness, or the defective power of abstraction of those, who have tried in vain to comprehend it. The reproach is an infrequent one in the history of the higher philosophy. Why have not other writers on the same subject been exposed to it in an equal degree ? The difficulty of reading a work on the higher mathematics is a different thing, for we know precisely in what it consists. No one complains of the obscurity of the '''- Mecanique Celeste,'''' though very few would attempt to peruse it in its primitive form with much chance of success. None but a mathematician of very respectable attainments would ever dream of such a task. It is well known, that La Place, addressing himself to a small circle of scientific men, wrote with the conciseness, which the comprehen- siveness of his subject demanded, and that the difficulty of understanding his work proceeds mainly from this cause, and may be in great part removed by such a commentary as that furnished by our distinguished countryman. But there is no intrinsic difficulty in the subject of metaphysics, to be removed only by a regular course of previous training and information. Except the recent German metaphysi- cians, who have wilfully " walked in darkness " by borrow- ing the phraseology of Kant, and we are acquainted with no work in the whole round of the science, which a person of ordinary capacity may not understand, if he chooses. He will meet with many abstract and wearisome discus- sions, with very unattractive reading; but with little or nothing, that cannot easily be understood. This fact is stated in the most unequivocal terms by D'Alembert. "Every thing we learn from a good book on mental science is only a sort of reminiscence of what the mind previously knew. Accordingly, we may apply to good authors in this department what has been said of those who excel in the art of writing ; that, in reading them, every 40 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. one is apt to imagine, that he himself could have written in the same manner." We are not sure, that the obscurity of Kant's writings has not been one great cause of their celebrity. The oracular utterances of the sage of Konigsberg were eagerly caught up by a class of scholars, very numerous in Ger- many, whom no prospect of intellectual toil could appal, while their vanity was gratified by forming an esoteric school of philosophy, and possessing doctrines incommuni- cable to the world at large. No country was ever visited with such a plethora of learned industry. When the stores of ancient erudition were exhausted, and the Latin and Greek classics would be^r no further commentary, when Oriental literature was thoroughly elucidated, and no difficulty in the Sanscrit and Japanese languages remained to be overcome, the crowd of philologists, critics, and com- mentators pounced with eagerness on a publication in their own land, which promised them an inexhaustible field of labor for all time to come. The stores of transcendental wisdom must be precious, indeed, when so many difficul- ties obstructed the attainment of them. Forthwith, diction- aries, manuals, refutations, replies, and rejoinders were multiplied without end. The number and loquacity of the initiated daily increased, all busily employed, and jabbering in a dialect, that astounded the common people, while it reduced the neophytes wellnigh to despair. A good-sized library might now be formed entirely of works written in Kantianese, and devoted more or less directly to comment- ing on the " Critical Philosophy." We treat this matter lightly, though fully aware, that the extraordinary influence of Kant's writings cannot be ex- plained from the single cause above mentioned. In truth, through all the defects of his style and doctrine, we per- ceive the workings of no ordinary mind. Uniting great KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 41 learning to a vigorous and comprehensive intellect, delight- ing in the boldest and most original speculations, and es- pecially distinguished for a systematizing spirit, which gave a formal unity and entireness to the mass of his opinions, he stands high among the small band of men, whose works have given a new impulse and direction to science, and whose lives form the great turning points in the history of philosophy. Fully aware of the greatness of his proposed task and his own abilities, he put forward his claims with a freedom and decision, which in other men would have sa- vored of arrogance, but in him marked only the self-reli- ance of genius. Occupying a new position in speculative' inquiry, he declared, that the method of his predecessors was fundamentally wrong, that their conclusions were un- founded and contradictory, and that his own theory was not merely the only safe, but the only possible foundation for all future systems of metaphysics. To adopt his own lan- guage, " all metaphysicians are therefore solemnly and rightfully suspended from office, until they shall have satis- factorily answered the question," on which, in his opinion, the possibility of their science depends. His own great work is not so much a new theory of the science itself, as an investigation of the grounds and nature of the problem proposed, and a scrutiny into the means and method to be adopted for its solution. All minds were naturally capti- vated by the boldness of pretension in these proposals. They felt the charms of a system, which promised to con- fute dogmatism on the one hand, and rebuke skepticism on the other, and to rescue the highest of all sciences from its previous uncertainties, waverings, and contradictions, and provide for it a sure method of future progress. The cum- bersome apparatus, and the consequent tax on the patience of the learners, seemed pardonable, when they considered 4# 42 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. the difficulty of the problem and the magnitude of the end in view. In any other country than Germany, the work would probably have fallen still-born from the press ; for no one would have had the courage to pierce through the tough and knotty envelope of the system, to ascertain how far it redeemed its magnificent promises. Even there, it was unnoticed for two years after its publication, and the book- seller was on the point of using the impression for waste paper, when the attention of the public was directed toward it by some articles in a leading journal, and the edition was eagerly bought up. From that time, its influence has been wellnigh unbounded. Some were attached to it, perhaps, from the very labor it had cost them to comprehend it, and because they were unwilling to confess, even to themselves, that they had lost their toil. Others, who were disgusted with the endless doubts, inconsistences, and retrocessions of all former metaphysics, were attracted to this system by its formal and technical appearance and vast pretensions, which seemed to insure for the object of their pursuit a reality and stable foundation, like that enjoyed by the kin- dred sciences of logic and mathematics. Kant was thor- oughly German in feeling and opinion, and his works were admirably well adapted to the national prejudices, — if we may call them such without offence, — and to the tenden- cies of the times. They fell in with the current of thought that marked the age, and their influence consequently was not confined to their proper subject, but covered the whole range of speculation, — not more apparent in metaphysics, than in morals, taste, and literary criticism. The nomen- clature was widely adopted, and the spirit of the " Critical Philosophy " soon colored the whole web of German litera- ture. And, when the prodigious literary activity of the na- tion began to attract the attention of foreigners, and the KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 43 " Chinese wall," which had isolated them from the rest of Europe, was broken down, the phenomenon of this man's extraordinary power, so widely manifested, did not fail to excite curiosity in foreign countries. Madame de Stael, in her work, that may be said almost to have introduced the German literati to the European world, devoted several chapters to a brilliant, though superficial, consideration of the Kantian philosophy. Now that the people thus recent- ly made known to us bid fair to affect French and English letters more widely and deeply than any foreign causes have done for ages, it becomes doubly important to gain correct notions of the philosophical theory, which is in- grained in their thoughts and language. We have said, that much of the popularity of this system at home was owing to its consonancy with the train of na- tional opinions. We do not allude merely to the aliment, which its operose machinery afforded to the German appe- tite for toil. It was the state of religious opinions, with which the new philosophy harmonized in the greatest de- gree. More than fifty years ago, religious belief was dying out as rapidly in Germany as in France. Enthusiasm of faith had passed away with the theological wars, to which it had given rise. The Encyclopaedists made converts to in- fidelity among the French, and Frederick of Prussia sought to extend their influence to his countrymen. He failed, because the characters of the two nations were so different, that the same course of argument and the same scheme of unbelief were not fitted for both. French skepticism, airy, shallow, and sensual, was not suited to the sobriety and thoughtfulness of the Germans. Equally or more prone than their neighbors to speculate on the highest topics, they could not do without a creed of some kind, but they wished for one of their own construction, — not dependent on revelation and the authority of Scripture, but worked 44 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. out by their own minds, — curiously complex and elabo- rately wrought, — mystical in expression, though skeptical in tendency, — and more a subject of contemplation and argument, than belief. Their skepticism was to be arrayed in all the panoply of positive doctrine, — to be an elaborate scheme, not of doubt, but of absolute denial, — guarded by all the resources of reasoning, and appealing to the pride of human intellect, with all the pomp of demonstration and certainty. Indeed, it is a curious fact, that peculiarities of national character are often more apparent in philosophical systems, than even in miscellaneous literature, matters of taste, forms of government, or domestic customs. Speculative theories result from the aggregate of character, and embody the whole mind of the people among whom they rise. From the extent and comparative vagueness of the subject, a greater scope is given for the expression of peculiar traits, which may appear either in the outward garb, the exterior ac- companiment, of thought, or in the prevailing tendency of theories towards a certain point, or in the general fashion and arrangement of remark and argument. It is not that hu- man nature, the great object of the study, differs in various countries, for the groimdwork, of course, is everywhere the same. But it takes a different development, has various and often opposite tendencies, and produces very dissimilar results. We understand perfectly what is meant at the present day by the French, the German, and the English schools of philosophy ; for no translation from the language of one into that of another can be so perfect as to obliterate all marks of origin. The wine will still have a tang of the cask. There is a vein of truth in the quaint saying, which gives to the English the dominion of the sea, to the French that of the earth, and to the Germans that of the clouds and the air. No matter whether Leibnitz, Kant, or Sehel- KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 45 ling be taken as the representative of the Teutonic race in speculation. There is a subtilty and over-refinement of thought, a boldness of hypothesis, an excessive display of learning, and haziness of expression, common to them all. Equally apparent in all the English school, in Hobbes, Locke, Hartley, and Reid, are plain common sense, sturdy resistance to all authority in matters of thought, and a dis- position to espouse the popular belief, and to reconcile speculation with practice. France boasts of two great names, whose reputation belongs to the earlier period of her scientific history. But the life and situation of Descar- tes and Malebranche were in many respects peculiar. In- dividual influences operated upon them, to a great extent, to hide the qualities, which they had in common with their countrymen. The remarkable self-education of the former, his foreign travel and various experience of men, and the devotion of far the greater part of his life to physical sci- ence, — and the connexion of the latter with the priesthood, together with his enthusiastic religious faith, — prevented either from manifesting, in any great degree, the bias of national thought. Condillac is a far better representative of French philosophy. He has numerous points in com- mon with those of his countrymen and successors, whose philosophical creed differs most widely from his own, and whose habits of thought even appear, at first sight, wholly unlike those of the great master of the Sensualist school. Cousin may be taken as an eminent instance. He is an Eclectic by profession. He has drunk deep at all foun- tains, — Greek, Scholastic, German, English, — mingling all the different waters for a single draught. Condillac, on the other hand, acknowledges no other master than Locke, and does not appear to have studied even him very faithful- ly. But he is not a more thorough Frenchman than the great Eclectic. He does not bring out more strongly, more 46 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. vividly the national character. We find in the works of each the same transparency of diction united with real con- fusion of thought, the same dashing and brilliant, though shallow manner, generalizations equally bold and sweeping, and the same easy and confident tone of expression. The writings of Kant gave utterance to the philosophical tendencies of his country and age, and the speculatists who succeeded him owe much of their success to a similar adop- tion of the prevailing sentiments of the thinking public into their respective systems. Under the guise of a new faith, they created a philosophy of unbelief; under a dogmatical mask, they proclaimed what was, at least in reference to revelation, a theory of total skepticism. This fact, though commonly admitted, so far as it relates to the opinions of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel, is denied in respect to the creator of the Transcendental philosophy. But the denial only shows how imperfectly, out of the limits of his own country, his system is understood. The speculations of Hume, as he repeatedly admits, gave the first hint for the formation of his new scheme of doctrine ; " they first inter- rupted my dogmatical slumber, and gave a wholly different direction to my inquiries in the field of speculative philoso- phy." Though commonly understood as aiming at the refutation of his predecessor, he extended, in fact, the sphere of Hume's skeptical arguments, generalizing them so far that they covered the whole field of knowledge. " I first inquired, whether the objection of Hume might not be universal, and soon found, that the idea of the connexion between cause and effect is far from being the only one by which the un- derstanding, a priori, thinks of the union of things ; but rather, that metaphysics are entirely made up of such conceptions. I endeav- ored to ascertain their number, and when, guided by a single principle, I had succeeded in the attempt, I proceeded to inquire into the objective validity of these ideas ; for I was now more than ever convinced, that they were not drawn from experience, as KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 47 Hume had supposed, but that they came from the pure under- standing." — Prolegomena zu einer jeden kunftigen Metaphysik. Vorrede, p. 13. That this expansion of Hume's principles, though con- ducted on a different method, leads to the same skeptical conclusions that he deduced from them, will be more clear- ly seen in the development of the theory. The impression, that it led to very different results, is founded on the arro- gant pretensions of the new school, and the difficulty of an- alyzing the system far enough to detect its real character. The name of Transcendentalism seems to imply, that it is the scheme of a higher philosophy, rising above the objects of sense, and over-leaping the narrow limits within which the exercise of our faculties had formerly been confined ; when, in fact, its leading doctrine is, that our knowledge is necessarily restricted to objects within the domain of expe- rience, — that all super-sensual ideas are to us character- less and devoid of meaning, and in attempting to cognize them the reason is involved in endless contradictions. We do not state this fact as in itself a reproach upon the specu- lations of Kant, but only to correct the unfounded notions, which most persons among us entertain, of their character and tendency. All innovations in the theory of science, all new views in philosophy, must stand or fall on their logi- cal and intrinsic merits. There may be a presumption against them from the degrading conception which they offer of human nature ; but this is insufficient to justify their immediate rejection. Of two hypotheses, the more ennobling is not necessarily the true one, and too great ad- vantage is given to the skeptic, by a hasty preference awarded to it, before the grounds on which it rests are sat- isfactorily determined. Our business is with argument, and not with declamation. We obtam a clue to the labyrinth of Kantian metaphy- 48 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. sics, as soon as we rightly perceive the point of departure selected for the system, and the new method on which he resolved to prosecute his inquiries. The three sciences, logic, mathematics, and metaphysics, distinguished from others by their purely intellectual origin and nature, have advanced with very unequal success. The first came near- ly in a perfect form from the hands of its inventor, Aris- totle, subsequent inquirers having done little but to pare off its redundancies and improve the modes of its application. The second, rising from small beginnings, has gone stead- ily on, every step being one of progress, till it now covers an immense domain, while we can hardly imagine any bounds to its future advancement. But the fate of the third of these sciences has been directly the reverse. Though older than the others, it has, from the earliest pe- riod of its history, presented little more than an arena for endless contests, where philosophers might exercise their powers in mock engagements, but where no one could ever gain the least ground, or found a permanent posses- sion upon his victory. For all this ill success, Kant sup- posed that the method of inquiry was in fault. On the old plan, it was presumed, that sensible things, outward objects, were known to us in all their relations ; — that the nature of mind was unknown, and must be studied through the effects produced within it by impressions from without. Kant reversed this process, and from the centre of the mind itself observed the action of our cognitive faculties on sur- rounding things. He looked upon the outward world as modified by our own mental constitution, and upon the mind as projecting, so to speak, its own modes of being upon the external creation. " It sounds strange indeed, at first, but it is not the less certain, when I say, in respect to the original laws of the understanding, that it does not de- rive them from nature, but imposes them upon nature." KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 49 From effecting this change in the mode of inquiry, he com- pares himself to Copernicus, who, when he found that he could not explain the motions of the heavenly bodies by supposing the firmament to turn round the spectator, tried the opposite supposition, by leaving the spectator to turn, and the stars to be at rest. The obvious consequence of this hypothesis is, that all our knowledge is subjective, — that we can never know things as they are, but only as they appear to us when viewed through a false and deceptive medium. There is a deep gulf between the two sciences of psychology and on- tology, and no human efforts can bridge over the chasm. Though the problem which Kant proposes should be solved, — though by a finer analysis we should separate the quali- ties really belonging to an object from those superadded by our manner of looking at it, — still we could never imagine how it would appear to us, if deprived of these subjective elements. Now our idea of truth is, the conformity of our representations with their archetypes ; and, as confidence in our perceptive faculties is the only way of assuring our- selves that such coincidence exists, the theory in question is certainly based on the most comprehensive skepticism. It declares, that truth is not only unattained, but unattainable. It assumes, that the world which we know, is a web spun by our own fancies on few and thin filaments of absolute being ; take away the imaginary warp, and the texture cannot hold together. The world of things in themselves is incognizable and inconceivable. " We receive but what we give, And in our life alone does Nature live, Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud." By a full survey of the cognitive faculty of man, Kant sought to ascertain the number and character of those primitive elements of thought, which, being united with, or 5 50 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. imposed upon, the impressions received from sense, consti- tute knowledge, or make experience possible. In this way he sought to finish the work commenced by Locke, — to discover the grounds and origin of human knowledge, and thence to deduce the conditions of its use, and to determine its extent and boundaries. Perhaps we may gain more ac- curate notions of the execution of this task, by going back for a time to the theory of his predecessor. The change of a preposition is sufficient to reconcile the leading doctrine of Locke with the opinions of those phi- losophers, who have most distinguished themselves by the virulence of their attacks upon his system. The propo- sition, as he states it, that all our knowledge proceeds from sensation and reflection, as it implies that we are not to go behind these faculties in accounting for its origin, is faulty in itself, and at variance with his subsequent asser- tions. Had he asserted, that all truth is perceived through these faculties, or first known on occasion of their exercise, he would not merely have avoided misapprehensions and unfounded complaints, but have stated an undeniable fact, which not the most illiberal of his opponents could ever dream of controverting. The two worlds of matter and mind are the only possible objects of human cognition. We can know the one only through the functions of sense, and the other through the exercise of that faculty, — call it reflection, consciousness, or what you please, — by which we cognize objects of pure thought, or the immaterial cre- ation. But if we merely trace a given idea to sensation or re- flection, we leave the matter short ; we have not fully ac- counted for its origin. An impression is made on the senses, and a perception of the understanding immediately follows. Is there not an element in it, which is purely in- tellectual, and as such, not caused by the action on the KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 51 nerves, though this action may mark the occasion, on which it rises? The eye gives us a perception of distance, though the impression on the optic nerve certainly trans- mits to the mind nothing but a sensation of various colors. The judgment immediately adds an estimate of the distance, at which the visible object is placed ; and does this, from long practice, with such facility and quickness, that we confound the act with the sensation, and imagine that we see the separation of bodies in space. Thus we falsely attribute to the sensation more knowledge than really pro- ceeds from it. Still, this is an instance not of original mental action, but of an acquired perception, founded on habit, and as such is noticed by Locke, as perfectly con- sistent with his hypothesis. But are there not other instan- ces, where the tendency to add something to the sensible impression is original, instinctive, and acts with irresistible force ; and where the addition made, or the subjective ele- ment, as the Germans call it, is wholly unlike any quality existing in the outward thing, and can in no way be traced to its influence ? To answer this question, we take an example most familiar to metaphysicians. Two events happen in close connexion, and we immediately connect them by the sup- posed relation of cause and effect. The hand is held near the fire, and the sensation of pain follows. Heat is ab- stracted from water, and the fluid immediately congeals. Certain solid substances are thrown into water, and they straightway dissolve, the fluid remaining transparent as ever; other substances in powder are thrown in, the me- dium remains turbid for a time, and then the foreign matter sinks unchanged to#the bottom. Now, in each of these cases, we immediately and necessarily suppose, that the first event is an efficient agent, and of its own power or force produces the second. But the senses tell us nothing 52 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. of such a connexion. They only inform us of the two events themselves, and that they are contiguous in place and time. Nor can the judgment be attributed to reasoning, or a power of tracing the relations between ideas. For what resemblance is there between the ideas of heat and pain, between those of cold and solidity, between pounded sugar and transparency in water, or pounded alabaster and insol- ubility ? None at all. Naturally and easily as we make the transition now from one of these related ideas to the other, had we no previous experience, — had we never seen the experiment or heard of its being tried, — we should no more have thought of connecting the two notions, than of tracing an analogy between a thing a yard long and one that is red. The two ideas are wholly dissimilar. The whole matter may be summed up as follows ; that, having sensible evidence of two events happening in direct succession, we immediately connect with them the idea of power, or efficient agency. Whence comes this idea.'* Certainly not from sensation. We do not perceive the power of fire to melt lead or consume paper, just as we perceive its light and the flickering of its flame, merely by looking at it. We perceive the fact, indeed, that the lead is melted and the paper is dissipated ; but the supposition, that the fire causes this result, goes beyond the perception, is extraneous to it, and, so far as the senses are concerned, is entirely gratuitous. Does it come from reflection then ? This faculty denotes nothing but attention to the subjects of our consciousness, and we surely are not conscious of the powers of material things. Consciousness informs us, indeed, that the idea exists in the mind, but tells us nothing about its origin ; nor can we trace any. intellectual process, or train of thought, which seems to end in giving birth to this notion. The idea of power, therefore, is a fair instance of an element of knowledge, in itself universal and of KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 53 primary importance, the origin of which cannot be ascribed either to external or internal experience. Now, this instinctive yoking together of two events as cause and effect, or rather the universal judgment closely related to it, " that every thing which happens must have a cause," is termed, in the elegant language of Kant, " a synthetical judgment a priori^ Propositions are called analytical or synthetical, according as they are either m_erely explanatory, and add nothing to the sum of our knowledge, or as they have an amplifying effect, and actually enlarge the given cognition. In other words, the predicate of an analytical judgment affirms .nothing but what was already contained in the idea of the subject. This is the nature of a complete or partial definition. Facts which we learn from experience are instances of syntheti- cal judgments, the predicate going beyond the subject, and thus making a positive addition to our stock of previous knowledge. The proposition we have been considering at such length is evidently synthetical, for there is nothing in the very conception or idea of one event to create a neces- sity of its being preceded or followed by another of a different character. It is also called a judgment a priori^ because, as we have seen, it is not, and it cannot be, derived from experience. Then what is its real origin } How do we obtain it ? This is Hume's problem. Make the ques- tion universal, state it in the broadest possible form, and we have the great problem of the Transcendental philosophy ; " How are synthetical judgments a priori possible ? " The expression is not remarkable for perspicuity, but the mean- ing is this ; How is it, that, independent of experience, we are able to know any thing with absolute certainty ? To the consideration of this question, the " Critique of Pure Reason " is exclusively devoted. We first seek for a criterion, by which we may securely 5* 54 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. distinguish a priori knowledge from that which is founded on experience. Kant finds such a test in the characteris- tics of universality and strict necessity, neither of which can be attached to any propositions of empirical origin. Human experience is never complete, — never exhausts the possible variety of cases ; its judgments, therefore, are never universally true or demonstratively certain ; but, founded on an inductive process, they are valid so far as our observation has extended. The contrary is always pos- sible and conceivable. Not so with all the propositions of mathematics, with some axioms in physics, and with many other truths, that are implied in all the forms of speculative knowledge. These carry their own evidence along with them, the denial of them involving a contradiction or ab- surdity, and no case being supposable where absolute and universal certainty would fail to attend them. There- fore, they are not derived from experience, and the ques- tion recurs with regard to their origin. Whence does the mind obtain them ? Kant defies the world to give any other answer to this query, than that v/hich we have already stated as the foun- dation of his system; — that they are forms of the mind itself, — the colored medium through which we look out upon the universe of cognizable things. The material world is deaf and dumb to such truths. The mind does not derive them from without, but from its own stores, and by its own inborn energy imposes them as necessary and immutable laws upon the outward universe. Our percep- tive faculties have a peculiar organization, and can act only within well-defined limhs. Therefore we know a priori, that the information received through the senses must con- form to this organization, and receive certain changes from the passages, through which it is transmitted. In what manner objects would appear to beings of a different con- KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 5& stitution and nature from ourselves, we cannot even con- jecture. But we know how they must appear to us, and therefore, prior to experience, we can determine some par- ticulars in relation to them with absolute certainty. To in- quire into the actual constitution of things, — their real nature, as distinct from the appearances which they assume to us or to different orders of being, — is a hopeless en- deavor. It is seeking to know, without using the only means of knowledge. It is a gross error, though a natural one, to consider our own modes of knowing as the modes of being inherent in outward things ; to give objective validity to subjective laws. The theory is certainly ingenious and plausible, though it rests on a paradox. Empirical propositions, to which we give only a limited comprehension and a qualified assent, are not controverted. Universal and absolute convictions, in the reference which we instinctively make of them, are necessarily false. The non-existence of qualities is infer- red from our inability to conceive of their non-existence ; they belong only to the mind, because we cannot even im- agine their annihilation as attributes of things without us. Without questioning the reality of any " anticipated " knowledge, we inquire only into ihe sufficiency of those criteria, by which Kant seeks to distinguish it from truths empirically known. That in the information received through the action of the perceptive faculties there are some elements, which are necessary, or that cannot be got rid of, is a fact which betrays rather the limitation of our capacities, than the existence of a different and higher source of knowledge. The necessity in question may be only of a negative character, and then the truth which it characterizes may be of empirical origin. Some objects can be known only under certain relations ; some qualities cannot, in our conceptions, be abstracted from the substance 56 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. in which they inhere. Enlarged means of experience, — the possession of an additional sense, for instance, — might do away with these impossibilities. The necessary charac- ter of the cognitions in such case, results rather from the limitations of experience, than from the existence of a higher faculty of knowing. But without insisting on the insufficiency of these tests, we remark farther a monstrous gap in the reasoning adopted by Kant. From the necessary and universal re- cognition of an object or quality, he infers, that it cannot be objectively real. Thus he assumes, not merely that expe- rience can lead us only to contingent, limited, and relative knowledge, but that it is the only trustworthy means of cognition. Whatever is known a priori, on his system, must be illusive ; it is subjective, or derived only from our own modes of being and knowing, though always falsely referred to things as they exist. In this way it is main- tained, without the slightest proof, and in contradiction to an irresistible impulse of belief, that there is no harmony be- tween our laws of thought and the real constitution of ob- jects. The consciousness of necessity, which accompanies certain judgments, is held to prove their origin a priori; and from this last fact is inferred their entire want of foun- dation in the absolute nature of things. We may admit the justice of the first inference, but wholly deny that of the second, which would be more properly styled a mere conjecture. For the whole course of Kant's arguments leads to the conclusion, that, from the constitution of a something in our conceptions, we are not entitled to form any belief respecting the constitution of that something without us. Yet, in direct opposition to this canon, from the a priori origin of our knowledge of a quality, he de- duces the non-existence of that quality in the outward world. That is, he admits the rule, when it works in favor KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 5*7 of his system, but repudiates it, when it makes against him. It is a good principle, when it leads to skepticism ; it is invalid, when it tends to restore confidence in the fidelity of our representative ideas. Few words will suffice to apply these principles of the Transcendental philosophy to an explanation of the intel- lectual processes in the acquisition of knowledge. It is ap- parent from what has already been said, that each cognitive faculty has two functions ; — the one, receptivity^ or the power of receiving impressions from without, the other spontaneity, or the power of reacting upon and modifying these impressions. The first of these faculties, that of sense (^sinnlichkeit) , in which spontaneity exists in the low- est degree, furnishes intuitions, — the rude and unformed matter of all our knowledge. Two intuitions, those of space and time, are found to possess the marks of univer- sality and necessity, and therefore have an a priori origin, and no objective reality, or foundation in the real nature of things. Space is no empirical conception, derived from external experience, but it is the necessary prerequisite, or condition, of our ability to imagine any thing as existing out of our own minds. If from our conception of a m.ate- rial substance, we abstract every thing which is known em- pirically, as its color, hardness, weight, impenetrability, &c., still the space remains, which the body had occupied, as somethinoj that cannot be left out. We can imagine a void space, or one in which no substance is to be found, but we can form no idea of body as existing otherwise than in space. Again, space is an endless magnitude, no limits to it being conceivable ; and it is essentially one, for though we may speak of different spaces, we understand thereby only parts of one and the same all-comprehending exten- sion. Similar arguments will be found to be applicable to our idea of time. On the subjective character of these two 58 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. intuitions depends the possibility of the whole science of mathematics ; our absolute conviction of geometrical truths resting on the pure representation of space, while arith- metic derives its certainty from the " anticipated " idea of time. We certainly have neither time nor space to consider the argument more particularly, but only to inquire, how far the theory, as thus explained, tends to the refutation of skepticism. To the first bewildered apprehensions of the student, it would seem to be difficult to frame a system, which should strike more effectually at the foundations of all belief. By denying the reality of space, " the great globe itself, with all that it inherit," passes away like a dream. By asserting that time does not exist out of our own fancies, memory appears a cheat, existence is con- tracted to a point, and the whole history of experience and events is rolled up like the morning mist. " Nothing is there to come, and nothing past ; But an eternal now does ever last.'' To assert, that these laws of thought have a subjective reality, sufficient for our purposes, and are rightly appli- cable to the phenomenal world, — the only one with which we are acquainted or have any concern, — is a contemptible evasion. The most audacious skeptic never denied, that we believe in the existence of matter and in the succession of events in time, or that this belief is im*perative and neces- sary. At the same time, he maintains that it is illusive, and has no foundation in the real nature of things. To go farther than this, would be the part, not of an infidel, but of a madman. It is true, that Kant professes to repudiate Berkleianism, and will not admit that his own system leads to any similar result. He maintains the existence of the outward world, though he denies the reality of that which, by his own principles, can alone make the conception of KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 59 such existence possible. The originality, at least, of a sys- tem, that couples the refutation of idealism with a denial of the ohjectivity of space, cannot be disputed. External nature has a being independent of our ideas, though the manner of that being transcends the limits of all thought. Kant contented himself at first with a simple protest against the ideal theory ; but, when his opponents charged him with denying in words what was an unavoidable infer- ence from his own system, in the second edition of the " Critique " he inserted a proof of the existence of matter. Of the validity of this proof, we say nothing, for we do not profess to understand it, and have great doubts whether the author understood it himself. It is an excrescence on the system, violating its unity, and contradicting what must be inferred from his doctrines as a whole. The intuitions of sense form the groundwork of our cog- nitions, but in themselves are unformed and incomplete. Before they constitute knowledge, they must become ob- jects of thought to the understanding, a faculty distinguished from that of sense, as its operations are independent of space and time. The latter represents the matter of things, as it is affected by them ; the former, exercising spon- taneity in a higher degree, collects the variety of these materials into a whole. What the intuitions of space and time are to the functions- of sense, the categories are to the understanding. They are forms of thought, under which intuitions are necessarily taken in, or subsumed, and thereby become conceptions, the legitimate products of the under- standing. They are twelve in number, divided into four equal classes ; those of quantity, quality, relation, and modality. The nomenclature is obviously borrowed from that of the logician, and thus indicates the source of the theory, and the grounds on which it rests. Kant was early struck with the similarity between the first principles of 60 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. logic and the necessary laws, to which, in an ontological point of view, all the objects of our perceptions appear to be subjected. Might not the similarity of appearance be founded on the radical identity of the two classes ? Every act of reasoning, considered abstractly, takes place under certain forms or laws, which have undoubted authority, and the number and reality of which may be determined with the utmost precision. Might not these forms be identical with the laws, which we fancy are drawn from the obser- vation of nature, but which, on this hypothesis, must be considered as imposed on nature by our own intellectual activity ? Kant answers this question in the affirmative, and, having remodelled and completed to his own satisfac- tion the table of categories, claims to have resolved by their means the problem respecting the possibility of a priori knowledge in the department of physics. To every con- ception or judgment that forms a part of our knowledge are applied at least four categories, taken respectively from the four classes into which these forms of thought have been divided. In other words, we must think of the object, in the first place, as being either o?ze, many, or all ; secondly, as positive, negative, or limited; thirdly, as substance or ac- cident, cause or effect, or as placed in reciprocity with some- thing else by the law of action and reaction ; finally, as possible or impossible, existent or nonexistent, necessary or contingent. The categories are necessary conditions of thinking upon any object, but in themselves they do not enable us to know the object. To accomplish this purpose, real intuitions must be given, to which the categories may be referred ; and, since all intuitions come from sense, the office of the under- standing extends only to sensible things. Beyond the opera- tions of the senses, or the territory of experience, nothing is cognizable. This remark applies even to our own na- KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 61 ture. Pure consciousness gives us assurance, that we exist ; but, since there is no intuition of this fact, and it is thought upon only by the spontaneity of the understanding, so our own being cannot be known in itself, but only the nnanner of that being. Empirical consciousness of changes in our internal condition must be distinguished from pure con- sciousness of self-existence. Universally, therefore, the functions of the understanding are empirical, and not trans- cendental ; they refer to objects as phenomena, and not as things in themselves. Notwithstanding this necessary limitation of our capaci- ties to a knowledge of objects within the domain of experi- ence, the mind constantly strives to rise above the sphere of the senses, and, as in the metaphysical systems of the older philosophy, fashions for itself a science of things in themselves, which are supersensual and unconditioned. An analysis of our intellectual faculties is incomplete, if it does not account for this effort, — if it does not develope some deep-seated cause, which constantly impels us to a search after what is absolute and unlimited, and gives to the sup- posed knowledge of it a deceptive appearance of validity. Kant finds such a cause in the third cognitive faculty of man, denominated par excellence the Reason, — spontaneity raised to the highest degree, — the chief function of which is to support this unceasing, but vain endeavor. As the power of sense has its forms, and the understanding its cat- egories, so the reason has its ideas^ created by adding to conceptions elaborated by the next lower faculty a notion of the infinite and the absolute. They are three in num- ber ; the idea of the absolute unity of the thinking subject, which is the aim of rational psychology ; the idea of the absolute totality of phenomena, the universe, which forms the purpose of rational cosmology ; finally, the idea of ab- 6 62 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. solute reality, the highest condition of all things, the first cause, which is the object of rational theology. In other words, by a necessary impulse of our nature we must as- sume the unity of the soul, the existence of the universe, and the reality of a first cause. But these ideas enter not the field of positive knowledge. They constitute the possi- bility of metaphysics as an idea, but not as actual science. No proof of their objective validity can be furnished, for it is their essence not to be referred to corresponding objects cognizable through sense ; they are derived subjectively from the reason. Yet they are not wholly without use, as they answer at least a regulative purpose. They urge our empirical inquiries onward to higher and nobler ends, than would otherwise be pursued ; and, though the objects them- selves are unattainable, the effort serves to give greater comparative unity and completeness to our system of knowledge. The result of the theory may be given in Kant's own words. " All knowledge of things derived solely from the pure understanding, or from pure reason, is nothing but empty show ; and truth is to be found only through experi- ence." He expressly denies the validity of the a priori argument for the freedom of the will, the immortality of the soul, and the existence of a God ; and rebukes the ar- rogance of the schools for assuming to themselves higher grounds of conviction than are open to the vulgar. His aim is, not merely to show the futility of the proofs already advanced in support of these great doctrines, but to demon- strate the absolute impracticability of the attempt to estab- lish them under any circumstances. The reason may and will exhaust itself by perpetual efforts to transcend the limits of possible inquiry, — erecting systems and, almost in the same breath, pulling them down again ; because urged on by an irresistible impulse, that prevents it from being KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. OS taught wisdom by repeated failures, and from acknowledg- ing that it has overtasked its powers and mistaken its pre- rogatives. The arguments relating to these sublime doc- trines are summed up on either side, and found to be equally irrefutable, and therefore equally false. Then it is vain to argue either for or against them ; the supporter and the assailant alike are silenced. Such a result of metaphysical inquiry as this, reminds one of Madame de Stael's remark on former skeptical sys- tems ; that " they changed the light of knowledge into a devouring flame ; and Philosophy, like an enraged magi- cian, fired the palace on which she had lavished all the prodigies of her skill." It should be observed, however, that Kant himself, alarmed by the sweeping skepticism of these conclusions, in his " Critique of Practical Reason," subsequently published, labors to do away with his own work, and to find in our moral nature what the speculative reason cannot afford, — a foundation for the belief in things unseen and eternal. The attempt forms a virtual acknowledgment of the necessity of those doctrines, which he had previously refused to legitimate ; they are intro- duced into the field of ethics as postulates, without which moral phenomena remain inexplicable. Our outline of this celebrated system is necessarily very imperfect, but it may serve to correct some unfounded no- lions of its character and tendency. The authority of Kant as a teacher of opinions, even in his native country, has passed away ; and the result has come far short of justify- ing his boast, that he had given a new and sure basis to mental science, and fixed the principles and method of its progress. Speculation has broken the trammels, with which he would have limited its aberrations, and has pur- sued a course more erratic than ever. Opinions have varied as widely in the mass, and fluctuated as rapidly in the in- 64 KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. dividual, as if he had never determined " the only possible method " of avoiding hesitancy and confusion, and placing metaphysics on the same stable foundation with the other abstract sciences. But the indirect influences of his writ- ings may be distinctly traced in the works of nearly all the speculatists, who have succeeded him, not only in Germa ny, but in France and England. While his innovations in the nomenclature have changed the whole garb of philoso phy, and rendered the study of systems more abstruse fatiguing, and repulsive, it must be confessed, that they have also removed some causes of ambiguity and mistake and have pointed out the path for effecting a more syste matic and beneficial reform. His example has also given a fresher impulse to the spirit of inquiry, increased the eager ness for the formation of new systems, and carried bold ness of theorizing on all topics far beyond its ancient lim its. His great demerit consists, in having effectually, though perhaps not intentionally, served the cause of infi delity, while professing to repair and extend the defences of belief. Had the real character of his doctrines been evident at a glance, their influence, whether for good or evil, could not have reached so far. But his disciples grop- ed about in the intricacies of a system, which they could not fully master, and embraced opinions, of the nature and tendency of which they had but a blind conception. Thus, they were fairly enlisted on the side of skepticism, before they had thought of quitting the banners of faith. Once engaged in the work, they felt only the desire of surpassing their instructor in dogmatism of manner, rashness in form- ing novel hypotheses, and general license of speculation on the most sacred subjects. As his theory extended over the whole territory of knowledge, almost every science has in turn been infected with the wild and crude imaginings of his followers. It is this general effervescence of thought KANT AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 65 and reasoning, which has brought a reproach on the very- name of philosophy, and, through the mournful perversion of terms which it has occasioned, has given too good cause for regarding a system of philosophical radicalism as a mere cover for an attack on all the principles of govern- ment and social order, and for considering a philosophical religion as atheism itself. Under such circumstances, we can hardly wonder, that many reflecting persons have con- ceived a distrust of the consequences of such free inquiry, and do not suppress either alarm or contempt at the bare mention of German metaphysics. 6* 66 fichte's exposition of kant : III. FICHTE'S EXPOSITION OF KAJNTt PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY.* We propose, in this essay, to give some account of the system of theology, which, in Germany, has been derived from the principles of what is there called the " Critical Philosophy," but which is better known among us by the name of Transcendentalism. We mean the system which is founded directly and entirely on the basis of that philoso- phy, paying no regard at present to the modifications it has undergone in the hands of subsequent inquirers, or to the partial influence, which the same speculative theory has had upon other systems, which were chiefly drawn from different sources. The prodigious impulse, that the writ- ings of Kant gave to the speculative genius of his country- men, is visible enough in every walk of literature and sci- ence, but nowhere are its effects so widely and strongly marked as in the province of the theologian. It was natu- ral that it should be so. Philosophy and theology are sister sciences, so closely allied, that it is often difficult to deter- mine the boundaries between them. Every person must hold some opinions relative to each, and these opinions form two mutually dependent creeds, that are in a greater or less degree peculiar to himself, and of which the action and reaction are so nearly equal, that it is often difficult to determine which is the parent of the other. Every theory respecting the origin and first principles of human knowl- *From the Christian Examiner for May, 184 L PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 67 edge must bear a close relation to that subject, on which of all others knowledge is the most important, — the doctrine of God, duty, and immortality. The religion of the Greeks and Romans, so far as it existed in a definite and consistent form, that is, as it was conceived by enlightened and thinking men among them, was wholly drawn from their philosophical tenets, or more properly speaking, it was identical with those tenets. And so it has been in modern times. Skepticism in philosophy and in religion, if not the same thing, at least, always go together. The metaphy- sics of Calvinism are as much a component part of its creed, as the " five points " themselves. This intimate con- nexion between two great branches of human inquiry sup- plies an additional means of estimating the truth and value of the results obtained in investigating either. Unsound conclusions in the one must be drawn from false premises in the other. Kant perceived at once, that his system of metaphysics led to many important results respecting the great truths of religion, and he occupied himself at an early period in tracing out and establishing those points in a separate trea- tise. His work, entitled " Religion within the Limits of mere Reason," appeared in 1793, twelve years after the publication of the " Critique of Pure Reason." But he had been anticipated by a zealous young disciple, whose ardor in philosophical pursuits, at first exerted only in carrying out and defending the principles of his master, was des- tined soon to receive a different direction, and to establish a rival system, the reputation of which triumphed for a time over that of its predecessor. Fichte's first work, " A Critique of all Revelation," was published anonymously in 1792, and, being avowedly established on the basis of the Critical Philosophy, the principles of which it merely developed and applied to another subject, it was at first universally 68 fichte's exposition of kant : attributed to Kant himself. Fichte claimed it in the second edition, though the first conception of his own philosophical system was probably even then floating in his mind ; and as this differed widely from the philosophy of Kant, it is not likely, that, at any subsequent period of his life, he would have defended this early theory of revelation. Still, he never expressly disavowed it, and, as at the time of its publication he was in every sense a scholar at the feet of Ga- maliel, — a thorough Kantist in word and opinion, the work may fairly be considered as a right application of Transcen- dental principles to the subject of which it treats, — as an authentic development of the Critical Philosophy by one of its ablest disciples. Compared with other works of the same class, it has the highest merit in point of execution. Of course, it bristles all over with the formidable ter- minology of its school, but the writer uses this strange dia- lect with the ease and strength of a master, while the superior method, precision, and succinctness of his manner render the book less tiresome than any of Kant's own treatises. We shall follow it as a guide in the sketch pro- posed, rather than the work already mentioned by Kant him- self, because it is more complete, and the results are more definite, and more directly traced to their source. The two treatises differ widely in plan, but, as might be expect- ed, the writers arrive at precisely the same conclusion. In order to show clearly the starting point of the inquiry, a few words must be premised respecting some points pre- viously established in the " Critique of Pure Reason," and which are taken for granted in the work before us. Ac- cording to the Transcendental Philosophy, then, what is properly termed knowledge is entirely confined within the region of experience. We know nothing, and can know nothing, of any object, that may not be conceived to exist in space and time, — which may not be assumed under the PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 69 Categories, or laws of thought relative to the understand- ing. The Reason does, indeed, form to itself pure ideas, which go beyond the limits of sense and experience. But, as we know no object to which these are applicable, they remain as mere ideas, wholly incognizable. Such are our notions of God, of moral freedom, and of immortality, which wholly transcend the limits of our merely intellec- tual nature. It is of no use to argue about them, because the proof and the refutation will be found to have the same cogency, — to be equally true and equally false. These great subjects are for ever removed from the sphere of dis- putation, because they are placed beyond the cognizance of that faculty, by which alone any reasoning process can be conducted. In regard to the mere " Speculative Reason," that is, to the intellect, they are banished into a limbo of cloudhke forms and unreal fancies. But in treating of the " Practical Reason," that is, of our moral nature, these ideas again appear, and assume more the appearance of realities. The moral law within us requires something be- sides itself to carry out its own principles, — to aid it in performing its self-imposed functions. Realities cor- responding to the abovementioned ideas are necessary to the existence of that state of things, which is not merely contemplated, but absolutely required, by this law. The categorical and imperative nature of all the dictates of this principle is sufficient to annul all obstacles to their fulfil- ment, since otherwise there would be entire contradiction between two principles of our nature, which is impossible. This is easily seen in the case of the freedom of the will, since the necessitarian doctrine destroys all the obligations of morality, by rendering compliance with them impossible. The skeptic can only oppose this conclusion by arguments drawn from the Speculative Reason, which, like all other considerations derived from the same source in relation to 70 FICHTE's exposition of KANT I a subject of this sort, have been shown to be entirely groundless. We do not therefore prove the freedom of the will, but assume it as a necessary postulate^ in order that it may be possible to comply with the requisitions of the moral law. We say nothing at present of the manner in which the existence of a God and the reality of a future state are taken also as postulates, in aid of the same law, because the point will come up again in a different con- nexion. The precise spot at which we are left by the principles of Transcendentalism, before entering upon the subject of religion, is, therefore, clearly ascertained. A revelation cannot be addressed in any way to the intellect of men, since not merely the subject, to which it must relate, but the constituent ideas, — the notions, that must be presup- posed before the conception of a revelation is possible, — belong entirely to our moral nature. Here, then, is the starting point of Fichte's inquiry. For the sake of philosophical completeness, and to avoid any bias for or against an existing system of belief, he states the problem, which is to be the object of his re- searches, in its most general form. He proposes to estab- lish a " Critique," — that is, a fundamental examination on the principles of the Critical Philosophy, — not of that revelation, in which Christians are specially interested, nor of any other in particular, but of all possible revelations. In other words, supposing the existence of a God, and of a race of beings constituted and situated as we are, he pro- poses to determine, whether it be possible, that He should make a special communication to His creatures, and if so, in what way it is possible. There is no lack of boldness in the attempt, especially when we consider, that the inquiry is to be carried on, not as a mere speculation, but like a piece of mathematical reasoning, and that the results, if PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 71 any are obtained, are to be as little susceptible of doubt, as any theorem in Euclid. Such, indeed, is the assumed characteristic of the Transcendental Philosophy, that, rest- ing only on the original and instinctive principles of our nature, independent of all experience, (a priori principles of pure Reason,) neither its procedure nor results have any thing of the contingent and empirical character of ordinary reasoning on similar subjects, but are demonstra- tively certain. The Transcendentalist and the Geometer take their departure from principles of the same nature, and travel the sam.e sort of road, though the objects of their labor are so dissimilar. We must pass rapidly over the masterly analysis of the AVill, that forms the introduction to Fichte's treatise, and which, taken by itself, constitutes a very pure and noble system of Ethics. A few points of the system may be presented, divested, as far as possible, of the barbarous terminology, with which they are obscured in the original. The object of every volition, except in a single case to be considered hereafter, must be a sensation, whether pro- ceeding from the outer or inner sense. But since this sensation does not lie in immediate contact with the Will, a connecting link is supplied by a propensity^ or desire^ the nature of which is determined on the one hand, by the characteristics of the object to which it relates, and on the other, by the peculiar constitution of the mind in which it exists. The aggregate of these propensities and desires, or rather the source whence they emanate, may be termed the lower appetitive faculty. This term includes, not merely the grosser appetites, to which alone we usually give the name of sensual desires, but also those proceeding from the internal sense, which we are accustomed improp- erly to consider as refined, intellectual pleasures ; such as those of rhetoric and poetry. The exercise of any of the 72 fichte's exposition of kant : higher powers of mind is productive of pleasure, and the perception of that pleasure through the internal sense, — the finer organization of which we denominate sensibility^ — affords what may become the object of a volition, but which is evidently of sensual origin. The two classes of desires may be distinguished respectively as gross and refined, but they are still both derived from sense ; from the one class we may receive more enjoyment, though not of a different kind, from that obtained through the other. Of any particular sensation, we can only say, that it must be by nature pleasant or unpleasant, — that it excites either liking or aversion. Why it is so constituted, is a question that we cannot answer. The object of a volition may be either a simple sensation, just as it was first experienced, or it may be a compound notion, still formed from elements derived from sense, but variously modified and combined by the judgment. By a process of this sort, we form the conception of happiness^ or continued enjoyment; a state in which pleasure is ob- tained by system and rules, whereby one pleasant sensation is postponed or sacrificed for another of greater intensity or duration, — one which injures the power of sensation for another which strengthens it, — one which is isolated for another that is followed by subsequent delights, or which heightens the relish for them. We must suppose in the Will the existence of a power to suspend the immediate action of a sensation upon it, in order that the judgment may have time to act in the comparison and disposition of the several pleasures placed before it. In the former case, where the volition is determined by a single sensation, the mind is merely passive ; but in the latter, it is active in two respects, — double exercise of spontaneity; first, in sus- pending immediate action, secondly, in forming the com- pound notion, which is ultimately to determine the will. PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 73 Still, it is not altogether active, since the materials of the compound idea are given to it by sensation, and are not created by its own spontaneous power. For an instance of unmixed mental activity, — pure spontaneity, — we must look farther. Every perception consists of two elements; the matter^ or that portion given by sense, and the form, or that change superinduced upon the matter, in consequence of the mind reacting upon and modifying the sensation. Forms are the coloring, with which the mind necessarily invests every thing that is presented to it, — the modification which is effected in every object by the very act of contemplating it. Thus the faculty of sense has two universal forms, time and space, with which it invests all outward things, and which, though really derived only from itself, it attributes to the objects perceived ; just as a man looking through colored glass thinks he sees blue or yellow herbage and trees. Now, has not the Will some universal form of this sort, actually drawn from its own constitution, with which it necessarily clothes all its objects, so that no motive, pro- pensity, or desire can be present to it, except as modified by this general attribute ? We find such a one in the idea of absolute Right, a consciousness of the existence of which is the principal fact, that announces itself as soon as we are conscious of any volition whatever. Properly speaking. Right is always an attribute of something else, — of some object of the Will, — {form always united with matter,) — and it is only by a process of abstraction, that we set it up to be considered by itself, and speak of it as a distinct idea or conception. When, thus placed by itself, it becomes the immediate object of a volition, we have the instance, that was sought, of a determination of the Will free from any empirical element, — pure spontaneity. In the doctrine above considered, of happiness founded on 7 74 fichte's exposition of kant : sensual gratification, however refined, the conclusions must be empirical and contingent, since no one can judge from his own experience what will be pleasant to another, or even what will gratify himself at any future time. But in a code of conduct formed with reference to this idea of Right, which has no element derived from experience, the precept must be applicable to all intelligent beings, — must have absolute certainty and universality, like the axioms of the mathematician. This universal form is connected with the Will through the emotion of respect, or reverence, and then becomes a direct principle of action. The emotion referred to the in- dividual himself, appears as self-respect ; in regard to the law of Right, it is manifested in reverence, or perfect sub- mission ; and towards the ideal Being, of whom this law in its perfection is an attribute, it passes over into absolute veneration. Hence the maxim, " Respect thyself," is a per- fectly legitimate law in ethics, since it is founded on a feel- ing, which, unlike that of self-love, is morally pure in its origin. The ofiice of this feeling is to limit and repress the lower appetitive faculty, and although in this function it ap- pears to abridge our personal gratification, yet its exercise is found to create a pleasure, different in kind from that produced by sense, and infinitely surpassing it in degree. That the balance of power over the Will is held between the purely moral and the sensual motive is evident from the very fact, that both these principles of action exist in the same mind ; but the latter is so far from putting itself on an equality with the former, that it rather does reverence at the mere idea of Law, and a far more heartfelt pleasure follows the renunciation, than any compliance with the lower impulse could ever bestow. As the love of happiness is at least a natural principle, the question arises, how far it is sanctioned by the moral PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 75 law. A too hasty decision of this question, against all claim on the part of the desire, leads directly to a system of Stoicism in morals, to the principle of entire self-suffi- ciency, and even, — if followed out to its remotest conse- quences, — to a denial of the existence of a God, and of the immortality of the soul. When a regard for our own happiness, considered as a motive, has once acknowledged the limitations imposed on it by morality, it acquires a sanction, and, where the law is silent, it becomes a legiti- mate principle of action. In such case, the action contem- plated, when considered in an ethical point of view, is merely negative, — not contrary to Right; and being then referred to the natural desire for our own well-being, it becomes positively a right. I am entitled to every thing, which I can obtain without a violation of moral principle. From the justification of this natural impulse arises the idea of desert^ a conception of the highest importance in Ethics. Guided by this idea, we necessarily approve the law of requital in kind, — \he jus talionis', we are gratified, when the external condition of any one corresponds to the dispositions he has manifested. This feeling in its full force requires an entire agreement between the fortunes of an individual and his moral conduct. That, in the world we live in, such agreement in many cases does not exist, is a fact, for the explanation of which we pass over from the territory of Ethics, into that of Natural Theology. Our good or ill fortune depends in a great measure on the course of natural events, since we live under physical laws, and the demand of our moral nature, that happiness should be parcelled out in direct proportion to the merits of individuals, stands in perpetual conflict with these laws. Now the moral law must secure to us the enjoyment of those rights, which it has itself bestowed, or it contradicts itself, and ceases to be a law. To obtain this end, refer- 76 fichte's exposition of kant : ence must be had to an ideal being, who is the author of Nature, and with whom, consequently, physical necessity is merged in moral /reedom. This being we call God, whose existence is just as certain as that of the moral law itself. His attributes are easily inferred from the mere fact of his existence, and from the necessary assumption, that he must carry into effect all the requisitions of that law, which exists in Him without limit or control. Thus far, we have a Theology^ or a doctrine of God, but as yet we have obtained no Religion. The former is a mere lifeless science, that can have no practical influence ; but the latter, according to its etymology, must hind us to something, — must impose obligations, which would not exist, if there were no religion. To explain the origin of religious ideas, properly so called, the argument must be developed more fully. If the idea of Right were given to us as a mere theoreti- cal conception, without any reference to its power over the Will, it would be to us a mere object of reflection, a means of considering certain things in Nature under an additional aspect, of viewing them not only as they are, but as they ought to be. But even in this case, we should not be wholly indifferent to the result. The perception of an agreement between this idea and the course of outward events would excite in us a feeling of pleasure. So it is in reality. The joy with which we witness the failure of malicious attempts, or the detection and punishment of the wicked, or the suc- cess of virtuous endeavor, or the recompense of the righ- teous for the evils they have suffered and the sacrifices they have made on the road of virtue, is founded on the inmost principles of our nature, and is the never-failing source of the interest we take in poetry and fiction. Still, it would be a m.ere indolent gratification, unaccompanied with desire, PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 77 like that which attends the sight of a beautiful painting or landscape. But universal experience assures us, that the application of moral ideas to real events is accompanied with strong de- sire. In the world of tragedy and romance, we are not satisfied, till the honor of the innocent is rescued and the unjust persecutor is unmasked and punished, however con- trary such an issue may be to the usual course of events in the actual world. And we may remark in passing, that the very fact of our requiring in fiction a different allotment of good and evil fortune from that which obtains in the natural world, proves that we are not to refer such things as the actions of moral agents to any standard founded on actual events, but that we necessarily compare them with our own conception of Right. On the stage, when virtue is repre- sented as oppressed and vice as triumphant, we console our- selves with the reflection, that the piece is not ended. And just so in real life, when we see the wicked crowned with prosperity and honor, while the virtuous are persecuted, banished, and dying under a thousand torments, we cannot be content to believe that all is over, and the spectacle is for ever closed. But we go still farther. The pleasure we experience in beholding the ends of justice answered in the natural course of human affairs, even when accompanied with a strong desire that such may continue to be the case, would not justify us in inferring the existence of a Being, who, by his omnipotent power, should conduct all cases whatever to the same result. The desire for what is pleasant to us, is, in many instances, merely an idle wish, as, after a long continuance of stormy weather, every one desires the re- turn of a sunny day. From a mere wish, however univer- sal and strong, it would be presumptuous to infer the reality of its object. We must seek then for a more authoritative 7# 78 fichte's exposition of kant : principle on which to build up this important article of faith. And such a principle we find in the moral law, the dictates of which, far from being placed on a level with mere de- sire, are accompanied with such a consciousness of rightful dominion, that we are justified in attributing to them actual power of causation. In our own nature, the idea of Right demands constant and absolute submission to its laws, and when we fail to render this obedience, we do not experience mere regret, the feeling which accompanies the nonfulfill- ment of an idle wish, — nor even are we merely dissatisfied with ourselves, as when through our own fault, as by impru- dence or neglect, we have failed to accomplish some de- sired end, — but we are overwhelmed with remorse and self-humiliation. In the world without us, this law speaks with the same authority, and demands that the natural course of events, so far as moral beings are interested in them, should be conformed to its own standard. But here the power of finhe beings is at an end, and we are com- pelled to refer the fulfillment of the moral requisition to a Being, over whom physical laws have no power, but who governs nature by his will. A science of theology obtained in this manner becomes at once a religion, for it places us in close connexion with a God. We are compelled to look up to him, as the Being who knows the moral worth of every purpose of our hearts, and who will allot to us that measure of happiness, which is conformed to our deserts. Here,, then, is religion, founded on the idea of God as the governor of nature with a moral purpose, and in us on the wish for happiness, which does not indeed increase the obligations of duty, but which enlarges and strengthens our desire to conform to them. But an important and difficult point still remains to be de- cided. Since it is only to satisfy the demands of our moral nature, that we have been obliged to assume the existence PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 79 of a God as a moral governor of the world, his will must coincide entirely with the dictates of the moral law. He can demand nothing more of us than what is already re- quired by the law in our own hearts, without ceasing to be that ideal Being, whose existence is the only one, for which we have discovered any rational ground of belief. Practi- cally, therefore, it is indifferent whether our duty be per- formed because it is his will, or because Conscience requires it ; for the duty in both cases will be the same. Theoreti- cally, we have to inquire, of what use is it to add the force of his command to a law, which by itself creates a perfect obligation, and the contents of which cannot be enlarged by his will, because already shown to be in every point identi- cal with that will. Is there any obligation to obey the will of God as such, and if so, on what grounds does it rest ? Guided only by pure reason, independent of all experi- ence, we are bound to answer the former part of this ques- tion in the negative. Conscience speaks only to command, and if it did not possess original and absolute authority, we should have no power of assuming the existence of a God, and no means of ascertaining his will. The moral law is categorical and imperative, requiring obedience because it is a law, and not by any reference to a lawgiver. To go behind the moral faculty, in search of an authority on which to establish it, would be to take away its distinctive character, and to deprive it of all power for those who could not find, or would not admit, the assumed basis. But, reasoning a posteriori (from experience), cases may be found in •which an additional sanction for the law would be useful in strengthening its power over the Will. We may know to a certainty what our duty is, and still, in a particu- lar instance, resolve to break through the general rule ; — we may determine this once to do wrong, since no one is answerable for the fault but ourselves, and since it is our 80 FICHTE's exposition of KANT I own affair, whether we act rationally or not. Such a want of respect for the law is founded, indeed, on a want of self- respect, and the individual must be degraded in his own eyes. But if the duty here in question should appear as a divine command, or, what is the same thing, if it should appear to the agent as part of that law, which also in all its applications is the law of God, then it would no longer de- pend on one's own pleasure, whether or not he would respect it in this instance. A failure in one case would constitute not merely an exception to the rule, but a sin against the whole law, and against the authority which sup- ports it. The agent would be answerable for a want of reverence to that Being, the mere thought of whom must excite in us the deepest awe. Such reflections could not increase the authority of the moral law as a whole, but might heighten our respect for its decisions in particular cases, where strong temptations were arrayed against it. It should be remarked, however, that this reference to the divine will must be founded only on the agreement of that will with the moral law, that is, on the holiness of God, for then only would the determination be morally pure and right. If, on the contrary, it proceeded from a wish to pro- pitiate his favor, or from a fear of his justice, our obedience would rest not on reverence for the Divine Being, but on selfishness. That inclinations conflicting with duty should be found in all finite beings, is credible enough, for such is our con- ception of what is finite in morals, — that, namely, which is governed by other laws, as well as by the law* of con- science. It cannot be determined how far or how surely this contest between duty and inclination weakens the for- mer, so as to make the idea of divine authority necessary for its support. But we cannot refrain from feeling a far higher respect for the being, whose reverence for duty ^Sb> PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 81 needs no such aid, than for one who is obliged to prop his faihng conscience with such adventitious means. On the other hand, it must be allowed, we cannot determine wheth- er finite beings in this life are capable of a degree of virtue, which could wholly dispense with such assistance. It has been already shown, that the law of conscience agrees in every particular whh the divine will. It remains to be determined, whether God should be considered as the author of that law ; that is, whether in following the dic- tates of conscience we by so doing render an act of obedi- ence to the divine command. Or the problem may be expressed as follows ; — have we any reason to assume, that the moral law in us is dependent on the moral law in God. The question relates wholly to the origin of the law, and not to its contents ; since the supposition that He is its author, when taken to mean, that his power might have altered its dictates, would be to make right subject to arbi- trary will, or in other words, to deny that absolute right had any existence. Technically expressed, the question relates to the form, not the contents, of the law. Religion consists in obedience to the moral law, hecause it is the divine command. The answer to the question above stated must, therefore, contain the foundation of religious faith, or, in the language of Transcendentalism, it must show how such a thing as religion is possible. Since the moral law itself tells us nothing of its own origin, it can only be rendered certain through an announcement from God himself, that obedience to this law is his command. Such an announcement can take place either through our own consciousness, or through some fact in the external world. In the former case, we shall obtain a Natural Religion, in the latter, a Revealed. But owing to the silence of the moral law itself on the subject, the announcement in the 82 former case can be made only indirectly, while on the second supposition, it must be in every sense direct. Everywhere in the external world we perceive order and the adaptation of means to ends. But amidst this variety of ends, reason compels us to assume that there is a prin- cipal one, to which all the others are subservient, — that there is one final cause of the existence of the universe Our moral nature declares, that this one end can be noth ing else than the promotion of the highest moral good which is the only principle within the sphere of our knowl edge, that is absolute and unconditioned. This great pur pose can relate then to nothing but moral beings, since these alone are capable of the greatest good. We are ourselves, therefore, as moral beings, the final cause of the creation of all things. Moreover, this great purpose can only be entertained by a being whose whole practical power is determined by the moral law ; therefore God is the author of nature, the creator of the world. We are ourselves a part of nature, and are therefore His work, at least so far as our constitution depends on physical and organic laws. That portion of our mental constitution, the doctrine of which constitutes the science of psychology, is merely physical, or a part of nature, and, consequently, God is its author. Consciousness belongs to this part of our constitution, and it is only through this faculty, that we become aware of the existence of a moral law within us. But, if ignorant of its existence, we should be in the same state as if it did not exist at all ; therefore. He is to be regarded as the author of the law, through whose means alone it was disclosed to us. That is, God is the founder of the moral law within us, which is the point that was sought to be proved. The argument has been presented with extreme concise- ness, but in such a manner, we hope, as to be intelligible. PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 83 Our readers may perceive, that Fichte's scheme of Natural Religion is exceedingly simple. It may all be summed up as follows. God is a lawgiver ; the dictates of conscience are his law, and the whole of that law ; therefore, perfect obedience to them must satisfy all his demands. The divine announcement explained above is said to take place through consciousness^ because, although reference is had in the argument to the external world, yet the idea of one final cause of the creation is given to us by pure reason, and because the moral faculty itself constitutes the only point, to which the annunciation is directed. We now come to the second mode, in which the proposed problem may be solved ; that is, the supposition, that the Deity may announce through some fact in the external worlds that He is the author of the moral law within us. Such an announcement would constitute a revelation, properly so called, and the system of religion founded upon it may be far more comprehensive than the natural scheme already explained, since it is at least conceivable, that through the same external fact may be communicated to us, not merely the primal truth respecting the origin of the moral law, but a multitude of others, relating both to doc- trine and practice. It may be necessary to remark again, that the principles to be laid down are not meant to be applied specially to Christianity, or to any other revelation in particular, but to all possible revelations. To reveal is to make known. By the very idea of a revelation, therefore, it is supposed, that something is to be made known to us which we did not know before. Now, all knowledge that exists a priori, — in other words, all knowledge obtained without the aid of experience, — such as the theorems of the geometer and the original dictates of conscience, — is derived^ or pointed out; it cannot be revealed. All propositions, the truth of which, depending 84 fichte's exposition of kant: on the very constitution of our minds, may be demon- strated, rest on the evidence of that demonstration, and can in no proper sense be said to be made known to us. Only historical knowledge, or facts perceived by sense, can be made known, since the evidence here rests upon authority ; that is, upon our confidence in the veracity and the means of observation of the individual who discloses them to us. And farther, it is not the perception itself that is revealed, but the fact that another has experienced that perception. If, for instance, another person gives me a rose to smell of, he does not reveal to me the truth that the rose smells sweet ; I find that out myself. But if there be no means of getting the flower in question, and he assures me from his previous experience that the odor is pleasant, then the fact is revealed to me, since I receive it on his authority. Such an assurance may be handed from one person to another in long succession, and the fact revealed is then said to rest upon tradition. Again, the idea of a revelation presupposes some one who is the author of it, — who makes known, and another to whom it is addressed. The fact, also, must be interim tionally communicated, the design being to cause another person to know some particular truth, and not merely to enable him to gather what knowledge he may from ob- serving the conduct and hearing the words of him who re- veals. Hence, the author of a revelation must be an intel- ligent being, his purpose in informing and the information that is received being related to each other as moral cause and consequence. Besides the criteria mentioned above, when we speak generally of a revelation, we mean one that is addressed, mediately at least, to all mankind, and of which the Infinite Being is the author. To such a one the remarks that fol- low will be restricted. Of the physical possibility of a PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 85 revelation of this sort there can be no doubt. God, who is the author of nature, and consequently is not bound by physical laws, may direct some occurrence in the natural world with the special intention of communicating thereby some knowledge to his creatures. But in the practical ap- plication of this idea, great difficulties arise. How can we know from any fact in the external world, that it was specially intended by the Divine Being to com- municate to us the knowledge of some truth ? It should be recollected, that we do not consider at present what that truth is ; we are not speaking now of the contents of a reve- lation, but only of its form, or external characteristics. Let the fact itself be of what nature it may, the intention of its occurrence cannot be perceived ; it must be inferred. Such an inference must take place either a posteriori, by reasoning from the given fact as an effect up to its cause, or a priori, by arguing from the known cause down to the effect. We first inquire into the former proceeding. An occurrence is observed in the natural world, which cannot be explained under the ordinary laws of physics. For instance, I have a perception, for which no ordinary physical cause can be assigned. I am conscious of not having produced it myself ; but am I therefore justified in rieferring its origin directly to the Supreme Being ? Cer- tainly not. Every occurrence is preceded by a succession of causes and effects, and by the laws of thought we are compelled to assume, that there must be somewhere a first link to the chain. But we are not justified in stopping at any determinate point, and saying here is the first. In case not even the proximate cause is known, the length of this chain is wholly indeterminate, but it would be the height of rashness to infer, that consequently there were no intermediate agents, and thus by one leap to attribute the occurrence to the first cause. Neither will the considera- 8 86 fichte's exposition of kant : tion of final causes help us out of this difficulty. The knowledge of an important truth may immediately follow the inexplicable perception, and I may then suppose, not only that the information was imparted through the percep- tion, but that the latter was intended to produce the former. Even supposing, what is still wholly inadmissible, that in this case I rightly assume the existence of intention or de- sign, which would justify me in believing that the cause of the perception must be a rational being, still I have no reason to think, that this rational being must be also infi- nite. The ancient pagans proceeded more rationally, who, in case of such inexplicable phenomena, supposed the agency of Genii and Daemons. The reasoning a priori^ to prove that a given fact was intended to convey a revelation, will be found still more defective. Indeed, a simple statement of the course to be pursued in such an argument is sufficient to show its fal- lacy. Considerations drawn from our wholly imperfect knowledge of the divine nature must be applied to prove, that God must have resolved to make an annunciation of Himself to his creatures, and must have selected the fact in question as the only medium of the intended revelation. Such reasoning is wholly presumptuous and impossible. Accordingly, when a pretended revelation ofTers itself to our notice, we must renounce all hope of being able to judge of its authenticity by any external tokens, and must look solely to the doctrine revealed, in order, if possible, to find there some satisfactory test of its divine origin. We cannot know a revelation from its form ; it remains to be seen, whether we can judge of it any better from its contents. But, from the principles already established, it would at first appear impossible to find even in this man- ner a perfect criterion of its alleged origin. We have seen, that the divine commands can embrace nothing beyond the PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 87 dictates of the law written in our own hearts, and that noth- ing can be revealed which was already known. It would seem, therefore, that a revelation can have no contents at all. There is no doctrine for it to announce to us, no ofRce for it to perform. Unless this difficulty be surmounted, un- less we show some object to be attained through a divine interposition in the course of natural events, the inquiry must end here, and the possibility of any revelation what- ever must be given up. The question here proposed, — and it is a fundamental one in the present investigation, — is, whether we can reasonably suppose men to be placed under such circumstances, that they would have any need of a revelation. As finite beings, we are subject to sensual impulses as well as to the dictates of conscience, and between these op- posite principles of action there is a perpetual struggle for the mastery. The result in each case will depend on the particular constitution of the individual, on the comparative strength of his appetites, and on the habits which he has formed in a greater or less degree of resisting these lower inclinations. Now, we may conceive of instances, where the law of conscience has wholly lost its power, and the will is governed only by impressions received from sense. If such beings retain any latent capacity of moral action, they must be addressed through the senses, for all other av- enues to the will are closed. But purely moral motives cannot be invested with a sensual garb. The internal holi- ness of what is good and right is an object of thought to us only as a pure abstraction, or it is applicable in concrete only to the Divine Being. In this latter case, it does as- sume a form through which it may be manifested to sense, but God only is capable of conveying to men this idea in such a manner. Therefore, He must announce to them his existence and law, if at all, through some occurrence in the r.^a^ 88 fichte's exposition of kant : external world. But since no ordinary or natural fact can be for such persons a vehicle of moral ideas, the annuncia- tion must take place through some external phenomenon, expressly intended and determined for this purpose. Since He must wish to promote the greatest possible morality in all rational beings by all moral means, it may reasonably be supposed, that He will make use of this means, if such beings as we have supposed really exist. Have we any good reason to believe in the existence of such a class ? To answer this question, we must retrace some of our former ground. The actual constitution of human nature requires all sensual impulses to be subject to the law of conscience. Man ought to uphold th^e rightful supremacy of this law, and he can, since every obstacle to such subordination of the lower principle is merely contin- gent ; we may not only conceive of its absence, but it may really cease to exist. In such case, the moral disposition of the individual would need no foreign aid, not even from the thought of that Being, who is announced to him through the moral law itself as its highest executor. He could not be indifferent, indeed, towards the ever present observer and judge of his most secret thoughts, but he would have no need to recollect the lawgiver, in order to facilitate obe- dience to the law itself His condition would be one of moral perfection, and his sentiments towards the Supreme Being would constitute what may be called a religion of Pure Reason. The next lower stage of moral advancement is that, where the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak. Men may entertain an earnest desire to obey the dictates of the moral law, but the appetites and passions are constantly contending against the precepts of duty, and too frequently wage a successful war. Still, the strong desire of rectitude, which we suppose to exist in this case, must be founded on PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 89 a really lively and active perception of duty, which yet is too weak to strive against the force of habit, and the indi- vidual must consequently lament the frequent failure of his endeavors, and strive to find some means of fortifying his conscience against the constant assaults of an insidious ene- my. But there are no moral means of strengthening one's convictions of duty, except those considerations which tend to strengthen one's faith in the sublime and holy character of these convictions. And what thought can be more effect- ual for this purpose, than the idea of a Being infinite in holiness, who requires of us obedience to the moral law, and annexes the certainty of his displeasure "to the self- abasement which we necessarily feel at every transgres- sion ? Such direct reference to the idea of God, for sup- port and encouragement in the fulfilment of duty, is the characteristic feature of Natural Religion. The lowest state of rational beings in respect to morality is that, where even the wish to recognise and follow the dictates of conscience has either died out, or has never been developed ; and here, alas ! is the only sphere for a Re- vealed Religion. We may conceive of men placed either by birth or subsequent circumstances in such a condition, that they are doomed to a perpetual struggle v/ith nature to obtain a m.ere subsistence, — who consequently must di- rect all their thoughts to what is earthly and present, and listen to no other law but that of necessity. In such a state, it is impossible that conscience should wake, or moral conceptions be formed. It is true, men cannot long re- main in this primitive condition. Guided by experience, they will soon form rules and maxims of conduct, which, however, will refer to no ideal standard, but remain appli- cable only within the sphere of experience. Such rules must frequently be opposed to the moral law, and even, in many cases, prevent the possible recognition of such a law. 8* 90 FICHTE's exposition of KANT I Of the primitive state, we have examples in the condition of many savage tribes, and for instances of the second class, we need only refer to the maxims and policy of civ- ilized nations. If moral ideas are ever contemplated by people of this class, they will be applied only in estimating the actions of others, but never as a guide to their own conduct. They will even consider another's sacrifice of his personal interest from a conviction of duty as childish folly, which they would" be ashamed of in themselves. How can such beings ever arrive at religion ? The desire for moral improvement must exist, before they can seek for religious faith as a means of strengthening their convictions of duty, and without seeking for such a faith, they assuredly can never find it. Ideas of what is supernatural may easily be formed by them, for we know that even the most bar- barous nations possess these ideas in such number, that they people earth, sea, and air with their attendant spirits and deities. But they are wholly incapable of conceiving a moral governor of the universe, or a moral design in the creation. In an ethical point of view, they generally make their deities worse than themselves. The two forms of religion which we have already con- sidered, that of Pure Reason, and the Natural system, are founded upon the moral law within us. But in the case now presented, the first office of religion is to seek out and develope this law; therefore, the foundation of the faith must be found in some other principle of our nature. The divine attribute of holiness having no power over men who are destitute of moral feeling, their attention must be drawn to His greatness and power, which qualities may excite in them astonishment and awe, through their sensual nature alone. The effect thus produced would not be a moral one, but the authority thus forced upon their attention might subsequently direct them to the only pure source of obliga- PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 91 tion. Men may be urged to listen to the divine commands, when they are impressed with a sense of His omnipotence ; they can ohey these commands only through the capacity, developed afterwards, of recognising and appreciatino- His holiness. Only in the latter case, does obedience become a ground of moral desert ; for if it followed in the former, having its source only in fear of the indignation, or hope of the favor, of an Almighty Being, it would be entirely self- ish. Whether the purity of the motive would not be injur- ed by the sensual character of the means through which it is conveyed, whether the fear of punishment or the hope of reward would not have more effect on the obedience pro- duced through a revelation, than reverence for the holiness of the lawgiver, is no question for us to decide. We have only to show that, abstractly speaking, this result is not necessary; and, generally, it ought not to happen, if the religious frame of mind thus produced is pure, and not merely a more refined selfishness. Since it cannot be shown how far, or wherefore, the natural law stands in need of a support from revelation, — since undoubtedly there is a moral impulse within us to respect a rational being the more, according as the idea of absolute right within him has less need of extraneous aid, — and since the aid when obtained is perpetually liable to degenerate, and produce obedience only from a selfish regard to loss or gain in a future life, we cannot deny that it would be far more honorable to men, if their moral strength required no other confirmation, than what is afforded by Natural Reli- gion. The question now offers itself, in what manner can the authority and influence of moral principle be reestablished among those men, who have lost all sense of duty incum- bent on themselves, and have ceased to respect rectitude of conduct in others. One or more persons may be inspired 92 to attempt the moral renovation of such a community, and, in order to obtain a hearing, may assume the character of special messengers from God. But for an audience through moral blindness rendered incapable of inferring the divine origin of a mission from the purity of the doc- trine taught, this assumption of special authority must be supported by some startling phenomenon in the outward world, the cause of which, inexplicable on other grounds, must be referred at the time to the direct agency of Om- nipotence. Even their sensual nature would be impelled to listen to a doctrine, which should be offered to them in connexion with such a manifestation of divine power. Their attention being thus gained, the instruction would awaken the latent powers of conscience, and a sense of moral obligation would be established, that would stand in future by its own strength, without need of farther recur- rence to the supposed miraculous event. With regard to the physical occurrence itself, which has thus been used to authenticate a revelation, two supposi- tions are possible. The Divine Being may, at the time of the creation, have interwoven the cause of this particular event into the plan of the universe, so that, without any change in the physical laws once established, without any alteration of his original purpose, the phenomenon would appear when it was needed, and would produce the desired effect ; or, the succession of natural causes and effects being once established, divine power may suspend their operation in a particular case, and cause an event to follow different from what would have happened, but for this special exertion of agency. In the former case, the mir- acle would only be an apparent one, since it is conceivable, that an ultimate moral purpose was connected with the institution of all physical laws. On the latter supposition only, it would be a real miracle. Here, however, we could PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 93 not determine at what link the chain had been broken, — whether the cause immediately preceding the event in question, or one placed much further back, had been sus- pended from its natural operation. If our knowledge of physical laws were sufficient, we might trace back the ob- served phenomenon through many steps, explaining each event by the physical agency of the one immediately pre- ceding ; and wherever we were obliged to stop, the rational conclusion would be, not that supernatural power here be- gan to be exerted, but that our previous experience here ceased to be an adequate guide. Therefore, the certain re- cognition of a miracle as such, is impossible. It is enough for the required effect, if men believe at the time, that the event is miraculous. Since the object is only to excite their astonishment and admiration, so that they may be guided afterwards to a development of the moral law within them, should the phenomenon at a future time be shown to be explicable on natural principles, no possible injury could result. Men would lose the evidence of the revelation only when they had ceased to stand in need of the revelation itself, — when conscience, reinstated in its office, either alone, or with the aid of natural re- ligion, could enforce obedience to its own commands. If Columbus, for instance, had made use of his pretended power of darkening the moon to persuade the natives of Hispaniola that he had a mission from God unto them, and had applied the authority thus obtained to develope the moral principle in their own hearts, no subsequent discove- ry on their part of the physical causes of an eclipse could shake their confidence in the faith thus established. The result of this inquiry, Fichte maintains, is to silence both the dogmatic defender and the obstinate opponent of a belief in outward events produced by supernatural agency. In reference to any supposed instance, the former cannot 94 fichte's exposition of kant: declare, that it is inexplicable from physical causes, and therefore supernatural, because it may be only his knowl- edge that is at fault. Nor is the latter entitled to say, that because such a phenomenon may be traced to a natural cause, it cannot be used in attestation of a revealed faith, for it may have been interwoven with a moral purpose into the first plan of creation, and the effect it has produced may have been intended from the beginning. We have thus far determined only the external charac- teristics of a revelation, and the circumstances under which, if at all, it must take place. We have seen, that although a rule of conduct announced as coming directly from God must be in every respect consentaneous with the moral law, revelation has still a work to perform ; namely, to de- velope anew the power of conscience in the hearts of those men, with whom this faculty had lost all its original and rightful dominion. Whatever may be the answer, there- fore to the question which follows next in our inquiry, it cannot affect the possibility of a revelation, but will tend merely to regulate our expectations as to the matter to be divulged. This question is, whether we can expect from a revelation any precepts or information, which our natural reason and conscience might not have obtained without any supernatural aid. Can any additional instruction, any en- largement of our knowledge be derived from this source ? Fichte answers this question in the negative, and contends that such an increase of knowledge would be destructive to moral principle, is impossible in the nature of things, and contradicts the very idea of a revelation. It has been shown, that the doctrines of the freedom of the will, the existence of a God, and the immortality of the soul, are necessary postulates of the moral law within us. In regard to the naked fact in these three instances, there- fore, we have nothing to learn. Do we desire in each case PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 95 to possess more comprehensive and definite knowledge ? In respect to the first instance, could we penetrate into the mysterious connexion between moral freedom and physical necessity, and still have no power to govern the laws of na- ture by our own free will, the result could not aid our moral advancement ; and if we received this power, we should merely cease to be finite beings, and become gods. Do we wish to have more definite conceptions of God, — to know the essence of the divine nature? Such knowledge, in- stead of aiding, would wholly prevent the exercise of pure morality. The full conception of an Infinite Being, present in all his majesty to our eyes, would compel obedience. Sensual propensities would be silenced, temptation would be done away, there would be no merit in resistance, and we should become moral machines. Finally, do we wish to know all the circumstances of our future existence? If gratified in this particular, we should lose all interest in the present life, and the splendor of the recompense to come would act so powerfully on the will, that we could not fail in obedience, and therefore should be deprived at once of freedom, merit, and self-respect. It may be affirmed, also, that the supposition of such an increase of knowledge is plainly repugnant to the laws of our finite constitution, and therefore is impossible in the na- ture of things. Any instruction given by revelation must conform to our capacity for knowledge, and be capable of standing under our laws of thought. These laws cannot embrace what is infinite and supernatural, otherwise than by levelling it down to what is physical and common. The teachings of revelation, therefore, would be either wholly- incomprehensible, or be so changed in the mind of the re- cipient, as no longer in any way to correspond to the truth. Lastly, the only possible conception of a revelation con- tradicts the opinion, that through such means our sphere of 96 fichte's exposition of kant : knowledge may be increased. The doctrine revealed, so far as it does not rest on its conformity with the law of con- science, must be wholly supported on divine authority. But beyond this conformity, there is no way to recognise the di- vine authority of the revelation itself, since an examination of the external tokens has shown, that these can afford no sufficient ground of belief. Where the exact agreement between the moral law and the law announced to us through extraordinary means ceases to exist, the basis of our con- viction also falls away, and the pretended teachings, being such as cannot be derived from the moral principle alone, must be rejected, as forming no part of the revelation which we are bound to believe. It is, therefore, neither theoretically nor morally possible, that a revelation should teach us any thing which we might not have known without its aid. In respect to knowledge, it leaves men precisely where it found them ; it gives not a precept, a hope, nor a confirmation, that we may not ob- tain by the simple development of a principle, which be- longs to all rational beings. The moral law and its postu- lates must form its whole contents. In relation to the means and helps of moral progress, revelation may point out such as are most effective, and recommend them to use. Yet such expedients not having importance in themselves as ends, they can relate only to those persons who have need of them, and must not be represented as of universal obli- gation, nor be enunciated as positive commands. The ex- ercise of prayer, for instance, whether it be only earnest contemplation of the Deity, or supplication, or grateful ac- knowledgment, must act powerfully with many in silencing the voice of sensual desire, and quickening convictions of duty. But the cold and calm reasoner, the man of little imagination and cold enthusiasm, — and there are many such, — how can he enter upon this earnest communication PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 97 with Divine Providence, knowing that he is acquainted with all the wants, and must satisfy all the rational desires of his creatures, in strict conformity with their merits. Such aids are to be represented as they really are, as means, and not as duties in themselves. Every revelation, which requires the use of them as of equal obligation with the dictates of the moral law, is surely not from God. It may be asked farther, what results we are to expect from the use of such means ; whether we are to look only for the ordinary effects, that follow by usual and natural laws, or may we hope that our moral nature will thereby be determined by special and extraordinary power, which will be exercised on occasion of the use of these means, although not necessarily connected with such use, as an effect is with its cause. The latter supposition evidently contradicts the law of conscience, and would be destructive of all morality. The determinations of the will, which do not take place through our own free choice, but through extraneous and supernatural means, cannot form any ground of desert. In this case we become mere machines, and the action, in a moral point of view, is a mere nullity. Every religion, therefore, which promises such extraordi- nary aid or special grace, by so doing contradicts the moral law, and cannot be of divine origin. In the manner in which a doctrine claiming to be of divine authority is presented to our notice, we may find some tests of its authenticity. Revelation is specially ad- dressed, as above shown, to men, who, acknowledging no law for their own conduct, still judge the actions of others by reference to a moral standard. The wrongfulness and inconsistency of this proceeding may be made most plain by examples. Instruction addressed to such men will naturally clothe itself in narrations and apologues ; in such a way, however, that only actions which are morally pure 9 UO FICHTE S EXPOSITION OF KANT: shall be held up as examples for imitation, and that no conclusion of doubtful or ambiguous tendency may be drawn from the given instance. Most important of all is the manner in which the three great postulates of the moral law, — God, freedom, and immortality, — are represented. In our conception of the first, there is a perpetual struggle of pure reason against the tendency to impart a subjective and material character to all our notions. Be it ever so clearly proved, that the conditions of time and space do not apply to the Supreme Being, in the attempt to place our- selves in more direct communication with Him, we invol- untarily apply these modifications. Revelation is addressed not only to human beings, but to a class of them in whom the ideas of sense predominate. Its object is the promotion of pure morality, but this end must be pursued by means adapted to the moral and intellectual condition of its recipi- ents. Our imperfect conceptive faculty, in its best estate, embraces with difficulty the abstract idea of absolute holi- ness and perfection, and for men of inferior moral power and little cultivation, this idea must be modified with com- paratively sensual and really debasing attributes, before it can be brought within their grasp. The Deity must be represented as actually hearing prayer, and moved to com- passion, as affected with indignation, sympathy, and regret, — in a word, as subject to like passions with ourselves. But since these qualities are evidently at variance with the idea of an unchangeable, omniscient, and all-holy Being, revelation must refrain from announcing them as absolute truth. In technical language, they must have subjective, though not objective, validity. Similar remarks may be applied to the common notions respecting the immortality of the soul and a future retribution. Thus far we have shown, that a revelation is conceivable and possible under certain circumstances. We have deter- PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 99 mined certain criteria, by which a doctrine that claims divine origin must be judged. If these tests are found wanting, the pretended revelation must be rejected. But the presence of one or all of them will not justify us in assuming, that the doctrine must be from God. They make out a case of possibility, not of certainty. In a given instance, certain dogmas are presented to our notice, alleged to be authenticated as divine by some remarkable phenomenon in the external world, which could not have occurred without divine agency. It remains to be deter- mined, whether the idea of a revelation, which we have now examined and shown to be possible, is realized in this particular instance. All the external and internal conditions which we have laid down, may be completely fulfilled. At the given time and place, men may generally be re- duced to the lowest pitch of moral degradation, and be so absorbed in sensual pursuits, as to be wholly incapable of rising from this state by any effort of their own. Certain benevolent persons, wishing to improve their condition, may preach to them a doctrine of pure morality, and may endeavor to gain a hearing for their exhortations, by repre- senting this doctrine as coming directly from God, and referring in proof of this assertion to some remarkable phenomenon in the outer world, believed to be inexplicable by ordinary physical laws. All this is very conceivable, on the supposition that the Deity has no direct agency whatever in the matter. The pretended messengers, in the exaltation of their piety, may have deceived themselves, believing that they had received a divine mission, when they had only followed the impulses of an overheated imagination. Or, they may be hypocrites and deceivers, who wish to obtain for selfish purposes the authority and influence that attach to the character of divine agents. The external phenomenon, held to be inexplicable, may be 100 FICHTE's exposition of KANT ! shown, by some farther discovery in science, to be perfect- ly conformable to other and ordinary workings of nature. To show that a revelation has actually occurred, we must go back to its alleged source, and prove from the mere idea of God, that he must have determined to make an an- nunciation of himself at this time, and must have chosen the particular men and events in question, as the only proper agents for executing his intention. The attempt to found an argument of this sort on our imperfect knowledge of the Supreme Being is evidently presumptuous and absurd. The argument a posteriori, by reasoning from the external phe- nomenon up to the divine intention, has already been exam- ined and shown to be fallacious. In any given case, therefore, we can have no means of affirming, that a revelation must have occurred. Belief in a given revelation is possible, but a mere wish is the only ground of support for this belief The law of conscience absolutely requires us to will the promotion of the greatest moral good, and, consequently, we must desire that means may be found to subserve this end. In the supposed case, great moral good would be effected by the reality of the supposed revelation, and therefore we must wish, that its claims may be supported. As this desire is founded on the law of absolute right, and cannot, as before shown, be op- posed by any merely theoretical reasoning, because the subject wholly transcends the sphere of mere intellect, it becomes a sufficient ground of faith, provided it be shown that the assumption can lead to no fatal error. That we are safe in this respect appears at once from the considera- tion, that the original mistake, if there be one, can never be made evident to us in time, and that, by assuming the authenticity of the doctrine which claims to come from God, we facilitate obedience to the moral law, while by the PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 101 opposite course, we render such obedience more difficult, if not impossible. Such is the result of this inquiry into the possibility of a divine revelation, — an inquiry founded and conducted on principles of Pure Reason, and therefore, in the opinion of its author, leading to a conclusion which is absolutely cer- tain and sufficient. Fichte claims the merit, through his "Critique," of having removed all difficulties from the gen- eral theory of a revelation, and of having silenced all future contention on the subject. The assumption of infallibility, as we have seen, is characteristic of the Transcendental philosophy ; but the high pretensions advanced in this in- stance belong not more to the mode of inquiry, than to the temperament of the man. The countrymen and contem- poraries of Fichte were all distinguished for the boldness of their philosophical inquiries ; but he carried away the palm by a Titanlike audacity of speculation, which seemed to aim at scaling the heavens and prescribing limits to Om- nipotence. But this fearlessness of character was not his only, or highest merit as a philosopher. Our sketch of this treatise must be feeble indeed, if it fails to convey some notion of the severe logic, and admirable arrangement, brevity, and clearness of the original. The object of inqui- ry is kept always in view, and the conduct of the argument leading towards it, in closeness and accuracy of reasoning, and rigid exclusion of all extraneous matter, resembles the successive deductions of the geometer. The style is dry, as the nature of the subject demands, but in treating of the ethical theory, on which the whole fabric of the essay is founded, and especially in developing his pure and lofty conception of " absolute right," the writer kindles with his theme, and the argumentation, though still severe, swells into chaste and impressive eloquence. His exposition of 9* 102 FICHTE's exposition of KANT I the moral law may be compared in point of grandeur and severity with the noblest conceptions of the ancient Stoics ; with whom, indeed, more properly than with any of the moderns, he deserves to be classed as a philosopher. Clear- sighted in perceiving the extent and rightful authority of the demands of conscience, cold and inflexible himself in his views of duty, he rejected almost with scorn the idea of an additional sanction and of helps to obedience ; so that at a later period of his life, when his opinions were fully matur- ed, he became subject to a well founded charge of atheism. The main argument of the work before us is evidently founded on the position, that, so far as duty is concerned, man is by virtue of his original constitution an independent and self-sufhcient being, and therefore any communication with, or reliance upon, divine power for the sake of aid and consolation, is unnecessary, improper, and derogatory to his own dignity. For our own part, we must consider such notions as unfounded and impious, though it must be ac- knowledged, that they come from a much purer source than the fountain, which usually gives rise to irreligious opinions. The real, though not the avowed tendency of the pres- ent treatise is to show, that if the revealed doctrine con- tains any thing more than the law written in our own hearts, it cannot be of divine origin ; if it be perfectly coincident with that law, it is useless, and can in no proper sense be called a revelation. This appears both from the narrow- ness of the office assigned to revelation, it being addressed only to those who are not conscious of any desire to comply with the demands of conscience, and its usefulness even to them ceasing when the moral sense is once awakened ; and from the alleged impossibility of finding any other ground of faith than a mere desire, that its claim to a divine origin may be supported. Hence the influence of this work, and PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 103 of the philosophy on which it is founded, upon the rise and progress of German Rationalism in its various forms. The common principle, lying at the bottom of all these Rational systems, is, that the dictates of conscience must comprise the whole duty of man, and that a proper cultivation of this faculty supplies a sufficient ground of obedience, and does away all necessity for divine interference, either to give ad- ditional sanction to the law itself, or to supply stronger mo- tives for respecting it as a rule of action. In these systems, as in the present " Critique," the rejection of the argument from miracles is but one feature of a theory, the object of which is to disprove revelation itself, by showing that it is unnecessary. Indeed, a revelation is in itself a miracle, in the only proper and intelligible definition that can be given to the word. It is so used in the work before us, where the term is not restricted to Christianity, but applied in its widest signification to all acts, by which the Deity directly makes known his will to men. Fichte defines a revelation to be an annunciation from God, authenticated by some ex- traordinary event in the external world, that the moral law of our own hearts is his law, and obedience to it is his command. It is true, that some Rationalists conceal from others, and probably even from themselves, the fact, that they are de- nying all revelation, by assuming that conscience, — in Transcendental language, the pure practical reason, — is in itself a revelation. They talk of a repeated and continued revelation in our own hearts, — of the folly of relying upon a distant revelation, which ceased at a remote period, and therefore depends now upon historical evidence, — of every man being a revelation unto himself, and the like. All this may be very well, if intended only to enhance the power and authority of conscience, and the importance of cultiva- ting the moral faculty. But if meant to cover up the fact, 104 FICHTE's exposition of KANT I that they are all the time denying a Christian revelation, properly so called, it is a gross fallacy. Upon such per- sons we press the consideration of Fichte's argument, as perfectly unanswerable. To reveal is to make known, and therefore, whatever was known before, or what is necessa- rily deduced from the very constitution of our moral and intellectual nature, cannot be the object of a revelation. The law of conscience exists, and we may conceive of a high degree of moral advancement being attained, before a religion is known or thought of.. But this law must be re- cognised as a divine command, before even Natural Religion begins, and before an act of Revealed Religion, — if we may so speak, — can be performed, that recognition must take place on account of a direct and special annunciation, authenticated by a miracle, from the Deity. In opposition to this plain and obvious view of the matter, to set up the supremacy of conscience, to consider strict attention to its dictates as being in itself the acknowledgment of a revela- tion, and a strict compliance with them as constituting a re- ligious life, is merely playing with words. The history of ethical philosophy during the past fifty years, especially on the continent of Europe, presents a singular instance of the reaction of opinion. Down nearly to the close of the last century, what is called the selfish system in morals, and the sensual theory respecting the ori- gin of knowledge, had almost universal currency wherever a taste for speculative philosophy existed. England, indeed, was an exception, for there the writings of Butler, Hume, and Hutcheson, had early laid the foundation of a purer theory of ethics. But the works of these eminent men were little known across the channel, and in France, the writings of the Encyclopedists, of Condillac and Cabanis, constituted the popular philosophy of the day. This coun- try was then the literary centre of Europe, and French PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 105 sentiments in politics, literature, and philosophy, became widely known and adopted through the neighboring states. Low and degrading views of human nature were generally entertained. A regard to one's own interest was held to be the only rule of conduct, and the senses were the only source and avenue of knowledge. But such false and grovelling systems could not long retain their ascendency. A reaction took place, and a disposition to exaggerate the dignity and independence of human nature has been as con- spicuous of late, as was the former tendency to vilify and degrade. A more accurate analysis of mind again disclosed the fact, which only the vaporings and puerilities of a mis- called philosophy had been able to conceal, that there is a moral principle in man, which rebukes his selfish inclina- tions, claims rightful and supreme authority over all his mo- tives of action, and holds up an ideal standard of absolute right, as the only gage of merit and proper ground of self- approbation. In like manner, a more searching examina- tion of various processes of intellect proved, that although the cognitive faculty is first called into exercise by impres- sions received from the senses, still these sources were far from supplying all, or even the most important materials of knowledge ; that other elements proceed wholly from an internal fountain, and even those which first came from without are so modified by the original and self-acting powers of mind, as in their mature estate to present few traces of their material origin. The reestablishment, — for thus it is more properly called than a discovery, — of these important truths respecting our moral and intellectual constitution, naturally led to higher views of our native ca- pacities and power of self-reliance. Philosophers were tired of painting man as a demon, and now sought the means of representing him as a god. Especially has this disposition been manifested when treating of the nature and 106 FICHTE's exposition of KANT : functions of conscience, so that some persons have now be- come just as much fanatics, just as irrational, in regard to the moral principle, as were formerly the wildest sect of the Puritans in relation to religious faith. Reverence of their own nature seems to them quite as just and proper as reverence of the Deity, and a glowing, though vague con- ception of virtue takes the place of religion, as a guide of life. Nay, a sort of ecstatic contemplation of the mere ideas of duty and right, has, with many, usurped the place of a practical manifestation of these ideas in outward con- duct, and thus a species of Antinomianism has been estab- lished on ethical grounds, quite as absurd and dangerous as the same theory is, when nominally founded on Scripture. To consider entire self-dependence as the highest stage of moral advancement, to look upon all recourse to the teachings either of Natural or Revealed Religion as an evi- dence of weakness, as a defect that may both practically and theoretically be done away, — and such is the ground assumed by Fichte, — is a mode of thinking, which, fully carried out, can stop in nothing short of atheism. If the religious law is narrowed down to an entire identity with the moral, if revelation requires nothing more of us than what conscience alone would demand, then disappears, — not merely all necessity for any direct and special interven- tion of the Deity in the course of human affairs, — but also all sure ground for believing in his existence. Such an opinion may be held for a time, for it is flattering to the pride of human reason. But in many minds a reaction will be liable to occur, that will carry its subjects to the opposite extreme ; and thus may be explained the sudden transitions, that are often witnessed, from a state of unbelief to a com- plex, exaggerated, and gloomy faith. Man is represented in this theory as standing by his own strength, — as need- ing no support from above, or from any quarter, before he PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 107 can act out the part assigned to him, and satisfy all the de- mands of his rational and moral nature. But human nature is weak, and any attempt at entire Stoicism is soon sub- jected to severe trials. Though revelation may have no farther duties to impose, it may contain consolations, with which it is difficult to dispense. To obtain support in hours of despondency and actual suffering, man must recur to the formerly slighted faith. But if the doctrine contain no more than what he once ascribed to it, there is no reason for admitting it, and the desired aid cannot be obtained. But may not Revealed Religion be something more than a pure system of ethics ? May not there be some meaning in the often repeated requisition of faith ? Are there not doctrines which must be received, if at all, with the rever- ence and humility of a little child ? May not even an en- tire denegation of human reason be the indispensable con- dition for obtaining spiritual aid ? No sooner do these questions suggest themselves to the mind of the humbled Stoic, than he perceives that his confidence in the divine origin of this message to man will be in direct proportion to the number and difficulty of the doctrines contained in it, and to the consequent self-abasement which is necessary for their reception. Formerly, the simplest theory of reli- gion contained too much for his proud spirit ; now, the most complex and difficult system has hardly enough to satisfy his thirst to believe. In such a frame of mind, he will be ready to confess, that his former conception of vir- tue was practically cold and dead as an icicle, though per- haps it was also as bright and clear. Our remarks are already extended to such a length, that there is no space left for a critical examination of Fichte's theory. And perhaps the labor of such an examination is not needed, since the capital mistake in the application of the whole reasoning may be pointed out in a few words. 108 FICHTE's exposition of KANT : That error consists in entirely confounding the distinct provinces of moral and demonstrative reasoning. It is certainly improbable, — we will not say with Fichte, im- possible, — that the truth of a revelation should be demon- strated, — that men should be convinced of its divine orimn by the same intuitive perception or rigid mathematical de- duction, that compels them to receive the axioms and pri- mary theorems of arithmetic and geometry. Such an announcement of God to man would defeat its own end, which is the moral and religious improvement of those to whom it is addressed. Men would be compelled to believe, and the magnitude of the reward and punishment thus brought with absolute certainty before their eyes, would destroy at the same time the possibility of sin and the merit of obedience. Free agency would be practically done away, since compliance with a law proclaimed in this man- ner would be as involuntary, and as little a ground of merit, as the caution a person exercises in not putting his hand into the fire, or in turning out of his path to avoid a preci- pice. Now, Fichte's whole argument is directed against the demonstrative evidence of a revelation, and has neither force nor relevancy, when applied to the moral proofs. This appears at once from a consideration of his reasoning concerning miracles, — the keystone of his whole system, where no reference whatever is made to the magnitude and importance of what is assumed to be a special display of divine agency, but the criticism cuts short such assumption in every conceivable case. Should the heavens be rolled together like a scroll, and the earth give up its dead, and the common conception of a final judgment be realized in its full extent, we could not even here demonstrate the suspension of nature's ordinary laws, or infer with logical certainty the immediate operation of the Infinite cause. But every one knows, that moral proof, though different in PHILOSOPHY APPLIED TO THEOLOGY. 109 kind, may still be accumulated and heightened, till it pro- duce as full conviction as mathematical evidence. We no more hesitate to act on the presumption, that fire will burn and water drown, than on the belief that two and two make four. Indeed, facts of the former class, which rest only on moral evidence, on induction and testimony, form the basis of nearly all the rules by which we regulate our ordinary conduct. The argument of the Transcendentalist, there- fore, proves nothing, because it proves too much. He at- tempts to prevent our recognising the authority of revela- tion as a rule of life, by arguments which would lead us to reject the simplest maxim of prudence in the management of our ordinary concerns. A story is told of one of the ancient Greek philosophers, that being wrecked with some companions on what was supposed to be a barren and uninhabited coast, he happened to find some geometrical diagrams drawn on the sand, and immediately called out, " Courage, my friends, I perceive the traces of men." It was certainly conceivable, that these figures should have been produced by fortuitous causes, by the action of the winds and waves upon the stones on the beach. Still, the inference, that civilized men had been there, was so just and obvious, that it would have argued insanity in the observers, had they doubted the fact for a moment. The case is precisely parallel to that of miracles alleged in support of a revelation. It is conceivable, that a moral teacher should heal the sick and raise the dead, though he had not received a special mis- sion from the Deity. It is possible, that men who heard and saw these events should still refuse to credit the divine origin of the doctrine taught, as we know the Jews did with Jesus of Nazareth. But it was reserved for the ingenuity of modern philosophers to argue, that it was impossible to believe under such circumstances. 10 110 The conceivable objects of a revelation are, to increase what imperfect knowledge of the divine nature and our own destiny we may obtain through the light of reason and con- science, — to confirm by an additional sanction the author- ity of the moral law whhin us, — and to impose new duties, lying beyond the sphere of conscience, and therefore nei- ther commanded nor rejected by that faculty ; — such as acts of special acknowledgment of the Creator's infinite power and goodness. Should it be the will of God to make such a revelation, there is an antecedent presumption, that it will be accompanied with such evidence of its origin, that mankind will still be left free whether to accept or reject it. Thus only will it accord with other portions of the scheme of Divine Providence in the government of men ; with the physical laws of the universe, for instance, in conformity to which our conduct must be regulated for the preservation of life and health, and which are not made known to us by intuition or demonstration, but must be slowly and carefully investigated. And then only, we may add, will it agree with the natural law of ethics ; for how- ever simple and authoritative may be the dictates of this principle to a well-disciplined and inquiring mind, all histo- ry and experience abound with instances to prove the perils of an unenlightened conscience. The idea of a revelation forced upon mankind by demonstrative evidence is at war with the only proper conception of the object of the divine government ; for the instances just adduced justify us in asserting, that this object must be, — not merely to raise men to a state of moral perfection, which would require only a simple act of omnipotence, — but to supply them with the means of raising themselves. Not mere attain- ment, but progress, is the law of our finite condition. THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. Ill IV. THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN.* The writings of Cousin form the popular philosophy of the day. Their success in this country is attested by the appearance of the three translations, of which the titles are given above, one of which has already passed to a second edition, and has been introduced as a text-book in some of our principal colleges. There must be some grounds for this popularity, apart from the bias manifested by many people to adopt as their favorite system of philosophy, the one which happens to be the last published. Such a bias operated to swell the favor with which the writings of the late Dr. Brown were at first received, and, in its reaction, to depress his reputation with quite as much injustice as it had at first been elevated. We do not anticipate for Cousin such a rapid fall in public estimation, because his great * From the Korth American Review, for July, 1841. Introduction to the History of Philosophy. By Victor Cousin. Translated from the French. By Henning Gotfried Linberg. Boston. 1832. Specimens of Foreign Standard Literature. Vols. I. and 11. Con- taining Philosophical Miscellanies, translated from the Freiich of Cousin, JouFFRoy, and B. Constant. With Introductory and Criti- cal JVotices. By George Ripley. Boston. 1838. Elements of Psychology ; included in a Critical Examination of Locke s Essay on [the] Human Understanding, with Additional Pieces. By Victor Cousin. Translated from the French, with an Introduc- tion and JVotes. By the Rev. C. S. Henry, D. D. Second Edition, prepared for the Use of Colleges. New York. 1838. 112 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. learning and the merits of his style, to carry the compari- son no farther, give him a decided advantage over the Scotch professor ; and his lectures, moreover, are not a posthumous publication. His manner, after all, is not much to the taste of sober and accurate thinkers ; but it has qualities which are sure to please the majority of read- ers. Evidently formed in the lecture room, it is sometimes eloquent, but more frequently declamatory. Profound sub- jects are treated without any atfectation of profundity of manner, — the capital vice of the German metaphysicians ; and the general lucidness of the views set forth is due partly to the clearness of the writer's mind, and partly to the superficial character of his inquiries. He never fa- tigues the reader with a long train of argument, either be- cause he dislikes the sublilties of logic, or is incapable of that severe exertion of mind which is necessary in order to bridge over the vast interval, that often separates ulti- mate truths from primitive perceptions. His conclusions lie but a step from the premises, when they have any premises at all, and they are repeated with a frequency, that marks the habits of a lecturer to a mixed audience, while it spares any severe effort of memory to those, who have the good fortune of being able to study the matter in print. We find nothing like terseness of manner, or simplicity of statement ; and the rhetoric, though highly wrought, in our judgment at least, often appears cold and artificial, instead of being penetrated with real warmth of feeling. But there is great copiousness, and not unfre- quently much dignity, of expression ; and the swell of dic- tion often gives prominence and effect to the enunciation of simple and familiar truths. The fairness and candor, which, with one great exception, he displays in estimating the services of other metaphysicians, are quite as manifest THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 113 as the complacency with which he alludes to his own merits. Apart from the excellences and defects of his manner, the favor shown to the writings of Cousin is due to the skill with which he has borrowed from the works of other phi- losophers, to the lucid manner in which he has treated the materials thus obtained, and to the ingenuity with which he has interwoven them into his own system. He has known how to put all schools under contribution, and thus to build up, piece by piece, the mosaic work of the edifice, which he calls his own. The Scotch and Germans are those to whom he is most indebted, though the obligation is certain- ly mutual, for the doctrines thus transplanted are often freed from objectionable peculiarities, expressed with great- er force and clearness, and thus brought within the reach of a wider circle of readers. The reputation of being a skilful borrower may not appear very flattering, but there are great merits in the able execution even of this seconda- ry task. To break up the distinctions between various schools, to give universal currency to the treasures of in- tellect and taste, which had otherwise been confined to a single nation, to make available for common use the labors even of one master mind, which has been more successful in the discovery than the dissemination of truth, is an office which has sure claims on the gratitude, though it may not challenge the admiration, of mankind. We give all credit to Cousin for the ability with which he has used his stores of learning, and for the frankness which he shows in con- fessing the extent of his obligations. But he is mistaken in imagining, that this manner of building up a system by patchwork is really a new method of conducting philosophical inquiry. He speaks of Eclec- ticism, as if it were a Novum Organon for the advance- ment of metaphysical science, and as if the neglect of it 10* 114 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. had been the leading cause of the errors and contradic- tions, with which the history of philosophy is filled. Here is the double error of supposing, in the first place, that Eclecticism as such can properly be called any method at all for the discovery of truth ; and, in the second place, of believing, that it is the peculiar characteristic of his own philosophy. As to the former point, one juight as well talk about an Eclectic system of geometry. The word does not refer to any new method of finding truth, but only to the manner of presenting the result of one's labors to the world, whether alone or in connexion with the fruits of other men's researches. And in the second place, every system of philosophy, which has been broached since the time of Thales, has been more or less Eclectic in its char- acter. Indeed, if philosophy be any science at all, it must grow by addition, by the successive contributions of differ- ent minds. Every new fact discovered, every additional principle evolved, forms a new item to swell the previous store. It is true, that the longing after unity and complete- ness operates as a constant temptation to round off the whole into a single theory. But in no case, that ever we heard of, has such theory been presented as the entire growth of one mind. To go no farther for instances, every one perceives, that Kant is under great obligations to Aris- totle, Reid to Locke, and Cousin to all the four, to say nothing of many others. If philosophy be considered, as some would have it, as the solution of a single problem, it it evident that no Eclecticism is possible, for there can be only one true solution. If, on the contrary, it be consid- ered as a science, as it really is the most comprehensive of all sciences, then Eclecticism, to a greater or less degree, is unavoidable. One cannot, if he would, avoid incorpo- rating into his own view of it some portion of the labors of other men, whether these elements of truth remain in the THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 115 state in which they were first announced by their discover- ers, or have since passed out into practice, as familiar principles of thought or conduct. When Kant applied the term Criticism to his prelimi- nary examination of the grounds on which metaphysical science rests, he used the word with a definite meaning attached to it, and had good reasons for its application. His great work comprised a critical inquiry into the origin and nature of all a priori knowledge, with a view to test the stability of the foundation, on which rest all systems of philosophy, whether dogmatical or skeptical, and thereby to determine the merits of those systems. But we see no propriety in designating the system of Cousin as an Eclec- tic philosophy, except in the mere fact, that he has bor- rowed more largely than others have done from the labors of his predecessors, and therefore can with less reason be said to possess any system that is his own. So far as it is borrowed, it does not belong to him ; so far as it is origi- nal, it is not Eclectic. There is a similar error in his remarks upon Method, where he lays much stress on the process of inquiry by way of observation and induction, as if it were the dis- tinguishing trait of his own labors in the field of mental philosophy. Every system purports to rest more or less directly upon observed facts, since the wildest theorist would disclaim the intention of building hypotheses, with- out pretending to seek a basis for them in universal expe- rience. None have been more cautious in this respect, than the Sensualists of the school of Gondii lac. Cousin objects to them, and with reason, that they have confined themselves to the most obvious facts in our mental consti- tution, without inquiring into their grounds and origin, and thus have held up the mere phenomena of sensation, as pre- senting a complete theory of our intellectual nature. A 116 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. more searching analysis discloses an element in the infor- mation supposed to come through the senses, which cannot be attributed to the outward impression, and the origin of which must therefore be inferred, not observed, from its characteristic features of universality and necessity. Fol- lowing closely in the steps of the Scotch metaphysicians, Cousin has laid bare this element, and traced it to its home among the original and intuitive perceptions of the soul. We do not question either the result, or the legitimacy of the method by which it is obtained ; but what we have to remark is, that Cousin here abandons the rules of investiga- tion, on which he insisted so much in the outset, and pro- ceeds by inference and analogy. From the nature of the case, the primitive character of a cognition cannot be ob- served ; it must be deduced from the secondary and com- plex notions, which alone are the direct objects of conscious- ness. It is even a hypothesis ; a legitimate one, it is true, but still a hypothesis, for it is assumed to be primitive, only because no fact of experience has yet been shown sufficient to account for its existence. Certainly, we do not find fault with the method here pur- sued by Cousin, for we believe, that in great part it is the only possible method. We blame him only for laying down in the outset such an insufficient rule of inquiry, that he is obliged to desert it before he has fairly entered the vestibule of the science. The instance we have given, the analysis of the mental act in perception, lies at the very threshold of a psychological theory, and in order to take this first step, it is necessary to use a higher Organon of investigation, than that which Bacon established as the only legitimate one for physical science. What are we to ex- pect, then, when our author imps his wings for a loftier flight, and soars into the higher regions of speculative phi- losophy by a series of the boldest and widest generaliza- THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 117 tions ? Why, that he should wholly lose sight, as he does, of his preliminary principles, and proceed by anticipa- tions as bold as ever entered the teeming brains of those who formed the ancient Grecian schools. His doctrine of the absolute, of the impersonality of the reason, his antici- pation of the epochs into which the history of philosophy must divide itself, his a priori method of writing general history, — these are strange fruits of a rigid application of the inductive method. Cousin has written and published much, but he has never given to the public an entire and connected view of his sys- tem in a single work. His theory must be pieced together from prefaces, lectures, and scraps of criticism. This cir- cumstance detracts from the systematic appearance of his speculations, and makes it less a matter of surprise, that there should be a frequent want of harmony between the parts. As in the later publications, we find many opinions modified and set in a different light from that in which they were first expressed, it is probable that the system is not yet definitely worked out in the author's own mind, and there- fore an attempt to represent its features as a whole would be, even now, premature. Perhaps, after all, a conscious- ness of weakness may be at the bottom of this delay, — a lurking fear, lest the prominent points of difference be- tween him and his predecessors, when reduced to their sim- plest expression in a methodical theory, should not appear to so much advantage as they now do, when brought in sin- gly and incidentally, and placed in sharp contrast with opin- ions of an opposite character. Be this as it may, there is an obvious propriety, at present, in abstaining from any at- tempt to give a miniature sketch of his philosophical doc- trine as a whole, and in confining our remarks and criti- cisms to those points, on which Cousin himself lays most stress, as furnishing the keynote of all his speculations. 118 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. His writings are now so widely known, that our readers can find no difficulty in following rather a desultory comment upon them. A liking for bold and splendid generalizations, rapidly formed and confidently stated, which Cousin possesses in common with most speculative writers of his nation, is very apparent in his analysis and arrangement of the elements of pure reason. Aristotle, the most successful of all phi- losophers in forming a comprehensive and systematic clas- sification of the operations of intellect, attempted to give a general statement of our modes of thought, and thus pro- duced his system of the categories. These forms were considered by him as objective, for the basis of the thought, in each case, was held to be a property inherent in the out- ward thing. Nature was considered in its effects upon mind, and thus a classification of mental phenomena rep- resented also those qualities of external objects, to which the phenomena were believed to correspond. The list thus formed was altered and enlarged by Kant, who also boldly inverted the method of Aristotle, by maintaining the doc- trine, that the mind creates the object, and beholds in the properties of nature nothing but a reflection of itself. The thinking subject projects its own modes of action and being upon the unsentient object, and gives out from itself the coloring and forms, if not the very tissue and framework, of the natural world. The Greek nomenclature was in great part retained, and the categories, twelve in number, were divided equally among the four classes of quantity, quality, relation, and modality. The essential vice of both theories is, that the classification is merely formal, the phe- nomena of intelligence being numberless, and the reduction of them to a few elements proceeding on principles that are wholly arbitrary. Every aspect under which an object may be viewed, every relation it may bear to other objects, THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 119 presents a distinct conception, and the farther we carry our arbitrary suppression of the points of difference between these conceptions, the smaller will be our list of ultimate elements, and the more imperfectly will a particular idea be represented in that general notion, which stands at the head of its class. Kant had twelve categories ; Cousin re- duces them all to three. Cousin's reduction is a forced and capricious one, but no more so, perhaps, than the preceding arrangement by Kant, or the original synthesis by Aristotle. Classification proceeds by considering only the common properties of things, to the exclusion of all individual and distinguishing traits. The process is legitimate, only when the objects of it are complex. A partial consideration of simple ideas is impossible, and any attempt, therefore, to rank them together, must destroy their essential character. An imperfect apprehension of them is necessarily a false apprehension, and classification will produce nothing but confusion. In Cousin's bold reduction of the elements of reason, the ideas of unity, substance, cause, identity, eternity, &c. are all identified as various forms of the Infinite ; while the cor- relative ideas of multiplicity, phenomenon, effect, diversity, and time are regarded as modifications of the Finite. These ideas of the Infinite and the Finite, and the relation between them, constitute the three ultimate elements of reason, be- yond which the force of analysis can no farther go. It is difficult to imagine on what principle this bold effort of gen- eralization proceeds. Our idea of unity is not one and the same with that of cause, nor is substance identical with eternity ; nor is the idea of infinity, whether considered as the mere negation of limit, or as a positive and indepen- dent conception, necessarily predicated of either. The consideration of an object as one or many, is very different from the view of it as active or passive, or as finite or in- 120 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. finite. When Cousin, therefore, ranks together all terms of the first class as infinite, and all those of the second as finite, it cannot be because the relation of sameness exists between them, in spite of apparent diversity. The diversity is real, is essential, and moreover is so apparent and striking, that it cannot be blinked out of view, or hidden by a mist of words. II saute aux yeux. The principles which led to this bold grouping together of dissimilar ideas, and the arguments by which it is supported, are nowhere stated in Cousin's published writings, though he affirms, that they are developed at length in some academical prelections, which as yet have not seen the light. Here is one instance of the evil effects of publishing a system piecemeal, that the reader is perplexed by broad and confident statements, which he has no means of investigating, but must accept or reject on the unsupported authority of the writer. The most profound problem of speculative philosophy, the one which necessarily occupies the front rank in all metaphysical systems, relates to the certainty of human knowledge. How do we know that things are what they appear ? How do we effect a passage from the percipient mind to the existence of things in themselves ? The skep- tic affirms, that the mind is directly conscious only of its own operations, and that the assumption of an order of being, which exists independently of the thoughts in which it is portrayed, is entirely gratuitous and improper. He even goes farther, and, on the ground of the fleeting and suc- cessive character of all mental representations, denies the existence of the thinking subject, and thus leaves nothing remaining of creation but a crowd of ideas, that succeed each other without order, self-direction, or purpose. It is true, that human nature corrects this extravagant Pyrrhon- ism, and compels the skeptic in his daily conduct to give the lie to his forced opinions. But the philosopher is not THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 121 content with this summary treatment of the difficulty, and with restless curiosity seeks for the reasons, on which this decisive verdict of nature is based. The various modes of solving this problem amount to little more than attempts to substantiate knowledge which is admitted to be intuitive, or in other words, to find arguments wherewith to establish those principles, which, ex hypothesi, cannot rest upon argument. No wonder, therefore, that the results of the speculation in every case should be vague and profitless. The solution of the difficulty here referred to forms the most original and characteristic doctrine in the system of Cousin. He seeks to give higher authority to the principle of intuitive belief, by maintaining that the faculty of Pure Reason is impersonal, and that its dictates ought therefore to be received as the fruits of actual inspiration. According to this theory, personality belongs only to the will, and since belief is independent of volition, truth is universal and imperative, and the individual mind is only the organ, through which it is manifested to consciousness. " Truth itself is absolute, and what we call Reason is truly distinct from ourselves." If this faculty were individual and per- sonal, it is argued, it would also be voluntary and free, and we should be able to control its acts in the same way that we determine our particular volitions. But the axioms of mathematics and the first principles of morals are neces- sary apprehensions, and the being who receives them knows, that all other persons must submit to the same convictions. All truths of this class, therefore, cannot be individual, cannot be human. The faith which we have in them, is not grounded on our own strength, but rests on authority that cannot be evaded or denied. But here the objection immediately presents itself, that human reason is not infallible, but is subject to constant aberrations, the reality of which is proved by the very 11 122 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. errors, for the refutation of which this theory is propounded. Cousin replies, that as truth in itself is independent of personal conviction, so the Reason in itself is independent of man in whom it appears. In him it is obscured and perverted by the personal attributes, in connexion with which it exists ; it is thwarted by the passions, and clouded by the imagination. To obtain its uncorrupted dictates, we must distinguish between its original and secondary con- dition, between its spontaneous development and its exer- cise as watched and limited by reflection. The latter faculty cannot perform its functions, until objects are fur- nished to it by the primitive action of mind. These objects are the great truths, lying at the basis of all intellectual operations, which are at first perceived in a confused, though vivid manner, and which compel belief, almost before they are subject to attention ; certainly, before they are examined. The child does not doubt, he believes ; and the objects of his belief, commanding instant and unhesita- ting submission, are the fruits of real inspiration. These '' immediate illuminations of the reason," as Cousin styles them, are soon confused and colored with ideas borrowed from the senses and the aifections, and then comes the hard task of reflection to decompose the compound thus formed, and to gather up again the primitive and pure ele- ments of inspired truth. Thus is vindicated the authority which reason exerts in breaking through the meshes of skepticism, and in establishing the unhesitating faith of childhood on a firmer basis, than that which supports the surest deductions of science. We have followed Cousin's own phraseology here, as nearly as possible, without finding room for copious extracts. It will be seen, when closely examined, that the language is wavering and inconsistent to the last degree, like that of a person who has not yet made up his own mind upon the THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 123 theory, which he designs to promulgate. At one time, it is only the product of pure reason, the intuitive belief itself, which is not obtained by our own effort, but dawns upon us from a higher source. Then again, and more frequently, it is the faculty itself which is not our own, but assumes the character of an independent and decisive witness. In this latter sense, the doctrine, when stripped of the mist of words that encompass it, is wholly devoid of meaning. Define Reason as we may, separate its operations by what- ever line from those of the understanding, it is still a mental faculty, or a peculiar manner of apprehending truth. Now, the thinking principle is one, and its modes of action, though separately considered for convenience and classifi- cation, and marked out with distinct appellations as various faculties, are only different phases of one subject viewed at successive times, and acting under dissimilar circumstances. That I have one faculty of memory, and another of judg- ment, is a phrase which means nothing more, than that I am able both to remember and to judge. Hence, the asser- tion that a mental faculty is impersonal and does not belong to us, is a contradiction in terms ; in the same breath it both affirms and denies, that the mind has the power of acting in a particular way. Either the mind is capable of apprehending primitive truths, or it is not ; in tiie former case, we are said to have the power or faculty of appre- hending them ; in the latter, these truths for us have no existence. To raise a question, therefore, about the owner- ship of a faculty, whether it is ours or somebody's else, is to deal in nonsense. Cousin argues, that Reason is not personal, because its action is not voluntary, or subject to our control. Carry out this argument, and it will follow, that the greater part of the phenomena of mind is not personal, — does not belong to the thinking subject. All emotion is involuntary ; all 124 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. sensation the same. But are not our individual pleasures and pains our own possessions, — personal in the strictest sense of the word .? Is not the power of receiving these pleasures our own faculty, affected by our states of being and modes of action, sharpened by exercise and blunted by neglect ? In truth. Cousin boldly identifies personality with activity, and then, as intellect is necessarily distinguished from will, he draws the necessary inference, that the whole cognitive faculty is impersonal. " Who ever said," he asks, " my truth, or your truth ? " He forgets, that error, no less than truth, is frequently the product of mental ac- tion, and certainly nothing is more individual, more person- al, than mistaken perceptions and false deductions. The unseen power which, on his principles, kindly performs for us those actions once deemed to be our own, as frequently leads us wrong as right ; the light which leads astray is equally a light from heaven. That we may not be accused of misrepresenting the opinions of Cousin in this particular, we quote a passage in which he denies the personality of sensation, as well as of reason. " Sensible facts are necessary. We do not impute them to our- selves. Rational facts are also necessary ; and reason is no less independent of the will than sensibility. Voluntary facts alone are marked in the view of consciousness with the characteristics of personality and responsibility. The will alone is the person or the me. The me is the centre of the intellectual sphere. So long as the me does not exist, the conditions of the existence of all the other phenomena might be in force, but, without relation to the me, they would not be reflected in the consciousness, and would be for it as though they were not. On the other hand, the will creates none of the rational and sensible phenomena ; it even sup- poses them, since it does not apprehend itself, except in distinction from them. We do not find ourselves, except in a foreign world, between two orders of phenomena which do not pertain to us, THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 125 which we do not even perceive, except on condition of separating ourselves from them.*'* Here is a clear avowal, then, that the whole action of mind, where uncontrolled by the will, takes place by a for- eign power, and is therefore wrongly ascribed to the think- ing person. The fallacies of reasoning, as well as the intu- itive perception of truth, the successive acts of sensation, with the inferences, sometimes correct and sometimes erro- neous, that are founded upon them, and the emotions with which they are accompanied, — are all the promptings of an agent, whose existence is independent of our own. The distinction between the spontaneous and the reflective rea- son is here of no avail, for it is not the secondary act which obscures and perverts the primitive perception, but the original sensations themselves which are the causes of er- rors, that are subsequently rectified by the judgment. What grounds of confidence have we, then, for the passage from psychology to ontology, to facilitate which the whole theory was contrived, when the independent and impersonal agent, who was to help us over the difficulty, is the convicted cause of all the blunders and fallacies, to which human intellect is liable ? But it is a waste of time to go about controverting a the- ory, which contradicts itself at the first step. The familiar fact, to which Descartes appealed when seeking for proof of his own existence, is enough to place this contradiction in a clear light. Every act of consciousness is accompa- nied with the immediate and irresistible conviction, that the thinking subject coexists with the thought, and is manifested in it. The consciousness that " I think," necessarily im- plies my own existence, and the mode of that existence. It affirms three things, my own being, the reality of the * Ripley's Philosophical Miscellanies, Vol. i. p. 124. 11* 126 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. thought, and the connexion between these two existences by the relation of substance and phenomenon. The latter affirmation is quite as clear and positive as the two preced- ing. The thought is perceived to be personal, to be mine, to be at the moment the phasis of my own being. Cousin contradicts this assertion, and thus attempts to establish the infallibility of a faculty by denying one of its first dictates. We observe farther, that the doctrine, if established, would be profitless for Cousin's purpose. A belief, that is in its own nature absolute and imperative, acquires no additional force from the knowledge that it was im- parted to us by an independent agent. It must stand or fall by its intrinsic strength, the question respecting its origin being one of pure curiosity. What is received upon authority may be deceptive, as well as what is acquired by our own researches. The arguments of the skeptic, which, on the common hypothesis, are directed against the trustworthiness of our cognitive faculties, upon this theory would be turned against the truthfulness of the source of inspiration, and we do not see why they would not be as valid in the one case, as in the other. Let any one ask himself, if his conviction of the truth of any proposition in Euclid would be increased by the discovery, that the theo- rem was made known to him by special or general inspi- ration. Let him ask farther, if any fruits of admitted in- spiration could be entertained for a moment, if they were found to contradict the first principles of natural and per- sonal belief. Then it must be admitted, that the genesis of principles has no effect on their validity, and that the doc- trine we are considering is not only destitute of foundation, but nugatory in its results. Other peculiarities of Cousin's philosophical system will come into notice in examining his celebrated review of Locke, a work on which his reputation for acuteness, ac- THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 127 curacy, and sound reasoning mainly depends. An English critic of high authority has pronounced it " the most im- portant work on Locke since the Nouveaux Essais of Leib- nitz." The lectures, which Cousin delivered at Paris in 1829, were intended to give a general history of the phi- losophy of the eighteenth century ; but nearly half the course was devoted to this critical examination of the " Es- say on Human Understanding," which has attracted much attention in Europe, and the translation of which has al- ready passed to a second edition in this country. The plan and execution of the criticism certainly place it far above the writer's other publications. There is less rhetoric and more logic in it than he usually employs ; the style is more compressed, and opinions are stated with greater precision. Great candor is manifested through the whole examination, and though the misrepresentations of Locke, as we shall have occasion to show, are frequent, they do not appear intentional. It is no easy task to criticise fairly a writer who lived a century ago, and occupied himself with a science so shift- ing in its phraseology and fluctuating in its aspect, as the philosophy of intellect. The subject is contemplated by the original writer and the critic from very different points of view, the parts are differently distributed, the nomen- clature is not the same, and changes in the mode of state- ment are mistaken for contrarieties of opinion. The sense in which a particular doctrine is affirmed or denied, must be gathered from contemporary writers, and a careful ex- amination of the ends, which the subject of criticism had in view. From inattention to these requisites. Cousin's esti- mate of Locke's merits as a philosopher does not seem to us to possess even tolerable correctness. He has not car- ried his mind back to the period when the " Essay " was written, nor judged of its leading doctrines in reference to 128 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. the opinions which called them forth, and which they were designed to refute. But he has brought the work down to the present day, and, applying to it the standard which be- longs to another school, has found nothing but variety and opposition, where there was frequently coincidence, and even identity of doctrine. He has stretched Locke upon the Procrustes bed of modern German metaphysics, and then proceeded to lop off a joint here and extend a member there, when a little care and management would have shown, that between the recumbent figure and the couch, there was no such vast disproportion after all. Wherever differences of opinion, that cannot be reconciled, actually exist, we apprehend that Locke will be found in the right quite as often as his antagonist. But of such differences we say nothing for the present. Our point now is, to show that Cousin has often misunderstood Locke, and censured him for holding opinions which were never present to his mind, and which he would not have avowed under any cir- cumstances. What was Locke's chief purpose in writing the greater part of his celebrated Essay ? To confute the Cartesian doctrine of Innate Ideas. What is the leading object of Cousin's lectures ? To controvert that French system of philosophy, which traces all knowledge to sensation. The former argues, that the hypothesis of innate ideas is un- necessary, if it can be shown, that the mind possesses means or faculties through which, hy experience^ (that is, by use of these faculties,) it can attain all the knowledge which it is found to possess. His point is proved, if it be made to appear, that all knowledge comes after experience ; for then the doctrine, that ideas exist in the mind antece- dent to any use of the faculties, falls to the ground. The end which Locke proposed to himself is fully enunciated in the dictum of Kant, " that all knowledge legins with expe- THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 129 rience." Cousin's object is to identify the doctrines of Locke with those of the French Sensualists, — to whip them over his back. The system which is really confuted in these lectures is that of Condillac, the pages of Locke being searched for those expressions and forms of state- ment, which seem to convey opinions most favorable to the Sensual theory. Unluckily, the loose and inaccurate lan- guage and endless repetitions, which Locke employs, too frequently favor this proceeding. Amid the many dissimi- lar doctrines, which may be extracted from the contradictory passages and careless statements of the " Essay on Human Understanding," fairness requires us to select those, as con- veying the real opinions of the writer, which conform most nearly to the end which he had in view. We have shown, that this end is attained by giving that interpretation to Locke's language, which makes it convey a doctrine, that is expressly sanctioned by Kant and Cousin himself. Locke ascribes the origin or beginning of our knowledge to the two faculties of Sensation and Reflection. Some- times he appears to maintain, that all our ideas proceed from these sources ; then again his language implies, that our knowledge comes through these faculties, or is first manifested on occasion of their exercise. Instances of the former mode of expressing the doctrine are cited in suffi- cient number by Cousin. As examples falling under the second class, take the following extracts, which may be multiplied at pleasure. " There are some (ideas) that make themselves way and are sug" gested to the mind by all the ways of sensation and reflection." — Books. Chap. lii. § 1. " Existence and unity are two other ideas, that are suggested to the understanding by every object without and every idea with- in."— Book 2. Chap. vii. ^7. *' By observing what passes in our minds, how our ideas there in 130 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. train constantly some vanish, and others begin to appear, we come hy the idea of succession." — Book 2. Chap. xiv. ^ 31. '' Among all the ideas we have, as there is none suggested to the mind hij more loays, so there is none more simple than that of unity, or one." — Book 2. Chap. xvi. ^ 1. " Being capable of no other simple ideas, belonging to any thing but body, but those which by reflection we receive from the operation of our mind, we can attribute to spirits no other but what we receive from thence." — Book 2. Chap, xxiii. ^ 36. The language in this last extract is strictly precise and accurate, for reflection is represented in its true function, as the vehicle, not the source, of the knowledge which it is said to communicate. Jn the other extracts, the same doc- trine is conveyed, though in phraseology not equally clear; the act of reflection or sensation suggests the idea, but does not impart it ; in other words, the act marks the occasion on which the knowledge is developed. We believe this statement conveys Locke's real opinion, in spite of the un- guarded language so frequently used throughout the Essay. He intended to mark the chronological, not the logical, succession of our ideas, intentionally passing over the latter branch of the inquiry, as the consideration of it was unnecessary for the accomplishment of his chief purpose, — the refutation of Descartes. His theory interpreted in this manner, when tried by the standard of our modern philosophy, appears correct as far as it goes. Indeed, his doctrine respecting the functions of sensation and reflection, representing them as the only avenues of intelligence, is not merely the only true, but the only possible, description of the beginning of knowledge. The two worlds of matter and mind are the only objects of human cognition. We can know the former only by the agency of that faculty which, — whether it be a simple or compound activity, whether it afford results that are pure, or those only which are colored and modified by the constitution of the recipi- THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 131 ent, — is always denominated sensation. We learn the phenomena of mind only through that power, — call it re- flection, consciousness, or what you please, — through which the thinking subject takes cognizance of self. In criticising this account of the origin of the ideas, Cousin objects, " that Locke evidently confounds reflection with consciousness. Reflection, in strict language, is un- doubtedly a faculty analogous to consciousness, but distinct from it, and pertains more particularly to the philosopher, while consciousness pertains to every man as an intellectual being." It would be quite as well to show that the two things are really distinct, before blaming Locke for con- founding them. On this point, it seems plain to us, that Locke is right and his critic is wrong. The distinction usually stated between consciousness and reflection is, that the former is the immediate witness, while the latter is the reviewer, of the operations of mind ; mental phenomena as they rise are taken notice of by the one, while they must be recalled or presented anew before they are subject to the inspection of the other. Taken in this sense, we deny- that there is any such thing as immediate and active con- sciousness, distinct from the mental act. A cognition and the consciousness of that cognition are one and the same thing. A single perception is simple and indivisible ; it cannot be analyzed into a fact and the consciousness of that fact, for the event itself being an act of knowing, it does not exist, if it be not known to exist. In one act of perception there is but one object, — the thing perceived ; while the hypothesis of a distinct and independent con- sciousness requires two, — the thing perceived and the ob- ject of the consciousness, which is the perception itself There is this farther absurdity in the doctrine in question, that it requires every cognitive act to be followed by an infinite series of repetitions of itself ; I am conscious, first 132 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. of the original thought, and then of that act of conscious- ness, and so on for ever. The truth seems to be, that whenever we are occupied with any subject of investiga- tion, except the operations of our own minds, the current of thought runs on unchecked, the attention being wholly fas- tened on the object of study, and the relation between the successive ideas and the thinking person, the me., never at- tracting: our notice. In such a state, of which the condition of a person absorbed in mathematical studies may be taken as an example, there is, properly speaking, neither reflec- tion nor consciousness. But when we examine the phe- nomena of our own minds, the train of ideas, so to speak, is continually doubling back on itself. The feeling cannot exist, — the mental phenomenon cannot be manifested, — and be examined at the same instant. The metaphysician, like the anatomist, must operate on the dead subject. He does not study the present state of his own mind, for the very reason, that his mind is now engaged in study, and does not manifest the phenomena in question ; but he ex- amines his recollection of what was its condition a moment before, when it put forth the feeling, or existed under the phasis, which is now the object of his researches. What is called consciousness is always a reflex act, never immedi- ate. Locke is not only right in admitting but one faculty, but the appellation he gives to it is the better chosen of the two. Cousin devotes nearly a whole lecture to a minute exam- ination of Locke's theory respecting the idea of Space. The criticism is founded entirely on Kant's doctrine re- specting the same idea, though the skeptical conclusion of the German philosopher, that space has no objective exist- ence, is not admitted by his French copyist. Respecting the justice of the criticism we have nothing to say, except to remark on the unfairness of accusing Locke of confound- THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 133 ing the two ideas of body and space, while the very oppo- site doctrine is maintained in the " Essay," and the essen- tial difference between the two conceptions is established at great length. Cousin's proof of this charge is so curious, that we extract the passage. " Locke says ; 'the idea o^ 'place we have by the same means that we get the idea of space, (whereof this is but a particular and lim- ited consideration,) namely, by our sight and touch*****.' Same chapter, same section ; ' to say that the world is some- where, means no more than that it does exist; *****.' It is clear, that is to say, that the space [?] of the universe is equivalent to neither more nor less than to the universe itself, and as the idea of the universe is, after all, nothing but the idea of body, it is to this idea, that the idea of space is reduced. Such is the necessary genesis of the idea of space in the system of Locke." * We now give at length the two sentences, of which Cou- sin has quoted but a small part. *' That our idea of place is nothing else but such a relative po- sition of any thing, as I have before mentioned, I think is plain, and will be easily admitted, when we consider that we can have no idea of the place of the universe, though we can of all the parts of it ; because beyond that we have not the idea of any fixed, dis- tinct, particular beings, in reference to which we can imagine it to have any relation of distance ; but all beyond it is one uniform space or expansion, wherein the mind finds no variety, no marks. For to say that the world is somewhere, means no more than that it does ex- ist; this, though a phrase borrowed from place, signifying only its existence, not location ; and when one can find out and frame in his mind, clearly and distinctly, the place of the universe, he will be able to tell us whether it moves or stands still in the undis- tinguishable inane of infinite space : though it be true, that the word place has sometimes a more confused sense, and stands for the space lohich any body takes up ; and so the universe is in a place. ^^ f * Elements of Psychology, pp. 79, 80. t Locke, on Human Understanding, Book 2. Ch. xiii. § 10. 12 134 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. Locke's doctrine clearly is, that place is mere " relation of distance" ; therefore he affirms, that we have no idea of the place of the universe, because the universe has no fixed points of reference beyond itself. Cousin adopts that other " more confused sense " of the word place^ by which it stands for the space which any body takes up, though Locke expressly mentions this meaning of the term, and admits, that, in this sense, the universe is in a place. It is but right to add, that this is the only instance we have noticed in Cousin of gross unfairness in making quotations. The per- version of meaning which is here caused by garbling the passage is quite ludicrous. But it was necessary in order to afford a peg, on which to hang a long argument, all bor- rowed from Kant, respecting the opposition between the ideas of body and space. The chapter on the origin of our idea of Duration is one of the most satisfactory portions of Locke's whole treatise. The doctrine is so fully stated and with such clearness of language, that we know not how to account for Cousin's entire misconception of its meaning. Locke affirms, that the idea of time is first acquired by reflecting upon the suc- cession of our ideas, and this account receives the full as- sent of his critic. In proof of this doctrine, Locke men- tions the fact, that when the succession of ideas ceases, our perception of duration ceases along with it ; as, for exam- ple, in dreamless sleep or profound reverie, where the cur- rent of thought is stopped, or is concentrated on a single idea. Will it be believed, that on the ground of this simple illustration, he is charged with confounding the two distinct ideas of succession and duration, the measure and the thing measured, and consequently with maintaining the monstrous doctrine, that when the train of thought stops, time stops also } Cousin says, that the necessary consequence of Locke's theory is, that the timepiece, which marked the THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 135 lapse of hours during the sleep was wrong ; " and the sun, like the timepiece, should have stopped." We copy Cous- in's own quotation. " That we have our notion of succession and duration from this original, viz. from reflection on the train of ideas which we find to ap- pear one after another in our own minds, seems plain to me in that we have no perception of duration, but by considering the train of ideas that take their turns in our understandings. When that succes- sion of ideas ceases, our perception of duration ceases with it ; which every one clearly experiments in himself, whilst he sleeps soundly, whether an hour or a day, a month or a year ; of which duration of things, while he sleeps or thinks not, he has no perception at all, but it is quite lost to him ; and the moment wherein he leaves off to think, till the moment he begins to think agahi, seems to him to have no distance. And so I doubt not it would be to a waking man, if it were possible for him to keep only one idea in his mind, without variation and the succession of others."* Can any language more clearly repudiate the very con- sequence which Cousin endeavors to draw ? It is not du- ration itself, which ceases while we sleep, but " our per- ception of duration " ; the timepiece goes right, but the " perception of the time is quite lost to him " who sleeps. The critic surely does not mean to deny the fact, that ia sound slumber we are unconscious of the flight of hours. To remove all doubt, in another section of the sam.e chap- ter, the 2 1 st, Locke directly controverts the very doctrine here put into his mouth. " We must therefore carefully distin- guish betwixt duration itself, and the measures we make use of to judge of its length " ; and in a subsequent part of the same section, "the train of our own ideas" is mentioned, as being this measure. And yet Cousin argues at great length this point, as if in opposition to Locke, finding under this head no other heresy with which to accuse the English philosopher. It is a fine specimen of the method of setting * Locke, on Human Understanding, Book 2. Ch. xiv. § 4. 136 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. up pins, that one may have the pleasure of knocking them down again. Better instances still are to come. The idea of the Infinite is the next point, on which our author tries his strength with the founder of the Empirical school, as it is called. We shall not enter into the general discussion on this point, though it forms the corner-stone of the Eclectic system, for it has already been discussed and refuted with great ability by the present accomplished pro- fessor of logic at Edinburgh, whose article on the subject, though well known to Cousin, he has for sound reasons never attempted to answer. Our remarks will be confined to the incidental glimpse of this theory, which is afforded in the commentary upon Locke. The following paragraph contains the substance of the criticism on this head. " After having sported awhile with the idea of the infinite as obscure, Locke objects again that it is purely negative, that it has nothing positive in it. B. II. eh. XVII. ^ 13; ' We have no posi- tive idea of infinity.' ^ 16 ; ' We have no positive idea of an in- finite duration.' '^ 18 ; 'We have no positive idea of infinite space.' Here we have the accusation, so often since repeated, against the conceptions of reason, that they are not positive. But first, observe, that there can no more be an idea of succession without the idea of time, than of time without the previous idea of succession ; and no more idea of body without the idea of space, than of space without the previous idea of body; that is to say, there can no more be the idea of the finite without the idea of infinite, than of the infinite without the previous idea of the finite. From whence it follows in strictness, that these ideas sup- pose each other, and, if any one pleases to say, reciprocally limit each other; and consequently, the idea of the infinite is no more the negative of that of the finite, than the idea of the finite is the negative of that of the infinite. They are both negatives on the same ground, or they are both positives; for they are two si- multaneous affirmations, and every affirmation gives a positive idea."* * Elements of Psychology, p. 109. THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 137 It would be difficult to find in any writer on philosophy a more remarkable instance of confused thought and in- correct reasoning. Because the idea of body involves that of space, and succession presupposes time, therefore^ the conception of the finite necessarily requires that of the in- finite. If he had said, that because bread is fabricated of flour, therefore the moon consists of green cheese, the logic would be quite as conclusive. Because in a given instance, two ideas mutually contain and limit each other, it does not follow that any other two, taken at random, bear the same correlation. The argument means nothing at all, unless the premise be construed into the affirmation, that the conception of body involves that of infinite space, and succession presupposes eternity ; and in this form, the ar- gument takes for granted the very point in question. More- over, the assertion when thus interpreted is wholly untrue. The idea of pure space is the only necessary concomitant of body, that of infinite space being a subsequent deduction of the reason. Still further, the relations between the ideas in the two cases are wholly dissimilar, the comparison being drawn between perfectly incongruous things. The proposition, that the finite presupposes the infinite, corre- sponds to the assertion, that eternity is implied in time, or unlimited expansion in bounded extension. The relation between body and space, succession and duration, belongs to a different category. The assertion of Locke, that the infinite is to our minds only a negative idea, as it is defended by those who were never suspected of favoring the doctrines of Condillac, is not enough to identify him with the Sensualist school. Cousin seeks for some remark, which shall appear tanta- mount to a denial of the existence of any such idea, but can find nothing which answers his purpose better than the following ; " Number affords us the clearest idea of 12* 138 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. infinity." This observation is construed to mean, that the idea in every case may be resolved into that of number ; though it really affirms no such thing, for it is not said, that number gives us the 07ily notion of the infinite, but that the clearest conception of it is derived from this source. In many passages of the same chapter, Locke expatiates upon this idea as applicable to time, space, and the attributes of the Supreme Being. On the latter point he holds the fol- lowing decisive language. " I think it unavoidable for ev- ery considering rational creature, that will but examine his own or any other existence, to have the notion of an eternal wise Being, who had no beginning ; and such an idea of infinite duration I am sure I have." But, though the assertion should be held to convey all the meaning that Cousin attributes to it, we may well ask, What follows ? The reply is so curious, that it deserves to be given in the writer's own words. " But what is number? It is, in the last analysis, such or such a number ; for every number is a determinate number. It is then a finite number, whatever it may be. Raise the figure as high as you please, the number, as such, is only a particular number, an element of succession, and consequently a finite element. Number is the parent of succession, not of duration ; number and succes- sion measure time, but are not adequate to it, and do not consti- tute it. " The reduction of the infinite to number is, then, the reduction of time infinite, to its measure indefinite, that is, to the finite; just as, in regard to space, the reduction of space to body is the reduc- tion of the infinite to the finite. Now to reduce the infinite to the finite is to destroy it ; it is to destroy the belief of the human race ; but as before observed, it saves the system of Locke."* " Every number is a determinate number." What mean then the surds, the imaginary quantities, and the injinite series of the algebraist } As to the remainder of the argu- * Elements of Psychology, p. 111. THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 139 ment against the infinity of number, we have only to re- mark, that it is equally applicable to our ideas of infinite space and time. Whatever force the reasoning may have, in Cousin's theory, it is suicidal. If we were disposed to profit by the unlucky admissions of our author, the sen- tence, which immediately succeeds the passage quoted above, would afford a rich field for comment. " In fact, the infinite can be found neither in sense, nor consciousness, but the finite can be found there wonderfully well." We would fain be told, where the idea of the infinite is found upon this hypothesis. In the reason, doubtless ; but how does reason manifest itself, except through consciousness ? If we are not conscious of any ideas or truths given by this faculty, for all practical purposes, it would seem, they might as well be withheld altogether. The criticism upon Locke's account of Personal Identity is, in the main, just and clearly expressed. The chapter upon the subject is one of the most unsatisfactory passages in the whole Essay, the doctrine leading to the most ab- surd consequences, which were perceived, and yet intrepid- ly avowed and supported by the writer. We are at a loss how to account for the error, especially as the natural course of Locke's speculations by no means leads to such a wild doctrine, and the great blunder in it, that of confound- ing the witness, or evidence of identity with identity itself, is at variance with every other portion of the theory. But as the remarks on our idea of Substance in general present no such unfortunate matter for criticism, Cousin, as usual, manufactures a theory on the subject, which he puts into the mouth of Locke, and then proceeds to refute it with great earnestness and ability. The account which Locke really gives, is one that coincides perfectly with all later speculations on the subject ; namely, that our concep- tion of any particular substance is a mere congeries of our ideas of various qualities or properties, together with a sup- 140 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. position of something else, in which these attributes inhere, and which we call Substance in general. On this plain and self-evident statement, he goes on to build up his argument against the materialists of his day, — an argument, which, as it uproots from the foundation the degrading hypothesis against which it is directed, has been reproduced in one form or another by almost every metaphysician since his time, who has adopted the distinction between body and spirit. The version of it by Dugald Stewart we extract from the first volume of his work on the " Philosophy of Mind." " The notions we annex to the words matter 2ind mind, as is well remarked by Dr. Reid, are merely relative. If I am asked what I mean by matter, I can only explain myself by saying, it is that which is extended, figured, colored, movable, hard or soft, rough or smooth, hot or cold ; that is, I can define it in no other way, than by enumerating its sensible qualities. It is not matter or body, which I perceive by my senses; but only extension, figure, color, and certain other qualities, which the constitution of my na- ture leads me to refer to something which is extended, figured, and colored. The case is precisely similar with respect to mind. We are not immediately conscious of its existence, but we are conscious of sensation, thought, and volition ; operations which imply the existence of something which feels, thinks, and wills. Every man too is impressed with an irresistible conviction, that all these sensations, thoughts, and volitions belong to one and the same being ; to that being which he calls himself; a being, which he is led by the constitution of his nature, to consider as some- thing distinct from his body, and as not liable to be impaired by the loss or mutilation of any of his organs." With his usual candor and deference towards his old in- structor, Stewart here avows, that he borrows from Dr. Reid ; but with how much justice he attributes the origin of the argument to this writer, our readers may judge by the following quotations from Locke. " As dear an idea of spirit as body. — The same happens con- cerning the operations of the mind, viz. thinking, reasoning, fear- THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 141 ing, &c. which we, concluding not to subsist of themselves, nor apprehending how they can belong to body, or be produced by it, we are apt to think these the actions of some other substance, which we call spirit ; whereby yet it is evident, that having no oth- er idea or notion of matter but something wherein those many sen- sible qualities which affect our senses, do subsist ; by suppos- ing a substance, wherein thinking, knowing, doubting, and a pow- er of moving, &c. do subsist, we have as clear a notion of the sub- stance of spirit, as we have of body ; the one being supposed to be (without knowing what it is) the substratum to those simple ideas we have from without ; and the other supposed (with a like igno- rance of what it is) to be the substratum to those operations we ex- periment in ourselves within. It is plain, then, that the idea of cor- poreal substance in matter, is as remote from our conceptions and apprehensions, as that of spiritual substance or spirit : and there- fore, from our not having any notion of the substance of spirit, we can no more conclude its non-existence, than we can, for the same reason, deny the existence of body ; it being as rational to affirm there is no body, because we have no clear and distinct idea of the substance of matter, as to say there is no spirit, because we have no clear and distinct idea of the substance of a spirit." " Every act of sensation, when duly considered, gives us an equal view of both parts of nature, the corporeal and spiritual. For whilst I know, by seeing or hearing, &c. that there is some corporeal being without me, the object of that sensation ; I do more certainly know, that there is some spiritual being within me that sees and hears. This, I must be convinced, cannot be the action of bare insensible matter; nor ever could be, without an im- material thinking being." * The impossibility of defining substance in general, other- wise than as something in which certain attributes inhere, is what induced Locke to repeat so frequently the assertion, that we have no clear and distinct idea of this common substratum. But that he did not intend thereby to question or deny the reality of substance, or of our idea of it, such as it is, appears from his indignant disavowal of the charge * Locke, on Human Understanding, Book 2. Ch. xxiii. § § 5, 15. 142 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. in the letters to Bishop Stillingfleet. We must confine our extract to a single sentence, but it is a decisive one. " As long as there is any simple idea or sensible quality left, according to .'my way of arguing, substance cannot be discarded ; because all simple ideas, all sensible qualities, carry with them a supposition of a substratum to exist in, and of a substance wherein they inhere; and of this that whole chapter is so full, that I chal- lenge any one who reads it to think that I have almost, or one jot, discarded substance out of the reasonable part of the world." It appears almost incredible, that Cousin, with these pas- sages before him, should accuse Locke of " everywhere repelling the idea of substance," — of " converting sub- stance into a collection and making all things to be words," — of " a systematic identification {nee mens hie sermo est.) of substance and qualities, of being and phenomena." But let him be judged by his own words and quotations. *' Locke, however, everywhere repels the idea of substance, and when he officially explains it, he resolves it into a collection of simple ideas of sensation, or of reflection. B. IL ch. XXIII. ^^ 3, 4, 6 ; ****** no other idea of substances than what is framed by a collection of simple ideas.' ****** It is by such combinations of simple ideas, and nothing else, that we represent particular sorts of substances to ourselves.' " * The mistake here is so gross, that we can only account for it on the supposition of the writer's imperfect acquaint- ance with the English language. Cousin speaks of " sub- stance," in the singular, that is, in general ; Locke, of " substances," in the plural, that is, of particular bodies. Of course, the latter's real opinion is the very one, which his critic seeks to establish against him. One other quota- tion is made, but as it only contains the denial that we have any " clear and distinct " idea of substance, the point at * Elements of Psychology ^ p. 119. THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 143 issue is not affected by it. Cousin's arguments are wholly misapplied, and his rhetoric is thrown away. We have thus far followed Cousin's criticism step by step, that our readers might judge of the correctness with which Locke's theory is expounded by him, not from a few instances culled here and there, but by following the critic's own track from the very commencement, taking all the subjects which he selected for attack, and considering them in his own order. Out of the first five points examined, Locke is grossly misrepresented upon four, in which a doctrine is charged upon him, that he repudiates with quite as much earnestness as his critic. We do not accuse Cousin of intentional misrepresentation, but he seems to have commenced his work with a preconceived opinion, that in all essential respects the system developed in the " Essay on Human Understanding " must coincide with the theory of Condillac. He can see nothing which makes against this hypothesis, but fights most manfully against the Sensual system of his own countryman, thinking all the time that he is contending against Locke. So far as the English philosopher is concerned, his blows are all spent upon the air. As our limits do not permit us to continue this minute examination of the lectures, we pass on now to those pas- sages, where the writer's own views are developed at great- er length, and where the opposition between him and Locke becomes real and manifest. Cousin finds fault with the order which is given for the acquisition of our ideas ; he denies that we begin with simple ideas and then proceed to those which are complex, because, as he argues, many of our faculties come into exercise at once, and the com- pound idea that is formed by their simultaneous action, must be analyzed by a subsequent effort of the understanding, before we arrive at simple notions. If this theory be given 144 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. to account for the action of mind in its mature state, it is partially correct ; but if intended to describe the first steps of knowledge, to give a history of the infant mind, and such was clearly the intention of Locke, it is wholly erro- neous. Of course, many avenues to knowledge are opened at once, and several agencies are exerted at the same mo- ment. But the question is, whether the different elements, coming through separate channels, are at once referred to the same object, and therefore are immediately united and bound together in one complex idea. All observation proves the contrary. The infant perceives the color of an object long before he ascertains its shape by touch, still longer before he connects the idea of figure with that of variety in light and shade, so that he can infer the tangible from the visible qualities. The child can count ten before he can a hundred. Even to the adult, it is probable that many ideas arrive in succession, which, from the quickness of the mental operations, appear to come together. The synthesis really precedes the analysis, though by the force of habit, the former operation is so quickly and easily per- formed, that it requires an effort to stay the process and watch the steps ; just as the eye of a practised accountant runs over a column of figures and determines their sum, though a moment afterwards he cannot recollect an item in the list, or recall one step in the addition. A compound habitually formed may be as difficult to analyze, as one presented to us in the first instance. Cousin has mistaken one source of the difficulty for another, and thus shows himself at fault in the first requisite of his method, — accu- rate observation. On the theory of general ideas, Locke, like most other English metaphysicians, is an avowed and consistent Nom- inalist. He maintains, that general terms belong not to the real existence of things, but are the mere creatures of THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 145 the understanding, formed for its convenience, and relate only to signs, whether these signs be words or ideas. This doctrine is so plain and self-evident, that it seems to re- quire nothing else for its confirmation, but an appeal to consciousness. All the objects that we know as real ex- istences are particular, and any proposition framed with respect to them must be limited in its application to the very things, that are specified in it. The truth of such a proposition may be tested by actual experiment, or, through the imagination, by the picture that the mind forms of the object, which is sufficiently accurate in many cases to enable us to decide without further trouble, whether or not the assertion conforms to the truth. But when abstract propositions are before the mind, the conceptive or i?nage- forming faculty is at rest, and no reference of the sign to the thing signified is possible, except by assuming an indi- vidual as the type of a class. The possibility of reasoning in some cases with mere words, to which no ideas are at- tached further than as they are considered in certain rela- tions to each other, is proved by the existence of such a science as algebra. That all abstract reasoning is of this character is a fact equally certain, for the connexion be- tween the premises and conclusion of a syllogism depends entirely on the relation which the words used bear to each other, and is independent of the meaning of those words ; the examples taken in a treatise upon logic being usually nothing but letters of the alphabet. Cousin admits all this, but with his usual parade of Ec- lecticism professes to find some truth in the opposite hy- pothesis. He censures Locke for his exclusive Nominalism, and undertakes to show in opposition to him, that there are some general ideas which imply the real existence of their object. Though he affirms, that " there is equal truth and equal error in the two theories," when the matter comes 13 146 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. to a point, he adduces but two examples in support of Realism, — the ideas of space and time. The selection was certainly unfortunate, if there were many to choose from, but we suspect that they were the only instances to be found, from which our author could raise the shadow of an argument in support of the Realist hypothesis. We copy his own statement of the proof. " It is certain, that when you speak of space, you have the convic- tion, that out of yourself there is something which is space ; as also, when you speak of time, you have the conviction that there is out of yourself something which is time, although you know neither the nature of time nor of space. Different times and different spaces, are not the constituent elements of space and time ; time and space are not solely for you the collection of different times and different spaces. But you believe that time and space are in themselves, that it is not two or three spaces, two or three ages, which consti- tute space and time ; for, every thing derived from experience, whether in respect to space or to time, is finite, and the character- istic of space and^of time for you is to be infinite, without begin- ning and without end; time resolves itself into eternity, and space into immensity. In a word, an invincible belief in the reality of time and of space, is attached by you to the general idea of time and space. This is what the human mind believes; this is what consciousness testifies. Here the phenomenon is precisely the re- verse of that which I just before signalized ; and while the general idea of a book does not suppose in the mind the conviction of the existence of any thing which is book in itself, here, on the contrary, to the general idea of time and of space, is united the invincible conviction of the reality of something which is space and time."* We say nothing here of the writer's inconsistency in ad- mitting so large a portion of Kant's system, and still deny- ing, as he does in the passage before us, the fundamental doctrine of the Critical Philosophy, — the subjective char- acter of space and time. We pass over the incongruity, because, in relation to this doctrine, we hold with Cousin Elements of Psychology, pp. 187, 188. THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 147 against the conclusions of Kant. Certainly we believe in the reality of space apart from the mind in which it is con- ceived. But this admission tends not in the slightest de- gree to the support of the Realist hypothesis, unless it be shown that our conception of space is properly ranked among universals, or general ideas. The quiet assumption of this important step in the argument is one example, among many that might be offered, of Cousin's careless and superficial manner of observing and classifying the phe- nomena of mind. Unlimited space is no general idea. It is not the name of a class comprehending many, individu- als under it, but it is a whole, which does not admit even of division into parts, except by a license of language, as it were, for the convenience of separate and partial consider- ation. A particular space is not an element of the one, all-embracing space, in the same sense in which oxygen is called one of the atmospherical gases ; but only as we speak of one portion of the atmosphere, — that contained in a room, for example, — in distinction from the remain- der, which is without. We do not pass from limited to un- limited space, as we do from a particular to a general idea, that is, by abstraction and synthesis ; but only by an en- largement of the primary idea, or, more properly speak- ing, by removing an arbitrary and fictitious limit. We commonly speak, indeed, of space in general and in particu- lar, but this use of the epithets is plainly figurative, referring only to the entire or the partial consideration of one idea. As perfectly similar observations are applicable to our con- ception of time, it is unnecessary to retrace our ground in reference to this idea. The attempt of Cousin, therefore, on the basis of these two notions of space and time to build up an argument in favor of Realism, must be regarded as a signal failure, as founded only on a gross misconception of the nature of the two examples adduced. 148 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. It is unnecessary to consider the criticism upon the Ideal theory as adopted by Locke, for in this portion of his la- bors our author has merely borrowed the doctrine and con- clusive reasoning of Reid and Stewart, with which English readers are already sufficiently familiar. The hypothesis of mediate knowledge, of a perception of things only through the intervention of representative ideas, was the great mistake of the philosophy of the eighteenth century, — the capital error into which Locke fell in common with nearly all his contemporaries and immediate predecessors. The refutation of this theory with all its hurtful consequen- ces is the great service, for which we are indebted to the Scotch metaphysicians of our own day, who performed the task so thoroughly as to leave nothing for their successors to accomplish. We do not blame Cousin for adopting their labors, for they had exhausted the subject, and no course was left, but to use their materials, or to pass over the mat- ter altogether. But it was ungenerous and unfair in him to charge a gross exaggeration of the exploded doctrine upon the system of Locke. It is not true, that the ideal theory, as maintained by Locke, either expressly adopts material- ism, or even leads to it by necessary inference. The rep- resentative idea may be an image of its object, but it is not a material image, the unsupported assertion of Cousin to the contrary notwithstanding. A direct statement of this sort, without argument or authority to support it, can be met only by a blunt denial and a call for the proofs. If there be any one problem in philosophy, which, more than all others, has been rendered confused and intricate, not from any intrinsic difficulty, but from the imperfections of language, and the difficulty of translating known mental phenomena into words, it is surely the question respecting the Freedom of the Will. In practice, no one ever doubt- ed, or can doubt, that such freedom exists. Actual and THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 149 firm-seated Pyrrhonism on this subject is impossible, for the voice of conscience, the mental experience of every mo- ment, and the intuitive and necessary assent of the under- standing, compel us to believe, and we constantly act out that belief. But as soon as we attempt to express the grounds of the conviction, difficulties are introduced by the phraseology we are obliged to use, and every step in the ar- gument only bewilders us still more, till at last we almost persuade ourselves to doubt. In his speculations on this subject, Locke's great merit consists in having clearly per- ceived this source of error. By a minute examination of the phraseology commonly employed, he proved that the words had only a forced and metaphorical application, while their literal and common signification is perpetually recurring to the mind, and leading it astray from the real point at issue. Thus, the designation of many separate faculties in the mind, as it leads to the supposition of so many distinct agents, has given rise to the question whether the will be free, instead of the only natural and intelligible inquiry, whether the man be free. Will is only a power, and as necessity implies the absence of power, it cannot be predicated of the will without a contradiction. The neces- sitarian doctrine, properly understood, amounts to a denial, that man has any will at all, and is therefore opposed by the direct evidence of consciousness. This criticism upon language, it is true, throws no light upon the main point at issue, but it has a subsidiary and not unimportant result in disclosing one great cause of erro- neous reasoning upon the subject. It is quite characteristic in Cousin wholly to misconceive the aim and purport of this speculation, and because Locke protests against the appli- cation of the word liberty to the word will, to understand thereby, that he denies freedom " to the will, and seeks for it either in the thinking faculty, or in the power of outward 13* 150 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. motion." Why, the whole gist of Locke's argument is to prove, that liberty cannot be predicated of the willing fac- ulty, the thinking faculty, the moving faculty, or any other faculty, but only of the man, — the indivisible Ego of con- sciousness. The proof of human freedom is considered afterwards, and placed precisely where Fichte and many of the later German philosophers have placed it ; namely, in the power, which the thinking subject possesses, when in presence of two or more diverse and nearly balanced mo- tives, to suspend the determining power of each and all these motives, until the judgment has had time to con- sider their relative importance. As we have no room for extracts on this point, we can only refer our readers to the fifty-second and fifty-sixth sections of Locke's chapter upon " Power." Cousin's own reasoning upon this head affords a striking instance of confusion, arising from the very cause which Locke has so clearly pointed out. Proposing to discuss the question about human agency, he introduces a long argu- ment to show that freedom cannot be ascribed to the under- standing, or to the outward act ; but only to the will. That it cannot be attributed to the two former, he proves ; that it is rightly ascribed to the latter, he takes for granted. All this is very well, only it is nothing to the purpose. The real question, which he does not touch, relates to the connexion between the understanding and the will. It is admitted on all hands, that motives are considered and balanced by the intellect ; but it is also admitted, that these motives influence, not to say determine, the will. The question, whether they act directly upon it, or only through the medium of the un- derstanding, is one of no importance. Some influence they undoubtedly have, but of what sort ? Is the influence cau- sal, necessary, imperative, — or only persuasive? Can it be resisted or not ? A moment's reflection upon our idea THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 151 of " necessary connexion " may throw some light upon this subject. In the external world, when one phenomenon immediate- ly and invariably succeeds another, we connect the two by the relation of cause and effect. Though nothing is per- ceived but the fact of close succession, we necessarily at- tribute to the first an efficient agency in producing the second. The power which fire has to inflame gunpowder, for instance, is not perceived. We see only the two events, that the spark falls, and the explosion instantly follows, and we assume the necessary connexion between the two by virtue of an original and instinctive law of belief A causal union never is perceived, and it is admitted to exist only on the ground of this primitive conviction of the un- derstanding. If we do not give full credit to this intuitive principle, there is no such thing as a necessary event in the world either of matter or of mind. Now if the question be asked, whether human agency is free, we reply, that its freedom is attested by the same species of evidence, by another law of human belief equally cogent with the first. In other words, there is precisely the same authority for " binding Nature fast in fate," and for " leaving free the human will." It will not do to receive the same testimo- ny in one case, which we have just rejected in another. Either I am free to choose between two courses of con- duct, or the word necessity has no meaning in it, and must be rejected altogether. One lecture of Cousin, according to the abstract which is placed at its head in the manner of a table of contents, contains an " examination of three important theories found in the ' Essay on Human Understanding ' ; I. theory of freedom, which inclines to Fatalism ; II. theory of the na- ture of the soul, which inclines to Materialism ; III. theory of the existence of God, which rests itself almost exclusive- 152 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. ly upon external proofs, drawn from the sensible world." We have already considered the first of these subjects, and now pass on to the second. The charge of materialism would be preferred with a better grace against the prin- ciples of the " Essay," if the argument in favor of the im- materiality of the thinking principle, with which the ac- cusation is introduced, were not entirely borrowed from Locke himself. Borrowed we say, for though it is not credible, that Cousin took the reasoning directly from the " Essay," where the sight of it must immediately have convinced him of the absurdity of his allegation, yet he must have obtained it at second hand from one of Locke's previous copyists ; probably from Reid or Stewart. Again, we have no room for extracts, but we entreat our readers who may possess the volume, to peruse the three hundred and twenty-sixth and three hundred and twenty-seventh pages of the " Elements of Psychology," and then to read over again the extracts from Stewart and Locke in the pre- ceding part of this article in connexion with the idea of substance. When they have satisfied themselves, as we are sure they will do, that the reasoning of the two writers is precisely the same, they will be prepared to appreciate the fairness of the critic's accusation. No one can blame Cousin for borrowing an able argument to prove the imma- teriality of the soul ; but when, in mercantile phrase, he had " accomplished the loan," for him to turn round and accuse his benefactor of being himself a materialist, is rather too bad. The direct occasion of making the charge may as well be mentioned, for it affords a curious illustra- tion of the comparative humility of the two philosophers. With the inherent modesty of his disposition, Locke would not assert, that his argument amounted to a demonstration ; he declared, that it was satisfactory to him, and that the point was " proved to the highest degree of probability," THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 153 but he admitted, that we could not set limits to Divine power on this subject, or show that it was impossible for Omnipotence to superadd the faculty of thinking to systems of matter, when fitly disposed. Cousin puts forth the same reasoning as his own, declares that it is equivalent to a de- monstration, and that Locke's humble and cautious estimate of his means of defence amounts to a virtual desertion to the enemy. If there be any of our readers, who, perplexed by the careless and inconsistent language too often em- ployed by Locke, still think there is some basis for this charge of materialism, let them turn to the celebrated chap- ter on the existence of a God ; let them consider the nature of the proof employed ; let them examine particularly the long and elaborate argument against the supposition of a material deity ; and then, perhaps, they will believe with us, — not that our French critic knowingly fabricated a base calumny against the author he pretended to review, for we believe him to be an honest man, though a weak and vain one, — but that he never read this portion of the " Essay," except perhaps a few headings of the sections, or he must have seen, that his accusation was utterly groundless and absurd. The third charge above mentioned, which concerns the nature of the argument for proving the being of a God, opens to us a wide field of discussion, which we must pass over in a hurried and imperfect manner. The inquiry will be more surely conducted, if, before we attempt to weigh the different proofs against each other, we determine defi- nitely in our own minds, how much we are to expect from any or all of them. We hold, that demonstrative argu- ments are confined to the sphere of abstract ideas, and are never properly applied to real existences. The geometer and algebraist are busied about pure abstractions, and the results which they obtain, must be qualified in a material 154 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. degree, before they are applicable to practice, or can be verified by experiment. The Deity is not a mere idea ; His existence is a fact, the most momentous of all facts. Such, at least, we conceive, is the Christian conception of a God, — a real and personal Being, properly distinguished from His works, though everywhere present in those works. As such, the reality of His being must be made evident to our finite capacities through moral proofs. We do not say, that the argument does not amount to a demon- stration, for this would imply that the reasoning we are obliged to use is less cogent and conclusive than that of the mathematician, a point which we by no means admit ; but we do say, that it is not a demonstration. Moral proof raised to the highest point does not differ in degree, but in kind, from demonstrative evidence. On a thousand inde- pendent subjects, the convictions of the geometer are quite as firmly fixed, as on those which he has just established by means of diagrams and figures, " that never lie." At any rate, enough is done to secure the full measure of hu- man responsibility on this awful subject, to make man just- ly accountable for denying his God, when it is shown, that among all the expectations and probabilities, by which the actions of this life, from the most insignificant to the most important, are governed, there is not one more firmly sup- ported, than that which points to the separate existence of an all-wise and all-benevolent Creator and Governor of the universe. We are perfectly aware, that this view of the matter does not supply an argumentum ad hominem to M. Cousin. He talks with perfect consistency about demonstrating the existence of a God, for he not only reasons from pure ab- stractions, but he identifies the object of his inquiry with an abstract idea. According to his theory, the three elements of pure Reason, the idea of the Finite, the Infinite, and THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 155 their relation, do not afford a passage to the Divine exist- ence, " for these ideas are God himself." These three ele- ments, " a triplicity which resolves itself into unity, and an unity which developes itself into triplicity," constitute the Divine Intelligence itself, — the triajuncta in uno, the mys- tery of the Godhead. " Up to this height. Gentlemen," he exclaims in the most impressive style of French eloquence, " Up to this height. Gentlemen, does our intelligence upon the wings of ideas, — to speak with Plato, — elevate itself. Here is that thrice holy God, whom the family of man re- cognises and adores, and before whom the octogenary au- thor of the ' Systeme du Monde ' bowed and uncovered his head, whenever he was named. But we are now above the world, above humanity, above human reason. [True.] We are no longer in nature, and in humanity ; we are only in the world of ideas." * Those who are satisfied with this conception of the Deity can accept also Cousin's demon- strative proof of His existence. But for ourselves, we want words to express our indignation against this impious Harle- quinade of words, — this mode of binding together three dry sticks of abstract ideas, and then baptizing the miser- able fagot as God. In estimating the validity of the objections to the argu- ment a posteriori, it is important to remember, that they have neither force nor application, except against the un- wise assertion, that this argument is demonstrative in its character. They leave absolutely untouched the over- whelming probability, — we use the word in its technical and logical meaning, — the moral certainty, which results from this chain of reasoning, when considered only as a moral proof. Take an instance from one branch of the main argument, the reasoning from final causes. It is idle * Introduction to the History of Philosophy, pp. 131, 132, 158. 156 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. for the skeptic and the Transcendentalist to assert, that adaptation does not prove design, when they must admit in the same breath, that it creates so strong a presumption of design, that a man would be a fit tenant of Bedlam, — caput insanabile trihus Anticyris, — who would not act upon the proposition with quite as firm assurance, as if he were enunciating any theorem in Euclid. Yet Paley's ad- mirable work has been impeached, because he did not waste his own time and his readers' patience in an attempt to sub- stantiate this simple proposition, — because he coolly took it for granted. We do not rest the whole, or even the chief, stress of the argument for the Divine existence upon this single point. We hold, that the argument is naturally cumulative, for the very reason, that it is not a demonstra- tive, but a moral, proof. We admit all branches of it, therefore, the a priori no less than the a posteriori element, each holding its proper place and adding its due share to conviction. We only protest, — and here lies the point of the matter for Cousin and his adherents, — against the vir- tual rejection of the argument from the effect to the cause, because it is said, forsooth, to be the fungous growth of a diseased tree, — the offspring of that mighty bugbear, the Sensual philosophy. The charge against Locke, — and it is treated as a grave one, is, that he grounds his reasoning " almost exclusively upon external proofs drawn from the sensible world." Though we have hitherto reasoned as if the charge was well founded, it turns out, as might be expected after the tissue of misrepresentations which we have exposed, that the matter of the indictment is not more than half true. Man's own existence is the only datum, the only sensible fact, that is appealed to in the argument ; from this point the reasoning is direct, by a short series of intuitive proposi- tions, up to the being of a God. Even this existence is sub- THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 157 sequently explained (see Sec. 18th) to be a spiritual exis- tence, the point of the argument turning upon man not as a material, but a thinking, creature. Locke's selection of an argument does not appear to us a very happy one, and we have already given our reasons for not considering it as de- monstrative, though we thereby contradict his favorite doc- trine. But it would be quite as well to represent his rea- soning correctly, before making it the subject of criticism. Locke's real offence consists in rejecting the Cartesian method of treating the argument. To rest the whole weight of the proof on the idea of God as it exists in the human mind, is the course which Locke censures as partial and unwise. He admits, that there is some force in this consid- eration, that it may have some influence on minds of a pe- culiar cast ; but he blames the proceeding of those, who, " out of an over-fondness for that darling invention, cashier, or at least endeavor to invalidate all other arguments, and forbid us to hearken to those proofs, as being weak or falla- cious, which our own existence and the sensible parts of the universe offer so clearly and so cogently to our thoughts, that I deem it impossible for a considering man to with- stand them." A more wise and catholic doctrine, than this it would be difficult to imagine ; it stands opposed to that narrovv^ bigotry, which Cousin has contributed of late to re- vive among us, which, in the foolish dread of a Sensualist tendency, would reject all appeals to that glorious book of external nature, that lies constantly open before us, written all over, within and without, with the name of the Father of all. The original argument of Descartes has been reproduced in later times under various forms, the most noted of v/hich are those of Cousin and Benjamin Constant. Admitting, as we do without reserve, that this argument has its weight and should be allowed full companionship with the others, 14 158 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. we may still refuse to discard all the rest for its sake, or even to allow it the chief place among them. Considered alone, it lies open to the serious objection, that it affords no direct answer to the reasoning of the skeptic. Establish as strongly as may be the fact, that the human mind is never without the idea of a superior and more perfect directing Intelligence, — prove both from history and philosophy, that man is naturally and of necessity a religious being, — the scoffer and the doubter will both demand to be shown, that this idea corresponds to a real existence, that this faith rests upon a solid foundation, that man is not that unhappy being compelled to accept what he cannot defend, and to believe where he can produce no evidence. They will say, that it is doing little honor to our faith to reduce it to the rank of a necessary prejudice. We mistake the scope and purpose of skepticism, when we assume, that its sole object is to refute certain articles of faith. The intention of the Pyrrhonist is to discredit the whole intellectual faculty, to sap the very foundations of belief, by establishing ceaseless warfare between instinctive faith, and calm investigating reason. No one is more forward than Hume to admit, that we 7nust believe in the principle of causality, in our own existence, in the reality of an external world. But it was the aim of his sophistry to show, that these primitive beliefs were at variance with known facts and sound logic, were contradictory and self-destructive, and that we were com- pelled to entertain them, even when their veracity had been successfully impeached to ourselves. Behind all these ad- missions, the presence of which in his Writings has perplex- ed many of his assailants, we perceive the mocking glee of the acute logician, who triumphs by the use of his adversa- ry's own weapon. Hence the contemptuous satisfaction with which he received the attacks of his unskilful oppo- nents, Beattie and others, and sometimes of a more redoubt- THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. 159 able champion, Reid himself, who, by their appeals to com- mon sense and universal belief, often played into his hands and strengthened his argument. Before skepticism of this sort, it is evident, that the reasoning of the French philoso- phers is powerless, for it does not touch the point. Our examination of the peculiarities of Cousin's specula- tions has been necessarily brief, but it may convey some' idea of the spirit and tendency of his philosophy, and of the points of contrast which it presents with systems previ- ously established. We have criticised his writings with perfect freedom, though with no hostile feeling or precon- ceived prejudice, but from a sincere desire to do that justice to him, which he has certainly failed to render to one of the greatest names in the list of English philosophers. Noth- ing has been said of the strong national feeling, which has evidently blunted his perception of the defects of the Car- tesian philosophy, caused him to treat with the utmost ten- derness even his avowed opponents of Condillac's school, and betrayed him into an illiberal and unjust attack upon the principles of Locke. Had his gross misconceptions and unfounded criticism of these principles been confined to his own country, they might well be passed over here without exposure. But there are those among us, who, in- capable of judging or too indolent to examine for them- selves, have taken up these charges at second hand, and repeated them so often and confidently, that a name once almost venerated wherever the English language was known, has become associated in the minds of many with all that is degrading, skeptical, and unsound in philosophi- cal opinion. It would be asking quite too much from such persons, to entreat them to weigh and ponder with caution the shallow and fantastic speculations, which it is intended to substitute for the ostracized philosophy ; but in the name of all truth and fairness, let them cease to echo borrowed 160 THE PHILOSOPHY OF COUSIN. charges, until they have, — we do not say, examined, — but read the writings against which they are directed. We are far, very far, from being indiscriminate admirers of Locke. It would be strange, indeed, if the progress of speculative inquiry since his time had not opened many new fields of research, and corrected many errors, into which he had fallen. But the catholic spirit in which his great work is written, the entire absence of pretension in enunciating his opinions, the wisdom of his practical views, the sagacity and good sense with which the inquiry is con- ducted, and, — we do not scruple to say it, — the general soundness of his doctrines, are qualities that must insure to him study and respect, as long as the language shall endure. To his example, more than to any other single cause, the healthy and judicious tone of English speculations in phi- losophy for more than a century is properly to be attributed. He is the proper father of Reid and Stewart with their school, who, we must say, have rendered him but scanty justice, and the proper opposite of Cousin, who has treated him with no justice at all. There are many points in his " Essay," which now require to be limited and explained. There are some doctrines, which we would fain cut away altogether. But there remains after all, as we verily be- lieve, a greater body of truths first clearly set forth by him and still unimpeached, than in any other single work on a corresponding subject, that has appeared since the re- vival of letters. PALEY : THE ARGUMENT FOR THE BEING OF A GOD. 161 V. PALEY: THE ARGUMENT, FOR THE BEING OF A GOD.* This is a pleasant sight for those who continue to respect the name and writings of Paley. His work on Natural Theology, which, in itself, fills but one volume of moderate size, is here swelled into five goodly tomes, by the aid of notes and introductory and supplementary matter. And the men who are content to fill this humble part, to glean in the footsteps of Paley, are two of England's most distin- guished sons ; — an eminent surgeon, and a statesman not more remarkable for great legal and political ability, than for various learning and an apt and versatile genius. Such are the persons, who are willing to act as commentators, to be mere hewers of wood and drawers of water, in their lit- erary capacity, to one who occupied, during his whole life, a rather humble position in the English church, all hope of advancement being cut off by no lightly founded suspicions * From the JVorth American Review for January, 1842. ^ Discourse on Natural Theology, showing the Nature of the Evi- dence and the Advantages of the Study. By Henry Lord Brougham, F. R. S. London. 1835. Paley' s Natural Theology, with Illustrative Notes. By Henry Lord Brougham, F. R. S. and Sir Charles Bell, K. G. H., &c. To which are added Supplementary Dissertations. By Sir Charles Bell. London. 1836 Dissertations on Subjects of Science connected with Natural Theolo- gy ; being the concluding Volumes of the JVew Edition of Paley s Work, ^y Henry Lord Brougham, F. R. S. London. 1839. 14* 162 paley: the argument of heterodoxy. But such a testimonial was fairly due to the character and influence of the works of Paley. We do not derogate from the reputation of Sir Charles Bell and Lord Brougham, nor undervalue the importance of their present undertaking, when we assert, that the fruit of all their labors is but dust in the balance, when compared with the original work ; and to their connexion with it they are indebted for a great part of the interest and favor, where- with their publication has been received. There are those, who, filled with the spirit of an age fond of exaggerating the merits and successes of its own sons, while it regards the lights of a former generation with a supercilious and hypercritical air, can see nothing but the marked defects of Paley's mind and writings, and are wholly unable to account for his extraordinary influence and popularity. That many acute and philosophical treati- ses on the same subject, replete with the learning and sci- ence of the present day, are already becoming the property of spiders and trunk-makers, while a writer who had no genius for metaphysics, and who committed blunders in speculation which tyros can laugh at now-a-days, is univer- sally read and admired, is for such critics a puzzling and mortifying fact. There is no physic that can purge away self-conceit, and no logic that can disarm or silence preju- dice. We might else hope, that a fair consideration of the strong and weak points of this author, would clear up some difficulties in this problem, and assist such individuals in reconciling their theory with the facts in the case. But though it may not shake preconceived opinions, or put an end to cavilling, it may serve to place in a clearer light the questions in dispute, and supply some hints for a general solution of them. An attempt to define with accuracy the characteristics of a writer, and the nature and scope of the FOR THE BEING OP A GOD. 163 argument which he employed, may remove some prevailing misapprehensions respecting both. The three principal works of Paley, his " Moral Philoso- phy," " Evidences of Christianity," and " Natural Theolo- gy," appear to be animated with nearly the same purpose, and executed on a very similar plan. The aim is entirely a practical one, the writer desiring to produce a particular effect upon his readers, and keeping this end in view throughout with a remarkable unity, both of design and performance. And a great part of the effect which his works produce, is probably due to the clear manifestation of this simplicity of purpose. The reader perceives at once, that the author is honest ; is not playing with him ; is not thinking of his own appearance or reputation ; is not desi- rous of displaying his stores of learning and science, or of exciting admiration by his eloquence, the subtilties of his reasoning, or the originality of his views. He goes straight forward to his object, to convince his readers of some great truth, or to persuade them to a certain course of conduct. There is none of the sensitiveness of an author about him ; — none of that petty feeling, which is nervously alive to a charge of plagiarism, but seeks every opportunity to pilfer without being detected ; which will set forward a poor or weak argument in preference to a better one, because the former is all his own, while some one has used the latter before him. All was manliness and fair-dealing on the part of Paley. His inquiry respecting an argument or a remark was not, whether it was new, or bore the appear- ance of ingenuity, or opened a field for eloquent amplifica- tion ; — but whether it was effective ; whether it advanced his main, his single purpose. He took his materials wher- ever he could find them, no source being too suspicious, or too low, or too common, provided that it afforded matter, which furthered his ends. Consequently, there are few I 164 PALEY : THE ARGUMENT works which appear, at first sight, to contain so little that is new, while there are none wherein the subject is treated with such real originality. It is an old remark, that his " Evidences of Christianity " are a mere compilation from Lardner, and that his " Natural Theology " is founded upon the works of Ray and Derham. In one sense this is true, for he made very liberal use of these writers. In another, it is false, for the great merits of his works can be traced to no predecessor, and he imitated no one. The borrower, the imitator, is detected and disgraced, for he can never surpass one whom he follows, and the original must at last assert its own superior worth. But Paley has wholly supplanted the very authors to whom he is most in- debted. His books have pushed Lardner, and Ray, and Derham off the shelves, or consigned them to those persons, who hope to glean a little more in the field which he work- ed to such marvellous advantage. It may seem strange to put forward honesty as one of the great merits of Paley, and the main source of his populari- ty and influence. But the truth is, that this quality is far more rare among the writers on such subjects, than is com- monly imagined. Men have published works on natural theology, not to prove the existence of a God, but to show their own metaphysical acumen ; nay, sometimes they have written them only to disprove the common notions on the subject, and to manufacture a deity suited to their own pur- poses, and consonant with their philosophical system. They have filled huge tomes with the evidences of Christianity, which should have been lettered on the backs, " Proofs of the Author's Erudition." This same quality of perfect honesty, this forgetfulness of self, and entire devotion to the avowed object, whether it be the pursuit of truth, or the inculcation of virtue, can be attributed to but very few of the great writers and thinkers of any age. It manifests FOR THE BEING OF A GOD. 165 itself in simplicity and raciness of style, and earnestness of manner, which produce their effect not merely on a few in- dividuals or on a particular class, but work equally upon the minds of all persons, and exert an influence, that, in breadth and depth, appears wholly disproportionate to the means employed. An indefinable charm runs through books composed in this spirit, which enlists a vast majority of minds in their favor, in spite of the faults, numerous and glaring though they be, which keen-eyed criticism detects, and malevolent or envious feelings expose. And the at- traction continues, moreover, for an indefinite period ; for, not being dependent merely upon novelty, it does not dis- appear with the first gloss. Paley's object, we have said, was a practical one. He was far less an inquirer afier truth, than a teacher of virtue. His works were not written for the discovery and difilision of new truths, but for the establishment and inculcation of old ones. He wrote, not to satisfy or amuse the learned and critical few, but to guide and instruct the many ; and the eflTect, which he aimed to produce, must be estimated quite as much by the quantity, as the quality. In this dis- tinction, we apprehend, may be found a key to his most marked excellences and defects. Hence, that unrivalled clearness of statement, that terseness of language, that abundance of forcible but homely illustration, that close and orderly array of argument, and those brief, but nervous touches of eloquence, with which the whole composition is seasoned. To the same cause may be traced his principal faults ; — his abandonment of the more abstruse parts of the subject, his deficiency in subtile reasoning, his dislike of metaphysical abstractions, his want of ideality and enthu- siasm, as shown by the adoption of a somewhat plain and coarse standard of virtue, and in opposing the allurements of vice by purely selfish considerations. It may be said, 166 PALEY : THE ARGUMENT that, with such characteristics, his works are fitted only for popular use, and are unworthy of consideration in compa- ny with the learned and scientific treatises, to which the world is indebted for the real advancement of truth. This remark would apply, undoubtedly, to writings conceived on the same plan, but executed with inferior ability. But the excellence of his productions has raised them out of the sphere for which they seem to be designed, and has subject- ed them to a species of criticism, which should be reserved for works of an entirely different character. We speak of the sphere for which they seem to be designed, for, not- withstanding their grave defects, they exert great influence upon all classes of readers, and Paley hims'elf certainly aimed at something higher than writing a book merely for the uninstructed multitude. The attractions of his style, and the sort of argument that he employed, are so powerful toward conviction, that the mind of any reader is carried away by them perforce, in spiie of the gaps and errors, which may be discovered on a critical examination, but which, after all, are only of secondary importance. The influence of his manner in this respect may be compared to that of a clear statement of facts by a plain speaker, which often destroys the effect of the highest flights of elo- quence. It has been frequently said, that his mind had little power of generalizing, and was wholly unfitted for metaphysical speculations. To this remark in its whole compass we do not assent, for there are not a few passages in his works, which betray no mean power of refined and accurate reason- ing, of subtile analysis, and, at times, of forming the most comprehensive views. But these qualities are not predom- inant, and that for the most obvious reason, — they were not called into play by the execution of his design. Their frequent exercise would have marred his chief purpose, to FOR THE BEING OF A GOD. 167 produce a wide effect by adapting his work to the taste and comprehension of all. Still further ; in reference to the book, in which the absence of these qualities has been most complained of, his " Natural Theology," we must be per- mitted to maintain, without any disrespect for metaphysics, that Paley's course was not only the best adapted to his pur- pose, but that it is the only true and proper method ; that, in the main body of the argument, the refinements and ab- stractions of the metaphysician are wholly out of place, are easily opposed by weapons of the same character and equal force, and can never lead to any satisfactory result. We say, in the main body of the argument, for there are branch- es of the subject, that must be treated after the manner of Clarke, or not at all. Far the greater part of Paley's book is occupied with proving the existence and goodness of the Deity; and, for establishing these points, we main- tain that his mode of reasoning is the only correct and sat- isfactory one, that has ever been proposed. Of course, the argument is his only by adoption ; for it is substantially the same with that of Socrates and Cicero, of Bacon and Locke, and, as we verily believe, it has constituted the only substantial ground of belief in the mind of every well- informed theist, that ever lived. We propose to defend this position at some length, but we must now return for a moment to our immediate subject, the peculiarhies of the mind and writings of Paley. The practical and Socratic turn of the writer's mind, and his aversion to general speculations, appear most obviously in his book on Moral Philosophy, which, able as it is, is far more exceptionable in theory than either of his subsequent publications. It appears difficult to account for the fact, that one of such pure intentions and character could contrive a system of morals, that is so unsound in doctrine and perni- cious in its results. We refer only to the definition of vir- 168 paley: the argument tue, on which the work is based, for the subsequent portions of the volume, relating entirely to practical ethics, are near- ly faultless in design and admirably executed. The defini- tion consists of three clauses, in each of which a grave error is involved. " Virtue consists in doing good to man- kind, in obedience to the will of God, and for ihe sake of everlasting happiness." It is enough to say, that benevo- lence is not the whole duty of man ; that right is of inhe- rent and necessary obligation, anterior to all command ; and that a selfish regard to our future welfare, far from constituting the only proper motive, vitiates the whole act, and is destructive of the very essence of virtue. But the error of forming such a grossly erroneous definition is pal- liated, when we observe, that benevolence is among the most important and comprehensive of all our duties, and one which most needs to be stimulated ; that the divine command supplies the most imposing and efficient of all sanctions to the moral law ; and that looking to reward only in a future life is such a refined and pure regard for our own happiness, that it hardly deserves the name of self- ishness. This account of virtue, therefore, though wholly erroneous in theory, may easily be mistaken for a most useful one in practice. It is precisely such a one as a mor- alist would be likely to frame, who, careless about merely speculative truth, and indifferent to the praise of originating a complete and elaborate system of ethics, should make it his only aim to be practically useful to his fellow-beings, by alluring them in the most persuasive manner to the prac- tice of virtue. We do not mean, that Paley actually saw the error of his own theory, and passed over it intentional- ly, because he believed a faulty definition would be more useful than a correct one. He had far too much reverence for truth, too firm . a belief, that whatever is erroneous or false is also least expedient, to stoop to such an unworthy FOR THE BEING OF A GOD. 169 course. But the whole cast of his disposition inclined to practical benevolence ; his whole ambition centred in the desire of doing good to his fellow-men. In his investiga- tion of any subject, he was led- by an imperceptible bias to that conclusion, which promised most effectually to sub- serve the interests of mankind. Those who are most loud in their denunciations of his base and selfish morality, would do well to imitate his philanthropy, while they avoid his faulty and mistaken speculations. We have said, that he was deficient in enthusiasm. He possessed a shrewd and penetrating mind, that looked quite through the motives and dispositions of his fellow-men, and formed such nutriment for them, as he judged to be best suited to their present tastes and capacities. He framed no ideal standard ; he set up no lofty conception of virtue, im- posing in its purity and grandeur, but chilling by its remote- ness and difficulty of attainment. Hence, there was some danger lest he should compromise with principle, and admit rules of conduct, which in som.e cases might offend a nice and delicate sense of rectitude. But the purity of his taste in ethics, and his caution in limiting the application of his principles, preserved him from this error ; and the sternest moralist will find no cause for censure in his practical expo- sitions of virtue. He was skilful in casuistry, and often framed nice distinctions, but the conclusion was invariably on the safe side. As a compend of practical morality, therefore, his work is invaluable. He is never vao-ue in enunciating his rules, and never declamatory in enforcing them. His argument is inimitable in force and conciseness, and often rises without effort to the height of eloquence. The language never admits of a doubt as to its meaning, and the terseness of expression, together with the homely but apposite illustrations, often produces the same pleasing surprise, as refined wit. Though many may deem the com- 15 170 PALEY : THE ARGUMENT parison too honorable to Paley, we confess that his naanner often renriinds us of Socrates, as represented in the " Memo- rabilia," confuting the Sophists, and teaching virtue about the streets. His shrewdness, good sense, and occasional humor, his pithy arguments and familiar style, his mode of vanquishing an opponent with his own weapons, his use of striking but homely figures, and the pure and elevated phi- losophy of his discourses, are all in the best manner of the Grecian sage. Though he sometimes handles general principles with ease and correctness, his mind was not naturally a compre- hensive one. He divided a subject into minute parts, and considered them in succession. In argument, he attached himself to the strong points of his subject, and flashed the light of a dark lantern upon them, while their branches and connexions with the surrounding parts were left in obscuri- ty. His reasoning can seldom be confuted, but the op- ponent may sometimes get out of its range, by taking up the matter from a side which he had never contemplated. This defect, again, arose from the wish to adapt his work to common minds. He chose that aspect of a question, which most readily offers itself, and presented it with such force and clearness, that the inquirer remained satisfied with the demonstration, and felt no desire to pursue the subject further. Paley was cautious about overlaying the argument, or wearying the beholder with an attempt to stop every crevice in the walls, when the first glance showed that the fortress was impregnable. His work was deficient in scientific completeness, but it answered its end ; it convinced the reader. There is no wordiness, nor mys- ticism, nor affectation of technical phrases in his writings. He never seeks to get out of a difficulty by raising a cloud of words, nor to escape from reasoning by running into declamation, nor to evade an argument in any matter what- FOR THE BEING OF A GOD. 171 ever. There is a delightful simplicity and honJiomie in his clear and powerful way of slating an objection, which he then proceeds to demolish in the same plain and forcible manner. Frankness and candor breathe from every page of his writings, and one relishes these qualities the more under such circumstances, because they are not usually to be found in controversial writings of the same class. Men have written in defence of morality and religion, as if the sacredness of the subject absolved them from all obligations to use courtesy and fairness towards an opponent, and jus- tified all wiles and stratagems by which a victory might be obtained. Paley stooped to no such unworthy practices, and his fair dealing is rewarded by the docility of the reader, who soon finds himself compelled to follow submis- sively the train of argument, and seldom closes the book without having conceived an affection for the author. In- deed, the whole character of the writer, in all its strong and honest features, is imprinted on the work ; Montaigne did not convey a livelier image of himself to his readers. Much of the indefinable charm, which invests his writ- ings, must be attributed to this unconscious self-portraiture, though much is due also to the admirable qualities of his style. His chapter on " Reverencing the Deity " has al- ways appeared to us one of the most masterly compositions in the English language. It will suffer little by comparison with Lord Bacon's noble essay on Atheism, which, like the chapter in Paley, consists of only three or four pages, but is lighted up by the most brilliant flashes of the writer's glowing imagination. The great merit, which belongs to Paley for his work on " Natural Theology," may be best seen by comparison. Look at the state of the science since his death. An Eng- lish nobleman bequeaths a princely sum to be given to some person for writing a book on a branch of the same 172 PALEY : THE ARGUMENT subject. By the advice of the Bishop of London, the lega- cy is divided, and given in equal portions to six individuals, among the most distinguished in their respective sciences of any in the country ; and in a few years the result comes forth in the shape of six or eight thick octavos, called the " Bridgewater Treatises." Their publication may be of some advantage to the other sciences, but, as a contribution to Natural Theology, they can hardly be said to possess any merit whatever. Dr. Buckland has written a very good treatise on Geology, and Dr. Roget a very admirable one on Physiology, but the theological comments in each might be omitted altogether without detriment. The reader perceives at once, that the argument in respect to the Deity is a mere secondary affair ; that it is interpolated in an ordinary scientific treatise, with which it has no proper connexion. The portion of the general subject allotted to Dr. Chalmers was of such a nature, that he seemed com- pelled to confine himself to the theme assigned by the noble donor. Yet he has done his best to escape from the trammels, and frankly confesses some incongruity be- tween the title and the subject matter of his volumes. He embraced the opportunity to expatiate upon the philosophy of mind ; and the result of his labors only proves, that Dr. Chalmers is a clumsy writer, a weak reasoner, and a meta- physician equally deficient in learning, originality, and dis- cretion. It is an act of charity towards the writers to pass over some of the other treatises altogether. We have men- tioned those only, which possess some claims to attention. In spite of the high expectations created by the benevolent purpose of the Earl of Bridgewater, and the great efforts that were made to carry his wishes into effect, it seems that the loss of Paley's small volume would still be irrep- arable. Lord Brougham and Sir Charles Bell, in the volumes FOR THE BEING OF A GOD. 173 now before us, have limited iheir ambition to preparing a new edition of Paley's work, with copious notes and sup- plementary dissertations. They considered rightly, that their own lucubrations stood a better chance of being no- ticed and studied, if published in such a connexion, than if they appeared in an independent form. The desire of il- lustrating the original, we consider as a mere pretence. Paley's command of language and illustration renders all aid unnecessary, even for the most shallow capacity. He who runs may read and understand. Even the anatomical portions of the work do not require the aid of engravings in order to be fully understood. A description couched in the simplest and most graphic terms, and a homely com- parison, — the latch or hinge of a door, the teeth of a saw, or the packing of a box, — make the whole structure in question as plain as day. That Paley was not a surgeon by profession only renders his explanations the more intel- ligible to ordinary minds. There was less danger of sliding unawares into the use of technical terms, or of presuming too much on the reader's stock of previous knowledge. Though Sir Charles Bell writes with a fair share of ease and perspicuity, it will generally be found, when he adds a note for the mere purpose of elucidating the text, that the explanation is less clear than the original. He supplies a few other instances of adaptation from the structure of the human frame, but adds nothing to the argument, and his labors, on the whole, rather encumber the work. Lord Brougham's " Preliminary Discourse " has already been noticed at length in the pages of the " North American Review," and we have nothing to add to that estimate of its merits and defects. The noble writer at least confines himself to the subject, whatever may be thought of the ability with which it is treated. But we cannot say as much of the " Dissertations," two thick volumes of which 15* 174 PALEY : THE ARGUMENT are appended to this edition. They contain a parade of various, though not very profound learning, on a number of subjects, some of them bearing about the same relation to Natural Theology tliat they do to the study of Sanscrit, or the science of ship-building. Thus, about half of the second volume is occupied with an analysis of Newton's " Principia," which might with equal propriety have been printed in connexion with his Lordship's translation of De- mosthenes " concerning the Crown." It answers no pur- pose except to display the v/rher's acquaintance with mathe- matics. An account of Cuvier's work on Fossil Osteology is not out of place to the same degree, though all the relations of the subject to Natural Theology might be stated in five pages, as well as in a hundred and twenty. We can hardly hope much from any attempt to throw light upon the deep and dark problem of the origin of evil, and Lord Brougham is certainly the last person, from whom aid in such a case could reasonably be expected. His long dissertation upon the subject contains nothing new, and will not increase the writer's reputation for learning, or skill in handling metaphysical questions. Four dialogues upon In- stinct, and an account of the structure of the cells of bees, occupy a whole volume, but contribute very little by way either of argument or illustration, to the reasoning of Paley. In fine, the supplementary Dissertations serve to display a versatile genius and much general information ; but they show neither originality nor depth of thought, and are ut- terly valueless in the place they now occupy. We are disappointed in this edition, for we had hoped that the concluding volumes would carry out some of the hints in the Preliminary Discourse, and, by a fair examina- tion of Paley's argument, either supply its alleged deficien- cies, or remove the belief in their existence. The great questions agitated in that work have been much compli- FOR THE BEING OF A GOD. 175 cated of late by skeptical quibblings and metaphysical diffi- culties. The legitimacy of the whole reasoning has been called in doubt, and the points to be proved have been va- ried and distorted by the makers of philosophical systems. Some complaints might be done away, and much obscurity be dispelled, if the nature of the evidence were once fairly considered, and the relation fully determined which this subject bears to other sciences. This was the scheme of Lord Brougham's first Discourse, but the execution was im- perfect, and these volumes do not complete the design. As the subject is of great interest in both a religious and a phi- losophical view, some desultory remarks upon it may be acceptable. The great problem of Natural Theology is to prove the existence of a God, all the other questions being subsid- iary to this, and in great measure dependent upon its so- lution. Two modes or classes of proof are presented, called the argument a priori and a posteriori. These appellations are unhappily chosen, for in such a case, rea- soning a priori is impossible, without assuming the very point at issue ; we cannot argue from cause to effect in or- der to prove the existence of a First Cause. And if the meaning of the term be restricted to original and intuitive perceptions, which are independent of experience, the dis- tinction implied by the two phrases does not exist. These , _ first principles of belief are implied in every act of ratioci- ti^A.4/t^,(/ijra nation ; they are taken for granted in the argument from'^ / experience, and in every other proof. Besides, we cannot go behind the Divine existence in order to find a basis of proof; we cannot assume a more comprehensive proposi- tion, from which the fact itself can be deduced. We must reason upward to the first principle of all things ; and every argument urged with this design must be a posteriori. But the implied distinction really exists, though improp- 176 ' PALEY : THE ARGUMENT erly designated by two such phrases. In the one case, we proceed by moral evidence, and the conclusion is termed in logic only prohahle, though it may amount to the highest degree of certainty, of which any argument based on ex- perience is susceptible. In the other, the steps are linked together by demonstrative evidence, and the conclusion follows with mathematical certainty. We take no account of those, who assume the Divine existence as an intuitive truth, because their opinions admit of no argument, and to them Natural Theology does not exist as a distinct science. The question between the two modes of proof may appear to be one of pure curiosity, for the inquirer will surely ask, why they cannot be placed side by side, since neither ex- cludes or limits the other, but only offers it fresh support. It is not enough to answer, that a position is improved in strength by removing every rotten or useless prop, which gives at least the appearance of insecurity to the fabric. The very existence of the dispute shows, that neither of the proofs is wholly unnecessary, for there are some minds which rest with greater assurance on one argument, and some on another. Neither can remove what is useless to himself, without doing injury to his neighbor. To justify the rejection of either mode of reasoning, it must be shown, that our idea of the point to be proved is affected by the nature of the argumentative process. If the method a poS' teriori leads to an imperfect or grovelling conception of the Divine Existence, if it abandons the inquirer when he has advanced only half-way, forcing upon him a contingent truth, in place of that absolute and necessary conviction, which, on such a subject, his nature imperatively requires ; — or if the argument a priori, conducts only to a confused and pantheistic notion of a God, if it destroys his person- ality, and identifies him with an abstract principle, then it becomes a duty not only to prefer one mode of proof, but FOR THE BEING OP A GOD. 177 to expose the fallacy of the other. Here lies, we appre- hend, the real ground of dispute. Not only are the two methods unlike; the ultimate theories are contradictory. The question of preference between them ceases to be merely speculative. It exerts a direct and practical influ- ence on our whole scheme of religious belief. One preliminary remark is necessary, before entering upon the main question. The process by which belief is formed, often difl'ers widely from the manner in which it is substantiated. Our opinions are often imbibed from educa- tion, or instinct, or casual circumstances. When attacked, they are often defended by arguments, which had no share in their formation, and in fact never occurred to us, before we had occasion to use them. Such is the case with the elements of religious truth. They were taught to us in in- fancy, or our minds were predisposed to receive them. " Man," says Benjamin Constant, " is by nature a religious being, just as he is endowed with the use of language, and a disposition for society. He does not reason out his first creed ; he adopts it in a great measure from impulse." All this m.ay be true, but such a disposition does not, in it- self, constitute an argument for the truth of his belief. It may be made the basis of such an argument, and he may reason up from it till he arrives at entire conviction. Other proofs may go along with it of equal, or even superior force, and it is no valid objection to them, that they had no influence in creating the original disposition to believe. Very few persons, probably, have been convinced for the first time by the proofs which theologians adduce ; their assent may be modified or confirmed by such considera- tions; but it proceeded originally from another source, and was supported by different influences. The distinction between moral and demonstrative evi- dence, relates not merely to the inherent difference between 178 PALEY : THE ARGUMENT the two processes, but to the difference between the truths, which are substantiated by them. Historical facts rest upon one ; abstract propositions upon the other. The cre- ation of the world is a fact, just as much as the foundation of a particular city ; it can be proved only by testimony, or from data collected by observation and experience. Ab- stract propositions can lead only to what is abstract, unless more is gathered in the conclusion than what was distribut- ed in the premises. The existence of a creative Deity, then, can be proved only by what is called the argument a posteriori. In strictness, the present existence of external nature is a fact known only by experience ; it is not a ne- cessary truth, for we can conceive of its non-existence, and the idealist philosopher boldly denies its reality. It cannot be assumed as a datum in any species of demonstrative reasoning. Here lies the great defect of the argument adopted by Clarke. All activity, all manifestation of self, may be denied to the infinite Being, whose existence he endeavored to prove. His argument must be eked out with facts drawn from experience, or the doctrine will coincide with that of Epicurus, who admitted the existence of a God, but denied that he had any agency in the affairs of this world. " Quce, natura primiim nulla esse potest ; idque videns Epicurus, re tollit, oratione relinquit, Deos^ * But we go further. The great truth of Natural Theology is in itself a fact of momentous interest. The being of a God is a reality, an existence in concrete. As such, it is not an object of mathematical or abstract reasoning. All demonstration begins by arbitrary definitions, and ends in abstractions. We might as well think of applying it to prove the fact of a deluge, or of any other event in the world's history, or to show the present existence of an elec- * De JVatura Deorum, I. 123. FOR THE BEING OF A GOD. 179 trie fluid pervading all matter, as to attempt using it in this inquiry. We do not limit its application to mathematics, nor overlook its successful introduction into the mixed sci- ences. Many propositions in ethics may be established with the same certainty, that attends the conclusions of the geometer, and by a perfectly similar process. Still, they are abstract propositions, and their application to particular cases, to the conduct of individuals, must always be contin- gent. The reason is obvious. We can speak with certain- ty of a subject of reasoning, only when its properties are all known and fixed, and its relations are determinate. Par- ticular substances, things existing in concrete, cannot be thus perfectly determined. We can never be sure, that all their qualities have been taken into view, — that the con- clusion, at which we have arrived, may not be vitiated by something omitted in the primary definition. Or the attri- butes may shift during the process, or attendant circum- stances may modify them in some unforeseen way ; and the possibility of such change, small though it be, still makes the result contingent. If a stone be propelled by hand, no mathematical skill, no acquaintance with the laws of motion, can mark out with precision the curve that it will describe, or the exact 'point at which it will reach the earth. There are a hundred attendant circumstances, which cannot be accurately appreciated, or stated with precision, but which must modify the result. But let the problem be stated hypothetically, let it be a stone of ideal, and there- fore exact, measurement, let the propelling power be as- sumed of an exact force, let it be taken for granted, that no extraneous influences can operate, — and the geometer will show the course that the missile must take, and the spot where it must fall to the ground. The result can nev- er be verified by experiment, but it must be true. Another instance may be taken from the very elements 180 PALEY : THE ARGUMENT of mathematical science. The geometer does not, as his name would imply, measure the real earth. No bounda- ries are marked out, no actual limits are fixed, with the perfect precision which his method requires. He measures an ideal extension ; his figures are perfect by hypothesis ; they are limited by the supposition to given conditions. Even the diagram before him is not the true object of his reasoning, but only its symbol. He proceeds, therefore, with absolute certainty to a determinate result. The law or rule, which he has investigated and established, is appli- ed, it is true, to actual measurements ; yet only by approx- imation. The nicest instrument which the skill of a Troughton or a Ramsden ever framed, only approximates the ideal perfection that the mathematician requires. The abstract result is certain ; its application to real things, to ex- istences in concrete, is contingent. Such is the nature of de- monstrative reasoning, that this law must always hold. The mathematician owes his success, the precision and certainty of his results, only to his quitting the real world, and deal- ing with pure abstractions and hypotheses, to which, in strictness, his conclusions are limited. He who would ob- tain results of the same character, must pursue the same method. The moment he leaves this ideal region, and comes down to real things and events, to the actual instead of the possible, the sphere of demonstration ceases. The question whether demonstration is limited to quan- tity, or how far it is applicable in morals, is hardly worth discussing, for it cannot affect the conclusion which we have just established. We incline to believe, that no prin- ciple, out of pure mathematics, can be demonstrated, which is not in itself intuitively certain. There are moral, as well as physical truths, which can be built up on others of a similar character, or deduced from them, there being a necessary connexion among them. But in every such case FOR THE BEING OF A GOD. 181 it will probably be found, that the reasoning is unnecessary, because the truth of the first proposition is intuitively per- ceived, and therefore it needs no support. But, however this may be, absolute certainty belongs to the proposition, only when couched in general terms. It can be applied to particular cases only by approximation. The moral judg- ments of men do not always coincide ; some actions are considered as meritorious in a particular age, or among certain nations, which are justly censured by posterity, or by a neighboring people. Such disagreement, we appre- hend, may be often explained by the distinction here point- ed out. The great principles of moral law must be the same in every age and place, for the dictates of conscience are universal, and cannot be misunderstood. But doubts frequently arise when we come to apply these principles, and a faulty rule may easily grow out of a single erroneous application. If this view of the nature and province of demonstrative reasoning be correct, the impossibility of applying it to prove the existence of a God is perfectly manifest. Every attempt of the sort will be found to establish, not a Being, but a principle ; — not a particular fact, but a general truth. The name of the Supreme Being is often vaguely and erroneously applied, because his existence is a myste- ry, and his essence is unknown. Though it would be pre- sumptuous to attempt a strict definition of the term, some applications of it are so evidently erroneous, that they may be rejected at once. The pantheist extends it to universal nature ; the mystical philosopher refines it into an abstract idea. In this way, indeed, the great truth may be demon- strated by reasoning a priori ; for we have intuitive evi- dence, that something exists, and, according to Spinoza, the being of a God includes all existence. All the great principles of morality are truths independent of all experi- 16 182 paley: the argument ence, and if these constitute a Deity, if his nature be limited to a few of its attributes, if the distinction between substance and accident be entirely done away, then, indeed, the first theorem of Natural Theology becomes a self-evident prop- osition. There cannot be a happier illustration of these remarks than is afforded by the first step in Clarke's celebrated argument a priori. The proof, briefly stated, is as follows. Space and time are alike infinite and necessary, for we cannot conceive of their limitation or their non-existence ; they are not in themselves substances, but attributes, and as such necessarily presuppose a substance, without which they could not exist ; and this substance is, consequently, infinite and self-existent. Now, the word substance, as here used, is entirely indefinite ; the idea of it includes neither personality nor intelligence. The argument, at the utmost, proves only that something exists, and this something Clarke immediately assumes to be a particular Being. The soph- ism consists in this illogical transition from the general to the particular, from the abstract to the concrete ; and a more palpable one can hardly be imagined. Besides, the proposition, that space and time are attributes, if not wholly unintelligible, must be understood in the same sense, as the proposition that human beings exist in space and time. Fi- nite space and time are qualities of man, in the same way that eternity and immensity are attributes of the Supreme Being. Now, human beings are not necessary or self-ex- istent. If finite space and time do not necessitate a finite substance, so neither do the ideas of immensity or eternity compel us to believe in an infinite substance. The whole argument rests on an abuse of language. Time and space are not attributes, but conditions of heing. We cannot conceive of any thing, except as existent under these con- ditions ; but we may conceive, that the conditions are ful- FOR THE BEING OF A GOD. 183 filled, while the reality is yet wanting. In Clarke's argu- ment the prerequisite is made to change places with the reality, or the thing conditioned. He infers the presence of the thing, from the fulfilment of the conditions, which is precisely inverting the two terms of the only legitimate in- ference. The same argument assumes a more vague and mystical form in the hands of Cousin, who avoids the sophism, it is true, but jumps to the conclusion. Eternity and immen- sity are generaUzed by him, as both forms of the Infinite. The reality is then inferred from the idea, and the sub- stance is avowedly swallowed up in the attribute. The absurdity of supposing that a thing exists, because we have an idea of it, can only be equalled by that of considering our imperfect notion of the Infinite as constituting the es- sence of the Divinity. Such are the fallacies into which men of acute and ingenious intellect are betrayed by the love of system, and the vain desire of setting forth their random speculations under the pompous garb of demon- strative reasoning. The more judicious followers of Cousin put a gloss upon his argument, by which it is rendered more intelligible and less offensive. Their reasoning may be briefly stated as follows ; — All our perceptions relate to things which are known to be finite, limited, and contingent ; such ideas necessarily suggest and force upon the mind the correlative conception of something that is Infinite, Absolute, and Necessary. In the same way that the former class of ideas is accompanied with an irresistible conviction, that some- thing exists to which they correspond, so those of the latter class compel us to believe, that there is a Being, who is clothed with these attributes, and manifests himself in this form to the human soul. It is evident, that this argument is overstated ; for, if it were correct, it would be quite as 184 PALEY : THE ARGUMENT difficult to doubt the being of a God, as to question the reality of our own existence. In consciousness there is di- rect evidence of the existence of self, and perception gives innmediate witness of the reality of an outward world. The knowledge of the true nature of both these objects of thought, as finite and limited, is subsequent to our recog- nition of them as realities. In the other case, the idea of the quality suggests the object to which it belongs, but this suggestion alone can never be made the basis of absolute conviction. This is one mode of explaining the origin, or first development, of the religious principle in the soul, but it does not prove the existence of that Being, to whom religious feelings are directed. It is like the argument for immortality founded on the boundless aspirations of the spirit of man ; — a consideration, certainly, of some weight, but one that would give little confidence, if other proofs were wanting. There is but one other form of stating this argument, that now claims attention. It is that by Descartes, whose speculative and systematizing spirit made him far more anxious to round off his own theories, than to establish any truth in natural religion. The argument a priori in his hands is a mere brick in his philosophical edifice. We A. ^iiCW(n[ give the heads of it at some length ; for, though frequently i(>, when a represents a quantity greater than h. But when this is not the case, the idea becomes wavering and uncertain. Negative quantities, standing by themselves, can be but imperfectly conceived. In like manner, we can speak intelligibly of the square root of a positive quantity, though its value cannot be exactly assigned. But of the square root of a negative quantity we can have no concep- tion ; it is wholly absurd. Instances might be easily mul- tiplied from the higher branches of the science, where the notation of the algebraist, as it were, outruns his intellect. But to admit such examples to shake our confidence in the formulas obtained, would be to allow, that the theological difficulties alluded to could unhinge our religious faith. The writer of the " Analyst " only labored to prove, that there were stumbling-blocks of as much importance in mathematical, as in moral, reasoning, and the attempt must be considered as a very fair instance of the argumentum ad hominem. 25* 294 BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. Whatever opinion may be formed of Berkeley's success in his contest with the mathematicians, it cannot be doubt- ed, that his refutation of the materialists is perfectly con- clusive. The work particularly addressed to these philoso- phers is his " Treatise concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge," which appeared the year after the publi- cation of the " New Theory of Vision." It contains the system usually denoted by the author's name, and is the chief source of his celebrity in the history of mental sci- ence. Considered as the production of a mere youth, only twenty-six years of age, the unrivalled tact which it dis- plays in metaphysical research, the bold and comprehen- sive views that are advanced, and the singular ingenuity and force of the reasoning, by which they are supported, all excite no less wonder than admiration. The ideal theo- ry, that denied the real existence of material things, had been regarded before Berkeley's time merely as one of the fantastic speculations of the Greeks, that might amuse the leisure of the student with the singularity of the hypothe- sis, but hardly merited serious comment or refutation. He made it one of the chief questions in philosophy, and sup- ported his own side with so much address, that to have been a convert to his theory at some period of one's life is regarded as a test of ability in abstruse speculations. There is a prevailing misapprehension respecting the nature and influence of a belief in Idealism. It is often said, that the common actions of life, — precautions against bodily injury, for instance, are at variance with its prin- ciples ; and that the daily conduct of the Idealist refutes his assertions. To be consistent, it is supposed, that he must imitate the ancient skeptic, who would not turn aside, though a carriage drove against him in the streets ; or move out of the path, though it led to a precipice. We are somewhat skeptical about the fact, for Pyrrho lived to BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 295 the age of ninety. But at any rate, the Berkeleyan of our day seeks not to establish his consistency by running any such hazards. He doubts not the reality of ideas and sen- sations as such. Nature exists for him also, but only in his own mind. He fully believes in the uniformity of her laws, — that like causes will produce like effects. He is confident, for instance, that the idea of falling from a precipice will be followed by the idea of exquisite pain, and if he has common sense, he will avoid those volitions, which constant experience has taught him will lead to its occurrence. He does not, it is true, fear the fracture of a tone, for he thinks that there are no bones to break. But he dreads the conception of such an injury, and the pain which must be consequent on the feeling. Since we are no farther interested in our bodily frame, than as it is a source of pleasure or pain, and since these feelings evi- dently belong not to outward substance, but to the mind, it is difficult to see any room for the charge of inconsistency. One may dream of being tortured, and though the fire and stake exist only in his imagination, the convulsed motions of the sleeper prove, that the mental agony is real. One might reasonably take precautions against the recurrence of such fancies, though he believes them to be nothing but ." written troubles of the brain." Berkeley was led to doubt the existence of matter by the same train of thought, that is expressed in his theory of vision. If we see the outward world only in imagination, how do we know that it exists at all ? The visible world is a phantasm ; what better evidence of reality has the tangible ? The other senses cannot aid us here ; the same arguments, that we have applied to colors, hold equally well with odors, tastes, and sounds. These are effects pro- duced on the mind. We take cognizance of them, and can even specify the occasions, on which they are excited. 296 BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. But of their causes, the only things supposed to exist ex- ternally, we know nothing ; and it is vain to make any in- quiry respecting them, till we can assign some reason, why an orange tastes sweet, and a lemon sour ; why a drum sounds hollow, and glass shrill. Yet, as Berkeley remarks, " it is indeed an opinion strangely prevailing among men, that houses, mountains, rivers, and in a word, all sensible objects have an existence natural or real, distinct from their being perceived by the understanding." But ask of such a believer a reason for the faith that is in him. What is that matter, for the existence of which you contend ? It is something that is extended, figured, colored, hard or soft, &c. But what is that something 7 We cannot tell. It is supposed to be inert, unsentient, and unthinking. But if inactive, how can it be a cause of sensation } If unthink- ing, how can it excite thought ? Our notion of any par- ticular substance is but a congeries of sensible impressions, and when we have separated from it the ideas of its par- ticular qualities, its taste, smell, figure, and hardness, the whole conception is destroyed. But these qualities are relative terms, and vary with different recipients, and under dissimilar circumstances, with the same recipient. What is slow to the swallow, is arrowy swiftness to the tortoise. What is a mite, — an atom to man, is a universe to the animalculae discoverable by the microscope. Our eyes are jaundiced, and a sickly tint is spread over the landscape. Our mouths are parched with fever, and the taste of every thing is nauseous. We have followed the huge war-ship with the eye, till it has " melted from The smallness of a gnat to air." How is it possible, that things perpetually fleeting and va- riable as our ideas, changing on every alteration in the distance, medium, or instrument, should be the image of BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 297 any thing fixed and permanent ? What needs this huge fabric of lifeless matter to excite impressions in us, when the same effects might be produced without its agency ? All knowledge proceeds originally from the Supreme Be- ing, the source of truth ; but, as the materialist supposes, it comes mediately, or through the intervention of matter. Why not trace it directly to the proper fountain ? Dreams, for the time, are real ; at least, they produce all the effects of reality, in exciting belief, emotion, and action. Con- sider the difference between the wild and inconsistent fan- cies, that crowd the sick man's brain in sleep, and the dreams of a healthy person, which are comparatively well- ordered and consistent. It is as wide, as the distinction, that any one man can draw between his own sleeping and waking thoughts. Why may not all this mortal life be one long dream, from which we shall be wakened only by the last trump .? Idealism is not skepticism, but its opposite. Berkeley did not distrust his senses, or repose with one jot less of confidence in the information they afforded. He opposed only what he held to be an unfair conclusion ; that our sensations are caused by inanimate, brute, unthinking mat- ter, of the essence of which we know nothing, and never can know anything. He believed, that these ideas came rather from the infinite and omniscient mind. They can- not be the creations of our own minds, for they exist inde- pendently of human volitions ; we cannot help receiving them, when the organization of the senses is perfect. Moreover, as they are perceived by us at intervals, and as their reality is admitted, there must be some other mind, in which they exist during these intervals, as they did exist there before our birth, and will exist after our departure. Thus, if we deny the outward existence of brute substance, we must believe that a mind exists, which affects us every 298 BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. moment with the ideas we perceive. We must believe in a God. " How great a friend material substance hath been to Atheists in all ages, it were needless to relate. All their monstrous systems have so visible and necessary a depen- dence on it, that when this corner-stone is once removed, the whole fabric cannot choose but fall to the ground." Thus far, we can see nothing objectionable in the hy- pothesis^ " that all the choir of heaven and furniture of the earth ; in a word, all those bodies which compose the mighty frame of the world, have not any subsistence with- out a mind." It affords an easy solution to all the difficul- ties respecting the creation of matter, for we may at once allow the maxim of the skeptic, " e nihilo nihil ft,'''' and brave the consequences of the admission. The materialist is silenced, not more by demonstrating the insufficiency of his argument, than by showing the futility of his theory, even if it were received. We make no progress by refer- ring the operations of mind to matter, for we know as much of the former as of the latter. The evidence of conscious- ness is direct, while that of sensation is mediate. Every one is conscious of thought and volition, and cannot doubt their existence ; while the reality of most qualities ascribed to matter is a mere inference from certain effi3cts discover- able in our own minds. Berkeley, however, pushed this argument too far, by asserting, that all our knowledge of material things was from inference. In this way, he thought to demonstrate, that the existence of matter was impossible. We perceive nothing, he argues, but ideas and sensations, and it is a contradiction to suppose, that these can exist oth- erwise than in mind. An idea cannot belong to an unthink- ing substance, nor a sensation to an unsentient one. The supposition that things exist externally, of which our ideas are copies, is equally inadmissible. Thinking can resemble nothing but thought ; an idea can be like nothing but an- BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 299 Other idea. Reid destroyed this argument entirely, by de- nying the premises. To assume at the outset, that we per- ceive nothing but ideas, is a petitio principii, for the very point of dispute concerns the immediate perception of out- ward things. Besides, to think and to have an idea are equivalent expressions. The supposition, that there exists in the mind an object of thought distinct from the act of thinking, is entirely gratuitous. There is a double relation, indeed, to the external object on the one hand, and to the thinking subject on the other ; but this double relation per- tains to one and the same modification of mind. That the existence of matter was impossible, and a belief in it contradictory and absurd, were points that Reid suc- cessfully contested with Berkeley. But, though the former refuted the demonstration, he left the argument from proba- bilities untouched, or rather opposed to it only the universal belief of mankind. Hence the difference between the two was aptly summed up by Dr. Brown. " One bawled out, ' we must believe in an outward world,' but added in a whis- per, ' we can give no reason for our belief; ' the other cried out, ' we can give no reason for such a notion,' and whis- pers, ' I own we cannot get rid of it.' " Such a difference and such a similarity of opinion will always exist. The vulgar will always believe in a dualism of substance and spirit, and, in his common intercourse with the world, the philosopher assents to this opinion almost against his will. But the latter, in his closet, tormented by the view of prob- lems that he cannot solve, by the difficulty of explaining the mutual dependence, action, and reaction of two princi- ples, continually attempts to resolve all into one, to trace every thing to the single operation either of matter or mind. Either opinion is an assumption, but a very convenient one, for if it does not resolve the problems, it at least removes them out of sight. Since Berkeley's time, spiritualism has 300 BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. maintained a marked ascendency with the mongers of sys- tems. Materialism, after sustaining a vigorous contest in the hands of Priestley and Cabanis, seems at the present day to be almost annihilated. The Scotch school essayed to hold the balance between the combatants by espousing the popular belief, and for their comfort were told by their more aspiring brethren, that their opinions formed no philosophy at all. They shared the usual fate of peace-makers, in being reviled for their timidity by both the contending parties. We- have seen with what success Berkeley applied his system to removing the objections of the skeptic. The im- portant point now to be remarked is the fact, that nearly all the schemes of universal philosophy recently invented are identical in substance, though not in form, with the system of Berkeley, and that the authors of them owe all their success in sweeping generalization to the adoption of his opinions. Idealism, more or less disguised, belongs to them all. Cousin expounds his scheme of it after his usual fash- ion, in a style unmatched for brilliancy and effect. He considers all the objects of sense merely as active causes, or forces. " Change and multiply the phenomena of sen- sation," he argues, " as you please ; as soon as the Reason perceives them, it refers them to a cause, to v/hich it attrib- utes successively, not the internal modifications of the sub- ject^ but the objective qualities producing such modifications ; that is to say, it developes by degrees the notion of a cause, but does not go beyond it ; for the properties of matter are nothing but causes, and can be known only as such. The external world is only an assemblage of causes correspond- ing to our real or possible sensations. The relation of these causes to each other, constitutes the order of nature. Thus, the world is made of the same stuff that we are, and nature is the sister of man. It is active, living, animated, as he is. BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 301 and its history is a drama, like that of humanity." And again, " what Natural Philosopher, since Euler's time, con- ducts his researches with a view to any thing but forces and laws ? Who now speaks of atoms ? Who considers the existence even of molecules, as any thing but a hypoth- esis ? If this fact is incontestable, if modern physical sci- ence is occupied with nothing but forces and laws, I adopt the legitimate conclusion, that, in respect both to its knowl- edge and its ignorance, this science does not favor materi- alism. It adopted spiritualism, when it rejected every other method but that of observation and induction, for these can lead to the knowledge only of forces and laws." It is al- most superfluous to remark, that both the theory and the argument here are coincident with those of Berkeley. Kant's theory is the complement of the systems maintain- ed by other Idealists, while his arguments are the reverse of theirs. The secondary qualities of matter had already been referred to their proper seat in the mind, and were no longer viewed as necessary attributes of outward substance. Their fleeting character, their dependence on the various aspects in which things are perceived, and their altered ap- pearance, when no change had taken place in the thing observed, but only in the observer, were held to establish their non-existence exterior to mind. Extension, or limited space, remained as almost the only permanent quality in- herent in substance, as less affected than others by the changes of the percipient, and therefore probably regarded as a necessary attribute of the thing perceived. To remove this last support to a belief in the objective reality of mat- ter, Kant turns the argument the other way. Universal and necessary notions cannot be furnished by experience, which is concerned only with what is transitory, limited, and casual. But the idea of space is universal and neces- sary, is the prerequisite or condition of our ability to con- 26 302 BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. ceive of any thing out of our own minds. Therefore, space is not an empirical idea. It cannot be obtained from expe- rience, and must be regarded as a law of the understanding, or 3. form of the sensitive faculty (sinnlichkeit). To infer the non-existence of space from our inability to conceive of its non-existence, to believe that it belongs only to the mind, because we cannot even imagine its annihila- tion as an outward quality, is an argument perfectly after the manner of Kant. Yet on this kind of reasoning, the whole " Criticism of Pure Reason " is established. What- ever claims it may possess to be generally received, in this case, it evidently does not support his conclusion. Space may be the form of our belief in outward substance, for it is not merely a necessary attrihute, but the distinguishing element, the substratum in our complex idea of matter. We cannot believe in the existence of any thing, without also admitting the existence of that quality, which makes it what it is. We cannot have the idea of a man, for instance, without uniting to it the conception of a certain shape. But space is not a universal form of the whole sensitive faculty, for there are many sensations, — those of odors, tastes, and sounds, — that do not involve, or even originally suggest, this idea. Still farther, we acquire the notion of externality, or outness, before we are acquainted with extension. A child thinks of existence foreign to itself, — to speak technically, tu tU ^'T^. ':'-^,*tf distinguishes between the me and the not-me^ when it has '^'^'^'^ rio conception of space. The idea of expansion is conse- quent on the belief subsequently formed, that a number of objects exist independently of self. Space then comes to be necessarily connected in the mind with the idea of ex- ternality. But this necessary connexion no more proves, that space exists only in the mind, than our necessary attri- bution of three angles to a figure of three sides demon- BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 303 strates, that these angles have only a subjective character, and do not exist in the figure itself. But we leave the argument in order to examine the con- sequences of admitting the doctrine. It is evident, that the theory is consistent only with a scheme of pure Idealism. The popular belief, that material objects exist in space, is at least intelligible and consistent with itself. Whether ad- equate proof can be adduced in its support or not, it in- volves no absurdity. But deny the external reality of space, and you not only destroy the belief in an outward world, but render the very conception of such an existence impos- sible. On Kant's own principles, we cannot form any idea of material substance, into which extension or limited space does not enter ; we cannot believe in the outward existence of that substance, unless as surrounded by space. To unite the two points in one system, to assert that space exists only in the mind, and at the same time to maintain the reality of outward things, is an attempt worthy the genius of Kant. His demonstration of the latter point, with the annexed comment on the theory of Berkeley, is so characteristic, that we submit it to our readers. Our translation claims no other merit, than that of strict fidelity to the original. " Idealism in respect to matter is that system, which declares, that the existence of objects in space out of ourselves is either doubtful and not susceptible of proof, or that it is wholly unfound- ed and impossible. The former is the problematic Idealism of Des- cartes, who held that only one empirical assertion {lam, or / ex- ist) could not be doubted. The latter is the dogmatic Idealism of Berkeley, who maintained that space and every thing, with which space is connected as a necessary condition of its being, were in themselves impossible ; and therefore, the existence of objects in space was a mere delusion. Dogmatic Idealism is unavoidable, if we regard space as a property belonging to things in themselves ; on this hypothesis, space and every thing existing in it is a nonen- tity ( Unding). But the grounds of this Idealism are taken away 304 BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. in our system of transcendental cesthetics. Problematic Idealism, which asserts nothing but our inability to prove from immediate experience any existence but our own, is agreeable to reason, and conforms to an important rule in philosophy, never to permit a de- cisive judgment, till satisfactory evidence has been discovered. The required proof must therefore establish this point ; that we have experience of external things, and not merely an imagination of them. This can be done in no other way, but by proving, that even our internal experience, admittted as certain by Descartes, is possible only by assuming external experience beforehand." " Theorem. The mere consciousness, determined empirically, of my own existence proves the existence of objects in space out of myself." " Proof. I am conscious of my own existence as determined in time. But every determination in time presupposes something fixed and permanent {etwas Beharrliches) in perception. But this fixed and permanent object cannot be any thing in me, for by its means only can my existence in time be determined. Therefore, the perception of this fixed and permanent object is possible only by means of something out of myself, and not by any bare mental representation or idea of such things existing externally. Conse- quently, the determination of my being in time is possible only through the existence of real things, which I perceive out of my own mind. But consciousness in time is necessarily connected with a consciousness of the possibility of this determination in time ; therefore, it is also necessarily connected with the existence of things out of myself, as the condition of the determination in time; that is, the consciousness of my own existence is at the same time an immediate consciousness of the existence of other things out of myself." " Observation. In the foregoing proof, one may perceive that the tables are turned upon the Idealists, and their own weapons directed with greater justice against themselves. They assume, that the only immediate experience is the internal, and from this we know external things only by inference ; but, as at all times, when we reason from given effects to a determinate cause, the inference is not to be depended upon, because there may be in our own minds the cause of those conceptions, which we, perhaps BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 305 falsely, ascribe to external objects. But here it is proved, that ex- ternal experience is properly immediate, and on this depends the possibility, not indeed of the consciousness of our existence, but of the determination of this existence in time ; that is, on external experience depends the possibility of internal experience." * These are profound sayings, — " fpcovavia ovvstoXgiv ' eg /Ik TO nav eQi^rjVeojv He who does not understand the proof, may rest assured that the fault is in his own want of comprehension, and that he has no genius for metaphysics. He who does not admit its conclusiveness, is an impracticable infidel, and we will have nothing farther to say to him. We hardly know of an opinion more universal and more unfounded, than that which ascribes skepticism to the phi- losophy of Berkeley, and the refutation of skepticism to that of Kant. We have seen the total injustice of the former imputation. For the existence of the latter opinion, we can only account by the fact, that the doctrines of the German philosopher are so imperfectly known. His answer to Hume's doctrine of causality amounts to no more than the same vigorous protest against it, which was entered by Reid, and to a statement of the fact, also noticed by the Scotch philosopher, of our necessary belief, founded on the very constitution of the mind, in the connexion between cause and effect. With this exception, Kant's theory con- sists in an abandonment of the whole ground to the skeptic, and in a fancied demonstration of the impossibility of an- swering his doubts. To consider the operation of outward things on the mind, believing the former to be well known, and studying the constitution of the latter through their * Critik der reinen Vernunft. Siebente Auflage, pp. 200 - 202. 306 BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. effects upon it, was the old method in philosophy. The German metaphysician reversed this process. He looked upon the outward world as modified by our own mental constitution, and regarded its phenomenal laws as the mere expression of our intellectual principles. The cognitive faculty of man contains two elements, the aptitude to re- ceive impressions from without, or receptivity^ and sponta- neity^ or the power of reacting upon and modifying these impressions. One who had never seen the face of nature but through green spectacles, would undoubtedly believe that the color of things in themselves was green. He could not admit the possibility, that they should have any other color. At least, he would retain this mistaken opinion, till he had studied the principles of Transcendentalism, which would fain teach him, if it had the power, to analyze his faculty of vision, and to distinguish in his perception the objective element, or that quality really belonging to the outward thing, from the subjective element, or the property superadded to the thing by his manner of looking at it. The illustration is a homely one, but we cannot find a bet- ter. The human mind, on Kant's theory, is like the green glasses of this unfortunate individual. It invests the objects of its knowledge with its own properties, and blends these so intimately with qualities existing in the object itself, that a separation is impossible. The illustration fails here. The person in question might remove the impediment to perfect vision, and then the landscape would appear to him in its real colors. But we can acquire knowledge only through the mind. Imperfect and deceptive as the instrument is, constantly leading us to ascribe its own defects to the con- stitution of things without, we can obtain no other. " It sounds strange indeed at first," says the master himself, " but it is not the less certain, when I say, in respect to the 1 BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 307 original laws of the Understanding, that it does not derive them from Nature, but imposes them upon Nature." * The old definition of truth, the object of former metaphy- sical research, made it consist in the conformity of our ideas with the things which they represented. According to Kant, this inquiry must be abandoned, for the answer must ever be without our reach. The idea and the arche- type, subjectivity and objectivity, matter and mind, are so inextricably interwoven, that no human power can separate them ; otherwise, intellect could resolve a difficulty, of \ which its own operations are the cause. It is obvious, that this theory is the very essence of skepticism, for it resolves every thing into doubt. Gladly must its ingenuous disciple take refuge in a scheme of positive unbelief, the utter tor- por of which would be far preferable to the feverish anxiety consequent on inquiries, that can never be abandoned and never answered. It is a vain attempt, to limit our curiosity to a mere examination of the laws of mind, of the confor- mity of thought with mental principles ; to reduce all the articles of creeds that transcend the immediate province of the intellect, to objects of faith, but not of knowledge. An irresistible impulse carries us beyond these boundaries. The existence of this impulse is recognised in the Trans- cendental philosophy, but the possibility of gratifying it is denied. The oldest subjects of philosophical investigation, God, liberty, immortality, &c., as they transcend the limits of immediate mental experience, are beyond the reach of our faculties. The arguments are presented on each side, and declared to be of equal force. No decision then is possible. The several modes of proving the existence of a God, reduced by this nomenclature to the ontological, the cosmological, and the physico -theological argument, are * Prolegomena zu einerjeden kunftigen metaphysik. — p. 113. 308 BERKELEY AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. separately examined, and all held to be indecisive of the question. The Transcendentalist maintains, that this pro- cedure shelters these great interests of man from the attacks of reasoning, since the assailant, no less than the supporter, is silenced. It does indeed shelter them, by classifying them with all other arbitrary hypotheses, that can neither be proved nor disproved. The results of the whole system may be well summed up in the language of its founder. The province of the understanding " is an island, inclosed by Nature herself in unalterable limits. It is the land of Truth (an attractive term) surrounded by a wide and stormy ocean, the proper abode of delusion, where many a cloud- bank and rapidly melting ice-field assume a false appear- ance of land, and ever deceiving with empty hopes the voyager intent upon new discoveries, involve him in adven- tures that he can never abandon, and never bring to an end."* But we have no room to pursue this subject further, and we gladly return to Berkeley. All the philosophical works of this writer, that we have yet noticed, with the exception of the " Analyst," were the productions of his youth. He gave his name to some of the most important speculations in philosophy, that have ever gained the attention of the curi- ous, before he had attained the age of thirty. His sense of duty compelled him to give the vigor of his manhood to ex- ertions more directly affecting the immediate interest of his countrymen, and the world in general. When grown old, however, his mind naturally reverted to the studies of his early years, and the fruit of his meditations appeared in a singular work, that united the characteristics of the philan- thropist and the scholar. As the infirmities of age were stealing upon him, he had received much benefit from a * Critik der reinen Vernunji. — p. 214. J-Z./^-^-. BERKELEY AND HIS rHILOSOPHY. 309 medicine, the use of which he had learned in America. An exaggerated view of its efficacy in all cases of disease prompted him to communicate the secret to the world, and he published " Siris ; a Chain of Philosophical Reflections and Inquiries concerning the Virtues of Tar Water." It is a fanciful work, reviving the method of the ancients in a strange mixture of physical and metaphysical research. The medicine is recommended, of course, as a panacea, and the theory of its virtues is expounded in a manner, that, in point of scientific accuracy, reminds one of Bacon's most unfortunate inquiry concerning heat. From a discussion of the subtile properties and fluids of vegetable life, the author passes to the speculations of the ancients on animal spirits, the soul, the anima mundi, and brings out the whole store of his multifarious classical knowledge. Valueless as a scien- tific production, the work is still attractive from its fascina- ting style, the stock of curious learning, and the light it casts on the character of its amiable author. As a written composition, indeed, it is superior to all his other publica- tions, for it would be difficult to produce a finer model of a style, at once elegant, clear, and richly illustrated, without tawdriness or affectation. Though Berkeley survived the appearance of this work for several years, his health was so much broken, that we may regard the preparation of it as the closing effort of a life faithfully and effectually devoted to the service of God and man. 310 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. VIII. ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE.* The well-earned reputation of Dr. Wayland, as a writer and a moralist, ensures a ready and respectful acceptance of any new production of his pen. He has set an honor- able example to literary men in the employment of time and talent. Charged with all the duties appertaining to the Presidency of a very respectable literary institution, and actively engaged in the details of instruction, he has yet found time for the preparations of two manuals | of sci- ence, every line of which evinces care and patient thought. We are indebted to him for the only considerable treatise on Moral Science, of which this country has to boast. The natural partiality for an American work on a subject, to which our countrymen have hitherto paid little attention, would secure to it no little favor, were it less able to stand on its intrinsic merits. But we risk nothing by the asser- tion, that this treatise and Mackintosh's " Review " have done more for Ethical Philosophy, than any other publica- tions of the present century in our language. We speak not now of the opinions, which Dr. Wayland has advanced, to some of which we object, and shall take occasion to * From the Christian Examiner, for July, 1837. The Elements of Moral Science. By Francis Wayland, D. D., President of Brown University, and Professor of Moral Philosophy. Boston. 1836. t Besides the work under review, Dr. Wayland has published a text-book of Political Economy. ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 311 express our objections with perfect freedom. We refer particularly to the literary execution of the work, and to the spirit in which it is written. It is marked by great originality of thought, clearness and force of argument, and extraordinary vigor and purity of style. Perhaps a mode of reasoning less abstract and severe might have added to the attractiveness of the book, and greater fulness of illustration have been used without any loss of precision or depth. It is to be hoped, that the publication of this work will rescue the science, of which it treats, from unmerited neg- lect in our schools and colleges. The present is not the time, ours is not the country, in which we can safely give up the study of first principles, and trust the formation of character to the exigencies of active life. We hold that conscience maybe educated, — nay, that it requires edu- cation ; that, by accustoming the mind to dwell on ques- tions of casuistry, to look at the motives of actors rather than at the consequences of actions, and to try doubtful cases rather by general rules than by particular results, a healthy state of moral feeling may be induced, or the original and pure impulses of the better part of human nature may be cherished and confirmed. If this work be not systematically performed in early life, to what in- fluences shall we trust the protection and improvement of the moral faculty ? To the calls of business, in which the auri sacra fames is for ever at war with scrupulous justice, and trivial but frequent violations of moral law are sanc- tioned by custom ? Or to the struggles of the political arena, where it is well for the combatants, if in the heat of the contest they do not forget, that such a thing as moral law has any existence ? By imparting knowledge, we create a power of fearful magnitude, and the responsi- 312 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. bility for its misuse rests not more on those who do, than on those who might have prevented, the wrong. The fact, that the community is not fully sensible of the importance of these studies, only places in a stronger light the necessity of fostering them in the higher institutions of learning. To do otherwise would be to make these bodies follow, and not guide, public opinion. The interests of learning can be safely intrusted only to the learned. The public cannot appreciate the gradual but effective workings of the higher modes of education, and in the attempt to make them productive of more immediate and tangible good, would probably destroy their efficiency altogether. Doubtless, a knowledge of French and Italian is held in higher estimation in our fashionable circles, than great skill in determining casuistical doubts ; and a merchant's opera- tions on Change would not be much facilitated by an ac- quaintance with the Theory of Moral Sentiments. The public, therefore, are not likely to call with much earnest- ness for improved modes of instruction in Moral Philoso- phy, and did the matter depend on them alone, the science might sleep in as undisturbed repose for centuries to come, as Aristotle's Logic has done for centuries past. This last branch of learning, we may remark in passing, seems to have revived of late, much to the astonishment of those who are not accustomed to watch the cycles of popular opinion respecting matters of knowledge. It has revived for the same reasons, which, among others, should procure greater attention to be paid to the study of Ethics. The discovery has been made, that proper discipline of mind is at least of equal value with a large fund of practical infor- mation. Syllogistic lore may be useless, and worse than useless, if the proficient be induced to dress up matters of common reasoning in a scholastic garb, and enunciate his premises and conclusions according to the strict rules of ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 313 art. But it may be highly valuable, in the veriest utilitarian sense, if it lead to an increased power of analysis, to great- er acuteness in detecting fallacy, and a more cautious re- gard to the ambiguity of terms. So moral subjects afford the fairest field for the application of moral reasoning, and the intellect cannot fail to be improved, while the affections are cultivated, and the conscience enlightened and made strong. We have spoken of the neglect of Moral Science in our seminaries, and the term will hardly appear strong, if we look at the present mode of instruction in this branch. Re- citations memoriter from the text of such a moralist as Pa- ley will do little towards the formation of sound principles, or the cultivation of taste for the pursuit. A book is studied instead of the subject, and the memory is strengthened at the expense of the understanding. A slavish habit of mind is induced. The student readily accepts conclusions sup- ported by such admirable clearness of style, and by an un- rivalled power of illustration. Never was there a stronger instance of the force which reasoning borrows from perspi- cuity and method. Never a more unhappy application of these qualities to the support of error. Blinded by the au- thor's candor and suavity of manner, the pupil will hardly admit that the positions can be controverted. The instruction afforded is not only unsound, but imper- fect. Hardly a hint is given, that the subject embraces the most curious problems, which have exercised the master minds of antiquity, and which the acutest of modern phi- losophers have discussed with various degrees of success. The speculations of the ancients are the more instructive, from the remarkable exemplification, afforded by their lives and characters, of the workings of their principles. Re- ligion afforded them no positive precepts to modify the op- erative power of speculation. Their principles affected not 27 314 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. only their writings, but their lives. They acted what they taught. The cynic lived in his tub, and growled at the follies and vices of the world. The skeptic would not turn aside from his path, though a precipice lay before him. The stoic quailed not, though the fatal mandate from the empe- ror had arrived, and the blood was already flowing into the bath from his opened veins. The epicurean remained aloof from public cares, wandered in his gardens, and surrender- ed himself to the charms of literature and love. Compare the characters of Cato and Sallust, of Pomponius Atticus and Brutus, and you detect at once the different schools to which they belonged, and estimate the merits of the respec- tive systems from their practical effects. Mackintosh calls the five hundred years, which elapsed from Carneades to Constantino, the greatest trial of systems which the world has witnessed. Consistency is not so highly prized among the moderns. The truth of opinions is estimated by other tests than the conformity between them and the lives of their supporters. Public opinion tyrannizes, and the dread of singularity, aris- ing from the increased power of fashion, brings the actions of men to the same standard, however much their doctrines vary. The lives of skeptics and scoffers too frequently put to shame the professions of the more orthodox in point of opinion ; the bigoted, the selfish, and the uncharitable m.ay take a lesson even from the infidel Hume. The common rules of morality are too generally approved, to admit of individuals violating them with impunity ; and the founders of vicious systems are interested to show, in their own per- sons at least, that their principles lead not necessarily to vicious practices. With their followers, however, this con- sideration holds not to an equal extent ; and among them, corrupt doctrines commonly produce their appropriate fruit. To confine the student of morals, therefore, to the knowl- ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 315 edge of a single system, is to expose him to the assaults of error and sophistry, wherever he may chance to encounter them, and when memory and habit will be too weak to re- sist the seductions of vice, accompanied by an opiate to the conscience and the understanding. We believe, therefore, that Dr. Wayland has judged ill in excluding from his work any notice of the opinions of other moralists. Admitting, " that a work which should exhibit what was true, would be more desirable than one which should point out what was exploded, discuss what was doubt- ful, or disprove what was false," we may yet question the power of any one writer to determine the truth to the equal satisfaction of different minds. The history of Ethics is in itself a part of the science. An enlarged and generous plan of instruction would be, to lay open before the pupil the whole field, instead of confining him to a single point of view, and to trust somewhat to the powers of his own understanding for the separation of truth from error. There is hardly any system of morals which does not contain some glimpse of truth peculiar to itself, and the attempt to collect these scattered lights must conduce to liberality and strength of mind. Nor would the advantage be slight, if such a plan of study tended only to incite the curiosity of the student, and led him to seek a more intimate acquaintance with the writings of Butler, Hutcheson, Adam Smith, and others, who have labored effectually for the improvement of the science. But we are detaining our readers from such farther ac- quaintance with the work before us, as may be gained from a brief outline of Dr. Wayland's system. Proceeding from the acknowledged fact, that all human actions are either right or wrong, and that the guilt or innocence of the agent depends on the intention with which the act is committed, our author enters into the inquiry respecting the source of 316 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. moral obligation. We are bound to practise virtue, because such is the Divine will. " The Will of God alone is suffi- cient to create the obligation to obedience in all his crea- tures ; and this Will of itself precludes every other inqui- ry." We stand in various relations to all sentient beings. From the knowledge of these relations arises necessarily and immediately a consciousness of moral obligation. But the relation in which we stand to the Deity is infinitely more important and solemn than any other ; and the cor- responding obligation accordingly involves and transcends all other duties. We are bound to entertain towards our fellow-beings, not merely such dispositions as arise from a knowledge of the ties which bind us to them, but such as are appointed by His will. Actions presuppose powers. We perceive the existence and qualities of material things, and are therefore said to have the power of perception. Indeed, to see and to pos- sess the faculty of vision are synonymous phrases. It is admitted, that all can discern the moral quality of actions, — can distinguish to a certain extent between right and wrong. We possess then the power of moral discernment, call it a conscience, a moral sense, or what you please. The term conscience is perhaps the least objectionable, and as such is adopted by Dr. Wayland. If the discrepances between the moral decisions of various nations be alleged against the existence of such a faculty, it is answered, that the difference relates to the mode in which the power acts ; and the objector, so far from controverting, admits the fact, that all people possess this power, however variously exert- ed. And the difference becomes very slight, if we look, not at the actions themselves, but at the intentions with which they are committed. Nowhere is it considered right to intend the misery of parents, or the unprovoked destruc- tion of our fellow-beings. ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 317 Conscience has both a directive and an impelling power. It points out the proper path, and urges us to continue in it. After the act is performed, conscience causes remorse or self-gratulation, according as its monitions have been slight- ed or obeyed. The various impulses, of which human na- ture is susceptible, differ not only in strength, but in author- ity ; and conscience is the most authoritative of all, though it may sometimes be the weakest. The dictates of appe- tite yield to those of self-love, when we are convinced, that the indulgence of a desire, however strong, for a particular 'kind of food, would be injurious to our bodily health. But self-love submits to conscience, when it appears that a par- ticular action, which would promote our own interests, would materially injure those of our fellow beings. Again we pity the brute, when it injures its fellows ; but man, who wrongs his brother, is condemned. The one is guided only by instinct, the other by conscience, a higher and clearer impulse. A third argument for the supremacy of the moral faculty, drawn from a consideration of the pur- poses for which man was probably created, is ingeniously and forcibly put ; but for a knowledge of it, we must refer our readers to the book itself. With respect to the improvement of conscience, the gen- eral position is established, that it follows the law of habit. Both its directive and impelling power, and its sensibility are strengthened by use and weakened by disuse. As the taste is improved by familiarity with the finest models of art, so the moral faculty is rendered more nice and dis- criminating by frequent consideration of characters of the highest excellence. On the other hand, whatever leads to frequent contemplation of vice, and fills the imagination with impure conceptions, cannot fail to injure the delicacy of moral perception, and to induce habits of sinful indul- gence. Some excellent rules for moral conduct, derived 27# 318 ELEMENTS OF MOKAL SCIENCE. from these remarks, form one of the most valuable portions of the work. We cannot say as much in praise of the chapter on the nature of virtue in itself, and as it exists in imperfect be- ings. The definition of virtue is an improper one, and the conclusions drawn from it appear to us equally degrading and false. But we reserve our specific objections for anoth- er place. Human happiness is defined to consist in the " gratifica- tion of our desires within the limits assigned to them by our Creator." Passion may lead to the transgression of these limits, by blinding us to the superior importance of ulterior and permanent benefits, when compared with im- mediate good. Even self-love, a higher impulse, cannot lead us to subject self-interest to the welfare of others, and thus to answer the intentions of the Divine Being, as evinc- ed in the constitution of society, or rather of man's social nature. Conscience can only create the desire of fulfilling ) those obligations, which arise from known relations ; it does ( not point out any other relations, than those which intellect ( discovers, nor can it, always'isuggest the mode by which an obligation may be fully discharged. But pain and misery, by the very constitution of things, are annexed to the viola- • tion of right ; whether the doer is conscious of the wrong, } or is rendered irresponsible from his ignorance of the rela- tions whence the duty arises. Hence there is a necessity for additional moral light, which can be obtained only from natural and revealed religion. Natural religion teaches us our duty, by leading us to consider the consequences of acts. Taking for granted the existence and benevolence of the Deity, we may rest as- sured, that whatever promotes our individual weal, and ad- vances the interests of society, is agreeable to His will. Common sense, however, directs our inquiry in this case. ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 319 not to the results of the particular act, but to the general effects of a course of conduct involving this act, when uni- versally permitted. Dr. Wayland's argument under this bead may be considered as a very favorable specimen of his manner. Arguing from facts, from the acknowledged profligacy, that has existed am.ong societies of men, who were guided only by the system of natural religion, Dr. Wayland en- deavors to prove the insufficiency of this system, and refers us to revelation, as the only remaining source of moral light. Of the chapter respecting the mode in which we are to ascertain our duty from the Scriptures, it is sufficient to observe, that, excellent in itself, it would be more in place in a work on Christian Theology, than in a book professing to treat only of Moral Science. Rather the larger portion of the work is devoted to the subject of Practical Ethics. The general division of du- ties is founded on the passage of Scripture, which reduces all human obligations to love to God and man. In the subdivisions, something is sacrificed to the love of sys- tem and originality, by introducing a new terminology ; as where the author treats of veracity, distinguished into that of the present, the past, and the future ; comprehending under the latter head the doctrine of promises. It is no derogation from the merits of Dr. Wayland's book to say, that, in this portion of it, he has been largely indebted to Paley, an author whose excellent practical sense and clear reasoning, where he treats of casuistry applied to the com- mon matters of life, have caused nearly all departures from his method to be considered as failures. We have given but a brief analysis of the work, yet suf- ficient perhaps to present the general features of the sys- tem, and to serve as the foundation for some remarks on its merits. We object, in the first place, to the will of the 320 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. Deity being assumed in a treatise of this nature, as the source of all moral obligation. Moral science, no less than natural philosophy and history, is concerned with actual facts, — with the explanation of existent phenomena. Words corresponding to duty^ ohligation^ ^%^^^ and wrongs exist in every language. In every age and nation, crimes have been visited with punishments irrespective in degree of the relative amount of evil resulting to the community from the commission of the acts. The parricide is everywhere re- garded with greater horror and detestation, than the simple murderer ; though if we look only to the general welfare, it matters not, whether a man be slain by a stranger or by his own son. The loss of life, the loss to the community is equally great, and the necessity of guarding against the repetition of the act is equally cogent. What is the mean- ing of the class of words alluded to ? Under what circum- stances are they applied ? What is the nature of the senti- ments, under the influence of which they are used ? Why have punishments been made to vary on any other stan- dard, than that of the various degrees of harm done to society ? So far as the Ethical philosopher attempts to answer these queries, he is not concerned with the question, what ought to be, which has been thought to cover the whole ground of Ethics, but with the question, what is. The in- quiry respecting the will of the Deity, then, has nothing to do with the theoretical part of Moral Science, any more than the speculation concerning final causes has to do with Natural Philosophy. It is a different question, subsidiary perhaps to the main subject, but forming no integral part of that subject. What would be thought of the astronomer, who, when questioned concerning the cause of the moon's revolving round the earth, should answer, that the immedi- ate agency of the Deity sustained it in its monthly path ? ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 321 Equally irrelevant would be the reply of the moralist, when asked to explain the nature of the obligation under which Regulus acted, who should allege only the conformity of this act to the Divine will. Again, a proper system of Ethics is universal in its ap- plication. It respects men simply as men, and not merely as Christians. It is designed for Jew and Gentile, Christian and Pagan, bond and free. The relation in which we stand to the Deity does indeed, as is stated by our author, transcend in importance all other relations. But it is para- mount to the extent of setting aside the obligations arising from such other relations, only when the two classes of duties clash. Perhaps it will be difficult to prove, that a direct collision ever can occur between them. Reverence to the Deity comes in aid of conscience, and not to super- sede its authority. Could the will of God be made known to us by immedi- ate inspiration, were it proclaimed by a voice from heaven, so as to admit of no doubt concerning its origin, no ques- tion respecting its meaning, then, indeed, the dictates of conscience would be no longer binding, and the creature would respect and obey the Creator alone. The father must be prepared to bind his son upon the pile, and " to be faith- ful even unto slaying," unless released from the dreadful (Juty by the same authority, which imposed the sacrifice. But we live under a different dispensation. We ascertain his will by inference, by diligent use of those faculties with which he has endowed us. Reason, judgment, the moral faculty itself, are employed, not merely in executing His commands, but in ascertaining what those commands are. These powers are the interpreters between God and man. Thus, in the perusal of Scripture, the only reason for con- struing a passage in a metaphorical sense is, often, that by a literal interpretation, it would convey a doctrine utterly 322 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. repugnant to all our moral feelings. The law written on the heart expounds the law graven on tables of stone, and therefore cannot practically be subject to it, although theo- retically of inferior obligation. As the interpreter, to us it is the ultimate approver of moral law. We would not be misunderstood. It is not denied, that the obligations incumbent upon man are increased by a knowledge of revealed truth ; that, as moral rules are thus enforced by a higher sanction, the breach of them must be visited by a higher punishm.ent. But to enforce these con- siderations is the province of the theologian, and not of the moralist. They belong to the pulpit, as a part of religious truth, and not to the professor's chair, as matters of science. Were it otherwise, to the Christian there would be no such science as Ethics. Morality would be merged in religion, and an important argument for the truth of Christianity, grounded on the conformity of its moral precepts to the dic- tates of natural law, would be entirely lost. These reasons appear to us conclusive against a direct reference, in a system of Moral Philosophy, to the revealed will of the Deity. Yet the opposite doctrine is stated by Dr. Wayland in the broadest and most offensive terms. " Thus the obligation to act religiously , ox piously, extends to the minutest action of our lives, and no action of any sort what- ever can be, in the full acceptation of the term, virtuous, that is, be entitled to the praise of God, which does not involve in its motives the temper of filial obedience to the Deity. And still more, as this obligation is infinitely superior to any other that can be conceived, an action performed from the conviction of any other obligation, if this obligation be excluded, fails, in infinitely the most important respect; and must, by the whole amount of this deficiency, expose us to the condemnation of the law of God, whatever that condem- nation may be." —p. 156. This is a remarkable paragraph. We cannot believe, that the author penned it with that degree of consideration, ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 323 which appears to have been bestowed on every other por- tion of the work. Experience has proved, what reason in- deed might have discovered, that a literal interpretation of the command to " do all things to the glory of God," can lead only to the wildest excesses of fanaticism. It is a mark of the highest attainments in virtue, to have cultivated such dispositions of mind, as lead to the immediate — almost the involuntary — performance of benevolent acts. Delibera- tion upon the course of conduct, which duty requires, is often inconsistent with the noble quickness of purpose, which belongs to a truly generous character. It is idle to object, that because his actions are habitual, they are auto- matic, and as such not meritorious. The formation of an evil habit is no excuse for the practice of vice. Why should a good habit rob a virtuous deed of its praiseworthy charac- ter ? A sailor plunges from the deck of a vessel, at the imminent hazard of his life, to rescue a fellow-being from the waves. He does it from the mere instinct of humanity, without a thought on the common relation of the sufferer and himself to the Deity, or on the necessity of rendering obedience to the Divine commands. Yet to deny to such an act the character of virtue is to contradict the general verdict of mankind. We admit, that a wilful violation of the known will of ihe Deity for the sake of performing any other duty, how- ever imperative, — an attempt, for instance, to save a par- ent from starvation by turning robber on the highway, — is sinful, and deserving of the highest punishment. But the principle of Dr. Wayland goes much farther. We are ex- posed to the dreadful consequences of the law, if this obli- gation to render obedience to the Deity " le excluded " ; that is, if it be left aside — not taken into view ; not, if it be known, and yet intentionally disregarded. We can hardly believe, that a person of naturally kind and benevolent 324 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. feelings can entertain so monstrous a proposition. It is the nature of these feelings to require immediate gratification. They lie, if we may be allowed the expression, in direct contact with the will, and an action which is prompted by them is performed wholly under their influence, without reference to any ulterior rule or motive. Is it a crime to yield to such impulses ? Is it sinful to cultivate such feelings ? The weakness of human nature is such, that it requires to be goaded into action by more sharp and powerful motives, than are afforded by the cool and deliberate deductions of the understanding. Passion and appetite must concur with reason and the general desire of happiness. Man is partly an instinctive being. Were it not for the pains of hunger and thirst, though reason might teach the necessity of taking nourishment, lest the body should gradually waste away, yet the act of supporting the physical system would be too often postponed or entirely neglected. The same is the case with our moral nature. Conscience and the social and benevolent affections act directly on the will. The mother cherishes her offspring, not from any consideration of duty either to society or the Supreme Being, but from the instinct of maternal love. Pity prompts to relief, magnanimity to self-sacrifice ; . the feeling of justice shrinks instinctively from any violation of another's right. It is dangerous to suppress such feelings, and to introduce motives, of higher authority perhaps, but less urgent, sure, and immediate in their operation. Obedience to the Deity is shown in the cultivation and control of proper affections, and not in su- perseding them as motives to action. The bigot thinks he does God service, when he severs the bonds of natural af- fection, and binds his own brother to the stake. The fanatic casts away all human ties, and, impressed with the belief, that he is selected for a peculiar mission, to enlighten the human race and glorify the Deity on earth, acts consistently ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 325 with this notion, and violates without compunction every law of God and man. Dr. Wayland's whole system of Theoretical and Practical Ethics is founded on Scripture, and must be regarded as the ingenious attempt of a mind deeply imbued with religious feeling, to show the sufficiency of the Bible, not only for the regulation of human life and character, but for the guidance of at least one branch of scientific research. We will not say, that the book is written in the very spirit, which has prompted some ill-judging divines to discredit and defame the most eminent geologists of the day, on ac- count of a real or fancied discrepancy between the results of their discoveries and the Mosaic account of the creation. But we could wish, that the work was not open to censure of another kind ; that its author had not shown the danger of confounding peculiar theological opinions with the great principles ol religious truth ; that he had not attempted to maintain the doctrines of a sect, when he fancied, that he was only writing on matters of science, and defending Christianity. That a Calvinistic writer on Ethics should endeavor, when treating of human nature, to lay a founda- tion for the doctrines of original sin, total depravity, and the atonement, is not at all wonderful. But we were un- prepared for an attempt of this kind from a writer of so jnuch candor and good sense, as are usually displayed by Dr. Wayland. How far he has made the trial, and with what success, may be ascertained from a perusal of the two sections already alluded to, on " virtue in general," and on " virtue in imperfect beings." A few extracts will show what positions the author labors to establish. " And as, on the one hand, we can have no conception of the- amount of attainment, both in virtue and vice, of which man is ca- pable, so, on the other hand, we can have no conception of the delicacy of that moral tinge by which his character is first desig- 28 326 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. nated. We detect moral character at a very early age ; but this by no means proves, that it did not exist long before we detected it. Hence, as it may thus have existed before we were able to detect it, it is manifest that we have no elements by which to determine the time of its commencement. That is to say, in general, we are capable of observing moral qualities within certain limiis, as from childhood to old age ; but this is no manner of indication that these qualities may not exist in the being before, and afterwards, in de- grees greatly below and infinitely above any thing which we are capable of observing." — p. 85. "Man is created with moral and intellectual powers, capable of progressive improvement. Hence, if he use his faculties as he ought, he will progressively improve ; that is, become more and more capable of virtue. He is assured of enjoying all the benefits which can result from such improvement. If he use these faculties as he ought not, and become less and less capable of vir- tue, he is hence held responsible for all the consequences of his misimprovement. " Now, as this misimprovement is his own act, for which he is responsible, it manifestly does not aifect the relations under which he is created, nor the obligations resulting from these relations; that is, he stands, in respect to the moral acquirements under which he is created, precisely in the same condition as if he had always used his moral powers correctly. That is to say, under the present moral constitution, every man is justly held responsi- ble, at every period of his existence, for that degree of virtue of which he would have been capable, had he, from the first moment of his existence, improved his moral nature, in every respect, just as he ought to have done. In other words, suppose some human being to have always lived thus (Jesus Christ, for instance), every man is, at every successive period of his existence, held responsi- ble for the same degree of virtue as such a perfect being attained to, at the corresponding periods of his existence. Such I think evidently to be the nature of the obligation which must rest upon such beings, throughout the whole extent of their duration. " In order to meet this increasing responsibility, in such a man- ner as to fulfil the requirements of moral law, a being, under such a constitution, must, at every moment of his existence, possess a ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 327 moral faculty, which, by perfect previous cultivation, is adapted to the responsibilities of that particular moment. But, suppose this not to have been the case ; and that, on the contrary, his moral faculty, by once doing wrong, has become impaired, so that, it either does not admonish him correctly of his obligations, or that he has become indisposed to obey its monitions. This must, at the next moment, terminate in action more at variance with rectitude than before. The adjustment between conscience and the passions must become deranged ; and thus, the tendency, at every successive moment, must be, to involve him deeper and deeper in guilt. And, unless some other moral force be exerted in the case, such must be the tendency for ever. " And suppose some such force to be exerted, and, at any period of his existence, the being to begin to obey his conscience in every one of its present monitions. It is manifest, that he would now need some other and more perfect guide, in order to inform him perfectly of his obligations, and of the mode in which they are to be fulfilled. And supposing this to be done : as he is at this moment responsible for such a capacity of virtue, as would have been attained by a previously perfect rectitude; and as his capacity is inferior to this ; and as no reason can be sug- gested, why his progress in virtue should, under these circum- stances, be more rapid than that of a perfect being, but the con- trary ; it is manifest, that he must ever fall short of what is justly required of him, — nay, that he must be continually falling farther and farther behind it." — pp. 90 - 92. " The law of God, as revealed in the Scriptures, represents ^ our eternal happiness as attainable upon the simple ground of perfect obedience, and perfect obedience upon the principles al- ready explained. But this, in our present state, is manifestly unattainable. A single sin, both on the ground of its violation of the conditions on which our future happiness was suspended, as well as by the effects which it produces upon our whole sub- sequent moral character, and our capacity for virtue, renders our loss of happiness inevitable. Even after reformation, our moral attainment must fall short of the requirements of the law of God, and thus present no claim to the Divine favor. For this reason, 828 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. our salvation is made to depend upon the obedience and merits ofanotlier." —pp. 146, 147. We have no wish to comment upon the matter of the foregoing extracts. The doctrines defended have hitherto been regarded either as so cotitrary to reason, or ahove reason, that they rested solely upon Scriptural authority, and were to be received as special matters of revelation, upon the instrumentality of faith alone, with a reverential submission of human judgment to the wisdom and power of God. Whatever may be thought of the Scriptural argu- ment in their favor, they are so entirely repugnant to our natural feeling of justice, that when a person attempts to maintain them on the grounds of consciousness, by doing away with this repugnancy, we cannot argue with him. He is a different being from us. That such an attempt has been made, only shows what loose habits of reasoning are induced by the endeavor to support these doctrines even on Biblical grounds ; and evinces still more strongly the necessity of keeping the department of Ethics distinct from that of Dogmatic Theology. The argument of the second extract, however, from its great ingenuity, may appear to deserve a more close ex- amination. The fallacy in it has arisen from the precon- ceived opinions of the writer on religious subjects, which have induced him, in a treatise purely Ethical, to attribute guilt to vice, but no merit to virtue. It is a poor rule, which will not work both ways. If from the general power of habit, the commission of a single fault blunts the dis- criminative power of conscience, lessens its impulsive force, and leads to other vicious acts, so that the individual can never be released from its future injurious operation, — then we urge, e contra, that one virtuous action, a deed of charity for instance, is not only meritorious in itself, but ELEBIENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 329 from its tendency to strengthen the benevolent impulses of our nature, creates a fund of good desert, equally perma- nent in its working to the benefit of the agent. It is surely possible, that a result of the latter kind should balance one of the former. Dreadful and debasing as are the tenden- cies of sin, there is an effective, healing power in virtue. This is heresy. Dr. Wayland will say. He had better call it sophistry, for then only could we join issue with him. It is not asserted, that a dependent being can claim merit with the Creator for any action whatever ; but only that he deserves and receives the approbation of conscience^ when he has complied with the dictates of this faculty. But after all, from the admitted position, that evil habits dete- riorate the moral powers, to infer the irretrievable effects of a single error or crime on the individual's whole future capacity for amendment, is to draw the argument alto- gether too fine, and to apply a mode of reasoning, which, however proper in mathematics, is ludicrously out of place in morals. The doctrine is too harsh and repulsive in its first aspect. Men can never be persuaded to repent, unless previously assured of the efficacy of repentance. To deny them this assurance is to blot the moral sun from the heavens, and to leave all mankind to the agony of unavailing regret. In- jdividuals have been driven to madness from the fear of having committed the unpardonable sin. Dr. Wayland would make all sins unpardonable, for the sake of proving, that we can be saved only by the merits of another ; and he would teach this doctrine too, not as an incomprehen- sible revelation from the Deity, but as the obvious dictate of natural reason. We believe neither in such a state, nor in such a remedy. Firmly persuaded of the evils of transgression, we are yet to learn, that it leaves man 28* 330 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. in a condition entirely hopeless, except from the expia- tion of his guilt by the sufferings of a different and an inno- cent being. We believe, that in his punishment are con- tained the elements, if he will use them, of his restoration ; that remorse pursues sin, but repentance overtakes and vanquishes it. POLITICAL ETHICS. 331 IX, POLITICAL ETHICS.* A PUBLICATION on the subject indicated by this title is now happily timed. Important questions on the fundamen- tal points in morals and politics are frequently discussed at the present day in our community, with a warmth and ear- nestness, which show rather the deep interest the disputants feel in the argument, than their competency to decide the mooted problems aright. The contest is not only of oppo- site theories ; the results are not merely speculative. Con- clusions are carried into practice with ominous precipitancy, and sometimes it is well, if the decision do not wholly take precedence of the argument, and the debate be instituted only to afford a coloring to preconceived opinions. What are the bounds of the rights of individuals ? How far are they limited and controlled by the establishment of society ? What creates the duty of allegiance to human government, and when does this duty cease ? How far are legal enact- ments binding, and when does resistance to constituted au- thority become a virtue ? What positive duties are created by the mere fact of an individual's birth on one or the other side of a rivulet or chain of mountains, under this or that government .'' *From the Christian Examiner for March, 1839. Manual of Political Ethics, designed chiefly for the use of Colleges and Students at Law. Part I. Book I. Ethics, General and Political. Book II. The State. By Francis Lieber. Boston. 1838. 332 POLITICAL ETHICS. These are grave questions, and it is somewhat late in the day to discuss them now, with any particular reference to conduct. One would suppose, that they were answered long since, practically at least ; for the daily actions of every citizen presuppose a tacit determination of them in his own mind. But the times are changed, and we are changed with them. Novel positions of society beget new relations between individuals, and from these spring new rights and their corresponding obligations. New systems of morals and politics must be contrived, it seems, for each new phasis of government and civilization. We have done with discussing the divine right of kings, and, like good re- publicans, have now for a long time been determining the divine rights of the people. Nay, from recent events, it would appear that we have passed this point also, and are now to consider the rights of the individual, as opposed to the claims of kings, governments, majorities, and all con- stituted authorities whatsoever. The great problem to be solved at present is, how to preserve the blessings of civil institutions with the smallest possible infringement of each man's natural right; — how to keep up society, and yet im. pose no restraint on the free action of any of its members. The spirit of the present age is strongly marked by an im- patience of all authority, however long seated and tamely acknowledged by former generations. As the subject- matter of all discussions in political ethics is thus changed, the old systems have become obsolete, and if any of the conclusions embraced in them are to be retained, they must be supported on wholly different grounds, and thus be as- similated to the other provisions of a renovated code. The republican tendencies of the age have already been displayed in action ; they have dethroned kings, emanci- pated colonies, and proclaimed deliverance to the captive and the slave. They are now to be seen in speculation. POLITICAL ETHICS. 333 Theory is to be carried forward to the same point with practice, and perhaps advanced beyond it, since thought is naturally more free than action. Political science has thus gained a new point of departure, and must rest in future, not on the principles of absolutism and prescription, but on the philosophy of democracy, or the inalienable rights of individual men. The necessity of giving this turn to spec- ulation proceeds from the impulse belonging to human na- ture, which impels one to seek in every institution for the idea of legitimacy, — to found every claim and action on some principle of natural right. It is not sufficient to enjoy a privilege ; we must prove the rightfulness of the enjoy- ment, — the legitimacy of the privilege. From this cause, the movement, which has released us from the old political systems, now tends to the establishment of an excessive and licentious freedom. To justify the revolt against ancient institutions, principles have been advanced and a mode of argument adopted, which, as they are carried out by many reasoners, lead to conclusions remote and extravagant be- yond all conception. ''The right of the people ''^ is a con- venient abstraction ; yet, in the apprehension of many, it means nothing, if it be not founded on the right of the in- dividual. But, if each member arrogated to himself all the power, that is exercised by society in the aggregate, total anarchy would ensue. The theory, that government is founded on popular consent, in the literal meaning of the phrase, is a mere fiction. The consent of more than half of the community is never asked under any circumstances, and under the most liberal form that ever existed, it would be difficult to prove, that, at any period subsequent to its first establishment, it is in the power of any person to with- hold his approval, if he sees fit. Besides, he cannot give more than he possesses ; and if the founders of the State could, by their personal authority, bestow upon it such ex- 334 POLITICAL ETHICS. tensive rights over themselves, then their successors, having equal endowments from nature, but disposed to make a dif- ferent use of them, may withhold the gift from the govern- ment and exercise it in their own persons. This is a strange conclusion, but we cannot perceive that the argument of many ultra defenders of individual rights leads to any other result. The state, as it appears to us in an organized form, is an artificial thing, — an arbitrary creation ; yet it claims and exercises the highest prerogatives. It regulates the descent and distribution of property, and, under the name of taxa- tion, even appropriates a portion of the subjects' wealth to itself. It is the arbiter of life as well as fortune, exposing those who live under its dominion to the chances of war, and inflicting death as a punishment for whatever crimes it chooses thus to distinguish. It even dictates to the con- sciences of those under its control, assuming the power to change the moral character of acts, and to make criminal certain proceedings, which, in a purely ethical point of view, are indifferent. Thus, smuggling is made an offence in morals, unless we adopt the strange conclusion, that a man has a moral right to disobey the law of the land, if willing to suffer the legal penalty when detected. These are all grave prerogatives, and the inquiry into their origin is at once curious and difficult. Every theory, which founds the power of government on a compact, either ex- press or implied, or in any way recognises the consent of the governed as the sole basis of civil authority, necessarily implies, that the subject originally possessed these rights in his own person, and, unless he voluntarily renounces his birthright, he is independent of the law, and may rightfully refuse obedience. We need, therefore, a more solid foundation for the au- thority of the state, than a mere bargain between it and its POLITICAL ETHICS. 335 subjects. If civil subordination means any thing more than apathetic submission to force, or blind reverence for ancient custom, it must be shown, that government rests on the eternal laws of justice and natural right, and that its legal enactments are binding on the consciences of those to whom they are addressed. Allegiance is the moral duly of the subject, and treason is a crime of far deeper dye than the mere breach of a promise, or violation of a tacit compact. The duty is reciprocal, it is true ; the sacred character does not attach to the government, unless the well-being of the subject is promoted by its management, or, perhaps, his wishes consulted, in some degree, in its formation. But, when these conditions are fulfilled, a more grave authority, — a far higher sanction, belongs to the legal proceedings of the state, than could be derived from the mere consent of the governed. Hooker merely stated an undeniable truth in a rhetorical and exaggerated form, when he affirmed of positive law, that " its seat is the bosom of God, and its voice is the harmony of the world." This reverence for law is spontaneous and natural to every man, when unhap- py circumstances have not compelled him frequently to op- pose abused authority and mischievous and oppressive en- actments. It is the safeguard of society, the preservative from continual dissension and tumult, the fly-wheel, that ^eeps up continuous action in the social machine, and pro- tects it against sudden and injurious alterations. The pre- sumption is in favor of every existing form of government, and can be rebutted only by positive evidence of abuse, mismanagement, or oppression. And the burden of proof lies on the assailant. He must substantiate his charges, or he is justly exposed to punishment as a disturber of the public peace. We are not stating a theory, but a fact, though it is one which is too frequently winked out of view in general speculations on politics. The uniform practice 336 POLITICAL ETHICS. of all governments, in relation to resistance to meir autnor- ity, is as above stated. The statutes of republics and de- mocracies, as well as of despotisms, define the crime of treason, and annex to it the highest of all punishments. In these times, we have reversed the maxim of the an- cients ; opinions now incline towards the conclusion, that the individual is every thing, and the public nothing. The disorganizing effects of such a belief need to be resisted by argument, since the tendency of events is to strengthen and develope the principle. Antiquity fortifies the opinion of right in the state, and, as the frequent changes of modern times have deprived the civil power, in most cases, of this support, it is the more necessary to point out the legitimacy of its authority, or the moral basis on which it rests. We are fast disarming the -law of its former terrors, — physical force and the reverence due to age, — and there is more cause, therefore, to increase its moral efficiency. Without a clear perception of the truth, that the acts of the state are always presumed to be done within constitutional limits, there will be perpetual collision between the claims of gov- ernment and of the individual. If the subject believes, that there is no obligation in the case, that he is bound to obey no longer than it is his interest to do so, that his own esti- mate of the expediency of a law determines his privilege of resisting it, then it is obvious that society must cease. An, organized state differs from a mere aggregation of individu- als only by virtue of the superior authority claimed for an act of the former over a decision by a majority of the lat- ter. An act of the state, as such, by its own proper char- acter, is binding on those of its subjects who receive, and those who reject the evidence of its general utility. The privilege of the discontented is confined to an attempt to change the law through the established mode of legislation ; they must not resist it during the period of its legal exist- POLITICAL ETHICS. 337 ence. But, where a number of individuals are casually- united, without any social or legal tie existing between them, no decision by a majority, however great, can put any restraint, but that of physical force, on a single dissentient. All general reasoning on this subject, founded on the hy- pothesis of birth in a state of nature, original enjoyment of entire freedom, and subsequent formation of society, and voluntary submission to legal restraint, is fallacious and ir- relevant. Nowadays, men are not born in holes and cav- erns, apart from their fellows, to the enjoyment of natural, savage right. Man is eminently a social being. Society, more or less matured, watches over his cradle, claims him as her property in infancy, and exercises authority over him before he is capable of acting for himself. When he attains the use of reflection and foresight, the question is not, whether he will surrender a portion of the privileges he has hitherto enjoyed, but whether he will shake off the authority which has as yet restrained him ; — not whether he will form a society, but whether he will destroy one. Therefore, if the duty of civil obedience exists at all, it is not self-imposed, but original ; it is born with us, resulting necessarily from the condition of our nature, and the situa- tion in which we are placed by Providence. The true state of nature, far from being one of unlicensed action and self- ^ government, is a condition of responsibility, submission, and trust. With these views, we may the more easily approach a question, the decision of which is of some practical impor- tance at the present day. Does a colony owe natural alle- giance to the mother country ? Can it justifiably dissolve the connexion, when unprovoked by unjust, illegal, or op- pressive treatment ? According to the principles just laid down, colonists have no such privilege. The allegiance of the subject, as it is not founded on his own act or consent, 29 338 POLITICAL ETHICS. but on the constitution of his nature and the general order of things, is due to that government under which he is born. It continues until he is released by a voluntary act of the state, or the duty is cancelled by some violation of his rights on the part of the government. It is the privilege of every society to use all justifiable means for its own pres- ervation, and among the most important of these means is the integrity of its territory. Hence, the dismemberment of a state is a social evil, and can be justified only by the necessity of avoiding some greater wrong, or of vindicating some natural and indefeasible right. Indeed, so far as such dismemberment goes, it amounts to a dissolution of society itself; for the right of separation from the main body may be claimed and effected, successively, by still smaller por- tions of the community, until, at last, all union is dissolved, and each individual assumes the privilege of self-govern- ment. The distance of a colony may seem to create a dis- tinction between its case, and the removal of an integral portion from the parent state. But it is a distinction with- out a difference, when we regard only the rights of the two parties, though it may prove decisive, if the question be ar- gued on the simple ground of expediency. There are no natural limits to the territory of a nation, and a district on a remote border may be as far distant from the metropolis, as a colony is, in a different direction. The duty of a sub- ject cannot be determined by the greater or less number of miles, which separate him from the seat of government. The inconvenience of extending the empire of one state over what are termed natural boundaries, such as a river, a chain of mountains, or an ocean, may be manifest ; but this circumstance cannot affect a question of natural right. In our country, under the most liberal government of modern times, this practical question may hardly seem to merit an abstract discussion. We shall probably never POLITICAL ETHICS. 339 again be driven to an application of the argument in our own case. Yet it is important to have precise notions on the subject, if we would avoid the waste of much honest sympathy on men and measures, that deserve only the heartiest execration. Liberty is too sacred a name, the glory of having fought and died in her cause is too pre- cious, to be thrown around the memories of piratical and blood-stained insurgents. To prevent a general confusion of ideas and uncertainty of judgment on this subject, and others growing out of it, and equal in importance, we need a system of political ethics suited to the advanced notions of the age, in relation to civil freedom and the rights of subjects, — a system, which shall reconcile the enlarged claims of individual liberty with the security and well-being of society. The first principle of such a theory must be, that government, considered simply as a government, is a good ; — that its mere existence entitles it to respect, and gives it authority ; — that innovators, recusants, and oppo- nents are bound to make out their case, — to show cause for their proceedings. This point being established, we have a moral basis for the reasoning, a point of departure in the natural obligations of the subject. The conflicting claims of the state and the individual may then be settled by a comprehensive view, on the one hand, of the blessings conferred on men by civil organization, and, on the other, of the evils of restraint, and the justice as well as the ne- cessity of leaving free action and separate responsibility to each of the governed. We hoped to find in Dr. Lieber's work, the publica- tion of which has suggested these remarks, a full statement of the altered grounds of political science, and of the new position it occupies in consequence of the progress of civil liberty, and the enlargement and diffusion throughout the civilized world of liberal opinions in matters of government. 340 POLITICAL ETHICS. The rights and duties of citizens are now contemplated from a new point of view, and their relative extent and im- portance must, consequentl}', be determined on principles very different from those employed by former writers on the same subject. After a full examination of his work, we are bound to say, that these expectations were disap- pointed. It would be too much to assert, that the writer seems never to have perceived the necessity of founding his scheme of political duties on a different basis from that adopted by his predecessors ; but, rejecting the old theory, he has offered none to supply its place, — none, at least, which, from a precise statement of principles, and definite application of them to certain cases, affords any solution to the numerous questions contained in the science. The writer has evidently bestowed much thought on the subject. Some of the arguments bearing on particular points are lucid and satisfactory, and many of the illustrations are striking and ingenious. But there is a great want of meth- od. We find no regular succession of topics, no consecu- tive evolution of principles ; and, therefore, after the most careful perusal of the work, one is wholly at a loss to de- termine, whether the author has any system of morals and politics or not. Political Ethics may be defined as the moral theory of political conduct, or that branch of general ethics which treats of the rights and duties of citizens. The present work is divided into two books ; one of them treating of the general scheme of morals, the other relating to the origin of society, and to men considered as members of organized communities. The first book, either from the limited space allotted to it, or because the author did not propose to him- self a full discussion of the whole theory of ethics, is meagre and unsatisfactory. A better course would have been to omit it altogether. The om.ission would have injured only POLITICAL ETHICS. 341 in appearance the completeness of the plan. The writer of the Leviathan had a similar purpose in view, but to exe- cute it, he was obliged to go to the bottom of the subject. He proposed to establish a philosophy of despotism ; and his object was so peculiar and strongly marked, so repug- nant to the principles of common sense, that he was forced to go very far back, and gain a standing point for his theo- ry, by distorthig and debasing the moral nature of man. The common belief respecting the ethical part of human nature was destructive of his political system, and he knew that this belief must be uprooted, before his theory could stand. Hobbes inculcated more slavish principles of gov- ernment than the world, in all its unhappy experience, has ever known to be carried into practice, on the strength of an ethical system, that was utterly degrading and false. But there is nothing so peculiar in the present writer's views on political subjects, as to require a separate and distinctive scheme of morals for their support. They may be defend- ed on any system of moral philosophy, which admits the fundamental distinction between right and wrong. Indeed, the book cannot be said to contain any peculiar doctrine in ethics, though there is much loose and general commentary on the opinions of various moralists. The first principle in ethics is, according to Dr. Lieber, " that man has an inalienable moral character, and cannot, by his own consent or the force of others, become a non-moral being ; " — a very safe assertion, though somewhat indefi- nite. In another place, however, we find this character de- fined to consist in " superior intellect, peculiarly expansive and refinable sympathy, freedom of will, and rationality, (or self-determination of volition,) and conscience." Un- doubtedly, all these elements, in their turn, may constitute, in a greater or less degree, the grounds of human responsi- bility ; since a being deprived of either would not be an- 29* 342 POLITICAL ETHICS. swerable for his conduct to the same extent, as one who possessed them all. But as each of them separately, by different moralists, has been made the foundation of the moral character of man, it is necessary, in a system which embraces them all, to point out the particular office of each with great distinctness. Adam Smith explains all moral phe- nomena by the operation of the single principle of sympa- thy. Butler reduces them all to the workings of conscience. Dr. Price traces the origin of all moral distinctions to the intellect. Now, if an eclectic system is to be made up out of these several theories, the distinctive function of each element, and the mode of cooperation between them all, should be accurately explained. We believe that such an explanation is possible, though Dr. Lieber certainly has not attempted it. In the first place, freedom of will is a necessary postulate at the outset of all moral investigations. The proof of free agency belongs to metaphysical inquiry ; it must be taken for granted in a system of ethics. With this point assumed, the next step may be taken with ease. A feeling or senti- ment of the good, the right, the just, of duty and obligation, exists, just as much as the emotion excited by the percep- tion of beauty, which, indeed, it closely resembles. It may be ill-directed, excited on wrong occasions, felt in an im- proper degree ; but there is no question about its real ex- istence, or distinctive character. There is no more danger, for instance, of our confounding the moral approbation of a virtuous act with the admiration of a fine statute or a beau- tiful painting, than of our mistaking love for hate, fear for joy, or losing sight of the separate character of any two passions. We may fear the approach of that, which, when nearer at hand, will excite a rapture of pleasure. Just so, a savage may approve an act, which, in an educated state, he would view with detestation. But he would never in either POLITICAL ETHICS, 343 case confound the two emotions. He would never praise a wrongful deed as such, or blame an agent for an act of which he clearly perceived the virtuous character. The separate existence of a distinctive moral feeling is the sub- ( stratum of our ethical nature, — the fact from which all \ systems must proceed. And this existence is proved by the consciousness of every one, by the criminal laws of all na- tions, by the vocabulary of every language ; for words cor- responding to right and wrongs ought and ought not, may be found in every tongue that is or has been spoken. When it has been shown, that a moral sentiment exists in all men, perfectly distinct in kind from other emotions, and absolutely superior to them in authority, in order to found an ethical system, there is but one other point remaining to be established. Do men agree with each other, not merely in the nature of the feeling, but in the character of the acts by which it is excited ? This is perfectly similar to the ques- tion in aesthetics, — whether there is any standard of taste. In like manner, we ask. Is there any standard in morals ? Is there perfect unanimity atnong mankind in their estimate of merit and demerit, and in their award of moral praise and blame ? Without conceding the whole ground here, we may safely attribute much influence to education. Those are evidently mistaken, who seek to explain the entire mat- ter by the effects of early instruction. Education can nev- er create a new emotion, though it may modify the direc- tion of one, which already exists in the mind. The dis- criminating eye of taste is not gained without time and study, though the elements of it exist in the child's admira- tion of bright colors, smooth surfaces, and regular forms. But a brute could never be made sensible to the beauty of a fine prospect, for a susceptibility to this peculiar emotion forms no part of merely animal nature. So neither could a savage attain to a just appreciation of the relative impor- 344 POLITICAL ETHICS. tance of different virtues, tbonsh he intuitively separates right from wrong. He may frequently misplace virtues on the ascending scale, and therefore, when a conflict of du- ties occurs, may appear to make utter confusion between rectitude and criminality, though in truth, he has only judg- ed wrongly of comparative excellence. The ancient Spar- tan esteemed patriotism a higher virtue than honesty, and encouraged boys in the practice of thieving, that they might become more able to overreach the common enemy. Mod- ern intelligence has reversed this decision, and awarded im- mortal honor to the man, who would die for his country, but would not commit a dishonest action to save it. The very mistake of the Spartan, far from proving his insensibility to the superiority of virtue, is of a kind that a brute, or a being having no moral nature, would be incapable of committing. The natural but untrained susceptibility of a child may lead him to prefer the bright colors of a daub, to the masterpiece of a Raphael. But who adduces this fact to disprove the naturalness and universality of the first principles of taste, or to show that the general preference of chaste coloring and correct design is merely arbitrary and conventional ? Yet equally absurd is the reasoning of the sophist, who would deny the existence of natural law, because some savage tribes allow, and even encourage, great deviations from it in practice. Examined in this way, the number of these dissentient opinions is much reduced, and the consideration of them becomes a secondary matter. We have hazarded these remarks upon them, because, from the space allotted to the subject in Dr. Lieber's work, and the number of instances adduced, he evidently regards them as a formidable ob- stacle to the establishment of an ethical system. The whole discussion is properly referred to another chapter in ethical inquiries, which relates to the criterion of moral POLITICAL ETHICS. 345 conduct. If habit and early example have so great an in- fluence on our estimate of motives and actions, if a conflict of duties frequently occurs, if complex cases are often presented, which need to be analyzed, before the course of virtue in relation to them is made plain, it is important to ascertain, whether there be not some common element in all virtuous conduct, which may be used as an unerring test of rectitude. Some writers maintain this problem to be solved by the discovery, that all the qualities of mind and action, which are generally approved as right, tend also to the order and well-being of society. Obedience to the moral law may often require self-sacrifice on the part of the individual, but, in its general consequences to others, must always be productive of good. Whatever is right, in the long run is also expedient. But, as it cannot be de- nied, that the converse of this proposition, in which form only it is useful as a rule, is liable to much abuse, some moralists have earnestly opposed its adoption. An unfortunate prejudice against any reference to ex- pediency in doubtful cases has arisen from an ambiguity in the meaning of the term. The only kind of utility, that can be used as a criterion of right, consists in the good of others, of mankind, — in the general good. To make pri- vate advantage, or the interests of the individual our guide, is mere selfishness. But it is the dictate of pure benevo- lence, to assume a watchful regard to the interests of our fellow-men, as the rule of moral conduct. We observe, farther, that the use of expediency as a test is a very differ- ent thing from assuming it to be the principle of virtuous action. It is only in complex cases, that we have any need of a criterion at all, and even then, we approve the act, not because it is expedient, but because its expediency proves that it is right. To resolve our whole approbation of virtue into that inward satisfaction, which results from 346 POLITICAL ETHICS. the appearance of utility, as Adam Smith observes, is to have " no other reason for praising a man, than that for which we commend a chest of drawers." But when we contend for nothing more than the invariable coincidence of virtuous conduct with the well-being of society, the re- mark, that the perception of utility is wholly distinct from the feeling of right, is true, but irrelevant. We avail our- selves of this coincidence, only in order to detect one ele- ment by the presence of the other ; — never confounding the separate emotions, with which the two are properly re- garded. Placing the question on this ground, the differ- ence of opinion is very slight. It is only inverting the terms of the proposition. " Whatever is useful, is right," says the utilitarian ; " whatever is right, is useful," says his opponent. There is little room for contest on the theory, therefore, though in practice the difference may be very wide. A single regard to the consequences of actions leads to short-sighted and illiberal views of the real in- terests of society, to a cold depreciation of remote and ele- vated good, and an exaggerated estimate of the importance of immediate and tangible effects. It is true, that these evils proceed from the abuse of a principle, which, philo- sophically considered and properly carried out, affords no support to such degrading opinions and conduct. But, if the tendency to such abuse be so strong, that nearly all the advocates of the principle have fallen into it, then the fact constitutes a well-founded objection to the theory itself; at least, until this last be so far amended, either in its nature or its application, as entirely to obviate the risk of miscon- ception. On the other hand, there is danger, lest a deep reverence for personal convictions of duty and rectitude, unaided or untrammelled by any reference to expediency, should generate a species of fanaticism in morals, that would be none the less turbulent and destructive in its ef- POLITICAL ETHICS. 347 fects, because accompanied with perfect sincerity of in- tention and the noblest spirit of self-sacrifice. The ex- istence of this danger is not incompatible with the previous assertion, that all conduct which is right is necessarily ex- pedient ; for, though mischief cannot result from absolute rectitude and justice, it may from individual views and con- victions of duty, which, as we have too good reason to ac- knowledge, may be mistaken and deceptive. All will admit, that an action, wholly indifferent in itself and in connexion with ordinary circumstances, may ac- quire, from a change of position and from being related to a different class of events, a decided moral character, either for good or for evil. A responsible agent is then no longer at liberty, as he was formerly, to do or to refrain from doing, as the mere impulse of the moment may direct. The deed may spring from the same motive, and be effected by the same physical movement ; but, from the change in its relations, it now leads to a different result. He is bound to consider it as a whole, and to govern his conduct by the character of the event, which he perceives must inevitably follow. To a rational being, endowed with the capacity of judging of the future from the past, the consequences of the act become a part of the act itself, and he has no right to direct himself by what is confessed- , ly a partial view. Every one acknowledges this, when the results are so immediate, that they are commonly blended with the primitive deed. Death is the consequence of the assassin's stroke ; but is he not responsible for it ? Can he plead, that he has only struck a blow with an axe, and therefore incurred no more guilt than the simple artisan, who wields the same implement in his daily toil ? This is an extreme case, it is true ; but the consequences may be- come more and more remote by imperceptible degrees, and we may well ask, at what point the obligation to con- 348 POLITICAL ETHICS. sider them ceases. When does the agent become entitled, in common phrase, "only to do his duty in the act itself, and leave the consequences to an overruling Providence " ? Certainly, not while he is able to foresee and provide for those consequences himself, any more than he would be justified in omitting daily labor, and relying for support on Him, who hears the cry of the young ravens, and clothes the lilies of the field. The responsibility of the agent ceases only with his power. When the results of the action extend beyond human ken, when the wisdom of man cannot foresee their character, nor his power provide against their occurrence, then he is justified in leaving them to the goodness of Omnipotence. He is not to wait for absolute certainty in this foresight, but is bound to act on those reasonable grounds of expectation, a regard to which constitutes ordinary prudence. If he is not entitled openly to sacrifice the happiness of others, he has no right to hazard it. Our remarks on the portion of Dr. Lieber's work, that professes to treat of " Ethics general and political," have been extended so far, that we have little space for noticing the second book, which should contain the application of his moral principles to the theory of politics. The want of system in this part of the treatise renders an analysis of it impossible; — desultory remarks hardly admit of abridg-, ment. The book opens with a tolerably fair enunciation of the' question respecting the origin of government and the duty of civil obedience. But instead of proceeding at once to discuss this important point, the author flies off" in a di- gression about the institution of property. The advantages of this institution are brought out with some distinctness ; but, as the whole inquiry is obviously of a secondary char- acter, its introduction at this point only injures the con- nexion, and throws no light on the main subject. The POLITICAL ETHICS. 349 consideration of any question relating to property obviously comes after the settlement or determination of that civil authority, which, if it does not create, undoubtedly restrains, modifies, and regulates the institution itself. Some remarks are made on the question of copyright, which has recently attracted much attention at home and abroad, and is now under discussion in the legislatures of several nations. The argument on this head, in favor of the author's privilege, may be taken as a favorable specimen of the writer's manner. Dr. Lieber does not assert, however, that the allowance of perpetual copyright is the dictate of natural justice. But we believe, that this point may be fully supported. The opponents of the natural right rest their argument on the analogy between the making of a book and the invention of a machine. Yet the distinction between the two cases is perfectly obvious. The duration of a patent right is prop- erly limited to a term of years, because it is very possible, that, within this time, another person may hit upon the same invention. No monopoly is justifiable, that deprives the community of an article, which they would otherwise have enjoyed. If Faust and his associates had never lived, the invention of the art of printing could not have been delayed for many years. If Watt had not effected his improvement of the steam-engine, our countryman Perkins, or some other ingenious mechanic, would doubtless have accom- plished the same end. The latter cannot be barred of his right for ever, because the former anticipated him by a short period ; for, in civilized society, no rights can be en- joyed, that are not compatible with the equal rights of oth- ers. The natural duration of a patent is the time by which the first inventor has anticipated the second. As this peri- od cannot be accurately ascertained for each case, an arbi- trary portion of time is selected, that may be considered as 30 350 POLITICAL ETHICS. the average interval between the first and second invention. But this reasoning is wholly inapplicable in the case of au- thorship, for there is no possibility, humanly speaking, that two men, without concert or knowledge of each other's labors, should chance upon making the same book. If John Milton had not written Paradise Lost, it never would have been written. If Shakspeare had not lived, Lear, Hamlet, and Othello would never have been represented. The public lose nothing, therefore, by the perpetuity of the author's privilege, for they are wholly indebted to him for the work ; as they never could have enjoyed it without his agency, he has a perfect right to dictate the terms on which it shall be received. If he chooses to keep the manuscript in his desk, instead of printing it, they cannot wrest it from him. If he prefers to publish it, the act is a benefaction to the community, of greater or less value, in proportion to the importance of the work. But they cannot make the partial gift a total one, and insist on receiving the book upon their own terms ; any more than they can take by force from the mechanic an article, which he has complet- ed with his ov/n hands, assigning him whatever value they see fit in exchange. The right of an individual to the pro- ducts of his manual labor, and that of an author to the fruits of his mental toil, rest upon precisely the same foot- ing ; they do not abridge any previously existing rights of the public. By natural law, then, the exclusive and per- petual privilege of the writer is demonstrable. Next to the question of copyright, in the order, or rather the disorder of subjects in Dr. Lieber's work, are introduc- ed remarks on civilization, the proper state of nature, the destiny of woman, monogamy, and patriotism. After many desultory observations on the topics thus strangely brought together, the author returns to his primary question, — What is the state } He defines it to be a society founded POLITICAL ETHICS. 351 on the relation of right, just as a family is a society kept together by mutual affection. To adopt his own language, " the state is a jural society, as a church is a religious so- ciety, or an insurance company a financial association." It would be difficult to frame a more unsatisfactory defini- tion, when the object is to found a political theory, and not merely to remark on the obvious fact of the recognition of justice by societies as well as individuals. Church mem- bers and stockholders have rights peculiar to themselves, and perfectly distinct from those which they enjoy in their capacity as citizens ; and one aim of the association in either case is to preserve these rights to its members. But this is not the only object of the union, nor is it the sole aim of the state to protect rights ; its more general and leading purpose is, to promote the common well-being of its subjects. General expediency, not the mere enforce- ment of justice, is the grand motive for the institution of government. Even if we admit the correctness of Dr. Lie- ber's definition, so far as it goes, it leaves the real difficulty untouched. We seek to know the origin of that authority of the government, which extends over the individual from the cradle to the grave, — which follows him in his jour- neyings, controls his actions, regulates his property, com- mands his services, and, in certain cases, dooms him to imprisonment and death. We speak of its pursuing him in every change of place, for it is even disputed whether a man may quit his country, or the society of which he was originally a member ; — Great Britain, at least, claiming the services of its subjects wherever it may find them, wholly denying their right to shake off the obligations im- posed by their birth under its jurisdiction. But if we allow this right, it amounts only to the privilege of changing one's allegiance, not of renouncing the duty altogether. The emigrant merely lays down one set of obligations to 352 POLITICAL ETHICS. assume another ; unless, indeed, he quits the society of men entirely, and accepts the inconveniences, in order to enjoy the freedom, of perfect solitude. But, if he prefers to live with others, the rights of the society take precedence of his rights as an individual. It is true, the authority of the state acknowledges certain limits ; but the narrowest circle, within vvhi« h its powers are ever confined, still em- braces a wide tract, and the question respecting the origin and basis of these powers remains for solution. We do not know, that the full extent and difficulty of this problem have been perceived by any writer on natural law. Cer- tainly, it is not solved by the author before us, though some theory in relation to it must form the point of depar- ture for every system of political ethics. To assert with him, that "the state exis s of necessity, and is the natural state of man," is to confound an organized community, which is a perfectly artificial thing, with a mere aggrega- tion of individuals, formed by the social propensities of men, but possessing no authority beyond that which is founded on universal consent. A full statement and solu- tion of this problem, with a view to its practical application at the present day, would form a valuable contribution to moral and political science. THE END. B791.B778 ^ ^. ^ Critical essays on a few subjects Theological Semmary-Speer Library 1 1012 00160 5452