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 CO 
 
 -I 
 
 < V
 
 ROBERT CARTER, 
 
 58 CANAL-ST., NEW YORK, 
 
 HAS J IT ST ISSUED, 
 
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 Comprising eight complete treatises. 8vo. $1 50. 
 
 VIII. 
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 AN 
 
 HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL VIEW 
 
 SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY OF EUROPE 
 
 NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 BY 
 
 J . D . M O R E L L , A.M. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 
 
 FROM THE LAST LONDON EDITION 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 ROBERT CARTER, 58 CANAL STREET; 
 
 1848.
 
 . CUAKillEAD, I-RIN-IKR, 
 U-i H LION STRKET.
 
 3 
 
 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 The author, in sending forth the present work to the public, wishes at 
 the outset to bespeak the candor and indulgence of the reader. The sub- 
 ject, he is well aware, is at present of a very unpopular character ; be- 
 sides which, the abstruseness of many of the details renders it vain to 
 hope that he has succeeded in discussing them without falling into some 
 errors and many imperfections. The work itself is not the production 
 of an experienced writer ; it contains the first thoughts which the author 
 has yet ventured to intrude upon public notice, and was composed in the 
 quietude of a country life, without the aid of any mind to suggest im- 
 provements. Under these circumstances he feels that, while he is bound 
 to speak with much modesty of his own labors, he can at the same time 
 lay some reasonable claim to kind consideration from the critical reader. 
 With regard to originality, the author makes very little pretension to 
 anything of the kind. He has used very freely the opinions and the 
 arguments of other people ; seldom rejecting an apposite idea because it 
 was to be found amongst the productions of some other mind. Should 
 he only succeed in bringing great truths and principles before the atten- 
 qI lion of his felloW-men, he will not envy any one the first origination of 
 ^ them. If it may be now allowed him to lay down the stiffness of the 
 third person, and assume the confidential ease of the first, he will detail 
 Q as briefly as possible the train of circumstances which has led to the 
 '^ present attempt, and the purpose he has had in view in making it. 
 "-' Whilst going through a systematic course of general study in London, 
 
 I was induced, from a somewhat undefined idea of the importance of the 
 subject, to take up Locke's " Essay on the Human Understanding." 
 The perusal of that immortal work seemed to open a region of surpass- 
 mg grandeur ; but at the same time gave few results, upon which it was 
 possible to rest with calmness and satisfaction. I next betook myself to 
 the Lectures of Dr. Thomas Brown, hoping to find there the satisfaction 
 I required. In this hope I was not /or the time disappointed. The style 
 was so captivating, the views so comprehensive, the arguments so acute, 
 the whole thing so complete, that I was almost insensibly borne along 
 upon the stream of his reasoning and his eloquence. Naturally enough 
 I became a zealous disciple ; I accepted his mental analysis as almost
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 perfect ; I defended his doctrine of causation ; with him I stood in 
 astonishment at the alleged obtuseness of Reid ; and, with the exception 
 of his ethical system, was ready to consider " ipse dixit" as a valid argu- 
 ment for the truth of any metaphysical dogma. Induced by the lively 
 admiration I had conceived for the Scottish metaphysics, I proceeded to 
 the University of Glasgow, and studied philosophy in the class-rooms 
 which had been honored by the presence and enlightened by the genius 
 of Reid and Smith. Here the veneration for Brown began to subside ; 1 
 felt that there was a depth in the philosophy of Reid which I had not 
 fully appreciated, and that the sensational tendency of the former, though 
 it added popularity to his thoughts, W£is an ill exchange from the incip- 
 ient spiritualism of the latter. Hoping to probe the questions relating 
 to the foundation of human knowledge more to their centre, I attempted 
 to read Kant's " Critick of Pure Reason," and some few other Continen- 
 tal works ; but they for the most part opened a region so entirely new, 
 that I felt quite unable to compare their results as a whole with those of 
 the Scottish metaphysicians. Desirous, however, of pursuing the sub- 
 ject still further, I repaired to Germany ; I heard Brandis and Fichte 
 expound German philosophy in their lecture rooms, and spent some 
 months in reading the standard works of the great masters. The differ- 
 ent systems, which were here contending for the preference, gradually 
 became intelligible ; but, alas ! they stood alone — in complete isolation ; 
 to compare their method, their procedure, their aim, their results satis- 
 factorily with those of our English and Scottish philosophy, appeared, as 
 yet, almost impossible. To gain light, therefore, upon these points, I 
 turned my attention to France ; the name of eclecticism seemed too in- 
 viting to be turned away, as it often is, on the charge of syncretism or 
 want of profundity ; and my hopes were not altogether deceptive. I 
 found, or thought that I found, in the writings of Cousin, and others of 
 the modern eclectics, the germs of certain great principles, upon which 
 a comparison of all the philosophical systems of the present age could be 
 advantageously instituted, and saw, that such a comparison would be of 
 very important service to one, who should be anxious to travel, as I had 
 done, over the broad field of European metaphysics. How eagerly 
 should I have welcomed such a directory myself, while I was toiling to 
 get some clear light upon the conflicting systems of Germany ; how 
 highly should I have valued a simple and definite statement of the foun- 
 dation principle of the different schools — how intensely rejoiced in a 
 work which would show the relations of the one to the other ! It was 
 with a view, therefore, of supplying the want which I had myself felt, 
 that I besan the sketch which has now swelled into these two volumes ; 
 and it is in the hope that it may afford to others what I myself vainly 
 sought for, that it is now ushered with all its imperfections before the 
 public.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The plan of the work, as a whole, may be stated in very few words. 
 First, I have attempted to explain and illustrate the general idea of phi- 
 losophy, and to deduce the fundamental notions from which it springs. 
 Havino- ^rasped the idea of philosophy generally, I attempt next to point 
 out the different views which have been entertained of its details ; in 
 other words, to classify the diiferent systems which have been in vogue, 
 more or less, in every age of the world. Having obtained four great 
 generic systems as the result of this classification, 1 have endeavored, in 
 the first part of my plan, to trace their history from the revival of letters 
 to the opening of the nineteenth century ; in the second part, to follow up 
 that history more minutely to the present age ; and in the third part, to 
 discover their tendencies as it respects the future. 
 
 I would beg leave, further, to make one or two remarks on the phra- 
 seology which I have found it necessary to employ, and to which some, 
 perhaps, might be inclined to make objection. There are four expres- 
 sions which occupy a very prominent place throughout the whole work, 
 and those are — sensationalism, idealism, scepticism, and mysticism. Now 
 of these four, the first, I believe, is a word entirely new, and, therefore, 
 demands some apology for its introduction. For some time I used the 
 term sensualism, adopting it literally from the French philosophy ; but 
 the associations which that expression has with what is morally vicious 
 was so strong, that I was soon induced to abandon it altogether. Next, I 
 thought of sensism and sensationism, as being terms well adapted to de- 
 scribe the philosophy which builds itself up upon sense, or sensation ; but 
 these seemed to fail in respect to taste and euphony. Lastly, I adopted 
 the term sensationalism, as being at the same time more in accordance 
 with the analogy of our language, and more euphonious to the ear. 
 
 With this explanation, I trust no further apology will be considered 
 necessary, for the liberty here taken, of coining a new term. Had an 
 old one been in existence, it would certainly have been employed in pref- 
 erence. The next term I mentioned above was idealism ; and this also 
 required no little consideration ere it was adopted. The term rationalism 
 would certainly have been better adapted to express a philosophy starting 
 from conceptions of reason, rather than intimations of sense ; but then 
 it has acquired such notoriety in the religious world,^hat I well knew 
 the penalty of pressing it into my service. On the whole, therefore, as 
 the term idea is now very frequently used to signify a mental concep- 
 tion, in opposition to a sensational feeling, I thought it not inappropriate 
 to apply the word idealism, in the general sense in which it is found in 
 the following pages. The terms scepticism and mysticism need no com- 
 ment ; they are used in their ordinary philosophical sense, and only re- 
 quire to be accompanied by the single caution, that they be not under- 
 stood on any occasion, in their peculiarly theological acceptation. With 
 regard to such terms as philosophy, metaphysics, science, &c., I have
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 not employed them in any peculiar and distinctive signification. I have 
 preferred their loose popular use, as being more adapted to an historical 
 inquiry ; and trust that, wherever they are employed distinctively, the 
 meaning intended to be conveyed will be clearly pointed out by the con- 
 nection, or some qualifying adjunct to the words themselves. 
 
 With regard to that portion of the work which relates to the German 
 philosophy, I think it due to myself to remind the reader of the extreme 
 difficulty there is in setting forth these German ideas in an English 
 dress. The mere translation of any of the writings of Hegel or Schel- 
 ling, or even of Kant himself, into English, would prove entirely unin- 
 telligible to the mass of English readers. The only method of adapting 
 their philosophy to the English mind, is, to master their ideas, and then, 
 having thrown all books on one side, to attempt a reproduction of them, 
 in our own style and language. How far I have succeeded in doing 
 this, it is not for me to judge ; but I can only express my conviction, that 
 by due reflection, the whole of what is really valuable in tlie German 
 metaphysics, might be made just as comprehensible to all ordinary phi- 
 losophical minds, in English, as it is in any other language whatever. 
 
 The only point to which I would further allude is, to the marks of 
 rapidity and brevity, which the reader may notice, in discussing some 
 of the most important systems which come before us. The fact is, that 
 I intended, at first, simply to compile a manual, in one volume ; when I 
 found, accordingly, that the matter increased rapidly upon my hands, I 
 constantly wrote under the desire of compression ; and it was not till the 
 work was more than half completed, that I found it necessary to enlarge 
 my original plan. The first three chapters must, at any rate, have given 
 but a very rapid glance at the subjects there treated of; the intention of 
 them being simply to prepare the way for a right estimate of philosophy 
 in the present century. In the other part of the work, however, suffi- 
 cient, I trust, has been written, to give a full portraiture of the principles 
 upon which every separate school is founded. 
 
 The mature philosopher, moreover, will doubtless feel a want of depth 
 in the discussion of some of the great points which our criticism in- 
 volves. It must be remembered, however, that I have not written so 
 much for philoso[^ers as for the mass of educated and thinking minds in 
 our country. With this view, I have, in many instances, thought it right 
 and useful, somewhat to sacrifice depth and fulness of research to the 
 desire for clearness and popularity. 
 
 Should the present attempt meet with a favorable reception, I shall 
 consider it a suflScient inducement to go on in the efTort I have com- 
 menced, of bringing the great questions respecting the grounds and 
 validity of human knowledge, respecting the laws of thought, and re- 
 specting the history of their scientific development, before the public. 
 Sure I am, that the mechanical tendency of the age is fast wearing itself
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 out, and that the current of philosophical investigation will soon begin to 
 flow towards the elucidation of human nature, in its individual and in its 
 social capacity. In such investigations, the history of thought will afford 
 some of the principal data on which to work. Should the present manual 
 only draw attention to the importance of the subject, and lead any other 
 minds to direct their energies to it, I shall not fear that my labor will 
 ultimately prove to be in vain. 
 
 PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 In offering to the public a second and enlarged edition of the present 
 work, there are some few explanations into which I feel it requisite to 
 enter. The distinct object I had in view, in the first composition of the 
 work, was to make an unpopular subject as clear and interesting as pos- 
 sible. I expressly stated, in the preface to the first edition, that I had 
 not written for the scientific ; but that, impressed with the importance of 
 philosophical truth generally, I had endeavored to make its chief prob- 
 lems accessible to the mass of educated and thinking minds. 
 
 I did not ihe7i realize, on the one hand, the probability, or even the pos- 
 sibility, that this feature of my plan, which was regarded by me as its 
 chief utility, could be seized upon as the ground either of objection or 
 attack. On the other hand, I did not give credit to the British public at 
 large, for sufficient interest in the abstruser questions of philosophy, 
 either to render a more full discussion of them necessary, or to make 
 any copious references to foreign and other authorities desirable. In 
 this opinion, I am glad to find I was deceived. 
 
 In order, therefore, at once to turn aside the imputations of the hyper- 
 critical and to supply the wants of those who may be emulous of advan- 
 cing onwards in the pathway of philosophy, I have thought it right to 
 offer my former work to the public in an improved, and more legitimately 
 historical form.* 
 
 The additions now made may be easily enumerated. First, the notes 
 at the foot of the page are intended to furnish somewhat fuller historical 
 
 * One word with regard to reviews. Upon those which have taken up the questions 
 v/ith vigor and intelligence, I have made some remarks in the notes and appendix, 
 whenever I thought the objections demanded attention. To those who have attempted 
 to argue against philosophy, without understanding anything about it ; or have under- 
 taken to refute the writers of Prance and Germany, while they evidently have never 
 read through a philosophical work in either language, I have not thought it worth the 
 trouble to reply.
 
 vm PREFACE. 
 
 information, wherever it seemed requisite, respecting the authors whose 
 opinions are described, and to point out the portions of their works, in 
 which the more important features of their respective systems are con- 
 tained. Secondly,^ this distinctive reference to the works in question, 
 has, in many instances, demanded a more distinctive and detailed de- 
 scription of the systems tliemselvcs in the text. Some of the articles, 
 indeed, have been entirely re-written ; others have been considerably 
 enlarged ; while all have been carefully revised. 
 
 Thirdly, a considerable quantity of matter in the present edition is 
 entirely new, not only with regard to the treatment of the subjects, but 
 with regard to the subjects themselves. This new matter refers chiefly 
 to authors and systems, of which no previous mention was made, but of 
 which, for the sake of historical completeness, I have thought it right to 
 give some distinct account. Moreover, in the conclusion and appendix, 
 there will be found a somewhat fuller development of the author's 
 views, on some points connected with the method of philosophical inves- 
 tigation, and the grounds of natural theology. 
 
 With regard to the philosophical doctrines which are advocated, I am 
 not aware that these are, in any respect, modified ; the revision being 
 entirely confined, either to the more precise expression of the ideas them- 
 selves, or to the correction of some minor, chiefly historical, errors, 
 which had before unwittingly crept into the text. There is one point 
 only, on which I am desirous of making a few remarks, and that is on 
 the subject of Locke and his philosophy. 
 
 The real sentiments of the " Essay on the Human Understanding" 
 have long been, and to all appearance are long likely to be, a disputed 
 point between metaphysicians of different schools. It is, at once, instruc- 
 tive and amusing to read the various comments which have been called 
 forth upon this topic. On the one hand, I have been taken to task, by 
 no mean authority, for favoring Locke's sensualism too much, and not 
 exposing its bitter and baneful consequences. On the other hand, I have 
 been just as severely criticized, for «o< doing justice to our great country- 
 man. By one party, that, namely, professing extreme sensationalism, 
 Locke has been claimed as an unconditional supporter of their peculiar 
 views ; while, by another party, it is admitted, that the philosophy I have 
 maintained, is correct ; but it is aflirmed that Locke's philosophy is pre- 
 cisely the same ! 
 
 The most obvious conclusion we must draw from these phenomena, is 
 — that whatever be Locke's views, they are not very easy to come at ; 
 that whether it be from want of precision in the style, or whether from 
 a want of uniformity in the opinions, the Essay is such, upon the whole, 
 as to lead different minds to very opposite conclusions. It cannot be 
 denied that both parties have much to say for themselves, and that 
 they can each bring an array of passages from different portions of the
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 Essay, which appear to establish conclusively their several hypotheses. 
 Under these circumstances, the only course remaining, is to look to the 
 spirit which breatlies through the entire work, and to estimate, in this 
 way, its general bearing. I am still of the same opinion as ever, that 
 any one honestly and intelligently following this course, would class 
 Locke midway between the philosophy which finds a distinct and a pr/on 
 source of ideas in the reason, and that which makes sensation the gen- 
 erating principle of all our mental activity. That he maintains the ex- 
 istence of active faculties, without which we could not possess any of the 
 so-termed "ideas of reflection," no one, as I before showed, can for a 
 moment deny ; but to suppose that these faculties involve anything more 
 than a mere formal and logical mechanism, or have any real material to 
 act upon, except that which is furnished by the senses, appears to me to 
 be contrary to the spirit of Locke's whole polemic against innate ideas ; 
 as it vvas also to that of Kant's " Critick of Pure Reason." The charge 
 of having viewed Locke, simply through foreign authorities, I utterly 
 disclaim. His Essay was my first companion in philosophy, and I 
 studied it throughout, long before I ever opened a single work of any 
 French or German writer. The reason I have followed, in the main, 
 Cousin's criticisms, is, primarily, because I considered them very near 
 the truth ; and, secondly, because they present the subject in a form best 
 calculated for giving a popular view of the whole question. 
 
 In admiration of Locke as a man and a thinker, I yield to none, even 
 of his warmest partisans. So long as integrity in moral principle, firm- 
 ness in purpose, practical vigor of intellect, and sincerity in religious 
 profession, are admired in the genuine? English character, will Locke 
 ever stand forth as one of its noblest examples. But it must be abun- 
 dantly evident to every mind, (except perhaps to those which are cast 
 in his own inould,) that Locke belongs to that class of thinkers, who live 
 more amongst the forms and definitions of logical ideas, than to those who 
 seek direct intuitions of higher truth ; that he seldom or never tran- 
 scends the region of the understanding, to gaze upon the conceptions 
 which are only accessible to the pure reason. With those who deny 
 this distinction in mental character, I have little or no expectation of 
 coming to any adjustment upon the philosophy of our great countryman. 
 And, therefore, I anticipate, that so long as the two great schools of sen- 
 sationalism and idealism last, the contest will be ever renewed and never 
 concluded. I only express the hope, that the future combatants will 
 avoid that unhappy dogmatism, which always arises from sheer inca- 
 pacity of seeing beyond one's own system ; and that instead of bolstering 
 up their particular view, by casting gratuitous imputations on the sense 
 or honesty of their opponents, (which, be it remembered, are retorted as 
 easily as made,) they will learn that truth may be gazed on from many
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 different points of view, each of which may have its advantages as well 
 as its defects.* 
 
 The rapid sale of the former edition of this work, has given a decisive 
 proof that the interest felt in philosophy in our own country, is far from 
 being inconsiderable. To the hope that the present attempt may foster 
 the love for subjects which are of such vast importance in the political, 
 moral, and religious development of every people, the present improved 
 edition is now consecrated. 
 
 * To express more fully what I mean, by numbering Locke amongst logical, rather 
 than intuitional thinkers, 1 cannot avoid quoting a parallel which has been drawn by a 
 writer of no mean abilities between the genius of Locke and that of \\ illium Penn. 
 " Locke, like William Penn, was tolerant; both loved freedom, Iwth cherished truth in 
 sincerity. But Locke kindled the torch of liberty at the fires of tradition ; Penn at the 
 living light in the soul. Locke sought truth through the senses and the outward 
 world; Penn looked inward to the Divine revelations in ever)' mind. Locke compared 
 the soul to a sheet of white paper, just as Hobbes had compared it to a slate, on which 
 time and chance might scrawl their experience ; to Penn, the soul was an organ 
 which of itself instinctively breathes Divine harmonies, like those musical instruments 
 which are so curiously and perfectly framed, that, when once put in motion, they 
 of themselves give forth all the melodies designed by the artist that made them. To 
 Locke, ' Conscience is nothing else than our own opinion of our own actions ;' to Penn 
 it is the image of God and his oracle in the soul. Locke, who was never a father, 
 esteemed ' the duty of parents to preserve their children not to be understootl without 
 reward and punishment ;' Penn loved his children with not a thought for the con- 
 sequences. Locke, who was never married, declares marriage an all'air of the senses ; 
 Penn reverenced woman us the object of fervent, inward afiection, made, not for lust, 
 but for love. In studying the understanding, Locke begins with the sources of 
 knowledge ; Penn with an inventory of our intellectual treasures. Locke deduces 
 government from Nouh and Adam, rests it upon contract, and announces its end to be 
 the security of properly; Penn, far from going back to Adam, or even to Noah, 
 declares ' that there must be a jieo^ile before a government,' and, deducing the right to 
 institute government from man's moral nature, seeks its fundamental rules in the 
 immutable dictates of ' universal reason,' its end in free<lom and happiness. The 
 system of Locke lends itself to contending factions of the most opposite interests 
 and purposes ; the doctrine of Fox and Per.n, being but the common creed of hum;inity, 
 forbids division, and insures the highest moral unity. To Locke, hapjuness is pleasure ; 
 things are good and evil only in refcr<^nce to pleasure and pain; and to incjuire after 
 the liighcst good, is as absurd as to dispute wheth-r the best relish be in ' apples, plums, 
 or nuts ;' Penn esteemed happiness to lie in the subjection of the baser instincts, to the 
 instinct of Deity in the breast, good and evil to tie eternally and always as unlike as 
 truth and falsehood, and the inquiry after the highest good to iiuolve the purpose 
 of existence. Locke says plainly, 'that, but tor rewards and punishments beyond the 
 grave, it is certainlij riiihl to eat, drink, and enjoy what we delight in ;' Penn, like 
 Plato and Penelon, maintained the doctrine so terrible to despots, that God is to be 
 loved for his own sake, and virtue to be practised tor its intrinsic loveliness. Locke 
 derives the idea of infinity from the senses, describes it as jiurely negative, and 
 attributes it to nothing but space, duration, and number; Penn ilcrivt-d the idea tVom 
 the soul, and ascribed it to truth, and virtue, and God. Locke declares immortality a 
 matter with which reason has nothing to do, and that revealed truth must be sustained 
 by outward signs and visible acts of power; Penn saw truth by its own light, and 
 summoned the soul to bear witness to its own glory. Locke believed not so many men 
 in wrong opinions as is commonly supposed, because the greatest part have no opinions 
 at all, and do not know what they contend for ; Penn likewise vindicated the many, 
 but it was because truth is the common inheritance of the race. Locke, in his love of 
 tolerance, inveighed against the methods of jjcrsecution as 'Popish practices;' Penn 
 censured no sect, but condemned bigotry of all sorts as inhuman." — Bancroft's History 
 of Ike United States. 
 
 Gloucester Crescent, Regent's Park, Majj2, 1847.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Page 
 
 Sect. I. — Philosophy explained 19 
 
 Sect. II. — Objections against Philosophy answered 21 
 
 1st Objection. That our knowledge is confined to sensible 
 
 phenomena 22 
 
 2d Objection. That the deepest*thinkers come to opposite con- 
 clusions 26 
 
 3d Objection. That philosophy has no practical utility . . 29 
 
 4th Objection. That philosophy is superseded by revelation . 31 
 
 Sect. III. — Rise of Philosophy inevitable 36 
 
 1. The power of accurate generalization is the true index of the 
 extent of our knowledge 38 
 
 2. Every branch of human knowledge, if fully generalized, leads 
 
 to philosophy ....... ^ . 39 
 
 Nature of philosophy illustrated . . ... . .43 
 
 Sect. TV. — Primary Elements of Human Knowledge ..... 46 
 
 Aristotle's Categories 47 
 
 Kant''s Categories .......... 48 
 
 Cousin's Categories 49 
 
 Analysis of our primary ideas 51 
 
 Sect. V. — Systems of Philosophy 65 
 
 Sensationalism 55 
 
 —Idealism 66 
 
 Scepticism * ... 67 
 
 Mysticism 58 
 
 Eclecticism ^ ..... ^ * .... 69
 
 Xll 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 ON THE PROXIMATE SOURCES OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF 
 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON THE PROGRESS OF SENSATIONALISM, FROM THE PERIOD OF BACON TO THE 
 COMMENCEMENT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Page 
 
 Sect. I. — Commencement of Modern Philosophy 61 
 
 Revival of ancient systems . ..... 62 
 
 New doctrines advocated by Ramus, Telesius, &lc. . . .62 
 
 Bacon 63 
 
 His influence on speculative philosophy 64 
 
 Hobbes 71 
 
 Sect. II. — Criticism of Locke ......... 76 
 
 His methodology 77 
 
 Theory of maxims 83 
 
 Theory of ideas . 85 
 
 Locke's ontology . . 9"J 
 
 • 
 
 Sect. III. — Effects of Locke in England 9.5 
 
 , ColUns, Dodwell, &c. 96 
 
 Hartley 96 
 
 Priestley 101 
 
 Home Tooke 103 
 
 Sect. IV. — Effects of Locke in France and Germany . . , . .104 
 
 Condillac 104 
 
 Bonnet . . 109 
 
 Helvetius IK) 
 
 St. Lambert Ill 
 
 Baron d'Holbach Ill 
 
 D'Alembert, &c 112 
 
 French Encyclopaedia 112 
 
 Herder, Tiedemann 113 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON THE PROGRESS OF IDEALISM, FROM THE PERIOD OF DESCARTES TO THE 
 COMMENCEMENT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURT. 
 
 Sect. I. — First Movement seen in 
 
 Descartes 115 
 
 Geulincx .122
 
 CONTENTS. Xlii 
 
 Pago 
 Malebranche .......... 122 
 
 Spinoza ........... 124 
 
 Sect. II. — Second Movement. 
 
 English polemical idealism 132 
 
 Lord Herbert of Cherbury 133 
 
 Cumberland 134. 
 
 Cudworth 134 
 
 Shaftesbury I37 
 
 Wollaston, Clarke 137 
 
 Butler 140 
 
 Berkeley 141 
 
 Price 143 
 
 Harris ........... 144 
 
 ' \ ^ 
 
 Sect. III. — Third MovemerU. 
 
 German idealism 146 
 
 Leibnitz I47 
 
 Wolf 161 
 
 Kant 163 
 
 Critick of pure reason 164 
 
 Critick of the practical reason 169 
 
 Critick of the judgment 170 
 
 Estimate of Kant 171 
 
 Reinhold I77 
 
 Sect. rV. — Scottish Philosophy 179 
 
 Hutcheson 179 
 
 Adam Smith , igQ 
 
 Dr. Reid I81 
 
 His theory of perception 182 
 
 Beattie 189 
 
 Oswald 190 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ON THE DIFFERENT FORMS OF SCEPTICISM AND MYSTICISM WHICH HAVE ARISEN 
 FROM THE PRECEDING SYSTEMS OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Nature and relations of Scepticism and Mysticism 191 
 
 Sect. I. — Scepticism and Mysticism on the Continent, from the Period of 
 
 Descartes to the Commencement of the Nineteenth Century , 194 
 
 A. First period — originating from Descartes and Gassendi . .194 
 
 B. Second period — originating from Locke and Leibnitz . . 207 
 "^ C. Third period — originating with Kant and Condillac . . 209
 
 XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 Sect. II. — Scepticism and Mysticism in England, from the Time of Bacon 
 to the Commencement of the Nineteenth Century. 
 
 Glanville, Fludd, Henry More 210 
 
 Gale, Pordage, Poiret 213 
 
 David Hirnie 215 
 
 PART II. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE NINE- 
 TEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Preliminary Remarks 226 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 characteristics of modern sensationalism. 
 
 Sect. I. — Modem Sensationalism in England 23(5 
 
 A. Sensational metaphysicians 236 
 
 Mill's (Jas.) Analysis 237 
 
 Mill's (John Stuart) System of Logic 262 
 
 Controversy with Dr. Whevvell 254 
 
 Lewes, G. N . . .258 
 
 B. Sensational moralists 265 
 
 1. Objective sensational ethics 266 
 
 Paley's utilitarianism 267 
 
 Bentham's deontology 272 
 
 2. Subjective sensational ethics 280 
 
 Doctrines of liberty and necessity argued . . . .281 
 
 Socialism .......... 293 
 
 Remarks on the necessarian controversy .... 299 
 
 C. Sensational physiologists 302 
 
 Use of physiology in philosophy 303 
 
 Non-materialists 306 
 
 Phrenology 308 
 
 Materialism 318 
 
 Sect. II. — Modern Sensationalism in France 334 
 
 Cabanis 335 
 
 Garat and Volney 339 
 
 Destutt de Tracy 342
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 XV 
 
 Page 
 
 Criticism of the French ideology 344 
 
 Broussais •••••.... 351 
 
 Comte . . . , 3g4 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Characteristics of modern idealism . 
 
 Sect. 1. — The Scottish School of the Nineteenth Century 
 
 Dugal Stewart 
 
 Dr. Thomas Brown .... 
 Young, Mylne, Ballantine, and Abercrombie 
 Estimate of the Scottish philosophy . 
 Edinburgh Review — Sir J. Mackintosh 
 Sir W. Hamilton 
 
 Sect, II. — The German School of the Nineteenth Century 
 Analysis of it 
 Fichte 
 
 SchaJler 
 
 Schelling . 
 
 Hegel 
 
 Hegelian school 
 
 Goschell, Erdmann, Gable: 
 
 Rosenkranz, Marheineke, Vatke, Michelet 
 
 Strauss, Bauer, Conradi, Feuerbach . 
 
 Herbart ...... 
 
 Latest writers, Fichte, &ic. 
 
 Sect. III. — -The English School of the Nineteenth Century 
 A. Scoto-English metaphysicians 
 Dr. Payne .... 
 Isaac Taylor 
 Mr. B. Smart 
 
 Cambridge school of philosophy 
 Professor Whewell 
 Germano-English Metaphysicians 
 Carlyle .... 
 " Small books on great subjects" 
 
 B. 
 
 . 363 
 
 . 364 
 . 365 
 . 375 
 . 390 
 . 391 
 . 405 
 . 406 
 
 . 409 
 413 
 414 
 433 
 456 
 477 
 479 
 479 
 480 
 482 
 489 
 
 496 
 498 
 499 
 500 
 601 
 503 
 504 
 507 
 508 
 512 
 
 CHAPTER VI, 
 
 characteristics of modern scepticism. 
 
 Sect. I. — Modern Scepticism generally — in England 
 Absolute scepticism 
 
 . 513 
 . 516
 
 XVI CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Scepticism of authority 618 
 
 Scepticism of ignorance 621 
 
 Sect. II. — Modern Scepticism in France ....... 522 
 
 M. de Maistre 524 
 
 Abbe de Lamennais 527 
 
 Bonald 537 
 
 Bautain 539 
 
 Baron d'Eckstein 541 
 
 Maret 542 
 
 Scepticism of ignorance in France 547 
 
 Sect. HI. — Modern Scepticism in Germany 549 
 
 Kant as a sceptic 550 
 
 Schulze 552 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF MODERN MYSTICISM 
 
 Sect. I. — Modern Mysticism generally — in England ..... 556 
 
 1. When knowledge is gained by a regular law of feeling . . 5(i2 
 Coleridge .......... 562 
 
 Taylor 567 
 
 Greaves — Barham ........ 568 
 
 2. When knowledge comes through a fixed supernatural chan- 
 
 nel 570 
 
 Sewell 571 
 
 Wardlaw 676 
 
 3. When knowledge is gained by extraordinary supernatural 
 
 means 577 
 
 Sect. II. — Modern Mysticism in France 578 
 
 St. Simonism .......... 579 
 
 Fourier 582 
 
 Pierre Leroux and J. Renaud ....... 590 
 
 Buchez . . . 593 
 
 Ballanche 594 
 
 Sect. m. — Modern Mysticism in Germany 596 
 
 Jacobi 597 
 
 School of Jacobi-Kant 603 
 
 Bouterwek 603 
 
 Krug 604 
 
 Fries 606 
 
 Calker 607
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 xvu 
 
 School of Jacobi-Fichte 
 
 Schlegel 
 
 Schleiermacher 
 
 Niavalis . • . , 
 School of Jacobi-Schelling 
 
 Schubert 
 
 Baader . 
 
 Page 
 . 608 
 . 608 
 . 615 
 . 621 
 . 623 
 . 624 
 . 625 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ON THE ECLECTIC SCHOOL OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Sect I.— Rise and Progress of Modern Eclecticism in France 
 M. Laromiguiere 
 M. Royer-Collard 
 Maine de Biran 
 Cousin 
 JoufFroy . 
 Damiron . 
 
 Sect.U.— Collateral BrancTies of the Eclective Philosophy 
 B. Constant 
 Madame de Stael 
 M. Degerando . 
 Physiological writers 
 Germano-French writers 
 Swiss writers . 
 Modem French writers 
 
 . 629 
 . 631 
 . 634 
 . 637 
 . 641 
 . 662 
 667 
 
 675 
 676 
 676 
 677 
 679 
 681 
 684 
 685 
 
 PART III. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ON THE tendencies OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE NINETEENTH CENTUEY. 
 
 Sect. I.— -On the Tendencies of Modern Sensationalism 
 
 . A. In science 
 
 ^^ B. In legislation 
 
 C. In religion 
 
 2 
 
 . 692 
 . 699 
 . 702
 
 Xviii CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Sect. H. — On the Tendencies of Modern Idealism 707 
 
 1. In science 707 
 
 2. In legislation 711 
 
 3. In religion 715 
 
 Sect.YU..— On the Tendencies of Modem Scepticism 720 
 
 SscT.IV.— On the Tendencies of Modern Mysticism 726 
 
 Appendix '^^ 
 
 I
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 SECT. I.— PHILOSOPHY EXPLAINED, 
 
 Everything that is brought into existence must have a final 
 cause. The final cause of man's intellectual faculties is to know, 
 and the material of knowledge is truth. The search after truth, 
 therefore, is the natural sphere of our ment.il activity, and philoso- 
 phy (which is the name we give to this process when it is carried 
 on with intelligence and design) is at once a real want, and a neces- 
 sary product of the human mind. 
 
 The process of knowing, however, is a very gradual one. The 
 infant mind appears first to exist in a state of bare receptivity. 
 The first intellectual impulse that manifests itself, is simply the de- 
 sire of receiving impressions, which pour in upon it from every 
 side, with the greatest possible intensity. As the mind develops, 
 these impressions are remembered, compared, and classified ; so 
 that, on our emerging from the cloud of our infancy, we find that 
 we have been spontaneously active in gaining an extensive acquaint- 
 ance with the phenomena of what we term the external world. 
 This spontaneous activity, therefore, we find has even thus early 
 given us a practical knowledge of outward things, in many of the 
 relations which they hold to ourselves and to each other ; and the 
 result of advancing years and continued experience is, in ordinary 
 cases, simply to afford us the means of a wider observation, of a 
 more extensive comparison, and of a more complete classification 
 of them. 
 
 This knowledge of phenomena (of things as they seem) is suffi- 
 cient for all the practical wants of human life ; and the mass of 
 mankind are content to confine their observation to them alone, 
 without any inquiry respecting their real nature, the mode of their 
 subsistence, or the medium by which the mind perceives them.
 
 20 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The life of men, therefore, who are thus conversant about phenom- 
 ena only, we term spontaneous. Their mind, stimulated by the 
 external world, exercises its faculties without being reflectively 
 conscious of a single mental operation ; impressions and ideas exist, 
 but it is never asked how, or why, they exist ; mental operations 
 are carried on, but it is never surmised in what manner they are 
 carried on ; knowledge is gained, but no inquiry is raised about the 
 grounds or certainty of it ; thought, in a word, goes forth, but it 
 never returns to render account of itself, or to inquire how it has 
 been produced, or how far it is of any value, as being an accurate 
 reflection of the truth of things as they are. 
 
 Whilst, however, the spontaneous life has ever been that of the 
 mass of mankind, there always have been minds that could not 
 content themselves with knowing only the world of outward phe- 
 nomena. Their mental activity having first gone forth to grasp 
 the varied forms of the outward world, returned back, when it had 
 accomplished this purpose, to inquire how the process had been 
 managed, what were the powers of mind employed, and what con- 
 fidence there is to be placed in the result. This process is what is 
 properly termed reflection ; and the reflective life, accordingly, is 
 that which attempts to render a true account of the spontaneous 
 life of man. The first man that rejlected was the first speculative 
 philosopher, — the first time that ever thought returned to inquire 
 into itself and arrest its own trains, was the commencement of 
 intellectual philosophy ; and once commenced, it was inevitable 
 that philosophy should continue as long as a problem was left in 
 the mental or moral world to be solved. The primary efforts of 
 reason to get at the ground principles of human knowledge were 
 naturally weak and imperfect; but as reflection progressed the 
 path became clearer, until some one individual of more than ordi- 
 nary reflective power arrived, as he considered, at a solution of the 
 main problems of human life, and sent it forth as such into the 
 world. This was the first system of philosophy ; and as successive 
 attempts to do the same thing have differed in respect to their prin- 
 ciples, their method, their extent, and their results, so they have 
 given rise to the different systems of philosophy, which have been 
 thrown up to the light of day by the ever-flowing tide of human 
 thought, and the ever-restless striving of the human reason. 
 
 Philosophy has been variously defined. By some it is termed 
 '* the science of the absolute and universal ;" by others, it is viewed 
 as that which is to explain the principles and causes of all things ;
 
 INTRODUCTION, 21 
 
 whilst Others, again, denominate it that branch of human knowl- 
 edge which is conversant with abstract and necessary truth.* All 
 these definitions, and many others which might be mentioned, 
 amount, in fact, very nearly to the same thing. If it were neces- 
 sary to make the idea of philosophy still clearer, perhaps we might 
 say that it is the science of realities in opposition to that of mere 
 appearances, — the attempt to comprehend things as they are, rather 
 than as they seem. Starting originally from phenomena, internal 
 and external, it seeks to discover what reality there is beneath 
 them, what is the law of their development, and what the ground 
 of their existence. Thus, if it treat of the subjective world, it in- 
 quires into the nature and validity of our faculties, into the true 
 foundation of our knowledge and faith ; if, on the other hand, it 
 treat of the objective world, it strives to look through the outward 
 appearance of things, and comprehend the essence by which they 
 are upheld ; having done this, it next seeks to determine the con- 
 nection that subsists between subject and object, and the common 
 origin from which they both proceed. In carrying on this process 
 of inquiry, the human mind can never content itself with a super- 
 structure of knowledge which is either uncertain in its foundations 
 or imperfect in any of its parts ; accordingly the philosophic spirit, 
 when once begun, ever strives after a perfected system, in which 
 every phenomenon within or around it shall be accounted for, and 
 every problem analyzed and solved. The history of the continued 
 progress of this attempt to unfold abstract and fundamental truth, 
 is the history of philosophy ; the different systems are but different 
 movements of the whole process, and the united sum of such truth 
 which now exists in the world is the fruit of philosophy up to the 
 present time. 
 
 Sect. II. — Objections Answered. 
 
 Philosophy (regarded in the light in which we have placed it, as 
 the striving of man's reason to comprehend the great problems of 
 the world within and the world without, to probe their real nature 
 
 * Tennemann defines philosophy as " Wissenschaft der letzten Griinde und Gesetze 
 der Natur und Freiheit, so wie ihres Verhaltnisses zu einander." Vid. Grundriss der 
 Ges. der Phil. p. 2. 
 
 For a perspicuous explanation of the idea of Philosophy, i;i(^. "Manuel de Philo- 
 sophic," par MM. Jaques, Simon, and Saisset. p. 5, et seq. 
 
 The following definition has been suggested to me as comprehending every essential 
 point — " Philosophy is the science which reduces all things to the region of pure Ideas 
 — and then traces their connection and unity."
 
 23 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and assign their true origin) has often met with no little opposition, 
 and even contempt, as being either in the nature of things an im- 
 possibility, or if not impossible, yet, at least, altogether, fruitless. 
 It may be proper, therefore, to notice the principal forms in which 
 one or other of these objections have been brought forward, and 
 to weigh their validity. 
 
 I. It has often been urged that our possible knowledge is con- 
 fined to phenomena, which come to us primarily through the senses, 
 arranged and modified as the case may be by subsequent reflec- 
 tion ; that all we have to do, accordingly, is to investigate and in- 
 terpret nature ; that this has acknowledgedly led, and may still lead 
 us, to splendid results ; but that when we step beyond the observ- 
 ance and classification of sensible phenomena, so far from getting 
 at any deeper results, we are going away from the beat of human 
 knowledge altogether, into absolute darkness and uncertainty.* To 
 this, however, the metaphysician replies, — that, however correct 
 such a view of things may seem to the mere naturalist, yet it is 
 impossible for the human reason as a whole abruptly to stop at the 
 limits of mere observation, and rest satisfied with the results it 
 affords without striving or desiring to advance beyond them. And 
 if it be asked, why it is impossible for us to rest satisfied when the 
 mind has done its best in making observations and classifying 
 them ; there are many reasons that at once present themselves in 
 reply. First, how do we know that our observations are correct ? 
 what is the ground of our confidence in our own sensations ? are 
 we quite certain that the representations of external things within 
 our own minds, is a correct delineation of the truth of things with- 
 out? Of many of our sensations we become convinced, by a 
 very little reflection, that they cannot possibly have any external 
 reality answering to them. Colors, for example, arise from the 
 separation of the rays of light, and sounds are produced by pulsa- 
 tions of the air ; but will any one assert that anything external 
 exists at all similar to the impression of colors or sounds which 
 we experience within ? Where, again, is the outward reality to 
 which the inward sensations of bitter and sweet correctly answer ? 
 It is true that such sensations may prove to us the existence of 
 some powers of nature out of ourselves ; but is equally true that 
 
 * This objection was practically exhibited in the spirit of the French Encyclopaedia 
 in the last century. In the present century it has been reiterated by the advocates of 
 Xhe. fii^itire philosophy. Firf. " Cours de Philosophie positive" — par Aupuste Comte. 
 See also the same explained in a pamphlet by M. Littre — " De la Philosophie positive." 
 For a further account of this system, tne reader is referred to Section ii., Chapter IV.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 23 
 
 what we perceive is simply our own relation to these powers, that 
 all we can directly observe in each case is our own subjective 
 state, and that whatever these arrangements of nature may be in 
 themselves separate from our own feeling, they are to us wholly 
 unknown. And if this be the case with some of our sensations, 
 why, it might be argued, may it not be so with all ? If, for exam- 
 ple, I see an external object, what do I perceive directly but n\y 
 own subjective state, and where is the proof that this subjective 
 state is a perfect exemplar or pattern of the outward reality ? Is 
 there any ground of certainty on this point, or is there not ? In 
 either case philosophy is necessary, on the one hand to show the 
 ground of the certainty, if there be any, — on the other, to prove 
 to us that there is none, and thus to fix the limits of human knowl- 
 edge ; and show where we must begin to rest upon a simple and 
 undemonstrable belief. 
 
 But the metaphysician goes a step further in his reply. You 
 outward observers, he says, it is true, collect together many facts 
 of a diversified and interesting character, and deduce many em- 
 pirical laws, but what is the nature of this knowledge ? You know 
 after all only passing phenomena, objects that are ever liable to 
 change. The knowledge of single things, and mere empirical 
 laws, however great in extent, is no i^eal knowledge at all, for 
 they may all pass away, or alter their relations ; and then what 
 was knowledge becomes error. I want to know if there is not 
 such a thing as absolute knowledge, — whether there is not truth 
 that must be ever and unchangeably truth, — whether there is not 
 an immutable basis behind all this multiplicity of contingent phe- 
 nomena ; whether I cannot find something that is necessary, and 
 which will serve as a foundation, on which to erect a system of 
 real and unalterable science. If there be such absolute truth, it 
 must be elicited by philosophical thinking ; if there be not, then 
 philosophy is equally necessary to convince me that I can have 
 no knowledge beyond what is contingent, — that is, that I can have 
 no knowledge which may not at some future time be error and 
 delusion. 
 
 So far the metaphysician answers the objection of the mere out- 
 ward observer, even upon his own principle, " That all our possible 
 knowledge is confined to the perception and subsequent classifica- 
 tion of phenomena." But now, after having shown that, even 
 in that case, there is need of employing speculative philosophy in 
 order to investigate the validity of these phenomena, he comes to
 
 24. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the principle itself, and asks, Is it veritably a true one ? Is there 
 really no other source of ideas beside sensations, modified as they 
 may be by subsequent reflection ? In other words, is there no 
 other source besides experience ? Should any one assert this, then 
 we ask, what is experience? Experience cannot result from mere 
 isolated perceptions, for in that case the consciousness of one mo- 
 ment could have no reference to that of another. In all experi 
 ence a subject is implied as well as an object ; the multiplicity of 
 our perceptions is all referred to one individual mind, by which 
 the whole inference they convey is gathered up, and which re- 
 mains ever essentially the same, although it may be subject to an 
 infinity of changes. Whence, then, does this notion of self arise ? 
 How does the first idea of it come to us ? Not from experience ; 
 for we have just seen that it virtually exists before experience is 
 possible. It must arise, therefore, from some prior source, and if 
 so, furnishes us at least with one idea, for the matter of which we 
 are not indebted to our sensational faculty. And if the fact of 
 experience points us to some idea previously existing in the mind, 
 so likewise equally does the whole phenomenon of thought or re- 
 flection. There is a unity in thought. If we search our own 
 consciousness, we find that however varied thought may be, how- 
 ever many rays it may send forth in all directions, yet they all 
 coincide in one point, all emanating from a thinking self, which is 
 eternally the same undivided and indivisible Being. But whence 
 comes the notion of this unity which we term self? Not from 
 mere reflection ; for all reflection supposes it. We are obliged, 
 therefore, to look about for some other origin of ideas until this 
 matter shall be cleared up ; and it cannot be cleared up without 
 the application of philosophy. 
 
 But if the objector is not satisfied with this refutation of his 
 principle, the metaphysician goes on to adduce other ideas, and 
 those of no little practical moment, which he feels equally inclined 
 to remove from the whole province of sensible phenomena, how- 
 ever much they may be refined or generalized by after reflection. 
 Whence, for example, come the notions of right and wrong? 
 Twist them about as you will, and tell me by which of the five 
 senses the first elements of these notions come into the mind. If 
 they, indeed, do come from reflection upon outward phenomena, 
 it can only be from the observation that one course of conduct 
 produces painful effects, and another pleasing ones ; that right and 
 wrong, therefore, are other terms for useful and injurious ; that
 
 INTRODUCTION. 25 
 
 virtue is another name for utility, justice for convenience, and 
 conscience a balancing of advantage and disadvantage : — a grave 
 conclusion assuredly, and one that lies at the foundation of our 
 practical life, one, therefore, which we ought not very readily to 
 admit, unless it be proved on very clear and philosophical grounds. 
 Forth, then, with your philosophy to give us satisfaction. Whence 
 again arises the notion of causation ? If we appeal to our senses 
 we can see, it is true, that one action uniformly follows another, 
 and that one set of circumstances uniformly follows another set, 
 as far at least as our own experience goes. But if that is a suf- 
 ficient account of our notion of causation, what right have we to 
 take for granted that a cause exists at all in cases where our senses 
 give us no assistance, and which lie beyond the beat of our own 
 personal experience ? What, then, becomes of the great argument 
 from final causes, on which mainly rests our confidence in the be- 
 ing of a God ? Why should we infer the existence of a supreme 
 power, the creator and sustainer of all things, if the idea of causa- 
 tion contains no motion of power whatever, and is made to rest 
 simply on the faith of what we experience through the medium 
 of sense alone ? The objection, accordingly, which is thus urged 
 against philosophical investigation may, if pushed to its full extent, 
 become fatal to the groundwork both of morality and religion ; at 
 any rate, the duty lies upon the objector to show that it is not so ; 
 and in order to show that, he must enter into the metaphysical 
 discussion which the whole question involves. We might adduce 
 many other ideas, such as those of space, of time, of substance, of 
 infinity, as well as some of the primary conceptions of mathemati- 
 cal truth, all of which carry with them the same appearance of 
 belonging to a class of notions quite beyond the region of mere 
 phenomena ; those, however, which we have already mentioned, 
 may be sufficient for our presefit purpose. 
 
 But, lastly, the advocate of plain " common sense," says to the 
 philosopher, You are no better off than we, after all ; for you, too, 
 are obliged to fall back upon faith in the end, and are equally un- 
 able with ourselves to give demonstration for everything that you 
 hold true. Assuredly, is the reply. Certain ultimate truths there 
 must be from which all reasoning takes its rise ; but the question 
 is, which are ultimate truths and which are not ? We all try to 
 find demonstration as far as it is possible to do so ; and as soon as 
 it fails us, there we begin to assume first principles, and trust to 
 the authority of some primary belief But the great point to be
 
 26 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 decided is, where are we to fix the proper boundary between the 
 two ? Where does demonstration really terminate, and the legiti- 
 mate region of faith begin ? The child trusts to faith for almost 
 everything. As the reason strengthens and becomes more active, 
 our childhood's belief begins to give way to knowledge admitted 
 on its proper evidence ; and just in proportion to the vigor of our 
 understanding may we move backwards the landmark between 
 demonstration and faith, and include in the former what before 
 lay in the province of the latter. The metaphysician understands 
 the demonstration of everything that the man of mere physical in- 
 vestigation holds true, but he wants to move the boundary a little 
 further back, to see whether he cannot demonstrate what is usually 
 taken for granted ; and if he cannot demonstrate it, yet he will at 
 least know what can be considered as proved, and what must be 
 taken simply on the ground of its being a primary belief. Thou- 
 sand to one, says Lessing, the goal of your philosophy will be the 
 spot where you become weary of thinking any further, — a remark 
 which should caution us not to be too hasty in inderdicting any 
 branch of investigation as transcending our faculties, and not to 
 fix the boundaries of demonstrative knowledge without very suf- 
 ficient grounds. 
 
 II. A second objection and prejudice against all philosophical 
 investigation is taken from the alleged fact, that the deepest think- 
 ers on these subjects come to different, yea, even to diametrically 
 opposite conclusions, 
 
 The sure and steady march of the mathematical sciences is 
 pointed out as the model of what the fruits of metaphysical philos- 
 ophy ought to be, if it were a genuine branch of human knowl- 
 edge. The fact, therefore, that such a steady progression is not 
 found, but that contradictions appear to be ever multiplied as 
 speculation goes on, is taken as all argument against the whole 
 range of metaphysical inquiry.* 
 
 That those which are termed the accurate sciences offer a pe- 
 culiar facility for investigation, and are removed almost entirely be- 
 yond the reach of errors and contradictions, arises from their very 
 nature ; such, however, it must be remembered, is by no means 
 the case with any other of the acknowledgedly genuine branches 
 of human knowledge. In politics, for example, men of the greatest 
 sagacity follow completely opposite theories as to what is, in the 
 main, most conducive to a nation's prosperity ; but should we 
 * This is another plea frequently urged by the " positive" school.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 27 
 
 therefore interdict the whole science of legislation and political 
 economy as being without any ground of certainty, and utterly 
 fruitless in its results? Is it not clear, on the contrary, that these 
 differences of opinion are but the very means and movements, by 
 which the science as a whole progresses ? Or, to take another 
 illustration which may be within the reach of every one's personal 
 experience, are there not many different forms of Christianity built 
 upon the common data, on the ground of which we all alike receive 
 its general authenticity ? Have there not ever been contending 
 parties and opposite conclusions, and do we infer from thence that 
 the whole system is untrue, and that no certainty can possibly be 
 arrived at, amidst the clashing opinions to which even the greatest 
 minds are exposed ? Far from it. Discussion is the very bulwark 
 of truth — the only safeguard against the imperfection of the human 
 mind — the only chastiser of extravagance — the only antagonist of 
 dogmatism — the only handpost that points us perpetually along the 
 path of moderation, which is most commonly the path of truth. 
 The little mind that looks upon contending sects around is scan- 
 dahzed, and says with Pilate in a jest, " What is truth ?" without 
 ever intending to listen for a reply ; but the more expanded intel- 
 lect sees in these same the strugglings of human thought, by which 
 it will gradually yet surely unfold the whole great system of relig- 
 ious truth from the germs that lie before it in the Word, or around 
 it in the world. 
 
 The same principle applies to the case of speculative philosophy, 
 In all researches so recondite in their nature, and so wide and all- 
 embracing in their extent, it was inevitable that one mind should 
 follow out one branch, pushing its conclusions in that direction to 
 their furthest limit ; and that another mind, starling from a differ- 
 ent point of view and going to the same extreme on the opposite 
 side, should evolve conclusions that appear to be altogether con- 
 tradictory. The man, therefore, who throws himself into the 
 stream of one particular system of opinions, and thinks to exhaust 
 all human knowledge by that means, is sure in the end to suffer 
 for his error by having his faith shaken in the results of all philo- 
 sophical research ; and then a shallow, unthinking " common sense" 
 is by no means unwilling to take the alarm, and enstamp all phi- 
 losophy as a vain and useless jangle of words, to which it is very 
 uncertain whether or not any true idea can be attached. The more 
 enlarged mind, however, sees that in each particular philosophical 
 tendency an additional step is taken along the road of human
 
 28 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 knowledge, all the error of which will, in time, be exploded by 
 some opposite school, while the real substantial truth will remain. 
 Analysis is the great instrument of all human investigation ; and 
 analysis, to be scrutinizing and severe, must be confined to one 
 point at a time. Select, then, your point — single it out from the 
 whole superstructure of truth — bend upon it the whole of your 
 analytical force ; and then what is the inevitable result ? We 
 answer — truth and error combined. Error there must be more or 
 less, from the isolation which is made of this one particular point 
 from all its necessary relations ; but this error is only an unavoid- 
 able step for the further discovery of truth, because the analysis 
 of every individual question is the more accurate in proportion as 
 the whole mind is absorbed in it alone, to the exclusion of every 
 other. Every school of philosophy, then, may be regarded as the 
 analysis of one particular branch of philosophical truth ; and it only 
 requires a subsequent synthesis to put together the combined result 
 of the different systems, in order to show what has been the net 
 increase they have brought to the whole mass of human knowledge. 
 To sober and earnest minds there is no such thing as positive error. 
 To such all error is negative ; it is a falling short of the fact of the 
 case, it consists in isolation and incompleteness ; so that all analy- 
 sis may be said to result in positive and negative conclusions, in 
 plus and minus quantities ; and synthesis is the process by which 
 the whole is summed up and the final amount determined.* 
 
 Now, if we look back steadfastly upon the past history of philoso- 
 phy, we may see that it has ever had a progressive development, 
 that each age has contributed its portion, greater or less, and that 
 the agitation between the different schools has been, as it were, the 
 pulsations of this forward movement. Thales and Pythagoras 
 combined the vague theories of their age into their own respective 
 systems. Without the former, Democritus and the Atomists would 
 have been impossible ; and without the latter, Parmenides and Zeno 
 had never embodied in regular form the tenets of the Eleatic philos- 
 ophy. The struggles of these two schools paved the way for Socra- 
 tes, and thus rendered both Plato and Aristotle possible. Without 
 the former of these, the early Christian philosophy would not have 
 seen the light ; and without the latter, the scholastic philosophy 
 could not possibly have arisen. But for the practical fruitlessness 
 
 * Every finite mind is necessarily involved in negative error to a certain extent, 
 from the very fact of its imperfection. So, likewise, all the errors of honest thinkers 
 arise from a false or a depressed stand-point ; they are errors of Inampletencss in thinking^ 
 not the bhnd acceptance of a falsehood on traditionary or other similar grounds. 
 
 I
 
 INTRODUCTION. 29 
 
 of the scholastic age, again, Des Cartes had not sought to recast 
 the whole method of philosophical investigation ; and without the 
 results of the old organum before his eyes, Bacon had never framed 
 the new. Had Des Cartes, moreover, or some equivalent mind, 
 failed to point out the new road, Leibnitz had never trodden it, 
 and the German philosophy were still but a possibility ; and had 
 Bacon never shown the practical power of induction, Locke had 
 never applied it to the study of the mind, or Newton by its means 
 furnished the key to the temple of the universe. As the course of 
 the vessel that makes its way against the breeze consists of a series 
 of movements, each one of which seems to bear it away from the 
 true direction, yet brings it in fact so much farther on its destined 
 course : so the mind that can only view each individual tack which 
 the philosophic spirit takes, is apt to imagine that every such move- 
 ment carries it farther from the true mark, whilst those who can 
 take the whole course in at one comprehensive view, see that these 
 apparent deviations are all necessary to bring us nearer and nearer 
 to the centre of eternal truth. 
 
 in. These reflections lead us to the consideration of another 
 objection that has been often raised, more especially against the 
 practical utility of speculative philosophy, — namely, that even sup- 
 posing it to be a real and genuine branch of human knowledge, yet 
 it can only find place in a very few minds, and must ever be com- 
 pletely unintelligible to the mass. This, therefore, is presented as 
 an insuperable barrier against its ever becoming of any extensive 
 advantage, or indeed of its having any kind of influence upon man- 
 kind at large.* Such an objection, we reply, if insisted on, would 
 prove fatal to the cause of almost every branch of human science. 
 It is never expected, and indeed it is not possible, that the mass of 
 mankind should be acquainted with the process by which any kind 
 of investigation whatever is carried on. The search after truth, 
 even the truths of the phenomenal world, is a process to them com- 
 pletely enveloped in darkness ; all they have to do is to reap the 
 practical fruits of any discovery, when it is made, without casting 
 one single thought upon the steps by which others have arrived at 
 it. If we look for a moment at the law by which thought is prop- 
 agated, we find that it always descends from the highest order of 
 thinkers to those who are one degree below them ; from these again 
 it descends another degree, losing at each step of the descent some- 
 thing more of the scientific form, until it reaches the mass in the 
 
 ♦ This is the ordinary plea of sensational utilitarianism.
 
 30 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 shape of some admitted fact, of which they feel there is not a 
 shadow of doubt, a fact which rests on the authority of what all 
 the world above them says, and which, therefore, they receive to- 
 tally regardless of the method of its elimination. Take, for exam- 
 ple, any great fact or law of nature ascertained by means of physi- 
 cal science. Such a fact is first of all, perchance, wrung from the 
 most close and laborious mathematical analysis; a few, perhaps 
 may take the trouble to follow every step of this process ; but the 
 mass even of natural philosophers themselves are content to see 
 what is the method of investigation, to copy the formulas in which 
 it results, and then put it down as so much further accession to 
 their physical science. The mass of intelligent, educated minds, 
 again, with a general idea only of mathematical analysis, accept 
 the fact or law we are now supposing, as one of the many beauti- 
 ful results of investigations, which they acknowledge to be far be- 
 yond the reach of their own powers ; — and from them, lastly, it 
 descends to the rest of the community as a hare fact, which they 
 appropriate to their own use, simply as being a universally acknowl- 
 edged truth. The first school-boy you meet would very likely tell 
 you with some accuracy what is the rapidity of light ; but as to 
 any observations on the occultations of Jupiter's satellites, or on 
 the phenomena of aberration, or any other such method of comput- 
 ing it, on these he has never bestowed a thought. The commonest 
 seaman that has learned the use of his sextant, applies to his own 
 purposes all the necessary formulas of trigonometry ; but as to the 
 methods of investigating such formulas, such matters lie entirely 
 out of his reach. 
 
 This law of the descent of thought, however, — this gravitation 
 of ascertained truth from the higher order of minds to the lower, 
 is not confined to the mathematical sciences, nor is it here alone 
 that the results of investigation are transmitted by what may be 
 termed /ormwZas. There are such things as historical formulas, as 
 formulas for the various theories of the fine arts, and so also are 
 there philosophical or metaphysical formulas. The results of long 
 and patient reflection, in this last case particularly, embody them- 
 selves in some general principle ; and this principle, after it has 
 been tested, gradually spreads itself downwards from mind to 
 mind, until thousands act upon it every day of their hfe, to whom" 
 all philosophical thinking is completely foreign. When, therefore, 
 the objection is raised, that metaphysical inquiries lie beyond the 
 reach of the mass, and cannot practically subserve the general in-
 
 INTRODUCTION. 31 
 
 terests of mankind, it is entirely forgotten or overlooked, that the 
 results of such inquiries are intelligible to all ; nay, that they are 
 amongst the most practically efficient and influential of all truths, 
 which can possibly exist in the mind of man. This assertion is 
 fully borne out by much that we meet with in the irltellectual his- 
 tory of the past. How few could there have been amongst the 
 multitude of mankind who, in the Middle Ages, ever read a page 
 of Aristotle ! And did Aristotle, therefore, exercise but little in- 
 fluence upon them 1 Far from it. The minds of those who did 
 think deeply, were completely moulded by his philosophy ; these, 
 again, governed the reflections of those immediately beneath them ; 
 and from them the results of Aristotelianism, mingling up as they 
 did especially with the religious opinions of the day, reached the 
 whole of the popular intellect. Look again at the sensualistic 
 philosophy of France during the last century. The people at large, 
 it is true, neither read Locke, from whose writings that philosophy 
 professedly, though not justly emanated, neither did they study the 
 new edition of his principles as published and distorted by Con- 
 dillac, nor did they understand the process by which Cabanis and 
 others developed the system to its farthest consequences. But 
 they had no difficulty in laying hold of what we may term the 
 formulas of that philosophy — formulas which came before them in 
 very intelligible propositions, declarative of complete materialism, 
 together with an implied denial both of the doctrine of man's im- 
 mortality, and the existence of a God. We are strongly inclined, 
 indeed, to think, that the results of intellectual philosophy, really 
 speaking, influence the mass of mankind practically more than 
 those of any other department of knowledge whatever ; inasmuch 
 as they bear most closely u})on the very principles of all human 
 action, elevate or depress the general feeling as to the worth and 
 sanctity of virtue, and give a coloring to the popular religionism 
 of the age. All this assuredly should remind us, that these results 
 ought neither to be looked upon with indifference nor contempt, 
 nor to be framed but upon the most patient and extended investi- 
 gation. 
 
 IV. There is one more objection against intellectual philosophy 
 in its widest extent, which requires some little consideration, namely. 
 That it is entirely superseded and rendered unnecessary by revela- 
 tion. Revelation, it is urged, is an authoritative view of human 
 nature and of human destiny, and was given to perfect the other- 
 wise imperfect knowledge we had of our position and prospects in
 
 32 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the universe ; so that, to philosophize on these things, is no other 
 than to go back to the state in which mankind existed before they 
 had access to this clearer and better light from heaven. Now, 
 first of all, this conclusion can only have its full weight on the 
 supposition, that the objects of revelation and of speculative phi- 
 losophy are all identical ; or, at any rate, that there is no point 
 touched upon in the latter, which is not sufficiently elucidated in 
 the former. This, however, we can by no means admit to be the 
 case. That revelation has thrown a vast light upon the great 
 problem of the world and of human destiny, we allow ; but that 
 it was ever intended to give us there a complete system of philoso- 
 phy, to erect an entire superstructure of human knowledge, and 
 leave no problem to be solved in the whole region of mental, 
 moral, or what we may more strictly call metaphysical investiga- 
 tion, we are far from being prepared to grant. 
 
 To instance, first, the peculiar department of psychology — who, 
 it is asked, expects to find a complete analysis of our mental facul- 
 ties and susceptibilities in the Bible ? We find, it is true, that the 
 working of our mental powers and faculties is described here and 
 there in the pages of revelation, so far at least as they have a direct 
 bearing upon the religious feelings ; it is true, also, that we see, 
 pointed out for practical use or caution, the passions and desires 
 which are most likely to become dangerous or excessive ; in ad- 
 dition to this, some few conclusions, perhaps, might be drawn from 
 the distinction, that is there made, between the soul and the spirit 
 — the animal man and the spiritual man. These, however, are 
 far from being placed before us in a scientific form, neither are 
 they, by any means, intended to furnish a lull account of our men- 
 tal constitution. They are given simply for practical use, and ac- 
 cordingly leave open a large field of scientific investigation, from 
 which many valuable results may be drawn by any mind that can 
 apply to it acute powers of analysis and research. Or to adduce 
 still further the department of morals. That a practical morality 
 of the most elevated character runs through the whole of the 
 Scriptures, and peculiarly through those of the New Testament, 
 no one can fail to admit ; but, as these writings were intended for 
 popular use, to come down to the habits of thinking common in 
 all ages amongst the mass of mankind, we could not naturally ex- 
 pect to find there the speculative questions of morals either mooted 
 or solved. As far as our practical necessities go, the morals of the 
 Scriptures are absolutely perfect, and furnish an ideal of what the
 
 INTRODUCTION. 33 
 
 purity of our nature ought to he, which can be derived from no 
 other source whatever ; but it was never intended, that all efforts 
 of man's intellect on these points should be completely contra- 
 vened, and repressed as by a voice from heaven, telling us that 
 they could no longer be of any service, or answer any useful end. 
 The speculative questions in morals, which are left untouched in 
 the Scriptures, are amongst the most interesting and important to 
 which the human mind can be directed. The inquiry, for exam- 
 ple, "in what conscience essentially consists," whether it be a 
 moral sense implanted in us — or whether it be a moral judgment — 
 or whether it be the result of our natural sympathies — or whether 
 it be the cementing of all our feelings and faculties together into 
 one great regulating principle, gives rise to an investigation, which 
 leads us to examine the very groundwork of our moral constitu- 
 tion. The inquiry, again, as to what virtue is, objectively con- 
 sidered — whether it' arise from the eternal fitnesses of things, or 
 from utility, or from benevolence, or whether its ground is to be 
 found only in the will of God — presents to us another point where 
 there is scope for the most acute and valuable philosophical re- 
 search. And if it be asked, why we should take the pains to search 
 into these speculative questions of morality when the practical 
 side is given us m perfection in the Scriptures ; we answer, that 
 the intellect of man ever struggles after satisfaction, as well as his 
 moral and religious nature ; and that, while the latter can be com- 
 pletely supplied from the Scriptures, the former must seek the 
 ground of its satisfaction, and combine its materials into a com- 
 plete superstructure of knowledge, by means of unwearied and 
 laborious thinking. On these points, and on many others, such as 
 those respecting human liberty and necessity, respecting the doc- 
 trine of providence in connection with the subsistence of the ma- 
 terial world, respecting our physical conditions here, as influencing 
 the mind, and respecting the " physical theories of another life ;" 
 there is room for many investigations, which are hardly mentioned, 
 not to say exhausted, in the pages of revelation. 
 
 But we go a step further in answer to the objection, that revela- 
 tion renders philosophical thinking unnecessary, and affirm, that 
 the authority of revelation itself must to a considerable extent rest 
 upon it. All religion reposes upon the idea of God as its founda- 
 tion. Without this idea, revelation itself has no weight, inasmuch 
 as its authority is solely derivable from the fact of its coming /ro;7i 
 God. The being of a God, therefore, is a truth that must to a cer- 
 
 3
 
 34 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tain degree be impressed upon us before we open the very first 
 page of inspiration ; nay, its very first proposition would be unin- 
 telligible without it. In the beginning, says Moses, God created 
 the heavens and the earth. But who is God ? and where is the 
 evidence of His existence ? All these must be settled points be- 
 fore the Scriptures can be to us of the slightest authority, and they 
 cannot be settled, when once started, without deep inward reflec- 
 tion upon nature, and upon man as its interpreter. 
 
 But, perhaps, we shall be reminded that the Scriptures carry 
 with them their own evidence of the divine existence, the evidence, 
 namely, of miracles openly performed, and well authenticated. 
 True, — to a certain extent they do, but to an extent which can by 
 no means dispense with the other evidence we have mentioned. 
 For, first of all, the argument from miracle, to whatsoever extent 
 it may be valid, must be interpreted and enforced by the light of 
 our reason — and secondly, its validity, as far as it bears upon the 
 divine existence, can, even then, only be of a very .secondary char- 
 acter ; for what mind is there that would be convinced of the being 
 of a God from the witnessing of some temporary change in the 
 laws of nature, when it had totally failed of gaining such convic- 
 tion from the perpetual and standing wonder of creation itself? 
 Assuredly, if nature, in her most beauteous forms and most strik- 
 ing operations, were insufficient to lead our minds to the concep- 
 tion of an efficient Creator, none of [what would then be] her 
 freaks and wanderings would do so. Nay, when we speak of the 
 evidence of miracles as testifying of the hand of God, that evidence, 
 if I mistake not, derives all its strength from the previous confi- 
 dence we have in the existence of an Almighty power, the framer 
 of the laws of nature, as we see them usually in operation, and 
 which laws, we argue, could not be changed by any power less 
 than that, which first called them into being. If chance, or fate, 
 or any other blind impulse, could create the world, and fix its laws, 
 it has likewise power to alter them ; and if, therefore, our reflec- 
 tion upon the constitution of things around us as they are, and the 
 application to them of the great law of causation, is not sufficient 
 to lead us to the conviction of an intelligent cause, from which 
 they sprang, neither would a perpetual series of miracles be able to 
 do so. Miracles, indeed, were never intended to convince any one 
 of the existence of God, and it is nought but a misapplication of 
 them to use them for this purpose ; they were merely intended to 
 convince us that this Being (of whose existence we have previous
 
 INTRODUCTION. 35 
 
 and higher evidence) operates in some particular manner, or through 
 some particular medium.* All revealed religion, accordingly, rests 
 upon the pedestal of natural religion ; all natural religion, again, 
 rests upon the existence of a God ; and the certainty of his exist- 
 ence must be derived from the relation of the laws of nature to 
 those of the human mind. If these laws be not established, natural 
 religion fails of a foundation ; and if the foundation of natural re- 
 ligion sinks, the whole authority of revealed religion sinks with it 
 to a nonentity. Revelation, therefore, so far from putting a check 
 upon philosophical investigation in reference to these topics, ren- 
 ders it, in fact, only so much the more necessary, and so much the 
 more valuable in proportion as the superstructure, which by the 
 aid of revelation we build upon it, becomes to us of the deeper im- 
 portance, f 
 
 One more thought we throw out upon this objection — namely, 
 that philosophy, by intestigating upon natural grounds the state 
 and tendency of human nature, often renders a very essential ser- 
 vice to the evidences of revelation. Revelation brings to us a vast 
 number of facts, which it commends to our reception on the ground 
 of testimony and authority. Now, it is clear, that if any of these 
 facts, which come to us primarily upon testimony and authority, 
 can be verified by philosophy, they will carry with them a double 
 evidence, and come home to us with a double weight. Men, who 
 have thought most deeply upon the evidences of revelation, have 
 ever felt how valuable was the accession of strength they attained, 
 wherever scientific investigation could be made to bear upon them. 
 How many, for example, have attempted (we say not how success- 
 fully) to elicit a verification of the Mosaic deluge and cosmogony, 
 from the discoveries of geology ;J in how many instances have we 
 been called upon to hail some fresh light, which physiology has 
 succeeded in throwing upon the scriptural account of the origin 
 of the human family ; and on the same principle, what believer in 
 revelation does not rejoice to see the scriptural representations of 
 man's mental and spiritual condition borne out by close and accu- 
 rate research into the nature and tendencies of the human mind ? 
 
 * Since these sentiments were first written, I have been happy to see them further 
 enforced and illustrated in an eloquent article on Pascal, in the "Christian Remem- 
 l^ancer," (.Tan. 1847.) v 
 
 t See Appendix, Note A. 
 
 ^ See Sharon Turner's " Sacred History of the Earth," and compare the far more 
 scientific view of the question between Scripture and Geology given in Dr. Pye 
 Smith's Lectures " On the Relation between the Holy Scriptures and some parts of 
 Geological Science." Compare also Dr. Buckland's " Reliquite Diluvianffi " with his 
 Bridgewater Treatise.
 
 36 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The greater be the number of the facts of revelation, which we 
 can show to rest upon the basis of science as well as authority, the 
 better is it for us, both as it regards the strength of their evidence, 
 and the character of their influence. Philosophy, by carrying cer- 
 tainty with it to a given length, and pointing out real difficulties 
 where that certainty ends, is ever mild in its features and tolerant 
 in its tone ; on the other hand, the more implicitly we bow to 
 authority, the less tolerant we become to those who choose not to 
 bow as obediently as ourselves. The mind always seizes with a 
 kind of convulsive grasp those truths, for which it can give no very 
 satisfactory account, as though the tenacity with which they are 
 held would go to make up the deficiency in their evidence ; and 
 on this ground it is that those who are most ignorant, to prevent 
 the appearance of absurdity, commonly find it necessary to be most 
 dogmatical. On the other hand, an abundance of knowledge and 
 a strength of evidence, as they define more clearly the bounds of 
 the known and the unknown, tend perpetually towards toleration ; 
 a fact, which should make every ray of fresh light that is cast from 
 any quarter upon religious truth, of additional value to us. There 
 are many facts, moreover, brought before our attention by revela- 
 tion, which, if they cannot be reduced to a philosophical form, and 
 be shown to rest upon a scientific basis, are yet rendered antece- 
 dently probable by the analogy they may be seen to bear to the as- 
 certained laws of nature, or of our own constitution. The analogies 
 of the natural world, for example, in many respects point us to the 
 fact of the soul's immortality ; and still more strikingly do the ele- 
 ments of our own moral constitution point us to a perfect moral 
 government, where the idea of human accountability shall find its 
 ultimate completion. In all such cases as these, (which the reader 
 may see admirably handled in the immortal work of Bishop Butler,) 
 intellectual philosophy appears as the handmaid of revelation, not 
 only aiding in making firm the foundation on which it rests, but by 
 its results illustrating and confirming many of the most important 
 truths which come to us on the authority of a divine inspiration. 
 
 Sect. III. — Rise of Philosophy inevitable. 
 
 Thus far we have attempted to remove the chief objections 
 which lead many to consider the speculative philosophy, whether 
 of a former age or of their own, as altogether valueless. Not only
 
 INTRODUCTION. 37 
 
 do we think, however, that these popular prejudices are groundless, 
 but we go a step further, and regard speculative philosophy as a 
 thing absolutely inevitable — as inevitable as the wants, desires, and 
 tendencies of the human mind can make it. If, from the fact of 
 its universality, we may consider any branch of our mental activity 
 whatever to be a necessary result of our constitution, assuredly we 
 may do so with regard to the philosophic spirit. Every age of the 
 world, and every nation, the mind of which has attained to any 
 degree of cultivation, have had their different philosophies ; that 
 is, have attempted to unravel the problems of their own existence, 
 and those of the universe they behold around them. The grave 
 and contemplative Asiatic silently brooded over these subjects in 
 the earlier stages of man's history ; the lively and versatile mind 
 of Greece could not fail to think deeply, and to grapple earnestly 
 with the same great questions ; the Roman intellect, at first taken 
 up with the practical toils of warfare and government, was con- 
 strained, so soon as the opportunity came, to tread in the same 
 path, notwithstanding it had been already so diligently explored ; 
 and Christianity, when it offered peace to the spirit of man wounded 
 by the consciousness of moral imperfection, and satisfied the heart's 
 longing after immortality, did not repress, but rather incited the 
 intellect to greater exertion in order to sound the depths of our 
 being, and fully to comprehend our relation to the Infinite and the 
 Eternal. The Middle Ages, which witnessed the almost total de- 
 cline of literature, present us still with the spectacle of the human 
 reason struggling on amidst all the surrounding darkness, in order 
 to look beneath the phenomenal world, and to seek after the foun- 
 dations of human knowledge ; and ever since the revival of our 
 modern civilization has given a fresh impulse to the human mind, 
 the whole region of speculative philosophy has been one of the 
 principal objects, upon which it has applied its awakened energies. 
 It is no more possible for the spirit of philosophy to become extin- 
 guished, than for the poetic fire to die out of humanity, or the re- 
 Ugious faculty to cease to operate within the mind of man ; for as 
 long as the impulse of the intellectual faculties exists, it will be ever 
 seeking after satisfaction. 
 
 That philosophy, then, will ever flourish among mankind in every 
 age, we may regard as a fair inference from past experience ; but 
 now we may go a step beyond experience, and show that its rise 
 is rendered inevitable by the very nature of human knowledge, and 
 the impulse we possess for acquiring it. To prove this we must
 
 38 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 establish two facts : — First, That the power of accurate general- 
 ization is the true index, hy which the extent of our knowledge is 
 measured; and Secondly, That every branch of human knowledge, 
 if generalized to its full extent, brings us into the region of meta- 
 physical research. 
 
 To establish the former of these two principles, we must remem- 
 ber, that human knowledge does not consist in the bare collection 
 and enumeration of facts ; this alone would be of little service did 
 we not attempt to classify them, and to educe from such classifica- 
 tion general laws and principles. The knowledge, which consists 
 in individual truths, could never be either extensive or definite, — 
 for the multiplicity of objects, which must then crowd in upon the 
 mind, only tends to confound and perplex it, while the memory, 
 overburdened with particulars, is not able to retain a hundredth 
 part of the materials which are collected. To prevent this, the 
 power of generalization comes to our aid, by which the individual 
 facts are so classified under their proper conceptions, that they 
 may at the same time be more easily retained, and their several 
 relations to all other branches of knowledge accurately defined. 
 The colligation and classification of facts, then, we may regard as 
 the two first steps which are to be taken in the attainment of 
 scientific Truth. 
 
 The next step after this is to inquire, how these facts may be 
 accounted for ; in other words, to consider, what more general fact 
 can be discovered, in which the particular ones shall be contained. 
 In natural science we hear frequent mention made of ascending 
 from particular to general truths, — of different stages of generali- 
 zation which occur in this process, — and of the highest step to 
 which all the others are preparatory, and in which they are includ- 
 ed.* To illustrate the meaning of these expressions, let us take 
 the case of Astronomy. Any careless observer can perceive the 
 ordinary facts upon which that science is founded. The laborer 
 at his daily toil knows that the moon, the sun, and the planets, rise 
 and set at particular periods. The slightest attention again, would 
 be sufficient to tell us, that the moon goes through a certain course 
 of changes within a month, and the sun within a year. All these 
 facts, however, are included in, and explained by the more general 
 fact, that the earth moves in an orbit round the sun, and the moon 
 round the earth. This fact, again, is included in the dynamical 
 
 * See Whewell's " Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences." Book xi. chap. vi. p. 239, 
 etseq.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 39 
 
 law, by which the movements of all the heavenly bodies are regu- 
 lated, and this again in the universal law of gravitation. The dif- 
 ference, therefore, between the knowledge which a careless specta- 
 tor possesses of any one of the simjjle facts of Astronomy and that 
 possessed by the man of science, lies here — that the one observes 
 the phenomenon simply as a phenomenon, while the other investi- 
 gates it, places it in connection with other facts, ascends from the 
 particular to the general, and gets so much nearer to the universal 
 law or principle from which it proceeds. The man who only ob- 
 serves the simple phenomena, we say, possesses the least knowl- 
 edge ; he who ascends to the more general propositions enlarges 
 his knowledge proportionably ; and lastly, his knowledge is the 
 greatest who attains the highest point of generalization and educes 
 the fact which includes in it all the rest. If we were to adduce 
 any other branch of human knowledge, we should find that the 
 same principle would hold good, that the ignorant observer might 
 know as much of the bare facts as any one else, and that the phi- 
 losopher in every case owes his superiority to the process of gener- 
 alization. In asserting this principle, of course we suppose that the 
 generalization is not hasty and inaccurate, since in that case it 
 could only give rise to false theories ; we take for granted, that it 
 is an inference drawn from a sufficiently wide and accurate anal- 
 ysis. When this is the case, it becomes evident that accurate 
 generalization, implying, as it does, both the most complete obser- 
 vation of the individual phenomena, and a reference of them to 
 their proper conceptions and laws, is always the index of our real 
 knowledge ; and just as far as we can legitimately extend it, so far 
 may our knowledge be said to reach. 
 
 Viewing this first principle, then, as valid, we shall go on to illus- 
 trate, and substantiate the second, namely, that every branch of 
 human knowledge, if generalized to its full extent, brings us into 
 the region of metaphysical research ; that there is no subject of in- 
 vestigation but tends incessantly to this point ; that even those 
 subjects which are most unlike in themselves, and which lead us 
 through entirely different fields of mental labor, yet all, if you trace 
 them far enough, meet together in their first principles, and all enter 
 the peculiar region of the metaphysician before you have reached 
 their ultimate basis. 
 
 To illustrate this truth, almost any sulvject will answer equally 
 well. The chemist, for example, investigates matter, tracing it by 
 means of observation and experiment through all its different com-
 
 40 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 binations and changes. But who does not know, that the last 
 question at which he arrives, that which weighs the relative claims 
 of ultimate atoms and of infinite divisibility, is one of a purely 
 metaphysical nature ? The mechanician studies the laws of forces 
 as exhibited in the material universe, but the explication of the 
 very conception, upon which the whole science rests, that of power 
 or causation, again brings us into the province of speculative phi- 
 losophy. The fundamental axioms and definitions of pure mathe- 
 matics are just of the same nature ; they, too, can only be investi- 
 gated and explained upon metaphysical grounds. If from these 
 branches of science we turn to that allotted to the physiologist, we 
 find ourselves in another region of thought, at the basis of which 
 lies the mysterious idea of life ; — an idea which is closely connected 
 with some of the most interesting problems in the whole range of 
 speculative philosophy. 
 
 It is not only those subjects, however, which come under the 
 notion of science, that lead us up through the several stages of 
 generalization to the ethereal regions of metaphysical speculation ; 
 every branch of human knowledge, if investigated to a similar ex- 
 tent, leads exactly to the same point. Take, for example, the prov- 
 ince of the historian, a province which appears at first sight to con- 
 fine itself entirely to an investigation and a description of external 
 facts. The primary object of the historian, it is true, may be con- 
 sidered simply this ; to discover events as they occurred, and to 
 describe them in the best possible manner ; but the true philosophi- 
 cal historian is far from being content with this. He looks upon 
 the phenomena of human life and activity as the direct result of 
 human nature, as it exists in the world, and seeks to trace them to 
 their proper source in the constitution of the human mind. The 
 subject of government, as it has appeared in the different states 
 and countries of our earth, leads us directly to the deeper question 
 concerning the foundation of man's natural rights ; ibr all govern- 
 ment is constructed upon the primary conception of right or jus- 
 tice, and must be adjudged as fundamentally good or bad according 
 to its agreement or disagreement with it. If we search again into 
 the history of civilization and learning, or of the arts and sciences, 
 as they have sprung up and made greater or lesser advancement 
 amongst different nations, here, too, we are insensibly led to the 
 study of the human mind. All civilization is an effect which must 
 spring from certain causes, and the object of the philosophical his- 
 torian in tracing it, is to point out the influence, which various forms
 
 # INTRODUCTION. 41 
 
 of government, various features of natural scenery, various modes 
 of religion, and various circumstances in general, have had in 
 stimulating man to exertion in different directions, and towards 
 different objects. History is, in fact, a detail of the various mani- 
 festations of mind, as they have been impressed upon the surface 
 of human life ; and the philosophical historian will attempt to de- 
 duce from the past, those laws of human action, which have here- 
 tofore moulded the features of society, and which, we may predict, 
 will under similar circumstances, operate in a similar manner for 
 the future. This whole branch of human knowledge, therefore, 
 leads us inevitably to the study of man, to the investigation of the 
 primary laws of the human mind, and only when it has pursued its 
 inquiries to that point does it attain a high degree of generaliza- 
 tion, and give us a full satisfaction in its results.* 
 
 To adduce another instance of the intimate connection that sub- 
 sists between the various branches to which our mental activity is 
 directed, and speculative philosophy, I would point out that of the 
 fine arts. Here, as in most other subjects, there is a practical, and 
 a theoretical side, the former of which, although it may be success- 
 fully pursued by itself, is nevertheless based upon the latter. Poetry 
 may be loved, and may be created by the impulse of an enthusiastic 
 soul, and the exertion of a lively imagination, without any reflec- 
 tion upon the sources from which the poetic fire is kindled ; but the 
 inquiry will still force itself upon us in due time — What is enthu- 
 siasm, what is the nature of creative imagination, and what is the 
 ground upon which the pleasure we derive from all such sources 
 depends ? The answer to this, it is evident, will lead us into 
 abundant metaphysical inquiries long before we have probed the 
 subject to its complete elucidation. Painting, again, may be culti- 
 vated simply by attention to practical rules, especially when there 
 is a natural tiptitude for it ; but then the pleasure we derive from 
 it arises mainly from our susceptibility of the emotion of beautv. 
 We ask, therefore. What is Beauty ? How is it excited ? In what 
 does it consist ? Is the highest beauty real, and has it ever been 
 actually embodied in nature ? or is it ideal, and only imaged in the 
 mind ? jMust the painter strive to copy exactly what exists, or has 
 
 * The philosophy of historj' is nlmost entirely n science of modern time.s. It com- 
 menced with .Ino. Bapt. V^ico (born at Naples, 1(150, ) in his " Scienza Niiova ;" was 
 lurther developed by Herder in his " Ideen zur Philos. der Gesch. liir Menschheit ;"' has 
 since received further contributions from Schicijei and the German Idealists ; and, 
 lastly, has been reduced to the forms of the " positive philosophy," by Auguste Comte. 
 The terra Sociolofrij is now coming into use to designate this branch of scientific 
 research. See Mill's " Logic," vol. ii.
 
 42 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 he to seek a perfection which is only floating within his own mind, 
 and which he must be perpetually endeavoring to transfer from the 
 inner chamber of imagery to the canvas before him ? The de- 
 cision of this, one way or the other, will give rise to completely 
 different schools of painting. The advocate of the beau-reaZ would 
 never become another Raphael, nor would the advocate of the 
 heaxx-ideal ever form a second Vandyk. 
 
 If it be asked, why we should employ our minds in theorizing on 
 these different subjects, when the practical application of them can 
 be made without any knowledge whatever of their theory, we 
 answer, because man is formed with a desire to know, as well as to 
 do and feel, because the love of knowledge is an impulse quite as 
 strong as those other impulses which lead more directly to action, 
 and because we can no more be happy without satisfying the for- 
 mer, when it once takes possession of our mind, than we can with- 
 out satisfying the latter. 
 
 If from the fine arts we descend into the pursuits and toils of 
 practical life, here, too, we soon find that we are conducted step by 
 step, as we proceed backward towards first principles, into the 
 region of metaphysics. Our practical life consists, for the most 
 part, in the performance of duties. But what is a duty ? What 
 claim has it over our conscience, and on what is grounded its obli- 
 gation ? I have duties to perform towards my country. Is pa- 
 triotism, then, an emotion implanted by nature, and if so, to what 
 extent should I compromise my own natural rights in favor of the 
 community at large ? The whole question of the rights of nature, 
 to which we are thus brought, leads us, as we before remarked, into 
 one of the most fruitful of all discussions on man's constitution 
 and position in the present world. I have other duties, moreover, 
 to perform in social life, and again others which relate simply to 
 my own moral being. But in such cases, what is the ground, and 
 what the rule of morality ? To elucidate these questions, we must 
 take the torch of philosophy to our aid, and only when we have 
 traced back the whole theory of our practical life to its philosoph- 
 ical principles, do we find a basis upon which we can rest with any 
 mental satisfaction. 
 
 These few instances, perhaps, may be sufficient to elucidate the 
 fact, that all generalization, whatever be the subject to which it is 
 applied, tends to lead us into philosophical researches, so soon as 
 ever it begins to touch upon first principles. Other arts and sci- 
 ences aim at particular objects, accomplish particular purposes,
 
 *' INTRODUCTION. 43 
 
 and carry on their investigations only to a particular extent. This 
 being accomplished, the end of each is satisfied. Philosophy, on 
 the contrary, seeks the completion of our knowledge ; it lays bare 
 the hidden foundations upon which all other sciences rest, and 
 weighs the validity of the axioms which they tacitly assume. No 
 sooner do we view these different branches of human knowledge 
 with the eye of the speculative philosopher, than we begin at once 
 to see that the courses of them all are convergent, tending perpet- 
 ually to one point. Many of the minor channels, after being fol- 
 lowed backward for a certain distance, merge into the course of 
 some wider stream. As we go further back the chai.nels become 
 fewer, though, at the same time, wider and deeper ; but still some 
 few remain distinct from each other, and ever exhibit a cloud of 
 darkness enveloping their source, until the philosophic spirit dares 
 to enter the cloud, and trace their course up to the very point 
 where they all unite. On this account, no doubt, philosophy may 
 sometimes incur the charge of vagueness and indistinctness in its 
 operations and results ; but instead of joining in this complaint, we 
 should rather admire the courage and intelligence that dare to pen- 
 etrate into what was before a region of cloud and darkness, that 
 succeed in gaining new glimpses of an unknown land, and that 
 struggle on against almost insuperable difficulties, even at the risk 
 of here and there losing the road, to their great results. Far should 
 we be from regarding it as presumptuous to enter these sacred 
 limits, or, because philosophy is sometimes bewildered in the mazes 
 it attempts to track, denounce its whole attempt as vain and 
 fruitless. 
 
 Let us now sum up the results of the foregoing considerations 
 in a few words. Man possesses intellectual powers, the object and 
 constant tendency of which is the acquisition of knowledge. The 
 advancement of knowledge is measured by the power of accurate 
 generalization, and all generalization, when sufficiently extensive, 
 brings us to the investigation of first principles, that is, to the re- 
 gion of speculative philosophy. Hence we conclude that the rise 
 of philosophy is inemtahle, being necessitated by the very nature 
 of human knowledge, and the innate tendency we possess to ac- 
 quire it. 
 
 From this point of view we can now gain a clearer insight into 
 the true idea and real office of philosophy properly so called. 
 Striving as it does to unite all the various objects of mental pur- 
 suit, to complete in form the pyramid of human knowledge, to
 
 44 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 bring even the very foundations thereof to view, it may be re- 
 garded as the science of sciences, as that which shows the connec- 
 tion and the basis of all the rest. The intellectual philosophy, 
 accordingly, of any age may be regarded as the last word which 
 the reason of that age pronounces, inasmuch as its laws, politics, 
 arts, literature, and to a certain extent its peculiar views of religion 
 also, are but the reflex of the philosophy which is then supreme. 
 Or perhaps it might be more accurate were we to say, that the in- 
 tellectual spirit of any epoch, that which manifests itself in the va- 
 rious channels of literary and practical life, finds in philosophy its 
 highest expression, and shows there most clearly its real undis- 
 guised form.* 
 
 This will appear more evident if we consider that philosophy 
 places every subject in its most abstract light, and seeks to bring 
 everything it touches upon into the region of clear and definite 
 thought. Now there is in mankind at large a process of latent 
 thought which is spontaneously produced by the spirit of the age 
 in which they live, but is only seen and acknowledged by the mass 
 in its outward and visible effects. Men, for the most part, view 
 the thoughts and conceptions, by which their minds are governed, 
 only in the peculiar phases which the literature, the arts, the re- 
 ligion of the age assume, — for these are the shrines on which the 
 divinities they worship are represented in a symbolical form. On 
 the other hand, the ideas which can only operate upon the mass 
 of mankind through some external channel, and in some objective 
 form, become to the philosopher strictly subjective. He strips 
 them of all their exterior dress, separates the mere appendages 
 from the essence, and views them, not as something out of himself, 
 but as parts or products of his own individual consciousness. In 
 the case of the former, the subject, which observes, entirely sepa- 
 rates itself from the object, which is observed. The power of 
 thought goes forth spontaneously, exerts itself spontaneously, and 
 at length embodies itself unconsciously in various symbols, which 
 are then looked upon as having an independent existence : in the 
 philosopher, this same thought, which had been hitherto sponta- 
 neous, becomes reflective, and the distinction of subject and object 
 is destroyed in the complete identity that takes place, when thought 
 becomes the object of its own study and contemplation. It is in 
 philosophy, therefore, that the thought of every age comes to the 
 
 * Cousin, " Cours de Philosophic" — Introd, Lcfon ix.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 45 
 
 proper consciousness of itself, and appears stripped of the different 
 dresses in which alone it is recognized by mankind at large.* 
 
 In every period of the world there are some few great ideas or 
 principles at work, which, though sunk deeply and almost hidden 
 at the very core and centre of the spirit of the age, are yet work- 
 ing themselves outward, and impressing their shapes upon every 
 feature of society. What do we mean when we speak of great 
 problems, which are gradually evolving their own solution in the 
 progressive advancement of human things ? Is not the real mean- 
 ing of such expressions something of this nature : That there is 
 some great thought which is lying at present half unconsciously in 
 the minds of the people, and which is emerging gradually but surely 
 more and more into the light of day ? Every age assuredly has 
 some such thought, which appears and re-appears in a thousand 
 different forms. It shows itself in the habits and customs which 
 then arise ; it shows itself in the spirit of the laws and institutions 
 which are then established ; it shows itself in the different schools 
 of the fine arts, which ever take the coloring and type of the age 
 that gives them birth ; it shows itself in the literature which is then 
 most ardently pursued ; and to no little extent does it show itself 
 in the popular forms of religion, which then gain favor and celeb- 
 rity. The thought which thus almost unconsciously governs the 
 age, at length comes forth in its purest and most simple form, sep- 
 arated from all the extraneous material with which it is mixed up, 
 by the severe analysis to which it is subjected in the crucible of 
 an enlightened philosophy. There is, if we look deep enough, an 
 intellectual cause to be assigned for the customs and manners of 
 society ; there is a psychological ground, from which spring the 
 different forms of law and government ; similar reasons may be 
 found for the rise of the imaginative arts, of the different fields of 
 literary pursuit, and even of the various shades of religious wor- 
 ship ; for there are but few comparatively who, uninfluenced by 
 the spirit of the age, look through all the forms and phraseology 
 even of Christianity itself, and gaze face to face upon the eternal 
 ideas which they embody. It is the spirit of philosophy, therefore, 
 that is to search for the ground of all these multifarious phenomena, 
 to look under the surface for the ideas from which they all spring ; 
 to trace every manifestation of intelligence in human society to 
 those primary laws of our constitution to which they all owe their 
 birth, and to seek thus the completion of our knowledge by laying 
 * On this point see Cousin's " Cours de Philosophic'' — Introduction, Le9on i.
 
 46 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 bare the whole superstructure down to the simple foundation on 
 which it all reposes. Such attempts accordingly we consider to 
 be inevitable, called forth as they are by the natural impulse of the 
 human mind to investigate truth to its most universal and abstract 
 forms, and to discover the primary elements from which all knowl- 
 edge takes its rise.* 
 
 Sect. IV. — Pi-imary Elements of Human Knowledge. 
 
 The advancement of human knowledge we have already seen 
 to be indicated by the progress of accurate generalization. The 
 most ordinary ideas of mankind are the most complex, and the 
 effect of the united process of abstraction and generalization is 
 gradually to simplify them, until we arrive at the ultimate elements 
 of Avhich they consist. We may illustrate this by a reference to 
 the progress of chemical science. The objects of nature by which 
 we are surrounded are extremely complex, and the forms which 
 they assume infinitely diversified. The chemist begins his re- 
 searches by classifying them under different heads ; by noting down 
 certain properties which many in common possess, until he grad- 
 ually arrives at the knowledge of simpler materials. As his inves- 
 tigation goes on, the analysis becomes more close and accurate, 
 and the ultimate point at which it all tends is to discover the 
 original elements of which the whole material universe consists. 
 In the same manner, the object of the metaphysician is to analyze 
 thought, to reduce the multiplicity of our mental phenomena to a 
 few general heads, and thus ultimately to discover the primary 
 elements of which all knowledge consists. Before we enter upon 
 the history of philosophy, therefore, it will be necessary to point 
 out what the primary elements really are, as our classification of 
 the different systems of philosophy will mainly depend upon the 
 view we take of this point. 
 
 In deducing these elements, it is not my present intention to go 
 into a full discussion of the question, since this would bring us too 
 
 * It was my hope and intention that the above illustrations should make evident the 
 sense in vihich I understand the term Philosophy to be properly used. I fear I have 
 not been altogether successful. Dr. Chalmers, (North Brit. Rev. Feb. 1847.) assuming 
 a peculiar definition, (that which reduces all philosophy to one small section of it, — 
 namely, Psychology,) contends that I have greatly magnified its office. Of course 
 I have, if all I meant to include in it \smental philosophy. But no mistake can be 
 greater than to suppose philosophy and psychology to be here taken as identical.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 47 
 
 rapidly upon the most difficult problems that are to be found in the 
 whole range of metaphysics ; all we shall now do is, simply to indi- 
 cate in few words the results which have been arrived at by the 
 most acute analysts, and to follow their track until a more clear 
 and correct one shall be pointed out. 
 
 Now, in generalizing our knowledge, so as to deduce the ultimate 
 elements of which it consists, there are two methods which may 
 be employed. Either we may make a classification of all objective 
 things around us, as being the material of our thoughts and feel- 
 ings, and having reduced them to their most universal heads, re- 
 gard these as the required elements ; or, on the other hand, we may 
 analyze our consciousness, and having reduced the mental phe- 
 nomena we find there to the smallest possible number, assume 
 these as the elements from which all the multiplicity of our 
 thoughts proceeds. The one process consists of a classification of 
 the objects of our knowledge — the other is a dissection of thought 
 in its subjective phases. The former of these methods, it is well 
 known, was pursued by Aristotle — the first man who undertook 
 the gigantic task of reducing the multiplicity of all the objects of 
 human knowledge to a few general heads — and the result of this 
 attempt was the ten categories, which will ever remain a standing 
 monument of his wonderful power, both of analysis and of gen- 
 eralization. 
 
 Perhaps it may seem unnecessary to enumerate anything so uni- 
 versally known as these categories, but we give them here to assist 
 the reader in drawing a comparison between the result of Aris- 
 totle's investigations on this point, and that of some authors, who 
 Iiave given other classifications upon different principles. They 
 are as follows : — 1. Substance; 2. Quantity; 3. Quality; 4. Rela- 
 tion ; 5. Action ; 6. Passion ; 7. Place ; 8. Time ; 9. Posture ; 
 10. Habit. 
 
 That this enumeration is complete in the sense of being all- 
 embracing, there can be but little doubt ; it appears impossible to 
 imagine the existence of any object of human thought, externally 
 considered, which might not be fairly reduced to one of these 
 heads. Admitting, therefore, the principle upon which Ai'istotle 
 proceeds, we may regard his classification, not indeed, as perfect, 
 since a much closer analysis might be made ; but still, as being on 
 the score of completeness eminently successful. So much so, in- 
 deed, did it appear to other minds, that no improvement upon it 
 was effected for more than two thousand years.
 
 48 INTRODUCTION. - 
 
 The intellectual effort, however, which Aristotle put forth to 
 deduce the elements of human knowledge, was renewed by Kant 
 upon the other, or subjective principle. Instead of looking to the 
 outward materials of our knowledge, and seeking the primaiy 
 elements from an analysis and generalization of these, he looked to 
 the mind itself, inquired into the fundamental conceptions under 
 which everything external must be viewed, and upon these con- 
 ceptions constructed a complete table of categories. Aristotle had 
 classified the matter of our thoughts, Kant undertook to classify 
 the farms : the one deduced the objectiv^e, the other the subjective 
 elements in human knowledge. Admitting, as did both, that all 
 our ideas must have their raw material from without, and that this 
 material is put into shape and order by the powers or laws of the 
 human understanding, Aristotle, with his sensational tendency, 
 sought to accomplish his object by investigating the former, while 
 Kant, with his ideal tendency, sought the same object by investi- 
 gating the latter. 
 
 In order, then, to accomplish this purpose, Kant showed that 
 there are three great faculties in man, each of which has its own 
 laws or modes of operation. These are (to use a plain English 
 phraseology) — Sensational-perception, Understanding, and pure 
 Reason. Sensation gives the matter of our notions ; Under- 
 standing gives the form ; while Reason brings unity and connection 
 to the whole exercise of the understanding, and aims ever at the 
 infinite, the unconditioned, the absolute. The forms or categories 
 of sensation are two — Time and Space. It is the where and the 
 when that is determined by this faculty, since everything we per- 
 ceive must by that very act be placed in some given time, and in 
 some given space. The laws of the understanding, which are 
 more peculiarly denominated " Categories," by Kant, are reduced 
 to twelve, — these twelve falling under four general, or head-cate- 
 gories. 1. Under the head of Quantity, we have Unity, Plurality, 
 and Totality ; 2. Under the head of Quality, we have Affirmation, 
 Negation, and Limitation ; 3. Under the head of Relation, we 
 have Substance, Causality, and Reciprocity ; and lastly. Under the 
 head of Modality, are contained Possibility, Actuality, and Neces- 
 sity. These are, according to Kant, the twelve conceptions in 
 relation to which everything really existing must be viewed. 
 Then, lastly, comes the highest faculty of man, that of pure 
 Reason, the form of which is absolute unity, and which, according 
 as it is directed to substance, or to phenomena, or to the ideal of
 
 INTRODUCTION. 49 
 
 perfection, leads to the three irreducible ideas — of the Soul (the 
 absolute subject), of the Universe (the totality of all phenomena), 
 and of God (the all-perfect essence). To sum up, then, the whole 
 analysis which Kant gives us of our intellectual nature, or, as he 
 would term them, modes of our intellectual being, we have two for 
 our Sensational faculty, twelve for the Understanding, and three 
 by which the Reason strives after absolute unity in its ideas ; 
 making in all seventeen categories. The fuller explanation of 
 Kant's doctrine of the categories, we must leave till we come to 
 the consideration of the Kantian Philosophy in its proper place.* 
 
 The influence of Kant in Germany drew the attention of 
 philosophers mainly to the one point, which he had treated with so 
 great skill and acuteness — namely, the determination of the funda- 
 mental laws of thought, or the primary elements of our intellectual 
 being. As the analysis became more close, doubts were enter- 
 tained as to the correctness of his classification. The number of 
 these fundamental laws or primary elements became thus gradually 
 reduced, and the foundations of intellectual science by degrees con- 
 fined within narrower limits. The history of this process will be 
 pointed out more particularly hereafter ; the fruits of it, to which 
 only we can now refer, have been abundantly reaped, and still 
 further matured, by one of the first of living philosophers, 
 M. Cousin, who, with singular depth and clearness, has critized the 
 labors of Kant, and by the application of all the rigor of more 
 modern analysis, has reduced the whole of the Kantian categories 
 to two fundamental ideas. 
 
 According to Cousin, then, all our thoughts may be reduced to 
 the two primitive ideas of Action and Being ; the one giving the 
 category of causality, the other of substance ; the one implying the 
 relative, the contingent, the particular, the phenomenal ; the other 
 implying the absolute, the necessary, the universal, the infinite. 
 Without entering into the abstruse details, by which the categories 
 of Kant are referred to these heads, it may be sufficient to point 
 out how these two fundamental ideas are deduced, and what they 
 severally contain ; and, perhaps, it is impossible to give this deduc- 
 tion in clearer and more concentrated language than that which 
 has been employed by M. Cousin himself " The human reason," 
 
 * The doctrine of the Categories or fundamental ideas of the human mind, is still the 
 subject of much philosophical discussion. Among the most recent treatises on the 
 subject we may mention an " Essai d'une Nouvelle Theorie sur Ics Idces fondajjen- 
 tales," par F. Perron, Paris, 1843; also, in German, a learned and somewhat popular 
 work entitled " Geschichte der Kategorienlehre," by F. A. Trendelenburg. 
 
 4
 
 60 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 he says, "in whatever manner it develops itself, whatever it 
 grasps, on whatever it meditates ; whether it stop short with the 
 observation of surrounding nature, or whether it penetrates into 
 the depths of the inward world, conceives of all things under the 
 type of two ideas. If it examines number and quantity, it is 
 impossible for it to see anything there more than unity and multi- 
 pHcity. The one and the diverse, the one and the multiple, unity 
 and plurality, these are the two elementary ideas of reason, in 
 which every consideration relative to number terminates. If it 
 occupies itself with space, it can only conceive of it under two 
 points of view, those, namely, of bounded or determined space on 
 the one side, of absolute space on the other. If it occupies itself 
 with existence, if it views things under the sole respect that they 
 are, it can only conceive of the idea of absolute existence, or the 
 idea of relative existence. Does it think of time ? It conceives 
 either of time as determined, (time properly so called,) or of time 
 in itself, absolute time — namely, eternity ; in the same manner as 
 absolute space is immensity. Does it think of forms ? It conceives 
 either of a form that is finite, determined, limited, measurable ; or 
 of something which is the principle of this form, which is neither 
 measurable, nor limited, nor finite ; in a word, it conceives of the 
 infinite. If it thinks of movement or action, it can only conceive 
 of limited action, and the source of limited action ; of powers and 
 causes that are bounded, relative and secondary, on the one hand, 
 or of an absolute power, a first cause, on the other, beneath which, 
 in respect of action, it is not possible to seek or to find anything. 
 If it thinks of all exterior and interior phenomena, which develop 
 themselves around us — of this whole moving scene of events and 
 accidents of every kind ; there, again, it can only conceive of two 
 things, the manifestation and appearance, as simple appearance and 
 simple manifestation ; or of that which, while it appears, retains 
 something that does not pass away in the appearing — that is, of 
 being in itself; or, to take the language of science, we here con- 
 ceive of phenomenon and substance. In thought again, it con- 
 ceives of thoughts which refer to this thing or that, which may be 
 or may not be ; and it conceives of the principle of thought in 
 itself — the principle which exists, without doubt, in all our relative 
 thoughts, but which is never exhausted. In the moral world, it con- 
 ceives of certain things as beautiful or good ; and then it inevitably 
 brimgs there also these same categories of the finite and infinite, 
 which become now the perfect and the imperfect, the beau-real
 
 INTRODUCTION. 51 
 
 and the beau-ideal, virtues with the miseries of reality, or the saint 
 in his elevation and unsullied purity. These, as it appears to me," 
 adds M. Cousin, " are all the elements of human reason. The out- 
 ward world, the intellectual world, the moral world, all are sub- 
 jected to these two ideas. Reason only develops and can only 
 develop itself on these two conditions. The great division of ideas 
 now universally accepted, is that into contingent and necessary 
 ideas. This division, in a more circumscribed point of view, is the 
 reflex of that at which I stop, and which you can represent to your- 
 selves under the formula of unity and multiplicity, of substance 
 and phenomenon, of absolute cause and relative causes, of the per- 
 fect and imperfect, of the finite and the infinite."* 
 
 Such is M. Cousin's ultimate reduction of the primary elements 
 of all our knowledge. As, however, the category of causality con- 
 tains in it two very important and very distinct ideas, it may be as 
 well to give another and a simpler deduction of these great funda- 
 mental conceptions of the human mind ; one which may, perhaps, 
 place the whole question in a somewhat clearer light. 
 
 The first and most obvious idea that we possess within our con- 
 sciousness, is that of our own existence. The notion of self, or of 
 the me, as it has been so often and so significantly termed, must ne- 
 cessarily be a primitive and a universal notion, since it is implied 
 in every perception we experience, in every thought we create, in 
 a word, in every mental act we perform. We all feel conscious 
 that there is something we call ourselves, which possesses and can 
 exert power, and to which, as a fundamental unity, all the multi- 
 plicity of our thoughts and feelings are to be referred. This power, 
 however, or energy, which we variously call the will, the acting 
 and knowing principle, or the me, is not an infinite and absolute 
 power. On the contrary, it finds itself bounded, resisted, and op- 
 posed on every side. There is not an effort we put forth, but we 
 find it limited and circumscribed by some counter force, which we 
 are conscious really exists, and which acts upon us independently 
 of ourselves. No sooner do we become cognizant of self, and the 
 power we possess of willing and acting, than we find all around a 
 world that offers resistance to us at every point, together with phe- 
 nomena and laws that often seem directly in contradiction to our 
 own volitions, and which, if not attended to, would instantly involve 
 us in suffering and death. To the idea of self there stands opposed, 
 therefore, the idea of something which is not self; or, as it has 
 * Vid. " Cours de I'Histoire de la Philosophic," Introd. Lect, iv.
 
 52 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 been otherwise expressed, the me finds around it other existences 
 that are separate from us, and which, therefore, we may term the 
 not-me, as being the most general phrase by which it can be de- 
 nominated. The one of these ideas, indeed, supposes and involves 
 the other. We could have no distinct notion of self, but as opposed 
 to, and separate from, other existences around us ; nor could we 
 have any notion of an external world, but as something which is 
 opposed to and separate from ourselves. 
 
 These, then, are two of the most fundamental ideas of the human 
 mind : that of self on the one side, with its intelligence and its lib- 
 erty ; that of a physical world on the other, with its power of iner- 
 tia — a world to whose laws we are to some extent subjected, and 
 which we have, by mingled obedience and resistance, to bend and 
 mould to our necessities and desires. So far, however, we are not 
 yet out of the region of the finite. The me, as we have seen, is lim- 
 ited in its actions and volitions by the not-me : it is a finite cause, 
 that can be resisted and changed variously by other causes which 
 act around it. Nature, too, is finite. It can only oppose us to a 
 limited extent, and we can in our turn resist and modify it. Both 
 of these ideas, therefoi'e, come under the notion of the relative, the 
 limited, the bounded, the finite, the phenomenal ; and both equally 
 belong to the category of causality, the former being a voluntary 
 or intentional cause, the other a blind and fatal one. 
 
 These two general ideas, however, which we have thus placed 
 under the category of causality, by no means exhaust all the mate- 
 rials of thought that exist in the human mind.* Just in the same 
 manner as the me implies the notion of a not-me from which it is 
 distinguished, and by the perception of which we become conscious 
 of our own separate individuality in the whole universe of things 
 around us ; — so the notion of the limited and the finite implies the 
 correlative one of the unlimited and the infinite. Let any one at- 
 tentively examine his own inmost thoughts, and he will find that 
 there can be no distinct idea whatever in the mind, without the im- 
 plication of something else from which it is separated, and to which 
 it is opposed. Every distinct idea must be defined; that is, it must 
 be hounded off from other ideas, the existence of which ideas is ac- 
 
 * The division of the me and the not-me^ would certainly appear to be exhaustive at 
 first sight, and with regard to finite existence it is so. But when we come to consider 
 absolute existence, we can no more refer it to the one than to the other. Self and 
 nature both lie embosomed in the infinite ; — the me and the not-me equally partake of 
 the absolute in their essence, and it is in this view of the case, that to these two finite 
 conceptions we add the idea of the infinite, as that in which they both subsist. To 
 include the absolute in the not-me, as some propose, would be to exclude an absolute 
 ground from the idea of humanity. This we cannot admit.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 53 
 
 cordingly supposed by the very fact of definition. Take the idea of 
 relative, and see whether it would convey any notion to the mind 
 whatever, unless the idea of absolute existed as that to which it is 
 opposed. What, again, were our notion of finite, without the cor- 
 relative one of infinite ; or what of multiplicity, without that of 
 unity ? Now, if we take the category of causality in any of the 
 different phases under which we have presented it, we find that in 
 every case there is a correlative and an opposed notion, which we 
 must place in what we have termed the category of substance ; i. e, 
 of the infinite and unchangeable, or of being per se. If, e. g., we 
 consider the world of phenomena, we are necessitated by our rea- 
 son itself to suppose and admit some substance, in which these phe- 
 nomena adhere, and which remains ever essentially the same 
 amidst all the changes that may appear on the surface. If we 
 think of cause, we are unable to imagine it without admitting the 
 existence of some being, from which the power, variously displayed, 
 emanates. If we think of events, we cannot conceive of them 
 without time, the one immeasurable duration in which all events 
 exist. If we think of objects as they lie in space around us, we are 
 obliged to refer them to a universal space that envelops all the 
 visible in its vast embrace. In all these instances the two catego- 
 ries penetrate each other, so that the one notion only becomes pos- 
 sible by the opposition with which the other throws it out before 
 our view. 
 
 The same primary ideas, which we have deduced by the fore- 
 going process, arise equally before our view when we confine our 
 attention to the subjective world, and analyze the phenomena of 
 our own mental faculties. The mind of man is the mirror of uni- 
 versal nature, and whatever exists accessible to us in the whole 
 region of being, material or spiritual, we find imaged in us with 
 the most perfect accuracy. Man possesses a sensational faculty ; 
 and to what does this point us ? Manifestly to the objective exist- 
 ence of an external world, the varied forms of which are, by means 
 of this faculty, made accessible to our own minds. Man possesses, 
 moreover, intelligence ; he possesses the power of volition, he pos- 
 sesses impulses, desires, affections, and all these phenomena imply 
 the existence of a subject to which they alike belong. Intelligence 
 is my intelligence ; it is the comprehension of things as I have 
 classified and generalized them for my own use and convenience. 
 Volition is my volition ; and so also are the various desires and 
 impulses my own subjective feelings, those which I myself experi-
 
 54 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ence, and which no one else can experience precisely in the same 
 manner. Here, then, we find our own faculties pointing out to us 
 by their very constitution, the existence of two realities ; in the 
 one case, that of the being I term self, in the other case, that of an 
 external world which is distinguished from self, arid opposed to it. 
 In both cases, however, we are kept down within the region of the 
 finite and the relative : for neither sensation nor understanding, 
 nor our desires or volitions, lead us directly to the region of the 
 absolute and eternal. 
 
 If we look a little further, however, we find that man has the 
 faculty of perceiving absolute and necessary truth, as well as that 
 which is relative and finite ; that there are ideas within us which 
 come neither through the channel of the senses nor are dependent 
 upon the peculiar constitution of our own minds, but which are the 
 clear reflection within us of absolute and eternal realities. In the 
 case of sensation, I perceive objects which might or might not be ; 
 objects which may yet be changed and modified in a thousand dif- 
 ferent ways. In simple understanding, I observe relations which 
 might or which might not exist, — relations, perhaps, which I have 
 artificially made for my own use, and which I can as easily destroy. 
 In every case of volition, the resolution to which I come is strictly 
 my own, i. e. the fruit of my own will. But far otherwise is it with 
 everything belonging to pure and absolute reason. Take for 
 instance, any axiomatic truth of pure mathematics. It is not through 
 mere sensation that you have arrived at it ; neither is it an arbi- 
 trary relation of your own production ; nor is it conceived of in 
 pursuance of any resolution of your own will. Try as you may, 
 and you cannot alter the conceptions of pure reason even to an 
 infinitesimal degree. My sensations are my own, and my voli- 
 tions are my own ; but truth, absolute truth, is not mine nor yours, 
 neither is it within the bounds of our possible belief, that it should 
 be different to any rational mind from what it is to ours. Absolute 
 truth has no element o{ j)ersonality in it, and our reason, therefore, 
 as far as it grasps the necessary and the eternal, is strictly speaking 
 an impersonal reason. It is the reflection within ourselves of 
 eternal things, as they are — an emanation or ray of the infinite 
 reason, which governs the universe by the laws of unerring wisdom 
 and truth, and which, as far as it is manifested at all, is manifested 
 to every mind alike.* 
 
 * To comprehend the impersonality of reason aright, the reader should study 
 Cousin's doctrine of " pure apperception," which he will find clearly stated in the 13th 
 Lecture of his " Cours de Phil, sur le Fondement du Vrai, du Beau, et du Bien."
 
 INTRODUCTION. 55 
 
 Here, then, we are led again to the same virtual conclusion, that 
 the three great and primary elements of all our knowledge are, 
 firstly, the idea of our own individual existence, or of finite mind 
 in general ; secondly, the idea of nature ; and, thirdly, the idea of 
 the absolute and eternal, as manifested in the pure conceptions of 
 our impersonal reason. Every notion of our intellectual life, we 
 believe, may be traced to one of these sources, and we regard 
 them, therefore, as the primitive elements of all our knowledge, — 
 starting-points from which every true system of intellectual phi- 
 losophy must take its rise. It is to the method, then, by which 
 the different philosophical systems have grounded themselves upon 
 these fundamental ideas, that we must now briefly revert. 
 
 Sect. V. — Systems of Philosophy. 
 
 A synthetical system of intellectual philosophy has for its ob- 
 ject, — first, a complete enumeration of all the primary elements of 
 our knowledge ; and secondly, the expansion of these simple ele- 
 ments into all the multiplicity of our ideas and conceptions, how- 
 ever varied and complicated they may appear. Philosophical sys- 
 tems, therefore, will differ amongst themselves, according as they 
 hold up any one of these fundamental ideas, which we have de- 
 duced, most prominently to our view, and make it either the chief 
 or the sole element from which all our other ideas are derived. 
 Systems of philosophy have accordingly ever taken three great 
 directions, corresponding to the three fundamental ideas, upon one 
 or other of which they have severally been founded. These three 
 primary directions of the philosophic spirit, we must first of all 
 elucidate, and then show the other or secondary directions which 
 arise from them. 
 
 The most vivid and striking facts of our consciousness are un- 
 questionably those which we term sensations. To them the mind 
 is sure at first to bend its attention, and as the progress of investi- 
 gation goes on, it discovers an immense multitude of notions over 
 and above our simple perceptions, the germ of which must un- 
 doubtedly be traced to the sensational faculty. Physical science, 
 for example, in all its branches, and every kind of knowledge, in- 
 deed, that is connected with the objects of the external world, arise 
 directly from the analysis, classification, and general investigation 
 of those numberless materials, which come through the channel of
 
 56 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 our sensations. So far the progress of what we shall term the 
 sensational philosophy is perfectly legitimate and correct, and has 
 given rise from time to time to splendid results. Many philoso- 
 phers, however, absorbed in the multitude, the variety, and the 
 grandeur of the fbuits of physical science, have lost sight of every- 
 thing else — have made the senses the sole fountains of human 
 knowledge, and built up a whole metaphysical system upon the 
 basis of external nature. Such, in fact, was the philosophy of the 
 French Encyclopaedists, and such, in tendency, was the philosophy 
 of Locke. 
 
 A precisely contrary direction, on the other hand, has arisen 
 from a too close and partial analysis of self. In this analysis our 
 volitions, our desires, and the subjective laws of our reason and 
 intelligence, were very properly and plainly separated from the 
 whole region of sensation; but after a time, when attention be- 
 came entirely concentrated upon the inherent powers of the indi- 
 vidual mind, the external world itself was made to depend upon 
 its subjective laws, and there resulted a whole philosophical system 
 based upon the one notion of self, with its native and exhaustless 
 energies. Such is idealism, — true and beautiful in its results, so 
 long as it investigates what are, properly speaking, the innate facul- 
 ties of the human mind, but false and delusive when it would go a 
 step too far, and draw from within what a more accurate philoso- 
 phy shows to arise from an objective world around us. Such, in 
 its fullest extent, was the philosophy of Berkeley in England, and 
 of Fichte in Germany ; such, in its tendency, was Kantism ; and 
 such, in its first and better movement, was the system with which 
 Dr. Reid honored and enlightened his country. 
 
 The third element of our intellectual life remains, that, namely, 
 which appears under the varied forms of the substantial, the eter- 
 nal, the immeasurable, the infinite ; in a word, the idea of being 
 itself in which the finite mind and finite nature are both equally 
 grounded ; and accordingly, we look around now for a philosophy, 
 which answers to this fundamental notion. What, then, we inquire, 
 must necessarily be the character of such a philosophy, when the 
 world of phenomena is sunk in the profounder idea of substance, 
 when the varied phases of our own consciousness are lost in the 
 depths of Being pe?- se, — when subject and object are both ab- 
 sorbed in one prior and eternal principle, — the Temporal lost in the 
 Eternal, the Finite in the Infinite. This philosophy has been real- 
 ized in different forms under the one idea of Pantheism. Such, in
 
 INTRODUCTION. 57 
 
 the ancient world, was substantially the doctrine of the Eleatics ; 
 such, in modern times, was the doctrine of Spinoza ; and such, in a 
 more refined and perfect form, are now the respective philosophies 
 of Schelling and Hegel. As, however, the pantheistic scheme is 
 properly idealistic, (inasmuch as the material world is virtually de- 
 nied,) we may include the two latter of the three systems I have 
 pointed out under the general term of Idealism ; and if we wish to 
 make a distinction between them, we may term the one subjective 
 idealism (that which absorbs everything in the subject — the me,) 
 and the other objective idealism, or the doctrine which reduces 
 everything to the one infinite, unchangeable, objective substance or 
 being, of which, and in which, all things consist. In this way we 
 shall have simply two main tendencies in philosophy ; that of sen- 
 sationalism on the one hand, and idealism on the other.* 
 
 That the philosophic spirit, however, should remain content 
 with the struggles of two opposite schools, both giving opposite 
 conclusions, and both running into extravagant results, was a thing 
 in its nature impossible. The contradictions thus thrown up to 
 view naturally give rise to a critical philosophy, the object of which 
 is to examine the grounds and pretensions of every other system, 
 to check the progress and arraign the conclusions of dogmatism, 
 and to get nearer the True by denying and overturning the False. 
 The philosophy which thus aims at detecting falsehood without at- 
 tempting to build up any system of truth, we term Scepticism: 
 not that contemptible species of scepticism which, as practised by 
 
 * An acute writer in the Prospective Review (No. viii.) has expressed surprise that I 
 should include the two categories of The me and the Absolute under the one tifle 
 of Idealism. I remark, in reply to his observations, that tlie classification is a matter of 
 convenience, and not at all intended, as he supposes, to merge the two ideas into 
 one. The terms subjective and objective idealism, have long been applied to these two 
 movements; so that I am merely retaining the well-known phraseology of the German 
 schools. The reason of my retaining the classification is this — that in our common 
 philosophical language sensations and ideas represent the two great sources of our 
 knowledge. We have an outward .source — nature ; and an inward source — pure ideas, 
 which terminate on the side of the iviU in self — on the side of the reason in God. 
 Sensationahsm, accordingly, is the philosophy built upon the former — subjective and 
 objective idealism is that built upon the two latter. To say that " the proper association 
 of the absolute is with the not-me," (p. 561,) either throws the category of the me into a 
 false position, by making it opposed to the absolute in a sense in which nature is not 
 opposed to it ; or commits the same error which is wrongly attributed to myself, namely, 
 that of throwing two distinct terms, nature and the absolute, under one category — that 
 of the not-me. And yet a little further on (p. 563.) it is proposed to deduce the absolute, 
 alike from the me and the not-me, when viewed not as cause but as condition. To 
 associate the absolute with the not-me, and then to deduce it immediately from 
 both categories together, appears to me an instance of " unaccountable simplicity ,^^ at 
 least equal to that which the writer attributes to myself in uniting the me and the not- 
 me under the head of idealism. If I have not caught his meaning, I must plead 
 as excuse, that his style seems expressly adapted to hide the thoughts behind a dazzhng 
 brilliancy of ornamental illumination.
 
 58 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 some, is nothing more than a secret abhorrence of human reason, 
 and a disguised misanthropy ; but that which honestly aims after 
 truth by means of exposing error wherever it may lurk. As in the 
 case of sensationalism and idealism, therefore, so also in scepticism 
 there is a good side and a bad ; the one seeking to establish truth, 
 by separating from it all untruth, the other seeking to lay truth as 
 well as error alike prostrate at the foot of an obstinate and irra- 
 tional unbelief Such, then, is the natural result of the struggle 
 between an extreme sensationalism on the one hand, and an ex- 
 treme idealism on the other. 
 
 That scepticism, however, should be the culminating point of 
 the philosophic spirit, and that the human mind should rest satisfied 
 with the ultimate conclusion, that the highest wisdom is to doubt, 
 were altogether inconceivable. Sceptical philosophy may be in- 
 valuable as an instrument, which helps us on the road to truth by 
 dissipating fond delusions ; but the mind can only repose at last in 
 positive, or, as we may term them, dogmatical results. What, 
 then, is the next step to which the human mind advanced after 
 sensationalism, idealism, and scepticism had exhausted their re- 
 sources and left it in doubt ? The resource, we answer, in which 
 the mind last of all takes refuge, is Mysticism. Reason and reflec- 
 tion have apparently put forth all their power, and ended in uncer- 
 tainty. The mystic thereupon rises to view, and says to the rest 
 of the philosophers around him, — Ye have all alike mistaken the 
 road, ye have sought for truth from a totally incorrect source, and 
 entirely overlooked the one divine element within you, from which 
 alone it can be derived. Reason is imperfect, it halts and stum- 
 bles at every step, when it would penetrate into the deeper recesses 
 of pure and absolute truth. But look within you ; is there not a 
 spiritual nature there, that allies you with the spiritual world ; is 
 there not an enthusiasm which arises in all its energy, when reason 
 grows calm and silent ; is there not a light that envelops all the 
 faculties, if you will only give yourself up to your better feelings* 
 and listen to the voice of the God that speaks and stirs within ? 
 To this source, then, the mystic looks for a knowledge that far 
 transcends the feeble results of our reflective faculty, and in which 
 he would lay the basis of the highest and the truest philosophy. 
 
 In mysticism, however, as well as in the other systems I have 
 adduced, there is undoubtedly a mixture of truth and error. It is 
 quite possible, amidst the cold abstractions of reason, to lose sight 
 of that inward impulse which shows itself in the flashes of genius,
 
 INTRODUCTION. 59 
 
 in the spontaneous efforts of the imagination, and in the ardent 
 aspirations of man's religious faculty. Every part of our intel- 
 lectual life, we must remember, develops itself in its free and spon- 
 taneous, as well as it does in its conscious and reflective move- 
 ments ; arid often the efforts of our spontaneous being have in them 
 greater freshness and vigor than those of our calmer and more re- 
 flective. The benefit, then, which we owe to mysticism is, that it 
 recalls our attention again and again to the spontaneous working 
 of our highest faculties ; that it points out to us the lofty emotions 
 to which this working often gives rise ; that it withdraws us from 
 absorbing our whole attention in logical forms and processes, and 
 points out to us the real and veritable existence of a spiritual world 
 with which we are all closely connected, to whose laws we are all 
 subjected, and without which our higher reason, our instinctive 
 faith, and our fondest aspirations, would be mockery and delusion. 
 On the other hand, mysticism is perhaps the readiest of all philos- 
 ophies to fall into abuse, and to run into endless extravagances. 
 Once let the enthusiastic element absorb the reflective, or an im- 
 plicit faith be reposed in our inner sensibility, and no bounds are 
 sufficient to mark out the delusions to which we become subject, 
 and the wild extravagances to which the mind will resign itself 
 Once estabhsh the principle, that implicit credence must be given 
 to feeling in its varied impulses, and every strong inward sugges- 
 tion may become the whispering of some celestial spirit ; every 
 vivid idea the appearance of some vision from another world ; and 
 the natural impulses of an energetic soul, become soon transformed 
 into the ravings of religious fanaticism. Such is mysticism in its 
 nature and origin, and such also both in its healthy and its delete- 
 rious results.* 
 
 In reviewing the progress of these four philosophical tendencies, 
 we cannot fail to make the observation, that they all owe their origin 
 to some correct idea, and all succeed in eliciting some fragments 
 of truth that would otherwise, in all probability, have been either 
 neglected or concealed. This consideration lies at the foundation 
 of another school of philosophy which may follow one or other of 
 these four directions, as the case may be, to a certain extent ; but 
 
 * The reader who wishes to see these four tendencies of the philosophic spirit more 
 fully explained and proved by an appeal to the testimony of the universal history 
 of philosophy, will find the whole question admirably treated in Victor Cousin's 
 " Cours (iel'Histoire de la Philosophie," Lectures iv. to xii. The only imperfection wc 
 would point out in his mode of treating the subject is, that he has represented the four 
 tendencies too much as four distinct philosophies existing in every age, rather than as 
 so many prevaihng influences or predispositions.
 
 60 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 which, seeing in them all only the different movements of the 
 human reason as it progresses towards the unfolding of truth, 
 rejects in each one that which may appear extravagant or incor- 
 rect, and builds up the residuum of truth, from whatever source 
 derived, into a new and more complete system. Such is briefly 
 the birth and the aim of Eclecticism ; a school of philosophy which, 
 though modest in its pretensions, and tolerant in its tone, is singu- 
 larly extensive in its researches and safe in its results. 
 
 With this brief review of the philosophical tendencies which 
 obtain in our own age, as they have more or less in every other, 
 we shall be better enabled to observe and to estimate their various 
 manifestations in the last two or three centuries, and better pre- 
 pared to mark generally the characteristics and tendencies of 
 speculative philosophy in these our days.
 
 PART I. 
 
 ON THE PROXIMATE SOURCES OF THE PHILOS- 
 OPHY OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON THE PROGRESS OP SENSATIONALISM FROM THE PERIOD 
 
 OF BACON TO THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE 
 
 NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Sect. I. — Commencement of Modern Philosophy. Bacon and 
 
 Hobbes. 
 
 In commencino; our brief review of the sources from which the 
 Philosophy of the nineteenth century has been drawn, with the 
 age of Bacon, we are, in fact, beginning almost at the very first 
 dawn of the modern philosophical spirit. There are only two 
 great eras in the history of metaphysics, the ancient and the mod- 
 ern ; whatever attempts may seem not exactly to belong to either 
 of these, consist only of the few steps which were necessary to aid 
 the transition from the one to the other. The scholastic age pro- 
 duced nothing more than a renewal, with some peculiar modifica- 
 tions, of ancient philosophy. That this was really the case, is 
 evident from the spirit it evinced, — the objects it aimed at, — the 
 authority to which it delighted to bow. Before any new philoso- 
 phy could be originated, it was necessary that this whole system, 
 which had held the minds of men for so many centuries in its 
 grasp, should be combated, and in some measure overthrown ; that 
 the fetters, which had been imposed upon the human reason, should 
 be gradually broken off, and freedom thus given it to breathe a more 
 genial intellectual atmosphere. This necessity began to be practi- 
 cally realized about the middle of the fifteenth century, and during 
 the sixteenth was vigorously acted up to. Scholasticism (derived 
 almost entirely from one branch of the ancient philosophy, namely, 
 the Peripatetic) was combated during that period, with weapons
 
 62 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 derived from another and opposite school — that of the old Acade- 
 my ; so that the ancient contest between Aristotle and Plato was 
 virtually revived upon the arena of modern history. 
 
 The whole of the period, indeed, which intervened between the 
 crumbling of the edifice erected by the industry of the schoolmen, 
 and the age of Bacon, was chiefly occupied with the revival and- 
 the further modification of the most celebrated systems of the 
 ancient world. The authority of Aristotle being undermined, and 
 no modern school having as yet appeared, the only resource left 
 was to return to those other masters of antiquity who had been 
 comparatively neglected, and to attempt the reconstruction of their 
 various principles and reasonings into a fresh form, better suited to 
 the altered cast and spirit of the age. Of all these ancient mas- 
 ters, Plato, of course, stood first and foremost, and whatever attempts 
 were made either to introduce a more ideal philosophy than that of 
 the schools, or to advance any of those numerous systems of theos- 
 ophy and magic which abounded in the twilight of European civili- 
 zation, ostensibly grounded themselves upon the authority of the old 
 Academy.* Some there were who, less intense in their opposition 
 to the scholastic method, revived the Peripatetic philosophy in its 
 ancient and original form ;t and even the doctrine of the Stoics 
 made a temporary reappearance on the stage, although it played 
 but a brief and subordinate part. J 
 
 Whilst these ancient doctrines were being thus recalled from 
 their long and silent repose, there began to appear, in conjunction 
 with them, some few attempts at independent thinking. Peter 
 Ramus made a bold endeavor to recast the whole art and science 
 of logic ; Telesius and Campanella to reform the study of physical 
 science ; while Francis Patritius and Giordano Bruno ventured so 
 far as to offer to the world some new and independent theories on 
 subjects more strictly metaphysical. § All these attempts, however, 
 were extremely indefinite. — There was no fixed point of departure 
 from which philosophic investigation should take its rise, no settled 
 
 * The Platonic philosophy was patronized by the Medicis at Florence, as being more 
 favorable to the cultivation of elegant literature than the jargon of the Aristotelian 
 school. IVicolaus Cusanus, 3Iarsilius Ficinus, and John Picus of Mirandula, were 
 amongst the foremost of these new Platonics. On these, see Hallam's •' Introduction to 
 the Literature of Europe," vol. i. See also Tennemann's " Grundriss," p. 305, et seq. 
 
 t Peter Pomponatius was the head of the new Peripatetics in IteJy, and Melancthon, 
 the Reformer, in Germany. 
 
 I Lipsius and Heinsius advocated a modification of the Stoical philosophy. 
 
 ^ The English reader will find some account of these in Enfield's abridgment 
 of Brucker. For a far better account see Heillam's " Introduction to the Literature of 
 Europe," vol. ii. chap. 3. A life of Bruno has just appeared in France.
 
 BACON AND HOBBES. 63 
 
 objects at which it should aim, and no definite method according 
 to which it should be conducted. Even astronomy itself, although 
 it made some advances owing to the fresh stimulus then given to 
 mathematical studies, yet was crippled in its progress for want of 
 employing the true principles by which all physical investigations 
 ought to be carried on. There needed some master mind who 
 should be daring enough to trample upon the sacredness of ancient 
 and established authority, acute enough to show the true objects 
 of all philosophy, and powerful enough to furnish a new organum, 
 and dig, as it were, a new channel, in which the philosophic spirit 
 of the world should flow. 
 
 Tw^o such minds arose, both of gigantic powers and almost in- 
 exhaustible resources. Each of them applied his whole strength 
 to aid the work of reformation ; and their combined influence suc- 
 ceeded in turning the stream of all scientific investigation into the 
 two main directions, which it has been pursuing more or less ever 
 since. The first of these was Lord Bacon ; the next in the order, 
 both of time and influence, was Descartes ; the two together must, 
 therefore, be regarded as forming the epoch which gave at once a 
 final close to the ancient philosophy, and its first -decided form to 
 the new. Diflferent as were the minds of these two great men in 
 themselves, different as were their respective labors, and opposite 
 as were, in many respects, the results at which they arrived, yet 
 the writings of both were marked by one and the same great char- 
 acteristic, namely, by the spir-it of method. The most important 
 works of Bacon, it will be remembered, were the " Instauratio 
 Magna," and the "Novum Organum;" those of Descartes were 
 his "Dissertatio de Methodo," and his " Meditationes de Prima 
 Philosophia." The fruitlessness of the ancient logic, as an in- 
 strument of discovery, had been abundantly proved by past ex- 
 perience, and the watchword which these two great thinkers of 
 their age both uttered, and which has been ever since the guiding 
 principle of all philosophy, was — analysis. Bacon, who gave his 
 attention chiefly to the direction and improvement of physical 
 science, taught to analyze nature, while Descartes, who aimed 
 rather at grounding all human knowledge upon its ultimate princi- 
 ples, instructed how to analyze thought. All modern philosophy, 
 therefore, whether it arise from the Baconian or the Cartesian 
 point of view, bears upon it the broad outline of the analytic 
 method. It matters not whether it be the outer or the inner world 
 to which its investigations apply, in each case it teaches us to ob-
 
 64 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 serve and analyze facts, to collect instances, and upon such obser- 
 vation to ground our knowledge of laws and principles. In this 
 alone consists the unity of modern science, and from this arises its 
 broad distinction from that of the ancient world. Every natural 
 philosopher since Bacon has grounded his success upon an induc- 
 tion of the facts of the outward world ; and every metaphysician, 
 since Descartes, has advanced onwards in his department of knowl- 
 edge by analyzing the facts of our inward consciousness. 
 
 It might, perhaps, be supposed that this fundamental unity of 
 procedure ought to have given similar results, but such was far 
 from being the case. Bacon, by concentrating his chief attention 
 upon nature, and applying his new method or organum mainly to 
 its interpretation, gave to his philosophy an empirical tendency, 
 which by degrees conferred far too exclusive a value upon out- 
 ward observation, and led his followers to underrate the importance 
 of abstract ideas, and their due explication, as a means of advan- 
 cing the interests of true philosophy : in a word, he laid the founda- 
 tion of the modern sensationalism. Descartes, looking more deeply 
 beneath the phenomenal world, and with an intense power of re- 
 flection, gazing upon the mind itself as the instrument and medium 
 by which all truth is perceived, gave a new impetus to the ration- 
 alistic method of philosophizing, and thus laid the basis of the 
 modern idealism. The great question which both sought to inves- 
 tigate, was that of the true ground and source of human knowl- 
 edge ; they both alike aimed at bringing system and unity into the 
 varied and disjointed learning of their age ; they both pointed out 
 a " prima philosophia" from which all science must take its rise ; 
 but, with the same objects in view, they differed widely in their 
 conclusions. The English philosopher regarded experience as the 
 ultimate basis on which the superstructure of our knowledge must 
 rest, while the French reformer traced it all back to those innate 
 ideas and principles which, he affirmed, we have prior to, and in- 
 dependent of, any experience whatever. In a future chapter we 
 shall follow the results of Cartesianism to the nineteenth century ; 
 our present object is, to trace Bacon's experimental philosophy 
 down to the same period, so far as it has borne upon what are 
 more strictly called metaphysical investigations. 
 
 And, first, we may remark that the influence of Bacon upon the 
 progress of speculative philosophy was for the most part indirect. 
 A few pages comparatively, would suffice to contain everything he 
 wrote of a strictly metaphysical character. The spirit of his whole
 
 BACON AND HOBBES. 65 
 
 philosophy, however, was such as could not fail to leave an indeli- 
 ble impression upon every subject lying within the range of human 
 research. In his early life, Bacon had studied the Aristotelian 
 philosophy as it was then taught in the " schools," and appears, 
 while yet comparatively young in years, not only to have become 
 convinced of its uselessness as a method of discovery, but also to 
 have laid the basis of his new organon. From these high thoughts 
 he emerged into the toils of active duty, and devoted the extraor- 
 dinary powers with which he was endowed to the service of his 
 country in the department of law and government. A hfe thus 
 spent could not but give a strong practical turn to his mind, and must 
 have aided in lending to his philosophy a tone, very different from 
 that which would have resulted from so many years of calm and 
 solitary meditation. Retiring as he did from the court and the 
 senate-house into his study, from the busy scenes of political life to 
 the pursuit of philosophical truth, he could hardly fail of becoming 
 more and more convinced of the practical uselessness of the scho- 
 astic logic to a mind that requires sagacity in seizing analogies, 
 and needs experience in collecting facts. He saw that in ordinary 
 cases, where we have to deal with mankind, the keenest logic could 
 not supply the place of accurate observation ; and proceeded, with 
 that comprehensiveness of mind for which he was remarkable, to 
 generalize his views, until he evolved the conclusion, that pure sci- 
 entific knowledge, as well as all other of a more ordinary and 
 practical kind, must take its start from a diligent observation of 
 facts. 
 
 The praise of the " Inductive method" is now in every one's 
 mouth — we naturally ask, therefore, what is this method, as Bacon 
 left it ? That it cannot consist simply in observing a number of 
 particulars, and then predicating any quality, which we observe in 
 each, of the whole class, is evident ; for this would make a very 
 small extension to our knowledge of nature, where but few partic- 
 ulars, comparatively speaking, are accessible. There must be a 
 fundamental conviction lying at the base of all our investigation of 
 natural phenomena, that under similar circumstances the same an- 
 tecedents will be followed by the same consequents ; so that from a 
 few observations a wide conclusion can be drawn. But a mere 
 observation of facts, even grounded upon this conviction of the 
 uniformity of nature's laws. Bacon still thought insufficient ; for it 
 had in truth been practised centuries before he announced the 
 " Novum Organum." His great object was, first, to remove out 
 
 5
 
 66 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 of the road the obstacles which tended to impede the progress of 
 science ; and then so to systematize the rules and principles of in- 
 duction, as to supersede the guesses of experience, and arrive by a 
 sure and rapid road at the discovery of truth. To accomplish this, 
 says Bacon, we must first collect a natural history ; that is, what- 
 ever be the subject we intend to investigate, we must first set down 
 all the facts we can gain upon it. Having done this we must clas- 
 sify these into tables, so that we may expunge those which are use- 
 less to the question, and gather the " vintage" of those which are 
 really significant. These significant facts are further to be scru- 
 tinized with respect to their relative value and import, and to be 
 illustrated, wherever it is practicable, by actual experiments. This 
 being done, the law of the phenomena or " latens processus," if 
 causes be the object of our search, and the form or " latens schem- 
 atismus," if the constitution of bodies be our search, will at once 
 begin to appear. Thus our knowledge must rise from the bare 
 facts, as they are presented to the senses, upwards, through different 
 degrees of generalization, till the most general form thereof is as- 
 certained, and the top stone of the pyramid laid upon it.* 
 
 This, then, being in brief the Baconian method, in what light are 
 we to estimate it ? Its many excellencies all have admitted to be 
 unquestionable. Its primary care to clear away prejudices,t and 
 make silence within in order to listen for truth, was conceived in 
 the loftiest spirit of sound wisdom. Its constant inculcation of ob- 
 servation and experiment overturned all those false attempts at 
 construing nature on a priori principles, which had rendered the 
 vastest exertions of many mighty minds entirely nugatory. Its in- 
 finite effort to scrutinize facts, and weigh their relative value, shows 
 us how jealously we are to watch the accuracy of all our actual 
 observations, and how patiently estimate their signification ; while 
 its recommendation to investigate the more occult processes and 
 forms of things, urges us on to study nature even beyond the limits 
 
 * Bacon's first work was " The Advancement of Learning." In this his ideas 
 respecting the reform of philosophy were somewhat clearly sketched out. He next 
 announced the " Instauratio Magna," the plan of which, in six parts, may be said to 
 include all his philosophical writings. In the treatise " De Augmentis Scientiarum,' 
 (an expansion of the " Advancement,") we have a complete review of the different 
 branches of human knowledge, as introductory to the whole system. In the " Novum 
 Organum," or second part, we have the mclhod of scientific investigation propounded. 
 The third part of the plan was the " Sylva Sylvarum," or Natural History, published 
 
 Operis," placed at the begir 
 philosophical writings." Vol. vii. of his Wirrks, London, Baynes, 1824. 
 t Idola— false appearances not Idols. Vid. Hallam, vol. ii. p. 408, &c.
 
 BACON AND HOBBES, 67 
 
 to which mere outward observation can reach. But, perhaps, the 
 most valuable and original part of Bacon's method, is that in which 
 he points out the necessity of a gradual ascent in the process of 
 generalization, in order that we may arrive, at length, at the highest 
 point of human research. " Duae vias sunt," such are his own words, 
 *' atque esse possunt ad inquirendam et inveniendam veritatem. Al- 
 tera a sensu et particularibus advolat ad axiomata maxime generalia, 
 atque ex iis principiis eorumque immota veritate judicat, et invenit 
 axiomata media ; atque hsec via in usu est. Altera a sensu et par- 
 ticularibus excitat axiomata ascendendo continenter et gradatim, 
 ut ultimo loco perveniatur ad maxime generalia, quae via vera est 
 sed intentata.'" One of the main defects in the study of natural 
 philosophy, previous to Bacon, was the constant effort to rise from 
 a {ew particular facts to the highest generalizations. These efforts 
 Bacon terms " anticipationes naturae," and points out as above the 
 existence of these " axiomata media," which must always serve as 
 stepping-stones to the reason in its arduous path to the summit of 
 the pyramid.* 
 
 Such are the excellencies of Bacon's method ; but it has also its 
 defects. First of all, there can be little doubt but that Bacon over- 
 estimated the real value of his new organum, as it regards the dis- 
 covery of truth. He thought it so powerful an instrument as al- 
 most to supersede the value of philosophical genius, and to reduce 
 all minds nearly to the same level. f In this he certainly under- 
 rated the necessity of that wondrous sagacity (as displayed in 
 Newton) which seizes analogies, and puts us, by a kind of intuitive 
 foresight, on the right road for the true interpretation of facts. J 
 This led him again to lay more stress upon the arrangement of 
 the facts themselves, than upon the elucidation of those rational 
 conceptions by which alone they can be explained and generalized. 
 It must be admitted, however, that this defect might have been in 
 great measure corrected, had he completed the plan marked out in 
 the last three parts of the " Instauratio Magna." Another main 
 defect in the Baconian system was, its almost entire neglect of 
 deduction. It did not take into consideration, that a sagacious 
 mind may often rise, all at once, per saltum, to a general principle, 
 and then reason downwards so as to deduce those "axiomata me- 
 dia," in which our real knowledge mainly consists. This error, 
 
 * Vid. Whewell's " Philosophy of Induction," vol. ii. p. 395. 
 
 t Nov. Org. I. A ph. 61. 
 
 :j: Vid. Mr. Macauhiy's article in the Edinburgh Review, No. 132.
 
 68 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Mr. Mill conjectures might have arisen from Bacon's ignorance 
 and disparagement of mathematical science.* Lastly, the method 
 was defective, and necessarily so, in that practical wisdom which 
 results from a long acquaintance with the actual processes of philo- 
 sophical research. The great benefit Bacon conferred upon the 
 world arose from the spirit of his loritings as a whole — from the 
 admirable wisdom which they exhibited — and the impressive manner 
 in which they inculcated upon all, the duty of repressing narrow 
 prejudices on the one hand, and a too wide ambition on the other. 
 Added to this, he saw distinctly the existence of the two elements 
 of all human knowledge — the Sensational and the Ideal, and per- 
 ceived that science can only be constructed by the due combination 
 of them both ; the facts given by the one being interpreted through 
 the conceptions furnished by the other. To Bacon, therefore, we 
 must attribute the honor of having first sketched out the true order 
 of philosophical research, and foreseen the splendid results which 
 its application has educed in the increase of all the comforts and 
 conveniences of human life, as well as in the general progression 
 afforded by it to the moral and intellectual culture of mankind. It 
 was under the deep impression of the truth and power of his views, 
 that he announced them as the " great instauration" which was to 
 introduce a new era into the intellectual history of the world. 
 
 Our main object, however, is now to see what was the influence 
 which Bacon exerted upon the progress of speculative philosophy. 
 And it might be asked, first of all, did Bacon intend his method to 
 be applicable to the moral as well as the physical sciences ? This 
 question, there can be little doubt, must be answered in the affirm- 
 ative : for not only does he include logic, ethics, politics, and met- 
 aphysics in his work " De Augmentis Scientiarum," as branches 
 open to the renewed investigation of the human mind ; but he has 
 some direct passages which touch upon the very point in question. 
 It is only necessary to quote the following, which we translate from 
 the first book of the " Novum Organum." " Perhaps any one," he 
 says, " might doubt, rather than object, whether we intend to per- 
 fect by our method, not only natural philosophy, but also the other 
 sciences, such as Logic, Ethics, and Politics. We reply, that we 
 understand the things we have spoken to he applicable to them all ; 
 and just as the common logic, which governs things by the syllo- 
 gism, not only pertains to the natural but to all the sciences, so 
 also ours, which proceeds by induction, embraces them all likewise. 
 * See this point admirably discussed in Mill's " Logic," vol. ii. p. 524, et seq.
 
 BACON AND HOBBES. QQ 
 
 For we may construct a history and tables of discovery concerning 
 anger, fear, shame, and the Hke, just as we do concerning the 
 scenes of civil life ; nor less concerning the mental operations of 
 memory, composition, division, judgment, and the rest, than about 
 cold, or heat, or light, or vegetation, and the like." 
 
 Here, then, is sufficient evidence that Bacon did not intend to 
 exclude these subjects from the sweep of his method. At the same 
 time, it is no less evident that he applied his principles to psychological 
 investigations with great reserve, and even timidity. For, imme- 
 diately after the passage just quoted, he says, — " Our mode of dis- 
 covery, by means of a prepared and arranged history, does not aim 
 so much at the movements and operations of mind, like the com- 
 mon logic, but rather at the nature of things ; we so train the 
 mind that it may apply itself by apt methods to the nature of things." 
 There are other passages, moreover, in which Bacon seems abso- 
 lutely to have distrusted his own method when applied to mental 
 philosophy. " I hold," he remarks, in his " Advancement of Learn- 
 ing," " that this knowledge must, in the end, be bounded by religion, 
 else it will be subject to deceit and delusion." And again, still 
 more explicitly, he remarks, — " Mens humana si agat in materiam, 
 naturam rerum, et opera Dei contemplando, pro modo naturae ope- 
 ratur, atque ab ea determinatur ; si ipsa in se vertitur, tanquam 
 aranea texens telam, turn demum indeterminata est, et parit telas 
 quasdam doctrinae, tenuitate fili, operisque mirabiles, sed quoad 
 usum frivolas et inanes." Had he sought to break through the 
 thin webs of the scholastic philosophy in this, as he did in so many 
 other points, he might have proved here also, not like the spider, 
 but like the silkworm, that weaves from within a web of excellent 
 utility and marvellous beauty. 
 
 To estimate, however, the influence of Bacon upon the progress 
 of speculative philosophy, we must not only consider the adapta- 
 tion of his method to elucidate and extend it, but gather up some 
 of his own direct remarks upon metaphysical questions. The third 
 book of the treatise " De Augmentis Scientiarum," gives us ample 
 data on which to ground our opinion of Bacon's views respecting 
 these more abstract subjects. It appears from this portion of his 
 plan, that Bacon by no means wished to confine his philosophy to 
 mere phenomena, but affirmed that it should be our constant en- 
 deavor to grasp the very forms of things ; i. e. that we should at- 
 ■ tempt to comprehend the mode of their existence, and the laws of 
 their secret operation. He compares knowledge to a pyramid, the
 
 70 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 base of which consists of particular facts, the vertex of which is 
 the link between the creation and the Creator, while the stage im- 
 mediately below the vertex, is that branch of science which comes 
 distinctly within the idea of metaphysics. Let those who claim 
 Bacon as the apostle of positivism,- give us an interpretation of 
 this whole division of his system, in consistency with their princi- 
 ples ; — for our part we look upon Bacon as having been much too 
 far-sighted to describe so narrow a circle, as our modern naturalists 
 do, within which to confine the excursions of the human reason. 
 At the same time it must be confessed, that a very inconsiderable 
 amount of his attention was given to these higher questions, that 
 the doctrine of final causes was depreciated, and that the whole 
 framework of his Organum was far more adapted to the investiga- 
 tions of physical than of metaphysical science. The great want 
 of the age in which he lived was unquestionably a knowledge of 
 facts, and, therefore, it was to this point that he had directed his 
 chief attention. When, however, we read what he has written 
 respecting metaphysical investigations, we may easily suppose, that 
 had he lived to complete the great scheme of his Instauratio Magna, 
 this ideal portion of his philosophy would have been far more fully 
 developed. 
 
 Regarding, then, the Baconian philosophy as it now stands, we 
 may sum up in few words the influence it was calculated to exert. 
 First, the authority of the master himself led to the very sparing 
 application of his method to psychological investigations, without, 
 however, excluding them altogether. But, secondly, the recom- 
 mendation to search into the forms of things, kept alive the belief 
 in the importance of metaphysical analysis ; although, at the same 
 time, it was thrown into the background, by the vastly preponde- 
 rating stress which was laid upon purely experimental processes. 
 Whilst, therefore, all the branches of human knowledge were bene- 
 fited by the eminently wise and practical spirit that pervaded his 
 writings, yet their final result was to elevate natural philosophy 
 above every other department ; to place the empirical element in 
 a too prominent position, and thus to give a clear ultimate tendency 
 in favor of sensationalism.* 
 
 * It is very interesting, and somewhat curious, to read the different comments which 
 many men of the first ability have made upon Bacon's writings. In the third volume 
 of the Edinburgh Review, there is a somewhat remarkable discussion carried on 
 between Dugald Stewart and the then Editor, as to the applicability of Bacon's method 
 to the moral sciences. Stewart's defence of Bacon, in this respect, may be seen also in 
 the Preliminary Dissertation to his " Philosophical Essays," chap. ii. p. 40, d scq. 
 
 Professor Playtair, in his Preliminary Dissertation, (Encyc. Met. Appendix,) 
 considers that Bacon ran too far into the region of metaphysics. Dr. Whewell (Phil. \'
 
 BACON AND HOBBES. 71 
 
 The field, then, was now fairly open. The human reason had, 
 in the person of Bacon, asserted for the department of science its 
 independence of all former authority ; the search after the founda- 
 tions of truth was commenced by a master mind ; but with this the 
 tendency was already manifest to fall back upon the experience of 
 our senses as the ultimate basis of the whole. It was not the in- 
 tention of Bacon, indeed, as we have seen, to exclude all metaphys- 
 ical conceptions, nor would he have sanctioned the consequences 
 which were soon drawn from his decided leaning to the objective ; 
 but the influence which his writings were capable of producing 
 upon the progress of mental and moral philosophy, was soon ren- 
 dered apparent in the works of one of his warmest friends and fol- 
 lowers. Hobbes, who had drunk deeply into the spirit of his mas- 
 ter, began to philosophize just where he had left off. The master 
 himself^ looking far into the distance, occupied his whole genius in 
 framing the method of future research. Many, indeed, were soon 
 found to carry out this method in the department of physics to the 
 most splendid results ; but Hobbes was the only pupil who began 
 by applying it in its most empirical character to metaphysics, 
 morals, and politics. 
 
 The main features of the philosophy of Hobbes may be sketched 
 out in a very few words. Bacon had attached so high an impor- 
 tance to experience, that it was regarded as the main, if not the 
 only source of our real knowledge. Hobbes proceeded to develop 
 this Baconian principle in such a manner, that he made sensation 
 the real basis of every mental operation, the sole originator of our 
 ideas, the sole medium and test of truth.* As, therefore, we can 
 perceive through sensation only what is material, he concluded 
 that matter is the only reality, and that whatever exists to us must 
 accordingly be a part of the material universe. The whole pro- 
 cess of scientific investigation was thus reduced to the doctrine of 
 bodies, beyond which, he maintained, there can be no knowledge 
 
 of Indue.) shows, that while Bacon took hold upon both the handles of science, 
 the Empirical and the Ideal, yet he worked with the former far more energetically than 
 with the latter. Mr. Macaulay, in the Edinburgh Review, No. 132, pays a splendid 
 tribute to Bacon's genius, but casts great doubts upon tlie ori<:nuihly ot his method. 
 Mr. Hallam defends both the originality and utility of the method, but thinks that he 
 fell into indistinctness from attempting more than he could ever accomplish.— (" Lit. of 
 Europe," vol. ii. paire 426.) Mr. Mill, in his " Svstem of Logic," ptiys homage to 
 Bacon as the father of Indi/dlon, but shows that he erred from want of seeing the real 
 nature and uses of Dedvclion. . ■ m. 
 
 The conclusion from the whole seems to be, that the inductive system itself was 
 involved in the spirit of the age ; and that Bacon's merit was, to bnng it out promi- 
 nently to view, and encircle it by the profundity of his practical wisdom, and the 
 impressive, the almost prophetic authority, of his philosophic style. 
 _ * See " Leviathan," chap. i.
 
 72 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 whatever, accessible to the human mind. This knowledge, how- 
 ever, does not refer simply to the existence of bodies, but also to 
 their changes, of all which changes the ultimate principle is motion. 
 The doctrine of bodies, therefore, includes the knowledge of all 
 phenomena in relation to their probable causes ; and of all possible 
 causes as known from their observed effects. In other words, the 
 facts being given by the senses, we have to discover by our reason 
 all the consequences which will flow from them under every va- 
 riety of circumstance. Such, according to Hobbes, is the proper 
 province and the sole aim of true philosophy. 
 
 But now comes the chief peculiarity of his system. Bodies, he 
 says, are divided into two kinds, natural bodies and political 
 bodies. The former comprehend not only the whole of what we 
 term external nature, but likewise those other existences which 
 we variously call mind, soul, or spirit. This first division of phi- 
 losophy, therefore, is so explained as to include the physical and 
 mathematical sciences, Psychology and Logic, besides a number 
 of subordinate branches.* 
 
 In Physics, Hobbes followed his illustrious predecessor, incul- 
 cating generally the necessity of observation, and manifesting with 
 it a strong preference for the atomistic doctrine, which he probably 
 owed to his intimacy with Gassendi. On this subject, however, it 
 is not our business now to trespass ; and it is, happily, of less con- 
 sequence to do so, because the path of experimental philosophy 
 was not the one in which our author delighted to walk ; so much 
 was this the case, that he even ridiculed the Royal Society of 
 London for confining their attention so much to minute ex- 
 periments. 
 
 The Psychology of Hobbes (in which, according to his system, 
 the whole of metaphysics is included) is highly remarkable, not in- 
 deed on account of its intrinsic value, but remarkable when viewed 
 in connection with the age at which it was propounded. The mind 
 itself he viewed as wholly material, the phenomena of conscious- 
 ness being the direct result of our organization. The one great 
 and fundamental fact of mind is sensation :f which is nothing 
 more or less than the effect of material objects around us, exerted 
 by means of pressure or impact upon that material organization 
 which we term the jnind. 
 
 * Vid. the 9th chap, of the " Leviathan," in which we have a synoptic view of all 
 the objects of philosophical research, constructed on the principle that science is 
 the knowledge of conseqxiences. 
 
 ■f" We have here the fundamental principle of the school of Condillac.
 
 BACON AND HOBBES. 73 
 
 Sensation, however, gives rise to sundry other phenomena of 
 consciousness, which deserve particular attention. The move- 
 ment of the particles of matter (in which sensation consists) grad- 
 ually ceases, leaving, indeed, an impression of the thing, but far 
 less vivid than during the actual period of impact. This " decay- 
 ing sense," according to Hobbes, is Imagination, (or conception ;) 
 but if we view it in connection with the fact of its being the lin- 
 gering image of something past, then it is memory. Memory and 
 Imagination, therefore, are the same things, only viewed from a 
 different stand-point.* This leads to some further remarks in 
 which he develops the doctrine of the association of Ideas. f 
 
 The next great phenomenon, upon which Hobbes lays amazing 
 stress, is that of Language. So high an importance does he attach 
 to words, that but for them he does not conceive that men could 
 ever have lived in society : nay, reasoning itself is made so de- 
 pendent upon terms, that he affirms the simplest mathematical 
 truth to have been absolutely indiscoverable without them. J This 
 leads at once to Hobbes' theory of knowledge. Knowledge, he 
 says, is of two kinds. First, w-e gain direct impressions of external 
 things by sensation, and this is " knowledge original ;" then we use 
 words to denote things, and form them into propositions. When 
 these propositions are correct, then we have another kind of 
 knowledge, one which, though arising primarily from the senses, 
 is mediated by the understandmg. Understanding is the faculty 
 which perceives the relation between words and things; — and 
 trut]i and falsehood, therefore, are nothing more than the agree- 
 ment or disagreement of words among themselves, being terms 
 applicable only to verbal propositions. § 
 
 To Logic, Hobbes devoted a considerable share of attention. 
 The peculiarity of his logical system lies in the theory, that rea- 
 soning is merely a numerical calculation. As the dictum upon 
 which the syllogism depends turns simply upon the relation of a 
 whole to its parts, Hobbes considered, that adding and subtracting 
 expressed the whole process of ratiocination, words being the ci- 
 phers employed for the purpose. Error in reasoning, he showed 
 to arise only from the want of definitions and the wrong employ- 
 ment of names : here, therefore, as in every other part of his sys- 
 tem, the extreme results of nominalism are unhesitatingly ap- 
 propriated. || 
 
 * Vid. Lev. chap. ii. f Lev. chap. iii. jf. Lev. chap. iv. ^ Lev. chap. iv. 
 II Mr. Hallam defends this theory of Hobbes from the attack of Stewrart — " Lit. of 
 Europe," ii. p. 474.
 
 74 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The Ethics of Hobbes are exactly what we should expect to 
 flow from his sensational principles in metaphysics. If every 
 thought is nothing more than a compound of sensations, then good 
 and evil can be nothing more than expressions for pleasure and 
 pain, that is, for agreeable or disagreeable sensations. There is 
 nothing on this theory simply and absolutely good — nothing simply 
 or absolutely evil ; they are both relative to my own individual 
 constitution ; and all practical ethics, therefore, must consist in 
 rules for the avoidance of the one, and the attainment of the other.* 
 Moreover, as it does not depend upon ourselves to determine what 
 feelings shall be pleasurable and what painful, it follows that our 
 desires and volitions (which are the same thing, and both forms of 
 sensation) must be irresistibly determined by motives from without, 
 and that man must, therefore, be absolutely and unconditionally the 
 creature of necessity. 
 
 This leads us to the fundamental prmciple of Hobbes' political 
 theory. As good and evil are identical with pleasure and pain, and 
 as all men necessarily desire the one and shun the other, so nature 
 herself dictates the right to every man of doing whatever he may 
 think conducive to these ends, and in this manner of securing for 
 himself all the means of physical enjoyment he is able, at whatever 
 expense to his fellow man. The natural state of man, therefore, 
 must necessarily be a state of warfare, in which all are struggling 
 to advance their own selfish interests, every man's hand being 
 against his brother, and his brother's against him. In brief, might 
 and right are convertible terms. Experience, however, teaches 
 that a state of universal warfare is a state of universal suffering, 
 and reason accordingly dictates that we should seek for peace as 
 the more conducive to human happiness. Hence the origin of 
 law, government, and other social institutions which are simply 
 intended to be antagonists to man's natural selfishness. The very 
 aim and purport of government being simply to control the will of 
 the individual, and erect a leviathan power to which man's selfish- 
 ness must bow, the end of it is answered just in proportion as the 
 power thus established is mighty to coerce or restrain. Hence an 
 absolute monarchy is the very perfection of human government, 
 and ought to have the supreme decision over everything connected 
 with Law, Morals, and Religion. f 
 
 On the subject of Pteligion, Hobbes laid himself open to much 
 
 * " Leviathan," chap. vi. 
 
 t These poHtical principles were first propounded in the Treatises " De Give" and 
 " De Corpore PoUtico." They are reproduced, however, connectedly in the " Leviathan."
 
 BACON AND HOBBE9. 75 
 
 obloquy, more especially as he attacked the clergy themselves, as 
 well as their principles, in the most caustic and severe remarks. 
 He admitted that the natural desire we possess of investigating 
 causes, leads us to attribute some vast and incomprehensible cause 
 to the universe around us. As, however, we can conceive of 
 nothing which does not present itself to us as a sensuous image, it 
 followed by necessity that we can have no real conception of a 
 Supreme Being ; that infinity, in every form, is a mere negation. 
 
 We cannot avoid quoting the striking words with which Mr. 
 Hallum sums up his view of Hobbism generally : — " The political 
 system of Hobbes, like his moral system, of which, in fact, it is 
 only a portion, sears up the heart. It takes away the sense of 
 wrong that has consoled the wise and good in their dangers, the 
 proud appeal of innocence under oppression, like that of Prome- 
 theus to the elements, uttered to the witnessing world, to coming 
 ages, to the just ears of Heaven. It confounds the principles of 
 moral approbation, the notions of good and ill desert, in a servile 
 adolatry of the monstrous leviathan it creates, and, after sacrificing 
 all right at the altar of power, denies to the Omnipotent the pre- 
 rogative of dictating the laws of his own worship."* 
 
 Such, briefly, was the superstructure, metaphysical, moral, and 
 political, which Hobbes built up with great ingenuity and ability 
 upon the Baconian principles. Far would Bacon have been from 
 following his pupil in these conclusions ; but it can hardly be dis- 
 puted that the germ of them was to be found in that empirical 
 tendency, which runs more or less through the whole of his phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 The genius which Hobbes manifested both in his style of writing, 
 and in the severe logic by which he built up his whole system, from 
 its ground-principles to its completion, no one has ever denied. 
 Whilst, however, great ability was displayed in all his writings, 
 the chief strength of his mind, especially in the latter period of his 
 life, was evidently concentrated in his moral and political works, 
 which, as they gained most celebrity, raised also the greatest oppo- 
 sition. The metaphysics of Hobbes, indeed, can b}'' no means be 
 considered brilliant efforts of genius, nor can they possibly serve 
 as a basis upon which any deeply thinkiag mind would rest in its 
 search after the fundamental principles of human nature. Yet 
 Hobbes was undoubtedly, of all the adherents of the Baconian 
 
 * A full and beautiful edition of Hobbes' Works has been published by Sir W. 
 Molesworth. London, 1839.
 
 76 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 school, the greatest writer of his age ; for the works of Gassendi, 
 which now became extremely popular on the Continent of Europe, 
 can hardly be regarded as equal to them in philosophical acumen, 
 and there are no others able to dispute the field. In fact, the met- 
 aphysician of the Baconian philosophy was yet to appear, before 
 the analytic method could be said to be strictly and successfully 
 applied to the science of the human mind. 
 
 It was just at this time, while there was a perpetual conflict of 
 opinions going on between the school of Hobbes on the one side, 
 and those who, like Cumberland, were seeking to lay an immova- 
 ble foundation for morality and religion on the other, that a com- 
 pany of scholars within the University of Oxford were assembled 
 by chance at the chambers of John Locke. Finding themselves 
 perplexed and baffled in their discussions, it occurred to Locke that 
 they were taking the wrong road to arrive at truth ; that the first 
 thing to be done was not to analyze things themselves, or doctrines 
 themselves, to their simplest and most abstract forms, but to inves- 
 tigate the faculties of the human mind, in order to see what objects 
 lie within its reach, and what beyond it. From that day is dated 
 the commencement of a work which was destined to exert a 
 greater influence upon metaphysical science than any which had 
 appeared since the age of Aristotle and Plato — I mean the " Essay 
 on the Human Understanding." We must proceed, therefore, to 
 investigate succinctly, but as clearly as possible, the real tendency 
 of this immortal work, and to estimate the effect it produced upon 
 the progress of speculative philosophy. 
 
 Section II. — Criticism of Locke. 
 
 First of all, it is abundantly evident, that Locke is to be placed 
 amongst those independent thinkers, who, instead of grounding 
 their opinions upon any previous authority, determine rather to 
 seek anew for themselves a solid foundation for human knowledge 
 In so doing he was evidently following, and that boldly, in the track 
 which had been previously opened by the writings of Bacon. 
 When the spirit of independent thinking is once acquired, there 
 are, of course, many different directions which it may follow, and 
 according to the path first struck out, will ever be the method and 
 character of the whole subsequent investigation. 
 
 As to the plan which Locke proposed to follow, we are not left
 
 CRITICISM OF LOCKE. 77 
 
 in doubt for a single moment ; it is clear and decisive from the first 
 page, and indeed is made manifest in the very circumstances which 
 gave rise to his " Essay." He affirms in the very outset, that it is 
 of no use to search deeply into any subject, with the hope of attain- 
 ing ultimate truth, before we have estimated aright the instrument 
 we have to employ ; that is, to use his own words, " before we have 
 found out the powers of the understanding, the extent to which 
 they reach, and the points in which they fail."* It is impossible to 
 indicate more clearly than this his fixed opinion, that the foundation 
 of all philosophy must be found in Psychology, and that the start- 
 ing-point must ever be an accurate observation and analysis of the 
 facts or phenomena of our own consciousness. Here we see at 
 once that Locke had imbibed not only Bacon's independence, but 
 also the spirit of the Baconian method ; that he both avoided and 
 despised (as he tells us in almost the first paragraphf) the fruitless 
 speculations of former philosophers to ascertain such things as 
 "the essence of the' mind," or "by what motions of our spirits, or 
 changes in our bodies, we experience sensations," or to solve any 
 similar question, the evidence of which does not come directly 
 within the range of our own consciousness ; but that, on the con- 
 trary, he considered the study of mind as well as of matter to have 
 reference simply to such actual phenomena as can be observed, 
 classified, and correctly reasoned upon. 
 
 But then arises the inquiry, Can we observe the phenomena of 
 mind as surely as we do those of the material world, and can we 
 equally regard them as real objects of science ? That we can 
 make observations upon the facts of our inward life must be evi- 
 dent to every reflecting mind ; for what do we mean when we 
 speak of consciousness, except that there is something or other 
 passing within us of which we are conscious ? Everything, there- 
 fore, that passes through the mind, of whatever nature it be, 
 may be regarded a legitimate object of mental philosophy ; it is « 
 phenomenon, and as such can be set down upon our roll as a real 
 and unquestionable fact, equally valid with those of any other 
 science. 
 
 Locke takes it for granted, accordingly, as a thing resting on the 
 direct evidence of our consciousness, that man has an understand- 
 ing, that if his consciousness assures him of anything, it assures 
 him that he does think, and, if he think, that there must be some- 
 thing within, which is the immediate object of his thoughts. Such 
 
 * Essay, chap. i. sec. 4. t Essay, chap. i. sec. 2.
 
 78 MODERN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 object, whatever it be, he terms an idea, the proper definition of 
 which accordingly he considers to be, " Anything with which our 
 minds are immediately occupied when we think."* Thus the 
 whole science of the human understanding, or, as it may be other- 
 wise expressed, the whole search after the true principles of human 
 knowledge, is reduced simply to the study of ideas. 
 
 This study he proposes to prosecute in a threefold manner. He 
 proposes, first, to investigate the origin of our ideas, and the means 
 by which we acquire them ; that being done, he offers, secondly, 
 to show what knowledge we possess by means of our ideas, and to 
 determine its certainty, evidence, and extent ; and then, as there 
 are objects in the mind which we cannot call objects of knowl- 
 edc^e, but the reality of which rests solely upon opinion or faith, he 
 proposes, thirdly, to examine the grounds and the degrees of our 
 assent in matters of this nature. f 
 
 Now, what does this sketch (which Locke gives us in his intro- 
 duction) of the course he intended to follow in the work at large 
 indicate ? It shows us most clearly his full conviction, that the 
 phenomena of the mind itself must be our first study ; and that the 
 ideas we may be found to possess within our consciousness must 
 be thoroughly probed and traced to their very origin, before we 
 raise any inquiry as to their certainty, their validity, or their accu- 
 rate correspondence with any external object to which we may 
 suppose them to answer. In a word, it exhibits the great principle, 
 that both logic and ontology are out of place, until we have laid a 
 foundation for them in psychology. When we have once learned 
 to appreciate the true nature of our faculties, and have observed 
 and classified all the inward phenomena of our consciousnesss, then, 
 first, we may begin to mark out in order, the abstract forms which 
 our thoughts and reasonings assume — that is, to create a science 
 of formal logic ; and then, first, also, may we begin to inquire how 
 far these subjective ideas are the signs and proofs of objective ex- 
 istences, — that is, how far we can lay securely the ground-princi- 
 ples of ontology. So far Locke was true to his proposed method, 
 so far he applied admirably the Baconian system to the study of the 
 human mind, and bid fair to build up a superstructure of metaphys- 
 ical philosophy upon a fixed and immovable basis.J 
 
 In order, then, to point out where, and in what manner, Locke 
 departed from the principles which he at first laid down for his 
 
 * Essay, chap. i. sec. 8. t Ibid. chap. i. sec. 3. 
 
 ^ See Cousin's " Cours de I'Histoire de la Phil." Le9on 16, in which Locke's 
 Methodology is very fully discussed.
 
 CRITICISM OF LOCKE. 79 
 
 guidance, let us for a moment consider what the new organum of 
 philosophy, as derived from Bacon and employed by Locke him- 
 self, really is. It contains, as we have shown, two movements ; 
 first, the observation of phenomena just as nature gives them ; and 
 then the explication and recomposition of them, in such a manner 
 as to bring to view general laws. Now, fidelity to these principles 
 imperatively demanded of Locke, when he applied them to the sub- 
 ject of his Essay, to commence by a thorough investigation of all 
 the phenomena of the human understanding, as they are given to 
 us in our own consciousness ; having done this, he might safely 
 have proceeded, either to classify them, or to draw any conclusions 
 that seemed warranted. But what plan does he actually pursue ? 
 Instead of commencing by such a careful induction of facts, he 
 makes in the outset no induction at all ; he seeks to determine nei- 
 ther the number nor the characteristics of our ideas, but starts at 
 once by searching for their origin. This was the point in which 
 he first of all departed from the true method of philosophizing, and 
 which led him, on many occasions, as we shall soon see, into no 
 little inaccuracy and confusion.* 
 
 There is not, in fact, a single branch of inductive science in the 
 world, which would give correct results, if pursued in the same 
 manner as Locke pursued the study of mind. Suppose, for exam- 
 ple, that the illustrious astronomer of the same age, had investigated 
 the architecture of the heavens on the same principle as Locke did 
 the construction and powers of the human understanding ; suppose 
 that, instead of commencing with a distinct knowledge of the phe- 
 nomena of the heavens, he had first applied all his energies to search 
 into the origin of those which present themselves confusedly and 
 in the aggregate to the mind of any ordinary observer, what, we 
 ask, would have been the result? He must, in that case, necessarily 
 have formed hypotheses unwarranted, or, at least, unproved, by 
 facts ; and, instead of casting a lustre upon his name, his age, and 
 his country, would have, probably, taken his rank amongst those in- 
 genious speculators who had before him beaten the path to oblivion. 
 The method which Newton followed taught him to reject all pre- 
 vious hypotheses as so many obstacles in the path of true science ; 
 it taught him, before he sought the origin of any phenomena, to ex- 
 amine what they really were, what characteristics they bore, and 
 how many of a similar nature might be ranged side by side to throw 
 light upon each other. He knew that, to neglect one fact, or to 
 * See Cousin's " Histoire de la Phil." p. 253. Brussels edition, 1840.
 
 80 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 imagine one, were both fatal errors in inductive science, which 
 might lead us in the end far away from the truth. 
 
 Precisely of this nature, however, was Locke's first deviation 
 from the true Baconian principles. In commencing by seeking for 
 the origin of our ideas, he was actually investigating the source 
 of phenomena, of which he had not yet determined either the char- 
 acter or the number, investigating them, moreover, as is almost in- 
 evitable in such cases, under the influence of several false hypoth- 
 eses. The result was, that his conclusion upon this question was 
 necessarily a guess ; or, if we would name it philosophically, an 
 hypothesis which might be true or might not. Instead of classify- 
 ing all our ideas as they exist in their present mature condition in 
 the mind, and then drawing from such an extensive and complete 
 view of the case, a valid conclusion as to their primitive state or 
 origin, he drew his inference before he had examined his data, and 
 thus made the observations square to the theory, instead of draw- 
 ing the theory from his observations. To lay a firm basis for men- 
 tal science by such a method, was, and ever must be, absolutely 
 impossible ; for, when once we have an hypothesis ready formed, 
 we soon become too prejudiced in its favor to judge impartially of 
 any facts which may seem to militate against it ; and even, if all 
 the facts we may happen to observe do agree with it, yet, until we 
 have made a systematic induction of them all, and brought them 
 one by one to the proper test, it is impossible to regard our position 
 as proved beyond the danger of being overturned by some hitherto 
 unheeded phenomenon. But it is not an uncertain position which 
 will do for the corner-stone of a whole system of philosophy.* 
 
 * As this point, of the criticism on Li)cke has been strongly contested by a late 
 reviewer (see Prospective Review, Nov. 1846,) I shall add one or two further illustra- 
 tions of it. The reviewer affirms that Locke did understand the true method of 
 philosophical research: that he stated his thesis first, and brought up his facts 
 afterwards; that the case of Newton is an "unfortunate" one, as he started with 
 no induction of facts, but simply with the two laws of Kepler ; and finally, that Locke 
 assumed no data but sensation and reflection. Let us briefly examine these four 
 points. 
 
 That Locke was imbued with the general spirit of the Baconian Methodology I have 
 admitted, and even affirmed — that he saw its full application to the investigation 
 of mind, I cannot allow. What was Bacon's method 1 First, to make a Natural 
 History of Facts ; next to classify those facts ; thirdly, to investigate their relative 
 weight and significancy ; and then, lastly, to rise through the several stages of 
 generalization to the highest law of the phenomena in question. In Locke we have, it 
 is true, many psycholo^cal facts scattered through his Essay ; but this certainly cannot 
 be called a systemafic arrangement of the phenomena of consciousness, nor would any 
 one, who proceeded upon" the strictly inductive method, make the whole of the 
 facts adduced, from the very first, cluster around a theory as Locke did. He would 
 rather repress this tendency to " anticipate nature" until the facts were better known. 
 But, says the reviewer, may not a man state his thesis /rs/, and then bring up his facts 
 to bear upon it "? Certainly he may ; but the question is, did Locke do this ? Far from 
 it. Respecting no book, perhaps, could such a remark be more " unfortunate." Locke
 
 CRITICISM OF LOCKE. 81 
 
 Having thus pointed out the error which Locke appears at the 
 outset to have fallen into in the method of conducting his examina- 
 tion, we may now proceed to a criticism of the different portions 
 of his work, and show in what manner this first aberration led him 
 into subsequent confusion. As, however, the whole of the former 
 part of the Essay is occupied in discussing the question of the 
 origin of our ideas, we must make a few remarks on this expression, 
 to pave the way for a better comprehension of Locke's whole 
 theory. The term origin may be taken in two senses, essentially 
 
 did not begin to write after he had well digested the subject ; so that he could lay down 
 his mature conclusion at the beginning as a thesis, and then systematically support it. 
 Locke wrote, in order to learn. He philosophized as the book went on. For eighteen 
 years he was writing upon it, and there are evident indications of his views wavering 
 and sometimes changing as the work proceeded. He was no reader of the History of 
 Philosophy ; his Essay, in fact, contains simply the process of his own philosophic 
 development. Can it be said of such a book that the conclusion of the whole, the 
 thesis in which it was all to result, could be laid down first, the fads having been already 
 well arranged and scrutinized 7 Impossible. Locke began to phibsophize, not simply 
 to write with a certain theory ; and that theory colored the facts he adduced throughout 
 the whole work. 
 
 Again, let us look at the case of Newton. The reviewer affirms that Newton began 
 with no systematic view of the facts of astronomy, but simply with" Kepler's two laws. 
 Now let it be remembered, that from the age of Ptolemy most diligent observations had 
 been going on from time to time of the phenomena of the heavens. Any one acquainted 
 with the history of astronomy knows, that the number of observations taken by 
 the astronomers of the age of Kepler was prodigious ; that it was by means of these 
 observations that the science advanced ; and that, without them, Kepler's laws would 
 never have been established. Newton came b;/ inheritance into all these observations ; 
 the very knowledge of Kepler's laws really involveJ them. He began his own in- 
 vestigations, therefore, not only with a distinct idea of the actual phenomena of the 
 case ; but, what is more, with certain deductions from those phenomena already 
 established and verified. To say that Newton conducted his investigations indepen- 
 dently of a most wide and patient colligation of facts as the basis, I cannot but 
 think, involves a total oversight of the real foundation upon which the Newtonian 
 system rests. To be further assured how patiently the great philosopher observed before 
 he reasoned, we have only to trace his discoveries in those subjects where he could not 
 fall back upon a mass of previous observations, and we find that the colligation of facts, 
 even by his extraordinarily sagacious mind, was most laboriously carried on before he 
 ventured to theorize or to deduce. No one, assuredly, can maintain that Locke 
 grounded his " thesis" of the nature of the human understanding, which stands at the 
 mdset of his philosophy, upon a survey of the facts of consciousness at all comparable to 
 the survey which Newton inherited of the phenomena of the heavens. Finally, 
 the reviewer affirms, that Locke assumed no data besides sensation and reflection. We 
 reply, that he assumed quite gratuitously his whole theory of ideas as representations of 
 outward reality. This theory, as Dr. Reid has shown, lay at the very basis of his 
 philosophy, and, so far from leaving the path of psychological discover}' clear, pre- 
 sented obstacles to it at every step. Had Newton adopted the Ptolemaic theory of 
 the heavens as a recognized fact, it is needless to say how it must have stood in the way 
 of all advancement. Of a similar nature was the obstruction which the ideal system 
 actually presented in the philosophical speculations of Locke. Added to this, he was 
 encumbered, perhaps almost unconsciously, with the notion of animal spirits as being 
 the agents in sensation, and with the doctrine of impact as being the only method by 
 which one object can affect another. Of the justice, then, of the original criticism, 
 I still feel perfectly convinced — at any rate, to prove its incorrectness demands a view 
 of the question very different from the plausible, but as it seems to me " loose," strain of 
 remark I have commented upon. In truth, what we want, to the present day, is 
 a faithful psychology strictly inductive, and unencumbered with any hypothesis. On 
 this subject see Jouffroy on the Method of Philosophical Study, prefixed to his 
 translation of Stewart's " Outlines of Moral Philosophy." 
 
 6
 
 82 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 different from each other. It may mean the cause of anything 
 being produced, or it may imply simply the occasion of its produc- 
 tion. Between the real cause, and the occasion of any phe- 
 nomenon, there is a wide diversity. The one implies a producing 
 power, the other only some condition upon which this power comes 
 into exercise. If I cast a grain of corn into the earth, the occasion 
 of its springing up and producing plant, ear, and grain, is the 
 warmth and moisture of the soil in which it is buried ; but this is 
 by no means the cause. The cause lies in the mysterious vital 
 power which the seed contains within itself ; the other is but the 
 condition upon which this cause produces the effect. I am aware 
 that a sensationalist, who rejects the idea of power, would repu- 
 diate this distinction, and regard all effects similar to that above 
 described, as being brought about by a composition of causes. We 
 still maintain, however, that in the majority of instances a valid 
 ground for the distinction is manifest, and that the power by which 
 an event is brought into being is clearly separable from the con- 
 ditions under which that power is put forth.* When we speak, 
 therefore, of the origin of our ideas, we must ever take heed to 
 avoid the ambiguity which lurks in the term. The cause of any 
 idea is the inward faculty from which it immediately takes its rise ; 
 and this is in the proper, and in the only proper sense, its true 
 origin. But man, we know, is a unity ; the different powers and 
 faculties of his mind all co-exist in one subject, and develop them- 
 selves simultaneously, working and interworking together through- 
 out all their operations. It so happens, therefore, that the action of 
 one faculty often depends upon another, and only comes into play 
 when thus stimulated. Hence the ideas which owe their origin, 
 properly so called, to one of these faculties, may owe their occasion 
 to another ; in which case great care is requisite to separate that 
 faculty which gives rise to them directly, from those which have to 
 do only indirectly with their production. Thus, to give an example* 
 we should attribute the abstract conception of space directly to the 
 operation of our reason ; while yet we regard sensation, or an 
 actual contact with the material world, as absolutely necessary in 
 order to incite the rational faculty to the formation of such 
 a .conception.! 
 
 Now, this obvious distinction Locke appears to have entirely 
 
 * The real existence of a nisus or eflFort in every effect beyond the mere -sasible 
 antecedents, will be illustrated hereafter. 
 
 t See some excellent remarks upon this point in Stewart's " Philosophy of the Human 
 Mind," chap. i. sec. 4. See also his " Philosophical Essays," Essay I. chap. ii. ^j
 
 CRITICISM OF LOCKB. 83 
 
 overlooked. Where he found a difficulty in showing the direct 
 dependence of any idea upon experience, he soon discovered the 
 means of showing its indirect dependence upon it, and having done 
 this, he incorrectly concluded, that the whole of our knowledge 
 could be derived from this one source. We owe it mainly to 
 Kant, that this fallacy has been thoroughly probed and refuted. 
 In the very first paragraph of his great work (" The Critic of Pure 
 Reason") he points us to experience as the occasion of every pos- 
 sible conception which the mind forms ; but proves afterwards 
 most convincingly, that the true cause of many of our conceptions 
 is to be found solely in the original constitution of the understand- 
 ing or of the reason. This distinction, then, premised, we may 
 proceed to consider the sentiments which are advanced in the first 
 book of the " Essay on the Human Understanding." 
 
 Before Locke proceeded to the analysis of ideas, properly so 
 called, there was a prior question which seemed to claim some 
 consideration ; namely, whether those first principles, or axioms, 
 which are universally granted, which are regarded as undemon- 
 strable, and from which all reasoning originally proceeds, are not to 
 be considered as strictly innate. Should these first truths really 
 turn out to be so, it is clear that they would seriously miUtate 
 against Locke's whole theory ; and therefore it was necessary to 
 clear them out of the way, before he proceeded to prove generally 
 the empirical origin of our ideas. And what course does he take 
 to accomplish this purpose ? He adduces a number of these first 
 truths in their abstract axiomatic form^ and then undertakes to 
 prove with considerable success, that they are neither universally 
 held nor even universally comprehended.* Since, however, he 
 had not only to disprove their universality as elements of human 
 knowledge, but was bound also to account for their origin on some 
 positive principles, here arose a formidable difficulty, which he was 
 obliged to encounter. To make absolute and self-evident proposi- 
 tions, such e. g. as that a whole is greater than a part, or that it is 
 impossible for the same thing to be and not to be, merely experi- 
 mental and factitious in their nature, appeared absurd ; at any rate, 
 to show the method by which they could come simply through the 
 aid of experience, without being involved in the natural constitu- 
 tion of the intellect, was in the highest degree difficult ; the only 
 resource left was to take shelter behind a species of nominalism, 
 and to declare the most obvious of such propositions to be verbal 
 
 * See Essay, chap. ii. throughout.
 
 84 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 abstractions, which might be employed for convenience, but which 
 could be of no utility in aiding the discovery of any truth. " These 
 general maxims," he says, " are of great use in disputes, to stop 
 the mouths of wranglers, but not of much use to the discovery of 
 unknown truths, or to help the mind forward in its search after 
 knowledge." And again — "As to other less general maxims, they 
 are no more than bare verbal propositions, and teach us nothing 
 but the respect and import of names one to another."* 
 
 Now, in this theory of maxims, or first principles, whether spec- 
 ulative or practical, there is a manifest misapprehension of their 
 real force and character, which we may show both from the argu- 
 ments by which he attempts to prove their non-universality, and 
 also from the considerations, by which he endeavors to prove their 
 practical inutility. In taking up the first or negative argument, 
 Locke selects, as we have seen, some examples, and lays them be- 
 fore us in a definite verbal form ; then having shown that such 
 axioms would be unintelligible to a child or a savage, he infers that 
 they are not innate, nay, that their very terms themselves have to 
 be empirically acquired before they can be duly appreciated.! No 
 doubt this is perfectly correct on the supposition, that a first truth 
 necessarily means something expressed or conceived in formal, 
 logical language. In this sense there can be no maxim innate, 
 because in nature there are given neither propositions ready formed, 
 nor even words by which we may form them. But while no prin- 
 ciple is implanted in us by nature, in its complete logical form, yet 
 there may be many virtually implied and included in the necessary 
 laws by which our judgments are governed, and our thoughts de- 
 velop themselves. Ask a savage whether every effect must have 
 a sufficient cause, and he would smile unintelligently at the ques- 
 tion ; and yet that untutored mind is so constructed, that it acts 
 necessarily upon the very principle, which, clothed in an artificial 
 and verbal dress, it was unable to comprehend. Ask a child whether 
 a whole is greater than a part, or whether the same thing can at 
 the same time be and not be, and, as Locke truly says, he would 
 not very likely comprehend the very terms of the question ; but 
 let him be brought into a position in which he has to pass such a 
 judgment in its concrete form, and you find that his mind compre- 
 hends the full force of the axiom, and acts upon it as necessarily 
 as we do. Certain, then, as it may be, that these first truths are 
 
 * See Essay, Book IV. chap. vii. sec. 11. q, 
 
 ■f Ibid. chap. ii. sec. 5. See also chap. iii. sec. 19. ^
 
 CRITICISM OP LOCKE. 85 
 
 unintelligible to the infant or untutored mind, yet, strip them of 
 their abstract dress, and you will find that every mind contains, in 
 its primitive judgments, nay, possesses, as the very law of its ac- 
 tivity, the germ of these very axioms which the more cultivated 
 intellect learns but to develop and to express.* 
 
 Again, with regard to the other ground which Locke takes up^ 
 when he denies the real value of axioms, and affirms them to be 
 of no avail in our search after knowledge ; here, also, there is the 
 same misapprehension of their real nature. That we are unable 
 to draw truth directly from such first principles we allow ; but that 
 is far from proving them to be worthless. So far, indeed, from 
 that, it may be easily seen, that they lie at the very foundation of 
 all our reasoning, so that without their existence in the mind no 
 argument would be possible. Locke affirms, in opposition to this, 
 that mathematicians, who make the most use of axioms, employ 
 them more for convenience or custom than utility ; and we are 
 quite ready to grant that they do so, as far as the verbal expres- 
 sion of them goes. But let any one try to reason one single step 
 without having them in the mind, and taking their truth for granted, 
 and it will soon be seen that they are the necessary condition of 
 every demonstration that we employ. Nature gives us nothing in 
 the abstract, and therefore, in this sense, neither axioms nor ideas 
 can be innate ; but she gives us that mental constitution, and im- 
 presses upon us those laws of thought, which necessarily involve 
 such first axiomatic truths, and which lead every mind to form 
 them inwardly for itself as soon as it comes into contact with the 
 world without.! Our conclusion, then, respecting the whole ques- 
 tion of first principles, speculative and practical, is this, that al- 
 though in their abstract form they are not innate, yet that there 
 are innate faculties, or laws of thought which, when put into ac- 
 tion by experience, necessarily give rise to them as primitive judg- 
 ments ; and that these judgments, at first applied in the concrete, 
 at length, by a process of abstraction, assume a perfect axiomatic 
 form. Experience, accordingly, is the occasion of their produc- 
 tion, but their I'eal cause or origin is to be found in the native 
 energy of the human mind. 
 
 The doctrine of principles being disposed of in the first book of 
 his Essay, Locke proceeds, in the second, to develop his theory 
 
 * See Leibnitz's " Nouveaux Essais sur I'Entendement Humain," Book I., where 
 the arguments of Locke upon the question of moral and speculative principles are 
 vigorously refuted. 
 
 ■f See Cousin's " Histoire de la Phil." Lefon 34.
 
 86 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 respecting the origin of our ideas. The supposition of our ideas 
 being innate, he rejects primarily on this ground, that if it can be 
 shown (which he beUeves to be quite possible) that we have facul- 
 ties capable of forming them, there is no reason to regard them as 
 originally implanted.* So far Locke is undoubtedly correct, and 
 has shown satisfactorily that our natural faculties are sufficient to 
 account for every notion we possess, without our having recourse 
 to the fiction of innate ideas. But then mark the process of rea- 
 soning, which he institutes from this point. Let it be allowed, that 
 every idea is the result of our natural faculties ; from what, then, 
 he asks, does the action of these faculties take its rise ? Mani- 
 festly from experience. Therefore, he concludes, experience must 
 be the primary source of all our ideas. This it was which induced 
 Locke to make use of the illustration, that compares the mind to 
 white paper, which is void of all characters until the hand of expe- 
 rience inscribe them. 
 
 Now here, again, we may observe the error into which Locke 
 was led by confounding the cause of our ideas with their occasion. 
 There can be no idea, he argues, prior to experience ; — granted. 
 Therefore, he concludes, the mind previous to it is, as it were, a 
 " tabula rasa^'' owing every notion, which it gains, primarily to an 
 empirical source. Granted still — if all that is meant be simply, 
 that experience is the occasion or condition of acquiring our ideas ; 
 but if it be intended that this is in every case their proper origin, 
 we at once demur. The mind comes into existence, if indeed void 
 of actual ideas, yet by no means destitute of the forms or cate- 
 gories, both of sensation and intellection, that is, in other words, of 
 intellectual laws and principles ; and it is to these that we attribute 
 the direct origin of all the pure conceptions of reason, although it 
 might have been experience, which occasioned the formation of 
 them.f The spirit of man, just like the seed, to which I before 
 referred, has its inherent energy within itself The grain of wheat 
 has in it, potentially, the ear that is to wave in the next summer's 
 sun, and the acorn, in its little circumference, incloses the oak that 
 is to bear the blast of ages ; in the same manner, does the mind at 
 birth contain potentially all the elements of the future man, neither 
 more nor less. But as the seed must come in contact with the soil 
 to call its hidden powers into development, so must the mind come 
 
 * See Essay, chap. ii. sec. 1 . 
 
 t See Kant's " Critic of Pure Reason, Trancendental, Esthetic, Analytic," in wliicli 
 the a priori element is throughout separated from the Empirical, and all experience 
 shown to arise from the synthesis of the two.
 
 CRITICISM OF LOCKE. 87 
 
 into contact with the world of experience, in order that its ener- 
 gies may unfold themselves, and produce their own proper fruits.* 
 Having broadly laid down the principle, that all the materials of 
 our knowledge come from experience, Locke goes on to explain 
 his theory more particularly. Observation, he shows, may be ex- 
 ternal or interna], that is, it may have reference to the visible 
 world, or to our own mental operations. The former kind of ob- 
 servation is called sensation, the latter rejlection. These two, then, 
 sensation and reflection, are the sources of all our ideas, and it was 
 for the sake of proving and illustrating this position that the greater 
 portion (that is, the second book) of the Essay was written. Now, 
 in estimating this theory of the origin of our ideas, it is of great 
 importance to know exactly what is included in the two terms 
 sensation and reflection, and to attribute to them neither more nor 
 less than the author intended. With regard to the first, we can 
 have but little difficulty in perceiving, that he included under it 
 simply that state of passive receptivity in which the mind exists, 
 when brought, by means of the senses, into contact with the mate- 
 rial world. In making reflection a source of ideas co-ordinate with 
 sensation, he renders quite obvious the distinction between the 
 passive and the active faculties of man, and clearly avoids the ex- 
 treme into which so many of his followers have run, in regarding 
 sensation as the foundation principle of all our mental operations. 
 If, then, there be any doubt at all in determining the precise mean- 
 ing of the theory now before us, it must all rest in the acceptation 
 of the term reJlection.-[ The question to be decided is this, — Does 
 Locke intend that by means of reflection we can gain any actual 
 materials of knowledge distinct from the intimations of our senses, 
 or that the use of it is simply to combine and co?npare the materials 
 which the senses primarily afford us ? If he mean the former, 
 then he admits that there are two distinct and original sources of 
 knowledge ; if the latter, then he allows but owe real inlet for our 
 
 * Sensationalists have attempted to contravene this view, by the supposition that the 
 understanding grows up into the possession of its powers, just as the human body con- 
 soUdates. They tbrget that as, without the process of assimilation, the consolidation 
 of the body could never take place, so without the native construction of the intellectual 
 faculty its powers could never develop. That native construction involves all we con- 
 tend tor — it contains the subjective elements of experience, i. c. it contains all those 
 ground-forms of the understanding, l)y which knowledge from experience can be assim- 
 ilated, and made valid to the human mind. 
 
 •f- It must be admitted that Locke uses the term reflection in a very wavering and 
 undefined sense. See Stewart's remarks on it in his Preliminary^Dissertation — also 
 Hallam's " Lit. of Europe," vol. iii. p. 365. I still think, however, that the general 
 and predominating use of the word in Locke's Essay may be ascertained with some 
 accuracy.
 
 88 iMODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ideas, although reflection may give us the means of extensively 
 modifying and combining them. A careful perusal of the first 
 few chapters of the second book, is, I think, quite sufficient to con- 
 vince us, that the latter of these opinions v^^as the one which Locke 
 decidedly entertained. 
 
 That sensation is the first developed of these two sources, he 
 again and again asserts in such passages as the following : — " I see 
 no reason to believe that the soul thinks before the senses have 
 furnished it with ideas ;" and again more clearly, " The mind first 
 employs itself about the impressions made on the senses :" and in 
 many other passages assertions ,of a similar nature are made.* To 
 determine, however, more accurately the exact province of reflec- 
 tion, {i. e., of the mind's observation of its own operations,) in the 
 acquisition of our ideas, Locke gives us an analysis of what these 
 inward operations really are. The first is perception, which he 
 uses to express merely the consciousness of our sensations. f As, 
 therefore, perception is expressly said to be passive, and is only 
 occupied with our sensations, it cannot add any fresh material to 
 our knowledge. The next chapter treats of retention, which is the 
 same as memory, and which we see at once, can only occupy 
 itself with ideas already in the mind. J The third operation is dis- 
 cernment, which expresses simply the separation of our ideas. § 
 The fourth is comparison ; the fifth composition ; and the sixth and 
 last, abstraction ; all which do nothing more than either combine 
 several ideas together, or isolate some general property belonging 
 to them, and contemplate it by itself || These are the mental oper- 
 ations, to discern which is the province of reflection ; and it is 
 clear from the whole account, that the different faculties, thus enu- 
 merated, are made to hold a place quite subordinate to sensation ; 
 that they operate only upon the material afforded by it ; and that, 
 in fine, there is only one real inlet to our ideas, that, namely, which 
 is the inlet to all the impressions of the material world. 
 
 To propound a theory is always an easy task ; to sustain it is 
 altogether a different thing. Locke's main difficulty was now to 
 come, that is, to show how every idea, of whatever nature, could 
 enter the mind through the two media which he had pointed out. 
 For this purpose he selects those ideas which appear least dependent 
 upon sensation, and had usually been considered as innate ; and 
 enters into many long and acute processes of reasoning, in order 
 
 * See Essay, Book II. chap. u. passim. f Ibid. chap. ix. sec. 1, 2. 3, 4. 
 
 X Ibid. chap. X. k See Essay, Book II. chiap. xi. sec. 1, 2. 
 
 II Ibid chap. xi. sec. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.
 
 CRITICISM OF LOCKE. 89 
 
 to bring them within the limits of experience. These ideas, to take 
 them as near as possible in the order in which he has discussed 
 them, are those of Space, of Time, of Infinity, of Causality, of per- 
 sonal Identity, of Substance, and lastly of Good and Evil. To enter 
 into the discussion of these ideas separately, would lead us far be- 
 yond our present prescribed limits, and we must, therefore, endeavor 
 to point out, as clearly as we are able, the fundamental error which 
 runs through the whole. This is, in fact, no other than that which 
 we have before pointed out, namely, the confounding of the cause 
 with the occasion. Victor Cousin, following the language of the 
 schools, terms the true origin of an idea the logical condition of 
 its existence, while the occasion of it he calls the chronological 
 condition. In seeking, for example, the logical order of any two 
 ideas, we attempt to determine which one rationally includes the 
 other. In seeking the chronological order, we attempt to deter- 
 mine which one the mind actually becomes first conscious of. If, 
 according to the former method, we seek to deduce our notions in a 
 logical series one from another, we shall find that the abstract ideas, 
 which I have mentioned above, are all of them primary — that they 
 are the first links in the several chains of subordinate ideas, which 
 are referable to them as their categories ; but if, according to the 
 latter method, we simply ask, what is the order in time according 
 to which these notions actually arose within us, then we shall find 
 that the date of our first experience is the date also of our first con- 
 ceptions.* Let us take, as an example, the idea of space, and the 
 idea of matter. Which one, we ask, is dependent upon the other ? 
 Logically, the notion of body must evidently depend upon that of 
 space ; for you can conceive of the existence of no single body, 
 and no aggregate of bodies, without placing them in space, while 
 you can easily conceive of space denuded of all matter. On the 
 other hand, in the chronological order, the idea of Body would 
 stand, at least, contemporary with that of Space, since it is our first 
 contact with body which occasions our reason to form for itself 
 the absolute notion of space, as that in which all matter must exist. 
 The want of this distinction, or rather the frequent neglect of the 
 logical dependence of our ideas, one upon the other, is the funda- 
 mental error pervading the whole attempt, which Locke makes, to 
 give to our pure and absolute conceptions an empirical origin. 
 
 To maintain his theory satisfactorily, Locke is betrayed into 
 statements which, however acute, will not stand the test of a closer 
 
 * Histoire de la Philosophic, Legon 17.
 
 90 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 analysis. The idea of Space he derives immediately from Sight 
 and Touch, the correctness of which he thinks so evident, " that it 
 would be as needless to go to prove that men perceive by their 
 sight a distance between bodies of different colors, or between parts 
 of the same body, as that they see colors themselves."* Now, 
 what does Locke mean by saying that we derive this idea from 
 Sight and Touch ? Not assuredly that we can see or touch Space 
 itself, not that it is an actual sensation, — but that, when we se« 
 Bodies apart, there is immediately suggested to us the idea of th 
 intervening distance ; and so also that, when we have felt resist- 
 ance, the negative of non-resistance brings us to the same notion. 
 The idea of Space, then, on Locke's theory, though distinct from 
 that of Body, yet is derived by inference from it. In reply to this, 
 however, we ask, does not the idea of Body logically include and 
 suppose that of Space ? Can we conceive of Body without Space ? 
 Can we see it or touch it without seeing it and touching it in space ? 
 To us it seems clear, as Kant has abundantly shown, that the idea 
 of Space is one of the very forms of all sensation, though not, as he 
 supposes, simply of a subjective value ; and if so, it must virtually 
 exist before any induction from sensible experience can possibly be 
 made. 
 
 Of a similar nature is his account of the notion of Time. This 
 he would show arises from reflection upon the succession of our 
 thoughts. It is an induction from our inward experience. But is 
 not the notion of Time itself an element necessary to this inward 
 experience ? Ail our ideas — all the inward events of our life — 
 must exist in Time ; it is the subjective sphere of the mind's oper- 
 ations. How, then, can it result as an experimental deduction 
 from those operations ? 
 
 The idea of Infinity, again, Locke makes purely negative ; a 
 conclusion which he drew, as it seems to me, from regarding the 
 word idea as implying a distinct image in the mind. That w^e can- 
 not have an image of Infinity in the mind is true, but that is no 
 proof that we may not rise to a conception of it.* 
 
 As to personal Identity, it consists, according to Locke, entirely 
 in our consciousness ; so that, if our consciousness ceases, we of 
 course must cease to be the same persons that we were before. 
 
 * Essay, Book II. chap. xiii. sec. 2. 
 
 * Mr. Hallam has some excellent remarks upon Locke's use of tlie term Idea. " We 
 cannot have an Image in the mind of a thousand-sided figure — but we have the most 
 precise conception of it." Again he says. " What Image can we form of a differential, 
 which can pretend to represent it in any other sense than as d x represents it, by sug- 
 gestion not by resemblance V — Lit. of Europe, vol. iii. p. 367.
 
 CRITICISM OP LOCKE. 91 
 
 According to his own doctrine, therefore, that consciousness ceases 
 during sleep, it follows that our personal Identity is nightly sus- 
 pended. But here, as before, we may ask, could we have ever had 
 any consciousness at all — that is, could the mind have ever been 
 conscious of its own operations as its own, without the idea of per- 
 sonal Identity being virtually at the basis? The one process 
 logically involves the other. 
 
 Of Power, or Causation, Locke's account is somewhat varying. 
 In one passage he derives it from the observation, that we can 
 move our bodies at pleasure ; or that one object in nature can pro- 
 duce motion in another.* In another place he derives it from 
 reflection upon our own faculties, independently of Body.f The 
 whole chapter on power, indeed, seems to me to be written in a 
 much higher strain of philosophizing than the preceding portions 
 of the Essay. 
 
 The distinct idea of Substance, Locke repeatedly denies, except 
 it be a cluster of sensations, with the supposition of some sub- 
 stratum in which they adhere — a supposition which he compares to 
 the Indian fable of the tortoise that supports the world. If an idea 
 is to mean an image, or actual resemblance in the mind, he is 
 undoubtedly right ; but that we have the d, priori conception of 
 Substance as a synthetical judgment, we shall have in the sequel 
 many proofs. 
 
 Lastly — Locke's ideas of Good and Evil are entirely of the 
 utilitarian character ; they are made the result instead of being 
 held up as the foundation of our ideas of reward and punishment.f 
 
 In all these instances Locke has admirably traced the conditions 
 under which the reason is excited to action, and the occasions 
 upon which its own primitive judgments are formed, in accordance 
 with the laws of our intellectual being ; but he has erred in repre- 
 senting the absolute idea, as being derivable in each case from 
 those allied sensations, by which the understanding is indeed 
 aroused, but not conditioned to the perception of fundamental 
 truth. 
 
 With regard to the true origin of these ideas, we should come to 
 the same conclusion as we did in the case of first principles ; 
 namely, that they cannot be strictly speaking innate, inasmuch as 
 nothing is given by nature in its abstract form. The original opera- 
 
 * Book II. chap. vii. sec. 8. t Book II. chap. xxi. sec. 1. 
 
 X Book I. chap. iii. passim. Locke's utiHtarianisin was the chief ground of the attack 
 he sustained from Lord Shaftesbury, and other ethical writers of the same age.
 
 92 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 tions of the human reason are its primitive judgments. These judg- 
 ments, at first particular or concrete, are generalized, by the aid of 
 language, into propositions or axioms ; and these propositions still 
 further separate themselves into ideas. What is properly innate 
 within us is the faculty, by which we are led to form these primi- 
 tive judgments, so soon as we actually come into contact with the 
 outer world. Our absolute ideas, therefore, which are virtually 
 included in them, although not of themselves innate, yet arise by 
 necessity from this iiinate power of understanding and reason, and 
 are by no means, as Locke would have it, conceptions drawn 
 originally from the intimations of sense. By taking up this position 
 he was obliged, as we have seen, to attenuate or altogether destroy 
 some of the most necessary and undeniable conceptions of the 
 human mind ; but he upheld the credit of the theory with which 
 he started, and which, we have no doubt with the most thorough 
 conviction of its truth, he labored most earnestly to support. 
 Such was the consequence of reducing his data to his principles, 
 instead of deducing his principles from his data.* 
 
 The third book of Locke's Essay is a treatise on the philosophy 
 of Language. We shall not occupy space by making any remarks 
 upon this. With the exception of some leaning to that species of 
 nominalism, which was afterwards more completely developed ^y 
 Home Tooke, there is much practical wisdom contained in the 
 cautions which are given, against being led astray by the force of 
 words, or being deluded, as Bacon terms it, by the Idola Fori. 
 
 Before we close, however, our critique upon this immortal Essay, 
 we must offer a few considerations upon the fourth book. Hitherto 
 Locke had been occupied simply and solely with ideas and their 
 origin ; he had kept himself strictly within the limits o{ psychology, 
 and sought to determine nothing, except what properly belonged 
 to the inner world. In the fourth book he makes the passage from 
 psychology into ontology, and institutes inquiries like the following : 
 What is the nature of ideas ? What do they represent ? What 
 is the knowledge of objective existence we obtain from them ? 
 And what confidence may we have in the correctness and reality 
 of this knowledge ? — questions which all must admit to be of no 
 small importance. So long as we regard our ideas simply as ideas, 
 it is evident that we are completely shut up within ourselves : how, 
 then, are we to take the step from the subjective world to the 
 
 * On the true theory of ideas, see Cousin's " Histoire de la Philosophic," Le9on 22, 
 towards the close.
 
 CRITICISM OF LOCKE. 93 
 
 objective ; and how are we to know that the one is a veracious 
 manifestation of the other ? This leads us naturally to ask, what is 
 Locke's real theory respecting the nature of ideas — a point, the 
 determination of which has occasioned no little dispute amongst 
 philosophers. Dr. Reid contends, that Locke's " idea" is a real 
 independent existence in the original and proper use of the term, 
 and claims the honor of having exploded this long-sustained theory, 
 on the principles of common sense. Dr. Brown withheld from him 
 the honor thus laid claim to, and denied that Locke, in common 
 with many others of the same and a former age, used the term in 
 the sense thus attributed to them.* Perhaps the true statement of 
 the case lies midway between these two extremes. Dr. Reid 
 attributes to Locke too much of the peripatetic doctrine, while Dr. 
 Brown as certainly attributes to him just so much too little. That 
 Locke believed all the apparatus of sensible species, intelligible 
 species, and phantasms, as given by Aristotle, we think very 
 improbable ; at the same time he manifestly held a representative 
 theory respecting the doctrine of perception ; supposing, not with 
 Dr. Reid, that our knowledge of external things is immediate, but 
 that, besides the perceiving mind, and the thing perceived, there is 
 the representation, or idea of the latter, as the connecting link 
 between them. This may be seen by consulting the fourth chapter 
 of the fourth book of his Essay, in which he says, — " It is evident 
 that the mind knows not things immediately, but by the interven- 
 tion of the ideas it has of them : our knowledge, therefore, is real 
 only so far as there is a conformity between our ideas and the 
 reality of things." Here, then, we have plainly his fixed senti- 
 ment, that knowledge depends upon the conformity of our ideas 
 with the external things they represent, and that error consists in 
 their non-conformity. In this theory, we conceive, Locke has 
 taken up an untenable position ; and we willingly concede, there- 
 fore, to Dr. Reid, the honor of having put the whole subject in a 
 clear light, and fixed it, as far as he went, on its right foundation.! 
 Viewing the representative theory of human knowledge as we 
 will, it is beset with difficulties. First, on the supposition that the 
 image or idea which intervenes between the mind and the outer 
 world is material, we find it impossible to account for those no- 
 tions, which do not admit of being represented by a material sym- 
 
 * Compare Reid's " Inquiry into the Human Mind," chapters i. and vii., with Brown's 
 " Lectures," Lecture xxvii. 
 
 t On this perceptionalist controversy, consult Sir VV. Hamilton's admirable article — 
 Edinburgh Review, No. 53.
 
 94 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 bol. Of this kind are our notions of secondary qualities, for who 
 can conceive of the material image of blue or green, or soft or 
 hard ?* Of the same nature also are all those notions we have of the 
 spiritual world, for is it to be conceived that mind, immaterial in 
 itself, throws off a material image in order that it may be the ob- 
 ject of its own contemplation ? In fact, Locke gives up philoso- 
 phy altogether as soon as he comes to consider the real existence 
 of anything beyond the material, and throws himself upon revela- 
 tion as the only source from which we can infer its certainty. f 
 Again, if we suppose the idea to be immaterial, we are no better 
 off: for here the chief objection against the whole representative 
 hypothesis has its full force. Allow, for argument's sake, that our 
 knowledge does all depend upon the conformity of the idea with 
 its object ; how, then, are we to infer this conformity ? Without 
 being able to institute some comparison between the image and 
 the original, it is clear we can never know whether they resemble 
 each other or not ; but to institute this comparison supposes a 
 direct perception of that original, independent of its representative 
 idea, and shuts us up to this alternative — either that we have the 
 means of knowing objects without the intervention of ideas, and 
 therefore that they are unnecessary ; or else, if we have no means 
 of knowing them otherwise, that we can never be sure of the 
 conformity between the object and the idea, on which very con- 
 formity our knowledge depends ; and therefore, can have no secure 
 ground for certain knowledge at all. The refutation of the " ideal 
 system" lies, in fact, almost in a nutshell. The intervening image 
 must be material or immaterial. If it be material, it still remains 
 to show how the mind can communicate with it without a second 
 image ; if it be immaterial, then how can it communicate with the 
 outward world any better than the mind itself? The only con- 
 clusion to which the whole theory can ultimately lead, is that of 
 the most rigid scepticism. J 
 
 That scepticism is the real result of the theory we have now 
 described, is seen from the use that has been actually made of it. 
 Berkeley drew from it his arguments against the existence of the 
 material world, and Hume based upon the same the principles, by 
 which he sought to involve the whole superstructure of human 
 
 * Locke virtually abandons his own theory here, and admits that we can have no 
 representation of secondary qualities whatever. Essay, Book II. chap. viii. sec. 13. 
 
 t See Essay, Book IV. chap. xi. sec. 12. 
 
 :j: For a more full discussion of the theory of representationalism, consult Cousm's 
 " Histoire de la Philosophic," Lc^on xxii.
 
 EFFECTS OP LOCKE IN ENGLAND. 95 
 
 knowledge, from its very foundations, in one scene of doubt and 
 confusion. 
 
 Our perceptions, as Dr. Reid has shown in opposition to this 
 theory, instead of depending upon an intermediate representative 
 idea, are direct and immediate : the mind perceives and knows 
 just because it has been so constituted, and possesses within itself 
 those first principles, (whether we call them with Kant forms of 
 the understanding, or with Reid principles of common sense, or 
 wth Brown principles of intuitive belief,) which are the starting- 
 points whence all our subsequent and deduced knowledge takes 
 its rise.* The more accurate analysis, however, of this theory 
 of perception we must leave until we come to the explanation of 
 the philosophy of " common sense." 
 
 Into Locke's views respecting judgment, faith, enthusiasm, and 
 some other points of a minor character, we shall not enter, because 
 they bear but slightly upon the main features of his philosophy. 
 We cannot part from him, however, without bearing testimony to 
 his singular independence of mind, his acuteness and strength of 
 intellect, his rectitude of character, his honest and unflinching 
 search after truth, and his zeal for the diffusion of a manly, intel- 
 ligent piety. If, however, we would point out candidly the in- 
 fluence which Locke exerted upon the progress of speculative 
 philosophy, it must be confessed, that notwithstanding all the ad- 
 mirable lessons which his writings contain, they manifested a 
 decided leaning towards sensationalism, and included, though un- 
 known to himself, germs which, after a time, bore the fruits of 
 utilitarianism in morals, of materialism in metaphysics, and of 
 scepticism in religion. To exhibit the process by which this was 
 effected, will be the next point to which our attention must be 
 directed. 
 
 Sect. III. — Effects of Locke in England. 
 
 The " Essay on the Human Understanding" enjoyed, from its 
 very first publication, a reputation almost unparalleled in the 
 whole history of philosophy. The principles there advocated 
 with so much acuteness, and so earnest a love of truth, became 
 almost universally diffused ; but unfortunately they fel! into the 
 hands of men who, being entirely wanting in the simplicity of 
 * Reid's " Inquiry into the Human Mind," chap. ii. sec. 6, 7, 8, 9.
 
 96 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 mind, and the sincere piety which had distinguished their author, 
 appropriated them to purposes altogether foreign to his intentions. 
 
 The deistical school of writers, which at this time arose, armed 
 themselves with many of Locke's conclusions in order to enforce 
 their own sceptical opinions. Collins aimed chiefly at establishing 
 upon a firm basis the doctrine of necessity ; Dodwell struck out 
 boldly into the path of materialism ; while Mandeville, assuming 
 with Locke, that there are no innate practical principles in the 
 human mind, dealt a mischievous blow at the root of all moral dis- 
 tinctions. From hence originated some of the most acute contro- 
 versies which the history of mental and moral science presents, — 
 controversies which summoned the ability of Stillingfleet, the wit 
 and elegance of Shaftesbury, the acuteness of Norris, and the 
 gigantic strength of Clarke, in opposition to the immoral and irre- 
 ligious tendencies, which seemed likely to flow from the empirical 
 principles, that were now apparently taking so firm a hold upon 
 the philosophic spirit of the age. These, however, we must pass 
 over, as their names are better known in the departments of ethics 
 and theology than in that of metaphysics : we have only men- 
 tioned them in order to show the more immediate effects of Locke's 
 philosophy upon the literary society of the day, and to indicate the 
 fact, that his principles were neither established nor developed 
 without the earnest protest and the powerful opposition of some 
 of the first thinkers and reasoners of that period. 
 
 The next really philosophical writer, whom we find carrying out 
 the sensational tendency to its fuller development, is David Hart- 
 ley. The philosophy of Hartley is especially worthy of attention, 
 from the fact of its being the first decided attempt we know of, at 
 combining the study of psychology with the results of modern 
 physiological investigations. Hartley was educated at Cambridge 
 for the medical profession, and was led, both by the nature of his 
 studies, and by the influence of the metaphysical school represented 
 in that university by Dr. (afterwards Bishop) Law, to adopt some 
 of the more extreme principles of sensationalism. His first attempt 
 was to propound a theory of sensation, grounded upon an anatom- 
 ical inspection of the nervous system. Locke, though himself of 
 the medical profession, had never ventured to speculate upon the 
 method by which sensations are communicated to the mind ; re- 
 garding the subject as purely hypothetical, he probably never 
 formed an opinion upon it, but left it untouched, as belonging to 
 that mysterious and unknown process, which connects together
 
 EFFECTS OF LOCKE IN ENGLAND. 97 
 
 our bodily affections and mental feelings. Hartley, on the con- 
 trary, desirous of supplying what he considered a deficiency in the 
 philosophy of Locke, proposed to account for the phenomena of 
 sensation by certain vibrations, which he supposed to take place 
 in the nervous system.* The vibratory hypothesis of Hartley is 
 too well known by all the readers of modern philosophy to require 
 here to be explained at any length, and besides, is now gone so 
 much into disrepute as hardly to require any refutation ; we shall 
 content ourselves, therefore, with making two remarks upon it. 
 The first is, that as an hypothesis there is a great improbability of 
 its being true, owing to the extreme unfitness of the soft and pulpy 
 material of which the nerves are composed, to produce or prop- 
 agate vibrations. The second remark is, that even if all these 
 physical changes and vibratory movements were proved to exist, 
 yet still there would be as great a chasm as ever between the ma- 
 terial condition of our sensation and the ultimate mental effect. 
 To say that the feeling itself consists in these nervous movements 
 is absurd. " There may be," says a writer in the Edinburgh Re- 
 view, (Oct. 1806), "little shakings in the brain for anything we 
 know, and there may even be shakings of a different kind accom- 
 panying every act of thought or perception ; but that the shakings 
 themselves are the thoughts or perception, we are so far from ad- 
 mitting, that we find it impossible to comprehend what can be 
 meant by the assertion. The shakings are certain throbbings, 
 vibrations, or stirrings, in a whitish half-fluid substance like custard, 
 which we might see perhaps or feel if we had eyes and fingers 
 sufficiently small or fine for their office. But what should we see 
 or feel, upon the supposition that we could detect by our senses 
 everything that actually took place in the brain ? We should see 
 the particles of the substance change their place a little, move a 
 little up or down, to the right or to the left, round about, or zig- 
 zag, or in some other course or direction. This is all that we 
 could see if Dr. Hartley's conjecture were proved by actual ob- 
 servation, because this is all that exists in motion according to our 
 conception of it, and all that we mean when we say that there is 
 motion in any substance. ' Is it intelligible, then, to say that this 
 motion, the whole of which we see and comprehend, is thought 
 and feeling, and that thought and feeling will exist wherever we 
 can excite a similar motion in a similar substance ? In our hum- 
 ble apprehension the proposition is not so much false as utterly 
 
 * Observations on Man, chap. i. sec. 1. 
 
 7
 
 98 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 unmeaning and incomprehensible." Admitting, then, the truth of 
 Hartley's mhratiuncles, we get no nearer than ever to the expla- 
 nation of the mental phenomena of sensation. 
 
 Had our author confined his philosophical speculations to this 
 theory, his name would probably never have come down to our 
 own day in the annals of philosophy : the other doctrines, however, 
 which he grounded upon it, more especially that of association, 
 have given him a lasting reputation amongst the most ingenious 
 writers of the last century. The law of the association of Ideas 
 was first clearly hinted at by Hobbes, who in his " Leviathan" 
 speaks of it in several places, under the phrases " trains of thought," 
 or " trains of imagination."* The term association was first used 
 by Locke, in his immortal Essay,f to express certain connections 
 which exist between one thought and another in the flow of our 
 consciousness. Tucker, in his " Light of Nature Pursued," used 
 the word combination as better suited to express the phenomena 
 of the case : J but Hartley preferred to retain the original word 
 association, although at the same time he made a complete revolu- 
 tion in the meaning which was to be attached to it. In order to 
 appreciate this change of meaning, we should observe that Locke 
 had applied the term "association of ideas" only to those more 
 striking and remarkable combinations, which appear to be rather 
 out of the ordinary course of thought, than to the law by which 
 the whole flow of our consciousness is regulated. Hartley, on the 
 other hand, used it to express any combination of thought or feel- 
 ing whatever, which is capable of becoming habitual by means of 
 repetition. 
 
 His theory, then, as nearly as we can convey it in few words, is 
 as follows : The objects of the external world affect, in some 
 manner, the extreme ends of the nerves, which spread from the 
 brain as centre to every part of the bodj. This affection produces 
 a vibration, which is continued along the nerve by the agency of 
 an elastic ether, until it reaches the brain, where it constitutes the 
 phenomenon we term sensation. When a sensation has been ex- 
 perienced several times, the vibratory movement from which it 
 arises acquires the tendency to repeat itself spontaneously, even 
 when the external object is not present. These repetitions or relics 
 of sensation are ideas, which in their turn possess the property of 
 recalling each other by virtue of mutual association among them- 
 
 * Leviathan, chap. iii. t Essay, Book II. chap, xxxiii. 
 
 \ Light of Nature, chap. ix.
 
 EFFECTS OP LOCKE IN ENGLAND. 99 
 
 selves.* According to this doctrine, for example, the sight of an 
 apple will recall the sensation formerly produced by the taste, thus 
 giving rise to the idea of its taste ; and the idea of the taste again 
 will give rise to any other ideas which have been before experi- 
 enced at the same time. Thus the things to which association 
 applies, Hartley considers to be these three — sensations, ideas, and 
 muscular movements (emotions being completely confounded with 
 sensations, and therefore not being mentioned separately). These 
 classes of phenomena having been previously experienced together, 
 may recall each other at any time or in any order — a fact which 
 our author briefly expresses by the following law. " If any sensa- 
 tion A, idea B, or muscular motion C, be associated a sufficient 
 number of times with any other sensation D, idea E, or muscular 
 motion F, it will at last excite the simple idea belonging to the 
 sensation D, the very idea E, or the very muscular motion F." So 
 much then concerning association generally.f 
 
 Passing over Hartley's classification of the laws of association, 
 I shall only stop to notice one principle, which he makes of su- 
 preme importance, and that is the law of transference. The nature 
 of this law is as follows. An idea is sometimes associated with 
 another through the medium of a third ; but in process of time 
 this intermediate idea may be disregarded, and yet the connection 
 between the first and third may notwithstanding remain. Thus 
 the idea of pleasure, which is so indissolubly connected with 
 money, arises from the conveniences which it is able to procure, 
 while in the mind of the miser the conveniences are lost sight of, 
 and the very possession of the money itself is regarded as containing 
 the whole enjoyment. In this way Hartley accounts for almost all 
 the emotions and passions of the Jauman mind. The domestic 
 affections, for instance, arise from the transference of the pleasure 
 derived from parental kindness to the parent itself; the social and 
 patriotic affections from transferring the pleasures of society to the 
 country which affords them ; in like manner also the moral and 
 religious affections, the love of virtue and the love of God, arise 
 from the pleasures connected with virtuous and pious conduct, 
 being transferred to the law of action, or to the supreme Lawgiver 
 from whom these pleasures have emanated. In this way Hartley 
 expands his principle of association, until it aff'ords him an expla- 
 
 * Observations on Man, chap. i. sec 2. 
 
 t For the full description of the generation of ideas by association, see chap, i sec. 2 
 and 3.
 
 100 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 nation, more or less clearly, of all the multifarious phenomena of 
 man's consciousness.* 
 
 The subordinate effects of these principles are easy to be imag- 
 ined. If all our ideas are but relics of sensations, and all excited 
 spontaneously by the laws of association, it is abundantly evident 
 that the power of the will must be a nonentity, that man can really 
 have no control over his own mind, that he is the creature of irre- 
 sistible necessity. Hartley was accordingly a firm" necessarian. f 
 Another natural effect of the theory of vibrations is materialism. 
 I am aware that Hartley is not chargeable with maintaining this 
 doctrine ; his sincere religious character, coupled with great acute- 
 ness in philosophical thinking, held him back from admitting a 
 system which can seldom be united with deep religious feelings, 
 never with eminent metaphysical abilities. But that this philosophy 
 naturally led to materialistic views in others, whose minds were 
 not under the same restraints as his own, was abundantly proved 
 by the school to which he gave origin. A third effect of the Hart- 
 leian metaphysics was a bold defence of nominalism, which, though 
 a matter of minor consequence in comparison with those above- 
 mentioned, yet sufficiently indicated the tendency of the whole 
 system. J 
 
 That there is great value to be attached to much which Hartley 
 has drawn from the law of association, and that he has afforded an 
 explanation of many phenomena, before very imperfectly under- 
 stood, cannot be denied. The very ardor, however, with which he 
 threw himself into his system, and the very closeness with which 
 he analyzed the facts of the case, necessarily imparted a one-sid- 
 edness to his philosophy, and led to the neglect of some other facts 
 equally important. The ground-principles of our intellectual life 
 — the fundamental conceptions, without which even sensations 
 could not be formed into any definite ideas whatever, all these were 
 overlooked ; the powers of the will, as exhibited in the working of 
 the intellectual emotions, were summarily reduced to the category 
 of sensation ; and thus perception, judgment, memory, all our ab- 
 stract ideas, and all our moral feelings, were alike consolidated 
 together as the natural effect of the great law of association, and 
 all shown to emanate from the vibrations of the nervous system ! 
 From these considerations it becomes evident how important a 
 link the writings of Hartley formed in the chain of those causes 
 
 * See Observations on Man, chap. iv. sec. 4, 5, 6. 
 
 t See his chap, on " The Mechanism of the Human Mind." 
 
 % Observations, chap. iii. sec. i.
 
 EFFECTS OF LOCKE IN ENGLAND. 101 
 
 bv which the philosophy of sensation was aided on its road to com- 
 iete empiricism. The result of those writings, mdeed, soon 
 showed that having conducted his speculations to the very verge 
 of materialism, it was not in his power to prevent those, whom he 
 had carried along with him in his reasoning, from oversteppmg the 
 
 ^"^Thtprinciples of Hartley found, shortly after his death an able 
 and zealous expositor in Dr. Priestley. The name of Pnest ley 
 holds a position in the scientific history of our country, which his 
 greatest opponents might envy, and with which his most ardent ad- 
 mirers may be content. It is not now, however, for the first time 
 remarked, that the minds best fitted for prosecuting the labors of 
 experimental philosophy, are by no means those from which we ex- 
 pect light to be cast into the more obscure region of metaphysical 
 analysis. Priestley's mind was objective to an extreme ; he could 
 fix his faith upon nothing, which had not the evidence of sense in 
 some way or other impressed upon it. Science, morals pohtics, 
 philosophy, religion, all came to him under the type of the sensa- 
 tional The most spiritual ideas were obliged to be cast into a 
 * material mould before they could commend themselves to his judg- 
 ment or conscience. His intellect was rapid to an extraoi'dmary 
 degree; he saw the bearings of a question according to his own 
 principles at a glance, and embodied his thoughts in volumes, whilst 
 many other men would hardly have sketched out their plan. All 
 this thouc^h admirable in the man of action, was not the tempera- 
 ment to form the solid metaphysician, nay, it was precisely opposed 
 to that deep reflective habit, that sinking into one's own inmost con- 
 sciousness, from which alone speculative philosophy can obtain light 
 and advancement. With such tendencies of mind, therefore, and 
 living in an age, the whole bearing of which was away from the 
 ideal to the sensational, it is not surprising that Priestley entered 
 with energy into those principles of Hartley, from which he hoped 
 to reduce all mental science to a branch of physical mvestigation. 
 The metaphysical position he assumed, may be fully seen m his 
 " Examination of Reid, Beattie, and Oswald ; " in fact, it is summed 
 up in one extraordinary sentence, where he affirms, that " something 
 has been done in the field of knowledge by Descartes, very much 
 
 * The relation which Hartley bears to Hobbes, has been given by Mr. HaUam, in an 
 
 """"Z:; ^:fk^^S^ol1i:i£^tL in various parts of the writings of 
 StS, Brown Young, an J Mackintosh. By all these writers his errors have been 
 exposed in different points of view, and his real merits awardeu.
 
 102 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 by Mr. Locke, but most of all by Dr. Hartley, who has thrown 
 more useful light upon the theory of mind, than Newton did upon 
 the theory of the natural world !" After this acknowledgment of 
 admiration towards the writings of Hartley, of course we could 
 hardly expect to find anything else in the metaphysical works of 
 Priestley, than a second edition of the Hartleian philosophy, re- 
 vised, corrected, and expanded into a more mature form. Such, 
 in fact, was precisely the case. The doctrine of philosophical 
 necessity was more fully argued and more systematically enforced ; 
 utilitarian morals were maintained upon a broader basis, and illus- 
 trated by more copious examples ; and materialism, from which 
 Hartley himself had shrunk back, was now openly avowed.* 
 
 Priestley rested the truth of materialism upon two deductions. 
 The first was, that thought and sensation are essentially the same 
 thing — that the whole variety of our ideas, however abstract and 
 refined they may become, are, nevertheless, but modifications of 
 the sensational faculty. This doctrine, we shall see, had been more 
 fully maintained in France, by Condillac. The second deduction 
 was, that all sensation, and, consequently, all thought, arises from 
 the affections of our material organization, and, therefore, consists 
 entirely in the motion of the material particles of which the nerves 
 and brain are composed. It is but justice, however, here to add, 
 that Priestley did not push his materialism so far as to evolve any 
 conclusions contrary to the fundamental principles of man's 
 natural religion, or to invalidate the evidences of a future state. 
 In the full conviction of these truths he both lived and died. To 
 sum up, then, the precise influence of Priestley upon the progress 
 of sensationalism in our own country in a few words, we may say, 
 that he succeeded in cutting the last tie which had held Hartley to 
 the poor remains of spiritualism, that he reduced the whole phe- 
 nomena of mind to organic processes, the mind itself to a material 
 organization, and mental philosophy to a physical science. 
 
 It might be expected, perhaps, that we should pause here in our 
 history, to offer some remarks upon the abuses to which the prin- 
 ciple of association has been subjected in the Hartleian school of 
 philosophy, and to show how many of the simple phenomena of 
 our intellectual and moral being have been there explained by 
 other phenomena far more obscure and complex than themselves ; 
 but as this subject will come more fully under our consideration 
 
 * See his " Doctrine of Philosophical Necessity Explained," — and Disquisitions 
 relating to Matter and Spirit." sec. 3, 4, 5, 6. Also his work entitled "Hartley':} 
 Theory of the Human Mind, with Essays relating to the subject of it."
 
 EFFECTS OF LOCKE IN ENGLAND. 103 
 
 in a future chapter, we must waive the discussion of it for the 
 present, and go on to exhibit the final issue to which this sensa- 
 tional tendency led. 
 
 Priestley had denied the separate reality of mind or rather spirit 
 in man, but had not rejected the existence of it altogether in the 
 universe. To do this, required another reasoner still more bold in 
 urging his arguments to their ultimate conclusions, and less under 
 the restraints of early religious associations. Such a reasoner ap- 
 peared in the person of Dr. Darwin, who determined to banish 
 spirit altogether from the universe, to make the infinite and omni- 
 present mind itself synonymous with the all-pervading powers of 
 an impersonal nature, and thus to trample the most cherished of 
 man's religious hopes under the feet of a materialistic unbelief. 
 This we may regard as the culminating point of sensationahsm. 
 While idealism proceeds onw^ards in its conclusions, till it has 
 banished matter, nay, everything else but the one eternal mind, in 
 its various developments, out of existence, this opposed system of 
 philosophy does not stop in the other direction, till it has reduced 
 all mind, even the infinite mind itself, to nature and organization. 
 
 In conclusion, the influence which sensationalism exerted gen- 
 erally upon the age, may be seen in its bearing upon many of the 
 subordinate branches of philosophy. To take the philosophy of 
 language as an instance, we have in Home Tooke the gramma- 
 rian of this school. It is needless to remind the reader of the 
 ultra-nominalism which he professed ; of the ingenious attempt he 
 made, in his '' Enea nxEQosvja," to derive every word from some 
 material symbol, and of the inference he drew, that our reason 
 itself is the gradual result of language, instead of language being 
 the direct product of our reason.* 
 
 The morahst and politician again, of the same philosophy, ap- 
 peared in the person of Jeremy Bentham, who stands forth as one 
 of the most uncompromising advocates of the utilitarian system of 
 ethics. Archdeacon Paley, another advocate of utilitarian morals, 
 might also be mentioned as having philosophized under the guid- 
 ance of Locke and of his most devoted follower, Abraham Tucker, 
 and as having erected his ethical system upon principles derivied 
 from these sources. The very names of Bentham and Paley, 
 however, remind us that we are already upon the confines of the 
 eighteenth century, and that we must cease to pursue the results 
 
 * An able reconsideration of some important points of the philosophy of language, will 
 be found in Mr. B. H. Smart's " Outlines of Sematology."
 
 104 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 of sensationalism in our own country any further, until we come 
 to look more particularly into the characteristics of the present age. 
 
 Sect. IV. — Effects of Locke in France and Germany. 
 
 Whilst the philosophy of sensationalism was thus developing 
 itself in England, a similar progress was made in France with still 
 greater energy and far more extensive reputation. The " Essay 
 on the Human Understanding" being soon after its appearance 
 translated and extensively read throughout the whole circle of the 
 literati of that country, produced quite as great an impression 
 there, as it did on this side the Channel. That there should arise, 
 therefore, in France, as well as in England, defenders and ex- 
 pounders of Locke's philosophy, was a matter almost of necessity. 
 The first man who undertook this task was Condillac, a writer 
 who is universally placed at the head of the whole modern school 
 of the French sensationalism. Condillac, like Hartley in our own 
 country, came forth as a professed disciple and warm admirer of 
 Locke, but in process of time departed equally far, if not still far- 
 ther, than Hartley himself, from the principles of his master. The 
 course, indeed, which he took, was a very different one from that 
 of the Cambridge philosopher ; but whilst he avoided some of the 
 faults into which that philosopher fell, he went perhaps with still 
 hastier steps towards the region of extreme empiricism. 
 
 The first effort which Condillac made in the department of phi- 
 losophy was a treatise on the origin of human knowledge, (" Essai 
 sur rOrigine des Connaissances Humaines,") the very title of 
 which is sufficient to indicate his affinity with Locke ; indeed the 
 work itself may be regarded as a kind of reproduction with some 
 modifications (not improvements) of the " Essay on the Human 
 Understanding." The chief point in which we here trace the 
 strong tendency of Condillac's mind towards sensationalism is in 
 the explanation he gives of refection, as one of the two sources of 
 our ideas. Locke had made a very clear distinction between the 
 passive and the active faculties ; he saw plainly that whilst sensa- 
 tions are produced quite independently of ourselves, there are 
 other powers which are brought into exercise by our own will. In 
 his philosophy, then, sensation is the passive source from which 
 we derive ideas, reflection the active one ; in the former case ideas 
 are, as it were, put into us from without, the mind meanwhile ex-
 
 EFFBCTS OF LOCKE IN FRANCE. 105 
 
 isting simply in a receptive state ; in the latter case the active 
 faculties are voluntarily exerted, and from the material afforded 
 by the senses construct a thousand complex ideas for themselves. 
 Condillac, although at first assuming with Locke,* that these are 
 the two only sources of our knowledge, manages in the course of 
 his treatise so completely to modify and transform the nature of 
 the active faculties, that everything really distinguishing them 
 from sensation entirely disappears. First of all, he identifies per- 
 ception with consciousness, making sensation (as we also regard 
 it) the bare feeling arising from any external object ; while per- 
 ception (which is generally and correctly regarded as an active 
 intellectual process) is made to be simply the self-consciousness of 
 that feehng. Beginning then with sensation, we have perception 
 used to mean the consciousness of sensation, then the other facul- 
 ties, involved in the term reflection as used in the Lockian sense, 
 are stripped of their active character, until the whole distinction 
 between sensation and reflection is suppressed, the natural activity 
 of the human mind virtually denied, and every inward phenome- 
 non thus brought down to the level of our passive and sensational 
 feelings. t Those absolute and pure conceptions of reason which 
 Locke labored so manfully to prove compatible with his own 
 theory, Condillac explains with the greatest ease. Relative and 
 absolute are to him one and the same thing. " Ideas," he says, 
 " are absolute when we stop at them, and make them the object 
 of our reflection without referring them to others ; but when we 
 consider them as subordinate to others, we call them relative ;"J 
 of such nature is the flimsy yet at the same time elegant analysis 
 by which Condillac disposes of the most grave and subtile meta- 
 physical questions. 
 
 The most ingenious part of this work, perhaps, is that in which he 
 treats of the influence of language upon our mental phenomena. In 
 his theory on this question he coincides to a great extent with Home 
 Tooke, making language the actual source from which many of our 
 faculties are produced. Contemplation, recollection, imagination, 
 judgment, reasoning, all those powers in a word which render the 
 human mind superior to that of the lower animals, he supposes to 
 grow up into distinctive faculties by the use of language. § In this 
 
 * Essai sur I'Origine, &c., chap i. 
 
 t Ibid. sec. ii chap. i. ^ xiii. CEuvres, Paris, 1798. " Ainsi k perception et la con- 
 science ne sont q'une meme operation sous deux noms." Compare § xvi., in which a 
 summary of his doctrine is afTorded us. 
 
 ± Essai sur I'Origine, &c., sec. iii. ^ xiv. 
 
 § Ibid, Partie II. sec. i. chaps, ix. and x.
 
 106 MODERN PHILOSOPHY* 
 
 theory, we conceive, he falls anew into what we have seen already 
 to be the perpetual blunder of sensationalism, namely, the substi- 
 tution of the occasion for the cause. Language, we admit, is the 
 instrument by which most of our complex mental operations are 
 perfected, but it is far from being the basis of them ; on the con- 
 trary, the very fact of our being able to use language at all, is a 
 sufficient proof of the prior existence of certain faculties within us, 
 without which words would prove utterly unintelligible, and the 
 most perfect language appeal to man no more than it does to a 
 brute. It is, however, the constant tendency of sensationalism, from 
 its first commencement to its complete development, to lose sight 
 of the inherent and what we may properly term innate energies of 
 the mind ; and then to attribute the phenomena to which they give 
 rise, to the outward occasion by wlych those energies are brought 
 into play. Language is the direct product of the human reason, 
 as created by God ; but when it is once formed, then, we allow, it 
 begins directly to react upon the mind which gave it birth, and 
 thus to aid it in its still further advancement. 
 
 With this brief notice we must pass away from Condillac's first 
 philosophical production to another of a more decided character, 
 and which certainly lays far greater claim to originality, — I mean 
 his treatise on Sensations ("Traite des Sensations"). In this 
 work Condillac openly released himself from the authority of Locke, 
 took up boldly the position, which in the former treatise he only 
 seemed to be aiming at, and made good the claim to which he as- 
 pired, that of being the great apostle of sensationalism to his age. 
 And here we shall be better able to point out, in what respect our 
 author differs from Hartley, and to compare the systems, to which 
 they have respectively given rise, with each other. Locke admit- 
 ted as an ultimate and unresolvable fact, the existence of certain 
 intellectual faculties, of which, it will be remembered, he gives us 
 a distinct classification. -Hartley, as we have seen, attempted to 
 account for all these faculties on the principle of association of 
 ideas, and propounded a theory of sensation, based upon supposed 
 vibrations in the nervous system^ by which the whole phenomena 
 of association might be explained. In doing this he entirely con- 
 founded (as we have shown) our emotional states with our sensa- 
 tional, and havincT done so, considered himself to have succeeded 
 at length in accounting for all the phenomena, whether of sensation, 
 intellection, or emotion, by means of his favorite vibratiuncles. 
 Condillac, although starting with the same desire of simplifying
 
 EFFECTS OF LOCKE IN FRANCE. 107 
 
 what Locke had left unresolved, and of finding some one principle 
 or other to which all our faculties may be reduced, very soon struck 
 out into a difl'erent route. He regarded sensation as the one great 
 unresolvable fact to which the chief attention of the philosopher is 
 to be directed,— a fact for which he makes no attempt, like Hartley, 
 to account, respecting which he propounds no theory whatever! 
 but which, he supposes, we may take as the secure starting point 
 for a complete system of psychology.* After pointing out°he de- 
 ficiency of Locke, in not discovering, or attempting to discover, 
 the principles by which the different intellectual operations, such' 
 as thinking, reasoning, knowing, willing, believing, are generated, 
 he proceeds then to develop his own theory on this question, by 
 showing them to be nothing more or less than transformed sensa- 
 tions. j 
 
 The method by which this is proved is somewhat of the follow- 
 ing kind. First, let us assume the mind, as Locke did, to be a 
 " tabula rasa." Next let a simple sensation, as an odor, be experi- 
 enced. The mind at once becomes occupied with the new feeling, 
 and then commences what we term attention. Attention, there- 
 fore, is another name for sensation. After a time other sensations 
 are experienced, and the mind becomes occupied with those which 
 have been, as well as with those which are. When we are occu. 
 pied with those which have been, and are now past, we term it 
 memory; and memory, therefore, is no other than a transformed 
 sensation. From the co-existence of past and present sensations 
 results comparison, which is no other than a double attention. 
 The comparison of different sensations, again, gives rise to judo-- 
 ment, and judgment to ahstraction, &c. ; so that all our intellectual 
 powers, one after the other, are neither more nor less than trans- 
 formed sensations. J A similar course is adopted with regard to 
 the emotions. Sensations are either agreeable or disagreeable ; 
 hence arise desire and aversion. These sensations, however, may 
 refer to the past, the present, or prospectively to the future /from 
 whence spring the different passions of remote, or hope, or joy, or 
 fear,— in a word, the whole phenomena of our emotional nature.^ 
 Finally, the will itself, with all its mighty energies, is shown to be 
 like the intellect, nothing more than a transformed sensation. || 
 To illustrate this doctrine, Condillac supposes a perfectly oro-an- 
 
 * Traite des Sensations. See the opening passatre 
 
 ^ Traite des Sensations, Partie I. chap. iii. n ibid. Partie I. chap. iii. § 9.
 
 108 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ized human being to be created, incased in a marble covering ; 
 and then, proceeding to Hft this covering, he attempts, with great 
 ingenuity, to show how the different mental phenomena would 
 make their appearance one after the other, as the impressions of 
 the external world were more freely admitted, until the man be- 
 comes morally and intellectually complete. Now, in all this he 
 has marked very beautifully the various occasions upon which his 
 statue would require the impulses derived from the external world, 
 in order to bring its various faculties into operation ; but he for- 
 gets that these occasions might exist forever, and be eternally 
 prompting to action, but that no intelligence would ever result un- 
 less the faculties were at hand, and all ready constituted for react- 
 ing upon them. Condillac has, in fact, from the very first step of 
 his analysis, in which he explains attention, substituted the occa- 
 sion for the cause. No doubt our experiencing a sensation is the 
 occasion on which we first show the phenomenon that is termed 
 attention, but we can by no means conclude from hence that sen- 
 sation is the producing cause of attention, and affords all the ele- 
 ments of which it consists. Sensation is a purely passive thing ; 
 we experience it just as long as the organic impression lasts, and 
 no longer ; attention is something active and voluntary, which we 
 can continue or suspend at pleasure ; the one is a production from 
 without, the other an energy from within ; the one is necessary, 
 the other free ; the one is the action of the outward world upon 
 the inward, the other is the reaction of the inward world upon the 
 outward. . In the very first step of his reasoning, therefore, Con- 
 dillac makes a fatal oversight which vitiates all the rest, and de- 
 prives the whole superstructure of sensationalism, as he had erected 
 it, of any solid foundation.* 
 
 The next step of his analysis is not more successful, that, namely, 
 in which he derives the various faculties of memory, comparison, 
 judgment, &c., from attention. When we attend to a sensation 
 which has been, he argues, we are said to remember. But how, 
 we ask, are we to do this ? By what means is the sensation re- 
 tained while others are rushing in upon us ? Something more than 
 mere attention is assuredly requisite to account for this power of 
 retention. Again, comparison is said to be a double attention ; but 
 is the whole of what we mean by comparison comprised in the 
 mere perception of the two things compared ? Far from it. I 
 
 * For a full examination of Condillac's main positions, see Cousin's " Cours d'His- 
 toire de la Philosophic Morale," Le9on iii.
 
 EFFECTS OF LOCKE IN FRANCE. 109 
 
 can attend to two things without comparing them, or without 
 being able to compare them ; comparison supposes a balancing of 
 relations, i. e. a judgment ; mere perception supposes nothing of 
 the kind. Still less is it possible to reduce the power of the will 
 to this source — a power which, in its conscious freedom and spon- 
 taneous activity, is as unlike the passive phenomena of sensation 
 as life differs from death. But into this discussion we must not 
 enter ; enough, we trust, has been said already just to point out the 
 fundamental error of Condillac's philosophy, enough to show that 
 however energetically you may pour in impressions from without, 
 the supposed statue, though replete with life, must still remain 
 mentally dark and inactive, until the spark of reason, and the 
 native power of the will, begin to react upon them. To sum up, 
 then, in few words, the influence of Condillac upon the progress 
 of philosophy, we should say that he began a consistent disciple 
 of Locke, and ended (in everything but drawing its last conclu- 
 sions) an advocate of complete sensationalism. 
 
 Another well-known writer of the eighteenth century, was 
 Charles Bonnet, (born at Geneva 1720, died there 1793,) a man 
 whose fame was only second to Condillac himself as the author of 
 a vigorous and eloquent vindication of the sensational philosophy. 
 His first writings were devoted to the illustration of nature, of 
 whose beauty he had a deep perception. Rising, however, in 
 regular gradation from nature to man, he produced his " Essai 
 Analytique sur les Facultes de I'Ame." In this work he treads 
 somewhat closely in the footsteps of Condillac, using even the 
 same illustration of the statue, and seeking to study in the same 
 way the material that each of the senses supplies towards the 
 formation of our ideas. In two respects, however, there is a de- 
 cided difference between them. Bonnet, unlike Condillac, and 
 much in the same manner as Hartley, employed many physio- 
 logical observations to aid his mental analysis. " I have put into 
 my book," he remarks in the preface, " a great deal of physics and 
 very little of metaphysics ; but in truth, what could I say of the 
 mind, in itself? we know it so little ! Man is a mixed being ; he 
 only has ideas by the intervention of the senses ; and even his 
 most abstract notions are derived from them. It is upon his body, 
 and by his body, that the mind acts. It is necessary, then, always 
 to come back to physics as to the first origin of all which the mind 
 experiences ; we know no more what an idea of the mind is, than 
 the mind itself ; but we know that our ideas are attached to cer-
 
 110 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 tain fibres ; we are able, then, to reason upon these fibres because 
 we see them ; we are able thus to study a little their movements, 
 the results of their movements, and the bonds they have among 
 themselves." Such is the use which Bonnet proposed to make 
 of his physiological researches in the investigation of the human 
 mind. 
 
 In another respect, however. Bonnet far surpassed Condillac, and 
 that is in his resistance of the theory of transformed sensations, 
 and his recognition of the mind's activity in the phenomena of at- 
 tention and volition. In this respect he returns to Locke's stand- 
 point, and even employs the term reflection to designate the active, 
 in opposition to the passive phenomena of the mind. Bonnet was 
 far from adopting the more extreme results of sensationalism ; and 
 it was apparently to prevent its tendency from being carried too 
 far that he wrote his " Palingenesie Philosophique," in which he 
 has advocated the immortality of the souls both of men and ani- 
 mals, and carried the idea of development in nature to such an ex- 
 tent, as to imagine that plants may become animals, animals men, 
 and men angels. 
 
 Condillac and Bonnet left the position of speculative philosophy 
 in France much in the same state as Hartley did in England ; they 
 all laid down the ground principles of sensationalism, but all, owing 
 to their good sense and religious feeling, hesitated to draw the ulti- 
 mate conclusions. Those conclusions, however, soon made their 
 appearance in France to a much greater extent than they have 
 ever done in England ; so much so, indeed, that they seemed for a 
 time entirely to absorb all other philosophy. Helvetius, Saint Lam- 
 bert, and Condorcet, followed immediately in the track that had 
 been thus pointed out, and applied the new psychological princi- 
 ples, which had burst with such eclat upon society, not only to 
 philosophy generally, but more especially to the department of 
 ethics. First of all, Helvetius, carrying this notion of empiricism 
 to the farthest extremity it would admit, founded upon it a moral 
 system of undisguised selfishness. His primary position is, that 
 man owes all his superiority over the lower animals to the superior 
 organization of his body ; indeed he pushes this principle to such 
 an extent as to affirm, that the human hand is the great agent in 
 the world's civilization, and that, but for its capability, we should 
 never have risen above the brutes around us. Proceeding from 
 this point, his chief positions are briefly these. That all minds 
 are originally equal ; that every faculty and emotion they possess
 
 EFFECTS OF LOCKE IN FRANCE. HI 
 
 is derived from sensation ; that pleasure is the only good ; and that 
 self-interest is the^ true ground of morality, upon which the whole 
 framework of individual action and political right depends.* 
 
 Saint Lambert followed closely in the steps of Helvetius, treatinf^ 
 first of the nature of man, and then of his duties. With regard to 
 human nature, he maintains that man, when he first enters upon the 
 stage of life, is simply an organized and sentient mass, and that what- 
 ever feelings or thoughts he may afterwards acquire, still they are 
 simply different manifestations of the sensational faculty, occasioned 
 by the pressure of his various wants and necessities. With regard 
 to ethics, he maintains that, as man possesses only sensations, his 
 sole good must be personal enjoyment, his only duty the attainment 
 of it ; and that, as we may be mistaken as to what objects are really 
 adapted to promote our pleasure, the safest rule by which we can 
 judge of duty in particular cases is pubHc opinion. In his " Cate- 
 chisme Universel," a book intended for public education, he has 
 divided the whole mass of man's duty into three classes — his dutv 
 to himself, to his own family, and to society at large; while the 
 duties of religion are never mentioned, and the very name of God 
 altogether excluded. Condorcet's fundamental doctrine of ethics 
 is the present perfectibility of mankind, both individually and so- 
 cially, by means of education ; a doctrine which he proposes to 
 substitute in place of the sanctions both of morality and religion, 
 as the great regenerating principle of human nature. f 
 
 The names of brilliant writers, however, crowd so thick upon 
 us in this prolific period of French literature, that it is impossible 
 to do more than select those which give a connected view of the 
 regular development of the sensationalistic tendency. The crown- 
 ing piece in which the ultimate results of the whole system are 
 concentrated, was presented to the world by the Baron d'Holbach, 
 in his " Systeme de la Nature," a work in which materialism, fatal- 
 
 * Helvetius published his first work, " De I'Esprit," in 1758. It excited the greatest 
 attention throughout Europe, and encountered much opposition. His other work, 
 " De rHomme," was published posthumously. The former is more theoretical, the 
 later more practical ; — but both of them are founded upon the principles we have 
 indicated. 
 
 t Marie-Jean-Antoine-Nicolas-Caritat, Marquis de Condorcet, was born in 1743 at 
 Ribemont. In early life he gave indications of extraordinary powers, excelled as a 
 mathematician, was the friend of d'Alembert, and a contributor to the Kncyclopcedia. 
 He was proscribed by the Convention in 1793, and during his concealment wrote his 
 chief work, " Esquisse d'un Tableau Historique des Progres de TEsprit Humain" — the 
 object of which is to depict the progress of humanity towards social perfection up to his 
 period, and point out the march it was still to take until its high destiny should be 
 accomplished. His philosophy was entirely sensational, his ethics Epicuracn, and his 
 hopes for man based altogether upon physical improvement. He poisoned himself in 
 1794, to save the ignominy of imprisonment or execution.
 
 112 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ism, and avowed atheism, all combine to form a view of human 
 nature, which even Voltaire pronounced to be illogical in its de- 
 ductions, absurd in its physics, and abominable in its morality.* 
 The whole history of the literary society of France, during the 
 latter half of the eighteenth century, is, in fact, but a comment 
 upon the progress of sensationalism towards its ultimate climax. 
 The school of Voltaire shows us the effects of it while still incom- 
 plete, shrinking, as it yet did, from that hard materialism, that blind 
 fatality, and that daring atheism, to which it afterwards attained. 
 But the way to all this was already prepared ; the bud was already 
 formed, which only needed time to expand in the full light of day, 
 in order to show its colors in their very deepest dye. In short, let 
 any one view the brilliant circles of talent and impiety, which at 
 once enlivened and disgraced the French capital — circles rendered 
 famous by the wit and learning of d'Alembert, Diderot, Dupuis, 
 Baron de Grimm, Galiani, Madame d'Epinay, not to mention others 
 equally celebrated in the literary world, and he has a complete 
 refleciion, as from a mirror, of the philosophy of sensationalism 
 when expanded into all its various ramifications, and at the same 
 time brought down to the level of daily life. 
 
 But the great literary manifestation of that age and country, I 
 mean the French Encyclopaedia of Sciences, may be regarded as 
 the most formal embodiment of the spirit of its philosophy. Nature, 
 in her outward manifestations, is the foundation of all its researches, 
 man is to it but a mass of organization, mind the development of 
 our sensations, morality self-interest, and God the diseased fiction 
 of an unenlightened and enthusiastic age. The whole intellect 
 being thus concentrated upon the outward and material, gave 
 rise, it is true, to the noblest discoveries in the department of 
 physical science ; but, at the same time, religion, alas ! was dis- 
 owned, morality degraded, and man himself made but a feeble link 
 in the great chain of events, by which nature is inevitably accom- 
 plishing her blind but glorious designs. The storm of the Revolu- 
 tion to which these principles, in their political bearing, had not a 
 little tended, broke in upon this scene of philosophical irrehgion. 
 from the confusion of which a fresh and regenerating element 
 sprang up, which has given to the nineteenth century a new state 
 of society, a new political constitution, and, as we shall hereafter 
 see, a new philosophy likewise. 
 
 * The English reader will find this work well described, and ably though briefly 
 analyzed, in a note appended to Lord Broxigham's " Discourse on Natural Theology.'
 
 EFFECTS OF LOCKE IN FRANCE. 113 
 
 Before concluding this chapter, we must just hint at the fact, 
 that the philosophy of Locke, in addition to its mighty influence 
 upon England and France, penetrated also into Germany. The 
 court of Frederick the Great gathered around it many of the first 
 literary characters of France, and thus afforded a channel by 
 which the writings of Locke, together with those of his disciples, 
 flowed into that country. Without occupying any space in de- 
 scribing the works of Feder, of his pupil Tittel, of Weisshaupt, 
 and of others who are but little known in this country, I may just 
 mention that Herder and Tiedemann, both celebrated for their 
 great services in elucidating the history of philosophy, belonged, in 
 a certain degree, to the school Qf Locke. Sensationalism, how- 
 ever, played but a feeble part in this country, as it was soon 
 ecHpsed by the great hero of idealism, who, for more than a quar- 
 ter of a century, attracted to himself the eye of every philosophi- 
 cal inquirer as to the luminary of the age in which he lived and 
 shone. 
 
 The whole sketch we have thus given of the sensationalistic 
 philosophy, forms one connected illustration of the eflhcts, which 
 naturally flow from giving predominance to one out of the three 
 fundamental ideas of the human mind, that, namely, of finite na- 
 ture, or the not-me. As this idea is a true one, the philosophy 
 which originates in it gives us true results in its own department, 
 that of physical science ; but as it is not the only fundamental idea 
 that exists in the mind, we soon become sensible of the errors in 
 which we are necessarily involved, when we attempt to build upon 
 it the whole fabric of human knowledge. 
 
 8
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 ON THE PROGRESS OP IDEALISM FROM THE PERIOD OF DESCAR- 
 TES TO THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Before we proceed to the historical sketch, to which this chapter 
 is devoted, we shall occupy a few lines to remind the reader of the 
 principle by which we are guided in forming it. We have shown 
 that there are three fundamental notions existing in the human 
 mind, as the primary elements of thought: 1st, that of finite self; 
 2dly, that of finite nature ; 3dly, that of the absolute, the uncon- 
 ditioned, the infinite. The whole multiplicity of our conceptions 
 are referrible to some one of these three, as the irreducible notion, 
 or category from which it springs. The first includes all inward 
 phenomena, the second all outward phenomena, while the third 
 embraces those various ideas of infinity and perfection, which we 
 attribute neither to nature nor self, but to some existence equally 
 removed beyond both. 
 
 As these three notions universally exist in the human mind, we 
 naturally expect to find them all three occupying a place in the phi- 
 losophy of every age ; and seldom, perhaps never, does such an ex- 
 pectation deceive us. There are many systems of philosophy which 
 admit them all, assigning the greater importance it may be to one, 
 or it may be to another ; while there are other systems which are 
 built up entirely upon one of the three as their foundation, to the 
 complete exclusion of the rest. The superstructure of sensation- 
 alism, for example, when perfected, rests solely upon the basis of 
 the second of these notions — that of the external or material world ; 
 and we have s§en in the last chapter in what way this notion was 
 gradually made to occupy the place of the other two, until first 
 the finite mind of man, and at last the infinite mind of God, were 
 reduced to matter and organization, both cognizable through the 
 medium of the senses. In the present chapter we are to show, in 
 a like manner, the progress of idealism from those systems which 
 have given their chief, though not exclusive, attention to the na- 
 ture and powers of the human spirit, to those in which the material
 
 DESCARTES, MALLEBRANCHE, AND SPINOZA. 115 
 
 world has disappeared, and mind become the sole existence in the 
 universe. As idealism, however, in the sense we have employed 
 it, includes both the notion of self and also that of the absolute, 
 we shall see that it sometimes assumes a subjective form, and 
 sometimes an objective, according to the predominance of one of 
 these notions over the other. In these different forms, for exam- 
 ple, it played a very prominent part in the philosophy of the 
 ancient world. As our present object, however, is not to take 
 cognizance of it at that period, we must proceed to see in what 
 manner and to what extent the idealistic tendency has shown itself 
 from the commencement, and during the progress of the modern 
 schools of metaphysical science. 
 
 ggcT I — First Movement as seen in Descartes, Malebranche, and 
 
 Spinoza. 
 
 Of the whole modern movement of metaphysical science we 
 have already pointed out Bacon and Descartes as the founders ; 
 the former evincing a predominant tendency to sensationalism, 
 the latter to idealism. For Bacon we claim the decided superi- 
 ority in comprehensiveness of mind. He alone seemed to take in 
 at one glance the whole circumference of human knowledge ; he 
 alone knew how to assign to each separate branch its proper po- 
 sition, to detect the prejudices by which it was impeded, and to 
 furnish the true method by which advancement in every case was 
 to be made. The imperfection of his philosophy, however, was its 
 almost exclusive adaptation to the practical investigation of na- 
 ture. Descartes, while he by no means neglected physical science, 
 and stood forth as one of the first mathematicians of his day, yet 
 was chiefly pre-eminent for his power of intense reflection — for 
 his acute analysis of mind and its operations. Bacon had shown 
 the true principles of inductive philosophy in their application to 
 natural science. Descartes now took hold of those principles, and 
 applied them to the investigation of the human mind. They both 
 appealed to the observation of facts as the ground of all knowl- 
 edge, but the one confined himself chiefly to the facts of the outer 
 world, — while the other appealed mainly to the facts of conscious- 
 ness. On this ground it is that Descartes has unquestionably 
 merited the reputation of standing at the head of the whole mod-
 
 116 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 em movement of metaphysical philosophy.* The key to this 
 movement was furnished by the *' Novum Organum ;" but it was 
 the French philosopher who applied it to the door of the human 
 spirit, and first entered there with the lamp of analysis in his hand. 
 
 In reviewing the life and literary labors of Descartes, the first 
 thing which strikes us forcibly is his complete independence of all 
 authority. It was before he had attained his twentieth year, that 
 he threw up the dogmas he had been taught by the Jesuits at La 
 Fleche, and determined by the simple energy of his own mind to 
 create a new philosophy ; that is, to lay a new foundation for the 
 whole superstructure of human knowledge. This very determi- 
 nation pointed out to him in part the method he should pursue. 
 Left to the simple power of his own reflection, he was naturally 
 led to assume the human consciousness as the true starting-point 
 for all scientific research, and the analysis of the facts of our con- 
 sciousness as the only proper method of creating a sound philos- 
 ophy. In thus doing he established the fundamental principle, 
 which we regard as the corner-stone of all the metaphysics of 
 modern Europe, namely, that as natural science is based upon in- 
 ductions drawn from the actual observation of the world without, 
 so metaphysical science is based upon inductions similarly drawn 
 from reflection upon the world within. Let us see, then, how he 
 proceeded in this analysis. 
 
 The first thing that we are conscious of, begins Descartes, is a 
 multiplicity of sensations, impressions, or ideas of various kinds, 
 passing in succession before our view. But of these we soon find 
 some to be so contradictory and others so dubious, that it is im- 
 possible for any one to admit them all as veracious. The real 
 philosopher, indeed, will admit 7ione except those which can be 
 proved strictly consonant with the truth of things. The primary 
 position, therefore, from which all philosophy springs is doubt.-\ 
 Let it not be supposed from this, however, that Descartes nurtured 
 the spirit of scepticism ; doubt was never intended to be a part of 
 his philosophical system, but merely a negation of errors and prej- 
 udices previous to the aflirmation of those first irrefragable posi- 
 tions, on which all science was to be grounded. J Let us see how 
 these positions are to be found. 
 
 * This title is awarded him by Stewart in his " Dissertation on the Progress of 
 Philosophy." 
 
 t See his first " Meditation," in which Descartes gives the reasons why we ought to 
 doubt of the truth of things generally, and the uses of doubting. — N. B. The references 
 are made to the convenient l2mo edition of M. Jules Sinion. Paris: 1844. 
 
 % See his answer to Hobbes, p. 186.
 
 DESCARTES, MALEBRANCHE, AND SPINOZA. 117 
 
 There is one thing, he proceeds, of which we cannot doubt, and 
 that is thought. If on the one hand I admit a truth, I admit it by 
 means of my power of thinking ; or, if on the other I doubt it, the 
 very act of doubting imphes the same power, inasmuch as to doubt 
 is to think ; so that no scepticism, however rigid, can by any means 
 deny this one fact without destroying itself. Whilst, however, we 
 are constrained to admit thought as the first veritable fact, we can- 
 not but see, at the same time, that there is a subject to which this 
 phenomenon belongs, and a subject, moreover, which is con- 
 scious of its own state. We conclude, therefore, that Being, in- 
 telligent, conscious Being, is implied and postulated in thinking; a 
 truth which was expressed by Descartes in the celebrated sen- 
 tence, " Cogito, ergo sum."* Few philosophical aphorisms have 
 been more frequently repeated, few more contested than this, and 
 few assuredly have been so little understood by those, who have 
 held up its supposed fallacy to the greatest ridicule. Had Des- 
 cartes intended this aphorism to be in the proper logical sense an 
 argument to prove our own existence, there is no doubt but that 
 it would be chargeable with a " petitio principii." Such an inten- 
 tion, however, he distinctly disclaims in his reply to Gassendi, and 
 explains his meaning to be simply this, — That the very moment 
 there are phenomena of any kind within our consciousness, that 
 moment the mind becomes cognizant of its own existence ; and 
 that were there no consciousness there would be no possible evi- 
 dence of the existence of an intelligent principle. From this it is 
 clear that the " Cogito ergo sum" of Descartes is intended to be 
 nothing more or less than an appeal to consciousness. The ques- 
 tion was, where am I to find the first ground of certainty — where 
 the fundamental truth which underlies everything else ? The 
 reply of Descartes is, — You must find it in the veracity of your 
 consciousness. You thinh, and what does thinking include? 
 Manifestly a subject and an object — a thinking being and thought 
 itself. By the very first act of consciousness, therefore, the me 
 takes possession of, and aflirms itself. 
 
 Not only is the fact of our own being, however, implied in our 
 consciousness, but from the nature of thought, Descartes considered 
 we could legitimately conclude respecting the nature of the mind 
 itself ; that, as the one possesses no resemblance to any of the qual- 
 ities of body, the other also must be of a corresponding essence. 
 The mind itself, therefore, he regarded as simple and spiritual in its 
 
 * Vid. Second Meditation, in which his first principles are laid down.
 
 118 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. * 
 
 nature, totally distinct from matter in every possible point of 
 view.* 
 
 A foundation being thus laid, Descartes proceeds to erect his 
 philosophical system upon it. The human mind, whose existence 
 and nature has now been defined, is the subject of many ideas. It 
 is required, therefore, to determine two things — first, what is the 
 nature of Ideas generally, and secondly, what is the criterion of 
 their veracity. As to the nature of ideas, Descartes defines them 
 to be " all that is in our mind when we conceive a thing, in what- 
 ever way we conceive it." He employs the term evidently not in 
 the sense of an image or resemblance, but in the more general 
 sense of any thought, notion, or perception, which the mind either 
 possesses or creates. f 
 
 The chief point, however, in the doctrine of ideas is to deter- 
 mine their validity — to point out some criterion by which the true 
 can be distinguished from the false. The Cartesian criterion is 
 that of clearness and distinctness. A distinct idea he maintains is 
 necessarily a true one, while an indistinct idea has no guarantee 
 about it of objective validity. This rule, in fact, like the primitive 
 affirmation of the existence of tlie me, is nothing more than an ap- 
 peal to the truth of consciousness. Whatever consciousness holds 
 out to me as clearly and distinctly true, that I am bound to accept ; 
 upon such a faith in the veracity of our faculties must the very first 
 elements of all our knowledge repose. J 
 
 But now, when we begin to interrogate our consciousness, we 
 find that there is one, out of the whole number of our conceptions, 
 which stands forth both by its clearness and its uniqueness far 
 above all the rest, that, namely, of an infinite and all-perfect Being. 
 If, then, clear ideas are always objectively true, and the idea of a 
 God is the clearest of all, we must have a direct proof from con- 
 sciousness itself of the Divine existence. Here, then, we perceive 
 the nature and validity of Descartes* famous psychological argu- 
 ment for the foundation principle of natural theology, which may 
 
 ♦ For Descartes' views on the immateriality and immortality of mind, see his second 
 Meditation, and his Dispute upon it with Gassendi. These two of his writings have the 
 merit of placing the doctrine of the spirituality of mind upon its firmest foundation. 
 Consult on this subject Damiron's " Essai sur I'Histoire de la Philosophic au xvii'"<' 
 Siecle," chap. iii. Mr. Hallam also awards him the honor of being the father of 
 modern spirituaHsm — " Lit. of Europe," vol ii. p. 442. His material theory of Memory 
 or Imagination, however, shows the influence which the current materialism of the age 
 still had upon him. 
 
 t For Descartes' classification of ideas into forms of Thought, Passion, and Will, 
 consult the " Traite des Passions," first Part. He elsewhere divides them into 
 advent Uious, factiiious, and innate. 
 
 \. Meditation IV.
 
 DESCARTES, MALEBRANCHE, A.ND SPINOZA. 119 
 
 be stated as follows. The idea of an all-perfect, infinite Being is 
 without controversy in my mind. How could it have come there ? 
 Not from the outer world, not from education, not from any finite 
 source — for the finite and imperfect could never give me the con- 
 ception of the perfect and the Infinite, the effect never transcend 
 the cause. Hence, if I have incontestably the clear idea of God, a 
 God must necessarily exist.* 
 
 The reality of the Divine existence, as of an all-perfect Being, 
 having been thus established, Descartes now uses it as d^ fixed truth, 
 by which to establish the veracity of other and previously doubtful 
 facts. When we begin to reason about things within or around 
 us, we find ourselves able to arrive by rigid deduction at certain 
 conclusions. In this way, for example, we come to the fixed truths 
 of geometry and natural philosophy, truths which have not the evi- 
 dence of direct consciousness, but only that of clear demonstration. 
 What, then, is our evidence of the validity of this knowledge ? not 
 the criterion before laid down, for here it is inapplicable : the evi- 
 dence must be that of the Divine veracity. Geometry is true, be- 
 cause God will not allow our faculties to deceive us respecting the 
 actual relations of space objectively considered ; and so with re- 
 gard to all other deductive knowledge. 
 
 The most remarkable application of this principle is that which 
 relates to our knowledge of the external world. In the threefold 
 classification of our ideas, Descartes shows that there is one class 
 which includes what we term perceptions, and which, we are con- 
 scious, must have some cause distinct from our will. What, then, 
 is the cause from which they take their rise ? Appeal to the senses 
 and they give us no reply, since all we know from them are sub- 
 jective phenomena. From these, then, let us appeal to our reason ; 
 and it, in reply, points us to the Being of all perfection, upon whose 
 veracity we may fully depend, and who, we know, could not have 
 formed our senses and constituted our minds in such a manner as 
 to render our life one perpetual scene of deception. Hence the 
 external world is a reality, but a reality which rests solely upon the 
 prior evidence we have of the existence and perfections of God.f 
 
 * Descartes has also given an ontological proof for the Being of a God, namely, that 
 the existence oi GoA is implied in the very nature or essence of tlic idea we have of Him, 
 as the existence of a triangle in the conception of a triangle. For these two proofs, see 
 Meditations three and five. Every a priori argument is virtually reducible to the 
 psychological or the ontological process as here indicated. 
 
 t Respecting the question of the external world, we have Descartes' views in his 
 sixth Meditation, where he shows generally the superior certainty and clearness of 
 our innate or fundamental ideas over all other.
 
 120 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 This argument, we may remark, implies a decided paralogism that 
 renders it one of the weakest point»in the Cartesian metaphysics. 
 The veracity of our faculties is first appealed to, in order to estab- 
 lish the being of a God, and then the authority of God is appealed 
 to, in order to establish the veracity of our faculties. The whole 
 question is thus inclosed in a vicious circle. 
 
 The portion, perhaps, of the Cartesian doctrines, most productive 
 of ulterior consequences, was that which refers to the relation sub- 
 sisting between God and the creation. Creation itself, Descartes 
 attributed to the will of the Almighty, making even necessary truth 
 itself dependent upon that will, rather than upon the nature of 
 things. In this doctrine, the stability of absolute truth unquestion- 
 ably appears to have been somewhat compromised ; for if it be true, 
 there is no reason why the relations of space and number, as in- 
 volved in mathematical science, should not alter to-morrow, if there 
 were a purpose for it in the mind of God. More important still, 
 however, was his doctrine respecting the act of creation itself. To 
 Descartes the whole dependent world, both of mind and matter, is 
 avast mechanism carried on by external laws; a mechanism which 
 requires the act of creation to be ever reproduced, in order to keep 
 it in perpetual and harmonious operation. According to this view 
 there can be no direct action of matter upon matter, because it is 
 the perpetual efflux of the " vis creatrix" by which all such action 
 is maintained ; and, consequently, secondary causes can be nothing 
 more than modifications of the first cause. In like manner, also, 
 there can be no direct influence mutually exerted upon each other 
 by mind and matter, for the action of both is dependent upon the 
 continuity of the creative power, as seen in the laws or mechanism 
 of body and soul. In this one affirmation, that the universe depends 
 upon the productive power of God not only for its first existence, 
 hut equally so for its continued being and operation, there is in- 
 volved the germ of the several doctrines of pre-established harmony 
 — of occasional causes — of our seeing all things in God — and, 
 finally, of pantheism itself, the ultimate point to which they all tend. 
 We have, it is true, in the Cartesian philosophy, all three of the 
 primary conceptions to which we have reduced the whole mass of 
 our intellectual phenomena. We have first the notion of self, then 
 that of God, and lastly, by implication, that of the world. By 
 viewing mind, however, more in the efforts of its reason than of 
 its will, and by assigning to it innate ideas, rather than innate and 
 active faculties, he much weakened the notion of human lib-
 
 DESCARTES, MALEBRANCHE. AND SPINOZA. 121 
 
 erty,* and through that of personaUty also. By assigning, again, our 
 sense-perceptions to divine interposition, he removed the notion of 
 matter to a vast distance, and hewed away the chief foundations 
 on which its reality rests ; while amidst all this, the notion of the 
 infinite and all-perfect Being, as immanent in His creation, attained 
 a predominance great and all-absorbing, in proportion as the others 
 were weakened and diminished. 
 
 To sum up, therefore, our estimate of Descartes' influence upon 
 philosophy, we should say, that, while he taught the true principle 
 of mental analysis, and deduced from it many splendid results, yet 
 that his writings, upon the whole, tended to elevate the idea of the 
 infinite and absolute above all others, and thus prepared the way, 
 as we shall soon find, for a complete system of objective idealism. 
 
 Into the physics, the physiology, and some other branches of the 
 Cartesian philosophy, we forbear to enter, as they are of little or 
 no worth except to warn us, how easily the acutest minds, though 
 starting from correct principles, may lose the road, and how soon, 
 when blinded by a false argument, they may take the step from a 
 rigid system of demonstration to one of improbability, utterly un- 
 sustained by evidence. Between the first and the last words which 
 Descartes uttered in the department of philosophy, there is a dis- 
 tinction almost as wide asunder as the poles. His starting prin- 
 ciple — that all philosophy begins in an analysis of the human 
 consciousness — is the foundation of all subsequent psychological 
 investigations down to the present day. His system, when com- 
 pleted, gives us, on the other hand, the infallible germ of a pure 
 idealism. f 
 
 Amongst the followers of Descartes, we must distinguish those 
 who embraced his philosophy as a whole, and evolved still further 
 the results contained in it, from those who simply followed his 
 method, and produced from it a philosophy of their own. To the 
 former belong only his immediate successors, to the latter belong 
 
 * Descartes' doctrine of Free Will was much disputed by the theologians of tiie 
 succeeding age ; perhaps it is difficult to define it very accurately, but it certainly 
 wavered between the liberty of indifference and the necessity of Calvinism. 
 
 t The study of Descartes has revived in recent tiiiits among the French i)liilosophcrs 
 to an extraordinary degree. In 1824, M. Cousin published his whole works in 11 vol- 
 umes. In 183-2, M. Gruyer published his " Essais Philosophiijucssuivis de la MJtaphy- 
 sique de Descartes assemblee et mise en ordre." In 1842, appeared M. Houillier's 
 " Histoire et Critique de la Revolution Cartcsiennc. M. Jules Simon published his 
 small edition with an admirable introduction in 1814; and in 1846, appeared M. Dami- 
 ron's, " Essai sur 1' Histoire de la Philosophic en France au xvii'"'= siccle," containing, 
 in addition to his own views, a report upon six memoirs given in to the .Vcademie des 
 Sciences upon the Philosophy of Descartes and its effects. Other works have appeared, 
 but the above are the most important.
 
 122 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 all the philosophers of the rationalistic school, who flourished dur- 
 ing the latter part of the seventeenth, and the whole of the eigh- 
 teenth centuries. It is, then, with Cartesianism as a whole, not 
 simply as a method, that we have now to do ; and the progress of 
 this may be summed up by a brief reference to three men, of un- 
 common philosophical genius, in whose writings its extreme results 
 have been developed.* The first of these was Arnold Geulincx, a 
 native of Antwerp, who, in common with many more of the literati 
 of France and Holland, entered enthusiastically into the Cartesian 
 principles on their first publication to the world. It was Geulincx, 
 in fact, who first brought out, in its proper form, the celebrated 
 doctrine of occasional causes, according to which God himself is 
 the direct agent in all the related movements of the soul and the 
 body, while the affections of the latter afford the occasion upon 
 which he produces the corresponding sensations in the former. 
 This was clearly an additional step taken towards the formation 
 of a system of objective idealism. f 
 
 The next in the order of time of the three philosophers I have 
 referred to, was Spinoza, but in the order of development we 
 should rather assign the second place to Malebranche. They both, 
 in fact, wrote very nearly at the same period, and to a great ex- 
 tent, if not entirely, independently of one another ; so that there is 
 no real error committed whichever we place first upon the list, 
 while both are separate proofs of the actual tendency of the Carte- 
 sian principles. Malebranche, as a thinker, as a writer, and as an 
 earnest lover of both truth and goodness, merits to stand almost at 
 the head of the early literati of his country. His thoughts are 
 always lofty, his observations acute, his style luminous and attrac- 
 tive, and his spirit truthful and sincere. J It would be difficult to 
 find in any language a more able prophylactic against error than is 
 contained in his great work, " De la Recherche de la Verite," or 
 
 * The number of Descartes' followers who wrote in illustration or defence of his phi- 
 losophy was very considerable. The most celebrated of these was Pierre Sylvain Regis, 
 who wrote an elaborate " Systcme de la Philosophic," published at Paris in 1G90. 
 These professed Cartesians do not of course tend to illustrate the progress of the ideal- 
 istic philosophy ; they merely explain its state under the more immediate authority of 
 Descartes. 
 
 f The origination of the doctrine of occasional causes is disputed. Some attribute it 
 to De la Forge, author of a " Traits de Esprit Humain," published in 1666. Tenne- 
 mann attributes it to Geulincx. That the latter made the greater innovations upon the 
 original Cartesian doctrines, there can be no doubt ; and even if there are some remarks 
 whicli favor the theory in question in the works of De la Forge, the clear elucidation 
 of it seems rather due to Geulincx. On the opinions of both, see Damiron's " Essai 
 Mur xvii">= siocle,'' vol. ii. book 4. 
 
 :): Leibnitz says, " Le Pcre Malebranche joint a. des profondes meditations, une belle 
 maniere de les exprimer."
 
 DESCARTES, MALEBRANCHE, AND SPINOZA. 123 
 
 more acute remarks on the various methods by which deceptions 
 gain an influence over the mind. Our present object, however, is 
 to view Malebranche simply in his relation to the Cartesian phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 The notion of the absolute, as we have seen, had been brought 
 by Descartes so prominently into his later philosophy, that the idea 
 of finite mind as a self-acting and causative principle was much 
 weakened, and its perception of the material world made to depend 
 in every case upon the interposition of Divine power. Now, the 
 whole of what is peculiar to Malebranche as an idealist, arose from 
 the more intense view which he took of this feature in the Carte- 
 sian philosophy, from the still greater predominance which was 
 thus given to the power of the first great cause, and the tendency 
 consequently engendered of absorbing iii it, the influence of all 
 secondary causes throughout the universe. 
 
 The two kinds of existence that are known in the world, accord- 
 ing to Malebranche, are body and spirit, of which the former pos- 
 sesses the qualities of extension and mobility, the latter the corres- 
 ponding attributes of understanding and will; but as both are 
 equally finite and dependent, and have no original source of action 
 within themselves, no changes can take place in material things, no 
 secondary causes exist, no effect be produced by matter upon mind, 
 no part of the vast machinery of creation go forward, without the 
 immediate will and power of the great first cause. Hence follows, 
 by very easy steps, the whole of Malebranche's well-known met- 
 aphysical theory ; for, since on this principle there is no action of 
 external things upon the mind, nor any reaction of mind upon 
 them, without»the direct interposition of the Deity ; and since the 
 ideas of all things must exist in the mind of the Creator, (as Plato 
 had so abundantly demonstrated,) the most natural conclusion was, 
 that the human mind sees everything in the Divine, and that God 
 himself is our intelligible world. We have no further occasion, 
 therefore, to attempt the solution of the knotty point upon which 
 so many philosophers had toiled, namely, the method by which 
 matter and spirit mutually affect each other, it being entirely solved 
 on this one simple principle, that it is in God tliat our minds live 
 and move and have their being. What, then, it might be rejoined 
 to this, (if we only see the archetypes of things in God,) is the use 
 of the material world at all, and why should we assume its exist- 
 ence? To this Malebranche replies by appealing to revelation, 
 which assures us that in the beginning God created the heavens
 
 124 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and the earth ; so that the very existence of matter was made by 
 him to depend upon the interpretation of a passage of Scripture, 
 which interpretation only needed to be invalidated, in order to 
 plunge us at once into complete idealism. The whole effect of 
 Malebranche's philosophy, accordingly, was to merge all secondary 
 causes into the one infinite cause ; to diminish, proportionally, the 
 notion of human liberty, and to suspend the whole material world 
 upon one slender thread, which it merely required a little exegetical 
 ingenuity to snap forever asunder.* 
 
 It is to Spinoza, however, that we must attribute the honor (if, 
 indeed, it is to be esteemed such) of drawing forth from the Carte- 
 sian principles their ultimate results. f Descartes and Malebranche 
 both aimed at employing a strictly consecutive method in their phi- 
 losophy, and both were led, more or less, into error, by attempting 
 to ground upon demonstration what really can only rest upon the 
 direct authority of our consciousness. Spinoza, animated with a 
 still higher love of this same method, commenced his philosophical 
 career by an attempted reduction of the Cartesian principles to the 
 geometrical form ; to which attempt he added some further ideas 
 (termed by him " Cogitata metaphysica,") that were intended to 
 point out various other developments of the same philosophy. 
 These, however, cannot be considered as belonging to the develop- 
 ment of Spinozism, properly so called ; they were merely lectures 
 on the Cartesian philosophy reduced to the form most in accord- 
 ance with the natural genius of the author, and accompanied by a 
 few illustrative hints. The only other work he published himself, 
 is entitled " Tractatus Theologico-politicus," the object of which 
 was to clear up the difficult ground that lies between religion and 
 politics. His principal works, containing in fact the whole of his 
 
 * It is needless to remark that we have only designed to give here that characteristic 
 of Malebranche's philosophy, which bears upon the progress of idealism. To appreci- 
 ate the Platonic sublimity, the philosophic depth, the practical wisdom and the Chris- 
 tian purity of his mind, he must be read and studied. His principal work, " Do la 
 Recherche de la Verite," is divided into six books. He first points out the errors and 
 bewilderments which arise from implicity trusting to the senses. In this he strongly 
 evinces his idealism, by invalidating all the ordinary evidences for the existence of a 
 material world. In the second book he discusses the errors of imagination. This, how- 
 ever, is encumbered by a material theory, similar to that of Descartes himself The 
 third book on Pure Spirit is the most interesting of all. In this, his theory of seeing 
 all things in God, is fully developed. The next two books treat of the various propen- 
 sities and passions, of human nature, viewed as sources of error and evil. The last 
 book points out the method we ought to follow in the search after truth. His other 
 works are " Conversations Chretiennes," " Meditations Chretiennes," " Entretiens sur 
 la Metaphysique," " Traite de la Nature et de la Grace," and " Traite de Morale." 
 
 f Leibnitz called Spinoza's philosophy " Extreme Carte.sianism." — N.B. The quota- 
 tions on Spinoza are taken from the edition of M. Saisset (Paris, 1843.) as by far the 
 most convenient for the ffeneral reader to refer to.
 
 DESCARTES, MALEBRANCHE, AND SPINOZA. 125 
 
 philosophy, properly so called, were only published after his death, 
 and it is from these that we shall attempt to draw as clear an 
 account of his system, as our necessary brevity and its frequent 
 obscurity will admit. 
 
 The real foundation of Spinoza's system is to be found in his 
 'posthumous fragment "De Intellectus Emendatione."* In this 
 fragment we have a general investigation of the different methods 
 by which knowledge is communicated to the human mind. First 
 of all, we gain a number of ideas, either by mere hearsay, or by 
 the vague experience of the senses.f This is termed in the Ethics, 
 knowledge of the first kind. Next, we may gain ideas by direct 
 inference from other ideas, that is, by the effort of the logical 
 faculty or understanding. But, lastly, knowledge, properly so 
 called, only arises when by an effort of the reason we grasp the 
 very essence of things, when we gaze upon being itself.J Upon 
 the validity of this intellectual intuition (a direct application of 
 Descartes' appeal to the authority of consciousness,) the very axi- 
 oms of Spinoza's system must wholly rest. 
 
 From the vestibule of Spinozism we may now go into the tem- 
 ple. Let it be admitted that the reason of mankind, looking 
 through the veil of passing phenomena, seeks after something fixed 
 and abiding. That it must find some resting place, some ultimate 
 unalterable idea, that supposes no other beyond it, is evident, other- 
 wise the process of abstraction would go on to infinity (regressus 
 in infinitum). Such an idea Descartes found in the notion of ab- 
 solute perfection ; but then, rejoins Spinoza, what is perfection but 
 the mere attribute of some perfect Being ? The fundamental idea 
 therefore can only be found in Being itself, i. e. in the notion of a 
 substance, which is absolutely self-existent, and needs no other 
 conception besides itself to render it complete and intelligible. § 
 
 * A reviewer, to whom reference has already been made, denies the propriety of ground- 
 ing Spinoza's system upon his Psi/chnlooi/^ and describes it as turning the reasoning 
 upside down. I rather doubt from his supposition (that I was referring here to the 
 second book of the Etliics, " De Mente"), whether he was /limsclf well acquainted with 
 the fragment above quoted. To me it is perfectly clear, that Spinoza intended that 
 work to be a preparalive to his Ethics, tliat he saw with Descartes the necessity of 
 grounding his dogmatism in a critique of the consciousness, (on which all first princi- 
 ples must repose,) and that his system really bc^^ins in his psychological survey. M. 
 Saisset remarks on this point—" Genie essentiellement reflcchi, elevc a une ccole 
 severe celle de Descartes, Spinoza n'ignorait pas qu'il n'y a point en philosophic de 
 problcme, antcrieur a celui de la methode. La nature ct la portcc de rentendement 
 humain, I'ordre legitime de ses operations, la loi fondamentale qui leg doit rcgler, tous 
 ces grands objets avaient occupe ses premieres meditations, et il ne cessa de s'en in- 
 quiete a pendant toute sa vie. Nous savons qu'avant d'ecrire so7i ethique, il avait jete 
 les bases d'un traite complet sur la methode," (namely, in the work " De Intellectus 
 Emendatione.") — ffiuvres, p. IG. 
 
 t Vol. ii p. 280. :j: Vol. ii. p. 281. ^ Eth. Def ill. book I
 
 126 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 But, then, how are we to comprehend substance in its real na- 
 ture and essence ? Manifestly by means of its attributes, for at- 
 tribute is that which our reason conceives of as constituting its 
 essence.* 
 
 The attributes under which we conceive of Substance are two, 
 extension and thought, both of which must be infinite, as belonging' 
 to an infinite being ; not indeed infinite absolutely, but relatively 
 to the substratum in which they exist. But these two attributes 
 appear in an endless variety of aspects, which we may term modes.-\ 
 Modes, then, express the nature of attributes, and attributes the 
 nature of substance, so that here we have all existence, absolute 
 and relative, embraced in the three ideas of substance, attributes, 
 modes. The absolute self-existent substance is God ; everything 
 else must be attributes and modes, under which that substance ap- 
 pears. 
 
 God then exists. The proof of his existence is identical with 
 that of one infinite, eternal, self-existent substance. Moreover, it 
 is demonstrable, that there can be but one substance in the uni- 
 verse ; for one substance cannot be produced by another, accord- 
 ing to its very definition, as being self-existent. J Hence, God is 
 not only one but there can be no real essential existence besides ; 
 he is TO Tiuv^ the great universal all. 
 
 The whole nature of God can now be determined. The fact 
 of his self-existence involves the idea of freedom ; for what can 
 there be to oppose and limit his power ? This freedom or essential 
 activity, therefore, joined with the two attributes above mentioned, 
 involve the following results — First, that God is free, yet free in a 
 sense which excludes the idea of volition or will ; free only as 
 ever unfolding his own essential being, without obstruction or re- 
 straint.§ Secondly, that God has infinite extension, yet, so as 
 not to imply anything material, but only pure abstract extension. || 
 Thirdly, that God eternally thinks, but contemplates only himself, 
 without ideas, without the flow of consciousness, without an un- 
 derstanding in the ordinary sense. His intelligence is one eternal, 
 unchangeable gaze upon truth, i. e. upon himself *T[ 
 
 But now the question arises, how are we to explain the exist- 
 ence and nature of the phenomenal world ? The relation of the 
 infinite to the finite, is one of the most difficult problems which 
 philosophy has ever undertaken to unravel. Some have had re- 
 
 * De Deo, Def. iv. f De Deo, Def. v. :j: Ibid. Prop. vi. 
 
 § Ibid. Prop. xvii. II De Deo, Part II. prop. ii. IT Ibid. Part II. prop. i.
 
 DESCARTES, MALEBRANCHE, AND SPINOZA, 127 
 
 course to the dualistic hypothesis, which supposes an eternal ex- 
 istence of matter, co-ordinate with God. Others have imagined 
 the phenomenal world to be the direct product of creative power, 
 God bringing all things out of nothing. These theories we see at 
 once are entirely inadmissible on the principles of Spinozism, al- 
 ready laid down. Here God is not a creating mind, but Being 
 itself, the one unchangeable essence, which underlies everything 
 else. Thought and extension both exist as perfections absolutely 
 in God, but thought and extension would ever be but vain and 
 empty abstractions, unless they were referred as attributes to 
 Being. Hence, any particular thought, and any particular exten- 
 sion can be nothing but mere abstractions, unless thet/ are referred 
 to absolute thought and absolute extension, such as exist only in 
 Deity himself.* Being, then involves as attributes, infinite thought 
 and infinite extension ; these attributes involve an infinite number 
 of finite determinations, and these determinations constitute the 
 phenomenal world ; those of the infinite thought giving rise to 
 finite minds, those of the infinite extension to all material exist- 
 ences.f 
 
 God, then, may be viewed, according to Spinoza, in two differ- 
 ent aspects, first, as the eternal substance, possessing in himself 
 infinite attributes and mode of Being ; and, secondly, as the self- 
 existent one, developing himself, and expanding into an infinite 
 number of finite determinations! The one is natura naturans, 
 the other natura naturata ; the one, the absolute, containing all 
 things potentially within its infinite nature ; the other, the abso- 
 lute, unfolding that nature into all the modifications of thought and 
 extension of which the universe consists. Hence, God is, in a 
 most pregnant sense, the cause of all things, inasmuch as all things 
 are but modes of his own infinite attributes ; or, in the words of 
 the author, " Deus est omnium rerum causa immanens, non 
 transiens.'''X 
 
 That Spinoza affirmed the existence of a God, and affirmed it 
 so earnestly, as to merit the appellation given him by Novalis, of 
 " the god-intoxicated man," may be readily admitted in a certain 
 sense ; but that he allowed the existence of a God in the ordinary 
 and Christian acceptation of that word, is far from being the case. 
 
 * See M. Saisset's IntroJ. p. Ixxx. 
 
 ■f De Deo, prop. xxv. and corollary. 
 
 X Ibid, prop XV. xvi. xviii. xxi. xxiii. Also in Part II. Def. i. matter is defined — "A 
 mode which expresses in a certain determined manner the essence of God, inasmuch 
 as we consider God as a thing extended."
 
 128 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 A Being to whom understanding, will, and even personality is 
 denied ; a being who does not create but simply is, who does not 
 act but simply unfolds, who does not purpose, but brings all things 
 to pass by the necessary law of his own existence — such a being 
 cannot be a father, a friend, a benefactor, in a word, cannot be a 
 God to man, for man is but a part of himself It may be more 
 correct to term the philosophy of Spinoza, a pantheism than an 
 atheism ; but if we take the common idea or definition of Deity 
 as valid, then assuredly we must conclude that the God of Spinoza 
 is no God, and that his pantheism is only a more imposing form of 
 atheism. 
 
 There is throughout all Spinoza's reasoning, a vast ambiguity 
 lying concealed in the word substance. Taking it as implying 
 Being per se, he succeeds admirably in proving that it must be 
 uncreated, eternal, divine ; but this is no proof of the impossibility 
 of the act of creation. Why should the term substance be con- 
 fined to this precise definition, why should it not include Being per 
 alium as well as Being per se ? If this be admissible, the panthe- 
 istic basis crumbles beneath his feet, the old stand-point is regained, 
 that God is the efficient cause of all things, not the essence of which 
 all things consist. 
 
 Having discussed the nature of God, Spinoza proceeds in the 
 second part of his Ethics (De Mente), to expound his theory re- 
 specting man. The mind of man, as was before shown, must be 
 essentially and substantially a portion of the divine thinking; re- 
 garded individually or phenominally, it must be a succession of 
 different modes of the infinite thought. But this is not all : the 
 mind of man is closely united to the body, which is a mode of the 
 divine extension. Man, therefore, consists in the perfect connec- 
 tion or identity of these two modes of the divine nature ; the mind 
 is a mode of the divine thought, the body of the divide extension, 
 and both are alike attributes of the same substance. Accordingly, 
 mind and body are essentially one ; they are two different, but cor- 
 responding representations of the one divine essence. The body 
 is the object of the mind, the mind the idea of the body, and they 
 are united to each other through life, not because there is any 
 direct connection between them, but because there is a funda- 
 mental unity.* 
 
 Having thus explained the nature of the soul generally, Spinoza 
 
 * Part II. prop. x. xi. xiii. It will be seen that this is the full development of the 
 Cartesian doctrine of occasional causes, viewed in the light of a pantheistic plulosophy.
 
 DESCARTES, MALEBRANCHE, AND SPINOZA. 129 
 
 proceeds to deduce logically, and connectedly, a whole theory of 
 psychology.* Mind itself not being an existence, but only an idea^ 
 or succession of ideas, all mental phenomena must be ideas like- 
 wise, that is, must be mind in its different states. The term under- 
 standing embraces all the phenomena included under the term 
 knowledge. First of all, the mind, by virtue of its connection 
 with its own body, comprehends all the various affections of body 
 in general ; this is knowledge of the secondary kind, which is gen- 
 erally referred to sensation as the source, and which Spinoza terms 
 vague experience. -f Besides this sensible intuition, however, which 
 is a mode of thought determined by other modes, and consequently 
 vague and inadequate, there is also an intellectual intuition, by 
 which we gaze at once upon the infinite attributes of Being itself. 
 This knowledge is clear, distinct, and adequate-^ Between these 
 two extremes comes the region of deductive knowledge, which is 
 clear and adequate as far as it goes, but does not grasp the first 
 principles of truth, and consequently is incomplete. § From this 
 theory of the understanding, Spinoza describes the sources of 
 error, and determines the validity of knowledge, properly so called. 
 
 In the third part of the Ethics, we are introduced to the origin 
 and nature of the passions. All existence is a chain, of which 
 each part is dependent upon the rest. Every particular 77iode of 
 the divine extension and thought exists apart from the infinite 
 essence, by a balance of forces, which keep it distinctively in be- 
 ing. The human mind is simply a link in the chain of existence, 
 and is retained in being distinct from the infinite essence, by the 
 activity which operates from within upon the world around, and 
 by the action of all other things upon it. Man is a balance of 
 powers, and the tension by which he subsists is termed passion. If 
 there is a perfect equilibrium between the mind and everything 
 else, passion is silent ; it still exists, but exists only as a force, 
 which is exactly counteracted by other forces bearing upon it. 
 If the mind pass from a less state of action to a greater, overcom- 
 ing the powers by which it is controlled, then we experience joy ; 
 if it pass from a greater state of action to a less, then we experi- 
 ence grief. From these two all the other passions are generated. 
 
 The fourth and fifth part of the Ethics refer to the slavery and 
 freedom of the will, the former arising from the entire subjugation 
 
 * This does not exclude the use of those higher processes of psychology, by which 
 the validity of his primary axioms is established. That the method of reflection is 
 primarily necessary, he has affirmed in his " Tractatus," p. 162. 
 
 t De Mente, prop. xvi. and xxiv. to xxix. % Ibid. prop. xl. ^ Ibid, schol. ii. 
 
 9
 
 130 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 of the higher reason to the passions, the latter from putting the 
 passions under control of the reason. It is clear, however, that in 
 the proper sense of the word, freedom can have no place in the 
 system of Spinoza, with reference either to man or to God. 
 Everything wears the aspect of a vast mechanism, moving for- 
 ward by the impulse of eternal fate. God is free from all outward 
 constraint, but is a necessary Being as regards the laws of his 
 eternal development. Man is termed free, as containing within 
 him a certain amount of action ; but he lives and acts from first 
 to last, a link in the chain of fate, by the same inexorable necessity. 
 
 Hence, there is a twofold aspect in which Ethics may be viewed. 
 Regarding man on the one hand in his phenomenal, or on the other 
 hand in his absolute relations, we may estimate good and evil, vice 
 and virtue, merit and demerit, either on the lower ground of mere 
 phenomena, or on the higher ground of absolute reality. If we 
 look at human life on the lower ground, if we regard all things 
 simply as they seem to the senses and the imagination, then man 
 appears to be a free agent ; but it is an appearance perfectly false 
 and delusive. We term things contingent, just because we are 
 unable by the senses to rise upwards to the contemplation of the 
 great law by which they are eternally fixed. We seem to have 
 the notions of good and evil, but they are merely mutilated or in- 
 adequate conceptions, suited to the delusive belief of a free agency, 
 which does not really exist. In this sphere of our knowledge, 
 good is synonymous with what is agreeable, evil with what is in- 
 jurious. Every man's desire must be the law of his practical life. 
 He has no choice but to follow out his passions to whatsoever they 
 may prompt him. Self-enjoyment and self-preservation are in fact 
 the sole rule of his conduct. The difference between the good 
 man and the bad is simply that the former has a greater sum of 
 action and consequent enjoyment in him than the latter. Right 
 is the only correlate of power, and can never be really violated 
 except by a deficiency of might ; so that the object of all govern- 
 ment is the exercise of force, and all law is limitation. In this 
 respect the philosophy of Hobbes and Spinoza, i. e. the extremes 
 of sensationalism and idealism, meet, and evolve the same conclu- 
 sions. 
 
 These conclusions, so sweeping in their nature, and terrible in 
 their moral results, were afterwards contravened by viewing man 
 in his pure and absolute relations. Here reason comes into action, 
 and gazing not upon phenomena, but upon reality, lifts us upwards
 
 DESCARTES, MALEBRANCHE, AND SPINOZA. 131 
 
 into a spiritual life, where everything appears under a new aspect. 
 From this elevation we look down with pity and contempt upon 
 those who are the slaves of the senses — the victims of passion. 
 The perfect life we now see to be the life of pure reason ; in which 
 we rise to the contemplation of God, and by means of which the 
 divine thought realizes itself in us. Here all passion, all conten- 
 tion, all delusion, ceases. Raised to a perfect union with the 
 Divine essence, we are filled with the knowledge and the love of 
 God, in which knowledge and love we find at length the perfec- 
 tion, the bliss, and eternal repose of our being.*' 
 
 Such are the general outlines of Spinoza's philosophy — a phi- 
 losophy in which our whole individuality is absorbed in the Divine 
 substance, in which human freedom gives place to the most abso- 
 lute fataHsm, and in which God, deprived of all personality, 
 becomes synonymous with the universe, embracing in himself 
 alone its endless phenomena. 
 
 The foundation of all these results is to be found in the full 
 expansion of the error, in which, as we have seen, both Descartes 
 and Malebranche were involved. Both these philosophers ad- 
 mitted the three fundamental notions of the human reason — the 
 finite self, finite nature, and the absolute ; but they manifested a 
 constantly increasing tendency to make the last predominant, 
 while they proportionally narrowed the sphere of the two former. 
 Malebranche, as we saw, went so far as to deny all secondary 
 causes, and to rest the evidence of the material world simply on 
 revelation. One more step only was needed to complete this 
 movement of objective idealism, and absorb both man and nature 
 in God. This is precisely the fundamental principle of Spino- 
 zism — a principle upon which he has built a system of metaphysical 
 and ethical philosophy with the most rigid logic and admirable 
 ingenuity. 
 
 With Spinoza, the development of Cartesianism, properly so 
 called, ended. He pushed its principles to their utmost length, 
 exhibited the results to which they must necessarily give rise, 
 evolved a twofold system of ethics, which to most minds appear 
 absolutely contradictory of each other, and left a monument of his 
 
 * The sentiments we have briefly combined in the above two t»r three parairraphs, are 
 developed in the List two parts of the Ethics. The whole of the rcasoninir is here so 
 closely connected, that it is useless to refer to any particular propositions in connection 
 with so brief and popular a view as I have thought it best to give in the text. 
 The reader who seeks further informatien, can procure M. Saisset's French edition, and 
 will find an admirable guide to the study of the whole system in his introductory 
 Essay.
 
 132 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 genius, which multitudes have admired, but no one has ever fully 
 adopted. We come back, therefore, now to our own country, that 
 we may inquire what tendencies towards idealism, and what 
 effects of the Cartesian philosophy, meanwhile manifested them- 
 selves in the land of Bacon and Hobbes. 
 
 Sect. II. — Second Momment — English Polemical Idealism. 
 
 The idealistic school, which we have just reviewed, was an 
 original one, and seemed to flow naturally from the very men- 
 tal constitution and tendencies of those by whom it was founded 
 and perfected. The same remark, we shall hereafter see, may 
 be applied perhaps to an equal extent to that school of German 
 idealism, which, in the present day, has borne such abundant 
 fruits. With the English idealism the case is different ; for 
 whenever this tendency has manifested itself strongly in our 
 country, it has rather been brought out in opposition to the 
 growing errors of sensationalism, than arisen from any sponta- 
 neous movement of the national mind. We would not, indeed, 
 deny altogether to the national mind of our country (as some- 
 times has been done) the vigorous power of purely abstract 
 thinking ; but still the fact is not to be disputed, that the prac- 
 tical element has ever been in the ascendency, and that the 
 rationalistic method of philosophizing ha's seldom been carried to 
 any great extent, except it has been occasioned and almost neces- 
 sitated by the excesses of the opposite school. Hence we desig- 
 nate the early English movement in this direction by the appel- 
 lation of polemical idealism. 
 
 Every energetic movement of sensationalism in the philosophical 
 history of our country has opposed to it a corresponding move- 
 ment of IdeaUsm. It was the materialism of Hobbes which first 
 gave rise to the rationalistic method in England, and after that, it 
 was the empiricism of Locke which nourished it ; it was Locke's 
 sceptical successors again, who drove the idealistic tendency for- 
 ward to the extreme of Berkeleyism ; while it was Hume who 
 roused up the warfare in which the present metaphysical school of 
 Scotland was cradled. To the men, therefore, who took the chief 
 part in these contests, it is our pre-duty to revert. 
 
 The materialism of Hobbes was one of the boldest attempts at 
 forming a complete system of human knowledge which the his-
 
 ENGLISH POLEMICAL IDEALISM. 133 
 
 tory of philosophy exhibits, and it was conveyed in that logical, 
 and at the same time earnest, popular, and attractive style, which 
 could not fail to acquire for it considerable attention. Edward 
 Lord Herbert of Cherbury was a contemporary with Hobbes, and 
 though he is not to be regarded as a direct opponent, (inasmuch as 
 none of his works were written with this precise end in view) 
 yet it was undoubtedly the prevalence of ultra-Baconian prin- 
 ciples, which he saw spreading around him, that gave rise to 
 the opposite principles, which that acute philosopher advocated. 
 Much as this writer has fallen out of notice, yet in his works is to 
 be found the germ of almost all the arguments which were after- 
 wards brought forward in support of the ideal or a 'priori element 
 in human knowledge. He asserted, as strongly as Descartes 
 did, the doctrine of innate ideas, and maintained as well the 
 existence of a rational instinct {rationalis instinctus) as the source 
 at once of man's highest knowledge, and of his purest religious 
 sentiment. The opposition in which his philosophy stands to that 
 of Hobbes, as well as to that which Locke afterwards oricrinated, 
 is seen from his fundamental position — that the mind, instead of 
 being like a blank sheet of paper, is like a closed book. This 
 book, he shows, is opened by the aid of experience, that is, by the 
 influence of the external world acting through the senses, and 
 when opened, shows a number of general principles {communes 
 notiones) inscribed there, to which every question must be ulti- 
 mately referred as to a common and infallible standard. On the 
 question of religion, it is true, his conclusions were as much too 
 sweeping on the one side, as Hobbes's were on the other, inas- 
 much as he advocated a system of complete rationalism ; but on 
 purely philosophical questions, few men, as unaided and indepen- 
 dent thinkers, have come nearer to the truth respecting some of 
 the most important points, than did the philosopher of Cherbury.* 
 
 * The principal work of Lord Herbert is a " Tractatus de veritate prout distin-ruitur 
 a revelatione, a verisimili, a possibili, ct a lalso," London, 1015. Tliis work is' now 
 little known, owing most probably to the frequent obscurity of tlic style renderin-r 
 It repulsive to general readers. The author begins by laj"in<T down a number of 
 axiomtUic truths, which may be taken as fixed points to start from. Next he makes a 
 classihcation ot the kinds of truth, which we can imagine to exist in the world From 
 this he passes on to the r.awdUionf, under which we can be said to comprehend truth • 
 and It IS here that he explains particularly his theory of " communes notiones " whicli 
 comes, in tact, very near to that of Kant on the ibrms of the understandin<i After 
 (levelopmcr his theory of tlie nahmd indind, as the faculty from which these^common 
 notions arise, he ends by applying his psychology to the subject of relicrion The best 
 ^.nglish account of Lord Herbert's writings is, I believe, that of Mr. Hallam " Lit of 
 Europe, vol. n. p. 3Sl. See also Tennemann's " Grundriss," p. 358 ' PI have 
 just seen m addition, the analysis of Sir W. HamUton, wliich is admirably clear and 
 succinct.] (Reid's collected Writings, p. 78L) > v.icar ana
 
 134 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The professed antagonist of Hobbism, however, was Richard 
 Cumberland, Bishop of Peterborough, a man of the most extensive 
 learning, and conversant with every branch of philosophy as it 
 then existed. It was to the moral principles which Hobbes advo- 
 cated that the chief hostility was generally felt, and accordingly 
 the polemical philosophy of this period, led on by Cumberland, was 
 for the most part confined to the department of ethics. To the 
 unqualified egotism of Hobbes, this prelate opposed certain connate 
 principles, termed by him laws of nature, according to which men 
 are prompted to the exercise of all the social feelings, and to the 
 construction of the whole framework of society. These laws he 
 considered to be cognizable by right reason — reason being the 
 supreme judge of right and wrong, the discerner of the great law 
 of benevolence impressed upon the whole constitution and course 
 of nature. The points, therefore, where Cumberland shows a 
 leaning to the rationalistic method, are those in which he makes 
 reason the judge of all our moral relations, and maintains the ex- 
 istence of certain natural laws, quite unconnected with experience, 
 which impel us both to the perception and performance of moral 
 duties.* 
 
 Contemporary with Cumberland was another thinker of the same 
 order, but of still greater compass, if not of greater originality of 
 mind. Amongst all the early philosophical writers of our country, 
 there is no one who displayed so complete a mastery over the 
 metaphysical systems of antiquity, and no one who has left behind 
 him so vast a monument of varied and accurate learning, as Ralph 
 Cudworth, the author of the " Intellectual System." He belonged 
 to a company of Cambridge theologians, sometimes called Armin- 
 ians, sometimes Latitude-men, or Latitudinarians, but more accu- 
 rately denominated Platonic divines, who to a sincere love of 
 Christianity, and a corresponding purity of life, united a deep ad- 
 miration for the philosophy of Plato. From this source there was 
 infused into the philosophical principles of Cudworth, a strong 
 tendency to the same species of lofty idealism, which distinguished 
 the writings of the great founder of the Academy. Deeply im- 
 
 * Cumberland's great work, " De Legibus Naturse," is important as being the first in 
 which the principles of morals and natural right are investigated upon a purely 
 philosophical basis, apart from the speculations of the ancient moralists. In his theory 
 respecting the common good as containing the essence of virtue, he is the forerunner of 
 the utilitarian systems ; while in his investigation of the moral laws that may be found 
 impressed upon the whole course of nature, he gave the germ which Butler afterwards 
 so fruitfully developed. For a full account of Cumberland's work, consult Hallam's 
 " Lit. of Europe," also some remarks by Sir. James Mackintosh, in his " Dissertation 
 on Ethical Philosophy."
 
 ENGLISH POLEMICAL IDEALISM. 135 
 
 bued with the spirit of that soaring philosophy, which regarded 
 matter as the basis of everything grovelling, and which only ad- 
 mitted true science at all to exist, until the soul, shaking off the 
 trammels of sense, gazes immediately upon the pure ideas of the 
 Divine mind, he looked with alarm and contempt upon a system, 
 like that of Hobbes, which made matter or body the object of all 
 philosophy, and brought down to the level of sense the most pure 
 and ethereal elements of the human consciousness. Convinced 
 that such principles would degrade humanity, would involve the 
 grossest fatahsm, and would banish God himself from the universe 
 which he had made, Cudworth formed the plan of tracing all such 
 errors up to their primary source, of exposing their futility, and of 
 tearing up by their roots doctrines, which he saw must tend to 
 destroy all moral distinctions, and overturn all religious worship. 
 The "Intellectual System" was the product of this design, in 
 which he combats every possible form of atheism with much acute 
 reasoning and most amazing learning. This formed, however, 
 only the first part of his proposed task ; it is evident from the pref- 
 ace that he contemplated two other parts to complete it. 
 
 He shows in the introduction to that work, that there are three 
 false hypotheses of the universe, or three possible modes of fatal- 
 ism ; the first of which is absolute atheism, the second a theism 
 without morality or religion, and the third a theism which admits 
 moral distinctions and religious worship, but yet which makes no 
 stand against fatalism by an enlightened doctrine of human lib- 
 erty.* Atheism, then, is demolished in the work to which we have 
 already referred, namely, the " Intellectual System." The treatise 
 on Eternal and Immutable Morality, pul)lished after his death, was 
 in all probability the sketch of the second part ; and there now 
 exists among his manuscripts in the British Museum a "Discourse 
 on Liberty and Necessity," which we have every reason to believe 
 was the outlin* of the third. f 
 
 It is in the second treatise, that on "Eternal and Immutable 
 
 * " Fatalists that hold the necessity of human actions may be reduced to three 
 heads. 1st, Such as, asserting the Deity, suppose it irrespectively to decree and de- 
 termine all thinrrs, and thereby make all actions necessarj- to us. 2dly. ^^uch a.s 
 suppose a Deity, that, actin;: wisely, but necessarily, did contrive the <;eneral frame of 
 things in the world ; from'whence, by a series 'of causes, doth unavoidably result 
 whalsoever is done in it. And, lastly, such as hol.l the material necessity of all things 
 without a Deity." — Intellectual System, Book I. sec. i. 
 
 It will be observed that Cudworth takes up tlios.- llirer hypotheses in the inrcrx order 
 to that in which they arc here slated. Tbr edition iVom which the above passage is 
 quoted, is the first, published in London, 1(»7S. 
 
 f This last Discourse, I find, was published about ten years ago.
 
 136 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Morality," that Cudworth shows more especially his firm oppo- 
 sition to every species of sensationalism. He points out there 
 with great clearness the fact, that the mind of man possesses pure 
 conceptions (vormaTu), which cannot possibly be derived from the 
 senses ; and maintains, with Plato, that these are no other than the 
 eternal truths, which must ever have existed in the mind of God, 
 and to the perception of which the human mind may ever increas- 
 ingly attain. " If we reflect," he says, " on our own cogitations of 
 these things (»'o»?^«Ta), we shall sensibly perceive that they are 
 not phantastical, {i. e. imaged to us by the senses,) but noematical ; 
 as, for example, justice, equity, duty, obligation, cogitation, opinion, 
 intellection, volition, memory, verity, falsity, cause, effect, genus, 
 species, nullity, contingency, possibility, impossibility, and innu- 
 merable others."* The rationalistic or ideal tendency of Cud- 
 worth shines forth most clearly throughout the whole of this trea- 
 tise. In the second chapter of the fourth book we have the two 
 elements of human knowledge — that from sense and that from 
 reason — almost as clearly pointed out as it was afterwards by Kant 
 himself Speaking of the phenomena of nature, he says, " For the 
 sense of man and brute there appears nothing else in it, but as in 
 other so many inky scrawls ; i. e. nothing but figures and colors. 
 But to the mind, which hath a participation of the Divine wisdom 
 that made it, and being printed all over with the same archetypal 
 seal, upon occasion of those sensible delineations, and taking notice 
 of whatsoever is cognate to it, exerting its own inward activity 
 from thence, will have not only a wonderful science, and large 
 prospects of other thoughts laid open before it, and variety of 
 knowledge, logical, mathematical, and moral, displayed ; but also 
 clearly read the Divine goodness and wisdom in every page of this 
 great volume, as it were, written in large and legible characters." 
 After the systematic inculcation of such sentiments as these, we 
 may without hesitation place him down as the great philosopher 
 of his age, in whose works we find a complete counterpoise against 
 the more popular but far less erudite writings of Hobbes. 
 
 Cudworth died about four years after the publication of Locke's 
 " Essay on the Human Understanding," so that we may regard 
 him as closing the controversy against Hobbes, and representing 
 the final state of the rationalistic philosophy before Locke intro- 
 duced a new era into the history of metaphysics. The next 
 appearance, therefore, which the idealistic tendency made in 
 
 * Treatise concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality, p. 140. London, 1731.
 
 ENGLISH POLEMICAL IDEALISM. 137 
 
 England, was the reaction that took place after Locke's death, 
 against the principles he had advocated in his Essay. 
 
 Lord Shaftesbury, who had been an intimate friend and com- 
 panion of Locke, was one of the first to point out the dangerous 
 influence which his total rejection of all innate practical principles 
 was likely to exert upon the interests of morality. So strongly did 
 he feel this, that in one of his Letters, in which he is denouncing 
 the popular deism of his day, he says, " It was Mr. Locke that 
 struck at all fundamentals, threw all order and virtue out of the 
 world, and made the very ideas of these (which are the same as 
 those of God) unnatural and without foundation in our minds." 
 Not that Shaftesbury admitted the existence of innate ideas in the 
 Cartesian sense, or held any principles that could lead to a system 
 of pure idealism ; but he saw clearly the consequences to which 
 Locke's sensationalism must ultimately lead, and maintained that 
 if we have no ideas actually innate, yet we have a nature and a 
 reason so constituted, that they necessarily give rise to many abso- 
 lute conceptions, which could never have been derived simply 
 from the intimations of our senses. To the just and elegant ob- 
 servations of Shaftesbury upon ethical questions, the subsequent 
 speculations of Butler and others were not a little indebted ; his 
 in many cases were the germs of thought, which they more fully 
 expanded.* 
 
 Wollaston, the acute author of the " Religion of Nature Delin- 
 eated," must also be regarded as an opponent of Locke's funda- 
 mental principles. The ground he takes in his ethical system, 
 namely, that virtue consists in acting according to the truth of 
 things, is a sufficient proof that he regarded some conceptions as 
 absolutely necessary, and as originating in the very constitution of 
 man's rational nature. 
 
 The great metaphysician, however, of this period, and unques- 
 tionably one of the first that our country has produced, was Dr. 
 Samuel Clarke. f He came upon the stage just in the very heat 
 of the controversy, which arose soon after the deatli of Locke, 
 respecting the philosophical and the moral principles which that 
 great thinker had advocated, and opposed himself to the sceptics, 
 
 ♦ See particularly his " Characteristics," treatise the fourtii. in wliich many cursory 
 suggestions occur, whicli show how near the auihor was to the ileveiopment of 
 the theory of a 7)i(ir(il.scii.''c. Leibnitz was an enthusiastic ailiiiiror ot" the writings of 
 Shaftesbury; and Macltintosh (Dissertation, p. 1)3) considers tiiat tliey "contain more 
 intimations of an original and important nature on the theory of ethics, than perhaps 
 any preceding work of modern times." 
 
 t Born at Norwich 1G75, died 1729.
 
 138 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 who were driving these principles to excess, with a rigor and 
 power of argumentation very rarely to be found even annongst 
 philosophers themselves. There were three points upon which 
 Clarke more especially bent the whole of his mental energy; in 
 all of which he showed his strong opposition to sensationalism, 
 and evinced a decided tendency to the rationalistic method of 
 philosophy. 
 
 The first of these was his celebrated argument for the being of 
 a God, as furnishing the foundation principle of natural theology. 
 This argument rests upon the fact, that we have the conceptions 
 of time and space, expressive of certain attributes or qualities — 
 the one eternal, the other illimitable in its nature. But every 
 quality must have a co-existent subject to which it belongs ; and 
 therefore, he argues, there must exist a being who possesses these 
 attributes of infinity ; that is, there must be a God.* The simi- 
 larity between Clarke's argument and that of Spinoza in many 
 points, is at once evident. They both started with the idea of 
 necessary existence, showing that if anything exist now, something 
 must have existed from eternity. The distinction between the 
 two arguments arises from their different determination of the ab- 
 solute idea, from which our reasoning must commence. Clarke 
 affirmed the idea of infinite attributes to be fundamental, and then 
 inferred an infinite substance. Spinoza began with the infinite 
 substance, and inferred the attributes. The result was, that the 
 latter rested finally in the notion of substance as identical with 
 God, and reduced the common theism to pantheism ; the former, 
 reasoning from the attributes, was open upon other evidence to 
 conceive of them as existing in a Divine personality, — in the God 
 of Christianity. The clearness, however, with which both grasped 
 the idea of the infinite, as one of the necessary conceptions of the 
 human mind, is in either case abundantly manifest. 
 
 The second point for which Clarke is celebrated, is his theory 
 respecting the ground of morals. Here he contends that there are 
 certain fixed relations in the universe, cognizable by the human 
 reason, and that all virtue consists in acting according to the fit- 
 ness of things. That this theory of morals is correct, we should 
 by no means admit, inasmuch as it leaves out altogether the emo- 
 tional element in our moral nature ; but still it serves us for another 
 
 * Clarke's " Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of God," was first delivered 
 in two courses of sermons delivered at the Boylean Lecture in Oxford, and afterwards 
 published with the above title, London, 170.5. The argument above explained may be 
 viewed as a kind of appendix to his main argument, grounded on necessary existence.
 
 ENGLISH POLEMICAL IDEALISM. 139 
 
 illustration of the idealistic tendency by which his philosophy was 
 characterized, and shows the advance which was making towards 
 sound principles in morals, as well as in metaphysics.* 
 
 The third point (that on which Clarke's philosophical fame 
 chiefly rests, and to which he devoted a very considerable portion 
 ' of his life) was his controversy upon liberty and necessity — a con- 
 troversy in which he stood opposed to Leibnitz and Collins, and 
 by which he endeavored to overturn, finally, the fatalistic conclu- 
 sions of Spinozism. Throughout this contest, the victory in which 
 was claimed on both sides, Clarke maintained most powerfully 
 the doctrine of Free-will, and accordingly here, also, manifested 
 his opposition to the philosophy which tends to merge the idea of 
 self either into that of nature or of God. Of the three fundamental 
 conceptions, therefore, from which all philosophy springs, those of 
 finite self, and the infinite, held in the writings of Clarke by far 
 the most prominent place ; so that we may properly regard him as 
 the chief representative of the idealistic tendency during the age 
 immediately succeeding Locke, as Cudworth was during the age 
 that immediately preceded him.f 
 
 The abstruse controversies which were carried on in the manner 
 just described, between the deistical writers of the age, and the 
 metaphysical theologians by whom they were opposed, exerted an 
 influence anything but favorable to the interests of religion. This 
 arose partly from the prominence which was thus aflxjrded to the 
 objections of an acute scepticism ; and partly from the abstruse 
 manner, devoid, as it appeared, of all religious feeling, bv which 
 these objections were answered. Hence originated several bold 
 and remarkable attempts to remove the scene of the deistic con- 
 troversy away from an arena so remote I'roin men's ordinary habits 
 of thought, as that upon which it had been hitherto carried on, and 
 to concentrate it upon the more general objections that were then 
 raised against revealed religion as a whole. 
 
 * Clarke's moral system is contained in a " Discoiir.se on the Unchanijeahlc Oblitra- 
 tions of Natural Religion." His vindication of the disinterestedness of virtuous action, 
 and the absolute character of ritiht, is worthy of the hijfhest ailiniration. and does not 
 fall hehind Kant himself in its elevated vii;\v of moral law, as nsting upon the very 
 nature of God. Had he taken into account the moral feelinjis, and the suprcinucy of 
 conscience, little would have been wanting for a complete systenj of ethics. 
 
 •f See his" Philosophical In(|uiry," concerning human lilnrty. London. 171.'). Also 
 his Letter to Dodwcll. in which hi- has arguid with gnat |).iwer for tiie natural immor- 
 tality of the soul. This Icltir was allcrwards puhlisin d with four others, in wliich the 
 line of argument was defended against certain attacks wliich it had called lorlh. In 
 thes'l letters the metaphysical arguments for immortality are stated nrobahly as clearly 
 as they ever will be. Their conclusiveness neither here nor elsewhere is made very 
 apparent.
 
 140 MODERN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 Mr. Joseph Butler, at that time a young man in the Presbyte- 
 rian seminary at Tewkesbury, entered into a correspondence with 
 Clarke upon his a priori argument, in which correspondence he 
 showed the germs of that philosophical genius which has since 
 rendered his name pre-eminent amongst the moralists of the last 
 century. 
 
 On joining the Episcopal Church, and becoming preacher at the 
 Rolls, Butler summoned all his energies to arrest the progress of 
 scepticism, by showing that the principles both of morality and re- 
 ligion lay, as it were, embedded in the very core and centre of human 
 nature. In the first three of a course of sermons, which he pub- 
 lished in the year 1726, he gave what is still admitted to be one 
 of the most masterly and original analyses ever attempted, of man's 
 moral and social constitution. Drawing out the parallel between 
 man as an individual, and mankind as a whole, he showed, that as 
 the various parts of the natural body evince a mutual dependence 
 upon each other, just so man in society can only exist by means of 
 certain moral relations, originally impressed upon it by God. 
 
 The moral nature of mankind he detected with admirable acute- 
 ness, under three classes of phenomena. First, there is the princi- 
 ple of benevolence manifesting itself in the affections, and holding 
 society together in the strong bands of mutual sympathy. Secondly, 
 there are various passions of our nature, distinct from the princi- 
 ple of benevolence, which go to advance the stability of social life ; 
 and, thirdly, there is the conscience, the principle of moral approba- 
 tion and disapprobation, the great regulative power, which governs, 
 restrains, and directs all the affections and passions, just as the 
 supreme authority in a civil government manages and employs the 
 mere physical forces of the empire. 
 
 According to Butler, therefore, human nature, morally consid- 
 ered, consists in a variety of natural instincts, sympathies and pro- 
 pensions, all held together by the superintending authority of con- 
 science ; — a view of things manifestly inconsistent with a sensa- 
 tional philosophy, and containing a decided element of idealism. 
 
 To carry the matter still further, the learned prelate went on to 
 embrace the religious as well as the moral constitution of man in 
 his argument, and succeeded in developing the most striking analo- 
 gies between the actual constitution and course of nature, and the 
 truths both of natural and revealed religion. In the sermons, there- 
 fore, we have the development of man's moral constitution, as fitted 
 for society in this world ; in the Analogy we have the development
 
 ENGLISH POLEMICAL IDEALISM. 141 
 
 of his spiritual constitution, as fitted for perfection and immortality 
 hereafter ; the two together forming, perhaps, the most complete 
 exhibition of human life and destiny, grounded upon philosophical 
 principles, which exist in our own language. We may regard 
 Butler, therefore, as another link in the chain of philosophers, by 
 whom the ideal element has been asserted, and the rationalistic 
 method employed for discovering or supporting truth.* 
 
 So far the idealistic tendency had kept within its proper bounds, 
 contenting itself with reproving the rashness of sensationalism, or 
 controverting whatever dangerous conclusions appeared to arise 
 from it ; and had not the followers of Locke attempted to carry 
 their empirical principles to a most vicious extreme, it is probable 
 that no form of extreme idealism would ever have arisen. The 
 rapid advances, however, which were made by the sensationalists, 
 towards overturning the foundations of morality and religion, sug- 
 gested to Dr. afterwards Bishop Berkeley, that there must be some- 
 thing radically wrong in a philosophy which evolved such danger- 
 ous and pernicious consequences. But then, where was the error 
 to be found, and in what did it consist ? It could not consist, as 
 Berkeley supposed, in Locke's fundamental principle, that all our 
 knowledge consists in ideas as the immediate objects of conscious- 
 ness, since that was a principle which had never been questioned 
 from the time when it was asserted by Plato and Aristotle, to the 
 time when it was put into so clear a light by the great author of 
 the " Essay on the Human Understanding." If, therefore, the 
 lurking error was not to be found in Locke's psychological prin- 
 ciples, it was necessary to look for it in his ontology ; that is to 
 say, in his method of transition from the inward world of ideas to 
 the outward world of actual and material existence. Here, then, 
 Berkeley considered that he had found the root of the whole evil, 
 which had infected the principles of human belief, and which con- 
 sisted in nothing less than the false conclusion, that our inward 
 ideas must necessarily imply some objective material existence, 
 which they resemble, and by which they are originated. The 
 position in which Berkeley intrenched himself was this — That, as 
 we cannot possibly get beyond our ideas, these ideas, and nothing 
 else, must be the real objects of our knowledge. To the plea, that 
 
 * The complete works of Butler have been edited by Dr. Halifax, and published in 
 one vol. 8vo, with a dissertation upon Butler's views, and an account of his life. Last 
 edition 1815. London -. H. Washbourne. Never, perhaps, were the moral principles 
 of Butler in so great estimation as at the present day. The sermons on "Human Na- 
 ture" have been adopted recently as the text-book of Moral Philosophy in several of 
 our colleges and universities.
 
 142 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 all mankind must necessarily believe in material things, he an- 
 swered that, on the contrary, all mankind believe in the thing 
 which is the immediate object of perception, that is, in the idea, 
 and not in some imaginary substratum, of which we can never 
 have any sensible evidence.* To confirm this view of the case, 
 he exhibited, with great ability, the indefiniteness which attaches 
 to all such notions as extension, substance, motion, solidity, body, 
 &c. ; proved by the very same arguments, that both primary and 
 secondary qualities have no existence distinct from the mind ;t 
 exploded all the different hypotheses by which the existence of 
 matter had been vindicated ;J and concluded at length, that the 
 very essence of an object is for it to be perceived by some mind. 
 In one word, he made the synthesis by which attributes are united 
 so as to form real objects, a purely mental one, and thus rendered 
 matter a nonentity. § 
 
 In Berkeley's reasoning upon this question, we should not fail to 
 observe, that there are two distinct conclusions he attempts to 
 draw ; the one is, the impossibility of our ever finding a proof that 
 our sensations are occasioned by objects actually material (since it 
 is as easy for the Deity to produce them in us without such objects 
 as with them) ; the other conclusion is, that matter cannot possibly 
 exist, without involving the most complete absurdities. In the first 
 of these arguments, the whole of the reasoning is confessedly un- 
 controvertible : allow the fundamental axiom, that all our knowl- 
 edge is representative, and the conclusion he draws cannot possibly 
 be avoided. Nay further, in whatever way we attempt to reason 
 on the same subject, we shall find that the point reduces itself, in 
 the last analysis, to the higher question respecting the existence of 
 an objective reality apart from ourselves, Berkeley never denied 
 a phenomenal world, he merely rejected its materiality : and we 
 may yet find, in the course of the following pages, that, however 
 we may rebut the ideal system, on which the prelate grounded his 
 argument, yet still the material hypothesis of the world, in its 
 ordinary sense, is involved in too many difficulties to render it even 
 probable, much less demonstrably true. In the other argument, 
 however, Berkeley is by no means so successful, since he falls into 
 the very same error which he knew so well how to expose in others. 
 
 * The clearest and simplest statement of these views is contained in the three Dia- 
 logues between Hylas and Philonous. Vid. Works in one vol. 1837, pp. 67 and 71. 
 
 t Ibid. pp. 47 to 50. 
 
 i Sec Second Dialogue. 
 
 ^ One of the best explications of Berkeleyism is to be found in Blackwood's Magazine 
 for June 184:2, where his Idealism is defended with great ability.
 
 ENGLISH POLEMICAL IDEALISM. 143 
 
 True it is, we never can prove the existence of a material world ; 
 but equally true it is, that can never pj-ove its non-existence, or 
 show that such an idea must necessarily involve absurdity ; all we 
 can do is to reduce the question to its several hypotheses, and then 
 accept the one which gives the fullest and most satisfactory ac- 
 count of the phenomena we have to explain. 
 
 That all men practically do, and must believe in some objective 
 reality, presenting the phenomena of matter, is certain ; to deny 
 this would be only to controvert one fundamental idea by argu- 
 ments drawn from another ; in other words, to admit that our in- 
 tellectual nature is in conflict with itself ; so that one primitive 
 dictate of our consciousness being falsified, there could be no shel- 
 ter from a sweeping scepticism when directed against the rest. 
 
 To pursue any lengthened reflections, however, upon Berkeley's 
 idealism — a theory that is so well known, and that has been so 
 thoroughly investigated in the writings of the Scotch metaphy- 
 sicians — is quite uianecessary ; we only request our readers to 
 mark it as the climax of English polemical ideahsm, denying, as it 
 does altogether, one of the three fundamental conceptions of the 
 human reason, and standing forth a lasting evidence of the neces- 
 sity laid upon us to search deeply into the primary elements of our 
 knowledge, lest we should build up our system upon a partial, and 
 consequently a false foundation.* 
 
 From the death of Berkeley down to the present century, the 
 rationalistic method of philosophizing well nigh lay dormant in this 
 country ; or if it did sometimes give some slight symptoms of a 
 revival, they for the most part only appeared in a form too little 
 imposing to carry any weight or attract much attention. Almost 
 the only writer of this school whose works are likely to form a part 
 of our standard philosophy, is Dr. Richard Price. The whole 
 spirit, which this most acute and profound philosopher manifested 
 in his Ethical Disquisitions, was decidedly rationalistic ; indeed, so 
 extensive did he make the peculiar province of reason in the whole 
 economy of man, that he considered it possible, not only for all our 
 
 * Another iilealist of the same age as Berkeley, whose writings arc less known, was 
 Arthur Collier. His work, entitled " Clavis Universalis, being a Demonstration of the 
 Non-Existenee or Impossibility of an External World," was rescued from oblivion and 
 re-edited by Dr. Parr; and has recently been published, with some other articles, in a 
 volume called " Metaphysical Tracts by English Philosophers of the Eighteenth 
 Century." (Lumley, 1837.) Collier appears to have been a solitary thinker, little 
 acquainted with what was passing in the philosophical world. He was acquainted 
 with Malebranche, and probably a personal friend of Norris. But he never quotes 
 Locke, nor seems to have heard that Berkeley, a few years previously, had employed 
 the same arguments with himself, and drawn the same conclusions.
 
 144 MODERN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 moral feelings, but for all our emotions of every kind, to be ulti- 
 mately traced to it as their source. In his controversy with Priest- 
 ley particularly, he showed how strongly he viewed the philosoph- 
 ical aberration of the age, and how earnestly he desired to place 
 moral and metaphysical truth upon its deeper and truer founda- 
 tion.* 
 
 We ought not either to omit the mention of Mr. James Harris, 
 the learned and accomplished author of one of the most beautiful 
 specimens of metaphysical analysis on the theory of Language, 
 which exist in our language — I mean the work entitled " Hermes." 
 Many are the passages which might be quoted from this author, in 
 which he not only disavows the doctrines of sensationalism, but 
 points out the very error in which Locke was so deeply involved 
 in many parts of his analysis. Take the following passage as a 
 specimen. " Though sensible objects," he remarks, " may be the 
 destined medium to awaken the dormant energies of the under- 
 standing, yet are the energies themselves no • more contained in 
 sense than the explosion of a cannon in the spark that gave it 
 
 fire.-''t 
 
 With these and a few other very slight exceptions, the philos- 
 ophy of Locke may be considered to have reigned supreme during 
 the whole of the eighteenth century, and to have drawn in its train 
 all the chief metaphysical thinkers (of whom we may cite Abra- 
 ham Tucker as a fair specimen) to which that age gave origin. 
 Dr. Price died nine years before the commencement of the pres- 
 ent century, so that his name brings us almost to the borders of 
 the period, at which the historical sketch allotted to this chapter 
 is to cease, and reminds us that we have to return to the conti- 
 nent of Europe, in order to seek the first elements of that all-em- 
 bracing idealism, for which Germany has now become celebrated 
 throughout the world 
 
 * Price was a Presbyterian divine (born 1723, and died 1791,) of the highest philo- 
 sophical abilities. His work against Priestley is entitled " Letters on Materialism and 
 Philosophical Necessity," (1778.) In his " Review of the Principal Questions in 
 Morals," the second section of the first chapter is occupied with a general view of the 
 question respecting the origin of our ideas, in which he controverts, with great ability, 
 the doctrine of Lcxike's Es°say, and shows that " the power which understands, or the 
 foculty within us that discerns truth, and that compares all the objects of thought and 
 judges of them, is a ■new spring of ideas." — P. 16. 
 
 t The first edition of the "Hermes" was published in 1751. A second edition, 
 rexdsed and corrected by the author, appeared in 1765. The antisensational views of 
 the author appear particularly in the third book, and in the notes at the end of the 
 volume.
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 145 
 
 Sect. III. — Third Movement — German Idealism. 
 
 We now come to a country in which Idealism may be said to 
 be indigenous, and where it has long borne its maturest fruits. 
 The real source of the German idealisn^ must be sought in the 
 peculiar construction of the German mind ; as this, however, is a 
 point into which we have no right at present to enter, what we 
 shall now attempt is simply to show the circumstances, by which 
 this philosophy was first called forth, and to trace its movements 
 up to the nineteenth century. 
 
 The great era in the philosophical history of Germany, from 
 which all its subsequent speculations may be said to have flowed, 
 was formed by the life and writings of Leibnitz.* Although we 
 possess no systematic development of his opinions, (since he was 
 too much mingled up with all the learning of Europe to devote 
 himself closely to the expansion of any one particular branch,) yet 
 it is not difficult to trace in the occasional, and what we may al- 
 most term fugitive productions of that vast and all-comprehending 
 mind, the fruitful germs of those philosophical principles, which 
 occupy so prominent a place in the metaphysical speculations of 
 the present age. The mind of Leibnitz was cast in a gigantic 
 mould, and formed by nature to tower above the rest of the world 
 around him. By virtue of this it was, that, like all great minds, he 
 cast his shadow before him, and gave more pregnant suggestions 
 in some of his cursory writings, than most other men could do in 
 the combined and systematic labor of their whole life. 
 
 One great advantage which Leibnitz possessed was, that he 
 entered upon the study of philosophy just at the time when he 
 could not only see the ultimate tendency of the Cartesian princi- 
 ples, as shown by Malebranche and Spinoza, but could also com- 
 pare with them the vigorous efforts which Locke had made in the 
 opposite direction. His mind was thus nurtured and expanded in 
 the very heat of the controversy ; and feeling assured as he did 
 that truth and error existed on both sides, he came forward as the 
 mediator between the contending parties, proposing to show, 
 where on either hand mistaken principles had been advocated, 
 and how the controversy might terminate in the discovery of the 
 
 * A handsome edition of all Leibnitz's works, in one volume, has recently appeared 
 in Germany. There is also a Paris edition (1814) of his philosophical writings in two 
 \ volumes, with an introduction by M. Jacques. From this edition the following quota- 
 tions arc taken. 
 
 10
 
 146 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 truth. It will greatly facilitate, therefore, our estimate of this phi- 
 losophy, if we first of all exhibit the chief points in which Leibnitz 
 differed from Locke on the one hand, and Descartes on the other, 
 and thus define the position which he assumed between them both. 
 This position may be easily determined. In opposition to the 
 former, Leibnitz wrote a work entitled "Nouveaux Essais sur 
 I'Entendement Humain," the chief object of which was, to contro- 
 vert Locke's view respecting innate ideas, and to prove the exist- 
 ence of a principle of human knowledge, independent of and su- 
 perior to that which is afforded by the senses. In doing this, he 
 by no means ran into the opposite extreme, which was held by the 
 Cartesians, perceiving as he did most clearly that their doctrine of 
 innate ideas was altogether untenable, and that it had been ex- 
 ploded indeed by the English philosopher ; but while he avoided 
 this error on the one side, he succeeded in seizing upon the very 
 point in which Locke on the other side was most vulnerable. 
 There is nothing in the understanding, says Locke, which did not 
 first pass through the senses, according to the old axiom — " nil est 
 in intellectu quod non fuit prius in sensu." True, replies Leibnitz, 
 but there is the understanding itself, there is the innate faculty of 
 forming ideas, which was altogether overlooked by Locke in his 
 reasoning, and which stands quite independent of sensation.* 
 From the one consideration, then, that the understanding itself is 
 innate, though our ideas are not, he goes on to reason, that there 
 are, both in mathematics and in philosophy, necessary truths, 
 whose certainty does not spring from experience, but which have 
 their foundation originally in the thinking soul. These truths he 
 regarded as the primary sources or elements of human knowl- 
 edge ; so that his starting-point in philosophy was not, as with 
 Locke, the simple unresolvable product of the sensational faculty, 
 but the simple unresolvable product of the understanding. While 
 Locke, therefore, grounded everything ultimately upon experience, 
 and thus formed a system of empiricism, Leibnitz took as his 
 groundwork the necessary laws of the understanding, and conse- 
 quently gave rise to a system of philosophical rationalism. f 
 
 * Book II. chap. i. 
 
 f The " Nouveaux Essais" are written in the form of dialogue, probably after the 
 model of Plato, with whom Leibnitz professes great sympathy at the commencement 
 of the volume. There is first of all an introduction, in which the general distinction 
 between his own views and those of Locke is pointed out. After that the chapters run 
 parallel with Locke's Essay throughout, a separate consideration being afforded to 
 each. The principal points of the argument on innate ideas are stated in the first book 
 and the beginning of the second.
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 147 
 
 Far, however, as the philosophy of Leibnitz differed from that 
 of our great English metaphysician, it stood almost at an equal 
 distance from that of Descartes. It will perhaps be remembered, 
 that the tendency of Cartesianism from the very first was to place 
 in undue prominence the id3a of the infinite or absolute, and to 
 cast proportionally into the shade those of finite nature and finite 
 self. Malebranche went so far as to deny secondary causes alto- 
 gether, thus confining all real activity to the Supreme Being ; 
 while Spinoza completely absorbed all finite existence in the infi- 
 nite, and made everything that is, but a part and a modification 
 of the one unchangeable substance. Leibnitz observing that the 
 inevitable tendency of these principles was entirely to destroy the 
 idea of Cause, to banish all activity from the universe of created 
 things, and make all phenomena but modes of the one infinite and 
 unalterable existence, saw that he must go back, and reconsider 
 the very notion of substance itself, if he would discover the source 
 of the error, and successfully counteract it. The great aim of his 
 philosophy, therefore, was to demonstrate, that all substance is 
 necessarily active. In this way he thought to vindicate for the 
 notion of causality, which the Cartesians had well nigh lost sight 
 of, its legitimate influence. " The capital error of the Cartesians," 
 he remarks, " is, that they have placed the whole essence of matter 
 in extension and impenetrability, imagining that bodies can be in 
 absolute repose : we shall show that one substance cannot receive 
 from any other the power of acting, but that the whole force is 
 pre-existent in itself" This is in fact the key to the whole of 
 Leibnitz's metaphysics, and from this one doctrine, as we shall 
 see, originates every peculiarity by which his system has been 
 distinguished.* 
 
 As the system of Leibnitz is of importance, not so much, indeed, 
 
 * Leibnitz is to be considered as belonging strictly to the Cartesian school, althoutrh 
 he swerved from many of its tenets. His method is lundamentaliy the very sanTe. 
 Like Descartes, he asserted the inadequacy of ail ideas derived from sensation — like 
 him, he advocated a source of truth in the human consciousness — like him, he souThl 
 for the criteria of trutli in the subjective nature of ideas themselves — like him, he 
 rcifarded the process of philosophical investigation under the deductive or geoaictrical 
 form. It was the clear insight which Leibnitz had into the insudicicncy of the Carte- 
 sian idea of substance, that led to his divergence from that school. Sub.^tance bcinnr 
 regarded by the Cartesians as a fixed reality, as the rlsolittc, philosophy was reduceO 
 to a kind of geometrical process, that sought to discover all the possible ntodi it might 
 assume. Leibnitz, warned by the results of Spinozis:n, reasoned through the rigid idea 
 of extension and impenetrability, up to that of force ; and by introducii);; this notion, 
 brought the study of nature to the tbrin of di/namics, instead of leaving it in the tbrm 
 of abstract geometry. The clearest statements of Leibnitz's views are to be found in 
 his fragments on " iMonadology," on '• Nature in HcrscltV' and his '• New System of 
 Nature," all of which, with some other letters on the same subject, are in the Paris 
 edition above quoted.
 
 148 MODERN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 on its own account, as on account of its ulterior results, we shall 
 endeavor to give as clear a view of its principal features as is 
 compatible with the brevity at which, in the whole of this histor- 
 ical sketch, we are aiming. He set out, then, as we have just 
 seen, from the necessary laws of the human understanding, and 
 maintained that all philosophical truth must arise from the analysis 
 of the primary ideas which they involve. To begin with the 
 notions we derive through the senses, would be to base our whole 
 system upon ideas totally confused and inadequate. The only 
 ideas which are adequate to the full expression of the objective 
 reality to which they answer, are the pure a 'priori conceptions of 
 the reason. But, then, how are we to distinguish these ideas from 
 others, and what criteria can we apply, so as to separate the true 
 from the false ? The Cartesian criteria, those of clearness and dis- 
 tinctness, he considered to be imperfect, and proposed in their 
 stead the principle of identity and contradiction as the criterion in 
 necessary matter, and the principle of sufficient I'eason in contin- 
 gent matter. By the first of these principles we are to test all 
 those ideas which arise from the necessary laws of thought, such 
 as the abstract conceptions of pure mathematics ; ideas which, to 
 be false, must contradict our reason itself, and which, to be ab- 
 solutely true, need only to bear upon them the single stamp of pos- 
 sibility. This principle of identity, continues Leibnitz, can serve 
 for the criterion of the true (that is, of what is absolutely and 
 necessarily true), but it cannot lead us to the actual or the real. 
 To discover what ideas are valid, respecting the world of contin- 
 gent existence, we must have recourse to the principle of sufficient 
 reason ; that is, we must see what has the most perfect adaptation 
 to bring about the best results, and then judge of everything by its 
 final cause* So far respecting the criteria of truth : next he pro- 
 ceeds to the consideration of things themselves. 
 
 Descartes and his school had made matter to consist essentially 
 in extension. Now, mere extension would give a world of fixed 
 and unalterable existence ; it would be nature reduced to geomet- 
 rical terms. But this, said Leibnitz is not the true idea of nature. 
 A thousand phenomena are passing around us, a perpetual series 
 of movements and developments take place ; and how are we to 
 account for all these ? Extension alone does not explain them ; 
 there must be some other fundamental attribute of substance, from 
 which these phenomena take their rise. In fact, unless we choose 
 
 * See his " Monadology," p. 397, et seq.
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM, 
 
 149 
 
 to admit that every movement in nature is the direct product of 
 the divine mind, we must attribute to all Substance an inherent 
 power, by which the phenomena of motion are generated. 
 
 But, then, where does this inherent power reside ? It cannot 
 reside in masses, as such, for every essential attribute is indepen- 
 dent of all such combinations. Masses are infinitely divisible; 
 the limit to which even material substance tends, as far as exten- 
 sion is concerned, is zero. Every material property, strictly so 
 called, vanishes ; and we come at last to the simple and immaterial 
 idea of power, as the essential basis of all existence. The simple 
 idea of a force, Leibnitz terms a monad; and, consequently, in- 
 stead of an atomic theory of the universe, we have a system of 
 monadology, based upon the fundamental conception of dynamics.* 
 The monad being indivisible, unextended, immaterial, cannot be 
 exposed to any influences from without ; being indissoluble, it can 
 never perish. Nevertheless, in all monads changes do perpetually 
 take place, of which we are perfectly cognizant, and for which we 
 must assign some sufficient cause. The cause, then, not being ex- 
 ternal, must be internal : that is, all monads must contain an in- 
 ward energy, hy virtue of which they develop themselves spon- 
 taneously. 
 
 We must not suppose, however, that all these monads are alike ; 
 this would imply a contradiction, since no two things can exist, 
 which are in every respect the same, without coinciding with each 
 other, and destroying their respective identity.f Each monad, 
 therefore, has its own inward attributes, according to which its 
 being is developed. Some are in a state of stupor, as those which 
 compose material objects, possessing, it is true, an undeveloped 
 power of perception, but manifesting only what are termed physical 
 qualities ; while others are raised to a complete state of apper- 
 ception or consciousness, forming the souls of men when that 
 consciousness is clear and distinct, but the souls of animals when 
 it is indistinct. God is the absolute, the original monad, from 
 which all the rest have their origin, and the existence of whom we 
 are necessitated by the very laws of our being to admit. These 
 monads, although they have a general connection in the whole 
 economy of the universe, yet have no direct and individual influ- 
 ence upon one another ; on the contrary, they all contain within 
 them the means of their own development, and each one in itself 
 
 ♦ See the Opuscula before mentioned, passhn. 
 
 t This is the principle of the identity of indiscernibles, which Leibnitz raised to the 
 dignity of an axiomatic truth. See " Letters to Clarke," p. 432.
 
 160 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 is a microcosm comprehending a living image of the whole 
 universe. 
 
 This brings us to another doctrine of Leibnitz's philosophy, 
 namely, that of pre-established harmony. The dualism of Des- 
 cartes was now, by the system of monadology, rendered unneces- 
 sary, since mind and matter were reduced to the same essence — 
 the former being represented by conscious, and the latter by un- 
 conscious monads. The principle had long been acknowledged by 
 philosophers, that two substances entirely differing from each other, 
 can have no mutual influence whatever. But the monads which 
 compose material objects, differ, toto genere, from the higher order 
 of monad, which we term mind. It is clear, therefore, that mind 
 and matter can have no influence upon one another, but each must 
 contain the laws of its own development, and fulfil its own purposes, 
 independently of the other. To explain the ground on which this 
 could take place, Leibnitz had recourse to the original constitution 
 of things as perfected by God himself; who, he maintained, has so 
 harmonised all the monads of which the universe consists, that they 
 shall work in complete unison, and bring out at last the great end 
 for which they were intended. This harmony is pre-established, 
 that is to say, God has concerted it beforehand, and constituted it 
 by a unique decree ; all things therefore are pre-formed, and God, 
 who has brought them into existence, has read in them irom all 
 eternity the whole series of their movements, their modifications, 
 their actions. In all and in each everything is produced by virtue 
 of their original nature, which the ^vill of God from being possible, 
 has rendered actual. Hence the harmony between all the parts 
 of matter ; between the future and the past ; between the decrees 
 of God and our foreseen actions ; between nature and grace ; be- 
 tween the reign of efficient and final causes.* 
 
 From these principles very naturally flowed the system of op- 
 timism, which Leibnitz has supported with great ingenuity in his 
 work, entitled " Theodicee," and according to which he shows that 
 God has brought into actual being the best possible order of things. 
 Hence, again, his theory of metaphysical evil, as consisting simply 
 in limitation ; or physical evil, as the result of this limitation ; and of 
 moral evil, as being permitted for the sake of a greater ultimate 
 good. Hence, lastly, his support of the doctrine of philosophical 
 necessity, as being the only kind of liberty which is consistent with 
 the pre-established order of the universe. In the view, therefore, 
 * See M. Jaques' Introduction, p. 43.
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 151 
 
 which Leibnitz took of the innate faculties of the human mind, as 
 opposed to the empiricism of Locke ; in his dynamical theory of 
 matter, making it ultimately homogeneous with spirit ; in his denial 
 of the mutual influence of the soul and the body, thus destroying, 
 to say the least, the necessity of the latter in accounting for our 
 mental phenomena, and in his theory of a universal pre-established 
 harmony ; in all this we see the fruitful seeds of idealism, which only 
 needed to be cast into a congenial soil, to expand into a complete and 
 imposing system. Such a soil Germany afforded, and such a system 
 has now long ceased to be a novelty in the philosophical world.* 
 
 The effect which the writings of Leibnitz produced was felt 
 more or less throughout Europe, but especially in his own country. 
 In Germany he soon numbered many partisans and many opponents, 
 and the disputes which were thus originated upon some of the most 
 fundamental principles of philosophy, (giving, as they did, so great 
 a spur to the cultivation of metaphysical literature,) laid the basis 
 for the future eminence which it there attained. There was one 
 thing, however, which considerably impeded the progress of Leib- 
 nitz's philosophy, namely, its want of a clear, logical, and connected 
 form. This deficiency was supplied by Christian Wolf, who, about 
 the commencement of the eighteenth century, came forth as one 
 of his professed disciples. 
 
 With but little depth and originality, Wolf possessed a clear 
 methodical mind, considerable power of analysis, and an almost 
 incredible industry, by means of which qualifications he brought 
 the principles of his master, left scattered throughout his miscella- 
 neous writings, into a complete systematic form. The doctrine of 
 monads,, however as propounded by Leibnitz, he considerably 
 modified, rejecting altogether the idea, that the lower order of 
 monads have any undeveloped power of perception, and making 
 thus a very decided difference between matter and mind in their 
 real essence. Moreover, instead of viewing the theory of pre- 
 established harmony in its universal bearings, he confined it to 
 the mutual influence of the soul and the body ;t but, with the ex- 
 ception of these alterations, he contented himself with methodizing 
 the philosophy of which he professed to be a disciple, by the strict 
 
 * The Theodicee is perhaps the most remarkable monument of Leibnitz's genius. 
 It ia here that he elucidates the question of the relation between philosophy and faith ; 
 here that he grapples with the great problems respecting the eternal goodness of God, 
 the liberty of man, and the origin of evil. Modern literature, we believe, contains no 
 work in which there is such a remarkable combination of metaphysical genius and 
 universal erudition. 
 
 f Tennemann's " Grundriss," p. 425.
 
 152 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 application of mathematical forms ; and having done this, he offered 
 to the world for the first time a complete encyclopaedia of philo- 
 sophical science. 
 
 As the division of Wolf has been much followed, it may be use- 
 ful to indicate its nature. The whole province of philosophy he 
 divides into two parts, theoretical and practical. The former con- 
 tains logic, properly so called, and metaphysics ; metaphysics being 
 again subsidivided into ontology, psychology, cosmology, and natu- 
 ral theology. The practical side contains — first, ethics, as the foun- 
 dation of moral distinctions ; next, the law of nature, and thirdly, 
 politics. The philosophy of Wolf, by virtue of its order and com- 
 pleteness, obtained great approval, and found its way into most of 
 the German universities, where, for the former half of the eigh- 
 teenth century, it held the pre-eminence over all other systems. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, however, it possessed inherent faults, and 
 contained the sure seeds of a rapid decay. The errors of the 
 Leibnitzian-Wolfian school are summed up by Tennemann in one 
 comprehensive sentence, which I shall quote, as being the judg- 
 ment of a man most competent to give it. " These errors con- 
 sist," he says, " in the fact that Wolf assumed bare thinking as his 
 starting point, overlooked the difference between the formal and 
 the material conditions of thought, considered philosophy as the 
 science of the possible, in so far as it is possible, made the princi- 
 ple of contradiction the highest principle of human knowledge, 
 placed mere ideas and verbal definitions at the very head of all 
 research, made no difference between rational and experimental 
 knowledge, and, though following the geometrical method, neglect- 
 ed to distinguish that which is peculiar to mathematics on the one 
 hand, and philosophy on the other, both in their form and their 
 matter."* That such a philosophy must necessarily tend to a 
 system of formal dogmatism, is a thing at once self-evident ; it 
 was, in fact, the empty pedantry which as such it assumed, that 
 laid the foundation for its overthrow after half a century's brilliant 
 success. 
 
 There were several minor causes that concurred to hasten the 
 downfall of the Wolfian metaphysics. One of the principal of 
 these was the introduction of the philosophy of Locke, chiefly 
 through the influence of the French literati who frequented the 
 court of Frederick the Great — a philosophy which presented a 
 highly favorable contrast to the empty definitions and verbal ab- 
 * Tennemann's " Grundriss," p. 425-6.
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 153 
 
 stractions by which the Wolfian system was characterized. The 
 popularity which was aimed at by these disciples of the English 
 philosopher greatly aided the propagation of their principles, and 
 there arose from the struggles of the two systems a species of 
 eclecticism, which, while it hovered between the different schools 
 mingling together often the most discordant elements, favored a 
 shallow and flimsy elegance rather than a scientific depth and ac- 
 curacy. In the midst of this confusion, scepticism, as might be 
 expected, also made its appearance ; and the celebrated divine 
 M. de Beausobre, whom we may regard as its best representative, 
 wrote an ingenious work, in which he advocated almost an undis- 
 guised Pyrrhonism, and made the Wolfian philosophy an especial 
 object of his attack and ridicule. It was just at this time, while 
 dogmatism, eclecticism, and scepticism were thus mingling all 
 philosophical principles together in confusion, and beginning to 
 render the whole science an object of contempt, that one of the 
 greatest thinkers which any age ever produced came forward, 
 boldly essaying to introduce a new spirit into the degenerate phi- 
 losophy of his day, and to place upon an entirely new ground the 
 whole method of metaphysical investigation. It is needless to say 
 that I refer to Immanuel Kant, the great author of the " Critical 
 Philosophy." 
 
 In giving an account of the labors of Kant, I have had some 
 difficulty to determine whether I should employ his strange uncouth 
 phraseology, and endeavor to explain it by defining the terms as 
 they occur, or whether I should endeavor to strip the thoughts of 
 their ungainly dress, and present them to the reader in a more sim- 
 ple and intelligible form. The latter mode appears to me, upon the 
 whole, more suited to a brief sketch like the present; and to assist 
 the reader who may wish to pursue his investigations further, I 
 shall indicate parenthetically here and there the Kantian expression 
 for some of the more important ideas.* 
 
 It is a fact worthy of observation, that Kant, although he came 
 from the Leibnitzian-Wolfian school, yet started on the same prin- 
 ciple, and with the same object before him, as Locke did. Locke's 
 avowed purpose was to investigate the powers and limits of the 
 human understanding ; the purpose of the Critical jihilosophy, as 
 its name imports, was substantially the very same, that is, to search 
 
 • A translation of the " Krilik rcincr Vcrnunft," tolerably complete, was published 
 in 1838, (London, W. Pickering,) which edition wc shall quote in the following pages 
 on Kant. The F.nglish reader who wishes to look further into that extraordinary 
 production, will thus be able to follow our remarks, and verify them without difficulty.
 
 154 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 into the true origin of our ideas, and to define the proper bounda- 
 ries of human knowledge. In a word, Kant sought to correct and 
 to complete whatever he considered deficient or mistaken in 
 Locke's previous researches. Both these great men, therefore, on 
 one, and that a fundamental point, thought exactly alike ; they 
 thought, namely, that it was worse than useless to set up a deter- 
 minate or dogmatical system of philosophy, before the mind itself 
 was properly examined, its faculties criticized, its capacities deter- 
 mined, and the possibility of metaphysical science generally clearly 
 proved. (This is termed by Kant, Kritik ; whence the term 
 critical philosophy.)* 
 
 To this course Kant appears to have been incited by the scep- 
 tical writings of Hume, which he clearly saw would undermine the 
 whole mass of human knowledge, unless a deeper and sounder 
 foundation were laid for it, than the empiricism of the sensation- 
 alist school afforded. To lay this foundation was the direct object 
 of the " Critick of Pure Reason," (Kritik reiner Vernunft,) in which 
 Kant's speculative principles are fully developed. The nature of 
 this Critick is stated by the author himself as follows : — " Reason is 
 the faculty which furnishes the principles of cognition (knowing) 
 a priori. Therefore, pure reason is that which contains the prin- 
 ciples of knowing something absolutely a priori. An organon of 
 pure reason would be a complex of these principles, according to 
 which all pure cognitions a priori can be obtained, and really ac- 
 complished. The extended application of such an organon would 
 furnish a system of pure reason. As this, however, is to demand 
 very much, and it is yet uncertain whether in general here an ex- 
 tension of our cognition is possible, and in what cases, we may, 
 therefore, regard a science of the mere investigation of pure reason, 
 its sources and bounds, as the Propadeutic to a system of pure 
 Reason. Such must not be a doctrine, but must only be termed a 
 Critick of pure Reason, and its utility would, in respect of specula- 
 tion, really only be negative, serving not for the augmentation, but 
 only for the purifying of our reason, and holding it free from ' ; 
 
 errors."! ij 
 
 What, then, is required (for such is the primary question to be ■ 
 
 answered) in order to come to a clear understanding respecting 
 the nature and certainty of our knowledge ? That we have a con- 
 sciousness, and that thoughts, perceptions, notions (whatever be 
 
 * See "Critick of Pure Reason." Introduction, sections 3 and 7. 
 •f Grit, of Pure Reas. Introd. sec. 7. 
 
 i 
 
 I
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 155 
 
 the name by which we choose to designate such phenomena), exist 
 there, it were mere folly and useless verbiage to express a doubt. 
 From these phenomena all our knowledge must be derived, and 
 therefore to inquire into the elements and origin of knowledge, is 
 to inquire into the elements and origin of the facts of our con- 
 sciousness. Now, let us take any ordinary commonplace fact, 
 such as this: — " That picture was painted by some ctever artist." 
 What, we may ask, is included in such an assertion ? First, we 
 have the perception of the particular picture before us ; then we 
 have the idea of some clever painter ; and, lastly, we attribute the 
 one to the operation of the other. But it is clear that these par- 
 ticular ideas rest upon general ones lying beneath them. Why 
 does the picture infallibly suggest an artist — why do we name him 
 clever, and on what ground do we so confidently assert that the 
 picture was painted by him ? Clearly because we must attribute 
 every effect to a cause, and to a cause that is fully equal to its 
 production. In every proposition, therefore, of this nature, how- 
 ever trite and commonplace it be, there are two elements — a par- 
 ticular and a general one. The particular one gives the matter of 
 the proposition, the general one gives the form ; the former is a 
 purely objective element, the latter is as purely subjective. To dis- 
 tinguish these two elements of experience! still further, we may try 
 to assign their respective origin. The former of the two evidently 
 comes from the world ivithout ; for were the picture not there, the 
 whole proposition would never have originated. The latter ele- 
 ment as surely arises from the constitution of the mind itself, when 
 incited to action by the outward stimulus. The one, therefore, 
 may be termed empirical, or a posteriori, coming simply from ex- 
 perience ; the other may be termed rational, or a priori, coming it 
 is true with experience, but not from it. 
 
 These, then, being the two elements of knowledge, it is of some 
 importance to find the real test by which they are distinguished 
 from each other. Empirical perceptions are contingent, uncertain, 
 fluctuating, — they may be in the mind, or they may not. Every 
 fresh scene in which we are placed completely alters the sensations, 
 and ihe particular sensational judgments of which we are conscious. 
 On the contrary, our a priori judgments are steady, abiding, un- 
 alterable ; they appear alike in all men, and are infaUibhj excited 
 by the stimulus of the senses upon the mind. The criteria, then, 
 of these a priori conceptions, are universality and necessity ; what- 
 ever judgments are formed by all men, and formed of necessity
 
 156 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 under similar circumstances, we regard as arising at once from the 
 subjective laws of the human reason.* 
 
 What we require, therefore, as a first step to real and absolute 
 knowledge, is a science which shall investigate all these fixed 
 phenomena of our consciousness, and by that means seek to deter- 
 mine the value and extent of our a ■priori intuitions. Upon the 
 possibility, and the validity of these, the possibility and value of 
 scientific knowledge must depend. If we can attain no further 
 than to the knowledge of particular and transient phenomena, all 
 philosophy is out of the question ; the very first condition of its 
 existence arises from the possession of universal and necessary 
 ideas, and its only safe procedure is to ground our conclusions 
 upon an accurate critick of their nature and significancy.f We 
 must see, therefore, how it is that Kant proposes to institute such 
 an investigation. 
 
 If we look closely, he tells us, at our a priori notions — those 
 which are distinguished, as we said, from mere empirical ones by 
 the double criteria of universality and necessity, we find that they 
 are of two different kinds, originating in two different methods 
 which we possess of framing our judgments. First, a judgment 
 may be simply a declaration of something necessarily belonging to 
 a given notion, as, for example, that every triangle has three sides. 
 (Analytic judgments.) In this case, the predicate is declared of 
 the subject by virtue of an identity in the terms of the question ; 
 here to suppose the judgment not true would imply an absolute 
 contradiction, since that judgment is in fact nothing but an analy- 
 sis of the contents of the notion. But, secondly, a judgment may 
 be a declaration of something which does not actually belong to a 
 notion, but which our minds are led by some kind of evidence or 
 other to attribute to it. (Synthetic judgments.) In this case there 
 is no identity between the subject and the predicate, but the latter 
 expresses something respecting the former which, instead of being 
 a mere analysis of its meaning, indicates an actual increase of our 
 knowledge concerning it, on which account such judgments were 
 termed by Kant amplijicatory, as adding something to our former 
 ideas on the question. 
 
 These synthetic judgments maybe either aposteriori or a priori 
 ones. Of the former kind are all those which rest upon our actual 
 experience, all those decisions in everyday life which are made in 
 
 * On these distinctions consult Cousin's " Le9ons sur la Philosophic de Kant," Le- 
 9on iii. 
 
 t Crit. of Pure Reas. Introd. sec. 3. 
 
 J
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 157 
 
 pursuance of the evidence of our senses. If I say " all rnen are 
 mortal," there is no identity here between the subject and predi- 
 cate, but I attribute mortality to man because experience assures 
 me of the fact being true. It is with synthetic judgments a priori, 
 however, that philosophy has chiefly to do, and which consequently 
 require a more particular explanation. 
 
 Let us select an instance or two, by way of example. First, 
 take the proposition, Every quality exists in some substance. 
 Here we have a synthetic judgment, because substance expresses 
 something not identical with quality, but it is also a priori, because 
 the evidence of it is not empirical but purely rational. Again, to 
 take another instance, when I say that every effect has a cause, I 
 merely attribute to an effect what is implied in its definition, as be- 
 ing the latter of two given events ; in fact, I do nothing more than 
 analyze the notion. But when I say that every effect implies the 
 notion of power, or that every event has an efficient cause, I do 
 more than analyze the expression, I attribute altogether a fresh no- 
 tion to it, and perform a judgment by which my knowledge is ex- 
 tended. Hume's notion of cause and eflect, therefore, is simply an 
 analytic judgment ; it expresses only precedence and consequence ; 
 the opposed and true notion, which implies power as the connect- 
 ing link, is a synthetic judgment. 
 
 Both analytic and synthetic judgments a priori are found in all 
 the pure sciences, and form indeed the very principles upon which 
 such sciences are pursued. The axioms, for instance, which stand 
 at the head of mathematical reasoning are all judgments of one or 
 other of these kinds. Thus, when I say, that " the whole is greater 
 than a part," I merely analyze the expressions, and add nothing to 
 my knowledge beyond what was already contained in them ; but 
 when I say, that " if a straight line meeting two other straight lines 
 make the interior angles less than twO right angles, those two lines 
 shall meet when produced," I add something to my knowledge be- 
 yond the mere definition of the terms ; and I feel perfectly sure of 
 the truth, nay, the necessity of the judgment, though it is perhaps 
 impossible to afford any direct demonstration of it. Many other 
 synthetic judgments of this nature might be enumerated, such as the 
 following : God exists, — the laws of nature are constant, — all phe- 
 nomena imply a subject, &c. ; but those which we have adduced, 
 we trust, are enough for illustration.* 
 
 * On the distinction between analytic and synthetic judgments, see Critick of Pure 
 lleas. Introd. sees. 4, 5.
 
 158 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Now the question is, how do we come to such conclusions as 
 these, which we* feel to be real and undoubted truth, and which 
 nevertheless rest upon no demonstration whatever ? If I am ne- 
 cessitated to admit them as soon as they are presented to me, it 
 must be because the mind is so constituted that it cannot think 
 otherwise ; unless indeed we hold the Platonic theory, that we are 
 merely remembering what we had learned in some former life. 
 Here then we get to the real problem that we wish to see solved — 
 how are synthetical judgments a priori possible, how do they orig- 
 inate, and what certainty is there in the knowledge which they 
 afford us ? This is the fundamental question upon which the very 
 possibility of a true science of metaphysics rests, nay, by which the 
 validity of all our necessary and universal ideas in every science is 
 to be tried.* Hume referred all these judgments to experience, 
 making our ideas of causation, our confidence in the uniformity of 
 nature, and so forth, merely the effects of habit or association ; and 
 by that means he struck at the root of all necessary truth. Reid 
 and his school contravened the conclusions of Hume by bringing 
 to their help the principle of '* common sense," and pointing out 
 certain indestructible beliefs, which we must hold, and that too 
 quite independently of any experience whatever. Kant's object 
 was to look still further into our intellectual being, and to discover 
 the primary laws themselves upon which all these beliefs rest. 
 
 In doing this, it struck him, that philosophers had begun at the 
 wrong end in analyzing the human understanding ; that they had 
 all begun, namely, by inquiring what are the objects of our knowl- 
 edge, and then had made truth to consist in the conformity between 
 the objective reality and the subjective state. May it not be, 
 thought the great philosopher, that many of those things which we 
 usually attribute to objective reality, are really the effect of our 
 own subjective laws ? may it not be that the very qualities which 
 we refer to external objects are infused into them by the mind 
 itself? in brief, may not the forms of thought which logic gives us 
 with such an admirable precision, be the very principles by which 
 the mind is guided in obtaining perceptions of external things, by 
 which it moulds the crude material of the senses into knowledge, 
 and by which it unites together all our perceptive notions into a 
 complete system of experimental truth ? If this be really the case, 
 thought Kant, we shall be able to see much farther into the con- 
 stitution of the human mind than was ever seen before, and lay a 
 * Critick of Pure Reas. Introd. sec. 6.
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 159 
 
 much more solid foundation for the certainty of human knowledge, 
 than had ever been accomplished by any previous philosophy. To 
 solve this problem, then, is the great aim of Kant's united criticism 
 of the sensitive faculty, the understanding, and the reason ; and by 
 this solution, he thought to lay a sure basis for the whole super- 
 structure of pure and abstract truth.* 
 
 The first thing, then, to be done in this criticism was to deter- 
 mine the proper nature of the sensitive faculty by submitting it to 
 the scrutiny of our reason, to show what there is empirical and 
 what abiding and unchangeable in it as the necessary condition of 
 all perception, and in this way to find out exactly what is con- 
 tributed by it to the formation of our universal notions. (Tran- 
 scendental iEsthetic.)t In doing this, Kant took for granted, as a 
 thing lying altogether beyond the region of proof, the reality of our 
 sense-perceptions. The capacity of our being aftected by the ob- 
 jects of sense, just as is the case in Locke's philosophy, he never 
 questioned, but considered it as a thing self-evident, that the mat- 
 ter of our notions must be furnished from sensation, inasmuch as 
 our other and higher faculties are simply formal or regulative, and 
 therefore not adapted to supply the material for any conception 
 whatever. J But then the great point to be investigated was this, 
 — what is it in our perceptions on the one hand that must be 
 attributed simply to experience, or that comes from the thing itself; 
 and what, on the other, that is of a purely a priori character oxW\- 
 nating in the necessary laws of our constitution ? 
 
 To find this we must apply the criteria of universality and ne- 
 cessity as the true tests of what is a priori in its nature ; and the 
 result is, that there are just two ideas which are necessarily and 
 universally attached to every perception, namely, time and space. 
 The moment we experience any perception we must place it in a 
 given time, and in a given space ; so that these two fundamental 
 notions are the necessary forms of all sensation, and pre-exist in 
 the soul as the laws or conditions of its verv possil)iHtv.§ This 
 
 ♦ " Crit. of Pure Rcas." preface to iho second edition. 
 
 ■f " In Transcendental .'Ksthctie, we sliull lirst isolate sensilulity, so that we separate 
 cverythin<f which the iindcrstandinfj by ni<'ans of its conciptions therein I'.in'.f, so that 
 notliin;! hut f inpirical intuition remains. .Secondly, we shall fiirtlur separate from this 
 last, everything which hclouiis to sensation, so that nothini; hut |)ure intuition, and the 
 mere form of phenomena, may remain, which is the only tiling tliat sensibility can fur- 
 nish a priori." — Sec Crit. of Pure Reus. Trans. .Esth. Part I. 
 
 ■^ " Hy means of sensibility, objects arc given to us, and it a.'oyf furnishes us with in- 
 tuitions'."— Trans. .'Esth. Part I. * 
 
 ^ In the first and second sections of the " Trans. .Esth." Kant develops his theory 
 of s^)ace and time at considerable len;;th, answering objections, and drawincr his con- 
 clusions from it with great distinctness.
 
 IGO MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 being the case, every quality in an object that impHes time and 
 space must also be a priori and subjective. Thus magnitude, ex- 
 tension, duration, in a word, all those which have been considered 
 primary qualities of matter, inasmuch as they are hut different modi- 
 fications of time and space, are entirely subjective, and are only 
 attributed to objects by virtue of the necessary forms of our own 
 understanding. Abstract, therefore, from the material world, all 
 these, its time-and-space qualities, and the remainder alone is due 
 to experience, — a remainder which includes nothing but the bare 
 fact of their actual existence. The outward world thus stands to 
 us in the same relation as the little objects within a kaleidoscope do 
 to the eye.* As we turn the instrument round, they assume all 
 kinds of shapes and positions, which positions, however, do not 
 depend upon the objects that are in it, but upon the construction 
 of the glasses by which they are reflected. That there are objects 
 actually present, is a truth that comes at once from those objects 
 themselves, for without their presence the kaleidoscope would offer 
 no phenomena at all to our view ; but all the variations of them 
 depend upon the instrument through which they are seen. Now 
 the human understanding, says Kant, is such an instrument ; the 
 eye that gazes through it is sensation, and the world of phenomena 
 consists of such objects. The fact that they do really exist comes 
 from themselves, and is known"*'by the direct intuition of the senses ; 
 but all the different forms and aspects they assume are produced 
 by our own subjective faculties or laws of thought. Thus the now 
 and the /iere of an object form the actual matter of our perceptions 
 as derived from experience, while everything else connected with 
 it, everything that comes under the idea of its form, is purely sub- 
 jective, and derived consequently from ourselves. 
 
 The nature of the sensitive faculty is thus fully determined. Its 
 province is to give us phenomena as the bare, unshaped, undeter- 
 mined matter of our notions, and to fix the two different forms 
 under which that matter shall be viewed, namely, those of time 
 and space ; but whether the matter of our notions, as thus per- 
 ceived, be in the ordinary sense of the term material, or whether 
 it be not, is left by this faculty quite undetermined.f The final 
 conclusion, then, which we are directed to draw from this part of 
 the criticism is, that we can never penetrate beyond phenomena 
 
 * For this striking illustration I am indebted to Chalybaus in his " Entwicklung 
 Speculativer Philosophic," where an admirable lecture is devoted to the philosophy of 
 Kant. See Lect. II. 
 
 •f Trans, .ffisth., sec 2. See Kant's " General Observations" at the close.
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 161 
 
 into the real essential nature of things, our knowledge of them 
 being relative to the constitution of our own faculties ; that, there- 
 fore, there is no ontology possible, and, strictly speaking, no meta- 
 physics. Moreover, as to our synthetic judgments, a priori, it is 
 evident that they will hold good within the bounds of actual expe- 
 rience, but that they are by no means applicable to those thino-s 
 which cannot be made objects of direct perception ; for, were this the 
 case, the sensitive faculty would not be the sole source from whence 
 the matter of our knowledge is derived. On these grounds, there- 
 fore, we may have a valid science of natural philosophy, because 
 the objects of it are grasped by the senses ; and we may also have 
 a valid science of pure mathematics, because all the relations of 
 number and space, about which it is conversant, can be submitted 
 to the direct intuition of sense (e. g. by diagrams), as though they 
 were objective realities ; but on the very same grounds it is equally 
 impossible to claim objective reality for any purely metaphysical 
 ideas, lying, as they do, entirely beyond the boundaries of all our 
 experience.* 
 
 Such, then, is the contribution which our sensitive faculty brings 
 to the attainment of real and definite knowledge. But, that we 
 may trace the process further, we must proceed to the considera- 
 tion of a second and a higher faculty, that of understanding, the 
 faculty to which we have just referred, as giving form and figure 
 to the material furnished by sensation. (Transcendental Ana- 
 lytick.) Sensation alone could never frame a notion, inasmuch as 
 it consists only of bare feelings, which are altogether passive, and, 
 as far as knowledge is concerned, are blind and dead. Were we 
 endowed only with this capacity, our minds would ever be in a 
 chaotic state, with the elements of knowledge all mixed up there 
 in confusion, but not a single thought isolated, shaped, and made 
 the separate object of attention. The office, then, of givino- form 
 and distinctness to the material aflEbrded by sensation is committed 
 to the understanding. f (Ver stand.) 
 
 Kant was led to the consideration of the necessary forms of our 
 understanding, by the conclusions of Hume respecting causation. 
 Hume affirmed that our idea of cause and effect is derived simply 
 from experience, and, therefore, cannot be in its nature certain 
 
 * See " Conclusion to Trans. ^Esth." 
 
 t See Transcendental Logic, paragraph 1. "Intuition and conceptions form the 
 elements of all our knowing; so that neither conceptions without an intuition, in some 
 way corresponding to them, nor intuition without conceptions, could produce cotrni- 
 tion." 
 
 11
 
 162 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and invariable. In opposition to this, Kant contended that it was 
 a universal, a necessary, and an a priori notion, which could not 
 be derived from experience at all, but must be a fixed relation 
 grounded in the very constitution of our minds, and whether ab- 
 solutely true or not, must be true to man as long as his under- 
 standing remains as it is. 
 
 Kant perceived, however, that there are other fixed relations in 
 the mind of man besides that of causality ; he perceived, for in- 
 stance, that when we contemplate the phenomena afforded by sen- 
 sation, the understanding views them according to their quantity, 
 their quality, their mode of existence and so forth, as well as their 
 causal dependence ; and he considered it of the first importance to 
 discover the actual number of these fixed relations, inasmuch as 
 we might learn by this means what the forms or laws of our under- 
 standing really are. If the direct intuition of the sensitive faculty 
 gives us the elements of our knowledge, and we can find all the 
 different modes in which the understanding shapes those elements 
 into distinct conceptions, then, it is clear, we shall have before us 
 a complete classification of all our notions, and form a table of 
 categories upon sounder and more correct principles than those 
 on which Aristotle's were founded.* 
 
 Now, to determine these laws, we must observe all the different 
 methods of judging, that is, of comparing the relations which ex- 
 ist between a subject and a predicate. To discover these is the 
 direct office of logic, which shows us that there are four different 
 connections capable of subsisting between the subject and predicate 
 in any proposition.! First, the predicate may express something 
 referring to the quantity of the subject ; secondly, to the quality ; 
 thirdly, to the relation ; and fourthly, to the modality', or mode of 
 its existence. Each of these four head-categories, again, contains 
 three subordinate ones : for if we consider the quantity of any 
 object, we may regard it as a unity, plurality, or totality. If we 
 consider the quality, we may predicate of it agreement, disagree- 
 ment, or partial agreement ; that is, we may regard it under the 
 ideas of affirmation, or negation, or limitation. If, again, we con- 
 sider the relations of an object, we may regard its internal rela- 
 tions, its dependence, or its external connection ; which give us the 
 
 categories of substance, causality, and reciprocity, (Wechselwir- 
 
 \ 
 
 * Transcendental Logic, sec. 3, par. x. 
 
 ■j- The process of Logic in determining the difTerent forms of judgment, is regarded by 9^\ 
 Kant as " Ihc clue to the discovenj of all pure conceptions of the understanding.^' 
 
 il
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 163 
 
 kung ;) or lastly, if we consider its m^de of existence, we may- 
 predicate of it possibilitT/, actuality, and necessity.* 
 
 These, then, are the laws with which reason has furnished the 
 understanding for framing its notions. As soon as intuition o-ives 
 us phenomena, this our active and constructive faculty examines 
 them with respect to the four general heads we have mentioned, 
 and requires under each head one out of the three possible an- 
 swers that might be returned. When this is accomplished, the 
 notion is put into shape ; its quantity, quality, relation, and mode 
 of existence are definitely fixed. 
 
 We have thus shown the province of the sensitive faculty as 
 affording the matter of a notion, and the province of the under- 
 standing as aflxjrding the form ; but then we might ask, — How do 
 these two faculties communicate, and how is the understanding 
 justified in applying its subjective laws to objective or sensible 
 phenomena? This is effected by a mediating representation, 
 which has such an affinity to the matter on the one hand, and the 
 form on the other, that by virtue of its intervention the formal no- 
 tion and the outward phenomenon become united. This mediat- 
 ing representation is time, which Kant calls the schema of our 
 notions, and by the aid of which we regard the abstract forms of 
 the understanding as having relation to something objective, con- 
 crete, and actually present. f 
 
 The schema of a iwtion must be very carefully distinguished 
 from a mere image or conception. Thus, I may have an image 
 or conception of a particular triangle, but the schema of a trian- 
 gle is the general type, to which every triangle is alike referred. 
 The schemci of every kind of ball is a sphere, that of every possi- 
 ble quantity is number : and so in like manner every notion has a 
 mediating representation or type by which the general category is 
 applied to the particular object. The schema, as we just hinted, 
 is the general category viewed in relation to time ; thus the schema 
 of all things implying quantity is nmnbcr, i. e. a representation 
 comprehending the successive addition of one to one — a series in 
 time. The schemata of quality are reality, (time filled.) negation, 
 (vacuum in time,) and limitation, (the transition from one to the 
 other.) And so also in the other cases ; so soon as any abstract 
 category, by the union of the notion of time, is rendered applica- 
 
 * Trans. Logic, sec. ii. par. ix., and sec. iii. par. x. and xi. See al.so the doctrine of 
 the Kantian categories very clearly stated by Cousin in his " Lemons sur la Phil, do 
 Kant," le(;on v. 
 
 ■f Analytick of Principles," chap. i. p. 133.
 
 164 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ble to a diversity of objects, the schema of all the objects, which 
 are referrible to that category, at once becomes apparent. The 
 process of schematizing our notions, Kant shows, is performed by 
 the imagination ; only instead of forming a conception or image 
 of some actual object, it here only reflects the general procedure, 
 by which the abstract idea of such objects is arrived at.* The 
 whole process, therefore, by which we form a general notion, 
 is now complete ; we have the matter from sensation ; the form 
 from the understanding ; and then the two are united by the inter- 
 vention of the mediating schema of time, so as to make the ab- 
 stract category applicable to the actual phenomena of our sensitive 
 life. 
 
 Having thus fully developed the process of the formation of 
 ideas, Kant proceeds to analyze the principles, by which the judg- 
 ment operates in the attainment of truth. It was before shown 
 that judgments are of two kinds, analytic and synthetic. The 
 principle of all analytic judgments, (which have simply to pro- 
 nounce upon the identity, or non-identity, of the subject and pred- 
 icate,) is that of contradiction, as held by Leibnitz. f With 
 regard to synthetic judgments, in which there is an actual increase 
 of our knowledge, the case is different. There are certain princi- 
 ples or laws by which we make an objective use of all the catego- 
 ries, and judge of everything in nature by the light which they 
 give us. First, by means of the category of quantity, we regard 
 everything without as under the attribute of extension. That all 
 body is extended, is an a priori judgment, which we pronounce as 
 the result of the first category above enumerated. Secondly, from 
 the category of quality arises the judgment that every sensa- 
 tion must have some degree of intensity — that we may regard all 
 phenomena as continuous quantities, each possessing an infinite 
 number of degrees between itself and nothing. This is termed the 
 anticipation (nQolrjcpig) of experience. The third category (that of 
 relation) gives rise to the " axioms of relation," or analogies of ex- 
 perience ; namely, «. that in all phenomena there is something 
 durable, ^. that every event must have a cause, and y. that all co- 
 existent phenomena must have a community or reciprocity be- 
 tween themselves. Lastly, the category of modality gives rise to 
 the postulates of experience, which are these : «. That which 
 agrees with the formal conditions of experience is possible. 
 
 * " Analytick of Principles," chap. i. p. 135. 
 f " Analytick of Principles," First Div. p. 144.
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 165 
 
 (?. That which accords with the material conditions of experience 
 is real. y. Whatever is connected with the actual by the general 
 conditions of experience necessarily exists. If the reader will 
 carefully compare these principles with the subdivisions of the four 
 , head-categories, he will see how in each instance the a priori judg- 
 ment is connected with and springs from the corresponding a priori 
 idea. Never perhaps was there a more profound attempt made at 
 grounding the primary laws of human belief, or, as they are termed 
 by the Scottish School, the principles of common sense, upon the 
 ultimate constitution of the human mind, as reflected in the for- 
 mal rules of logical thinking.* 
 
 The results of the whole doctrine of the understanding can now 
 be distinctly seen. The judgments which arise from the two 
 former categories are termed by Kant, mathematical judgments ; 
 they refer to the abstract relations of space in the forms of exten- 
 sion and of divisibility, and render a pure science of mathematics 
 possible and valid. The two latter categories give rise to what are 
 termed dynamical judgments ; they refer not to the primary attri- 
 butes of objects viewed a priori, but to the principles of existence 
 generally, as given in experience. On these laws reposes the truth 
 of all physical science ; nay, as experience is only possible through 
 them, the principles of nature, objectively considered, must abso- 
 lutely correspond with those of the human mind. The more gene- 
 ral results of the whole are these : First, that the truth of a notion 
 does not consist, as Locke affirms, in the conformity of our idea 
 of it with the outward reality, but upon the validity or trustworth- 
 iness of our subjective laws. If my conception of an outward 
 object, such as a tree or a mountain, be constructed formally by 
 the subjective principles of my intelligence, then, for the truth of 
 that conception, we must simply appeal to the validity of the prin- 
 ciples in question. Secondly, it follows that our real knowledge 
 cannot go beyond the limits of experience, since the understand- 
 ing is merely Vi formal or constructive faculty, and plunges us into 
 error and confusion the moment we make it the test of any objec- 
 tive reality. f Such is the result of the transcendental logic ; we 
 must now proceed to the province of pure reason, and learn what 
 
 ♦ " Analytick of principles," sec. iii. The deduction of tiie above principles from the 
 
 categories, is <riven by Kiuit at j^reat length, forming one of the most profound chapters 
 
 in the whole of tlie ■• Critiek of Pure Reason.'' 
 
 S^ f See Appcndi.x to the " Trans. Logic," in which Kant shows the Amphibohj, whicli 
 
 arises from changing the cxperimcjital use of the understanding for the transcendental.
 
 166 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 further conclusions can be drawn from the Transcendental Dia- 
 lectick. 
 
 Pure reason is the highest faculty in man, because it is that 
 which regulates the rest, and which seeks to bring unity and con- 
 nection into all the results of the understanding. The under- 
 standing can only form a judgment, but reason can combine two 
 judgments by a middle term, and draw from them a general con- 
 clusion. The constant aim of the reasoning faculty is evidently 
 to generalize, and by that means to strive after absolute unity. If 
 I say, man is immortal, I pass a simple judgment upon him. But 
 my reason prompts me to ask why this judgment is correct ; and 
 to answer such inquiry, it constructs an argument or syllogism of 
 this kind : All spirit is immortal — man is a spirit — therefore man 
 is immortal ; in which argument we have grounded our first judg- 
 ment (that man is mortal), upon a higher and more general prin- 
 ciple, the immortality of spirit. This process, if carried on, aims, 
 it is evident, at the final, the absolute, the unconditional, in hu- 
 man knowledge, every fresh generalization leading us nearer to the 
 fundamental unity at which we aim.* 
 
 To find out the forms of our reasoning faculty, we must proceed 
 in the same way as we did with the understanding — that is, we 
 must consult the science of logic, and see in how many ways we may 
 combine our judgments into a conclusion. Now logic points out 
 to us three modes by which this may be accomplished ; for we can 
 employ for this purpose the categorical syllogism, the hypothetical, 
 or the disjunctive, all three of which, it will be observed, seek the 
 same end by different methods. In the categorical, we seek to 
 generalize by means of the relation of substance and accident, at 
 each step rejecting some of the accidents, and attaining a more 
 universal subject. In the hypothetical, we generalize by means of 
 the relation of ground and consequence indicated by our always 
 employing the form " if." And, lastly, in the disjunctive we gen- 
 eralize by the relation of parts and a whole. In the first case we 
 proceed forwards till we arrive at the absolute subject, which is 
 the soul; in the second, we seek the absolute union and depend- 
 ence of every single thing in a whole, that is, the universe — the 
 totahty of all phenomena ; and in the third case, we seek the ab- 
 solute idea of all possibility, namely, the all-perfect Being, who 
 possesses every possible perfection, and excludes every possible 
 negation.! 
 
 * Trans. Dialectick. Introduction, par. ii. 
 f Trans. Dialectick. Book I. sec. 2.
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 167 
 
 That which results from the exercise of our understanding, as 
 we have before explained it, Kant calls notions (Begriffe), but that 
 \vhich results from the exercise of the reason he terms ideas {Ideen 
 or Noumena), and it was the clear apprehension of the diiference 
 between these two, which Kant considered as one of the greatest 
 services he had rendered to philossphy. Notions are derived pri- 
 marily from experience ; and, as they draw their matter from sen- 
 sation, can always be traced back to a fundamental reality ; they 
 are within the limits of our real perceptive knowledge, and there- 
 fore may be ever employed in the construction of a true science. 
 Mathematics, for example, will evidently form a true science, be- 
 cause all the relations of number and space can be schematized 
 and viewed by a direct perception ; and physics, too, will form a 
 true science, because the objects of it likewise are known percep- 
 tively ; but the case is altogether different when we pass from the 
 region of notions to that of ideas. Ideas have not their basis in 
 perception — they are the pure creations of the reason ; they repre- 
 sent its perpetual struggle after unity, and can never be supposed 
 real without giving rise to perpetual absurdity and contradiction. 
 In fact, the forms and categories of the pure reason are only in- 
 tended to regulate the use of the understanding, and enable it to 
 generalize its judgments ; never can they be allowed to make good 
 any kind of objective knowledge whatever. 
 
 Nothwithstanding this, however, pure reason by virtue of its 
 constitution ever aims at the realization of our supersensual ideas, 
 and strives to make them the signs of actually existing objects, 
 thus giving rise to a science of pure metaphysics under the three 
 corresponding heads of PsycJiology, or the doctrine of the soul ; 
 of Cosmology, or the doctrine of the universe ; and of Theology, or 
 the doctrine respecting God. 
 
 Kant admits that our reason is so constituted that we cannot 
 but form the idea of a thinking subject, the unity of all subjective 
 phenomena ; and hence the force of the Cartesian principle, 
 " Coffito ergo sum." He admits, in like manner, that we must 
 ground all external appearances in a real substance, and thus form 
 the conception of the universe. And, finally, he allows that we 
 inevitably trace all conditions of existence up to the supreme con- 
 dition, the "ens realissimum," and thus attain to the idea of a God. 
 Nay, he affirms that this procedure of the pure reason is so natural 
 and inevitable, that nothing will ever prevent its being perpetually 
 reproduced ; but notwithstanding all this, he undertakes to show
 
 168 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 that these great ideas, to which the reason ever points, can have 
 only a subjective validity, and that the three corresponding branches 
 of metaphysics, therefore, if they are permitted to stand as vouchers 
 for any objective truth, are pure illusions. The attempt to exhibit 
 and counteract such illusion, is the purport of the " Transcenden- 
 tal Dialectick."* 
 
 To prove that these ideas of pure metaphysics are simply formal, 
 and cannot be used as possessing any objective reality, or be logi- 
 cally deduced, Kant goes into a long discussion, in which he shows 
 the fallacies to which such a use of them always gives rise. 
 
 The ordinary conclusions of Psychology on the nature of the 
 soul are these : — 1st, that it is a substance ; 2dly, that it is simple ; 
 3dly, that it is a unity ; 4thly, that it is related to all objects in 
 space. These conclusions Kant shows, by a long process of ar- 
 gumentation, to be purely delusive, (paralogisms of pure reason ;) 
 and decides, finally, that the immateriality, immortality, and per- 
 sonality of the soul, can neither be proved nor disproved ; that 
 they are objects lying altogether beyond the limits of human rea- 
 son. Our author next proceeds to the ordinary conclusions of 
 Cosmology. To the argument which proves that the world had a 
 commencement in time, and is limited in space, he shows, that 
 there are other arguments which prove with equal conclusiveness, 
 exactly the reverse. All the other conclusions of Cosmology, he 
 shows, are subject to the same contradictions, (antinomies of pure 
 reason,) consequently that the origin and essential nature of the 
 universe can never be demonstrated, the subject lying entirely be- 
 yond the reach of our faculties. Lastly, Kant points out the nat- 
 ural procedure of the reason to form a conception of God, (ideal 
 of pure reason,) but maintains at great length, that none of the 
 arguments, whether ontological, cosmological, or physico- theologi- 
 cal, by which the being of a God has been affirmed, as an objective 
 reality, can ever prove their point, nor any arguments ever prove 
 the contrary. 
 
 Hence the criticism of pure reason cuts at the very root of all 
 scepticism on such matters, and shows that these supersensuous 
 ideas, if not demonstrable, nevertheless are most assuredly possi- 
 ble : and hence too Kant confirmed his former conclusion, that 
 scientific knowledge is confined to the world of experience, and 
 that the only true metaphysics are those, which have an empirical 
 basis. Such, then, are the rigid conclusions to which Kant ar- 
 
 * Trans. Dialectick, Book i. sec. 3.
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 269 
 
 rived, concerning the speculative reason of man— conclusions by 
 which he hoped to place every future system of philosophy upon a 
 correct foundation.* 
 
 From the view we have just taken of the pure reason, it is evi- 
 dent, that upon Kant's system its whole procedure is negative. 
 Sensation and understanding combined, can introduce us into a 
 world of real objective existence; but reason in its sphere, entirely 
 fails to do so ; its whole office is formal or constructive ; and the 
 proper discipline of it is entirely occupied in warning us against 
 the delusions we run into, when we imagine ourselves capable of 
 holding direct converse with the noumenal or supersensual world. 
 But now having established these negative conclusions from the 
 Critick oi pure reason, Kant proceeds to find a positive ground of 
 certainty for supersensual realities in the practical reason. Let it 
 be admitted that we have no fiiculty by which we can communi- 
 cate objectively with pure being, by which we can know, by 
 direct intuition, the soul— the essence of the universe— and God ; 
 it does not follow that we may not find a subjective ground of be- 
 lief in these things within our own consciousness. Does then such 
 a ground of belief really exist within us ? Assuredly, Kant replies, 
 it exists in our moral nature ; for here the whole question of hu- 
 man destiny, with everything implied in it, finds a meaning and a 
 reality. Ideas, therefore, which in theory cannot hold good, in 
 practice are seen to have a reality, because they are indLsolubly 
 related to the laws of human action, and involved in the very prin- 
 ciples, by which our moral life is regulated. 
 
 To explain this, let it be observed, that tlie fiict of our possess- 
 ing a moral nature, is one which rests upon the direct evidence of 
 consciousness. We can no more deny the existence of moral ideas 
 and the inward authority of conscience, than we can deny the very 
 categories of our understanding. Reason, in truth, has not only a 
 theoretical, but it has also a practical movement, bv which it ref^- 
 ulates the conduct of man ; and this it does with such a loftv 
 bearing and such an irresistible authority, that it is impossible for 
 any rational being to deny its dictates. In the I:iiigu;igo of Kant- 
 ism, consciousness reveals to us the autonamti of the will, and this 
 autonomy expresses itself in an absolute moral law, in acatnrorical 
 imperative. 
 
 * Kant's grciit work, the '• Kritik rcincr Virnunft," concliuli.' with u division railed 
 Transccnilontid .AI.tliodolojTy, He has there jjiven practical remarks on the .lisciplinc 
 of reason — tlic canon of reason, (])rojier use of the moral taculties;") the nrchiticlonirk 
 
 .,^ viioi'.. VI. ini. -...,», ^j»n.<|»vi urti_ \ji 111! iiii'i ill lili 111 i|T ?« , ; lilt: until u 
 
 of pure reason, (division of the pure sciences,) and the history of pure rea.son. 
 indicate this, in passinjr, to show the comphlcn'ss of Kant's .Survey of the Reas 
 
 I only 
 iison.
 
 170 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Now, what do this moral nature and unconditional command to 
 right action imply ? Manifestly they imply freedom ; for on no 
 other ground is moral action, strictly so termed, possible. Again, 
 they imply the existence of a God, otherwise there were a law 
 without a lawgiver, without an appeal, without a judge. Lastly, 
 they imply a future state as the goal to which all human actions 
 tend, and in which our moral existence shall find its completion. 
 Theoretical or pure reason showed that these things were possible, 
 although it could never attain to their actual existence ; but prac- 
 tical reason asserts their reality, not indeed as a demonstrative 
 truth, but as a truth that is implied in the whole constitution and 
 tendency of our moral nature. In this part of his' philosophy Kant 
 rendered good service to the true interests of morality ; neither 
 can we too much admire the force with which he repels every 
 low, selfish, or utilitarian ground of morality, basing it all upon the 
 categorical imperative — the authoritative voice of the great Law- 
 giver of the universe, as its everlasting foundation. It is true that 
 all these matters lie beyond the region of actual science ; but 
 nevertheless they are within the bounds of a rational faith, (Ver- 
 nunftglaube,) the dictates of which every sound mind will readily 
 admit. 
 
 Between the tlieoretical and the practical movement, however, 
 there is a third division of philosophy, which Kant terms " The 
 Critick of the Judging Faculty," (Kritik der Urtheilskraft.) The 
 judging Faculty is regarded by Kant as the intermediate step be- 
 tween the understanding and the reason ; and the results of it are 
 certain feelings of pleasure and displeasure, such as we express 
 under the terms sublime and beautiful, or their reverse. The 
 Critick of this faculty unites that of the theoretical and the prac- 
 tical reason, as it were, in a middle point. Pure reason contem- 
 plates nature, practical reason contemplates freedom, the judging 
 faculty unites the two provinces by viewing nature as a system of 
 means, constructed by the highest reason to bring about certain 
 ends. In this part of his philosophy Kant first analyzes the notions 
 of the sublime and beautiful, and then develops the principle of Te- 
 leology or final purposes in nature, as the legitimate offspring of 
 the judgment. The great benefit of this Critick, therefore, arises 
 from its connecting the theoretical philosophy with the practical, 
 from the explanation it offers of those lofty emotions which result 
 from our perception of the design everywhere manifested in organ- 
 ized nature, and the consequent notion which it imparts of a final
 
 GERMAN IDEALIS.^I. 171 
 
 end to which the whole universe is tending (Teleologie.) In this 
 way our aesthetic sentiments confirm the behef of the practical 
 reason in immortahty and God, and make the real conclusion of 
 the whole system as assertative of the great fundamentals of mo- 
 rality and natural religion, as could possibly be attained to without 
 an actual demonstration. 
 
 Let us, then, briefly review the object, which the Kantian phi- 
 losophy as a whole professedly kept in view, and sum up the steps 
 by which it endeavored to accomplish it. The' great question of 
 the school both of Descartes and Locke was this — Does all our 
 knowledge come from experience, or is some of it stamped with an 
 absolute and a jtriori character ? Hume assumed the Lockian or 
 empirical hypothesis, and educed from it a system of universal 
 scepticism. On the other hand. Wolf, taught by Leibnitz, as- 
 sumed the Cartesian hypothesis in a modified form ; and by the 
 incessant use of mere logical definitions, as though they could 
 stand in . the place of things themselves, gave rise to a system of 
 empty formalism. Kant originally belonged to the Wolfian school ; 
 but he so far sympathized with Hume as to feel the absolute ne- 
 cessity of admitting the claims of experience, the very element 
 which the Wolfian school had disregarded. 
 
 The question, then, with Kant was this — Cannot the claims of 
 these two schools be adjusted ? Admitting the necessity of expe- 
 rience, of what does experience consist? what are the elements of 
 it ? does it not itself contain some a priori principle ? To answer 
 this was the aim of his " Critick," and the answer it returned was 
 decisive. Knowledge, it declared, cannot consist simply in the 
 intimations of sense, for they alone would be formless ; neither 
 can it consist simply in a priori conceptions, for they would be 
 matterless ; but it consists in a svnthesis of both, the one givino; the 
 form, the other the matter. What conclusions then flow from this 
 view of the case? Manifestly these — that valid objective knowl- 
 edge must be confined to the limits of experience ; that beyond 
 these limits there may be formal ideas ; but no matter, no reality ; 
 that the universal conceptions which arise from the synthesis of 
 matter and form are absolutely true to us ; but that we cannot 
 pronounce anything to be absokitely true beyond the limits of our 
 own subjective method of viewing it. Kantism, therefore, instead 
 of denying the \vhole certainty of human knowledge, as Hume 
 did, merely limits it : " If we would go beyond our nature," he says,
 
 172 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 " we must be content to rush into darkness ; but within that nature, 
 consciousness is sure and certain." 
 
 But a grave question now arises. If we cannot have objective 
 certainty beyond the limits of sense, what becomes of our ideas of 
 substance, of the soul, of God — ideas which all admit to be nou- 
 menal or supersensual ? " Reason," says Kant, " can never assure 
 us of their existence ; attempt to deduce them, and you fall into 
 endless paralogisms ; as ideas, they exist, but only as ideas, for the 
 senses cannot clothe them with outward reality." Are we then to 
 sit down in the dreary belief that there is no moral law, no spiritual 
 nature, no immortality, no God ? Far from it. Reason, it is true, 
 can never vouch for their certainty ; but still it has been shown 
 that our consciousness is veracious ; that what is indestructibly 
 impressed upon it must be true ; and that, although we cannot 
 demonstrate the fundamental ideas of ethics and religion, yet, as 
 they are a part of our moral consciousness, they must be accepted 
 as morally certain. They rest, indeed, upon the same ground as 
 does our belief in the categories of our own intelligence, namely, 
 upon the ground of consciousness itself. Although, therefore, we 
 are obliged to say that scientifically Kant only admitted the idea 
 of God as a regulative principle, and not as implying an objective 
 reality, yet morally he indicated the grounds of natural religion 
 with a power, with which scepticism could not very easily cope. In 
 the practical reason, moral consciousness has an entire authority ; 
 its word must here be taken as law. And to make these conclu- 
 sions more certain, Kant shows, in the " Critick of the Judging 
 Faculty," that there is a perfect harmony between the moral con- 
 sciousness of jnan and the whole purpose and design of the universe. 
 
 From the whole of this view it will be seen that Kant, though 
 avoiding the ultimate conclusion both of scepticism and pure 
 ideahsm, yet stood on a narrow point between both. " Kantism," 
 says M. Remusat, " is not exactly idealism, nor scepticism. His 
 doctrine is eminently a rationalism, with a tendency to idealism, 
 and a risk of scepticism, through the idea of a universal subjec- 
 tivity. But the idea of a universal subjectivity is not of itself ex- 
 clusive. Universal subjectivity might be true in the sense that 
 everything is subjective, that is to say, that everything is thought 
 by us, even the absolutely unknown, under the form of the possible. 
 But from the fact that everything in this sense would be subjec- 
 tive, it does not follow that the subjective is everything ; for in the 
 subjective we find the objective, for example, the non-consciousness
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 173 
 
 of the origin of experience ; and this is the point which Kant ac- 
 cepts as the starting-point in his philosophy."* 
 
 The writings of Kant form incomparably the greatest era in 
 modern philosophy, and the results of them have become insensibly 
 incorporated more or less into all our metaphysical thinking. The 
 chief services he rendered to the cause of speculative philosophy 
 are the following. In the analysis of perception, he separated with 
 great clearness the subjective element from the objective, explain- 
 ing more fully than had ever been done before, the great funda- 
 mental distinction existing between the matter of our ideas and the 
 form. In the analysis of the understanding, he afforded a new, 
 and in many respects, an admirable classification of the logical 
 processes of thought, tracing them all to the ground-principles of 
 our intellectual being, and showing the subjective validity of our 
 primitive judgments. Thirdly, he pointed out the existence of a 
 higher faculty in man, that of pure reason, by means of which we 
 rise from the finite notions which lie within the limits of our ex- 
 perience, to those lofty and supersensual ideas which link us to the 
 infinite and eternal. 
 
 But the greatest service which Kant rendered to the interests 
 of truth, was that of silencing, by his practical philosophy, the 
 then current objections of a shallow scepticism against the funda- 
 mentals of morality and of natural religion, and placing them both 
 upon a basis altogether beyond the influence of any ordinary argu- 
 mentation. If we add to this the clear and broad light in which 
 he placed the chief problems of metaphysical inquiry, and the truly 
 scientific spirit he infused into those investigations, we shall become 
 sensible how much all future ages will be indebted to this great 
 thinker for the position he occupied in the history and progress of 
 philosophy. 
 
 We must now, however, in few words, show the chief points in 
 which his philosophy is most vulnerable, and thence exhibit the 
 part it took in building up a complete system of idealism. The 
 first objection, which would naturally strike one on first becoming 
 acquainted with the critical philosophy, is the total want of con- 
 nection between the theoretical and the practical side of it. Con- 
 clusions the most important, and most rigid, are adduced by the 
 criticism of the speculative reason, which must all be forgotten the 
 moment we have to do with the pi-actical. It is evident that there 
 is here a want of unity, that the ground on which the system rests 
 * " De la Philosophic Allemande," p. xxii.
 
 174 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 is shifted, and that many a mind which had been convinced on the 
 first and scientific ground, might hesitate to receive opposite con- 
 clusions that rest upon the second ground, and that not a scientific 
 one at all, but only an undemonstrable belief. Can it be true, that 
 two courses of reasoning, both perfectly legitimate, could possibly 
 conduct us to such different results ? It seems, upon reflection, 
 almost inevitable, that there must be some more fundamental law, 
 or fact of consciousness, from which the theoretical and the prac- 
 tical movement equally take their rise, and in the light of which 
 their apparent discrepancies will disappear. 
 
 Secondly, there are some unsatisfactory points, which make 
 their appearance in the development of Kant's psychology. First 
 of all, there is no account taken of the power of the will. I am 
 aware that Kant amply repairs this omission in his practical phi- 
 losophy ; but the question is, whether there can possibly be a com- 
 plete view of the human consciousness, theoretically considered, 
 when an element so important as that of the will, with all the 
 ideas resulting from it, is omitted. Then, again, there is some- 
 thing inexplicable in the fact, that certain pure a priori ideas are 
 attributed separately to the sensitive, the intellectual, and the 
 rational faculty. How can it be said that time and space are 
 simply the a priori product of sensitivity, and have nothing to do 
 with the understanding; or, on what grounds can the abstract 
 ideas of the understanding be regarded as having nothing to do 
 with the reason ? " The glory of Kant," remarks M. Cousin, " is, 
 that he sought to determine all the a priori elements of human 
 knowledge ; but in distinguishing, as he does, the pure forms of 
 sensitivity, the conceptions of the understanding, and the ideas of 
 reason, he wrongly separates things which ought to be united, and 
 all referred to one and the same faculty, namely, the faculty of 
 knowing in general (intellection) ; that faculty which transcends 
 experience, renders sensuous knowledge possible, by supplying it 
 with ideas of time and space, and, later still, renders all human 
 knowledge possible, by the aid of the categories and ideas, which 
 develop themselves successively, in proportion as it develops 
 itself."* 
 
 The adoption of a broader principle in accounting for the a 
 priori elements of human knowledge, would have gone far to dis- 
 sipate the delusion of regarding time and space simply as phenomena 
 of our own inward consciousness. In making them purely sub- 
 * " Lemons sur la Phil, de Kant," p. 153.
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 175 
 
 jective, and regarding all the time-and-space qualities of the ex- 
 ternal world as purely subjective also, he attributed far too much 
 to the inward law, and far too little to the outward fact. When 
 we consider that Kant regarded both the understanding and the 
 reason as simply formal and regulative principles, that he admitted 
 sensation alone as capable of affording any of the material of our 
 thoughts, and when we unite with this the extreme attenuation of 
 the objective element even in sensation itself, we at once become 
 conscious how near he treads upon the verge of pure idealism. 
 The younger Fichte remarks, upon this point, somewhat severely, 
 as follows : — " That which belongs to time and space on the one 
 hand, is (according to Kant) bare phenomenon or appearance, 
 behind which the real thing hides itself; neither, on the other 
 hand, have the ideas of the pure reason anything but a negative 
 import ; and so this philosophy, both in its lower and higher move- 
 ment, remains entirely empty of all reality ; it is a theory wisely 
 founded indeed, and admirable in its original plan, but on account 
 of one error (that respecting time and space) in the outset, and the 
 logical consequences of it in the execution, it sinks at last into an 
 enormous deficit, and ends in a palpable contradiction."* 
 
 But the weightiest objection against the doctrines of Kant we 
 conceive to be the fact, that he makes reason, with all its conclu- 
 sions, purely subjective and personal. The categories with him 
 are simply subjective laws, while the supersensual ideas or nou- 
 mena, which the reason forms, are nought but regulative princi- 
 ples, and can point us to no real existence, inasmuch as we have no 
 right to transport them out of ourselves, and make them signs of 
 objective reality. Truth may, therefore, ever be truth, so long as 
 our minds remain as they are ; but as we can never get beyond 
 the bounds of our own subjectivity, we are not at liberty to affirm 
 that any conclusion of our reason is "per se" eternally true, or 
 that to us there is such a thing as truth at all, outside the limits of 
 onr own direct consciousness. The ground of this delusion (for 
 as such we assuredly regard it) a})pears to lie in the purely abstract 
 view which Kant endeavored to take of the a priori element in 
 human knowledge. Anxious to separate this element from any 
 admixture of empiricism, he views it solely in its connection with 
 the human mind. Phenomenon and essence, matter and form, are 
 regarded as entirely distinct from each other, and the effort of 
 Kantism is to establish the reality o( each element in its isolation 
 • Ueber Gegensatz, Wcndcpunkt, and Zicl heutiger Philosopliie. Erstcr Theil, p. 172.
 
 176 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Essential existence, however, never reveals itself per se : we can- 
 not realize in a direct consciousness the hare essence either of the 
 soul or the world, and consequently Kant is obliged to view them on 
 his principles, simply as subjective forms or laws of our own reason. 
 Had he traced up the actual character of our ideas to their primi- 
 tive state or origin, it would have become at once apparent, that 
 nothing is given to us originally in the abstract, but always in the 
 concrete ; that essential existence reveals itself to us, first in con- 
 nection with phenomena, and that it is only by degrees that we 
 view it abstractedly, as the substratum by which all phenomena 
 are supported.* In Kant's entire separation of the pure and ab- 
 stract element of our knowledge from the empirical, we recognize 
 the germ of a principle which tends inevitably to a subjective 
 idealism. The idea of nature, it is true, is not destroyed, but it is 
 contracted to the narrowest possible limits ; — the idea of God, or 
 the absolute, is banished altogether from the region of strict phi- 
 losophy, and made to rest only upon a lower kind of belief; the 
 reason, that emanation from heaven, that portion of eternal truth 
 that is granted by the infinite mind to the finite, is turned into a 
 personal and regulative law, while, on the other hand, the subjective 
 ME, if it does not actually create matter, yet gives it all its attri- 
 butes, includes as part of itself all the categories from which the 
 laws of nature, as perceived by us, originate, and possesses the idea 
 of God, in such a manner as simply to imply an inward principle, 
 not at all as indicating an outward fact. The grand error is the 
 want of faith in reason as the revealer of eternal verities. Admit 
 the non-personality of reason ; place it on the same footing as con- 
 sciousness ; mould the Kantian doctrine to this idea, and it would 
 evolve a mass of abstract truth which no scepticism could shake. 
 As it stands, however, it has given occasion to the re-separation 
 of the empirical and a priori elements, which it strove to unite 
 into an indissoluble synthesis. In this separation the whole of the 
 modern German idealism has its commencement.! 
 
 * See Cousin's Lemons, Lee. 6. and 8. 
 
 t Kant's " Kritik reiner Vernunft" was translated into Latin soon after its appear- 
 ance by Born. An excellent translation has more recently been made by M. Tissot into 
 French ; and a faithful but somewhat inelegant English translation was published in 
 1838, (London, W. Pickering.) Abundant materials have been furnished by recent 
 French authors, for the study of the Kantian philosophy, of which the best will be 
 found in M. Willm's " Histoire de la Philosophie Allemande," and M. Cousin's 
 " Lemons," already referred to. In English, there is a useful manual of the Critical 
 Philosophy, by A. F. M. Willich, published in 1798. The best account, however, 
 hitherto, is that of Mr. Wirgman — " Principles of the Kantesian or Transcendental 
 Philosophy." London, 1834
 
 GERMAN IDEALISM. 177 
 
 For some few years after the publication of the "Critick of 
 Pure Reason" in 1781, it excited but httle attention, owing prob- 
 ably, in a great measure, to the difficulty and the novelty of the 
 verbiage that was employed in it. No sooner, however, did its real 
 merits begin to appear, than it took the most extraordinary hold 
 on the public mind, won its way into all the univemties, and made 
 a complete conquest over the various dogmatical and eclectic 
 systems, which had been in vogue before its appearance. This 
 conquest, it may easily be imagined, was not gained without a hard 
 struggle — in fact, never during the history of philosophy, have so 
 many acute thinkers sprung forth at once into the field as under 
 the first excitement of the Kantian metaphysics. Many there 
 were, who ranged themselves on the side of Kant, and sought by 
 all means to establish and confirm his main principles ; others there 
 were who attacked them, part of whom belonged to the Wolfian 
 sohool, and part, (as for example, Weisshaupt, Tittel, and Tiede- 
 mann,) rather to that of Locke. There arose, also, as usual, from 
 the contest, some bold manifestations on the side of scepticism and 
 mysticism, of which we can at present say nothing, but which will 
 be further noticed in their place. 
 
 Whilst, however, this combat was going on, there appeared a 
 few superior thinkers, who sought to perfect the Kantian theory, 
 by supplying its deficiencies, and simplifying its foundation. The 
 most distinguished of these was Carl Leonhard Reinhold, who sug- 
 gested an idea, which, though it did not meet with immediate appro- 
 bation, has since become one of the most fruitful germs of philo- 
 sophical speculation. Perceiving that Kant, in common with 
 Locke, had taken for granted the reality of our inward perceptions 
 or ideas (Vorstellungen) as they exist in our own consciousness, 
 and made no inquiry into the scientific ground from which they 
 spring, he fixed his mind upon the one great idea of the conscious- 
 ness itself, and sought to supply what Kant had entirely omitted, a 
 correct theory concerning it.* 
 
 Kant, he conceived, had probed to its very foundation the whole 
 cognitive or knowing faculty of man, but nothing more ; what he 
 now sought to add, was a criticism of the representational faculty 
 (Vorstellungs-vermogen), and thus to show what is implied in the 
 
 * Reinhold 's principal work, " Versuch einer neuen Theorie des menschlichen, 
 Vorstellungs-vermogen," in the clearness and even popularity of its style, presents 
 a striking contrast to the writings of Kant. It consists first of a preface of great 
 interest on the destiny of the Kantian philosophy up to his period. In the first book he 
 points out the necessity of a new research into the representational faculty ; in the 
 
 12
 
 178 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 process, by which we are enabled to represent ideas to our own 
 inward consciousness. In this process, he contended, we are cog- 
 nizant of three things — the perceiving mind, the thing perceived, 
 and the perception itself, which goes between them, and exists only 
 as the result of the union of the other two elements. As all our 
 knowledge must consist in ideas, Reinhold proposed by this analysis m 
 to lay hold upon the one fundamental principle from which all 
 truth must spring, and in which the theoretical and practical reason 
 of Kant are alike grounded. The appeal which he thus made to | 
 our immediate consciousness as the very first and surest ground ' 
 from which we can start, and the relation which he sought to 
 establish between what is subjective and what is objective in it, 
 though it was all intended to complete the Kantian system, yet 
 gave the first hint at a great principle, which soon showed itself 
 altogether opposed to the critical philosophy, and became the 
 foundation of that peculiar method of metaphysical research, which 
 will hereafter claim much of our attention in considering the more 
 modern idealism of Germany. Reinhold himself, it is true, after a 
 time, gave up his own theory, but he only forsook it to adopt that 
 of Fichte, to whose system, in fact, he had himself not a little con- 
 tributed. 
 
 In closing this sketch of the German idealistic tendency, let us 
 look for a moment at the steps through which it has passed, and at 
 the point to which it has arrived. Leibnitz, the great founder, 
 gave it its first rationalistic direction, and set the example of a bold 
 speculation upon matters, which lie beyond the ordinary range of 
 philosophical investigation. Wolf systematized the different the- 
 ories which Leibnitz had proposed, and afforded a complete classi- 
 fication of the objects of metaphysical research. Kant next arose 
 from the Leibnitzian-Wolfian school, and laid a new foundation 
 for philosophy, upon the twofold ground of the pure and the prac- 
 tical reason, making scientific knowledge almost entirely subjective. 
 Reinhold next endeavored to unite these two fundamental princi- 
 ples into one, by appealing to the human consciousness as the ulti- 
 mate basis of both. It needed but one more effort to close the door 
 upon all objective philosophy ; to prevent any scientific transition 
 from our own consciousness to the world without ; to make the me 
 at once the foundation and the author of all our knowledge ; and 
 so to complete that superstructure of subjective idealism, which 
 
 second, he gives Ms own theory upon it; and in the third, deduces from that theory the 
 laws of human knowledge. 
 
 I
 
 SCOTTISH PHILOSOPHY. 179 
 
 was aJready so vigorously commenced. This last step, though it 
 was taken within the limits of the eighteenth century, yet, in all its 
 important results, belongs to the nineteenth, and its consideration 
 must, therefore, be reserved until we come to the philosophical 
 characteristics of the present age. 
 
 Sect. IV. — Scottish Philosophy. 
 
 After the review we have now taken of the busy scene that was 
 transacted on the soil of Germany during the closmg period of the 
 seventeenth, and throughout the whole of the eighteenth centuries, 
 we now return to (?ur own country, where we we have to mark the 
 origin and progress of a school of philosophy, which, though by no 
 means imposing in its appearance, or bold in its speculations, has 
 produced valuable results in the department both of metaphysics 
 and morals, and borne the fruits of much sound and healthy think- 
 ing. We arrange the philosophy of Scotland, to which we now 
 allude, under the present chapter, not because it ever trod at all 
 closely upon the borders of pure idealism, or is ever likely to do so 
 (since, indeed, it has been one of its most successful combatants ;) 
 but because its tendency has ever been to repress the advancing 
 sensationalism of the followers of Locke, and to point to some ulti- 
 mate principles or laws of thought, which exist in the mind, alto- 
 gether distinct from its connection with the material world. 
 
 It was Francis Hutcheson (born in Ireland in the year 1694) 
 who had the merit of reviving in Scotland the cultivation of spec- 
 ulative philosophy, after a slumber of many centuries.* His prin- 
 ciples appear, in common with most metaphysical thinkers of his 
 day, to have been originally founded upon the principles of Locke ; 
 and he never, indeed, can be said to have departed very widely 
 from it during his whole life. Notwithstanding this, however, he 
 left behind in his writings many sentiments which, when matured 
 and expanded, were certain to stand in direct opposition to the in- 
 creasing materialism of the school to which he at first professedly 
 belonged. 
 
 His first work was an " Enquiry into the Original of our Ideas 
 of Beauty and Virtue," in which he maintains, that, in addition to 
 
 «!-*w"^'^^T'^ predecessor at Glasgow was Prof Gerpcliom Carmichael, of whom 
 &ir vy. Hamilton remarks—" Carmichael may be reffarclcdon ffood .rrounds as the real 
 founder of the Scottish school of philosophyZ-Rcid's coIlecte3 writings p 30 He t 
 chiefly known as a commentator on Puffendorf. • ne is
 
 180 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the five external senses (to which Locke attributes primarily the 
 origin of all our ideas,) we possess also certain internal senses, one 
 of which gives rise to the various emotions of beauty and sublimity, 
 introducing us thus into the province of aesthetics, while another 
 gives rise to the moral feelings. This supposition of internal senses^ 
 although it kept up the language of sensationalism, was evidently 
 equivalent to the adoption of a new, and that an inward source of 
 ideas, and thus formed the first step which was taken by the Scotch 
 philosophy towards a sounder theory of human knowledge. In his 
 metaphysics (Synopsis Metaphysica Ontologiam et Pneumatologiam 
 continens) he shows similar signs of a revolt from the authority 
 of Locke, by maintaining the existence of certain metaphysical 
 axioms, which are derived, not from experience, but from the con- 
 nate power of the understanding (Menti congenita intelligendi vis) . 
 It is abundantly evident, therefore, that this acute, honest, and ele- 
 gant writer perceived the existence of certain elements in human 
 thought, that cannot, in any true sense, be termed experimental ; 
 and, although he did not reduce his views to a distinct and syste- 
 matic form, yet he turned the attention of his successors to the 
 weak side of the current philosophy, and struck out the first idea 
 of a better and a more satisfactory system.* 
 
 It was during the early periods of Hutcheson's career, that Scot- 
 land gave birth to two minds of a very different order indeed, but 
 both destined to acquire a European reputation, and to exert a very 
 considerable influence upon their age. David Hume was born in 
 thie year 1711, and although he is by no means to be classed either 
 with the Scotch or English school of philosophy, yet we just men- 
 tion his name, in passing, as belonging to this period,. inasmuch as 
 the succeeding progress of speculative philosophy in Scotland, as 
 well as in some other countries, was in no small degree owing to 
 his writings. 
 
 Leaving, then, with this bare reference, the further consideration 
 of Hume's sceptical principles to the next chapter, we proceed to 
 mention the other author above referred to — I mean Adam Smith, 
 
 * Hutcheson was the son of a Presbyterian minister, and was originally intended for 
 the same profession. His first work (published 1720) on the " Original of Beauty and 
 Virtue," gained him the friendship of Archbishop King, (the author of the work on the 
 "Origin of Evil;") and probably decided his future course. In 1828 he published a 
 second Treatise on the " Nature and Conduct of the Passions," which was followed by 
 his being chosen Prof of Moral Phil, in Glasgow. His " Synopsis Metaphysics," and 
 " Philosophise Moralis Institutio," were written as text-books for the class. His most 
 complete and elaborate work, entitled " System of Moral Philosophy," appeared after 
 his death. The views which are therein propounded on the nature of virtue, &c., 
 follow closely those of Shaftesbury. An interesting biography of the author is appended, 
 by Dr. Leechman.
 
 SCOTTISH PHILOSOPHY. 181 
 
 the father of political science, who was born at Kirkaldy, a. d. 
 1725. The reputation of this celebrated author rests chiefly upon 
 his " Enquiry into the Wealth of Nations," (a department of science 
 with which we have at present nothing to do ;) his name, however, 
 has found a lasting place amongst pure philosophical writers from 
 his well-known " Theory of Moral Sentiments."* Smith may be 
 regarded as the first great investigator of Man's sympathetic affec- 
 tions ; for, although it is probable that he hardly found a single 
 mind ready to coincide in his view of the moral sentiments as 
 arising from this source, yet it is pretty certain that there never was 
 an intelligent reader who arose from the perusal of his work with- 
 out admiring the beauty of the analysis, and being enlightened by 
 many side-views it affords us of the complicated working of the 
 human feelings. It is true we should not attribute to Smith the 
 merit of taking any decisive step in speculative philosophy, or of 
 aiding, by 'any direct results, its further development; but by the 
 brightness of his genius, the elegance of his mind, and the charm 
 of his style, he gave a very decided spur to the pursuit of philoso- 
 phy generally, and filled a place in the metaphysical history of his 
 country, which must ever be taken into consideration, if we would 
 estimate the whole progress of that history aright.f 
 
 But the coryphaeus of the rising school of Scotch metaphysics 
 was Dr. Reid, who was born at Strachan, April 26th, 1710. The 
 philosophy of Reid is too well known in this country to need here 
 any lengthy analysis, and we shall therefore only devote a very 
 few pages, in order to explain the spirit in which it commenced, 
 the principle on which it proceeded, and the results to which we 
 may fairly admit that it has conducted. Notwithstanding all that 
 Dr. Brown has attempted to prove to the contrary,^ it must be 
 allowed that the state of mental philosophy on the subject of per- 
 ception up to the time of Reid, was, to say the least, extremely 
 indefinite and confused. That Descartes rejected the ideal system, 
 as propounded by Aristotle, and held by the scholastics, there can 
 be no doubt ; but it is equally clear that he did not admit the pos- 
 sibility of our comprehending anything respecting material objects 
 
 * The student who may not wish to follow the development of this celebrated theory 
 through an 8vo volume, is referred to Brown's Lectures on the Philosophy of the Mind, 
 where in lectures HO and 81 he will find an elegant and lucid statement of the whole 
 subject. 
 
 t The whole works of Adam Smith were published at London in 181'2, in five vols. 
 8vo. The first contains his " Theory of IVIoral Sentiments."' The next three vols, 
 contain the " Wealth of Nations ;' and the last comprehends his miscellaneous Essays, 
 with an account of his life and writings by Dugald Stewart. 
 
 I Lectures 2b and 20.
 
 182 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and their qualities, excepting so far as our perceptfons, in some 
 sense or other, represent those quahties.*^ That Locke held the 
 same opinion, we have already proved, since indeed the very foun- 
 dation principle of his philosophy is, that all things about v^^hich 
 the understanding is conversant are ideas, and that these ideas are 
 the subjective representatives of objective realities. The use 
 which Berkeley made of this doctrine, it is well known, was to 
 shake our faith in the existence of the material world ; and Hume, 
 carrying his scepticism one step further, employed the very same 
 principle to undermine the whole sohd fabric of human belief, as 
 will be shown more at large hereafter. 
 
 Reid, in his early life, had been a complete believer in this rep- 
 resentative theory, and had leaned strongly to Berkeleianism, as 
 the natural result ; but when Mr. Hume's " Treatise on Human 
 Nature" came forth to the world, and he saw the consequences to 
 which the whole theory must ultimately tend, he began to inquire 
 within himself whether that theory were really a true one. This 
 inquiry, according to his own account, he carried on perpetually 
 for above forty years, and never could gain any affimative evidence 
 on the question, except the mere dictum of philosophers.! 
 
 The great aim of Reid's philosophy, then, was to investigate the 
 true theory of perception ; to controvert the representationalist 
 hypothesis, as held in one sense or another by almost all preceding 
 philosophers ; and to stay the progress which scepticism, aided by 
 this hypothesis, was so rapidly making. The course which he 
 follows in order to accomplish this purpose is, first of all to prove 
 that there is no possibility of our tracing the real process of sensa- 
 tion and perception in the human mind at all ; that the ideal sys- 
 tem of Aristotle is, accordingly, an hypothesis totally unfounded ; 
 and that the modification of it which we find in the philosophy of 
 Descartes, Locke, and others, is equally void of proof That there 
 exists, on the one hand, the mind — the subject which perceives — 
 we are perfectly conscious ; and that there exists, on the other 
 hand, the object — the thing whjph is perceived — we know by a 
 similar testimony ; but that there exists any intermediate link or 
 representation by which the two communicate, we have no evi- 
 
 * The doctrine of occasional causes is not opposed, as some assert, (Pros. Rev. No. 
 viii.,) to the theory of representationalism. Descartes held both ; he held that divine 
 power was employed in giving us representations of primary qualities. What else can 
 be the meaning of his doctrine, that v_-hafcver vcfiiif) in our ideas, must he in tlic external 
 things 7 See on this point Reid's Essays. Essay II. chap. 4. Also Sir W. Hamilton's 
 Dissertation to Reid's works, p. 832. 
 
 •f Stewart's account of the Life and Writings of Reid.
 
 SCOTTISH PHILOSOPHY. 183 
 
 dence, either from the testimony of consciousness, or from any- 
 other kind of demonstration. In place, therefore, of attempting to 
 account for the mutual influence of mind and matter upon one 
 another, he points us to certain intuitive and original principles of 
 belief, which it is impossible to doubt without incurring the charge 
 of absurdity. When, for example, we see a house or a tree, we 
 not only have the simple apprehension of a phenomenon by virtue 
 of the sensation produced, but we are led, by the very nature of 
 the mind, to form certain judgments respecting it, such as — that 
 an object really exists, that it has a certain form, and is of a given 
 magnitude, &c., judgments which are necessarily implied in, and 
 united to the sensation itself, and which, according to our con- 
 stitution, we cannot possibly reject. These original and irresist- 
 ible judgments, he maintains, are a part of the natural furniture of 
 the understanding ; they are as certain and immediate as our 
 simple notions themselves, and altogether make up what is called 
 the " common sense of mankind.''^ From this phraseology the philos- 
 ophy of Reid has been called the philosophy of common senae — a 
 term which he opposes to natural lunacy on the one hand, and to 
 metaphysical lunacy, or pure idealism, on the other. 
 
 There are few, perhaps, who would maintain that this phrase- 
 ology of Reid was chosen with much taste or judgment ; and it 
 is by no means to be regretted that the subsequent writers of 
 the same school introduced considerable alterations into its ter- 
 minology.* 
 
 After laying down these foundations, Reid proceeds to enume- 
 rate all the principles of common sense, that is, all our primary 
 beliefs ; controverts, by their means, the scepticism of Hume ; 
 fixes the proper boundaries of human knowledge ; and ends by 
 applying his principles to the analysis of the active powers and the 
 moral feelings. Such is, in brief, the statement (and we believe a 
 correct one) of the object and the main principles of Dr. Reid's 
 mental philosophy. f 
 
 * The phraseology of the "common sense" philosophy, has boon vinJicated with 
 great learning by Sir W. Hnniiiton. He enumerates no less than one huntired and six 
 witnesses, taken moreover from the first names in the liistory of pliilosophy, who support 
 either the same terminoloixy, or what is equivalent to it. — Itoid's Writin;;s, Xote A. ^ f. 
 
 ■f Reid's first work, entitled " An Enquiry into the Human Mind on the principles of 
 Common Sense," is generally considered the best in point of sfyin and concentration of 
 ideas. Being written when he was comparatively young, (published in ITlJt.) it is not 
 regarded as containing the mature view of his jihiio.'sophy. The reputation of this 
 Treatise raised him to the chair of moral philosophy in Glasgow. His Essays on the 
 Intellectual Powers were published in IT.S.'^. They contain the same theory of percep- 
 tion and of instinctive beliefs which is ibund in the former volume, more fully developed, 
 together with an analysis of our other intellectual powers. The essays on the active
 
 184 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Now, in attempting to estimate the merits of Reid as a meta- 
 physician, and the results to which he has given rise, every impar- 
 tial critic, we consider, must give him credit for the truly philo- 
 sophical spirit with which he commenced, and the great impor- 
 tance of the object which he had in view. It is difficult for us, 
 who live in a day when the language of mental science has become 
 so much more pure than it formally was, to imagine the confusion 
 of thought that was engendered by the constant use of the Aristo- 
 telian and scholastic terms respecting ideas, as the sole objects of 
 human knowledge. The proper fixing of all such terms, and of 
 the real meaning we must attach to them, is assuredly not one of 
 the least advantages which Dr. Reid conferred upon the philoso- 
 phy of his day, and of which we are now reaping the fruits.* 
 
 The great question, however, now to be considered is, whether 
 or not Reid has completely analyzed, and placed upon their true 
 and ultimate basis, the phenomena of perception ; and whether he 
 has scientifically established, without the possibility of a doubt, for 
 all future generations, a philosophical passage into the external 
 world. The appeal he makes to common sense, i. e. to those prin- 
 ciples of belief, upon which we are compelled to act at the peril of 
 being considered madmen, and which the most rigid sceptic, what- 
 ever be his theory, is obliged in practice to allow, was unquestion- 
 ably a most powerful one, and succeeded in driving scepticism 
 from one stronghold to another, however reluctant it might be to 
 yield them. 
 
 We doubt, however, whether such an appeal is able to dislodge 
 the enemy from his last and strongest defence. The sceptic, be it 
 observed, is equally ready with ourselves to admit, that common 
 sense always takes its stand upon the real existence of an outward 
 object in perception, and that we must all practically act upon the 
 belief of it : but what he denies is, that this common sense is theo- 
 retically to be depended upon, since in some cases, which he is not 
 slow to mention, it appears manifestly to be in error. To this the 
 disciple of Reid can reply, that there is precisely the same authority 
 to be attached to the conclusion of common sense respecting the 
 real existence of the-material world, as to any other dictate of the 
 
 powers appeared in 1 788, and comprehend the range of moral philosophy. The great 
 fault of these essays, as containing a psychology, is their defective analysis. Many 
 phenomena are left to stand as primary facts, which can easily be resolved into some 
 general law or principle ; but Reid felt that, under the circumstances of the age, he was 
 erring on the safe side. 
 
 * See his Intellectual Powers, Essay II. 
 
 J 
 
 i 
 
 I
 
 SCOTTISH PHILOSOPHY. 185 
 
 human understanding ; and that, if we deny that conclusion, we 
 may equally deny every fact of our own consciousness. 
 ^ Upon this, then, the sceptic betakes himself to his last refuge, 
 and urges, with no little force, that although we must admit the 
 reality of our own personal or subjective ideas, inasmuch as they 
 are a part of our own inward experience, yet it still remains to be 
 proved, that our perceptions, however clear, and our beliefs, how- 
 ever strong they may be internally, have reference to any object 
 out of, and distinct from ourselves. The sceptic thus intrenches 
 himself within his own subjectivity, and though closely pressed and 
 circumscribed by the energetic conclusions of common sense, yet 
 sternly refuses to yield this his last point. 
 
 Reid deprived himself of the power of answering this final argu- 
 ment, by maintaining that perception is altogether an act of the 
 mind; for so long as we admit with him that this is really the case, 
 it remains yet to be shown, how we can possibly avoid the above 
 conclusion in which the sceptic persists. If the mind has power 
 to perceive any object purely by its own act, there is no absurdity 
 in supposing the possibility of its producing within itself the same 
 effect, without the actual presence or existence of the object. It 
 is true that common sense renders it highly improbable that such 
 should be the case ; yet still so long as perception is regarded as a 
 subjective process, and an idea defined to be the act of the mind in 
 making itself acquainted with the phenomena of external things, 
 we are unable to point out to the sceptic what he demands — 
 namely, a clear passage from this subjective activity of the mind to 
 the outward and material reality.* 
 
 The position that we must assume, if we would complete what 
 Reid so nobly commenced, is, that the very essence of perception 
 consists in a felt relation between mind and matter, that instead 
 of being wholly the act of the mind, it is the union of the subjec- 
 tive and the objective, necessarily arising from man's constitution 
 as a being composed of soul and body. If you look to the acts of 
 the will, you feel them to be purely personal or subjective ; — if you 
 look to an act of the reason, you feel that it refers simply to ab- 
 stract truth, which the mind of itself could work out ; but if you 
 analyze a perception you at once detect in it another element, 
 
 * Reid's error becomes the more manifest, when we hear him calling perception a 
 notion, a conception, a conclusion, &c. ; or when we read of perception being applicable 
 to distant realities, and objects of memory. This is in fact breaking down the very dis- 
 tinction between intellection and intuition, between preventative and representative 
 knowledge, which it was his main object to make good. On this see Sir W. Hamilton's 
 " Reid," Note D.* sec. iv.
 
 186 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 which does not depend upon the will or the reason, but upon some 
 other existence out of, and distinct from ourselves ; so that percep- 
 tion, instead of being an operation of the mind, as Reid regarded 
 it, is, in fact, an intuitive felt relation between self and nature, be- 
 tween the me and the not-me. The one of these related terms is, 
 in truth, as much given in every act of perception as the other, 
 neither can we abstract either the subject or the object without 
 destroying the very essence of the thing itself. 
 
 It is this felt relation which probably suggested, and which for 
 so many centuries kept alive the notion, that there was some link, 
 material or spiritual, by which the objective and the subjective in 
 nature were united ; a link which Reid powerfully demonstrated 
 to have no reality, and the supposition of which is rendered alto- 
 gether unnecessary when we regard perception, as the relation 
 which we feel to exist between our own minds and the external 
 world. This, therefore, we consider as the scientific or theoretical 
 form of the doctrine of immediate perception, which the Scottish 
 philosopher rested simply on the ground of a practical belief, and 
 denominated a principle of common sense.* 
 
 Against Mr. Hume's attack upon the idea of causality, and his 
 attempt to invalidate the proof thence derived for the existence of 
 God, Reid appears to us to have dealt a more complete and effec- 
 tive blow, than he did against his argument respecting the material 
 world. Hume first assumed experience as the sole foundation for 
 our knowledge, and then of course easily demonstrated, that super- 
 
 * To see the principal points of this Critique more fully developed and eloquently 
 stated, the student may consult Cousin's " Cours de la Philosophic Morale," Lemons 7 
 and 8. Against this view of the case, Dr. Chalmers (North British Rev., Feb. 1847) 
 objects, that in childhood there is perception, but no reflex view of self, no relation 
 felt between the me and the not-me. The Doctor forgets that it is a part of the doc- 
 trine of the spontaneous development of the mind, (a doctrine which he expressly 
 admits, p. 297,) that every element which afterwards enters into our_ reflective life, was 
 originally at work in the spontaneous. It is very clear that the child has, at first, no 
 refiective consciousness of the elements of perception, or indeed of anything else, but 
 this is no argument against those elements being actually there. Sunk as he may be 
 in the object, yet the whole process logically implies the subject, which in fact is never 
 for a single moment lost sight of, as the conscious unity, in which all our apperceptions 
 find their synthesis. To suppose the subject acttially lost in the object, would be to sup- 
 pose the loss of the sense of personality. The very idea of presentative knowledge, is 
 that of subject and object, standing immediately face to face, without even a notion or 
 conception between them. 
 
 I have just had the good fortune to consult Sir W. Hamilton's most masterly notes upon 
 this subject, and I cannot see that the view of perception there given, essentially differs 
 from the above, except in its fuller and richer scientific development. He regards the 
 human organism as the great field of perception. And what is the organism 1 _" A 
 material mihject." It is just the region in which self and not self, subject and object, 
 mysteriously blend, and by that blending, place themselves in immediate communica- 
 tion. What then is perception, but the expression of that relation,— the attributes of 
 the material, placed consciously side by side with the personality of the spirituaH
 
 SCOTTISH PHILOSOPHY. 187 
 
 sensual ideas, like that of cause, or of the Deity, can have no real 
 basis whatever in fact. Reid denied that experience is the only- 
 source from which truth can be derived, but pointed out the ex- 
 istence of certain intellectual and necessary judgments beyond the 
 bounds of all experience, and proved that the belief in a sufficient 
 cause, wherever we observe an effect, is one of them. It is true 
 he did not probe the whole question of our instructive beliefs to its 
 centre, but, nevertheless, he established their reality on so solid a 
 basis, that the truth which they convey was shown to be as valid 
 as any ordinary evidence could make it. A more subtile analysis 
 of the first principles of human knowledge might certainly have 
 placed these beliefs in a clearer light, and reduced them to a smaller 
 compass ; but the only effect of this would have been, to give them 
 a more scientific character than was done by the rough sketch 
 which Reid left behind him, and not to alter materially the drift 
 of his main argument.* 
 
 Whatever objections, therefore, might be brought against the 
 philosophy of common sense, we conceive that they must be for 
 the most part negative. That Reid has done much for the ad- 
 vancement of mental science, is almost universally admitted ; to 
 complain that he did not accomplish 7nore, or follow out the track 
 which he opened to its furthest results, is perhaps unreasonable ; 
 since we ought rather to look for the completion of his labors from 
 the hands of his followers, than demand from himself at once the 
 foundation and the superstructure. 
 
 We cannot but regard it, however, as unfortunate, that Reid 
 should have framed his idea of philosophy so completely upon the 
 model of the natural sciences, that he should have determined to 
 confine it almost entirely within the narrow limits of psychology, 
 and attempt little beyond the mere classification and establishment 
 of internal phenomena. The psychological method, which he fol- 
 lowed, we regard as excellent, nay, as the only true one, since it is 
 absolutely necessary to determine the power and validity of the 
 instrument by which all our knowledge is acquired, before we de- 
 fine what that knowledge is, and to what extent it can reach. 
 But by making philosophy too exclusively the science of internal 
 
 * Ktint reproached Reid with mistukincj the very dilTiPiilty wliicli Hume wished to 
 have alleviated. He supposed that Reid simply took his stand upon tke fact, that 
 causation is practically admitted by all men, and did nothing towards elucidating the 
 origin of the idea. It should not be forgotten, however, that Reid applied the very 
 same tests as Kant himself, those of universality and necessity, by wliich to prove 
 the validity of the category, and show it to lie imbosomed in the very centre of our 
 constitution.
 
 188 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 facts, by placing it in co-ordination with other distinct branches of 
 human research, by separating it virtually from the rest of our 
 knowledge, instead of placing it at the foundation of it all, he gave 
 rise to that philosophical tendency, which has since virtually ex- 
 cluded many of the most important questions from the investiga- 
 tion of the Scottish metaphysicians. There are links of connec- 
 tion which unite the science of internal phenomena with a far 
 wider field of research. The close intercourse which exists be- 
 tween the human organism and the soul, makes it necessary to take 
 under consideration many physical phenomena as illustrative of the 
 phenomena of consciousness. In the wondrous fact of muscular 
 exertion, we see force and matter, the subject and object, brought 
 into direct co-operation — a co-operation which leads us to conceive 
 and develop the great idea of power in its origin and its effects. 
 From this point of observation, we are led into the realms of na- 
 ture. Pow'Cr there is there, for how else can we conceive of the 
 endless succession of operations, which are going forward around 
 us ? Neither is nature a lifeless mechanism. Fraught with the 
 great ideas which spiritual contemplation affords, we approach na-. 
 ture as essentially a system of living forces, embodying in its forms 
 and processes the thoughts of a vast and eternal mind. Taking 
 wing from this thought, we soar above the soul and nature alike, 
 to the great centre of all power — the great moral exemplar of all 
 mind — to God himself Looking down from that elevation, we 
 again scan the realms of creation with a new light upon them — ■■ 
 we see thought exhibited in the very lowest organic structure — 
 and trace it becoming more expressive of form and beauty in the 
 plant. In the animal kingdom we see it exhibiting a still more 
 distinct purpose — and at length, in man, giving an image of the 
 very mind from which it sprang. History develops the infinite in 
 man still further ; and religion, in its onward progress as a divine 
 life, seeks to make its expression more pure and perfect, till in the 
 new creation the divine nature shall shine forth from the very 
 mainspring and energy of the human will. By separating, on the 
 contrary, the realms of human contemplation from each other, they 
 lose their deepest significancy. We look then upon mind as a se- 
 ries of facts, the clue to whose right understanding is lost by their 
 entire isolation from everything else in which the divine thought 
 expresses itself. We look upon nature as a wondrous dance of 
 atoms ; but, separated from mind, we see not that every beauteous 
 form is the articulate expression of some great idea ; yea, and
 
 SCOTTISH PHILOSOPHY. 189 
 
 when we look up beyond the creation to Deity itself, we are 
 chilled by our utter isolation, until we begin to perceive the divine 
 thinking, all within and around, and learn of a truth " that He is 
 not far from every one of us." In this way, then, we would seek 
 to rise into a loftier region of thought, to a kind of " prima philo- 
 sophia," where the sciences of mind, of matter, and of Deity, all 
 unite in one. 
 
 Instead, therefore, of entirely separating the investigation of 
 mental from that of all other phenomena, we should here perceive 
 their mutual relations, and learn to gaze upon the universe both of 
 mind and matter as a whole, the one harmonious production of the 
 Infinite Intelligence. In this view of the case we should contem- 
 plate man in his mysterious connection with nature, and nature 
 in its relation to humanity, while the last and crowning problem 
 would be, to show how they both subsist in God. A system em- 
 bracing this sweep of investigation, might be termed philosophy in 
 its highest sense.* 
 
 Had Reid pointed out this as the ultimate tendency of meta- 
 physical research, we believe that his successors could have built 
 upon such a foundation a noble superstructure of speculative phi- 
 losophy ; but having discouraged this attempt in the outset, his 
 successors have for the most part trodden the path of mere psycho- 
 logical observation, until the science which might soar to the very 
 noblest efforts of the human intellect, and strive to solve the great 
 problems of man, the universe, and their Creator, has dwindled 
 down to one of altogether secondary interest in the hands of some 
 of its more recent advocates. f 
 
 The immediate followers of Reid accordingly, true to the senti- 
 ments of their master, were chiefly employed in illustrating and 
 defining the principles of common sense as the data of all real phi- 
 losophy. Beattie's chief merit (independently of his valuable dis- 
 quisitions on moral and a?sthetical subjects) consists in the clear 
 distinction he makes between the axioms of common sense, and 
 the logical deductions of our reason. His whole doctrine of evi- 
 dence, as grounded on this distinction, contains much that is 
 highly valuable and interesting ; but there is no analysis of pure 
 reason, no attempt to raise the science of that which is, up to the 
 
 * For further remarks on this subject, see chap. v. sec. 1. 
 
 f I attribute to this isolation the great practical fruitlessness of the Scottish meta- 
 physics. A work begun so nobhj by Reid, wlien he took his stand upon the central 
 principles of human belief, ought to have infused long ere this a new life into all the 
 moral sciences.
 
 190 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 higher science of that which must he, nor any hint at the very ex- 
 istence of a deeper principle on which the axioms of common 
 sense themselves are all grounded. 
 
 In Oswald we see a still more slavish devotee to the same idol, 
 inasmuch as he makes common sense, in its most popular accepta- 
 tion, the supreme judge in all philosophical investigations ; while 
 Ferguson at once cuts off the approach to a higher metaphysical 
 science, by laying down as the very principle of all science, that 
 human knowledge is confined entirely to the observation of facts, 
 and the discovery of general laws, as the result of our induction. 
 In doing so, he overlooks altogether the great truth, that there are 
 conceptions by which alone the facts are intelligible, and axioms 
 upon which the very process of induction rests ; while in holding 
 up experience as marking the limits of our philosophical knowl- 
 edge, he forgets that there are laws of thought, which are assur- 
 edly prior to all experience. 
 
 If, then, such a priori laws really exist, why, we ask, should 
 there not be one branch of philosophy, whose object is to inquire 
 into them, and not only to point out our primary or necessary be- 
 liefs, but to trace them to their origin, as Kant does, in the actual 
 forms of the understanding or the reason ? We forbear, however, 
 to pursue our remarks on the Scotch philosophy any further at 
 present, since it has found another, and perhaps an abler expositor 
 in Dugald Stewart, whose works we shall have another opportu- 
 nity of criticizing, when we come to consider the Scottish school, 
 as it appears upon the stage of the nineteenth century. Any fur- 
 ther remarks upon the deficiencies of Scottish metaphysics we 
 shall leave for that occasion.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 *"* ™t^,'^™'""''^ """"^ °f SCEPTICISM AND MYSTICISM 
 
 WHICH HAVE ARISEN OUT OP THE PRECEdYng 
 
 SYSTEMS OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 In the former chapters the two chief and opposite methods of 
 phdosoph.z,„g have been at some length e.plain'e'd, and the ho J 
 
 related 'rh""^ "°™"'f '""" '" '"« ^'^'"' ^-'-y b^efly 
 related. The observation of outward facts, so strongly encoura<red 
 
 byse„sat,onahsm has been shown well adapted to originate a vald 
 school of physical science, while the habit of reflection upon the 
 inward operations of the mind, which is more commonly nurLed 
 by Idealism, has unquestionably produced in its turn many highly 
 nterestmg and valuable results of another description. Either of 
 these systems, however, when it would embrace the whole sphere 
 of human knowledge, and interdict every idea which has not come 
 through one peculiar channel, soon conducts us to the most fX 
 and injurious results. ^ 
 
 Let us see this with regard to sensationalism. The whole pro 
 cess of sensation, we are conscious, is passive; the momeiU the re- 
 fore, we attempt, like Condillac, to reduce all our notions to differ 
 ent species of transformed sensations, we virtually denv the natural 
 liberty or energy of the mind, and make humaniiy itself butrin 
 genious piece of' mechanism, which is moved hither and thither by 
 forces impressed upon i, from the outward world. Human freedom 
 accordingly perishes under the hands of a bold sensationalism iC 
 IS It alone the moral nature which is stripped of its grandeur by 
 these principes-tlie foundations of truth i.self are likewise under! 
 mined, and the road to scepticism prepared. Knowledge, which 
 comes to us smiply through our sensations, can have nothing fix^ 
 and absolute about it. Its truth must be relative to the construc- 
 tion of our material organs, and can never attain to a necessary 
 and universa character. In other words, there can be no sucT 
 thing as truth, which may not at some time prove error- so that 
 the whole framework of our knowledge is rendered insecure
 
 192 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Idealism, on the contraiy, leads us just as far from truth in the 
 other direction. Neglecting the peculiar element which exists in 
 all our perceptions, and by which we are inseparably linked to the 
 material world, it first of all attempts to deduce the notion of matter 
 by a logical process from our purely rational ideas ; failing, how- 
 ever, to afford satisfaction by this process, it begins to undermine 
 the validity of the notion itself, and ends at length in its positive 
 denial. Both sensationalism, therefore, and idealism, when exclu- 
 sively pursued and developed to their furthest results, lead us into 
 a labyrinth of error, from which it appears impossible for any phi- 
 losophy to extricate us : they both give us the thread by which we 
 may enter into the very centre of the metaphysical maze, but hav- 
 ing conducted us there, they snap it asunder, and leave us in per- 
 plexity which way to turn, in order to retrace our steps. The con- 
 sequence infallibly is, that philosophy becomes distrusted, that the 
 conclusions of reason are set at nought, and a boastful scepticism 
 is engendered, which magnifies itself against all science, and builds 
 itself up upon the metaphysical errors which it can deride, but not 
 correct. 
 
 We would not, however, assert that all scepticism is of this per- 
 nicious character ; for just in the same manner as we have seen 
 sensationalism and idealism to have a good side as well as a bad, 
 so likewise scepticism, when confined within its proper limits, has 
 its uses, and may be made subservient to the development of truth. 
 All that we desire now to point out is the fact, that philosophical 
 paradoxes, whether they be derived from a shallow or a deep met- 
 aphysical system, have a natural tendency to shake our confidence 
 in the power and authority of the human reason, and engender a 
 disposition to regard scepticism as our only safeguard against 
 philosophical conclusions, which we almost instinctively refuse to 
 admit. 
 
 The fact, however, that all extremes will at length meet, is strik- 
 ingly illustrated in the case now before us. The extreme of scep- 
 ticism is sure to lead into the central regions of mysticism, the most 
 sweeping unbelief into the very worst follies of credulity. The 
 greatest unbeliever is of all men the most credulous ; he rejects, 
 perhaps, a thousand truths which rest upon a solid and satisfactory 
 evidence, but then is obliged to accept some crude system of his 
 own, into which none of these truths (to save his consistency) are 
 permitted to enter. The sceptic, for example, who denies the di- 
 vine origin of Christianity, may often appear, at first sight, rational
 
 DIFFERENT FORMS OF SCEPTICISM. 193 
 
 in his objections, so long as he is engaged in pulling down the com- 
 mon belief of Christendom ; but the moment he is called upon to 
 build up a system of his own, the moment he is required to account 
 for the facts of the case upon some other hypothesis, he soon be- 
 gins to draw far more largely than his opponents upon the very 
 credulity which he has derided. And not only this, but the more 
 universal the scepticism, the greater must be the credulity by which 
 it is followed ; because exactly in proportion to the number of facts 
 which are first rejected, must be the paucity which are left behind 
 on which to construct a new system. From these considerations, 
 therefore, we can easily see how naturally, and almost necessarily, 
 in the march of intellectual philosophy, mysticism springs out of 
 the spirit of scepticism. 
 
 The use of scepticism is to check a too ambitious and rapid gen- 
 eralization, to discover all the flaws in the foundations of human 
 science, which might in time endanger the safety of the superstnic- 
 ture ; but, having performed this duty, it must cease, and leave the 
 completion of the edifice to other hands. Instead of this, the scep-= 
 tical philosopher perchance, not content with chastising error (his 
 proper office), proceeds to construct for himself a system of spec- 
 ulative truth : and then what is the result ? He has already sported 
 with the authority of the human reason, he has undermined some 
 of its most obvious conclusions ; and now that he has placed these 
 beyond the pale of certainty, he must have recourse to any other 
 element by which he can supply the place of that which he has 
 rejected. Such an element he finds in the undefined impulses of 
 our spiritual nature, or the spontaneous working of our mental in- 
 stincts ; and from these, accordingly, he seeks to originate a system 
 of truth, to which he regards the power of reason quite unable to 
 attain, and which is rightly attributed to the workings of mysticism. 
 It is the philosophical sceptic, therefore, who first shakes the confi- 
 dence which men had reposed in the authority of their reason ; and 
 it is the mystic who, to sup})ly its place, introduces that new ele- 
 ment of faith or feeling, by one of which his philosophy is always 
 characterized. The ultimate relationship, however, existing be- 
 tween these two movements, will be better seen in the historical 
 sketch to which we now proceed.* 
 
 • On the manner in which scepticism and mysticism sprung out of the other philoso- 
 phical extremes, see Cousin's "Histoire de la Philosoplue," Le9on iv. 
 
 13
 
 194 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Sect. I. — Scepticism and Mysticism on the Continent, from the age 
 of Descartes to the commencement of the nineteenth century. 
 
 The two master-minds who gave its first tendencies to the 
 modern philosophy of France, were Gassendi and Descartes. The 
 Gassendists, Hke Hobbes in our own country, adopted many of the 
 extreme results of sensationalism ; while the Cartesians, as we have 
 before seen, leaned with an equal partiality to idealism. In the 
 contests which arose between these two schools, the weak sides of 
 both were alternately held up to view, and the baneful results ex- 
 hibited, to which either of them, if rigidly followed out, would in- 
 variably lead. The juncture then had arrived, at which scepticism 
 was needed to pull down, on either hand, what was weak and un- 
 satisfactory in their respective principles ; and accordingly, just at 
 this juncture, scepticism actually made its appearance, to perform 
 the work assigned it in the progress of human knowledge. 
 
 Previous, however, to our bringing the chief actors in this scene 
 before our attention, there is one caution which we must strongly 
 impress upon the mind of every reader ; that is, not to confound 
 theological with philosophical scepticism. By theological scepti- 
 cism we mean a rejection of the authority of natural or revealed 
 religion ; by philosophical scepticism, we mean a distrust of the 
 validity of the intellectual faculties, and the authority of the human 
 reason. The two may, in a few instances, have been united, as 
 they were in Hume ; but in the great majority of instances, the 
 case is far otherwise. Religious scepticism has, in fact, more com- 
 monly than not, been found among the disciples of an extreme sen- 
 sationalism and idealism ; the former proceeding more frequently to 
 atheistical, the latter to pantheistical results ; while philosophical 
 scepticism, so far from being identified with this, arises frequently 
 from a mistaken zeal for enlarging the authority of religious faith. 
 
 With this one observation premised, we now return to consider 
 the different shades of scepticism and mysticism on the continent 
 of Europe, from the period to which we have just alluded, to the 
 opening of the present century. 
 
 {A.) First Period — Originating from Descartes and Gassendi. 
 
 The first school of philosophical scepticism in France was pre- 
 cisely of the nature just described. Its disciples were, for the most 
 
 il
 
 SCEPTICISM ON THE CONTINENT. 195 
 
 part, ecclesiastics, who attempted to save the orthodoxy of the 
 Catholic Church, by impugning the sufficiency of that reason, by 
 the aid of which the philosophers of their day were deducing con- 
 clusions anything but consistent with the common belief of Catholic 
 Christianity. One of the most learned of this class was Peter 
 Daniel Huet, Bishop of Avranches, born at Caen, a.d. 1630. In 
 his early youth, Huet had been instructed in the Cartesian philos- 
 ophy, but finding this unsatisfactory, he went over to the Gassen- 
 dists, in order to see if any of his difficulties could be removed by 
 the tenets of that school. Finding many of their doctrines to be 
 in direct opposition to his religious faith, he became altogether dis- 
 gusted with speculative reasoning, and sought a refuge in philosoph- 
 ical scepticism.* 
 
 His sceptical opinions may be stated in the two following po- 
 sitions. First, that although there may be, and undoubtedly is, 
 such a thing as objective reality, yet the human reason is too feeble, 
 and has to encounter too many obstacles in the acquisition of 
 knowledge, to be ever absolutely certain, whether our ideas cor- 
 respond with that reality to any degree of accuracy or not. Sec- 
 ondly, that the only principle by which we can attain to certainty 
 is faith — a principle which lies altogether beyond the reach of 
 scepticism, inasmuch as it arises not from our natural faculties, but 
 from an immediate operation of the Divine mind 
 
 The chief work in which Huet's sceptical principles are em- 
 bodied, is entitled, " An Essay concerning the Weakness of the 
 Human Understanding," which was written about the year 1690,t 
 to follow his " Censura Philosophiae Cartesianae." The work is in 
 three books, the first of which is intended to jirove, that truth can- 
 not be known with absolute certainty by the help of reason. This 
 position he strengthens by thirteen arguments, in which he makes 
 his appeal to the inspired penmen, to the imperfection of the senses 
 as a means of knowledge, to the insufficiency of the intellectual 
 powers, to the impossibility of verifying the objective validity of 
 our subjective ideas, and finally to the opinion of all the most cele- 
 brated philosophers of antiquity. The second book makes us ac- 
 quainted with the legitimate way of philosophizing, which, he 
 
 * In the preface to his " Essay on the Weakness of the Hainan UnJerstandinjr," 
 the author gives a singular hut lionest account of his own experience in the search for 
 truth. It appears from the memoirs of his own Hfe, that Huet was introduced into the 
 sceptical philosophy by M. Cormisy, who was president of the parhament of Aix in 
 Provence, and was banished to Caen by order of the court. 
 
 t The oriirinal work I have not seen, but have in my possession an excellent Entr- 
 lish translation, by Edw. Combe, A.M., published in London, a.d. 1725. °
 
 196 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 affirms, is only found, when we learn to supply the defects of reason 
 by the principle of faith — a principle which, although it cannot 
 lead to demonstrative certainty, yet gives us an evidence of truth 
 upon which we can fully repose.* The third book is entirely oc- 
 cupied in answering seven objections which he supposes might be 
 urged against his principles. The whole work gives us a remark- 
 able instance of the union of philosophical scepticism and religious 
 credulity in a man of the most universal attainments and profound 
 understanding. 
 
 A far more noted instance, however, of this species of philosoph- 
 ical scepticism, mingled at the same time with a strong infusion 
 of mysticism, presents itself in the writings of Blaise Pascal, whose 
 " Thoughts" will be read as long as reflection and piety continue 
 to go hand in hand through the world. f Few writings of a ten- 
 dency to depreciate the validity of the human reason can be found, 
 which contain so little that is objectionable, and (with the excep- 
 tion of a degree of unhealthy and morbid melancholy) so much 
 that is valuable and instructive, as these. Pascal's scepticism is 
 all aimed against the abuses of philosophy, which appeared to him 
 of so grave a nature, as to wring from him the taunt, which he 
 seemed to adopt almost as a principle, " Se moquer de la philoso- 
 phic c'est vraiment philosopher."! His early life had been devoted 
 to the eager pursuit of mathematical studies ; he had there accus- 
 tomed his mind to look for demonstrative evidence as being alone 
 satisfactory ; and when, by some striking events in his life, he was 
 aroused from his absorption in these studies to contemplate the 
 great problems of human existence and destiny, he became mani- 
 festly dejected by the discovery, that demonstration must on these 
 questions be altogether dispensed with. He required of philoso- 
 phy that it should answer all the deep inquiries of the longing 
 spirit with the same decisive voice that he had been accustomed 
 to listen to in the department of the pure sciences ; and when he 
 found the voice to come tremblingly and half inaudibly from the 
 inmost soul, he began impatiently to distrust that reason, which 
 failed in giving satisfaction to his hopes and expectations, and to 
 seek a substitute for it in revelation. 
 
 * The whole theory of Huet is summed up in this sentence — " As, then, in matters of 
 faith, faith comes in to the aid of fluctuating reason, so in all other things we know 
 thereby [by reason] it assists to assure and relieve us in our doubts, and reinstate reason 
 in a right it was divested of; that is to say, the cognizance of truth, which it naturally 
 desires.'" — Book II. chap. ii. 
 
 •f It is fortunate for the student of Pascal that a new edition of his " Thoughts," un- 
 mutilated by ignorant editors, has just been published under the careful superintendence 
 of M. Faugere. ^ Pensees, Art. x. 36.
 
 SCEPTICISM ON THE CONTINENT. 197 
 
 The first position which strikes us on reading the " Pensees," is 
 that which asserts the natural feebleness and the many delusions 
 of the human mind. These delusions arise primarily from the 
 inward clashing of the faculties occasioned by sin. " Les deux 
 principes de verite, la raison et le sens, outre qu'ils manquent sou- 
 vent de sincerite, s'abusent reciproquement I'un I'autre. Les sens 
 abusent la raison par de fausses apparences ; et cette meme piperie, 
 qu'ils lui apportent, ils la resolvent d'elle a leur tour : elle s'en re- 
 vanche. Les passions de Fame troublent les sens, et leur font des 
 impressions facheuses ; ils mentent et se trompent a I'envi." Sim- 
 ilar sentiments to these occur throughout Part L Art. 4, 5, 6, 11, 
 and Part IL Art. 1, 6. Another cause of delusion upon which 
 great stress is laid, is the partial view we are obliged to take of all 
 things in relation to the universe at large. Because we cannot 
 know the ,whole, it is urged that we can know nothing aright. 
 *' Nous sommes sur un milieu vaste, toujours incertains et flottants 
 entre I'ignorance et la connaissance, et si nous pensons aller plus 
 avant, notre objet branle, et echappe a nos prises." Let it not be 
 supposed, however, that Pascal rests satisfied in these sceptical 
 results. Far from it. He felt that man must believe something, 
 that it was impossible to repose upon doubt ; and to save himself 
 from the torture of uncertainty, he threw himself, or attempted to 
 do so, into the arms of a faith, which, without satisfying the reason, 
 could yet give repose to the spirit in its longing after the infinite 
 and the eternal.*' 
 
 Far, indeed, should we be from denouncing the appeal which 
 Pascal makes, on purely religious questions, from the authority of 
 reason to that of revelation, as altogether incorrect ; for allowing, 
 as we do, such a revelation to exist, an appeal of that nature is in 
 perfect consistency with the best light of reason itself: but it was 
 not necessary, when reason failed to satisf}^ his heart's yearnings 
 after God and immortality, to undermine its authority on all moral 
 questions lohatever. In doing so, he doubtless repressed a too bold 
 speculation within the region of theology, but at the same time he 
 tacitly advocated principles, which, if carried out, would have 
 gone far to strike at the root of the fairest portions of human 
 knowledge. t 
 
 * Part II. Art. 2, G, 7. 
 
 t Mr. Hallani, in treating of Pascal, has attempted to undermine the force of his 
 remarks, by denying to human nature an " intrinsic objective rcaJilij.'' We cannot but 
 think that on this point Pascal has the advantage over his commentator. Humanity 
 is too closely knit together in tlie whole of its moral aspects, not to be sensible of per- 
 turbations, propagating themselves like waves of evil, through the whole mass.
 
 198 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 A similar, but far less profound scepticism than that of Pascal, 
 manifested itself about the same time in Germany. Its importance, 
 however, is not sufficient to detain us, in order to give any particu- 
 lar account of its advocates. One of the principal of these was 
 Jerome Hirnhaim of Prague, the title of whose work, apparently, 
 gives us almost as clear a conception of his philosophy as a perusal 
 of the work itself It runs as follows : — " De typho generis hu- 
 mani, sive de scientiarum humanarum inani et ventoso tumore, 
 difficultate, labilitate, falsitate, jactantia, praesumptione, incommo- 
 dis et periculis ; tractatus brevis, in quo etiam vera sapientia a 
 falsa discernitur, simplicitas mundo contempta extoUitur, idiotis in 
 solatium, doctis in cautelam conscriptus." Tennemann remarks 
 of Hirnhaim, " that he declaimed, not without spirit, against the 
 literary vanity and obscurity of the learned, on the ground that 
 all knowledge was deceptive, and no axiom of reason known, that 
 might not be annihilated by revelation. Divine revelation, super- 
 natural grace, and an inward divine light, he thought, were the 
 only foundations of certain knowledge."* 
 
 The other authors of this period who wrote in the same strain, 
 were such as by no means to require even a mention in describing 
 the historical progress of philosophy ; they consist chiefly of Cath- 
 olic theologians, who attempted thus early to repress the rising 
 spirit of Protestantism, by undermining the authority of reason, to 
 which it appealed. 
 
 Whilst the theologians of the age were thus engaged in repress- 
 ing the bolder flights of the human reason, and advancing, in their 
 zeal, sentiments detrimental to its just authority, another race of 
 sceptical philosophers arose, who rested their arguments upon alto- 
 gether a different foundation. The men to whom I now allude 
 were educated in the sensational school- of Gassendi ; and accord- 
 ingly, instead of invalidating the powers of the human reason in 
 favor of religious faith, they took their start on the road to scepti- 
 cism from those empirical principles, for which the remodelled 
 Epicureanism of the Gassendist was remarkable. Samuel Sorbiere 
 and Simon Foucher both belong to this class, the former of whom 
 published a translation of vSextus Empiricus, with notes and illus- 
 trations ; while the latter revived the spirit of the new academy, 
 
 * Tennemann's " Gnindriss," sec. 342. As I have not been able to gain a personal 
 knowledae of the work above quoted, I can only give the current opinion concerning 
 it in the histories of philosophy.
 
 SCEPTICISM ON THE CONTINENT. 199 
 
 and with its anti-dogmatical principles firmly opposed the views of 
 Descartes and Malebranche.* 
 
 The general character of this school of philosophers was that of 
 profound erudition, great knowledge of history, and a pleasing 
 combination of wit and elegance ; without any claim, however, to 
 deep and patient metaphysical thinking. These qualities appeared, 
 perhaps, in their highest degree, in the works of Peter Bayle, whom, 
 accordingly, we may regard as the most perfect type of the philos- 
 ophers of this class. The mind of Bayle was formed by nature 
 to move in an orbit of its own, imbued, as he seemed, with an ir- 
 repressible desire of doing what no man else would do, of thinking 
 what no man else would think, and of finding out, by the most pro- 
 found research and unwearied diligence, every paradox that was 
 discoverable in the opinions of others. Accustomed from his early 
 youth to theological strife, and having himself two or three times 
 crossed the boundary between Protestantism and Popery, he settled 
 down into a fixed aversion to all dogmatism, both philosophical and 
 theological, and spent nearly his whole life in exposing it by his 
 learning, and satirizing it by his wit. To assign to Bayle any deep 
 metaphysical acumen, would undoubtedly be incorrect; but few 
 men ever possessed a more penetrating power of research into the 
 opinions of other thinkers, and a greater talent in discovering their 
 weak points. 
 
 This spirit of severe criticism, together with his fondness for the 
 philosophy of Montaigne, naturally superinduced a tendency to ex- 
 amine everything with a sceptical eye, and led him at length to 
 deny the possibility of obtaining any positive philosophical knowl- 
 edge, that should defy the assaults of sceptical ingenuity. That 
 the human reason was sufficient to detect error, however latent, he 
 firmly believed, and was himself one of the most illustrious proofs 
 of his principle ; but so completely did he seem moulded to the 
 work of criticism and controversy, that after having at one time 
 pointed out the inconsistency of reason with revelation, and at 
 another, the inconsistency of revelation with reason, he seemed to 
 rest at last in the assurance that absolute truth is altogether in- 
 discoverable, and that we must get as near to it as we can by 
 
 * These writers were both pupils of Franfois de la Mothe le Vayer. Foucher wrote 
 a number of minor controversial works, which have little interest beyond their age. 
 His chief opponent was Mersenne, who wrote his work entitled " La Verite des Sci- 
 ences contre les Sceptiques," chiefly against Foucher's tracts. These tracts were 
 afterwards published together, under the title " Dissertations sur la Recherche de la 
 Verite," Paris, 1693. The best account I have seen of him is in the " Dictionnaire des 
 Sciences Philosophiques," now publishing in Paris.
 
 200 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 criticizing and correcting the aberrations of those who have 
 sought it. 
 
 To get at the real opinions of Bayle, notwithstanding the volumi- 
 nousness of his writings, is probably impossible. His habit of con- 
 cealing the authorship of his works by false dates and other tricks 
 equally dishonest, w'as but the counterpart of the concealment of 
 his real opinions in those works themselves. The general tone, 
 however, that pervades the whole of them, and which betrays the 
 real mind of the writer more than his ostensible opinions, was that 
 which I have indicated — a literary scepticism formed by the inces- 
 sant habit of criticism upon the opinions of others, and by the 
 utter instability of his own.* 
 
 Such then, in brief, were the principal forms which the sceptical 
 philosophy of that age assumed. It first took its origin from the 
 abuses of the other systems, and performed by no means a useless 
 part, when, in correcting those abuses, it sent back some of the 
 greatest minds of the day (Leibnitz to wit) to examine the very 
 foundations of human knowledge, and to lay them over afresh with 
 greater caution and solidity. 
 
 From this brief notice of the early scepticism of the Continent, 
 we must now turn to the mystical elements which co-existed 
 with it. 
 
 The close connection between scepticism and mysticism has 
 been already shown, and the incipient mystical tendency, as it ap- 
 peared in some of the philosophers we have just mentioned, has 
 been already detected. We have now, however, to detail the 
 avowed and decided efforts which mysticism put forth to form 
 philosophical systems, and to supply the place of that reason, whose 
 authority was disowned by the sceptics. Such attempts made 
 their appearance almost simultaneously in France and Germany, 
 although in neither country did they produce systems of any supe- 
 rior eminence. Francis Mercurius Van Helmont (born 1619, died 
 1699,) inherited from his father a strong bias to the mystical. 
 Stimulated by the errors in which the other schools appeared in- 
 volved, he was induced to make fresh attempts to combine the doc- 
 trines of Plato, of the (Jabala, and of the Bible, into a new theory, 
 the chief objects of which appeared to be, to refer both mind and 
 matter to one and the same essence, and to reinstate the Pythago- 
 
 * To give a complete account of the writings of Eayle, would be no very easy matter. 
 It is questionable whether the authorship of all was ever acknowledged, or even known. 
 That by which he is best known, and by which his name will survive the lapse of ages 
 to come, is of course the " Dictionnaire Historique et Critique."
 
 SCEPTICISM ON THE CONTINENT. 201 
 
 rean dogma of transmigration.* Marcus Marci of Kronland, 
 Johann Engel a Silesian, and a few others, followed somewhat 
 closely in his footsteps ; the former of whom, especially, attempted 
 to bring back some of the mystical notions of antiquity, in a work 
 entitled " Philosophia vetus Restituta." 
 
 In France, Peter Poiret (born 1646, died 1719,) advocated a 
 mystical philosophy, which was less of a physical, and far more of 
 a moral nature. Opposed, on the one hand, to Descartes, to whose 
 philosophy he had for some time been attached, and on the other 
 to the now growing opinions of Locke, against whom he wrote an 
 able treatise,! he sought refuge from the weakness of the reason 
 in faith, as the legitimate source of truth, and from the corruption 
 of the will in grace, as the source of all true virtue. Theologi- 
 cally there are, perhaps, some things that may be considered valu- 
 able in the writings of Poiret ; but the extension of his religious 
 notions into the proper boundaries of speculative philosophy, to say 
 nothing of his strong tendency to fanaticism, points him out to us 
 as one of the most decided instances of mysticism in his age and 
 country. Fenelon, who favored that species of religious sentiment 
 which France has designated by the term Quietism, may likewise 
 be numbered among the mystics who arose at this period of French 
 literature. The real tendency of the Quietist system is apt to be 
 lost sight of in the lofty and imposing spiritualism which it pro- 
 fesses. The peculiarity of it has always been the absorption of the 
 will in passive feeling and ecstasy — a doctrine which may elevate 
 a nature already pure, but which in many is too apt to degenerate 
 into fearful immorality. Fcn61on, however, like Poiret and others, 
 is to be reckoned amongst the theological rather than the philo- 
 sophical phenomena of his age and country. J 
 
 * Helmont spent the greater part of his life in going backwards and forwards from 
 Germany to Enghind, and in converse with the mystics of l)oth countries. He pub- 
 lished his " Para'doxical Discourses" at London in 1G85. His chief work, however, is 
 entitled " Seder OUun, ordo Sajculoruin; hoc est historica cnarratio doctrinai philoso- 
 phicse per unum, in quo sunt omnia," (1G93.) Tcnnemann says, '• Erlchrte vornehmlich 
 eine aUgemcine Synipathic der Dingo ; ein Ucbergchen des Gcistcs und K.irpers in 
 einander; weil beide nur der Form, nicht dem Wescn nach vershieden sind ; und sich 
 wie weibl'iches, und mannliches verhalten, und daruin auch in jedcm sichtbaren Ges- 
 chopfe vorhanden sind." — Grundriss, sec. 3'29. 
 
 t Fides et ratio collatre ac suo utraque loco redditre adversus jjrincipia .T. Lockii, 
 1707. The "^reat work of Poiret is entitled '• Economic de la Divine Providence,'" 
 (1649.) The origin of Poiret's mysticism appears to have been his acquaintance with 
 the writin<Ts of Mad. Hourignon. For a very interesting account of the French mysti- 
 cism of thi's age, sec " Forergn Aids to Self-Intelligence," a series of highly philosophi- 
 cal articles in the Monthly Magazine, by J. A. Heraud, Esq. On this subject, see 
 No. 27, (March 1811.) 
 
 \ Many glimpses into the real nature and tendency of Quictisin arc to be gained 
 from a work, not in other respects very creditable to the author's t.istc— I mean Miche- 
 let's " Priests, Women, and families." While the author is far trom doing justice to the
 
 202 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 But the most wide-spread school of rehgious mysticism, which 
 arose during the eighteenth century, was that of Emanuel Swe- 
 denborg. To give anything approaching to an adequate view of 
 the Swedenborgian philosophy, we feel to be a matter of great dif- 
 ficulty, and, indeed, in a brief compass, almost impossible. The 
 difficulty of the case arises partly from the amazing fertility of his 
 writings, partly from the frequent obscurity with which his thoughts 
 are expressed, and partly from the differences of opinion upon many 
 important points, which exist amongst his followers. Although, 
 according to his own testimony, he was accustomed from a child 
 to think much upon spiritual things, yet his earher manhood seemed 
 to be altogether engrossed in scientific pursuits. The results of 
 these studies exist to the present day in the form of volumes and 
 tracts, which travel over almost the whole surface of natural hi"s- 
 tory and science, and in which it is only justice to say are found, 
 more or less obscurely, many of the germs of recent and brilliant 
 discoveries. 
 
 It was in the " Prodromus," a brief treatise upon " The Infinite 
 and the Soul," that the philosophical and theological thinking of 
 Swedenborg began. I say philosophical and theological, because 
 it was his firm conviction from the first, that revelation and philos- 
 ophy were fundamentally identical, that all religion was to be made 
 scientific, and all science to be made religious. 
 
 The first question which suggests itself with reference to the 
 Swedenborgian philosophy, is this. What is the method it pro- 
 poses, by which truth is to be attained ? Some philosophers had 
 attempted to deduce all truth from a priori principles ; others had 
 attempted to ascend by an inductive process from the particular to 
 the general. What is the methodology that Swedenborg adopted ? 
 To answer this question accurately, we should premise, that he set 
 out upon no fixed metaphysical principles whatever ; he went to 
 work as a solitary and independent observer, to find truth ; and the 
 method to be pursued, formed itself as he proceeded. As any un- 
 philosophical thinker naturally would do, he began his career by a 
 wide observation of facts ; his system, therefore, was cradled in 
 simple inductive processes ; it was analytic ; or if we may use a 
 word implying authority, it was Baconian. Few perhaps who have 
 only listened to vagus rumors respecting this philosophy, would 
 imagine that it commenced in a collection of facts, far greater than 
 
 virtues of Madame Guyon, and of Fcnelon himself, yet the character of the Quietist 
 mysticism is often portrayed by his pen in a very striking manner.
 
 SCEPTICISM ON THE CONTINENT. 203 
 
 those, of which the father of experimental science himself had any 
 conception. 
 
 After passing successively through the regions of mechanics, 
 with the corresponding properties of matter ; after traversing the 
 province of chemistry, throwing light upon the action of impon- 
 derable agents, and suggesting the germ of the atomic theory, by 
 pointing out the geometrical relations existing between the ulti- 
 mate atoms, Swedenborg comes at length to the animal kingdom. 
 Here the course of his research begins to gain point and preg- 
 nancy. The human body may be regarded as that in which all 
 the operations of nature are concentrated and perfected. Here, 
 therefore, is a microcosm — a perfect representation of all being — 
 an image of the whole creation ; here consequently a theatre, 
 upon which philosophy may achieve its noblest conquests. In this 
 department, then, we begin to see more clearly some of the scien- 
 tific formulas or methods, which, evolved, as he tells us, by intense 
 thought and patient observation, are potent to cast light upon the 
 nature and uses of all things around us. First of all, there is the 
 doctrine of forms. Nature, he considered, is purely mechanical in 
 all her movements ; hence every higher region in which she ap- 
 pears, from the mineral to the man, is represented by movement in 
 a particular form. All the movements of the mineral kingdom 
 are angular, as seen in the crystal ; the next form is the circular, 
 as seen in the bodily organization, in the circulation of the blood, 
 &c. ; the highest form is the spiral, the type of spirit itself* 
 
 In developing the physiology of the human body, another philo- 
 sophical principle comes clearly into view, namely, the doctrine of 
 series. Anxious to know the real structure of the various oro-ans 
 of the human frame, Swedenborg conceived that the doctrine of 
 monads, and of ultimate atoms, would only bring him to a dark 
 unintelligible point, in which all form or organization ceased ; and 
 that the notion of the infinite divisibility of matter would lead to a 
 nonentity, from which nothing could be drawn. Eveiy organ, 
 then, he conceived, must be made up of perfect atomistic organs, 
 each one of which expresses the thing itself far more completely 
 than the whole ; just as society is made up of individual men, and 
 each man is the most perfect pattern of humanity. Everything in 
 nature, therefore, consists of a series of perfectly organized atoms 
 
 * N.B. — There are other and higher forms enumerated, which refer to the spiritual 
 world only.
 
 204 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 — the lungs, e. g. of innumerable microscopic lungs, the heart of 
 numerous smallest hearts, and so forth with all the other organs. 
 
 Having gone through the regions of physiology, Swedenborg 
 came to the confines of the province of Spirit itself Often, he 
 tells us, had he searched for some light upon the nature of the soul, 
 but as often had been disappointed, until at length he got upon the 
 right track, and entered the sacred chamber.* To gaze upon the 
 soul by the senses was manifestly impossible ; but was it not possi- 
 ble to reason up from the material to the immaterial, and from the 
 facts of the one to see into the nature of the other ? The validity 
 of such a process was grounded upon the doctrine of degrees ; a 
 doctrine, he says, which is necessary " to enable us to follow in the 
 steps of nature ; since to attempt without it to approach and visit 
 her in her sublime abode, would be to attempt to climb heaven by 
 the Tower of Babel ; for the highest step must be approached by 
 the intermediate."t The doctrine of degrees, accordingly, is that 
 which teaches us, that there is a relation or parallelism between all 
 things in nature, from the lowest sphere in which it exists, to the 
 highest. Thus the brain contains potentially the whole body, and 
 what is essentially true of the body, is true of it. Again, the ani- 
 mal spirits which flow through the nerves, in a higher and more 
 ethereal sphere, perfectly represent the more gross and obdurate 
 human organization ; so also the soul itself, in a still higher region, 
 must be a perfect type, or rather co-ordinate archetype, of the 
 body. Accordingly, all nature by these degrees ascends from the 
 lowest to the highest, and descends from the highest to the lowest ; 
 so that by the aid of this philosophical formula, we can study the 
 spiritual world by means of the knowledge we possess of the ma- 
 terial. J 
 
 Even in the spirit itself there are degrees. The lowest is that 
 which is only cognizant of sensations ; the next above this is the 
 animus, whose office is to imagine and desire ; thirdly, there is the 
 mind, which understands and wills ; and lastly, there is the soul, 
 whose office is to represent the universe, and have intuition of 
 ends.§ Such is man, so far as the/onw of his being is concerned; 
 but where is the life, which is to animate him ? The body is dead 
 matter, but it is vivified by the animal spirits and other impondera- 
 
 * See his " Economy of the Animal Kingdom," chap, iii., on the Soul ; at the com- 
 mencement of which we have his own account of the method he had pursued. 
 t Ibid., chap. iii. sec. 210. 
 
 i This is an application of the doctrine of Correspondences. 
 ^ Economy of Animal Kingdom, chap. iii. sec. 6.
 
 SCEPTICISM ON THE CONTINENT. 205 
 
 ble agents ; these agents again are vivified by the soul — but whence 
 the Hfe of the soul ? It is the love of God* God, accordinfr to 
 Swedenborg, is perfect man. The essence and form of God are 
 respectively perfect love and perfect wisdom ; the former is repre- 
 sented in the human will, the latter in the human understanding. 
 
 Having thus traced the philosophy of Swedenborg to its highest 
 point, we may look back for a moment upon his whole method of 
 procedure. Evidently it is the inductive and synthetic method 
 combined. Commencing by observation, his mind seized upon 
 certain high philosophical axioms, and from them reasoned down- 
 wards to the nature and uses of particular objects. Perhaps it is 
 the only attempt the world has seen (with exception of the unsuc- 
 cessful effort of Comte) at rising upwards to purely philosophical 
 ideas from positive and concrete facts. 
 
 Having attained thus to the highest region of philosophy, Swe- 
 denborg enters the world of theological truth. For gazing upon 
 the spiritual world, he conceives we have purel}^ spiritual senses, 
 and a spiritual understanding. To most men the spiritual world 
 is closed, because, absorbed in the lower or sensual life, they have 
 no intuition of it. To many, moreover, who do obtain spiritual 
 intuitions, there exists not an enlightened spiritual understanding 
 to interpret what the inward eye beholds. Spiritual or theological 
 truth only becomes clear where both these requisites unite ; where 
 the purely moralized or sensualized soul gazes upon the higher 
 world, and where the spiritual understanding can comprehend 
 what is seen. 
 
 Wrapt in his own deep reveries, Swedenborg could not resist 
 the idea, that God, by a special act of his providence, had brought 
 the scenery of the spiritual world, and the relations of spiritual 
 truth, before his own mental vision, and within the sphere of his 
 intellection. With a mind fraught with long study upon nature 
 and her works — with a soul habituated to deep meditation upon 
 spiritual things — with a vivid imagination that could trace the 
 analogies of higher truth in the dark windings of material forms — 
 with a moral nature purified to virtue, and an exquisite sensibility 
 of the whole system, he lost himself in the visions of his own in- 
 most soul. Sometimes he seemed transported out of the body — 
 then anon he would wake up to the world around him ; sometimes 
 he pursued his high imaginings, unconscious of the lapse of time ; 
 and then he wrote down that he had seen a vision of angels ; and 
 
 ♦ Angelic Wisdom, part i.
 
 206 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 thus the high truth, that man, when his nature is elevated, can 
 converse with the spiritual ^vorld through the medium of religious 
 faith, became transformed into a special revelation, that was to 
 usher in the purified Church, and the latter-day glory. Sweden- 
 borg was assuredly a great intellectual phenomenon. Seldom, 
 perhaps never, have so many systems concentrated in a single 
 mind. He began a simple observer — a Baconian analyist ; from 
 that he raised himself to the region of rational and ideal truth ; and 
 ended a mystic — the favored channel of a new dispensation to man- 
 kind. In him, sensationalism, idealism, mysticism, were united — 
 the only phase through which he never passed was that of scepti- 
 cism. Had he been fortunate enough to complete the cycle, had 
 a tinge of wholesome scepticism curbed his credulity, we might 
 have had a great philosopher, and an active Christian reformer, 
 unmarred by the enthusiasm that dared to claim the title and the 
 honors of a divine and apostolic messenger.* 
 
 These phenomena, then, which we have just enumerated, may 
 be viewed as the various waves of scepticism and mysticism, 
 which, having been first raised by the storms of controversy, in 
 which the idealism of Descartes and the sensationalism of Gassendi 
 were so long engaged, propagated themselves in different degrees 
 of intensity for many years over several parts of the Continent of 
 Europe. In the meantime the phases of idealistic and sensational 
 philosophy themselves had altogether changed. The philosophy 
 of Descartes had passed through the hands of Malebranche and 
 Spinoza, had been remodelled by Leibnitz, and had come forth in 
 a new dogmatic form under the auspices of Wolf. That of Gas- 
 sendi, on the other hand, had given place to the more profound, 
 and, at the same time, more popular sensationalism of Locke and 
 his expounder Condillac ; so that the effects of the old Cartesian 
 controversy had hardly expended themselves, before the fresh 
 struggles of these remodelled systems were throwing in the seeds 
 of a new scepticism and a new mysticism, w^hich were to bear 
 their fruits during the greater part of the eighteenth century. This 
 leads us to — 
 
 * One ofthc best expositions of the Swedenborgian philosophy is given in the-" Foreign 
 Aids to Self-reflection," by J. A. Heraud, Esq. (Monthly Mag. No. 29.) The Sweden- 
 borgian Society is now in course of translating and publishing his works complete. 
 The " Principia/'the " Economy of the Animal Kingdom," with an admirable introduc- 
 tion by J. J. G. Wilkinson, Esq., and the " Animal Kingdom," have already appeared ; 
 others are forthcoming.
 
 SCEPTICISM ON THE CONTINENT. 207 
 
 (B,) The Second Period — originating from Locke and Leibnitz. 
 
 The scepticism and mysticism of the eighteenth centm-y, to 
 which we now advert, showed many points of diversity from that 
 which preceded it. In France almost all traces of both gradually 
 died away, for the whole mind of the country became now too 
 much absorbed in the rising school of materialism, and its devo- 
 tion to physical science, to give rise to much literature of a philo- 
 sophical kind beyond these limits. Germany, on the contrary, in 
 which the Leibnitzian-Wolfian philosophy was swaying a very 
 feeble sceptre, gave a far better opportunity for the growth of 
 sceptical principles, aided on, as they were, by the able and acute 
 advocacy, which they had received in this country from the ver- 
 satile pen of Hume. The court of Frederick the Great, who wel- 
 comed men of any opinions, so long as they had somewhat of the 
 French taste and refinement about them, was surrounded by a 
 multitude of savans, many of whom took a malignant pride in 
 deprecating all the philosophical as well as religious notions of 
 their day, in favor of a shallow and fashionable scepticism. 
 
 Among these the Marquis d'Argens figured as the author of a 
 work, by no means deficient in erudition, entitled, " The Philos- 
 ophy of Good Sense," the object of which was to throw doubts, 
 not only upon the conclusions of logic and metaphysics, but upon 
 those of history, and even natural philosophy and astronomy it- 
 self* A still more direct attempt at ])hiIosophical scepticism was 
 made by M. De Beausobre, who, in a work entitled " Pyrrhonisme 
 Raisonnable," advocated a system but few removes from that of 
 the philosopher whose name he adopted, and which contained 
 many attacks upon almost all the dogmatical systems of philos- 
 ophy, from Aristotle down to Wolf.f The same tendency was 
 exhibited in Platner's " Aphorisms,"' a work of great metaphysical 
 ability, which appeared first in 1776. Another edition of this 
 work, considerably modified, was published after tlie appearance 
 of the " Critick of Pure Reason," together with a " Manual of 
 Logic and Metaphysics." In these works he attacked the con- 
 
 ♦ The Marquis d'Argens was remarkable for the adventurous character of his life. 
 He was brought up for a soldier ; went in the embassy to Turicry ; visited the principal 
 parts of Africa; was wounded in Germany; and, being disinherited by his father, 
 found a home in the court of Frederick. His writings are all marked with scepticism^ 
 more especially aimed against Christianity. 
 
 I Louis de Beausobre, the son of Isaac dc Beausobre, was born in Berlin. His 
 writings are not esteemed for great originality.
 
 Wl 
 
 208 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 elusions of the Kantian philosophy, and attempted to overwhelm 
 its positive results, b}^ reproducing the old arguments of Pyrrhon- 
 ism against the objective validity of human knowledge.* Several 
 other sceptical productions were put forth at that period, which, 
 however, are but little known in this country, and which, even in 
 Germany itself, have been long lost sight of, eclipsed by the 
 brighter lights which have since arisen in their philosophical hem- 
 isphere. 
 
 These, we believe, were the most prominent sceptical writings 
 which made their appearance during this age. As to mysticism — 
 mysticism of a direct nature made but little fresh effort during the 
 middle of the eighteenth century ; the study of Swedenborg, per- 
 haps, affording an indirect outlet for many notions of a mystical 
 character, which might otherwise have presented some peculiar 
 features of their own. It was, however, in the latter part of this 
 century, that St. Martin translated the works of Jacob Boehme, 
 and originated the doctrine of religious mysticism in France, for 
 which he is famous. Any one who wishes to understand the foun- 
 dation upon which St. Martin built most of his peculiar notions, 
 has, in order to appreciate it aright, only to peruse the writings of 
 Henry More, one of the Cambridge Platonists, and then imagine 
 the principles there advocated reared up under the guidance of a 
 versatile and enthusiastic spirit, as a barrier against the philo- 
 sophical sensationalism of Condillac and the religious scepticism 
 of Voltaire. St. Martin was in many respects very similar to that 
 mystical, but still admirable writer ; and the opinions prevalent in 
 France, when he gave utterance to his thoughts, were such as to 
 rouse his whole soul to action, in the attempt to place his own lofty 
 spiritualism in direct opposition to them. 
 
 To give some idea of the method of philosophizing, which is 
 found in the writings of the " unknown philosopher," as he was 
 often termed, I will give a single passage translated from an article 
 in the " Archives Litteraires," which appeared in 1804, just after 
 his death, and quoted by M. Damiron, in which the spirit of his 
 system is ably delineated. " The system of St. Martin aims at 
 explaining everything by means of man. Man is to him the key 
 to every phenomenon, and the image of all truth. Taking, there- 
 fore, literally the famous oracle of Delphi, ' nosce te ipsum,' he 
 maintains that, if we would fall into no mistakes respecting exist- 
 
 * Plainer 13 perhaps better known by his " Anthropology," than his strictly meta- 
 physical writings. No man of his day, probably, combined a greater knowledge of 
 physiology and philosophy together.
 
 SCEPTICISM ON THE CONTINENT. 209 
 
 ence, and the harmony of all beings in the universe, we have only 
 to understand ourselves, inasmuch as the body of man has a ne- 
 cessary relation to everything visible, and his spirit is the type 
 of everything that is invisible. What we should study, then, are 
 the physical faculties that depend upon our bodily organization, the 
 intellectual faculties, whose exercise is often influenced by the 
 senses and exterior objects, and the moral faculties or the con- 
 science, which supposes free will. It is in this study that we must 
 seek for truth, and we shall find in ourselves all the necessary 
 means of arriving at it : this it is which our author calls natural rev- 
 elation. For example : '* The smallest attention," he says, " suffices 
 to assure us that we neither communicate nor form any idea with- 
 out its being preceded by a picture or image of it, engendered by 
 our understanding ; in this way it is, that we originate the plan of 
 a building, or any other work. Our creative faculty is vast, active, 
 inexhaustible ; but in examining it closely, we see that it is only 
 secondary, temporary, dependent ; that is to say, that it owes its 
 origin to a creative faculty, which is superior, independent, and 
 universal, of which ours is but a feeble copy. Man, therefore, is a 
 type, which must have a prototype, and that prototype is God." 
 
 From this extract the reader may form some idea of the philo- 
 sophical mysticism by which St. Martin attempted to supplant the 
 shallow materialism and growing infidelity of his age, and to in- 
 duce his countrymen to take a deeper insight into the constitution 
 of the human mind, and its close connection with the Divine.* 
 
 (C) Third Period — originating with Kant and Condillac. 
 
 The writings of Kant and Condillac formed a new era in the 
 progress both of sensationalism and of idealism. As their re- 
 spective syst3ms became propagated, the minor elforts of the 
 philosophical spirit — its sceptical as well as its mystical tendencies 
 — gradually disappeared. The former expired under the gigantic 
 power of the one, the latter was dissipated by the clear and lucid 
 analysis of the other. France and Germany now seemed to be 
 equally divided between the material school of Paris, and the 
 
 * The Marquis Louis Claude do St. Martin, called the Unknown Philosopher, was 
 born at Anihoise 1713, and died 1803. His lite was one of jrreat literary activity, and 
 his writings are all marked by a lofly hut somewhat mystical spirilualisin. His two 
 principal works are, " Erreurs de la Veritu, ou les Hoinmes rappeli's an Principe uni- 
 versel de la Science," (1775,) and " De I'Esprit des Choses, ou f'oui)-dc'(Eil Philosophi- 
 que sur la nature des utres, et sur Tobjet de Icur existence: — Ouvrage dans lequel on 
 considere I'Homme, conune etant le mot de toutes les enigmes." (2 vols. 8vo. 1800.) 
 
 14
 
 210 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 idealistic school of Konigsberg ; and in our present sketch we 
 have to pause for a time, silent spectators of this conflict, until we 
 see scepticism and mysticism again appearing between the com- 
 batants, anew to chastise their too great temerity, and anew to 
 send them back to a closer examination of the fundamental prin- 
 ciples upon which they were respectively building. Accordingly, 
 ere the century comes to a close, we see the indications of a new 
 system, both of sceptical and mystical philosophy, emanating from 
 the Kantian metaphysics ; the former brought forward by Schulze, 
 the latter by Jacobi. As both of these writers, however, though 
 belonging actually to the eighteenth century, yet pertain, as far as 
 their influence goes, more closely to the nineteenth, we shall here- 
 after take them up as an introduction to the sceptical and mystical 
 philosophy of Germany during the present age. We now come 
 back to our own countrv. 
 
 Sect. II. — Scepticism and Mysticism in England, from the time 
 .of Bacon to the commencement of the nineteenth century. 
 
 A strussle, similar to that which we have described between 
 the Cartesians and Gassendists in France, was carried on at the 
 very same period in England, between the disciples and the oppo- 
 nents of Hobbism. The idealistic tendency, however, was far less 
 extravagant in our own country than it became on the Continent, 
 in the hands of Malebranche and Spinoza; and the scepticism 
 which arose from its paradoxes was proportionably of a less sweep- 
 ing character. The author, who in England most perfectly ex- 
 pressed the sceptical tendency of this age, was Joseph Glanville, 
 court-preacher to King Charles the Second, whose work, entitled 
 " Scepsis Scientinca, or Confessed Ignorance the Way to Science, 
 iii an Essay of the Vanity of dogmatizing and confident Opinion," 
 was intended rather to controvert the pretensions of the Aristote- 
 lian and the Cartesian philosophy, than to involve the whole cir- 
 cumference of human knowledge in darkness and uncertainty. 
 
 Strictly speaking, therefore, Glanville, although he appropriates 
 the term Scepsis as significant of his philosophical opinions, was 
 far from being a universal sceptic. His object was to inculcate | 
 modesty, to chastise dogmatism, to teach the mind of man to be » , | 
 contented with the unostentatious medium between the bold ma- 
 terialism of Hobbes, and the assumptions of rationahsm. With 
 
 I
 
 SCEPTICISM IN ENGLAND. 211 
 
 this end in view he attacked the authority of antiquity, of the 
 schools, and of the more modern systems of philosophy, with a 
 vigor which, though wanting in profundity, yet at least had the 
 credit of being lucid and eloquent.* 
 
 The most remarkable portions of the work above referred to 
 are the observations it contains upon causation, in which Qlanville 
 very clearly gives the germ of the theory, which was afterwards 
 more fully developed by Hume. Causes, he argues, are the al- 
 phabet of science, without which it is impossible for us to under- 
 stand any part o( nature aright. But causes lie altogether beyond 
 the reach of experience, which reveals to us nothing but phenom- 
 ena ; and, consequently, as experience is the only true source of 
 human knowledge, it follows that the knowledge which men have 
 pretended to reach of scientific and abstract truth, cannot be any- 
 thing better than hypothesis.f This reasoning, though not very 
 profound, is yet remarkable as a display of the systematic scepti- 
 cism, which was then at work within a narrow circle, and as being 
 a kind of preparation for the deeper and more comprehensive 
 views, which were soon after propounded by the Scottish sceptical 
 philosopher who succeeded him. 
 
 Mysticism, on the other hand, was favored at this time with a 
 far greater share of attention, and was supported by far greater 
 learning, than were the feeble efforts of incipient scepticism. The 
 way to this was, perhaps, already paved by the efforts of Robert 
 Fludd (born 1574, died 1637) to revive the fanatical doctrines of 
 Paracelsus ; but the more direct cause is to be found in the fact 
 that many lofty minds, disgusted with Hobbism on the one hand, 
 and unsatisfied with Cartesianism on the other, took refuge in the 
 sublime philosophy of Plato, and devoted themselves with severe 
 and ardent study to the elucidation of his writings. Cudworth, 
 whom we have already classed amongst those who manifested a 
 tendency to idealism, was one of these Platonic philosophers, and 
 not unfrequently mingled up with his more strictly rationalistic 
 views, notions which bear upon their features somewhat of a mys- 
 tical character. But in Henry More, his friend and companion, 
 (born 1614, died 1687,) we see exemphfied the whole process both 
 of scepticism and mysticism through which the human mind is 
 
 * The " Scepsis Scientifica" was in fact an amended edition of a former work entitled 
 " The Vanity of Dogmatizing," the former being published in 1G61, the latter in 16G5. 
 Mr. Hallam expresses his opinion, that few books arc more deserving of being reprinted 
 than the '• Scepsis Scientifica." 
 
 f See " Scepsis Scientifica," p. 142.
 
 212 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 often led, after being compelled to distrust the conclusions of the 
 current philosophy. 
 
 More was educated, according to the custom of the age, in the 
 scholastic doctrines ; but, being driven from these through the in- 
 creasing influence of the writings of Lord Bacon and his succes- 
 sors, he became a most zealous Cartesian, and even corresponded 
 with Descartes himself on some questions relating to his philos- 
 ophy. Finding, however, no certainty from these principles, and 
 seeing with great penetration the paradoxes in which he would be 
 involved by carrying them out to their just inferences, he plunged 
 so deeply into scepticism, that he at length began even to doubt 
 the proof of his own individuality. Not yet, however, was the 
 yearning after truth altogether repressed by the spirit of unbelief; 
 for we find him soon after buried in the deep mines of Platonism, 
 and hear him after a while declaring, according to the Platonic 
 doctrine, that true and perfect knowledge, which alone renders us 
 happy, can only be found in that mental purity and spiritual en- 
 lightenment, by which we are elevated to a union with the Divine 
 mind itself 
 
 More was deeply impressed with the belief, that the revelation 
 which God had originally made to the Hebrew nation had been 
 communicated through the Pythagorean books to Plato ; and not 
 only this, but that the Cabalistic philosophy as well, contained a 
 system of truth couched under its metaphors and symbols, which 
 was likewise to be traced to the same Divine origin. On this 
 ground he sought to prove, that there is a unity of spirit pervad- 
 ing these various writings, and that the whole sum of true philos- 
 ophy had its germ in the illumination which man originally re- 
 ceived from the supernatural communication made to him by God. 
 The love which More manifested to the most ethereal portions of 
 Platonism, his warm defence of the Cabala, his peculiar theologi- 
 cal tenets, besides many of his poems, all clearly indicated his de- 
 cided leaning to mysticism. These collateral views, however, 
 might have been passed by almost unnoticed, or regarded simply 
 as the poetic excursions of a lofty soul towards the elevated re- 
 gions of spiritualism. But in addition to all this, there is in his 
 philosophy a calm and dispassionate maintaining of the very same 
 doctrines. It is when we find him asserting, on the one hand, that 
 the organ of true knowledge in man is a direct and divine intui- 
 tion ; and, on the other hand, that the original and only source of 
 truth objectively considered is an immediate revelation from God,
 
 SCEPTICISM IN ENGLAND. 213 
 
 that we become most sensible how deeply he had drunk into the 
 spirit of philosophical as well as of religious mysticism. 
 
 Theophilus Gale, a Presbyterian clergyman, contemporary with 
 More, followed in the same direction, although by no means to so 
 great a length. He regarded the Bible alone as the source of true 
 philosophy, and traced all the real knowledge that different heathen 
 nations possessed to its pages, as the fountain from which the whole 
 had originally sprung. There are two works in which Gale devel- 
 oped his views on these subjects. In the first of them, that en- 
 titled " The Court of the Gentiles," (1676,) he endeavors to trace 
 all the notions of antiquity which deserve any consideration, 
 whether upon theology or philosophy, up to the Scriptures ; or at 
 least to Jewish originals ; and even goes so far as to show that the 
 very words they employed were taken from this inspired source. 
 His second work, called " Philosophia Universalis," follows up the 
 argument in two parts. In the first he treats of the history of phi- 
 losophy, more especially that of Plato, to which he was strongly 
 attached : in the second he expounds his own theory on the origin 
 of our knowledge, attributing the whole to an inspired source, as 
 being the only theory upon which its very existence could be ex- 
 plained. 
 
 The most open and avowed mysticism, however, of this period, 
 was that of John Pordage, (born 1625, died 1698,) who spread 
 abroad much the same doctrines in England as Peter Poiret was 
 at the same time engaged in diffusing throughout France. The 
 philosophy of Pordage was founded on the writings of Jacob 
 Boehme, whose notions he attempted first to systematize and ar- 
 range, and then to vindicate by an appeal to revelation. The 
 general character of his system may be seen by the title of one 
 of his chief works, which runs as follows :■ — " Theologia Mystica 
 sive arcana mysticaque doctrina de invisibilibus aeternis, &c., non 
 rationali arte, sed cognitione intuitiva. descripta." With this title 
 alone, we apprehend, our readers will be quite satisfied ; and there- 
 fore, having brought it for a moment to their view, we must leave 
 it to those who are curious in tracing the meanderings of the hu- 
 man spirit in its search after truth, to investigate more at length 
 the principles upon which the doctrines advanced under it are 
 founded, and to estimate the value of the results to which they 
 may possibly lead. 
 
 The bald enumeration of the foregoing names may, perhaps, 
 seem to require some apology. Our simple object in doing so has
 
 214 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 been to show, what phenomena of a mystical and sceptical ten- 
 dency actually made their appearance at this time, without crowd- 
 ing our pages, and taxing the patience of our readers with the 
 useless details of long-forgotten theories. 
 
 Here, then, the history of the English scepticism and mysticism, 
 as they appeared successively during the seventeenth century, 
 closes. The philosophy of Locke, which became popular to an 
 almost unprecedented extent towards the close of this period, pro- 
 duced an influence upon the thinkers of the age, which turned the 
 whole current of metaphysical speculation into a new channel. 
 The^ mystic Platonism and the Cartesian rationalism which had 
 prevailed so extensively throughout the country, were gradually 
 forgotten, and all eyes seemed turned to Locke as the great oracle 
 who was to solve all the doubts in which philosophy had been in- 
 volved, and to probe with unerring accuracy all the powers and 
 faculties of the human understanding. 
 
 The principles of Locke's celebrated Essay we have already 
 criticized at some length, and shown, we trust sufficiently, the dan- 
 gerous readiness which it manifested, to regard experience as the 
 sole basis, upon which any system of truth could be erected. To 
 refute this, idealism, as we have also seen, raised a strong opposi- 
 tion ; but whilst curbing the advancing sensationalism in its course, 
 it did not stop in its own progress until it had, in the person of 
 Berkeley, denied the very existence of the material world. The 
 result of this contest was natural. To suppose that the extreme 
 empirical principles, which flowed from the school of Locke, 
 should exist on the one hand, and the perfected idealism of Berkeley 
 should co-exist on the other, both leading to many strange and 
 paradoxical results, without, at the same time, shaking the confi- 
 dence of mankind in the power and authority of the human rea- 
 son, and urging them on the road to scepticism, was, according to 
 all the results of former experience, absolutely impossible. We 
 naturally look, therefore, for an energetic display of scepticism, 
 which should answer in some measure to the ability and acuteness 
 with which the other rival theories were supported ; and if there 
 be any truth in the supposition that the sceptical element is the 
 check, which, by our very constitution, is intended to curb the 
 rashness of a too hasty generalization, our expectations could not, 
 assuredly, in this instance, be disappointed. 
 
 The scepticism which arose out of the school of Locke, we find, 
 in fact, to be one of the most deeply grounded in its principles, the
 
 SCEPTICISM IN ENGLAND. 215 
 
 most logical in its arguments, and the most sweeping in its conclu- 
 sions, of any which the history of philosophy has recorded ; and the 
 name of David Hume, its great advocate, will ever be remembered 
 as associated with all that is bold and comprehensive in the attacks 
 which have been made against the validity of human knowledge.* 
 
 Hume united in himself, to a high degree, the observing power 
 of sensationalism, with the faculty of abstract reasoning that has 
 generally belonged peculiarly to idealism, and knew perfectly what 
 had been found unsatisfactory in the one system, as well as what 
 was inconclusive in the other. He came, properly speaking, from 
 the school of Locke, and adopted throughout, the fundamental 
 axioms of that philosophy for his own ; but he could equally well 
 employ a more abstract method of reasoning, whenever it suited 
 his purpose, in order to strengthen the grounds of his startling un- 
 belief 
 
 To the first principles, from which he took his start, no one at that 
 time could very strongly demur. It was then generally admitted 
 that Locke's account of the origin of our ideas was correct, and 
 that the whole of our knowledge might really be traced to sensa- 
 tion or reflection as its primary source. Hume, in fact, did little 
 more than change the current phraseology, when he said that all 
 our mental phenomena consist of imjrressions and ideas ; including 
 under the former our direct perceptions, and by the latter meaning 
 the signs of them, which, by vjrtue of memory, association, &c., 
 remain after the impression has ceased. f In addition to this, he 
 was only following Aristotle, the scholastic philosophers, Descartes, 
 Malebranche, and Locke himself, when he assumed as indisputable 
 the representationalist theory of human knowledge, and took for 
 granted, that by the idea of any real outward existence, we are to 
 understand the representation or copy of it actually existing within 
 our own minds ; this copy being the sole means by which we can 
 attain to the knowledge of the objective. J 
 
 Now, these two fundamental principles, that of the representa- 
 tionalist theory of human knowledge, and that of the sensational 
 
 * Hume was born at Edinburgh, April 2Gth, 1711, and died in ITTfi. A full and 
 highly interesting life of Hume, with much new information from his manuscripts, hab 
 recently appeared, by J. II. Burton, F>sq. 
 
 t Our references for Hume will be all taken from the " Enquiry into the Human 
 Understandingr,' as it stands in the second vol. of his Essays. His Treatise on Human 
 Nature, he himself wished to be cancelled, and always pointed to the " Enquiry," as 
 containing his matured views. For Hume's theory of the origin of our ideas, see 
 " Enquiry," sec. 2. 
 
 \ Hume does not vmintnin the ideal system ; he merely assumes it tacitly, as a truth 
 which no one would question.
 
 216 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 origin of our ideas, form the basis, and contain the prolific germs of 
 all the astounding scepticism, for which Hume became celebrated 
 throughout Europe. The first of these principles Bishop Berkeley- 
 had already employed, in order to undermine the evidence of the 
 external world ; and Hume clearly saw that all the arguments 
 which Descartes or others had used to prove the existence of mat- 
 ter, completely failed before the more close and consecutive reason- 
 ing of that prelate. But, not content with the idealism thus origi- 
 nated, he went on to show that Berkeley, although perfectly correct 
 as far as he had ventured to proceed in his argument, had not car- 
 ried it out to its legitimate extent ; that he ought to have applied 
 his principles to the subjective as well as the objective world ; and 
 that, as impressions and ideas express everything of which we are 
 conscious, (the whole mass of our knowledge being reducible to 
 these two heads,) we have no right to conclude upon the real ex- 
 istence of a substance called mind, any more than of that which is 
 termed matter.* 
 
 It was against the representationalist theory, as being the foun- 
 dation of these sceptical conclusions, that Reid directed the chief 
 points of his controversy ; and it was upon the successful refutation 
 of it that he claimed his chief originality as a metaphysician. For 
 our estimate of this controversy, therefore, we must refer our read- 
 ers back to the last chapter, in which we have shown how far 
 Reid appears to have merited the honor that he laid claim to, and 
 pointed out in what manner the arguments of scepticism upon this 
 head may be satisfactorily repelled. One additional remark only 
 we would make, namely, that Hume deserves our thanks, not in- 
 deed for the intrinsic value of his opinions, but for the bold and 
 lucid manner in which he brought the philosophy of his age to a 
 great crisis. It was this crisis which proximately caused the over- 
 throw of representationalism, as a theory of human knowledge, and 
 gave rise to the renewed attempts which were made towards the 
 close of the eighteenth century, for strengthening the main pillars 
 of human belief 
 
 The most famous portions of Hume's scepticism, however, were 
 the conclusions he drew from his empirical principles respecting 
 the orio-in of our ideas. Every notion, according to these princi- 
 ples, which cannot show some impression, i. e. some direct sensa- 
 tion from which it proceeds, is altogether delusive, and must be re- 
 
 ♦ For Hume's statement of the argument of scepticism, see " Enquiry," sec. 12.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN ENGLAND. 217 
 
 jected as worthless by the true experimental philosopher.* Amongst 
 these merely imaginary notions, Hume places that of power, it be- 
 ing evident that we can learn from experience nothing more than 
 the existence of certain changes, which take place under certain 
 circumstances ; and that there is no perceptive faculty in man, by 
 which the link that connects any two given events can possibly be 
 discovered.! 
 
 It was this argument that led Kant to undertake the " Critick 
 of Pure Reason." " I freely own," remarks that great thinker, 
 " that the suggestions of David Hume were what first, many years 
 ago, roused me from my dogmatical slumbers, and gave to my in- 
 quiries quite a different direction in the field of speculative phi- 
 losophy. * * * I fii-st inquired whether Hume's objection 
 might not be a general one, and soon found that the idea of cause 
 and effect is far from being the only one, by which the understand- 
 ing a priori thinks of the connection of things ; but rather that 
 the science of metaphysics is altogether founded upon these con- 
 nections. I endeavored to ascertain their number, and as I suc- 
 ceeded in this attempt, upon a single principle, I proceeded to the 
 deduction of those general ideas which, I was now convinced, are 
 not, as Hume apprehended, derived from experience, but arise out 
 of the pure understanding, This deduction, which seemed im- 
 possible to my acute predecessor, and which nobody besides him 
 had ever conceived — although every one makes use of these ideas 
 without asking himself upon what their objective validity is founded 
 — this deduction was, I say, the most difficult which could have 
 been undertaken for the behoof of metaphysics. And what was 
 still more embarrassing, metaphysics could not here offer me the 
 smallest assistance, because that deduction ought first to establish 
 the possibility of a system of metaphysics. As I had now suc- 
 ceeded in the explanation of Hume's problem not merely in a par- 
 ticular instance, but with a view to the whole power of pure reason, 
 I could advance with sure, though tedious steps, to determine 
 completely, and upon general principles, the compass of pure rea- 
 son, together with what is the sphere of its exertion, and what are 
 its limits ; which was all that was required for erecting a system 
 of metaphysics upon a proper and solid foundation. "J 
 
 Let us look then a little more closely at the problem which 
 aroused Kant from his slumbers, and test the solution of it which 
 
 * " Enquiry," sec. 2. f Ibid. sec. 7, part. i. 
 
 t M. Wiilich's translation, in his " Elements of the Critical Philosophy," p. 13.
 
 218 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Hume proposed. All the objects of human inquiry, says Hume, 
 are of two kinds ; relations of ideas, and matters of fact. The 
 former (as for example, the relations of space and number in ge- 
 ometry and arithmetic), present no difficulty ; they are all discov- 
 erable simply by the operations of thought. In reasoning about 
 matters of fact, however, the case is different ; here one fact is 
 always accounted for by another, and imagined to stand in close 
 relation with it ; as when the existence of human beings on an 
 island, would be inferred, from seeing a house upon it.* 
 
 Every inquiry, then, on matters of fact, as Hume correctly 
 shows, is based upon the notions of cause and effect ; the origin of 
 which notions he discovers in experience, and entirely disowns the 
 supposition that any idea of power or adaptation is connected 
 with them. Here we conceive there is double error ; for, first of 
 all, we have the distinct idea of power (whether it be objectively 
 valid or not), given in the perception of two phenomena succeed- 
 ing each other ; neither can all the reasoning in the world dispos- 
 sess us of it. And secondly, the notion of cause and effect cannot 
 come from sensible experience, because the idea of power, which 
 forms the very peculiarity in all those successions, that stand re- 
 lated as cause and effect, is one which lies altogether beyond the 
 reach of the senses. It is not experience which tells us, when a 
 man is murdered, that there must be a murderer ; the law which 
 refers such an effect to an efficient cause, lies deeper in our nature 
 than this, and has about it a necessity/, and a universality, which 
 prior experience could never have strengthened, nor the want of 
 it have prevented. A single act brings the law or judgment into 
 operation as readily as a thousand. Reid and Kant both contested 
 the empirical doctrine of Hume on this point. The former ap- 
 pealed to common sense, and made the law of causality one of our 
 intellectual instincts ; the latter argued that the idea of cause and 
 effect is one of the a priori forms by which the human mind ne- 
 cessarily views the connection of external things — a doctrine, 
 which grounds Reid's instinct in a deeper principle or law of our 
 inward nature. 
 
 Having concluded, then (incorrectly as we conceive) that all 
 our notions of cause and effect, and the relations existing between 
 objects, are referrible to experience, Hume proceeded to moot 
 another and still deeper question, namely, upon what principle all 
 the conclusions of experience are grounded. f Let it be admitted 
 * See Enquiry, sec. 4, part 1. f Enquiry, sec. 4, part. 2.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN ENGLAND. 219 
 
 that we have observed certain phenomena to succeed each other 
 invariably, i. e. to stand in the relation of cause and effect, on what 
 ground can we affirm that the same sequences will still occur for 
 the future. There is a universal and an unfailing expectation 
 among men, that the same antecedents, under similar circum- 
 stancs, will be followed by the same consequents. Whence does 
 this expectation arise ? Does it arise from a cour.-rc of reasoning 
 grounded on experience, or from habit, or from the intuitive judg- 
 ment we necessarily form, whenever we see an effect, that there 
 must be some efficient cause or causes at work, which, under the 
 same circumstances, will operate again in the same manner? 
 Hume in discussing the first hypothesis, showed with great power 
 of reasoning, that it is impossible, from the mere experience of the 
 past, to demonstrate by a logical process the recurrence of any set 
 of events for the future. To the future, experience cannot at all 
 apply, so that every judgment we form respecting futurity from the 
 past must in fact involve the very expectation itself, for which we 
 are attempting to account. To suppose that expectation, there- 
 fore, to be a logical inference from experience, would be clearly 
 reasoning in a vicious circle. It would be deducing the expecta- 
 tion from the inference, and the inference from the expectation.* 
 
 In this part of the controvei'sy, Hume manifestly felt the strength 
 of his position, and, we admit, used it to the very best advantage. 
 Having refuted the theory of experience, therefore, he takes up, in 
 the next place, the doctrine so often maintained by the Idealist — 
 that the invariable succession of phenomena is known to us as an 
 intuitive or a priori truth. This doctrine, however, is disposed of 
 by him with still greater ease and brevity. All intuitive truth is 
 such that its contradiction would imply an absurdity; but there is no 
 absurdity in supposing many phenomena not to stand in the relation 
 of cause and effect which hitherto have done so ; and consequently 
 the expectation in question must have some other basis.f The 
 only conclusion remaining was, that our belief in the uniformity of 
 nature, as a universal truth, must arise from habit or custom, 
 gradually formed and strengthened by the power of association. 
 
 To explain the existence of this habit he enters into an analysis 
 of the laws of association, from which analysis he concludes that 
 there are three, and only three, principles of connection between 
 our ideas — namely, resemblance, contiguity, and causality. Ac- 
 cordingly, our belief in the reality of cause and effect is discovered 
 * Enquiry, sec. 4. part 2. t Ibid.
 
 220 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 to be a case of association, which, from its extreme frequency of 
 occurrence, at last produces the idea, that there is a real link of 
 connection between the two, and thus occasions our confidence in 
 the uniform recurrence of natural phenomena to all futurity.* 
 
 Now, if this be true, it is evident, that the belief in question must 
 arise solely from the vividness or the sti^ength of our associations. 
 But does this, we ask, agree with the facts of our daily observation ? 
 Is there not a difference in kind as well as degree between a case 
 of imagination, however vivid, and one of real belief ? So evi- 
 dently is this the fact, that we sometimes believe a thing, the 
 impression of which is hardly clear and strong enough to be per- 
 ceptible, while our most vivid conceptions of the imaginative kind 
 altogether fall short of reality. Mere association can never produce 
 belief, unless there is some other element in the evidence besides. 
 Even Hume himself, with all his acuteness, wavers, hesitates, and 
 stumbles in the prosecution of his theory, and in one place is even 
 betrayed so far as to admit, that in the case of belief there must be 
 some peculiarity in the manner in which the connected ideas are 
 conceived, although he does not explain very distinctly what that 
 peculiarity is.f 
 
 Again, the theory before us does not coincide with facts, when 
 it states that our belief in the uniformity of nature's operations is 
 formed and strengthened by the frequent recurrence of the associ- 
 ation. If so, let any one produce a common instance in which 
 such beUef has ever appeared feeble, or in which frequency of 
 recurrence has made it a whit stronger than it was before. Any 
 child, after the first experiment, manifests his conviction in the 
 laws of nature, as strongly as the octogenarian after the experience 
 of his whole life ; so that if the belief be of the gradual formation 
 here described, it must have been all produced during a period of 
 infancy prior to that in which we could make any observation upon 
 it, or draw any conclusion to support the theory. 
 
 The theory which Reid maintained in opposition to this part of 
 Hume's scepticism, (that, namely, in which he places our confidence 
 in the stabiUty of nature amongst man's instinctive beliefs,) was as 
 complete as the philosophy of common sense could make it, and, 
 we must admit, was well suited as a general statement to resist the 
 
 * Enquirj', sec. 5, part 2. 
 
 t " Let us then take in the whole compass of this doctrine, and allow that the senti- 
 ment of belief is nothing but a conception more intense and steady than what attends 
 the mere fictions of the imagination, and that this manner of conception arises from a 
 customary conjunction of the object with sometliing present to the memory or senses." 
 Sec. 5, part 2.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN ENGLAND. 221 
 
 progress of so irrational an incredulity among the mass of his read- 
 ers. But perhaps the question might have been reduced to a more 
 simple case of primitive judgment. All our primitive judgments, 
 as we have seen in our analysis of Locke, are at first particular 
 and concrete. The axiom, " things which are equal to the same 
 are equal to one another," never suggests itself to a child's mind ; 
 and yet as soon as reason is developed enough to observe equahty, 
 that child shows that he can form the judgment, of which the above 
 axiom is the general expression, in reference to any individual case 
 that may come before him. In the same manner, when we first 
 observe successive changes take place in nature, we form the 
 judgment, that a parallelism of conditions indicates a parallelism 
 of results ; that the same powers ever exist to bring about the same 
 phenomena under similar circumstances, or to put the judgment 
 in another form, that the properties of similar things are themselves 
 similar.* But it is evident, that in this judgment there is something 
 complex still, for it is not yet defined what we mean by the prop- 
 erties of things, or what we really do when we judge of their simi- 
 larity. Properties of bodies, when analyzed, turn out to be simply 
 another expression for the powers of bodies ; and as we only know 
 bodies through their properties, it follows that we can only know 
 them as existing powers. Thus philosophy, in the same manner as 
 mechanics, while it asserts the real objective existence of matter, 
 yet regards it not as a dead inactive substratum, but as a combina- 
 tion of forces acting variously under given circumstances, and in 
 given directions. t 
 
 Again, to go a step further, if we were asked whence we get the 
 notion of power, (which we now see to be implied in that of sub- 
 stance,) I answer that we get it from the consciousness of our in- 
 ward activity — from the will — or, what is the same thing, from the 
 me — the real starting point, though not the sole element, of all our 
 knowledge. Thus, then, we have traced the principle of our be- 
 lief in the uniformity of nature up to a distinct fact of our self- 
 consciousness. To make this clearer, let us present the same steps 
 again in the synthetic form. First of all, I am conscious of myself 
 as a power, a will, an activity. Moreover, I am conscious that 
 under certain circumstances my will invariably puts forth its 
 power upon the world around. In all cases of resistance, for ex- 
 
 * See " Metaphysical Enquiry," by Isaac Preston Cory, Esq. p. 22 et seq., in which 
 many acute suggestions are tlirown out upon Hume's problem. 
 
 f For a clearer view of the dy namical theory of matter, see our remarks upon Leibnitz, 
 Maine de Biran, and Cousin.
 
 222 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ample, I am conscious of making a counter resistance, in order to 
 maintain equilibrium. Gazing upon objects around, I see other 
 powers on every side which operate upon me, and upon each other. 
 Having witnessed the operation of any of these powers, in one 
 instance, I get the conviction, that just as my will invariably exerts 
 itself in opposition to other forces invading it, so these powers out 
 of me, having done so once in my own experience, will do so 
 again — that this is, in short, the law of their activity. Now the 
 powers around me are material objects, the expression of their ac- 
 tivity we call X\\e\T j)roperties : and hence the law just deduced, 
 translated from the language of dynamics into that of our ordinary 
 materialism, takes the shape of the judgment we have already ex- 
 pressed ; namely, that the properties of similar things are similar. 
 It is, in fact, but an application of the dynamical axiom, that action 
 and reaction are uniformly equal and opposite. 
 
 The only empirical explanation of this problem which has been 
 recently given, proceeds upon the affirmation, that when we have 
 observed certain phenomena to take place in connection with cer- 
 tain conditions, this observation forms a part and parcel of our 
 experience, so far as it is acquainted with the things in question ; 
 and that, as we cannot transcend our experience, we must neces- 
 sarily imagine those things always to present the same phenomena 
 for the future. " When we believe," says Mr. Lewes,* " that 
 similar effects will follow whenever the same causes are in opera- 
 tion, we are simply believing in our experience, and nothing more. 
 We cannot help believing in our experience — that is irresistible ; 
 but in this belief, the idea of either past or future has nothing what- 
 ever to do ; it does not enter into the belief." This reasoning, in 
 fact, takes the whole thing for granted. It gratuitously strikes out 
 all reference to past and future — the very points which form the 
 whole peculiarity and difficulty of the problem — and then tacitly 
 assumes, that our experience, which is and ever must be past, be- 
 comes absolutely valid for all futurity. Hume's reasoning with 
 reference to the theory of experience, all holds good against this 
 explanation ; he saw clearly enough that our belief in a past fact 
 could not become a law of belief for futurity, without something 
 besides mere experience to account for it. But, it is urged, we 
 cannot transcend our experience, and therei^ore we must conceive 
 of the phenomena just as we have witnessed them. We affirm, in 
 reply to this, that we ca7i transcend our experience in all matters 
 * Biographical History of Philosophy, vol. iv. p. 51.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN ENGLAND, 223 
 
 of a contingent nature ; that we can easily imagine, without any 
 contradiction, that fire will not ignite gunpowder, or that the sun 
 will not rise to-morrow. The thing to be accounted for is — why, 
 out of all the possibilities of the case, we should hold fast to the 
 precise succession of events we have once witnessed, and feel con- 
 vinced that it and no other will recur. Upon no ground can I see 
 that this conviction is explained, except it be referred to a fixed 
 principle of our nature ; and that principle we have now grounded 
 in n distinct fact of man's self-consciousness. I know by my own 
 consciousness, that the power of my will resists all the aggression 
 of other powers around me through the medium of the nervous 
 system : in the same manner, having discovered other powers acting 
 on the same principle of uniformity, whether in reference to my- 
 self or each other, I now see the law of my own consciousness 
 operating throughout nature. On this fact, then, is grounded our 
 belief in nature's stability ; for were nature to operate differently, 
 the very law of forces which we have seen to be in operation, 
 would be reversed. 
 
 Against this theory it is no objection to say, that the belief in 
 question is so simple and immediate, that we cannot imagine all 
 this inward process to take place before it is arrived at. It must 
 be remembered, that all our faculties operate spontaneously, long 
 before we become reflectively conscious of their operations ; and 
 that, however complicated the process may be, yet there is no 
 reason why it may not have taken place amongst the verv first 
 eflforts of the infant reason. Of course we do not regard this or 
 any of our primitive judgments, in the first instance, as an axiom 
 of universal application ; we first have the belief in the particular, 
 and we gradually come to regard it more and more universally 
 until at length it appears before us in a full axiomatic form. 
 
 The more I reflect upon the whole problem that has just been 
 considered, the more clear does it seem to my own mind, that the 
 foundation principle of all inductive reasoning can be traced to a 
 primitive fact of our consciousness, revealing the law of tbrces, 
 whether in nature or in the soul. I would not, ho\\'ever, rest the 
 validity of the great axiom of induction absolutely upon this psy- 
 chological theory ; for on whatever theory we may choo. e to ac- 
 count for it, still the fact remains the same, that the idea of change 
 or of phenomenon necessarily involves and suggests that of a 
 cause, a purpose, or a sufficient reason, and that this is accompa- 
 nied with a full conviction of the stability of nature's operations.
 
 224 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Against these conclusions, with all their theological consequences, 
 it is in vain for scepticism to level its shafts. 
 
 The philosophy of Hume, as a whole, originated and fell with 
 himself A more partial and less daring scepticism might, proba- 
 bly, have gained many followers ; but it is the inevitable result of 
 every system, professing universal unbelief, to destroy itself. The 
 man who by any process of reasoning involves every portion of 
 human knowledge in doubt, instead of persuading any one to fol- 
 low his conclusions, does little more than controvert his own prin- 
 ciples by a " reductio ad absurdum." The real effect is not to 
 make us doubt the validity of our knowledge,, but to shake our 
 confidence in the philosophical, or rather unphilosophical axioms, 
 by means of which such results could be obtained. "Universal 
 scepticism,'" says Sir James Mackintosh, " involves a contradiction 
 in terms. It is a behef that there can be no belief It is an at- 
 tempt of the mind to act without its structure, and by other laws 
 than those to which its nature has subjected its operations. To 
 reason without assenting to the principles on which reasoning is 
 founded, is not unlike an effort to feel without nerves or to move 
 without muscles. No man can be allowed to be an opponent in 
 reasoning who does not set out with admitting all the principles,, 
 without the admission of which it is impossible to reason. It is, 
 indeed, a puerile, nay, in the eye of wisdom, a childish play, to at- 
 tempt either to establish or confute principles by argument, which 
 every step of that argument must presuppose. The only difference 
 between the two cases is, that he who tries to prove them, can do 
 so only by taking them for granted ; and that he who attempts to 
 impugn them, falls at the very first step into a contradiction, from 
 which he never can rise."* 
 
 Of the English mysticism, to which the last century gave rise, 
 we can give but little account, inasmuch as it flowed more into the 
 channel of religious than of philosophical speculation. The school 
 of Swedenborg made some advancement in our own country, as it 
 did in other parts of Europe, and numbered a few cultivated minds 
 amongst its supporters. But the middle of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury was the period in which the community began to be aroused 
 from its religious lethargy to a new life and energy ; and what- 
 ever tendency there might have been to seek for truth in the deep- 
 er feelings of our spiritual nature, it all flowed into the stream of 
 religious excitement, which then became so much broader and 
 * See " Dissertation on the Progress of Ethical Science." Art. Hume.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN ENGLAND. 225 
 
 deeper than it had been for ages before. The belief in Divine 
 influence strongly characterized that movement, and the habit of 
 looking v^ithin and reading the heart's religious experience was 
 constantly encouraged ; so that an element was at work, more or 
 less, throughout the whole of society, that necessarily took the 
 place of those inward impulses, which, if not placed under the 
 guidance of Christianity, would, in all human probability, have 
 developed themselves in the rise of philosophical mysticism. 
 
 Here, then, we close what is more directly the historical portion 
 of our subject. We have traced the progress of sensationalism 
 and idealism up to the age in which we live, and seen the different 
 forms of scepticism and mysticism to which their mutual contests 
 have given rise. Our next, and still more important task will be, 
 to exhibit in its various movements the advancement which the 
 human reason has made during that half of the nineteenth century, 
 which has now arrived almost at its termination. 
 
 15
 
 PART II. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE 
 NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 PRELIMNARY REMARKS. 
 
 I 
 
 Before we proceed onwards with our history, and bring it over 
 the threshold of the present century, we must make a brief pause, 
 in order to take a compendious view of the ground we have now 
 hastily travelled over, and to collect together the results, which 
 may have been gathered up on the way. Looking at the philoso- 
 phy of modern times in connection with that which for almost two 
 thousand years had preceded it, we see it bearing the marks of an 
 independence which, since the days of Plato and Aristotle, had 
 been altogether unknown. The scholastic ages in particular were 
 marked by a well-nigh slavish deference to authority, an authority 
 which was balanced with some degree of equality between Aris- 
 totle on the one hand, and the Pope on the other. Philosophy 
 during this period was content, not only to be held in leading- 
 strings, but to be nurtured and instructed by dogmatic theology, as i 
 an obedient child by its parent or guardian. It was, at present, 
 timid in all its movements, feeble in its efforts, and felt so much 
 the need of extraneous support, that it willingly allowed, and even 
 sanctioned, an appeal to those masters, who, the one in the ancient 
 the other in the modern world, had succeeded in gaining the confi- i 
 dence, and then in subduing the reason of mankind. 
 
 The Reformation was a revolt against authority ; it presented 
 the spectacle of the human reason once more asserting its inde- 
 pendence, and indignantly bursting the chains by which it had so 
 long been bound ; for whether we regard the movements which 
 then took place in the religious, the political, or the philosophical 
 world, they are all alike characterized by the same determination 
 to shake off the trammels of servitude, to which the will of hu- 
 
 t
 
 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 227 
 
 manity had during many past ages submitted. It was the sixteenth 
 century which witnessed the main heat of the battle of reform- 
 then It was that events which had long been brooding over society 
 came to their crisis ; then that authorities which had before been 
 only doubted, were openly disavowed; then that the first over- 
 throw of intellectual and spiritual despotism was both given and 
 received. 
 
 The seventeenth century presented another new page in the his 
 tory of mankind. The arm of Bacon had given the first fatal 
 stroke to the authority of Aristotle, and had stripped the laurels 
 from the brows of the hitherto invincible heroes, who had taught 
 the trivium and quadrivium of human learning ; but it was not 
 in the power of any one man to tear up all the ramifications into 
 which the roots of the middle-age philosophy had extended them- 
 selves, and to reap even the first-fruits of the principles he might 
 succeed in establishing. This was, in fact, the mission which the 
 whole of the seventeenth century had to perform. Accordino-jy 
 as in the department of politics, it was chiefly occupied in shifttnc^ 
 the old and worn-out institutions of the dark ages ; as in the de° 
 partment of religion, it was employed in defining the power and 
 authority which in matters of faith the individual mind ought to 
 possess, and of which it had been unrighteously plundered; so also 
 the main efforts of philosophy, during that century, were expended 
 in clearing away the rubbish, which scholasticism had heaped up 
 in the path of its successful advancement. So diligently was this 
 object pursued by the Hobbists on the one side, and the Carte- 
 sians on the other, that before the century came to its close the 
 worthless material of the old and crumbled edifice of the scholas- 
 tics had well-nigh vanished, and the foundations were already laid 
 for a new species of philosophy, grounded not upon the syllogism, 
 but upon the analysis of thought. As a proof of this, be it remem- 
 bered, that it was during the seventeenth century that Locke fur- 
 nished the principles of the modern sensationalism, and Leibnitz 
 the data which afterwards expanded into all the phenomena of the 
 German idealism. We may say, then, in few words, that the six- 
 teenth century pulled down the scholastic edifice, leaving it a mass 
 of ruins ; and that the seventeenth cleared the ground, and laid the 
 foundations for our modern philosophy. 
 
 We now see the eighteenth century ushered in under the most 
 favorable auspices, and wait accordingly to inquire what was the 
 ofiice it had to perform in the development of philosophical truth.
 
 228 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 That office, in brief, was not to pull down, but to rear up. The 
 new foundations being already laid, the new systems sketched out, 
 it had to test the data upon which they proceeded, to expand and 
 mature their results, and, lastly, to show their bearing upon all the 
 various departments of human knowledge. One thing especially 
 was achieved by this age, towards the independence of the human 
 mind ; and that was the withdrawment of philosophy from the 
 authority of revelation, and the due assignment to each of their 
 respective limits. Bacon and Descartes, although they were the 
 first great abettors of the spirit of independence, yet never got be- 
 yond the influence of their theological system, or dared to assert 
 for the child they had reared a complete freedom from all dogmatic 
 restraint. Locke and Leibnitz certainly evinced a far greater 
 philosophical purity, both in the method they pursued and the fun- 
 damental principles they asserted, but it was not until the eigh-« 
 teenth century had brought those principles to their maturity, that 
 the authority of revelation in the department of philosophy was 
 altogether overcome, and each was left to perform its own part, 
 and cast its own portion of light upon mankind. 
 
 The eighteenth century, in thus placing philosophical reasoning 
 upon its true footing, succeeded in exhibiting both the excellencies 
 and the defects of the various systems which the renewed energy 
 of the human mind had originated. The service rendered thereby 
 to the advancement of human knowledge was of the greatest im- 
 portance. The state of philosophy previous to this trial which it 
 underwent, had been anything but satisfactory ; many of the pre- 
 vailing systems gave such a practical exhibition of weakness and 
 insufficiency, that they threatened to involve society at large in 
 the coldness and despair of universal scepticism. All this, how- 
 ever, was only preparing the way for the critical philosophy of the 
 Kantian school, and in so doing contributed not a little to bring 
 metaphysical speculation into a more advanced state. The writ- 
 ings of Kant, therefore, may be viewed as the flower of the phi- 
 losophy of their age, forming in truth the boundary line between 
 the metaphysics of the last and those of the present century. 
 Such we may regard as an abstract of the advancement of philoso- 
 phy from its revival down to the opening of the century, in which 
 we are now living. 
 
 It is not enough, however, for us here simply to take this super- 
 ficial view of the progress of speculative science during the two 
 last eventful centuries ; w^e need to look more closely into the
 
 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 229 
 
 nature of the speculations, with which they were filled, and to see 
 in what manner they attempted to solve the great problems about 
 which philosophy is conversant. 
 
 All intellectual philosophy of a fundamental character turns 
 upon the two poles of thought and existence. Thought represents 
 the subject, existence the object ; and the whole problem of philos- 
 ophy is to analyze the phenomena of the former, and then to de- 
 termine what they unfold to us respecting the latter. There is a 
 world of thought within us — there is a world of existence about 
 us ; what then is the exact relation which the one of these poles 
 of philosophy holds to the other? Are thought and existence 
 eternally opposed, or is there any point in which they perfectly 
 coincide ? Can thought ever be shown to be an attribute of being, 
 or can we trace existence up to that degree of sublimation where 
 its very essence seems to be Thought itself? Here, then, are the 
 two data of all speculation — a subject and an object — conscious- 
 ness with its phenomena, and being with its essential attributes — 
 a self, and a not self. All philosophy works upon these materials, 
 tries to understand them, to unfold their relations, if possible, to 
 trace them to the point where they originate and where they unite. 
 Such a point, it is true, we may not be destined by scientific de- 
 duction ever to reach ; but still it is to the clearer development of 
 this problem that the tide of human speculation must ever per- 
 petually roll forward. Chemical analysis may never discover the 
 ultimate unity of matter — physiology may never arrive at the vital 
 principle ; still to these points they are ever struggling to attain. 
 In the same manner, speculative philosophy aims at deducing the 
 one great principle of the universe, and the nearer it gets to it the 
 more perfect does it become. 
 
 Let us look to the history of this problem in modern times. The 
 middle ages pursued the investigation of it in their own peculiar 
 manner. All the speculation of the scholastic philosophers, it is 
 well known, clustered around two centres — first, the ideal system 
 of Aristotle, which was no other than an attempt to show the re- 
 lations of thought and existence with regard to our sense-percep- 
 tions ; and, secondly, the controversy of the nominalists and the 
 realists, which was simply to determine the point whether the real 
 essence of external tilings is given in the impression they make 
 upon us through the senses, or in the general idea we form of them 
 by the reason. In both cases, therefore, the problem was to solve
 
 230 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the mutual relations which thought and existence hold to each 
 other. 
 
 This question, then, we may consider, was handed over unde- 
 termined to the speculators of more modern times ; and the differ- 
 ent methods of viewing it give us the key to the two opposed sys- 
 tems of philosophizing, with which our modern history is ac- 
 quainted. The one system starts with this problem — Given, the 
 real phenomena of existence, to deduce from thence the nature 
 and varieties of our thoughts and ideas. The other reverses the 
 question, and puts it in this manner — Given, the phenomena of 
 our own minds, to deduce from thence the reality and the nature 
 of the world without. The one commences with the objective, 
 and deduces from it the subjective ; the other starting from the 
 subjective, seeks to deduce the objective. If we take the simple 
 product of sense as the starting-point, and from that construct the 
 world of ideas, our philosophy is of the former kind, and must be 
 entirely empirical ; if we begin with our own mental conceptions, 
 and from them construct the world without, our philosophy is of 
 the latter kind, and must be, to a greater or less extent, rational- 
 istic. 
 
 Hobbes and Gassendi,* followed up by Locke, took the empir- 
 ical direction, and from the analysis of sensation attempted to 
 account for the whole mass of our ideas. According to the two 
 former, man is entirely material, and all his mental phenomena 
 consequently nought but corporal affections ; according to Locke, 
 however, human thoughts are inward images (ideas) of outward 
 things — sometimes simple representations as in perception, and at 
 other times modified representations as in reflection ; so that the 
 relation between the objective and subjective world is here per- 
 fectly determined, the latter being only a living picture of the 
 
 * There has been much dispute as to the real opinions of Gassendi upon the question 
 of MateriaHsm. That he was not a very firm materialist is evident from the circum- 
 stance that his views on this point have been so much contested. At the same time 
 there are some of his works in which the truth of the materialist hypothesis is main- 
 tained too clearly to be misunderstood. In his " Disquisitio Metaphysica," written in 
 opposition to Descartes, the sensational tendency of his philosophy is pecularly mani- 
 fest. " It remains to be proved," he says, (vol. ii. p. 183.) " that the faculty of thinkiivT 
 is so far removed above the corporal nature, that the animal spirits cannot receive such 
 a character as to be rendered capable of thought." A little further on he says that we 
 may conceive of mind " as a pure, clear, subtile substance, which spreads itself like a 
 wind over the whole body." The same conclusion only can be drawn from his arjru- 
 ment respectinir the idea of body possessing extension, (p. 273.) and that likewisf 
 concerning the union of mind and body, where he says— -"All union must be produced 
 by the very close and intimate contact of the things united. But how could such a 
 union take place u-ithmd bodii?" The retort of Descartes is well known, who, to the 
 satirical exclamation of Gassendi, "O, ajiimc!" replied, " O, carol'
 
 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 231 
 
 former, and all truth consequently consisting in the inward repre- 
 sentation, or idea, being perfectly correct. The sceptical results 
 which Hume drew from this position were opposed on the part of 
 the Scotch metaphysicians, by giving to certain fundamental prin- 
 ciples of belief an independent subjective existence, by denying 
 the doctrine of representative knowledge, and thus disturbing the 
 fixed relation of causality, which Locke and others had instituted 
 between the outer and the inner world. The successors of Locke, 
 however, both in France and England, went resolutely forward in 
 the direction that was pointed out for them, until they landed in 
 pure materialism — a doctrine in which thought and existence are 
 made identical, not by tracing both up to their common source, 
 but by cancelling all that is peculiar to the former, by makino- the 
 mind itself merely a piece of material organization, and mental 
 phenomena nothing but the motion of its particles. The climax 
 of this school, therefore, was to solve the great problem of philos- 
 ophy, by blotting out one of its terms, and to regard matter as the 
 only absolute and self-existent reality. Such was the result of the 
 empirical theory ere the eighteenth century came to its close. 
 
 Descartes was the founder of the opposed or rationalistic method 
 of philosophizing. The relation between thought and existence was 
 in his case expressed by the position " Cogito ergo sum," a sentence 
 in which the reality of existence was made to flow as a direct in- 
 ference from the phenomena of consciousness. Whether, there- 
 fore, thought can be identified with existence or not, yet this much 
 at any rate is clear upon the Cartesian principle, that all our 
 knowledge of the latter must be involved in our consciousness of 
 the former, that all ontology has its roots in psychology. Spinoza, 
 however, carrying out the fundamental principle of Cartesianism, 
 asserted the universal identity of thought and existence, referring 
 them both alike to the " ens realissimum," the one universal sub- 
 stance of which thinking and extension are only different modi. 
 Hence the rationale of his assertion of the perfect parallelism be- 
 tween the inward processes of thought, and tiie outward processes 
 of nature. 
 
 Leibnitz, perceiving that the pantheism of Spinoza must super- 
 induce the most rigid fatalism, and ultimately tear up the roots of 
 all morality and religion, introduced the element of power into all 
 the individual existences, of which he supposed the universe to be 
 composed, and by so doing changed the stern mathematical view 
 of Spinoza into the more pliant and accommodating form of a dy-
 
 232 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 namical theory. If all things are modes of the Divine Being, 
 (Leibnitz contended,) they must each and all contain the element 
 of freedom, which is absolutely inherent in Deity, and conse- 
 quently every atom or monad must comprehend the principle of 
 its own self-development. What is a monad but a power, acting 
 according to the laws impressed upon it by the Deity ; and what 
 is thought but the expression of that power, in the case of monads 
 which have attained to the elevation of self-consciousness ? His 
 whole system of monadology may therefore be regarded as an an- 
 swer to the inquiry of speculative philosophy, respecting the rela- 
 tions of thought and existence in the universe, constituting, in fact, 
 one of the most ingenious methods ever devised for tracing them 
 both up to one fundamental principle. 
 
 Wolf gave the principles of Leibnitz popularity and extension, 
 by systematizing and arranging them ; but instead of expanding 
 the fruitful germs of thought which that master-mind had thrown 
 out, he elaborated carefully the form of his philosophy, and neg- 
 lected the essence. Wolfism was, perhaps, the most complete at- 
 tempt which was ever made to ground an entire system of ra- 
 tional philosophy upon the ordinary principles of logical reasoning ; 
 and if nominal definitions could give a perception of the real na- 
 ture of the things defined, nothing more satisfactory and complete 
 oould be wished for, than the Encyclopaedia of philosophy which 
 he originated. It sought, however, to solve the problem of meta- 
 physics simply by the analysis of our processes of thought, and 
 never succeeded in finding a valid passage from thence into the 
 world of objective reality. Comparing, then, the views of Hartley 
 and Priestley on the one hand, with those of Spinoza and Leibnitz 
 on the other, we see that the great question of speculative philos- 
 ophy was brought to a solution by the two opposed methods of 
 philosophizing in two altogether different ways. By the material- 
 ists, it was solved by making thought synonymous with matter in 
 some of its peculiar affections ; by the idealists, on the other hand, 
 by making matter homogeneous with thought, and accounting for 
 the common principle of both, by means of a pantheistic doctrine, 
 or a theory of monadology. 
 
 It was just at this point that Kant, seeing the errors which ex- 
 isted on both sides, came forward with his reform, and by a search- 
 ing criticism of man's cognitive faculty, showed how impossible it 
 was, by any process whatever, to arrive at a scientific knowledge 
 of absolute existence at all. With regard to material existence,
 
 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 233 
 
 he proved that we can never go beyond phenomena, so that actual 
 experience here marks the furthest limits of our knowledge. With 
 regard to the pure conceptions which the reason strives to form 
 respecting the essence of the soul, or the universe, or the Deity, 
 he showed that these were all based upon fallacious conclusions ; 
 so that the main result of his Critick was to cut off the possibility 
 of our ever coming (upon philosophical principles) to the point 
 from whence thought and being alike spring, and where they are 
 both identical. Kantism, therefore, was the destruction of meta- 
 physics, properly so called ; it removed the ground-problem beyond 
 the reach of the human faculties, and sought to silence all onto- 
 logical speculation for the future. Instead, however, of altogether 
 denying the absolute in human knowledge, Kant admitted it in 
 connection with those subjective and regulative principles of the 
 human mind, which, though wanting objective reality, yet may be 
 regarded as absolute to man, so long as he retains his present mode 
 of existence. The attempts of the rationalistic method, then, to 
 solve the problem of philosophy, as far as the eighteenth century 
 was concerned, ended in a well nigh completed system of subjec- 
 tive idealism. Whatever of absolute was admitted at all on scien- 
 tific grounds, was confined to the human subjectivity ; and, there- 
 fore, if the paradox can be allowed, was regarded as a relative ab- 
 solute. This conclusion of the Kantian metaphysics would have 
 involved the whole philosophy of their illustrious author in the 
 darkness of a most rigid scepticism, had their effects not been con- 
 travened by the authority of the practical reason.* 
 
 These different and unsuccessful attempts to fathom the depths 
 of thought and existence, together with the contradictory conclu- 
 sions which they gave rise to, necessitated the appearance of scep- 
 ticism, which from time to time either laughed or reasoned down 
 whatever was untenable in the different philosophies, to which it 
 was chiefly opposed ; and then mysticism, still grasping after truth, 
 but distrusting the more rational methods of attaining it, strove to 
 dictate, as from some inward oracle, the fundamentals of human 
 knowledge, as belonging to a region too lofty for the wings of reason 
 ever to reach. 
 
 * This view of the problem of philosophy has been brought out with great clearness 
 by the Hegelian school. Hegel, it is contended, had alune reached the climax. In 
 him, subject and object, thought and existence, are absolutely one. Fichte found a 
 subjective idealism, in which the me was the world-all. Schelling created an objective 
 idealism, in which thought appears only as one of the developments of nature. In 
 Hegel's absolute idealism alone the two terms are retained, but their unity demon- 
 strated. On this, see Michelet's " Geschichte der letzten Systemc," p. 12, cl scq.
 
 234 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 These, therefore, are the four elements which were brought over 
 from the preceding ages to the nineteenth century ; and it is the 
 history of their further progress, and of their various modifications 
 as manifested within that portion of it which has already passed, 
 to which we have now more especially to direct our attention. 
 Whenever, therefore, we find the principle asserted, that truth is 
 discoverable by the human faculties, but that it must all ultimately 
 rest upon the experience of the senses as its foundation, we shall 
 regard this as a manifestation of empirical or sensational philos- 
 ophy. When, on the contrary, we discover attempts to unfold 
 truth grounded upon the native powers of the reason, we shall 
 attribute such attempts to the rationalistic method, or as we have 
 termed it, to the philosophy which is characterized by the idealis- 
 tic tendency. When, again, the power of discovering absolute 
 truth is altogether disowned, we shall recognize in such disavowal 
 the spirit of scepticism ; and when, lastly, the capacity of man's 
 natural faculties to attain it being denied, some other element 
 within us is pointed out as supplying the deficiency both of rea- 
 son and sense, whether that element be faith, feeling, or direct 
 illumination, we shall refer such principles to the operation of mys- 
 ticism. 
 
 Errors we shall have to point out in all the schools ; but, not- 
 withstanding these, we shall be quite sure to find some benefits con- 
 ferred by each, so far as it has been a real and earnest striving 
 after knowledge. Accordingly, after the analysis which each sys- 
 tem has afforded of the materials that lie peculiarly within its own 
 province, we shall only have to look for an eclectic philosophy, 
 that will combine the results of the whole, and indicate the ad- 
 vancement which the nineteenth century has made in the develop- 
 ment of metaphysical truth.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF MODERN SENSATIONALISM. 
 
 Hitherto we have followed pretty closely the historical order in 
 sketching the various systems of philosophy, which appeared from 
 the revival of the speculative spirit in Europe down to the com- 
 mencement of the present century. In rendering a faithful ac- 
 count of the philosophy of our own age, it will not be possible to 
 follow so completely as we have done the chronological flow of 
 events, since by so doing we should prevent the possibility of giv- 
 ing a classification of the different schools grounded upon their 
 proper philosophical characteristics. In France, it is true, and to 
 a great extent in Germany, the development of speculative opin- 
 ions has gone on with so regular a step, that the chronological and 
 the philosophical orders in some measure coincide ; in these cases, 
 therefore, we are not obliged, even when observing the latter or- 
 der, to depart very widely from the former. In England, however, 
 we look in vain for any pj'ogressive school of metaphysics, that has 
 been steadily advancing as the age has rolled round : we see 
 nought but isolated efforts, many of which, indeed, are not want- 
 ing in some of the best characteristics of philosophical thinking, 
 but which have far too little connection among themselves to form 
 what we might term an independent school of philosophy. In de- 
 scribing these efforts, it will not be our object to collect all the 
 works and name all the authors who have contributed to the meta- 
 physical literature of the country during this century, since the 
 multiplicity of shades which their opinions present, would only con- 
 fuse the reader in his endeavor to make a correct estimate of our 
 philosophy as a whole, and offer very little instruction in return ; 
 but we shall rather attempt to point out the main directions in 
 which speculation has hitherto seemed to flow ; and we shall do 
 this by bringing forward simply the more prominent writers to 
 whom such speculations are chiefly indebted.
 
 236 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Sect. I. — Of Modern Sensationalism in England. 
 
 In taking a broad view of the different shades of sensational 
 philosophy as the present century has thrown them before us, it is 
 somewhat difficult to find a mode of classification, by which we 
 may include everything that bears upon it a scientific character. 
 The best classification we have been able to make, proceeds upon 
 the principle, that there are just three different directions which it 
 is possible to take, and which different writers have followed, in 
 erecting a spirit of empiricism. First, there are some who have 
 pursued a purely metaphysical analysis, and attempted to show, in 
 this manner, that every notion springs from the senses as the orig- 
 inal channels through which the whole material of thought has 
 been supplied. Secondly, there are others, who, waiving this kind 
 of abstruse analysis, have fixed their attention upon man's practi- 
 cal life, and furnished a whole system of ethical philosophy grounded 
 on sensational principles. And, thirdly, there are others, who 
 commence with a physiological investigation of the human frame, 
 and from this seek to deduce the nature and the origin alike of all 
 mental and moral phenomena. Those who take the first course, 
 we shall term sensational metapljysicians ; those who follow the 
 second, sensational moralists ; while the third class may be desig- 
 nated sensational physiologists. 
 
 {A.) Sensational Metaphysicians. 
 
 In beginning with the consideration of the first of these classes, 
 we are carried back at once to the writings of Locke, as the model 
 upon which this kind of metaphysical analysis has for the most 
 part been formed. We have already shown the process, by which 
 some of the professed adherents of Locke's philosophy, both in 
 England and France, strained his principles beyond their just limits 
 into materialism itself. It is not to be supposed, however, that 
 such has been the case with all the followers of this school. Sev- 
 eral authors have appeared, who instead of hurrying forward into 
 materialistic conclusions, have determined to keep more closely in 
 the path which was trodden by the master himself, and have con- 
 tented themselves either with furnishing fresh proofs and illustra- 
 tions of his main positions, or with showing more fully in what 
 way our more purely rational notions can be deduced from the
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 237 
 
 original intimations of sense. In England, indeed, Locke, in his 
 own genuine character, has long been the great philosophical au- 
 thority ; and, although the phraseology of our metaphysical writers 
 has more recently been much modified by the school of Reid and 
 his Scottish followers, yet the acute analytic spirit, which is so ob- 
 servable in Locke's own writings, has in some striking instances 
 been revived, and led to many new, though similar, speculations on 
 the origin of our ideas. We must not forget to mention, however, 
 the very observable effect of Hartley's observations respecting the 
 laws of association upon all the writers of the Lockian school 
 since his time ; for, although in many instances no mention has 
 been made of that acute writer, yet the important part, which is 
 assigned by all to the phenomena of association, clearly shows us, 
 how much is owing to the views upon this subject, which he was 
 the first to promulgate. 
 
 Perhaps there is no English writer since Locke who has upon 
 the whole theorized with so much ability on these topics, and ana- 
 lyzed our mental processes upon sensational principles so acutely, 
 as the late Mr. James Mill, author of " An Analysis of the Phe- 
 nomena of the Human Mind," which appeared in the year 1829 
 We may regard this author, without doubt, as standing at the head 
 of the sensational metaphysicians of the present day, and, conse- 
 quently, may safely use his writings as the most complete existing 
 representation of the partial success, which has more recently at- 
 tended philosophical investigations of this nature. We cannot do 
 better, therefore, under the present head, than first of all to give a 
 brief sketch of Mr. Mill's method of analysis, and then to point 
 out in what respect, under the view of another and more spiritual 
 system of philosophy, it may be regarded as unsatisfactory and in- 
 complete. In accomplishing the former of these purposes, every 
 facility is offered by the admirable order, brevity, and clearness, 
 with which the whole work is pervaded, and which leaves hardly 
 anything to be desired on the score of a philosophical style and 
 arrangement. In accomplishing the latter, we shall attempt to use 
 that impartiality, which is becoming, and, indeed, necessary to the 
 attainment of truth in all philosophical discussions. 
 
 Our author having stated that the main object of the philosophy 
 of the human mind is to expound the more complex phenomena it 
 presents, commences by laying down its simple states. The first 
 and foremost of these are, of course, sensations ; respecting which 
 little, if anything, new is said, except it be some very just remarks
 
 238 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 upon the sensational feelings which accompany the action of the 
 muscles, and those which arise from the alimentary canal.* Hav- 
 ing finished, this view of our sensations, he next comes to ideas, 
 which he explains to be, copies or traces of sensations that remain 
 after the sensations themselves cease. f Respecting the formation 
 of these he offers no theory, but only states the fact as indisputa- 
 ble, that such traces do exist. These two classes of feeling, then, 
 form, according to Mill, the whole jnaterial of our thoughts and 
 emotions, they form the basis of all our mental operations. 
 
 The next point to be observed is, that our mental phenomena 
 do not recur arbitrarily, but according to a certain order and ar- 
 rangement, the law of which is termed the association of ideas. 
 This law of our mental constitution is shown to play the most 
 momentous part in man's intellectual and moral development, caus- 
 ing our ideas to cluster together, and become at length indissolubly 
 united, either in the synchronous or successive order, according, 
 of course, as the sensations, of which they are copies, have been 
 experienced synchronically or successively. In the former case 
 they give rise to complex notions, in the latter to t-ains of thought.X 
 
 The next important fact, is that of assigning to our sensations 
 and ideas certain names, in order that we may communicate them 
 to others, or retain them more easily for ourselves ; under which 
 head our author goes into a long and very luminous exposition of 
 the origin and nature of the various parts of speech, of which all 
 language consists. § This, then, we may consider as the ground- 
 work of Mill's whole analysis, the elementary processes being re- 
 duced to sensation, ideation, association, and naming. The rest 
 of his work is occupied in showing how from these elements all the 
 complex phenomena of the human mind may be fully and satisfac- 
 torily explained. Into this part of the analysis we shall now briefly 
 enter, giving the principal conclusions, that are arrived at, in our 
 own words. 
 
 First of all, consciousness, inasmuch, as it applies generally to 
 every mental phenomenon, is simply a generic term, under which 
 all the subordinate classes of feeling are included ; which, there- 
 fore, can no more contain any element different from the feelings 
 themselves, than any other genus can contain essentially aught that 
 is not in its species. |i 
 
 * Chap. i. sees. 6, 7, 8. t Chap. ii. p. 41. | Chap. iii. throughout. 
 
 § Chap, iv., which contains also a long section on Predication, in which the author 
 gives his view of the principal processes of formal logic. 
 II Chap. V.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 239 
 
 Conception is likewise a generic term, only less extensive than 
 consciousness ; inasmuch as the latter is a universal name to in- 
 clude all mental phenomena, whether sensations or ideas, while the 
 former is the name of a class of phenomena comprehending ideas 
 
 only.* 
 
 Imagination is the same as conception, with this simple differ- 
 ence—that, whereas conception is applied as a generic term to 
 mean individual ideas, imagination is only applied to trains of 
 ideas, which hang together by the law of association. When I am 
 conscious of one idea in the mind, I conceive ; when I am con- 
 scious of a succession, I imagine. f 
 
 Classification, or generalization, a process which has given rise 
 to so much metaphysical discussion, is easily explained. I give a 
 name to an individual ; I then apply the same term to another in- 
 dividual of a similar kind ; then to a third, and a fourth, and so on, 
 until the term by the indissoluble law of association calls up indefi- 
 nitely any of the individuals, to which I have severally applied it. 
 Thus, a general term is not the mark of a reality, as the realists 
 supposed, nor is it a word without any idea attached to it at all, 
 as the nominalists assert ; but it is the mark with which an indefi- 
 nite number of simple ideas is associated, and under which they 
 become combined. J 
 
 Abstraction is a somewhat different process. We experience a 
 criven sensation in connection with different clusters of qualities, as 
 a black man, a black horse, a black eagle : we give this sensation 
 a name, say " black," in order to note it, and we connote or name 
 with it the particular cluster, to which in any given case it is ap- 
 plied. In some instances, however, we drop the connotation, and, 
 in order to show this, we add some mark to the term which ex- 
 presses the original sensation. Thus we may think of black, 
 without assigning anything which is black, and then to mark the 
 fact of all connotation being dropped, we add ness to it, and form 
 the abstract term blackness. On this principle, then, abstractions 
 are simply concrete terms with the connotation dropped.§ 
 
 Memory is an important phenomenon, but by no means an orig- 
 inal faculty. It contains, first, the idea of the thing remembered, 
 and secondly, the idea of my having seen it. The former element 
 is easily accounted for by association, but the latter element is 
 more complex. This is found, on analyzing it, to consist of three 
 
 * Chap. vi. t Chap. vii. p. 178. 
 
 X Chap. viii. p. 206, et seq. ^ Chap. ix.
 
 240 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 things — the present or remembering self, the former or remem- 
 bered self, and the train of consciousness which intervenes between 
 them, and identifies the two selves as being the same personality. 
 To explain fully, therefore, the nature of memory, we have to 
 await the analysis of the ideas of personal identity and of time.* 
 
 Belief is the next point to be noticed, which is of three kinds — 
 Belief in events or of real existences, belief in testimony, and be- 
 lief in the truth of propositions. The first kind of belief is a case 
 of very close and immediate association. This we see illustrated 
 in the belief of our acquired perceptions, where we indissolubly 
 associate certain distances, &c., with certain shades of coloring.^ 
 The same principle holds good with respect to our belief in the 
 existence of a cause as antecedent to every effect, and of matter 
 as the ultimate cause at which our association stops. J The second 
 kind of belief, that which we yield to testimony, is also a case of 
 association, depending equally upon experience, inasmuch as we 
 firmly associate reality with that species of testimony, which we 
 have previously found to be uniformly true.§ The third kind of 
 belief, that of the truth of propositions, is synonymous with judg- 
 ment, which, in fact, is nothing more than our recognition of the 
 coincidence that exists in the meaning of two names. Thus, when 
 I say, " Man is a rational animal," I simply recognize the fact, that 
 the two names, man and rational animal, stand for the same thing. |1 
 Last of all, ratiocination is to be regarded as a case of judgment 
 in its most perfect and extended form, which thus completes the 
 analysis of our intellectual powers, and reduces them all to the 
 elements which we have just before indicated."!! 
 
 Having finished this portion of his task, the author proceeds to 
 test its accuracy by investigating those terms, which, in all meta- 
 physical systems have been generally considered the most remark- 
 able, as well as most difficult of explanation. Beginning with 
 terms which express relation, as those employed when sensations, 
 ideas, or external objects are mentioned in pairs, he shows the 
 notion of a line, to be involved partly in the sensations of touch, 
 and partly in those of a muscular nature, which accompany the 
 extending of the arm.** The notions of cause and effect are ex- 
 plained to be synonymous with the antecedence and consequence 
 
 * Chap. X. p. 251. •• t Chap, x ;. p. '259, et seq. 
 
 ± Chap. xi. p 263, et seq. 
 
 § Ibid, p, 268, eL seq. See also here the expectancy of the uniformity of nature's 
 opertlons resolved into a case of association. 
 II Ibid. p. 300. 11 Chap. xii. ** Chap. xiv. p. 22.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 241 
 
 of phenomena.* The idea of extension is supposed to be a modi- 
 fication of those sensations by which we conceive of hnes as greater 
 or less ; and then, lastly, those abstract terms which we apply to 
 objects as being related to each other in respect of quantity, or 
 quality, are so analyzed, as to appear equally dependent with the 
 rest upon the aid of experience. f 
 
 Next to relative terms, he proceeds to prove that numbers are 
 simply marks to show that one sensation comes after another ;J 
 ih^i privative terms generally are merely indicative of the absence 
 of sensations, or rather expressive of that state of consciousness, 
 which the absence of sensations produces ; that space being an 
 instance of such terms, is merely the privation or absence of bulk ; 
 and that the term infinity indicates that state of consciousness in 
 which the idea of one unit more, if it be number, or of one portion 
 more, if it be extension, is closely associated with every preceding 
 number or portion that has gone before it.§ The only three im- 
 portant terms that now remain, are time, motion, and identity. 
 
 Time, according to Mr. Mill, is derived from the succession of 
 our sensations. In this succession there is always something past, 
 something present, an4 something future, which, by dropping the 
 connotation and adding the sign, gives us pastness, presentness, 
 and futureness. The combination of these three gives rise to all 
 that is contained in our idea of time. It is, to use the author's own 
 language, a single-worded abstract, involving the meaning of these 
 three several abstracts. || Motion, again, is the abstract idea of mov- 
 ing. In the idea of a body moving, there are the ideas of the body 
 itself, of position, of a line, and of succession, all of which may be 
 accounted for on sensational principles. Take, then, a number of 
 moving bodies, drop the connotation, and we have the whole idea 
 of motion. •[[ Lastly, identity is merely another term for sameness, 
 and this again, is simply expressive of a certain case of belief, the 
 evidence of which varies with the subject, but which in every case 
 arises from association, and, consequently, from experience.** 
 
 With regard to the active powers, our author's analysis of these 
 is equally ingenious with that of the intellectual. Sensations are, 
 some pleasurable, and others painful : when, therefore, we recall 
 them, the ideas they give rise to must also be either of a pleasur- 
 able or painful nature. Our state of consciousness, however, in 
 
 * Chap. xiv. J). :n. t Chap. xiv. p. 39, et scq. 
 
 ^ Chap. xiv. sec. .'?. ^ Chap. xiv. sec. 4. 
 
 II Chap. xiv. sec. 5. II Ibid. sec. ♦♦ Ibid. sec. 7. 
 
 16
 
 242 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the sensation is essentially different from that in the idea, inasmuch 
 as we cannot revive the actual pleasure or pain which were caused 
 by the bodily affection, but only the recollection of them. The 
 idea of pleasure, therefore, in contradistinction to the sensation of 
 pleasure, we term desire ; the idea of pain, aversion.* 
 
 Sometimes, again, pleasure or pain arj^es from an immediate 
 cause, and sometimes from a remote : the lash of the excutioner is 
 an instance of the one, the sentence of the judge the other, since 
 in this latter case the pain comes at one remove from the actual 
 sensational feeling. In the same manner pleasurable and pain- 
 ful ideas, that is, desires and aversions, often come from remote 
 causes, while they derive still further variations from being con- 
 templated as past or future. In these few principles we have, ac- 
 cording to Mill, the basis of all the passions, desires, and emotions 
 of the human mind, and only need to search further into the more 
 remote causes, from which they spring, in order to gain a complete 
 analysis of this part of our constitution.! 
 
 Amongst these causes we find that certain objects, by virtue of 
 particular associations with them, excite in us the feeling that we 
 term the sublime and the beautiful ; whiJst other pleasurable or 
 painful feelings, which arise as consequent, either upon our own 
 actions or those of our fellow-creatures, have acquired the name 
 of the moral sentiments. Here, therefore, we have the foundation 
 of all sesthetical and moral philosophy. J 
 
 With regard to the will, which is usually considered as consti- 
 tuting so large an element in our moral life, our author considers 
 that it is synonymous with desire ; that an action is said to be willed 
 when it is desired as the means to a certain end, or rather, when 
 it is associated as a cause with pleasure as the effect ; and that the 
 muscular actions of the body, which are usually termed voluntary, 
 are, in fact, necessarily consequent upon certain sensations or ideas, 
 which we can only control through the medium of the great law 
 of association.^ Such is a brief and necessarily imperfect outline 
 of Mill's analysis. To estimate it fully, it must be read and studied 
 throughout : but yet, the above sketch may be sufficient to show 
 the kind of philosophy which it advocates, although it very inade- 
 quately conveys the arguments by which it is supported. 
 
 Now, in offering some remarks upon this system, we must first 
 of all inquire, what the starting point is from which it proceeds, 
 
 * Chap. xix. t Chap. xxi. sec. 2. 
 
 j: Chap, xxiii. % Chap. xxiv.
 
 \ 
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 243 
 
 and what the elements which are taken for granted as being pri- 
 mary and unresolvable ; because upon this first step the whole 
 character of any philosophical system mainly depends. In looking 
 to this point we see at once, that the phenomena of mind in the 
 system before us are not traced to a single, and uniform source. 
 The French sensationalists, as we shall hereafter have occasion to 
 show, started with the simple product of sense as the sole ground- 
 work of all mental manifestation, and attempted to prove that every 
 phenomenon is a movement, more or less disguised, of this one fac- 
 ulty. The idealistic philosophers, again, started with the pure con- 
 ceptions of reason, and attempted to build up the whole superstruc- 
 ture of knowledge upon this basis. In the work before us, on the 
 contrary, there are clearly two primitive elements brought forward, 
 sensations and ideas ; and consequently two original and corres- 
 ponding powers of mind, namely, sensation, and what might be 
 analogically termed ideation. Of these, however, sensation occu- 
 pies by far the superior place, inasmuch as it furnishes all the orig- 
 inal materials of our thoughts, while an idea is taken to signify, not 
 (as Locke would have it) everything about which the mind can be 
 occupied, but simply the traces of our sensations, which are left, 
 after the outward cause is removed. 
 
 Now, in this admitted faculty of forming ideas of things, there is 
 more involved, we imagine, than seems in the work before us to be 
 supposed. E. g. Instead of reducing such faculties as memory 
 and judgment to the tw^o elements above stated, (that of sensations 
 and ideas,) we much doubt whether they are not invoh^ed as sim- 
 pler elements in the process of ideation itself An idea, it is af- 
 firmed, is the trace or copy of a sensation, and it is essential to it, 
 on this principle, that we should recognize it as being the represen- 
 tative of the original or sensational feeling, otherwise the inward 
 idea could have no practical reference to any outward reality. But 
 the question is, how am I to know without the aid of memory, that 
 there ever was a sensation which preceded it ; or, in other words, 
 how am I to refer the state of consciousness in which I exist wiien 
 I have an idea, to a former state, in which I existed, when I had a 
 sensation ? In order to know that the idea has anything to do with 
 a previous sensation, there must be a consciousness of the fact that 
 something was in my mind, as well as the fact that something is in 
 it ; and to know this requires the power we term memory — a power 
 which consciously connects the past with the present, and without 
 which, consequently, it is impossible f >r the theory of ideation to
 
 244 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 be complete. Again, if an idea be a trace or relic of a sensation, 
 the knowledge of this involves not only memory, but also a compar- 
 ison between two states of consciousness. If no comparison is 
 made, how am I justified in saying that my idea is a trace of, or 
 has anything to do with, a sensation ? but if a comparison is made, 
 then there must be some mental power or process by which such 
 relations are observed, and this process we term judgment. By 
 no conceivable method could memory and judgment arise simply 
 from the successive consciousness of sensations and ideas ; for those 
 successive states of mind must have eternally remained separate 
 and isolated points in our being, had not the power of memory and 
 the power of judgment united them into a continued and connected 
 stream of conscious existence. We cannot but suspect, therefore, 
 that Mr. Mill explained the simple by the complex, rather than the 
 complex by the simple. 
 
 Empirical writers, in fact, are perpetually addicted to the habit 
 of regarding our sensations as though they were already notions, 
 and cancelling that whole process of the intellect which takes place 
 between the bare sensational feeling and the complete idea, when 
 put into such a form as to make a distinct element in our knowl- 
 edge. A sensation is but the consciousness of the moment : it is 
 an evanescent fee/mo-, which lasts only while the organ is affected, 
 and then is completely and forever gone. To form a notion, these 
 evanescent feelings are grasped, combined, and shaped into certain 
 moulds, by the intellectual or constructive faculty, just as the shape- 
 less particles inserted in the kaleidoscope are thrown into their sev- 
 eral forms by the inward construction of the glasses. Take any 
 notion as an example — say a house. Mere sensation cannot ac- 
 count for this. As a sensation, it would be simply a subjective 
 feeling — a momentary consciousness, not an abiding idea. And if 
 it cannot be an idea itself, neither can its trace or image be so. To 
 form the notion of a house, I must have the conception of an ex- 
 ternal object, which is something quite different from the sensa- 
 tional feeling ; I must view it as occupying space, as possessing 
 quantity, quality, and relations ; and all this implies an intellectual 
 process, which is quite lost sight of by those who speak of our sen- 
 sations as giving us the whole conception of things themselves. 
 The inward or intellectual element, in short, is just as necessary to 
 the existence of experience as the outward, or sensational. 
 
 The whole theory of ideation, indeed, is grounded on a false 
 and illusive material analogy. It is supposed that as the impres-
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 245 
 
 sion of an object upon any soft material remains after the object 
 is gone, so the impressions of our sensations remain on the mind. 
 We have no reason to suppose that any such impression remains. 
 My idea of an object does not stand to the sensation of it, in the 
 relation of an image to its original. The true statement of the 
 case is this — that when the sensational feeling is produced by con- 
 tact of the object with the nervous system, the understanding 
 shapes the material thus afforded into a notion, supplying from its 
 own constitution the mould in which this notion is to be thrown. 
 Having done so, the notion exists in the mind as a part of our ex- 
 perience, and can be recalled by the aid of memory at any future 
 period, whenever the laws of association may prompt. 
 
 From the consideration of the human faculties we now come to 
 the deduction of our purely intellectual notions. And here there 
 are still greater objections that arise against the conclusions of the 
 work before us. In this department of his analysis the peculiar 
 theory, which is maintained, of cause and effect, lies at the founda- 
 tion of almost all the other results. Mr. Mill considered it proved 
 beyond the possibility of a doubt, nay, since the days of Brown, to 
 have become almost axiomatic, that cause and effect imply nothing 
 more than uniform precedence and consequence. This, however, 
 must be regarded as far too bold and hasty an assumption, when 
 we consider that the doctrine referred to is denied almost univer- 
 sally by the German metaphysicians ; when we hear one of the 
 greatest thinkers of our day calling it " a fantastical theory which 
 gives a denial to universal belief and to facts ; a theory destructive 
 of all true metaphysics ;"* and when we find even the first natural 
 philosopher of the age describing Brown's theory as one, " in which 
 the whole train of argument is vitiated by one enormous oversight, 
 the omission, namely, of a distinct and immediate personal con- 
 sciousness of causation in his enumeration of that sequence of 
 events, by which the volition of the mind is 7nade to terminate in 
 the motion of material objects. ""■{ We contend, as will be more 
 fully explained elsewhere, that the conscious effort of our own will 
 gives us the distinct idea of power in causation, which then be- 
 comes to us the type of those vast ever-working powers of the 
 universe, by which we are surrounded, the foundation of our con- 
 
 * See Victor Cousin, in his Preface to the " Remains" of M. do Biran. 
 
 t See Sir John Hersdhel's Treatise on Astronomy, in the " Cabinet Cyclop.," p. 2.3'2. 
 We may here remark, that it has of late years become very common amongst many 
 writers to assume the truth of Brown's theory as altogether unquestionable, and as 
 being universally admitted. We know not whether to attribute this assumption to 
 ignorance, or to sophistry — it seems hard to account for it upon any third principle.
 
 246 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 fidence in the uniformity of nature, and the basis of our behef in 
 the great First Cause of all things. 
 
 If, therefore, the fundamental principle, on which so much is 
 built up, is shaken, the analysis of some other of our most impor- 
 tant ideas becomes vastly modified. Let us take that of substance, 
 which our author conceives to be a case of indissoluble associ- 
 tion, arising from the inveterate habit, we have gradually formed, 
 of assigning a ground or cause to all phenomena. According to 
 this theory, we may talk about clusters of sensations, but to talk 
 about substance, matter, substratum, or anything of this kind, is 
 merely giving objective existence to a pure imagination of our 
 own minds. " To each of the sensations," says Mr. Mill, " which 
 we receive from a particular object, we annex in our imagination 
 a cause, and to these several causes we annex a cause common to 
 all, and mark it with the name substratum."* We have arrived, 
 therefore, if this be truB, at pure Berkeleian idealism, and the 
 sceptic may now come and chastise us for our folly in believing 
 anything so unreal as a material world. The philosophy that 
 commences in pure sensationalism has no choice but to end in an 
 idealistic scepticism. The extremes of both systems here meet 
 in one. 
 
 But, we doubt not, our author would have practically repudiated 
 these sceptical conclusions, and protested that he was far from re- 
 jecting the real existence of matter as something over and beyond 
 our perception of qualities. On what ground, then, would he make 
 this protest ? Is it sufficient to say that his association of ideas is 
 so strong that he cannot help assigning, as antecedent or cause to 
 such associations, something that ideally exists ? Is it not clear 
 that the sceptic may shatter this argument at once by assigning a 
 thousand strong associations, to which no reality whatever can be 
 attached ? Has not many a man, for example, closely associated 
 with his fear at being alone in the dark the conception of a goblin 
 or ghost? Why is it, then, that he still holds to his practical con- 
 viction of a material world, while he laughs at the goblin, both 
 beino- similarly cases of strong association ? It cannot be because 
 the association in the one instance is so much stronger than in the 
 other, for such is not actually the case. Should we not rather 
 say, "My belief in a material world is simple and indestructible, ir 
 can be traced back to my earliest conscious being, it has never 
 been strengthened by accumulated associations, never weakened 
 
 * Chap. xi. p. 263, ct scq.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 247 
 
 by any subversive arguments, nay, it is a necessary element in the 
 relation I feel between my conscious self, and that around me 
 which is not-self; between the subjective and the objective ele- 
 ment in every sensation, I have experienced, from my earliest ex- 
 istence to the present hour." 
 
 Instead, therefore, of reducing perception, as Mr. Mill does, to 
 a case of strong association, we contend, with the philosopher of 
 Scotland, that it implies the existence of another faculty higher 
 than sensation ; that it contains a primitive judgment, in which 
 the idea of substance is involved without the aid of association at 
 all. The whole doctrine of belief in real existences, as here stated, 
 proceeds upon the supposition that it is the superior vividness of the 
 idea, or strength of the association that constitutes our confidence 
 in objective reality. These two facts, however — 1st, that the most 
 insignificant sensation brings conviction, while the most vivid 
 pictures of imagination do not ; and, 2dly, that one single case 
 of conjunction produces belief in the relation of cause and ef- 
 fect, as firmly as a thousand — can never on this hypothesis be 
 adequately explained. And even supposing the ideas above re- 
 ferred to, to be explained by means of association, still it must be 
 remembered that association itself implies certain deeper laws, by 
 which its exercise is regulated. So that after all the labor that 
 has been expended upon the attempt at reducing all the more 
 complex phenomena of mind to this one principle, we must fall 
 back at last upon the fundamental laws of belief, by which that 
 very principle operates.* 
 
 To go at length over the analysis of the other notions which are 
 adduced, such as infinity, time, space, &c., would carry us further 
 into the discussion of these questions than is compatible with our 
 present })lan. It has been one of the many grand results of a 
 spiritual and more reflective philosophy, however, to show, that 
 the idea of the absolute plainly marks one great division of our 
 knowledge ; that the infinite stands in such a manner opposed to 
 the finite, as that the conception of the former must necessarily be 
 involved in the latter ; and that time and space are both [)articular 
 
 * " To inc it appears evident that association itself, how comprehensive soever it 
 may be, is only a ])arlicular law, regulated by the still more coni])rehonsivc and indeed 
 universal laws of human belief * * Is it not obvious that our assoL-iations themselves 
 are necessarily regulated by these primary laws 1 Is not tlie relation of cause and 
 effect one of those, by which our ideas are associated 1 And do wc not associate cer- 
 tain feelings with certain external jjlicnomena, bccanxe these do, first of all, by their 
 very nature, suggest the existence in which we believe'?" Young's " Lectures," lee. 
 xxix. p. 202.
 
 248 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 modifications, which the notions of the finite and infinite undergo. 
 To any theory, like that of Mill's, which places the idea of body, 
 substance, or bulk at the foundation of that of space, there lies the 
 insuperable objection, that we cannot conceive of body at all ex- 
 cept as it exists in space ; and that, although we may require to be 
 brought into contact with body prior to our forming the conception 
 of space, yet that logically the former must be posterior to, because 
 it involves the notion of, the latter. In the same manner, against 
 any theory, which reduces time simply to the succession of events, 
 there lies the similar objection, that if you take away the notion of 
 duration, no succession is possible, inasmuch as all succession im- 
 plies continued duration between the points of consciousness, just 
 in the same manner as body implies continued space between the 
 atoms of which it is composed. Time and space, therefore, are a 
 priori intuitions, which are absolutely necessary as elements in all 
 our experience. The former gives us the sphere of all inward, the 
 latter of all outward observation ; time being that in which all the 
 flow of our thoughts must take place ; space being that in which 
 all external objects, to our perception, must exist. As to the no- 
 tion of identity or self, we should argue that this too cannot be 
 deduced from experience, because it is already implied in every 
 act of consciousness. Without this notion there would be no 
 unity in our sensations or ideas, no chain to bind them together ; 
 our conscious existence would be only a series of unconnected im- 
 pressions, and the experience of the last hour might belong to a 
 different being from that of the present. While, therefore, we 
 cannot but read with much admiration many of the acute and able 
 analyses of notions, with which the work we are considering 
 abounds ; yet, in those cases where our primitive judgments and 
 the ideas flowing from them are concerned, we cannot but con- 
 sider, that the author has been led astray from the truth by the 
 sensational theory he was laboring to sustain. 
 
 The view which Mr. Mill has taken of the intellectual powers 
 could not but have some influence upon his theory of the emotions. 
 Sensations and emotions are regarded by him as generically sy- 
 nonymous, so that the feeling produced by the lash of an execu- 
 tioner, and that produced by the sentence of the judge, are each 
 spoken of as a sensation, the one arising from an immediate, the 
 other from a remote cause. These two classes of feelings, on the 
 other hand, we regard as vastly dissimilar. The one arises imme- 
 diately from the presence of an external object, the other, being an
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 249 
 
 emotion, has no immediate connection with such object ; the one 
 feehng springs from without, the other from within ; the one fol- 
 lows upon an affection of the nerves, the other from a conception 
 of the mind ; the one is entirely uncontrollable so long as the bodily 
 affection lasts, the other is, to a great extent, under the dominion 
 of the will. The only sensation, which the judge produces, is oc- 
 casioned by the air set in motion by his organs of speech acting 
 on the tympanum of the prisoner's ear ; but it is the meaning of 
 the words he utters, acting upon the intellect, that sends a thrill of 
 shuddering emotion through his frame. We can conceive of no 
 system of psychology rendering an adequate view of all the phe- 
 nomena of our nature, unless the broad line of distinction is plainly 
 marked between the sensitive and the emotional faculty. This 
 might be shown far more clearly in the case of the moral emotions 
 than any other ; into these, however, we shall now forbear to enter, 
 inasmuch as the ethics of sensationalism will come more fully be- 
 fore us in the next section. 
 
 There is one point, however, we would further touch upon, and 
 that is the account which our author gives us of the loill. Accord- 
 ing to this account, it seems to us impossible to avoid drawing the 
 conclusion, that human life is altogether the sport of circumstantial 
 fatalism. The elements of volition, on his theory, are sensations, 
 ideas, and motives, leading lastly to muscular movements of the 
 frame. First, I experience a sensation ; next, I am conscious of 
 this sensation leaving its trace behind it, and forming an idea ; 
 thirdly, the power of association comes to bear upon the matter, 
 and leads me to connect certain actions of my own as causes, 
 with pleasure as the result, which is all that we mean by a motive; 
 then, lastly, the internal feeling of pleasure, I experience, produces 
 the muscular movements which we know to accompany volition. 
 Every step in the process of human action as here described, it 
 will be seen, is passive and uncontrollable. The sensation is so in 
 the first instance, the idea is so in the next, that peculiar associa- 
 tion by which a desire or motive is created is so in the third, and 
 the power which our internal feelings have over the muscular 
 frame is so in the last. The defect in the process here described 
 is what Sir J. Herschel terms the "enormous oversight" of leaving 
 out our distinct and personal consciousness of causation. Every 
 man assuredly acts on the conviction, that he is in himself a finite 
 power, or cause of such a nature, that he can, if he choose, oppose 
 the instinctive impulses of sense, and modify outward circum-
 
 250 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 stances by his own voluntary determination. Amidst all the in- 
 fluence of external agents upon us, we still feel perfectly conscious, 
 that we can originate action from within, that we can form pur- 
 poses, stay their execution, make a final determination, and then 
 pass from the inward volition to the outward execution, which ex- 
 ecution again we can continue or suspend by means of the same 
 will which gave it a commencement. The human mind, there- 
 fore, is something independent of its circumstances ; it is a spon- 
 taneous, self-regulating existence — a distinct personality, the very 
 essence of which consists in activity. Accordingly the funda- 
 mental error, as we think, of all systems of sensationalism, consists 
 in taking for granted, that mind, until the channels of sense convey 
 to it life and feeling, is a nonentity, or at any rate a mere passive 
 entity ; whilst in fact we can no more conceive of it without 
 thought and action, than we can of matter without figure and ex- 
 tension. This point, however, will again recur, so that we shall 
 for the present pursue it no further. 
 
 The only other thing, we have now to remark, is the total silence 
 which is observed by our author upon man's religious faculty. 
 That the existence of God, the infinite essence, the " causa causa- 
 rum," could not be deduced on the principles laid down in the 
 work before us, is manifest ; because even if we possessed the dis- 
 tinct conception, its whole objective reality would be destroyed by 
 reducing it, as must be the case, to a strong instance of the power 
 of association, leading us to assign a cause to all phenomena. That 
 the religious emotions, moreover, must in this philosophy all be 
 considered as purely pathological, is equally clear, because emo- 
 tions and sensations are viewed as being altogether homogeneous. 
 We see no room, therefore, in the system of psychology we have 
 just considered, for any of the more lofty and spiritual phenomena 
 of human nature. The soul fettered down to sense, can only live 
 in the present ; its noblest conceptions are but the images of sen- 
 sual objects ; its highest perception of moral law, is but a calcula- 
 tion of pleasure and pain ; the foundations of religion, so far as they 
 depend upon our rational ideas of God, of Duty, of Immortality, 
 are undermined ; and the holy stream of disinterested love to God, 
 in which the weary spirit finds its only rest, is dried up at the very 
 fountain. Whether the author would have sanctioned such infer- 
 ences, I have no means whatever of judging ; but unless I have 
 greatly mistaken his principles, the application of correct logic 
 must necessarily bring such conclusions sooner or later to light.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 251 
 
 The whole of oui' objections, then, may now be concentrated in 
 a single remark. The author, it is evident, fixed his attention upon 
 one of the great fundamental facts of our consciousness, that of 
 finite nature operating upon us through the channels of sense. In 
 looking steadfastly to this fact, he doubtless succeeded in analyzing 
 many phenomena, that might otherwise have eluded all observa- 
 tion ; but in the meantime he entirely lost sight of the other two 
 fundamental notions, those of the active self and the infinite. 
 Through the omission of these elements he reduced our pure and 
 primitive ideas to the character of mere abstractions, and the en- 
 ergy of the will to that of a passive sensational feeling. 
 
 The error committed is the exact opposite of that which Kant 
 committed before him. The German philosopher, in discovering 
 all the forms of the understanding, neglected sufficiently to ana-' 
 lyze the matter ; the English philosopher, on the contrary, in direct- 
 ing his attention almost exclusively to the matter, well nigh entirely 
 neglected the form. Many thanks, however, are still due to him 
 for his labors, inasmuch as they give one tack to the vessel in 
 which the world's philosophy is sailing, which, while it takes that 
 vessel for a time from its true course, will, nevertheless, aid in 
 bringing it at last so much further on its way to the land, where 
 truth reposes. Analysis, as we have before remarked, to be close 
 and penetrating, must give rise to error as well as to truth ; it only 
 needs an enlightened eclecticism to grasp the one, and to reject 
 the other. 
 
 We have entered into Mr. Mill's analysis somewhat more fully 
 than we should have done, (considering that our design is to give a 
 brief historical sketch of the difterent systems of philosophy with 
 their comparative merits, rather than to dwell at length upon the 
 works of particular authors,) because it is so able a representative 
 of the advanced school of Locke, as existing in England durinsr 
 the present century. Not that we mean to say, that Locke and 
 Mill in all respects coincide. So far from that, the points of differ- 
 ence are very considerable, and on many questions, as that of the 
 classification of the intellectual powers, quite dissimilar ; but still 
 both the method and the nature of the analysis so closely resemble 
 each other in the two cases, that thev are at once seen to belong 
 to the same school of philosophy. 
 
 The precise position which Mill would take in the scale of sen- 
 sationalism, is about midway between Locke on the one hand, and 
 the French Ideologists on the other. The latter of these regard
 
 252 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 all mental operations as being different forms of sensation ; the 
 lormer, although looking upon the senses as the primary source 
 from whence the material of our knowledge is derived, yet strongly 
 asserts the existence of certain active faculties, by which this ma- 
 terial is moulded ; the author now before us, differing from both, 
 admits only sensations and ideas, comprehending under these more 
 than the French philosophers, but by no means so much as our 
 great English metaphysician would contend for. Other writers of 
 the same class have wavered somewhere between these two points* 
 but they all retain such a degree of resemblance to each other, 
 that to adduce them here would be only to reproduce similar doc- 
 trines under varied forms, and then to urge against them similar 
 objections ; neither, indeed, were we to attempt it, could we bring 
 forward any authors, who have set forth the main doctrines them- 
 selves with so much clearness and force of reasoning, as the one 
 we have already examined. 
 
 There is one work, however, recently published, of such great 
 and unquestionable merit, that it were wrong to omit a distinct 
 mention of it, in estimating the sensational phenomena of the 
 age — I mean a work entitled, " A system of Logic Ratiocinative 
 and Inductive," by John Stuart Mill. The author, it is true, aims 
 simply at discovering and expounding the proper methods of inves- 
 tigating truth, without pledging himself to any system of specula- 
 tive philosophy ; but still there are so many points of a speculative 
 nature touched upon, all in the spirit of the " Analysis " above 
 considered, that he must necessarily be regarded as a partisan of 
 the modern Lockian school of metaphysics. The evidences of 
 his adherence to this school are scattered more or less throughout 
 the whole work. Let us adduce one or two examples. 
 
 First, in his discussion of the real meaning to be attached to the 
 term substance, he embraces the opportunity of placing the science 
 of ontology entirely beyond the reach of the human faculties.* 
 Not, indeed, that he has pretended to enter into the full merits of 
 the case, since that would have been foreign to the object of his 
 whole work ; but the view he takes of the question, " en passant,''' 
 implies, that we have no right to assume any conception as assert- 
 ing objective validity, which lies (as that of substance does) with- 
 out the range of our sense-perceptions, and rests upon purely ra- 
 tional or intuitive evidence. According to this view of the ques- 
 tion, we may understand somewhat of qualities, since they come 
 
 * Vol. i. p. 78, ct seq.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 253 
 
 to US as actual phenomena, but we can know nothing of substance, 
 since, if it exist, it is hidden behind a screen of impenetrable ob- 
 scurity. 
 
 Now we believe that a thorough analysis of the case will show, 
 that 7'eason has as much right to assure us of the nature and exist- 
 ence of being or substance, as ])erception has to assure us of the 
 phenomena we term qualities ; that just in the same manner as we 
 have an outward intuition of the one by the senses, so we have an 
 inward intuition of the other by the reason. The cognizance of 
 attributes by perception is as much a subjective process, as much a 
 part of my inward consciousness, as is the cognizance of matter 
 or substance by the reason ; and if we deny the objective validity 
 of the latter, there is no superior evidence why we should accept 
 that of the former. As well may we, in fact, reject the reality of 
 any quality as an objective phenomenon, as reject the substratum 
 in which it adheres. We know the properties of the external 
 world, says our author, because we have sensations which imme- 
 diately convey them. But then, what are sensations except states 
 of mind ? If a state of mind termed sensation can give us the 
 knowledge of properties, why may not a state of mind termed in- 
 tuition or reason give us the knowledge of substance ? Reason 
 has as much right to take us out of ourselves as perception, and if 
 the one cannot assert objective validity, neither can the other. 
 Let any one say, therefore, on what ground we can believe the ex- 
 istence of anything whatever out of ourselves, and we can show 
 him the same ground for believing in the reality of substance — 
 let any one, moreover, show on what principle we can comprehend 
 the nature of any objective reality, and we can show the same 
 principle of comprehension with reference to substance. There 
 is no valid medium, therefore, as it seems to us, between complete 
 subjective idealism, like that of Fichte on the one side, and the ad- 
 mission of ontology as a proper branch of scientific investigation 
 on the other. So long as we keep within the subjective circle, we 
 are pure subjective Idealists ; but once without it, we have the 
 same access to being as to mere phenomenon, that is, we have 
 simply the guarantee of our faculties for either. 
 
 'Another very decisive proof of the author's sensational ten- 
 dency is found in his support of Brown's theory of causation.* In 
 no work with which we are acquainted is the law of causality so 
 ingeniously and plausibly traced to experience as in this ; and in 
 
 * Vol. I. Book iii. chap. 5.
 
 254 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 none is the whole theory put in a more forcible and unobjection- 
 able light. Ingenuity, however, though it may mislead for a time, 
 will never succeed eventually in carrying along with it the suf- 
 frages of mankind against the fundamental convictions of human 
 nature. Try as we will to sink all idea of a real connection be- 
 tween cause and effect, the belief will eternally recur ; and how- 
 ever plausibly the theory may be propounded, yet it will ever be 
 found wanting so long as there is left out in the analysis the one 
 important link to which we have before referred, that of a personal 
 consciousness of power. 
 
 Instead, then, of resting the evidence of the law of causality upon 
 a simple induction of empirical facts, we should trace its establish- 
 ment to a process of the following nature : — Every man, when he 
 produces change upon the outer world, is conscious of putting forth 
 a power in volition, which power is exerted upon the external ob- 
 ject. If the same power be again put forth in similar circum- 
 stances, he knows intuitively, that the same change will take place. 
 Hence the notion of power, put forth by some cause, is associated 
 with the perception of every effect ; and the force emanating from 
 our own will becomes the type upon which we conceive of power, 
 as universally exerted in the production of every other possible 
 phenomenon. Thus the law of causation primarily emanates from 
 our own volition, and being expanded by the aid of experience, at 
 length assumes the form of a universal principle, applicable to all 
 the phenomena of the universe. To this subject, however, we 
 shall again return. 
 
 Another aspect of Mr. Mill's sensationalism is given in the con- 
 troversy with Prof Whewell respecting the foundations of mathe- 
 matical reasoning.* We are aware that the side he defends is to 
 a certain extent strengthened by the name of Dugald Stewart, and 
 some other writers of high standing in the philosophical world ; 
 but, nevertheless, we are unable to confess ourselves convinced by 
 the whole line of argument they have employed. The point of the 
 controversy is this — What is the ground of belief in mathematical 
 axioms ? Are they experimental truths, i. e., generalizations from 
 experience, or are they necessary truths, arising from the a priori 
 intuition of the human reason ? Mill asserts the former to be the 
 case, Whewell contends for the latter. 
 
 The discussion of the question, which when expanded might 
 occupy a volume, virtually concentrates itself upon two points. It 
 
 * Vol, I. Book ii. chap, 5 and 6,
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 255 
 
 is argued, first by the spiritualist, that an experimental truth must 
 be one that is cognizable by the senses ; and that, as this is not the 
 case with mathematical axioms and conceptions, they must neces- 
 sarily be removed beyond the limits of mere empiricism. Take, 
 for example, the axiom, that two straight lines cannot inclose 
 space, even if they be prolonged to infinity. Were this a truth of 
 simple observation (it is contended), we could never be assured of 
 its accuracy, because we can never see an instance in which two 
 intersecting lines are infinitely produced. Whence, then, comes 
 the conviction, that, supposing them to be so, still there is a neces- 
 sity that they should present just the same relative properties? 
 To this it is replied in the work before us, that mathematical truths 
 are such as can be painted on the imagination to any extent ; that 
 although we can never see two lines infinitely produced, yet we can 
 conceive them to be so ; and that, by a kind of internal observation, 
 we become convinced that they will always hold the same relations 
 to each other, as by the aid of direct sensation we perceive them 
 to hold on a small scale. 
 
 That there is some ingenuity in this theory must be freely ad- 
 mitted, but still it is open to many objections. Let us allow, for 
 argument's sake, that a mental picture of all possible lines and an- 
 gles may be depicted on the imagination. This picture must either 
 represent the cases which fall within the actual limits of our expe- 
 rience, or cases which lie entirely beyond them. The former 
 representation, of course, may be referred simply to the power of 
 conception, or (as Mr. Mill might call it) ideation. Its result is an 
 fc?eamade from the direct information of the senses, and answerino- 
 accurately to it. So far, therefore, there is nothing to serve the 
 cause of the sensationalist ; as all would admit that we may have 
 an experimental idea of anything of which we can have a sensa- 
 tion. If, however, we depict what we have never witnessed " in 
 sensu,'^ (as, for example, the case above quoted, of two intersectino- 
 lines infinitely produced,) then the question comes, What law, or 
 what necessity does this representation follow? Mr. Mill would 
 explain it by saying, that the actual experience we have in the one 
 case, leads us to imagine the same relations to hold good in the 
 other case — that, namely, which lies beyond experience. But hero 
 the very stress of the difficulty is untouched, for the inquiry still 
 returns — Why should our imagination be tlius bounded by sense ? 
 — Why are we necessitated to conceive of these lines and angles in 
 definite and particular relations ? In other subjects the imaginatioa
 
 256 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 roves at will, and forms relations entirely at variance with all ex- 
 perience. Objects the most heterogeneous are linked together by 
 the wild and capricious effort of the fancy. Why not in this sub- 
 ject also ? Actual experience, it is allowed, could never show us, 
 that two infinile intersecting lines would never meet ; — why, then, 
 may we not imagine them as meeting ; or on what is grounded the 
 subjective necessity of depicting them eternally diverging ? It 
 appears to us, that there is but one explanation of the matter, 
 namely, that reason forbids it. Once get beyond the bounds of 
 sense, once allow the conceptive faculties to take the thing into 
 their own hands, and we see not that, in this case more than in any 
 other, they would be bound to follow the dictates of experience, or 
 that their conceptions can properly be limited by anything, except 
 by the very laws of our mental constitution. 
 
 Let any one ask himself, what it is which gives us the conviction 
 that the relations of the experimental case will precisely answer to 
 those of the imaginary and supersensual ? It is not enough to say, 
 that experience forbids the supposition, that the relations should 
 vary in the two instances, for with the latter instance, experience 
 confessedly has nothing to do. Such a conviction cannot possibly 
 arise except from the fact, that the a priori forms of the under- 
 standing itself compel us to conceive of the relation of the lines in 
 no other way, whether they be matters of experience, or whether 
 they be not. In reply, therefore, to Mr. Mill's argument, that the 
 relations of figures lying beyond experience are imaginary induc- 
 tions from those which lie within experience, we urge that the 
 moment the empirical boundary is overstepped, all such inductions 
 must be valueless ; and that conviction can only now arise from 
 the necessity of the case, which necessity is based upon the ground- 
 forms of the understanding. The whole argument, in fact, that we 
 reason in mathematics upon figures either of pure sense, or drawn 
 from experience, will not stand the test of any careful examination. 
 Experience could never give us perfect lines, triangles, and circles 
 — to the senses, they must all have breadth, and thickness, and 
 irregularity ; — and yet the whole of the reasoning proceeds upon 
 the very hypothesis of their absolute perfection. " If we have no 
 experience of facts relating to lines without breadth, and perfect 
 circles, we cannot possibly have experience except loith relation to 
 lines possessing breadth, and imperfect circles, &c. But as things 
 cannot divest themselves of any of their properties, we can only 
 have experience of things as they are. Experience is not an arbi-
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 257 
 
 trary act of mind. We have no control over experience ; we must 
 take it exactly as it presents itself. As experience, therefore, can- 
 not present us with phenomena divested of any features which are 
 inseparable in actual fact from the phenomena, and we reason, ac- 
 cording to our author, entirely upon experience, if we attempt to 
 reason with respect to things, feigning them to be divested of some 
 of their properties, we reason apart from experience, i. e., we do 
 what we never do."* 
 
 We must come, however, to the second great argument which 
 the spiritualist employs, that, namely, arising from the universality 
 and necessity of mathematical axioms. These two attributes, it is 
 argued, could never flow from experience, inasmuch as no ex- 
 perience can extend to all possible cases, and become the voucher 
 for universal and necessary truth. To this Mr. Mill replies, that 
 the necessity of a thing simply means the inconceivableness of its 
 being otherwise, and that this inconceivableness all arises from the 
 strength of the opposite associations.! 
 
 Now, if mere association can produce the feeling of necessity 
 and universality, respecting which we are treating, then it must 
 produce it alike in every case, where the association has been 
 constant and uniform. For example, we have always associated 
 snow with whiteness, and soot with blackness ; according to Mill's 
 theory, therefore, we ought to consider the one necessarily white, 
 and the other necessarily black. This is not, however, the case ; 
 there is nothing inconceivable, nothing contradictory to our reason 
 in black snow, or in white soot ; nor would it do violence to our 
 faculties if we were to witness both of them to-morrow. The 
 necessity we feel in the case of an axiom — such as, " that two 
 right lines cannot inclose a space," is altogether of a different 
 nature. Here the word inconceivable, attached to the negation of 
 the axiom, has a far more intense meaning than it has in the cases 
 which Mr. Mill adduces ; so much so, that it would do violence to 
 our reason to suppose that negation to be for one moment possible. 
 Let any one put together the two propositions, " Snow is white," 
 and " Two right lines cannot inclose a space," and consider, 
 whether their contradictories are in the same degree of incon- 
 ceivableness. If they are found to be not so, then there must be 
 some additional reason besides association, which creates the idea 
 of necessity in the latter. The cause of the difference, as it ap- 
 
 * See British Quarterly Review, No. vii, p. 20. 
 
 ♦ Vol. I. Book ii. chap. 5, sec. 6. 
 
 17
 
 258 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 pears to us, is simply this, that the one would contradict my ex- 
 perience, the other would contradict my reason ; the former axiom 
 being an empirical induction, the latter being an a priori judg- 
 ment. 
 
 We have brought forward these few theories from the work 
 above mentioned, in order that they may serve as examples of the 
 nature and spirit of Mr. Mill's sensationalism. Upon the whole, 
 however, the sensational doctrines do not appear with nearly the 
 same intensity, which they exhibit in the " Analysis of tne Human 
 Mind." In one passage particularly, the author very clearly ex- 
 presses his doubt, whether the attempt at explaining all our ab- 
 struser sentiments, emotions, volitions, &c., by the laws of associ- 
 ation, has been at all successful, and controverts the corresponding 
 theory of belief, which is maintained in the " Analysis." Although, 
 as we have seen, there are some points in the work to which we 
 cannot agree, yet we cheerfully allow, that it must be placed 
 among the very first efforts of philosophical thinking in our own 
 country. We believe that the " System of Logic" is yet destined 
 as a book of fertile suggestions to bring forth beneficial results, 
 which many years to come will in all probability fail to exhaust. 
 
 Every school of philosophy, when it has given rise to works of 
 a theoretical and then of a practical nature, begins to feel the 
 want of an historian, who shall describe the progress of thought in 
 the world from its own peculiar stand-point. The Analyst of the 
 new sensational school of England was Mr. James Mill — the Lo- 
 gician is Mr. John S. Mill — the Historian has now appeared in 
 Mr. G. H. Lewes, writer of the " Biographical History of Philos- 
 ophy," (Knight, 1846). The author of this Httle work has travelled 
 in a small compass over the whole field of philosophy, from the 
 earliest ages to the present day, and has investigated the most 
 prominent systems, which appear on the page of history, with 
 some vigor and success. 
 
 In spite of a levity of style, hardly consistent with the grave 
 discussion of philosophical questions, and a dogmatism by no means 
 attractive, he has thrown his elucidations and criticisms before us, 
 with great clearness, and sometimes with considerable power of 
 argumentation. At the same time we altogether differ from the 
 view he has taken of the nature of metaphysical researches, and 
 much fear that, were it carried out to its ultimate consequences, it 
 would peril some of the most precious germs of human knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 i'v
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 259 
 
 Mr. Lewes, it should be understood, has carried his sensational- 
 ism so far as to profess himself an unmixed admirer of Comte, an 
 entire advocate of positive science. In philosophy (by which he 
 understands whatever relates to the origin of things or causes, and 
 whatever relates to the existence of things per se, or their essences)* 
 he has no belief He admits, indeed, that it has answered a good 
 end, inasmuch as it has led mankind to the real or positive method 
 of investigating truth ; but the whole attempt at solving metaphys- 
 ical problems he sets down as utterly vain and hopeless. The his- 
 tory of philosophy, as he views it, is intended to show that all 
 metaphysical investigations have gone round and round in one 
 perpetual circle, that they have ever thrown the same great ques- 
 tions up to view, and that we are now as far from solving them as 
 when the struggle first began. He proposes, therefore, to write 
 the life of this wondrous thing — Philosophy ; which after having 
 enlightened the world up to the nineteenth century, is at length 
 defunct, or at least expiring. 
 
 Philosophy, then, being renounced the true object of human in- 
 vestigation, is affirmed to be positive science, " the aim of which is 
 to trace the co-existences and successions of phenomena, i. e. to 
 trace the relation of cause and effect throughout the universe sub- 
 mitted to our inspection."' In other words, what we have to do is 
 to observe facts, and discover their laws ; to this empirical pro- 
 cess the whole sum of our knowledge is forever confined. 
 
 Against this summary species of sensationalism the whole of 
 our previous reflections, we trust, have furnished many arguments ; 
 but we shall make now a few additional observations, more espe- 
 cially applicable to the work before us. 
 
 1. We cannot regard Mr. Lewes's own account of the true 
 office of philosophy as consistent with its alleged futility. He 
 admits that it has been the great inii)ulse to human research, 
 the parent of positive science, nourishing, sustaining, directing the 
 human faculties in their infancy, and leading them to all that is 
 great and noble. Can it, then, be rational to affirm that philosophy, 
 having been the mainspring of all human improvement, yet now, 
 exactly in this very age, having given birth to an Auguste Comte, 
 is from henceforth to be thrown aside as utterly worthless, and 
 chased out of all our seats of learning ? The thought at once 
 suggests itself, Has its end been fully answered ? Can we call it 
 the highest stretch of philosophy to produce a system of science 
 
 * Vol. i. p. 16.
 
 260 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 which formally denies the existence of a God ? May not some 
 more struggles be yet necessary, to bring the human mind to the 
 appreciation of the true method of all mental investigation ? Hav- 
 ing achieved the true method of physical research, may it not yet 
 be a higher triumph of philosophy to achieve that of metaphysical 
 and spiritual research also ? For the honor, the glory, the hap- 
 piness of humanity, we hope that it may be so. 
 
 But on what ground is it asserted, that metaphysical science is 
 futile — what the theory on which its long life and approaching 
 death is explained ? No other than this : that human knowledge 
 passes through three stages ; the theological, the metaphysical, and 
 the positive ; and that as each succeeding stage is gained, the ideas 
 peculiar to the one preceding it are exploded. Now it is admitted 
 by our author, that while some sciences have reached the positive 
 stage, others are still on the metaphysical, and others again on the 
 theological stand-point. His conclusion is, that as physical sci- 
 ence has been freed from its supernatural and abstract form, all 
 our knowledge is travelling on to the same result. Our conclusion 
 is quite the reverse ; namely, that as the supernatural, the meta- 
 physical, and the positive, have all existed more or less in every 
 age, and exist now as much as ever, they are real elements of truth, 
 to which the progress of mind is gradually assigning their proper 
 limits. Theology and philosophy still exist, and so they ever will 
 as long as the human faculties remain what they are ; never will 
 positive science reach the height towards which the spiritual aspi- 
 rations of man eternally tend, just in proportion as his rational and 
 moral nature attains a loftier degree of purity and perfection. 
 
 2. But we are not yet prepared to grant that the peculiar prob- 
 lems of philosophy are so utterly hopeless, as our author makes 
 them out. We do not regard his " irreversible canon" (that what- 
 ever relates to causes and essences, is entirely beyond our reach) 
 as by any means so certain as he declares it. What is the uni- 
 verse around us ? Is it merely a succession of phenomena ? Does 
 it either satisfy our reason or express our whole knowledge of the 
 world to say, that all we can do is to observe and classify appear- 
 ances ? Unless we choose to plunge into the absolute idealism of 
 Hegel, and only admit a universe of relations, we 7nust suppose a 
 real, substantial objective world ; and to know that it exists, sup- 
 poses a faculty which, to some extent or other, is cognizant of es- 
 sences. So it is also with regard to causes. No empirical obser- 
 vations can give us the perception of power ; but unless this is
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 261 
 
 cognized as a reality by our reason, the unity of the world to us is 
 gone ; we can say nothing of a spiritual cause, we can never reach 
 the valid conception of a God. Nay, if all ontology is denied, 
 then our very personality can never be conceived of ; man cannot 
 call himself an essence, he is but a succession of phenomena. The 
 very same argument, in fact, by which the positive philosopher 
 sweeps away the science of essence and cause, would likewise 
 sweep away the science of phenomena also. How do we know 
 the existence of substance and power ? By a certain subjective 
 state of our faculties. How do we know aught of phenomena ? 
 By another state equally subjective. Deny the validity of con- 
 sciousness in the one case, as a voucher for objective reality, and 
 what is to prevent my denying it in the other ? 
 
 We insist, therefore, upon a knowledge of the existence both of 
 essences and causes, and in the knowledge of their existence there 
 is a germ of thought which may be expanded into a valid meta- 
 physic, or, if the term be preferred, a valid ontology. 
 
 3. Our author will now probably come with the inquiry, " Have 
 you, then, any ideas independent of experience ; for on this the 
 pretensions of metaphysics must be staked?" I answer. What is 
 experience ? What are its elements ? Unless we have some ideas 
 independent of experience, how is experience possible ? Experi- 
 ence implies two elements — a self on the one side, an objective 
 reality on the other. There must be an intuition of my own ex- 
 istence, there must be a subject to which the multiplicity of my 
 ideas are referred as a primitive unity, else our consciousness would 
 have no thread of connection running through it. Moreover, there 
 must be certain forms by which the objective stimuli that act upon 
 us are sliaped into notions or ideas. Imagine the influences of the 
 external world acting upon a perfectly formed human body, but 
 tenanted by a mind without understanding or reason. These in- 
 fluences, it is admitted, would never convey knowledge to such a 
 mind, because there would e.^st no faculties adapted to grasp them. 
 But what does the existence of such fiiculties imply ? Evidently 
 the power of attaching certain forms, shapes, or conceptions to ex- 
 ternal phenomena — the power of reducing them to notions, and of 
 giving them a character by which they take their place as real 
 elements of human knowledge existing in the understanding. In 
 this sense, we assuredly (io possess something independent of expe- 
 rience ; we possess, namely, those categories or forms of thought 
 which give rise immediately to the primitive conceptions, under
 
 262 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 which all external things are viewed. Without this a priori ele- 
 ment, experience itself would be impossible.* 
 
 4. We come to another point which appears to us to stand in a 
 a very unsatisfactory light in the work before us, and that is the 
 ground-principle of religion. The author, on this subject, comes 
 forth with one of his sweeping " fallaciae plurium interrogationum," 
 in the following words: "Upon what does religion base itself? 
 Upon reason or revelation ? What do the Fathers teach ? What 
 do all the highest theological authorities teach ? The question is 
 pertinent, important. Do they teach, that human reason is compe- 
 petent to solve the problems of religion ? Do they teach, that to 
 reason man must look for certitude and conviction ? No : they 
 one and all energetically declare, as they are forced to declare, that 
 reason is essentially a finite, limited, erring faculty, wholly incom- 
 petent to produce certitude and conviction," To this he adds in 
 a note : " It would be idle to cite authorities for this fundamental 
 and universally acknowledged position. We should be ashamed 
 of alluding to it, did not the present discussion force us."t Now 
 we imagine it would be more difficult to cite high authorities for 
 this position than idle, if we understand it aright. What does it 
 imply ? It cannot mean simply that reason is incompetent to de- 
 duce all which faith reveals ; for this view of the case would make 
 nothing for the purpose which the author has before him, that of 
 showing the entire separation of religion and philosophy. If it 
 means, then, to assert that all religion bases itself upon revelation, 
 or that the Fathers taught any such doctrine as this, we altogether 
 deny it. Many of the Fathers built their theological notions, even 
 too much, upon philosophical dogmas ; and the great mass of theo- 
 logical authority, both in ancient and modern times, teaches us to 
 base revealed religion upon the broader principles of natural re- 
 ligion. All the great systems of theology that the Church has pro- 
 duced, all at least which have any pretensions to merit, proceed 
 distinctly upon this principle. And correctly so. How the exist- 
 ence of a God could possibly be revealed to us by inspiration or 
 authority, is a problem which has never yet been solved. All reve- 
 lation proceeds upon the fact of his existence, and we know not 
 where this fact could ever find a valid basis, were it disowned as a 
 primary conclusion of our reason and conscience. This brings us, 
 
 * We must refer the reader here to what has already been said upon this point in 
 our examination of the two foregoing writers ; — especially to the difference between the 
 sensation of a thing and the notion of it. 
 
 t Vol. iv. p. 43.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 263 
 
 then, to the very point in question. Can positive science, in the 
 sense here employed, ever bring us to the conviction of the Being 
 of a God ? M. Comte says authoritatively it cannot, and we be- 
 lieve him to be right. Far are we from attributing this sentiment 
 to those who advocate the positive principle, since there is nothing 
 more unjust than to draw our own conclusions, and then force 
 them upon other people ; but we cannot see how the atheistic con- 
 clusion, into which the master openly sinks, can ultimately be 
 avoided by the pupils. If all we can do is to observe phenomena 
 and deduce their laws, if all inquiry both into causes and essences 
 is entirely beyond our reach, we are quite at a loss to see how the 
 belief in a God can be any other than what Comte represents it, 
 namely, a delusion incident to the more infantile state of humanity. 
 We contend, then-, for a philosophy of religion. We affirm that 
 the grounds of our religious belief, and the facts of our spiritual 
 nature, can be subjected to philosophical investigation, as well as 
 any other part of our mental phenomena. We believe that the 
 history of every mind, if it be closely examined, and the history of 
 humanity in the mass, all tend to prove some connection with a 
 spiritual world, without which man were a problem utterly inexpli- 
 cable ; and we look with jealous eye upon any system which tends 
 to absorb the notions of the human spirit or the Infinite Spirit in 
 that of nature, to cut us off from that which gives us all our dig- 
 nity, and lends to human action all its grandeur and elevation. 
 
 5. We only add a single idea respecting the distinction which is 
 drawn in the work before us, between philosophy and positive sci- 
 ence, on the ground of one being progressive, the other not. The 
 author ought to have admitted that philosophy is progressive on 
 his own hypothesis ; for by his own showing it has gradually evolved 
 the true principles of human knowledge. The fact which is so 
 much dwelt upon, that the same questions come over and over 
 again, and are ever unsolved, is nothing to the purpose. In all 
 sciences, even those of a purely positive character, the great ulti- 
 mate points aimed at are stated in the outset ; but the circumstance 
 of their not being solved is no argument to prove that progress is 
 not made in them. Physiology aims at the discovery of the princi- 
 ple of life ; chemistry of the ultimate elements of nature ; politics 
 at the best possible form of government. These problems recur 
 ever and anon ; they are ever solving and never solved ; but truth 
 comes out in the very process. So it is in philosophy. The great 
 ultimate problems have been stated, and rc-stated, and never solved ;
 
 264 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 but let the progress of human intelligence, the marking out of the 
 boundaries of human knowledge, the whole intellectual phenomena 
 of man's history, say, whether there has not been a steady advance- 
 ment towards the elucidation of the great questions of man's nature 
 and destiny. Indeed, the argument from the fixed nature of meta- 
 physical ideas, may be viewed as tending exactly the contrary 
 way from what is here intended. What does the perpetual ad- 
 vance of positive science prove, but its errors or imperfections ? 
 What does the fixedness of metaphysical ideas prove, but their ab- 
 solute and necessary truth ? For our own part, we believe fully 
 and heartily in philosophy ; ^e regard it as the truest expression 
 of the thought of every age ; as one of the greatest aids to human 
 progress ; and, when of a true, elevated, and spiritual kind, as one 
 of the most efficient means by which man is ever recalled from his 
 absorption in the material, to the contemplation of truth, of im- 
 mortality, and of God. 
 
 We might just mention, before concluding this part of the sec- 
 tion, that there have been many pleasing, though by no means 
 profound writers, who have from time to time grounded upon these 
 sensational principles, valuable works of a practical kind, adapted 
 more especially to guide us aright in estimating the influence of 
 circumstances over the human mind. As a specimen of these, I 
 might mention Dr. Henry M'Cormac's volume entitled " The Phi- 
 losophy of Human Nature in its Physical, Intellectual, and Moral 
 relations." We find here the same theory of causation assumed, 
 that we have already noticed ; the same dogma respecting the ori- 
 gin of our ideas, the same fundamental principle respecting the 
 nature of the moral faculty as arising from experience and associa- 
 tion, all asserted, and reasoned upon, with only the very feeblest 
 attempt at analyzing and proving them. Notwithstanding this, 
 however, the work is practically a useful one for general readers, 
 and points out many facts in the constitution of man, which it is 
 highly beneficial for us both to observe and act upon. 
 
 As a whole, then, we might say that this school of philosophy 
 has borne much good fruit in its own peculiar department ; for al- 
 though it is by no means adapted to cultivate the deeper religious 
 feelings, or to raise the mind to enthusiasm in the pursuit either of 
 the beautiful or the good, yet it is well calculated to point out the 
 mental action and reaction of mind and matter, of the man, and the 
 outward world, upon each other, and thus to advance that species 
 of education which consists in so adapting our circumstances, as 
 
 I
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 265 
 
 to aid us in our intellectual advancement, and in the performance 
 of our moral duties. All the varied systems we shall bring under 
 review, are, in fact, but pulsations of the great mind of humanity. 
 They are all based upon some true idea, and each takes up some 
 one department, which, owing to the concentration of mind upon 
 it thus produced, is analyzed far more completely than could other- 
 wise have been the case. The defect which one system labors 
 under is soon supplied by the exertions of another, and the next 
 age reaps the fruit, which they have both conspired to produce and 
 to mature. We come now to consider the class of philosophers 
 which we have termed 
 
 (B) Sensational Moralists. 
 
 Although ethics do not, generally speaking, afford so much scope 
 for speculative philosophy as those branches of mental analysis, to 
 which we have just referred, yet it would occasion a considerable 
 blank in our historical survey, were we to pass by the attempts 
 which have been made to philosophize on man's moral and practi- 
 cal life. That moral systems should be founded upon sensational 
 principles is, perhaps, less to be wondered at, than that such prin- 
 ciples should be employed in explaining the more complex phenom- 
 ena of our intellectual being. Our actions are external, and refer 
 for the most part to some or other of our outward circumstances ; 
 hence, probably, arises the great tendency there is, to make the 
 whole science of ethics turn upon outward laws or relationships, 
 rather than upon any of our inward feelings or conceptions, to 
 make it a system of rules, rather than the acting out of an abso- 
 lute idea. On this account, we consider it a matter of great im- 
 portance, to show how our moral sentiments spring from that true 
 and incontrovertible source, which exists in the primary elements 
 of our constitution. 
 
 In studying moral philosophy speculatively, there are two differ- 
 ent methods in which we may commence and carry on our inves- 
 tigations. First, we may begin by the study of actions, analyzing 
 their qualities, and attempting to discover what it is which gives 
 them the peculiarity, that we designate by the word moral; or, 
 secondhj, we may begin by studying our inward emotions, and en- 
 deavor from thence to detect the precise nature and ground of the 
 moral feelings. In the one case we seek to answer the question, 
 What is virtue ? in the other, What is conscience ? The former
 
 266 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 of these processes we may term the objective, the latter the sub- 
 jective method ; and we shall have ere long to point out two dis- 
 tinct schools of sensational moralists, which have followed respec- 
 tively each of these two methods in their philosophical speculations. 
 . The influence of sensational principles upon both methods is at 
 once obvious. First, consider their bearing upon the discussion, 
 which has taken place, respecting the qualities of actions. One 
 philosopher affirms, that by the exercise of his higher or rational 
 faculty, he perceives in action certain moral distinctions, which are 
 quite separate from any immediate tendency they may have to 
 produce pleasure or pain ; while another contends that we possess 
 a moral sense, which distinguishes ethical properties in actions, just 
 as the natural senses distinguish material properties in objects. To 
 the sensationalist, however, both these theories are totally inad- 
 missible. As to our reason, he would argue, it can do nothing 
 more than work up the matter which experience affords, and there- 
 fore, can discover no qualities distinct from those which come to 
 us through the channels of sensation ; and as to the moral sense, it 
 cannot be generically different from natural sense or sensation, but, 
 like all other emotions, is merely a particular form in which the 
 latter is found to exist. Actions, therefore, morally speaking, can 
 have onl}' one set of qualities when viewed by the light of sensa- 
 tionalism, namely, those, by virtue of which we receive profit or 
 loss, pleasure or pain, joy or sorrow. 
 
 Again, if we look to the subjective side of the question, it is 
 equally evident, that, in studying the moral faculty , sensationalism 
 at once puts its veto upon any theory, that implies the spontaneous 
 action of the human mind ; that it makes every impulse come from 
 without ; and that when carried to its legitimate conclusion, it 
 merges human liberty entirely in an iron fate, consequent upon the 
 supremacy of external circumstances. We shall now, therefore, 
 briefly trace the influence of sensational principles upon these two 
 phases of ethical philosophy, as exhibited in our own country during 
 the present century. 
 
 I. We begin with the objective sensational ethics of the present 
 age, the great inquiry of which is, into the nature and grounds of 
 virtue externally considered. Locke, it is well known, in his zeal 
 to oppose the doctrine of innate ideas, denied the existence of any 
 originffl or innate practical principles, by which human action is 
 governed ; a conclusion against which Lord Shaftesbury and others 
 very warmly protested. Nowithstanding this protest. Dr. Thomas
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 267 
 
 Rutherford, following out the moral aspect of Locke's philosophy, 
 sooa worked it up into a defence of utilitarianism. With this view 
 of the ground of moral relations David Hume coincided, and also, 
 among English writers, Abraham Tucker, an especial admirer and 
 follower of Locke. To these writers succeeded Archdeacon Paley 
 who published his work on Moral Philosophy* in the year 1785 — 
 a work which from that period to the present has held the most 
 distinguished place in one of the English universities at least, and 
 has been extensively read and admired throughout the country. 
 The utilitarian scheme of Paley, then, we may consider as the 
 ethical phase of Locke's philosophy, which has principally occupied 
 the public attention during the nineteenth century. 
 
 Paley 's definition of virtue is well known to every moralist. He 
 makes it " the doing good to mankind in obedience to the will of 
 God for the sake of eternal happiness. "f The will of God then is 
 here stated as the most direct rule of morality which we possess. 
 To find the ground of it we have only to ask what is the ground 
 of that will ? The ground of it, argues Paley, can be no other 
 than the production of happiness to the creature, since we cannot 
 conceive of God operating otherwise than benevolently. J We 
 may consider, therefore, the utility of an action to be the ultimate 
 foundation of its moral excellence, and the test by which we know 
 it to be in consonance with the Divine purpose. § This mode of 
 stating the matter, as it appears to us, virtually begs the whole 
 question. The possible motives of the Divine operation are all 
 summed up in a single disjunctive syllogism — God must act malio-- 
 nantly, benevolently, or indifferently ; but he cannot act malignantly 
 or indifferently, therefore he must act benevolently. Undoubtedly, 
 God ever acts benevolently ; but does this syllogism exhaust the 
 possible motives of the Divine operation ? Far from it. There 
 is yet room for us to imagine an infinite number of grounds in the 
 depths of the Divine nature, from which the operations of Deity 
 may originate. Why might we not as well argue, that God must 
 operate according to right, or according to wrong, or indifferently 
 to both — but he cannot act wrongly or indifferently ; consequently 
 he must according to right, and that must be to us the ground of 
 virtue. These kind of arguments, in fact, bring us no nearer to the 
 
 * " Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy." Dedicated to Edmund Law, D. D., 
 Bishop of Carlisle. 
 t Book I. chap. vii. paragraph the first, 
 i Book II. chap. v. ^ Ibid. chap. vi.
 
 268 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 real analysis of the subject in hand ; they beg the question in the 
 very terms employed. 
 
 Without making any further specific remarks, however, upon 
 Paley, we shall proceed to offer a few observations upon utilita- 
 rianism itself, as an ethical system. 
 
 1. We affirm that utility could never be practically applied, as a 
 safe and sufficient rule of human action. For on the supposition that 
 our actions are to be estimated and directed by their expediency, 
 who, we ask, is to estimate or direct them ? The consequences of 
 every action we perform, are either wholly or to a great extent un- 
 known to us ; they go on multiplying by the laws of our moral and 
 intellectual nature far beyond the possibility of human sagacity to 
 calculate ; so that if we had to value each action according to this 
 rule, it would be impossible ever to know, with any approach to 
 certainty, how much virtue or how much vice it really contained, 
 how far it was morally right or how far morally wrong. Paley, 
 though a utilitarian, saw clearly that utility would not serve as a 
 rule of conduct, and took refugfe from its uncertainty in the will 
 of God. However acutely, therefore, it might be argued that util- 
 ity is the ground of morality, and imparts to all actions the peculiar 
 qualities which we attach to them as good or evil, still it is quite 
 clear that we need some safer principle by which our practical life 
 may be directed. Unless such a principle be afforded us, we may 
 commit the greatest errors in morality, while our intentions may 
 have been perfectly sound and healthy. 
 
 To this argument it is by no means sufficient to answer, that 
 utiUty is not be estimated by the sagacity of any individual mind, 
 but rather by the combined and general result of human experience, 
 from which the rule of life will be an induction ; for this general 
 experience is not applicable to the vast majority of individual ac- 
 tions at all, and if it were so, is still far too fluctuating to serve for 
 an absolute and imperative law. If men were to act on their own 
 ideas of utility, we should have an infinity of moral laws, varying 
 with their relative sagacity or folly ; if they were to act on the 
 general idea of utility, tlien we should find moral distinctions va- 
 rying in every country, and with every different state of society. 
 Utility, then, cannot be the universal rule of moral action ; we go 
 on further to show that it can neither be the ground of it. To 
 show this, we affirm, 
 
 2. That the argument drawn from the fact, that utility in the case 
 of inanimate or involuntary agents never produces in us the slight-
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 269 
 
 est degree of moral approbation has never, as far as we are aware, 
 been fully and satisfactorily answered. If utility were the whole 
 foundation of moral distinctions, assuredly we ought to denominate 
 everything virtuous which is in any way beneficial. On the con- 
 trary, the very fact that the notion of intelligence and will are to 
 be subjoined before we can possibly regard utility as synonymous 
 with morality, is a proof that something else is needed, ere we 
 can account for the whole' of what is contained in the notion of 
 virtue. The argumentation may be briefly put as follows. If an 
 agent is accounted virtuous simply because he subserves the gen- 
 eral well-being, then a valuable machine, which confers great 
 blessings upon society, is virtuous. By no means, replies the util- 
 itarian ; a machine is not an intelligent or a voluntary being at all, 
 and hence stands altogether without the limits of moral agency. 
 On your own showing, then, we rejoin, there must be something 
 or other in an action besides its mere utility, something implied in 
 the idea of free agency and intelligence which gives it its moral 
 character; and it is that something which we contend for as an 
 element that altogether destroys the system of mere expediency, 
 which we are now considering. 
 
 3. This will be more clearly seen, when we consider that moral 
 distinctions, if we trace them to their origin, do not ai)ply directly 
 to actions at all, but only to their motives. Our moral estimate 
 of every action, purposed by a sound mind, is regulated entirely by 
 the view we take of the intention t'rom which it springs. Many 
 an act which is really useful is stamped by us as immoral, the very 
 moment we perceive that the design of it was evil; and many an 
 act fraught with mischief and calamity is not only passed by un- 
 censured, but is even applauded as virtuous, so soon as we distinctly 
 perceive that it was done with a good intention. On the very 
 same principle, one and the same action is often regarded as moral 
 to-day and immoral to-morrow ; not because we have discovered 
 in the meantime any difference in its tendency, but because we 
 have fresh light thrown upon the motive from which it sprang. 
 
 Observe, then, how the moral aspect of an action must be judged 
 of, on the principle, that its excellence or turpitude arises out of 
 the motive it springs from. If we define a motive to be that, which 
 immediately precedes and leads to eflfort, it is evident, that it can- 
 not be anything external, but must consist in a particular state of 
 feeling or emotion, since it is from this alone that action or effort 
 can directly flow. A moral motive, accordingly, in opposition to
 
 270 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 an instinctive one, will be a state of feeling, which includes in it 
 intelligence and design, since we always carefully exclude from 
 the appellation of virtuous, those acts which result from our purely 
 instinctive or pathological affections. To estimate, then, the true 
 morality of an action, instead of first looking to its direct tendency, 
 respecting which we may be altogether deceived, we must follow 
 it up to the motive from which it originated ; this motive we must 
 ascertain to be a state of feeling not pathological merely, but in- 
 volving intelligence and design ; and, lastly, we must perceive that 
 the design itself is in accordance with our nature and destiny as 
 accountable creatures. If this be an accurate analysis, the foun- 
 dation-stone of morals is the great ruling law of our nature, by 
 virtue of which we are impelled to the accomplishment of our des- 
 tiny ; which law, moreover, is but an expression both of the will 
 and the nature of God. Upon everything which God has created 
 around us, a law is visibly impressed, by which it has to fulfil its 
 design ; our law is that engraven upon the conscience, and em- 
 bodied in the dictates of our moral nature. Here w^e have at once a 
 sure ground of morality, and a valid rule by which to direct all our 
 practical life. Such an account of our actions, morally considered, 
 it is needless to say, is quite incompatible with the doctrine of 
 utility ; not but that the great moral law may ultimately coincide 
 with what is expedient, but still, as far as man is concerned, the 
 law itself, as an expression of the Divine will and the Divine na- 
 ture, must be regarded as the foundation of virtue ; expediency 
 can only be used at the very furthest as the test of it. 
 
 4. The most decisive ground of appeal, however, on all ques- 
 tions of this nature, is that of the human consciousness. Funda- 
 mental truths of our spiritual being cannot be proved; they must 
 ultimately rest upon the natural history of the human mind, ob- 
 served and investigated on the principle of all inductive philos- 
 ophy. Is there, then, or is there not, in the human mind, an intu- 
 itive perception of duty or propriety, distinct from any calculations 
 of profit and loss ? Is there, or is there not, a feeling of approba- 
 tion in the consciousness of having complied with duty, quite 
 irrespective of the benefit which may accrue to ourselves or to 
 any one else ; and is there, or is there not, a feeling of self-con- 
 demnation or remorse when duty has been set at nought, although 
 no injury may have been inflcted ? We answer, there is no lan- 
 guage of civilized men, in which the most unequivocal terms ex- 
 pressive of such facts of our moral nature are not found in abun-
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 271 
 
 dance, and none in which they do not stand quite distinct from the 
 phraseology, by which men express their notions of the injurious 
 and the useful. To describe, in poetic language, the beauty of 
 individual actions, which have all the marks of disinterested virtue 
 about them, does not suit the closer and more severely philosoph- 
 ical style which it is our aim here to preserve ; the whole argu- 
 ment, however, is contained in this one sentiment — that if we in- 
 vestigate the facts of our own consciousness, or examine the words 
 and actions of mankind at large, as evidences of their inward per- 
 ceptions and feelings, we shall discover a class of moral emotions, 
 which are excited by the contemplation simply of right motives, 
 and that too before the slightest judgment is passed upon the utility 
 of the action, to which such motives gave birth. 
 
 Against this conclusion it is but idle speculation to inquire, 
 whether a savage brought up in the woods and forests would man- 
 ifest certain moral sensibilities at the sight of a detestable action.* 
 It is n(f more possible to argue correctly respecting our moral 
 faculties from such a case, than it is to argue correctly respecting 
 man's intellectual powers from the most degraded of our species, 
 or to conclude, that because the human frame does not manifest 
 certain physical powers, when sickly and decrepit, that therefore it 
 cannot possess them in ordinary circumstances favorable to its full 
 development. Paley, it is true, though employing fallacious argu- 
 ments of this kind, yet gave a higher tone to his moral system, 
 than Hume had done before him, by presenting the nobler motives 
 to virtue, which we derive from the hope of everlasting happiness ; 
 but still all the objections we have pointed out, we cannot but 
 think, are opposed to the doctrine of utility as a principle, whether 
 we take it in its wider or more contracted extent. 
 
 From the foregoing remarks, then, we conclude that utility can 
 never give an unerring rule for the guidance of human actions ; 
 that it passes by all consideration of right or wrong motives in the 
 estimate of human conduct ; that it takes no account whatever of 
 our moral dispositions ; that it fails to explain the facts of our 
 consciousness ; and is consequently wholly insufficient as a theory 
 to satisfy the phenomena of our moral life. 
 
 But we come now to notice another form, which the utilitarian 
 principle has taken, and in which it has excited no little attention 
 in our own country, as well as on the Continent of Europe, — I 
 
 * This is the method proposed by Paley, for testing the reaUty of a moral sense. See 
 " Moral and Political Philosophy,'^ Book I. chap. v.
 
 272 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 refer to the philosophy of Bentham. Jeremy Bentham was bom 
 in London, in the year 1748, and at a very early age became a 
 graduate of the university of Oxford. Whilst there he directed 
 his attention to the study of law and the cognate branch of ethics, 
 and during the last year of his stay in that city became an ardent 
 admirer and investigator of the principle of utility, chiefly from 
 reading the Essay of Dr. Priestley upon Government. In 1776 he 
 published a " Fragment on Government," and in 1789 appeared his 
 grand work, entitled, " Introduction to the Principles of Morals and 
 Legislation." The moral system which Bentham advocated in this 
 latter work, and which he expanded more and more during a long and 
 laborious life, at length came forth in the year 1834, in its most com- 
 plete, and at the same time most popular form, as a posthumous 
 production, edited by Dr. Bowring, under the name of " Deontology." 
 
 The account of Bentham's proceedings in the development of 
 his principles is given by his editor in the following terms : — " It 
 was in the year 1789 that the ' Introduction to the Prirrciples of 
 Morals and Legislation' appeared. Here, for the first time, are 
 pains and pleasures separately defined, and regularly grouped ; and 
 the classification and definition of them is so complete for all ordi- 
 nary purposes of moral and legislative investigation, that Mr. 
 Bentham, in after life, found Uttle to modify or to add to in the 
 list. By the side of the pains and the pleasures, the corresponding 
 motives are brought to view, and a clear and determinate idea 
 attached to the springs of action by showing their separate opera- 
 tion. And, moreover, the author uncovers and sifts that phraseol- 
 ogy which has done so much mischief in the field of right and 
 wrong by the judgment of motives, instead of the judgment of 
 conduct, so that the same motive is frequently spoken of in terms 
 opposed to and incompatible with one another. * * * In the 
 later years, however, of Mr. Bentham's life, he was far from 
 deeming his analysis complete. He had not taken man's interests 
 and man's desires into his list, and he employed the phraseology 
 of utility instead of that of happiness."* 
 
 In the year 1810, it appears, Bentham published his "Chresto- 
 mathia," the object of which was to show in what manner all the 
 various arts and sciences contribute to the production of human 
 happiness. In 1817 appeared " The Table of the Springs of Ac- 
 tion," in which the phraseology of utilitarianism is still retained, 
 although the author was evidently working his moral system into 
 
 * " Deontology," Vol. I. p. 311.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 273 
 
 a more close and definite form. Becoming now, however, dissat- 
 isfied with the term utihty, as expressive of the groundwork of mo- 
 rality, he cast about for an expression which should convey his 
 notion on the subject without the possibility of creating error or 
 equivocation. Once he thought of proposing the term eudaimo- 
 nology, again he employed the word felicitism, until at length, in 
 the year 1822, in his "Codification Proposal," he decided on term- 
 ing his moral theory "the greatest-happiness principle," and to 
 represent the practice of virtue as the art of maximizing happi- 
 ness. It is the complete exposition of this principle in its last and 
 most improved phraseology, that forms the object of the work 
 called " Deontology," to which we have just alluded.* 
 
 The principles advocated under the name of Deontology may 
 be easily explained. The whole system takes its rise from the 
 consideration, that man is capable of pleasures and pains, and that, 
 from the calculation of these, all moral action proceeds. On this 
 theory, good is a word synonymous with pleasure, evil synony- 
 mous with pain, and all happiness consists in the possession of the 
 one, and the absence of the other. Give me, says the utilitarian 
 teacher, give me the human sensibilities — joy and grief, pain and 
 pleasure, and I will create a moral world. f Pleasure and pain, 
 then, the basis of our moral nature, are to be estimated according 
 to their magnitude and extent ; magnitude, referring to their in- 
 tensity and duration ; extent, depending on the number of persons 
 who are affected by them. It is in the proper balancing of these, 
 asserts Bentham, that all morality consists, and beyond this the 
 words virtue and vice are emptiness and folly. J 
 
 Pleasure or pain, however, may arise from two sources ; it may 
 arise from considerations affecting ourselves, or it may arise from 
 the contemplation of others, the former being purely of a selfish 
 nature, the latter being sympathetic. § Hence originates a two- 
 fold division of virtue into prudence and effective benevolence — 
 both of them, however, alike having their ground in the pleasure 
 we personally derive from their exercise. Prudence, again, is of 
 two kinds, that which respects ourselves, which our author terms 
 self-regarding prudence ; and that which respects others, which he 
 terms extra-regarding prudence. Effective benevolence, also, is 
 
 * See Dr. Bowring's History of the greatest-happiness principle, appended to the first 
 volume of the " Deontology." 
 
 t Deontology, chap. i. and ii., in which the basis of the principle is explained, in a 
 most amusing and caustic style. 
 
 % For an equally amusing history of the word " Virtue," consult chap. x. 
 
 § Vol. ii. Introduction. 
 
 18
 
 274 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 twofold, positive and negative ; the business of the former being 
 to augment pleasure by voluntary exertion, that of the latter being 
 to do the same by abstaining from action.* Virtue, says Bentham, 
 when separated from the pursuit of happiness, is absolutely noth- 
 ing ; and, accordingly, it is termed by him a fictitious entity. f 
 Inasmuch, also, as no one is supposed to have any motive for ac- 
 tion different from the pursuit of pleasure or the avoidance of pain, 
 we have the deontological doctrine educed, that every motive is 
 abstractedly good, and that evil has to do with nothing but our 
 actions or dispositions. In a word, we are to imagine, that man 
 has originally no moral sentiment whatever, that he has no idea 
 of one thing being right and another wrong, that all actions are to 
 him in this respect absolutely alike, and that the conception of vir- 
 tue, as well as the rules of morality, are all the product of experi- 
 ence, teaching us what actions produce happiness, and what suf- 
 fering. Such is the moral system, which is aptly enough termed 
 the greatest-happiness principle, and such the virtue which is cor- 
 rectly expressed as the art of maximizing our enjoyment. 
 
 The style of the work from which I have made the above 
 analysis is popular, witty, and somewhat amusing, but becomes at 
 length tedious from repetition and tautology. It abounds in biting 
 sarcasm against what is termed the dogmatism and " ipse-dixitism^ 
 of most other moralists ; but, what is remarkable, is itself at the 
 same time one of the most striking instances of reiterated assertion 
 that is to be found among all the ethical writings of the present 
 century. J 
 
 Now, in offering some remarks upon Bentham's philosophy, we 
 must state distinctly, that we leave entirely out of the question his 
 valuable labors in the department of jurisprudence, and refer sim- 
 ply to the principles of his moral theory. And here we would 
 caution every ethical student against imagining, that he will find 
 all the originality, which is claimed for the deontologist by himself 
 and his more ardent admirers. To speak of Bentham's " having 
 found out the true psychological law of our nature, as Newton dis- 
 covered that of the material universe," is not only metaphysically 
 false, but, even allowing its philosophical accuracy, is historically 
 untrue. To say nothing of the Epicureans of ancient times, and 
 more recently of Hobbes, we might point out many writers, who 
 have given far more than passing allusions to the very same doc- 
 
 * These results comprise the whole scope of the second volume of the " Deontology." 
 
 ■f Vol. i. chap. X. 
 
 i Bentham's most scientific work was his " Introduction to Morals and Legislation." 
 
 I
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 275 
 
 trine as that for which Bentham is so highly extolled, althpugh 
 they may not have expanded it so fully, or applied it so exten- 
 sively, as was done in the case before us.* The professed sup- 
 porters of utility, again, such as Hume and Paley, proceeded 
 virtually upon the very same principle ; and even if we pass over 
 these, yet still we might refer to Gay's preface to Archbishop 
 King " On the Origin of Evil/' to the writings of Priestley, to the 
 " Political Justice" of Godwin, and to many of the French moral- 
 ists, for illustrations of the very same theory, which Bentham only 
 somewhat more perseveringly elaborated. The greatest-happiness 
 principle is, in fact, utilitarianism in one of its many different 
 phases; and accordingly the objections, which we have already 
 urged against that doctrine, apply with equal force to the one now 
 before us. As the question, however, is of some importance, we 
 shall specify a few other objections, which apply ''more directly to 
 the utilitarian system, as held by the advocates of deontology ; and, 
 1. There is in these writers a perpetual habit of confounding the 
 cause of virtuous action with the effect. We have it reiterated 
 again and again as an unanswerable argument, that there must be 
 a selfish pleasure experienced whenever we act on virtuous princi- 
 ples : for, if our action terminates in ourselves, it must arise from 
 the prospect of our own happiness and advantage ; if, on the other 
 hand, we act for the welfare of others, still, we are told, it is only 
 for the satisfaction of our own impulses that we seek to benefit 
 them. Now, that there is pleasure attached to moral action, 
 whether it be self-seeking or extra-seeking, we readily admit, but 
 this is far from giving us a proof that such action springs from 
 any anticipation of the pleasure ice hope to obtain. It is a pleas- 
 ure to a strong man to exercise his limbs, but this is no evidence 
 that he cannot have any other motive than this for exercising 
 them. To a man devoted to business it is a pleasure to be per- 
 petually absorbed in it, but still his activity may have many other 
 grounds of excitement besides that one. Prove as you may, that 
 pleasure actually accompanies, and even that we expect it to ac- 
 company the practice of every virtue, the point is still far from 
 being settled that there is no other spring of virtuous action in ex- 
 istence. The Deity, assuredly, may have given us a moral law, 
 may have engraved it on our own minds, and placed it far beyond 
 
 * The only difference between Epicurus or Hobbes on the one sideJand Bentham on 
 the (rther, is, that the former drew their principles at once from human nature meta- 
 physically considered— while the latter gave no theory of man generally, but laid down 
 nis moral axioms as ultimate facts.
 
 276 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 all the chances of human calculation ; and yet may have attached 
 pleasure to the obedience of it as a mark of his approval, and as a 
 reward for our fidelity. The mere fact, therefore, that we always 
 look for happiness to accompany virtuous action, does not at all 
 prove that happiness is the ground of its moral excellence. This 
 is confirmed when we consider, 
 
 2. That, upon investigating the moral phenomena of our minds, 
 we find a class of affections, which rise in their real worth just in 
 proportion to their disinterestedness. If personal pleasure were 
 the ground of virtue, then every affection ought to be esteemed 
 higher in the scale of morality, in proportion as it tends more di- 
 rectly to self as its object. Just the contrary is the case. The 
 more our own individual interests are sacrificed in the pursuit of 
 another's welfare, the higher rises the scale of virtue from which 
 such conduct proceeds. If it be said that we sacrifice our own 
 interests, because the pleasure of satisfying our benevolent feelings 
 more than counterbalances the loss we sustain ; we reply, that this 
 only exhibits the vast strength of our purely disinterested affec- 
 tions, and affords no proof that, because they give us pleasure in 
 their exercise, therefore they must be selfish in their origin. Only 
 show in one single instance, that the direct end of an action is for 
 the sake of another to the sacrifice of ourselves, and the fact that 
 we have a moral satisfaction in its performance, does not in the 
 slightest degree shake its purely unselfish character. 
 
 3. We appeal to the evidence of our higher reason, as a testi- 
 mony against this peculiar form of utilitarian morality. If virtue 
 be a mere calculation of consequences, there can be no such thing 
 as moral philosophy, strictly so called. The very idea of philoso- 
 phy, or science, implies the existence of absolute or unalterable 
 truth, not only that which is, but that which must be. Mathemat- 
 ical science investigates the unalterable relations of space and 
 number ; metaphysical science, the unalterable foundations of 
 truth in general. What, we ask, can moral science investigate, 
 unless it be the unalterable facts and principles of morality, both 
 in themselves and in their relation to us. 
 
 That there are certain fixed relations between man's moral sen- 
 sibilities and outward actions, is a fact resting upon the evidence 
 of our consciousness ; and it is to these eternal relations that we 
 direct our inquiries, when we seek to lay the groundwork of a moral 
 philosophy. Very different, however, is our employment when we 
 are merely engaged in calculating for our future happiness, with
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 277 
 
 pleasures and pains as our ciphers. What is a pleasure to one man 
 is often a pain to another ; that which offers to me satisfaction, pre- 
 sents, perhaps, a prospect of nought but misery to you ; so that 
 moral relations on this principle must be as uncertain and variable 
 as are the temperaments or idiosyncrasies of individual minds. 
 There need to be on the deontological system a separate moral scale 
 for every man ; nay, we ought all to revise our own moral principles 
 every year or two, to see whether that which was a pleasure to us 
 some time ago may not now have become an object of dissatisfac- 
 tion : whether, therefore, that which was virtue has not now become 
 vice. Our reason, we contend, in opposition to this, forces us to 
 form certain primary and fundamental moral judgments, just as 
 much as it necessitates the existence of our primary beliefs with 
 regard to the external world, or to the fact of an exertion of power 
 in the production of every effect, or to the axioms which lie at the 
 foundation of all mathematical reasoning. It is just as impossible 
 for me practically to deny the obligation of justice, as it is to deny 
 that the world exists, or that a whole is greater than a part. The 
 one as well as the other rests upon the primary and undeniable 
 facts of our own unchangeable consciousness, — facts which, though 
 they may be disputed in theory, can never be denied in practice. 
 That a philosophical dreamer may run his head against the wall 
 on the score of his idealism, we do not dispute ; nor do we doubt, 
 but that in the case of moral obliquity, where the consequences of 
 the folly are not so immediate, men may be found to reject the 
 fundamental axioms of moral obligation ; but in the healthy un- 
 derstandings of the mass of mankind, the one judgment is just as 
 plainly developed as the other. Moral philosophy then, as philos- 
 ophy, is annihilated, when once we admit the theory before us ; 
 the whole question is taken out of the region of scientific truth, 
 and reduced simply to the calculations of individual sagacity. 
 
 4. There is a secret petitio principii at the very foundation of 
 of all utilitarian reasoning, like that of Bentham. Every man, it 
 is affirmed, ought to seek the greatest happiness of the greatest 
 number, as the fundamental principle of his actions in the world. 
 But why ought he to do so ? On what ground can it be shown, 
 that I am bound to seek the welfare of myself or my fellow-crea- 
 tures, if there is no such thing as moral obligation ? If it pleases 
 me more to inflict misery upon mankind, why am I not just as vir- 
 tuous an agent in doing so, as if I please myself by producing their 
 happiness ? The greatest-happiness principle itself must, in fact,
 
 278 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 rest upon the pedestal of moral obligation, otherwise there is no 
 means of enforcing it as the true principle of action, either in our 
 social or our political relations. Take away that firm resting-place 
 which is afforded by the notion of duty, and expressed in the word 
 ought, and we may sink from one position down to another, with- 
 out ever reaching a solid basis on which we may plant our feet, 
 and lay the first stone of a moral superstructure. That this is 
 really the case, is half acknowledged by the followers of Bentham, 
 who are now visibly shrinking from the extreme view he has taken 
 of utilitarianism, and seeking to include the idea of moral approba- 
 tion, in order to give their doctrine some degree of strength and 
 consistency. 
 
 5. Into the political consequences of this system we shall not 
 allow ourselves to enter at any length : one thing, however, there 
 is, of which we would remind those who hold up the excellence of 
 Bentham's political writings, as a proof of the soundness of his 
 ethical system ; we mean, the fact that Hobbes, with a logic equally, 
 if not more severe, deduced from the very same fundamental prin- 
 ciples the propriety of all government being grounded on absolute 
 despotism, as the form best suited to the wants of human nature. 
 That Bentham was so successful on the subject of jurisprudence, 
 arose, we consider, from his giving up the strict view of the selfish 
 system with which he started, and following the dictates of com- 
 mon sense and of a benevolence, which were most consonant with 
 his own disposition, than they were with his moral theory. 
 
 Moreover, there is a fundamental distinction between the princi- 
 ples of legislation and those of private morality, which should never 
 be lost sight of. The former principles suppose the existence of 
 the latter, and must proceed in strict accordance with them, 
 whether it appear a matter of policy to do so or not. The object 
 of the jurist is, simply to take men with their moral feelings as they 
 are, already fixed and determined, and so to direct their actions, as 
 to bring about the greatest welfare of the community. Morality 
 says, " Fiat justitia ruat coelum ;" jurisprudence points out in what 
 way justice is to be done, so as to tend to the happiness of the whole 
 nation. The one gives the absolute rule of action, the other only 
 directs the details for social purposes. Moral law is immediately 
 from God ; political law, though springing from moral principles, is 
 an adaptation of man ; — the one is a code written upon the tablet 
 of the human heart ; the other, a code written in the statute book 
 of the empire, conformable, indeed, to moral law, but compiled for
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND, 279 
 
 social utility. To morality, as a science, the utilitarian ground is 
 entirely destructive, altering its universal and necessary aspect ; in 
 politics, utility, directed by moral precept, must be a chief element 
 in every enactment. Bentham, looking at the subject with the eye 
 of a jurist, by degrees became blind to everything but the utilita- 
 rian element — an error which, while only partially dangerous in 
 legislation, is to the moralist fatal and deceptive from the very first 
 step. 
 
 That Bentham was a great man, a courageous man, and in many 
 respects a benevolent man, we believe all must be ready to admit ; 
 still, we cannot but think, that he neither read enough to disabuse 
 his mind of many a cherished notion, which a wider range of in- 
 vestigation would have exploded, nor ever cultivated enough that 
 steady reflective habit of mind which evolves truth from the obser- 
 vation of our inward consciousness, and reduces, by a close anal- 
 ysis, the admitted facts of human nature to their primary origin. 
 With unexampled patience he developed the influence of pleasure 
 and pain upon human actions ; but a deeper philosophy would have 
 pointed out, that these are but the accompaniments of virtue, while 
 the law and the imperative to its obedience come from a surer and 
 a far more exalted source. That source once discovered, he must 
 soon have felt how threadbare a view of man's moral constitution 
 his favorite greatest- happiness principle presents, how many of the 
 noblest motives for virtue are entirely left out, and how much 
 holier is the meaning attached to the word duty, than to merit the 
 coarse and unphilosophical ridicule which he thought fit to pour out 
 upon it. 
 
 I cannot better sum up these remarks on Bentham's " Deon- 
 tology," than by adopting the language of an intelhgent reviewer, 
 who remarks — " What we maintain with regard to deontology is, 
 that with dogmatic exclusiveness it endeavors to supersede every 
 other view of virtue but its own, and even the high principle of 
 duty itself. That in the estimates it presents of happiness and of 
 virtue it takes no notice, and virtually excludes some of the most 
 influential causes of happiness, and the highest objects of moral 
 excellence : that in itself it tends to fix the mind on the lowest 
 principles of action, and presents nothing to raise it towards the 
 highest : that it is inconsistent in its principles, representations, 
 and conclusions, with the established laws of human nature : that 
 its statements are so little adjusted by moral wisdom, that they 
 may often afford apparent justification for degrading vice ; and
 
 280 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 that by bringing the highest rules of duty to the test of a standard, 
 with which they have Httle relation, their comprehensiveness and 
 their dignity is lessened, and their direction limited and perverted. 
 Were the deontology generally made the exclusive guide of life, 
 degradation and evil must be the result."* 
 
 We have thus viewed the principal methods by which the objec- 
 tive question of moral philosophy (what is the ground of virtue ?) 
 has been answered by the adherents of the sensational school. The 
 error we now see in each case, is that which lies at the foundation 
 of all sensationalism, namely, the tendency to look without, and 
 derive all truth from experience, to the entire neglect both of our 
 inner consciousness, and of those notions of absolute truth which 
 are as certain as they are indestructible. f 
 
 II. We come now to the consideration of the subjective sensa- 
 tional ethics of the present century. 
 
 The problem which moral philosophy, subjectively considered, 
 endeavors to solve, is the following : — What is the faculty by which 
 we become cognizant of virtue and vice, and what other faculties 
 contribute to the perfection of our moral nature ? According as 
 the primary moral sentiment of the human mind has been referred 
 to a judgment, or to an inward feeling, the names of intellectual 
 " theorists, or of emotional theorists, have been respectively awarded 
 to the two corresponding classes of speculators. The idea of a 
 maral sense, that is, of a peculiar and original emotion, by which 
 we are led to the exercise of moral approbation or disapprobation, 
 is altogether rejected by sensationalism ; since, in that case, there 
 would be at least one subjective tendency in the human mind, 
 which does not come from an empirical source. Equally incom- 
 patible, on the other hand, with sensational principles, is the theory 
 of a primitive moral judgment, by which we discern right and 
 wrong in actions, and form the distinct conceptions of good and 
 evil. If therefore, our moral sentiments arise neither from an im- 
 planted emotion or inward sense, nor from a primary judgment of 
 our intellectual nature, the only possibility that remains is, that 
 they are factitious, that they arise gradually by the aid of experi- 
 ence and the laws of association, and that they depend, therefore, 
 like the rest of our empirical knowledge, simply upon the informa- 
 tion of the external senses for their origin. Sensationalism, then, 
 advocates the intellectual theory of morals, only in this subordinate 
 
 * Christian Reformer, 1833. 
 
 t For an estimate of the Benthamites generally, see Sir James Mackintosh's 
 " Dissertation."
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 281 
 
 sense ; virtuous action being a calculation grounded on the expe- 
 rience of pleasures and pains, of injury or utility. The arguments 
 against this utilitarian view of the case we have already summed 
 up, and need not, therefore, at present recount. 
 
 But now, in approaching the subjective side of moral philosophy, 
 and attempting to explain the mental processes, upon which our 
 moral life depends, there is a question of vast importance which 
 meets us at the very outset, and that is the question of the liberty 
 or necessity of the human will. According as this point is settled 
 one way or the other, the whole succeeding inquiry will assume a 
 very different aspect ; in fact, the sensational theory of responsi- 
 bility is almost entirely built upon the doctrine of necessity, as its 
 foundation. 
 
 The point here to be considered is not whether our actions are 
 merely mechanical or otherwise ; not whether or no we have the 
 power to act according to the determination of our will ; it is the 
 prior question, whether the mind in exercising volition, can deter- 
 mine itself, or whether it is necessarily determined by motives. 
 That we are conscious of voluntary action, as flowing from a de- 
 termination or choice, in contradistinction to the purely mechan- 
 ical functions of the frame, it is scarcely necessary to assert ; the 
 only real question to be discussed is — How come we to our deter- 
 minations ? What is it that puts the mind into the state of vo- 
 lition, from which certain acts or courses of action follow ? 
 
 Now, just in proportion as the fundamental idea of self, as finite 
 cause, holds a prominent place in our philosophy, will there be a 
 gi'eater share assigned to it in the process, by which our volitions 
 and dispositions are formed ; on the contrary, the greater be the 
 tendency to absorb this idea in that of finite nature or of the in- 
 finite, so much the less will be the influence ascribed to our own 
 personal power in the direction of our actions, and the moulding of 
 our character. Pure subjective idealism makes self, or the will, 
 within its own limits, omnipotent. Pure objective idealism, on the 
 other hand, like that of Spinoza, by absorbing the individual self in 
 the infinite substance, necessitates absolute fatalism : and, thirdly, 
 pure sensationalism, which makes man simply one form of organ- 
 ized matter, must, in like manner, end in a fatalism equally com- 
 plete, because, on this hypothesis, we must be subject absolutely to 
 material laws, and become exactly what the outward circumstances 
 we are placed in render us. This last theory, therefore, we term 
 circumstantial fatalism.
 
 282 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Modified systems of philosophy, again, will present different 
 features of liberty or necessity, according as any one of these 
 three elements, self, nature, or God, prevails over the other two ; 
 those which refer most to God and to nature, upholding a modified, 
 or, as it is termed, a philosophical idea of necessity ; and those 
 which refer most to the native powers and energies of the mind, 
 maintaining the ordinary doctrine of free-will. A philosophical 
 necessity, grounded on the idea of God's foreknowledge, has been 
 supported by theologians of the Calvinistic school, more or less 
 rigidly, throughout the whole of the present century. Their con- 
 clusions, however, have arisen more from dogmatic than from 
 scientific considerations. On the other hand, philosophical neces- 
 sity, grounded upon the influence of external nature, and the cir- 
 cumstances which surround us, has given a tone, and, more re- 
 cently, a very decided one, to aJl the ethical writings of the sensa- 
 tional school. 
 
 We may comprehend the foregoing remarks in the following 
 summary. Let self, nature, Deity, be three powers, the two former 
 of course created, and allowed to exist by the last. If the power, 
 self, is entirely uncontrolled, the result is pure subjective idealism. 
 If it be entirely neutralized by Deity, the result is religious fatal- 
 ism, if by nature it is circumstantial fatalism. Again, if self is 
 only predominantly controlled, the result is philosophical necessity, 
 whether the power opposed to it is that of Deity or of nature ; 
 and, lastly, if it control itself, subject to the subordinate influences 
 of the other two powers, the result is termed free-will. From these 
 representations it will be evident, that sensationalism in philosophy 
 tends to uphold the doctrine of necessity, which will, of course, 
 advance nearer and nearer to circumstantial fatalism in proportion 
 as the sensational principles become more sweeping. 
 
 In sketching the history of sensationalism during the last cen- 
 tury, we showed in what manner Hartley and Priestley drew the 
 doctrine of philosophical necessity from their peculiar psychologi- 
 cal principles. We may now add, that it is in a direct line from 
 these acute authors, that all the subjective sensational ethics, which 
 are now to be described, have regularly and connectedly flowed, 
 so that we may regard all the necessarianism of the present age 
 as the natural offspring of a sensational psychology. One of the 
 most celebrated works in which the moral philosophy of this school 
 was developed, is the well-known inquiry of Godwin concerning 
 " Political Justice." Godwin might, indeed, have held in our
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 283 
 
 sketch a place with Paley and Bentliam, as the uncompromising 
 advocate of utiUtarianism ; but his writings are equally celebrated 
 for their defence of the doctrine of necessity, and the application 
 of it both to private morality and political principles. 
 
 The publication of the " Political Justice" dates from the year 
 1793, and from that period down even to the present time, the 
 moralists who have arisen from the school of Hartley, Priestley, and 
 primarily of Locke, have in almost every instance advocated ne- 
 cessarian principles, based upon an exaggerated statement of the 
 influence of external circumstances. To enumerate the mere 
 names of writers who, during the present century, have treated 
 the various topics of moral philoso})hy upon this necessarian hy- 
 pothesis, (most of whom have drawn largely upon the works of 
 Jonathan Edwards for their arguments,) would be both useless and 
 tedious. The class, however, to which we allude, are those, be- 
 ginning chronologically with Belsham, who published his " Ele- 
 ments of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, and of Morality," 
 in the year 1801, and coming down to Mr. Bray's work on the 
 "Philosophy of Necessity," which appeared in the year 1841. 
 
 In glancing at the principles of the ethicosensational school, 
 which fills up the interval between these two writers, I shall not 
 confine myself to the statements of any particular authors, neither 
 do I wish the reader to infer, that they all would admit the conse- 
 quences which we may find to be included in their system. Most 
 of them, indeed, so far from taking up the necessarian hypothesis, 
 with a view of undermining the interests of true morality, have 
 done so, as being, in their opinion, the only means of saving them. 
 The advocates of free-will, it is known, on the contrary, have 
 done the same ; and as in such cases it is natural to suspect, that 
 there is a portion of truth on both sides of the question, we must 
 attempt to ascertain the fundamental ideas ui)on which these 
 writers proceed, and to find out the real point of discrepancy be- 
 tween them. The moral system of the sensational necessarians 
 assumes for the most part the following aspect, which, for the sake 
 of clearness, we shall concentrate into a few detnched sentences. 
 
 Man is born without any moral principles, notions, or tenden- 
 cies, whatever.* 
 
 He has the capacity, however, of feeling jjleasure or pain, which 
 
 * Those of the chiss now under consideration, who adopt phrenology, take, of course, 
 a difi'erent view of this point; but in other respects they generally coincide with what 
 we here lay down.
 
 284 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 arise either from this direct sensations, or from the satisfaction or 
 non-satisfaction of his propensities. 
 
 That which produces pleasure is good, that which produces pain 
 is evil. 
 
 Pleasure, when not actually enjoyed, but only in contemplation, 
 is what we term desire, as pain in contemplation is fear, or 
 aversion. 
 
 Desire, again, is synonymous with will; what we desire to pos- 
 sess is, all things considered, necessarily the object of volition. 
 
 We cannot ourselves determine, what sensations shall give us 
 pleasure, or the reverse ; consequently our will with regard to the 
 seeking or production of them cannot be free. 
 
 With regard to our ideas, associations, and habits, it entirely de- 
 pends upon our education, which shall be objects of desire, and 
 which shall not. 
 
 Consequently, our desires, that is, our volitions, are absolutely 
 and necessarily determined by motives, those motives arising either 
 from our constitution or from our education. 
 
 As our actions follow our will, and the will follows the motives 
 to which it is subjected, it is impossible that any man should 
 act differently from what he really does under the same circum- 
 stances. 
 
 This is seen from the relation of cause and effect. Every voli- 
 tion must have a cause, and while the same causes exist the same 
 effects must follow. 
 
 Moral causation is as sure and regular in its effects as physical. 
 
 On this alone is grounded the value and certainty of moral 
 means, and from this alone results the real moral worth of every 
 action ; since action, without motive, can have no moral quality 
 about it. So far the necessarian. 
 
 Now, in opposition to these principles, the libertarian denies that 
 volition and desire are one and the same thing, or that the doctrine 
 of causation applies to the determinations of voluntary agents in 
 the sa?ne sense as it does to everything else ; and he appeals to va- 
 rious facts of our nature in order to bear out this view. First of 
 all, he appeals to consciousness, which if it does not subject us to 
 perpetual deception, assures us every moment of our existence, 
 that we are not ahsoliitely under the power of motives, that we can 
 follow one course or another as we may choose, that we might 
 have chosen differently in the past, and that we may voluntarily 
 mould our course for the future. Again, he appeals to the whole
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 285 
 
 aspect of practical life, showing that it is all based upon the notion 
 of man's being a free agent ; that it is not by necessity, for instance, 
 that we build houses, construct engines, carry on business, or do 
 anything else of the same nature. And, finally, he appeals to man's 
 moral sentiments, and argues, that although motives may be neces- 
 sary to the goodness or badness of an action, yet if those motives 
 are supreme, the moral quality is entirely taken away from the 
 agent, who can only justly incur approbation or disapprobation 
 when he follows either a good or bad motive with the most perfect 
 freedom of volition. Such is the popular view of these famous 
 antagonistic opinions. 
 
 Now, in estimating these two systems, let us see, first, what the 
 necessarian means by his doctrine of moral causation ; whether, 
 in fact, he means anything at all contradictory to the common 
 notion of free agency. If all our volitions have an objective cause, 
 (that is to say, a cause, not a part of, or dependent upon, ourselves,) 
 which is certain and unalterable in its effects ; then it is manifestly 
 impossible to avoid the conclusion, that man is the subject of an 
 irresistible fate. Every action, it is said, is the effect of a volition, 
 but every volition is produced by a motive (or, in the language of 
 necessity, a cause) over which we have no control ; the inevitable 
 conclusion is, that man is as much a machine under the effect of 
 motives, as a steam engine is under the impulse of its moving 
 power. This conclusion, too, be it observed, applies to man^s whole 
 practical life ; if it be true at all, it must be true respecting the 
 whole province of human action, because every possible action is 
 the result of some volition, and every possible volition the result 
 of some motive. The reasoner, therefore, who argues, that every 
 moral or immoral action which a man commits is necessary, be- 
 cause certain motives have acted irresistibly upon him from with- 
 out, must accept the full conclusion, that everything else in human 
 fife takes place by a like constraint ; that by a similar necessity an 
 agent makes clothes, or mends shoes, or builds houses, lights fires, 
 cooks provisions, and does everj'thing else, that depends upon our 
 so called voluntary activity. The fatalism here involved cannot 
 be met by the plea, that the agent in question placed himself in the 
 way of circumstances, which have led him to this or that particu- 
 lar mode of life; for if he did so, it was by means of a volition 
 that he did it, and that volition was determined by a previous mo- 
 tive. Neither can it be met by the plea, that he was induced by 
 some other agent to follow one course of action or another ; for
 
 286 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 that agent, likewise, was the creature of fate. His will to prompt 
 was determined by a like necessity ; and the will previous to, and 
 causative of that, was determined in the same manner ; so that, 
 beginning at any action of any voluntary agent, we may go back 
 through a succession of causes, till we come to the great first 
 cause, and thus evolve the idea that the whole of human actions 
 are one chain of cause and effect absolutely fixed and determined 
 from eternity, to eternity. 
 
 Now, the philosophical necessarian, we know, shrinks from prac- 
 tically accepting that conclusion. He will not admit an absolute 
 and fixed necessity, but only a moral or philosophical one. Be- 
 sides, he speaks largely of education, and the importance of reme- 
 dial means, and the benefit of cultivating the intellectual powers 
 and the moral feelings : moreover, he exhorts his fellow-men, on 
 the very ground of his doctrine of moral causation, to get the 
 sources of proper culture for themselves, and to put them into the 
 hands of the people at large, as the only method of making them 
 virtuous and happy. Astounding folly must all that be, if human 
 things are not contingent ; if they move in a chain of cause and 
 effect from the eternity past to the eternity to come ; and if all our 
 actions are absolutely determined by what is entirely beyond our 
 control. E^xhortation and effort must be quite out of place if the 
 whole sum and substance of human life is a necessary chain of 
 this nature, for whatever we may appear to do of our own accord 
 is, on this system, but the mockery of a liberty, which we seem 
 to possess, but which practises upon us' a complete and perpetual 
 illusion. This extreme, then, we repeat, the philosophical neces- 
 sarian avoids : he shrinks back from the abyss of fatalism, however 
 strongly his principles may draw him to its brink. 
 
 If, then, the doctrine of necessity, thus modified by the term phil- 
 osophical, does not mean that all human life is machinery, that it 
 is a series of fixed results which can never be altered, it must ad- 
 mit, in some form and to some extent or other, that man is the 
 master and regulator of his own mind, and has sufficient control 
 over his dispositions and actions either to render himself improv- 
 able, or to fnake himself a sid)ject of blame when the means of im- 
 provement are neglected. Whether improvement originate in 
 ourselves, or in the influence of another, still it originates in man, 
 and equally shows him to be in some sense a source of moral 
 action. 
 
 Now let us look for a moment at the libertarian hypothesis, and
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 287 
 
 see wherein it differs from the foregoing. First and foremost, we 
 find a certain power of self-determining voUtion asserted ; that is, 
 as its opponents correctly show, the power of choosing without 
 preference, or a choice without choice. The advocates of this 
 self-determining power, with all their zeal, can never show any 
 decisive cases in which we choose without being induced by a 
 motive ; they are always obhged, for illustration, to have recourse 
 to some altogether insignificant actions, (such as choosing one out 
 of fifty shillings,) which cannot, in the nature of things, have any 
 moral quality attached to them ; while in all the important move- 
 ments of our life, those by which our character is estimated, it is 
 perfectly evident that we do and must act under the influence of 
 certain motives. The libertarian, in fact, when pushed hard by 
 his opponent, is always obliged to concede the point, that motives 
 not only have an influence upon us, but do really determine our 
 choice in all the great practical affairs of human life, nay, that the 
 existence of a motive is absolutely necessary to the moral quality 
 of every action ; so that we must, after all, admit that man does 
 not act ordinarily free from motives, but in strict accordance with 
 them. 
 
 Now let us see in what consists the discrepancy between these 
 two antagonist doctrines, when shorn of their respective anom- 
 alies. The necessarian, if he mean anything by prefixing the 
 word philosophical to his favorite dogma, admits that man is in 
 some sense a free agent ; that he forms plans, that he modifies 
 character, that he acts upon design which he can carry out or 
 suspend ; in one word, that he is all that the libertarian would 
 contend for, except that his volitions are ever determined by the 
 strongest motives, instead of determining themselves. On the 
 other hand, the libertarian, when pressed for his proof* of the self- 
 determining power, is at a loss to find any decisive actions, in 
 which this power exercises itself in opposition to, or irrespective 
 of every kind of inducement. The only real point of dispute left, 
 then, is this — how are we to reconcile that power of free and in- 
 telligent action, that capacity of design, that source of ameliora- 
 tion, or the reverse, which all admit to exist within ourselves, with 
 the unquestionable fact, that we ever choose, and must choose un- 
 der the influence of the strongest inducement ? In other words, 
 how is our freedom of choice consistent with the necessity of act- 
 ing from a motive ? 
 
 The whole of the difficulty we now see is traced up to the word
 
 288 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 motive, and therefore it is in the analysis of this term that we must 
 look for illumination. What, then, is a motive ? Strictly speak- 
 ing, it is that which immediately precedes our determination to act. 
 That which immediately leads to such a determination,, however, 
 must evidently be an emotion, for it is granted on all hands, that 
 emotions are the only active or impulsive principles of our nature. 
 A motive, therefore, in the proper sense of the term, can be nothing 
 else than the mind itself in a certain state of feeling ; and in this 
 view of the case there can be little difficulty in admitting, that 
 every volition is determined by means of a motive, inasmuch as this 
 is only another expression for the palpable fact just stated, that 
 the mind in a state of emotion is the immediate antecedent of all 
 human action. Necessarians are perpetually arguing as though 
 motives were objective realities, whereas nothing objective can 
 possibly have the least power in exciting us to action, until it is 
 subjectively combined with some kind of emotional feeling. Such 
 emotional feeling alone it is, which acts as a moving power upon 
 the will. 
 
 We see, therefore, at once, if this be true, in what manner man, 
 though under the necessity of acting in accordance with motives, 
 is yet perfectly /ree. He cannot, it is true, alter the relation 
 which God has instituted between emotions and volitions generally, 
 inasmuch as that would be to alter the very laws of our constitu- 
 tion, but there are a thousand ways by which he modifies his own 
 states of feeling, and through them, of course, his volitions also. 
 The relation between emotion and volition stands on the same 
 footing as that which exists between our perception of premises 
 and our inferring from them a logical conclusion. It is entirely 
 beyond our power to refuse a logical conclusion, while we have a 
 conviction of the truth of the given premises, nor can our belief 
 be possibly modified, so long as the data remain to us unchanged ; 
 but we can easily reconsider those data, and then, according as 
 we find them confirmed or shaken, we frequently strengthen or 
 subvert our belief in the conclusion. Just so, in the other case, 
 while the motive remains, the volition must necessarily follow ; 
 but that motive, we must remember, is a state of mind, which we 
 can control by a thousand different methods ; and hence, if we 
 can control the motive, through it we can control the volition as 
 well. It is precisely the same fallacy in principle which leads one 
 man to say, " That we can no more change our belief than we can 
 change the color of our skin," and another man to say, " That our
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 289 
 
 volitions are absolutely fixed by circumstances beyond our con- 
 trol." Of course, we can never alter the relation between the 
 perception of premise and conclusion, nor between internal mo- 
 tive and volitioA ; but we can, as we every day do, throw fresh 
 light upon premises in the one case, and bring fresh inducements 
 to bear upon our volitions in the other. 
 
 We might explain the fixed relation that exists between motive 
 (in the sense just explained) and volition, by a reference to the 
 mathematical idea attached to the word functio7i. A sine, we say, 
 is the function of an angle. There is a relation between them 
 which can never be altered ; and hence, so long as you have a par- 
 ticular angle in contemplation, the sine is necessarily determined. 
 If you require a sine of a different magnitude, the only possible way 
 of obtaining it is by taking an angle of a different magnitude ; the 
 one varying with the other, because the relation between them is 
 abiding. In like manner it is impossible to alter the relation be- 
 tween our motives and our volitions, the one following necessarily 
 from the other ; but notwithstanding this, we have a spontaneous 
 power upon our motives (/. e. our emotional states), by the exer- 
 cise of which we can either reverse or modify our volitions almost 
 to any extent we choose. Volition is a function of the mind, and 
 by whatever means we can influence the mind as a whole, we have 
 by those very means a power over the determinations of the will. 
 All this is indeed tacitly granted and implied by the necessarian, 
 when he exhorts his fellow-man to the cultivation of his intellectual 
 and moral feelings. 
 
 But to all this argumentation, I am aware, the necessarian oppo- 
 nent might now urge in reply, that the very fact of our influencing 
 our own mental states by the presentation of fresh motives and 
 inducements to the mind, must itself depend upon a volition, which 
 volition is determined by a previous motive, and so on, ad infinitum. 
 It must be remembered, however, that motive here means a 7nental 
 state, and that our mental states do not solely depend upon external 
 circumstances, over which we have no control, but also upon our 
 own spontaneity. If this spontaneity be denied as a part of our 
 constitution, and man be made wholly dependent upon externals, 
 then we must appeal to psychology, for in the psychology we start 
 with, the whole question is cradled. 
 
 The argument of the necessarian — that every volition must be 
 determined by a previous volition, and so on to infinity, will only 
 hold good on the psychological principle, that will and desire are 
 
 19
 
 290 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the same thing, both equally expressing a passive state into which 
 we are placed by the strongest inducement. The psychology, 
 which maintains this theory, starts from sensation, and from it de- 
 rives all the phenomena of the human mind. The mind itself in 
 its view is passive ; it is a bare receptacle of impressions and feel- 
 ings, a sheet of blank paper ; and every volition, therefore, must on 
 this theory have its cause or circumstances out of ourselves. This 
 psychology, howev^er, we disown ; we regard it as altogether un- 
 tenable ; disproved, and exploded, by the strictest inductive analy- 
 sis of the facts of our consciousness. 
 
 A close analysis of these facts enables us to detect three classes 
 of phenomena in the human mind ; those, namely, of intelligence, 
 o( feeling, of will — a classification to which all modern science is 
 tending. Intelligence creates conceptions, laws, rules of action ; 
 sensibility supplies inducements and impulses ; will creates effort, 
 activity, the emission of voluntary power. Between the faculty as 
 cause and the product as effect, there is no intermediate step. It 
 is no more requisite to ask, why will produces effort and choice, 
 than to ask, why intelligence gives rise to ideas, or sensibility to 
 impulses ? The supposition that voluntary effort and choice can 
 spring causatively from an inducement or external motive, is the 
 old error of sensationalism invading the theory of the will, that, 
 namely, of substituting the occasion for the 'producing cause. The 
 understanding and the feelings both present inducements to the 
 will ; and because the will follows some or other of them, it is sup- 
 posed to be necessarily determined ; but this is a false conclusion. 
 These inducements are but the occasions of our volition ; the 
 power which produces them is that original spontaneity, that inde- 
 pendent source of action which we term the Will or the Me, and 
 which can react upon all the arguments of reason and all the im- 
 pulses of emotion. The will, as an abiding fact in our constitution, 
 contributes a large element to the formation of every motive, and 
 when the motives are pre.sented, it gives the whole nisus, by which 
 volition or choice is effected. 
 
 Whenever or wherever power is put forth, there must be not 
 only an occasion, but also an eflort or a spontaneous movement as 
 its cause. Hence all power originates in 7?iind — the only sponta- 
 neous principle, and that either the mind of God or the mind of man ; 
 and the very same argument which pretends to prove that man is 
 not free, because he chooses from reasons or inducements, would 
 also prove that God is not free, because he never acts without a
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 291 
 
 plan. If we once give up the idea of spontaneity, as the spring of 
 effort or choice, and account for that effort by the inducement 
 alone, nothing can save us from the admission of an enormous and 
 iron fatahsm, to which God and man are ahke subjected. 
 
 We allow, then, that volitions must necessarily follow from 
 motives ; that there is in fact a fixed relation between theui ; but 
 those motives are subjective states of mind, such as dispositions, 
 affections, passions, &c., which our intellectual and active nature 
 are adapted by their very constitution to develop, or to restrain. 
 When, therefore, the necessarian enunciates the great truth, that 
 no man could have acted differently from what he did under the 
 given motives, all that he really expresses, if he be not a fatalist, is 
 the commoni)lace and most obvious fact, that emotions are the 
 active principles of our nature, and that we always act in accord- 
 ance with their impulse. If he denies that we have any control 
 over these inward motives, then all his exhortations to the cultiva- 
 tion of the intellect and the feelings are nought but folly, and there 
 is no refuge but in conij)lete circumstantial fatalism. Wc <iffirm, 
 then, that in principle there are only two possible hypotheses re- 
 specting liberty and necessity ; the one is fatalism, the other is free- 
 will, in the sense in which we hace employed it. 
 
 There is one thing which we freely grant to be fixed and neces- 
 sary on every hyjiothesis, namely, the relation existing between 
 our emotions and our volitions ; and the philosophical necessarian, 
 keeping his eye upon that point, has enstamped all volition as con- 
 straiui'd, because it is always excite«l by a uniform and definite law 
 of our nature : but as well iiiiL'lil he e;ill our actions constrained 
 also, because they necessarily follow whenever the volition dic- 
 tates and impels. When we see an action, (unless it 1h' a purely 
 mechanical one), we know that it arises iVom a volition : and if) 
 the same way, when wc ob.^erve, or are conscious of a volition, we 
 know that it arises from an emotion as its real proxintate exciting 
 cause ; but behind both these lies the solid basis «)f human lilierty, 
 grounded upon that intelligence and native activity, which are the 
 indestructible attributes of all moral and responsible creatures. 
 
 Self and nature, as we have already seen, are With of them 
 powers, which act and react iipon e.ach other. Some men, un- 
 questionably, are more under the influence of external things than 
 others, while some, on the contrary, have what we tenn a strong 
 will ; that is, they jx)ssess a great capacity and habit of acting 
 from fixed design rather than fn'rn short-sighted and more impul-
 
 292 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 sive motives ; but in either case, the real course pursued is the re- 
 sultant of those two forces. Men who look most to the outward 
 force, will form an exaggerated idea of its magnitude, and incline 
 to the sensational form of philosophical necessity ; while men who 
 turn their thoughts most within, perceive the will operating so de- 
 cisively upon external things, that at length they imagine it to be 
 well-nigh or entirely supreme. The sensationalist, accordingly, 
 will ever tend to the doctrine of necessity, since the idea of nature 
 occupies the largest share in his philosophy ; the idealist will just 
 as naturally tend to that of free-will, since the notion of self, in 
 this case, becomes far the more predominant. A mere glance at 
 the history of philosophy will show that in nine cases out of ten 
 the sensationalist and the necessarian, and the idealist and the lib- 
 ertarian, have respectively coincided with each other. We look 
 upon both these classes of philosophers, however, so long as in their 
 view of human nature they fall short of complete fatalism on the 
 one hand, and subjective idealism on the other, as being generically 
 advocates of the very same principles of voluntary action ; the 
 only difference lies in the relative share of influence which is as- 
 signed to self and not-self in the formation of our character and 
 our dispositions. 
 
 The truth of the matter may be stated in a very few words. 
 Mind is essentially an active principle ; but, without reason, its ac- 
 tivity would be blind and aimless, following the impulses which 
 flow in upon it from without. In proportion as reason becomes 
 stronger, more vast, and more commanding, just in that proportion 
 shall we find it regulating and directing our emotions. But our 
 emotions are the real motives which excite volition, and volition 
 impels to action ; so that it is in the possession of reason that we 
 discover the great regulating principle, by which our natural ac- 
 tivity is either restrained or directed, and by which we are enabled 
 both to sketch out the designs of our life, and to pursue them in 
 spite of all the obstacles which may stand in our path. 
 
 The error, then, in the necessarian school, which we have now 
 been considering, is that of exaggerating the influence of circum- 
 stances and depressing the notion of mind, as an independent prin- 
 ciple of action. In proportion as this is the case, the idea of 
 responsibility becomes weaker ; crime is regarded rather as a dis- 
 ease ; praise and blame as more nearly synonymous with felicita- 
 tion and pity; and man becomes a link in one great chain of 
 events, by which the purposes of Providence will at length be un-
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 293 
 
 folded. Some of the authors of this school go much farther in 
 adopting such conclusions than others ; and more commonly than 
 not, the shallowest thinkers carry out their principle to the furthest 
 extent. If such writers as the author of " The Philosophy of 
 Necessity," instead of assuming a tone of almost amusing defiance 
 against far deeper thinkers than themselves, and holding up their 
 favorite doctrine to view, as a remedy for all the ills of humanity, 
 would only analyze more closely the subjects on which they write, 
 and in place of making new discoveries in moral science, attempt 
 to comprehend the old ; we should hear no more about the doctrine 
 of necessity as a practical principle in morality, than we hear of 
 it in connection with the motives, which induce men to plough 
 their fields, to pave their streets, or to carry on their merchandise. 
 
 The whole of the utility of such ethical treatises, if there be any 
 in them, is derived from their setting forth one very plain precept, 
 " Mould your circumstances, or else they will mould you :" the 
 bane of them is, that men easily abuse the results and, under the 
 plea of necessity, break loose from all idea of moral obligation. 
 
 Before we close our sketch of this controversy, we must just 
 allude to the extreme form in which the necessarian principle has 
 appeared under the title of " Socialism." This is the most extreme 
 development of philosophical necessity which the present age has 
 known, and cannot, therefore, be altogether passed over ; although 
 the very dogmatical and unscientific character in which it has been 
 enunciated, almost deprives it of any title to the name of philoso- 
 phy. In making a few observations on this system, we shall not 
 enter into a deduction of its conseciuences, or the thousand and 
 one anomalies which it really contains ; these have been shown in 
 several different forms, some argumentative and some declama- 
 tory, by many controversial writers. Our business is simply with 
 the philosophy on which the system is grounded, in estimating 
 which %Q, must go to the axioms which are placed at the head. 
 Let us look, then, at the "fundamental facts' upon which ihe whole 
 superstructure rests. 
 
 We are told, first, " That man is a compound being, whose char- 
 acter is formed of his constitution or organization at birth, and of 
 the effects of external circumstances upon it from birth to death ; 
 such oriiiinal organizalinn and external inffuences continually act- 
 ing and reacting each uj)on the other." Now. if this fact means 
 merely to assert that the wlu)le of the inffuences which f«)rm a 
 man's character consist of the powers and faculties whicli he has
 
 294 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 naturally, and the circumstances which lead to their development ; 
 that is, in other words, of his subjective self, and of objective real- 
 ity acting upon it ; then it simply amounts to a truism of about 
 the same description, as that a whole is equal to its parts. What 
 in the nature of things can there be in the case, beyond the sub- 
 jective and the objective, and their mutual relation to each other ? 
 To make this theory of any use, the necessarian must show that 
 spontaneity is no part of our original constitution. Or, if it mean 
 to assert, secondly, that man consists merely of a bodily organiza- 
 tion at birth, which is moulded by the influence of external things 
 afterwards, then it coolly begs the whole question of materialism, 
 sets down the Hartleian psychology as undeniable, and reasons 
 from them both as if axiomatically true. In a word, if it mean 
 that, because man has a certain mental constitution given him, and 
 is afterwards exposed to circumstances beyond his control, there- 
 fore he is entirely the subject of necessity, it takes for granted all 
 along the very point it intends to prove, namely, that in his pri- 
 mary constitution there is no provision made for his free agency. 
 This first law, therefore, we regard as absolutely futile, for either 
 it says nothing at all, or it takes everything that is intended to 
 flow from it for granted ; and in either case it is so equivocal in 
 its meaning, as to be totally unfit for a primary fact, that is sup- 
 posed to be something incapable of misapprehension. 
 
 The second of these fundamental facts is as follows : — " That 
 man is compelled by his original constitution to receive his feel- 
 ings and his convictions independently of his will." Now, here the 
 same error is committed in its full extent, to which I have before 
 alluded — I mean, the error of supposing, that, because our belief 
 follows from certain data, and our volitions flow from certain 
 emotions, in either case hy a uniform law of our nature, therefore 
 both belief and volition are entirely beyond our control. Of 
 course, if I have two legitimate premises of a syllogism given, I 
 am necessitated to draw the conclusion they contain ; but this is 
 far from proving, that I have no power to subvert my belief in 
 that conclusion by other means. To call the perception of se- 
 quence in an argument, as Mr Owen does, an instinct, is nought 
 but a total perversion of language ; and as to its bearing upon the 
 doctrine of necessity, properly so called, it illustrates nothing 
 whatever beyond the regularity of this law of our mental consti- 
 tution. Just on the same principle, is it equally fallacious to infer, 
 that our volitions are constrained, because they come and go 
 
 •♦
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 295 
 
 through the operation of certain laws relating to our active 
 powers. The mental affections from which our volitions arise, 
 we must remember, are placed under the control of our reason and 
 will, and to call them instincts, as though they operated blindly^ 
 in the same manner as do the impulses of animals, is an entire 
 misapprehension of the whole philosophy of our active powers. 
 
 Try for an instant how jihraseology of this nature (substituting 
 the word instinct for conviction, belief, and disposition) would 
 sound in ordinary life. I have an instinct that such a road leads 
 to the village A, but I go and explore the country, and finding my- 
 self wrong, I have now another instinct, that I must go thither by a 
 different road. My instincts, it is pleaded, are absolutely neces- 
 sary, and therefore, under the former one, I could not but take the 
 wrong road, however much it might have cost me or injured an- 
 other to do so. What reply would such an excuse justly call forth ? 
 Fool that you were, why didn't you inquire the way ? For w hat 
 purpose was intelligence and activity given you, but to direct your 
 course, whether it be in small matters or large ? In like manner, 
 what would be thought of a man who pleaded his instinct, when 
 he robbed or cheated or beat his fellow-creature ? Call such pro- 
 pensities dieases, if you will ; they are diseases such as every sane 
 man has the means of guarding against, from the fact of his possess- 
 ing intellectual powers, moral perceptions, and voluntary activity ; 
 diseases, therefore, for which he is personally responsible, in pro- 
 portion to his light, both to God and man.* 
 
 Against the appeal which Mr Owen makes to our consciousness, 
 whether evil emotions do not rise within us, not subject to the con- 
 trol of the will, we make the contrary appeal, whether our sus- 
 ceptibility of these emotions is not to be repressed by the guidance 
 of our reason and by the voice of our conscience. The education 
 of our moral susceptibilities is analogous to the formation of a me- 
 chanical power of body ; as the facility, for exainj)le, of perform- 
 ance on a musical instrument. Such facility is not the effort of 
 one volition, but the gradual effect of a number often repeated 
 under the direction of our reason. So likewise the moulding of 
 our affections, emotions, and desires, though it is not the result of 
 a single exertion of the will, is effectually accomplished by a series 
 of volitions, all adapted to that end by an active and overruling 
 
 * The demagogues who excuse crime by the plea nf our artions- ami dispositions 
 being necessary, seldom consider that on their principles, the oppression and punish- 
 ments of which they complain are necessary too. The latalist is very illogical in being 
 a grumbler.
 
 296 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 intelligence. I take up a new instrument, and find I cannot, by 
 any direct volition, perform upon it ; but do I therefore conclude 
 that performance is not attainable by volition at all ? So, also, I m 
 resist a desire or propensity, and find that my volition is not strong 
 enough at once to give me the power over it, which I require ; but 
 the conclusion which some draw that such propensities cannot be 
 influenced by volition at all, is equally unsound, as would be that 
 to which I have just alluded. The fallacy of arguing that because 
 certain affections cannot be commanded by a single volition, there- 
 fore they cannot, by any number whatever, is that known in logic a 
 under the name of " fallacia compositionis," and in this case it is 
 very easely solved by an appeal to the facts of everyday life. 
 
 There is yet another absurdity couched under the loose language 
 of this second " fact," and that is the declaration, that man, by his 
 original constitution, is compelled to receive his feelings and con- 
 victions independent!]/ of his will, whereas, in fact, the will is a part 
 of that original constitution which compels him, and has its share 
 with the rest of the faculties in the whole process by which the 
 mind is enlightened and the feelings expanded. This second fact, 
 indeed, when analyzed, has just about the same nonentity of mean- 
 ing in it as the other, while the proof of it is based upon an unpar- 
 donable abuse of the ordinary language, by which we are accus- 
 tomed to express our ideas upon metaphysical subjects. 
 
 The third fact is no better, namely, " That our feelings or con- 
 victions, or both of them united, create the motive to action called 
 the will, which stimulates him to act, and decides his actions." 
 
 To speak of feelings or convictions creating the will, is simply 
 an absurdity. The will is another name for that real but myste- 
 rious power of mind, which, in a moment, can, at its bidding, emit 
 an energy, that leads us to voluntary action or endurance. Feel- 
 ing and convictions could never create this power, although it is 
 quite true that they may influence the movements of it. This be- 
 ing premised, the fallacious conclusion intended to be drawn from 
 such a representation, becomes manifest. The argument implied 
 in it is this. Our feelings and convictions create the will, therefore 
 the will which is a creation of their own cannot possibly have had 
 any previous influence upon them. But how does the case really 
 stand ? The will is a mighty energy of a nature quite its own, 
 which restrains or impels the whole man at its behest ; created, 
 moreover, not by feelings and convictions, but by the Author itself 
 of the human mind. Our feelings and convictions act upon this
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 297 
 
 power, and set it in motion ; but then it at once reacts upon them, 
 and, guided by intelligence, moulds them to a vast extent at its 
 pleasure. Take a separate volition, and it is quite true that this 
 is determined by some feeling or emotion of the mind ; but we 
 must be cautious not to confound an individual volition with the 
 will, viewed as the abiding fact or principle of our spontaneity. 
 A single volition is to the will, as a whole, what a single wave is to 
 the ocean. Because the wind creates every wave which heaves 
 upon the surface, is it therefore true that it created the ocean itself? 
 And so, because a feeling or a conviction may occasion a separate 
 volition, is it, therefore, true that it originates the voluntary power 
 of which this volition is but a movement? It is in the confound- 
 ing of these that the source of the error we are exposing is to be 
 found, an error which, in fact, vitiates the whole conclusion. It is 
 not true that our feelings, or convictions, or both united, create the 
 will, neither, if the word create be twisted so as to signify only so 
 much as the word determine, does it follow, that because a single 
 volition is determined by our feelings, therefore the will taken as a 
 whole has no power to react upon them ? 
 
 The fourth fundamental fact* is a remark perfectly true, but in 
 any other system besides the one before us, would be regarded as 
 perfectly useless, because it is always taken for granted. The fifth 
 factf is also based upon a true idea, but is stated in such a manner 
 as to exaggerate greatly the influence (jf circumstances upon the 
 human organization. In fine, taken as a whole, it would be difiicult 
 to find any system of philosopiiy in an enlightened age, built upon a 
 foundation so indefinite, so equivocal, and so utterly incapable of 
 sustaining a superstructure of any weight, or of any durability. J 
 
 The sentence in which the whole point of the system is acknowl- 
 edged to be concentrated, is, " that the character of an individual 
 is formed for him, and not hij him." But in no sense whatever 
 can this sentiment be true, except we regard it as expressing the 
 obvious fact, that none of our faculties are self-created, and that, 
 consequently, whatever mental energy wo have, comes originally 
 
 • The fuct runs as follows : — 
 
 Tliat the orj^;iiu/.:ili(ir» of no two human beini;s is ever prccisily siinihir at birth, 
 nor can art subsequently form any two individuals from infancy to m.iturity in \\c yrc- 
 cisely similar. 
 
 t The fillh fact is this:— 
 
 That, nevertheless, the constitution of every infant, except in case of orjaiiic disease, 
 is capable of being formed into a very inferior or a very superior being, according to 
 the qualities of the external circumstances allowed to inllucncc that constitution trom 
 birth. 
 
 X To see the above system put in its philosophical form, consult " The \cw ]SIoral 
 World," parts i. and ii.
 
 298 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 from an extraneous source ; that is, from the hands of the Creator 
 himself The mental constitution of a man is himself, as distin- 
 guished from every one else ; so that, to affirm that our characters 
 necessarily arise from our original constitution, as acted on by ex- 
 ternal circumstances, and then to add that every one's character is 
 formed independently of himself, is a palpable contradiction in 
 terms. No doubt our minds themselves were formed /or us by the 
 infinite power from which they emanated ; but ever since their 
 formation, they have had a great share in the development of our 
 moral dispositions, a fact which Mr. .Owen unwittingly and unin- 
 tentionally grants, when he speaks of the original constitution 
 moulding the character. 
 
 The point, no doubt, which the doctrine of the new moral world 
 intends to aim at is, that man is born a passive creature with cer- 
 tain susceptibilities ; that external circumstances acting on these 
 susceptibilities, of necessity give rise to our dispositions, and 
 through them form our whole character. The view thus taken 
 of human nature is, doubtless, such as might naturally enough be 
 formed by a mind, that has slender reflective powers, a weak sense 
 of the sacredness of moral distinctions, little reverence for religion, 
 and which, in addition to this, has been accustomed to deal with 
 that class of mankind, which exists rather as the appendages and 
 the machinery of commercial life, than with those who are inured 
 to habits of deep meditation or of moral refinement. The primi- 
 tive judgments, the fundamental ideas, the original moral percep- 
 tions, and the sense of responsibility, which are among the very 
 clearest phenomena to the reflective mind, are here all lost sight 
 of, while man is reduced simply to an animal of somewhat higher 
 instincts than the rest of the animated creation around him. This, 
 we say, is the meaning of the system, but the attempt at stating 
 these principles scientifically, and the aim at philosophizing without 
 any sound capacity for philosophy, have given rise to so much that 
 is indistinct and paradoxical in language, that, were not the con- 
 sequences inferred of a serious nature, the whole matter must be 
 regarded as a nonentity, which were not worth the " pomp and 
 ceremony of an argument." So long as Mr. Owen, in common 
 with the rest of the sensationalists, performs the real mission of 
 this school of philosophy, by pointing out the importance of attend- 
 ing to the influence, which outward things exert upon the mind and 
 character, he is to be admired and applauded; but when he drives 
 his principles to an extreme, shaking the pillars of morals and re-
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 299 
 
 ligion, and involving all human things in one unalterable chain of 
 fixed necessity, he presents another instance to be added to the 
 many which have gone before, of the absurdities into which those 
 men invariably fall, who devote their whole life to the expansion 
 of one idea to the neglect of everything else. 
 
 In concluding these remarks upon the necessarian controversy, 
 we shall take the opportunity which is here offered of making one 
 or two observations towards elucidating the real ground of human 
 liberty. The great stumbling-block against the admission of this 
 fundamental truth, is the principle of causality. " Every phenome- 
 non must have a cause ; volition is a phenomenon, and therefore 
 must be caused ;" such is the position in which necessarianism in- 
 trenches itself. Now, for this argument to be good, it must be 
 shown, that the principle of causaUty applies to voluntary agents 
 in the same sense as it does to the material world, and that a phe- 
 nomenon in the one case is under the same conditions as a phe- 
 nomenon in the other. 
 
 It is here that the prime mistake originates. The very founda- 
 tion of the difference between a being possessing a personality, and 
 everything else around him is, that he holds an entirely different 
 relation to the chain of causes and effects by which the phenomena 
 of the material world are linked together. By a phenomenon in this 
 latter sense, we mean something which begins to exist, and then 
 terminates. Suppose I make one ball strike another : the cause of 
 motion in the second ball is the movement of the first ; the cause of 
 movement in the first is the impulse given to it by my arm ; the cause 
 of that impulse is the action of the nerves w hich convev energy 
 from the brain ; and the cause of this nervous action is a volition. 
 Here the movements of the first and second ball, of the arm and the 
 nerves, as well as the volition itself, are all phenomena, which begin 
 to exist, and therefore must have in each case a particular cause 
 adequate to the production of the effect, which effect accordingly 
 must necessa7^ily follow when the cause is at hand. 
 
 But now we have to ask (for this is the main point) irhat is the 
 cause or ground of the volition ? By what power is it called into 
 being? It is not produced by an argument, or an inducement, or an 
 objective motive of any kind : these might have given occnsion to 
 the volition, but none of tliem could really impart the mysterious 
 power itself, by which mind sets the machinery of the body in mo- 
 tion, for the accomplishment of its purposes. The ground of the 
 voUtion is only to be seen in the lact of my personality, in other
 
 300 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 words, in the fact, that I am the subject of a spontaneity of action 
 entirely distinct from any quality resident in the material world. 
 Admit that some inducement gave occasion to the volition ; yet 
 still the very fact of choosing that inducement out of the rest, 
 implies an effort of will. Now this fact of personality, and con- 
 sequently, this phenomenon of liberty, is one of whose beginning 
 we know nothing ; whose cause, independently of the great first 
 cause of all things, we are totally unable to trace. It is an ever 
 abiding reality, to which the term phenomenon is applied in quite a 
 different sense from what it is to other objects around us ; one, 
 therefore, to which the principle of causality, in its proper sense, 
 does not at all apply. If our spontaneity were to come and go, 
 presenting a succession of phenomena, then we should look for a 
 cause, by which each of the parts of this succession were severally 
 produced ; but as it is one abiding fact of mind, which never varies, 
 we can no more inquire for the particular cause of its spontaneous 
 action beyond the will of the Creator, than we can for the particu- 
 lar cause of the great abiding fact of the universe itself That 
 very attribute of deity, which renders God himself a spontaneous 
 source of action, was communicated by the Deity to man, when 
 he made him intelligent, responsible, and free. 
 
 Instead, then, of arguing the doctrine of liberty, upon the arena 
 of our separate volitions, which, as they come and go, are subject 
 to the law of causality, we must remove the question one step fur- 
 ther back to the idea of personality. Volitions are not free, but 
 man is ; they are in each case determined, but man determines 
 them ; they each arise and go as their cause impels, but that cause 
 itself, which is grounded on the very notion of personality, is not a 
 phenomenon, but an abiding fact of mind — -freedom. 
 
 To test the justice of these conclusions we have only to appeal 
 to the facts of our consciousness. Do we mean the same thing 
 when we speak of a cause and when we speak of a motive ? Do 
 we attach the same certainty and uniformity of sequence to the 
 one as we do to the other ? And if we feel on certain occasions a 
 motive to be for a moment irresistible, are we not conscious of a 
 higher power within, lying behind the impulse that urges us, by 
 which the motive may be arrested and the spell of its influence 
 finally broken ? This power is no other than that of spontaneity, 
 the attribute and distinctive feature of every being that possesses 
 reason and personality. 
 
 Consider again the phenomena of intelligence, of design, of at-
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 301 
 
 tention. Whence is it that we can form purposes ; whence that 
 we can judge between plans for execution ; whence that we can 
 make at any premeditated time a beginning ; whence that we can 
 stop in our course, and anon proceed ; whence that we mould all 
 the circumstances in which we may be placed, so as to tend to the 
 accomplishment of our scheme ? These voluntary actions, it is 
 tme, may spring from motives ; but motives, we again repeat, are 
 states of mind, in the production of which self, as an active princi- 
 ple, has as much, and often more, to do than any objective realities. 
 All these facts point to a uniform and abiding cause, which does 
 not take its stand among the passing phenomena of human things, 
 but which is free and active in its very nature ; open, indeed, to 
 the influence of inducements, but not governed by them ; cogni- 
 zant of the power of motives, but having no cause and no begin- 
 ning, except in God. To the argument, then, before stated, 
 " Every volition must have a cause, and therefore is not free," we 
 may reply, " Every volition has a voluntary cause, and therefore 
 the man is free." 
 
 The question as to the possibility of free agency in the creature 
 co-existing with omniscience in the Creator, we do not attempt to 
 moot. The problem is really the same as the possibility of God's 
 creating a responsible and intelligent being at all, a possibility, 
 which we can only resolve into the fact of the Divine omnipotence. 
 God willed to make man free, and accordingly he is free ; he willed 
 to create him in his own image, and did not therefore pass by the 
 most distinctive feature which that image presents.* 
 
 The long discussion into which the doctrine of necessity has led 
 us, has almost caused us to lose sight of the original problem with 
 which we started, namely, to determine by what faculty it is, that 
 we become cognizant of moral distinctions. The analysis, how- 
 ever, which we have given of human liberty, has gone far to set- 
 tle this point also. Take any action of a voluntary agent, and ask 
 
 * I know not whether anything more satisfactory can be said on this point, than 
 what has been said by Archbishop Whateley, namely, that on these high questions 
 relating to Deity, we see only parts of great truths, and not enough to render them per- 
 fectly consistent to our understanding. Much confusion too would be prevented if the 
 strictures he has given upon the ambiguity of the term, necessity, wore kept in view. 
 The elTcct of such a clearing up of terms is always to bring the matter in hand to its 
 plainest statement, and show the real basis on which it rests. This, in fact, tlie Arch- 
 bishop has done, by appealing on behalf of freedom to the moral consciousness of man- 
 kind. " If in saying all things are fixed and necessary, they [necessarians] mean that 
 there is no such thing as voluntary action, we may appeal irom the verbal quibbles, 
 which alone afford a seeming support to such a doctrine, to //'i/rcr.sv^/ consrioimicss ; 
 which will authorize even those, who have never entered into such speculations as the 
 foregoing, to decide on the falsity of the conclusion, though they arc perplexed with the 
 subtle fallacies of the argument." — Bampton Lecture, Appendix, p. 539.
 
 302 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 — why is it a moral action ? First of all, we must see that it is 
 not a mere forced and instinctive movement, but that it really 
 flows from volition. But, next, from what does the volition flow ? 
 Clearly, as we have seen, from a mental emotion ; so that we must 
 now look to this, as including in it the moral element. But lastly, 
 whence arises the emotion 'I Psychology shows us, that every 
 emotion springs from some conception of our reason. In reason, 
 therefore, we have the primitive and essential distinction of right 
 and wrong, arising upon the contemplation of human actions ; in 
 emotion, we have the feeling of moral approbation and disapproba- 
 tion excited by this conception ; and then in the will we find the 
 effort, which carries out the last impulse of the emotions into prac- 
 tical operation. If one of these three elements be wanting, the 
 moral nature must be incomplete. First, we must have the con- 
 ception of right and wrong, or moral intelligence would be want- 
 ing ; next, we must have the feeUng or impulse arising from it, or 
 moral disposition would be wanting ; and lastly, we must have free- 
 dom to act upon right or wrong motives, or else responsibihty 
 would be wanting. According to this, conscience or the moral 
 nature must consist in the combination of reason, sensibility, and 
 will, all acting together upon the fundamental conceptions of good 
 and evil ; while the perversion of conscience must consist in dim- 
 ming our moral ideas, in blunting our moral susceptibilities, and 
 in weakening the power of the will over the whole man. How 
 vastly this differs from the sensational view of our moral nature, 
 which makes it consist in calculating for pleasure, it is needless to 
 explain. 
 
 (C.) Sensational Physiologists. 
 
 The application of physiological investigations to mental science 
 is, comparatively speaking, of recent date. A few crude specula- 
 tions may be found amongst writers of an earlier period, respecting 
 animal spirits and other " fictitious entities" of a similar nature ; 
 but all of them about equally visionary and ungrounded. Hartley 
 in our own country and Bonnet on the Continent, appear to have 
 been the first who employed a sound and experimental knowledge 
 of the human frame to discover the physical conditions of sensa- 
 tion or intelligence ; although in neither case did very marked suc- 
 cess result from their efforts.* But within the last twenty years 
 
 * Perhaps we ought to have mentioned Swedenborg, as one who in the eighteenth 
 century grounded many psychological views upon his extensive researches in anatomy 
 and physiology.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 303 
 
 the science of physiology, both as appHed to man and to the infe- 
 rior animals, has expanded to so vast an extent, and the multitude 
 of the results it has unfolded is so great, that its bearing upon in- 
 tellectual philosophy has now become evident. To offer any cor- 
 rect analysis of these results is not within the limits of our capa- 
 city ; nor, were this the case, would it comport with the plan we 
 have set before us, of never leaving the track of speculative philos- 
 ophy. Speculative philosophy, however, has been so far influenced 
 and benefited by these investigations, that it seems imperative upon 
 us to point out specifically, before we proceed further, what the 
 most prominent of the advantages referred to really are. The 
 main points, then, in which physiology has aided the investigations 
 of the metaphysician, may be found, perhaps, included in the fol- 
 lowing particulars. 
 
 1. It has either done away with, or prevented the existence of 
 many false theories, which are generally found very obstructive to 
 the real progress of truth. The phantasms of Aristotle, the an- 
 imal spirits of Descartes, the vibrations of Hartley, and all such 
 speculations, are virtually moved out of the road by a closer ex- 
 amination of the facts of the case, and thus prevented from en- 
 cumbering the movements of scientific research. In oi)position 
 to such notions it has been discovered, that the different kinds of 
 nerves have specific qualities of their own, and that, instead of 
 conveijing impressions, they give rise to certain phenomena simply 
 by the excitement of their own properties. 
 
 2. Physiology has marked out three great divisions of the 
 nervous system, showing the real distinction which exists between 
 the sympathetic, the sensitive, and the motor nerves, and the act- 
 ual difference there nmst accordingly be, between the proximate 
 principle of organic life, of sensitive existence, and of voluntary 
 action.* Whatever, therefore, the ultimate principle may be in 
 which all these phenomena are supposed to unite, yet phvsiolo<n- 
 assuredly puts us on a right track when it indicates, by means of 
 such discoveries, the propriety of investigating the distinctive 
 features, which these three classes of jihenomena present. 
 
 3. Physiology throws, in this way, considerable light upon the 
 emotions, more particularly of those which are purely patliological 
 or instinctive. The nerves of the instinctive emotions have been 
 clearly pointed out, and their centre localized in the ganglionic 
 
 * See a small tract on the " Connection between Physiology ami Intellectual Phi- 
 losophy." By John Barlow. Also Carpenter's "Human Physiology," p. 2-^9, third 
 edition.
 
 304 MODERN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 masses which lie at the base of the brain ; thus showing, that as 
 their organ is distinct from the cerebrum, there is every reason to 
 conclude that these emotions also are distinct from, and may operate 
 independently of the intellectual functions, which are traced to the 
 cerebral hemispheres. A comparison, moreover, of the brain of 
 animals, which, for the most part, have great instinctive powers 
 and little intelligence, throws considerable light upon this portion 
 of our constitution. 
 
 4. The physiology of the brain presents many facts respecting 
 the organic conditions of thought, which illustrate various minor 
 points in the philosophy of the human mind. As a proof of this, 
 we may refer to the investigations of phrenology. Without giv- 
 ing any prejudication respecting the truth or falsity of phrenology 
 as a whole, yet it can hardly be denied, that its attempts at cer- 
 ebral physiology have brought to light man}^ facts respecting the 
 action of different divisions of the brain in connection with tem- 
 peraments, dispositions, insanity, and mental manifestation gen- 
 erally, to which intellectual science is much indebted. 
 
 5. A still further advantage derived from physiology is the 
 power it affords us of comparing the structure of the brain in 
 different animals, with their various habits, and of placing both by 
 the side of the cerebral development and the mental manifesta- 
 tions observable in man. Although it will assuredly never be 
 possible to give a whole analysis of the intellectual and emotional 
 phenomena of the human mind, grounded upon the structure of 
 the brain and the nervous system, yet there can be no doubt, but 
 that many of the peculiarities, which are attached to those phe- 
 nomena, can be accounted for, and explained by an accurate 
 knowledge of physical processes, and that much error is counter- 
 acted, when, instead of raising other theories to account for 
 idiosyncrasies, we can refer them to their proper material causes. 
 
 In preventing then numerous errors, in giving verifications of 
 certain general divisions of phenomena, and in accounting for 
 many otherwise perplexing facts in the pathology of the human 
 mind, we conceive physiology has been of considerable use to the 
 metaphysician, and may yet unfold additional materials to aid his 
 investigations. At the same time, it is of great importance that the 
 two sciences should each hold their proper limits, and that the one 
 should not be allowed to assume the ground which peculiarly belongs 
 to the other. To mark the boundaries of physiology and psychology 
 we must simply inquire, — what are the phenomena which we learn **
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 305 
 
 by consciousness, and what those which we learn by outward ob- 
 servation ? These two regions lie entirely without each other ; so 
 much so, that there is not a single fact known by consciousness 
 which we could ever have learned by observation, and not a single 
 fact known by observation of which we are ever conscious. A 
 
 ' sensation, for example, is known simply by consciousness ; the 
 material conditions of it, as seen in the organ, and the nervous 
 system, simply by observation. No one could ever see a sensation, 
 or be conscious of the organic action ; accordingly, the one fact 
 
 ,^ belongs to psychology, the other to physiology. The acutest 
 [I, search of the physiologist entirely fails to discover anything at all 
 analogous to a thought or an emotion, which are simply facts of 
 consciousness ; on the other hand, the functions of life, or the 
 material affections of the brain, are phenomena of actual observa- 
 tion of which we are never conscious. These two orders of facts 
 draw a broad line of distinction between the two sciences in 
 question ; and it is only in those particular instances, where cer- 
 tain phenomena of observation are found uniformly to co-exist 
 with certain phenomena of consciousness, that they can have any 
 direct or serviceable bearing upon each other.* 
 
 Accordingly, the most eminent physiologists of our country, 
 more especially those who manifest aHy considerable powers of 
 philosophical thinking, as well as of outward observation, have ad- 
 mitted fully the importance of analyzing the facts of consciousness 
 rejiectively ; while they have been content with confinino- their 
 own peculiar science to its natural limits. The researches of Dr. 
 Prichard, for example, upon the vital principle, clearly tend to 
 show, that mind exists as a distinct entity ; that its connection 
 with the nervous system is confined to a few simple operations ; 
 and that beyond these we must study mental science, if at all, 
 solely by the aid of our inward consciousness. Professor Alison, 
 again, who perhaps more than any other writer has combined the 
 metaphysician with the physiologist, is evidently an adherent of 
 the more modern school of Scotch philosophy, and would probably 
 go throughout, hand in hand with Brown, as a mental analyst. To 
 these I may add the name of Dr. W. B. Carpenter, whose works 
 
 ♦ On the distinction between the sphere of observation and consciousness, see Jouf- 
 froy's " Melanges Pliilosophiques/' Art. dc la Psycholo^lic. Also his prcHice to the 
 translation of Dugald Stewart in the '• Student's "Cabinet Library of Useful Tract's," 
 vol. vi. We may remark, however, tiiat JoulTroy carries hi;' views on tliis point too 
 far. In the phenomena of imiseular action, we have the unitinir i)oint of the two 
 •*? sciences, the link which indissolubly connects the science of mind with that of organic 
 matter. 
 
 20
 
 306 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 manifest some of the best qualities both of the thinker and the ob- 
 server. Besides the opinions which may be discovered in his vol- 
 ume on " Human Physiology,"* it may be permitted me to add the 
 following views on this question, which have been derived from a 
 personal inquiry, made to him as a physiologist: namely, that 
 peculiar and original mental qualities really exist ; that these are 
 quite distinct from any properties of a physiological character ; 
 that, when acted upon by their appropriate stimuli, they give rise 
 to our various mental and moral manifestations ; and that psychol- 
 ogy is a science which must progress by an accurate induction of 
 the phenomena of mind, as we see it around us in its different 
 stages of development. All this tends to elucidate the fact we 
 have before pointed out, that while physiology may cast a light in 
 some particular points upon intellectual philosophy, yet the courses 
 of the two run clear of each other, and that each must be investi- 
 gated on its own grounds. 
 
 Whilst, however, some of the first physiological writers have 
 thus wisely avoided the shoals of sensationalism, yet it cannot be 
 denied, that the exclusive pursuit of physiology has a great ten- 
 dency to withdraw the mind from following a reflective philos- 
 ophy, and to lead it to indulge in what is merely experimental. 
 Amongst those who have manifested this tendency, and attempted 
 to investigate the facts of consciousness by the aid of outward ob- 
 servation rather than by inward reflection, we may distinguish two 
 classes, viz., those who admit the independent existence of mind 
 and those who do not ; those whom we may, accordingly, desig- 
 nate as non-materialists and those belonging to the school of ma- 
 terialism. Our future remarks, then, upon the school of philos- 
 ophers, whom we have included under the general term of sensa- 
 tional physiologists, will fall under these two heads. 
 
 We begin with the non-materialists. This term, it is right to 
 premise, we employ in preference to the term immatei-ialists, be- 
 cause it not only includes those who actually oppose materialism, 
 but likewise all those who, like many phrenologists, decline giving 
 any answer to the question respecting the essence of mind ; re- 
 garding it as a useless problem, for the solution of which we have 
 not sufficient data. 
 
 Now, first, under this general and somewhat indefinite appella- 
 tion of non-materialist, we may include a valuable class of authors, 
 chiefly of the medical profession, who, without cultivating any re- 
 
 ♦ Hum. Phys. p. 366, et seq.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 307 
 
 markable powers of mental analysis, yet subject the habits and in- 
 stincts of man, the various points of his mental constitution which 
 depend upon outward observation, and the relative influences of 
 body and mind, to a close and often a very instructive investiga- 
 tion. They look upon human nature sometimes with the eye of 
 the physiologist, sometimes of the natural historian; and, while 
 from the habit of outward observation, the general tone of their 
 philosophy flows most readily in the sensational channel, yet the 
 results of their thoughts upon man in his various relations, are not 
 only in themselves interesting, but often furnish materials, which 
 more acute metaphysical analysts might employ to no small ad- 
 vantage in supporting a spiritual system. Amongst the works 
 which have emanated from these sources, we shaH content our- 
 selves with simply mentioning the following, all of which have ap- 
 peared comparatively within recent times : — Meryon's " Physical 
 and Intellectual Constitution of Man;" Renon's "Delineations 
 Physical, Intellectual, and Moral ;" two interesting works written 
 respectively by Drs. Yarnold and Bushman, " On the Philosophy 
 of Reason and Instinct ;" Newnham, " On the Reciprocal Influ- 
 ence of Body and Mind," and two works of Dr. Moore, *' On the 
 Power of the Soul over the Body," and " The Use of the Body in 
 Relation to the Mind." 
 
 Almost the only professed physiologist of eminence, whom we 
 could place here, is Sir C. Bell. That he is neither phrenologist 
 nor materialist is sufficiently evident ; and yet, when he affirms 
 that " all our ideas originate in the brain, and are produced by the 
 impression made on the extremities of the nerves," his philosophy 
 appears of a strictly sensational character. To enter, however, 
 into the miscellaneous philosophical opinions, which are to be 
 found scattered throughout the pages of the above-mentioned 
 works, and others of a similar nature, is not our present intention. 
 Did they form together a distinct school of philosoj)hy, they would 
 claim a larger space in its history ; but iiaving just assigned them 
 the position they may be regarded as holding in the sj)ccAilative 
 philosophy of our country, we must recommend our readers, who 
 would enter into the minor shades of their opinions, to yrocure the 
 works themselves, promising them no little pleasure and profit in 
 the perusal. 
 
 Leaving, then, the writers of these miscellaneous disquisitions, 
 we come now to consider by lar the most prominent of all the 
 modern systems of intellectual science, which bear upon them a
 
 308 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 physiological character ; I mean that which is known under the 
 name of Phrenology. This system we rank under the head of 
 non-materialism, inasmuch as its chief and most able advocates in 
 this country have either expressly maintained the spirituality of 
 mind, regarding the brain merely as the organ of its manifestation, 
 or else have altogether interdicted the question of spiritualism and 
 materialism as lying beyond the powers of human research. Some, 
 it is true, affirm that phrenology necessarily involves the truth of 
 materialism ; but, without giving a judgment upon that point, we 
 only remark, that our present business is with the actual facts of 
 our national philosophical history, and that we must, therefore, 
 regard such writers as those of the Phrenological Journal, not 
 according to what it is affirmed by some they ought to be, but 
 according to what they actually are. 
 
 In estimating the truth and value of the phrenological system as 
 a whole, there are two distinct questions which come before us. 
 First, whether the physiological facts upon which it is all based 
 are correct ? And secondly, whether, if they be correct, they are 
 of any use in giving us a basis, upon which the superstructure of 
 an intellectual philosophy can be erected ? 
 
 Under the first inquiry, we seek to determine such points as 
 these — whether the brain is in any true sense the organ of the 
 mind's development ; whether separate portions of it subserve the 
 manifestation of particular feelings or faculties ; whether the as- 
 signment of those portions are correctly made in the phrenologi- 
 cal map of the human skull ; whether the power of mental exertion 
 is in exact proportion to the size of the organ ; and lastly, whether 
 we can judge correctly of the inward cerebral formation from the 
 cranium as viewed by us externally. The fundamental evidence 
 for settling points of this nature must be sought in a thorough ac- 
 quaintance with the physiology of the brain and nervous system ; 
 and, consequently, the first physiologists of the age are the direct 
 source to which our primary appeal should be made. The result of 
 this appeal is, that some eminent physiologists appear to be the 
 advocates of phrenology, while many others of the highest class, so 
 far from giving in their adherence to it, have stated some very 
 strong objections, which, as far as we know, have never been fully 
 answered.* To determine the truth or falsehood of these objec- 
 
 * The following extract is from Dr. Carpenter's " Human Physiology," in which 
 the real difficulties of the case are very clearly stated : — " A fundamental doubt hangs «^ 
 over every determination of function, which results from a comparison of the size of 
 the supposed organ or region in different cases. If it be true that the gray matter only
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 309 
 
 tions, lies entirely ia the hands of future physiological investiga- 
 tors ; but so long as the highest authorities are disagreed, it is folly 
 to dogmatize upon the matter, as though it treated of nought but 
 icscertained fact in the natural history of man.* 
 
 is the source of power, and that the white is merely a conductor, we have no right to 
 assume that the total size of the organ affords a measure of its power, until it has been 
 shown that the thickness of the cortical substance can be judged by the size of the 
 brain, or of any part of it. Certainly there is a considerable variation in this respect 
 among different individuals, and it is yet to be proved that the relation is constant in 
 different parts of the same individual brain. Until this is substantiated, all inferences 
 drawn from correspondence between the prominence of a certain part of the brain, and 
 the intensity of a particular function, are invalid ; that is, if the general doctrine of the 
 relative functions of gray and white matter be true. Further, there is, unfortunately, 
 a considerable uncertainty attending all phrenological observations, which are made 
 upon the cranium rather than upon the brain ; this we have seen from the discrepancy 
 between the statements of Gall, and the facts ascertained respecting the comparative 
 weight of the cerebellum in castrated and entire horses. It appears to the author, too, 
 that comparative anatomy and psychology are very far from supporting the system, 
 when their evidence is fairly weighed. It is a very curious circumstance, that the dif- 
 ference in the antero-posterior diameter, between the brain of man and that of the 
 lower mammaha, principally arises from the shortness of the posterior lobes in the latter, 
 these being seldom long enough to cover the cerebellum. Yet it is in these posterior 
 lobes that the animal propensities are regarded by phrenologists as having their seat. 
 On the other hand, the anterior lobes in which the intellectual faculties are considered 
 as residing, bear in many animals a much larger proportion to the whole bulk of the 
 brain, than they do in man. Again, comparative anatomy and experiment ahke 
 sanction the conclusion, that the purely instinctive propensities have not their seat in 
 the cerebrum. These examples, and many similar ones, that might easily be added, 
 collectively show the uncertainty, to say the least, of the inferences that are by many 
 regarded as firmly established. 
 
 " The evidence of pathology, again, tends to show that particular disorders of function 
 may result from lesions of any part of the cerebral hemisphere ; this has been espe- 
 cially noticed, for example, in regard to the loss of the memory of words, which phre- 
 nologists locate in the organ of language ; there, of course, the lesion might be expected 
 on their system to present itself; but this is by no means constantly or even generally 
 the case. Phrenologists lay great stress on the effects of local injury in causino- loss 
 of memory of a particular subject; but this principle, if carried out to its full extent, 
 would require us to regard each organ as split up into a large number of subdivisions ; 
 the organ of language, for example, having one storehouse for Latin, another for 
 Greek, &c., either of which may be destroyed without the other being affected. A very 
 important source of evidence is that afforded by the correspondence between the 
 several kinds of monomania, and the forms of the brains of the persons exhibiting 
 them ; and the number of those who, having studied this question, have given in their 
 adhesion to the phrenological system, is one of the most weighty evidences of its 
 containing much truth. The doubts which have been expressed on the subject would 
 have much less weight if the coincidence of phrenological determinations of character 
 with truth were more constant. The fairest tests of these are to be found, as Dr. Hol- 
 land has justly remarked, not in vague and ill-defined moral propensities, but in a few 
 simple and well-marked faculties, such as those of numerical calculation, language, or 
 music, which have no others in actual opposition to them, and the degree of perfection 
 in which they can be clearly defined. VVe hear much from phrenologists as to their 
 successful application of these tests, but we do not hear of the instances of fiulure. 
 The author's own experience of their determinations, however, has certainly led him to 
 the belief that failure is nearly as frequent as success." 
 
 * Since the publication of our first edition we are happy to " report progress" on the 
 subject of cerebral physiology. Mr. Noble's recent treatise on " The Brain and its 
 Physiology," has called forth a reconsideration of the matter from Dr. Carpenter, the 
 results of which arc stated partly in his third edition of the " Human Physiology," (in 
 loco and appendix,) and still more fully in Dr. Forbes' " British and Foreign Medical 
 Review." His princi[)al points of objection against the phrenological f^ystcm. pfit/.tiolcg- 
 icallij considered, are these: — 1. Tliat it docs not cohere with tlie results of compara- 
 tive anatomy. 2. That it is inconsistent with the facts of embriological development. 
 3. That it has entirely failed in educing the functions of the ganglionic masses at the
 
 310 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The real merit of phrenology is, that it has directed inquiry to 
 the structure of the brain and the nervous system, and succeeded 
 in drawing forth many interesting facts which otherwise would 
 have been to this time enveloped in darkness. Had it been con- 
 tent with taking its place as one peculiar branch of human physi- 
 ology, it would have appeared in a light perfectly unobjectionable 
 to the most rigidly philosophical minds ; but its ambition has, to a 
 great extent, been its bane. To a certain degree, however, it must 
 still be admitted, that phrenology in the physiological department 
 has proved successful. It has elucidated the close connection ex- 
 isting between the brain as a whole, and our mental manifesta- 
 tions ; it has led to many experiments with reference to the effect 
 of cerebral injury or distortion upon the intellect and the feelings ; 
 it has educed many highly curious facts as to the organic processes 
 connected with the development of the emotions, the intellectual 
 faculties, and the propensities ; it has, in a word, thrown a light 
 upon our knowledge generally of the functions of the encephalon, 
 which did not exist before, and so far has conferred a benefit upon 
 the science of man which it were uncandid not to acknowledge. 
 But with these physiological researches, as it appears to us, the 
 whole of its advantages terminate. 
 
 To verify this opinion, we must come to the consideration of 
 the other question we have stated, whether the physiological facts, 
 allowing them to be correct, can serve as basis for a new system 
 of intellectual philosophy ? Here we regard phrenology as a total 
 failure — a failure, moreover, which might have been predicted in 
 the outset with unerring certainty, by any reflective and philosoph- 
 ical mind. The reasons on which this conclusion is founded, are 
 of the following description : — 
 
 1. We should argue it from the very nature of the case. A 
 system of intellectual philosophy must contain an analysis and 
 classification both of our faculties, and feelings ; it must give a 
 complete enumeration of the elements of human knowledge ; and 
 it must trace them all to their real origin. The idea that all this 
 can be accomplished by physiological observations, however valid 
 
 base of the cerebrum, in which Dr. C. is inclined to allocate all the emotions. 4. That 
 it does not appropriate all the cerebral surface. 5. That there are insuperable obsta- 
 cles against the possibility of determining the form of the cerebrum from observations 
 on the cranium. Regarding the functions of the ccrcbclltmi, we think that Dr. C. has 
 completely shaken the phrenological doctrine. Even Dr. Prideaux (whom we regret 
 to find writing so intemperately in the Zoist, and thereby somewhat betraying his 
 discomfiture) is obliged to assign some new functions to this portion of the encephalon. 
 Anew, therefore, we commit the subject to the zeal of our physiologists, hoping we may 
 soon have to report progress again.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 311 
 
 and indubitable, can only arise from a total misunderstanding of 
 the whole question. I will suppose for ,a moment, that we knew 
 nothing whatever reflectively of our own mental operations ; that 
 the study of the human mind had not yet been commenced ; that 
 none of its phenomena had been classified ; and that we were to 
 begin our investigation of them upon the phrenological system, 
 some notion of which had been previously communicated to us ; 
 we might in this case proceed with our operations with the great- 
 est ardor, and examine skull after skull for a century ; but this 
 would not give us the least notion of any peculiar mental faculty, 
 or aid us in the smallest degree in classifying mental phenomena. 
 We could never know that the organs of the reasoning powers 
 were in the front, and those of the moral feelings upon the top of the 
 head, unless we had first made those powers and feelings independ- 
 ently the objects of our examination. The whole march of phre- 
 nology goes upon the supposition, that there is a system of intel- 
 lectual philosophy already in the mind, and its whole aim is to 
 show, where the seat, materially speaking, of the faculties we have 
 already observed, really is to be found. Either our various powers 
 and susceptibilities are known and classified before we begin any 
 outward observations, or they are not. If they are already known 
 and classified, then phrenology has nothing to do with the discov- 
 ery ; if they are not, then assuredly we can never find them out 
 by mere external observation upon the skull ; we can never turn 
 them up to view by the scalpel of the anatomist, nor find them 
 impressed upon the outward form of the brain. If every organ 
 had its name and nature inscribed upon it by the Creator, then we 
 should have a system of psychology at once ; but so long as this is 
 not the case, we must observe and classify our mental phenomena 
 by reflection, before we can begin to map out the locality in which 
 they are to be found. 
 
 Strictly speaking, phrenology cannot reveal a single intellectual 
 fact, which was not equally known before ; it cannot trace any 
 points of human knowledge to their primary elements ; it cannot 
 perform in any case a single analysis of our complex notions; in a 
 word, it can do nothing, allowing its facts to be all true, but point 
 out a certain connection between two parallel series of mental and 
 physical phenomena, the former of which have been already in- 
 vestigated.* If any one then should be inclined to urge, that the 
 
 * The Phrenological Journal admits that we must know our mental phenomena 
 reflectively before we can- allocate them— but still persists in calling cerebral obser-
 
 312 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 very circumstances of different feelings or faculties operating in 
 connection with certain portions of the brain, is a clue to a correct 
 classification, it must be remembered that they are already classified 
 as mental facts before any connection with the brain can be pred- 
 icated of them. Leaving, however, this fundamental objection, 
 we go on to point out, 
 
 2. The extreme indefiniteness, which attaches itself to all phre- 
 nological observation. We are willing to allow, that the general 
 divisions of the phrenological system are correct. The researches 
 of Tiedemann, quite apart from phrenology, and of others who 
 followed in his footsteps, have abundantly shown that there is a 
 regular progression in the nerves and brain of all animated beings, 
 from the most imperfect up to man himself. They have discov- 
 ered, moreover, that the human brain, in its gradual formation, 
 assumes obscurely at different periods all the various types which 
 are found in the animal creation, and that, consequently, man's 
 organic superiority consists of superadditions made upon that which 
 the lower genera possess, and not in a total dissimilarity from them. 
 This being admitted, the phrenological principle naturally follows, 
 that we must regard those parts of the brain, which man possesses 
 in common with animals, as the organs of the animal propensities, 
 and those parts which he possesses over and above the mere 
 animal, as the organs of our superior intelligence, and moral feel- 
 ings. But admitting all this, what do we learn from it, as far as 
 intellectual philosophy goes, beyond what was equally known be- 
 fore ? We did not require any phrenological aid to convince us, 
 that the animal passions, the moral feelings, and the intellect, pre- 
 sent three different classes of phenomena, which cannot be per- 
 fectly resolved into each other ; so that, in the main divisions of 
 
 vation a method of studying psychology. I confess myself unable to see what psycho- 
 logical truth it unfolds, that is not equally clear without it. Does it reveal a mental 
 fact "? Not one. These are all facts of consciousness. Does it give us a classification 1 
 No. " We must know (I quote the critic) from our consciousness the distinction 
 between thoughts and feelings, before we can trace their connection with particular 
 parts of the brain.'' Does it define a single faculty or feeling — or give us any clue to 
 the class of phenomena to which it should belong ? No. The decision as to the class 
 of phenomena to which any mental fact belongs, is left to the mind's reflective judgment, 
 which would be quite unaltered wherever the organ of it might be found. We are 
 wiUinff to place the whole question of phrenology upon this one point. Let it be shown 
 that it reveals a single fact of mind we knew not before — that it distinguishes between 
 any two or more faculties, which we cannot distinguish by our consciousness— that 
 any one could disown a mental phenomenon, because he finds no cerebral organ for it, 
 or could believe he has another unobserved, because he finds an organ unappropriated — 
 let it be shown, in a word, that any classification of our consciousness can result from 
 it, which had not before been made in the consciousness itself, and we will admit phre- 
 nology to be a valid psychology. Until then, however, we can see nothing in it but a 
 branch of human physiology.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 313 
 
 phrenology, at least, we have no fresh assistance given us in clas- 
 sifying purely psychological phenomena, but only in judging of the 
 physical processes which stand in connection with them. 
 
 But now, if we descend from the main divisions of phrenology 
 to the details of the system (from which alone any new light could 
 originate to aid our classification,) here we find so much indefinite- 
 ness, that it is absolutely impossible to rely upon its indications as 
 philosophically correct. When we attempt to classify the facts of 
 our consciousness by reflection, we have no very great difficulty 
 in forming a general outline of them. Sensation, perception, 
 memory, judgment, as also the different passions, all possess certain 
 indubitable marks by which they are distinguished from each 
 other ; but when we come to consider the various organs which 
 phrenology assumes, we find such a complete commingling of all 
 the simple elements of our mental phenomena, as to render a close 
 analysis of them impossible. Take, for example, such organs as 
 concentrativeness or adhesiveness, and say what peculiarity they 
 contain which can have an independent existence subjectively, or 
 which may not be resolved into other elements. Patriotism — at- 
 tachment to friends — concentration of mind upon an object — 
 power of sustained attention, all are given as representing the 
 functions of these peculiar lobes. Assuredly there does not appear 
 to be much psychological light afforded by such an analysis. That 
 I have a will, I admit ; that my will governs all the faculties, and 
 makes them attend, is also evident enough ; but the force with 
 which my will operates, is determined by a variety of circum- 
 stances. The duration or pertinacity of any mental exertion, must 
 depend chiefly upon the motives we have for keeping our attention 
 fixed upon the object before us. I may have, in fact, very large 
 and very small concentrativeness at the same time, just according 
 to the subject on which I am engaged, and the interest I feel in it ; 
 that is, just in proportion as my will is roused to effort. Take, 
 again, the organ of philo-progenitiveness, and say why there should 
 be a natural propensity and a particular lobe of brain, which ex- 
 cites love to a child, and none by which we are induced to love a 
 parent, a brother, a wife, a friend, a sovereign, or anything else, 
 with which we stand in close relation. Every one of these affec- 
 tions has an element of similarity, and an element of diversity in 
 it. In all, it is love ; but it is love modified by varying circum- 
 stances ; the analysis of which in each case, far from being aided, 
 is greatly hindered by the phrenological hypothesis. Place to-
 
 314 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 gether, again, comparison and ideality, both of which enter so 
 largely into the poetical temperament, or consider the elements of 
 mind which could lead us to manifest order or locality, and we find 
 that, instead of advancing our analysis of mental phenomena, these 
 different organs confuse us in every attempt we make to arrive at 
 simple and primary elements. To attain a perfect psychology two 
 things are requisite. 1. We must observe accurately the great 
 mass of complex facts which the human mind presents ; and, 2. 
 We must reduce them to their primitive elements, or original pro- 
 cesses. The knowledge of our complex facts depends of course 
 upon the attention we pay to our inward phenomena. Phrenology 
 does not even pretend to give us any assistance here ; it is alto- 
 gether an affair of consciousness. The main question is as to the 
 method, by which the multiplicity of complex phenomena passing 
 through the consciousness, is to be analyzed and arranged. Now 
 the only proper method to do this is to separate the matter of our 
 mental processes from the, form, to lay aside all consideration re- 
 specting the intensity of the action, or the diversity of object to 
 which they may be directed, and to seize simply upon XhQ funda- 
 mental character which they severally present. Here it is we see 
 that phrenology has gone completely astray, that it has followed a 
 method of classification altogether fallacious, and that it has given 
 results totally worthless in a philosophical point of view. It has made 
 its classification turn mainly upon the objects of our mental faculties, 
 and almost entirely neglected their fundamental characteristics. 
 On the one hand, it assigns different organs for the same faculty or 
 feeling, because they apply to different objects ; and then, on the 
 other hand, it will turn a complex operation into a simple one, and 
 appropriate to it a single organ, just because the whole process is 
 directed to one particular object. Thus memory is distributed be- 
 tween three different organs, according as it applies to persons, to 
 places, or to things ; love, as a propensity, is divided into two or 
 three more ; judgment and imagination are mutilated in the same 
 way. In brief, the form of our mental operations is utterly lost in 
 the contemplation of their objects, and a classification results, 
 which has all the bad qualities which can possibly attach to what 
 is termed in logic, a cross division. But, reiterates the phrenolo- 
 gist, nobody can deny that these separate tendencies, such as love 
 to wife, love to children, love to humanity, really exist, and that, 
 therefore, they demand a separate allocation in our mental analy- 
 sis. We reply, that love to a hundred other things really exists,
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 315 
 
 and, by parity of reasoning, ought to have distinct organs. If once 
 the principle be admitted, that we may overlook the form, and clas- 
 sify according to the matter or object of our feelings and faculties, 
 confusion will have no limit and no termination.* In no sense 
 then whatever, as it appears to us, does phrenology assist in form- 
 ing a correct classification of our faculties and susceptibilities ; it 
 rather throws obstacles in the way, by assuming a large number 
 of irreducible elements, between many of which it is impossible to 
 find any valid fundamental distinction, when due allowance has 
 been made for the influence of habit and of circumstances. 
 
 Again, great indefiniteness attaches to phrenological observations, 
 from the various influences that disturb the fundamental law, upon 
 which the whole system proceeds, namely, " That the power of 
 any mental feeling or faculty is measured directly by the size of 
 the organ." Now, it is admitted on all hands, that education 
 greatly alters the power of our faculties without enlarging the 
 organ, and consequently, it must throw a disturbing influence into 
 the operation of the law above stated, which in a thousand instan- 
 ces will render it nugatory. Every one has some kind of educa- 
 tion, and, consequently, it is certain that there will be some faculties 
 in all, which will not show themselves in direct proportion to the 
 size of their several organs. The same may be said with regard 
 to the organs, which have a diseased action ; in which case it is 
 asserted by the phrenologists, that there may be prodigious power 
 without any corresponding size in the development. This being 
 admitted, it is clear that a peculiar quality or state of brain may 
 give rise to power, as well as its size. It is almost proverbial, 
 indeed, that stupid people have large heads ; a peculiarity which, it 
 must be granted, is often seen in connection with a slow phlegmatic 
 temperament. Until we have some means, therefore, of knowing the 
 quality of a man's brain as well as the quantity, there is an insu- 
 perable obstacle against the correctness of any phrenological con- 
 
 * M. Tissot remarks on this point — " Without enlarging upon the determination, 
 enumeration, and chissification of the faculties as given by the phrenologists, it is clear 
 at once, that those adopted by them are by no means intiHigont ; that they have, in 
 fact, ail the logical vices of which they arc suscoptihle. Here they are ro<lundant, 
 there iniidcquate; here the consecpicncc, however n'lnote it be, is put upt)n a level with 
 the principle ; there the princii)Ie is forgotten, and t!ic consequence announced; here 
 again the consequence is detached from its principle, and there a little further on it is 
 altogether rejected ; breaking thus the whole analogy, both of tiic facts ana ideas. If 
 instead of confining our view to the nine ])roj>eiisities, we were to examine the twenty 
 or thirty faculties which the phrenologists distinguish, what should we find theni We 
 should make apparent in a thousand phases the utter chaos of this apparent arrange- 
 ment, an arrangement more worthy of haphazard, than of serious reflection." — An- 
 thropologic, vol. ii. p. !217. We recommend the phrenologist who is deeply in love with 
 his method, to study M. Tissot's elaborate critique upon it.
 
 316 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 elusions. Taking these things into account, we doubt whether 
 the sUghtest aid could be ever afforded by phrenology in analyzing 
 our mental phenomena ; nor do we believe that a classification, 
 grounded upon the position of the organs, can be in any way so 
 satisfactory, as one which is grounded upon an accurate observa- 
 tion of the phenomena themselves.* 
 
 3. With regard to some of the most important problems of met- 
 aphysics and morals, phrenology has never attempted any solution 
 at all. 
 
 Suppose, for example, that in place of Dr. Reid, some ardent 
 phrenologist had set himself to oppose the advancing scepticism of 
 David Hume. How would he, in the outset, have grappled with 
 the ideal, or, as we would rather term it, the representationalist 
 system, which lay at the base of the whole controversy ? Once 
 shake man's confidence in the reality of his sense-perceptions, and 
 it is not, neither can it ever be, in the power of a philosophy, which 
 is built entirely upon external observation, to venture a single reply 
 to any of the objections which the sceptic may have to offer. If 
 our senses themselves deceive us, of course it will not do to trust 
 the very observations upon which all phrenology is based. We 
 strongly suspe'ct that in such a dilemma the phrenologist would be 
 glad to take refuge in the citadel of common sense, or some such 
 reflective principle, and leave his developments to fight an easier 
 battle. t Again, what can phrenology say in the great dispute 
 respecting cause and effect, and the belief we derive from thence 
 in a great first cause, the Author of the whole creation ? Against 
 the argument of Hume, that our notion of cause, and our confidence 
 in the regularity of nature, are simply the results of association, it 
 has nothing to bring forward except the fact, that we have an 
 organ of causality, upon which such a belief is grounded. But to 
 this it might be replied, how have you discovered this organ of 
 causahty, and why do you assign such a function to certain of the 
 anterior lobes 1 The only possible answer on the part of the phre- 
 
 * Vide Appendix, Note B. 
 + Nowhere is the insufficiency of phrenology as the basis for a philosophy seen more 
 clearly than here. All the most important principles of human knowledge have to be 
 either assumed, or borrowed by it from metaphysical writers. Nothing is clearer than 
 that the senses alone could never originate knowledge, were there not a rational 
 element to react them. Could we have ever kiwwn, for example, anything of the moon 
 and stars by the senses only 1 — would not sensation have led us here utterly astray from 
 the truth 1 Just so it is with everything else. Mere sensation can never be the basis 
 for a philosophy ; and yet phrenology either sets out with it as a sulficient guide, or 
 takes for granted the whole of the a priori element, which alone can cause it to result 
 in knowledge. Phrenology itself most be grounded in fundamental philosophy, and 
 cannot therefore be a substitute for it.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 317 
 
 nologist is, that he has observed the idea of causaUty really to exist 
 in the human mind, and assigned it, by due observation, its place 
 tipon the map of the skull. It turns out after all, then, that we 
 must fall back upon a purely mental analysis, and without any fur- 
 ther evidence, suppose this analysis to be correct ; so that the real 
 argument of the phrenologist is a complete circle, the truth of the 
 mental analysis verifying the organ, and the organ, in its turn, ver- 
 ifying the truth of the analysis. In all this there is really not one 
 available step taken in analyzing our idea of causality ; we are not 
 an inch nearer any discovery of the ground upon which our confi- 
 dence in a first cause reposes, nor can our belief in it be even, to 
 an infinitesimal degree, more clear or certain than what it becomes 
 by the introspection of our own consciousness. 
 
 It is useless to enumerate particularly the other problems, which 
 have most taxed the powers of the metaphysical analyst ; but just 
 in the same manner it might be shown, that upon the question of 
 the spirituality of the mind ; upon such notions as those of time 
 and space ; upon the great idea of infinity with all that it involves ; 
 upon the personality or non-personality of the human reason ; upon 
 the absolute or relative character of human knowledge ; that, in 
 brief, upon all such fundamental points in metaphysics, phrenology 
 sheds not a single beam to aid us in the research. The onlv thing 
 it attempts is to ridicule the questions themselves, which is a 
 method of treating them equally easy and ignoble. 
 
 If we turn from metaphysical to ethical philosophy, the same 
 aptitude at eschewing, rather than solving difficulties, is visible in 
 the whole proceeding of phrenology. Upon the fundamental 
 question of human liberty (the very first condition on which the 
 possibility of our being moral and accountable creatures rests), 
 phrenology has nothing whatever to advance. It neither deter- 
 mines how far we are free agents, nor how far we are bound down 
 to the law of necessity, but leaves the whole subject standing ex- 
 actly where it was, before the light it lays claim to broke in upon 
 the world. The same complaint follows us if we consider the two 
 great problems of moral philosophy : first, what is conscience ? 
 and, secondly, what is virtue ? Conscience, according to phre- 
 nology, is the combined action of benevolence, veneration, and 
 conscientiousness. But on what ground, we ask, is moralitv made 
 to depend upon the approbation of these three organs more than 
 on any other? Are not all the organs as well as these three 
 equally a part of our nature ? Why may not the approbation of
 
 318 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 secretiveness, acquisitiveness, destructiveness, or of self-esteem, be 
 as good a test of what is right as that of the three organs just 
 mentioned ? Or on what principle, if any, is their especial superi- 
 ority maintained ? The only reply we have to such questions is, 
 that these emotions are felt to have a commanding authority con- 
 ferred on them, and that we can give no other account of the order 
 of our nature, except that it has pleased God so to constitute us. 
 After all the boast, then, about organs, as affording a clear founda- 
 tion on which to erect a system of moral philosophy, it appears 
 that we must still have recourse to our inward consciousness, in 
 order to tell us which organs possess a moral authority, and which 
 do not. The very point of the difficulty, therefore, is here un- 
 touched. We are simply told, consult your consciousness, and 
 you will find what is right or wrong, — a maxim which was often 
 enjoined long before phrenology dawned upon mankind. With 
 regard to the other question, what is virtue ? the case is very sim- 
 ilar with the last. The whole difficulty of the matter is evaded by 
 saying that the ground of morals is neither utility, nor the will of 
 God, nor the approbation of conscience alone, but all these con- 
 joined ; so that all the benefit which phrenology confers upon us 
 in this dispute is to patch the other theories together, and make 
 a composite one infinitely more untenable than any of the other 
 three.* 
 
 We repeat, therefore, in conclusion, what we have already urged , 
 that phrenology ought to have taken its place as one branch of 
 physiological investigation ; that, viewed in such a character, it 
 has succeeded in educing many interesting and valuable facts re- 
 specting the material changes which accompany the exercise of 
 thought and feeling ; but that, in attempting to take its stand as a 
 system of intellectual philosophy, it has entirely mistaken its proper 
 place, and totally failed in throwing any light whatever upon moral 
 or metaphysical researches. 
 
 Here, then, we shall close our observations upon the non-mate- 
 rialist class of sensational physiologists, and proceed to consider 
 that complete development of sensationalism which has been ex- 
 hibited to the present age in the writings of professed materi- 
 alists. 
 
 To clear the way for this, we shall just take a glance at the 
 history of materialism in England after the time of Hobbes, and 
 
 * These explanations of ethical questions on the principles of phrenology are taken 
 from Combe's " Moral Philosophy."
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 319 
 
 attempt to discover, in this way, the different phases it has assumed. 
 In 1665, a treatise was published in London, under the si<niature 
 of 11. O., in which the doctrine of materiaHsm, and man's natural 
 mortality, was sustained on the ground more especially of certain 
 theological opinions which the author had adopted. At the com- 
 mencement of the eighteenth century, Zachary Housel, one of the 
 French refugees, published a defence of materialism in a kind of 
 colloquial form, for which he was prosecuted and tried at the Old 
 Bailey. About the same time some tracts were published by Henry 
 Layton, a barrister-at-law, in which the natural mortality and ho- 
 mogeneity of man were argued with great acuteness. A similar 
 attempt was made by Dr. Coward, who published, in 1702, a work 
 (which was condemned and burnt) entitled, " Second thoughts 
 concerning Human Soul, demonstrating the notion of Human 
 Soul, as believed to be a Spiritualand Immaterial Substance, united 
 to Human Body, to be an Invention of Heathens, and not conso- 
 nant to the Principles of Philosophy, Reason, or Religion," In 
 1757, another physician. Dr. Robinson, published a treatise pre- 
 cisely of a similar nature, which thus completes a list of five au- 
 thors between Hobbes and Priestley, who supported materialism 
 chiefly upon theological grounds. 
 
 Priestley revived the philosophical materialism of Hobbes, sup- 
 posing, in common with that author, that our very ideas are mate- 
 rial essences ; while Darwin went forward with the superstructure, 
 until he laid upon it the top stone, an account of which we have 
 already furnished in the second ciiapter of this work. From that 
 time almost to the present hour, nothing of any importance has ap- 
 peared either on the part of theological or philosophical material- 
 ism. A few experiments like those of Darwin have been made 
 occasionally by naturalists, and here and there a second-rate writer 
 of the theological school has appeared, who has followed in the foot- 
 steps of the five above mentioned ; but, upon the whole, we may 
 consider the controversy to have rested virtually in one and the 
 same position since the reply of Brown to Darwin's " Zoonomia." 
 In the meantime, phrenology has prepared the way for another 
 phase of materialism, which now manifests itself through the writ- 
 ings of Drs. Elliotson and Engledue, and in its connection with 
 mesmerism, is regularly advocated in the j)ages of the " Zoist."' 
 
 The principles of this school of cerebral physiology are very 
 clear and very simple. According to their view, the sole object of 
 human research is matter ; the term mind is a mere fiction, under
 
 320 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 which we hide our ignorance of certain recondite physical opera- 
 tions ; to speak intelhgibly, the only mind which man possesses is 
 the brain ; thought is nothing more than cerebration ; and the highest 
 quahties, both of the intellectual and the moral feelings, nothing but 
 the direct result of a superior organization. These results are sus- 
 tained by an abundant appeal to our ignorance of any spiritual 
 principle ; by a reference to the progressive development of the 
 nerves and brain in the different gradations of animal life ; and, 
 lastly, by the startling facts which are presented upon the subject 
 of animal magnetism.* 
 
 The three phases of materialism, then, which modern times 
 present, are, according to the above statements — 1, that of the 
 theologian ; 2, that of the naturalist ; 3, that of the cerebral physi- 
 ologist. Into the theological argument it is not our place to enter, 
 since it rests upon scriptural rather than philosophical grounds. 
 With regard, however, to the philosophical phases of materialism, 
 there are a few considerations we have to present, which may 
 place the question, at least to some minds, in a clearer position 
 than that in which they have been accustomed to view it. These 
 considerations refer to two points ; first, to the method of phil- 
 osophical research ; and, secondly, to the results. Both the 
 naturalist and the phrenologist, in so far as they uphold the doc- 
 trines of noiaterialism, appear to us to be involved in much confu- 
 sion, as it regards each of these points of inquiry. The whole dis- 
 cussion may perhaps be reduced to these two fundamental ques- 
 tions — 1st, Whether intellectual science must be confined to the 
 observation and classification of outward facts, or whether it must 
 not ultimately rest upon the ground of our inward consciousness ; 
 and, 2dly, Whether there is really any evidence for holding the 
 spirituality of mind, or whether matter must be regarded as the 
 ultimate principle of thought and feeling. Whatever facts of a 
 material nature may be evolved by physiological research, still 
 these two problems will equally remain to be discussed upon purely 
 metaphysical grounds. 
 
 And first, with regard to the method of philosophical investiga- 
 tion, materialists frequently argue in the following manner : — The 
 human mind, whatever its essence, is originally a blank ; by its 
 contact with the outer world, it gains sensations and ideas. All 
 knowledge, accordingly, comes through the senses — is the result 
 
 * For a clear statement of this system of materialism, see Dr. Engledue's lecture be~ 
 fore the Phrenological Society of London. (Balliere.) 
 
 *^
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 321 
 
 of organic changes ; and consequently all intellectual philosophy 
 must be the result of observation and experiment. To study man 
 as well as anything else aright, we must simply observe the facts 
 connected with the nervous system which present themselves to 
 us by means of our sense-perceptions ; all reasoning, therefore, 
 upon inward consciousness in the philosophy of man, is to be given 
 up, as being productive of nought but uncertainty and confusion ; 
 and intellectual science, if its facts fall not under the observation 
 of the senses, is to be regarded as a mere imaginary province, ly- 
 ing quite beyond the true region of human knowledge.* 
 
 Now admitting, for a moment, that all oui* knowledge is gained 
 by means of observations made upon external phenomena, how is 
 it, we would ask, that our observations are to be classified, arran- 
 ged, and formed into those general principles of which knowledge, 
 properly so called, alone consists. Isolated facts will never raise 
 up a superstructure of valid science, unless they are linked together 
 by some fundamental conception ; neither will the observation of 
 such facts, in any sense, bear the name of philosophy, unless they 
 are pursued with a definite aim before us, and all made to tell upon 
 the elimination of certain general truths. Sensationalists of the 
 extreme school are apt to forget that there is a logic of Induction 
 as well as deduction, having rational axioms at its foundation ; and 
 that without these axioms, or at any rate without the truths which 
 they embody being in the mind, the outward observation whereon 
 they so firmly rely would be altogether nugatory. When the as- 
 tronomer, for example, describes the eclipses which are to take 
 place within the next year, upon what does he ground the certainty 
 of his observation ? Not upon experience, for that can only refer 
 to the past ; not upon mathematical reasoning only, for that has to 
 do simply with abstract and necessary relations. He grounds it 
 upon the confidence he feels in the regularity of the laws of na- 
 ture ; a confidence which arises from the constitution of our own 
 minds, and is verified as a philosophical tact only by reflection 
 upon our inward consciousness.f 
 
 Again, on what princijjle does the materialist himself investigate 
 the phenomena of organization, which he would fain substitute for 
 those of our consciousness ? Does he really do nothing but ob- 
 serve facts ? And, if he were confined to this, could he ever boast 
 a single scientific result? No; so far tV^ni that, the moment he 
 
 * This was virtually the princi])Ie of Ilarfloy ami Honnct, and ])rot'i'ss(-illy the princi- 
 ple of Cabaiiis, togetiier with the French and English sehool of inaterialisin. 
 t See our remarks upon this point in the section on David Ilumc. 
 
 21
 
 322 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 commences, as a physiologist, to investigate the functions of the 
 animal frame, he shows that he is acting upon an a priori princi- 
 ple, a principle not derived from observation, but one upon which, 
 in fact, the validity of all observation rests. There is a conviction 
 in his mind prior to all actual research, that every organ which 
 may be laid bare by the scalpel, performs a certain function, and 
 has a final cause. Were the anatomist, neglecting this, merely to 
 record what he sees, and to put down facts in their isolation, phys- 
 iology as a science could never exist. The bond which unites his 
 facts into a veritable branch of science, are certain fundamental 
 axioms, whose office is to show the causal connection, which those 
 facts have with each other. To admit such a connection, the 
 physiologist has no scruple ; it forms, indeed, the very method of 
 and incentive to his labor ; and yet, while he is pressing forward 
 without a doubt as to his plan, he appears often quite blinded to 
 the fact, that he is acting upon a purely a priori principle, which 
 nothing but consciousness could ever reveal, and the truth of 
 which can only flow from the validity of the subjective laws of 
 our nature. There is neither an organ nor a function which he 
 observes, respecting which he does not profess a certainty, that it 
 has a cause and an end, even though both should be completely 
 unknown ; and upon this conviction he does not hesitate to pro- 
 ceed onwards in his research until they shall both be discovered. 
 
 " The improvement of physiology," remarks Dugald Stewart, in 
 some observations upon Cuvier's researches, "is to be expected 
 chiefly from the lights furnished by analogy ; but in order to fol- 
 low this guide with safety, a cmitious and refined logic is still more 
 necessary than in conducting those reasonings which rest on the 
 direct evidence of experience." And again, M. Jouffi'oy beauti- 
 fully remarks, in his Preface to Stewart's Moral Philosophy :* 
 " Nature is a drama of which reason only teaches the plot. To 
 the eye of sense the world of phefiomena is merely an ever-vary- 
 ing collection of isolated facts ; a spectacle which has no signifi- 
 cance. Its mystery is unfolded to us by reason alone, which re- 
 veals in every phenomenon the consequence and the principle of 
 another ; and in the aggregate of all phenomena, an immense 
 chain of causes and effects, of which universal order is the admi- 
 rable result. And such is the simplicity of this revelation, that it 
 is entirely comprised in the conception of the absolute law of 
 
 » See the " Students' Cabinet Library," vol. vi. p. 47, in wliich the whole subject 
 of psychological research is admirably treated.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 323 
 
 every phenomenon ; a conception apparently trivial, but, in fact, 
 most fruitful and sublime. This conception is the fundamental 
 axiom in all the sciences of facts, the torch which guides their re- 
 searches, and the soul which animates their method ; the proce- 
 dure of the physiologists in the study of the phenomena of life, is 
 derived from it as a natural consequence."* 
 
 Let the ardent advocate of mere objective knowledge, then, 
 consider, that, however extensively he may build his conclusions 
 upon outward fads, yet there are subjective principles, upon which 
 he must necessarily proceed, on which the whole superstructure 
 of his scientific research, whatever branch it be, must be erected, 
 and without which his knowledge would be all disjointed, and his 
 real progress impossible. However eagerly the mind may go forth 
 for a time to grasp the varied forms of nature, yet there will, as- 
 suredly, arrive a period when the objective movement will have 
 run its length, when the soul's centripetal force will begin to react, 
 when the great subjective movements in which the whole of man's 
 activity originates will come forth to light, and when intellectual 
 philosophy will resume the position, from which it has been ejected. 
 
 The attempt of the naturalist to account for the phenomena of 
 thought and feeling by outward observation, is much on an equal- 
 ity with that of the phrenologist to localize the faculties, by merely 
 observing certain visible developments. In the latter case we 
 showed, that the very classification aimed at was supposed to be 
 already made, and that we ??iust have observed the various facul- 
 ties in all their peculiarity before any local position could possibly 
 be assigned them. In the same manner must there be to the 
 physiologist a firm conviction and a clear conception of all our 
 various mental operations, before the very notion of findin<T their 
 physical causes could be entertained. 
 
 In brief, the result of these considerations is this : — There are 
 two classes of facts equally certain and eciualiy clear, those, namely, 
 of outward observation, and of inward consciousness, which can 
 never be resolved into each other, but which must both form the 
 materials of true philosophical research. If we lake the external 
 world alone as our starting-point, we can never deduce from it the 
 phenomena of mind, /. e., we can never succeed in showing how 
 the proi)erties of matter can be possibly compatible with, or lead to, 
 thought, feeling, and reasoning : and, on the contray, if we start 
 
 • To see this suhjcct more fully discussed, the reader is rellrrcd lo Whcwell's <■ Phi- 
 losophy of the Inductive Sciences."
 
 1 
 
 324 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 simply upon the facts of consciousness, allowing that only to be 
 real which is deduced rationally from them, we can never suc- 
 ceed in getting beyond the circle of our own subjective being, so 
 as to prove, by logical inference, the existence of a world without. 
 Self, with its pregnant consciousness, is one world ; nature, with its 
 varied changes, another — each resting upon its own evidence : but, 
 as all knowledge is subjective, a priori principles must lie at the 
 basis even of physical science, while physical science, in its turn, 
 may in some of its branches throw light upon the workings of 
 mind in its present close relation with the material world. The 
 question, then, as to the real nature of the "philosophy of man'"' 
 we consider, can admit but of one rational reply, namely, that the 
 physiologist and psychologist have their own separate sciences, 
 their own separate facts, and their own separate conclusions ; that 
 both proceed on sure grounds, and may evolve in their own de- 
 partment sure results ; but lastly, that the one of these branches 
 may often be employed to throw light upon the other. 
 
 We now proceed to the other, and the far more difficult point 
 of dispute between the materialist and the immaterialist, namely, 
 what is the ultimate principle of thought in man ? is it homogene- 
 ous with matter ? or, is there a mind essentially distinct ? Now, 
 first, there is not much difficulty in exploding the vulgar appeal to 
 common sense, by which the more shallow and thoughtless mate- 
 rialist attempts to shake the ordinary belief of humanity in a think- 
 ing soul distinct from the body. He says, (in an argument which, 
 in fact, begs the whole question,) show me the mind ; point it out 
 to the perception of any of the senses ; prove to me in this way 
 that the belief in it is not a mere delusion ; give me the same 
 strength of evidence for its existence, as I can furnish you for the 
 existence of matter, and I am content. We reply, what is your 
 evidence for the existence of matter ? You talk about touching 
 and seeing it, but what is it that sees, and what that feels ? Is it 
 the brain ? If so, prove it on your own principles. Show me 
 any physical process — any action of the nerves, or commotion in 
 the cerebrum, that corresponds with a sensation or with the judg- 
 ment, that I have an external object now lying before me. Where 
 is the analysis of matter, however refined, which has resulted in a 
 thought or a feeling ; or who has traced the action of the nerves 
 up, step by step, until he has come palpably and sensibly to an 
 emotion ? You know of the existence of matter simply because 
 yon feel that it exists ; but that feeling is purely a fact of your in-
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND, 325 
 
 ward consciousness, which upon yow principles, has no certainty 
 or reaUty about it. Be consistent at once ; give up everything as 
 veracious which has not external evidence ; and give up, therefore, 
 the inward feeling upon which your confidence in a material world 
 rests. 
 
 If the materialist rejoins, that the various feelings and judg- 
 ments, of which we are conscious, are mere phenomena, which 
 need not imply the existence of an invisible sph'itual essence, we 
 also rejoin, that hardness, or extension, or size, are merely phenom- 
 ena which need not on the same ground imply a real material es- 
 sence. Whether we regard the properties of body or mind, the 
 subjoining to them of an essence or substratum is equally a pro- 
 cess of pure reason, and the result is, a judgment or belief which 
 in one case is no more certain than the other. The one says, I 
 must believe in matter, and there is an end of the discussion ; the 
 other says, with an equally final decision, and I, too, must believe 
 in mind : in both cases alike there is a falling back upon the evi- 
 dence of consciousness. The appeal to common sense, then, is 
 altogether retortable, and leaves the whole question in statu quo ; 
 both matter and mind resting on exactly equivalent evidence, be it 
 sufficient or insufficient. 
 
 Now, as the whole discussion respecting the immateriality of 
 mind has from its very nature been most fruitful in misunderstand- 
 ing and logomachy, let us see in what the combatants, ordinarily 
 speaking, really agree and in what they differ. With regard to 
 the facts of consciousness, which we term thought, feeling, will, 
 &c., there is no dispute ; all admit that we do think, that we do 
 feel, that we do will ; to deny this would imply a mere play upon 
 words, which it were not worth while to notice or refute. Again, 
 both parties admit certain facts relating to the physical conditions 
 of thought or sensation. They admit that we have a nervous sys- 
 tem, that this is affected by impressions from without, that it has 
 its centre in the brain, and that there is a certain action of the 
 brain, either in whole or in part, corresponding with all the mani- 
 festations of intelligence or feeling. Now, these things being ad- 
 mitted, we pause, and ask — are there any more facts, besides those 
 we have mentioned, to which either party can appeal ? The 
 facts of physiology are granted on the one side, those of con- 
 sciousness are granted on the other, and this is all, absolutely all, 
 that any one can possibly know from direct observation, whether 
 it be external or internal. The point, then, at which the materi-
 
 326 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 alist and the immaterialist commence their diverging courses, is 
 just where they have run the full length of actual observation, and 
 begin to reason or to theorize upon what they observe 
 
 The material physiologist reasons thus : — Here is a wonderful 
 piece of organization, the human body, producing the most extra- 
 ordinary operations. Here is the stomach, which performs the 
 functions of digestion ; here the liver, which secretes the bile ; 
 here the brain, which produces thought and emotion. If we injure 
 the stomach or the liver, we disturb the processes which they were 
 intended to carry on ; and so, if we injure the brain, it is found, 
 that we equally affect the processes of thought and feeling. In the 
 two former cases we assign nothing beyond the material organs as 
 necessary to give the observed result, and why, then, should we 
 assign anything beyond the brain as necessary to account for the 
 phenomena of mind ? Let us find out what matter can do, before 
 we begin to say what it cannot. The spiritualist, on the contrary, 
 reasons upon the same facts in a different strain. Here are 
 thoughts, feelings, volitions, he urges, which have nothing in com- 
 mon with material changes, nothing with chemical processes ; and 
 what can the entire difference observable in the phenomena (whicli 
 in the former case we cannot conceive to result from the mere col- 
 location of material particles) indicate to us, but another and a 
 spiritual substance, which we term mind ? 
 
 Our consciousness only comes in direct contact with phenomena 
 in either case. Matter is that unknown something which has ex- 
 tension, impenetrability, &c.; mind is that unknown something 
 which has feeling, thought, volition. To say that mind is matter 
 is to say, that what we know by one set of properties is the same 
 thing as that which we know by another set. If we can only know 
 matter by phenomena — this affirmation involves a contradiction in 
 terms ; but if, on the other hand, we contend that we can imagine, - 
 by an abstraction of the reason, a material essence to lie at the 
 foundation of both series of phenomena — this is simply an hypoth- 
 esis. 
 
 It appears, therefore, that these two explanations are in fact both 
 of them hypotheses, either of which may be made to account for 
 the facts of the case, but which we have to judge of in the absence 
 of actual demonstration according to their relative prohahility. 
 The dogmatical assumptions of absolute certainty so common on 
 either side, as also the contemptuous imputations of absurdity, must 
 be given up by the calm inquirer, and he must regard the case,
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 327 
 
 when viewed simply by the light of the understanding, as one which 
 at present can only rest upon probable evidence. The whole of 
 our attempt, then, in the present instance, is to estimate probabili- 
 ties, which we shall accordingly do as carefully as possible.* 
 
 Against the materialist hypothesis, then, there are various objec- 
 tions, which appear to every mind stronger just in proportion as it 
 is less under the influence of the senses, and more under the influ- 
 ence of pure reason. 
 
 1. There is usually among this class of thinkers an entire neglect 
 of the notion of j^oiver or force. We contend, that whenever 
 changes take place in the material world, we have a distinct idea 
 of power exerted in the production of the phenomena, over and 
 above the mere co-existence of the objects. Any two material 
 bodies, we know, tend to move towards each other ; this is all we 
 actually understand about the phenomenon ; and we express our 
 partial knowledge, and at the same time hide our ignorance, by 
 saying that it takes place by the law of gravitation. But the law 
 of gravitation, it is clear, cannot move a world or a particle ; to do 
 this requires force ; neither can we possibly divest our minds of 
 this noti^i, when we see hard, dull, inanimate matter, hurled 
 through space, and made to perform complicated and harmonious 
 revolutions. All causes, then, as implying power, are spiritual in 
 their nature ; we cannot possibly reduce them to the idea of mat- 
 ter ; in fact, we never conceive of any force producing change, 
 except under the type of the exertion and energy of our own will 
 moving the material particles of our bodily frame. f 
 
 The existence of efficient causes, we are well aware, is very 
 widely disputed ; but in addition to their reality being distinctly 
 asserted by the most philosophical minds of the age, we cannot but 
 think that their truth is tacitly admitted by the whole spirit of phys- 
 ical research ; to wit, by the perpetual effort tiiat is mide to dis- 
 cover the process, which goes on between any antecedent and its 
 consequent. Take the case of digestion as an ilkistration of the 
 principle we are affirming. The stomach is the organ or instrument 
 in this process ; but no one can sui)pose that it is the cause. There 
 must be some cJiemical force, whose operation we very impertectly 
 understand, by which the change denoted by digestion is accom- 
 plished ; and even if we were to get one step nearer than we are 
 
 ♦ We shall show soon, that upon a hiirher or transocndontal principle of philosophy, 
 the question of materialism and spiritualism assumes a very liifll-reiit form. 
 
 t This is clearly and forcibly stated by Sir John Herschcl, in Ids " Preliminary Dis- 
 course," p. 8G.
 
 328 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 to the " modus operandi," we should still look for another yet more 
 recondite, and so on, until we had attributed the " primum mobile," 
 to a force of a purely spiritual kind. Universally, the knots or 
 joints which unite phenomena are the grand subjects of physical 
 investigation ; it is here that we find more subtile essences in op- 
 eration ; here we discover new processes ; neither will our reason 
 permit us to rest until the senses are baffled, and we are obliged to 
 admit the real existence of a power, which is, indeed, beyond our 
 perception ; but I'ationally cognizable by its effects. Materialists, 
 from the habit they contract, of admitting nothing beyond what is 
 visible and palpable, are ever in danger of confounding the organ 
 of a function with the cause. They say, for example, that it is the 
 stomach which digests, and the liver which secretes bile ; which, 
 in fact, is saying nothing at all beyond the fact, that these are 
 localities in which such operations are carried on : but as to the 
 principle of these operations, we must look for a power to which 
 nothing material has the slightest resemblance, and the secret na- 
 ture of which it is pretty certain we shall never fully understand in 
 our present state of existence. 
 
 From the functions just mentioned, let us now turn to the func- 
 tions performed by the brain. Here we see, that in connection 
 with certain changes in the particles of the cerebrum, we experi- 
 ence thoughts, feelings, emotions, joys and sorrows, peace or 
 excitement. The materialist says, that these molecular changes, 
 or rather the various states of brain consequent upon them, and 
 termed by him cerebration, are thoughts and feelings : but there 
 is here an evident confounding of the instrument with the cause. 
 Power there must assuredly be, in order that the prodigious effects 
 of mind may be produced ; for, to say nothing of the intellectual 
 features of the case, there must be some force exerted, when the 
 particles of the cerebrum of the nervous system, and of the sinews 
 of the muscular frame, are thrown into movement. The only 
 difference between this case and the former ones is, that in those 
 purely physical operations, the force employed, as far as our ob- 
 servation goes, is perfectly recondite, that it acts without our per- 
 ception, although, indeed, we can easily observe its effects. On 
 the other hand, mental force is an object of direct consciousness ; it 
 is, in fact, the only force respecting which we have any knowledge 
 of its mode of operation, and thus becomes the type by which we 
 conceive of all other forces existing in nature. 
 
 We observe a movement in the digestive organs, and digestion
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 329 
 
 is the result. We know that some power must have been in 
 operation, but we do not comprehend in what its nature consists. 
 So, also, we observe a movement in the cerebral particles, and 
 muscular movement follows ; but here, unlike the former case, 
 there is a conscious force, that of the will, which we feel to have 
 been the more remote cause of the whole phenomenon. In brief, 
 wherever we see change or motion, there we necessarily imagine 
 some power adequate to the production of the effect. In digestion 
 there is the digestive power, in animation there is the vital power, 
 both known to exist, but unknown in their nature, except so far as 
 it may be gathered from their effects. In the case of mind, then, 
 we observe as effects, thoughts, feelings, emotions ; and on the 
 same principle we attribute these to a thinking power, a feeling 
 powjer, and an emotive power, of which we are personally con- 
 scious, and which, whatever it may be, we term mind or soul in 
 its various manifestations. We conclude, therefore, that if all 
 causes, of whatever nature, are spiritual, mind being a conscious 
 and intelligent cause can lay, of all others, the first claiin to have 
 the notion of spirituality attached to it. 
 
 If it be said that this view of the case would assert the existence 
 of some spiritual essence wherever phenomena take place, and 
 wherever power is displayed in nature, as well as in man, we admit 
 the inference. All natural phenomena bear upon them the impress 
 of a divine spirit. My own finite effort I attribute to the agency 
 of my own finite mind, the infinite power that acts around me I 
 attribute to the presence of the infinite mind. God is revealed in 
 every natural phenomenon, as surely as self is revealed in every 
 effort of the will. The one idea of spontaneity, personality, will, 
 as the centre of movement and the source of power, is that which 
 will forever baffle both the materialist and the atheist ; it contains 
 the germ of that belief which humanity ever has felt, and ever 
 will maintain, in a soul, and in a God. 
 
 2. From what we have just said, it follows that materialists, in 
 assigning a bodily organ as the principle of mind, do not give so 
 clear an explanation of the facts of the case as those who hold the 
 existence of spirit. 
 
 Here are certain intellectual phenomena, which all admit ; — it 
 is required to know how they come into existence. The material- 
 ist says, they are the direct result of certain movements in the 
 brain. But this, in fiict, is only evading the real question. How 
 is it, we would ask, that the brain is subjected to these movements,
 
 330 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and what is the force employed in producing them ? The materi- 
 ahst gives no satisfactory answer to this question, while the spirit- 
 ualist assigns a real power or cause, which is amply equivalent to 
 the observed effects. Both must admit a power of some kind ; if 
 the lobes of brain, for example, which subserve the faculty of 
 memory, reasoning, or comparison, are excited, there must be some 
 force or other employed ; the one, accordingly, attempts no ex- 
 planation of it ; the other gives an explanation which, even though 
 admitted hypothetical, is nevertheless highly probable and satisfac- 
 tory. 
 
 3. The system of materialism, particularly that form of it, which 
 assigns different functions to the various portions of the brain, does 
 not even attempt to explain the psychological phenomena of the 
 will. The operation of all the various organs is manifestly under 
 some superior control. There is a power which either excites or 
 represses the working of the faculties, and which is not at all taken 
 into account by those, who regard the cerebrum as an assemblage 
 of such faculties bound together by no perceptible tie. The will, 
 to which we attribute this power, is an untiring energy, unim- 
 paired either by labor or disease. Continued thought is always 
 exhausting, and the indulgence of emotions is exhausting also ; 
 both of which facts would indicate that each of these processes is 
 carried on by a material instrumentality ; but the will is ever the 
 same, the sense of personality never grows weary, is never lost by 
 any kind of physical injury ; and herein it is, therefore, that we 
 should place the essence of mind, as an ever acting and ever un- 
 wearied source of energy and power. It should be observed, that 
 we do not put forward these arguments as decisive of the case now 
 under review, but merely as considerations which show that the 
 materialist hypothesis is not so satisfactory and so capable of ex- 
 plaining all the facts we have before us, as it sometimes lays claim 
 to ; much less a theory which admits of those lofty pretensions to 
 clearness and simplicity, which it sometimes assumes. 
 
 On the other hand, there are several considerations which tend 
 much to strengthen the probability of the spirituahst hypothesis. 
 
 1. There is the unity which pervades all mental phenomena. 
 However varied our thoughts, however complicated our emotions, 
 however numerous our volitions, yet they are all referred by con- 
 sciousness to one and the same individual self To account for 
 the unity of our conscious being is by no means easy upon the 
 materialist hypothesis, whichever way it be viewed. Phrenologi-
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 331 
 
 cal materialism, the most rationa:! of all, is completely baffled in 
 explaining this phenomenon ; inasmuch as it is impossible to show, 
 in what manner a conscious unity can result I'roni an asseinblanre 
 of organs, each one of which thinks or feels for itself If it be 
 said, that there is something common to all the organs, by virtue 
 of which they are felt to belong to the same being, then we ask 
 what is this something which is felt, or what is this being which 
 feels, independently of the cerebral parts, of which the materialist 
 supposes it to consist. If they be referred to some material point 
 in the centre of the brain, then this point is in fact the mind, the 
 real self; and the brain is only the instrumentality by which it 
 acts. Moreover, such a point, in order not to be divisible, must 
 be an atom or a monad, and thus we are landed somewhere in the 
 centre of the Leibnitzian philosophy, the tendency of which, when 
 made intelligible, is to support an ideal or dynamical theory of the 
 creation.* But if it be supposed that there is something in com- 
 mon actually in contact with all the organs, by virtue of which 
 there is a felt connection between them, then it were well to con- 
 sider whether this is possible or intelligible except on the hypothe- 
 sis of a spiritual principle, which manifests itself in and through 
 the cerebral organization. If the materialist, however, still further 
 should take up the principle, that the whole brain thinks, just as 
 the whole stomach digests, then we ask how can the juxtaposition 
 of particles, not one of which has the propertv of thoutrlit, at 
 length come to create it ? Is there any imaginable correspondence 
 between such juxtaposition as cause, and thoughts or j^leasures or 
 pains as effects ; and can a mere movement of the brain, without 
 any other force being implied, be rationally supi)osed to wield the 
 strong and nervous muscles of the human body ? The answer to 
 this brings us to another remark in favor of spiritualism, namely, 
 
 2. Tiiat it assigns a more adequate cause to account for the 
 given clTects. 
 
 The whole nature of mental phenomena is such, that it does far 
 less violence to our reason to suppo.se that a spiritual principle is 
 in operation within us, than to rest satisfied witli the noti(in. that 
 the matter itself, of which the brain is composed, can tliink, or 
 feel, or of itself protluee physical ("xtM-tion. Where there must be 
 be an hopothesis of some kind, it is by far hetter to accept that, 
 
 * "Si vous ndmctfcz I'ntomc ubsolu, il faut ailincltrr en lui i.i possidiiit do la mani- 
 festation lie la iionst-c sous pi ino dc toinlicr dans iino itrtilion d.- |)riru-i|M\s: car cc 
 n'est que dans l'impossil)ilitc do i-oncevoir la p.-nsrc dans c<t atonic, quun principc 
 d'une autre nature doit etre adiiiis." See Tissot's " Antiiropologic," vol. ii. p. 353.
 
 332 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 which appears most adequate, especially if, instead of straining and 
 wrenching our fundamental notions of material properties, it offers 
 a plain and simple solution of the facts which come before us. 
 
 The properties of matter in all its varied forms are extension 
 and resistance ; on the other hand, as far as experience goes, there 
 is in it a total negation of thought and consciousness ; and this 
 being the case, it is only by stripping it of all which we have be- 
 fore known it to possess, and adding that which was never before 
 regarded as one of its properties, that we can come to the con- 
 clusion, that matter, or any combination of matter either thinks or 
 feels. 
 
 3. The idea of the spirituality of mind better comports with the 
 notions which mankind have ever entertained of its immortality. 
 We would by no means represent the properties of spirituality 
 and immortality a* being so closely connected, that the one neces- 
 sarily implies the other. There is nothing absurd in the notion of 
 a material existence being eternal, or a spiritual one being perish- 
 able, if such be the will of the Creator ; nevertheless, if there be 
 any grounds, on which to look forward to a future life, it is un- 
 questionably that the idea of a spiritual mind better comports with 
 such a prospect, than that of a mind which results from material 
 organization ; and on this ground, the whole of the separate 
 evidence for the immortality of the soul goes to strengthen the 
 evidence for its spirituality. Putting, then, all these remarks to- 
 gether, we deny that there is any superior clearness in the ma- 
 terialist hypothesis ;'that it gets rid of a single difficulty ; that it 
 has peculiarly the suffrages of common sense ; or that it is suc- 
 cessful in explaining the phenomena for which we have to account. 
 On the contrary, we affirm that the spiritual hypothesis is equally 
 comprehensible ; that it is in much better keeping with the unity 
 of our thoughts, feelings, and volitions ; that it assigns a far more 
 adequate cause to produce the given effects ; and, lastly, that it 
 comports better with the dignity and immortality of human nature. 
 Setting, therefore, both hypotheses before us, and estimating their 
 relative probabilities, we have no hesitation in rejecting material- 
 ism, and still holding to that spirituahty which we may term the 
 common belief of mankind. 
 
 We have conducted the above argumentation on the principle of 
 Jouffroy, (Pref. to Stewart,) simply from the stand-point of the un- 
 derstanding, supposing the ordinary conception of matter and 
 mind to be valid really as well as phenomenally. To us, however.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN ENGLAND. 333 
 
 it appears evident, that the whole tendency of philosophy, from 
 the time of Leibnitz, has been to bring us nearer and nearer to a 
 purely dynamical theory of the whole universe. The idea of mat- 
 ter is the most dark, indefinite, unmeaning of all ideas, except we 
 consider it in connection with certain of its attributes, /. e. as ever 
 exerting certain powers. By the mechanist, matter is measured 
 and reasoned upon simply in the light of a power ; the chemist in 
 the last analysis sees only centres of forces ; the philosopher 
 knows the me and the not-me, simply under the law of a mutual 
 action and reaction ; and even in natural theology, the only truly 
 conceivable notion we can form of the act of creation, is that of 
 the Divine power and thought going forth to the production of 
 form in the wondrous processes of nature and mind. That the 
 phenomena we term material must ever exist is self-evident ; that 
 they indicate a substratum is equally certain ; but that the real 
 philosophic analysis of this substratum will bring us to no other 
 result than that of an action and reaction of forces, appears to me 
 to amount almost to a demonstration. The universe in this light 
 appears far more simple, more harmonious, more beautiful. In- 
 stead of a dualism encumbered with metaphysical paradox, we 
 have an homogeneous creation, together with the activities of 
 which it is composed, rising in perfect gradation from the lowest 
 forms of matter, through all the regions of organic life, to the 
 highest development of mind itself. 
 
 On these principles, power acting unconsciously and bHndly, is 
 matter — power raised to intelligence and volition is spirit. The 
 substratum of both is identical, but there exists in their most in- 
 ward nature determinations which result in })henomenal differences 
 — differences which will ever be marked and distinguished by the 
 language of Dualism ; because ordinary language is always based 
 upon phenomena, and not upon a refined metaphysical analysis. 
 
 " The materialists and the spiritualists," says M. Tissot, " ought 
 in general to probe more deeply than they have done the notion of 
 matter ; they would then have been forced on either side into their 
 last intrenchments ; would have discovered the point of intersec- 
 tion of material and physical phenomena; and consequentlv the 
 point of view under which matter and spirit resemble each other 
 and are identical, as well as that in which they are distinguished. 
 It is only on this condition that agreement is possible ; without this, 
 men will dispute eternally, everybody being right and everybody 
 being wrong at the same time. Every one will be wrong in this
 
 334 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 sense, that he will ignore on the other side the facts which he ought 
 to accept without restriction, and of which it would be necessary 
 also to admit the consequences. Every one would be right in this 
 other sense, that having laid down the exclusive point of view by 
 which he reasons, he will come to reject necessarily every other 
 hypothesis.* 
 
 Sect. II. — Modern Sensationalism in France. 
 
 In the brief sketch we gave of the progress of sensationalism in 
 France during the eighteenth century, we traced the development, 
 and the various transformations of the philosophy of Locke through 
 a succession of writers, who, while they popularized and adorned 
 the school to which they belonged, by a clearness and a brilliancy 
 of style which has been seldom equalled, and perhaps never ex- 
 celled, yet shrank not from asserting and maintaining the most 
 startling conclusions of materialism. All the mental operations 
 were reduced by them simply to various forms of sensation ; morals 
 became a mere balancing of self-interest ; the mind was regarded 
 as the result of organization alone, to which it was absurd to 
 ascribe the idea of immortality; while the name of God was made 
 synonymous with nature, or altogether disowned. These princi- 
 ples we followed in their course up to the period of the Revolution, 
 which for a time absorbed the attention of every mind, bore along 
 even the calmest thinkers with it in its fury, and allowed them no 
 leisure, and perhaps no disposition, to reflect upon the more ab- 
 struse subjects of philosophy. No sooner, however, did the excite- 
 ment of that stupendous event begin to abate, than the purely 
 philosophical element, which had for a time been lost in the politi- 
 cal confusion, began to re-appear, and to excite a portion, though 
 at first by no means a considerable portion, of public attention. 
 
 There was one spot in the vicinity of Paris which may be 
 marked out as peculiarly the cradle of the rising philosophical 
 spirit, and in which all those, whose names hold any prominent 
 place in these early endeavors to revive the genius of Condillac, 
 nurtured their young attempts. It was at Auteuil that the chief 
 promoters of these studies regularly met together, to discuss the 
 most important philosophical problems ; it was there that Cabanis, 
 Garat, Destutt de Tracy, Volney, Maine de Biran, and others, ma- 
 
 * Anthropologic, vol. ii. p. 356.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 335 
 
 tured, in conjunction with each other, many of the theories which 
 made so brilhant a debut in the philosophical world, and excited, to 
 so considerable a degree, the attention of metaphysicians throu'^h- 
 out Europe. 
 , Without dwelling, however, upon the more general features ot 
 
 sensationalism in its first appearance after the Revolution, we shuU 
 proceed at once to take a rapid view of the writings of those, who 
 gave it all its celebrity and its value. And in doing so, we cannot 
 but remark, as a somewhat singular fact, that the four men, who 
 not only stdnd at the head of this philosophy, (usually termed by 
 themselves ideology,) but whose writings compose almost the whole 
 of the accredited works of that school, were born, two of them in 
 the same year, and the other two within a very short period before 
 or after. Cabanis and Volney were born in the year 1757, Destutt 
 de Tracy in 1754, and Garat in 1758. 
 
 Cabanis, to whom we must first direct our attention, had been 
 in his early life both a disciple and a personal friend of Condillac. 
 Under his guidance and tuition he had studied the philosophy of 
 Locke, and had fully entered into the method, by which his French 
 commentator attempted to complete it. All we know of Cabanis, 
 therefore, before the Revolution is, that he was a professed adherent 
 to Condillac's philosophical opinions ; and that, in accordance with 
 them, he must have regarded all the active operations of the mind 
 simply as forms of the one great sensitiv^e faculty. When the 
 events of the Revolution burst u})on the country, Cabanis was 
 called to take his full share in them. He was the intimate friend 
 of Mirabeau during his mad career ; he was his physician in sick- 
 ness, and conducted tiie examination of the body after death. 
 Equally intimate was he with Condorcet, whose sister-in-law he 
 afterwards married ; and it is confidently alfiniied that he prepared 
 the poison, with which that remarkable and much persecuted man 
 terminated his life. In the third year of the republic he was ap- 
 pointed professor of medicine in Paris, and soon after was elected 
 member of the National Institute. The study <if j>hilosophy had 
 always been more congenial to the mind of Cabanis than that of 
 his own profession, and he now aj)plied his mind to the jiroparation 
 of no less than twelve different Mrmoires. which were read at the 
 Institute, and published in 1802, under the title of " Traite du 
 Physique et du Moral de ITIomme."* 
 
 • A second edition was nflerwurds juililishod, with tables nnd indices, by M. Destutt 
 de Tracy, under the title of " Rapports du Physique et ilu -Moral de IHomine." 
 ^ (Paris, 1805.)
 
 336 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 In this work Cabanis sought to complete the philosophy of Con- 
 dillac, or rather to pursue that of Locke onwards, from the point 
 at which he considered Condillac had stopped short. Locke had 
 proved, as was then generally admitted, the sensational origin of 
 all our ideas ; Condillac, proceeding one step further, had shown in 
 what manner all the various mental operations, by which our ideas 
 are modified, such as memory, judgment, abstraction, and others, 
 might be philosophically reduced to sensation in its various trans- 
 formations. Cabanis now proposed to investigate the nature and 
 origin of sensation itself, and thus to furnish a clear deduction of 
 all our intellectual notions, as well as moral feelings, from the 
 primary movements of our physical constitution. The result of 
 these investigations was a theory, which from its extreme simplicity 
 can be explained in a very few words. 
 
 The nervous system he considered to be the seat and the cause 
 of all sensation, inasmuch as any part of the body becomes alto- 
 gether insensible the very instant the nerves, which reside there, 
 are severed from the rest of the system, of which they form a part.* 
 When an impression is made by an external object upon any of 
 these nerves, it is instantly conveyed to the central organ. From 
 this a reaction takes place, by which the impression is reconveyed 
 to the extremities. This action and reaction, he showed, must 
 both exist, ere the sentiment or the impulse intended to be pro- 
 duced can take place. f The whole process, then, of our intellec- 
 tual as well as of our moral feelings, Cabanis considered to be here 
 developed with the most consecutive clearness and certainty. The 
 moral feelings, the intellect, the will, all the various faculties and 
 emotions of the mind, were, on Condillac 's principles, clearly re- 
 ducible to sensation ; but sensation he now proved to be an affec- 
 tion of the nerves : the inference was, that it is in the nerves alone, 
 that the whole man consists — " Les nerfs voila tout I'homme." 
 Such was the ultimate idea in which his philosophy terminated. 
 
 These extreme opinions excite in us the less surpi'ise, when we 
 consider that Cabanis had been nurtured in the materialistic school 
 of the French Encyclopaedists ; so far, indeed, from seeing in him 
 any bold attempts to carry out the principles of his masters beyond 
 their legitimate application, we clearly recognize in the admitted 
 reaction of the central organ a shrinking back from the hardihood, 
 
 * Cabanis takes his primary principles for granted, without appearing to imagine the 
 very necessity of a proof. The full statement of his views on tnis point, are contained 
 in the second Momoire, sec. 2. 
 
 f Memoire ii. Sections 6 and 7.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 337 
 
 with which some had maintained the grossest aspect of materiaUsm. 
 We can trace, in fact, three shades of opinion amongst the phys- 
 iologists of that age, respecting the origin and nature of mental 
 phenomena. Some, like Helvetius, D'Holbach, (fee, admitted 
 nothing whatever, but a physical oi-ganism acted on by external 
 agencies, and explained all the facts of mind by means of this pas- 
 > sive sensibility. Others, of whom Bichat was the representative, 
 maintained the existence of certain vital properties, to the action 
 of which the phenomena of the passions and the understanding are 
 to be referred. Cabanis proceeded a step further towards spirit- 
 ualism; he not only admitted certain vital properties \\\ connection 
 with our organization, but was forced here and there into the 
 avowal that the principle of life is something real, over and above 
 the organs and their properties* Strange that he should have ad- 
 mitted a spiritual principle to account for the phenomena of life, 
 and denied it with respect to those of intelligence ! This is the 
 more to be wondered at, as Cabanis draws out the parallel between 
 the action of the stomach in digestion, and that of the brain in 
 thinking. The impressions from without are the material — the 
 food, if it may be so termed, of the brain. The properties of the 
 brain react upon them, as the gastric juice does upon our natural 
 food ; and then we secrete thought. But how he can make clear 
 the transformation of nervous irritation into thouiihts and feelinffs 
 — how he can imagine the phenomena of mind to be in any sense 
 forms of organic processes, how he can instance a comparison be- 
 tween the shakings of a fluid and intellectual fiicts, as though they 
 could be essentially the same, only regarded from a different point 
 of view — it is left for us to comprehend as best we are able.f 
 
 ■In the meantime, however, Cabanis was not behindhand in sup- 
 porting his theory, by collateral evidences, with great talent and 
 ingenuity. He showed most clearly, how dependent our intellec- 
 tual development and moral feelings are upon a crowd of external 
 circumstances ; how they are modified by age, by sex, Iw natural 
 temperament, by food, by climate, by a hundred otiicr things of a 
 purely i)hysical nature.J The argument derived from hence was 
 
 • Quelquc idee, que Ton ndopte sur In. cause qui drterinine I'orixunisntion.on nc pout 
 s't'iupr'cher d'lulinfttrc un principe que la nature fixe ou rcpand ilans leu liqueurs 
 scminales. — Alemoire iv. sec 1. 
 
 t See Dirtionimirc Philosopliique, Art. Cal)anis — also an excellent critique on Cabanis 
 by Tissot, Aiitliropoloiiif, Hook II. Cli.i]). ii. sec. "2. 
 
 :}: The inllucnceor A^(> upon iniiid. i.s discussed in Memoire iv. ; that of Sex in !Mi'in. 
 v.; that of Temperament in M. in. vi,; tliat of Disiase in ISIcm. vii, ; that of Habits 
 (njginie) in Mem. viij. ; and finally, that of Climate in Mem. ix. *
 
 338 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 manifest. The various changes of the external world, and the dif- 
 ferent states of body, it was argued, operate upon the nerves ; and 
 the nerves, in accordance with these influences, give rise to all the 
 varieties of mental and moral constitution observable between dif- 
 ferent races and different classes of mankind. Find out, then, by 
 observation, all the external causes by which the nervous system 
 is influenced, and you have, at the same time, all the elements 
 which enter into our mental or moral nature, as well as the pri- 
 mary source, from which all their phenomena are derived. The 
 simplicity of this theory, the ease with which it could be grasped 
 by all minds, however deficient in philosophical acumen, the popu- 
 lar elegance with which it was conveyed, all tended to give it a 
 very extensive reputation. " The physicians," says one of his 
 French commentators,* " accorded their thanks to the author for 
 the learned physiological explication which he gave them of man's 
 moral nature ; the philosophers, even those who did not adopt his 
 theory, were delighted with the relations he unfolded between the 
 mind and the body ; the half-learned hoped by his means to ac- 
 quire two sciences at once — physiology and psychology ; and 
 every one profited, or thought that they profited, by his ideas." 
 
 Notwithstanding this success, however, Cabanis, who appears to 
 have been an honest investigator of truth, saw reason, after a time, 
 to shrink from his own system, and distrust his own conclusions. 
 His view seemed gradually to veer round as he studied the subject 
 less as a physiologist and more as a philosopher : added to this, 
 he had too deep a sense of the sanctity both of morals and religion, 
 to leave them open to the light esteem, if not contempt, which his 
 own principles seemed to foster. In a second work, accordingly, 
 which was published after his death, and which he terms " A Let- 
 ter upon Primary Causes," we find him departing very decidedly 
 from his original notions, and manifesting a retrograde tendency 
 towards spiritualism in all the three departments of psychology, 
 morals, and theology. f With regard to the soul, he now asserts, 
 that it cannot consist solely in the nervous system, but that there 
 must be a distinct and separate existence, by which the move- 
 ments of our physical constitution are regulated and rendered in- 
 
 * Damiron — Hist, de la Phil, de xix">« Siecle, vol. i. p. 93. 
 
 •f In the year 1805, Cabanis, it appears, became intimate with a M. Fauriel, a youn^ 
 man, who to great abilities added an earnest love for the Stoical philosophy. Throuph 
 this friendship, he appears to have been led to relinquish his sensational opinions in 
 favor of spiritualism. The letter referred to, was published by M. Berard in 18-21, under 
 the title " Lettr(;a M. F. sur les Causes Premieres," and accompanied with notes by the 
 Editor.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 339 
 
 telligent. In fact, he carries out the notion, which he before ap- 
 pHed to the explanation of vital phenomena, to the phenomena of 
 consciousness, and ends in the admission of a thinking principle, 
 an indivisible self. The moral faculty, moreover, he now saw 
 reason to distinguish altogether from our bodily organization, as 
 giving rise to an order of feelings and sentiments quite peculiar in 
 their kind, and to which no mere sensation could offer any ap- 
 proach ; while, with regard to religion, he enters a strong and 
 earnest protest against the reigning atheism of his time, avowing 
 his belief, as he expresses it, " with the great Bacon, that, in order 
 to deny in a formal and positive manner the existence of a primary 
 cause, we must be as credulous as those, who admit the fables of 
 mythology and the Talmud." Perhaps there is no other writer 
 who gives in iiimself so complete an illustration as Cabanis, of the 
 diversified ^hades of French philosophy from the time of Condillac 
 to the rise of eclecticism. First of all, we see him advocating the 
 sentiments of Condillac, his friend and master ; next we find him 
 standing at the head of the materialist school, by which the open- 
 ing of the present century was characterized ; and lastly, in his 
 posthumous writings, we view the germs of those truer and better 
 principles by which materialism itself was destined so soon to be 
 supplanted and destroyed. The literary life of Cabanis alone 
 would furnish us with a histor)-, tolerably complete, of the chief 
 metaphysical systems of France in the last and the present centurv. 
 The rise of the normal schools, and especially the formation of 
 the National Institute in the fourth year of the republic, gave a 
 very considerable stimukis to the study of mental philosophv. as 
 well as the other sciences, in France. At the head of the philo- 
 sophical department of the former stood Garat — a man less known 
 as a writer, than as a most celebrated lecturer and successful sup- 
 porter of Condillac's metaphysicjil principles. The only original 
 source from which we can now gain any knowledge of his lec- 
 tures, is to be found in the archives of the normal schools, among 
 which there are several volumes of philo.sophy from his pen. His 
 general sentiments, however, are sufficiently known, inasmuch as 
 to him mainly is due the increased attention whicli was paid dur- 
 ing the first decade of the present century, to philosophical ques- 
 tions in France. Of a far more cautious spirit than many of his 
 predecessors, Garat confined his lectures to a comparatively small 
 range of subjects. For the doctrines of ideology. ]iroperly so 
 called, he argued with great power, and no inconsiderable depth ;
 
 340 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 with a clearness not unworthy of Condillac himself, he attempted 
 to establish sensational perception as the basis of all our faculties ; 
 and in his programme of questions to be treated of in the normal 
 schools, he furnished a plan of philosophical investigation, as con- 
 secutive in its parts, as it was symmetrical in its whole structure. 
 For the application, however, of these principles to other points of 
 great importance, we look in vain to the lessons of our author. 
 He was too prudent either to carry out morality to self-interest, or 
 sensationalism to materialism ; and too wise, after the scenes he 
 had witnessed during the Revolution, to draw any inferences that 
 might be detrimental to the re-establishment of religious faith. 
 As Cabanis was the physiologist of his school, so Garat was the 
 sober and cautious professor, adapting his instructions to the 
 youthful mind, repressing their too great tendency to bold specu- 
 lation, and saving the interests of morality and religion at the ex- 
 pense of advocating a narrowed and unimposing system of sensa- 
 tionalism.* 
 
 Very different, in almost every respect, was the character of 
 Volney, whom we must regard as the moralist of the ideological 
 school. Volney was a bold follower in the footsteps of the Baron 
 d'Holbach (to whose work, entitled " Systeme de la Nature," we 
 have already referred), and has won celebrity as an ethical philos- 
 opher, not so much from the originality or depth of any of his 
 views, as from the authorship of a catechism, where the principles 
 of his school were briefly and clearly digested, and which came 
 into general use among those, who preferred the morals of infidelity 
 to those of the Bible. f Following the opinions of that class of 
 philosophers, who saw in man nothing but an organized mass, who 
 considered the nervous system to be the sum total of human nature, 
 who acknowledged no existence but matter, and no enjoyments 
 but those of sense, it was natural, nay unavoidable, that his moral 
 system should be based entirely upon pleasures and pains, aiming 
 simply at the attainment of the one, and the avoidance of the 
 other. 
 
 The fundamental idea accordingly, of Volney's moral philosophy, 
 is preservation — the preservation of our bodily frame, and our 
 other external relations, in such a degree of perfection, as to afford 
 
 * The works of Garat are not easily accessible. My information on them is chiefly 
 due to M. Damiron's " Hist, de la Phil, en France," which contains a brief sketch of 
 his life and labors. 
 
 f It is entitled " La Loi Naturelle, ou Catechisme du Citoyen Fran9ais," (l2mo. 
 Paris, I'an deuxieme de la Republique.)
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 341 
 
 US the greatest amount of physical pleasure.* He knew no evil 
 besides death, and that which tends to it ; no good besides life, and 
 the external pleasures it affords, and had no conception of moral 
 obligation, beyond the duty of living so as to defer pain and death 
 as long as possible, and secure as much as might be allowed of life, 
 health, and outward comfort, f In so far as virtue, sobriety, mod- 
 eration, chastity, and the like, tend to the preservation of life, and 
 the promotion of health, he enforced their observance, and in so 
 far as the social and domestic duties add, in the long run, to our 
 security, peace, and tranquillity, he enjoined them as worthy our 
 approbation and pursuit ; but he considered no virtue to be a good 
 abstracted from its influence upon our sensual happiness, and no 
 vice to be an evil, if unaccompanied by its penalties and pains. J 
 In a word, he regarded man simply as an animal ; the whole of his 
 moral code aimed professedly at the preservation of his animal 
 nature ; neither did he shrink from defending murder itself as a 
 virtue, wherever it tends to our security or defence. In such a 
 system as this, it is needless to say that the higher moral feelings 
 were completely lost sight of; that everything disinterested was 
 condemned as folly, and that the obligations of religion were set 
 down as fit only for the dupes of priestcraft and superstition. In 
 representing Volney, however, as the moralist of the ideological 
 school, we should be far from affirming, that the rest of its sup- 
 porters went similar lengths with regard to their contempt for relig- 
 ion, or that they would have so completely sunk every nobler feeling 
 of our nature in the mire of selfishness. Still we have unquestion- 
 ably in him a complete illustration of the morality to which sensa- 
 tionalism naturally leads ; while his catechism presents an instruc- 
 tive specimen of that moral arithmetic which, employing pleasures 
 and pains as the ciphers, would calculate all the duties and obliga- 
 tions of human life. § 
 
 In the writings of the three preceding authors, whom we have 
 
 * Take the following specimen of the Catcchisine, — 
 
 Q. Developpez-moi les principes de la loi naturelle par rapport a rhommc. 
 A. lis sont simples ; ils se reduisent a un precepte tbndamental et unique. 
 Q,. Quel este ce precepte ? 
 X. C'est la conservation de soi-meme. 
 t Cat. chap. iv. 
 t Cat. chaps, vi. vii. 
 
 \ Volney sums up his Ethics in the following words, — 
 
 " Toute sagesse, toute perfection, toute loi, toute vertue, toute philosophic, consistent 
 dans la pratique de ces axiomes fondes sur notre propre organisation : — 
 " Conserve-toi, 
 " Instruis-toi, 
 " Modere-toi; 
 " Vis pour tes semblables ; afin qu'ils vivent pour toi.
 
 342 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 noticed, there are easily recognized many qualities of mind which 
 eminently fitted them for some branches of philosophical research, 
 and which naturally gained for them a due share both of fame and 
 influence with the public. The close observation of Cabanis, the 
 clear arrangement of Garat, the logical order and brevity of Volney, 
 amounting almost to the algebraical form of expression, all gave a 
 great force and a great popularity to the ideas they advocated ; 
 but there was yet a philosopher, living and laboring among them, 
 who, if inferior in some other respects, still united in himself a 
 power of analysis, a faculty of metaphysical abstraction, and an 
 irrefragable logic, which has given him without doubt the first 
 place among the sensationalists of his age. M. Destutt de Tracy, 
 to whom w'e now refer, was of noble birth under the old regime, 
 and brought up originally to the military profession. At the 
 breaking out of the Revolution he entered warmly into the cause 
 of liberty, but at the fall of the crown retired into Auteuil, where 
 he devoted himself chiefly to natural philosophy. Dragged from 
 his peaceful abode during the Reign of Terror, he was thrown into 
 prison, and there beguiled the lonesome hours, when no other ob- 
 jects of interest were around him, by studying the processes of his 
 own mind. On his release, he became a senator as well as a 
 member of the " Institut National," and at the restoration was raised 
 to the dignitv of a peer of France. He died in 1836, admired 
 by all for his literary ability, his ardent patriotism, and his public 
 virtue. 
 
 It is to M. Destutt de Tracy that the wide-spread fame of ideol- 
 ogy is mainly due, and from his writings that its real philosophical 
 character is almost universally estimated. There is in the whole 
 theory of this author, the same simplicity, the same exactness, the 
 same clear precision, that we find in those to whom we have al- 
 ready referred ; but there is also a power of reasoning, and a depth 
 of thought, both in analysis and in generalization, which gives him 
 a right to the honor of being, par excellence, the metaphysician of 
 his school.* One fault, however, is still apparent among his many 
 better qualities, and that is a deficiency in the faculty of sub- 
 jective observation, and a consequent indisposition to recur to the 
 data upon which his first principles rested. Give him his data 
 ready made, and his all-embracing logic builds you a superstruc- 
 ture, which seems as perfect as it is beautiful ; but the truth is, 
 perhaps, altogether lost sight of, that philosophical structures, as 
 * Damiron's " Hist, de la Phil." vol. i. p. 99.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 343 
 
 well as all others, must have foundations, which, if not laid firmly 
 and cautiously, soon endanger the whole building. For first prin- 
 ciples, M. Destutt de Tracy had recourse simply to his prede- 
 cessors, following Condillac and Cabanis, the one in his psycholog- 
 ical, the other in his physiological investigations. Having thence 
 taken his start, he carries on his work with admirable precision, 
 embracing everything important as he proceeds, until you see a 
 whole system, in which nothing seems wanting till you examine 
 the basis upon which it all reposes.* 
 
 To illustrate, however, and justify these remarks, we shall just 
 glance at the course of reasoning our author pursues in his " Ele- 
 ments d'Ideologie," a w^ork which has given its name to the sys- 
 tem it upholds. First of all, we must premise, that the doctrine of 
 Cabanis is' there fully accepted — a doctrine which supposes all 
 sensation to result directly from the action of the nervous system, 
 nay, which regards the nerves and the mind as synonymous terms, 
 the one being the physiological, the other the psychological expres- 
 sion for the same thing.t Next, the well-known theory of Con- 
 dillac, to which we have so often made allusion, is elaborately 
 upheld, according to which, thought, feeling, and all the varieties 
 of the moral sentiments, are but different variations of sensation. 
 These may be regarded as the fundamental principles of the whole 
 work, and it is in the full development of them, more particularly 
 of the latter, that M. de Tracy has manifested the power and fer- 
 tility of his mind. 
 
 In carrying out this development, he shows that the sensitive fac- 
 ulty, with which we are endowed as the basis of our intellectual 
 life, is susceptible of a great variety of imi)ressions, of ditferent 
 kinds and of different intensities. These impressions may be re- 
 duced to four distinct species. There are, first, those which result 
 simply from the direct action of an external object upon the nerves, 
 and which are ordinarily termed sensations or perceptions. Sec- 
 ondly, there are impressions, which are derived from objects not 
 directly, but indirectly, which result not from their actual presence, 
 but from their past action, and from the effect they have left be- 
 
 * M. Dest. de Tracy's philosophical works are containeJ in 2 vols., willi tlie general 
 title of " Projct irKlemonts d'ldt^oloijie." Tin y ctiinpreiiend tin' Mcoloijii^ pro|M?rly so 
 called, a " Graininuirc Gcnt'-raic'' containi.nij t!i(.' tlit'orv of laiiixiiaLr*^. a •' l.otTique'' for 
 explaining the processes of reasoning, and lastly, a •• Traitc de la Volonte." He pub- 
 lished also a commentary on the •' Esprit des Lois." 
 
 f Idiologie, chap. ii. His definition of sensation runs as follows: — " La scnsibilite 
 est cette faculte, ce pouvoir. cet elTet de noire organisation, ou, si vous voulcz, cctte 
 propriete de notre ctrc, envcrtu de laqucllc nous reecvonsdcs impressions, de beaucoup 
 d'especcs, et nous en avons In conscience.'' p. 39.
 
 344 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 hind them upon the nervous system : these account for all the 
 phenomena of memory and conception. Thirdly, there are impres- 
 sions produced upon us by two or more objects or sensations, that 
 have certain relations to each other ; which impressions, from the 
 fact of their embodying relations, we usually term judgments of the 
 mind. And lastly, there are impressions which result from certain 
 physical feelings of want or of danger, of pleasure to be gained or 
 pain to be avoided, and which lead us instinctively to perform the 
 peculiar actions by which such impulses may be satisfied. Hence 
 result the emotions, desires, and passions, which play so large a 
 part in the economy of human nature.* In this way the phenom- 
 ena of perception, of memory, of reason, of emotion, are all reduced 
 to the one element of sensation, and sensation itself to the action 
 of the nerves as stimulated by the various circumstances of the 
 external world. Setting aside the consideration that the whole 
 theory lacks a sound basis, we cannot but admire the clearness and 
 the ingenuity with which the author, in a small work of some 350 
 pages, has developed all the main points connected with the analy- 
 sis of the human mind. In the first eight chapters, he disposes of 
 the whole subject of the intellectual powers, reducing them as we 
 have said to the one fact of sensation ; in the next three he shows 
 the application of the principles established, to the knowledge of 
 the properties of bodies ; and in the last six, develops the doctrine 
 of the will, and shows the results which flow from the combination 
 of the intellectual and voluntary phenomena in human nature. 
 
 We shall not stop now to point out particularly, the deficiencies 
 which the system advocated by M. de Tracy, notwithstanding all 
 its ingenuity and consecutiveness, presents ; nor attempt to show 
 how he has passed over, or only half explained such phenomena 
 as those of abstraction and generalization, the power of the will 
 and the peculiarity of the moral emotions. Instead of this, we 
 shall rather offer a brief critique upon the ideological philosophy in 
 general, as it appears upon the pages of the four eminent men 
 whom we above enumerated, and to whom its celebrity throughout 
 Europe is almost entirely due. The materialism of Cabanis, how- 
 ever, we must remind our readers, does not attach to ideology as a 
 
 * Nous avons deja remarquc, que nous avions ties idees ou perceptions, de quatre 
 especes differents. Je sens, que je me brule actuellement ; c'est une sensation que je 
 sens. Je me rappelle, que je me suis brulo hier ; c'est un souvenir que je sens. Je 
 juge que c'est un tel corps, qui est cause de ma brulure ; c'est un rapport que je sens 
 entre ce corps et ma douleur. Je veux eloigner ce corps, c'est un desir, que je sens. 
 Voila quatre sentivicnts, ou pour parlcr de langage ordinaire quatre idees, qui ont 
 des caracteres bien distincts." — " Ideologic," p. 37.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 345 
 
 system, and therefore is more properly left out in the objections we 
 shall now advance. The lectures of Garat, the ethics of Yolney, 
 and the logical deductions of Destutt de Tracy, will equally hold 
 good, whatever theory we accept to account for the phenomena 
 of sensation itself The great problem, rather, which these philos- 
 ophers attempt to work is, to adduce from sensation, as an ultimate 
 fact, all the phenomena of our intellectual and moral life ; and 
 therefore, leaving for the present the endeavors, which some of 
 them have made to reduce sensation to physical processes, we shall 
 simply point out, in what respects they appear to us as a whole, to 
 come short of any satisfactoiy solution of the point, upon which 
 they have expended so much argument and ability. 
 
 1. We maintain that the French ideology does not explain the 
 facts of the human understanding. The distinction between the 
 sense-perceptions which arise involuntarily from the presence of 
 an external object, and those active operations of the intellect 
 which we carry on, when quite abstracted from the world without, 
 is so obvious, that the two have never been confounded by any, 
 except those who have had a preconceived theory to support. 
 Memory, it is true, may be the memory of a sensation, but it is 
 not the thing remembered ; it is the power of recalling the thing, 
 that has to be accounted for in our analysis of this faculty, and 
 which, especially in the case of voluntary memory or recollection, 
 is not at all explained by terming it a prolonged sensation. A pro- 
 longed sensation would be as passive tln'oughout its whole duration 
 as a sudden one ; in recollection, on the other hand, the mind, from 
 a purpose and impulse of its own, casts around for every spring of 
 association, in order to call up the notion it requires. In any case 
 of memory, indeed, the distinction between the mere passive and 
 receptive state indicated by sensation, is perfectly distinct from the 
 active operation of which we are conscious in recalling a past fact 
 of our mental history from its apparent oblivion. 
 
 Judgment, again, may involve the simultaneous perception of 
 two objects holding a certain relation to each other, but the per- 
 ception of the objects themselves, and the estimating their relations, 
 are two processes altogether different. I may perceive two things 
 to-day without passing any judgment upon their relations, and to- 
 morrow I may have precisely the same perception of them, and 
 append to it a mental comparison of the two, which I am con- 
 scious, is an act, and sometimes a very complicated act, of my 
 own understanding:. Still less has the svstem we are considering
 
 346 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 been able to explain the more complex facts of generalization and 
 abstraction, and the lofty creations of imagination. That an ab- 
 stract idea, or a general term, or a glowing fancy-picture, can be 
 produced by the same means, and by the same process as the or- 
 dinary sensations we experience of actual existences around us, is 
 intelligible on no other principle than that of an ultra idealism, ac- 
 cordino; to which the so-termed real as well as unreal world, are 
 both alike the creations of our own subjective self 
 
 If we pass from the consideration of our faculties, to that of our 
 more refined notions and intuitive ideas, here, again, the impossi- 
 bility of accounting for the facts of the case upon the sensational 
 principles we are opposing, meets us with equal decision. By 
 what means, we ask, do we acquire the notions of time and space ? 
 If we suppose them, on the one hand, to be purely supersensual 
 ideas, then we must have some rational faculty to grasp them, in- 
 asmuch as sensation can only take cognizance of the various mod- 
 ifications of matter ; or if, on the other hand, we suppose them, 
 with Locke, to be abstractions from our sensations, yet still we 
 must have the power of abstracting them, which is a process alto- 
 gether different from that of sensation itself, and one which it is 
 impossible to reduce to the same elements. Whence, again, do we 
 acquire our belief in the external world ? n you say, from sensa- 
 tion, — then beware lest some sceptical philosopher, like Hume, 
 plunge you in a sea of doubt respecting the reality of your sense- 
 perceptions ; a situation from which you are quite sure never to 
 be extricated until you admit some principle of primary belief, or 
 some original dictate of common sense prior to experience, from 
 which you may gain a firm conviction, that the judgments you 
 pass upon your sensations, respecting the material world, are valid. 
 Further, we might inquire, from what source we draw our notions 
 of power, of cause and effect, and some others of a similar nature. 
 The reduction of these to the level of sense and experience, as 
 Hume has shown by a process of irrefragable logic, would in the 
 end reduce creation to chance, rehgion to folly, and all mankind 
 to atheism. We urge, therefore, on these grounds, (and many 
 more might be enumerated,) the incapacity there is in the ideolog- 
 ical philosophy, to account for the most palpable /ac/5 of the hu- 
 man understanding. Physiological experience itself tells us, that 
 when certain stimuli urge any function into operation, they may 
 give rise to an action generically different from those stimuli them- 
 selves ; and by the same analogy we can conclude that the mental
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 347 
 
 excitement aflbrded by sensation may possibly give occasion to an 
 intellectual action which, in its nature, altogether ditTers tVom it ; 
 while actual observation raises that possibility into a sure and cer- 
 tain fact. 
 
 2. The sensational system we are considering, does not account 
 for the power of the will. There is in man a source of power — 
 a secret spring of action, of which every one is conscious, and 
 upon the consciousness of which every one acts — that we call self. 
 In whatever light we view our nature, we find such an invisible 
 energy, which cannot be accounted for upon any mechanical prin- 
 ciples, playing an important part in the whole of our conscious 
 existence. 
 
 If we study man physiologically, we must necessarily suppose a 
 self before we can account for the phenomena of muscular action, 
 which every hour presents. Cabanis himself, as we have before 
 remarked, although in his former publication he had denied the ex- 
 istence of anything beyond the nervous system, was obljo-ed after- 
 wards to admit some real and distinct unity, without which he 
 perceived it to be quite impossible to explain the formation, the 
 animation, and the preservation even of our material frame. Un- 
 doubtedly it might be urged, that the influence of a kind of animal 
 instinct may account for many of the actions of man, as well as 
 those of the brutes ; but there is within ourselves, in addition to 
 this, a higher power, which is sujierior to sense, which subdues the 
 very force of our instincts, which leads us perpetuallv to oppose 
 and thwart our mere animal nature, and which, so far from beinfr 
 synonymous with instinct, is possessed in an infinite variety of 
 intensity by men of the same bodily temperament and the same 
 natural propensities.* 
 
 If, again, we regard man as an intelligent being, here, also, we 
 find the will operating in every faculty we exercise. The power 
 of attention is nothing more or less than the will exerting itself in 
 modifying or prolonging the trains of thought — trains which are, 
 in fiict, never left to themselves uncontrolled, except in the hours 
 of sleep, reverie, or of mental disease. f The same voluntarv en- 
 ergy explains the rise of many of our fundauient.d ideas; it gives 
 
 * See a sniJill Tractate, by John Harlow. A.M., "On the Connection hrtween 
 PhysiolojTy and Mental Philoso|)hy." 
 
 t Cabanis admit.s the fact of attention, as one of the moilityinii conditions of the sen- 
 sational organs. "Cost I'attention de I'organc sensitif (jui met lesextn'milt'-s ner>'cuscs 
 en etat dc recevoir on dc. li ur transniettre riinpression tout cntiire." Stranije that he 
 never thought of asking what tlie altention of the sensitive organ involved. Assuredly 
 it implies something more tlian mere passive sensation itself
 
 348 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 US all the notion we have of poiver, and consequently of causality ; 
 it lies at the foundation of human liberty, and is therefore the cor- 
 ner-stone of all moral responsibility. Of this great agent in our 
 conscious existence, sensationalism, as held by the philosophers 
 now under our consideration, can render no account. M. Destutt 
 de Tracy, indeed, affirms a liberty in man, which he terms the power 
 to act — that is, the power of performing mechanical actions in obe- 
 dience to the investigation of our nervous system ; but this is by 
 no means an adequate explanation of the facts of the case. Whence 
 comes the determination to act upon certain fixed principles ; 
 whence the design that points at the accomplishment of great ob- 
 jects ; whence the energy which, in the pursuit of its purposes, 
 overcomes the allurements of sense, breaks down all the barriers 
 of our propensities, and despises weariness, suffering, and death 
 itself, in comparison with the fulfilment of the moral laws, to which 
 it owes eternal allegiance? Here are questions on which our 
 author is silent — here facts of daily life, to which his whole system 
 affords no solution. 
 
 3. We urge still further, that the French ideology does not ac- 
 count for the emotions of our nature. It commits an error in the 
 outset by confounding our emotional feelings with those which are 
 purely sensational. In sensation there is no intellectual action 
 whatever ; the mind is then existing merely in a receptive state ; 
 that is, it is simply feeling the impressions which, according to its 
 constitution, things from without are capable of making upon it. 
 Emotions, on the contrary, arise from some actual notion or con- 
 ception, which has been formed by the exercise of the intellect, 
 and which produces, according to its nature, corresponding feelings 
 or impulses in the mind. Every one can easily distinguish the 
 generic difference between the pleasurable feeling we derive from 
 the taste of an apple, and that which we derive from the oc- 
 currence of some auspicious event ; or between the painful feel- 
 ing arising from a grating sound, and that arising from any cir- 
 cumstance which inspires us with fear or dread. The former class 
 of feelings come from a material cause, and cease the instant their 
 cause is removed ; the latter arise from our inward perception of 
 something relating to our own interests, from a purely intellectual 
 idea, involving good or evil to ourselves. These fundamental dis- 
 tinctions are in the philosophy now before our attention altogether 
 confounded, and the nervous system is made so excessively and 
 incredibly sensitive, that it can shrink at an evil, or thrill at a
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN PRANCE. 349 
 
 prospect that may be realized a year, or perchance ten years 
 hence. 
 
 Of all the emotions, however, those which come under the prov- 
 ince of aesthetics are the least satisfactorily explained. On the 
 ideological principles, the emotion of beauty can be nothing more 
 than a peculiar kind of sensation, produced by a peculiar kind of 
 outward object. Now we do not at all deny that the emotion in 
 question does really arise with the presence of certain objects, 
 termed beautiful ; but if we analyze this emotion, we see that it 
 contains an element in it quite different from that which is here 
 supposed. We judge of beauty, whether it be in poetry, or paint- 
 ing, or nature, according to some internal model of perfection — 
 some beau-ideal which exists only in our own minds ; and we term 
 a thing beautiful or not, according to its greater or less resem- 
 blance to this standard. We never see a perfect model of beauty, 
 either in art or nature, and never, therefore, perceive our beau-ideal 
 embodied in the beau-real ; on the contrary, however lovely any 
 actual form may be, there is ever " aliquid immensum infini- 
 tumque," some pure abstraction of perfection immeasurable and 
 infinite in its nature, that still transcends it, and hes at the founda- 
 tion of all the higher exercise of taste and fancy. Again, we say 
 then, that the ideological school altogether fails of a theory, upon 
 which it is possible to explain all that is peculiar to the emotions 
 of the sublime and the beautiful. 
 
 4. We urge, lastly, that the system we are opposing does not ac- 
 count for the facts of our moral and religious nature. The founda- 
 tion of all morality, according to these philosophers, is utility in 
 the very lowest sense of the term ; and the aim of all duty is the 
 preservation of our physical enjoyment. These, we affirm, are the 
 morals that are exactly fitted for an animal, which derives all its 
 happiness from sense, and has no wish beyond the satisfaction of 
 its bodily instincts. Viewing man in this light, the catechism of 
 Volney is a very excellent summary of duty ; and. perhaps, might 
 lead on his theory of man to as great an amount of mere animal 
 pleasure as could be expected in the present constitution of things.* 
 In opposition to this, however, we contend, that to view human na- 
 ture in this light, is to strip it of everything that is great or good ; 
 to banish every true virtue from the world, as far as it is bound to 
 spring from a virtuous source ; and to hasten on a result, which 
 
 ♦ M. Dcstutt de Tracy, in his " Traitc de la Volonte," affirms the theory of Hobbcs, 
 that man's will or desire is his sole hiw ; that justice and injustice exist not in the 
 nature of things ; that all morahty is based upon human legislation.
 
 350 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 would end in the breaking up of every tie that holds human society 
 together. 
 
 There are in the human mind universally two great fundamen- 
 tal notions of right and wrong, which are as absolute in their na- 
 ture, and as impossible of being obliterated, as any fundamental 
 axioms of man's universal belief. The fact, that men of different 
 nations, in different ages, and in different states of mental develop- 
 ment, have held the most conflicting notions, as to what belongs to 
 the category of right, and what belongs to that of wrong, is no 
 evidence whatever against the universality of those fundamental 
 notions themselves ; nay, it rather proves that they always exist, 
 although the moral judgment may not be enlightened enough to 
 apply them to all the practice of life. These notions, moreover, 
 are accompanied with a moral emotion, which, while it gives us a 
 profound admiration for what is purely disinterested, acts as an 
 imperative, that becomes more and more powerful, in proportion to 
 the greater development of the moral faculty ; ever inciting us to 
 the avoidance of evil, and the constant pursuit of good. The 
 whole phenomena of our disinterested feelings ; the admiration and 
 enthusiasm we necessarily feel in the contemplation of any lofty ex- 
 amples of them, an enthusiam which rises higher just in proportion, 
 not to the utility, but to the sacrifice which accompanies their exer- 
 cise ; the entire absorption which such instances manifest in the 
 rectitude of the action, to the utter neglect of the suffering which 
 may accrue — all point us to a class of moral sentiments, to which 
 the notion of our physical preservation has not the very slightest 
 resemblance. 
 
 The ultimate aim, however, of these lofty and disinterested moral 
 feelings, is fully developed only in our religious nature, pointing us, 
 as it does, to a class of duties, altogether beyond the sphere of our 
 present life, and to a destiny extending itself into the immeasurable 
 futurity. The ideological philosophy, in the hands of Volney, was 
 professedly an atheistical one. Instead of attempting to account 
 for the universality of the religious emotions, it derided them ; and 
 when it found the arguments by which their validity was sustained 
 to be unanswerable, it deemed it convenient to enstamp all religious 
 actions and feelings as those, which were only fit for dupes, or pan- 
 derers to the profit of a knavish priesthood. To answer such argu- 
 ments as these, w^e have neither space nor inclination, as it would 
 be reasoning against a private hostility to religion, rather than a 
 philosophical objection. Whatever system of religion he might
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 351 
 
 adopt, unquestionably a true philosopher, who would give an ac- 
 count of all the elements of human nature, must not leave out, or dis- 
 miss with an incredulous smile, those deep sentiments and impulses 
 of a spiritual kind, which have played so immense a part in the his- 
 tory of the world, which have given to humanity its greatestforce in 
 every vast achievement, and lent it, as we think, its greatest glory. 
 
 The most purely abstract idea, perhaps, which we can take of 
 man is, that he is a force or a power sent into the universe to act 
 its part on the stage of being. The sensationalist views him as a 
 mechanical force, created by chance, seeking simply the preserva- 
 tion of its orgaaism, and accomplishing the destiny of a nature, 
 which strange to say, never had an intelligent designer. A more 
 enlarged philosophy views him as an intellectual and a moral force, 
 formed by the Being who is the centre and source of all intelli- 
 gence, and all goodness, and endowed for the present with an or- 
 ganization adapted to the material world around him. The great 
 aim of his being, in this view of it, is to develop more and more 
 the intellectual and moral energy of which his real and essential 
 nature consists ; to defend the body indeed, as the organ of its pres- 
 ent manifestation, but as it dies away, to prepare for a higher mani- 
 festation of intelligence and virtue, to which his religious aspira- 
 tions had been ever tending, and where his highest desires will be 
 ultimately fulfilled. 
 
 Before we take our leave, however, of the ideological philosophy, 
 we must mention a far more recent effort, which has been made, 
 both to advocate its principles, and to furnish them with additional 
 proofs and illustrations. I refer to the works of Dr. Broussais pub- 
 lished about the year 1828, one of which is entitled, " Traite de 
 Physiologic appliquce a la Pathologic," and another. " De I'lrritation 
 et de la Folic, ouvrage, dans lequel les Rapports du Physique et du 
 Moral sont etablis sur les Bases de la aNIedecine Physiologitjue." 
 These works are by no means the ]>roductions of a philosojiher, but 
 rather of a physician, who, ha\ ing devoted his life entirely to the 
 observation of pathological and j)hysiological phenomena, discov- 
 ers in them, as he imagines, the theory of all the mental ami moral 
 manifestations of which man is the subject.* In this view his aim 
 
 * Broussais' life was eventful. He was born near St. Malo, 177-2, nml after a wild- 
 spent youth, studied medicine at Brest. On conipletinjj his tmn of study, he spent 
 some years at sea, as sur<j<on to various ships of war. In 17'.19, he went to Paris, 
 where he prosecuted his studies with ^rn-at artlor, and took liis doctor's drirree. Soon 
 after he attached himself to the French army, and travelled in company with the troops 
 of Napoleon, throui^h the greater part of I'.uropc. In ISl |. he was aiijMnnted protessor 
 in the military hospital at Paris, where he remained till his death, which took place in 
 the year 1838.
 
 352 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 coincides with that of Cabanis, although his abiHty for carrying it 
 out was not by any means so great ; and in addition to this, the 
 style of invective in which he sometimes indulges against the spir- 
 itualists, gives to his writings a very unphilosophical aspect. To 
 enter minutely into the various physiological theories he propounds ; 
 into his attempts to determine the seat of the different mental or 
 moral powers ; into his disquisitions upon irritation and the physical 
 causes of madness, would require the knowledge peculiar to those 
 of his own profession. This is, however, the less necessary, be- 
 cause whatever theory may be advocated to account for such phe- 
 nomena, upon physical principles, it does not by any means set us 
 at rest upon the higher psychological questions, to which intel- 
 lectual philosophy gives its chief attention. The following will 
 give a general idea of his theory of mental phenomena. 
 
 Sensation, according to the last work above referred to, consists 
 in a circle of irritation or excitation, which traverses the human 
 system from the brain to the extremities of the nerves. Of this 
 irritation, sensibility is the direct result. Perception, again, is an 
 excitation of the cerebral matter ; and from this it is affirmed, all 
 the phenomena of intellection may be shown to spring. The emo- 
 tions originate in like manner, — "elles viennent toujours d'une 
 stimulation de I'appareil nerveux du percevant." Thus, in fact, 
 we have in Broussais the doctrine of Cabanis modified by a pecul- 
 iar theory of irritation ; a theory on which he laid great stress, 
 as being a most important discovery. In the second edition of 
 his work on the " Rapports du Physique et du Moral," Broussais 
 avowed himself on the side of phrenology, and by combining the 
 methods of reasoning employed respectively by Cabanis and Gall, 
 sought to render his positions impregnable. It must be confessed, 
 however, that in taking this course he was simply attempting to 
 find appliances to maintain a bad cause. We have shown already, 
 in the case of phrenology, that no analysis of our intellectual or 
 active powers, and no valid explanation of our fundamental ideas, 
 can, in the very nature of things, flow from the method of investi- 
 gation it adopts, inasmuch as our mental phenomona must have 
 been already duly considered, before any relation could be observed 
 between them and the different portions of the brain. In like man- 
 ner, whatever system, different from phrenology, be employed to 
 account for the facts of consciousness upon physical principles, 
 still there is the same necessity for metaphysical research, before 
 anything can be distinctly known of those mental processes which
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 353 
 
 we have to explain. With regard to theories of irritations or of 
 vibrations, or of any similar movements by which materialism is 
 supposed to be rendered feasible or intelligible, we have seen, in 
 om' general discussion of the materialist question, that such sys- 
 tems at best can be but mere hypotheses ; that even as hypotheses 
 ) they do not account for the central force by which the vital and 
 I intellectual organs are continually put into exercise ; that they in 
 ^ every case confound the organ itself with the real exciting cause 
 of the various functions ; and, lastly, that they totally fail in ex- 
 plaining the unity and simplicity of the mind, as witnessed by the 
 daily evidence of our consciousness.* 
 
 With Broussais we may consider, that the efforts of ideology 
 ; cease. Many, it is true, may still hold the principles it has sup- 
 ported ; but none, that we are aware of, are now to be found, who 
 are able or ready to maintain them on broad metaphysical grounds. f 
 The most complete and able attempts which France has made 
 during the present century to uphold sensational principles, are, 
 without doubt, to be found in this ideological school, which we have 
 just been reviewing. At the same time, there have been some few 
 other manifestations of a completely different character and com- 
 plexion, which, as belonging to the sensational philosophy of the 
 nineteenth century, it would be wrong to pass by unnoticed. We 
 must not forget, for instance, that the originator of the phrenolog- 
 ical system, Dr. Gall, though a German by birth, published his 
 researches chiefly in the French language ; and that, whatever 
 honor may be due to the school at large, at the head of which he 
 stands, it must be mainly attributed to the industry and intelligence 
 with which he pursued the subject in all its different bearings. 
 Gall died in the year 1828, leaving behind him the reputation of 
 being an earnest and sincere searcher after truth ; and though de- 
 cried by many, as being grossly materialistic in his views, yet it 
 is by no means evident that he really intended to advocate mate- 
 rialism, while it is quite certain that he strongly repelled the charges 
 of fatalism and immorality, which were attributed to his opinions. 
 Another erratic genius who shone with some brilliancy for a 
 time in the hemisphere of French philosophy, appeared in the per- 
 son of Azai's. His object was not merely to discuss the phenom- 
 
 • 
 
 • For critiques on Broussais' principles, see Damiron's " Essai sur I'Histoire de la 
 Phil." vol. i. p. 163 ; ami, still better, Tissot's " Anthropologic," vol. ii. chap. ii. sec. 2. 
 
 f M. Magendie stands on the side of the inatcriidi.sts, and ha.s attiMii|it('d to explain, 
 on physical principles, the " Rapports du Physique et du Moral ;'" but he is entirely a 
 physiologist, and by no means a philosopher. 
 
 23
 
 354 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ena of mind, but rather to embrace the whole universe in the grasp 
 of his philosophical system. The Lectures he delivered about the 
 year 1809, abounding at once with ease and elegance, gave great 
 popularity to his opinions, which were soon further developed and 
 discussed in three different works, entitled respectively, " Cours de 
 Philosophic Generale," " Precis du Systeme Universel," and "I'Ex- 
 plication Universel." To give an adequate description of the 
 theories contained in these voluminous works, would be a task by 
 no means brief, and far from easy ; but we refer the curious reader 
 to an elaborate article in the " Journal des Debats" of the 5th of 
 November 1824, a translation from which will be found in a Note 
 at the end of this volume.* 
 
 The only name which we have now further to adduce as be- 
 longing to the school of French sensationalism, is that of M. Comte, 
 whose brilliant scientific genius has raised him to the very highest 
 rank of modern authoi-s, and given him a reputation not confined 
 to France, but as extensive as the cultivation of philosophy itself. 
 M. Comte was originally an offspring of the school of Saint Simon, 
 and in some respects has ever retained an affinity with the doc- 
 trines of that remarkable sect ; yet his profound researches in 
 science, and his independence of mind as a thinker, have given him 
 a position far beyond that of a mere partisan to any system of phi- 
 losophy whatever. Up to the year 1816, he was a teacher in the 
 Polytechnic School at Paris: on relinquishing his more regular 
 duties there, he devoted ten years of his life to the preparation of 
 a course of lectures on Positive Philosophy : these he delivered in 
 1829, before an audience at Paris, comprehending many of the 
 most eminent philosophers of the country, and has since re-elabo- 
 rated and published. 
 
 To enter into the idea of the Positive philosophy, we must attend 
 for a moment to the estimate which M. Comte has made of the 
 present condition of human knowledge, as it appears upon the 
 stage of European civilization. All knowledge which aims at gen- 
 erality, he considers to be at present in an utterly disjointed state. 
 Systems of philosophy there are in abundance, and religions more 
 than enough, but all are for the most part in contradiction with 
 each other, so that in matter of fact, the whole sum of knowledge 
 they pretend to convey, is by one or another of them repudiated 
 and denied. The reason of this confusion may be twofold. Either 
 the mind of man may be searching for truth beyond the legitimate 
 * Vide Note C in the Appendix.
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 355 
 
 region of its actual knowledge, or it may not take a sufficiently 
 comprehensive view of that truth, which really does lie within its 
 grasp. The Positive philosophy essays to overcome these hin- 
 drances to the march of science ; it undertakes to dismiss all the 
 absolute ideas, all the a priori conceptions, all the theological chi- 
 meras which have fettered the human reason hitherto, and by com- 
 pleting the sum of the positive sciences, to rise by a purely experi- 
 mental pathway at the lofty elevation of a universal philosophy.* 
 
 To establish the justice of these views upon the present state of 
 human knowledge, ;uid confirm our hope in the new organum, M. 
 Comte attempts to grasp the great law of human progress — the 
 principle by which knowledge has developed itself along the path- 
 way of the ages. This law of progress is discovered in the fact, 
 that the human intellect in the case of individual nations, as well 
 as of humanity at large, passes through three distinct stages — the 
 theological, the metaphysical, and the positive. In his more infan- 
 tile and simple state, man reposes implicit faith in the supernatural ; 
 all the operations of nature have their appropriate deities, and its 
 secrets can only be unfolded by a Divine communication. The 
 highest form of this conception is monotheis7n, in which we see the 
 transition from the age of theology to that of metaphysics. In the 
 metaphysical age, the mind having elevated itself beyond the reach 
 of superstition, regards the phenomena of the universe not as the 
 interventions of Deity, but as implying the existence of real enti- 
 ties and metaphysical forces. These speculations again terminate 
 in the universal idea of nature, as the unity of those abstract agen- 
 cies, which are falsely imagined to have a real concrete existence. 
 So far, then, we see the human reason groping for truth in a region 
 beyond the limits in which truth can be scanned. f Amidst these 
 feeble endeavors, however, we note the rise of a scientific method, 
 which, by the certainty of its conclusions and the brilliancy of its 
 discoveries, stands in striking contrast with the systems we have 
 before described. This method is the positive — a system of philos- 
 ophy which, basing itself entirely upon palpable facts, and ignor- 
 ing everything beyond them, raises itself to the jierception of the 
 laws of the universe, and strives to inchide them all under one vast 
 but certain generalization. All the sciences, according to Comte, 
 invariably pass through this triple process. Some of them, such as 
 astronomy, physics, and chemistry, have already arrived at the 
 
 * Cours (le Phil. Pos. — See the " Considerations Ginerales sur la Nature el I'lmport- 
 ance de hi Phii. Positive." Vol. i. Jcc. i ; also vol. iv. lees. 4l> and 47. 
 f Cours dc Piii). Pos. vol. i. p. 3 — 7, and more fully in Lectures 'J5 to 5U.
 
 356 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 positive stage ; others of them, such as physiology, or as it is here 
 termed, biology, have only attained their second period of develop- 
 ment, while the whole science of humanity (sociology) is yet in its 
 first era — every theory hitherto propounded being hampered with 
 the false idea of a providence and a God.* 
 
 Having thus defined and settled the limits of the human reason, 
 M. Comte next proposes to make our knowledge general and com- 
 plete, by exhibiting the co-ordination of the sciences, and thus 
 rising by degrees to the summit of the pyramid. The classification 
 given us of the sciences at large, and their regular order of devel- 
 opment, is unquestionably a masterpiece of scientific thinking, as 
 simple as it is comprehensive. In studying the nature and relation 
 oi facts (for such is the whole province of the Positive philosophy), 
 the human mind begins with those which are at once the most 
 simple and the most general — those, namely, of number or mathe- 
 matics. Closely connected with numerical relations, at the first 
 remove above pure arithmetical abstractions, are those which refer 
 to the properties of space — the facts with which geometry is con- 
 versant ; and next above them mechanics, rationally considered. 
 These, then, form together the first or lowest rank in the co-ordi- 
 nation of the sciences. 
 
 Having investigated the phenomena of number and space, we 
 are in a condition to enter upon the higher investigation of matter, 
 which we find appears in its most simple and least complicated 
 form in the science of astronomy. There it is that we see the 
 great primary laws and movements of the material universe on a 
 gigantic and imposing scale. 
 
 Descending from this general view of the properties of matter 
 to the surface of our globe, we next carry our researches into the 
 department of terrestrial physics, in which the results are indeed 
 less definite and general than in astronomy, but far more rich and 
 diversified. 
 
 The fourth step brings us into the department of chemistry. 
 Here we have to observe the still more obscure and recondite 
 movements of physical agencies, working and interworking with 
 each other, until we are brought up to the point, where the mere 
 dynamical phenomena cease, and the wonders of organization 
 commence. 
 
 The fifth place, then, in the rank of the sciences, is Biology, a 
 branch which includes all the phenomena of life, from the lowest 
 
 * Vol. i. lee. ii. ' Sur la Hierarchie des Sciences Positives."
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 357 
 
 vegetable productions up to the highest organic structure as seen 
 in man. Here the complication and diversity of the facts pre- 
 sented become vastly exaggerated, and the science itself rendered 
 proportionally difficult and tardy in its development. 
 
 The last and top-stone of this magnificent evidence is Sociology, 
 the science of man, as he has appeared on the stage of history 
 from remote ages to the present time. Here we arrive at the great 
 term of human knowledge ; the chasm between the science of 
 mind, and all the rest, is filled up ; and thus, by the completion of 
 our positive knowledge, we rise to the attainment of ideas, which, 
 with all the certainty of experimental truth, unite all the generality 
 of metaphysical research. Who can fail to observe and admire 
 the perfect harmony of truth as here exhibited ? Commencing 
 with the most abstract region of our knowledge, we see one rank 
 arising above the other, each diminishing in certainty and general- 
 ity as it increases in richness and complexity, until the whole cir- 
 cuit is completed, the highest region won, and all the sciences 
 linked together by the harmonious order in which they are devel- 
 oped, by the onward march of humanity towards the completion 
 of truth. 
 
 Such is the general outline of M. Comte's theory, which we at 
 once perceive to be an enormous system of materialism, grounded 
 upon great research, and supported by all the aids, which physical 
 science, with its latest improvements, can present. All philos- 
 ophy, according to this system, rests upon the observation of out- 
 ward facts. In physics we observe the facts of the material 
 world, in physiology the phenomena of life, and in social physics 
 the historical facts of man's intellectual being ; the great and sole 
 object of philosophy being to classify and arrange these objects so 
 as to discover the laws of their progress, and bring those laws to 
 their highest possible generalization. This, it is affirmed, has been 
 accomplished by exhibiting the co-ordination of the sciences, and 
 by deducing the one great law of man's intellectual development. 
 On this system we remark — 
 
 1. Supposing the theory for a moment to be correct, and allow- 
 ing that, to account for the intellectual phenomena of mankind, 
 we have succeeded in bringing to light the threefold jirocess above 
 explained, still we arc far from having reached a firm and satisfac- 
 tory resting place. Admit that every science goes through its 
 theological, its metaj)hysical, and its positive era ; why, we ask, is 
 this wonderful law of development in operation ? Is it by chance
 
 358 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 that humanity is so formed ? Is it by some primaeval fate that 
 things should take such a direction ? If there be a law, surely 
 there must be a lawgiver. If there is a majestic plan by which 
 mankind marches on to its destiny, something or other must have 
 caused it. If history be so glorious a drama, some mind has cer- 
 tainly planned it, and watched over its execution. To eliminate a 
 law magnificent in its results, and then to deny any intelligent prin- 
 ciple from which it proceeded, can only be the part of determined 
 prejudice or egregious trifling with the highest truths. But — 
 
 2. This law, so greatly extolled, has in fact only a very partial 
 truth about it. That some of the natural sciences have passed 
 through the three stages described, may be readily admitted, with- 
 out for a moment supposing that the two former elements are in- 
 tended to be eventually merged in the latter. Theology and met- 
 aphysics form as necessary portions of our intellectual life, as does 
 positive science. Their proper sphere may become more accu- 
 rately defined as knowledge increases, but never can the one be 
 absorbed in any of the others. The reason of man ever strives, 
 and will strive after some fixed and absolute reality ; and his 
 moral nature will ever pant after the divine. While here and 
 there a grovelling spirit will sink itself in the earthly and material, 
 giving itself wholly up to the life of sense, the perpetual tendency 
 of mankind at large (and this is our highest appeal) is to seek a 
 reality beneath the fleeting phenomena around them, and to be- 
 lieve, with unwavering faith, that the world sprung from a Creator, 
 man from a God; 
 
 3. Positivism in denying the possibility of a mental philosophy, 
 at the same time supposes a mental theory of its own. The in- 
 ternal facts of consciousness do not come under those sensuous 
 manifestations to which the positive philosopher alone appeals ; 
 the only knowledge he pretends to have of the human mind is de- 
 rived either from the actions of mankind or the construction of 
 the brain. But we would ask — is it the same thing to observe the 
 outward actions of a man, and to consider the mental processes 
 from which they spring? or is it the same thing to note the or- 
 gans of the cerebral hemispheres, and to classify our powers, fac- 
 ulties, desires and emotions ? To maintain this, involves a theory 
 of mind far more untenable, as we have before shown, than that 
 which the positivist denounces as dark and unintelligible ; and 
 even this theory itself cannot exist without the aid of those very 
 facts of consciousness, which are so thoughtlessly disowned. Ex-
 
 I 
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 359 
 
 ternal facts can never reveal to us any law or phenomenon of 
 mind, until reflection has in our own case, made the inward world 
 clear to our understanding, and given us a psychology to start 
 with. The procedure of positivism with regard to psychology, 
 therefore, is to cancel openly a whole world of positive facts, and 
 then tacitly to admit them in the construction of its own material 
 theory. If we are at liberty to deal with facts in this manner, 
 any theory we choose may be easily maintained. 
 
 4. The great opposition of the positive philosophy, however, is 
 aimed mainly against the existence of necessary truth — of absolute 
 ideas. Here, however, we have the same spectacle repeated as in 
 the case above mentioned ; we have absolute ideas denied in one 
 breath, and then employed in the next. M. Comte is a great 
 mathematician ; and to give a coloring to his theory he speaks of 
 geometrical phenomena, as though the fundamental conceptions of 
 mathematical truth were mere sensuous images. Space, number, 
 time, perfect geometrical figures and ideas, all these may, indeed, 
 be phenomena to the human reason, but they are phenomena 
 which have nothing to do with the senses. The same may be 
 said of many other conceptions. Take the idea of law, an idea 
 on which the positive philosophy is itself grounded ; is it not the 
 conception of something fixed, unalterable, necessary ? Take 
 away its fixed and absolute character, and it will serve as a fun- 
 damental law no longer. Take the idea of substance — its denial 
 virtually annihilates the world, and involves us in the very depths 
 of a scepticism, against which the universal reason of mankind 
 eternally protests. Take the idea of cause — and here also we find 
 a conception, which, so long as the human will exists, breaks down 
 every attempt to reduce all nature and all being to an uncon- 
 nected series of individual facts. Take, in fine, the idea of duty, 
 and it is there alone that we can find a basis for all the moral 
 phenomena of humanity at large. Every system of philosophy, 
 every abstract science, though it should exclaim aloud against the 
 admission of absolute ideas, yet tacitly avails itself of them as the 
 very foundation on which it reposes. 
 
 5. Finally, even supposing the positive system could succeed in 
 freeing itself from these charges, and could really accomplish all it 
 professes — what would be gained by it after all — or rather, we 
 might say, what expectations would not be lost. Positivism, while 
 it seems to proflfer a boon with one hand, yet with the other throws 
 an impenetrable veil over everything which it most concerns us to
 
 360 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 know and to feel. What does it tell us of nature ? Nothing. It 
 merely points out to us a huge piece of machinery, and attempts 
 to discover the laws of its operation ; but it speaks not of its origin 
 — of its significancy — of its destination ; it throws no light upon 
 the forms of beauty it exhibits, upon the divine ideas it unfolds, 
 upon the moral influences it conveys to that highest of all terres- 
 trial creations — the human soul. What does it tell us of humanity ? 
 Nothing. It explains not why we exist — it tells us not whither we 
 are tending. The problem of moral evil is left a dark and cheer- 
 less mystery ; while the anticipations of the good are all buried in 
 the sepulchre of a stern and rugged materialism. What does it 
 tell us of freedom, of conscience, of accountability, of immortality ? 
 Nothing. Human freedom sinks into the law of a fixed and un- 
 changeable necessity — conscience is never allowed to testify of an 
 eternal justice to which the oppressed may ever appeal, and upon 
 whose decisions the righteous may rely for their ultimate vindica- 
 tion — wisdom and goodness, as possessed by man, cannot look be- 
 yond their own present imperfection, to a perfect wisdom, an 
 unsullied purity, to which we are ever tending — nor can hope 
 whisper the thought, that there is a life beyond life, that the intel- 
 ligence which gazes into the dim futurity, and the aspirations which 
 long for an eternal home, are any other than delusions — at once 
 our glory and our curse. Finally, what does it tell us of God ? 
 Again the answer we receive is nothing. Formerly it was said, 
 exclaims M. Comte, the heavens declare the glory of God ; but 
 now they only recount the glory of Newton and Laplace : nay, the 
 conceptions of the atheistic astronomers of France, are declared to 
 be far more perfect than those which the universe itself has been 
 able to realize. " These heavens, this harmonious universe," says 
 M. Saisset, " which filled the mind of Newton, of Kepler, of Lin- 
 naeus, with religious enthusiasm, MM. Comte and Littre consider 
 to be imperfectly constructed ; they so far forget themselves, as to 
 say that the universe exhibits a degree of wisdom inferior to that 
 which man possesses, and that it is easy in the detail, as well as in 
 the whole, to conceive one far better. What ! has the nature of 
 things been so clumsv, and so little consistent with itself? has it 
 been able to people space with infinite worlds, and make to circu- 
 late through all existence the torrents of life ; and yet has it not 
 been able to give them laws sufficiently reasonable to secure the 
 approbation of one of its innumerable creatures ? What ! can it 
 produce the very intelligence of these two philosophers, and yet
 
 SENSATIONALISM IN FRANCE. 361 
 
 not equal it in its plans and combinations ? That which MM. 
 Comte and Littre, forsooth, conceive in their study, that which, 
 according to their own theory, germinates in the brain of these 
 two feeble organic machines destined to endure but for a day, is 
 more reasonable, more beautiful, more harmonious, than the system 
 of existence which nature realizes in its eternal evolution athwart 
 the immensity !" 
 
 With all the admiration we cannot but have for our author's 
 brilliant scientific genius, we cannot but deplore the illusions which 
 such minds, charmed with a theory, and absorbed in the investiga- 
 tion of the visible alone, gradually practise upon themselves. M. 
 Comte admits that the stability of the solar system is absolutely 
 necessary to the preservation of all animal existence ; but instead 
 of seeing any design in this beautiful adaptation of things to an 
 end, he attempts to show that such stability is but the natural re- 
 sult of the mechanical laws, by which the heavenly bodies perform 
 their movements ; and this is his substitute for a God ! But here 
 just as much is left to account for as before ; nay, go back as we 
 may, resolving phenomena after phenomena into their simpler laws, 
 yet there is just as much necessity as ever for us to assume the 
 existence of a great first cause, unless we choose to subvert all the 
 indestructible notions upon which we are obliged to act in all the 
 practical affairs of life. Every action of the body, every effort of 
 the mind, every volition of whatever kind, reveals to our con- 
 sciousness the notion of a spiritual power, from which the source 
 of our own action proceeds. Starting from this inward revela- 
 tion, the reason of mankind cannot gaze upon the phenomena of 
 the universe, without assigning a spiritual power of infinite gran- 
 deur as the " primum mobile" of the whole. As well can we deny 
 self, the cause of our own actions, as deny God, the cause of the 
 Jiosmos, the universe of order around us. This first step, that of 
 the real existence of a supreme being, the source of law, being ex- 
 torted, the keystone to a system of mechanical materialism, such 
 as that contained in the " Course of Positive Philosophy," is taken 
 away ; its massive structure crumbles piecemeal before the force 
 of spiritual truth, and with it the immortal hopes and aspirations 
 of our nature return to smile upon the path of human life. 
 
 We only quote, in conclusion, the beautiful language of a re- 
 viewer well able to appreciate the merits as well as the errors of 
 the positive philosophy : — " Had the opinions we have been com- 
 bating been maintained by those rasii speculators, who are per-
 
 362 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 mitted at distant intervals to disturb the tranquillity of the religious 
 world, we should not have allowed them to interfere with ours. 
 But when a work of profound science, marked with great acute- 
 ness of reasoning, and conspicuous for the highest attributes of 
 intellectual power — when such a work records the dread senti- 
 ment, that the universe displays no proofs of an all-directing mind, 
 and records it too as the deduction of unbiassed reason, the appal- 
 ling note falls upon the ear as like the sounds of desolation and death. 
 The life-blood of the affections stands frozen in its strongest and 
 most genial current, and reason and feeling but resume their as- ■ 
 cendency, when they have pictured the consequences of so fright- 
 ful a delusion. If man is thus an orphan at his birth, and an 
 outcast in his destiny ; if knowledge is to be his punishment and 
 not his pride ; if all his intellectual achievements are to perish with 
 him in the dust ; if the brief tenure of his being is to be renounced m 
 amid the wreck of vain desires, of blighted hopes, and of bleed- f 
 ing affections — then in reality, as well as in metaphor, is life a 
 dream."* 
 
 * The above remarks apply to the spirit of Comte's philosophy as a vihole. No can- 
 did mind can refuse to acknowledge the great merit there is in many of his separate 
 researches, both in physical science and in sociology.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF MODERN IDEALISM. 
 
 In tracing the progress of idealism from tiie revival of modern 
 philosophy to the opening of the present century, we described 
 four different movements which it exhibited respectively in four 
 different parts of Europe. The Frei*ch movement was seen to 
 develop itself first in the school of Descartes, and to evaporate at 
 length either into the revived Platonism of Malebranche, or the 
 realistic pantheism of Spinoza, The English idealism, polemical 
 in its origin, and living a life of contest rather than one of calm 
 and lofty repose, we saw gradually retiring before the power of its 
 adversary, and ere the eighteenth century was ended, well nigh 
 extinguished under the advancing sensationalism of the successors 
 of Locke. The German idealism, on the contrary, seemed des- 
 tined to realize nobler fortunes. Sent forth under the auspices of 
 Leibnitz, the greatest scholar and perhaps thinker of his a""e, it 
 enjoyed, during its infancy, a prosperous career in connection 
 with the logical order of the Wolfian school ; then, taking another 
 direction, it poured astonishment over Europe, through the works 
 of the immortal Kant ; and at the close of the century only seemed 
 preparing for a still grander development, and a still bolder flight. 
 Lastly, the philosophy of Scotland, although perhaps most vigorous 
 and most original when in the hands of Reid, its real founder, yet 
 appeared at the close of the last century to promise for the present 
 a development of its resources, in some measure corresponding to 
 the victory it had already achieved over the pretensions of scep- 
 ticism. 
 
 The two anti-sensational forces, therefore, which meet our view 
 on stepping over the threshold of the nineteenth century, are the 
 respective philosophies of Scotland and Germany. Upon these it 
 devolved to carry on the combat against the materialism of Eng- 
 land and France ; and from thes^were derived the fruitful germs
 
 364 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 of thought, which have now succeeded in producing a reaction in 
 favor of idealism in both those countries. In pursuing, then, the 
 history of the idealistic tendency through our own age, we must 
 first look to Scotland and Germany, as the sources of its chief 
 movements ; having done this, we shall be the better able to esti- 
 mate their effect upon our own country, and their share in the rise 
 of the modern eclecticism of France. This sketch, as far as Scot- 
 land, Germany, and England are concerned, we shall assign to the 
 present chapter ; the history of modern eclecticism, although 
 strictly anti-sensational, yet, as presenting several peculiarities, 
 we must reserve for a separate consideration. 
 
 Sect. I. — The Scottish School of the Nineteenth Century. 
 
 The rise and progress of the Scottish metaphysics during the 
 last century have been already noticed in a former chapter. Up 
 to the time of Reid, as we then saw, the representationalist theory 
 of perception, though not in its strictly Aristotelian form, was the 
 general belief of the philosophical world ; and upon its foundation 
 the edifice of scepticism, as erected by Berkeley and Hume, mainly 
 rested. Against this system the philosophy of Reid was the natu- 
 ral reaction ; and as the effect of all scepticism is to send us back 
 again to first principles, so it was only a thing to be reasonably 
 expected, that the bold and sweeping scepticism of Hume should 
 give rise to a proportionally deep and thorough revision of the 
 fundamental principles of human knowledge. The key to all that 
 Dr. Reid ever wrote upon these topics may be found in the one 
 consideration, that he stood forth as the professed opponent of phil- 
 osophical scepticism, and had from the first determined to devote 
 his whole life, to tear up the very deepest roots from which it 
 sprung. Hence arose his attack upon the doctrine of ideas, as 
 being the nfjunoi' i/'evdo; of his adversaries; hence his opposition 
 to the empirical tendency of Locke's refutation of innate ideas , 
 hence his assertion of the immediacy of our knowledge of the ex- 
 ternal world ; hence, in a word, his principle of common sense, by 
 means of which he sought to enlist the universal consent of man's 
 intelligence against the subtle, and sweeping conclusions of a false 
 philosophy. The very position in which Reid was placed, threw 
 him back upon the only true method of all metaphysical investiga- 
 tion, that of reflection and inward analysis. Once taught rightly
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 365 
 
 to interpret the observed facts of our consciousness, he found it no 
 insuperable task to overturn the false hypotheses which had up to 
 that time held an undisputed place in most metaphysical systems. 
 
 The polemical character, however, of Reid's philosophy, neces- 
 sarily gave it a peculiarity unfavorable to its systematic develop- 
 ment. Occupied as he was in pulling down, he had but little time 
 to build up ; and even that which he did succeed in erecting had 
 rather the character of an outpost strongly placed to defend the 
 citadel of truth, than of fresh turrets tending to beautify or enlarge 
 it. Moreover, the opposition he was called upon to sustain against 
 the almost universal voice of authority, both in ancient and modern 
 philosophies, naturally led him to underrate a correct knowledge 
 of their nature and history, and to deprive himself of many of the 
 aids which a more extensive study ol' the best metaphysical writ- 
 ings would have afforded.* All this tended to give an air of in- 
 completeness to his system ; so much so indeed, that he appeared 
 before the world not exactly as a philosopher, but rather in the 
 character of an earnest mind, contending only for a few great 
 principles of truth, and willing, when those main positions were 
 gained, to rest content with the first great victory, and leave to 
 his successors the task of following it up into all its legitimate con- 
 sequences. The more immediate successors of Reid> however, 
 failed to do this. Furnished with their new philosophical organon, 
 that of common sense, they did little more than celebrate a kind 
 of perpetual ovation over the conquest which their great prede- 
 cessor had by its means achieved ; or, if they ever attempted 
 themselves to wield it against other enemies, they did so with far 
 less nerve and proportionally small success. 
 
 Amongst the successors of Reid, however, there was one disciple, 
 inspired with profound veneration for his master, and deeply im- 
 bued with his spirit, who rose to a distinction far above the rest, 
 and succeeded in giving to his country's ])hilosophy a popularity, 
 which, in the want of some such advocate, it would, in all proba- 
 bility, never have obtained. The reader will at once perceive that 
 I refer to Dugald Stewart, of whose writings we must now take a 
 brief review. 
 
 This celebrated author, whose works form so large an item in 
 the philosophical history of Scotland during the present century, 
 was born in the year 1753. In 1773, he became professor of 
 
 ♦ Not that Rcid wiis altogether insensible to the value of the History of Philosophy. 
 Indeed, he reckons it as one among the ])roper means of knowing the operations of the 
 «^ human mind. " Intellectual Powers," chap. v.
 
 366 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 mathematics in the University of Edinburgh, and in 1785, was 
 raised to the chair of moral philosophy. His first work, entitled, 
 " Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind," was published 
 is 1792, and obtained considerable celebrity as a clear and eloquent 
 exposition of the philosophy of Dr. Reid. It was translated into 
 French by M. Prevost of Geneva, and extensively read on the 
 Continent as well as in our own country. In the next year he 
 published his " Outlines of Moral Philosophy," which comprehended 
 the chief results of the Scottish school on the moral phenomena of 
 the human mind, and which have been more recently translated 
 by M. Jouffroy, with an invaluable preface as introduction. In 
 the year 1810, appeared his " Philosophical Essays," in which many 
 of the points at issue between the philosophy of Locke, and that 
 of Reid, are very clearly portrayed, and a lengthened disquisition 
 added on the philosophy of taste. This work was introduced to 
 the French public by M. Huron. In the year 1814, appeared the 
 second volume of the " Elements of the Philosophy of the Human 
 Mind," comprehending his analysis of the intellectual powers, and 
 a very full exposition of the fundamental laws of human belief, 
 an expression which he substituted for Reid's " Principles of Com- 
 mon Sense." The next two years were occupied in writing his 
 " Preliminary Dissertation on the Progress of Metaphysical, Ethi- 
 cal, and Political Philosophy," the first part of which was published 
 in the Supplement to the " Encyclopaedia Britannica," in the year 
 1816, the second part in the year 1821. So clear, so elegant, and 
 in many respects, so learned is the exiiibition there given of the 
 gradual development of metaphysical philosophy in Europe, and so 
 acute the strictures on the different systems which it details, that 
 many ground his chief claim to a lasting reputation upon these 
 rather than upon any of his more systematical writings. The third 
 volume of the " Elements" was published in the year 1827, and in 
 1828, the year of his death, came out his last work, entitled, " Phi- 
 losophy of the Active and Moral Powers of Man."* 
 
 Respecting Stewart's ability as a writer, there never has been, 
 as far as we know, but one opinion, and that decidedly favorable. 
 His reading upon all metaphysical subjects, (with the exception of 
 the more modern German philosophy,) appeared to be almost as 
 extensive as the literature itself; his judgment upon the merits of 
 the different authors was, for the most part, clear and comprehen- 
 
 * The second volume of the " Elements" was translated into French by M. Farcy ; 
 the preliminary discourse, by M. Buchon ; and the " Philosophy of the Active and 
 Moral Powers," by MM. Simon and Huron.
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 367 
 
 sive ; his own mind exhibited all the traces of the scholar and the 
 man of taste, while his easy and attractive style seemed to throw 
 a charm, and an interest around the most abstruse and forbiddinij: 
 subjects. There can be little doubt but that the Scottish meta- 
 physics, while they derived their bone and sinew from Dr. lleid, 
 yet owed to the labors of his successor all that mould and synmie- 
 try, that order and beauty, which have given them a popularity 
 greater than any philosophical treatises in the English language, 
 which have appeared in modern times. 
 
 To give a criticism on Stewart's philosophy, as a whole, would 
 be, in fact, nothing more than to repeat what we have already said 
 of his predecessor and instructor, Dr. Reid ; the points in which he 
 has departed from Reid's opinions being comparatively very few, and 
 those few but of slight importance. It may be useful, however, to 
 mention one or two particulars, in which Stewart may be said to 
 have rendered essential service to the philosophy of Scotland, and 
 to have excelled all those who preceded him in the same de- 
 partment. 
 
 1. He introduced many great improvements into the metaphys- 
 ical jo/iraseo/o^y of his school. The most prominent instance of 
 this is seen in the I'act of his discarding the term " principles of 
 common sense," (the very term by which Reid and his immediate 
 successors have chiefly characterized their system,) and convey- 
 ing the same idea under the more dignified expression, " Fundamen- 
 tal Laws of Human Belief" The term, " principles of common 
 sense," was in many respects objectionable : it appeared to place 
 common sense in direct opposition to philosophy, and by implica- 
 tion, to assert that the two were altogether irreconcilable. Stewart 
 perceived the disadvantage which arose from this circumstance, 
 and proceeded with a laudable zeal to remove it. 
 
 To accomplish this end, he analyzed more closely than had been 
 done before, the notions which Reid intended to convey under the 
 ex^jression itself, and showed that, properly speaking, they refer to 
 the pi'imary elements of our reason, rather than, (as Reid imi)lied,) 
 to the princi})les upon which reasoning is conducted. Common 
 sense, we know, in the popular use of the term, is opposed to an 
 incorrect and an untenable method of inference, to the habit of 
 drawing false conclusions, or of admitting premises on slight evi- 
 dence. On the other hand, the primary elements of man's reason 
 are altogether of a different nature ; their absence would imply 
 absolute insanity ; so that, instead of terming them principles of
 
 368 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. ' 
 
 common sense, they should rather be desygnated fundamental laws 
 of human belief, without which it were impossible for the mind to 
 perform one of the intellectual operations, for which it is destined. 
 " The former expression," Stewart remarks, " would only imply 
 that we were apt to foil into absurdities and improprieties in the 
 common concerns of life ; but to denominate such laws of belief 
 as we have been considering, ' constituent elements of human rea- 
 son,' while it seems quite unexceptionable in point of technical 
 distinctness, cannot justly be censured as the slightest deviation 
 from our habitual forms of speech." We give this as a specimen 
 (perhaps the most striking one which could be brought forward) 
 of the care which our author bestowed on his philosophical phrase- 
 ology. He well knew that nothing tended so much to raise met- 
 aphysical speculations above objections and misunderstanding, 
 nothing to commend it so much to the common intellect of man, 
 nothing so much to place it on a firm and lasting basis, as to clothe 
 it in distinct, appropriate, and intelligible language.* 
 
 2. Another service which Stewart rendered, was to revise the 
 classification, which Reid had left behind him, of the phenomena 
 of the human mind. The fundamental principle of classification is 
 the same in each, that, namely, which divides all mental phenomena 
 into intellectual and active powers. Under each of these two heads 
 Reid drew out a long list of faculties or feelings, which he too 
 hastily set down as original and peculiar facts of our mental con- 
 stitution, apparently with little attempt to resolve them into any 
 more primary elements. The instinctive principles especially were 
 very imperfectly classified in Reid's philosophy, since they were 
 made so numerous and complicated, that the effect was rather to 
 perplex, than to throw any additional light upon the subject. Stew- 
 art, though far from giving a classification which can be considered 
 unobjectionable, yet thoroughly revised that of his predecessor ; 
 applied to many parts of it a closer and better analysis ; and if he 
 did not accomplish all that could be wished on this head, yet point- 
 ed out the way to those who soon after succeeded him. No doubt 
 the excessive simplification of the sensationalist school was the 
 ground of Reid's jealousy against resolving the phenomena of mind 
 into a very small number of original elements : neither, with the ab- 
 surd conclusions of the French materialists before his eyes, was 
 Stewart very likely to venture with much boldness upon any spec- 
 
 * On this point, see his observations, "on the vagueness and ambiguity of the com- 
 mon philosophical language, relative to the reason," &c. — Elements, Part. 2, prelimi- 
 nary remarks.
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 3gQ 
 
 ulations of the same nature. Notwithstanding this, however, he 
 furnished many instances of elegant analysis, which not only intro- 
 duced decided improvements into Reid's classification, but prepared 
 the way for others to proceed still further on the same road. 
 
 3. But one of the greatest services which Stewait rendered to 
 the philosophy of his country, is due to the manner in which he il- 
 lustrated, confirmed, and adorned it by his learning. Reid seemed 
 as if he gloried in standing directly opposed to the authority of 
 more than two thousand years. Stewart, on the contrary, rather 
 sought to prove, that the philosophy of other ages and other nations 
 often tended to support his own. The former had to fight the 
 battle for first principles so sternly, that he hardly thought of pro- 
 ceeding further when the victory was once achieved ; the latter 
 came forward when the contest was already over, and' had abun- 
 dant leisure to confirm the main conclusions they had educed by 
 an appeal to extraneous sources. 
 
 Than Stewart, few men, perhaps, were ever better enabled to 
 carry on this kind of research. Devoted exclusively to philo- 
 sophical studies, holding a position which gave abundant leisure 
 from professional duties, situated in a literary capital where books 
 to any extent were at his command, he enjoyed every facility 
 which was needed to aid him in mastering the history of philos- 
 ophy and in applying it to the enlargement and perfection of his 
 own system. Learning always inspires confidence ; we naturally 
 place reliance upon those, who build upon the well-known experi- 
 ence of past ages ; and this was, doubtless, one of the methods by 
 which Stewart gained the confidence of so many of his contem'- 
 poraries upon most of the questions which involve metaphysical 
 analysis. He appeared evidently writing upon topics which he 
 had thoroughly mastered, respecting which he knew the well-nicrh 
 universal voice of history ; and this alone was sufficient to give 
 him a power to influence the opinions, and to gain the suff'rafTes 
 of mankind, which a more original and a less learned philosopher 
 would probably have wanted. 
 
 Whilst, however, we can easily find so much to commend in the 
 writings we have been thus briefly reviewing, there are points of 
 no little consequence, to which we might make ecjually decisive 
 objections. There are certain theories, for exnmple, involved in 
 his classification of the powers of the human mind, which, if strictly 
 followed out, would have gone far to despoil his philosophy of its 
 peculiar excellence. The classification itself is a? follows:^ 
 
 24
 
 370 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 1. Consciousness; 2. Perception; 3. Attention; 4. Conception; 
 5. Abstraction ; 6. Association of Ideas ; 7. Memory ; 8. Imagina- 
 tion ; 9. Judgment or Reasoning. 
 
 Now, first of all, to make consciousness a separate faculty per- 
 fectly collateral with the others, involves a principle, which would 
 soon have re-opened the floodgates of scepticism, and contravened 
 the very conclusions which both Reid and himself with so much 
 labor had established. Consciousness, as viewed by Stewart, is 
 defined to be " the faculty hy which we are cognizant of our other 
 mental operations^* If this limitation of the term be correct, 
 then, of course, we can never appeal to consciousness for the truth 
 of any objective reality. All for which we can make a direct ap- 
 peal to consciousness is for the process of knowing, never for the 
 thing known. Now, the great and fundamental principle of the 
 school of Reid is, that we perceive external things immediately, 
 that we need no image, or idea, or modification of mind as the me- 
 dium ; but that the common belief of mankind (namely, that we 
 really see, feel, &c., external things themselves) is literally correct.f 
 Once admit that, after I have perceived an object, I need another 
 power termed consciousness, by which I become cognizant of the 
 perception, and by the medium of which the knowledge involved 
 in perception is made valid to the thinking self, and the plea of 
 " common sense" against scepticism is cut off". On this principle 
 we are only conscious, after all, of a subjective state ; the objective 
 reality, which we suppose it to involve, may still be a delusion, and 
 we are just as far from controverting the pretensions of the scep- 
 tic as ever. 
 
 Perception, as we have before shown, involves a relation betiveen 
 my subjective self and an objective reality : it is the percipient mind 
 brought into direct contact with the qualities of matter through the 
 medium of its own organism ; take away either of the terms, and 
 the perception is no more ; so that, to be conscious of a percep- 
 tion evidently involves a direct consciousness of the object as well 
 as the subject. If this be true, it follows at once that conscious- 
 ness cannot be a fact of mind resting on the same footing and col- 
 
 * In the " Outlines of Moral Philosophy," (p. 18,) Stewart gives another and similar 
 definition. " This word denotes the immediate knowledge which the mind has of its 
 sensations, and thoughts, and in general of all its present operations." 
 
 t This is Reid's professed doctrine. It must be confessed, however, that he has com- 
 promised it by making the primary qualities of matter to be su<r!^estcif on occasion of 
 our experience of a sensation bycertain unknown causes. If we have no iiniiicdiate 
 intuition of the primary attributes of matter, we are still within the sphere of our sub- 
 jectivity, still virtually Idealists. Vld. Reid's " Inquiry," sec. vii with Sir W. Hamil- 
 ton's remarks upon it. 
 
 \ 
 
 ■f
 
 THE SCOTTKH SCHOOL. 371 
 
 lateral with perception ; that is to say, it cannot be co-ordinate 
 generally with the other intellectual faculties. Were this the case 
 we should have in each instance two faculties to perform the same 
 office — a redundancy which would be sufficient to condemn any 
 f classification that could for a moment admit it. Consciousness, 
 then, ought on Reid's principles to have been explained, not as a 
 separate faculty, but as a more universal term, implying the gene- 
 ral condition of reflective intelligence. I am conscious of self, 
 and I am conscious of not self; my knowledge of both in the act 
 of perception is equally direct and immediate ; on the other hand,- 
 to make consciousness a peculiar faculty, by which we are simply 
 cognizant of our own mental operations, is virtually to deny the 
 immediacy of our knowledge of the external world, and to restore 
 the representationalist's hypothesis in a more subtle form. Hence 
 we maintain, that had Reid or Stewart carried out their doctrine 
 of consciousness to its full results, they would have completely sub- 
 verted their original conclusions, and lost the victory which they 
 seemed to have won.* 
 
 The second of Stewart's original faculties is perception. On 
 this point it is needless to make any further remarks. We have 
 already shown in the case of Reid, that the philosophy of percep- 
 tion was well commenced, but not fully completed. Stewart did 
 nothing to improve the analysis, but simply conveyed the results 
 of Reid's thinking in more elegant and popular language. f Scot- 
 land owes it to the present professor of logic in its first university, 
 that the philosophy of common sense has in this respect been 
 made free from the objections which have hitherto attached to it, 
 and the whole question fixed upon a basis, which neither the scep- 
 tic nor the idealist will be able very readily to subvert. 
 
 The third of the above-mentioned list of faculties is attention. 
 " It seems to be a principle," remarks Stewart, " sufficiently ascer- 
 tained by common experience, that there is a certain act or exer- 
 
 * It would be a convenient distinction if the term self-consciousness were always 
 employed whenever we wish to ex|)rc.ss the mind's cognizance of its own operations. 
 This would help to remove the false notion that we can appeal to consciousness for 
 nothing beyond them. I am aware that we must admit a dilTerencc in the (Urcclness 
 of the evidence which we derive from self-consciousness for the existence of our own 
 mental phenomena, and that of consciousness at large, as voucher for the truth of our 
 ])rimary beliefs. To deny the facts of sell-consciousness, such as tiiouglits, notions:, &c., 
 would be a contradiction in terms ; the very denial of them involves their existence, 
 because to doubt is to think. To deny the deliverances of consciousness, however, on 
 the validity of our primary beliefs, would not be an absolute contradiction, but would 
 merely involve the assertion that our very constitution deceives us, and that the most 
 intimate and peculiar utterances of our nature are talse and delusive. 
 
 ■f See Stewart's timid account of the whole question in his " Elements." Part i. 
 chap. i. sec. 3.
 
 372 MODERN ^ILOSOPHY. 
 
 tion of the mind necessary to fix in the memory the thoughts and 
 perceptions of which we are conscious. This act is one of the 
 simplest of all our intellectual operations ; and yet it has been very 
 little noticed by writers on pneumatology."* Here we see the 
 evil effects of that false classification of our faculties into those of 
 the understanding and those of the will. Had it been seen by 
 Stewart, that will, activity, power of causation, expressed the most 
 intimate nature of the soul itself, he would not have required to 
 make a separate faculty for the particular exertion of the will, as 
 applied to our sensations or mental conceptions. 
 
 The next three faculties, namely, conception, abstraction, and 
 association, may be likewise reduced to more primitive elements, 
 as indeed has been done by several of the more modern writers of 
 the Scottish school. The two former resolve themselves into other 
 ■^vmniwe, powers ; the last indicates an ultimate law of mind, that 
 regulates the flow of all our ideas and feelings, rather than a sepa- 
 rate intellectual power, by which we gain any distinct and peculiar 
 species of knowledge. 
 
 All these errors of classification, however, in Stewart's philoso- 
 phy, are in fact the result of a still more fundamental imperfection, 
 by which it is encumbered. Reid, as we have before observed, 
 evinced some tendency to reduce philosophy to an ordinary branch 
 of inductive science ; but was too deeply imbued with right views 
 on the nature and necessity of reflection, to carry this tendency to 
 any excess. Not so with Stewart. Throughout his whole writ- 
 ings, the inductive method seems to be his great idol. Nothing will 
 do but facts, phenomena, observation — Baconian induction ; all to 
 be used, moreover, with a due share of discretion not to trespass a 
 foot beyond the beaten road which has been thus pointed out to us. 
 All this, no doubt, has a plausible aspect about it ; but it should be 
 remembered, that the method of reflection, by which alone our in- 
 ward life can be scientifically known, is a very different process 
 from that of outward observation, as applicable to the world of 
 nature. When we gaze upon nature, all we can see is simply 
 the succession of events ; of the powers which are in operation, 
 we can know nothing directly. On the other hand, when we ob- 
 serve the operations of our own minds, we have not only the per- 
 ception of successive phenomena, but a most intimate conscious- 
 ness of the power itself by which those phenomena are regulated, 
 and thus ascend from the actual to the necessary — from what is, 
 * Outlines of Mor. Phil. p. 36.
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 373 
 
 to what must be. In this way we penetrate a step further into the 
 nature of things, than mere observation could carry us ; and by the 
 personal consciousness of our own volitions as causes, we gain a 
 faint conception (which, however, may be strengthened by reflec- 
 tion to almost any amount) of the wondrous operations exerted in 
 upholding and carrying on the universe of existence around us. 
 On this point, however, we shall not enlarge, as it will soon come 
 more fully before our notice in giving a general estimate of the 
 Scottish philosophy. 
 
 On the whole, we consider that the philosophy of Stewart, even 
 to a greater extent than that of Reid, was too primary. He was 
 so much employed in defending the outposts which had been won, 
 in strengthening them against any fresh attacks, and in ornament- 
 ing them by his learning and taste, that comparatively little prog- 
 ress was made in building up a complete system. He was rather 
 the acute and elegant critic, than the profound and systematic 
 philosopher ; and his labors, perhaps, are more highly to be esti- 
 mated by the ardor and enthusiasm with which they were calcu- 
 lated to inspire others in the pursuit of intellectual science, than 
 by the actual results which they themselves succeeded in educing. 
 The sentiments expressed by Thomas Carlyle, nearly twenty years 
 ago, in the " Edinburgh Review," we regard as one of the most 
 accurate judgments which have been passed upon Stewart as a 
 philosopher. " The name of Dugald Stewart is a name venerable 
 to all Europe, and to none more dear and venerable than to our- 
 selves. Nevertheless his writings are not a philosophy, but a 
 making ready for one. He does not enter on the field to till it, he 
 only encompasses it with fences, invites cultivators, and drives 
 away intruders ; often (fallen on evil days) he is reduced to long 
 arguments with the passers-by to prove that it is a field, that this 
 so highly prized domain of his is, in truth, soil and substance, not 
 clouds and shadow. We regard his discussions on the nature of 
 philosophic language, and his unwearied efforts to set forth and 
 guard against its fallacies, as worthy of all acknowledgment, as, 
 indeed, forming the greatest, perhaps the only true improvement 
 which philosophy has received among us in our age. It is only to 
 a superficial observer, that the import of these discussions can 
 seem trivial : rightly understood, they give a sufficient and final 
 answer to Hartley's and Darwin's and all other possible forms of 
 materialism, the grand idolatry, as we may rightly call it, by which,
 
 374 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 in all times, the true worship, that of the Invisible, has been pol- 
 luted and withstood." 
 
 The tendency of the Scottish philosophy, up to the point where 
 we have now arrived, was clearly and decidedly anti-sensational. 
 The main efforts both of Reid and Stewart, were directed to the 
 establishment of certain fundamental truths, (whether termed prin- 
 ciples of common sense or primary laws of belief,) which could not 
 be subjected on the ground of their empirical origin to the bold 
 attacks of the sceptic. There can be no doubt but that both those 
 writers, with so many evil examples of over-simplification before 
 their eyes, were restrained from carrying out their analysis to the 
 extent they would otherwise have done, and that they were thus 
 led to assign a far greater number of original powers or instincts 
 than were necessary to account for all the phenomena of the case. 
 At the same time the error was on the safe side, especially in an 
 age when everything in the form of philosophy, both in England 
 and France, was rapidly assuming a materialistic and empirical 
 character. The tone of Scottish philosophy, however, was now 
 destined to undergo a very considerable change. Already in the 
 writings of Stewart there were manifested, as we have before re- 
 marked, some attempts at a bolder analysis ; and these attempts 
 were not likely to be lost upon the ardent minds which succeeded 
 him — minds in some instances deeply imbued with the empirical 
 spirit of the age. 
 
 From the close of Stewart's career, indeed, downwards to the 
 present time, we may consider that the tendency of the Scottish 
 metaphysical school has been somewhat in the opposite direction 
 from that which it manifested under its earlier supporters.* Not, 
 indeed, that it has ever run into those more extreme conclusions of 
 sensationalism, which we have noted in the writings of Mill ; but 
 still, in its zeal for completing the analysis of the human conscious- 
 ness, and correcting the errors or imperfections with which the 
 works we have already noticed are characterized, it has incurred 
 some danger, lest, once on the descent towards simplification, it 
 should not know where to stop, in order to avoid the evils of the 
 opposite extreme. We must now proceed to exemplify this, by 
 sketching the history of philosophy in Scotland from the decline of 
 Stewart to the present day. 
 
 Amongst the youthful minds which the Edinburgh professor in- 
 
 * To this remark there are some eminent exceptions ; none more so than Sir W. 
 Hamilton. ^
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 375 
 
 spired with a love for philosophical research, there was one, who at 
 an unusually early age showed the marks of an extraordinary 
 genius, and who afterwards rose to an eminence which did not 
 disappoint the expectations he had excited. Dr. Thomas Brown, 
 to whom we allude, was born in the year 1778, and having received 
 a liberal education in England, entered, while yet very young, 
 upon the studies of the University of Edinburgh. At the age of 
 sixteen he commenced the study of moral philosophy, under the 
 tuition of Dugald Stewart ; and was even then distinguished for 
 the acuteness with which he entered into the most abstruse ques- 
 tions of metaphysics that were brought before the class. Before 
 he attained his nineteenth year, he undertook to examine and 
 refute the sophistry of Darwin, in his " Zoonomia," and with such 
 clearness did he unravel the web, and expose the fallacies it con- 
 tained, that the work (published anonymously) was universally 
 attributed by the " Reviews " to some philosopher of high standing 
 and matured ability. His next work, published in 1804, was "On 
 Cause and Effect," a subject which he was led to undertake from 
 some illiberal remarks made upon Mr. Leslie, on account of his 
 favoring the theory of Hume. In 1810, he was elected professor 
 of moi'al philosophy, in conjunction with Mr. Stewart ; and it is 
 upon the lectures which in that capacity he delivered, although 
 published posthumously, without having received their last touches 
 from his own hand, that his fame as a metaphysician has chiefly 
 rested. He died April 2, 1820, beloved by many, regretted by all, 
 in the very ascendency of his genius and reputation. 
 
 As a writer. Brown must be regarded as eminently successful. 
 Inferior to Stewart in classic cliasteness of diction, and philosophic 
 elegance of style, yet his mind was of that poetic order w-hich can 
 throw a luxuriance, perhaps we might say a redundancy of imagery 
 and illustration, around every subject that it undertakes. From 
 this, mainly, has arisen the great popularity of his lectures, which 
 have not only passed through many editions, but are now, after 
 more than twenty years, in almost as great request as they were at 
 first. Our chief object, however, at present, is to consider Brown 
 as a philosopher, which w^c shall attempt to do without being 
 drawn away, either by the depreciation of his oj)j>onenfs, or the 
 excessive commendation of his admirers. 
 
 That Brown possessed splendid abilities, and that his writings 
 generally are marked with superior excellence, every candid reader 
 must admit. The most distinctive feature of his mind is generally
 
 376 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 allowed to have been the power of analysis, in which he greatly 
 transcended all philosophers of the Scottish school who preceded 
 him. On this point we can go far to concur in the words of his 
 admiring biographer, where he says, " No intricacy was too involved 
 for him to unravel ; no labyrinth too mazy for him to explore. 
 The knot that thousands had left in despair, as too complicated for 
 mortal hand to undo, and which others, more presumptuous, had 
 cut in twain, in the rage of baffled ingenuity, he unloosed with un- 
 rivalled dexterity. The enigmas which a false philosophy had so 
 long propounded, and which, because they were not solved, had 
 made victims of many of the finest and highest gifted of our race, 
 he at last succeeded in unriddling." 
 
 Endued by nature with so acute an analytic faculty, and not 
 being restrained from its exercise by so strong motives as had 
 operated in the case of the earlier metaphysicians of Scotland, it 
 is not surprising, that he became convinced, even while his powers 
 were yet immature, of the necessity there was for a complete revi- 
 sion of the current philosophy of his country, with regard to the 
 classification of mental phenomena. Educated under the influ- 
 ence of Reid's anti-sensational principles, on the one hand, and 
 drawn, both by his own peculiar genius as well as the tendency of 
 the age, to a more refined analysis on the other, he stood in a posi- 
 tion admirably adapted to bring the classification of mental phe- 
 nomena to a high degree of perfection. His reverence for the 
 school to which by birth and education he belonged, secured him 
 against the extravagancies of the French ideologists, and yet he 
 was impelled onwards, by the other circumstances we have men- 
 tioned, to commence a kind of secret revolt against his preceptors, 
 in behalf of a more comprehensively analytic system. While, 
 therefore, with the example of his countrymen before him, he could 
 not but be impressed with the absolute necessity of admitting cer- 
 tain fundamental principles of belief; yet he was so charmed, on 
 the other hand, with the many successful attempts of the school of 
 Hartley, to resolve complex phenomena into simpler elements by 
 means of the laws of association, that his whole philosophy became 
 tinged by its influence. To these circumstances we may trace 
 almost all the peculiarities which are to be found in his writings, 
 only considering that his views are worked up with singular clear- 
 ness and sagacity into a complete system of psychology. 
 
 We are far, therefore, from attributing to Brown all the origi- 
 nality which has been claimed for him by some of his warmest
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 
 
 377 
 
 admirers. Taking the influence of the Scottish school into consid- 
 eration, he could hardly fail to retain his hold on some few original 
 principles of man's belief, lest he should again open a door for the 
 re-introduction of the sweeping scepticism of Hume. Taking into 
 account, on the other hand, his native power of analysis, aided and 
 abetted by the current philosophy both of France and England, he 
 was almost necessarily led to adopt some of the conclusions of 
 the sensational school ; yet still in such a form, that they should 
 not contradict and overturn the main points, which had been 
 gained by the polemical ardor of his own countrymen. He knew 
 how to adopt Hartley's excellencies without his errors ; at the same 
 time he clearly saw how far it was possible to depart from Stewart 
 without proclaiming against him too open hostility ; and thus from 
 a mind so nicely balanced between the two extremes, there ema- 
 nated a classification which, avoiding the evils of both sides, came 
 upon the whole nearer to perfection than any British philosopher 
 had succeeded in bringing it before him. In thus extolling Brown's 
 classification of the phenomena of the human mind, we would by 
 no means represent it as unobjectionable, either in principle or in 
 phraseology ; all that we intend to convey is, that he was so far 
 successful in his attempt as virtually to arrive at the three great 
 divisions of our mental states, to which all the best analyses of 
 more modern times have manifestly tended, namely, Sensation, In- 
 tellection, and Emotion.* 
 
 But whilst we thus award to Brown the merit of great sagacity, 
 and an admirable power of analysis, we must not lose sight of the 
 defects by which his works are characterized, some of the most 
 grave and serious description. 
 
 * It is hardly necessary to state that Brown divides mental phenomena into external 
 and internal states, the latter comprehending intellectual states and emotions, the in- 
 tellectual states again comprehending simple and relative suggestions, thus: — 
 
 r r- . 1 . . (All tiie variety 
 ' External states. < .. ,■ ^ 
 
 \ ot sensations. 
 
 Mental phenomena 
 include 
 
 Intellectual. ■{ 
 
 Simple 
 I Suggestion. 
 
 Internal states. 
 
 Emotional. 
 
 I ilelativc 
 L Suggestion. 
 
 Passions and 
 
 iPassio 
 Desire 
 
 Sensation, intellection, and emotion, which the ahove classification evidently incluilcs, 
 may, without much ililVuulty, l>e shown to run paraliti with the modern French divis- 
 ions into sensitivity, iiiti llcction, and will. VYc sliai! ii.ivc to show, however, that 
 Brown's view otthevvill vitiatcil ail the benefit which miijht have (lowed from his divis- 
 ion, had he assigned it its due place among the faculties.
 
 378 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 1. We would point out his pecixlmr phraseology as by no means 
 calculated to add perspicuity or strength to his philosophy. There 
 is something objectionable in the terms by which his very classifi- 
 cation is expressed, namely, external and internal states. An ex- 
 ternal state, taken strictly, is an absurdity ; for sensation is as much 
 in the mind as is memory, and judgment, or any of the emotions.* 
 We are willing to admit, however, that Brown only intended to 
 convey by the phrase " external and internal states," those which 
 are marked in the one case by an outward, and in the other by an 
 inward condition ; still there arise two objections against such a 
 classification — first, that in a proper classification, our mental phe- 
 nomena ought to be designated by something that is characteristic 
 of themselves, and not merely of the circumstances which may pre- 
 cede them ; and, secondly, that the arrangement, even allowing its 
 principle to be admissible, still fails of accuracy in the case of the 
 emotions, many of which, though they are all denominated internal 
 states, clearly involve certain external conditions ; such as those, 
 for example, which are termed instinctive. 
 
 Again, we have never been able to see the propriety or the de- 
 sirableness of using the terms shnple and relative suggestion, 
 instead of the much more intelligible terms, which others have al- 
 ways employed to express virtually the same phenomena. The 
 whole attempt, in fact, to account for the powers of memory and 
 judgment by the laws of suggestion, we cannot but regard as 
 utterly useless Admit that memory and suggestion are fundamen- 
 tally the same thing, what is gained in point of analysis by blotting 
 out one original faculty and substituting for it another ? It simply 
 comes, after all, to a question of phraseology. Here is a fact of 
 mind that all admit ; hitherto it has been called memory ; now, 
 says Brown, we must call it simple suggestion. What benefit, we 
 ask, is conferred upon philosophy by the change ? Perhaps it may 
 be replied, that by pointing out the two kinds of suggestion, namely, 
 simple and relative, you reduce the phenomena of memory and 
 judgment to one law. Not at all. Judgment can never be re- 
 duced to the general law of suggestion ; the very element which 
 separates it from this general law has to be superadded, even by 
 Brown himself, by prefixing the term relative ; so that, although 
 
 * * I am aware that the doctrine of Sir W. Hamilton might be regarded as opposed to 
 this assertion, namely, " that the subject of sensation may be indifferently said to be our 
 organism (as animated,) or our soul (as united with an organism) ;"' but this doctrine 
 ofna/vralrealisvi cannot be pleaded on behalf of Brown's consistency, who distinctly 
 considers sensation as a 'mental slate only. An exlernal mental state, we cannot but 
 regard as a paradox.
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 379 
 
 we cast away the old-standing terms, yet we are obliged to admit 
 the same things under two other names. Simple suggestion is 
 nothing else than an awkward name for memory, and relative sug- 
 gestion nothing else than a still more awkward one for judgment ; 
 neither is the real nature of the one process or the other made at 
 all clearer by changing the ordinary into the new and less intelli- 
 gible phraseology. 
 
 Still, further, we should contend strongly against giving up the 
 use of the words power, faculty, and other similar expressions, 
 which keep constantly before our view the native activity or spon- 
 taneity of the human mind, and substituting in their place the 
 phraseology, which represents all mental phenomena as states pro- 
 duced by fixed laws or by other and extraneous causes. That 
 there is something at first sight plausible and apparently simple in 
 this view of our mental phenomena, may be readily granted ; but 
 nothing can be really more false and deceptive. It makes our con- 
 sciousness to resemble a chain consisting of separate links, the one 
 springing by fixed laws out of the other. Instead of this, it rather 
 resembles a continuous thread, without any division into parts, 
 throughout the whole of which the intellect, the feelings, and the 
 will, are indissolubly woven together. The notion of transition- 
 states is purely imaginary. There is no such transition in the 
 soul ; there are no points in our being in which we can say, "Now 
 I exist in one state of consciousness, and now I pass over into 
 another." Consciousness is a miity ; the elements of which it is 
 composed run through the whole of its being; every instant is a 
 state, and every instant is also a change — equally one and the 
 other. To consciousness, being and progressing are the same 
 thing ; and instead of regarding the mind, therefore, as a succes- 
 sion of phases, we are much nearer the truth when we regard it as 
 a living unity, endowed with certain powers, which it puts forth for 
 the most part simultaneously, but with variations, with regard to 
 their relative predominance and intensity.* 
 
 Either style of expression, no doubt, mis^ht be defined, so as to 
 convey a correct notion, whichever notion may be correct ; but 
 to us it seems, on the grounds above stated, that the phrases in- 
 tellectual and active poirrrs, give, according to the common use 
 of language, a far more truthful representation of the real char- 
 acter of the facts themselves, than does the p!Hlosoi)hical vocah- 
 ularv for which they have been exchanged. The tendency of 
 
 ♦ Sec some remarks on thi^? subject by the auttior, in the Eclectic Review, Dec. 1B4G.
 
 380 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 this exchange is most evidently of a sensational character ; it di- 
 minishes the intensity of our notion of self, as an independent 
 source of power, and contemplates the mind rather as a passive 
 existence, moulded into its different states either by the force of 
 circumstances on the one hand, or by its own inevitable and un- 
 alterable laws on the other. Unless far better reasons are given 
 for so important a change of language, than any that are to be 
 found in Brown's own writings, we must regard it as a serious 
 defect, and calculated rather to retard than advance the progress 
 of intellectual science. 
 
 2. Another defect in the works now before us, arises from the 
 historical inaccuracies and misconceptions with which they abound. 
 Brown possessed an ardent mind, rapid in its operations, vivid in 
 its conceptions, and far more adapted to grasp the whole extent 
 of a theory by one intellectual effort, supplying whatever was ob- 
 scure by his own ready invention, than to develop it to himself by 
 long and patient research. He was accustomed to read books 
 with astonishing rapidity, and his retentive memory easily pre- 
 served the most important ideas for his future use. But it is 
 evident, that this method of acquiring knowledge, however ap- 
 propriate in the case of ordinary works, was by no means calcu- 
 lated to give deep and comprehensive views of those philosophical 
 systems, which can only be mastered by close and prolonged re- 
 flection. Accordingly, we soon discover, that Brown's knowledge 
 of the philosophy of the ancient world was rather popular than 
 profound. He could describe in his own easy and lively style, 
 some of the prominent features of the academy or the porch, of 
 Epicurus or the Stagirite, but he had not studied these various 
 systems in their deeper conceptions, their finer shades, or their 
 historical development. The method in which the controversy 
 regarding the ideal system is treated in his lectures, is a striking 
 instance of the deficiency we are now describing. He accounts 
 for the errors, which arose on this subject among the ancient 
 philosophers, from their supposed indefinite use of the word idea, 
 applying it, as he affirms they were accustomed to do, sometimes 
 to the mental affection, sometimes to the organic affection, and 
 sometimes to both. A theory more gratuitous and more incon- 
 sistent with facts, could hardly have been proposed. It is evident 
 that our imaginative author, having got a general notion of the 
 peripatetic doctrine of images, species, and phantasms ; having 
 taken for granted that it was held universally, and in the same
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 381 
 
 manner by the schoolmen ; having supposed, further, that the 
 word idea was the one employed in both cases to explain their 
 opinions, hastily jumped at the conclusion, that all the errors in- 
 volved must have arisen from misconceptions connected with that 
 one word. Now let us learn, from the pen of one who has not 
 inappropriately been termed " the greatest critic of our age," what 
 was the real state of the case. " In the first place," says Sir 
 William Hamilton, " the term idea was never employed in any 
 system previous to the age of Descartes to denote little images 
 derived from objects without. In the second, it was never used in 
 any philosophy, prior to the same period, to signify the immediate 
 object of perception. In the third, it was not applied by the peri- 
 patetics or schoolmen to express an object of human thouo^ht at 
 all. In the fourth, ideas (taking this term for species) were not 
 in all the dark ages of the scholastic followers of Aristotle regarded 
 as little images derived from without, for a numerous partv of the 
 most illustrious schoolmen rejected species not only m the intel- 
 lect, but in the sense. In the fifth, phantasm, in the old philosophv, 
 was not the external cause of perception, but the internal object 
 of imagination. In the sixth, the term shadowy film, which here 
 and elsewhere he constantly uses, shows that Dr. Brown con- 
 founds the matterless species of the peripatetics with the substan- 
 tial effluxions of Democritus and Epicurus."* The instance we 
 have here of historical inaccuracy and misconception, is by no 
 means a solitary one in Dr. Brown's writings ; indeed, if we com- 
 pare the knowledge he manifested generally of the philosophers 
 of antiquity with that possessed by Cudworth, Berkeley, or Henry 
 More, with Cousin in France, or the modern idealists of Germany, 
 we at once become sensible of his great deficiency. So far, then, 
 respecting his knowledge of the ancient philosophers : it is equally 
 evident, however, that there is a similar want of profundity in his 
 estimate of the more abstruse of the modern metaphysical sys- 
 tems. His conception of the real nature and spirit of Cartesianism 
 was extremely meagre. In that feature of the Cartesian doc- 
 trines, to which he particularly refers, namely, the theory of oc- 
 casional causes, he has evidently misunderstood the whole bearing 
 of the question ; nay, he argues that Descartes himself was clear 
 to lucidity upon this very doctrine, which was the basis of the 
 greatest controversy among his immediate followers.f 
 
 * Edinburgh Review, vol. iii., " On the Philosophy of Perception." 
 t Lecture 27.
 
 382 iMODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The same deficiency is manifest when he treats of the philoso- 
 phy of Leibnitz.* To comprehend and dress up the popular idea 
 attached to his theory of pre-established harmony was sufficiently 
 easy, but we gain not the faintest glimmering from Brown's writ- 
 ings of the fundamental principles of the dynamical philosophy, as 
 developed by that author ; so that the theory in question, severed 
 from the system of which it forms a necessary portion, appeared 
 but the monstrous production of a half-crazy brain, instead of be- 
 ing the matured opinion of one of the greatest men in Europe, and 
 the inventor of the differential calculus. Let any one place by the 
 side of Brown's almost ludicrous exposition of this doctrine, that 
 of his French contemporary, Maine de Biran, and then judge which 
 mind had dived most deeply into the spirit of the Leibnitzian phi- 
 losophy. It would not be difficult to show, that Brown entered 
 with a like hasty partiality into the views of Locke, and that he 
 greatly misunderstood the scepticism of Hume ; as the natural 
 consequence of which he rejected the claims of Reid to the vic- 
 tory he won over the conclusions of that modern pyrrhonist. 
 This, however, would lead us into a too lengthened discussion, and 
 is the less necessary, as we have already lightly touched upon the 
 perceptionalist controversy, and shall elucidate it still further in 
 our succeeding remarks. 
 
 3. We proceed, therefore, next, to notice Brown's theory of cause 
 and effect, which we regard as the foundation of much that is er- 
 roneous throughout his whole system. There are two classes of 
 phenomena open to our observation, — mental and material ; other- 
 wise termed internal and external. In both instances we observe 
 change, succession, effects ; and consequently, in both cases, we 
 acknowledge, in some sense or other, the existence of causes. In 
 the case of mental phenomena, however, we have means of under- 
 standing the process of these changes (or, in other words, the 
 nature of causes), which means, in the phenomena of matter, en- 
 tirely fail us. In the latter case we observe simply the succession 
 of events (and observation can show us no more) ; in the former 
 case, however, we possess a consciousness, which gives us, in ad- 
 dition to successive phenomena, the distinct idea of effort or power, 
 excited by our will, as the intft-mediate step by which the two 
 events are conjoined. 
 
 Now, in reasoning out a theory of causation, either we may 
 begin with observing material changes, may ground our chief view 
 * Lecture 31.
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 383 
 
 of the case upon them, and from that view proceed to the exj^la- 
 nation of spiritual ones ; or we may begin with internal phenom- 
 ena, and carry over the notion we derive from thence, as to the 
 existence of power, into the material world. Those whose y)hi- 
 losophy is formed mainly upon the plan and the habit of physical 
 investigations, starting from the external world, are naturally l<'d 
 1o deny the existence of power altogether, inasmuch as they find 
 no sensible trace of it in nature : on the contrary, those who start 
 from purely internal and spiritual phenomena, have no difficulty 
 in admitting the real existence of power, though invisible to the 
 senses, wherever changes are seen to take place. First, the pure 
 idealist, bending his whole attention upon his internal conscious- 
 ness, transforms all nature into a system of mental dynamics. 
 Secondly, the moderate idealist, admitting the reality of passive 
 substance, yet maintains that there must be certain forces at work 
 to produce the phenomena in it, which we constantly observe 
 around us. Thirdly, the philosopher of the common sense school, 
 like Reid and Stewart, though virtually denying the objective 
 reality of power, yet admits, that we have a distinct metaphysical 
 conception of it subjectively in the operations of our ow n mind.* 
 Fourthly, the incipient sensationalist, like Brown, is too inuch 
 charmed with his method of |)hysical in([uiry to give any heed to 
 this metaphysical notion, and hence denies its existence in any 
 other sense than that of " immediate invariable antecedence,'" still 
 admitting, however, the instinctive necessity of our belief in the 
 l)erpetual uniformity of cause and effect in nature. And, lastly, 
 the complete sceptic like Hume, as also the complete materialist 
 like Priestley, and the French ideologists, not only deny the notion 
 of efficiency or power, but refer our very belief in the constancy 
 of cause and effect to the inlluence of experience and association. 
 The position of Brown in the controversy, is thus sufficientlv indi- 
 cated as one in which the existence of power, delegated fn»m the 
 Deity, is altogether denied ; the idea df any efficient causes ojier- 
 ating in nature rejected ; adaptation in causality entir«'ly lost sight 
 of; and the whole phenomena of mind anil matter reduced to a 
 series of events, the tact of whose connection we see. the uni- 
 formity of which we believe in, but the bond of which is entirely 
 unknown. Brown's first error on this subject is his overlooking 
 our own personal consciousness of effort, the true ty|)e of a cause, 
 
 ♦ " The only distinct conception," savs Rcid, " wliicli I run lorin of active power is, 
 that it is an attribute in a lu'ini;, by which he can ilo certain thini;s if lie wills. 'I'iiis, 
 after all, is only a relative conception.'" — Active Powers, I-^ay i. chap. 5.
 
 384 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the legitimate verification of the idea of power. Fraught with the 
 instruction of this self-consciousness, we approach the wonders of 
 nature with a new vision ; we gaze upon the perpetual succession 
 of movements and changes that are ever taking place around us, 
 and w'hat conviction do they at once suggest ? Clearly this — that 
 it is as much impossible for the mere skeleton of nature which we 
 see by the eye, to start forth into activity without some unseen 
 power or force to animate it, as it is for the arm we call our own 
 to act without the energy of the will. Imbued, then, with a fun- 
 damental error on this subject, Brown approached the formal in- 
 vestigation of the human mind, and in accordance with the doctrine 
 he had asserted on the question of causation, regarded it not as a 
 spontaneous energy, but as a passive existence subjected at)solutely 
 to certain organic impressions from without, and certain fixed laws 
 of consciousness within. It is curious to run through the whole 
 of his lectures, and see how this idea follows him like a spectre, 
 and modifies his opinions on every point. In his classification of 
 mental phenomena, as we before showed, he sees only external and 
 internal states; that is, he imagines the mind hke an unhappy 
 paralytic put into different positions, and obliged to remain sta- 
 tionless in each until the next force comes to act upon it. With 
 regard to our knowledge of the external world, he cannot think 
 that the soul is able to go forth by its own activity, and seize the 
 reality and nature of objective existence around us ; it must wait 
 till a new set of sensations connected with the action of the mus- 
 cles, teach us the important lesson, that there is veritably an ob- 
 jective world as well as a subjective. How the mind reasons, 
 however, from its muscular feelings, which, as feelings, must be 
 purely subjective after all to the world without, and how it can 
 infer anything beyond itself from a sensation icithin itself, except 
 by the aid of some primitive belief or intuition, he does not tell. 
 Again, attention, which is pretty generally admitted to express the 
 power of the will over our intellectual operations, stands in the 
 philosophy of Brown for a modification of sensation : it is the state 
 of mind in which " the increased vividness of one sensation pro- 
 duces a corresponding faintness of others co-existing with it." On 
 the same principle, we find the theory of recollection, which de- 
 scribes it as a species of voluntary memory, wholly rejected, and 
 the process reduced purely to the laws of association. In fine, 
 whether we regard the powers of memory, of judgment, of imagi- 
 nation, or any collateral phenomena, all these various forms of our
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 385 
 
 mental activity are shown to arise from those fixed laws of sugges- 
 tion, to the influence of which the mind of man is subjected, as 
 absolutely as a machine to the primum mobile by which it acts. 
 Such was the result, and, as we believe, the necessary result of the 
 theory of causation, with which Brown entered upon his philo- 
 sophical career. Once exclude the idea of power from our 
 enumeration of the elements of successive phenomena, and all we 
 have to do is simply to set down the generic changes which our 
 minds undergo, and to define the circumstances under which they 
 take place, leaving no place whatever for the spontaneous action 
 of the will, which then becomes absolutely synonymous with desire. 
 But without dwelling longer on this topic, which has been ably 
 answered by Herschel, Ballantyne, Maine de Biran, Cousin, and 
 others, we go on to consider, 
 
 4. Brown's support of the representationist theory of perception, 
 as another imperfect feature in his philosophy. This theory has 
 been maintained at different times and by different schools in a 
 vast variety of forms. The most simple forms are those of the 
 Epicureans and Peripatetics, the former of whom supposed that 
 the mind comes to a knowledge of material things by means of re- 
 fined substantial effluxions from them — the latter, that it does so 
 by means of immaterial species or shadowy films, bearing an exact 
 resemblance to the external object. A more subtile, though per- 
 haps more reasonable form of the same theory has been held by 
 many philosophers of later times, (of whom Descartes stands in 
 the foreground,) who have supposed the inward representation to 
 be not a separate existence, but a modification of the mind itself, 
 produced, it may be, by the direct intervention of the Deity, as in 
 the doctrine of occasional causes ; or by a pre-established har- 
 mony, as maintained by Leibnitz ; or by other means which it is 
 not worth while to enumerate. These are, in fiict, the particular 
 forms of representationism with which Dr. Reid was acquainted, 
 and against which he directed the chief strength o[ his argumen- 
 tation. 
 
 There is, however, another view that many have taken of the 
 same hypothesis, which makes the representative object a modifi. 
 cation of the mind, not produced by any extraneous source, but 
 involved in the very act of perception itself. The process of 
 vision, for example, would be explained, on this principle, in the 
 following manner : — The rays of light come from the object to my 
 eye, and impress an image on the retina: this impression is con-
 
 386 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 veyed by the optic nerve to the brain, and the brain produces a 
 change or modification of my mind. The real object of percep- 
 tion, therefore, it is argued, is the change that takes place in the 
 mind ; so that, instead of perceiving the external M^orld itself, v^^e 
 only view its forms and changes shadowed forth in our own men- 
 tal modifications. This was apparently the opinion of Locke ; 
 this, the foundation principle of Berkeley's reasoning; and this, 
 likewise, the theory distinctly asserted and maintained by Brown. 
 Let any one carefully peruse his 25th Lecture, and he will find it 
 stated, as clearly as words can state it, that the whole object of 
 our perception is the mind as affected in a certain manner, and ex- 
 isting in certain states* 
 
 The singularity of the case, however, is, that he was not him- 
 self aware of the difference between Reid's doctrine of immediate 
 intuitive perception and his own doctrine of representationism ; 
 and hence the complicated series of errors and misconceptions, 
 into which he fell in denying Reid's claim to the refutation of the 
 ideal system. Had Brown fully understood his own philosophy, 
 he must have seen, that it could lead to nothing less than a species 
 of subjective idealism, if not to absolute unbelief; that cut off by 
 it from any direct knowledge of the world without, and confined 
 to the perception of our own mental states, we must totally fail of 
 substantiating our faith in external realities against the arguments 
 of the idealist or the sceptic. The practical effect of this doctrine, 
 it is true, so far as our belief in the material world is concerned, 
 could not be very serious, since our daily necessities would oblige 
 us to act in contradiction to it ; but its effect upon our confidence 
 in the validity of human knowledge in general, must, if carried 
 out, become lamentable. The instinctive conviction of mankind 
 is, that they perceive the very object itself which is before them, 
 and not a mere representation of it within themselves : once show 
 that this conviction, resting as it does upon our direct conscious- 
 
 * The most complete view which has given been of the various hypotheses 6n percep- 
 tion in our own, or, as far as I am aware, in any other language, is that of Sir W. Ham- 
 ilton, in his " Dissertations to Reid's Collected Writings," Note C. He divides the 
 philosophers who have treated of the subject, into A, Presentationists — or those wb.o 
 advocate an immediate consciousness of the objective; and B, Representationists— or 
 those who advocate a knowledge conveyed by some intermediate process. The former, 
 ao-uin, are divided into I. Natural Realists, and 2. Absolute Idealists, both of whom 
 maintain a direct intuition of the real in their own peculiar sense. The latter, who are 
 also termed Cosmothetic Idealists, are divided into two classes — 1. Those who regard 
 the representational image as a mode of the percipient mind ; and 2. Those who re- 
 gard it as something apart from the mind, a phantasm or film. To the first of this 
 latter class Dr. Brown belonged, and ignorantly supposed Reid to belong to it also. 
 Fw fill the minor shades of these opinions, see Hamilton's " Reid," p. 816, et seq.
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 387 
 
 ness, is false, and on what grounds can we be justified in trusting 
 the evidence of consciousness in other matters ? All necessary 
 and universal truth (which rests upon the evidence of conscious- 
 ness) is from henceforth rendered uncertain ; the foundations of 
 our knowledge are undermined ; and we cannot, in any case, give 
 a reason for our belief, which same reason in other cases does not 
 prove entirely fallacious. Brown denies, that the evidence of con- 
 sciousness respecting the real object of perception is to be trusted ; 
 but, notwithstanding, he trusts that same evidence implicitly, when 
 it asserts the objective existence of the material world, or the other 
 primary laws of belief; which denial and trust being put together, 
 evolve the conclusion, that our primary beliefs may be inconsistent 
 with each other, that they are not uniformly valid, and that, there- 
 fore, nothing can ever be beheved at all with an unflinching cer- 
 tainty. 
 
 The great argument upon which the representationist system 
 rests is this — that things which are not homogeneous can have no 
 mutual influence upon each other ; that the relation of knowledge 
 implies an identity of existence; in plainer words, that matter and 
 mind cannot mutually affect each other directly, just because they 
 are not both matter or both mind. This argument, we contend, 
 is purely asservative ; it entirely fails of support from reason or 
 fact, nay, is contrary to the very mode of our constitution, as 
 made up of a mind and material organism mutually affecting each 
 other ; and therefore, until some plea for it is produced, hardly re- 
 quires any to be urged against it. The nature of causality in the 
 one case is just as intelHgible as in the other; we can as easily 
 imagine the power of mind imin-essing its influence upon matter, 
 as upon another mind like itself On the other hand, the system 
 of representationism in any form is beset with dilficulties. The 
 chief of these we have already given in the review of Locke, and 
 to them, therefore, for brevity's sake, xye must now refer the 
 reader. If any one, however, wishes to see the whole subject dis- 
 cussed fully and satisfactorily, we recommend him to consult the 
 "Edinburgh Review,'' No. 103, where the philosoi»hy of percep- 
 tion is developed with greater depth, and learning, than perhaps 
 in any other work in our own language.* 
 
 After what we iiave said about tiie metaphysical philosophy of 
 Brown, it is hardly worth while to make any distinct reference to 
 
 * We can now refer the student likewise, to tlie further illustnitionsof the philosophy 
 of perception, wliich the author of the article here referred to has given us in his " Dib- 
 scitations on Rcid." Sec especially Note D.
 
 388 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 his ethics. The deepest questions in ethical philosophy he has left 
 untouched, since in no place has he boldly approached the subject 
 of human liberty or necessity ; but the conclusions to which he 
 has come respecting the nature and ground of morals, we believe, 
 are almost universally regarded as unsound, even by those who are 
 the greatest admirers of his metaphysics. His principle here seems 
 to be, that virtue cannot exist independently of virtuous agents ; 
 that in itself it is a mere abstraction, expressing simply the rela- 
 tion between certain actions, and certain emotions which we feel 
 in contemplating them. To this conclusion of course his theory 
 of cause and effect was naturally adapted to lead. If events are 
 known simply as successive, it is folly to seek for any adaptation 
 in the one to bring about the other. Now in morals an action is 
 one event, and a certain emotion is the succeeding one ; the former 
 is the universal antecedent, the latter the universal consequent. 
 According to Brown's philosophy, we have no ability to inquire 
 further into the matter ; the cause of the emotion is no better 
 known than efficient causes in nature are ; the word virtue, which 
 men assign as an objective reality, is in fact a mere abstraction 
 expressing the relation between the two events, just as gravitation 
 is an abstraction expressing the unknown relation between two 
 phenomena in the natural world. This conclusion, it is evident, 
 at once interdicts the great question in morals, What is the cause 
 of virtuous emotion ? or what is the ground of moral approbation ? 
 — it tells us that there is no such cause, no such ground to be dis- 
 covered ; that there is nothing in the nature of vicious conduct to 
 produce remorse, nothing in the nature of virtuous conduct to pro- 
 duce approbation ; that the Deity simply has so fixed the succes- 
 sion of events, and that when we have well observed this succes- 
 sion we have arrived at the ultimatum of our possible knowledge. 
 Of course, if this be true, virtue and vice might be interchange- 
 able ; and if the mind become so hardened as to approve of sin, 
 sin must at once become virtue ! The ground of all rectitude be- 
 ing our own personal feeling of approbation, once let that appro- 
 bation be reversed, and the relations of right and wrong are re- 
 versed also. 
 
 That Brown could give no better account of our moral nature 
 than this, is by no means a matter of surprise, when we consider 
 that there is no place in his system for the influence of the will 
 properly so called. To solve the problem of the human conscience, 
 we must show that there is a basis laid for responsibility in our free
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCUOOl.. 389 
 
 agency, that our free agency is directed by intelligence, and our 
 intelligence stimulated by moral sensibility. Brown has pointed 
 out the forms of our moral sensibility with great clearness, has 
 hinted at the use of the understanding, but of our free agency has 
 failed to give any satisfactory account ; and without this all moral 
 accountability sinks into an empty name. Deluded by his psycho- 
 logical principles, he made no attempt to penetrate behind the veil 
 of our feelings to the real world of moral truth itself; accordingly 
 he has left behind him an ethical system which merely plays upon 
 the surface of phenomena, but fails entirely to show that our moral 
 sentiments are grounded in the eternal nature of things them- 
 selves.* 
 
 We might have selected other points from the writings of Brown 
 to comment upon, but those we have already discussed compre- 
 hend the most important instances in which his system appears to 
 us to be defective or erroneous. While we admit the great merit 
 which is due to him, on account of his classification, and cannot 
 but admire the beauty of many of his analyses, still in many other, 
 and those some of the most fundamental points, we consider his 
 philosophy to have been a step backwards, rather than onwards to- 
 wards the perfection of the science to which he was devoted. 
 
 Whilst Brown was tiius engaged in remodelling the j)hilosophy 
 of his country, several other minds were employed in the same 
 work, although, perhaps, with less genius, yet, certainly, with more 
 caution. It was not to him alone that the importance of a closer 
 analysis of our mental phenomena suggested itself: we fmd a simi- 
 lar tendency decidedly manifested in various other writers of the 
 same period. Amongst these we might particularly point out Dr. 
 John Young, professor of moral phifosophy in Belfast, who had 
 virtually completed his system, and delivered it, indeed, to his 
 class, before the publication of Brown's lectures, although it was 
 not published till the year 1835. Dr. Young, though by no means 
 equal to Brown in natural acuteness or in brilliancy of style, yet 
 added to a clear and co^iprchensive intelligence great steadiness, 
 and patience in research. Tiiis is proved by the fact, that he ar- 
 rived quite independently of Brown at a classification virtually 
 the same, though unencumbered by any kind of novel phraseology. 
 
 • Brown's lectures on ethics have just appenrcil in a separate fi)rm, intro<luceil l)y a 
 preface of Dr. Chahncra. In the reinarivs there miide we fully concur; we only wish 
 they hud contained ii stronger protest ajjainsl a. theory, which if deviloix-d cut-s at the 
 very root of all " eternal and immutable morality" in it.self, and all moral resjKinsibiiity
 
 390 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 He reduced all intellectual phenomena to the three heads of sen- 
 sation, memory, and judgment, steering a medium course with 
 considerable skill between the more complicated systems of Reid 
 and Stewart, and the over-simplification of Hartley. We have, 
 in fact, in Dr. Young another instance of the gradual reaction, 
 which has been experienced in Scotland since the time of Stewart, 
 in favor of a more sensational form of metaphysical philosophy ; 
 for, although he did not give up his hold upon the fundamental 
 laws of man's belief, yet he everywhere exhibited a strong inclina- 
 tion to derive many of our primary notions from other, and those 
 experimental sources.* 
 
 It might be remarked, however, in justice to another metaphy- 
 sician of great ability, who was long known as a lecturer, but who 
 never appeared prominently in the literature of his country as an 
 author, I mean Mr. Mylne, the late professor of moral philosophy 
 at Glasgow, that Young unquestionably borrowed much of his 
 system from the class-room of that distinguished philosopher. 
 From what I have learned of those who attended his lectures, and 
 what I have seen of the impulse they gave in prosecuting the work 
 of intellectual analysis, I think there can be little doubt, but that 
 his mind told forcibly upon the philosophy of Scotland during the 
 many years of his professorship. The tendency of his influence, 
 as of those before mentioned, was decidedly sensational ; of this 
 character were his analyses of many of our intellectual ideas ; of 
 this character, also, was his firm support of utilitarianism in morals ; 
 yet, we believe, he explained his views in such a manner, as not 
 materially to injure those great principles of belief for which Reid 
 had so earnestly contended. Somewhat of a similar tendency is 
 the work of the Rev. John Ballantyne on the human mind, the 
 whole of which is marked with considerable analytical acumen, 
 and a corresponding tendency to reduce the laws of thought to a 
 few simple elements. At the same time care is taken, here also, 
 not to open the door to scepticism by invalidating our primary be- 
 liefs ; and the conclusions, even of Browii himself, in some points, 
 especially that of causation, are very forcibly repelled. 
 
 Whilst the writings of Ballantyne may be truly said to be less 
 popular than they deserve, we must mention another philosopher 
 of the Scottish school, who we consider, has, on the contrary, ob- 
 tained a philosophical reputation considerably beyond his real 
 
 * Young's lectures were published after his death, together with a short biography 
 of the author, by WilUam Cairns, A.M., professor of logic at Belfast.
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 391 
 
 merits — I mean the late Dr. Abercrombie. That there is great 
 intelligence, a tone of lofty morality, and much sincere piety per- 
 vading his writings, we are glad to admit, but as works of philoso- 
 phy, they can never occupy any other than a very inferior })()sition. 
 With the real history of metaphysics, with its more lofty specula- 
 tions, with its sublimest theories, the author was manifestly entirely 
 unacquainted. He looked upon every question simply from an 
 experimental point of view ; and whatever lay without its precincts 
 was set down as vague and uncertain hypothesis, whose mists 
 were forever dispersed by a purer light. Laying aside the use 
 which the Doctor makes of his medical knowledge, and of the facts 
 which have come under his notice, his works only remind us of 
 Reid without his depth, of Stewart without his learning, of Brown 
 without his genius. At the same time it must be remembered, 
 that Dr. Abercrombie never aspired to the title of being a great 
 philosopher. Few men, we understand, stood higher than he did 
 as a Christian and a philanthropist, and we are willing to believe, 
 that his labors in philosophy were rather intended to christianize 
 the moral thinking of his country, than to throw additional light 
 upon the more abstruse questions of human research. 
 
 We shall now attempt to sum up our sketch of the Scottish phi- 
 losophy by a few remarks, which may tend to illustrate its general 
 nature, and point out the position it holds in connection with the 
 other systems, which history and personal observation present. 
 And, first of all, its great excellency, we imagine, consists in its 
 having confirmed, and to a great extent perfected, the true method 
 of metaphysical research. Bacon destroyed the influence which 
 the syllogistic organum had exercised ui)on the minds of men for 
 centuries past, and furnished tliL- right key to the ti'mple of knowl- 
 edge. Descartes adaj)tcd the Baconian jtrinciples to the study of 
 metaphysics, but was too much encumbered by a mass of a priori 
 assumptions (though delivered in the form of arguments) to make 
 steady progression in the science. Locke emjiloyed the Baconian 
 method with far more success, having first learned to reject the 
 most material errors of the Cartesian philosophy ; but he, too, was 
 still confused by the phraseology of former systems, and biassed by 
 the representationist hypothesis concerning ideas. Reid was one 
 of the first, who, taking the inductive method for his guide, formed 
 by the light it afforded, the conception of a purely reflective method 
 of mental :inalysis. which should take its stand ujion the most inti- 
 mate facts of the human consciousness.
 
 392 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The long-standing doctrine of ideas, the empirical scepticism of 
 Hume, the lingering remnants of the Cartesian assumptions, all 
 fell one after the other before him ; and upon their ruins he laid 
 the foundations of a new system of mental philosophy, free from 
 all illegitimate hypothesis and proceeding throughout upon strictly 
 scientific principles. Just as the students of physical science be- 
 fore Bacon — not content with the simple employment of collating 
 and interpreting facts — sought some hypothetical explanation of 
 them, quite independent of all actual experience ; so, the mass of 
 intellectual philosophers previous to Reid, were not able to divest 
 their minds of the necessity of explaining the simple facts of sensa- 
 tion, intellection, &c., by some theory which could never be veri- 
 fied. Reid performed an inestimable service to philosophy, when 
 he showed, that such simple processes must be viewed as ultimate 
 and primitive facts in our constitution, which carry with them 
 their own evidence, and admit of no explanation ; nay, that the 
 very attempt to interpret them only plunges us farther into dark- 
 ness and uncertainty. 
 
 The illustration and full application of the true psychological 
 method, then, we regard as the main service of the Scottish phi- 
 losophy — a service which has not been lost upon the age, and the 
 ulterior benefit of which has yet to be developed in coming gene- 
 rations. On the other hand, the main defects of the Scottish 
 school, particularly since the time of Reid, have attached them- 
 selves to these two points — First, the false or at least inadequate 
 view it has taken of the reflective method in mental philosophy — 
 and, secondly, the want of comprehensiveness, superinduced by 
 that inadequacy, as to the legitimate objects and extent of philos- 
 ophy at large. With regard to the former of these points, let it be 
 kept in mind, that the great ambition of the Scottish philosophy, as 
 seen in Stewart and his successors, has been to establish the purely 
 inductive method of procedure as employed in the Baconian school. 
 The nature of this method is perfectly simple : it enjoins a full and 
 adequate observation o{ facts, and then, from particular instances, 
 rises through several stages of generalization, to the laws which 
 regulate their succession. Here, of course, there can be no inti- 
 mate acquaintance with the real objects of research ; their essen- 
 tial nature escapes all mere observation, for their latent powers 
 and processes can never be made the matter of perceptive or in- 
 ductive knowledge. On the other hand, when we scan the con- 
 tents of our own consciousness by the power of reflection, we are
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 393 
 
 engaged in a very different process from that of mere induction, 
 and attain a very different land of knowledge respecting tiie real 
 object of our research. In the former case, (that of induction,) 
 we can only know our object by mere phenomenal observation ; 
 in the latter we know it by a direct consciousness. In the one 
 case, we can only form a general notion of it by a process of ab- 
 straction ; in the other we have an immediate and concrete apper- 
 ception thereof In the one case we know nothing of its internal 
 or essential constitution ; in the other we are enabled by reflection 
 to catch the very forms of our inmost activity. 
 
 To say that essences and causes are equally unknown whether 
 in mind or matter (as the Scottish school has so often reiterated), 
 implies a subtle misunderstanding of the very nature of refection 
 as a mode of psychological research. Our knowledge of i^ind in 
 the act of reflective consciousness, is perfectly adequate — it reaches 
 the whole extent of its essence — it comprehends the intuition of its 
 existence as a power or activity, and likewise the observation of all 
 its determinations. To talk of knowing mind beyond the direct 
 consciousness of its spontaneous being, and all the atTections which 
 it can undergo, is absurd ; — there is nothing more to know ; the 
 only reason why we seem to know it so little is, that the process 
 of knowing it at all reflectively and philosoj)hically is so difficult, 
 that there are very few who make much way in that sj)ecies of 
 introspection which it demands. This knowledge, however, when 
 attained to, is a very diflerent thing from the mere classification of 
 phenomena, and leads to a very diflerent result. 
 
 To develop this diflbrence, let it be remembered, that in rational 
 psychology, when we have observed and made our classification 
 of the actual facts of consciousness as we find them, we have only 
 begun our labor. The next thing after this, is to trace these facts 
 up to their origin ; to discover not merely the law of operation, but 
 the reason of that law ; to point out not only the reality of certain 
 ])rinciples, but also their absolute necessity. To ask respecting a 
 law of succession in the material world, why it must be so, is going 
 altogether beyond the due limits of induction ; but to seek the ab- 
 solute and necessary ground of our mental phenomena, is fairly 
 within the province of reflection, because of the intimate knowl- 
 edge which consciousness gives us of mind, as at once subject and 
 object.* 
 
 * I cnnnot rrivp a brttrr instance of this rcsnirrli into tlm ulliinatc [innri|)l.- of men- 
 tal phrnoinrnii, than tho followintj n-niark of -"^ir W llaiiiiltoii : — •■ An rX|Misition of 
 (y the luiom that positive thou>jht hcs in the Uniitation or coiulilioning of one or other of
 
 394 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 So far, then, we proceed onwards in the subjective sphere, seek- 
 ing all the while the laws and principles of thought, not the mys- 
 teries of being. But now a third problem opens before us, namely, 
 to sound the legitimacy of our knowledge — to show how far the 
 phenomena of consciousness give us the realities of existence ; to 
 pass in this way from the subjective to the objective region of 
 philosophical research. Now the link of connection between these 
 two regions is found in the Idea of a Cause. The first thing in 
 the philosophy of causation, of course, is to observe the simple and 
 palpable /ac^, that on the perception of successive events we have 
 the notion of a cause. This, all admit as a fact, even Hume him- 
 self. The next thing is to trace this notion of a cause back to its 
 origin. Hume, on his sensational principles, attributed it all to 
 association ; a deeper philosophy, on the contrary, has referred it 
 to a fundamental principle of our nature — namely, the principle of 
 causality, which, as possessing the character of universality and 
 necessity, may be looked upon as an absolute principle, such as 
 could only exist in fundamental, not at all in merely inductive 
 philosophy. Now it is, then, that having observed the actual fact 
 of the case, and having traced it to the primitive principle, there 
 arises the further question — how far does this subjective principle 
 contain the evidence of an objective reality, and by what means 
 may we pass from thought to existence ? To find this passage, we 
 must look to the point where thought and existence actually unite, 
 and that point of union is the mind itself. Mind is both object 
 and subject at once. Viewed as a succession of internal processes, 
 it is simply an object exhibiting various forms of thought, feeling, 
 &c., but nothing more : on the contrary, to the pure internal con- 
 sciousness, it is a subject — a real activity, an essence, a being. 
 Thus cause is a mere notion, and causality is a necessary principle, 
 both of them subjective ; but our intuitive consciousness detects 
 still further an activity, a real spontaneous existence, a noumenon, 
 of which the principle of causality is a form or determination. 
 
 Having found, then a veritable existence distinct from mere 
 phenomenon in the depth of our own consciousness, and con- 
 cealed under the principle of causality, we can proceed onwards 
 
 two extremes, neither of which, as unconditioned, can be realized to the mind as possi- 
 ble, and yet of which, as contradictories, one or other must, by the fundamental laws 
 of thought, be recognized as necessary — the exposition of this great but unenounced 
 axiom would show, that some of the most illustrious principles are only its subordinate 
 modifications, as applied to certain primary notions, intuitions, data, forms or categories 
 of intelligence, — as existence, quantity, quality, &c. Such modifications, for example, 
 are the principles of cause and effect, substance and phenomenon," &c.
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 395 
 
 in the objective sphere to a wider observation. In like manner as 
 .inward intuition gives us a direct apperception of the soul as a 
 real existing activity, so outward intuition, or perception, gives us 
 a direct knowledge of the material world, as something distinct 
 from the me. Here, as in the other case, we have the principle of 
 causality as a link between subject and object — ^between thought 
 and existence. For perception itself, which Reid assumed as an 
 absolutely primitive fact of mind, is really but an application of 
 the principle of causality. In perception, we perceive a relation 
 between subject and object, the nature of which is the follow- 
 ing: — All those phenomena which refer to the soul itself, are 
 known by direct consciousness to spring from its own activity — 
 the phenomena of perception, however, we feel to be the qualities 
 of some objective existence operating upon xis. The affirmation, 
 immediate and instinctive, of a real objective cause exerting its 
 power upon us, is the most ultimate fact in perception ;* so that it 
 is the direct consciousness of self, as a force or cause, which leads 
 us onward in the objective sphere of knowledge to the affirmation 
 and intuition of a not-self — an external world as a counter force. f 
 Here, however, the process does not come to an end. The 
 powers of nature are dependent, relative, and finite ; they all point 
 us, therefore, to a self-existent unity of power, from which they 
 sprang. The power of mind, as an intelligent cause, or person- 
 ality, is relative and finite also ; and this points us to an infinite 
 and absolute personality. Combine the notions of a unity of all 
 power as seen in nature, and a perfect type of all personality as 
 seen in man, and we have the conception of a God. Of God as 
 the infinite, the absolute, accordingly, we have a direct appercep- 
 tion. The light of primitive truth tails immediately upon the eye 
 of the soul. Had we to reason ourselves into the existence of the 
 material world, and were we to define perception as the act of the 
 mind in conducting this reasoning to its result, we should never 
 find our way out of the subjective circle. Perception, however, is 
 a direct gazing upon the world without, by the medium of its im- 
 mediate action upon ourselves, and here, in this spontaneous re- 
 ception of truth, we find the objectively real. Exactly in the same 
 manner, had we to reason up to the absolute, all we could do 
 would be to personify our ideas ; but pure reason, like pure per- 
 ception, receives objective truth spontaneously : it gazes upon its 
 
 ♦ Sec Cousin's " Cours de Phil. Mottcrne — Ecole Ecossaise," p. 428. 
 ■f Hence the idea of substance is identical with that of caiise, and the dynamical 
 theory of the world is cstabhshcd.
 
 396 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 object with an immediacy which suffers no error or doubt to in- 
 tervene, and gives in this way a guarantee for its legitimacy, 
 which it is impossible to resist. " When," observes Cousin, on 
 the occasion of a finite contingent relative existence, which ex- 
 perience attests, " I conceive the infinite, the necessary, the ab- 
 solute, the universal ; when in presence of the phenomena which 
 I observe in the world, I contemplate the great laws of that world, 
 those laws which form the harmony of its movements, the order 
 and beauty of its plan ; when in retiring within the precincts of 
 my own nature, I attach the phenomena so variable and evanes- 
 cent which I behold there to one simple, identical, and immovable 
 essence, I do not imagine, I do not dream, I do not compose, I 
 simply conceive. My conception is a necessary and legitimate act 
 of my mind, as much as the most simple perception." 
 
 On what authority, then, we ask, do these pure conceptions 
 rest ? what is it that separates them from the fictions of imagina- 
 tion ? why do I know my imaginations to be mere fictions, whilst 
 I attribute a real objective existence to the Infinite Being, to the 
 laws of the universe, to the essence of the soul ? Here are ques- 
 tions grounded indeed upon the facts of our consciousness, but re- 
 quiring as answer, somewhat more than a mere classification of 
 facts ; requiring, in truth, nothing less than a critick of those 
 purely rational, or metaphysical intuitions, in which the first prin- 
 ciples o^ ontology are grounded. So far then with regard to the 
 reflective method ; let us now see how the scope of philosophy be- 
 comes enlarged, under its auspices. 
 
 In physical science it is a well-known canon, that the higher 
 be the generalization we attain to, and the more primitive the law 
 we evolve, just so much the more powerfully and fruitfully can we 
 reason downwards by a deductive process, to the development of 
 those " axiomata media" in which our knowledge mainly consists. 
 Exactly so is it also in the philosophy of mind. If the philosophy 
 of mind be merely that experimental classification of the more 
 obvious facts, which is all that many understand under the name 
 of psychology, then the applications of it can be only very few 
 and very fruitless : it can simply take its rank among the sec- 
 ondary sciences of observation ; and even there can challenge 
 comparatively little interest. But if, on the contrary, by inward 
 reflection we can trace our ideas up to their primitive and neces- 
 sary forms, if we can take a deeper insight into the working of 
 mind, as the agent in all human endeavor ; if, separating the mat-
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 397 
 
 ter of our knowledge from the form, we can gaze upon the actual 
 types and processes of all thought ; then it is evident we can 
 reason downwards deductively with far greater power and far 
 more fruitful results upon all the primary branches of human re- 
 search. 
 
 A sound theory of morals, for example, can only be looked for 
 when we start from this intimate view of mind as a spontaneous 
 activity. For want of this a world of false reasoning has been 
 employed to sink us down to the hypothesis of utter fatalism, or 
 what is virtually the same thing, of a philosophical necessity. The 
 due comprehension of the religious nature, again, can never be 
 hoped for except it be brought up to light from the very depth of 
 our being. History can only be studied philosophically, by track- 
 ing the development of fundamental ideas along the pathway of 
 human civilization. Sociology will only advance in proportion as 
 the most intimate constitution of human nature is unfolded, and its 
 spiritual laws laid bare. In a word, whatever depends upon the 
 development of human thought, can only be placed in the daylight 
 of science, by a philosophy which sinks beneath the mere classifi- 
 cation of phenomena, down to the appreciation of the more inti- 
 mate laws and principles of the human mind. 
 
 Still greater become the applications of a fundamental philoso- 
 phy, when from the pure appercei)tion of the infinite we descend 
 with the torch of divine truth in our hands, and re-enter the 
 regions of nature and humanitv. Nature now becomes all radiant 
 with idea. We see in its wondrous forms of beauty and marvel- 
 lous processes, the thought of Deity embodying itself in the finite ; 
 while man, the highest expression of creative power, becomes a 
 sphere of philosophical observation, in which we can study the 
 highest truths of the Divine nature and perfections. In a word, 
 only let us begin with a deep reflective consciousness of the human 
 soul, with its innate powers and spiritual laws, and {hofniitfulncss 
 of our philosophy, as it gradually develops, stands in the most 
 marked contrast with the fruitkssnesswWich has ever attended, and 
 confcssedhj must attend, a mere experimental psychology. In truth, 
 wherever such schools of psychology have conferred any benefit on 
 philosophy at all, they have only done so by stepping out of the 
 experimental sphere into the fundamental and reflective ; just as 
 Reid did, when he established his theory of immediate perception, 
 and as the Scottish school now does, when it stands iij) for the
 
 m 
 
 398 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 validity of the respective principles of causality and teleology, in 
 the grounds of its natural theology. 
 
 Viewed, then, in this light, metaphysical philosophy, instead of 
 being a science having its own separate objects, and co-ordinate 
 with other sciences, is really a kind of " prima philosophia," which 
 underlies all the rest. It is conversant, in a sense, with every ob- 
 ject ; it touches upon the whole matter of human knowledge ; only 
 it seeks to trace it up to first principles, to exhibit the abstract 
 forms under which it must be viewed, and to show the primary 
 laws from which it springs. In this sense there is a philosophy of 
 nature, a philosophy of art, a philosophy of religion, a philosophy 
 of history, as well as a philosophy of mind ; every branch of hu- 
 man knowledge may, in fact, be traced back till it come within that 
 small circle of the sphere which metaphysical science claims as its 
 own peculiar province. Hence philosophy, in its highest applica- 
 tion, is the reference of the contingent to the absolute, the ground- 
 ing of facts in their necessary principles ; it is the science which 
 looks beneath the phenomenal world either of matter or mind, and 
 inquires into the ultimate realities of both.* 
 
 * I have been somewhat more explicit on the above points than before, to prevent 
 such misunderstandings as the learned and excellent author of the review of my first 
 edition, in the " North British," has unwarily fallen into. He says of my former 
 remarks, (No. xii. p. 318,) "We have really been making it an express effort to ascer- 
 tain the starting point of this ontology," or ' loftier region of thought,' over which he 
 longs to expatiate, and to scale the heights of the ' Prima Philosophia,' and all that we 
 can find, all that he himself alleges, is but these three substrata to come and go upon. 
 Now, though, by a fundamental law of the human understanding, we believe in a 
 substratum for the Deity — a substratum for man — a substratum for the universe, we 
 cannot for our Uves imagine what more we know of them than that they barely exist ; 
 nor how it is that these three bare entities can be turned, like geometrical definitions, 
 into the germs of reasoning and endless discovery. We fear that they will be of as 
 little avail for progress as the abstract ideas of Plato. However, we say, let him again 
 try, but would further bid our aspiring young philosopher ' remember Kant's dove.' * * * 
 It might restrain many an Ixionic flight." 
 
 I beg to assure my friendly critic, that I skall try again and again, until something 
 more fruitful than Scotch psychology comes of it ; in the meantime, however, I must 
 put my " prima philosophia" upon a tairer footing than that upon which he has left it 
 to stand. Let us apply, first, the ars-Mwentem ad hominevi. The critic believes in a 
 substratum for the soul— the world— the Deity. On what ground 1 Upon a funda- 
 mental law of the human understanding. But how is the validity of this law estab- 
 lished ? Not by a mere inductive psychology, but, simply and solely, by this very 
 " prima philosophia," this very ontology, which is so decried. When Descartes estab- 
 lished the spirituality of the soul by his reflective process — his " Cogito ergo sum" — he 
 performed an office for which Reid could speak of him with deepest admiration. When 
 Reid himself overturned the scepticism of Hume, and established his theory of percep- 
 tion he too was working altogether in the region of a " prima philosophia," and on 
 that crround alone has occupied his high place in the philosophical world. Nay, when 
 the critic himself, in his own eloquent style, argued out the being of a God on the 
 principle o^ final, causes, on what was all the strength of his argument based, but upon 
 the objective validity of the human reason in these its fundamental laws 1 The Carte- 
 sian and the Scottish principles on these topics are alike purely ontological. Take 
 away their ontological force, and they are valueless. 
 
 But we are anxious that the vieaning of ontology should be cleared up a little.
 
 I 
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 399 
 
 We must proceed, however, to make good our view of the Scot- 
 tish school in this particular, by a little closer examination of its 
 main positions. The primitive elements of all our knowledge, as 
 1; we have often repeated, are finite mind, nature, and God. The 
 Scottish philosophy contains all three of these ideas reflectivelv, 
 but it regards them all from an experimental, rather than an ab- 
 stract or a fundamental point of view ; and on that account cannot 
 be regarded as sufficiently deep in its researches. 
 
 1. Let us view this as it regards the notion of finite mind. This 
 forms, without doubt, the chief element in their metaphysics (and 
 on this ground it is that we have classed them under the head of 
 idealism) ; but what have we from that school which can answer 
 to the idea of being a philosophy of human nature, spiritually con- 
 sidered, in its fullest extent ? The more obvious phenomena of 
 mind, it is true, as they appeal' in the individual, are investigated 
 and classified by it, with much patience and success ; but this be- 
 ing done, little attempt is made to refer such phenomena to their 
 primary and fundamental principles. In this respect it diflfers 
 widely from the critical philosophy of Kant. Kant began his 
 critick by investigating the conditions on which philosophy at all 
 is possible ; he undertook to survey the whole extent of our con- 
 sciousness, to show the grounds of all human knowledge, and the 
 limits to which it is confined. To accomplish this, it was not suffi- 
 cient either to reduce our various mental states to a few general 
 heads, or to enumerate a number of primitive facts attested by 
 common sense to be infallibly true ; it was necessary to go a step 
 further, and to discover the very laws of our mental constitution 
 
 The critic says above, " that he can find it in nothins^ but the three bare substrata be- 
 forementioned to come and go upon." Now, we bt-g to observe, tliat ontolojiy has 
 notliiiiir to do with bare uiii/clirminc/ c.vislritcc. This is, in fact, a luere fiction of the 
 iinaj_'ination. Abstract being is a nonentity, and the H(;r<lian iqiiation .St yn ctjual to 
 Niclits is perfectly true. Ontology has to do with being in its most t'undarnental de- 
 terminations and necessary hiws, so far as they can be ascertained. It strives to look 
 beneath i)henoinena, as mere matters of ol)servation ami induction. But it never 
 attempts to view bare undetermined existence, for the very sufficient reason, that no 
 such existence has a being out of our own abstractions. Ontology, however, in its 
 jiroper department, has assureiliy reasoned out many a fundamintal truth. It has 
 looked deeply into the inmost constitution of the soul, and done jar more than merely 
 classit'y phenomena ; it has well-nigii c^ilahlifhcd a dynamical ihrory of the niaterial 
 World; it is pushing onwards its investigations into the nature of lite, showing it to be 
 the result of antagonistic forces ; it is trying to show how all things subsist in God, 
 without driving us into the abyss of iiantiieism. To whatever extent such generaliza- 
 tions can be safely carried on, they do liecome as fruitful as geometrical definitions; 
 they pour new light into every prominent region of human resean'h, and give us a dis- 
 tant glimpse of the hope, that some day our kiiowb dir,- may vrrily find its unity in this 
 very Prima Philosophia itself Doubtless many an Ixionic tligbt will take |)lace here, 
 as in everything else, before the liigh argument is fully reached ; but we prcler to fly 
 even with the chance of an occasional fall, than to do like the Scottish psycholo;;y — 
 never to soar at all. We arc convinced that our wings arc not all waxen.
 
 400 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 upon which these primitive beliefs rest. In doing this he took care 
 to separate the subjective element from the objective in all our con- 
 ceptions ; he showed how much of every notion comes from with- 
 out, and how much from within ; what portion of it is due to the ex- 
 ternal phenomenon, and what is due to the mind itself, by means of 
 which it is comprehended ; and thus he arrived (we will not now 
 determine how correctly) at the subjective conditions under which 
 everything is necessarily viewed, at the very forms or categories 
 of the understanding. Whatever opinion we may have of Kant's 
 peculiar theory in this respect, unquestionably it was an aim wor- 
 thy his all-comprehensive genius, to seek for the groundwork of 
 our universal notions in the depths of our own being, and thus to 
 refer all the principles of common sense, all the primary laws of 
 belief, back to their source in the subjective forms of the under- 
 standing and the reason. No such survey of the human conscious- 
 ness have we in Reid himself, much less so in his successors. 
 
 There is another point, to which we must next refer, in respect 
 of which the vScottish school has ever been defective. While it 
 has investigated the phenomena of the individual mind with much 
 ability, it has neglected the phenomena of mind in the aggregate, 
 as seen in the historical development of humanity at large. The 
 philosophy of history is one of the most interesting branches of 
 intellectual science. We look back to the earlier periods of the 
 world, and we see men existing in a primitive state with none of 
 the arts of life, none of the results of science, none of the refine- 
 ments of society. We see them soon combining for mutual benefit 
 or defence into larger communities, and beginning to cultivate 
 some of the simple branches of literature and philosophy. The 
 Asiatic monarchies, after having thus gradually risen and played 
 their part in the destinies of the world, are overthrown by a more 
 energetic race, among whom poetry, eloquence, and philosophy 
 are brought to a hitherto unknown degree of perfection. These 
 again are swallowed up by the gi gantic power of the Roman empire, 
 which having itself been imbued with a new element by the power 
 of Christianity, casts the seed of moral and spiritual vitality among 
 the rude barbarian tribes by which it is itself overwhelmed, and 
 thus prepares the way for the grand display of moral and intellec- 
 tual power which the Christian civilization has exhibited upon the 
 theatre of the modern world. It is the part of intellectual philoso- 
 phy to trace the great ideas which have aided, or rather forced on- 
 wards the advancement of mankind ; to show under what mental
 
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 401 
 
 Circumstances every nation has emerged from its darkness; by 
 what laws it has progressed ; and how each one has in its turn 
 contributed to the development of the mighty elements, which ever 
 lay potentially in the bosom of humanity. The history of civil 
 institutions, of art, of science, of literature, nay, the history of 
 philosophy itself, each has its philosophy ; all, in fact, being so 
 many different phenomena, which the human mind viewed in the 
 aggregate presents, and which must be carefully taken into ac- 
 count, if we would rightly estimate its capacity, and trace the in- 
 fluences under which it has been unfolded. 
 
 This again leads us to the great problem of human life, and of 
 human destiny. What purpose is the mind of man intended to 
 answer in the world ? and to what point is it tending ? If there 
 be one fact of our consciousness more manifest than another, it is 
 that the spirit finds not its full satisfaction upon earth. Why are 
 we placed, then, in a state where suffering is certain, more or less, 
 to imbitter our days, and where joy, when we obtain it, is but a 
 transitory glimpse of a happiness which we may conceive of, but 
 may never obtain ? Generation after generation has passed away ; 
 their minds, like our own, having formed plans and purposes, which 
 they were never destined to execute, and which, if they had been 
 accomplished, would only have increased, instead of satiating, the 
 thirst for happiness and immortality ; their hearts, like our own, 
 have beat high with hopes and expectations which never could be 
 fulfilled. What is the interpretation of all these phenomena ? Does 
 philosophy tell us anything or nothing of human destiny here and 
 hereafter ? These inquiries are not satisfied by a reference simply 
 to the immateriality, or to the inferred immortalitv of the soul ; we 
 need to rise to a higher view of human life; to interpret it by an 
 appeal to the whole stream of history ; to i)robe the depths of our 
 being by a solemn reflection upon all the facts it presents ; and to 
 draw the conclusions to which those facts seem necessarily to 
 lead us. 
 
 To do this, of course, man's religious nature must be appealed 
 to ; and this appeal leads us into a region of internal facts, as ver- 
 itable as any of the others which reflection unfolds to us — facts 
 which we cannot leave out of our estimate of the human mind, 
 without robbing it of one of its most remarkable and most distinc- 
 tive features. All great and deep-searching systems of philo.sophy 
 have struggled at the solution of these questions; they have all 
 attempted to explain the ground of human duty, human suffering, 
 
 2G
 
 402 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and human destiny ; and if the problem has never been fully solved, 
 yet it cannot be denied that much light has been thrown upon it 
 by the investigations to which it has been subjected. In one word, 
 every great system of philosophy has included, as an essential part 
 of its whole structure, the philosophij of religion. Admit, as we 
 freely do, that revelation here comes to our aid, and sheds a flood 
 of light upon the whole subject, still that does not repress or render 
 useless the researches of our own understanding on the subject. 
 For, in the first place, revelation puts everything before us in its 
 popular and practical aspect, and leaves very much on all specula- 
 tive questions to be elucidated by our own thinking ; and then, 
 even supposing we accept a truth on the ground of its being re- 
 vealed, yet still it is an object of no little interest to show, that the 
 same truth is not only consistent with, but may be actually deduced 
 from, the axioms of a sound philosophy. We feel convinced, 
 therefore, that the Scottish philosophy will never take a firm and 
 lasting hold upon mankind, until it points us to the solution of some 
 at least of the great questions, which ever and anon rise up before 
 our view, with which we are from time to time tormented and 
 perplexed, but which, when once conceived, we can never again 
 bid depart from our thoughts. 
 
 2. But we must refer next to the second of the primitive notions, 
 which lie at the foundations of human knowledge, that of nature, 
 and consider in what manner our northern metaphysicians have 
 dealt with this idea. To determine the objective reality, which we 
 attach to this notion, was one of the chief objects of Reid's philos- 
 ophy ; but this aim having been accomplished, the subject has 
 rested, with little exception, in the same position ever since. The 
 investigation of the external laws of the material world, of course, 
 comes under the department of physical science. On the other 
 hand, the great metaphysical question, which it behooves philosophy 
 to grapple with, is this, — What is it, in the state of mind called per- 
 ception, that comes from the objective reality ; and what is it that 
 comes from the laws of our own intellectual nature ? It is pretty 
 generally admitted, that this state of consciousness arises from the 
 union of the subjective with the objective, that it is a felt relation 
 between nature and self. What, then, in every case is due to the 
 subjective, and what to the objective element, and what conclusion 
 does this lead us to draw with regard to the nature of matter in 
 general ? 
 
 Now every ontological question of this nature is virtually pro- 
 
 ml
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 403 
 
 scribed by the Scottish school. Instead of doing this, our aim 
 should be, beginning with the experimental or psychological 
 method, to find a legitimate passage from psychology to ontoloffy, 
 and to determine, as far as we are able, the mode and the nature 
 of material existence. After all the disputes about infinite divisi- 
 bility on the one hand, and ultimate atoms on the other, it may 
 perhaps at length be found, that a system of monadology is the 
 most intelligible theory ; that the most correct notion of matter is 
 that of a combination offerees, which produce certain impressions 
 upon our minds, and to which those minds necessarily attribute 
 certain material properties. Thus it may turn out that the mode, 
 in which we are now accustomed to view material masses in phys- 
 ical science, namely, as powers acting in certain directions, i^met- 
 aphysically as well as mechanically true. 
 
 Again : when we view the variety of the material universe — 
 when we perceive the order, harmony, and beauty which every- 
 where subsist, when we rise to contemplate its immensity, until the 
 mind is lost in the unending series of system upon system, which 
 reveal themselves in the boundless fields of space — the great prob- 
 lem unfolds itself before us — What purpose is all this gigantic 
 machinery now accomplishing, and what is its final destiny ? We 
 admit that this problem has never yet received its complete answer 
 from the eflx)rts of philosophy ; but yet we say, that the purpose 
 and destiny of nature, viewed in her mysterious existence, in her 
 endless forms of beauty, in her profusion of glory, in her solemn 
 movements, and in her inconceivable immensity, present a subject 
 of philosophic speculation too real, too awful, and too sublime to 
 be hurried off* the stage of inquiry, as lying beyond the reach of 
 our present faculties to fathom. The attempt to fathom this ques- 
 tion has often indeed merged into a pantheistic result. But the 
 fact of false theories being maintained, does not render the search 
 for truth any the less important or legitimate. Quite certain it is, 
 that the more nature is investigated with a right mind and a devo- 
 tional heart, the more closely it brings us into contact with the 
 Divine ; nay, that it is the want of recognizing the spiritual and 
 ideal in nature, which has so often betrayed the naturalist into a 
 cold and heartless atheism. Generally, then, we cannot but feel 
 that the philosophy of Scotland has been deficient in explaining the 
 proper existence of matter, and casting a light upon the great idea 
 of nature herself 
 
 3. The last idea which the Scottish philosophy, in common with
 
 404 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 every true philosophy, contains, is that of the infinite, absolute, 
 unconditioned existence, i. e., of God. This idea gives rise to 
 natural theology, which is treated of with considerable success 
 by some of the northern metaphysicians, so far at least as their 
 researches reach. The points here, which need taking up more 
 fully, are, first, the origin of the idea of an absolute being in the 
 human mind ; and, secondly, the relation of the Divine power and 
 energy to man on the one hand, and to nature on the other. With 
 regard to the former of these points, the argument from design has 
 been drawn out most fully and beautifully by the Scottish writers, 
 from Reid down to Chalmers ; but all have gone upon the suppo- 
 sition that the conception of the absolute is already in the mind, 
 and have simply attempted to prove its objective reahty. Nature 
 can show an infinity of power, in perpetual operation, and its har- 
 mony may point us to a uniti/ from which it emanates ; but nature 
 can never give us the idea of an infinite personality. Here we 
 have to fall back simply upon the soul — the absolute starting-point 
 of all theology.* The second point would be a comment upon the 
 scriptural doctrine — " In God we live, and move, and have our be- 
 ing." This is a truth, which has more meaning in it than the cur- 
 sory reading of it gives us ; it evidently has a reference to the 
 mysterious dependence of the human spirit upon the Divine, show- 
 ing that we are all emanations from the infinite essence, and 
 though gifted with a distinct personality, yet that we are but waves 
 in the great ocean of existence, ever rolling onwards to our eter- 
 nal home in the bosom of God. In the same manner as God holds 
 an intimate relationship with all mental, so also does he with all 
 material dependent existence — a relationship which it is the en- 
 deavor of every comprehensive system of philosophy to explain. 
 It is true, the Scottish philosophy has somewhat touched upon this 
 point in discussing the question of efficient and secondary causes, 
 but yet so imperfectly, that it is impossible to derive either light or 
 satisfaction from its conclusions. There is perhaps no point which 
 more requires to be elucidated, and none which comes more within 
 the compass of metaphysics, as acknowledged in Scotland, than 
 the theory of what we should term the secondary and delegated 
 powers of nature. We are aware that revelation may cast light 
 upon this, and many other of the questions we have mentioned, 
 and that in some instances it affords a very distinct answer to 
 them ; but the object of philosophy, as applied to these subjects, is 
 
 * See Appendix, Note A.
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 
 
 to place them upon another footing, to deduce them in a connected 
 
 Cham of reasonmg from generally admitted facts and nrincW s ^ 
 
 make hem the objects, not of faith but of science, rdth!' to 
 
 shovv the un,ty. as far as the parallel can be traced betw e„ the 
 
 co„cus,ons of reason and the diciates of revela.ioL. Thus „ 
 
 fine the Sco.l.sh school of metaphysics, though containing all , he 
 
 fundamental .deas of human knowledge, an°d consequently he 
 
 germs of a most complete system, yet appears wanting i„ " 
 
 hensr^eness as u regards each separate department. It answeTTn 
 
 a word, to the description given of it by the celebrated vt" 
 
 before referred to ; that, namely, of a preparation for philosophy 
 
 rather than a philosophy itself pmiosopny. 
 
 Before we close our remarks, however, upon Scotland, we must 
 not forget to ment.on one publication to which Europe itself iT"n 
 
 nantly of the mmd of the country in which it originated, yet has 
 ever looked upon philosophical questions with an enlarged an< Ift 
 
 seen that we refer, has been the channel, through which some of 
 he master mmds of Scotland as well as England have from t ml 
 to >me g,ven then- thoughts to the world. Among the philosopT 
 .ca wnters who have enriched its pages, we shah memionTwo. 
 one hymg and one some years since gone to his rest, who have 
 
 spmt oi metaphysical research ^ 
 
 sessed all the quahficat.ons for a philosopher of the highest order 
 Educated onginally as one of the Scottish school, he soC la ed 
 on leavmg lus nat.ve country, to overstep the limits to which l,e 
 was here confined ; and amidst the labors of an arduous prof ! 
 sional hfe, devoted what time he could spare from his duties to a 
 most widely-extended course of philosophical reading and study 
 It .s chiefly a., a moralist that Sir James Jlackintosh stoml uL 
 eminent; and the ardor, the depth, and the leaniin. willi which 
 he combated the selfish systems, and pleaded for ,l,e au.horitv and 
 anctity of the moral faculty in man, contributed perhaps "more 
 than any single cause not of a religious naiure. to oppose the bold 
 advances of utilitarianism, and infuse a healthier tone into the 
 moral principles of the country. Without signifying our .adhe! 
 lence to his peculiar theory respecting conscience, we still regard 
 his thoughts and speculations as taking eminently the riMu dfrec
 
 406 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 tion ; and had he obtained leisure to mature his views, and give 
 them to the world in his own forcible and glowing style, it is the 
 opinion of some best able to judge upon the subject, (e. g. Robert 
 Hall and Dr. Chalmers,) that^ he would have placed the whole 
 theory of morals upon a higher and more commanding position, 
 than it had ever occupied before in this country. With the ex- 
 ception of his admirable dissertation on ethical philosophy in the 
 *' Encyclopaedia Britannica," his chief metaphysical writings are 
 to be found in the pages of the " Edinburgh Review," where the 
 practised eye can easily detect his articles by the combination of 
 profuse learning, and profound thought, with a brilliancy of style, 
 and a gentleness of criticism, alike significant of his intellectual 
 power and his kindly affections. As a metaphysician, Mackintosh 
 tended decidedly to the more spiritual school of philosophy, and 
 had he read as deeply into the German authors as he himself pro- 
 jected, would undoubtedly have given a great spur to the renewed 
 study of the higher metaphysics. As it is, however, he can never 
 fill that space in the philosophical history of our country, for which 
 his genius eminently fitted him. 
 
 Respecting the other writer, to whom we have alluded, namely, 
 Sir WilUam Hamilton, we shall say less than we should feel in- 
 chned to say were he not a living author, from whom the public 
 has still some further expectations, and were it not improper to 
 remark upon theories which as yet have not been published be- 
 yond the privacy of the lecture-room. Enough, however, has 
 already appeared from his pen, to warrant the assertion, that no 
 history of Modern Philosophy can be complete without giving due 
 place to the researches there instituted. We might refer to the 
 elaborate articles, which have appeared in the Edinburgh Review, 
 on " The Philosophy of Perception," on " Cousin's Eclecticism," 
 and on " Modern Logic," each of which contains germs of phil- 
 osophical principles which admit of indefinite expansion ; but we 
 are happy to be able to refer to a more complete, though still un- 
 finished exposition of his philosophy, in the Dissertations appended 
 to his recent edition of Reid's collected writings.* Should any 
 one suppose that the editor has taken his stand upon those writ- 
 ings, as containing in all respects a true philosophy, he will be 
 
 * In our former edition we ventured to ask the Edinburgh philosopher, " Why he 
 had neglected the office of raising Scotland to that- high rank of reputation which 
 it formerly enjoyed among the philosophical countries of Europe." We could not 
 have had the commencement of a more satisfactory reply, than that afforded by the 
 above-mentioned Dissertations ; and only hope that before the year is past it may be 
 completed.
 
 THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL. 407 
 
 much mistaken, for in no work of the age are many of Reid's 
 principles more completely overthrown. The works of the great 
 founder of the school of "common sense," are simply regarded as 
 coming, upon the whole, nearer to the truth than any other ; as 
 forming, in fact, a kind of centre between contending systems on 
 which a high and refined eclecticism can plant itself, in order to 
 grasp those catholic principles of human thinking, to which all 
 philosophy has virtually done homage. Let us see the results. 
 
 Reid's system is usually termed the philosophy of "common 
 sense," that is to say, one which accepts the primary beliefs ordi- 
 narily received by all mankind as the ultimate criterion of truth. 
 The first thing, then, to which the editor addresses himself is, to 
 expound the meaning of the doctrine, and illustrate the purport of 
 the argument of common sense.* To do this, he shows that in all 
 reasoning we must sink back upon certain fundamental facts of 
 consciousness ; the only thing we have to guard against is, 1 . 
 " That we admit nothing unwarrantably — not even an original 
 datum of consciousness itself; 2. That we embrace all which are 
 original data of consciousness, with their legitimate consequences ; 
 and 3. That we exhibit each in its integrity, neither distorted nor 
 mutilated. It is the want of observing these precautions which has 
 led to the multiplication of philosophical systems, in every con- 
 ceivable aberration from the unity of truth; so that philosophy has 
 simply to return to natural consciousness, in order to return both 
 to unity and truth." 
 
 The next point taken up, is to show the " legitimacy and legiti- 
 mate application of the argument of common sense."! This pro- 
 ceeds on two suppositions — 1. That the proposition to be proved 
 by it is identical with, or necessarily evolved out of a primary 
 datum of consciousness ; and 2. " That the primary data of con- 
 sciousness are one and all of them admitted to be true." These 
 being granted, nothing; hinders the argument of common sense 
 from being valid for all purposes of philosophy. 
 
 The third point to be shown, is, that the above sujipositions 
 must be admitted ; that they are strictly philosophical in their 
 character ; and that no exception, therefore, can be made against 
 a system of philosophy which is professedly buik upon them. J 
 
 The fourth section proposes to investigate the essential charac- 
 ters by which the principles of common sqnse are discriminated. 
 
 ♦ Note A. sec. 1. f Note A. sec. '3. 
 
 :): Note A. sec. 'i.
 
 408 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 These are found to be — 1. Their incomprehensibility as to why 
 they are ; 2. Their simplicity ; 3. Their necessity and absolute 
 universality ; 4. Their comparative evidence and certainty. These 
 characters being determined, the last two sections enter into a 
 long and learned historical investigation of the nomenclature of 
 fundamental philosophy, and the general recognition of the prin- 
 ples of common sense by philosophers of every age and country. 
 
 In the second note (note B), the author proceeds to exemplify 
 the distinction between presentative and representative knowl- 
 edge, as affording a basis for the true theory of perception. The 
 principal points of this distinction may be briefly stated. The one 
 kind of knowledge is simple, the other complex ; in the one, there 
 is only a single object involved, in the other, there are two — the 
 reality and the idea ; the one is absolute, the other relative ; the 
 judgment involved in the one is assertatory, that in the other prob- 
 lematic ; the one is self-suflicient, the other is not self-sufficient ; 
 the one is complete or adequate, the other incomplete or inade- 
 quate. These may serve to explain the principal differences be- 
 tween a knowledge, which we obtain by a direct intuition, and 
 that which is conveyed by a mediating idea, or- conception. In 
 the second section, the errors of Reid and other philosophers are 
 pointed out, and the way paved for a clear and well-defined doc- 
 trine on the subject. 
 
 In note C, the editor proceeds first to expound systematically 
 the different schemes of external perception, which are to be found 
 in the different systems of philosophy. Philosophers, in respect to 
 the question of perception, have been either, 1. Presentationists ; 
 or, 2. Representationists. 1. Presentationists may proceed upon 
 one of two plans. Either they may abolish the representing object, 
 or they may abolish the real object. In the former case we have 
 natural realism, as in Reid ; in the latter, we have pure subjective 
 idealism, as in Fichte. 2. Representationists are also of two kinds ; 
 either they make the representing image or idea a mode or modi- 
 fication of the mind itself, or they regard it as a separate existence. 
 In the former case, we have a theory of ideas like Locke and 
 Brown ; in the latter, we have the ideal system of Aristotle or 
 Democritus. For the minor shades of these doctrines, and Reid's 
 precise position, we must refer our readers to the work itself, which 
 will amply repay them for the closest investigation.* 
 
 The next note (D) enters at length into the difficult question of 
 ♦ Note C. sees. 1 and 2.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 409 
 
 the primary and secondary qualities of bodies, and gives a vast 
 amount of information, critical and historical, upon the physiologi- 
 cal question of sensation and perception. This being accomplished, 
 the whole subject of perception is summed up by a contrast between 
 the author's own views and those of the earliest Scottish school, 
 together with certain historical notices on the " rapports du phy- 
 sique et du moral," in man. Some contributions towards a history 
 and a theory of the doctrine of association, complete abruptly the 
 dissertations so far as they at present extend ; and must leave, we 
 imagine, upon every mind that feels at all interested in such topics, 
 the devout hope, that a work so auspiciously commenced, may ere 
 long satisfy the anticipation it cannot but excite with reference to 
 its early completion. 
 
 On the whole, we cannot but regard these dissertations as the 
 most valuable contribution to the progress of a true philosophy, in 
 our country, within the present century. There is no evasion of 
 difficulties, no blenching of the intellectual eye before the pure 
 light of the deepest truth ; no dimness of vision accruing from the 
 long and intense gaze within, which such subjects demand. On 
 the contrary, we have the highest questions, which even the Ger- 
 man mind can treat of, brought down into the light of " common 
 sense," and see a far nearer approximation towards adjusting 
 the respective claims of all the primary systems of Europe, than 
 has before been witnessed in the jihilosophical literature of our 
 country. 
 
 Sect. II. — The German School of the Nineteenth Century. 
 
 We come now to that branch of the idealistic school, which if 
 it has exceeded all others in obscurity, has also far excelled them 
 in depth and originality. In entering upon the field of modern 
 German metaphysics, we must bespeak beforehand the good-will of 
 the reader, that he may not be easily offended with the strange- 
 ness of the phraseology, or the dryness of the abstractions ; trust- 
 ing that the pleasure of any new idea that is gained will conij^)en- 
 sate for the uninviting manner in which it may be communicated. 
 On our own part, we shall divest the subject of its bristling formu- 
 las as far as we are able, and use the ordinary language of philoso- 
 phy, whenever it can be done with advantage, without making 
 the obscurity of the original still more obscure. 
 
 It should ever be kept in mind, that the great aim of the German
 
 410 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 philosophy is, in many respects, very different from the main pur- 
 pose of intellectual science in our own country. The analysis of 
 the powers and faculties of the human mind, which with us is the 
 chief point, is among the Germans comprehended in one very sub- 
 ordinate division, generally termed psychology ; while their chief 
 endeavors are directed to the solution of the three great problems, 
 which relate to the existence and the nature of God, of the uni- 
 verse, and of human freedom. The phenomena, both of the inter- 
 nal and external world, are ever shifting ; what exists this moment 
 is gone the next ; what is true for to-day, is not true for to-morrow. 
 Now, our own philosophy, whether physical or mental, attempts 
 not, for the most part, to go beyond the limits of this scene of 
 phenomena, but, taking its position in the centre of it, seeks to 
 observe the generic characters, which the phenomena themselves 
 present, and arrange them in the most convenient order. Not so 
 the philosophy of Germany. Convinced that mere phenomena 
 cannot be self-existent reahties, it begins by inquiring after the 
 principle from which they spring ; it seeks for a uniform and un- 
 changeable basis, which underlies all the fleeting appearances of 
 things ; it demands truth which must be eternally, truth, and from 
 which, as the prime unconditioned existence, everything else has 
 proceeded. Not content with knowing what is, it aims at discov- 
 ering what must he ; and then seeks to trace the whole creative 
 process by which the universe in all its multiplicity has flowed by 
 eternal laws from the self-existent one. The very first requisite, 
 therefore, in understanding the rationale of the German philosO' 
 phy, is to fix the eye of the mind upon the notion of " the absolute,^'' 
 and thus to pass mentally beyond the bounds of changing, finite, 
 conditioned existence, into the region of the unchangeable, the in- 
 finite, the unconditioned. 
 
 That we have some idea (positive or negative) of an independent 
 and absolute existence, from which all finite and dependent being 
 has emanated ; that we have some notion of a first cause, from 
 which all secondary causes are derived ; that our reason struggles 
 to look beneath the veil of phenomena, that is spread before our 
 senses, to the abiding reality in its eternal repose, which sustains 
 them, is undeniable. Revelation cannot unfold to us the existence 
 of this great first cause, since its whole authority rests upon that 
 very fact, and it does not unfold to us the nature and constitution 
 of the universe. If we would understand these things, we must 
 philosophize ; we must look out upon the changing world, and our
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 411 
 
 reason must there see the unchangeable basis which upholds it ; we 
 must look in upon our finite and dependent minds, and view there 
 the indestructible evidence for an infinite and independent Beinf^, 
 by which they too are sustained. 
 
 The philosophy of the absolute — that which seeks to penetrate 
 into the principles of things — although it may seem strange to our 
 modes and habits of thought, yet has played a great part in the 
 scientific history of the world. It formed the basis of the ancient 
 speculations of the Asiatic world. It characterized some of the 
 most remarkable phases of the early Greek philosophy, particularly 
 that of the Eleatic school. Plato, with all the lofty grandeur of his 
 sublime spirit, sought for the absolute, in the archetypes existing in 
 the Divine mind. The Alexandrian philosophers proposed to them- 
 selves the same high argument ; mingling their theories with the 
 mysticism of the East, and calling, even, to their aid, the lights of 
 the Christian revelation. In more recent times Spinoza gave cur- 
 rency to similar investigations, which were soon moulded into a 
 system of stern and unflinching pantheism ; and in him we see the 
 model upon which the modern idealists of Germany have renewed 
 their search into the absolute ground of all phenomena. It is, in 
 fact, in the various methods by which it is supposed that we are 
 conducted to the absolute, whether by faith, intuition, or reason, 
 that the different phases of the German metaphysics have origi- 
 nated ; and, consequently, it is by keeping our eye upon this point, 
 that we shall possess the most ready key to their interpretation. 
 
 Before we proceed, however, to the exposition of the modern 
 idealism, we must concentrate in a few lines the chief results of the 
 Kantian philosophy, in order that we may thus keep up the histor- 
 ical connection, and show the process by which the systems that 
 flourish in the present century, have been developed. 
 
 According to Kant, there are three great faculties which com- 
 pose our intellectual nature ; sense, miderstaniling, and reason., 
 All the material of our knowledge comes to us through the medium 
 of the first, but it comes in a chaotic mass, without form, and void. 
 The faculty which gives shape and distinctness to this material, 
 and which thus forms it into notions, is the understanding. Then, 
 lastly, the reason is ever emi)loycd in generalizing our ni>ti(His, in 
 making them as abstract as possible, and thus in giving to them a 
 systematic unity. From this it follows, that the only true knowl- 
 edge having objective reality answering to it, is that which lies 
 within the bounds of our sense-perceptions ; that all else is merely
 
 412 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 formal, and, if supposed, to be otherwise, must prove delusive and 
 contradictory. It follows, moreover, that, as the bare matter of our 
 notions comes from without, and everything which shapes them 
 into distinct conceptions is communicated by the forms of our own 
 understanding within, therefore all our knowledge of things beyond 
 the mere fact that they are, is purely subjective, and, were our 
 understandings differently constituted, might be entirely altered. 
 The real objects we know to be actually present, otherwise all our 
 knowledge would be formal, as in logic ; but they can only be to us 
 what we feel them. Nothing can ever come to our knowledge at 
 all, except through the medium of the laws of our own subjective 
 faculties ; so that, what we see in matter is not its real qualities, 
 but a reflection of the forms of our own understanding. It is to 
 be remembered, also, that when we speak of the material of our 
 knowledge coming through the senses, all we are to understand by 
 this material is bare phenomenon ; for Kant proceeded to show that 
 the purely rational ideas of matter, of the soul, and of God, are but 
 personifications of our own modes of thinking, and cannot be 
 shown scientifically to have any objective reality answering to 
 them ; although it is quite conceivable that this may be the case, 
 and quite impossible to prove aught to the contrary.* 
 
 Now, in these conclusions there is a twofold element involved ; 
 there is, on the one hand, something without, which is independent 
 of our subjective activity, and which exerts a direct influence upon 
 our minds (for Kant assumed as indisputable the veracity of our 
 sense-perceptions) ; and on the other hand there is the strongest 
 possible tendency to pure subjective idealism ; for the element 
 given in sensation was not only regarded as mere phenomenon, but 
 also as having in it no distinctness, no form, no property, nothing, 
 in fact, by which it could be marked, known, or defined, until it 
 was shaped into notions by means of the understanding, and in 
 accordance with its subjective laws. These two points, then, in 
 the Kantian philosophy, have given rise to a double stream of specu- 
 lation in the more modern metaphysical schools of Germany. Ja- 
 cob!, on the one side,*laid hold of the realistic element, and strove 
 to assign it a still higher place amongst the first principles of human 
 knowledge than was allowed by Kant himself; and Ilerbart car- 
 ried out the tendency thus commenced by making the real objec- 
 tive fact given in perception (das faktisch Gegebene) the very 
 
 * It will be remembered that Kant counteracted the scepticism to which his theoretic 
 philosophy led, respecting morals and natural theology, by the conclusions of his prac- 
 tical philosophy.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 413 
 
 foundation stone of his system. On the other side Fichte, develop- 
 ino- Kant's subjective and idealistic tendency, easily snapped asun- 
 der the slender thread by which the objective world retained its 
 hold upon our theoretical belief, and made all existence absolutely 
 synonymous with thought. This branch has been since followed 
 up by the still more extraordinary sj)eculations of Schelling and 
 Hegel.* These six names, then, Kant, Jacobi, Herbart, Fichte, 
 Schelling, and Hegel, stand at the head of well-nigh all that is orig- 
 inal and peculiar in German philosophy ; the other writers have 
 merely afforded different phases of the same ideas, or applied them 
 to other objects, or attempted a reconciliation between the different 
 schools above indicated. 
 
 As the idealistic side of the Kantian philosophy is, without ques- 
 tion, the pre-eminent, it will, perhaps, be most natural to commence 
 with the great branch of metaphysical speculation, which we have 
 regarded as having taken its rise from that source. Jacobi would, 
 doubtless, have claimed the prior notice, chronologically consid- 
 ered ; but the element of faith which he introduced to supply the 
 deficiency of reason, removes him more properly to the ranks of 
 the mystics; while Herbart, who came inucli later, is scarcely in- 
 telligible, until we know something of the jiurer idealistic systems 
 against which his whole philosophy was directed. In the present 
 section, therefore, we shall first trace the regular development of 
 the ideal philosophy from the close of the last century to its cul- 
 minating point as seen in Hegclianism ; next, we shall exhibit the 
 method by which Herbart sought to uj)hold a realistic philosophy 
 in direct opposition to the other prevailing systems ; and, lastly, 
 we shall allude to the still more recent manifestations, which sj)ecu- 
 lative philosophy has exhibitetl on the ever fruitful soil of Germany. 
 The consideration of Jacobi we must, of course, reserve for the 
 chapter on mysticism, where we shall find the faith-clemont, he in- 
 troduced, combining with the other rationalistic systiMus, and thus 
 filling up a very considerable space in the philosophical history of 
 the present century. 
 
 The intelligent reader can now start, we trust, with a distinct 
 idea of the position which Kant holds in the road to subjective 
 idealism. The prevailing and most fruitful notion in his jihiloso- 
 phy is that of self ; for, although the idea of a really existing not- 
 self in nature is allowed, yet all we know of it is, as it were, a mere 
 
 ♦ On the rlasHiflciilion of the Modern Gcnnan Philosophy, sec ChaJyb 
 wickelung," p. 419, cl seq. 
 
 aus' " Ent-
 
 414 MOnERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 surface without any characters,, which reflects back the subjective 
 forms of our own understanding ; and, although the conception of 
 God is also acknowledged, yet, scientifically, it cannot be regarded 
 as anything else than the generalizing power of our own reason 
 personified. Still, with all this, so long as the veracity of our 
 sense-perceptions, and, consequently, the reality of outward phe- 
 nomena, was accepted as a fact, resting without need of further 
 proof, upon the direct testimony of our consciousness, there was, 
 of course, an empirical as well as a rational element in his philos- 
 ophy. 
 
 Reinhold, however, perceiving that there were two original ele- 
 ments of consciousness admitted by Kant as the basis of his phi- 
 losophy, namely, the forms of our personal activity on the one side, 
 and the material of our thoughts as given in perception on the 
 other, proposed to supply an analysis of consciousness itself, to 
 attain in that way a single instead of a double basis for philosophy, 
 and thus to complete the system which Kant had so skilfully com- 
 menced. This proposition of Reinhold, to find the foundation- 
 principle of all philosophy in the depths of our own consciousness, 
 proved in fact the transition-point between the doctrine of Kant 
 and that of Fichte, whose first idea was not by any means to 
 introduce a new theory, but only to show how the Kantian meta- 
 physics, which had been attacked by the scepticism of Schulze 
 and Maimon, might obtain a solid and uniform foundation. To 
 this celebrated author, then, we must now revert. 
 
 John Gottlob Ficjite was born at Rammenau, in the year 1762 ; 
 became a student at Jena in 1780 ; from 1784 to 1793 was occu- 
 pied in private tuition ; and then received an appointment as pro.- 
 fessor of philosophy in Zurich, where he married a relation of the 
 poet Klopstock. After remaining there only one or two sessions, 
 he was invited to a chair in Jena, where he enjoyed a few sessions 
 of happiness, in conjunction with some of the first minds of the 
 age, which were then gathered together at that university. In 
 1795, he relinquished his post at Jena, and became co-editor with 
 Niethammer of a Philosophical Journal. This office he held till 
 the year 1798, when, in consequence of an article which appeared 
 to savor of atheism, he was frowned upon by the Weimar govern- 
 ment, and, consequently, took up his residence in the Prussian 
 states. His arrival in Berlin excited some attention, and his lec- 
 tures were attended by men of the first rank and ability, until he 
 was induced to leave that place also, by an invitation to the chair
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 415 
 
 of philosophy at Erlangen. The French war next unsettled his 
 repose, and obliged him to fly successively to Konigsberg and Co- 
 penhagen, in order to avoid all connection with a nation and an 
 enemy, for whom, in common with every true German, he had the 
 greatest abhorrence. In 1807, he returned to Berlin, and under- 
 took, in connection with many others, who were appointed for that 
 purpose, the organization of the university; in the precincts of 
 which he delivered, during the first winter, his celebrated " Ad- 
 dresses to the German Nation." He remained there occupying 
 some of the most important and responsible stations in the univer- 
 sity, until the freedom war broke out in 1812, when he became 
 excited in behalf of his country to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. 
 He was not destined, however, long to take a share in the struggles 
 of his fatherland ; for his wife, having contracted fever from her 
 attention to the sick and the wounded, he only witnessed her re- 
 covery, himself to fall a victim to the same disease. His death 
 took place on the 12th of January 1814, in the fifty-second year 
 of his age. Such was the eventful life of one of the greatest 
 thinkers which Germany ever produced. 
 
 In attempting to explain, connectedly, Fichte's philosophical 
 principles, we must remember, that in early life he had entered 
 fully into that portion of the Kantian metaphysics, which teaches 
 us to regard all the properties of external objects as determined by 
 the laws of our own understanding. According to this, we know 
 everything only as, by virtue of our faculties, we represent it to 
 our minds. The forms of our sensational faculty, the categories 
 of the understanding, the conceptions of pure reason — these, in the 
 Kantian philosophy, are the necessary and unalterable ideas under 
 which everything, both in the material and spiritual world, is 
 viewed. For a considerable period Fichte remained faithful to 
 these Kantian doctrines ; but after having read the sceptical writ- 
 ings of Schulze and Maimon, he became at length convinced that 
 Kant had not built his system upon a foundation sufliciently deep 
 and immovable. The objective reality of our sense-perceptions, 
 was, on his hypothesis, taken for granted, without any reason 
 being assigned for it ; so that here was one wiiole branch of that 
 system resting uj)on an empirical basis, and therefore, as he sup- 
 posed, lying out of the region of strict scientific truth. Fichte's 
 object was to find out what we can be said absolutely to know, 
 and having discovered this, to erect a system, not of philosophy, 
 but of rigid scientific knowledge, against which no scepticism
 
 41G MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 could possibly rear an objection. Hence it was that, in place of 
 " Philosophy," he assumed the term " Wissenschaftslehre," as most 
 designative of his great pm-pose. 
 
 Scientific truth, according to Fichte, is that which, starting from 
 one self-evident basis, infers every succeeding position, step by 
 step, with demonstrative certainty.* But then the question is, 
 where must we start from, in order to be perfectly secure in every 
 succeeding deduction 1 Not, as Kant did, from the supposition 
 of an objective world standing co-ordinate, and as though it were 
 equally certain with the facts of consciousness ; but simply and 
 solely Irom those facts themselves. All we are immediately con- 
 scious of, argues Fichte, are the states and processes of our own 
 thinking self Our sensations, perceptions, judgments, impressions, 
 ideas, or by whatever other name they are designated, these form 
 the material of all the knowledge which is immediately given us — 
 knowledge which no sceptic, not Hume himself, ever disputed ; 
 nay, which cannot be disputed without our performing, in order 
 to do so, one of the very processes, and admitting some of the 
 very conceptions, whose existence we dispute. 
 
 Knowledge, therefore, that which has about it no element of 
 mere faith, must commence absolutely and solely with my subjec- 
 tive self Whatever I experience immediately, i. e., whatever 
 forms a part of my own direct consciousness, is surely and cer- 
 tainly known — known in a manner, in which nothing whatever 
 can possibly be, that does not pass through my real mental experi- 
 ence. Suppose, for a moment, that there were an objective world : 
 how could we affirm this to be the case, when everything, that lies 
 without us, can only become known at all by passing through our 
 own consciousness ? If it be said, that our inner consciousness is 
 so formed as to give us a perfect representation of the world with- 
 out, then we may reply, How can you verify this fact ? The 
 means of verifying it, if they exist at all, must arise from the ca- 
 pacity of comparing the reality with the representation — a process 
 which implies (what has just been given up) the power of perceiv- 
 ing things out of the consciousness, without any representation 
 whatever. We can only attempt to verify our first representation 
 of things, by making another representation of them ; try as we 
 will, therefore, we must, after all, confess that we have an imme- 
 diate consciousness, and consequently an immediate knowledge, 
 only of our subjective states ; and that, if anything do lie beyond 
 * See his " Begriff dor Wissenschaftslehre," Preface; also p. 10, et seq.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 417 
 
 them, we can only come to the knowledge of it through their me- 
 dium. Such is Fichte's fundamental position. 
 
 But it might be urged, again, that our intelligence is so formed, 
 that we are obliged to accept our inner consciousness as a veri- 
 table picture of the external world. To this, Fichte rejoins, that 
 the very intelligence which obliges us to do so is purely subjec- 
 tive ; it is but the name we give to our own mental constitution ; 
 so that, after all, we do not get a step beyond the circle of our 
 own selves. And if, lastly, the opponent should give up all idea 
 of representation, and urge that we are so constituted, that it is 
 absolutely necessary to suppose the real existence of material 
 things around us, then our philosopher reiterates the same argu- 
 ment as before, and urges in reply, that we do so only as necessi- 
 tated by our own inward faculties, or the laws of our own sub- 
 jective reason ; so that we find ourselves still confined within the 
 circle of our subjectivity, without the possibility of getting a sure 
 passage into the external world. What we know is simply the 
 contents of our own consciousness ; if there is an objective world, 
 it can only exist to us when it becomes part and parcel of those 
 contents. 
 
 Now, in pursuing this line of argument, Fichte did not intend to 
 deny practically the reality of external things ; all he intended was 
 to give an exact natural history of the human mind ; to show in 
 what its knowledge commences ; of what it consists ; and within 
 what limits it is confined. In other sciences men may assume the 
 objective, and proceed accurately enough on that assumption ; but 
 in philosophy, properly so called, (z. e. in Wissenschaft,) where 
 nothing is to be assumed, and every point known, he considered 
 that a rigid consecutive method did not allow us to go a single 
 step beyond what is to us absolutely real, namely, the facts of our 
 own mental experience. He imagined the mind to be, as it were, 
 an intelligent eye, placed in the central point of our inward con- 
 sciousness, surveying all that takes i)lace there ; and it was from 
 that point of view (the only absolute and scientific one) that he 
 wished to give an account of our moral and intellectual history, 
 detailing the rise, the progress, and all the events of our real in- 
 ward life, from its commencement to its maturity. Whether the 
 scenes which take place within this subjective circle, betoken any 
 objective existence or not, that was to him a matter of no con- 
 sequence ; well he knew that, if this were the case, it was only 
 just in proportion as the objects could lay aside, as it were, their 
 I 27
 
 418 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 objectivity, and transport themselves within the subjective sphere 
 of the mind's vision, that they could be observed and known ; or 
 what is the same thing, that to us they could exist. The real 
 history of every man, urged Fichte, is the history of his mind, the 
 flow of his conscious existence ; for what are to us woods, moun- 
 tains, trees, or stars, but names we attach to certain facts of our 
 consciousness ? what are all forms of the material world, but cer- 
 tain visions which have passed through our own minds — sensa- 
 tions which we have inwardly experienced ? 
 
 This being the case, the next inquiry is. Are we, in proceeding 
 scientifically, to regard the supposed objective reality around us as 
 the generative principle of our subjective states ; or are we to 
 consider our subjective states as the generative principle of the 
 supposed objective reality ? Do we experience subjective phe- 
 nomena (as, e. g., sensations) because there are objective existen- 
 ces around us ? or do we suppose objective existences to exist, 
 because we experience certain subjective phenomena ? Scientif- 
 ically speaking, there can be no doubt but that to us the subjective 
 is the primitive ; from this we take our start ; on the ground of 
 this we proceed ; and if we believe in an objective world at all, it 
 is only because our subjective states or laws of thought have led 
 us to do so. What is immediately true to us, are our sensations, 
 perceptions, and ideas — it is our reason which supposes an exter- 
 nal world, in order to account for them. Whatever, therefore, 
 the real fact may be to the eye of the Creator, the only scientific 
 plan we can proceed upon, is to analyze our own consciousness, to 
 regard self as the absolute principle, and to view everything else 
 as constructed, so far as we are concerned, by the necessary ex- 
 ertion of its own subjective laws. Man begins by observing the 
 facts of his consciousness ; on the faith of those facts he con- 
 ceives for himself all the forms of the external world ; in those 
 facts he remains shut up till he leaves the stage of his earthly ex- 
 istence. Philosophy, therefore, must disregard everything else, 
 and confine itself simply to this subjective sphere. To it nature 
 is nothing, mind is everything, for nature is only known as imaged 
 in the mind. 
 
 In constructing, then, a science upon these principles, we must 
 first look attentively at the consciousness itself in its primitive 
 state. We find, in doing so, that as far back as our recollection 
 goes, sensations, perceptions, representations of various kinds, and 
 in various degrees of intensity, have ever existed there. How
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 419 
 
 they have come, it is not for us to explain ; all we know is, that 
 they are there, apparently in accordance with the original con- 
 stitution of the active, thinking principle, which we term mind, or 
 self. In same of our mental processes we are conscious of putting 
 forth our own free activity ; but in the case now before us — that 
 of our sensations — the mind apparently is not free ; on the con- 
 trary, it feels itself constrained, opposed, determined. We are 
 obliged to have certain feelings, and to possess certain objects in 
 our consciousness ; and the only reason we can give for it is, that 
 we are so formed by nature, and that the spontaneous activity of 
 our minds is such as necessarily to produce them. Feeling our- 
 selves, however, thus circumscribed, we imagine that an actual 
 reality out of us exists, from which this resistance proceeds ; in 
 other words, we objectify the laws by which our activity is limited, 
 in order to explain the phenomena of that limitation, and call it 
 matter. 
 
 Let any one, says Fichte, regard the facts of our experience 
 from the subjective point of view we have above explained, and 
 see whether the description of them which is there given, is not 
 literally a true one. The ordinary procedure of philosophers has 
 usually been exactly the reverse. They have first assumed an ex- 
 ternal world, and then from that assumption have explained all the 
 facts of our consciousness which come within the limits of sensa- 
 tion. The true scientific procedure, however, is undoubtedly this: 
 I am conscious of certain feelings, certain representations, certain 
 inward pictures so to say ; and in order to account for them, I 
 infer the existence of external things. To say frst that the objects 
 exist, and then that our sensations come from them, just reverses 
 the chronological order of the process, and is no other than involv- 
 ing ourselves in a vicious circle, by reasoning first, that our sensa- 
 tions exist because there are objects present to cause them, and 
 then, that real objects must be present, because we have the sensa- 
 tions. Two realities cannot be mutually generative of each other; 
 the one must be the antecedent, the other the consequent ; and in 
 this case there can be no hesitation in assigning the fact of con- 
 sciousness as the antecetlent, since it is only through it, that we 
 could ever come to jiave the slightest idea of any objective re- 
 ality. 
 
 The true history of our inner life's experience, then, from the 
 subjective point of view, is the following. The mind is first of all 
 unconsciously active ; in this unconscious or spontaneous activity,
 
 420 " MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 we soon find ourselves limited by the laws of our being ; and then, 
 ere we come to the idea of self as the real subject of all these ex- 
 periences, we throw ourselves entirely into the contemplation of 
 these limitations, objectify them, and term them an external world. 
 After a time, however, the spontaneous action of the mind begins 
 to give way to the reflective ; we become gradually conscious of 
 our own activity ; we recall our thinking self from its absorption 
 in what it regards as an outward world ; we commence reading the 
 contents of our own consciousness as such ; and at length find that 
 the mind alone is the sphere of its own operations ; that it is at 
 once subject and object, the absolute starting point, and the sole 
 sphere of all scientific knowledge. 
 
 The necessity of certain limitations existing to the mind's 
 activity is seen from the fact, that were it not so, we should lose 
 ourselves in the infinite ; we should never come to a resting point, 
 never have any clear and defined perceptions ; all this, however, 
 is prevented by the original constitution of our being, which keeps 
 us within proper bounds, and stops us at certain limits, which limits 
 we term outward and material reality. This is what Fichte means 
 when he speaks of those " inexplicable absolute limitations," which 
 in his system are to take the place of external things ; he puts the 
 inward conscious reality in the place of what is with other philoso- 
 phers the outward object ; he puts the perception in place of the 
 thing perceived ; the feeling of resistance or limitation in place of 
 the matter which resists and limits ; in a word, he views every- 
 thing subjectively from the central point of his own consciousness, 
 describes everything as it appears from thence, and makes that 
 point the pedestal of his whole system. 
 
 Let it be remembered, however, that it is only in the theoretical 
 point of view, that we are compelled to this rigid course of reason- 
 ing. If we are required to describe what we can positively know, 
 all we can do is to give the history of our consciousness. What- 
 ever has passed there we know to have been, as far as we are con- 
 cerned, A REALITY ) whatcvcr lies beyond it, can be the object of 
 faith, but not of science. In the practical point of view, however, 
 where we can step from the region of knowledge into that of faith, 
 external things again find their real meaning and importance ; they 
 become then the work-tools of our life's activity, the instruments 
 by which we perform our duty and attain our destiny.* 
 
 * For a popular view of Fichte's method, similar, but somewhat more detailed than 
 what we have given above, consult Chalybiius' " Entwickelung," chap. vii. For the same
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 421 
 
 Having given this general description of the nature and spirit 
 of Fichte's subjective idealism, we shall now point out the formal 
 and technical method by which he expressed and systematized 
 these results. 
 
 Let it be premised that the absolute principle of all philosophy 
 must be found within us, since it is our subjective states alone, 
 which we can know immediately, and which can afford, therefore, 
 a certain ground to start from. But on looking within, all we are 
 conscious of are certain acts or processes ; of the substance of the 
 mind, of pure essential spirit, we know absolutely nothing. The 
 clearest notion, then, which we have of the mind is, that it is the 
 power of thinking ; the clearest that we have of the consciousness, 
 that it is the point or focus in which all our thoughts unite, and 
 from which they appear to emanate. 
 
 In order, therefore, to obtain a starting point for a system of 
 pure science, we must look steadfastly into our own consciousness, 
 and find some act of the mind's own spontaneous production, which 
 can be regarded in every way as axiomatically true : such being 
 found, it would give us the absolute and unconditional principle of 
 all human knowledge.* This primitive act is none other than the 
 principle of identity (Satz der Identitat) A = A, a principle which 
 is unconditionally certain, both as to its matter and its form. No 
 one will dispute the proposition A = A, when it is not enunciated 
 as though A implied any particular existence, but simply hypothet- 
 ically — that if A is, then it is equal to A. And yet, in affirming 
 A ^ A, I pass a judgment — I think ; and in doing so I affirm my- 
 self — so that the identity oHhe me is here asserted, and the propo- 
 sition becomes Ego = Ego. It will be seen at once, that in laying 
 down this as the absolute starting point, Fichte came very near to 
 the foundation principle of Descartes — Cogito ergo sum.f 
 
 The second absolute principle is the category of negation^ which 
 may be thus expressed, — A is not = A. This proposition is con- 
 ditional as to matter, because it depends upon the previous truth 
 A = A, but it is unconditional as to form. Viewed as an absolute 
 act of the mind, the equation becomes, Tlie not-me is not =: the 
 me. By the former pro})()sition the me nllirmed itself; by this 
 
 purpose, Fichte's small treatise, " Ucber den BeirrilT dor Wissenschaftslehrc," which 
 Was the first idea he jravc of his peculiar philosophy, can be read with Hdvantiigc. 
 
 ♦ " !5egri(r der Wissenschatlslehre," p. 12, ct acq., and " Soniienklarcr Bcricht," 
 p. 21H. 
 
 t " Grundlage der gesamniten Wissenschaftslehrc," p. 4, ct uq. 
 
 N.B. — This is the work usually referred to simply as Wisscnschaflslchre. There are 
 other heads of lectures in his posthumous works, which have the same title.
 
 422 MODERN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 second act, the me affirms a not-me ; that is, it places something 
 before it, which is opposed to self. In other words, in the one case 
 the mind views itself as the absolute subject : noiv it views itself 
 as object, forming thus the opposition which is necessary to every 
 act of consciousness.* 
 
 The first of the above propositions is an absolute affirmation — 
 the second an absolute negation. But these two comprise a con- 
 tradiction in themselves ; so that we need a third principle, by 
 which the positive and negative shall be united. Now the union 
 of the positive and negative gives the notion of limitation ; and 
 consequently the third formula of fundamental philosophy may be 
 thus expressed : — The me affirms itself to be determined by a not- 
 me, and vice versa ; a formula which is conditional both in its 
 matter and form.f 
 
 Here, then, we have the primitive and absolute processes of the 
 mind, as a pure activity. First, it asserts its own being — an abso- 
 lute subject : — next, it affirms the existence of something opposed 
 to itself — an absolute object : — lastly, it solves this contradiction, 
 by showing that the positive and negative, the subject and object, 
 limit and determine each other ; so that, as the one rises to view, 
 the other disappears. In this hovering between subject and object, 
 all our knowledge is cradled. J 
 
 Having laid down the absolute principles of all science, Fichte 
 proceeds to divide the Wissenschaftslehre into two parts, the theo- 
 retical and the practical. From the foregoing propositions, two 
 principles result. 1. That the me affirms itself to be determined 
 by a not-me ; and, 2. That notwithstanding this, the not-me is 
 itself affirmed, and determined by the me. The former of these 
 is the basis of theoretical science, the latter of practical. § 
 
 1. Of Theoretical Science. Here we have to view and ex- 
 plain all the phenomena which result from the mind's activity be- 
 ing determined by what appears to be an object. These phenom- 
 ena are of course the different relations which the me holds to the 
 not-me, the subject to its self-affirmed object. Now, if we regard 
 the me and the not-me as mutually determining and limiting each 
 other, (which is shown in the third fundamental axiom,) this gives 
 us the category of action and reaction.\\ Again, if we regard the 
 
 ♦ Wissenschaftslehre, p 17, el seq. 
 t Ibid. p. 23, et. seq. 
 
 ^ These three principles correspond with Kant's three judgments — AflSrmation, ne- 
 gation, and limitation — or thesis, antithesis, and synthesis. 
 § See Michelet's " Geschichte der letzten Sys." vol. i. p. 458. 
 II Wissenschaftslehre p. 58.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 423 
 
 me as itself giving its reality to the not-me, and in so far becoming 
 passive to its influence, we have the category of cause and effect^ 
 action and suflfering.* Lastly, according as we regard the me as 
 embracing all reality in itself, or admitting other reality besides, 
 we get the notions of substance and accident. f Here, then, we 
 have all the elementary ideas, which go to form the conception of 
 an external object — we have substance and accident, cause and 
 effect, action and reaction. It only remains further to show by 
 what process the object itself is placed clearly before the mind's 
 vision as a concrete reality. To see this it must be clearly kept 
 in memory, that the law of the mind's activity presents the con- 
 stant phenomenon of the mutual action and reaction of subject and 
 object, of the me and not-me, upon each other. The imagination 
 here comes into play, and pictures, as it were, this process — this 
 action and reaction ; holding it up, as though it were a reality, 
 clearly before our own consciousness. The consequence is, that 
 we view the reality which the me takes from itself, and attributes 
 to the not-me, as a veritably existing thing, out of ourselves — the 
 representation which the imagination gives us, being thus objecti- 
 fied. This phenomenon is what we usually term perception, and 
 it only requires the further operation of the understanding, and the 
 judgment, to make the whole process complete, and thus place an 
 external world with all its relations, and created from the subjec- 
 tive laws of the mind's own action, before our view. J 
 
 On the foregoing theory, Fichte considered, that the problem of 
 realism and idealism was fully resolved, inasmuch as the nature of 
 the relation that subsists between the perceiving mind and the ob- 
 ject of its perceptions, is at length unfolded. The mind itself is the 
 absolute principle and source of everything ; by its original and 
 spontaneous movement it constructs for itself the notion of an ex- 
 ternal world, and again by its reflective movement it comes back 
 to the perception of its own personal exertion j>ut forth in the whole 
 process. The idea of the objective arises from the self-limitation 
 of our own free activity, and answers to a mental alTcction ; the 
 idea of the subjective arises from the direct consciousness of our 
 free activity, and answers to a mental exertion. The one serves 
 to develop the notion of the other; without subject, there is no ob- 
 ject perceived ; without object there is no subject. The me aflirms 
 or constructs the not-me, and the not-me, on the other hand, de-/ 
 
 • Wisscnschaflalehrc, p. G2, et srq. i IbiJ. p. CO. 
 
 X WisscnschatVslclirc, p. 17.") to 200.
 
 424 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 termines the me ; and consequently the claims of realism and ideal- 
 ism here unite, and the absolute principle of all knowledge is dis- 
 covered in the centre of our own consciousness. Thus, at length, 
 the great fundamental question of philosophy, that which seeks to 
 determine the relation of thought and existence, is settled, because 
 all existence is shown to be synonymous with thought, and the 
 union of the two notions is found in the spontaneous movement of 
 the mind itself. 
 
 From these principles, again, Fichte derives a psychological ex- 
 planation of all the different phenomena of the human mind. If we 
 reflect upon the laws by which our activity is limited, and see 
 them producing, as it were, the obstacle which the me affirms, as 
 opposed to itself, (according to the second fundamental axiom — 
 Das ich setzt sich ein nicht-ich entgegen,) the result is termed a 
 feeling or sensation. Again, when the mind loses itself in the ob- 
 ject perceived, and thus sees in the me a something which appears 
 altogether the production of the not-me, we term it a i)erce])tion. 
 (By this Fichte explains the phenomena of continuity, of extension, 
 of time, and of space) The power by which a sensation is fixed 
 and retained, is that usually termed the understanding. The judg- 
 ment is that which unites the free working of the mind (termed 
 imagination) with the understanding, producing a free decision 
 upon the various objects which our understanding creates ; and, 
 lastly, if we overcome all limitations, and view the mind alone in 
 its free all-producing power, we have the highest faculty in man, 
 that denominated j)ure reason.* To attain this point is not possi- 
 ble in the theoretical, but is seen first in the practical branch of phi- 
 losophy. The object of the theoretical division of the Wissen- 
 schaftslehre, therefore, is now accomplished. All the different de- 
 terminations of the me by the not-me, are explained. The cate- 
 gories of our experimental knowledge are all deduced ; the phenom- 
 ena of consciousness as engaged in the production of our sensa- 
 tions, perceptions, and judgments, are expounded ; and we are 
 brought to the point where the whole process is to be seen, as the 
 pure production of the mind's own certainty. This leads us to 
 consider, 
 
 II. The practical side of Fichte's philosophy. In the theoretical 
 part of the system we have seen that the me is determined by a 
 not-?ne ; that there are certain limitations of its own free and intel- 
 ligent activity, a certain resistance (Anstoss) to its own powers of 
 
 ♦ Wissenschaftslehre, 203, et seq.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 425 
 
 conception, which are personified and regarded as external reali- 
 ties. This circumscribing of our freedom, and the consequent ne- 
 cessity of imagining a material world around us, we are unable 
 theoretically to account for : all we can say is, that such is the con- 
 stitution of our consciousness, such the truth of things as given in 
 our own experience, and that we can go no further towards an ex- 
 planation of the phenomena. In the practical view of the case, 
 however, we can go one step further back ; we can show that the 
 limitation of our free intelligence does not arise from any foreign 
 source, but may be deduced from the original, though unconscious 
 activity of the mind itself. All this is deducible out of the funda- 
 mental axiom of the practical division of Fichte's system, namely — 
 That the not-me is affirmed as determined by the me.* 
 
 To show this, we* must observe that mind, though positively free, 
 though viewed abstractedly only in the light of pure spontaneous 
 activity, whose essence is independence and self-existence, yet is 
 not by any means a vague, aimless, useless activity. It has a 
 purely rational nature, by virtue of which it sets before itself its 
 own aim, the object of its own free activity. To deny this would 
 be to deny the very existence of mind itself: to ask why it is so, 
 would be to ask why truth is truth. The mind, or as Fichte al- 
 ways terms it, the me, ever strives after self-development ; it seeks 
 to realize fully its own nature, and to bring into actual existence 
 all that lies potentially in its consciousness. This perpetual striv- 
 ing after self-development is the most profound and essential truth 
 of our existence ; it is the centre of our activity, the one realistic 
 point around which all that activity revolves, and for which it is 
 all put forth — the uniting point of the absolute, the practical, and 
 the intelligent seIf.-\ 
 
 Here, then, we can show the reason of the limitation of our free 
 intelligence. The mind striving after its self-formed aim would 
 proceed onwards in its progress into infinity — it would thus find no 
 point at which to stop, nothing to give a determination to its ac- 
 tivity, no means of becoming a cause of something else. Accord- 
 ingly, to prevent this, it places an obstacle in its own way — it su|> 
 poses a real objective existence, and in this manner gives dcfinile- 
 ness and satisfaction to its own inward jiractical imjiulse. From this 
 l)oint we see the utility, yea, the necessity, of sui)posing a material 
 world around us. Without it we could never realize our duty, or 
 have the material necessary for working out our destiny. "The 
 
 • Wisscnschaftslchre, p. 228, d so/. t Wisscnschaftslchrc, p. 236, ct seq.
 
 426 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 world," says Fichte, " is the sensized material of our practical 
 life, the means by which we place before us, as object, the aim and 
 end of our existence."* 
 
 The whole principle of practical or moral philosophy, then, is 
 easily deduced from the original activity of the me, as the absolute, 
 the self-determined existence. The law of our duty, the categori- 
 cal imperative, as Kant has it, is the original striving of mind after 
 self-development ; and since activity is both the essence and the 
 end of our being, everything else is constructed by it in order to 
 subserve this great purpose. So far, therefore, is Fichte from sub- 
 verting, in his practical philosophy, the complete idealism of his 
 theoretical, that we find idealism here in its purest and most ele- 
 vated form. It is the practical view of human nature which gives 
 us the reason or ground of the phenomenon which we term matter ; 
 showing us that the limitations of our intelligence or the obstacles 
 to our activity, (which in his system take the place of objective 
 reality,) are the necessary product of the mind itself in its attempts 
 to accomplish its duty, and at length to realize its final destiny. 
 Having thus, in his " Wissenschaftslehre," laid down the absolute 
 axioms of all science, and then developed them successively in 
 their theoretical and practical aspects, Fichte went boldly forward 
 to show the application of his principles to the other branches of 
 philosophical inquiry. The work to which we have chiefly re- 
 ferred in the preceding sketch, came out in the year 1794. In 1796 
 appeared his " Naturrecht," in which he has contemplated man in 
 society ; and in 1798 his " Sittenlehre," in which we have a com- 
 plete system of moral philosophy. The latter led him into the prov- 
 ince of religion ; and here, too, he did not shrink from carrying 
 out his scientific principles to their full, and, we may add, their 
 fatal extent. 
 
 That such a system of subjective idealism as we have portrayed, 
 could arrive at no conclusion respecting the existence of God, is 
 almost self-evident. If we look out into the universe, what do we see ? 
 Simply the reflex of our own activity, the objectified laws of our 
 own being. If we ask after the Creator of the universe, therefore, 
 the answer returned is, that it is created by ourselves for the sake 
 of realizing our own self-development. Self being once laid down 
 as the absolute principle of all philosophy, we can never get beyond 
 it so as to affirm the objective reality of aught, either in the mate- 
 rial or spiritual world. The only God we can affirm is simply the 
 * See Chalybaus' " Entwickelung," chap. viii.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 427 
 
 idea of moral order — an idea to which we can only by a logical 
 fallacy append the notion of any essential and personal existence. 
 To have an idea of God, is to limit him, that is, to destroy the 
 very notion of an infinite being; so that, in fact, every precise 
 notion we form of God must be an idol. It was from this conclu- 
 sion that originated the reputation of atheism which Fichte incurred, 
 and which drew down upon him the enmity and opposition of 
 many both of the learned and the great.* 
 
 It will be seen from the above sketch, that the philosophy of 
 Fichte brought to a complete consummation the subjective ideal- 
 istic tendency. With him the idea of nature, and the idea of God, 
 absolutely vanished : self became the sole existence in the universe, 
 and from its own absolute power and activity everything else, hu- 
 man and divine, was constructed. Notwithstanding the results to 
 which his philosophy led, it is still impossible to read any of his 
 more celebrated writings without being struck with admiration at 
 the powerful eloquence, the unwearied energy of thought, the close 
 and almost pitiless logic, with which he compels you on from one 
 conclusion to another. So far from answering to the idea of a 
 mystic recluse, dreaming away life in the midst of the ethereal and 
 shadowy creations of his own fancy, we venture to affirm that never 
 was there a man more intensely practical ; never one more formed 
 to struggle with the stern and bitter sufferings of life ; never one 
 who was more able to dispel the shadows and phantoms that de- 
 luded the world, and to gaze upon everything in its naked reality ' 
 never a mind more clear, more deep, more sternlv logical, more 
 solemnly earnest, than was that of Fichte. His orations to the 
 German people are amongst the finest specimens of patriotic enthu- 
 siasm, and his conduct was in accordance with the fire of his dis- 
 course : his philosophy throughout bore the stamp of a mind inured, 
 to an almost unexamjiled degree, to abstract thinking, and his life 
 gave a perfect mirror of that philosophy, inasmuch as the inde- 
 pendence of his spirit was ever asserting its own native liberty, 
 and ever breaking with unceasing effort through tlie shackles by 
 which it was confined. f 
 
 The fundamental error which Fichte committt'd in his jijiiloso- 
 phy. was that of intrenching himself so closely within the circle of 
 
 • These conclusions are fountl, perhaps most ilistinctly, in Fichtc'a treatise, '' Uebcr 
 (Icn Grund unscrrs Glaubrns an cine Gi'ittliche Wcltonhninij." It shoiilii be stated, 
 however, that he rebutted with j^rcat cniri;y the oliar^e of athiisin , and ai)|H'ared. in- 
 deed, to have started baei< from the sweiiiiiig conclusions to which he was originally led. 
 
 •f Michelet's " Geschichte," vol. i. p. lijl.
 
 428 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 his consciousness, that it was impossible to find any scientific pas- 
 sage from thence into the objective world. The difference between 
 those operations of the mind which are purely rational or purely 
 imaginative, and those which connect us with the world without, 
 was entirely overlooked. In opposition to this, we might main- 
 tain, that consciousness, to which he appealed as the supreme 
 judge, testifies most clearly, that while the notions involved in 
 memory, in judgment, &c., depend simply upon the subjective 
 power of those faculties, our perceptions come from a foreign 
 source, and contain an objective element which, in each instance, 
 combines with our subjective self Fichte, indeed, acknowledges 
 that this is the phenomenon presented in perception ; he admits that 
 we seem to be really conscious of an opposing and limiting force, 
 or in his own words, of a not- self ; but he attempts to account for 
 this by supposing, that there are certain absolute and inexplicable 
 limits (absolute unerklarliche Schranken) in the very constitution 
 of our own minds, and that the obstacle (Anstoss) to our free ac- 
 tivity presented by that which we term the objective world, is self- 
 constituted according to the laws of our intellectual nature. It i-s 
 just at this critical point, the point which determines the complete 
 subjectivity of his whole system, that Fichte has failed, and become 
 involved in absurdity. He supposes mind to be pure spontaneous 
 activity, and yet he assigns to it certain limits lying within its own 
 nature ; in other words, he makes it to be in the very nature of a 
 perfectly free and spontaneous being to have some limit to its free- 
 dom — an idea which plainly implies a contradiction in terms.* 
 
 This limitation or obstacle which holds so important a place in 
 the system before us, was, in fact, never satisfactorily explained ; 
 and while it presented an insoluble point itself, it prevented the 
 full and final solution of the great problem of ideal philosophy, viz. 
 that of identifying thought and existence. The sphere of existence, 
 in Fichte's system, was supposed exactly synonymous with the 
 sphere of thought ; but the unexplained limitation of the mind's 
 activity implied the real existence of somewhat, altogether beyond 
 the bounds of that consciousness ; so that, after all, the conflicting 
 claims of realism and idealism were not satisfied, thought and ex- 
 istence not absolutely identified in their source. Again, the very 
 point which Fichte aimed at, that of reducing all our knowledge 
 to one simple principle, was by no means accomplished. Several 
 of our fundamental ideas are tacitly supposed, from the very begin- 
 
 * Chalybaus, p. 178.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 429 
 
 ning of his system. The notions of reality, activity, limitation, 
 &c., are all made use of; and the principles of formal logic are 
 employed, without any attempt to show from whence they are de- 
 duced. The Wissenschaftslehre, therefore is not so fundamental 
 and all-embracing as it would have us to believe : by employinf^ 
 ideas such as those above mentioned, it points us to something 
 more primitive than itself.* 
 
 It might further be objected against Fichte, that he never showed 
 on what ground we are at liberty to conclude, that although the 
 me and the not-me mutually determine each other, and only exist 
 as determined by each other, yet that ih^ former is a real existence, 
 and the latter a nonentity. If the one proves to be nothing per se, 
 who shall say that the other may not prove the same ; and who is 
 to prevent the whole system before us from incurring the charge 
 laid against it by Jacobi, of ending in absolute nihilism ? Again ; 
 how is it to be accounted for, if to each individual the me is the 
 absolute principle of all things, that there are so many absolute 
 principles in the world ? as many, in fact, as there are men ? The 
 only explanation of this point that can be attempted, is, that it is 
 not the individual me that manifests itself in every man, but the 
 absolute or divine me, of which every man is an image or reflection. 
 If the former hypothesis be taken, then the most absurd system of 
 nihilism, as above indicated, is the result ; if the latter, then we 
 have Spinoza's doctrine over again in another form, and this pre- 
 tended structure of a critical philosophy becomes, in fact, a i)urely 
 dogmatical system, which, on Fichte's own principles, as an ad- 
 vocate o^ " Wissenschaftslehre," ought to be summarily rejected. 
 That Fichte felt the force of these and similar objections made 
 against his philosophy, is evident iVom the fact that he relinquished 
 his purely subjective position, and afterwards attempted an entire 
 revision of its fundamental principles. To these later views, there- 
 fore, we must now, in conclusion, briefly refer. 
 
 In the original form of his metaphysics, Fichte not only banished 
 the idea of matter as a solid impenetrable substance, but allowed 
 no other real existence at all beyond that of a certain subjective ac- 
 tivity (Thatigkeit), ever working in accordance with a given law or 
 design. Mind was with him simply action, and everything else was 
 the product of mind, brought into being by virtue of the orginal laws, 
 to which it is subjected. What we see in the wt)rld of t)bjective 
 
 * This ohjeclion is stated very clearly by M. Ilemusat, in the Intrcxlurlion to hia 
 " Rapport," p. xlii. VVc may refer our readers to this work as containing one of the 
 best critiques on Fichte which have yet appeared.
 
 430 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 existence, was with him simply the reflex of our own faculties; 
 and to be a pure subjective ideahst, was to absorb the whole notion 
 of existence in that of law, the law of our personal activity. The 
 office of sustaining a system of philosophy on this purely subjective 
 basis, as we have seen, proved no easy task. The inquiry was 
 perpetually urged, What is the ground or essence of the activity, 
 which we term mind ? Whence its laws, its limitations, its char- 
 acteristics ? Must there not be something real at the foundation 
 of all these subjective phenomena ? In truth, is not something of 
 this nature admitted by the fact of your admitting an original con- 
 stitution at all, by which the laws of our consciousness are deter- 
 mined ? Questions of this description, together with many objec- 
 tions of a theological kind, gradually led Fichte to seek for another 
 absolute principle, more deep and more comprehensive than the 
 former, upon which his philosophy might securely rest. 
 
 On reflection he saw, that to deny all 7-eal existence in our per- 
 ceptions, does not lead, as he intended it, to a system of pure sci- 
 entific idealism, but rather, as we have shown, to a system of 
 nihilism. Allow that our free activity represents certain notions 
 to itself, there must be, thought Fichte, something implied in them 
 which is represented. Mere knowing can be nothing, unless there 
 is something which is known ; mere thinking can be nothing, un- 
 less there is something which is thought ; and mere perception can 
 be nothing, unless there is something which is perceived. To 
 make our subjective activity in the apt of knowing, perceiving, &c., 
 the absolute, is to suppose that that the only reality in the universe 
 is a perceiving which perceives nothing, a thinking which thinks 
 nothing, a knowing which knows nothing. 
 
 But, then, the question returns. How is it possible to arrive at 
 this real essential existence which is imaged and represented in 
 our own minds ? for the moment we attempt to do so scientifically, 
 the old argument against representationism returns, which again 
 seems to shut us up within our own consciousness. Pure subjec- 
 tive idealism, which admits no real existence beyond our own con- 
 sciousness, is beset with difliiculties on the one hand ; but the ordi- 
 nary dualism of philosophers is exposed to equal objections on the 
 other hand. In the former case there is no basis, on which the 
 superstructure can rest, to keep it from sinking into the abyss of 
 nihilism ; in the latter case we have no guarantee for the accuracy 
 of the inward representation of the outward reality, and conse- 
 quently, no means of arriving at absolute knowledge at all. Is it
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 431 
 
 not possible, then, thought Fichte, to find some via media, by which 
 the difficulties of both these extremes could be avoided ; by which 
 a foundation might be added to a system of idealism otherwise 
 baseless, and a relief found for the contradictions of dualism. The 
 only resource left was to grant 07ic absolute existence, which is the 
 same both in the subject and the object ; to assert equally the re- 
 ality of the me and the not-me, and with it the identity of both ; 
 to find a common principle from which all subjective and all ob- 
 jective phenomena spring, and to recognize in this principle an 
 absolute subject-object. This thought, the origination of which is 
 disputed between Fichte and Schelling, was the foundation of the 
 doctrine of identity (Identitatslehre) ; a doctrine which, if it did 
 really spring from the improved philosophy of the former, was 
 only developed, as we shall soon see, to its projjcr form in the writ- 
 ings of the latter.* 
 
 Under this view of the case the basis of Fichte's philosophy was 
 now completely altered, although he still found a starting-point in 
 the me. Instead of regarding self as the absolute, by which every- 
 thing else is constructed, he now admitted an essential reality as 
 the foundation both of self and not-self, and in this way attributed 
 a real existence, although still a spiritual one, to the objective 
 world. The doctrine of identity thus propounded, evidentlv had 
 a close affinity with the pantheism of Spinoza. The only dilVer- 
 ence in the two lay here — that, while Spinoza fixed his eve upon 
 the notion of substance, until he made it the absolute and infinite 
 essence, of which all things existing are but dillerent modi, Fichte 
 still retained as firm as ever the notion of free and intelligent ac- 
 tivity, and regarded infinite reason, or if we will term it so. eternal 
 mind or the Divine idea, as the absolute, all-real, self-existent 
 essence, which manifests itself alike in the subjective and the ob- 
 jective world. According to this view, whatever we experience 
 within ourselves and whatever we see without, are both alike the 
 manifestations of one and the same absolute miiul, /. c, of the 
 Deity himself ; not merely creations of his j)ower, but actual modi- 
 fications of his essence. The common idea of matter Fichte never 
 for a moment re-admitted. He still held to his original jK>sition, 
 that mind is the sole existence, that the whole universe is a sjiirit- 
 ual universe, and to speak of dead lifeless substance, lying as the 
 substratum of what we term material projjerties, and of the laws of 
 action, which we perceive around us, is going entirely beyond the 
 
 ♦ On this point, sec Chalybaus, chap. viii.
 
 432 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 region of our actual knowledge, and away from the plain indica- 
 tions of science. Nay, further, he did not allow that the objective 
 world as such, can make any impression whatever upon the sub- 
 jective self; but, as they are both forms and manifestations of the 
 same Divine idea, he considered that we know, to a certain extent, 
 the nature of what passes without us, from our direct conscious- 
 ness or intuition oi" what passes within. 
 
 Although Fichte had thus gained a crude and indistinct notion 
 of the doctrine of identity, yet he did not live to develop it in all 
 its clearness, or to apply it to the laws and processes of nature in 
 the world. The phenomena of the physical world, indeed, still 
 constituted a dark and unresolved point in his philosophy ; objec- 
 tive existence, as seen in nature, was not yet placed on the same 
 footing with subjective existence, as exhibited in the laws of mind ; 
 the identity of the two was not completely thought out ; the phe- 
 nomena of our sensations not fully explained ; the absolute unity 
 of thought and existence, as attained in the infinite Being, not 
 completely deduced. To perfect the doctrine of identity, and to 
 apply it more especially to the world of nature, was the merit and 
 the boast of his illustrious successor. 
 
 We shall just glance, therefore, in conclusion, at the principal 
 works in which these modified views were expounded. The first 
 work which gave decided indications of dissatisfaction with his 
 original stand-point, was the " Bestimmung des Menschen" (Des- 
 tination of Man), a popular rather than scientific treatise on hu- 
 man knowledge and destiny. The object of it is to show how the 
 mind, when it once begins to philosophize, passes from doubt to 
 science, and from science to a faith, which unfolds the real, and 
 gives a solid basis for our confidence in immortality and in God. 
 This was followed up by a little treatise of admirable clearness of 
 thought, entitled, " Lucid Intelligence oflfered to the public at large 
 on the peculiar nature of the recent Philosophy" (1801). No stu- 
 dent of Fichte should overlook this brief exposition, which gives 
 in little more than two hundred small pages, the chief points of his 
 whole system in a popular form. But the most important work 
 of this era of Fichte's life was his " Characteristics of the present 
 Age" (1806), the main object of which was to develop the philos- 
 ophy of history. The foundation of his theory on this point is, that 
 God ever reveals himself in and through the human conscious- 
 ness. Every age of the world is preceded by some great idea, 
 and to comprehend any given period aright, we must take a com-
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 433 
 
 prehensive view of the whole plan of human history as grounded 
 upon ideas. Fichte divides the world's history into five eras. The 
 first is the age, in which reason prevails simply as an instinct, or 
 law of nature ; the second is the age of authority, in which the 
 primitive instinct is retained only by a few of the great men of 
 their time ; the third is the age in which authority and reason are 
 both rejected, and universal corruption ensues ; the fourth is the 
 age of science, when reason in its reflective form begins to appear ; 
 and the fifth is the age in which reason reigns supreme. The fa- 
 mous " Discourses to the German People" may be regarded as the 
 continuation of the philosophy of history, that, namely, in which 
 the principles there laid down were npplied to the interpretations 
 of the state of Europe as it then existed. The little treatise on 
 " The Nature of the Scholar,*' shows the great part which the man 
 of genius has to play in the development of humanity ; and lastly, 
 the "Anweisung zum seligen Leben" (Way to a Blessed Life), 
 winds up the whole system with a kind of lofty and stoical relig- 
 ious mysticism. 
 
 We may remark, in fine, that the latter form of Fichte's philos- 
 ophy was in many respects superior to the former. It not only 
 overcame many of its contradictions, but pointed more decisively 
 to a region in which faith could assure us of the reality of the 
 world, of God, and of an immortality to come ; in which the sub- 
 jective limits of our rational nature could be surpassed, and life be 
 rendered blessed in the confidence of our partaking the Divine 
 nature here, and rising to the fuller participation of it hereafter. 
 Much as the writings of this energetic thinker have lately fallen into 
 neglect in his own countr\', yet it is unquestionable, that they lie 
 more or less at the basis of all the modern German metaphysics ; 
 nor has philosophy since his time, tound an advocate so clear, so 
 earnest, so fervidly eloquent, as it found in him.* 
 
 We must now pass on to the consideration of Schelling and his 
 philosophy, by which we shall be brought almost into tiie midst of 
 the discussions in which Germany is at present involved. Fred- 
 erick Wilham Joseph Schelling was born in January 1775, at Le- 
 onberg in Wiirtemberg. He studied first at Tubingen, where he 
 formed an acquaintance with Hegel, while both were yet in their 
 early youth. After this he went to Leii)sic and Jena, where he 
 devoted himself chiefly to medicine and i)hilosoj)hy, in the latter 
 of which departments he attended the lectures of Fichte. In 
 
 ♦ See an account of Fichte'a principal works in the .•\pj)cnilix, Note D. 
 
 28
 
 434 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 1798, he succeeded Fichte in the chair of philosophy at Jena, and 
 obtained, by the efforts of his then rising genius, the greatest ap- 
 probation. In 1803, he accepted the professorship of philosophy 
 at Wiirzburg, and in 1807 removed to Munich, where, with some 
 few intervals, he resided up to the year 1841. His acceptance of 
 a professorship at Berlin, in that year, excited the greatest atten- 
 tion throughout the philosophical world ; without satisfying the 
 expectations, however, which were aroused, he soon relinquished 
 his arduous post, in order that he might end his days (which God 
 grant him) in peace. 
 
 Schelling, as we have seen, came upon the stage just at the time 
 when Fichte had carried his subjective philosophy to its very high- 
 est pitch. The notion of self had with him absorbed every other ; 
 the individual mind was made the absolute generating principle of 
 all existence. By assigning, however, to mind certain limitations 
 lying within its own nature, he unconsciously destroyed its ab- 
 soluteness, and involved himself in inextricable contradictions. 
 Schelling saw clearly, that the subjective tendency had been car- 
 ried by him to an extreme ; that it was necessary to return to the 
 admission of some actual objective reality ; and that the absolute 
 must be found in something beyond the limits of our own indi- 
 vidual consciousness. Whether the first notion of the doctrine of 
 identity (that which traces both subject and object to one common 
 source) was given by Fichte or SchelUng, we cannot determine : 
 certain it is, that the latter was the first to see the doctrine in all its 
 clearness, and the first who employed it as the groundwork of a 
 complete system of philosophy. 
 
 Before we enter more particularly into Schelling's philosophy, 
 it will be useful to take a general view of his literary career, and 
 point out the course which it has followed. This is more neces- 
 sary, inasmuch as we nowhere find a complete system drawn out 
 in one or more principal works, but rather a continued course of 
 restless speculation, which developed itself in periodical publica- 
 tions. At the age of twenty years, Schelling not only showed an 
 extraordinary talent for philosophical research, but had begun to 
 separate (though but slightly) from the masters under whom he had 
 studied. His first attempt was to elucidate the principle of " the 
 Absolute" or unconditional, on which Fichte had taken his stand. 
 To this era belong his " Briefe iiber Dogmatismus und Kriticismus," 
 and more particularly his treatise " Vom Ich, als Prinzip der Phil- 
 osophie." Starting from the absolute or unconditional, as contain-
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 435 
 
 ing in itself equally the me and the not-me, the subjective and the 
 objective, he was next attracted to the objective element, which, he 
 saw, ought to furnish a complete explication of the laws and pro- 
 cesses of nature. Hence originated his Natur-Philosophie, which 
 he first sketched out in his " Ideen zu einer Philosophie der Natur," 
 carried on still further in the treatise "Von der Welt-seele," and 
 completed in his " Erster Entwurf eines Systems der Natur-phi- 
 losophie." 
 
 Having thus developed the philosophy of nature, Schelling pro- 
 ceeded to the subjective element in human knowledge, the result of 
 which was his "System des Transcendentalen Idealismus," which 
 is generally regarded as the masterpiece of his philosophical genius. 
 The objective and subjective side of our knowledge being now 
 completed, Schelling declared himself prepared to bring them to a 
 perfect unity, by furnishing the philosophy of " the Absolute itself,'" 
 and commenced the task of doing so in the " Zeitschrift fiir Spec- 
 ulative Physik." This task, however, he relinquished, and to the 
 present day its completion remains a promise, with little chance of 
 a performance. 
 
 The next literary labor in which Schelling engaged, was the 
 " Neue Zeitschrift fiir Speculative Physik." In this we have the 
 commencement of a new elaboration of his philosophy, from a 
 somewhat modified point of view. In the former writings he had 
 traced all things in nature and the soul up to the absolute ; now he 
 sought to show how they may be all deduced from the absolute. 
 This movement of his philosophy was carried on in the work enti- 
 tled " Bruno," and completed in that on *■ Philosophie und Religion." 
 
 Up to this point, Schelling had only elaborated the negative side 
 of his philosophy; he had explained \.\\q forms and ideas of things, 
 but had not reached their essence. The remaining works, there- 
 fore, are devoted to his positive philosophy ; that, namely, in which 
 he shows how the divine essence itself, in all its wondrous work- 
 ings, is revealed immediately to the perception of the human mind. 
 To this period belong his " Untersuchungcn iiber das Wesen der 
 Menschlichen Freiheit," his work on Mythology, " Ueber die Gott- 
 heitender Samothrace," his Preface to Cousin's " Fragments," with 
 some other article^ both in a journalistic and indej)endent lorm. 
 
 Several of Schclling's minor works have been omitted in the 
 above sketch, but it may sullice to show to our readers the course 
 which his speculations have followed iVom first to last. 
 
 On entering into an analysis of Schclling's system, we must make
 
 436 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 a few preliminary remarks upon the method he has followed in 
 his investigations. With him the great organ of philosophy is 
 "intellectual intuition," (intellectuelle Anschauung,) by means of 
 which faculty, he supposes, we have an immediate knowledge of 
 the absolute. This intellectual intuition is a kind of higher and 
 spiritual sense, through which we feel the presence of the infinite 
 both within and around us ; moreover, it affords us a species of 
 knowledge, which does not involve the relation of subject and ob- 
 ject, but enables us to gaze at once by the eye of the mind upon 
 the eternal principle itself, from which both proceed, and in which 
 thought and existence are absolutely identical. Before the time 
 when creation began, we may imagine that an infinite mind, an 
 infinite essence, or an infinite thought (for here all these are one) 
 filled the universe of space. This, then, as the self-existent One, 
 must be the only absolute reality : all else can be but a developing 
 of the one original and eternal being; and intellectual intuition is 
 the faculty, by which we rise to the perception of this, the sole 
 ground and realistic basis of all things.* 
 \ The absolute, from the first, contains in itself, potentially, all that 
 it afterwards becomes actually by means of its own self-develop- 
 ment ; and the great aim of true philosophy is, first, to fix our eye 
 upon this original essence, and then to show how everything is de- 
 rived from it — that is, how from the absolute subject, or natura 
 naturans, is derived the absolute object, or natura naturata. This 
 primary essence is not, as Spinoza held, an infinite substance, 
 having the two properties of extension and thought, but an in- 
 finite, acting, producing, self-unfolding mind — the living soul of the 
 world. Unless we can disentangle ourselves from our unreflective 
 habits of thinking, unless we can look through the veil of surround- 
 ing phenomena, unless by this spiritual vision we can realize the 
 presence of the Infinite, the only real and eternal existence, we 
 have not the capacity, said Schelling, to take the very first step into 
 the region of speculative philosophy.f 
 
 If, however, we can view all things as the development of the 
 
 * On the 07-iran of transcendental philosophy, see " System des Transcendentalen 
 Idealismus." Introduction, sec. 4. 
 
 ■f " Erster Entwurf eines Systems der Natur-philosophie," p. 2l5, et seq. Here the 
 principle of organization itself, the living soul of nature, is described with great clear- 
 ness and power, as a free and self-unfolding mind — the absolute in its lower potencies. 
 See also the treatise " Von der Welt-seele," introduction, and first part. " Ich nehme 
 die Materie," he says, " weder als etwas unabhangig von der absoluten Einheit Vor- 
 handenesan, noch auch betrachte Ich sie als das blosse Nichts, sondern Ich stimme im 
 Allgemeinen mit jenem Aussprach des Spinoza ixberein, der antwortet. — Ich haltc 
 vielmehr die Materie fiir ein Attribut, das die unendliche und ewige Wesenheit in sich 
 ausdruckt."
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 437 
 
 original and absolute principle of life, reason, or being, then it is 
 evident, conversely, that we may trace the marks of the absolute 
 in everything that exists, and consequently may scan them in the 
 operations of our own minds, as one particular phase of its mani- 
 festation. Every mind is the image or reflection of the eternal 
 mind ; every individual reason the exemplar of the infinite reason ; 
 and, therefore, by gazing inwardly upon the development of our 
 own minds, we may learn the principle or process, by which every- 
 thing else is developed likewise.* 
 
 Now, in viewing our own consciousness for this purpose, we find 
 that there is combined there the knowing and the known — the sub- 
 ject which perceives, and the object which is perceived. But, then 
 what is the process by which every such perception takes place, 
 what the law of the mind's own activity f This, observes Schel- 
 ling, was shown by Kant, when he assigned time and space as the 
 two forms or categories of sensation. The notion of space arises 
 from the mind's activity going forth, and expanding itself without 
 limit, and in every direction; on the other hand, time is that 
 which bounds and measures space — it is the reflex or attractive 
 force, by which our activity is restrained, and which answers, 
 therefore, to Fichte's "unexplained limitations." The one is a 
 positive force, the other a negative ; and what we suppose to be a 
 materia] existence is the result of these two forces, — the expansive 
 giving the matter of it, the attractive the form.f 
 
 Intellectual intuition sees both subject and object, knowing and 
 known combined in our own consciousness ; it regards them as 
 being but the twofold law by which the soul operates ; but ordi- 
 nary and unphilosophical thinking views them as entirely separate, 
 and regards the one movement, that in which thought is predomi- 
 nant, as the subject, and the other movement, that in which ex- 
 istence is the predominant notion, as the object, thus making a 
 generic distinction, which does not really exist, between the mind 
 within and the world without. Both, in fact, are one and the same 
 essence running exactly parallel to each other; so that, if we 
 begin with the objective side, we can easily deduce from it the 
 subjective ; and if we begin with the subjective, we can as easily 
 deduce the objective. Hence, there are two kinds of philosophy, 
 philosophy of nature and philosophy of spirit, both having their 
 
 * Philosophische Schriften. Voin Ich als Prinzip der Phil. sec. 2. Also Transcend. 
 Idealismus, p. G3, cl acq. 
 
 ■f Von dor Welt-seele. Introduction, iiber das Verhaitniss des Realen und Idealen 
 in der Natur.
 
 438 MODERN PHILOBOPHV. 
 
 root in the absolute, and both affording a firm point from which 
 we can take our departure. The office, therefore, of philosophy 
 is, either from intelligence to construct a nature, or from nature to 
 construct an intelligence ; thus showing that thought and existence 
 have their ground in the same identical essence.* 
 
 To make the subsequent part of our sketch more intelligible, we 
 must now request the reader to fix his attention closely upon the 
 law, or rhythm, by which the absolute, and everything else, as be- 
 ing a manifestation of the absolute, proceeds in its self-develop- 
 ment. This law comprehends three movements, which Schelling 
 terms powers, or as we will term them, for distinction's sake, po- 
 tencies. The first is the reflective movement (Potenz der Reflex- 
 ion) ; this answers to the negative or expansive force, and viewed 
 philosophically is the attempt of the Infinite to embody or repre- 
 sent itself in the Finite. The second movement is that of sub- 
 sumption (Potenz der Subsumption), which is the attempt that the 
 absolute makes, having embodied itself in the Finite, to return to 
 the Infinite. The third movement is simply the union or indiffer- 
 ence point of the two former, which Schelling terms the potence 
 of reason (Potenz der Vernunft,) as being that in which the ex- 
 pansive and attractive, the subjective and objective movements 
 are blended. f 
 
 Having thus prepared the way, we can now give a regular and 
 connected sketch of Schelling's " Philosophy of Identity," as it was 
 developed in his earlier writings. 
 
 The foundation-stone upon which the whole rests is the abso- 
 lute and infinite existence (Seyn), which forms of itself the whole 
 real essence of the universe, and to the consciousness of which 
 we attain by means of intellectual intuition. This infinite Being, 
 containing everything in itself potentially which it can afterwards 
 become actually, strives by the law which we have above indi- 
 cated after self-development. By the first movement (the potence 
 of reflection) it embodies its own infinite attributes in the Finite. 
 In doing this, it produces finite objects, i. e. Finite reflections of 
 
 * " If all knowledge has two poles, which suppose each other, and require each other 
 mutually; these two poles ou^ht to be looked for in all sciences. There ought to be, 
 therefore, two fundamental sciences; and in starting from one of the poles it^is impos- 
 sible to fail of the other. The necessary tendency, therefore, of the science of nature, 
 is, starting from nature to arrive at the sphere of intelligence. The continued efforts 
 which are made in all the sciences to attach the phenomena of nature to a theory, 
 reveal this tendency in a striking manner." — Syst. des Transcend. Ideal. Introd. 
 Sec. 1. 
 
 ■f A view of this law of the absolute is given in the " Ideen zu einer Phil, der Natur, 
 and Erster Entwurf;" but more fully in the " Neue Zeitschrift fiir Spec. Phil." St. II. 
 p. 46, &c.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 439 
 
 itself, and thus sees itself objectified in the forms and productions 
 of the material world. This first movement then gives rise to the 
 ■philosophy of nature. The second movement (potence of sub- 
 sumption) is the regress of the Finite into the Infinite ; it is nature, 
 as above constituted, again making itself absolute, and reassuming 
 the form of the Eternal. The result of this movement is mind, 
 as existing in man, which is nothing else than nature graduall}'- 
 raised to a state of consciousness, and attempting in that way to 
 return to its infinite form. This gives rise to transcendental ide- 
 alism, the philosophy of mind. The combination of these two 
 movements (Potenz der Vernunft) is the reunion of the subject 
 and object in divine reason ; it is God, not in his original or poten- 
 tial, but in his unfolded and realized existence, forming the whole 
 universe of mind and Being. This is the proper view of ScheUing's 
 pantheism, and is fully unfolded in the philosophy of the absolute. 
 
 Having thus seen the absolute dividing itself into object and 
 subject, nature, and spirit, by the original laws of all being, we 
 shall go onwards with these two branches of philosophy, and fol- 
 low Schelling step by step in the construction of his whole system. 
 That system all turns upon the law or rhythm we have explained. 
 
 Just in the same manner as we perceived three potencies in the 
 absolute itself, so also shall we find three potencies in each of the 
 two divisions of philosophy, which have thus originated, namely, 
 in nature and in mind. These three potencies will again form 
 three subordinate spheres of being, each of which still continues to 
 exhibit the same law, showing two opposite movements and a point 
 of indifference in which they both unite. Schelling terms the 
 movements which come within the philosophy of nature the real 
 side of the question, those which come within the philosophy of 
 spirit the ideal, both absolutely answering to each other, but the 
 one in the lower state of unconscious existence, the other in the 
 more highly developed state of self-consciousness. Nature and 
 spirit are thus both the emanations of the eternal mind, but the 
 one in a higher potence than the other. To make the matter clear 
 to the eye, and at the same time to furnish an index to our subse- 
 quent ex})lanation, we shall here give the outlines of the whole 
 system in the following scheme.* 
 
 ♦ It should be observed that Scli(llin<i has not {jiven any synoptic view of his philos- 
 ophy as here presented. The annexed scheme u in fact consiructcd from a (jencral 
 view of all bis works C()n)l)ined, and (•oni])reheiids ('(Hially the Natur-philosophie and 
 the Transrcndentaler IdiMlismus, |)hu'iiiLj them to^itlicr so as to form an organic 
 whole. For the general idea of the plan, 1 am indcbttd to the work of J. L. Schwartz, 
 " Scheiling's Alte und Ncue Philosophic."
 
 440 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
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 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 441 
 
 Now, in directing our attention first to the real side of the above 
 plan, the development of which gives us the philosophy of nature, 
 we must remember that external nature, according to Schelling, 
 contains the absolute essence complete^ only viewed predominantly 
 from an objective point of view. 
 
 First sphere. The first sphere, that of matter mechanically con- 
 sidered, is the streaming forth of the infinite into the finite ; it is 
 the development of the productive power of nature into some 
 actual product ; the union of the infinite essence with finite form. 
 Matter is the production of, or rather emanation from, the great 
 eternal mind ; it is strictly speaking, that mind itself seen in its 
 palmary reflective movement, and making itself finite in order to 
 become the object of its own happy contemplation. God saw all 
 he had made — all that came forth from himself, the type of his 
 own power and glory, and behold it was very good. 
 
 Matter, however, as being a complete exhibition of the Absolute 
 in one particular aspect, and as forming a universe in itself, must 
 exhibit all the three potencies above indicated. The first of these 
 is repulsion, or the expansive power ; the next is attraction, or 
 that by which the expansive or objective tendency is limited, and 
 referred back to the centre from which it sprung. Just as by their 
 centrifugal force the planets individualize themselves in their own 
 separate orbits, and by their centripetal all tend back to one centre, 
 so matter in general by repulsion is individualized, and by attrac- 
 tion tends back again to unity. The indifference of these two 
 forces is gravity, that which makes matter what it is, and gives it 
 the appearance of being the dull, lifeless, impenetrable mass which 
 we ordinarily conceive it to be in things around us. The first 
 generic potence, then, of nature, is the union of the repulsive and 
 attractive forces, forming the whole phenomena of the material 
 universe, statically considered.* 
 
 Second sphere. This being the reflective movement of the real 
 side, as above shown, we now look for the second generic potence, 
 that of subsumption, by which the material woriil will exhibit a 
 
 * " Erster Entwurf," Introduction, p .57, ct $cq. In his treatise, '• Von der Welt- 
 seele," p. 47, Schcllinif explains liis theory of matter thus. " Tlic hctcrojjcnrity of 
 matter loses itself at length in the iilea of an original homogeneity of all the positive 
 principles in the world. Even that original opposition, which iipjHurs lo maintain the 
 dualism of nature, vanishes in this idea. We cannot explain the chief phenomena of 
 nature without such a conflict of op]>osing principles. Hut this conlhct only exists in 
 the moment of appearing. Each power ol nature originates that which is opposed to 
 it. This does not exist of ihrif, hut only in the conflict, and it is simply this conflict 
 which gives it a momentary separate exi.-<fence. So soon as the conflict ceases, it van- 
 ishes, inasmuch as it steps hack into the sphere of universal identity.''
 
 442 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 regress movement back from its finite forms towards infinity. 
 This second potence is the principle of light. Light is the soul, 
 of which matter is the body ; it is that by which nature gazes 
 upon itself Nature, accordingly, when viewed in this potence, is 
 no longer seen as dull inert matter, but as replete with perpetual 
 movement and activity. This dynamical sphere of nature's ope- 
 rations, has likewise three movements. The first is magnetism, in 
 which the motive power is seen, by means of polarity, dividing 
 itself into two opposite directions, and always acting in a right 
 line. The second is electricity, which shows again the unity of 
 the positive and negative poles of the magnet, and acts over sur- 
 faces. The third is the chemical process, or galvanism, which is 
 the combination of these two forces, and gives the third dimension 
 to space.* From the two foregoing spheres — that of matter, and 
 that of light — of statics, and dynamics, the existence of the three 
 realms of nature is explained. Hard unyielding matter is the 
 kingdom in which weight, or gravity, is predominant — that in 
 which movement predominates is the air, and the indifference of 
 these is water. 
 
 Third sphere. Having thus seen nature in its first potence, as 
 attraction and repulsion, giving rise to the phenomena of mechan- 
 ical matter ; — having seen it also in its second, or dynamical po- 
 tence, taking the appearance of light, in the forms of magnetism, 
 electricity, and galvanism, we now come to the third potence, that 
 in which the two former are perfectly combined, and in which is 
 shown the whole working of the Absolute towards its great end, in 
 a finite form. There is one great aim after self-development in all 
 nature ; but as in the real or objective side the Absolute is seen 
 individualized, the aim of nature must there result in individual 
 productions, each of which is a little world (a microcosm) in itself. 
 This is realized in organization, or life ; in which matter and light, 
 the maternal and paternal principle, the mechanical and dynamical 
 potencies, arc perfectly combined. Every organization is the 
 complete representation or image of the Absolute in a finite forhi ; 
 it is subject-object exhibited in nature ; and constitutes the highest 
 perfection of physical existence. The three movements of this 
 sphere are, first, reproduction — the embodying of the essential life- 
 principle into new forms ; secondly, irritability — the power of in- 
 
 * Schelling's theory of the Dynamical principles of nature, more especially the method 
 by which he deduces the three di:nensions of space from mairnetism, electricity, and 
 galvanism respectively, is best seen in the " Zeitschrill fiir Speculative Physik," vol. ii. 
 part 2. See also Schwartz, p. 54, el seq.
 
 THE GERMAV SCHOOL. 443 
 
 dependent, and nnimpelled movement ; and thirdly, sensibility, in 
 which the reproductive and self-movinj^ principles are combined. 
 Here we have followed nature in its different objective spheres, up 
 to its highest development ; sensibility forming the point in which 
 mere organized life ends, and spiritual life begins.* 
 
 In giving this rapid sketch of Schelling's philosophy of nature, 
 we have concentrated in a few pages the matter of some two or 
 three volumes. To show how the different processcri are deduced 
 one from the other — how in the first sphere the principles of me- 
 chanics are developed ; how in the second the phenomena of 
 chemical agents are elucidated ; how in the third the progres.^ of 
 organized life is traced, from the lowest kind of plant, through all 
 the varieties of vegetable and animal existence to the very highest 
 organization, would take more space than can be here allotted to 
 the subject. We have been anxious to give the principles, upon 
 which the whole system proceeds, as clearly as possible, and must 
 refer the student, who would understand it more fully, to the works 
 of Schelling himself, or to the numerous analyses which exist of 
 his philosophy in the German language. 
 
 We have followed nature, then, through the successive poten- 
 cies, in which it appears as matter, light, life. All these uncon- 
 scious productions are but unsuccessful attempts in nature to raise 
 itself to intelligence ; they are exhibitions of mind, as yet in a state 
 of slumber ; and when at length we get beyond them into a higher 
 potence, and pass from philosophy of nature into philosophy of 
 mind, we have to do precisely with the same essence, only in an- 
 other form ; and to view precisely the same processes, only raised 
 to the loftier position of self-consciousness. 
 
 Leaving, then, the real or objective side of philosophy, we pass 
 on to the ideal or subjective department — that to which the name 
 of transcendental idealism has been appended. This work of 
 Schelling answers very closely to Fichte's " Wisscnschaftslehre." 
 Like Fichte, he begins by searching after an absolute principle of 
 knowledge, and fuuls it in the same formula A = A.f Like Fichte, 
 he divides the whole investigation into the theoretical and the 
 practical aspects of llic (]ueslion. Like I'ichte, he jiroceeils by 
 merging the contradictious which the objective and subjective 
 views originate, in higher and more universal principles, until the 
 
 ♦ Schelling's tlirory of orjjiinizpil ninttpr is cxpountiid in various of his works — r. fr^ 
 " Erslcr Entwurf," liitroduction ; " Ziitschrill Air Spec. Phys." vol. ii. part i3; "Von 
 dcr Wclt-scclc ;" " Uclicr iltn I^rsiiruiig dis ullgcincincn Orgiinismus," p. 17U, &c. 
 
 •j- Transcend. Ideal Part I. sec. I.
 
 444 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 whole is reduced, not as with Fichte, to tho absolute spontaneity 
 of the me, but to the absolute spontaneity of the universal soul.* 
 What has before appeared under the form of contraction and ex- 
 pansion — of time and space — now appears under the subjective 
 type of subject and object ; the two opposite elements out of which 
 all our knowledge is generated. f We proceed, therefore, with 
 the development of our scheme, as shown on the ideal side of the 
 philosophy of identity. 
 
 Mind, as we said, is the second movement of the universal law 
 by which the absolute unfolds itself; it is nature returning from 
 the Finite, in which it had embodied itself, back again to the 
 Infinite ; and just as we saw, that on the real side there were three 
 movements of objective nature, so, on the ideal side, we find an- 
 swering to them three movements of subjective mind. The first 
 sphere is that of knowledge, and this corresponds to matter in the 
 objective side, inasmuch as the laws of perception and of thought 
 exactly answer to the real productions of nature, as was already 
 shown to some extent by Kant, and more clearly by Fichte. The 
 second sphere corresponding to the dynamics of nature, is that of 
 practice, or mind in its free activity. And, lastly, the third sphere 
 in which knowledge and practice are combined, is that of art, 
 which exactly answers to the organic power of nature. This 
 affords us three divisions in the science of mind, — the philosophy 
 of intelligence, philosophy of practice, and philosophy of art ; the 
 contents of which we shall now portray J. 
 
 First sphere. The philosophy of intelHgence, being the first or 
 theoretical sphere of the subjective development of the Absolute, 
 must bear upon it the characteristic feature of the first potence, 
 namely, the embodying of the infinite in the finite. In other words, 
 mind, (or the me,) in coming to the distinct knowledge of anything, 
 must have its free activity limited, and this limitation, (or obstacle, 
 as Fichte termed it,) which gives us the idea of an actual objec- 
 tive product, is the infinite activity of the subject in the process of 
 constituting itself finite. 
 
 In this sphere, again, we shall have three movements as before. 
 The first is sensation, in which the mind's activity gives rise to a 
 distinct image, that is placed before it as object of its own contem- 
 plation. The second movement is reflection, in which the mind is 
 no longer sunk in the contemplation of its own production objec- 
 
 ♦ Transcend. Ideal. Part vi. General Observations. f Ibid. Introd. sec. 2. 
 
 :}: Transcend. Ideal. Introd, sec 3.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 445 
 
 lively viewed, but becomes aware of the process by which the con- 
 sciousness of the moment is produced. The result of this self-con- 
 scious process is called a Notion (Begrift'), and the process itself is 
 termed Judgment (Urtheil). Judgment is the reference of a par- 
 ticular to a general (as we see, e. g. in the proposition, horse is an 
 animal;) and in it, therefore, the finite perception, which we at- 
 tained to in sensation, is carried back again to the infinite essence 
 (the category) to which it belongs. The union of sensation and 
 reflection gives rise to freedom, which is the third movement ; for 
 by means of reflection, we become conscious that sensations, though 
 apparently constrained, are the products of our own activity.* 
 
 Second sphere. The idea of freedom brings us to the second 
 sphere of the subjective side, namely, the philosophy of practice. 
 Under the former sphere we have the analysis of the intellectual 
 powers, under this the principles of action ; and, as in knowledge, 
 the me was seen to be limited, throwing itself into a finite product, 
 so now in action it essays to rise again to the Infinite ; for in all 
 moral action Deity itself, in its essential qualities, is manifested. 
 Knowledge shows the essence of the A.bsolute expressed in a form; 
 action shows the form again returning to the essence. In practi- 
 cal philosophy, as in all the other spheres, we still have three move- 
 ments. The first is, that in which the active intelligence shows 
 itself operating within a limited circuit, as in a single mind. This 
 is the principle of individuality ; not as though the infinite intelli- 
 gence were something diflerent from the finite, or as though there 
 were an infinite intelligence out of and apart from the finite, but it 
 is merely the absolute in one of its particular moments ; just as an 
 individual thought is but a single moment of the whole mind. Each 
 finite reason, then, is but a thought of the infinite and eternal rea- 
 son. Under this head of individuality, Schelling explains all the 
 phenomena connected with volition and personality, deducing the 
 nature of the passions, impulses, and moral feelings, all of which 
 appear before us as springs to our individual action. f 
 
 The second movement in this sphere, is that in which the individu- 
 alized action of the absolute seeks to generalize itself; in which man 
 no longer acts alone as an individual, but, in combination with other 
 men, forming a state. Hence arises the philosophy of jurisprudence 
 and political economy. Now, as men, when acting individually, 
 
 • Trnnscend. Ideal. Part iii., in which the successive steps of theoretical intelligence 
 are developed at Irnirth. in the order above indicated. 
 
 t Transcend. Ideal. Part iv. prop. 1 and 2, in which the spontaneity of Thc-Me is 
 exhibited as the principle of human freedom.
 
 446 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 act under the influence of freedom, so in their poUtical combina- 
 tions they act from necessity. A country is urged forward in its 
 progress towards civiHzation, not by any distinct voUtions of its 
 own, but by a necessary law of development. Every nation plays 
 its part in the drama of the world, and every one performs its 
 jjvoper mission, but it marches on to its destiny, not wdth design, 
 but by some unknown yet necessary cause.* 
 
 This leads us, accordingly, to the third movement, in which free- 
 dom and necessity are completely blended, and that is history. 
 History is the absolute combination of the freedom of the indi- 
 vidual with the necessary development of the race. Every act of 
 which history is composed is a free act ; and yet man, with all his 
 freedom, cannot help contributing to the accomplishment of the 
 destiny of the whole nation and the whole race to which he belongs. 
 History is thus the great mirror, from which the soul of the world 
 is reflected ; it is an ever unfolding epic of the Divine intelligence ; 
 and in it we see how the eternal mind, which operates in us all, 
 reveals itself successively to view through the medium of our indi- 
 vidual freedom. 
 
 In history Schelling lays down three great periods. The first 
 was the period o{ fate, when everything appeared absolutely under 
 the influence of a blind and irresistible power. This may be 
 termed the tragic age. The second period is that in which the 
 power of fate reveals itself as a law of nature, that coerces every- 
 thing into a certain plan of development, which it is compelled to 
 subserve. This period commences with the extension of the Ro- 
 man empire, from which age we can trace the elements that have 
 moulded our modern history down to the present time. The third 
 period will be that in which w'e no longer speak of fate, nor of the 
 laws of nature, but where we view the whole as a divine revelation 
 upon the theatre of the world. This will be the age of Provi- 
 dence.* 
 
 Third sphere. Having now considered the two former poten- 
 cies of the subjective development of the absolute ; having seen it 
 first in the sphere of knowledge, causing its activity to assume the 
 appearance of an image or notion, its essence to clothe itself in a 
 finite form ; having seen it, secondly, in the sphere of practice, re- 
 turning to its original mode of existence as a boundless activity or 
 absolute law ; we now come to the highest potence of mental ex- 
 
 * Ibid. Part iv. prop. 4, in which it is shown how in the state the human will be- 
 comes objective to itself. 
 
 t Transcend. Ideal. Part iv. prop. 4. sol. 3.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 447 
 
 istence, that of genius, as seen in the production of art. In this 
 we find the complete concentration of all that has gone before, 
 whether in the real or the ideal side of our philosophy. 
 
 Art, as the union of the two former spheres of the ideal philos- 
 ophy, must contain in it a blending together both of knowledge 
 and of action, of form and of essence ; and this is precisely its 
 great characteristic. Theory and practice are there completely 
 united. Freedom and necessity, which we saw working in the 
 other spheres separately, in this higher sphere work together ; for 
 the artist is impelled by an inwurd inspiration to his labor. More- 
 over, art being the highest point of the actual development of the 
 absolute, as it rises from the lowest forms of matter to the highest 
 intelligence, must unite in itself both the subjective and the objec- 
 tive ; and what, in fact, are the productions of genius but the em- 
 bodying our ideal creations into actual objective forms? Again, 
 art must show the features both of the finite and the infinite ; and 
 accordingly, infinite perfection, the beau-ideal of beauty and sub- 
 limity, is shadowed forth by the artist in his own finite productions. 
 Lastly, as nature and mind show the two characteristics, the one 
 of unconsciousness, the other of self-consciousness, so the inspira- 
 tions of genius are partly conscious and partly spontaneous. And 
 thus the infinite mind having passed through its various forms of 
 objective and unconscious development, as seen in matter, light, 
 and organization, attains to its state of self-consciousness in sensa- 
 tion, reflection, and freedom, and is carried b\' the practical move- 
 ment to the highest point of self-realization, where bv means of art 
 its subjective or ideal forms become objectified. Here, then, we 
 have the unity or indifference of the real and the ideal, and come, 
 at length, at the end of the process, to a .«!clf-i)r(»(luced, or rather a 
 self-developed, subject-object. * 
 
 Having completed the two jiolcs of his Identitiitslelnv, Scholling 
 next projjosed to show the indifi'erence jioint itself; that is, to fur- 
 nish the philosophy of the absolute by an analysis of the pure 
 7-easoti. This was commenced, as we before remarked, in the 
 " Zeitschrift fiir Speculative Physik," but not completed. The 
 Hegelians assert that it could not be completed on Schelling's 
 principles, but that the subjective and objective philosophies re-j 
 spectively of Fichte and Schelling, are united and integrated, oniyi 
 by the dialectic process of Hegel. 
 
 • Trnns. Idfiil. Pt. vi. In this last |)art ihr prinoinlcsorTransrrrnirnt.il Mcaliim arc 
 brouptit up t<i their liiijhrst ptiint of ihvtlojinunt. All tlu- rays of ."^choninu's philom>phy 
 meet in the itlca of genius as in a focus. This it is whicli links llir human to the Di>inc.
 
 448 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The above sketch, however brief and imperfect, may perhaps 
 suffice to give an idea of the general character of Schelhng's orig- 
 inal philosophy. The sensation it produced was manifest through- 
 out Germany, and many of the rising philosophers of the day 
 entered eagerly into a system at once so comprehensive and so 
 poetical. Many of Schelling's pupils aided him in the journal which 
 he published as the organ of his views, and some of them exerted 
 a reflex influence upon the master himself, leading him to recast 
 some of his opinions and to expand others. By the time his system 
 as above described was completed, Schelling began to perceive that 
 he had elaborated too much the objective points in his philosophy ; 
 and that in the intense view which he had taken of the absolute, 
 he had diminished, nay, almost lost sight of the notion of any finite 
 existence possessing freedom and personality. With him the ab- 
 solute essence had become everything ; and its development was 
 not the free and designed operation of intelligence, but rather a 
 blind impulse working, first unconsciously in nature, and only 
 coming to self-consciousness in mind. On this principle, all differ- 
 ence between God and the universe was entirely lost ; his pan- 
 theism became as complete as that of Spinoza ; and as the absolute 
 was evolved from its lowest forms to the highest, in accordance 
 with the necessary law or rhythm of its being, the whole world, 
 material and mental, became one enormous chain of necessity, to 
 which no idea of free creation could by any possibility be attached. 
 
 Accordingly he now began to enter upon another course of 
 philosophy, not intended to contradict the former, but rather to 
 perfect it, by placing the whole question in a new light. Many 
 different treatises were published by him one after the other, before 
 he appeared to have written himself clear as to what his real design 
 was ; but at length he came forth with the declaration, that there 
 are t\<^o kinds of philosophy, the positive and the negative ; that he 
 had supplied the negative side, in his original system ; and that he 
 was now about to complete it, by supplying the positive. The dif- 
 ference between the two, according to Schelling, consists in this, 
 that while the negative philosophy deduces the idea (Begriff') of 
 God as an idea, the positive supplies his real essential existence. 
 The positive philosophy starts from being, and comes to thought ; 
 the negative starts from thought, and seeks (though in vain) to 
 attain to existence.* 
 
 * The first distinct statement of this new stand-point is found in the " Jahrbiicher der 
 Medicin," vol. i. part i. The precise reason why the terms positive and negative are ap- 
 plied to the two £ispects of his system, it is not very easy to determine. The prevailing
 
 TUB GERMAN SCHOOL. 449 
 
 God, the object of all philosophy, stands to us in two points of 
 view. On the one hand, there is the abstract idea of him, i. e. the 
 notion of his attributes, or of what he is ; on the other hand, there 
 is his being or existence, embodying the truth that he is. The 
 negative philosophy begins with a low and crude idea of the abso- 
 lute, and evolves from it a higher; in this way it proceeds step by 
 step through all the realms of nature and spirit, until it attains the 
 highest notion which we can have of Deity ; but when it has done 
 all this, it is only the notion of God we have deduced, and not the 
 existence. The positive philosophy, then, adds to this idea of God 
 his real existence : much in the same way as in Kant's system we 
 saw that his theoretical philosophy attained a notion of God which 
 appeared simply as a personification of our own faculties, while his 
 practical philosophy, on the other hand, supplied the essential 
 reality. * 
 
 The chief objects, then, of this new or positive philosophy may 
 be stated as follows : — 1st. To raise us beyond the pantheistic view, 
 given in the former system, and exhibit the Deity as a free personal 
 supra-mundane being. 2dly. To show the necessity and the pro- 
 cess of the creation of the world out of God. 3dly. To explain the • 
 relation of man to God, as an independent and yet dependent be- 
 ing. 4thly, and lastly. To unfold the nature and possibility of moral 
 evil. Let us view these four points in succession. 
 
 1. In order to rise above the pantheistic point of view, we must 
 distinguish between the Absolute, as ground of all things, and God- 
 head, as one particular manifestation of it. The primary form of 
 the Absolute is unll or self-action. It is an absolute power of be- 
 coming in reality what it is in the germ. The second form in which 
 it appears is that of being ; i. e. the realization of what its will or 
 power indicated to be possible. But as yet there is no personality, 
 no Deity properly so called. For this we must add the further idea 
 of freedom, which is the power that the Absolute posse.s.ses of remain- 
 ing either in its first or its second potence, as above stated. In this 
 unity, ivhich contains the three ideas of action, of cristence, and of 
 freedom, consists the proper idea of God. God, before the exist- 
 
 iilea, however, seems to be that in the negative philosophy, he startpd (ns Fitrhc did) 
 from an absolate and rational principle of srionrc, ami thus rvolvcil only the nnlcr of 
 i</i-a.^ : in the positive, on the contrary, he heijins with tlic (hrect intuition ot' Deity, n» 
 matter ot' inward experience, and thus jjets into the sphere of rcalitv. — Consult Prctkc« 
 to Cousin's Fracjments, on the mr.lkn,! ot" philosophy. 
 
 ♦ This theosophic view Schellin>r derived in jjreat measure from Jacob Bohme. " Ich 
 schame mieli," he remarks, " des Nainens vieler so^enannter Sehwarnier nicht, sond- 
 
 cm will ihn noch Inut bekennen. und mich nihmcn von ihnen gclcrnt zu habcn." 
 
 " Darlegung dc« Wahrcn Vcriiall." p. lof!. 
 
 29
 
 450 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ence of the world, is the undeveloped, impersonal, absolute essence 
 from which all things proceed ; it is only after this essence is de- 
 veloped, and has passed successively into the three states respec- 
 tively of action, of objective existence, and of freedom, that he 
 attains personality, and answers to the proper notion of Deity.* 
 
 2. With regard to creation, we can now explain the existence 
 of the world without identifying it with Deity, as is done in the or- 
 dinary pantheistic hypothesis. The absolute is the real ground of 
 all things that exist, but the absolute is not yet Deity. That ele- 
 ment in it, which passes into the creation and constitutes its es- 
 sence, is not the whole essence of Deity ; it is not that part of it 
 which, peculiarly speaking, makes it divine. The material world, 
 then, is simply one form or potence in which the absolute chooses 
 to exist ; in which it freely determines to objectify itself, and con- 
 sequently is only one step towards the realization of the full con- 
 ception of Deity, as a Divine Person.f 
 
 3. Man is the summit of the creation — he is that part of it in 
 which the absolute sees himself most fully portrayed as the perfect 
 image or type of the infinite reason. In him, objective creation 
 has taken the form of subjectivity ; and hence he is said, in contra- 
 distinction to everything else, to have been formed iji the image of 
 God. 
 
 Lastly. To solve the problem of moral evil, we must keep in 
 mind, that man, though grounded in the absolute, still is not identi- 
 fied with Deity ; since the Divine element, namely, the unity of the 
 three potencies of the original essence, is wanting to him. Still, 
 man bears a perfect resemblance to God, and therefore must be 
 free, and fully capable of acting, if he choose, against his own des- 
 tiny. This actually took place, inasmuch as he attempted, like 
 God, to create, separating the three potencies which were shadowed 
 forth in him as the image of Deity, and not being able, in doing so, 
 to retain their unity. Hence the will of man was removed from 
 the centre of the Divine will, attempted to act independently, and 
 
 * The theosophic view of the Divine nature as given by Schelling, is confessedly ob- 
 scure. In his " Denkmal der Schrift von den gotthchen Dingen," he discusses the 
 question at issue between himself and Jacobi; and seeks to vindicate himself from the 
 charge of pantheism, fc'o also in the Preface to Cousin, he combats the notion, that 
 Deity is synonymous with pure being, as involving a pantheistic result ; and shows the 
 chief merit of liis philosophy to arise from the fact of its having established the idea of 
 a progressive development in the Absolute, from pure being up to personality. — Pre- 
 face, part iii. 
 
 f This theosophic view of nature is given at large in the " Jahrbiicher der Medicin." 
 The student of ScheUing, however, may see the whole of what is essential in the mat- 
 ter, in the small polemical brochure, entitled, " Darlegung des wahren Verhaaltnisses 
 der Natur-pholosophie zu der verbesserten Fichtischcn Lehre." (1806.)
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 451 
 
 brought confusion and moral obliquity into his nature. Man would 
 become like a God, and by attempting to do so, he lost the very 
 image of God which he did possess.* 
 
 The last attempts which Schelling has made in philosophy have 
 been almost entirely of a theosophic, and, consequently, mystical 
 nature. These may all be included under the title, " Philosophy of 
 Revelation," in which he attempts to explain the rationale of all 
 mythology, and to deduce scientifically the whole doctrine of the 
 Bible concerning the fall of man, and his redemption by Christ. In 
 this portion of his philosophy, the doctrine of the Trinity is ex- 
 plained, on the principle of the three divine potencies, which have 
 been so often employed before : the fall of man is interpreted as 
 being the disuniting of the human will as the type, from the Divine 
 will as the antitype ; while the doctrine of redemption is viewed as 
 the reunion of that will to God. The first Adam, the original type 
 of humanity, separated from God, and acted during the ages of this 
 resisted evil as the god of this world, striving after an independent 
 and extra-Divine existence. The second Adam, on the other hand, 
 the type of the new creation, exhibited the return of man to a per- 
 fect union with the Divine nature. f 
 
 On this principle is explained the whole religious history of the 
 world ; that history showing, like everything else, three different 
 phases. From the fall of man to the coming of Christ, the human 
 consciousness was given up to the influence of the powers of 
 nature, being separated from God and devoted to sense. Hence 
 the rise of Polytheism, and the existence of heathen mythology 
 generally. Gradually the identity of these powers with God be- 
 gan to break in upon the mind, and gave the first notion of mono- 
 theism, which was completed in Christ, the God-Man. Christ 
 represented the complete reunion of man to Goil, the return of 
 the finite revolted will to the infinite — a return which is shadowed 
 forth by his perfect obedience. But man is not raised at once to 
 perfect reunion to God ; and hence the dispensation uf the Spirit, 
 
 • The doctrine of human frfcdoni, the nature of good and evil, and the p-ound of the 
 existence of the hitter, are discussed at some ienfjth in u tractate nt the end of hia 
 " Piiiiosopliisehc Schrirten," cntitUd '• Philosophisciie Untersucliun<jen uher das Wcaea 
 Jer menscidiehcn Freiht it." 
 
 t Schtlhn<r's views on the nhiinsophy of revelation arc only known in their moro 
 matured form, as (1< liv( red in tlie leeturt! room. Some idea of them, however, may be 
 gained from his " lMiiIoso|>hie und Relii;ion," and also from the " Lectures on the 
 methods of .\cademical .Study." The ei^ijith lecture is on the Historical Construction 
 of Christianity, where, u general view is ad'orded of the manner in which he under- 
 stands the nature of the Christian doctrijies.
 
 452 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 as that in which the reunion is completed by the constant impulse 
 of a Divine power. * 
 
 Even in the development of Christianity itself, Schelling finds 
 the same threefold movement which runs so universally through 
 his whole system. The first movement is seen in the Catholic 
 Church, the religion of Peter, objective in its whole aspect : the 
 second in Protestantism, the religion of Paul, appealing to man's 
 subjective consciousness ; the third is the religion of John — the 
 union of both in love. The first and second are now passing 
 away, and the next great form of Christianity will be that in 
 which love will conquer all in the perfect union of the objective re- 
 ligion of the Catholic, with the subjective piety of the Protestant. f 
 
 It is now easy to see the vast comprehensiveness of Schelling's 
 philosophy as a whole. It begins by advocating a kind of Divine 
 intuition, by which we gaze upon the realistic ground or basis of 
 all the phenomena, both of mind and matter. From this it goes 
 on to construct, by means of an absolute and a priori law, the 
 whole phenomenal universe, deriving it from the self-unfolding of 
 the Absolute. One region of existence after another yields, as by 
 a magic spell, to the bidding of this law, and confesses its secret 
 unveiled. Matter, with all its dull inertia, puts on the garb of 
 contending powers, and shows itself to be the objective reflection 
 of the Absolute itself; those subtle agencies which we term mag- 
 netism, electricity, galvanism, light, and heat, each owns itself to 
 be but one pulsation in the self-developing process of the universal 
 mind ; and even the phenomena of organized life are still but the 
 complete objectifying of the absolute, each animal nature being a 
 perfected type of the eternal nature itself From the philosophy 
 of nature, Schelling passes in one unbroken chain of argument, 
 without a chasm between, to the philosophy of spirit. The same 
 great law of the absolute solves the mysteries of sensation, of in- 
 telligence, and of human freedom ; from thence it proceeds to ex- 
 plain the phenomena of man as an individual agent ; of man in 
 his connection with society ; and, lastly, of man as he has devel- 
 oped his being upon the broad page of history. Finally, it enters 
 into the mazy regions of human genius and art, and finds in them 
 
 * This historical view of mankind from the religious stand-point is given in the trac- 
 tate " Ueber die Gottheiten der Samothrace." 
 
 •(• In 1841, Schelling opened his lectures at Berlin, and excited the hope that the long 
 expected completion of his Philosophy would be accomplished. His speedy retirement, 
 however, rendered this hope delusive. The only thing that has come from his pen 
 since that time is a preface to the posthumous works of Steffens. (1846.) This, how- 
 ever, is almost entirely occupied with remarks upon the religious aspect of the times, 
 and the»" church of the future." 
 
 %.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 453 
 
 I'* 
 
 the crown and the summit of the whole process — the highest t^»-r 
 pression of the Deity in the world. 
 
 Here it might be supposed, that the author would have found 
 his goal, and having constructed the universe out of almost nothing, 
 have at length enjoyed his Sabbath in peace. But, instead of this, 
 we find that the work is only half-done ; he has developed the law 
 of the universe, but not explained the substance ; he has exhibited 
 the form, now he must go to the matter ; he has analyzed the full 
 idea of God, and now he must make manifest his existence. Upon 
 this, with unwearied wings, he begins another flight — pantheism 
 is left behind, and the real Triune Jehovah is placed before us in 
 all the plenitude of a Divine personality. Next, the whole nature 
 of the dependent creation is developed, the procedure of the ma- 
 terial universe from the absolute expounded, and the mysteries of 
 existence, which had been hidden before in thick darkness, made 
 irradiant with light and intelligence. The destiny of man then 
 comes upon the stage. To show this, we have the origin of moral 
 evil discussed ; and the question, so long tossed upon the billows 
 of controversy, forever set at rest. The door being thus open into 
 the region of Christian theology, the philosopher boldly enters in, 
 to grapple with the great ideas which we there met with. The 
 law, which has unveiled the mysteries of nature and the soul, we 
 may be sure does not fail in explaining the whole rationale of 
 Christian faith. The great doctrines of revelation — the fall of 
 man — the theory of redemption — the effusion of the Spirit, — all 
 are converted from objects of faith to objects of science ; all flow, 
 as by natural consequence, from the great rhythm of existence ; 
 nay, the controversies of the Church themselves are settled, and 
 the repose of the world announced in the predominance of the 
 doctrines of the beloved apostle over the equally partial views, 
 both of the Protestant and the Catholic. Such, and far more 
 sweeping than we have represented it, is the philosophical system 
 by which the name of Schelling is destined to go down the stream 
 of time to the latest posterity. 
 
 To give any elaborate critique upon Schelling's philosophy, we 
 imagine is in this country quite unnecessary, inasmuch as it would 
 be arguing about a system, which very few as yet understand, and 
 prehaps no one believes in. We shall only offer one or two reflec- 
 tions upon some of the main positions which almost necessarily 
 suggest themselves. First of all, where is our guarantee for the 
 validity of the intellectual-intuition principle, upon which the
 
 454 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 /i^llole truth of the system rests, and without which, as Schell- 
 ing acknowledges, no one can take one single step into his philoso- 
 phy? Respecting our knowledge of the Absolute, there are in 
 fact no less than three hypotheses in vogue. The first is, that the 
 knowledge of it is altogether inapossible, there being no higher 
 faculty than the understanding, and that being cognizant simply of 
 relative and finite phenomena. The next hypothesis maintains, 
 that we have a faculty superior to the understanding, namely, the 
 reason ; by which we gain an idea of the absolute as the primary 
 existence in which all finite things are grounded. The third hy- 
 pothesis is, that of intellectual intuition, by which, as Schelling 
 imagines, we are not only cognizant of the absolute, but have an 
 insight also into the very laws of its development in creation. 
 
 Now Schelling fully admits that the Absolute cannot be known 
 by our ordinary intellectual faculties ; in other words, that the 
 actual essence of things cannot be attained to simply by our un- 
 derstanding. Instead of contenting himself, however, with the 
 faculty of reason, as the revealer of absolute existence, he has 
 ventured to run into an altogether wild hypothesis, and under the 
 fiction of intellectual intuition, has pretended to unfold, a priori, 
 all the secrets of nature, as being various modi of the Divine ex- 
 istence ; in a word, to reproduce in our own consciousness Deity 
 itself We cannot but think that Schelling has far too gratuitously 
 taken for granted, both the reality of the process, which he terms 
 intellectual intuition, and the reality of the product ; especially as 
 he professes to erect a scientific system, having self-evident axioms 
 at its basis. If his doctrine of identity means anything, it means 
 that thought and being are essentially one ; that the process of 
 thinking is virtually the same as the process of creating ; that in 
 constructing the universe by logical deduction, we do virtually the 
 same thing as Deity accomplishes in developing himself into all 
 the forms and regions of creation ; that every man's reason, there- 
 fore, is really God : in fine, that Deity is the whole sum of con- 
 sciousness immanent in the world. "This doctrine," says M. 
 Willm, in his Memoir to the French Academy, " is founded — 
 
 " 1. Upon an illusion. For it takes the process of ordinary gen- 
 eralization for an absolute law of reason ; and erects the principle 
 at which generalization stops, into the real and essential principle 
 of things themselves. 
 
 " 2. Upon a paralogism. For it confounds the order of knowl- 
 edge with the order of existence.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 455 
 
 " 3. Upon an exaggeration. For it exaggerates the harmony 
 which exists, or which we naturally affirm between our intelli- 
 gence and reality, by making it an identity, and attributing to 
 reason so absolute an authority, that everything must be as it 
 thinks, from the moment that it thinks it. 
 
 " 4. Upon an hypothesis. For it is a gratuitous supposition to 
 j)lace all truth in the reason, and thus to equal reason with God."* 
 
 To be convinced that Schelling's axioms are not the soundest, 
 we have only to look next to some of the actual conclusions of 
 his philosophy, and consider whether they be not in the highest 
 degree unsatisfactory. As an example of this, we imagine, that 
 his original system of identity, which makes the whole phenomena 
 of the universe one chain of necessary development, is entirely in- 
 consistent with the facts of physical and moral evil ; and equally 
 so with the conscious freedom of man as a moral agent. Again ; 
 the view maintained by Schelling respecting Deity, as coming 
 gradually to self-consciousness, and realizing himself only in man, 
 is utterly inconsistent with the perfections of God, as displayed in 
 the design of the universe, and felt in the holier emotions of man's 
 religious nature. Further ; the result of the system, as a theory 
 of natural philosophy, by no means answers to the expectations 
 it excites. One would think, that if the very laws of material 
 existence were laid bare, there could be no further need of ex- 
 perimental investigations. What then, is the fact ? — within the 
 bounds of experimental philosophy not an idea is introduced, 
 which can bear any other title than that of pure hypothesis; 
 while the rorii^h p:ith of induction must still be beaten as dili- 
 gentlv, as though Schelling's great (i priori discoveries had never 
 dawned upon the world. If we are to have a ])urely rational phi- 
 losophy at all, which shall satisfy the phenomena of the universe, 
 and explain the whole experience of the human consciousness, it 
 must rest upon a far surer foundation than that which Schelling 
 has laid, and answer far more perfectly to the external and internal 
 facts, which come before our daily observation. The day, we 
 imagine, is far distant, before we shall have to welcome the devel- 
 opment of any great physical laws from one who entirely sets at 
 nought the whole logic of induction. 
 
 With regard to Schelling's Theosophy. we can hanlly view it as 
 meriting the title of i)hilosophy at all, in any true or proper sense ; 
 indeed, we believe it is very generally rejected in (a^rmany, even 
 
 ♦ R6musat " Dc la Philosophic Allcm.indf," p. 1'27.
 
 456 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 by those who had been warm admirers of his original system. 
 With these obvious objections, however, we must admit, that, as 
 an instance of bold generalization, of fertile fancy, of reasoning 
 ingenuity, abounding at the same time in original views on many 
 topics, and exhibiting a most extensive acquaintance with almost 
 every branch of human knowledge, the philosophy of Schelling 
 exhibits a monument of genius, which, in the same department, 
 has been seldom equalled, and perhaps never exceeded, in the 
 world.* 
 
 Fichte and Schelling represent the two opposite sides of the 
 modern German idealism ; the one starting from the subjective 
 principle, the other from the objective — the one regarding self, the 
 other the infinite and eternal mind, the soul of the world, as the 
 Absolute. Hegel, to whom we must now turn our attention, has 
 passed beyond the region both of the one and the other, and at- 
 tained to the elevation of w^hat is usually termed absolute idealism. 
 Fichte supposed that there is a real subjective existence, in whose 
 nature reside those limitations, by which he has accounted for the 
 phenomena of the outward world ; and Schelling maintained an 
 original, absolute, living essence, containing within itself the laws 
 of its own self-development. Hegel has first resolved everything 
 into di process of thought, and claimed to reach the point at which 
 all speculative philosophy aims — that in which thought and exist- 
 ence perfectly coincide. 
 
 George William Frederick Hegel was born at Stuttgard, in the 
 year 1770. At the age of seventeen he went to the university of 
 Tubingen, where he devoted himself to the study of theology, and, 
 in the philosophical department, attended the same lectures with 
 Schelling. After having taken his degree, and having occupied some 
 years as a private tutor, he went to Jena in the year 1801, where 
 he began his lectures as a professor, with an auditory of four stu- 
 dents. The next sixteen years of his life were spent, partly as a 
 professor, partly as rector of a gymnasium, and partly as an editor 
 and author. At length, in the year 1818, he was called to Berhn, 
 where he lectured with great success till his death, which took 
 place November 14, 1831. 
 
 Hegel began his philosophical career as a firm partisan of Schel- 
 ling ; and when he first ventured beyond the pale of his authority, 
 the aim was rather to give system and unity to Schelling's doc- 
 trines, than to advance any altogether new ideas. Schelling, as 
 * See Note G. Appendix.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 457 
 
 we have sufficiently seen, was anything but systematic in his phil- 
 osophical writings ; in continuing to pour forth the productions 
 of his inventive genius, through the medium of his journals, he 
 seemed to aim more at putting his thoughts in different points of 
 view, than at building up the regular framework of a scientific 
 superstructure. Hegel, with less invention, possessed greater logi- 
 cal acumen and far more method than his contemporary ; and to 
 this mainly is owing the great extent to which his school has now 
 spread itself throughout Germany.* 
 
 The entrance into philosophy, according to Schelling, was by 
 the door of intellectual intuition, a faculty by which we were sup- 
 posed to gaze immediately upon the absolute, as we gaze by ordi- 
 nary sensation upon the forms of the material world. Hegel con- 
 sidered this principle to be unphilosophical, and strove to do away 
 with the necessity of a faculty which might be so easily abused, 
 and would so naturally open the door (as was actually the case) 
 into the regions of mysticism. With this object in view, he sought 
 to construct a purely logical system, where there should be no in- 
 explicable phenomena remaining — where no real essence, cither 
 subjective or objective, should be admitted, that was not fully sub- 
 limated into thought, and that might not form indeed a logical part 
 of the very process of philosophy itself 
 
 With Schelling, ihere was a primary essence in the absolute, 
 previous to its development, and which therefore did not originate 
 in the developing process ; in more technical language, there was 
 an (x) which remained to the last unresolved in his philosophy. 
 Instead of beginning with zero, and explaining all existence, he 
 began with a realistic point — a certain absolute power or law, per- 
 ceived through the medium of intellectual intuition, and made this 
 the basis of everything else. Beyond the region of thought there 
 lay, as he conceived, the region of real existence, containing in it 
 the principle of its own self-unfolding. With Hegel, however, the 
 case was different : he allowed of no original essence whatever, 
 which was not identical with thought, and which was not com- 
 pletely worked up into his philosophical process. The x was with 
 him entirely resolved; for, beginning with not/iing, he showed 
 with logical precision how everything luul regularly proceeded 
 from it. 
 
 * Hrprl himself says in a Icttrr to his friend Van Ghert: — " Das, worauf, M nllem 
 |)hilosoj)hiren, und jetzt inehruls sonst, (his IlaiiMtijewicht zu lej;en ist, ist freihrh liie 
 Mrthoile ilr$iwth>rcu(iii:cn zvsnmmrnhujivs, dcd Ueoergehcns ciiicr Form in die Andcrc.'' 
 — Vcrmischte Schriften, vol. ii. page -ITD.
 
 458 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Another point of difference between these two ^eat philosophers 
 lies here. Schelling's, intuition was of such a nature, that the law 
 of the universe (the process of objectifying and again subjectifying) 
 was learned by experience. The rhythm of all existence was sup- 
 posed by him to be cognizable at the same time by the inward ex- 
 perience of the subjective self, in the outward operations of nature, 
 and likewise in the progressive course of the world's history. 
 Hegel's philosophy, on the contrary, is pure rationalism, from the 
 very first step to the last ; it results from resigning oneself en- 
 tirely to the laws of thought, as seen in speculative reasoning, and 
 regards the self-development of that thought as being the true rev- 
 elation of the Absolute, that is, of God. Thoughts are, with him, 
 the only concrete realities ; and logic, as being a true description 
 of their processes, is at the same time a true description of the 
 laws of the universe. With other philosophers, logic had been 
 merely a formal science ; but although its dignity had been much 
 raised by Kant, as also by Fichte and Schelling, yet it was re- 
 served for Hegel to deny altogether its formal character, to make 
 it a real branch of metaphysics, and to admit it as a part of the 
 process by which the whole universe of things is constructed. 
 Not only (as in the philosophy of Schelling) is the method of logic 
 regarded equally with the phenomena of nature as a manifestation 
 of the Absolute, but it is apart of the very process in ivhich the ab- 
 solute itself consists. With these principles, it is easy to see how 
 significantly the Hegelian philosophy has been denominated a 
 system of absolute idealism. 
 I We see here, in fact, the perfect culmination of the idealistic 
 method. Kant admitted a double principle as the basis of his phi- 
 losophy ; the subjective forms of the understanding uniting with an 
 empirical element, in order to give rise to real knowledge. Fichte 
 brought the question of realism and idealism to a crisis. What- 
 ever we know of a certainty, he affirmed, must be the act of our 
 own consciousness. Philosophy, therefore, must take its stand 
 upon this one subjective principle, and deduce all knowledge, as a 
 spider spins its web, from the laws of the inward self. Schelling 
 perceived that if we take our stand here, one of two things must 
 follow ; either we must admit the me to be the absolute generating 
 principle of all things, so that the world is but the shadow projected 
 by its own laws, (a result which ends virtually in nihilism,) or 
 allowing the two terms of subject and object to have a distinct 
 existence, we fail of a single and absolute basis for human knowl-
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 459 
 
 edge, and return to the old disputes between the realist, the ideal- 
 is^ and the sceptic. To relieve this difficulty, he afTirmed the 
 fundamental unity or identity of subject and object, regarding 
 them as the two poles of existence — separate in their manifesta- 
 tions, but the one infallibly leading to the other. Schelling, it is 
 known, made several attempts to develop the unity of his .system, 
 and furnish the philosophy of the absolute, but nev<_'r fully suc- 
 ceeded. The poles ever persisted in remaining apart, the indiffer- 
 ence point being unfound. At this point, Hegel came forward with 
 the assertion that subject and object, thought and existence, are 
 absolutely one — and that the only actual reality is that which re-l 
 suits from their mutual i-elation. Take any material object as ai^ 
 illustration. Fichte would say, it is a result of my inward activitv. 
 Schelling would contend that the outward fact and inward percep- 
 tion are both real, but both the manifestation of the absolute essence 
 in different stages of its development. Hegel savs no — the out- 
 ward thing is nothing, the inward perception is nothing, for neither 
 could exist alone ; the only reality is the relation, or rather the i 
 synthesis of the two, which accordingly shows us that the essence 
 or nature of being itself consists in the co-existence of two oppo- 
 sites. Accordingly, the ordinary conception which men have 
 formed of things, is completely reversed. We generally consider 
 that an individual object, say a man or a horse, is a reality, and 
 that it is the mind which forms the universal idea for its own con- 
 venience. Hegel, on the other hand, aflirms, that it is the uni- 
 versal and particular ideas, the genus and species put together, 
 which actually create the individual. Ideas, therefore, arisin<T as i 
 they do from the union of two opposites, are the concrete realities I 
 of Hegel's philosophy ;, and the process of the evolution of ideas 
 in the human mind is, at the same time, the process of all existence 
 — the Absolute — God. On this ground it is, that logic is the ne- 
 cessary basis of every svstom of absolute itlealistn.* 
 
 Philosophy begins, then, on the Hegelian principle, by our gain- 
 ing a clear conception of the laws of thought ; those laws by which 
 the knowledge of anythini^ ir/iatever is arrived at. In atti'inpting 
 to observe these laws, we soon discover that the process of know- 
 ing implies a threefold movement. First of all. our consciousness 
 exists in a con(liti(»n in which it h one with the object. Pure sensa- 
 tion (as is generally admitted) would never give us the knowledge 
 
 • The student of Hegel may consult, on this jwint Dr. Ott's work, entitled " Hcjpel, 
 ct la Philosophic .Ailcmundc," chap, ii., where many illustrations ol* the above princi- 
 ples will be found.
 
 460 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 of an external world ; all that it affords us is a hare feeling ; so 
 that the primary step in the attainment of the knowledge of any 
 object, must be the state in which there is a complete blending of 
 subject and object (simple apprehension). Secondly, instead of 
 remaining in this state of consciousness, we soon objectify it ; 
 sensation becomes perception, and we refer our feeling to some 
 real outward existence as the cause. The faculty by which this 
 separation between subject and object is effected, is the under- 
 standing (Verstand), answering to judgment in the ordinary divis- 
 ion of the scholastic logic. The third process is that in which our 
 consciousness again returns to complete union with the object, 
 even whilst the object remains before us in all its clearness. In 
 this last movement, we perceive the object as a product, or process 
 of our own minds : while, therefore, it is, as an outward reality, 
 destroyed, (aufgehoben,) yet as a process of our own consciousness 
 it is preserved ; or, in the words of the author, the object is suhla- 
 tum, the process is servatum. As the former movement was the 
 effect of the understanding, so this is of the reason (Vernunft) . 
 
 In this process, then, which we find to be uniformly followed, 
 when we attain the knowledge of anything, we see the law, or the 
 rhythm of all nature, and all existence. Take any object what- 
 ever, and ask how it becomes to us a real existing idea or thing 
 (for with Hegel those two are the same). Philosophers ordinarily 
 say, that when we have a perception there is implied the mind or 
 subject that perceives on the one side, and the object which is per- 
 ceived on the other, the two communicating by some unknown 
 process. The pure subjective idealist, it is true, denies the reality 
 of the object, and regards it as a production of the subject ; but 
 Schelling had exploded this notion, and introduced the doctrine of 
 identity, according to which we must admit a real subject and a 
 real object, but must regard them as two corresponding manifesta- 
 tions of the same absolute existence. Hegel, however, now goes 
 one step further in his analysis. He says, that there is neither sub- 
 ject nor object separately considered, but that they both owe their 
 existence and reality to each other. The only real existence, then, 
 is the relation ; the whole universe is a universe of relations ; sub- 
 ject and object, which appear contradictory to each other, are 
 really one — not one in the sense of Schelling, as being opposite 
 poles of the same absolute existence, but one, inasmuch as their 
 relation forms the very idea, or the very thing itself 
 
 This procedure, then, by which everything comes into being, is
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 461 
 
 the very soul and essence of life, of nature, of the absolute ; and 
 Deity, which was in the other systems an original and self-existent 
 reality, is now a pj-ocess or movement ever unfolding itself, but 
 never unfolded. God only realizes himself, in fact, in the progress 
 of the human consciousness ; and the process by which this reali- 
 zation is effected, is absolutely synonymous with himself In a 
 word, the dialectic process is Hegel's method ; the dialectic pro- 
 cess is his Deity: the dialectic process is everything: all nature, 
 all mind, all history, all religion, are but pulsations of this move- 
 ment, and God himself is but the same law taken absolutely in its 
 whole comprehension. In the threefold rhythm of all existence, as 
 given by Hegel, there is a manifest affinity with the three poten- 
 cies of Schelling ; but it was Hegel alone who ventured to make a 
 universe of pure relations, and to raise the process, the very method 
 of his philosophy, to the dignity of being itself the absolute idea 
 = God. 
 
 With ^hese preliminary observations we must now proceed to 
 look a little closer into the interior of the system. The point on 
 which we must stand, in order to take a comprehensive view over 
 the whole range of Hegel's philosophy, is that of the ahsohite idea. 
 The Absolute is with him not the infmite substance, as with Spi- 
 noza, nor the infinite subject, as with Fichte, nor the infinite 7nind, 
 as with SchelHng; it is a perpetual process, an eternal thinking, 
 without beginning and without end. This process of thought, uni- 
 versally considered, is identical with the logical evolution of ideas 
 in the human mind. The law of evolution may be easily grasped. 
 Let us imagine that we want to develop some idea, and gain the 
 fullest possible conception of it, how do we proceed ? We find on 
 reflection that the idea divides itself into two opposites, the one o{ 
 which is the negation of the other ; so that the idea hangs, as it 
 were, in the balance between the two. Here, however, the pro- 
 cess does not stop. This negation is itself met by another nega- 
 tion, and thus the idea with which we started is restored, only en- 
 riched by the verv process wc have described. The same process 
 is again repeated ; at each turn the idea is evolved to a liigher de- 
 gree ; and thus it proceeds onwards until it reaches the absolute 
 idea itself 
 
 Now this law is seen on a vast scale in the whole universe of 
 thought, with which philosophy has to do. Here, as in our own 
 minds, we recognize a threefold movement ; that movement ex- 
 pressing the innermost nature of all things. The first stej) is the
 
 462 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 infinite idea in itself (Idee in sich). The second is the idea in its 
 objective form, or in its differentiation (Idee in ihreni anders-seyn). 
 The third is the idea in its regress. These movements, viewed in 
 connection with the process of thinking in which the absolute con- 
 sists, and in which they are perfectly represented, give us, 1st, bare 
 thought (Denken an sich), 2dly, thought externalizing itself = na- 
 ture, and, 3dly, thought returning to itself = mind. Accordingly, 
 philosophy has three corresponding divisions : — logic, philosophy 
 of nature, and philosophy of spirit. The first is the region of bare 
 thinking, the second is the region of thought in its objective forms, 
 and the third is the region of thought in its reflective movement in 
 the soul of man.* The whole object of philosophy, therefore, is to 
 develop existence from its most empty and abstract form up through 
 logic, nature, and mind, to its highest and richest elevation as at- 
 tained in the human consciousness. In this we shall find the same 
 process perpetually repeating itself, and gaining something fresh at 
 every pulsation, until it arrives at its highest perfection. f ^ We be- 
 gin, then, with — 
 
 LOGIC. 
 
 This is the region of abstract thought, in which the absolute ap- 
 pears in its first and most undeveloped form. Logic, as being the 
 province of Idee an sich, is intended to show the subjective pro- 
 cesses of thought ; to point out the method by which, from the 
 most empty of all our notions, we rise gradually to the most rich 
 and fuU.J To explain the true process of logical thinking we must 
 observe, that all knowledge consists in a separation or distinguish- 
 ing of one thing from another. In every thought there are two 
 parts, which stand opposed ; both of which are absolutely neces- 
 sary to give it a clear and actual meaning. It is the same whether 
 we view thought in the form of sensation, or of perception, or of 
 reflection ; in every instance, there must be something separated, 
 defined, distinguished, or placed in opposition to something else. 
 We have no notion, e. g., of a finite without an infinite ; no idea of 
 
 * For a brief exhibition of the idea and division of philosophy, the student may con- 
 sult the introduction of Hegel's " Logic."— N.B. The logic as given in the " Encyclo- 
 psedie," is shorter and clearer than the original edition. The references accordingly 
 will be given to this. 
 
 f Previous to " Logic," Hegel wrote the '• Phanomenologie des Geistes." This he 
 used to term his Voyage of Discovery. It is considered the most obscure of his 
 writings. 
 
 ■^ Die Logik ist die Wissenschaft der reinen Idee, das ist der Idee im abstrakten Ele- 
 mente des Denkens. Logik, p. 28.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 463 
 
 cause without effect ; no idea of subjective without objective. iSo 
 also in nature there could be no north pole without a south, and 
 no idea of material substance without immaterial. 
 
 This being the case, it is not possible for any notion to exist as 
 an absolute unity : it must, in every instance, consist of two sides, 
 a positive and a negative ; and to complete it, these two sides 
 must be combined so as to form one perfect idea. This is called 
 by Hegel the doctrine of contradiction, (Widerspruch,) which 
 simply means, that in every idea we form, there must be ttco thino-s 
 opposed and distinguished, in order to afford us a clear conception 
 and a definite meaning. In this doctrine of contradiction, or rather 
 we would term it, of opposition, Hegel finds the rhythm of the 
 whole logical process, the two opposites answering to the two 
 former movements of the dialectic process above described, and the 
 union of these two in one idea, corresponding with the third or 
 highest movement of the same. Logic, accordingly, falls into 
 three parts : 
 
 I. The doctrine of Being, or thought in its immediacy/. 
 
 II. The doctrine of Essence, or thought in its communication. 
 
 III. The doctrine of Notion, or thought in its regress, in which 
 it forms a complete idea in itself* 
 
 Now if the problem were i)laced before us, to trace the existence 
 of all things from their very first coming into being to the attain- 
 ment of their present form, we should have (beginning with thino-s 
 as they now are) to follow them backwards, until we came to 7ioth- 
 ing, and there we should find the starting-point of the process of 
 creation. In like manner, when we attempt to analyze the devel- 
 opment of thought (which with Hegel is identical with existence), 
 we must seize the very emptiest, most abstract, most meanin<dess 
 notion we can find, and from that deduce all the rest in ret^ular 
 course by the process already laid down. This primarv and most 
 abstract of all notions is that of being, (seyn,) and f >rms accord- 
 ingly the first division of Hegel's logic. 
 
 First Division. Doctrine of Being. — In askinir lunv a thin<T 
 can begin to be, we require to see its transition from Xothiiig into 
 Being. Without the idea of nothing, w'e could never have that 
 of being, and vice versa ; so that the two staml to one another as 
 opposites, and both together combine to form a complete notion, 
 viz., that of bare production, or the becoming (werden), of some- 
 thing out of nothing. This, then, is the first step in jihilosophy, 
 
 ♦ Logik, p. 161.
 
 464 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the primary pulsation of the dialectic process. In it being and 
 nothing stand as the poles ; and the conjunction of them forms the 
 notion of existence. In these three (sein, nichts, werden), we see 
 the type or symbol of all thought, showing us, that for every com- 
 plete idea there must be the combination of two opposites. Nei- 
 ther being nor nothing can exist as a reality of itself; each is but 
 the opposite pole of the other, and it is in their indifference that 
 the act of coming into existence first appears. Hence the mean- 
 ing of the extraordinary equation that stands at the threshold of 
 Hegel's philosophy, Sein = Nichts ; and hence, the first conclu- 
 sion, that the notions of being and nothing combined, form that of 
 existence. This may appear clearer to the German scholar, if we 
 say in Hegel's language, that Sein and Nichts form Daseyn* 
 
 Now, the same process goes over again. Daseyn gives rise to 
 a twofold movement, by which a still higher point in the scale of 
 being is attained. An existence may be viewed in relation to 
 itself, or in relation to the things around it ; it may be existence 
 an sich, or existence fih- andre. Here then we have another op- 
 position ; an existence can only be this because it is not that.^\ 
 This and that taken alone would be absolutely meaningless, the one 
 must limit or bound off the other. Existence alone would only 
 give a general and undefined idea ; to have the notion of a distinct 
 existence, a reality, there must be the negation as well as the af- 
 firmation of Being. A rose, for example, is a rose only because it 
 is not a lily, or anything else — blue is blue, because it is not green. 
 So, universally, the affirmation of any real thing implies in it the 
 negation of a certain amount of attributes. Here, then, we have 
 the category of Quality, that is Being, determined and limited 
 by a negation ; the steps through which we have arrived at it be- 
 ing Seyn, Daseyn, Fiir-sich-seyn. This category clearly shows us 
 how we come to the notions of finite and infinite. A real some- 
 thing (etwas) is distinguished from all other things, by its being 
 limited or bounded off: destroy those limitations, and it flows back 
 into infinity. Thus the notions of finite and infinite are both per 
 se incomplete ; the one is necessary to the other, and both arise 
 from that movement of logical thinking by which we rise from the 
 bare notion of being, to that of some particular existence. J 
 
 The three ideas we have just deduced, falling under the cate- 
 gory of quality, all point to the inner nature of things, and not to 
 
 * Logik, p. 165—179. 
 
 t There is here a play upon the German expression for existence, Daseyn, 
 
 \ Logik, p. 180, eL seq.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 465 
 
 their outward form. The next category in the doctrine of bare 
 existence (Seyn) is that of quantity. Under this are explained the 
 notion of continued size and divisible size ; of pure quantity and 
 of a particular quantity ; these two united forming the notion of 
 degree (Grad). Degree, then, as implying a quantity joined to a 
 quality, gives the idea of measure (Mass), or the relation of one 
 quantity to another, and thus completes the first division of logic, 
 or '^ die Lchre vom Sein."* 
 
 /Second Division. Doctrine of Essence. — In the second division 
 of logic, Being appears in a more determined, definite, and inde- 
 pendent form. Instead of having the characteristic of bare empty 
 existence, it has now that of real concrete existence, and gives rise 
 to the doctrine of essence, " die Lehre vom Wesen."t This sec- 
 ond movement of the logical process, as seen in the nature of 
 things, answers to the second movement in r?iind, where the under- 
 standing separates the object from the consciousness, and places it 
 as a distinct reality before us. Here, again, we have a threefold 
 division. Essence may appear either as the ground, or substratum 
 of existence (as in the words, matter, spirit) ; or it may appear as 
 phenomenon, i. e., as expressing those qualities of objects which- 
 cannot be separated from them ; and then, by uniting the notion 
 of substratum and attribute, we attain the conception of a real 
 thing in plain contradistinction from that universal essence of 
 which it forms a part. Here then is resalved the great problem 
 before w hich the Eleatics paused, that c^f reconciling the individu- 
 ality of each separate thing with the unity of the absolute essence. 
 
 The doctrine of essence contains the explanation of a great 
 number of those philosophical ideas, which have played an impor- 
 tant part in every system of metaphysics. Under its first move- 
 ment, we have the deduction of the notions of identity and difler- 
 ence : of concrete existence; and of « thing as containing pro/je;-- 
 ties peculiar to itself Under the second movement we have the 
 ideas of a phenomenal world, of matter and form, and of relation 
 generally, all deduced in philosophical order. Then, histly, in the 
 third movement, we have the union of the other two, giving the 
 categories of substance, of cause, and of action and reaction. All 
 these notions, with many of their collateral ideas, are grasi>od by 
 the dialectic method, in its onward jirogress, and made to take 
 their due position as organic parts of the whole system. 
 
 We have now traced the dialectic process through two of its 
 
 ♦Logik, p. 201,d«:y. t Logik, p. 223.
 
 466 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 spheres of action, and shown how, from the bare idea of being, we 
 come at length to that of a distinct, essential, real thing. When 
 we attempt to proceed beyond this, we get into a higher region of 
 thought, the doctrine of notions (die Lehre vom Begriff,) answer- 
 ing to the reasoning process in formal logic, and in nature answer- 
 ing to all organism and life, up to the highest developments of mind 
 
 itself 
 
 Third Division. Doctrine of Notions.* — The three divisions of 
 logic will now stand thus in relation to each other : — 1. The doc- 
 trine of Being answers to the abstract conceptions of time and 
 space, giving us only those ideas which are purely qualitative or 
 quantitative. 2. The doctrine of Essence answers to time and 
 space, not in the abstract but the concrete, filled up, the one with 
 actual existence, the other with real phenomena, such as those of 
 substance, attribute, cause, and effect, &.c. Then, lastly, the doc- 
 trine of Notion (Begriff), refers to all those things which have 
 peculiar characteristics of their own — real and definable objects, 
 whether in the region of organized or inorganized existence. This 
 last doctrine, that of notions, in the same manner as the other two, 
 has three divisions : first, notion in its subjective point of view, 
 giving the different movements of the mind as seen in simple ap- 
 prehension, judgment, reasoning ; secondly, notion in its objective 
 point of view, giving us the conceptions of the three realms of 
 nature — the mechanical, the chemical, and the organized ; and, 
 thirdly, we have the union of subject and object, expressed by 
 Hegel in the word idea, v/hich rises, also, through three successive 
 steps : first, as life ; then, as intelligence ; and lastly, as the abso- 
 lute idea — the summit of the whole process, and synonymous with 
 Deity. It must not be supposed, that in this third division of the 
 Logic, we have got beyond the region o{ pure thinking. We have 
 simply traced the evolution of thought upwards, through its more 
 empty and abstract forms ; enriching it with a greater fulness of 
 meaning at every step, until we have arrived at the conceptions 
 which we find embodied in nature and the soul — those Platonic 
 archetypes, pure thought in themselves, to which the universe itself 
 is perfectly conformable. 
 
 To give a clearer idea of the several divisions and subdivisions 
 of Hegel's logic, we shall subjoin the following scheme, which the 
 reader may now compare with the above description. 
 
 * Logik, p. 315, et $eq.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 4^7 
 
 LOGIC COMPREHENDS, 
 
 The Doctrine of Being. (Die Lehre vom Seyn). 
 
 A. Quality. 
 
 a. Being (Seyn.) 
 
 h. Existence (Daseyn.) 
 
 c. Independent existence (Fiir-sich-seyn). 
 
 B. Quantity. 
 
 a. Pure quantity (Reine Quantitat). 
 h. Divisible quantity (Quantum). 
 c. Degree (Grad). 
 
 C. Measure. 
 
 (Mass.) The union of quality and quantity. 
 
 II. 
 
 The Doctrine op Essence. (Lehre vom Wesem). 
 
 A. Ground of Existence. 
 
 a. Pure notions of essence. 
 
 h. Essential existence (Existenz). 
 
 c. Thing (Ding). 
 
 B. Phenomenon. 
 
 a. Phenomenal world (Welt der Erscheinung). 
 h. Matter and form (Inhalt und Form), 
 c. Relation (Verhiiltniss). 
 
 C. Reality. Union of Ground, and Phenomenon. 
 
 a. Relation of substance. 
 h. Relation of cause. 
 c. Action and reacrion. 
 
 III. 
 
 Doctrine of Notion. (Lehre vom Begriff). 
 
 A. Subjective Notion. 
 
 a. Notion as such (Begriff als solches). 
 h. Judgment (Urtheil). 
 r. Inference (Schluss). 
 
 B. Object. 
 
 a. Mechanical powers (Mechanismus). 
 
 b. Chemical powers (Chemismus). 
 
 c. Design (Teleologie).
 
 468 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 C. Idea. 
 
 a. Life (Leben). 
 
 h. Intelligence (Erkennen). 
 
 c. Absolute idea (Absolute Idee). 
 
 In the above sketch of Hegel's Logic we have given only the 
 chief divisions ; of the ingenuity and logical acuteness with which 
 these divisions are deduced the one from the other, and the whole 
 framework built up, we can give no idea whatever. To compre- 
 hend this fully, we must refer the reader to his Cyclopaedia of 
 Philosophical Sciences, (vol. vi.) published in a complete edition 
 of his works by his most distinguished pupils (Berlin, 1840). 
 
 We must now proceed to the second division of philosophy, 
 namely, 
 
 PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE.* 
 
 The transition from the logic to the philosophy of nature is by 
 no means a clear and intelligible step in the Hegelian system. 
 Logic is the region of bare thought ; the philosophy of nature is 
 the region of thought externalizing itself. Nature is still thought, 
 but thought in its objective movement, being the exact opposite to 
 logical thinking ; while both combine in the philosophy of mind. 
 In order to account for the process of thought in the universe 
 taking that objective form in which it appears as nature, Hegel has 
 recourse to a somewhat far-fetched doctrine concerning the descent 
 of the absolute idea from its original unity, as subject-object, into 
 a state of separation ; just as in pure logical thinking the under- 
 standing separates what was one in the original consciousness. 
 Schelling, as we have already seen, vegarded nature as a part of 
 the process by which the absolute realized itself: he viewed the 
 process of development accordingly as necessary, and regarded all 
 existence to be the play of a supreme fate Hegel regarded the 
 dialectic movement, by which the absolute separates itself and ex- 
 ternalizes itself in nature, as perfectly /?'ee, so that his pantheism 
 did not profess to destroy the notion of the freedom and absolute 
 personality of God. 
 
 Now, just as in logic the absolute process appeared in its three- 
 fold movement, so also does it appear in the three correspondintr 
 
 * This forms the subject of the second volume of the second part of the Encyclo- 
 psedie, in the most recent edition.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 469 
 
 ones in nature. Nature in its empty undetermined forms (answer- 
 ing to tiie doctrine of Being) appears in that peculiar aspect which 
 is taken of it in the science of mechanics. Here there are, first, 
 the purely mathematical ideas of matter, as existing in time, space, 
 and motion ; next, there are the mechanical properties of matter, 
 as gravitation, &c. ; and, thirdly, there are the absolute properties 
 as viewed at large in the construction of the material universe, 
 where the fixed stars, the binary stars, and the solar system, give 
 us illustrations of the different kinds of forces which are actually 
 in operation. 
 
 The second division of the philosophy of nature is physics. 
 Here we take into consideration, first, the general forms of matter, 
 as earth, water, light, &c. ; secondly, the phenomena of specific 
 gravity, cohesion, elasticity, &c. ; and, thirdly, the specific forms, 
 as acids, alkalies, metals, &c. 
 
 The third division of this branch of philosophy is organism^ in 
 which the other two movements are combined. The first move- 
 ment gave to nature its matter ; the second its form ; the third at 
 length affords that in which matter and form are united. Here, 
 again, we have first, the geological world ; secondly, the vegetable 
 world ; and thirdly, the animal world ; the last leading us to the 
 point where the philosophy of nature ends and that of spirit begins. 
 To give a clearer idea of the chief steps under which this branch 
 is treated, we annex the accompanying scheme. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE COMPREHENDS, 
 
 Mechanics, 
 a. Mathematical properties. 
 h. Mechanical properties, 
 c. Properties of absolute motion in space. 
 
 IT. 
 
 Physics, 
 a. General forms of matter. 
 h. Relative forms of matter. 
 c. Specific forms of matter.
 
 470 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 III. 
 
 Organism, 
 a. Geological structure. 
 h. Vegetable structure. 
 c. Animal structure. 
 
 Each one of these triplets forms one complete pulsation of the 
 dialectic process, and were it not entering too far into detail, each 
 one of the minor divisions would be seen to contain a minor move- 
 ment of the same threefold process as well. We hasten on, how- 
 ever, to the third division of philosophy, namely, 
 
 PHILOSOPHY OF MIND. 
 
 At the point where nature leaves off, having carried on her 
 operations to the very highest pitch of perfection in the human 
 organization, the philosophy of mind begins. In this, as the third 
 great division of philosophy, we have pure logical thought and 
 nature (the subjective and the objective) fully combined. The 
 steps of this part of Hegel's philosophy, corresponding with those 
 in logic and nature, are as follows : — 
 
 PHILOSOPHY OF MIND. 
 
 I. 
 
 Viewed subjectively. 
 a. Anthropology. 
 h. Psychology. 
 c. Will. 
 
 ir. 
 Viewed objectively. 
 
 a. Jurisprudence. 
 h. Morals. 
 c. Politics. 
 
 III. 
 Absolute Mind. 
 
 a. ^Esthetics. 
 • h. Religion. 
 c. Philosophy. 

 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 471 
 
 Each one of these several points contains a separate branch of 
 mental philosophy in itself. Thus, in the subjective movement, we 
 have, under anthropology, the different races of mankind discussed, 
 varying, as they do, according to the relative development of their 
 moral and intellectual being. It is, in fact, the doctrine of the 
 toul in its original constitution, varying, however, according to the 
 physical peculiarities, the national characteristics, and different idi- 
 osyncracies of individuals. Under psychology, we have the nature 
 and peculiarities of the different mental processes in feeling, per- 
 ceiving, remembering, imagining, &c., all analyzed and arranged 
 according to the Hegelian method, while under the title of will, we 
 have the classification of our active powers, showing how they lead 
 to all the results of practical life. 
 
 In the objective movement we are introduced to the whole range 
 of mo7-al philosophy, or mind in its relations to those without. This 
 is divided — first, into the rights of person and property, as in juris- 
 prudence ; secondly, into the rectitude of actions generally, viz. 
 morals ; and, thirdly, into domestic and public duties, which may 
 be termed (in the extended meaning of the word) politics. 
 
 Lastly, when we rise to mind in its absolute form, we no longer 
 view it as belonging to the individual, but to the race, and look for 
 its development, not in the life of a single man, but in the history 
 of the world. The primary development of the human mind, in 
 the process of civilization, is that of art ; for the age of poetry pre- 
 cedes all others, and mythology is ever the form in which truth is 
 first embodied, recognized, and taught. To this succeeds the age 
 of religion, in which God is regarded as a distinct personality, sep- 
 arate from the world and separate from the mind of the worshipper 
 — a Being to whom we owe entire allegiance and submission. 
 Under this head Hegel discusses the various forms of religion which 
 have appeared in the woilti, from the earliest ages to the present. 
 Last of all comes the age of philosophy, m which religion rises to 
 its pure reflective form, and trutli comes forth from her symbols 
 to appear in her naked reality. The conclusion, then, and at the 
 same time the top-stone of mental science, is the llislury of Phi- 
 losophy, as it has ai)peared in the world; in which we fnul thought 
 developing itself gradually (according to the process given in the 
 science of logic), from the period of Parmenides, who stood upon 
 the lowest step (that of bare existence), up to the present day, in 
 which Hegel himself has deduced the absolute idea in all the ful- 
 ness of its truth and glory !
 
 472 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Most of the branches we have thus briefly indicated, were treated 
 of by Hegel in distinct courses of lectures. With regard to the 
 subjective branches, namely, anthropology, psychology, and the 
 theory of the will, nothing, I believe, has been published in a sepa- 
 rate form. Of the other branches, however, abundant material has 
 been furnished by the editors of the Encyclopsedie, to give us the 
 fullest insight into Hegel's views on the several questions to which 
 they refer. The " Grundlinien der Philosophic des Rechts," (Ele- 
 ments of the Philosophy of Right,) was edited by Gans, and pub- 
 lished in 1833, comprehending in one volume the Hegelian doe- 
 trine with regard to abstract right (jurisprudence), to morality at 
 large, and to social rights or politics. The lectures on " vEsthet- 
 ics" were edited by Hotho, and are considered among the most in- 
 teresting of Hegel's works. Here we find the same trichotomy as 
 in all the other branches of investigation, namely, art, or the beau- 
 tiful considered, 1st, in itself, as a conception of the human mind ; 
 2dly, in its objectivity, as seen in the successive schools of art, his- 
 torically considered ; and, 3dly, in its perfect realization, as seen in 
 the special branches by which the beautiful has been expressed. 
 The lectures on the philosophy of religion, together with those on 
 the proofs of the Divine existence, were first brought out by Mar- 
 heineke, in 1832, (2 vols. 8vo). Here, according to the same three- 
 fold method, we have religion viewed, 1st, subjectively, giving us 
 the abstract conceptions with which our religious life is conversant ; 
 2dly, we have religion objectively considered, that is, the history of 
 its various developments in the world ; 3dly, we have religion fully 
 realized and perfected in the eternal truth of the Christian doc- 
 trines. Nay, Christianity itself falls under the same law of devel- 
 opment, for it reveals to us the kingdom of the Father, or Chris- 
 tianity in its pure conception — the kingdom of the Son, or Chris- 
 tianity in its objective development — and the kingdom of the Spirit, 
 which is its completion, as manifested in its spiritual operation in 
 the church. Lastly, the lectures on the history of philosophy were 
 edited by Michelet, in 1834 — 5, (3 vols. 8vo.), and the volume on 
 the philosophy of history, by Gans, in 1837. In these volumes 
 Hegel has put forth all his power, displaying at once his vast ac- 
 quaintance with the history of thought in the world, and his great 
 capacity of reducing the phenomena given in history to an organic 
 and systematic whole. These last lectures are, in fact, the crown- 
 ing piece of his system, and, beside their intrinsic value, are 
 remarkable as forming the basis of the French school of modern 
 
 :M
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 473 
 
 eclecticism, which, under the impressive genius of Cousin, has 
 achieved a reputation in every part of the civilized v/orld. 
 
 Before we quit this, our skeleton sketch of the Hegelian philoso- 
 phy, it will be desirable to give our readers some idea of its appli- 
 cation to various important questions of a religious nature. First, 
 with regard to the nature and personality of God, Hegel is far from 
 departing so widely from pantheistic opinions as to admit a distinct 
 personality out of and apart from all other finite personalities. 
 With him God is not a person, but personality itself, i. e. the uni- 
 versal personality, which realizes itself in every human conscious- 
 ness as so many separate thoughts of one eternal mind. The idea 
 we form of the absolute is, to Hegel, the absolute itself, its essential 
 existence being synonymous with our conception of it. Apart from, 
 and out of the world, therefore, there is no God ; and so also, apart 
 from the universal consciousness of man, there is no Divine con- 
 sciousness or personality. God is, with him, the whole process of 
 thought, combining in itself the objective movement as seen in na- 
 ture, with the subjective as seen in logic, and fully realizing itself 
 only in the universal spirit of humanity. With regard to other 
 theological ideas, Hegel strove to deduce, philosophically, the main 
 features of the evangelical doctrine. He explained the doctrine of 
 the Trinity by showing that every movement of the thinking pro- 
 cess is, in fact, a Trinity in Unity. Pure independent thought and 
 self-existence answers to the Father — the objectifying of this pure 
 existence answers to the loyog nqo<f,oQixog the Son, God manifested 
 in the flesh ; while the Spirit is that which proceedeth from the 
 Father and the Son, the complete reunion of the two in the 
 Church.* 
 
 * The opinions of Hegel on the personality of God, have been much contested. By 
 many it is affirmed, that in the second edition of the " Religion Philosophic," the pas- 
 sage is effected from Pantheism back to a proper Theism. Miciielot remarks on this 
 point, (" Geschichtc," Vol. ii. p 04(3,') " The true doctrine of Hcgcl on the personality 
 of God, is not that God is a persun in the same sense that others are; neither is he 
 simply substance, — He is the eternal movement of the unircrsul, ever raising itself to a 
 subject, which first of all in the subject comes to olyectivity and a real consistence, and 
 accordingly absorbs the subjects in its abstract individuality. God is. therefore, with 
 Hegel, not a person, but personality itself, the only true personality ; whereas the sul>- 
 ject which, in opposition to the Divine substance, will become a ])articular person, is 
 evil (das BiJse). Because God is the eternal personality, lie has eternally alloweil the 
 objectifying of himself (nature) to flow tVom hiin, in order, as spirit, to attain sidlVon- 
 sciousness in the Church. If this spirit is man, then he is man no longer individually 
 considered, but Gc/, which in him has attained personality." 
 
 In contradistinction to this passage, I may give another trom Hegel himself, (Philoso- 
 phic der Religion, Vol. li. p. ISl.) The stand-point to which wc have arrived is the 
 Chri.stian, and must be viewed by us a little more closely. We have here the idea of 
 God in his entire freedom : this idea is iilentieal with his existenc(> ; existence is the 
 most empty abstraction, ami the idea is not so eniply that it does not contain this in 
 itself. We have not to view the being of God in the poverty of abstraction, in its bore
 
 474 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Hegel's Christology, again, agrees in the main ideas with the 
 evangelical doctrine, except that his attempt to deduce the whole 
 from philosophical principles gives to it a complete air of ration- 
 alism. He views the idea of redemption as the reunion of the 
 individualized spirit of man with the Spirit of eternal truth and 
 love. By faith we become one with God, forming a part of him- 
 self, members of his mystical body, as symbolized in the ordinance.; 
 of the Church. This view of the Christian doctrines has been more 
 full}' developed by Strauss, who has entirely denied a historical 
 truth to the New Testament, and made the whole simply a mytho- 
 logical representation of great moral and spiritual ideas. On the 
 doctrine of immortality, Hegel has said but little, and that little by 
 no means satisfactory. However the depth and comprehensive- 
 ness of his system may charm the mind that loves to rationalize 
 upon every religious doctrine, it can, assuredly, give but little 
 consolation to the heart that is yearning with earnest longings after 
 holiness and immortality. 
 
 In some other points, not of a religious nature, Hegel has given 
 us many views of great originality. His philosophy of history is 
 especially valuable, as containing investigations into the peculiar 
 characteristics of the different ages of the world, that throw great 
 light upon the intellectual progress of civilization. Into this, how- 
 ever, we shall not enter ; we have attempted to give a comprehen- 
 sive viev/ of his whole system, just sufficient, we trust, to guide the 
 student in appreciating the place it occupies at the head of the 
 idealism of the present century, and must leave him, however 
 unsatisfied with our details, to follow them up from the original 
 source.* 
 
 In reading the foregoing sketch, it will probably suggest itself to 
 many of our readers — How could a system of philosophy so strange, 
 so paradoxical, so entirely opposed to all the ordinary habits of 
 thinking common to mankind at large, be seriously maintained by 
 any earnest and truthful mind ? A little consideration, however, 
 may tend to show us, that his doctrine of absolute identity is not so 
 unnatural and extravagant as some might at first imagine. Really 
 speaking, it all turns upon two fundamental points ; first, the unity 
 of contradictories, or opposites, as the principle of human knowl- 
 edge ; and secondly, the identity of being and thought. f 
 
 immediacy, but we must view being here, as the being of God, the material for realiz- 
 ing the full idea of God. 
 
 * Note V. Aj)i)endix. 
 
 t See Rcmusut " De la Philosophic Allemande," p. cxxii.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 475 
 
 Now, with regard to the former of these principles, there is, un- 
 doubtedly, a germ of truth in it, which every one must admit. 
 What is knowledge, but the perception that two different things 
 are fundamentally one ? Take any judgment, any proposition vou 
 choose, and you find that it contains the assertion, that two different 
 things form a unity or identity between them. The subject and 
 predicate are the differences — the copula expresses their identity. 
 In proportion as knowledge advances, the tendency to generalize 
 becomes greater ; differences become more and more merged into 
 higher principles ; until, finally, as all theists admit, the universe, 
 with its infinitely diversified phenomena, is seen to spring by some 
 process of creative power from God, the first cause — the highest 
 unity ; where, accordingly, we have the one and the multiple form- 
 ing the very basis of all created existence. Thus Hegel's doctrine 
 of the fundamental unity of opposites, which has been so often re- 
 proached as a contradiction in terms, has its germ in the common 
 sense and common belief of humanity. The other principle, the 
 identity of being and thought, is, perhaps, somewhat more abstruse, 
 but still, it is not so utterly baseless as some suppose. For, if all 
 finite existence can be referred, as we have just seen, to a prin^tive 
 unity ; if there is an absolute ground in which all things subsist ; 
 then the phenomenal, the finite, the so-termed material, is but mere 
 appearance, the real substratum is the infinite essence. But this 
 infinite essence only exists as it is thought ; universal Being is a 
 purely rational conception, a necessary idea ; it does not come to 
 its full reality except in the human consciousness. Hence, the 
 real and ideal meet in one ; the very essence of the former consist- 
 ing really in a process of the latter. 
 
 Admit then these two fundamental principles, and the other 
 parts of the Hegelian theory follow stop by step. The ideal and 
 the real being one, thought and existence being identical, the j^ro- 
 cess by which thought is developed must be the process of the 
 whole of nature ; the laws of logic must be the laws of the uni- 
 verse ; and the dialectic movement, or the method by which our 
 notions are eliminated, is the method by which all things come 
 into beiriGr and subsist. The rhvthm of existence thus bein£i found, 
 all that is necessary is to apply it to the construction of a complex 
 system of philosophy, which shall draw within its mighty grasp the 
 totality of the phenomena of man, of nature, and of Deity. 
 
 Whilst, however, there are some considerations, which appear 
 to justify the Hegelian hypothesis, yet there are, as it appears to
 
 476 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 US, insuperable objections under whicii it labors. First of all, we 
 would ask, Whence does this process, this great rhythm of exist- 
 ence proceed ? Hegel pretends to have solved the whole secret 
 of being ; to have no realistic starting point ; to begin with zero, 
 and deduce everything. This pretension, however, is not fulfilled. 
 The law of existence is still assumed, still unaccounted for ; so that 
 the huge fabric of philosophy he has erected upon it, however in- 
 genious and admirable in itself, still is equally dogmatical, in its 
 ground principle, with the pantheism of Spinoza, or the ordinary 
 theism of mankind. In principle, it is just as easy to imagine an 
 infinite Being, the God of Christianity, as the source of all things, 
 as an infinite law. And such a supposition, we need not say, is 
 infinitely more in consistency with the phenomena of the human 
 mind, and of the structure of nature around us. 
 
 Secondly, there is a confusion between the logical or formal 
 processes of thinking, and the real process of things themselves, 
 which can never be reconciled with human experience, and never 
 gain the practical belief of mankind. The logical idea commencing 
 with nothing, simply by its own inward movement or self-unfolding, 
 cre%tes the universe ! Of course we may, in thought, begin with 
 the most abstract notion, and then go on adding attribute to attri- 
 bute, till we have placed the whole concrete universe before us. 
 But this can never be put down as identical with the process of 
 creation itself. A logical or universal whole is, speaking realisti- 
 cally, a nonentity ; whereas Hegel makes it the essence (seyn) 
 which contains in it potentially the whole phenomena of being. 
 
 Thirdly, the system of Hegel is utterly inconsistent with the re- 
 sults of psychology, i. e. with the most obvious facts of the human 
 consciousness. Human freedom entirely vanishes under its shadow. 
 The man is but the mirror of the absolute ; his consciousness must 
 / ever roll onwards by the fixed law of all being ; his personality is 
 ( sunk in the infinite ; he can never be aught but what he really is. 
 Moral obligation must here perish, because freedom is annihilated ; 
 and the law of progress being fixed, man becomes irresponsible ; 
 this conclusion is one against which no logical finesse can ulti- 
 mately save us. Either the man (or the me) is himself absolute 
 and infinite, or he is a finite personality, having the source of his 
 being out of himself To suppose the former, altogether contra- 
 dicts the consciousness of self, which is that of a finite power ca- 
 pable of being resisted. If he is the latter, then there is that in 
 being which does not pass through our own individual thoughts.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 477 
 
 and beyond the logical process there is a something absolutely 
 unknown.* 
 
 Finally. In the Hegelian system, Theism, with all its mighty 
 influence on the human mind, is compromised ; for Deity is a pro- 
 cess ever going on, but never accomplished ; nay, the Divine con- 
 sciousness is absolutely one with the advancing consciousness of 
 mankind. This being the case, the hope of immortality likewise 
 perishes, for death is but the return of the individual to the infinite, 
 and man is annihilated, though the Deity will eternally live. Re- 
 ligion, if not destroyed by the Hegelian philosophy, is absorbed in 
 it, and, as religion, forever disappears.! 
 
 Hegel died in the full blush of his reputation, and before he had 
 published half the views, which he had matured, beyond the walls 
 of the lecture-room. At his death seven of his most distinguished 
 pupils combined, according to his own wish, to j)ublish his lectures, 
 collated at once from his own manuscripts, and from the notes they 
 had themselves taken of them as orally delivered. The names of 
 these seven are Marhcineke, Schulz, Gans, von Henning, Hotho, 
 Michelet, and Forster. Under their superintendence, an edition 
 of his works has now been completed, which is regarded as the 
 last and authoritative view of his whole system. J Not only, how- 
 ever, have Hegel's pupils done justice to the memory of their mas- 
 ter by the publication of his works and remains, but, forming them- 
 selves into a school, they have at once defended his doctrines 
 against the numerous attacks which they have had to sustain, and 
 applied them vigorously to the different branches of theology, law, 
 history, and science. Amongst these Henning and Schul7.§ have 
 further elaborated his views on natural ]»hiI(»sophy ; Gans on juris- 
 
 * M. Remusat has nnployeil this argument with great force against the He<'elian 
 method. " Dc la I'liil. .\llt in." p. cxl. 
 
 f Among tlu; modern French writers, there are many elucidations of Hegelianisni. 
 Among these, M. C. Renouvier (."Manuel de la Moderne,) has pronounced the method 
 valid ; Dr. Ott, on the contrary, in his work upon Hegel, takes throughout the part of 
 a bitter and uncompromising opponent. Many of l.is arguments, however, arc well 
 worth considering. 
 
 f This edition consists of 17 vols. Rvo. Vol. i. contains the '• Philosopliic.il Treatises," 
 cditcil liy Michelet : vol. ii. The '• I'h.Tnomenologie." liy ."^cliulz : vols, iii. iv. and v. contain 
 the " Logik," edited tiy von Hi^nning : vols. vi. and vii, the '■ F,ncycloi>n'ilia of .Sciences," 
 liy von Henning, (which contain the " Logik" in a much hriet"er and hetler form): vol. 
 viii. " The Principles of the I'liilosophy of Uight," hy (Jans: vol. ix. ' The Lectures on 
 the Philosdphy of History," by Gans: vol. x. The '• [..ectures on .ICsthetics.'' (two first 
 jiarts) by von Hotho : vols. xi. and xii. The " Lectures on the Philosophy of Rcligicin," by 
 Marheineke : vols. xiii. xiv. and xv. The ' Lectures on the History of Philosophy," by 
 Michelet • vols, xvi. and xvii. The '• Miscellaneous Writings," by Foratcr and Boumann; 
 to which a " Life of Hegel" has since been added by Rosenkranz. 
 
 ^ " Grundriss der Physiologic," von C. H. Schulz.
 
 478 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 prudence ;* Michelet, on morals ;t Weisse,J Rotscher and Hotho, 
 on aesthetics ; and Warder, on logic ;§ whilst in theology, a host of 
 writers have sprung forth to wield the Hegelian weapons, and con- 
 tend on every side for a religion of complete Rationalism. 
 
 It is in the department of theology, chiefly, that the great battle 
 of Hegelianism has been, and is still being fought. Within the 
 last ten years, indeed, philosophy and theology in Germany seem 
 to have become almost synonymous ; the transcendent importance 
 of the great fundamental principles of man's religious belief ab- 
 sorbing almost every other purely philosophical question. Inca- 
 pable, however, of coming to a united understanding upon these 
 topics, the Hegelian school has separated into three divisions, each 
 regarding the nature of reUgious truth in a different point of view. 
 To explain the variations of these three parties, we must observe, 
 that there are two inward sources from which religious truth may 
 be supposed to spring ; the one is the direct intuition of our relig- 
 ious nature, excited either by faith or experience ; the other is pure 
 logical reasoning ; and it is according to the predominance of one 
 of these sources over the other, that Hegelianism takes its lower or 
 its higher pantheistic signification. 
 
 To illustrate this point, let us take the subject of music. The 
 knowledge of music may be possessed in two different ways. It 
 may be known by virtue of a fine musical sensibility ; or it may 
 be known as a rigid science of time and intervals, quite indepen- 
 dently of the aesthetic faculty. In the formeV case we should say, 
 we understand music by virtue of our direct perception, or intui- 
 tion of its nature and beauty ; in the latter case, we know it as the 
 development of scientific ideas. Now, just so is it with religion. 
 There is such a thing as a religious sensibility, or a religious per- 
 ception, which looks at once upon the object of the religious affec- 
 tions, and derives a kind of intuitive knowledge of them ; but there 
 is also, says the rationalist, a science of theology, in which the 
 whole mass of our religious ideas are evolved by logical inference 
 from fundamental and philosophical principles. Just in the same 
 manner, then, as some might lay greater stress upon the musical 
 sensibility, and others on the musical science, so also do some of 
 the Hegelian philosophers appeal more to the religious intuition, 
 
 • " Das Erbrecht in VVeltgeschichtlicher Entwickelung," " System des Romischen 
 Civilrechts." " Ri\ckblicke auf Personen und Zustande," &c. 
 t " System der Philosophischen Moral." (1828.) 
 
 + " Sytem der iEsthetick als Wissenschaft von der Idee der Schtinheit." 
 \ " Logikals Commentar und Ergiinzung zuHegels Wissenschaft der Logik." (Ber- 
 lin, 1841.) 
 
 <
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 479 
 
 and others to the evolution of religious truth, by the logical 
 idea.* 
 
 The first, and least rationalistic branch of the Hegelian school, 
 is that which is represented by Goschel, Erdmann, Gabler, and 
 Schaller. According to the view of these writers, our religious 
 perception must be respected as well as the power we possess of 
 drawing logical inferences. That it is possible to deduce ration- 
 ally the whole sum and substance of theological truth, they freely 
 admit, (otherwise they could not take their station among the ra- 
 tionalists,) but in every case, they affirm, our religious conscious- 
 ness must be consulted, to confirm and approve the inferences of 
 our reason. Hence, on the ground of this consciousness, they 
 assert the full personality of the Deity, and likewise defend histori- 
 cally the literal views given by the Scriptures of the person of 
 Christ, as the God-man — the Mediator between the human and the 
 Divine. These opinions, there is every reason to believe, very 
 much accorded with those of HegeV himself, who ever professed 
 his belief in the ordinary faith of the Lutheran Church. 
 
 There is, however, a considerable dillerence in the views even 
 of this branch of the Hegelian school. Goschel is by far the least 
 rationalistic of the whole ; in fact, he goes almost as far as Hin- 
 richs, in affirming, that our religious perceptions are the main 
 thing, and that philosophy is only of use in illustrating and con- 
 firming them. Ga])ler, Erdmann, and Schaller are in a jturer sense 
 of the word Hegelians; but instead of rejecting the natural relig- 
 ious perceptions as untrustworthy, they accept them in their full 
 significancy, but attempt to assimilate them, by the logical process, 
 so as to assume the matter and form of their philosophy. f 
 
 The second branch of the Hegelian school, at once the most 
 numerous and influential, is represented mainly by Rosenkranz, 
 Marheineke, Vatke, and Michelet. By these writers, the religious 
 perceptions and feelings are only appealed to as a sccondarif source, 
 by which we simply illustrate the results of logical thinking. Ac- 
 cordingly, the personality of God is taken by them in a far more 
 general and i)anthL'istic sense, as agreeing better with the nature 
 of that dialectic process by which all theological, as wtdl as other 
 ideas, are developed. The doctrine, again, respecting Christ, his 
 
 • The nffirmntion of one or tlm other of these elements as supreme, forms the twofold 
 distinction of |)liilos()nhers, wliiili has hicoine so celebrated in Germany, umlcr the 
 titles of L)eiikiihilos()|)h('n and ( Jlaiibensphilosophen. 
 
 t They .seek, says Miehciet, •• Das (tlaul)ensresultat dureh den dialektisrhen Pnveas 
 lu verdauen, und ilir cine l)crcchtigtc Stcllc im Systcmc unzuwcisen." — Entwickclungs- 
 geachichtc, p. 313.
 
 480 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 union with human nature, and his redemption of the world, is 
 taken from its plain historical meaning, and made to represent 
 general ideas, such as the reunion of the fallen and separated will 
 of man, with the infinite reason — the soul of the world ; while the 
 immortality of the mind is made to refer, not so much to the dura- 
 tion of our personality, as to the general perpetuity of thought, of 
 which our minds are but individual movements. 
 
 With regard to the more individual shadings of this branch of 
 the Hegelian school, Rosenkranz stands nearest to those before 
 mentioned, forming, as it were, the transition point between the 
 two. With him, it seems a matter of hesitation, whether he shall 
 assume the religious perceptions to be unexceptionable valid, and 
 then seek to reduce them to a philosophical form, or whether he 
 shall give to his logical procedures a more independent permission 
 to eliminate their own results. Next to Rosenkranz, comes the 
 celebrated theologian Marheineke ; while Vatke and Michelet as- 
 sume a still more rationalistic position — one, namely, in which the 
 results of faith and reason are absolutely identified, and the relig- 
 ious perceptions made one with the logical results.* 
 
 Up to this point, then, in the Hegelian school, religious con- 
 sciousness and the deductions of reason had gone hand in hand, 
 only with a varying preponderance of importance attached either 
 to the one side or the other ; but in the third and newest Hegelian 
 party there is a complete breach formed between the two, it being 
 formally declared that we have to follow the dictates of our reason, 
 to whatever extent they may contradict the dictates of our religious 
 perceptions and instincts. The representatives of this school are 
 Strauss, Bruno, Bauer, Conradi, and Feuerbach. With them, pan- 
 theism attains the point at which it ever tends, that, namely, in 
 which it becomes fully synonymous with atheism. In their system, 
 no God is admitted to exist, out of and apart from the world ; i. e. 
 in the proper sense of the term, there is no God at all. With ref- 
 erence, moreover, to the New Testament, it is well known that 
 these writers have rationalized upon it to the furthest possible ex- 
 tent, regarding the whole of the historical portion as a designed my- 
 thology, in which are conveyed to us great and immortal truths. 
 
 Thus, then, is the cycle of Hegelianism completed ; and to make 
 the best of these divisions, it is asserted by some, that the three 
 branches above mentioned (usually termed the right hand, the cen- 
 tre, and the left), exhibit the threefold movement of the dialectic 
 ♦ See Michelet's " Entwickelungsgeschichte," (1843,) lecture 15.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 481 
 
 process, and thus form in their combination the integrity of the 
 whole school.* 
 
 Since Hegel's death, the conflict between the Hegelian school 
 and their opponents, (especially with Schelling, and those who ad- 
 here to his doctrine,) has gone on with unmitigated vigor, and even 
 rancor. Up to the present hour, work after work is teeming from 
 the press, in which the respective claims of these great absorbing 
 systems are advocated ; whilst on theological grounds they are 
 both alike attacked by the more orthodox, with all the weapons of 
 learning and eloquence. 
 
 To enter into this endless discussion would be altogether imprac- 
 ticable in the present sketch, and perhaps equally uninteresting to the 
 majority of our readers. The general feeling amongst all, except 
 those who are pledged almost to the very words of the master, is, 
 thai Hegelianism p7'oper is on the wane. The idealistic movement 
 found in it, its culminating point ; that point is now passed, and a 
 tendency is already manifesting itself in the general tone of phi- 
 losophy, to come back to a more realistic system, in which matter 
 and form shall not be confounded, or the divine personality denied, 
 or the foundation of man's immortality undermined. 
 
 Mournful as are ihe final results of the sweeping rationalism wc 
 have detailed, the works to which it has given rise have tended to 
 throw light, perhaps to an unprecedented degree, upon many of the 
 most important points connected with the philosoi)hy of matter and 
 of mind, of human nature, and human destiny ; neither shall we 
 have to regret the whole rationalistic movement, if the atmosphere 
 of truth is cleared by the storm that sweeps across it — if errors are 
 carried away in its course, and the great foundations of man's be- 
 lief left standing more visible and more certain than ever. 
 
 ♦ We may take the following passage, from Michclet's «ummrr course of I8-1'2, as a 
 summnrv of thf whole vn w her»' given ofthr |>ri sent [K>sition of tlir Ilcgrtian •chui>l : — 
 
 " Till' unfoliii d totality of the Hogriiaii s<-h(K>l may !>«■ pii'tun .1 in a brief ruiii|)cn(l. 
 With the tiseuclo-Hegolians (^Ficlitc, jun., Wcissr, Hraiiis, \t.,) |iire<|>tioii, umlrr the 
 form of fiuth or ex|H-rieiu-e, is tlie sole source of |K>sitivi relini.ms truth. On the ex- 
 treme rii'A/ of the Hegelian seliool, pen-epti in, (as with Iliiiriilit.) ik the al>«olutp rri- 
 tcrion of the results found hy means of logical thinking; while. G»w-hel RIvpji it Ktill a 
 decisive voice in all nligiou."! atVairs. .Soludler, F.rdmann, and fJnldrr who form the 
 pure r/cA/ side, allow to religious percejition rt ronjiz/Z/j/irr voti ' ' ^ - like ,i 
 
 goo«l ruler with his subjects, they never leave iinrrsprrtfit. Ro !• r» in 
 
 the centre, proceeds for the most part in accordance with the \ ' • in 
 
 (mine cases rejects it. In Marheineke, the |>erception is the ir ^ 
 
 rciipecling the f'lrf, while the quistion of law or right can onl . i 
 
 tive ihinliing. On the lell of the centre, (that taken l>y Vnlk< . .'^ . i .Mi 
 
 chelet,) the jvrception is a Iruc-henrted servant, who mu»l «ul>ject h ully to 
 
 rean'ii as mistress. Strauss, on the left nidc, makca her o iLiir, whil- wlui hcucrUadi 
 and Bauer she ap|)ear« verily as a pana." 
 
 31
 
 482 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 If the reader will turn back to the commencement of this section, 
 he will be able to refresh his memory respecting the twofold course 
 which philosophy has taken in Germany since the time of Kant. 
 In his system, as we then remarked, there is on the one hand, an 
 idealistic, on the other, a realistic element. There is a real exist- 
 ence given in sensation, but yet all we know of it is bare phe- 
 nomenon. The course in which the idealistic side of Kant's 
 philosophy has flowed, we have now pointed out. We have seen 
 the speculative method, as the modern idealism is sometimes 
 termed, in its subjective movement, completely realized in Fichte : 
 we have seen its objective movement set forthwith great copiousness 
 by Schelling : and we have seen it rising beyond both, up to its 
 most abstract form, in Hegel. In Fichte, the Absolute is to every 
 one his own individual self, beyond the powers and perceptions of 
 which self, he shows, Ave are utterly unable to reach : in Schelling, 
 the Absolute is the living soul of the universe, of which everything, 
 both in the natural and mental world, is an expansion : in Hegel, 
 the last realistic point is resolved ; the Absolute becomes a process, 
 ever unfolding and renewing itself in the world, and that, too, iden- 
 tical with the process of thought — with the method of philosophy. 
 Here we have idealism reaching its culminating point, the matter 
 of our knowledge becoming synonymous with the form : thought 
 one with existence. 
 
 Having traced the ideal side, therefore, up to this position, and 
 witnessed its culmination, we leave it to futurity to mark its de- 
 scent, and turn now to the realistic philosophy, which has orig- 
 inated from the Kantian principles. The immediate elaborator 
 of this element was unquestionably Jacobi, whom, on chronolog- 
 ical grounds, we ought now to have taken under review, but that 
 his mystical tendency removes his system onward to a future 
 chapter. There is one name, however, which stands forth with 
 great prominence among the philosopiiers of the present age, who, 
 though an idealist, has, almost single-handed, stemmed the torrent 
 of ultra-idealism, and acquired a reputation, second only to the 
 heads of those great systems, which we have already considered. 
 The name to which I refer is that of Herbart. 
 
 John Frederick Herbart was born in the year 1776, at Olden- 
 burg. In 1805, he became professor of philosophy in the Univer- 
 sity of Gottingen; in 1808, he succeeded Kant at Konigsberg ; 
 and in 1838, returned to Gottingen, in order to supply the place 
 of Schulz, where, in the summer of 1841, he died.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 483 
 
 Herbart's philosophy was the reaction produced by the boldly- 
 advancing idealism of Fichte and Schelling. Their extreme prin- 
 ciples on the ideal side threw him back upon a completely realistic 
 hypothesis, which, for many years, he sustained single-handed, 
 with a patience and a logical ability that reflected the highest 
 credit upon his talents and perseverance. In terming Herbart, 
 however, a realist, we are not to suppose that he returned to the 
 ordinary notion of matter, as being a hard, dull, impenetrable sub- 
 stance, that is perceived immediately by the aid of sensation. 
 This position (that of common sense) he never admitted ; on the 
 contrary, he asserted, that we can never get beyond our own con- 
 sciousness, but that all we can know immediately are the phenom- 
 ena which take place there. From this principle, however, he 
 drew a different conclusion from that of Fichte. Fichte asserted 
 that the idea which actually passes through the mind is synony- 
 mous with its objective meaning : Herbart showed that the idea 
 (the actual inward process) is one thing, and that the reality which 
 is implied in it is another. We have, for example, the idea of 
 matter ; and as, of course, we know nothing of it which is not 
 contained in our idea, Fichte concluded that, to us, matter, and 
 the idea of matter, arc the same. On the other hand, Herbart 
 showed that the idea is sim})ly the mental or subjective phenom- 
 enon, and that this phenomenon implies an objective realilv, of the 
 truth of which it is at once tlie voucher and the test. It is true 
 that our ordinary perceptions involve, in many instances, the most 
 palpable contradictions ; and the consequence is, that some think- 
 ers have lost all confidence in man's intellectual powers ; while 
 others have denied the reality o{ the objects themselves ; but the 
 proper course of philosophy is manfully to solve the difficulty, in- 
 stead of falling into scepticism on the one hand, or pure idealism 
 on the other.* 
 
 The basis of all philos(»i)hy, then, according to Herbart, is 
 the whole sum of the i)henoiiiena which pass through the human 
 mind. Instead of laying down the existence of an absolute essence, . 
 lh)m which all things arc derived, he reganleil the whole mass of 
 our ordinary convictions as containing the nuitter, from which 
 alone we must take uur start in erecting a .system of jihilosophy. 
 That we have a mass of ideas, which are naturally fitrmed in the 
 mind by its own constitution, and the circumstances in which it is 
 placed, none can deny : these ideas, then, we must detain, ex- 
 
 • Sec the preface to l»L* '• Psychologic."
 
 484 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 amine, elaborate ; and, if truth can be arrived at by man at all, it 
 must be arrived at by this process. Herbart's notion, therefore, 
 of philosophy was very simple ; it was an analysis and investiga- 
 tion of our ideas, so as to resolve any contradictions they may 
 seem to imply, and to educe from them all the truth which they 
 ^^ontain.* 
 
 The process by which the necessity of philosophy comes to be 
 felt is the following : — When we look round us upon the world in 
 which we live, our knowledge commences by a perception of the 
 various objects that present themselves on every hand to our view. 
 What we immediately perceive, however, is not actual essence, 
 but phenomena ; and after a short time, we discover that many of 
 those phenomena are unreal ; that they do not portray to us the 
 actual truth of things as they are ; and that if we followed them 
 implicitly, we should soon be landed in the midst of error and con- 
 tradiction. For example, what we are immediately conscious of 
 in coming into contact with the external world, are such appear- 
 ances as green, blue, bitter, sour, extension, resistance, &c. These 
 phenomena, upon reflection, we discover not to be so many real 
 independent existences, but properties inhering in certain sub- 
 stances, which we term things. Again, when we examine further 
 into these substances, we discover that they are not real ultimate 
 essences, but that they consist of certain elements, by the combi- 
 nation of which they are produced. What we term the reality, 
 therefore, is not the thing as a whole, but the elements of which it 
 is composed. Thus the further we analyze, the further does the 
 idea of reality recede backwards ; but still it must always be 
 somewhere, otherwise we should be perceiving a nonentity. The 
 last result of the analysis is the conception of an absolute simple 
 element, which lies as the basis of all phenomena, in the material 
 world, and which we view as the essence that assumes the differ- 
 ent properties which come before us in sensation. Experience, 
 then, on the one hand, gives us a vast number of phenomena, 
 which appear to be so many actually existing realities ; reason, 
 on the other hand, obliges us to reject these prenomena as realities, 
 and assign a simple element for the basis of them, as that which is 
 alone essentially true. Here, then, arises a contradiction between 
 reason and experience ; and as we cannot fall back upon scepti- 
 cism without being involved in a still greater difficulty, we look to 
 philosophy so to elaborate and interpret our ideas, both those of 
 * Lehrbach zur Einleitung in die Philosophic. See at the commencement.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 485 
 
 experience and of reason, as to solve the contradictions, and to 
 give us a clear insight into the truth. The philosophy which ac- 
 complishes this object is termed Metaphysics.* 
 
 Now, in order to see what branches the science of metaphysics 
 contains, we must consider how many fundamental ideas there are, 
 to which our ordinary perceptions may be generalized. From the 
 first moment we perceive objects around us, be begin to classify 
 them, and express the classification by general terms ; this process 
 goes on until we come to the three fundamental notions of thing, 
 matter, mind; the first being the notion of a unity with several 
 properties ; the second being that of an object existing in space ; 
 the third designating that which has self-consciousness. All these 
 three notions give rise to contradictions in the following manner. 
 
 First, if we contemplate a thing, as e. g. a piece of gold, we ob- 
 serve that it is yellow, heavy, malleable, &c. And all these prop- 
 erties together go to make up the unity which we term gold. If 
 one of these properties were taken away, it would be gold no 
 longer ; and if they were all taken away, nothing whatever would 
 remain to our perception ; so that here we come to the contradic- 
 tion, that the unity is in fact a plurality. Secondly, if we contem- 
 plate the notion of matter, we perceive that it is that which fills a 
 certain space, while at the same time it consists of atoms infinitely 
 divisible ; and which, therefore, in their ultimate form can fill no 
 space at all. Here, then, is another seeming contradiction, viz., 
 that atoms, ultimately immaterial or having no extension, should 
 give rise to extended and solid substance. Thirdly, if we contem- 
 plate the mind, we find that it is at the same time in continual 
 change or perpetual movement, and yet is ever the same unalter- 
 able personality. Now these three fundamental ideas, each giving 
 rise to a separate contradiction, point us to three branches of meta- 
 physics. The first is ontology, which in Herburt"s sense means the 
 science that treats of the nature and constitution of things in gen- 
 eral, and more especially the explanation of the problem — '' how 
 can the one be a multiple, and the multiple a unity ?" The second 
 branch is synechology (from <j^^ and exu), which is the doctrine of 
 matter, or the phenomena of the real as existing in time, space, and 
 motion. The third branch is termed eiilolology (from eidwXov)^ 
 which means the doctrine of ideas or images, and includes psy- 
 chology, or the science of mental phenomena.! 
 
 ♦ For a clear and full statement of Ilcrbart's philosopliical stand-jwint, sec ChaJy- 
 bdus' " Entwickclung," kct. iv. 
 
 f Consult the " Huupt-punkte der Metaphysik."
 
 486 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 I. Of Ontology. The great problem here to be solved is, to show 
 how different predicates can exist in one substance ; and conversely, 
 how one simple substance can exhibit a plurality of predicates. 
 This problem is explained through the medium of a principle which 
 is termed by Herbart the method of relations. The principle is 
 briefly as follows : — Instead of supposing a thing to be composed 
 of one absolutely simple essence, we must suppose it to be com- 
 posed of many, all independent of each other ; and it is the differ- 
 ent relations in which they stand to each other, that give the ap- 
 pearance of many predicates existing in one subject. Just as a 
 binary star appears one to the naked eye, but is seen to consist of 
 two by the medium of the telescope, so an object in nature, i. e. a 
 thing, appears to be one, but by means of philosophy is discovered 
 to be manifold. The separate and independent essences of which 
 all things are composed ever remain absolutely the same, as they 
 are entirely self-sustained ; but when viewed in different lights, and 
 from different points of view in relation to each other, then they 
 exhibit a multitude of different characteristics. 
 
 To show how this principle accounts for the phenomena in ques- 
 tion, Herbart explains very fully his doctrine of accidental vieics 
 (Zufallige Ansichten). In mathematics, we know that one and the 
 same Hne may be often viewed either as sine, or tangent, or radius 
 of a circle, without its ceasing to be a straight line, and the same 
 straight line. In music, again, a tone may be a fourth, fifth, or 
 sixth, &c., according to the key in which we are playing ; so also 
 here the same essences may remain the same, and yet appear dif- 
 ferent, according to the relation in which we view them. On this 
 principle, then, Herbart seeks to explain the contradiction which 
 lies at the basis of ontology ; i. e. to show that in different lights 
 the same object may be both a unity and a plurality at the same 
 time.* 
 
 II, Synechology. The object of this branch of metaphysics is 
 to give an intelligible explanation of the phenomena of matter ; to 
 show how things exist or hold together in space ; and thus to solve 
 the contradiction of infinite divisibility. To accomplish this pur- 
 pose, Herbart first attacked and refuted Kant's theory of time and 
 space, which, as we have seen, makes them simply the subjective 
 laws or forms, under which all sensation is carried on. Instead of 
 this, he showed that the notions of time, space, and motion, express 
 certain relations in which objects stand to each other. Now the 
 
 * " Haupt-punkte der Metaphysik," p. 10, etseq.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 487 
 
 idea of extension, as applied to matter, is the direct result of the 
 idea of space ; whatever, therefore, will explain the notion of space, 
 will also explain that of extension. 
 
 Herbart's doctrine of intelligible space, by which he sought to 
 elucidate these points, is in brief somewhat of the following nature : 
 — He begins with viewing each ultimate monad as a mathematical 
 point, thus expressing the negation of all extension with reference 
 to them in their primary form. One mathematical point, as also 
 one monad, expresses simply locality, and no space whatever ; if, 
 however, we add another point to it, and then another to that, in 
 the same direction, we get the idea of a line, which is the first di- 
 mension. By the addition of other points we are led in the same 
 way to fill up the intervals by the notion of distance, and thus at 
 length to complete the idea of space in all its three dimensions. 
 Space, then, has nothing to do with the monads singly, and can in 
 no sense of the word be attached to them ; but no sooner do we 
 see them in relation to each other, than the idea of continuity, of 
 space, of extension, arises in the mind. Precisely the same thing 
 is true both of time and motion ; so that, by this same method of 
 relations in another view of it, the main problem o( si/nechologij is 
 solved as well as that of ontology. 
 
 Matter, then, according to Herbart, is in the ordinary sense im- 
 material, and without extension ; but it obtains all the primary 
 properties, such as extension, inertia, &c., from the relation which 
 the monads hold to each other. Upon the same principle he ex- 
 plained the phenomena of attraction and repulsion, and, then, of 
 organization ; by which means he finds a transition from the ab- 
 stract sciences of matter into the philosophy of nature, and a 
 method of explaining the constitution of all the varied portions of 
 the vegetable and animal world.* 
 
 III. Eidolology. In this branch of metaphysics, the principles 
 already deduced in the other two branches are now to be applied 
 to elucidate the phenomena of the human mind, and to show how 
 those principles agree with our own inward experience. This is 
 the part of his philosophy, which Ilerbart elaborated with the 
 greatest assiduity, and in which he has most displayed, at once, the 
 power and originality of his genius. The mind we feel to be one; 
 at the same time it is conscious of an ever-changing multiplicity 
 of states and feelings, which we must show are j>erfectly con- 
 
 • " Hnupt-punktc dcr Met," p. IH, ct uq. Also, " Lchrbuch zur Einlciting in die 
 Phil." p. iidl.
 
 488 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 sistent with its unity. Here, then, the method of relations again 
 comes to our assistance, separating the human consciousness into 
 its proper elements, and showing that, what could not be pre- 
 dicated of the individual parts, can be predicated of the whole, in 
 their various relations to each other. The mind, as subject, is 
 ever the same ; but it sees itself, as object, existing in numerous 
 different states — those, for example, of feeling, thinking, willing, 
 &c., and all these different states we call at the same time one 
 self. 
 
 To account for these different states, Herbart goes into a singu- 
 lar mechanical theory of consciousness ; the idea of which is, that 
 all mental phenomena are simply different relations in which the 
 mind exists to other things. When these relations are such that 
 no particular point stands out from the rest to claim our attention, 
 but all, as it regards our consciousness, are in a state of equilibrium, 
 we are in a condition of mental quiescence. When one particu- 
 lar point becomes prominent, then it represses the rest, just as a 
 greater force does a smaller, and a corresponding state of con- 
 sciousness is the result. When there is a struggle for some per- 
 ception to become prominent over the others, the state of mind is 
 termed desire. Feeling is the condition produced by the obtrusion 
 of a perception between two antagonist powers. In this way Her- 
 bart explains all the facts of consciousness by a species of mechan- 
 ical calculation, making them all result simply from the relations 
 in which the mind stands to the different objects that work upon 
 it.* Having thus completed the province of metaphysics, properly 
 so termed, he calls in, at length, the aid of faith, in order to lay a 
 basis for the philosophy of religion, with which his system con- 
 cludes.! 
 
 From this slight view of Herbart's method, it becomes at once 
 evident, that it stands in direct opposition to the purely idealistic 
 systems we have before considered. The reader, who has looked 
 far into the history of philosophy, will not be at a loss to see the 
 affinity there is between Herbart's theory of matter and that of 
 Boscovich ; while the similarity of his doctrine of monads to that 
 of Leibnitz, compels the conclusion that many of his ideas must 
 have been directly borrowed from that acute thinker. That Her- 
 bart has fully sustained his ground against the energetic idealism to 
 
 * This forms the subject of his work entitled " Psychologic als Wissenschaft." 
 
 f " Lehrbuch," p. 213. Herbart'* transition from theoretical philosophy to faith, as 
 
 the ground of our religious conceptions, is nearly identical with that of Kant, from the 
 
 pure to the practical reason.
 
 THE OEKMAN SCHOOL. 489 
 
 which he stood opposed, would be too much to grant ; but, unques- 
 tionably, he brought to light much truth on the other side of the 
 question ; nor, perhaps, have his exertions been amongst the least 
 of the means, which have succeeded in giving to the philosophy of 
 the present age an incipient, although a very decided realistic ten- 
 dency.* 
 
 The names which have passed under our review, namely, those 
 of Fichte, Schelling, Ilegel, and llerbart, comprehend, with the 
 exception of the mystical school, almost all that is really original in 
 the German metaphysics. There are a few thinkers, however, 
 of a recent date, who have attemj)ted to mould the Hegelian phi- 
 losophy into a more satisfactory form ; and a few others, who have 
 set up some new philosophical principles, although they are not of 
 sufficient reputation to need any very particular mention at pres- 
 ent. The four writers who are termed by Michelet, in his " His- 
 tory of German Philosophy," pseudo-Hegelians, are Fischer, Fichte, 
 jun., Weisse, and Branis. These authors all acknowledge the ex- 
 cellency of Hegel's method, and allow him due honor for the dis- 
 covery, but they all agree with Schelling, that Hegel has only 
 taken up the negative side of philosophy, that his system can onlv 
 afford the purely logical process of thought, and that he has not 
 succeeded in proving, that his categories express the real essence of 
 existence as well as {\\c form. In a word, they protest against the 
 absolute idealism of the Hegelian system, and show the path back 
 again to a realistic or positi^'e philosophy, frotn whence the ma- 
 terial is to be obtained, bv which the bare forms of the cateijories 
 of thought may be filled with a real and essential existence. With 
 regard to the idea of God, moreover, they attempt to stop beyond 
 the Hegelian point of view ; to deduce his pro|>er personality ; 
 and to exjilain the relation in which he stands to the world, as a 
 distinct entity. 
 
 The avowed object which Fischer h.is had in view, is to take 
 the dialectic method of Hcgfl and the realistic philosophy of 
 Schelling together, and evolve tlu-in to a higher unity, in which the 
 realism of the one should ajipear in all the consecutive and logical 
 form of the other. Branis, in his " System of Meta|>hysics," ap- 
 
 • Hrrbart's philoftophv was p«Tiili;»rlv rich in iu prarliral n|i|ili(>nlionii. .Amongvt 
 his othrr works tlurr is iin intcrcstinjj vkIuiih- roiitainini; a •' Kunc KncyclopniJic acr 
 IMiilosojiliic aus praklischcn Ocsii-htH jumklcn.' (Ilallr. 1831.)
 
 490 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 peals mainly to the facts of consciousness, as the living page in 
 which all truth is to be read ; resting the ultimate evidence of it, 
 entirely upon faith in our own inward experience. Weisse has 
 gained some reputation by the energy with which he has sustained 
 against Hegelianism, the accusation of having put the abstract 
 metaphysical form of truth, in the place of its concrete reality.* 
 The most celebrated, however, of this class of authors, is J. H. 
 Fichte, whose philosophy presents on the whole the most complete 
 specimen of the school we are now considering, and of which, 
 therefore, we shall give a brief description. 
 
 Fichte's system follows a very consecutive development, w'hich 
 greatly facilitates its accurate comprehension. His first purely 
 philosophical work was entitled " Beitrage zur Charakteristik der 
 neuern Philosophic," (Contributions towards the designation of 
 Modern Philosophy,) in which he clears his ground, and gives a 
 popular view of his philosophical stand-point. His next work was 
 a preparation for his philosophical system, properly so called ;t 
 giving simply a general sketch of it in the preface, but aiming at 
 a systematic critique upon the different philosophical tendencies of 
 the age. The third volume (Grundziige zum Systeme der Philo- 
 sophie) makes a formal commencement of the system, and carries 
 it on through the whole of the subjective sphere ; showing the de- 
 velopment of self-consciousness from the first dawning of empirical 
 knowledge, up to the highest form of speculative thinking. The 
 fourth part, entitled Ontology, effects the passage from the subjec- 
 tive to the objective sphere, tracing the progress of Being from its 
 most abstract to its most full and concrete form : w^hich, then, leads 
 to the philosophy of religion, by which the whole cycle is com- 
 pleted. J 
 1 The starting point of all philosophy, according to Fichte, is the 
 / immediate /aci? of consciousness. This must be to us absolutely 
 the primitive, for any other and more definite starting point would 
 have to be sought for by means of those facts themselves. This 
 being the case, philosophy defines itself as the rejlective development 
 of what the consciousness originally contains. " Self-conscious- 
 ness," he remarks, " is the beginning, middle, and end of philoso- 
 phy : so that philosophy can be formally described as the self-com- 
 
 * The chief of Weisse's writings are a " System der ^sthetik," " Grundziige der 
 Metaphysik," and one entitled =' Die Idee der Gottheit." 
 
 t " Ueber Gegensatz, Wendepuniit und Ziel heutiger Philosophie." (Heidelberg, 
 1832.) 
 
 \ Of Fichte's " Religion-Philoisophie," I can only speak from notes of lectures, which 
 I took from him in IBJi, before the work itself was pubUshed. 
 
 II
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL, 491 
 
 pletion, or self-examination (selbst-Orientirung) of the conscious- 
 ness, respecting its original possession."* 
 
 First Epoch of Self -consciousness. — The original state of our con- 
 sciousness is that of sensation and perception. Here we are simply 
 within the region of the instinctive intellectual life. Whether we 
 regard the bare sensational feeling, or the immediate perception 
 which accompanies it, we rise no higher than the lowor animals in 
 the scale of intelligence. f 
 
 Second Epoch of Self -consciousness. — Here we get into the re- 
 gion of representative knowledge. In the former epoch the mind 
 is simply engaged with the material which is actually presented to 
 it. Let that material (consisting of its own affections and the pre- 
 sentation of direct objects) be removed, and it would sink back 
 into absolute unconsciousness. To prevent Jhis, therefore, the 
 mind has the power of retaining its ideas, and representing them 
 itself as objects of continued contemplation. This is primarily 
 effected by means of memory, carried on to a higher perfection by 
 the imagination, and completed by means of language or signs. J 
 
 Third Epoch of Self-consciousness, (Das Ich als denkendes). — 
 Here we get into the region of abstract ideas. The constructive 
 faculty begins to operate upon the data of consciousness, and re- 
 duces them into form and order. The laws or processes of thought 
 are given in the science of logic. First, we have a simple concep- 
 tion (Begriff), which is explained as a general representation, 
 viewed in relation to a particular object, (Eine AUgemeine Vors- 
 tellung, aber mit dem Bewusstseyn, und der Beziehung auf cin in 
 ihm befasstes Besondere). Next we come to the judgment (Ur- 
 theil), which is the development of the conception up to a higher 
 degree of generality (die Fortbestimmung des Begriffs durch sich 
 selbst) : and, lastly, to the inference, which is the merging of the 
 more particular into the pure categories of thought — into the high- 
 est unities. § 
 
 Fourth and highest Epoch of Self-consciousness, (Das Ich als 
 
 erkennendes). — In the first epoch we saw the bare material of our 
 
 knowledge afforded by sensation and perception ; in the second 
 
 and third, we have seen the mind retaining its jiriniary intuitions, 
 
 and evolving them by the logical process to tiieir highest unity. 
 
 In the one we have i/iattrr, in the other form ; but now, in this 
 
 last sphere of self-consciousness, we have the reaHty ot' matter and 
 
 ♦ Grundziigc zuni Systcme dor Pliil. [>. IG. f Ibid. p. 27. 
 
 + Ilml. i>.5l— 79. 
 
 ^ Gruiidzugc zum Syst. dcr Phil. j>. 80 — 'JOl.
 
 492 MODERN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 form combined together, in which combination real scientific 
 knowledge first shows itself. This highest region of consciousness, 
 then, we may describe as the region of philosophy, and we have 
 only to trace the development of the different philosophical sys- 
 tems, in order to see the actual unfolding of the philosophical 
 consciousness. This development has taken the forms respec- 
 tively of the empirical, the reflective, and the speculative stand- 
 point. 
 
 The empirical stand-point regards philosophical truth as the 
 organic elaboration of the data of our outward experience. It 
 comprehends the v^^hole sphere of observation, of induction, of anal- 
 ogy, of sensational philosophy, and has attained its highest expres- 
 sion in the writings of Locke.* 
 
 The reflective stand-point begins with scepticism (Hume) — the 
 denial of the certainty of experience, as employed in the former 
 philosophy. This leads on to the critical form of philosophy 
 (Kant) ; in which the certainty of human knowledge is estab- 
 lished, by a criticism of the subjective forms of thought. The crit- 
 ical philosophy, finally, merges in the doctrine of pure subjective 
 idealism (Fichte) ; which is the negative side of speculative knowl- 
 edge.! 
 
 Lastly, the speculative stand-point combines the empirical and 
 reflective, and leads to the very highest forms of philosophical 
 truth. This begins, first, with the pure faith-philosophy, a philoso- 
 phy which asserts a direct intuition of the absolute as distinct from 
 man, (Jacobi). Next it proceeds to the system of absolute think- 
 ing, in which the process of logical thought is regarded as being 
 in itself a revelation of the absolute truth, (Schelling and Hegel). 
 Lastly, by the union of the faith-philosophy with that of specula- 
 tive thinking, we reach the highest point of self-consciousness, that 
 in which the manifestation of God is regarded as the sole reality ; 
 the human mind lost, at length, in the Divine. J Such, then, is the 
 subjective side of Fichte's philosophy, that in which there is a sys- 
 tematic evolution of the human consciousness by the dialectic 
 method of Hegel, from its first phenomena to its highest specula- 
 tive intensity. 
 
 Having accomplished the subjective portion of his labor, and 
 carried up the development of the consciousness to the point where 
 self-knowing becomes identical with the knowledge of Deity, Fichte 
 
 * Gmndziige zum Syst. der Phil. p. 210—217. 
 
 t Ibid. p. 248—285. t ^^^'^- P- 28G— 317.
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 493 
 
 now makes the passage to the objective sphere of his system — to 
 the province of ontology. Here, the dialectic process again com- 
 mences its operation, and, guided by the hght it affords, the author 
 goes through all the categories of existence, in the same manner 
 as in Hegel's Logic, tracing it through the doctrines of being and 
 of essence, up to absolute personality as predicated of Deity itself 
 In this part of his philosophy, however, there is a very essential 
 difference between the view that is taken of our knowledge of the 
 absolute, and that given by Hegel. In Hegel, Deity is the eternal 
 process of self-development, as realized in man ; the divine and 
 human consciousness falling absolutely together. In Fichte, on 
 the contrary, the Divine nature is never the direct object of our 
 consciousness, but can only be known to us by its manifestations. 
 The knowledge of God and of his mnnifestions forms the subject 
 of speculative theology, the very highest branch of philosophy. 
 Of these manifestations there are three great spheres of observa- 
 tion — nature, mind, and humanity. In nature we see the Divine 
 idea in its lowest expression ; in mind, with its powers, faculties, 
 moral feelings, freedom, &c., we see it in its higher and more per- 
 fect form. Lastly, in humanity, we see God, not only as creator 
 and sustainer, but also as a father and a guide. History exhibits 
 the development of the plan of his providence, which plan would 
 only be to us a mere possibility, were it not realized in the flow of 
 the afres, and witnessed by our own actual experience in the world. 
 Thus, then, for the highest knowledge of God we have to fill back 
 upon experience, the very point from which we started in the path 
 of intellectual science. Here, therefore, we see the whole cycle 
 complete. Philosophy begins with experience, and ends with ex- 
 perience, containing between these two poles all the various steps 
 of speculative thinking which have raised the dim and empty ex- 
 perience of our primary life, up to the full and clear intuition of 
 Deity in all the blaze of his brightest manifestation. 
 
 Such, in brirf, are the main points of the system we proposed to 
 describe. It may be wanting in the exuberant fertility of Schel- 
 ling, and in the logical grasj) of Hegel ; but assuredly it puts the 
 results of the German idealism more within the grasp of ordinary 
 minds, and by linking the shadowy transcendentalism of the former 
 systems to the terra (irma of our actual e\i)orience, attempts not 
 altogether unsuccessfully to coml»int> the common sense ol the one 
 with the refined speculation of the other. 
 
 With regard to those idealistic philosophers who have put forth
 
 494 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 systems of their own, independent of the greater authorities of the 
 age ; we might mention Suabedissen, Hillebrand, Troxler, and 
 Krause, as among the principal ; always, of course, excepting those 
 who have taken a direction in favor of mysticism. The pecuh- 
 arity of these writers is, that they have all made the attempt to 
 combine in one the subjective and objective branches of the mod- 
 ern idealism, to unite the principles of Schelling and Hegel, and 
 evolve something better than either. Suabedissen has with pecul- 
 iar care elaborated the philosophy of religion, in which he has 
 combated the idea, that God is the eternal process of the universe ; 
 and deduced from the bare notion of self-existence, the proper 
 essence, spirituality, and personality of Deity. 
 
 Hillebrand also bent his chief attention upon this same theologi- 
 cal point. His great principle is, that God, or the Absolute, has 
 revealed himself to us immediately in our own consciousness : to 
 prove, however, that we can trust our consciousness upon these 
 points, must be the province of philosophy ; and it is in this sense 
 only that philosophy can give any proof of the existence of a Deity. 
 Troxler's philosophy is of the microcosmic order. To him the 
 source, the centre, the object of all philosophy is man. All truth 
 and all knowledge is simply the revelation of the original elements 
 of our own reason, and the reality which is implied in them. The 
 soul is a perfect mirror of the universe, and we have only to gaze 
 into it with earnest attention, to discover all truth which is acces- 
 sible to humanity. What we know of God, therefore, can be only 
 that which is originally revealed to us of him in our own minds. 
 
 Lastly, Krause terms his philosophy a system of transcendental 
 idealism, in which, commencing with the subjective principle of 
 observing what exists in our own consciousness, he raises himself 
 step by step to the acknowledgment of one, eternal, self-existent 
 being. To characterize these different shadings of the ideal phi- 
 losophy of Germany more accurately would hardly consist with the 
 brevity of our present plan ; we shall, therefore, now take leave of 
 this most remarkable page in the history of the world's philosophy, 
 with a single observation. 
 
 The great peculiarity, which distinguishes the modern philosophy 
 of Germany from that of every other country, is the use of the 
 ontological instead of the psychological method. Descartes, Locke, 
 and others, following up the Baconian principles, affirmed, that in 
 taking a survey of the whole mass of human knowledge, we must 
 commence with an observation of the powers and conceptions of
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 495 
 
 the human mind, as the instrument by which alone everythintr is to 
 be comprehended ; i. e., we must make a full inspection of the 
 facts of the case, before we can safely proceed to erect the edifice 
 of intellectual philosophy. The German philosophers, on the con- 
 trary, despising this method, begin by laying down the most primi- 
 tive and abstract 7iotion we have of existence, as though it were a 
 reality, and proceed onwards evolving the idea, until step by step 
 they have constructed the whole universe. Now, those who follow 
 the psychological method, give us for the most part a valid phi- 
 losophy, but too often a shallow one. Bent upon the observance 
 and classification of the facts of mind, they too frequently remain 
 altogether within this circle without touching upon any of the 
 deeper problems which ontology brings before us. On the other 
 hand, the abettors of the ontological method, beginning to philoso- 
 phize before they have investigated the instrument by which alone 
 they can proceed, and, consequently, having no definite boundaries 
 fixed within which human knowledge must be confined, are obliged 
 to assume their first position, (such as that of intellectual intuition, 
 or the dialectic process,) and thus are often imperceptibly led into 
 a region of philosophy as extravagant as it is baseless. The true 
 march of philosophy is the union of the two. Starting from the 
 analysis of the human mind, trying, as Locke expresses it, the 
 length of the line by which we are to sound the ocean of truth, we 
 must go steadily on, directed by the light of induction, until, at 
 length, we find ourselves legitimately landed within the region of 
 ontology. From thence we may start upon a new voyage of dis- 
 covery, still guided by an analysis of the facts and implications of 
 our reason, until we run out our line to the full length, and wait 
 for the brighter apocalypse of another world. 
 
 To decry the whole process of speculative philosophy, as it has 
 developed itself in Germany, can arise from no other cause except 
 ignorance or prejudication. Doubtless there may be much extrav- 
 agance, and many erroneous conclusions to be met with in a 
 sphere of research so lofty, and lying so much in the Iwihght of 
 human knowledge ; but the questions it raises are those in which 
 we have the deepest interest, while the glimpses of great and com- 
 prehensive truths which it affords, give us the hope of a future, 
 which shall draw aside the veil from much which is now obscure, 
 and usher the human mind into the light of a more perfect day. 
 
 *' Verily," says an eloquent French writer, " to see imbecile and 
 discouraged minds exhaust themselves in ridiculous attacks against
 
 496 MODERN PHILOSOrHY. 
 
 philosophy — to see them bent upon denying the part it plays in the 
 history of the world ; to see them ignore the reality of human 
 science, and believe that a great nation can consume three-quarters 
 of a century in mooting sterile chimeeras, such a blindness of in- 
 tellect can only fill one with astonishment ; but when to this blind- 
 ness is joined a spite and irritation against the triumph and empire 
 of ideas, a holy emotion seizes the mind, and we in our turn, by 
 virtue of our hope for the progress of humanity, reply to these 
 declarations, Stop ! do not commit an outrage upon our common 
 mother — human thought ; do not make use of the little that you do 
 know, to insult that which you know not. Rest (for we will 
 cheerfully allow you) in the easy paths of the old traditions ; these 
 traditions have themselves been a product of humanity, and are 
 now its legacy ; but we are not to be hindered from pressing on- 
 wards to fresh ideas, by such disdainful airs."* 
 
 We close our remarks, with the words of another philosopher, 
 who occupies one of the highest stations in the literature of a 
 neighboring country. 
 
 " It is time," says M. do Remusat, speaking of the German phi- 
 losophers, " it is time that we should venture to fix our eyes upon 
 the object which they have set before them, and to enter into the 
 region in which they have marched ; without, however, following 
 their footsteps. We must imitate them, preserving at the same 
 time those precious guarantees of method, of erudition, of language, 
 of experience, which are the foundation of our philosophical wis- 
 dom. Let us bring reasons as well as they for grasping funda- 
 mental questions, but let us feel bound either to resolve them in 
 a contrary sense, or to conclude upon the impossibility of resolv- 
 ing them at all. In one word, let us reinstate that which is 
 most difficult, but most elevated in all philosophy, namely, Meta. 
 
 PHYSICS." 
 
 Sect. III. — The English School of the Nineteenth Century. 
 
 In sketching the history of idealism generally, from the revival 
 of philosophy in modern times, I termed that of our own country 
 polemical idealism, as originating rather from opposition to sensa- 
 tionalism than from the spontaneous tendencies of the national 
 mind. In Germany, the ideal tendency has ever seemed to spring 
 ♦ " Au dela du Rhin," par E. Lerminier. Vol. ii. p. 114.
 
 THE ENGLISH SCHOOL. 497 
 
 from the very soil, and to have flourished there without any of the 
 excitement derived from opposition ; in England, on the other 
 hand, it has lived upon warfare ; and whenever the bold advances 
 of sensationalism have ceased, it has always been inclined to cease 
 with them. The deistical writers, who at the close of the seven- 
 teenth and beginning of the eighteenth centuries sustained their 
 sceptical principles by expanding the germs of sensationaHsm, 
 which lay hid in the philosopliy of Locke, gradually died away ; 
 and with them disappeared, one after the other, the traces of our 
 idealistic philosophy. By the close of the eighteenth century the 
 school of English idealism may be said to have become altogether 
 extinct, and every attempt at metaphysical speculation seemed to 
 merge in the supreme authority of Locke, or the efforts of his suc- 
 cessors.* 
 
 At the opening of the nineteenth century, therefore, we may 
 consider that, as far as idealism is concerned, the ground was per- 
 fectly clear. Sensationalism, indeed, was again advancing with 
 rapid strides, urged on by the impulse acquired from the brilliant 
 literature of France, and fostered by the writings of Priestley, 
 Belsham, and the school of which they stood at the head ; but of 
 the ideal tendency hardly the slightest appearance was left in Eng- 
 land to remind us, that it was still the country of Cudworth, Clarke, 
 and Berkeley. Neither, indeed, has the present century, in its prog- 
 ress, been very forward to supply the metaphysical deficiency 
 which existed at its birth. That the reaction has now set in we 
 fully believe ; but it has come tardily and unwillingly, and it may 
 yet, to all appearance, be some years before an energetic anti-sen- 
 sational school shall grace the literature of our native land. 
 
 With regard to the sources, from which the seeds of a more 
 rationalistic system of philosophizing have been slowly imported, 
 there are two which almost immediately suggest themselves to our 
 minds, namely, Scotland and Germany. Great as is the ditfercnce 
 between the philosophy of these two countries, yet there are, un- 
 questionably, some important points oi' resemblance, which jilace 
 them together as the antagonists of empiricism ; and we can iiardly 
 be mistaken in saying, that all the reaction which has been experi- 
 enced in England against sensational principles has borne the 
 complexion of one or other of these two philosophical schools. 
 Scotland, true to its principle of " common sense," has insisted on 
 
 * A few idealistic works, such as nrunimond's " Acadcniiral Questions," ajipearcd 
 about the beginning of this century, but not of suflicicnt weight to need any purlicular 
 mention. 
 
 32
 
 498 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the validity of those ideas, which appear to be the natural product 
 of the human reason, and resisted every attempt to resolve them 
 into sensational elements ; and Germany, boldly grappling with 
 the deepest questions of ontology, has drawn a broad distinction 
 between the phenomenal world, as viewed by the senses, and the 
 real world, as comprehended by the intellect. In both cases there 
 is a direct appeal made to the authority of reason, and an equal 
 determination not to remain shut up within the boundaries of 
 sense. 
 
 England, with the clear-headed practical wisdom for which it 
 stands pre-eminent, has been gazing, from time to time, upon the 
 results of both these schools, and has been considering what there 
 is in each that is likely to prove unsound, and what that can be 
 safely adopted. It has entered with earnestness into the philoso- 
 phy of Reid, and appropriated its results without copying its too 
 often tedious dialectical dulness ; while, on the other hand, it has 
 been lately approaching the borders of the German spiritualism, 
 and showing a disposition to sift the wheat out of the large mass 
 of chaft' which that voluminous school presents. From these cir- 
 cumstances, then, we are furnished with a principle of classifica- 
 tion under which to describe the manifestations of idealism, which 
 have appeared in England during the present century. We shall 
 divide them into two classes: — First, the English metaphysical 
 school, which is predominantly under Scottish influence ; and 
 secondly, that which is predominantly under German influence ; 
 leaving at the same time in each some scope for the working of 
 the peculiar characteristics of the national mind. 
 
 (A.) Scoto-English Metaphysicians. 
 
 That so profound a writer as Dr. Reid, followed up by the 
 elegant and learned additions of Dugald Stewart, siiould raise a 
 vigorous school of philosophy in Scotland, without producing some 
 eflfect upon English philosophical thinkers, could hardly have been 
 possible. The labors of these northern metaphysicians, more 
 especially in disabusing the world of the errors couched under the 
 phraseology of the ideal system, became, during the earlier part of 
 this century, more and more appreciated throughout the whole of 
 our country, until gradually their works came to be widely regarded 
 in the south as the best text-books of intellectual science. The 
 tone and character of philosophical writing in England by degrees
 
 THE ENGLISH SCHOOL. 499 
 
 were altered ; and if it did not entirely follow the Scottish models, 
 yet, at least, it exhibited the great influence which those models 
 had exercised upon the ordinary habits of metaphysical thinking. 
 It is the history and nature of this influence, accordingly, which 
 we now purpose to depict. To do this we shall not make out any 
 chronological list of authors, who have manifested this leaning to 
 the northern school ; but we shall briefly present the names of the 
 most prominent metaphysical writers, who have been distinguished 
 respectively by a more near or remote degree of approximation to 
 the Scottish system, ^s illustrative of the influence of that system 
 upon the country at large. 
 
 1. And first, we notice those who have followed Scottish author- 
 ity almost without deviation. Not a few of our countrymen, (who 
 have either been educated at the Scottish universities, or have 
 confined their philosophical reading to the volumes of Reid, Stew- 
 art, and Brown,) have so entirely imbibed the philosophical spirit 
 of the north, as never to depart from it except here and there on 
 some very few, and those unimportant points. Those who have 
 read Dr. Payne's " Elements of Mental and Moral Philosophy," 
 will see in it an excellent example of the style of metaphysical 
 writing we are describing. With good abilities for analysis, and a 
 mind well versed in habits of abstract thinking, the author has fur- 
 nished us with an abridgment of Brown's philosophy, which, while 
 it wants the poetry of the original, at least equals it in the clear 
 and succinct statement of the philosophical doctrines which are 
 advanced. In the moral department, moreover, the errors and 
 imperfections of Brown are well })ortrayed ; and an attempt is 
 made, if not entirely successful, yet at least forcible and well-sus- 
 tained, to lay afresh the foundations of the emotional theory of 
 morals. In this attempt he has been seconded by Spalding, in his 
 '• Philosophy of Christian Morals," another author, (now unhappily 
 no more), who, while he adopted for the most part the Scottish 
 system of philosophizing, yet knew well how to take an original 
 view both of its principles and results. To dwell upon this pe- 
 culiar feature of our English philosophy, however, is unnecessary, 
 since we may regard it almost as a pure reflection of the Scottish 
 school ; let it suffice here to notice the simple fact, that such a re- 
 flection has existed in this country, and has given rise to some few 
 excellent digests both of moral and psychological science. 
 
 2. We may point out the existence of certain other metaphysi- 
 cal writers, who have used the productions of the Scottish school,
 
 500 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 not SO much in the light of authorities, as of guides and incentives 
 to their own independent thinking and research. 
 
 At the head of these we should place Isaac Taylor, a name 
 now, indeed, better known in the controversies of the theological 
 than those of the philosophical world. The metaphysical works 
 of this profound and voluminous author began with a small book, 
 entitled " Elements of Thought," which has gone through several 
 editions, and remains, to the present day, we believe, the only 
 brief and elementary introduction to mental philosophy (which is 
 worthy the name) in our own language.* The works, however, 
 upon which Mr. Taylor's philosophical reputation now mainly 
 rests, are the four volumes, which appeared successively under the 
 titles of the " Natural History of Enthusiasm," " Fanaticism," 
 *' Spiritual Despotism," and " The Physical Theory of another 
 Life." In these treatises, he has opened what may be considered, in 
 our own land, a new field of philosophical observation. Impatient 
 of confining himself to the study of mind in its isolated state ; not 
 content, like the closer follow^ers of the Scottish system, simply with 
 looking within, and marking the processes of the individual self, 
 he has cast his eye upon the broad surface of humanity, and at- 
 tempted to gather results from the action of mind, as seen working 
 on the vast theatre of the world. Mr. Taylor's genius is of the 
 telescopic rather than the microscopic cast. In the sweep of his 
 thought he may overlook some of the smaller points which lie in 
 the road, but assuredly the range of his vision is far beyond men 
 of the ordinary stamp, and his power of generalizing often of the 
 most striking character. Every volume he has published is, in its 
 tone and spirit, a stern rebuke to the pretensions of that shallow 
 sensationalism, which is apt to carry away the unreflecting mind 
 by its vaunted simplicity, and bears an unequivocal witness to the 
 majesty of the human reason, even in its wanderings and its follies. 
 
 With all this independence of thought, with his capacity of grasp- 
 ing great principles, and drawing inferences from the widest sur- 
 vey of facts, yet there is still, we think, impressed upon many pages, 
 the bias derived from the Scottish philosophy. With a mind so 
 vigorously constituted, a spirit not to be daunted by difficulties, a 
 reason that does not shrink from the most recondite and startling: 
 conclusions, when they come in its way, and a disposition to iden- 
 
 * Since the above was written, there has appeared a little work, entitled, " Outlines 
 of Mental and Moral Science, intended as introductory to the Logic, Metaphysics, and 
 Ethics of the University Course," — Dublin, 1846. It is comprehensive and useful to 
 the young student, but not much to be depended on beyond the Scottish philosophy.
 
 THE ENGLISH SCHOOL. 501 
 
 tify truth, though it lie at present in the twilight of man's vision, 
 we see everything in this author that would almost necessitate a 
 sympathy with the more able and profound of the continental met- 
 aphysicians, were his sympathies transferred for a time from Britain 
 to Germany. An elaboration of the most valuable points of the 
 higher metaphysics, adapted to the capacity of English minds, 
 would, in such hands, prove of incalculable service, in satisfying 
 the now growing demand for a sounder and more comprehensive 
 system of philosophy. For the realization of this service, however, 
 we have no ground of expectation, as Mr. Taylor has become too 
 much entangled in party strife to be able to devote himself to those 
 deeper problems, from neglect of which such strife really proceeds. 
 It is not, assuredly, one of the least complaints we have to make 
 against the din of theological controversy, that it should entice 
 minds such as these from the calm pursuit of a lofty and spiritual 
 philosophy into its vortex, and cause the more local and temporary 
 questions of the day to absorb those intellects, which might be 
 establishing the greater principles that lie at the foundation of hu- 
 man knowledge, and by the establishment of which, alone, we can 
 hope for repose from the noise and confusion of lesser contention. 
 As it is, however, the name of Isaac Taylor, in connection with the 
 philosophy of human nature, as developed in his Histories of En- 
 thusiasm, Fanaticism, and Spiritual Despotism, in connection with 
 his physical theories on the spiritual state, and also in connection 
 with his more recent advocacy of the sanctity and inviolability of 
 moral obligation, will ever hold a decided place in the history of 
 English thinking during the nineteenth century. 
 
 3. There is yet another class of thinkers, sometimes expressing 
 their opinions through the pages of the Magazine or Review, and, 
 in a few instances, by original works, who, while they oppose the 
 Scottish philosophy as a ivfiolt; yet avowedly borrow from it many 
 of their views and principles. Such a writer is Mr. Smart, the au- 
 thor of a volume containing three separate treatises, and entitled, 
 " Beginnings of a New School of ^Metaphysics." Mr. Smart is a 
 professor of elocution of long and established reputation, and has 
 been allured from his proper department — that of rhetoric — into 
 the kindred topics of logic and metai)hysics. His first work upon 
 these subjects was entitled " Somatology ; or, the Doctrine of 
 Signs," in which he lays down the respective nature and limits of 
 grammar, logic, and rhetoric. The view which is taken of the two 
 latter branches gives us a very clear line of demarcation between
 
 502 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 them ; logic being regarded as " the right use of words, with a view 
 to the investigation of truth," and rhetoric as " the right use of 
 words, with a view to inform, convince, or persuade."* 
 
 According to these definitions, logic is the art of gaining knowl- 
 edge through the medium of words, while rhetoric has the sole office 
 of placing them in such positions, whether they form syllogisms or 
 anything else, as to inform or convince others. This division has 
 certainly the merit of some degree of originality, and the method 
 in which the matter is argued is highly ingenious ; although we 
 cannot make up our mind as to the propriety of altering so widely 
 the ancient landmarks between the two branches in question. As a 
 metaphysician, Mr. Smart proposes to remodel and revive the phi- 
 losopiiy of Locke, and combine with it the more recent results of 
 the Scotch metaphysicians. f Through the whole of his treatises, 
 great stress is laid, as might be expected, upon words, as the signs 
 and media of our thoughts. He wishes, in fact, to do away with 
 the philosophy of mind, as such, and to reduce all science to these 
 three branches: — 1. The study of things physical, or those which 
 exist distinct from our thoughts ; 2. The study of things metaphys- 
 ical, or those which do not exist apart from our thoughts, (as a 
 circle — man — good — the edge of the table — the power of God :) 
 and, 3, Logic, which is to show the method of procedure to be fol- 
 lowed in both. J Many good thoughts are scattered up and down 
 these pages, although, as a whole, we cannot divest ourselves of 
 the feeling that they lead to an indefinite and unsatisfactory result. 
 They afford us, however, at present, a very obvious example of the 
 working of the Scottish philosophy upon the modern Lockian 
 school of England, and the influence it has had, both in moulding 
 its phraseology, and in reversing its sensational tendency. 
 
 4. We mention, lastly, under this head, the present Cambridge 
 school of metaphysics, which is the transition point between the 
 English philosophy that partakes of the Scottish, and that which 
 partakes of the German character. 
 
 For above two centuries past, the University of Cambridge has 
 given indications of a sympathy with metaphysical speculation, 
 which, though sometimes almost disappearing, has ever and anon 
 made its reappearance as circumstances have called it forth. 
 DurincT the seventeenth century, the Platonic divines, to whon^ we 
 have before referred, excited a spirit of philosophical inquiry which 
 
 * Sematology, p. 87, t Sequel to Sematology, p. 30. 
 
 X Ibid. p. 160.
 
 THE ENGLISH SCHOOL. 503 
 
 must be reckoned among the most remarkable literar}- manifesta- 
 tions of the age. Locke, though himself one of the ornaments of 
 Oxford, yet, after his death, was far more zealously studied and ad- 
 mired at Cambridge than in his own university, and it was there, 
 first, that a school of metaphysics was formed which owned liim 
 expressly as its authority and its guide. Dr. Law, one of the great- 
 est advocates of the Lockian sensationalism, was a resident at 
 Cambridge, and Dr. Hartley, the originator of the modern school 
 of association, was a student at the same university. 
 
 The earlier philosophical school of Cambridge was idealistic ; the 
 latter was decidedly sensational. Perhaps the brilliant discoveries 
 of Newton in physical science may have tended to absorb all purely 
 metaphysical investigation, or where it did not absorb, to divert it 
 into a more objective channel. But, notwithstanding the ardor 
 with which physical science long has been, and still is, studied at 
 Cambridge, we are mistaken if the dawn of a new philosophical 
 spirit is not even now manifesting itself within the walls of that 
 university. Many are the intiinations which are given there from 
 time to time of a sympathy with the German idealism ; many the 
 attempts to revert from the wonders of nature to the deeper won- 
 ders of the spirit of man ; many the intimations that, amidst all the 
 blessings conveyed by the extension of physical science, yet " there 
 are fields of grander discovery; that though Nature's works be 
 great, we are greater than all these ; that what we can least do 
 without is not our highest need ; that man cannot live by bread 
 alone."* 
 
 The new intellectual spirit, now rising in the university of Cam- 
 bridge, may be perhaj)s most clearly seen in the reform of its 
 moral philosophy. Paley, who stood almost alone for a long space 
 of years as the moral philosopJicr of Cambridge, was clearly oi 
 the empirical school, and accordingly advocated, with some pecu- 
 liarities of his own, the sensational theory of ethics, that which 
 grounds all virtue ui)on utility. The reaction against this .school 
 has now most decidedly set in. Very jtlain intimations of it ap- 
 peared as far back as the year 1834, when Professor Sedgwick 
 published his admirable Discourse on the studies of the University, 
 and attacked the philosophy of Locke and of I'aley. both in their 
 principles and in their elfects. "The Essay on the Human Un- 
 derstanding," he remarks, "produced a chilling ellcct on the j^hilo- 
 sophical writings of the last century, and many a C(»ld and Iwggarly 
 • Vide Professor Lushingtoii's Inaugural Lecture iil Glasgow.
 
 504 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 system of psychology was sent into the world by authors of the 
 school of Locke, pretending, at least, to start from his principles, 
 and to build on his foundation. It is to the entire domination his 
 Essay had once established in our university, that we may per- 
 haps attribute all that is faulty in the moral philosophy of Paley." 
 Again, the same author, speaking more particularly of the philoso- 
 phy of Paley, sums up his many lucid remarks in the following 
 striking and emphatic words : — " Lastly, we may, I think, assert, 
 both on reason and experience, that wherever the utilitarian sys- 
 tem is generally accepted, made the subject of a priori reasoning, 
 and carried, through the influence of popular writings, into practi- 
 cal effect, it will be found to result in effects most pestilent to the 
 honor and happiness of man." 
 
 These are by no means the only indirect evidences, which might 
 be adduced, of a nascent idealistic school in the university of 
 Cambridge. It seems almost certain, that the reaction against the 
 excessive pursuit of physical science, the growing sympathy with 
 the most lofty-minded of the German philosophical writers, the 
 profound, and, at the same time, elegant reflections upon spiritual 
 truth, which for some time past has characterized many of the sons 
 of that university, must give rise to a spiritual philosophy which, 
 like that of the seventeenth century, may play an important part 
 in the future literature of our country."* 
 
 It is, however, in the writings of Professor Whewell that we are 
 to look for some of the more marked characteristics of the modern 
 Cambridge metaphysics. The influence of the Scottish and Ger- 
 man philosophy are there almost equally visible, but both receive a 
 coloring from a mind deeply imbued with physical science, and 
 accustomed to walk amongst the highest regions of mathematical 
 investigation. The great work in which Dr. Whewell has em- 
 bodied his metaphysical opinions is that entitled, " The Philosophy 
 of the Inductive Sciences," the object of which is to show the 
 foundation principles of all scientific research. This work is di- 
 vided in two parts, the former of which treats of ideas, and the 
 latter of knowledge. In pursuing the investigation of our ideas, 
 Dr. Whewell has closely followed some of the principal results of 
 the Kantian philosophy. In imitation of Kant, for example, he 
 shows, that in all our notions we have to distinguish the matter and 
 
 * It should not be omitted, that the writings of Coleridge have probably been the 
 main exciting cause of this reaction. Several of the Cambridge theological writers, 
 such as Julius Charles Hare and others, have clearly imbibed largely of the spirit of 
 those writings.
 
 THE ENGLISH SCHOOL. 505 
 
 the form, the matter coming through the senses, the form being the 
 mould in which this matter is shaped by the mind itself.* Time 
 and space, which, with Kant, are the two categories of sensation, 
 are viewed by him virtually in the same light, namely, as the two 
 necessary conceptions, under which all our sense-perceptions ap- 
 pear.f A sensation itself he regards as the bare impression of 
 an external object upon the mind; {\\eform under which that sen- 
 sation is viewed he terms an idea.'l Those ideas which are the 
 ground forms of our knowledge, such as time, space, cause, are 
 called fundamental ; secondary ideas arising from them, such as 
 length and breadth, number and succession, are termed ideal con- 
 ceptions.^ In all this train of thinking the philosophical student 
 will not fail to see not merely a tendency to, but a decided appro- 
 propriation of, some of the most valuable parts of the Kantian 
 metaphysics. 
 
 Whilst, however, we discern, on the one hand, the influence of 
 Germany, there are several points, on the other, in which the re- 
 sults of the Scottish metaphysics are very manifest. One of the 
 principal of these is the adoption of the muscular-tactual sense, as 
 developed by Brown ; a theory which Dr. VVhewell, in fact, not 
 only adopts, but carries out still further, so as to account for many 
 of the phenomena of vision, as well as those of resi stance. || In 
 the general phraseology of the work, indeed, as well as in some of 
 the theories it upholds, we plainly see that the writings of Reid, 
 Stewart, and Brown, have had, perhaps imperceptibly, no incon- 
 siderable influence upon the mind of the author. 
 
 Without entering more minutely, however, into the peculiar fea- 
 tures of the elaborate treatise before us, we must endeavor to show 
 in what manner it may be regarded as presenting a very important 
 step in the transition, which philosophy is now undergoing, from 
 the sensationalist to the idealistic tendency. The principal points 
 where this transition process is exhibited in the work before us are 
 the following. 
 
 1. In the broad distinction laid down between scnsaiinns and 
 ideas ; a distinction, in which (unlike that of Locke, Mill, and 
 many others) the latter are shown \o have no direct dependence 
 upon the former, Init an a priori existence of tlu'ir own, as original 
 forms or categories of the understanding. 
 
 2. In the opposition that is pointed out between necessary and 
 
 * Aphorisms vi. viii. ; also vol. i. p. 29. t Aphor. xx. to xxx. 
 
 % Vol. 1. p. t35, cl acq. ^ Vol. i. p. 30, ct seq. 
 
 II Book ill. chiip. V.
 
 506 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 contingent truth, the one being gi'ounded in experience, the other 
 in the mind's own primitive constitution.* 
 
 3. In the doctrine propounded concerning time and space as be- 
 ing the forms of all our perceptions, and existing consequently in 
 the mind previous to our first sensations. 
 
 4. In the explanation that is offered of the notion of causation, 
 as- the fundamental idea, on which the mechanical sciences are 
 founded, and not an effect of habit or association. 
 
 5. In the view which is taken of human knowledge generally, 
 as resulting from the appropriate combination within the mind of 
 facts and ideas. 
 
 Dr. Whewell's work, besides its own intrinsic excellence, has like- 
 wise the merit of being the first in our own country in which the 
 logic of induction has been fully and fairly discussed. Since its 
 appearance, indeed, it has met with a formidable rival in Mr. Mill's 
 " System of Logic," but by no means yields to it, as it appears to 
 us, either in the accuracy of views, depth of analysis, or copious- 
 ness of examples. Presumptuous as it may seem, to judge between 
 two works of such unquestionable merit, nay, which may be both 
 viewed as the highest efforts of the human mind upon these sub- 
 jects, we cannot forbear expressing our belief, that Mr. Mill, biassed 
 by the psychology he has inherited almost by birth, has neglected 
 some of the most important subjective elements in the formation 
 of our simple and original conceptions, Avhich elements the Cam- 
 bridge philosopher has seized often with great clearness, and illus- 
 trated with great power. 
 
 In brief. Dr. Whewell, though an ardent lover of mathematical 
 and physical science, has never allowed the earnest pursuit of ob- 
 jective knowledge to obscure the necessity of investigating the 
 subjective grounds, on which these pursuits ultimately repose. He 
 has boldly grappled with the metaphysical conceptions which lie at 
 the basis of science, overturned the sensationalism which too often 
 has attached itself to the physical inquirer, shown with admirable 
 clearness the dependence of all objective knowledge upon subjec- 
 tive ideas, and raised, we trust, an eflective barrier against the re- 
 currence of those abuses, to which the Baconian principles have so 
 often been exposed. Respecting Dr. Whewell as a moralist we 
 would rather observe an unassenting silence. As his work on 
 morals does not profess to contain a full discussion of the princi- 
 ples of ethical philosophy, we pass it by with the hope, that when 
 
 * For a fuller account of this point, see our remarks on Mill's '' Logic."
 
 THE ENGLISH SCHOOL. 507 
 
 he undertakes to develop them, the subject will have assumed a 
 more definite form, than it appears at present to have assumed in 
 his mind. We must pass on, however, to the consideration of that 
 more decisive influence, which the German philosophy is at pres- 
 ent exerting on our country. 
 
 (B.) Germano-Esglish Metaphysicians. 
 
 The voluminous and profound school of German philosophy, 
 though somewhat repulsive in its first aspect, could not in the 
 nature of things remain shut up within the limits of the German 
 States. Philosophical thinking, in this as in most other cases, 
 has pursued its course irrespective of all national barriers, and 
 has already found its way into England, France, and America. 
 Amongst our own countrymen, Sir James Mackintosh, whilst in 
 India, obtained some little insight into this philosophy, although he 
 never gave the results of his investigations on it (which we imagine 
 were not very profound) to the world. The first of our English 
 thinkers, as far as we know, who entered with real enthusiasm into 
 the subject, and clothed the thoughts of German philosophical 
 writers in the English dress, was Coleridge. Much of the revival 
 which spiritualism has more recently exi)erienced amongst us, is 
 probably due to the zeal and eloquence, with which that extraordi- 
 nary man advocated his doctrines of modern Platonism, doctrines 
 to which he was manifestly led by his ardent study of German phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 In France the modern German idL'alisni has found a still more 
 energetic and efBcient champion in M. Cousin, the cfl'ects of whose 
 writings upon philoso})hy generally are probably but now in their 
 infancy. America, too, has recently been arousing herself from 
 the dream of practical utilitarianism, and giving birth to a school 
 of philosophy (grounded chiefly upon the writings of Cousin) whicii 
 bids fair to prove as productive, though not certainly as profound, 
 as the European sources from which it springs. Amongst these, 
 George llii)ley and Dr. Henry have done good service by i<n'sent- 
 ing their country with many excellent translations fnim the French 
 eclectic writers, which have also found their way into this king- 
 dom. II. P. Tai)j)an of New York has re-argueil the (juestion of 
 the freedom of the will, in opposition to the rigid conclusions of 
 Jonathan Edward.s, and given a very lucid compendium of logic
 
 508 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 on the principles of the new philosophy. The names of Emerson, 
 Brownson, and Parker are well known through various of their 
 productions, which have been reprinted in England, as belonging 
 to the school of American Transcendentahsm ; while a monthly- 
 publication, termed " The Dial," the organ of this party, has until 
 lately brought over to us an exhibition of the progress which ideal- 
 istic principles ai-e making upon the Western Continent. With 
 such seeds of idealism scattered amongst us from so many different 
 quarters, all originating primarily from the philosophy of Germany, 
 it were unreasonable not to look for some decided effect upon our 
 own national habits of thinking. 
 
 In adverting to the philosophy of England, w^hich bears the Ger- 
 man stamp upon it, almost every one will immediately recall the 
 name of Thomas Carlyle, a name which stands first and foremost 
 among the idealistic writers of our age. In bringing the works of 
 Carlyle for a moment before our attention, we shall not give any 
 opinion respecting his theological sentiments, inasmuch as these lie 
 quite beyond our beat, and have to be judged of before another 
 tribunal, besides that of a priori reasoning. Neither do we wish 
 to track his philosophical views to the German originals, from 
 which it is unquestionable that many of them have sprung. In 
 the case of a writer so powerful, so original, and so full of native 
 fire and genius, it is a thankless task at best to assign a foreign pa- 
 ternity to the burning thoughts, that we find scattered with no 
 sparing hand almost through every page. That Mr. Carlyle has 
 learned much truth, and added much inspiration to the force of his 
 genius from the literature and philosophy of Germany, he would 
 himself be among the first to own ; but his sentiments have not 
 been so much borrowed from these sources, as inspired from them : 
 he has used these philosophers as his familiar companions, rather 
 than as his masters ; and instead of sitting at their feet, we should 
 rather say " that his soul has burned within him as he walked with 
 them by the way." 
 
 It is in vain that we open the volumes^ which have come from 
 the pen of this fertile writer, in order to find there a system of phi- 
 losophy ; and yet his philosophical opinions may be traced there 
 with a clearness and a certainty which leave no room either for 
 misunderstanding or doubt. The great and prominent feature of 
 all his writings is a marked contempt for the shallow objective sen- 
 sationalism of the age we live in ; and an earnest struggle for the 
 re-establishment of an exalted and a spiritual philosophy. He has
 
 THE ENGLISH SCHOOL. 509 
 
 seen clearly and felt deeply, that the objective element in our 
 knowledge is threatening to absorb everything else ; that our liter- 
 ature, our science, our laws, morals, politics, and religion, are all 
 tainted with this tendency ; and he considers it to be his mission 
 to lift up the voice like a trumpet, in order to warn the age of its 
 folly and its danger. The idea of self, ihe mind, the real man, he 
 considers as having degenerated almost into that of a living ma- 
 chine, hardly separated by a boundary line from nature in her vis- 
 ible organization ; the idea of the eternal, the infinite, the divine, 
 has become too often the artificial God of a sect or party ; it is his 
 aim, therefore, to hold up these two fundamental thoughts again to 
 our view, to show their great reality, and to infuse by this means 
 into the philosophy and feeling of the age precisely the two elements, 
 which it has either marred or lost. Whatever be the subject on 
 which he writes (and he writes more or less upon nearly all), this 
 aim is never lost sight of, nay, appears to be the great ruling 
 thought around which the others cluster as their central point. If 
 he comes upon morals, with what infinite scorn is it that he scouts 
 and tramples upon " the Gospel according to Jeremy Bentham ;" 
 with what intensity does he point out as existing in God the reality 
 of an eternal justice, and in man the reality of an eternal obliga- 
 tion, that must break down every passion and every selfish interest 
 until it be accomplished. If he enters the wide field of law and 
 politics, you see him impatiently pushing aside all the clever arith- 
 metic of law-makers, and statesmen, and grasping at once the 
 broad principle that man is divine, that he exists here under great 
 spiritual laws, and that it is in vain to reckon up profit and loss, 
 vain to number ships and soldiers, vain to balance parties and in- 
 terests, while the great duties between man and man, and between 
 man and God, are trodden as an unholy thing in the dust. 
 
 In his joyous rambles through the regions of elegant literature 
 and i)oesy, there are the same tendencies apparent, the same pur- 
 poses kept in view. " The pretty story-telling Walter Scott,' that 
 required no thought to read him, that spoke not to the inner soul 
 of man, that described only the visible, and had no eye for the in- 
 visible world, finds but little favor in the stern hands of our spirit- 
 ualist. The snarling impious Byron, the p<iet of ujisanthropy, 
 and earthly passion, is hardly pitied and heartily despi.sed. On 
 the contrary, Burns, Coleridge, Wordsworth, and more than all, 
 Goethe, sing music to iiis inmost spirit, and seem to revive the 
 long-silent strains of Shakspeare, of Dante, and of Homer.
 
 510 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Much would we say of Carlyle's earnest appeals on the religion 
 of the age, were we not afraid to venture into so fruitful and, we 
 might almost say, so dangerous a subject; but here, too,^we find 
 him uttering his lamentations or his anathemas against the hollow- 
 hearted formalism of Christendom, against the s/^am- worship which 
 has taken the place of the undaunted faith and burning love of the 
 prophets and apostles of God. Without distinction of name, of 
 rank, or of popular favor, he tears the mask from the features of 
 hypocrisy, and places again and again, in no very flattering con- 
 trast, the pompous, easy, formal, soulless worship that is seen in 
 many a Christian temple, with the Hindoo, the Mohammedan, or 
 even the untutored Indian, who sees God in everything he sees, 
 and hears him in everything he hears. " Will you ever be calling 
 heathenism a lie, worthy of damnation, which leads its devotee to 
 consecrate all upon its altars, and with a wonder, which transcends 
 all your logic, bows before some idol of nature ; while those who 
 with sleepy heads and lifeless spirits meet in a framed house, and 
 go over a diflferent set of forms, are the only elect of God ? Clear 
 thy mind of cant ! Does not God look at the heart ?" With a truly 
 Platonic contempt for the material, and as ardent a love for the 
 intellectual, the ideal, the Divine, our author wanders through all 
 the regions of literature, of morals, of religion, of the habits, cus- 
 toms, laws, and institutions of our day, chastising all that is shallow 
 and insincere, and pleading for everything that is earnest and true 
 in human life. 
 
 With such tendencies of mind, it is not difficult to see of what 
 nature must be his philosophy. The Scottish metaphysics he re- 
 spects as being in its day a powerful protest against sensationalism ; 
 but it is in the German idealism that he finds his true element. 
 There he meets with men who strive to look through the world 
 of phenomena into that of absolute reality ; there, at length, he 
 finds the world of matter assigned to its true place of inferior dig- 
 nity, and the absolute, the real, the essential, the eternal, raised to 
 its lofty position in the contemplation of the intellect, and the af- 
 fections of the heart. 
 
 Had Carlyle, like his German contemporaries, fashioned his phi- 
 losophy into a system, and sent it into the world all bristling with 
 repulsive words and formulas, he might have been read by a few, 
 and lived and died to the mass unknown. Instead of this, how- 
 ever, he has rushed into every subject of popular interest, cast 
 around his thoughts the drapery of bold poetic imagery, and thus
 
 THE ENGLISH SCHOOL. 511 
 
 succeeded in carrying his philosophy into a thousand avenues, 
 which it had otherwise never reached. That he will make many 
 feeble imitators is a njatter of certain prediction, nay, already of 
 actual experience ; that he will prove a stumbling-block to many 
 sceptical minds, who have an eye for his boldness but no heart for 
 his spiritualism, is equally certain ; but, assuredly, we have no 
 writer, who is so adapted to stem the current of empiricism, and 
 to hurl defiance at the noisy and shallow pretensions of the mate- 
 rialistic or sensational systems of the age ; none who holds so im- 
 portant a place in the transition, which is now eflecting, from the 
 degenerated philosophy of Locke to a new, and, we trust, a ra- 
 tional idealism. For our own part we are thankful that Carlyle 
 has lived, thought, and written ; he may scandalize the few, as 
 every bold thinker will, but the world in the end will be the better ; 
 it will be a truer and an honestcr world for his life and his labors. 
 That he should have involved himself in certain aberrations of 
 philosophy and good sense is not to be wondered at. No man 
 ever wrote so earnestly on one side of a question without doing 
 so. Disgusted with formalism, he has shown an inclination to 
 make sincerity the whole test of uKjral greatness. He tends to 
 make Paul the persecutor as elevated a hero as Paul the apostle. 
 He tends to sink all consideration of the object towards which our 
 zeal is directed, in the glory of the zeal itself. Such a i)rinciple, 
 if there be any distinction between truth and untruth in the world, 
 we must learn to repudiate ; but let us retain the deep impression 
 of the sentiment he so earnestly labors to inculcate, — that all our 
 outward life is destitute of moral excellence, while the soul does 
 not act with fervor and sincerity and godly fear within. 
 
 The inlluence of Carlyle's writings, and of the CIcrman philoso- 
 phy generally, is already becoming apparent in several dillerenl 
 quarters. In America they have operated i)Owerfully, es|>ecially 
 upon the numerous body of I'nitarian I'hristians who exist there, 
 turning that system of Christianity, which sprung originally from 
 a sensational philosophy, into a far m<jre jtrofound and a far m«>re 
 spiritualized system of religious rati(»nalism. The same eHecl is 
 visible, though not to the same extent, in our own eounlry. The 
 influence of Uie Cerman i)hilosophy is visil)le among the more 
 deep-thinking of the Unitarians; it is vi.<ible in a new and increas- 
 ing party in the Established (.'hurch, that usually denominated 
 Young EnL^land ; it is visible t«) a certain degree, even among 
 those reputed to be most rigidly attached to their symbols. There
 
 512 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 can be little doubt, indeed, but that theology, without, we trast, 
 giving up any of its distinctive features, is about to be the medium 
 for popularizing and spreading some of the main principles of an 
 idealistic philosophy. 
 
 In the meantime, there are some other minor manifestations of 
 sympathy with the present eclectic philosophy of France, spring- 
 ing, too, in some cases, from sources where it was least to be ex- 
 pected. Any one may satisfy himself of this by directing his at- 
 tention to a series of works published by that promoter of elegant 
 typography, William Pickering, termed " Small books on great 
 subjects." In one of these little treatises, entitled " Philosophical 
 Theories and Philosophical Experience," there is a new psycholog- 
 ical classification of our mental phenomena, into — I. Material and 
 Animal Functions, those subjected to bodily changes ; and II. 
 Spiritual and Unchanging Functions. In another of them, writ- 
 ten by John Barlow, M.A., of the Royal Society, a professed phys- 
 iologist, there is a deduction of man's spirituality and immortality 
 from the power of the will : in fact, both these treatises are strongly 
 characterized by their giving prominence to the notion and the 
 power of self, and assigning it its due place in their metaphysical 
 philosophy. We might mention also, a treatise of Isaac Preston 
 Cory, Esq., on Metaphysical Enquiry, and another on Logic and 
 the Laws of Thought, by Rev. Wm. Thomson, each of which 
 gives a pleasing instance of the growing tendency, which now 
 exists, to the cultivation of the abstract and metaphysical sciences. 
 The latest manifestation of the now rising school of English spirit- 
 ualism, is to be found in the Hunterian Oration, delivered by J. H. 
 Green, Esq., in February 1847, entitled "Mental Dynamics, or 
 Groundwork of a professional Education." The author has given 
 in the Appendix, a highly interesting classification of the human 
 faculties, and pointed out with great clearness, the principle of 
 self consciousness^ — of the me regarded in the light of subject or 
 noumenon — as the only scientific basis of a true philosophy both 
 of mind and morals. What the hopes of the next generation may 
 be we do not now inquire ; but we shall, perhaj)s, find an oppor- 
 nity of throwing out a few speculations on this subject, when we 
 come to speak of the tendencies of the speculative philosophy of the 
 nineteenth century. 
 
 The modern idealism of France might, perhaps, naturally be 
 looked for under this chapter ; but, as it has assumed the eclectic 
 form, we reserve it for a separate consideration.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF MODERN SCEPTICISM. 
 
 Sect. l.~Modern Scepticism generally—In England. 
 
 The interest that attends the history of philosophy in any one 
 will always attach itself mainly to the two opposed schools of sen-' 
 sationahsrn and idealism. From them oricjinate most of the deeper 
 problems upon which the mind of man deliirhts to dwell and to 
 their efforts we naturally look, to have those problems clearly 
 solved. It is. however, one of the most universal failings of hu 
 manity, to run into extremes in different directions. Hardly is the 
 necessity realized of investigating closely the facts of sensation 
 than the philosopher, absorbed in this object, and overwhelmed' 
 perhaps, with the variety, magnitude, and number of the phenom- 
 ena presented, makes sensation the basis of every mental state 
 and, in the same proportion, disparages the value of all the other 
 lacultics. 
 
 But the opposite extreme is equally natural. Reason, as all ad 
 mit, IS the noblest part of man, f..r it regulates and guides all the 
 rest. Once, then, let the metaphysician become wrapped in the 
 contemijlat.on of its grandeur, and he xvill. in all probability, bemn 
 forthwith to detract from the value of the .sen.ses. to lo„k with con- 
 tempt upon empirical knowledge, and thus to lose sight of one at 
 least, of the most fertile sources of our ideas. 
 
 The abuses both of sensationali.sm ;,nd idealism have l^een we 
 trust, already sufficiently portrayed. In the former case, wc have 
 seen them leading to egotism in morals, atheism in religion, and 
 matenahsm m philosophy; in the latter ca.se. they have given rise 
 successively to religious rationalism, to fatalism, and ultimatelv to 
 complete pantheism. Now the logical deduction of false results' m 
 
 33
 
 514 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 any philosophical system, always betrays a falsity in one or more 
 of the fundamental data from which they are evolved. The error, 
 it is true, may be invisible ; yet, if such conclusions actually clash 
 with the indisputable facts of daily experience, we may be sure that 
 it is lurking somewhere in the foundations. The mind, Indeed, 
 which is totally given up to system, will admit many a startling 
 conclusion, nay, perhaps, many a contradictory one, without any 
 difficulty. Full of confidence in the principles it has adopted, it is 
 borne along with the stream of argument to all their results ; and 
 should insoluble difficulties arise, it leaves them, as points which 
 transcend the powers of the human mind to unravel or to compre- 
 hend. There is a limit, however, at which the force of system 
 stops, and beyond which it cannot impose upon human credulity ; 
 and when this limit is arrived at, not only does the mind refuse to 
 advance any further, but, system being once found in error, a flood 
 of suspicion pours itself even over those conclusions which had 
 been heretofore most firmly believed. Such is the origin of scep- 
 ticism, which, in its first aspect, is really nothing more than the 
 common sense of mankind rising in rebellion against the authority 
 of the current philosophy of the age. 
 
 The proper office of scepticism is to act as a check or drag upon 
 the too rapid progress of all dogmatical systems. As such, it has 
 been eminently beneficial in every age ; nay, has formed an indis- 
 pensable movement in the advancement of speculative science. It 
 dispossesses the mind of man of its excessive love of system, pulls 
 down its blind attachment to authority, and moves out of the path 
 some of the greatest obstacles which oppose the investigation of 
 truth. Never, perhaps, was there a philosophical system more 
 widely diffused, more deeply inwrought into the belief of mankind, 
 and mo];e sternly contended for, than that of Aristotle. The ideal 
 theory of human knowledge, which originated there, was for ages 
 looked upon as possessing authority almost amounting to axiomatic 
 certainty ; and it must have appeared little less than madness to 
 attack a belief so universal, and established, in all appearance, for 
 endless perpetuity. The instrument, however, by which this was 
 overthrown, was the scepticism of Hume. It was he who, regard- 
 less of consequences, carried the principles in question to their 
 furthest results, showed that they involved in them universal un- 
 belief, and thus gave them virtually their first refutation. The 
 scepticism of Hume, which may be called a " reductio ad absu?'- 
 dum^^ aimed against the ideal system, necessitated a thorough re-
 
 SCEPTICISM IN ENGLAND. 515 
 
 consideration of the very first elements of liuman knowledge, and 
 was instrumental in suggesting, both to Kant and to Reid, the 
 primary idea of a philosophy based upon sounder principles. 
 
 Had scepticism been content to keep within its proper limits, 
 and quietly to perform the office assigned to it, it would have ever 
 appeared in the light of a friend and benefactor ; but, not content 
 with pronouncing the actually existing systems to be in error, it 
 often seeks to advance still further, and affirms that no possible 
 system of philosophy can develop any truth whatever with absolute 
 certainty. Here, then, having resisted and exposed the errors of 
 others, it falls itself into the most startling errors of all, and having 
 proffered a blessing with one hand, withdraws it with the other. 
 
 Now, in taking a general view of scepticism, we must point out 
 as clearly as possible the different aspects which it assumes, since 
 in doing this we shall be the better able to estimate the amount of 
 influence it is now exerting in our own country. Scepticism, then, 
 regarded generically, may be divided into three subordinate spe- 
 cies, which we may term absolute scepticism, authoritative scepti- 
 cism, and the scepticism of ignorance. 
 
 1. By absolute scepticism we mean, a disposition of mind to ad- 
 mit nothing as absolutely true, accompanied with a formal denial 
 of the certainty of any branch of human knowledge. This species 
 of scepticism, in the very nature of things, must be rare, and when 
 it does appear, must be altogether limited to the more thinking 
 classes of mankind. The natural and healthy state of the human 
 mind is one of belief. We instinctively give credit to our senses, 
 our memory, our reason, our moral sentiuients ; and ere distrust in 
 any of them is experienced, a considerable process of thinking and 
 of reasoning must have passed through the intellect. Ordinarily 
 speaking, men have neither the leisure nor the taste to sit down 
 and investigate the foundations of knowledge, and, consequently, 
 they give themselves up, without any hesitation, to their natural 
 and instinctive beliefs. It is only here and there, in iiumi of deep 
 reflection — men who have gone, or imagined that they have gone, 
 to the very bottom of those foundations — that any idea is enter- 
 tained of the absolute uncertainty of the whole superstructure. 
 
 The natural history of this species of scepticism may i^e briefly 
 portrayed in the following manner. We will suppose a man, 
 vigorous in his natural capacities, earnest in his pur|X)ses, and 
 eagerly devoted to the investigation of truth. Too penetrating to 
 be imposed upon by vulgar modes of thinking — too independent to
 
 516 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 admit, without testing, the common opinions of those around him 
 — he scatters the faith of his childhood to the winds, and seeks to 
 recast, for his own satisfaction, the primary elements of his real 
 philosophical belief. In doing so, he soon finds himself involved in 
 questions of the most intricate nature. The more easy and super- 
 ficial problems are spurned with contempt ; he wants to go at once 
 Xo first principles, and to convince himself that everything there is 
 firm and stable. To his grief and astonishment, however, he finds 
 that those fundamental questions, upon which everything else must 
 rest, are among the most difficult, both of comprehension and of 
 proof The greatest minds of former ages, he discovers, have in 
 this region perpetually lost their way ; and he sees nought in pros- 
 pect but a conflict of opinions, as endless as it must be unsatisfac- 
 tory. In his perplexity, he appeals to the great dogmatical systems 
 which have had the chief reputation in the world ; he tracks the 
 history of them from Plato down to Kant ; and the probable con- 
 sequence is, that the arguments of the one party completely neu- 
 tralize those of the other. In this painful position, the fearful ques- 
 tion begins to dawn upon his mind, — Is there such a thing as truth 
 at all ■? Can we have a certainty upon anything ? Are we not the 
 sport of an ignorance which dazzles only to delude us with the 
 hope of absolute truth ? Such a thought, once entertained, acts 
 like a spell upon all his researches, and throws suspicion over every 
 argument. It gains force from the very fact, that it seems so 
 plainly to unfold the causes from which the contests and disagree- 
 ments of philosophy have arisen. A disgust at all dogmatism next 
 ensues ; and at length he determines to rest in the conviction that 
 each man must see truth for himself alone, because absolute truth 
 lies entirely beyond the reach of the human faculties. 
 
 This disposition to universal unbelief, then, being once fixed in 
 the mind, it soon manifests itself upon almost every subject that 
 lies open to human research. It begins, of course, by attacking the 
 ground-principles of philosophical truth, — in one breath denying 
 the certain existence of the material world, and in another, that of 
 the spiritual ; thus leaving, ultimately, nought but a bundle of im- 
 pressions and ideas. Next, it loosens the strong band of moral ob- 
 ligation. Virtue to it is either a nonentity, or but another name 
 for that which produces pleasure ; and vice is a similar cipher, ex- 
 cept it be that which produces pain ; but as to the word duty, it has 
 absolutely no meaning, since no obligation can be shown why I 
 should pursue happiness as my aim any more than misery. Next,
 
 SCEPTICISM IN ENGLAND. 517 
 
 the foundations of man's natural religion fall under its stroke. 
 Men may have (grants the sceptic) each one for himself, the idea 
 of God, and this idea may prove very beneficial in directing or 
 constraining his actions ; but who is to prove that objective reality 
 is to be attached to it ? In a word, once let confidence be shaken 
 in the veracity of our natural faculties, and there is not a buttress 
 left to support any portion of the edifice of truth. 
 
 Now the philosophical error, which lurks in the principle of ab- 
 solute scepticism, is by no means difiicult to discover and expose; 
 in fact, as a system, it carie s within itself its own refutation. The 
 sceptic distrusts the veracity of man's natural faculties ; but by 
 what means, we would ask him, has he arrived at this, his startling 
 conclusion ? Of course, by the use of his faculties — the very facul- 
 ties which he distrusts. But if our reason is ever leading us astray 
 in other matters, and if it never sufiers us to attain certainty, then 
 why may it not have led the sceptic himself astray ? or on what 
 ground can he affirm the certainty of the conclusion to which he 
 has arrived ? The sceptic, above all men, is fond of employing the 
 power of reasoning, in order to pull down the systems which exist 
 around him ; but if he has already undermined the veracity of rea- 
 son itself, why docs he believe his own arguments ? Why not 
 take for granted, that he is as far wrong in pulling down as others 
 may have been in building up ? For an absolute sceptic to argue 
 at all is a piece of folly, only second to the folly of those who argue 
 with him. If there is no credence to be given to the working of 
 our intellectual powers, the former, for consistency's sake, might 
 spare himself the trouble of using them against the belief of his 
 neighbors ; and the latter might, with equal propriety, avoid the 
 useless task of arguing with one, who professedly has no faith in 
 argument. The sceptic, in fact, writes at once his own defence 
 and his own reply : he may make out the best possible case against 
 his opponents ; but then who, of all those whom he convinces of 
 the futility of human reason generally, will be likely to pay any 
 respect to his own application of it ? The only rational effect of 
 scepticism, when it is carried to this length, is to thn»w a.side all 
 the weapons of philosophy together, and let the world quietly go 
 on as it does, without cither encouragement or restraint. In other 
 words, the inffuence of it, rationally considered, is ecjual to zero. 
 
 If this be the case, then, it might be said, why is it worth while 
 to oppose a sceptical system, which ratioiuiUy has no influence 
 whatever for good or for evil I We answer, because men will
 
 518 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 make an irrational use of it, and we wish to cut off the plea which 
 it affords them for doing or thinking what is evil. The mere as- 
 sertion of sceptical principles in the abstract, is of extremely little 
 consequence, as they exert in this way hardly any perceptible in- 
 fluence upon the conduct of any one ; but, unfortunately, there is 
 ever a sufficiency of half-ignorant minds, who, without having 
 depth enough to see the inconclusiveness of scepticism as a whole, 
 are very ready to catch at the notion of the universal uncertainty 
 of all human knowledge, and to urge it in opposition to everything 
 that is good or great, whether in religion, morals, or philosophy. 
 Thus the loss of confidence in the powers of the mind soon makes 
 itself felt, more or less, in every department of science ; it re- 
 presses exertion, fosters a contempt for all systematic truth, weak- 
 ens the ties of moral obligation, and tends to the degeneracy, 
 rather than to any advancement of the human race. 
 
 Absolute scepticism, as now explained, has fortunately, at pres- 
 ent, no decided representative in this country. Its last great ad- 
 vocate was David Hume, who for a time gave origin and support 
 to a class of petty unbelievers, that without entering into the depth 
 of his argument, much less seeing its self-refutation, learned, not- 
 withstanding, to sneer at evidence and despise truth. This spirit 
 was arrested at least to some extent, by Reid, and others of like 
 views, who combated, step by step, so earnestly for the reality of 
 our knowledge, that a sweeping unbelief has not as yet, during the 
 present century, made its re-appearance in this Island. Many, it 
 is true, are the different faiths now in vogue throughout the com- 
 munity ; but amongst these we hardly find one, the principle of 
 which is to have no faith at all. We go on, therefore, to de- 
 scribe — 
 
 2. The scepticism which bases itself upon authority. 
 
 It is possible to deny the capability of the human mind to gain 
 absolute knowledge for itself, without denying the fact that such 
 knowledge is actually in our possession. If, e. g., we supposed 
 truth to be infused into us miraculously, we might in this way 
 avoid the sweeping conclusion, that there is no such thing as truth 
 at all cognizable to man, whilst at the same time we might regard 
 the self-acquisition of it as altogether impracticable. Now this 
 exactly describes the opinions of many, who look upon tradition 
 or the Scriptures as the only source of absolute truth, and who, 
 standing upon the platform of revelation, scout at the very notion 
 of philosophy.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN ENGLAND. 519 
 
 The system of opinions to which we now refer, is somewhat of 
 the following kind. Man, whatever he might have been in his 
 first creation, is now naturally blind and foolish ; his reason is 
 perverted ; his moral nature overturned ; and he is thus rendered 
 totally unfit for the great office of acquiring knowledge, with any 
 perfect degree of certainty. Upon this state of helpless darkness 
 the light of revelation dawns ; the shadows of ignorance grad- 
 ually disperse ; and a source is opened from which we may at 
 length gain fixed and eternal truth — an acquisition otherwise im- 
 possible. Let it be remembered that the question here is by no 
 means, whether or no revelation unfolds to us truths which could 
 not have been attained by us in any other way : this is admitted 
 by all who hold the special inspiration of the Bible. The question 
 is, whether all moral truth must be derived from thence, or whether 
 some absolute knowledge cannot be attained by man, quite inde- 
 pendent of supernatural assistance. Those who hold revelation to 
 be the only source of certain knowledge to man, would, no doubt, 
 start at being ranked under the title of sceptics, and yet, in truth, 
 this principle contains the germ of a scepticism, under which both 
 religion and philosophy would soon be seen to expire. 
 
 Let us weigh this question a little. The human faculties, it is 
 urged, are perverted : there is no confidence to be placed in them : 
 they lead us astray at every step. How then, we ask, can we be 
 ever assured that the revelation, to which we applv for light, is a 
 true one? The veracity of it, as far as our convictions go, must 
 rest upon a process of reasoning. We must collect evidence ; we 
 must decide what is valid as evidence, and what is not ; and then 
 from this we must draw our inference respecting the truth of the 
 revelation itself What, then, are the instruments by which all 
 these processes are carried on, and by which the ultimate conclu- 
 sion is at length arrived at ? Of course our own reasoning facul- 
 ties. But these faculties are said to be fallacious : why, then, may 
 they not have failed us in this jiarticular argument ? If wo can- 
 not trust to their decisions ijfcncralli/, what certaintv is there in 
 that revelation, upon the truth of which they alone can decide? 
 
 The argument becomes still stronger, when we pass from the 
 question of revelation to that of the being of (Jod. Without this 
 truth already established, iiis|)iratioii is a word without anv mean- 
 ing whatever. Hut how is it establislu'd. excejit by the inferences 
 of our own reason ? To undermine the authority of reason, there- 
 fore, is to undermine that of revel.itiou as well ; once destroy the
 
 520 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 validity of the subjective world within, and there can be no longer 
 a certainty left in any objective reality. The scepticism, there- 
 fore, which builds itself up upon authority, is in its nature incon- 
 clusive. It holds some truths as absolutely sure ; but if it could 
 only expand its own principles to their legitimate extent, it would 
 discover that the knowledge which it allows is no more certain 
 than that which it rejects ; nay, that the truth of the one is indis- 
 solubly connected with the truth of the other. 
 
 Whatever scepticism now exists in England is, we imagine, 
 nearly all of this kind. The philosophic spirit is with us, for the 
 most part, at a low ebb, whilst the religious is developing itself often 
 with great intensity. The effect of this is to depress the value of 
 metaphysical truth, and to hold up that of revelation as altogether 
 independent of it. Our ordinary religious literature abounds in 
 crude assertions of this nature. Many of those who write for the 
 religious public, conscious that they never thought themselves 
 clear upon any of the first principles of truth, suppose that no one 
 else has ; conscious that their own reason is inconclusive in its 
 researches, they stamp the whole reason of mankind as equally so ; 
 assured that their own knowledge is taken entirely upon trust 
 from tradition or the Scriptures, they suppose that all men must 
 take theire from the same source. Men who have been brought 
 up to a certain belief, and whose minds have never broken away 
 from the blind, but confiding faith of their infancy, have not, in 
 many instances, the slightest idea of the amount or the kind of 
 evidence, which would be necessary to prove the truth of Chris- 
 tianity to a mind without any faith at all. Their own belief is in 
 no sense whatever the result of evidence, but simply a matter of 
 education ; and consequently it is no wonder if they commit mis- 
 takes with respect to the real evidence upon which such knowl- 
 edge must ultimately rest. This contempt of philosophy, into 
 which the religious world so frequently falls, we feel convinced, is 
 extremely detrimental to the best interests of religious truth. 
 While it may here and there deter a solitary mind from involving 
 itself in the web of human sophistry, it is, on the contrary, infus- 
 ing into many other minds strong prejudices against admitting the 
 full claims of revelation, and weakening the evidences of it in the 
 minds ,of those who do. 
 
 It is a fact, not to be disputed, that some of the most enlightened 
 minds of the day. have nurtured a secret opposition to the doc- 
 trines of Christianity, owing to the intellectual intolerance of its
 
 SCEPTICISM IN ENGLAND. 521 
 
 abettors. And whilst such intolerance lasts, can it possibly be 
 otherwise ? Is not every mind impelled to the admission of all 
 truth, the evidence of which it has itself thoroughly evolved ? 
 Did not the same God, which speaks in revelation, create the 
 powers of the human spirit ? and when Christianity is made to 
 contradict and repel the natural results of our own faculties, or 
 the utterances of our moral nature, yea, to deny the certainty of 
 that upon which its own evidence rests, is it to be wondered at, 
 that the prejudices of men should be aroused and their assent re- 
 fused ? We regard the believer, who would raise the value of 
 religion by invalidating the due authority of human reason, as 
 committing an error which in time must prove fatal to his own 
 belief. To mention any particular works, in which this species of 
 scepticism is discoverable, would be a task more inviduous than 
 useful ; we merely point out the general fact, that such a method 
 of viewing things is but too common in our own country, and 
 shall rest content with having thus briefly, but firmly recorded our 
 protest against it. 
 
 3. There is yet a third species of scepticism claiming our at- 
 tention, to which we have given the name of the " scepticism of 
 ignorance." This is peculiar to the less educated and more un- 
 thinking portion of mankind. Men, in general, as we have already 
 remarked, impose a most implicit reliance upon the evidence of 
 their senses and their faculties, which it is almost impossible for 
 anything to shake. But there lie, beyond these, certain other 
 great principles of belief, absolutely necessary to the repose and 
 well-being of the human mind, the confidence in which varies, 
 even amongst the larger masses of m.uikiiul. in ditVerent ages and 
 in difl^erent countries. 
 
 Man requires faith in moral obligation, faith in Clod, faith in im- 
 mortality ; and this faith cannot be shaken without at the same 
 time endangering the very framework of human society. Faith 
 in these great objects, it is true, always forms a constituent part 
 of the religion of the age, so that want of belief in them might be 
 termed 7'eligioiis scepticism, with which we have at jire.sent noth- 
 ing to do ; but so far as iiiibrlicf touches the great fundamental 
 principles of natunil religion, in so far it is. strictly s|X'aking. a 
 philosophical, as well as a reliijious scei>ticism. There have been 
 in the history of the wmid eras of intense faith, a.s well as eras of 
 general unbelief upon these matters; and it is the latter which we 
 now note down as being characterized by the scepticism of igno-
 
 522 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ranee. Current systems of belief (as was the case at the Refor- 
 mation) will sometimes, from various causes, be shaken to their 
 very centre, and then the community at large, sympathizing in 
 the work of destruction, are apt to go onwards with it, until they 
 have left no temple of faith at all, in which they may worship. 
 The next generation, accordingly, will grow up uneducated in any 
 belief ; and, as the consequence of this, there will ensue a scepti- 
 cism, not arising from any designed rejection of the spiritual faith 
 of humanity, but from actual ignorance of what there is to believe 
 in. Such, to a great extent, is the present state of France, and 
 such a phenomenon, in some few instances, is seen in our own 
 country, amongst those classes in which infidelity has most fre- 
 quently taken up its abode. Happily, however, the diffusion of 
 religious truth is too general in this country to admit the return 
 (except, indeed, under most extraordinary circumstances) of an- 
 other age of unbelief in the groundwork of man's natural religious 
 sentiments. Of the three forms of scepticism we have mentioned, 
 it is the second only from which anything is at present to be ap- 
 prehended. For absolute scepticism we have too little philosophy, 
 for the scepticism of ignorance we have too much religion ; with 
 regard, however, to the scepticism of authority, we cannot con- 
 ceal our fear, that should the theological odium pursue the spirit 
 of philosophy with the rancor which has too often been experi- 
 enced, the result must in time prove fatal to the best interests of 
 morality and of religion itself. 
 
 Sect. II. — Modern Scepticism in France. 
 
 The state of France, philosophically speaking, previous to the 
 Revolution, has been already glanced at in the chapter which 
 traces the history of sensationalism from Bacon down to modern 
 times. We have seen, moreover, in another chapter, the main 
 features, which French philosophy assumed, when the storm of the 
 Revolution had passed away, and the comparative repose of the 
 present century had commenced. The principles of Condillac, to 
 whose writings the philosophic spirit seemed then to revert, we 
 have noticed developing themselves successively in the physiologi- 
 cal theories of Cabanis, in the metaphysics of Destutt de Tracy, 
 and in the ethics of Volney. 
 
 The triumph of sensationalism, however, was not destined to be
 
 SCEPTICISM IN FPANCE. 523 
 
 of long duration. Every extravagant and one-sided system con- 
 tains, in fact, the seeds of its own overthrow, refuting its assumed 
 data by means of the very consequences to which they lead. A 
 striking example of this is seen in the materiahsm of France. 
 The germ of the modern eclectic philosophy began to appear 
 amongst the very triumphs of the materialistic school : and then 
 commenced the struc;crle which has now brouo;ht about the estab- 
 lishment of the former and the humiliation of the latter. The rise 
 and progress of the eclectic philosophy, however, we have yet to 
 exhibit ; our present business is to track the footsteps of those dif- 
 ferent forms of scepticism which have arisen out of the contest. 
 
 The sensationalism of France was eminently irreligious. It 
 delighted to scoff at all veneration for the Divine, to shock man's 
 deepest sentiments of spiritual duty, and to substitute the indefinite 
 idea of nature for that of the hving God. The opponents of sen- 
 sationalism, in the meantime, taking up another hypothesis, showed 
 many indications of running into the opposite extreme of panthe- 
 ism ; the pantheistic principle being, in fact, equally fatal to the 
 cultivation of an intelligent and efficient theism as the atheistic 
 itself The natural effect of these results upon many minds must 
 be at once obvious. The utterance of man's natural reason, 
 whether it flow in the sensational or ideal direction, beinof made to 
 appear in plain contradiction to our indestructible religious senti- 
 ments, a distrust of the power of reason naturally followed, and 
 confirmed scepticism, at length, made its appearance on the stage. 
 This scepticism naturally placed itself in opposition to the irre- 
 ligious tendency of the age ; and as the other current philosophies 
 seemed to undermine the authority of revelation in favor of reason, 
 it, on the contrary, sought to suhsfitute for reason the dictates of 
 revelation. The most decisive philoso])hical ."scepticism of France, 
 accordingly, is that which bases itself upon authuritij, and aims at 
 restoring the power and influence of the Church. To this school, 
 then, we must now briefly revert. 
 
 The idea of appealing to Divine authority, and bolstering up the 
 weakness of our natural reason by the cultivation of our faith, was 
 widely diffused throughout France in the seventeenth century, by 
 the writings of lluet, Bishop of Avranches. Iluet may be re- 
 garded philosophically as the type and excmjilar of the .sceptics to 
 whom we are now referring ; and just in like manner as his views 
 came forth from the rival schools of Gassendi and Descartes, so
 
 524 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 theirs have come from the similar contest of the materialists and 
 eclectics of the nineteenth century. 
 
 The Count Joseph de Maistre (born 1753, died 1821) appears 
 to have been one of the earliest of these modern theologico-philo- 
 sophical writers — one, too, who, by the liveliness of his style, and the 
 fertility of his fancy, no less than by the gloominess of his opinions, 
 was well adapted to excite the attention, though not perhaps to gain 
 the suffrages, of his countrymen. M. de Maistre, it is true, can 
 hardly be called in strictness a philosophical writer at all, so entirely 
 does the religious element preponderate over the metaphysical ; yet, 
 still, the whole tone of his thinking was such, as to prepare the 
 way for future speculations, and still more decided attacks upon 
 the validity of our natural faculties. There are three principal 
 works in which he has explained his views upon human society and 
 human life. The first, published in the year 1819, is "On the 
 Authority and Office of the Pope," the object of which work was 
 to show, that his Holiness is a universal appeal for mankind, not 
 only in spiritual matters, but in social and political also ! The 
 second is " On the Galilean Church, in relation to the Sovereign 
 Pontiff." The third of these works, published posthumously in 
 the year 1821, is entitled "Evenings at St. Petersburg, or Con- 
 versations on the Temporal Government of Providence ;" and it 
 is here that he has, at once, given his meditations upon some 
 of the most profound problems of human life, and proposed their 
 solution. 
 
 The chief design of this work, as the title indicates, is to explain 
 and to vindicate the conduct of Providence in relation to man in 
 the present world. The lot of humanity is to suffer. From this 
 none are exempt, although the wicked may in the long run suffer 
 much more than the virtuous. The cause of this suffering M. de 
 Maistre traces up very consecutively to original sin, taking the 
 orthodox doctrine of the church as his guide throughout the whole 
 discussion. The means by which suffering is to be alleviated, he 
 considers, are prayer and merit, the one securing us the constant 
 favor of God, the other allowing the supererogatory righteousness 
 of the saints to stand in the place of the deficient righteousness of 
 the sinner. As theology, these sentiments, of course, must stand 
 or fall according to the evidence of a purely authoritative nature, 
 which can be shown for or against them. The deceptiveness 
 which runs through the whole work, scientifically speaking, arises 
 from its being tacitly taken for granted, that there can be no valid
 
 SCEPTICISM IN FRANCE. 525 
 
 philosophy of human nature which does not build itself up upon 
 these foundations of inspired authority. 
 
 Far would we be from detracting aught from the inestimable 
 value of revelation, or from denying the light which it casts upon 
 human life ; but it does not follow from the truth or authority of 
 revelation, that our reason must necessarily be weak and delusive 
 in those subjects, which are not exclusively of a religious nature. 
 There is assuredly enough of truth accessible to our minds in the 
 intellectual and moral constitution of man wherewith to erect a 
 system of philosophy, without the aid of revelation ; nay, upon the 
 philosophical accuracy of our knowing faculties depends the value, 
 even of revelation itself, which, like everything else, must be known 
 through their medium. Whilst, therefore, we would willingly 
 allow M. de Maistre, or any one else, the " liberty of prophesying," 
 i. e., of treating and arguing theology, as theology, upon its proper 
 evidence, we cannot for a moment allow their right of intrenching 
 themselves within the authority of the Church, and claiming a 
 complete dictatorship over the philosophical or even the religious 
 belief of mankind. 
 
 Such dogmatism it is the more necessary to resist, when we 
 consider the conclusions which are drawn from it. As mankind 
 exists, says our author, in the present world, only by suffering to 
 atone for the sin of the fall, he ought meekly to yield to every 
 misery that is inflicted upon him for that purpose. Amongst other 
 methods of extracting penance, God has appointed human power 
 to restrain the license of the will, and this power, consequently, 
 best answers its purpose when most stringent and severe. The 
 duty of mankind, then, politically, is abject siibmissio7i to authority ; 
 and, as all authority delegated by God centres in the Pope, we 
 must in everything yield implicit obedience to him, whatever he 
 may inflict or command. When sentiments like these are syste- 
 matically deduced, — sentiments which turn the world into a pur- 
 gatory, man into a slave, and human life into gloom, it is, assuredly, 
 high time to hold up either to ridicule or to reprobation the intol- 
 erant dogmatism in which they are nursed and cradled. Let a 
 religionist dogmatize upon theology, speculatively considered, as 
 much as he will ; but never let him enslave mankind under the 
 yoke, or on the plea of his crude opinions. 
 
 M. de Maistre, in addition to the works above mentioned, left 
 also behind him a treatise entitled " Examen dc la Philosophie de 
 Bacon," which was published in the year 183G. Seldom has a
 
 526 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 more trenchant and amusing polemick been carried on, than that 
 which is contained within these two volumes. The author, exas- 
 perated against all philosophy, especially that of a sensational ten- 
 dency, rushes forth against his opponent with an earnestness and a 
 blind determination, which refuses to recognize a single virtue or 
 excellence attaching to the labors of his whole life. Take the fol- 
 lowing specimen of the satire he pours forth against the much 
 admired style of the English philosopher. 
 
 " The style of Bacon," he remarks, (vol. i. p. 56,) "demonstrates 
 his entire incapacity in all matters of philosophy. His style is, so 
 to speak, material ; he only exercises his mind upon forms, masses, 
 and movements. His thought seems, if we may so say, to corpo- 
 rize itself, and to incorporate itself with the objects which alone 
 occupy it. Every abstract expression, every word of the intelH- 
 gence, which contemplates itself, displeases him. He refers to the 
 schools every idea which does not present him with three dimen- 
 sions. He has not in all his works a single word which addresses 
 itself to the spirit : that of nature, or of essence, for example, chokes 
 him; he would rather ?,Q.y form, because he can see it. The word 
 prejudice is too subtile for his ear ; he will say idol, because an 
 idol is a statue of wood, of stone, or of metal, and has a form and 
 a color which one may touch, and which can be placed on a ped- 
 estal. Instead then of saying, national prejudices, corporal preju- 
 dices, &c. ; he will say idols of the forum, idols of the tribe, &c. ; 
 and those prejudices which we all more or less derive from charac- 
 ter and habitude, he calls idols of the cave ; for the interior of man 
 is to him only a humid cavern, and the errors which distil from the 
 vault, form concretions, just like stalactytes which hang from vul- 
 gar caverns." 
 
 In the same sweeping style of criticism, combining at the same 
 time many a stern truth with much exaggeration, the author ex- 
 poses the methods, the aim, the defects, the weaknesses, both of the 
 Baconian science and theology ; seeking to elevate his own theo- 
 logical scepticism upon the ruins of all science and all philosophy. 
 Little as we can sympathize in the spirit of the author's system, it 
 is highly interesting to peruse a polemical work of unquestionable 
 abilitv, which meets the frequent dogmatism of the sensational 
 school with a dogmatism equal to its own ; and opposes to the posi- 
 tiveness of positivism, a rough satirical energy, which pays back 
 with fair interest all the ignorant sport which has been celebrated 
 over the cloud-land of idealism.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN FRANCE. 527 
 
 The tendency shown by M. de Maistre to substitute faith for 
 knowledge, and authority for philosophical investigation, in matters 
 where such a substitution is not admissible, has been still further 
 developed in more modern times by the Abbe de Lamennais. This 
 remarkable writer was born in the year 1780, and must, therefore, 
 have grown up amidst the very storms of the Revolution, with 
 which his country was agitated. Being naturally of a deeply re- 
 ligious tendency of mind, he could not but look with sorrow,' and 
 even with bitterness of spirit, upon the almost universal reign of 
 unbelief; and it must have become early a ruling passion of his 
 nature to recall his countrymen back to the exercise of a faith in 
 God and immortality, to which they seemed to have grown in- 
 sensible. 
 
 To aid him in this design, philosophy seemed entirely unavail- 
 ing. As to sensationalism, it had already banished Deity from the 
 temples erected to his honor, yea, if possible, from the temple of 
 the universe, filled though it be with his own glory. The antago- 
 nist system of idealism, with its rationalistic spirit, likewise afforded 
 but little that was satisfactory to an ardent mind, longing to rush 
 with enthusiasm into the great question of human destiny, an(t to 
 bring man's duty to God with intense earnestness and vivid per- 
 spicuity before its contemplation. Resigning, then, all trust in phi- 
 losophy, he took his stand upon the doctrine of the Catholic Church, 
 and proposed to find there the one principle of truth, from which 
 all veracious human knowledge really proceeds. His work, enti- 
 tled, " Essai sur I'lndiflerencc en Malicre de Religion,"* was the 
 first to rouse the public attention at once to himself, and to the 
 theme of his passionate interest. It is the production of a mind 
 disgusted with the sensualism and immorality of society, tired 
 of the petty objects which were absorbing the attention of man- 
 kind, and longing to gain peace and satisfaction in higher thoughts 
 and nobler feelings. Such a satisfaction he finds in religion as held 
 by the Church in all ages ; and, therefore, neglecting every other 
 avenue of knowledge as vain and fruitless, he will have this to be 
 
 * This work was first published about the year l«<-:n, nn.l hns since conr through 
 eight editions. The first part ^rjvcs a chissifieation of the .hiTerent systems of r. liiriou. 
 imlifferenee, an.l elaborately refutes them. The second part treat-n'of thr imtK.rtanrc 
 of rehirion in relation to the individual, to the state, and to 0„d. The thini imrt dis- 
 cusses the vuUo,l of discovering' the true religion: an.l the fourth provw thistohrnone 
 other than Chnsti.mity. The whole work en.ls with a defence of the principles pro- 
 pound, d against objectors ; treating ,.f the uncertainty of all philos..phical rrsenrrh and 
 showing the only ground of ccrUtudc in the attuiament of truth, that namely of 
 Oatoolicism. .?. "•
 
 528 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the one great and sole channel, through which God has communi- 
 cated truth to his creatures below. 
 
 In order to establish this principle, the first requisite was, if pos- 
 sible, to destroy the confidence of humanity in philosophy, of what- 
 ever kind ; and thus to compel them to take refuge in the ark of 
 faith, against the universal deluge of absolute scepticism. He had 
 to found, consequently, a philosophical scepticism, in order to estab- 
 lish the full authority of his theological dogmas. The scepticism 
 which M. de Lamennais, with this object in view, maintained, if 
 not profound, nevertheless is such as will be always sure to find a 
 response in many minds.* His spirit of combined mysticism and 
 misanthropy ; his restless weariness at the delusive glare of human 
 things ; his contempt for the errors, the failings, the follies of man- 
 kind ; his disappointment over the frailty of his own cherished 
 hopes ; all these will ever touch a chord of sympathy in many a 
 heart which has struggled through the same experience, and ar- 
 rived, perhaps, at the same results. 
 
 " What philosophy is there," he exclaims, (we quote from one 
 of his own critics, M. Damiron,) " whose pretensions are no-t all 
 uncertain — all false ? The senses deceive us, and attest nothing 
 that can be termed clear, positive, complete. Feeling is not more 
 sure ; its object, although in appearance more evident and more 
 simple, still, unless we are on our guard, is nothing less than a con- 
 tinual series of doubts and illusions. As to reason, it is to be still 
 more suspected ; for, first of all, it only operates upon the data 
 furnished by the senses, or the feelings, (data upon which it cannot 
 count) ; and, secondly, when the data are at hand, how does it 
 operate ? and what guarantee have we of the legitimacy of its pro- 
 cedure ? What are we to think of the contradictory conclusions 
 which it draws from the same principle ? what of the identical ones 
 it draws from different principles ? What truth has it not denied ? 
 what error has it not established ? In a word, must it not associate 
 memory with all its operations ? — and is memory a faithful ally ? 
 Reason, feeling, sense ! — faculties without control ! — vain means of 
 gaining knowledge ! — principles of error and incertitude ! These 
 it is, which deprive man of all hope of having either knowledge or 
 faith from himself; there is for him no reality, either within or 
 without ; there is nothing, up to the very truth of his own exist- 
 ence, in which he has any right to believe, unless he has some other 
 
 * To gain a complete view of the author's scepticism, consult especially Part 3, chap. i. 
 " Du fondement de la certitude." Also, his " Defense de I'Essai sur 1' Indifference, at 
 the close of the fourth part.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN FRANCE. 529 
 
 reason than his own private sentiment, and his own individual con- 
 sciousness." 
 
 M. de Lamennais, we thus see, has himself exactly fallen into 
 the error, against which Plato makes Socrates affectionately warn 
 his friends, in the conversation before his death. " Is it not la- 
 mentable, O Phcedo," he says, " that when there is such a thing as 
 true and valid reasons, capable of being comprehended, any one, 
 from meeting with other reasons, some of which appear to be true, 
 and some not, should fail to lay the blame upon his own unskilful- 
 ness, but at last should delight to thrust the error from his own 
 shoulders upon reasoning itself, pass the rest c ^ his life in hatred 
 and contempt of it, and thus be dejn-ived of the Jruth and knowl- 
 edge that he seeks ?" 
 
 It will not be necessary here to repeat the arguments by which 
 this sweeping procedure of scepticism is met and refuted. We 
 have already shown, that all absolute unbelief in the human facul- 
 ties is answered by the very principle which it attempts to estab- 
 lish. If our senses and feelings, our memory, our reason, all are 
 delusive, then every system of philosophy is placed hors dc combat, 
 and the reasoning which has established scepticism itself, may be 
 just as erroneous as any other. Against all pretended unbelief of 
 this kind, the common sense of mankind protests. That we may 
 fall into many errors and many delusions through false reasoning, 
 is unquestionable ; but there are some points of knowledge, in 
 which we feel that error is impossible. Here mankind have ever 
 taken their stand ; and equally vain is the attempt to shake the 
 confidence of humanity in that whicli bears the marks of necessity 
 and universality, as it is to inspire a fear least the solid basis of 
 the everlasting mountains should crumble beneath our feet. 
 
 M. de Lamennais, however, having begun by establishing a 
 philosophical scepticism, docs not purpose, by any means, to leave 
 us in doubt and perplexity as to what is true, and what false ; on 
 the contrary, he goes on to expound a theory of human knowl- 
 edge, by which we may arrive at certainty upon all the great (]ues- 
 tions of human interest. The theory in question is tliat of au- 
 thority — a theory which we must now attempt brictly to e\i)lain.* 
 
 Man having no criterion of truth within liimself as an individ- 
 ual, must find one in the universal assent of the whole race. The 
 principle, " Quod semper, (piod ul)i(iue, tiiiml ad omnibus," taken 
 
 ♦ The princiulf of luilhority is ndvorutrd in dilTiTfiit |H>ii)t.'» of virw, thnniirliovit the 
 whole work. T lie chief passajfrs in which it is iii.iintaincd or illustrutcd, will l)c found 
 in Part iii., chaps. 1, 3, 5, 8, and Purt iv., chaps. 10, I'J, 11, IG. 
 
 31
 
 530 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 in its widest acceptation, gives us the sole test of what is most as- 
 suredly true. This principle being settled, the next question is, 
 where and how such universal assent is to be found. Opinions on 
 all ordinary subjects within the range of human contemplation, 
 have been perpetually changing. There have been different views 
 advocated in art, in science, in philosophy, in almost every depart- 
 ment of general knowledge ; so that it is vain to look for common 
 consent, and consequently, for absolute truth, in any of these di- 
 rections. 
 
 In religion, however, the case is different. Here there has been 
 really but one system among the enlightened of mankind, from the 
 earliest ages of the world to the present time. Revealed at three 
 different epochs, it has not changed its essence in passing from one 
 age into another, but only varied its form. The religion of the 
 Patriarch, of the Jew, of the Christian, is really one and the same ; 
 and the truth which it contains has gradually been developing itself 
 with greater clearness from one dispensation to another. The ex- 
 istence of false religion is no obstacle against this view of the case. 
 False religion is simply a defective view of truth ; while true religion, 
 amidst all its various developments, and all its corruptions, has ever 
 retained its fundamental unity. Here, therefore, we are to look in 
 order to find The Truth — that, namely, which rests upon the au- 
 thority of the whole world, from its creation to the present hour, 
 and which proceeded originally from the direct intervention of 
 God himself.* 
 
 Now the depository of truth, which was formerly vested in the 
 patriarch, and in the Jewish priest, in the present day is vested in 
 the Catholic Church. This is the receptacle of the universal con- 
 sen^of mankind ; this has preserved it in its purity ; this can boast 
 the sole authority from God, both to expound it and to enforce it 
 upon our attention ; and the man, therefore, who abandons the 
 Church of Rome, necessarily plunges into an abyss of error, both 
 as it regards religion and everything else besides. f Such being the 
 case, it is the duty of every state in the world (as the guardian of 
 the best interests of the subject) to support, by every possible 
 means, that one Church, and that one doctrine, which alone can 
 give stability and peace to society ; to punish any dissent from 
 it as a crime against human happiness ; and to give implicit obe- 
 dience to the popedom, as the living concentration of universal 
 consent, the sole guide and arbitrator of human reason. Such is 
 
 * Part iv., chaps. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. t Part iv., chaps. 2, 14, 16.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN FRANCE. 531 
 
 the extraordinary system which M. de Lamennais has propounded 
 and supported with a learning, power, and eloquence, which raises 
 him to the very summit of the living writers of France. 
 
 It is the learning and eloquence, however, we imagine, which 
 abound in the work now before us, rather than the soundness of its 
 arguments, to which it owes all its popularity and success. The 
 principle of authority, put forward as it is in the light of a philosoph- 
 ical, rather than a theological dogma, and stripped of its imposing 
 dress, will hardly bear the test of a moment's close investigation. 
 Put in plain language, it comes just to this — listen not to your- 
 selves, but to those who are worthy of your confidence, and re- 
 member that neither you nor they are able, individually, to know 
 for certain anything whatever, whether it rest upon reason or ex- 
 perience.* 
 
 The Abbe, perhaps, did not perceive that in undermining the 
 authority of the human faculties, he virtually undermined every 
 other. Admitting that there are persons who are in possession of 
 truth, they must have received it from some who went before them ; 
 they again from the generation before that ; and so on, till we come 
 back to the mind which received the truth directly from God. But 
 these first recipients must have used their own faculties ; they must 
 have recorded their own impressions, obtained either through sense, 
 reason, or feeling ; and they must have transmitted them through 
 the medium of other minds. If these faculties, therefore, are so 
 weak, wavering, and deceptive, as our author supposes, what guar- 
 antee have we that they have either appreciated or transmitted 
 truth with faultless accuracy ? Must not tradition be corrupted by 
 the very channel through which it has flowed ? 
 
 Or, to put the subject in another point of view, let us suppose 
 the Abbe himself in the act of seeking for truth previous to the 
 time when he had found the sole fountain, out of which, as he af- 
 firms, it can be obtained. How, we would ask, did he come to the 
 conclusion that we must fallback uj)(»n authority? How did he 
 prove satisfactorily to his own mind, that the source and centre of 
 authority is in the Catholic Cburch ? Did he not read, and search, 
 and argue, and meditate? Has he not written whole volumes of 
 controversy on the subject, to persuade men to a(lo])t his opinion ? 
 But, on his own principle, what is the value of all this argument ? 
 Does not his reason fotter and err, as well as that of other people? 
 and has he not, in fact, followed his own private, and, consequently, 
 
 ♦ Daniiron, " Ilistoire Jc PhiJ." Vol. i. p. 2G9.
 
 532 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 fallible judgment, in choosing to yield himself to the supreme direc- 
 tion of his spiritual head ? 
 
 In matter of fact, private judgment must be exercised, whether 
 we will or not. We come into God's world without any mark upon 
 our spirits to tell us where we are to find the truth, and it is equally 
 a matter of private opinion, whether we determine to work out our 
 own system of religious belief for ourselves, or whether we deter- 
 mine to yield to the authority of others. If reason, therefore, be 
 invalid, this very determination which it makes, to resign itself into 
 the hands of authority, may be an erroneous judgment. In short, 
 if the validity of reason be once destroyed, nothing — not even rev- 
 elation (which must be received through its medium) can save us 
 from universal scepticism ; that is, a universal " reductio ad ah- 
 surdum.''' 
 
 That our reasoning here is correct, the subsequent conduct of 
 M. de Lamennais himself has given the best possible proof. At the 
 breaking out of the Revolution of 1830, he began to advocate the 
 complete independence of the clergy, and to argue that, as they 
 were in allegiance to another and a superior power, they ought to 
 have nothing whatever to do with the temporal government. This 
 doctrine was opposed at the same time by the clergy and the pope. 
 In 1834, he published a small work, entitled, "Paroles d'un Croy- 
 ant," the object of which was to advocate pure democracy on the 
 principles of the New Testament ; a theory which was so unpala- 
 table in the same quarters, that the work itself was publicly con- 
 demned.* Baffled and spurned by the supreme authority, which 
 he had formerly represented as the very concentration of truth, he 
 had nothing left but to declare against it, to commit the crime which 
 he had before held up to reprobation, and to afford another- proof 
 that those who pretend to submit most implicitly to authority, are 
 actually, in doing so, equally following their own private judgment, 
 and quite as ready to exercise it, as all other men are, whenever 
 the occasion may require. f 
 
 • This work has been recently translated into English, by Rev. E. S. Pryce, B.A. 
 •f In his little treatise, entitled " Livre du Peuple," he rejects all political authority 
 whatever, except that which springs from the jnass.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN FRANCE. 533 
 
 DIGRESSION ON M. DE LAMENNAIS' '« ESQUISSE D'UNE 
 PIIILOSOPIIIE." 
 
 In the former edition, I made no mention of this Inst und chief work of M. de La- 
 mennius, siiict; it could not lie reckoned in any sense as helonging to the philoso[)l»y of 
 scepticism; I havi' thought, however, thil soine account of the conversion of a great 
 and brilliant mind from the princi()li; of authority as attached to human tcsliiiutny, to 
 the principle of authority as attached to human ilos.iii, might be both interestini' and 
 instructive. The work above mentioned, purjKjrts to consist of no less than six volumes. 
 The first three appeared in the year I81U, the Iburlh in IHIG, andtlielwo \:ist have still 
 to be ex^Kjctcd.* Tiie system, however, so far as it goes, is complete ; and wc sh dl find 
 little didiculty in giving a tolerably accurate view ot the principles on which the whole 
 is founded. 
 
 With regard to the idea of philosophy, the author has taken a comprehensive, and, as 
 it appears to us, a perl" ctly correct tlelinition of it. Instead of confining it within the 
 narrow limits either of psychology, or of mere termal and abstract thought, he rises to 
 the full conception of a fundamental science, which embraces all existence in its ample 
 grasp. " Philosopli}'," he says, " is theelfortof the human reason to conceive all things, 
 together with the product of that eflbrt. In this respect, it embraces all s<-iences, and 
 the developments of all sciences; as also the relations which unite them. It assembles 
 and combines all primary truths, as the primitive facts on which alone it is able to 
 operate, (because the human understanding incluiles nothing anterior) carries them up 
 to causes and principles, which the mind can grasp; di-ducts iVom them lluir conse- 
 quences, and seeks to combine them in a theory, which comprehends the universality 
 of things and their laws."-)" 
 
 With regard to the mclhoi of philosophy, the Abbe has passed, as we just hinted, 
 from the principles of taith in testimony, to faith in the primitive lH;liels of mankind. 
 The individual mind he still thinks incapable of founding a valid philosophy, as it can 
 only expound its own imlividiial views of things ; but there are certain fninihi/ion truths 
 which all mankind admit: on these we must lake our stand, and on them erect a sys- 
 tem of pure scientific knowledge. •■ The True for man," he remarks. J "is that in 
 which the human reason acquiesces. If we understand by the human reason, the rea- 
 son of the generality of men, or the common reason, then all aucccisivc variation, and 
 all simultaneous opposition disappears. The true is no longer determined by the p;is!»- 
 ing state of an individual inli IliL^encc ; but it is the ronstmU uniiersjiJ state of intelli- 
 gences of the same onbr. It is that to which th'' common reuson adheres always, and 
 everywhere ; that which is invariable like the nature of the beings themselves; and every 
 one from thence has an invariable rule lor his thought^i and juilgments, an immutable 
 law of atfirmation." This method, it will be seen, is nearly identical with Reid's prin- 
 ciple of " common sense." 
 
 Philosophy, then, starting from tins common ground, has three ({ueitiions to solve: — 
 1. Does anything exist? "J. How docs anything cxi.sl • 3. Why dins anything ex- 
 ist 1 The solution of these ipiestions comprehends the wlude sum ami sulwtnncc of 
 philo.sophical incjuiry. In answering the- first of these three questions, it is v.iin to look 
 for any I'loof, or at least any demonstration of existence. Existence is n priuiitive tiict ; 
 it comes to us spontaneously, irresistibly; it is reccivcil by all iu;uikind on a purr tijrui 
 undoubted taith. \V(r know that there is such a thing as iR-ing /►•r .v, and wc know 
 that there is such a thing as being jtcr nliuni; in other words, we have an indestructi- 
 ble iK-lief in the infinite Being, and in the ilei»endint univerw. To deny either of 
 these, Would imply a palpable contradiction of the very first elemenLs of our const-iou*- 
 ne.ss.5 The priaiary object of philosophy, then, is to invenligalc the nature and rela- 
 tions of ImmI and the universe. 
 
 The first biK)k treats of Gi)d. Respecting the existence of the Divine InMng, we need 
 no priH)f: the negation of him would be the negation oi all lM-in;» In ctintemplalini;, 
 then, the Divine existence wt; find, fro.n whatevt r |M)int of \\ ■•■ 1 thai it 
 
 comprehends tlire(; great and essential itltrif>utis. The first i .r forrr ; 
 
 for all existence implies a divine energy. The second is i/i-V/.., . , .;.,..ui intel- 
 ligence, no fornuU creation could have taken place. The ihini u /«•«•, which unilca the 
 
 • The fifth has Just now np|ioarod. t Vol. I. p. W. 
 
 t Vol. 1. p. ». ( Vol. 1. p. 35, M «tf .
 
 534 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 divine power with the divine intelligence, and completes the perfection of the supreme 
 nature. 
 
 These three determinations appear in Scripture under the ideas of the Father, the 
 Son, and the Spirit ; and all existence will be seen to flow by regular and divine laws 
 &om these eternal distinctions in the very nature of Deity itself* 
 
 The knowledge of God, then, is the basis of all philosophy. Let the eye of the soul 
 gaze stead fast ly"upon the divine nature ; let us become deeply imbued with the distinc- 
 tions of the infinite povecr, intelligence, and love, and we have the key to the compre- 
 hension of all the mysteries of being throughout the universe at large.f 
 
 Havintr contemplated the nature of God, the author next approaches the philosophy 
 of creation. On this point, several different theories have existed. Some considering 
 it absurd to suppose anything to exist beyond infinite bemg itself, have regarded the 
 universe simply as phenomenal; everything, as far as it possesses any reality, being 
 only a modification of the divine essence. This is pantheism. 
 
 Others again, to alleviate the difficulty, have maintained the existence of two exter- 
 nal principles ; this is the scheme of t/uaHsm. A third party have explained the act 
 of creation, as being the veritable production of something, which had no kind of ex- 
 istence before, out of nothing ; an hypothesis which implies that there is a greater sum 
 of being in the universe luiw than there was originally, and consequently that the 
 oritnnarself-existent being was not inji.mte. All of these theories contain a portion of 
 trulh, but not the whole. What is true in the first is, that there can be only one infi- 
 nite substance. What is true in the second is, that the universe is not a pure phenom- 
 enon, a mode of the divine. What is true in the third is, that created things do not 
 belon(T purely and essentially to the divine nature, but exist out of God.:^ 
 
 To°deduce the finite from the infinite by a regular process of thinking, the author 
 considers impossible. Both are given as primary elements of our knowledge — their co- 
 existence is a mystery ; and yet there can be no reason shown why the same substance 
 may not subsist in two different states, the one finite the other infinite ; although the 
 full comprehension of the method by which this is effectuated, is the central point of 
 philosophical truth, which we can never fully understand.§ 
 
 There are some points in the philosophy of creation, however, which we can under- 
 stand. We know that the infinite being must have contained in himself the e.rcm/V«/-.s- 
 of all finite and particular beings, what Plato called the divine ideas. We know that 
 as Deity is infinite power, intelligence, and love, these three principles must have con- 
 curred in the act of creation, lor nothing could have existed without form, nor could 
 that form be brought into being without a power to effect it ; nor could the form and 
 the force result in any product without their co-operation by a principle of attraction or 
 love. To create, therefore, is to realize irll/unit, that which first existed v-ithin the Di- 
 vine understanding, — and when we have fully explored this truth, we have done all 
 which philosophy can do to explain the mystery oi crcalinn.W 
 
 What idea, then, must we attach to the viaterial world 1 If everything is but the 
 realization of the divine ideas, what is matter? To this the Abbe replies, that the idea 
 of matter is purely nci^ativc. The only posilirc existence is power, intelligence, and 
 love; but these must be limited, in order to become finite realities; and the limitation 
 is, in fact, all that we mean by matter. " Pure matter exists not ; its very idea is 
 a contradiction. The existence of a thing which limits, implies that of a thing limited ; 
 every body then is complex. Whatever degree it occupies in the scale of being, that 
 which constitutes it a determinate being, in a word, that which there is of positive 
 in it distinct from matter, is simply that which is limited b\j matter. Of the two ele- 
 ments of which it is composed, (the limiting and the limited,) the one expresses that 
 which is, the other that which is Jiot — namely, the limit in space, the circumscription 
 of its own nature."1T The mode of creature existence, in fact, borrows everything there 
 is'real in it, from the mode of the divine existence. But in the divine existence there 
 is neither time, space, nor victinn; hence, time, space, and motion, as modes of our ex- 
 istence, are ne<!ativc. What is time 1 The limit of eternity. What is space 1 The 
 limit of immensity. What is motion 1 The limit of omnipresence."** Such is the 
 explanation of the truth — " In him we live, and move, and have our being." 
 
 HaviniT discussed the philosophy of creation, the author next proceeds to explain fur- 
 ther the nature of the universe, (Book iii.) The sources from which all our conjectures 
 on the formation of the universe may be drawn, are twofold. First of all, we must 
 appeal to science. The conclusions of Astronomy and of Geology must be marshalled, 
 and all the light must be thrown upon the subject which diligence and perseverance 
 can brintr torrether in a focus. The results of science must next be placed side by side 
 with the°conclusions of our higher speculative thinking ; and from the aid they mutu- 
 
 * Vol. i. p. 48, et seq. t Vol, i. p. 91. t Vol. i. p. 111. $ Vol. i. p. 106. 
 
 II Book ii. chap. 1, passim. % Vol. i, p. UO. ** Ibid. p. 133.
 
 SCEPTICISM IX FRANCE. 535 
 
 ally lend to each other, we must ground our views on the true philosophy of the uni- 
 vers\ Observation and reason, according to M. de Lainennais, both combine to show 
 us, that the universe consists of certain nuinitcstations of power, of intelligence, and of 
 love ; that the very qualities which philosophy fiiM shows to be inherent in the Divine 
 bi'ing, are tound by ixpfricnce to ibnn the basis of all the phcnoinena which the whole 
 of creation alike presents.* Pursuing tiiis course of investigation, the author traces 
 the manitcstations oi faiic or power through the laws of inorganic matter, through the 
 various gradations of organic existence, and in the phenomena of mind. From thence, 
 he proceeds to trace in the same way the various manifestations of intelligence; and, 
 lastly, to exhibit the great attractive principle, which in its various forms Is but the di- 
 versified manifestation of /ore f 
 
 Having exponmied, ;it some length, the laws of force, of intelligence, and of love in 
 the universe, the autlior now proceeds (Book iv.) to ,i separate consideration of the dif- 
 I'crent orders of created existences, which arc divided by him into the inorganic, the 
 organic, and the intelligent. 
 
 First, inorg uiic substances have a participation in all three of the primary attributes 
 of the infinite Being, but piXTtake prcdominantli/ of the attributes of force. The action 
 of force is always considered the prima/ ii, hence the world is represented in its prunary 
 state, as a c'ltios, with little manifestation of furiii (intelligence) or of vitality (love.) 
 On this part of the universe, the marks of iimilatlon and istdu'ion are most strongly im- 
 pressed. Each atom exi.sts only for ilsc/f floating without any fixed relation in the 
 universal blank.:): 
 
 Secondly, that which characterizes organic substances, is a vital unity, in which ex- 
 treme limitation ceases to predominate, and a spontaneous internal principle of union 
 and co-operation is evinced. This, with some individual diflerences, tbrins the main 
 peculiarity both of vegetable and animal existence. Lastly, intelligent beings arc those 
 in which power, intelligence, an<l love attam their purer t'orm and higlier inten.sity. 
 Here the laws of mere sensibility and instinct give way to those of reason and will; 
 and just in proportion as these higher laws are disowned, does man sink back into the 
 lower state of mere animal existence. 
 
 The two last books of this fir.st division of ■()hilo.sophy, relate to the general laws of 
 creation, viewed in relation to the essential properties of being. We cannot follow 
 the author particularly through these somewhat intricate researches; we simply point 
 out the fact, that he has entered into a complete discussion of the general laws of bare 
 matter, of organism, and of mind ; that he has compared these laws with the original 
 properties of being, and de'duced from thence a connected cxfH>sition of the jirinciples 
 of lite, organic and intelligent, of reproduction and of conservation; — in a word, that 
 from the primary ideas of t'orce, intelligence, and love, he has sought to cast a light 
 vpoti all the jirocesscs of nature, and all t!ie mysteries of being. Having shown that 
 the end of all creation is the manilestation of GotI, the author professes to have an- 
 swered the three questions he at first projMJscd, — to have shown ic.'iat there is, — koto it 
 is, — and ir/iij. 
 
 The lundamental branch of philo-sojihy being thus completed, we have to look around 
 for its apjilications. "The general principles we have expounded," he remarks, "de- 
 velop themselves on all sides into a multitude of consequences; .so that, from the primi- 
 tive elements of the world, jiroceed successively the ditlerent series of beings which 
 mark the phases of its develo])ment. We ought now to follow these consequences into 
 their princi[)al br. inches, ami consider more in detail the inexhaustible wonders of crea- 
 tive ])ower. And as, out of all beings known to us, mmi is th" most elevate<l ; us in 
 his form, at the same time one and complex, he combines all interior existences; it is 
 upon /lim that we must next fix our attention.'"^ 
 
 The second division of philosophy then relates to mau. The general la\vsof all intel- 
 ligent existence have been already deduced. The first great jKculiarily, then, which we 
 find in hum.in nature, when reganled in its individu.dity, is the i.i,s'' ■ui- <>t i ril. This 
 is a mystiry which all great systems of philosophy have sought to solvf, an 1 to this we 
 must Mecordingly look as a great fact, lying at the very centre of our constitution. To 
 explain the mystery of moral evil, (for all evil has its root here,) we must consider the 
 nature of the creature in n lation to the Creator. " Creation implies, in every being, 
 the co-existence of two principles; the one is that which, uniting it to the infinite, is 
 the root of its very existence, — its primitive and lunda.nental condition ; the other is 
 that, which, as constituting its proper individuality, tends to separate it from the infi- 
 nite — from God." 
 
 There are, therefore, two tendencies in the creature, the one towartU G>'l. the other 
 towards the individiint, — towards .^'7 ; and the harmonious co-ojKralion, or if we may 
 
 • Vol. 1. p. UVi, iLC. t Book il. ch^ps. 4. 5, 6. 
 
 X Book Iv. chnps. -i, 3. h Vol. I. p. 401).
 
 536 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 term it so, the equilibrium of these two tendencies, is the proper mode of existence for 
 created intelligence. Minds, however, by virtue of their freedom, have the power to 
 disturb this equilibrium, to violate the law of unity, and to give preponderance to the 
 law of separation. This isolation of the individual from the infinite, is the root, nay, is 
 the very essence of all evil. Sin can be regarded, therefore, simply in a negative point 
 of view ; it is the limitatioji of a soul from its communion with Deity ; and is, in fact, 
 the necessary possibility of a finite creature. Thus, however baneful to the subject, yet 
 evil does not introduce a single element of positire disorder into the universe regarded 
 as the realization of the Divine ideas. God is not the author of evil, for a negation 
 cannot be created. The great business of man as a moral agent, is to struggle against 
 this limitation, to develop that intelligence which lifts him anew to the intuition of God, 
 and to foster that love wMch attracts the soul back to its infinite source.* 
 
 To come back, however, to the closer consideration of man in his distinctive nature, 
 there are two points of view in which he must be contemplated. 1. As an organic 
 bein<T ; and 2, as a being of intelhgence and freedom. On M. de Lamennais' theory 
 of organization, nutrition, reproduction, life, sleep, death, &c., we shall not dwell, as 
 it involves too many particulars to be compressed into a brief sketch like the present; 
 and, though highly interesting, is rather an application than a necessary part of his 
 philosophy. We pass on, therefore, to the theory and analysis of the human mind. 
 Mind is intelligent; and to be intelligent, means, to perceive God ; that is, not only lo 
 communicate with the lower world by sense and instinct, like the brutes, but to rise to 
 the perception of pure, abstract, and eternal ideas. The light of hvnian intelligence 
 must emanate from the Divine intelligence, and consequently man has intellect only 
 by virtue of his relation to the Eternal World. The knowledge of t}i£ true again pro- 
 duces love — the aspiration of the soul after truth; and this love — this aspiration — man 
 possesses by virtue of his connection with the Divine love — the Spirit. Knowledge 
 and love together determine and give impulse to our action, and this action emanating 
 from the will is derived from our participation of the divine power — the causa causarum. 
 These faculties, however, exist in a veritable being, which itself partakes of the divine 
 substance, and the consciousness of this VMity is the essence of personality — the idea 
 of self 
 
 To begin with the theory of intelligence. This we see is now reduced to the discov- 
 ery of man's relation with the ivord — the Divine intelligence. Psychology, then, can- 
 not be the starting point in philosophy, as it was made by Descartes and Kant ; we 
 must begin with ontology — with the intuition of the Infinite, and from thence alone can 
 we come down to the proper comprehension of mind. 
 
 Intelligence, we find, is of two kinds, passive and active. When the light of the 
 Infinite flows in upon the mind, andfuitk goes forth to embrace it, the whole process 
 is, on our part, purely spontaneous. On the other hand, our reflective knowledge is 
 derived from our own designed activity ; we compare, jndg,e, reason, and thus arrive at 
 the truth by another and more laborious route. The human intellect, therefore, may 
 be viewed in two relations, one relative to truth itself — the other to the individual 
 which perceives the true. Hence, also, two orders of intellectual laws, those of intui- 
 tion, and those of logical thinking.-}- 
 
 In accordance with what has just been established, the human faculties which refer 
 to understanding must be divided into active and passive. The passive faculties are 
 two. 1. The consciousness of perceptions or intuitions spontaneously received ; and 2, 
 mevimif, which produces the sentiment of personal identity. The active faculties are 
 all grounded in the power of attention ; that primary act in which the intellectual ac- 
 tivity of the me manifests itself Of the complex operations, the first and most simple is 
 comparison ; the next is reasoning, which consists in the comparison of an indefinite 
 number of terms ; the third is imagination, the province of which is to effect a union 
 between our sensations and ideas, to image the spiritual. The expansion of these facul- 
 ties gives us the whole phenomena of our intellectual life.:}: 
 
 We come next to tlie theory of the emotions. These all result from the relation in 
 wliich we stand to the Divine love — the spirit. 
 
 As there are two kinds of intelligence, the pure and the individual, so there are two 
 kinds of love — that related to the organic or sensitive man, and that related to the 
 hitrher or spiritual man. From these result all the action and counteraction of the 
 lower and higher affections ; — the conflict of tlie flesh with the spirit. 
 
 Lastly, the theory of the will, results from the relation in which we stand to the di- 
 vine power. Here we have the exposition of human liberty, and see the laws of human 
 action evolved in connection with those of intelligence and love. And thus the author 
 succeeds by the deductive method of founding a psychology which agrees in every re- 
 
 * Vol. ii. book i. chaps. 7, 8. t Vol. ii. p. 214, &c. 
 
 + Vol. ii. book iii. chaps. 5, 9.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN FRANCE. 537 
 
 spect with the classification, to which the chief inductive systems of the present age 
 have arrived. 
 
 Tlie third volume of the work before us, treats of the various branches of human ac- 
 tivity ; — the industrial arts — architecture — painting — sculpture — music — poetry — ora- 
 tory, with the general theory of the beautiful. 
 
 The fourth volume treats of scieiicc, in which the author, passing through the dif- 
 ferent branches of natural philosophy and physiology, shows how they all harmonize 
 with the principles he has established in his fundamental inquiries. Thus terminates 
 the science of man in his individual capacity. The two remaining volumes are in- 
 tended to discuss the philosophy of hhluri/, and the doctrine of human society ; and 
 when this is completed, we shall have the sketch of a philosophy, which, however its 
 truth be adjudged, none can deny to present a noble monument of the highest philo- 
 sophical genius and power. 
 
 As an effort of inventive thinking and logical deduction, the philosophy we have 
 been examining is doubtless inferior to the principal German systems, to which it prob- 
 ably owes much of its depth. But what it fails in point of originality, is amply repaid 
 us in point of style. M dc Lamennais is reckoned among the very first masters of 
 prose composition, and no exposition we could give of his ideas can convey the least 
 conception of the perspicuity, the brilliancy, even the sublimity, with which he threads 
 his way through tlie lofty regions of thought which he essays to track. Taken as a 
 whole, we know of few modern attempts to unite the whole mass of human knowledo-e 
 in one connected affiliation of ideas, which has greater claims upon the attention 
 of every philosophical, and. we may even add, of every earnest and reli>nous mind. 
 Much there will, doubtless, be to reject, but strange indeed will it be, if in such a mass 
 of deep and oft-times devotional thinking, we do not gather some precious irerms of 
 truth, which will far more than repay the labor which may be expended upon^it. 
 
 There are several other works besides those we have ah-eady 
 mentioned, which might be discussed in connection with the school 
 of philosophical scepticism grounding itself on authority ; of these, 
 however, we shall hardly do more than mention the authors, since 
 in them all the principle, meta})hysically considered, is the same. 
 The Vicomte de Bonald, born 1762, died 1840, one of those to 
 whom we refer, is usually esteemed a clever and elegant metaphys- 
 ical writer, but withal there is an air of sophistry and insincerity, 
 which much detracts from the value of his writings, and creates 
 suspicion, even where perhaps there may be no cause for it. His 
 principal philosophical work is entitled, " Recherches Philosophi- 
 ques, sur les premiers objets des Connaissances Morales." (Paris, 
 1838.) The first chapter takes a rapid glance at the history of 
 philosophy, holding up to view the ocean of uncertainty and con- 
 tradiction in which all the various systems have been involved. 
 Havinsc made the best of tiiis disagreement, he seeks for some one 
 plain and palpable fact, as the absolute foundation of our knowledge ; 
 and finds this one fact in the gift of language.* The second chap- 
 
 * " II' s'agiroit done de trouver un fait, un fait sensiiile ct cxtoricur, un fait nbsolu- 
 ment primitif ct a priori, pour parler avec I'ecolc, absoluincnt giiural, absoluinent evi- 
 dent, absolument perpttucl dans ses edcts; un fait commun, ct ineine usuil, qui put 
 servir de base a nos connaissances, de principes a nos raisiinncmcnt.-^, de point lixe de 
 depart, de crilcrium enfin dc la verite. • ♦ ♦ Cc fait est Ic don primitif ct nccessairedu 
 langage." — Rcch. Phil., p. 8G.
 
 538 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ter treats of the origin of language ; and the third of the origin of 
 writing. The four other chapters which complete the first volume, 
 establish the true definition of man, as "intelligence servie par des 
 organes," enter into a brief analysis of thought, in opposition to 
 the ideologists ; and treat at some length the question of the ex- 
 pression of our ideas. The second volume establishes the imma- 
 teriality of the soul, discourses of primary, secondary, and final 
 causes, and ends by drawing general conclusions from the whole 
 inquiry. 
 
 The theory then which M. de Bonald advocates respecting the 
 origin of human knowledge is this : — That man when created 
 must have been furnished by God with a perfectly formed lan- 
 guage (to prove which he enters into a great variety of arguments.) 
 That, words being the signs of ideas, there must have been com- 
 municated with the primitive language a considerable stock of no- 
 tions, which form, to the present day, the nucleus to all our knowl- 
 edge, and which have been transmitted by the use of language 
 unimpaired from one generation to another. That it is vain to 
 seek for absolute knowledge from our own consciousness, from the 
 efforts of our reason, or from our moral nature ; but that we must 
 find it, if at all, in the relics of those primitive and divinely com- 
 municated notions, which have come down traditionally from age 
 to age, and which are preserved, and as it were stereotyped, in the 
 various languages of mankind.* 
 
 That there is somewhat of ingenuity in the theory before us, and 
 much art in working it up to an appearance of probability, may be 
 readily admitted ; but there are two considerations especially 
 which deprive it at once of much of its value. First, it cannot 
 be demonstrated that there was any primitive language at all, be- 
 yond the natural propensity implanted in the human mind, to em- 
 body its thoughts in external signs. To most minds, indeed, the 
 latter hypothesis is by far the more probable and simple. Again, 
 if we are to study truth from the words in which it is expressed, 
 we must remember, that those words have ideas answering to 
 them ; so that after all it is to the human reason or consciousness 
 we must look as the source from which everything proceeds, and 
 which makes words themselves the fixed representatives of thought. 
 If it should be replied, that the first thoughts of the mind must 
 have been divinely inspired, then the whole question is removed 
 from the platform on which it was before argued, and merges into 
 
 * See chaps, i. and ii.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN FRANCE. 539 
 
 the higher discussion respecting the origin of our ideas. Taking 
 up the matter in this point of view, we think that our author's 
 eloquence woukl hardly serve him to make the whole theory ap- 
 pear in quite so plausible a light.* 
 
 Another variation of the i)riiiciple of authority comes before us 
 in the works of the Abbe Bautain. A compendium rif his philo- 
 sophical opinions was published in a small tractate in the year 
 1833; this treatise has since been rei)ublished as a preliminary dis- 
 course to his " Psychologic Expcrimentale," (1839) ; to which has 
 since been added another work, entitled " Philosophic Morale," 
 (1842). 
 
 The Abbe commences by mourning the present state of intel- 
 lectual disorganization and scepticism, which prevails throughout 
 society in his native country. In order to revive the belief of the 
 people in all the great truths which lie at the basis of human hap- 
 piness, he atlirms that we must have recourse to pJtilusophy, not 
 indeed as a source, but as a guide to the source where truth alone 
 can be found. 
 
 To what philosophy, then, must we apply as most capable of 
 taking us under its guidance ? This question leads our author to 
 take a rapid glance at the ditVercnt schools at present in vogue 
 amongst the' French academic institutions. The teaching of the 
 universities is divided between three systems: — 1. The sensation- 
 alism of Condillac ; 2. The psychology of Scotland ; and, 3. The 
 modern eclecticism of Paris. With regard to the philosophy of 
 Condillac, this he considers is already virtually defunct ; its utter 
 impotence to develop any other than the most shallow and useless 
 truths, has been well nigh universally acknowledged. To the 
 psychology of Scotland somewhat more honor must be a.ssigned ; 
 but this also stops short before all the most important and signifi- 
 cent problems, and declares them incapable of solution. La.stly. 
 the eclectic philosophy, though l)riHiant in its first ai)i>i'arance, and 
 profuse in its promises, yet altogether fails of rendering us any 
 criterion for the recognition of absolute truth, and leads ultimately 
 into the abyss of pantheism. 
 
 In the theological seminaries of France, tico philosophical meth- 
 ods are recognized ; that of the scholastic rationalism. an<l that of 
 common sense. The scholastic system is a bare logical formalism, 
 
 • The otlirr two principal works of this author, tlj<^ " I.tVislation Primitivr," nnd the 
 " Mehjngrs I.ilti-niirrH, I*oiiti<|iii-s ct rhiloKophinucs." Ir«>;il aliiiust onlirrly of political 
 and OBconomic quoations). For an account of iionalJ'd htcrary life, »cc " Dictonnaire 
 des Sciences Philosophiqucs," in Ivco,
 
 540 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 which ought to have been defunct three centuries ago. The prin- 
 ciple of common sense, on the other hand, requires some httle 
 consideration. By this, M. Bautain intends to signify all those 
 systems of philosophy which essay to build themselves upon the 
 universal testimony of mankind. It is more particularly in refer- 
 ence to M. de Lamennais that he has contested this principle. 
 The doctrine of authority, which that brilliant writer has pro- 
 pounded, as resting upon the catholic testimony of mankind, he 
 considers to be hampered with the greatest absurdity, and the most 
 palpable contradictions. The theory, he shows, comes to this, that 
 although the individual reason is fallible, yet by the combination 
 of an indefinite number of fallible minds, we may at length attain 
 to a principle of infallibility. M. Bautain, having thus cleared all 
 the other systems of the country out of his way, next propounds 
 his own doctrine, namely, that all infallible truth comes from God ; 
 that the loord is the sole source to which we have to look ; that 
 here alone we gain a fixed point to rest upon, one which lies en- 
 tirely without the perpetual oscillations of human opinion. Still 
 philosophy is not to be rejected. It has once led the mind of man 
 away from the truth, by its false pretensions : now it has to make 
 reparation by leading him back to the only source where eternal 
 truth can be found. The problem of philosophy, therefore, in the 
 present day, is to prove the necessity of a revelation, and show 
 how all human efforts terminate there, as in their last resting place, 
 their final goal.* 
 
 With this purpose in view, the author has entered with great 
 learning and acuteness into the question of pyschology and of 
 morals. Although he rests all ultimate certitude upon divine au- 
 thority, yet he gives a wide and a glorious scope for philosophy, in 
 constituting it the handmaid of revelation, the naidaywyog^ by which 
 we are to be conducted into the higher spheres of truth. We see 
 not, indeed, (with some adjustments respecting the primary 
 grounds of certainty in matters of philosophy,) any obstacle 
 against our forming a coalition with the principle here enunciated, 
 namely, that philosophy is to be our guide into those higher re- 
 gions, where we can gaze upon truth only by the superior aid of a 
 light from heaven. f 
 
 Another author, differing in many respects from the preceding, 
 
 * Discours Preliminaire. 
 
 t M. Bautain, together with I\I]\I. JoufTroy and Damiron, were the three earHest and 
 most able pupils of Cousin at the normal school. His philosophy often betrays the 
 master-mind who instructed him.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN FRANCE. 541 
 
 yet maintaining a theory which has some points of similarity, is 
 the Baron d'Eckstein. This erudite writer, though a native of 
 Denmark, yet, from the conclusion of the last European war, be- 
 came a regular inhabitant of France, and identified himself with 
 her in all her religious and political interests. A man of great 
 learning as well as great readiness in embodying his opinions in 
 writing, he undertook the editorship of a periodical entitled " Le 
 Catholique," from the articles of which alone his philosophy is to 
 be gathered. With a tone more mild and liberal than most of 
 those we have already noticed, he attached himself, for the most 
 part, to the views of that theological party, denying (and here con- 
 sists his scepticism) the possibility of obtaining truth from the tes- 
 timony of our own individual consciousness, or the efforts of our 
 own individual reason, but referring us, for that purpose, to the 
 authority of the whole mass of humanity. 
 
 " It is not the individual man," he affirms, " the man of this age 
 or of this country, to which we are to look, but to the ideal man, 
 the type and model of the whole race. But where is this to be 
 found, except in Adam and in Christ, who both represent our na- 
 ture ; the one, as created good, and then fallen — the other, as re- 
 generated and divinely restored? Christ and Adam! — here we 
 have man — the true and absolute man. What, then, must we 
 study in order to know him ? We must consult tradition ; we 
 must thoroughly initiate ourselves, by history, into the real sense 
 of primitive Christian tradition. The whole is an affair of erudi- 
 tion and historical criticism ; the great question is, to examine and 
 understand the different monuments, which can retrace to us these 
 two models of humanity — thf? one placed at the cradle of the 
 world, the other at its re-creation. First, our view must be turned 
 to India, and the regions which touch upon it ; then, Greece and 
 Alexandria, Rome and Judea; all these announce, prei)are, deter- 
 mine, and accompany the coming of the God-man. And as, from 
 Adam to Christ, and from Christ to our own time, the human tyj^e 
 which they bear in them, has not passed from age to :ige, from 
 country to country, without altering — as it has had its variations, 
 its accidents, its vicissitudes, we must accordingly follow them 
 through all their movements ; we nmst explain and systematize 
 them ; and by so doing only can we embrace the whole sul)ject, 
 and give to our ideas the character of catholicity."* 
 
 This brief summary may suffice to give a general idea of the 
 
 • Damiron's " Ilistoirc dc Phil." vol. i. p. 313.
 
 542 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 method by which the Baron proposes search after truth ; to de- 
 scribe his distrust in all purely philosophical processes ; and to ex- 
 plain on what grounds it is that he lays so great a stress on the 
 principle of authority. 
 
 From the views we have given of the theologico-sceptical school 
 in France, it will be seen, that, while all its advocates take their 
 stand upon catholic truth, mediated by authority, yet the principle 
 of authority itself is accepted in many different significations. 
 With M. de Lamennais, in his earlier writings, catholic truth was 
 that which comes down to us by human testimony, from the primi- 
 tive revelations of God to mankind ; while in his later works, it is 
 that \Wiich rests upon the fundamental beliefs of our moral and in- 
 tellectual nature. With M. de Bonald, the principle of authority 
 vested itself in the primitive fact of language ; a theory by which 
 he sought to establish the validity and divine authority both of the 
 monarchical and ecclesiastical institutions of the Christian world. 
 With the Baron d'Eckstein, the doctrine of authority assumes an- 
 other and more genial form ; it is authori^ based upon the deepest 
 researches into the historical facts and catholic beliefs of universal 
 man. The more narrow and least tenable theory of authority, is 
 that of M. de Maistre, which makes catholic truth exist simply in 
 the bosom of the Catholic church, and ignores all philosophy which 
 does not base itself upon its peculiar doctrines. 
 
 This latter system still numbers its advocates in France, and is 
 maintained, in some instances, with an amount of learning and 
 ability, which, while we repudiate the doctrine, commands our re- 
 spect for its advocates. We might mention the eloquent " con- 
 ferences" of M. Lacordaire, and the elaborate work of M. Nicolas 
 on Philosophy applied to Religion, as recent instances of the ac- 
 tivity of this school. These, however, belong more to the depart- 
 ment of theology. The most able work of a purely philosophical 
 character with which I am acquainted, is an " Essay on Panthe- 
 ism," by M. Maret.* As this essay gives, perhaps, the most per- 
 fect example of the views and position of the philosophico-catholic 
 school in France, at the present time, it may be desirable to give 
 a brief exposition of its plan and its arguments. 
 
 The main object which the author has in view, is to fix the 
 charge of pantheism upon all the modern philosophical systems, 
 and then to hold up the catholic doctrine as the only alternative to 
 which the human mind can have recourse. To accomplish this 
 
 * " Essai sur le Pantheisme dans les Societes modernes," par H. Maret. (Paris, 1841.)
 
 SCEPTICISM IN FRANCE. 543 
 
 purpose, he begins by an examination of the principal idealistic 
 systems in vogue ; chiefly, however, of those advocated in France. 
 The most prominent of these is the philosophy of ]\I. Cousin. 
 Having done justice to the splendid abilities of that great writer, 
 he proceeds first of all to examine the prominent doctrines to 
 which the weight of his name is attached. Taking up succes- 
 sively his theory of pure reason, of the infinite, of creation, and 
 of history, he attempts to show, that they will imply a varying, 
 unsettled, progressive truth, which is none other than bringing 
 down the infinite to the finite ; making Deity the process of mind 
 in the world, and instituting, in fact, a di.sguised pantheism. The 
 same charge which is thus fixed upon the master, is next carried 
 on to the pupils. MM. Jouffroy and Damiron are both held up to 
 view as disguised, perhaps unconscious pantheists ; at all events, 
 it is argued, that nothing else can flow from the princij^les involved 
 in their philosophy. 
 
 The very same fundamental principles are next discovered in 
 the writings of MM. Michelet, Lerminier, and Guizot : for do 
 they not all advocate the jirogressiveness of truth, and the pro- 
 gressiveness of society ; and do they not regard this development 
 of humanity as the revelation of the Divine ideas ? If God thus 
 develop himself in humanity, what can we conclude, but that he 
 is not eternally one all-perfect being ; but is, in fact, the unity and 
 totality of all iJiought in the world — that is, one with the uni- 
 verse.* 
 
 M. Maret next approaches the various systems of modern mys- 
 ticism. Collecting together the views of Saint Simon, of Fourier, 
 of Pieri-e Leroux, and the whole school of social progressionists. 
 he analyzes them much in the same way as those of the eclectics, 
 and concludes that these are, even in a higher degree than the 
 former, pantheistic in their whole nature and tendency. f These 
 criticisms being completed, wo have in ihe next cha|)(er the real 
 point of the whole essay, namely, that there is no possible medium 
 between pantheism on the one side, and catlu)licism on the other. 
 The last century witnessed the spreail ol deisiie and atheistic 
 opinions. These were, in fact, nothing at their root but utter and 
 universal scepticism. They explained none of the great (jueslions 
 relating to the universe, none relating to the origin, nature, and 
 destiny of man — in a word, they rejecteil all truth except the mere 
 impressions of sense, and degradeil mankind, morally and re- 
 • " Essai BUT Ic« PanUicismc," chap. i. f Chnp. ii.
 
 544 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ligiously speaking, to the level of the brute. In the present cen- 
 tury, scepticism has been mastered and subdued. The great 
 questions respecting the universe, the soul, and the Deity, have 
 revived ; the belief in the spiritual has returned ; but have the 
 problems thus excited been duly solved, and repose given to the 
 mind eager for truth ? The last chapters are an answer to this 
 inquiry. Every attempt at a philosophical solution throughout 
 Europe, has ended in pantheism ; and thus the only two alternatives 
 for every thinking man, is either to declare himself a pantheist, or 
 to take refuge in the bosom of the Catholic church. The whole 
 question may be reduced to a small compass. There are, says the 
 author, two notions of truth, and two methods of investigating 
 it. First, it is regarded as something fixed and stable, something 
 which knows no progression, but, when once grasped by the mind, 
 is eternally the same. This is the catholic view. " Catholicism 
 starts from a divine revelation ; it believes that the divine truths 
 are preserved on the earth by a living and infallible authority ; in 
 a word, it assigns to this authority, as the depositary of the divine 
 word, characters which distinguish it from all without, and permit 
 all men to read upon it the seal of God." " The second notion of 
 truth represents it as moving, variable, progressive. Truth is es- 
 sentially relative to the age and the manners ; it follows the move- 
 ments of time, the modifications of space. Truth, then, is not the 
 point of departure for humanity, it is rather the term to which we 
 seek to arrive." These, according to M. Maret, are the two alter- 
 nations to which every reflecting mind must come, and the claims 
 of which are forever irreconcilable. Accept the latter, and you 
 accept pantheism ; accept the former, and you find rest in the rn- 
 falhbility of the Church. 
 
 The matter being brought to this crisis, the author's work be- 
 comes now straightforward. He has simply to refute the one 
 alternative, and maintain the other. To do this, he offers us a 
 rapid history of pantheism from the earliest ages, and collecting its 
 fundamental principles, first classifies, and then demolishes them at 
 his leisure. Next he gives us a summary of the Catholic doctrine, 
 and ends by repelling the objections of rationalists and unbelievers 
 against Christianity, as though by that means he were defending 
 and establishing Catholicism. 
 
 The work, as a whole, though exhibiting much talent, is as fine 
 a specimen of Jesuitical sophistry as could very well be adduced. 
 It evinces the talent (so necessary to the sophist) of passing over
 
 SCEPTICISM IN FRANCE. 545 
 
 the crucial points of the question with an air of confident rapidity, 
 and then bringing whole magazines of artillery against doctrines 
 which his opponents really hold no more than himself. The charge 
 of pantheism affixed to the whole range of modern philosophy, is 
 as unjust as it is absurd; and the imputation of consequences upon 
 which that whole charge is buih, one of the most insidious of all 
 the logical fallacies. The authors whom he criticizes, are in most 
 instances quite as strongly opposed to pantheism as he is ; and, 
 even if it were not so, they do not present every alternative which 
 modern philosophy can exhibit on the idealistic side of the question. 
 But to come to the main point of the argument, namely, the two 
 views of truth, on which tiio author erects his whole superstructure ; 
 what real force is there, after all, in this much vaunted demonstra- 
 tion ? None whatever. It all proceeds upon the confusion of 
 Truth, regarded in its objective, and in its subjective point of view. 
 We admit, — all philosophers, except professed pantheists, admit that 
 truth, objectively considered, is fixed and eternal. What writers, 
 in fact, have maintained the eternal and imnmtable distinctions of 
 moral relations more earnestly than the very philosofjhers he up- 
 braids and opposes ? At the same time, there is assuredly a prog- 
 ress in the subjective signification which n)ankind attach to these 
 objective realities. Has not religion itself though objectively the 
 same, appeared under different forms in different dispensations ? 
 and can the eternal ideas which Christianity involves, be manifested 
 to the human mind through every age of the world alike I Under 
 the light of this very simple and obvious distinction, the argument 
 we are considering vanishes into a perfect nonentity : we still see 
 that truth may be one, and }et that the human mind mav make 
 continued advancement in the development of it ; nay. that it is 
 necessary to prevent the absolute stagnation of the human intel- 
 lect, that it should be ever pressing onwards to higher perfection. 
 For here we know in part, and we prophesy (teach) in j)art ; and 
 it is not till that which is perfect be come, that that which is in 
 part shall l)e done away. 
 
 We should say, therefore, that instead of there being no me«lium 
 between the pantheist and the catholic, the truth lies precisely in this 
 middle point, which is altogether jxissed over. The pantheist takes 
 his stand upon the subjective princii)le, the Romanist upon the ob- 
 jective ; the stand-point of a truly catholic system is in the centre 
 between both. While it admits the immutability of tnith objrctivrly 
 considered, it maintains the doctrine oi pros^rcss as it regards truth 
 
 35
 
 546 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 subjectively considered. And thus while it upholds the unity, the 
 personality, and the unchangeableness of God, it throws the incentive 
 of hope into the field of human research, and instead of bidding us 
 pace the monotony of one eternal circle of ideas, tells us to gird 
 our faculties to new achievements, and to prepare the world for a 
 happier day. 
 
 In concluding this sketch of the French authoritative scepticism* 
 we shall make one or two observations upon the principle of au- 
 thority itself. And, first of all, we are far from denying its value, 
 upon many important topics within the range of human knowledge. 
 In theology, for example, when once we have got beyond the pre- 
 cincts of natural religion, authority is our best guide ; — inspired 
 authority standing foremost, that of tradition acting occasionally as 
 its interpreter. With the truth affirmed by such authority, philos- 
 ophy has little to do, except expounding the ideas on which it rests, 
 and testing the validity of the evidence by which it is upheld ; for 
 beyond this it can only reserve for itself the power of pronouncing 
 a veto upon any dogma which contradicts our natural faculties. 
 The God of revelation and the Creator of the human faculties are 
 the same ; and if these seem to contradict each other, it only proves 
 either that the revelation is spurious, (we know that our faculties 
 are not,) or that we have misinterpreted its meaning. With this 
 exception, however, we conceive that the authority of a well-au- 
 thenticated revelation must be regarded, within its own proper 
 limits, as paramount and supreme. 
 
 Authority, however, while it is most valuable within the province 
 of theology, yet, even within the range of philosophy itself, is often 
 of no little service. The appeal to the common consent of man- 
 kind, is one which has great weight in aiding us to determine ac- 
 curately the entire phenomena of the human consciousness. Indi- 
 vidual observation may prove imperfect or fallacious ; but where 
 the common consent of mankind bears testimony to the certainty 
 and uniformity of any of our mental phenomena, we can have the 
 less hesitation in regarding them as valid. What other than the 
 principle of authority, as far as regards psychical observation, was 
 that of Reid, when he appealed to the common sense of mankind ? 
 What other is the principle of all who strengthen the testimony of 
 their own consciousness by that of their fellow creatures ? In phi- 
 losophy itself, therefore, authority is not to be altogether despised ; 
 while with regard to matters of faith and mere opinion, it is the 
 great appeal in which we must take refuge — the best guide by
 
 SCEPTICISM IN FRANCE. 547 
 
 which we can be directed — the clearest voice that speaks to us 
 amidst the discordant sound of private judgment. 
 
 Now the error of the school which we have just described lies 
 here, — that instead of thankfully receiving the aid of authority in 
 those questions on which it is entitled to speak, it has exaggerated, 
 if not its value, still the extent of its application, and made it at 
 length the sole organ or channel of all truth. The fallacy couched 
 in this procedure becomes evident at once from the consideration, 
 that no truth which comes to us through a secondary medium, as 
 does that of authority, can be absolute onA fundamental. However 
 unobjectionable the medium itself may be, still the knowledge it 
 conveys has to be received through our own faculties ; and if those 
 faculties be not of equal credibility, of course the whole result may 
 be vitiated. ^To plant oneself upon authority, and then deny the 
 validity of the human intelligence to discover, test, or appreciate 
 truth, is like sawing off the bough of the tree upon which we are 
 standing. As the bough, severed from the stem, must fall and hurl 
 us with it to the earth, so authority, if severed from the whole tree 
 of human knowledge, must sink to the ground, and carry those who 
 trust to it to the same ruin. God makes his first and fundamental 
 revelation to us in the constitution of our own minds. If the cred- 
 ibility of this primitive revelation be rejected, it is impossible ever 
 to prove the reality of any other. For how can we prove it ? 
 How, except by the laws of reason and the rulee of testimony ? 
 In these, accordingly, all truth, as iar as we are concerned, must 
 be grounded ; and the scepticism, which would shake their author- 
 ity, though it attempt to furnish another in its place, must at length 
 prove detrimental to the stability of the whole edifice of human 
 knowledge. 
 
 The scepticism we have just described is without doubt that 
 which possesses, in France, the most learned and accomplished 
 supporters. It is by no means, however, that under which the 
 greatest number of minds in that country are to be enrolled. In 
 England, the popular scci>ticism, if there be any, is fluit which 
 sacrifices philosophy on the shrine of thecdogical laith : in France, 
 on the contrary, it is rather of the nature we have already de- 
 scribed, under the appellation of the scepticism of ignorance — a 
 scepticism in which many of the most necessary beliefs of human-
 
 548 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ity have been altogether lost. The history of France, during the 
 last two or three centuries, unfolds to us the process, by which that 
 country has well nigh sunk its faith in God and immortality. The 
 age of the Reformation caused to resound through the French 
 provinces, as it did through the whole of Europe, the war-cry of 
 intelligence and liberty against spiritual despotism. Persecution 
 and bloodshed followed, and the holiest precepts of religion were 
 often violated by those, who stood forth as its firmest champions. 
 The effect of this upon the minds, that stood by to gaze upon the 
 contest, could not be long of an equivocal nature. Their faith in 
 the Christianity they professed was shaken at once by the argu- 
 ments of the Reformer, and the practice of the Catholic, the former 
 appealing to their intellectual, the latter to their moral nature ; and 
 they learned, unhappily, to despise the one, before their belief was 
 replaced by the other. The results of this soon became evident in 
 the rise of men, who, like Voltaire, sported with the most solemn 
 truths of human belief; in the estabhshment of the atheistical 
 school of the French Encyclopaedists ; and, what was still more 
 decisive, in the sympathy with which their works were greeted by 
 thousands throughout the country. 
 
 What was thus fairly commenced, the horrors of the Revolution 
 so effectually completed, that there was hardly a single region of 
 human thought in which the tide of opposition, that raged against 
 everything existing under the old regime, was not manifested. 
 Monarchical institutions gave way to complete democracy ; the 
 various classes of human society were all thrown down to the 
 broad level of citizenship ; the religion of Christ (the religion of 
 pure spirituality) gave way to the grossest materialism ; the mo- 
 rality of the Gospel, which enjoins self-sacrifice, was exchanged for 
 that selfish system which knows no good but pleasure, no evil but 
 pain. The reaction, in a word, was intense, complete, universal, 
 and as the next generation (one which had been born and fostered 
 in these principles) grew up, though there was still the moral 
 nature and the religious capacity innate within them, yet, alas ! 
 there was no lofty virtue for the one, no God for the other. The 
 nineteenth century, accordingly, has exhibited to us the people of 
 France, to a vast extent, witliout a belief \n the great truths of God 
 and immortality : happy will it be, if, too eager to supply this want, 
 it does not again rush into the dim regions of religious mysticism 
 and superstition. Perhaps we should be hardly correct in terming 
 the scepticism of ignorance a philosophical school at all : it is rather
 
 SCEPTICISM IN GERMANY. 549 
 
 the negation of a school ; still it is a great fact in the present aspect 
 of that country, and, as such, we thought it not right to pass it by 
 without a cursory notice. 
 
 Sect. III. — Modern Scepticism in Germany. 
 
 The intellectual atmosphere of Germany is one by no means 
 calculated to encourage the growth of scepticism, least of all to 
 cherish those two species of it, which we have described as exist- 
 ing to a large extent in France. Whatever other characteristics 
 the German mind may or may not possess, there ar^few who 
 would deny to it a power of deep reflection upon the world within, 
 and a quiet independence that loves to probe every moral question 
 to its foundations. The Germans have long proved themselves to 
 be thft thinkers and the investigators of Europe, furnishing the 
 material out of which the more adroit and polished minds of Eng- 
 land and France draw perpetual supplies for their higher literary 
 productions. 
 
 If this be true, what should we say is likely to be the influence 
 of two such mental qualities as those above mentioned, in relation 
 to the progress of philosophy ? It appears evident, we think, at 
 first sight, that a people who reflect deeply, and who investigate 
 patiently, are not likely to become, to any wide extent, involved 
 in the scepticism of ignorance. It is those who allow their faith 
 to be destroyed, without having reflective habits of mind suffi- 
 ciently active to supply the loss with equal rapidity, that are liable 
 to fall into such a state of mind. The German mind, however, 
 cannot well be without a faith. If one system of beHef falls an- 
 other rapidly springs up ; if one dogma comes to an end, another 
 is ready on the instant to take its j)lace. So great is the fertility 
 of thought and speculation in the German world of intellect, that 
 there seem to be theories in store to supi)ly any imaginable series 
 of intellectual loss that the future may present. Tliere may be 
 among the Germans hypotheses monstrous as well as credible, 
 there may be systems of metaphysics and of theology extravagant 
 as well as sober ; there may be fancies for the poetical, and wan- 
 derings for the eccentric ; but there cannot well be an absolute 
 nonentity of belief from not knowing what there is to believe. 
 
 These same mental (jualities, again, stand almost as much op- 
 posed to the scepticism of authority. To search into the monu-
 
 550 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ments of antiquity, is, indeed, a labor for which the German mind 
 is admirably quahfied ; but when all the authority of these records 
 is discovered, its independence prompts further questions of this 
 nature : — What is the authority of this authority ? What means 
 had men of yore to discover truth more than I have myself? Or, 
 if the authority be Divine, the question still comes, What is the 
 testimony on which it rests ? What the process by which it 
 reaches my own mind? What the ideas it involves? The Ger- 
 man thinker is too subjective in his views and tendencies to be 
 satisfied with any merely objective evidence. He wants to know 
 what must necessarily be true to himself individually ; what con- 
 fidence is' to be placed even in the dictates of his own reason and 
 his own consciousness ; in other words, he wants a fundamental 
 philosophy as a substratum, before he can allow to authority the 
 command, which it claims over the human mind. 
 
 The only scepticism, then, of which Germany is in danger, is 
 that of the philosophical or absolute kind ; for, should the reflec- 
 tions and the investigations of her metaphysicians in any instan- 
 ces so clash with one another, that no definite results can be ar- 
 rived at, such a scepticism, of course, must follow. The only 
 instance, perhaps, in the whole philosophical history of Germany, 
 in which a shallow scepticism came into vogue, is to be found dur- 
 ing the reign of the Leibnitzian-Wolfian metaphysics. At that 
 time the influx of French writers, on the one hand, disseminated a 
 low, worthless sensationalism ; while, on the other, the pedantry 
 and formalism of the idealistic school brought the deeper method 
 of philosophizing into universal contempt. The result was what 
 we just remarked ; a low, shallow, and railing scepticism, un-Ger- 
 man in its real character, but rendered sufficiently influential by 
 circumstances to produce a baneful effect, both upon literature 
 and morals. It was this, in fact, that roused up the mighty spirit 
 of Kant to an intellectual effort, which swept away all the minor 
 actors from the stage, and commenced a new scene in the won- 
 drous drama of the world's philosophy. 
 
 Whilst Kant, however, opposed so successfully the shallow scep- 
 ticism of the age in which he lived, his philosophy contained many 
 germs of another species of scepticism far more deep and philo- 
 sophical. Determined to silence forever the quibbles and sophis- 
 tries, in which so many were indulging, respecting the fundamental 
 questions of ontology, of morals, of religion, he conceived the idea 
 of removing them into a region altogether inaccessible to the reach
 
 SCEPTICISM IN GERMANY. 651 
 
 of ol'dinary logic, and there to let them repose in solemn majesty. 
 The general idea of the Kantian metaphysics is, we trust, suffi- 
 ciently remembered by the attentive reader to render repetition 
 needless ; but still, to prevent the obscurity, which a too great 
 brevity might cause, we shall re-enumerate one or two of the prin- 
 cipal conclusions. Of the three great faculties of the human mind, 
 sensation, understanding, and reason, the first alone is capable of 
 furnishing the ma^eWa/of our knowledge, the two latter are merely 
 formal. Sensation gives us the simple fact of objective existence ; 
 understanding gives form to whatever notions we may have of it. 
 Sensation, accordingly, in making known to us the reality of an 
 objective world, does not tell us of what it consists, whether it be 
 of a spiritual or of any other essence ; it simply assures us of ob- 
 jective 7?/ienomena ; and to these phenomena, accordingly, our real 
 knowledge of the world without must be confined. Again : since 
 the understanding gives to our notions all their peculiar forms and 
 aspects, defining their quantity, quality, relation, and mode of ex- 
 istence, this part of our knowledge must be purely subjective, and 
 its truth, consequently, depend upon the validity of our faculties. 
 But further ; not only is the understanding merely formal in its 
 nature, but reason is so likewise. Reason strives to bring the 
 notions of the understanding to a systematic unity, and in doing 
 so it personifies its own laws, and regards them as having a real 
 objective existence ; the three personifications being the soul, the 
 universe, and the Deity. Any logical reasoning upon these three 
 ideas, upon their existence, or their nature, Kant shows to be en- 
 tirely fallacious, giving rise in each instance to endless paralogisms. 
 They are, in fact, as ideas, the spontaneous productions of our own 
 reason, and to argue upon them as being either realities or non- 
 realities, is allowing the understanding to intrude upon a province 
 (that, namely, of the supersensual or spiritual) with which it has 
 nothing whatever to do. 
 
 In this way, Kant removed the chief jjoints around which scep- 
 ticism delighted to linger entirely out of the reach of all argumenta- 
 tion. If any one disputed respecting the material world, his reply 
 was, " Of what value is discussion about an existence, of which we 
 can never know aught beyond mere phenomena?" Should any 
 one contest or propound any theories respecting the nature of the 
 soul, the origin of the world, or the existence of God, the same 
 withering repulse was given, " Why reason of that which lies be- 
 yond all reasoning?" " Your notions of the soul, of the universe,
 
 552 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 of God," he would continue, "are but subjective ideas; they are 
 personifications of your own mental processes ; I can give you 
 strong reasons of a moral nature to believe in the soul and in God ; 
 but, as for theoretical science, it is incapable of saying anything 
 whatever, whether it be for or against.'" 
 
 But now it becomes a question to us, whether Kant, in cutting 
 off the plea of the sceptic of his day, did not prove too much ; 
 and whether he does not give occasion to another kind of scepti- 
 cism, more deeply laid than that which he destroyed. Let us see 
 the results, to which his principles gave origin. Reinhold, whom 
 we must look upon as the immediate continuator of Kant's philos- 
 ophy, was dissatisfied with the analysis which it furnished of the 
 perceptive faculty. The truth of our sense-perceptions, he con- 
 sidered, was too rapidly taken for granted ; and he suggested, 
 therefore, the propriety, nay, the necessity, of going one step back- 
 wards, and analyzing the consciousness itself, as that in which the 
 perceptions themselves are to be found. The reality, therefore, of 
 an objective world lying without our consciousness was put in a 
 much less obvious light by Reinhold than by Kant. The latter 
 took the phenomena of sense at once for granted, as much so, 
 indeed, as did Locke himself; the former, on the contrary, affirmed, 
 that a philosophical conviction of their reality must result from a 
 due analysis of the consciousness, and a recognition of the objec- 
 tive element which it contains. 
 
 The spirit of speculation being thus once more aroused, scepti- 
 cism began to make its formal appearance in the person of Gottlob 
 Ernst Schulze, then professor of philosophy at the university of 
 Helmstadt. In the year 1792, vSchulze published an anonymous 
 work, entitled, "TEnesidemus, or a Treatise on the Principles of the 
 fundamental Philosophy of Professor Reinhold."* In this work he 
 denies that Reinhold has succeeded in proving, that any distinction 
 of subject and object, of matter and form, can be learned from the 
 analysis of man's inner consciousness. There exist in the con- 
 sciousness itself, without any controversy, the varied phenomena 
 which it presents to us ; but as to separating these phenomena into 
 different elements, and showing that the one belongs to the subjec- 
 tive, the other to the objective world, this he affirms to be impossible. 
 
 * jEnesidemus, oder iiber die Fundamente der von dem Herrn Professor Reinhold, 
 in Jena gelieferten Elemcntar-philosophie, nebst Einer Vertheidigung des Skepticismus 
 gegen die Anmassungen der vernunftkritik. (1792.) The strain of this work is purely 
 critical : its sole object being to confute the attempt of Reinhold to found a purely ra- 
 tional and dogmatical system, respecting the human consciousness and the certainty 
 of our knowledge respecting the objectively real.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN GERMANY. 553 
 
 In urging these results, Schulze did not intend to deny the ex- 
 istence of an objective world, he merely intended to show, that it 
 is impossible for us to prove it. His scepticism, therefore, consists 
 in the conviction he professed, that a fundamental philosophy, in 
 which the phenomena of existence are explained and man's rela- 
 tion to the outward world deduced, cannot possibly be realized. 
 His reasons for this are condensed by Michelet, in his History of 
 Modern Philosophy, into the following particulars. First, in so far 
 as speculative philosophy must be a science (Wissenschaft), it re- 
 quires principles which are unconditionally true. Such principles, 
 however, are impossible, because the coincidence of the idea of a 
 thing with the thing itself is never given necessarily and imme- 
 diately. Secondly, whatever the speculative philosopher asserts 
 that he knows respecting the fundamental principles of conditional 
 existence around him, he knows only through the medium of his 
 own ideas. The understanding, however, which is conversant 
 simply with ideas, has no power to represent to itself any objective 
 reality. Representations are not things themselves, and ideas can 
 never decide upon the objectively real. Thirdiv, the speculative 
 philosopher rests his science of the absolute grounds of conditional 
 existence mainly upon an inference drawn from the nature of an 
 effect to the nature of a corresponding cause. From the nature of 
 an effect, however, that of its cause cannot with the slightest safety 
 be concluded ; for, that is no other than concluding the conditioned 
 from the unconditioned. By arguments of this kind, Schulze aimed 
 at resisting the pretensions of speculative philosophy ; and had he 
 followed out his principles, would, in all j>n)babilitv, have furnished 
 in its place a theory of human knowledge grounded entirely ujx)n 
 experience as the only real foundation.* 
 
 The sceptical tendency, however, which was so plainly mani- 
 fested by Schulze, was not followed up to any extent by after- 
 writers. Jacob Sigismond Beck and Salomon Maiinon, it is true, 
 added somewhat to the sceptical arguments against Reinhold. and 
 for some time threatened to founil another school of phiU)sopJiy, 
 in which all the conclusions of the human reason respecting the 
 grounds of our knowledge should be contested and denied. f This 
 
 ♦ .Sduil/.c's views rc3^)crtinir the n al nature of human knowhtlgr .iir containiHl in 
 his " Kritik der thcorttisrhrn lMiilos()|ihif." This is terincil ilo^iualit-al Ht-rpticism, in 
 contradistinction to the otliur work, which is terincJ "Critical Scfjjticisni," or " Anli- 
 dogmatisin." .See ISIirhclit, vol. i. |i. *i-ir», <7 srij. 
 
 t Heck's •' F.inzij.' iimglicher .^^tamlpuiikt," was a work of »omc reputation. He op- 
 posed alike Reinhold and Schulze, and maintained a syslcin, not of ein|iirical srrpti- 
 cisin, like tiic latter, l)Ut a system of idealistic scepliciam, which wiu not far from tread- 
 ing ujwn the verge of Kichte's suhjectivc idealism.
 
 554 MODERN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 sceptical tendency, however, proved of short duration ; and from 
 the opening of the nineteenth century to the present hour, Ger- 
 many has presented no school whatever, we might almost say no 
 individual, who could be accused of cherishing the spirit of abso- 
 lute scepticism. 
 
 The younger Fichte, in summing up the different directions in 
 which the speculative spirit of Germany in modem times has 
 flowed, makes the following mention of Schulze and his principles, 
 together with their nature and their origin : — " The reflecting (or 
 subjective) school, since its revival by Kant and Jacobi, has in- 
 cluded within itself its whole process of development. We need 
 only to place the individual forms of it as they stand by themselves 
 in connection, or to develop them logically from one another, in 
 order to embrace the whole cycle of their possible phases. The 
 separation of the consciousness from objective reality in our reflec- 
 tion, can, on the one hand, proceed to the complete negation of 
 the possibility of deciding upon truth (scepticism of Schulze) ; or, 
 on the other hand, reflection may bethink itself of the original and 
 unalterable certainty attached to the consciousness, whether it 
 arise from faith or intuitive reason. If the certainty arise from 
 faith, as with Jacobi, then bare reflective knowledge is regarded as 
 empty, unnecessary, yea, superfluous in the acquisition of truth : 
 if it arise from intuitive reason, then there is room left for a species 
 of thinking between reflection and immediate faith. Fries, there- 
 fore, the connecting link between Kant and Jacobi, placed knowl- 
 edge and faith as directly opposed to each other — the one referring 
 to the world of phenomena, the other to the higher world of ideas. 
 Boutterwek again, showed the unsatisfactory nature of this relation, 
 pointing out the alternative, either of giving one's self up entirely 
 to faith, or of boldly carrying out the principles of scepticism. 
 Eschenmayer, at length, embraced the former of these opposites, 
 in which he realized the direct extreme of the contrary hypothesis 
 of Schulze."* 
 
 Such are the different hypotheses which, according to Fichte, 
 may arise from the separation of subject and object in the human 
 consciousness by means of reflection. How far the sceptical ten- 
 dency might have been followed out, had nothing occurred to stop 
 its career, it is impossible to say ; but just at the juncture to which 
 our present history refers, Fichte began to pour forth his startling 
 idealism, and to draw away the whole philosophical world in that 
 
 * " Gegensatz Wendepunkt und ZicI heutiger Philosophie," Part i. p. 298.
 
 SCEPTICISM IN GERMANY, 555 
 
 direction. Instead of speculating any longer upon the evidence of 
 the objective element in our consciousness, instead of appealing to 
 faith, or intuitive reason, or any other principle, by which its real- 
 ity might be established, Fichte boldly denied the real existence of 
 it in philosophy altogether ; accounted for the phenomena of the 
 case upon purely subjective grounds ; and thus crushed the rising 
 efforts of scepticism under the more potent ariiH of idealism. 
 From that time idealism has been the national philosophy of Ger- 
 many, without allowing a rival to appear in the field. 
 
 The result of this chapter may be concentrated in one sentence. 
 With few exceptions, the chief scepticism of England is, that of 
 authority ; the chief scepticism of France, that of ignorance ; the 
 chief scepticism of Germany, that of an absolute kind, which bases 
 itself upon the denial of the fundamental laws of human nature.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF MODERN MYSTICISM. 
 
 Sect. I. — Modern Mysticism generally ; — In England. 
 
 We have now, at some length, traced the course which three of 
 the great generic systems of philosophy have taken during the 
 present century. We have seen the efforts which sensationalism 
 has made to analyze all the materials of human knowledge, and 
 deduce the primary elements of which it is composed : and, even 
 while pointing out its many errors and defects, we have acknowl- 
 edged the fruitful results, which its close investigation of our sense- 
 perceptions has ever produced. Next, we have marked the deeper 
 channel in which idealism has flowed, and observed its tendency 
 to become lost in a sea of interminable speculation upon subjects, 
 which no sounding-line of human construction can ever fathom. 
 Both the systems admit, that truth can be discovered by man's 
 natural faculties, only the former allows no source of ideas to be 
 possible except the senses, while the latter contends for another 
 and a profounder source, which has its seat in the very depths of 
 man's intellectual nature. Thirdly, we have noticed and weighed 
 the efforts of scepticism to undermine the whole foundation of 
 truth, and bring us to the comfortless conclusion that our highest 
 knowledge is to perceive, that we know nothing. The fourth 
 generic system yet remains — that which, refusing to admit that we 
 can gain truth with absolute certainty either from sense or reason, 
 points us to faith, feeling, or inspiration, as its only valid source. 
 This we term mysticism. 
 
 As the two former systems are those around which metaphysical 
 speculation and inquiry for the most part gather, scepticism and 
 mysticism have ever played a somewhat subordinate part in the
 
 MYSTICISM IN ENGLAND. 557 
 
 history of philosophy. Instead of being the spontaneous produc- 
 tion of the human mind, they have generally arisen from the errors 
 and extravagancies of other attempts. Scepticism, for instance, 
 may be regarded as a kind of corrective process to prevent the erec- 
 tion of a philosophical superstructure upon an insecure foundation. 
 The precise office which mysticism has performed in the progress 
 of human knowledge, is that of discovering and asserting the worth 
 of our higher feelings, whether they be instinctive, moral, or re- 
 ligious ; for there is great danger both in the case of the sensation- 
 alist and the idealist, lest, devoted, the one to the analysis of sense, 
 the other of reason, they should overlook those sensibilities of our 
 nature, which often speak the language of truth as certainly, if not 
 as clearly, as reason itself. In this case, the voice of mysticism 
 warns them of their error ; it tells them that there is a source of 
 truth which they have both left unnoticed, and which often avails, 
 even when nothing else perhaps can, to direct reason into the right 
 path of investigation. 
 
 To elucidate the origin and nature of mysticism, we must glance 
 for a moment at the connection which subsists between the intel- 
 lect and the emotions in the constitution of the human mind. Man 
 may be said to have been created for two purposes, to know and to 
 do. We can conceive of a mind utterly passionless, gazing with 
 piercing transparency of vision upon truth ; but yet unimpelled by 
 motives to any sphere of action whatever. A being thus formed 
 might possess the most commanding intellect, but it would never 
 be fitted to fulfil any destiny. To rouse a mind to action there 
 must be feelings, emotions, desires, passions: by their means alone 
 it is that it begins to exert its influence upon things around, and, 
 stepping forth from the sphere of its silent contemplation, to live 
 for a purpose as it regards the universe at large. The intellectual 
 and the practical side of humanity, however, are not severed en- 
 tirely from each other. Our emotions spring forth, in some mys- 
 terious manner, from our ideas or concei)tions ; so that what the 
 intellectual force pictures to the mind as trutit, the emotive force 
 reduces to feeling or impulse, and by that means at length to action. 
 These explanations are by no moans novel ; they are laws or i>rin- 
 ciples of our nature which many have already observed, many 
 described ; in the department of ethics, especially, the dependence 
 of our moral feelings upon the concejUions of right antl wrong 
 which precede them, have been rej)catedly asserted and illustrated 
 by the advocates of the intellectual theory.
 
 558 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 It may be found, however, upon a closer investigation, that these 
 two departments of our mental constitution run more parallel with 
 each other than has been generally supposed. M. Cousin, in one 
 of his lectures on the true, the beautiful, and the good, has hinted 
 at this parallelism ; but not having carried out the idea to any great 
 extent, he has left the subject fully open to future research, so that 
 we need no apology for offering one or two additional thoughts 
 upon it. 
 
 In examining, then, the phenomena of intelligence, we see a 
 gradual progression from bare sensibility (the lowest intellectual 
 process) to the very highest efforts of reason. We may easily de- 
 tect the process in its various steps, if we imagine to ourselves an 
 infant mind in its progressive development to maturity. That 
 mind begins by experiencing a sensation ; and this sensation brings 
 with it the first gleam of knowledge, for it announces the existence 
 of some phenomenon, though, of course, it says nothing respecting 
 the origin or the nature of it. Next, after sensation, comes percep- 
 tion. Here a primitive judgment is exercised, by which the phe- 
 nomena of sensation are all referred to a cause without us, to an 
 objective world. 
 
 Thus far, indeed, the life of man and of the brute creation run 
 completely parallel. The infant mind, however, expands still fur- 
 ther. Having made itself acquainted with the external world, in 
 its various forms, it begins to compare, to generalize, to combine ; 
 it observes qualities, and abstracts them ; it indicates things by 
 signs, and forms language ; m a word, it shows all the marks of 
 understanding, as we see it exercised in the various engagements 
 of our outward life. Of this faculty, the brute shows but a feeble 
 glimmering ; just sufficient, however, to indicate the possession of 
 it to a slight degree. But understanding is not all ; the mind, thus 
 far expanded, begins to look beyond the world of phenomena into 
 that of realities ; it oversteps the region of sensible into that of spir- 
 itual things ; thoughts of God and of immortality occupy its deepest 
 moments, until it rises to the loftiest attainments of human knowl- 
 edge, and longs for the revelation of a brighter world. This fac- 
 ulty, it is almost needless to remark, is reason — the great preroga- 
 tive of man alone. 
 
 Now, to each one of these different gradations of intelligence, 
 we may see that certain gradations of sensibility precisely answer. 
 To sensation on the intellectual side, answers instinct on the prac- 
 tical. These two, in fact, form the lowest step of both, that in
 
 MYSTICISM IN ENGLAND. 559 
 
 which they seem altogether to unite ; for instinct is, as it were, an 
 impulsive oi- practical sensation. To our perceptions, again, per- 
 fectly answer the lower desires and passions ; those, I mean, which 
 are shared alike by the man and the brute, and which arise from 
 the nature of our physical constitution. The understanding to 
 which we next attain, is the region of relations — that in which all 
 the objects of the visible world are classified and arranged ibr log- 
 ical use.* Corresponding to this faculty we have the relational 
 emotions, those which arise from the connections in which we 
 stand to our family, our friends, our country, and to human life at 
 large. So far, man is not strictly an aesthetic, a moral, or a religious 
 being ; he has not yet transcended the region of sensible things, 
 into the higher and more spiritual regions of thought and feeling. 
 Reason conducts us into this higher world ; it unfolds to us the ex- 
 istence of the true, the beautiful, and good ; and corresponding to 
 these as objects of contemplation, we have the aesthetic, the moral, 
 and the religious emotions. Finally, just as the intellectual and 
 practical life first start from one indefinable ground, where sense 
 and instinct combine, so also do they terminate in one common 
 elevation, where reason and the loftier sensibility blend together. 
 This highest region of mental development Is faith, the basis of all 
 philosophy, whether it be sensational, mystical, or ideal. We may 
 present these correlates to the eye in tiie following scheme : — 
 
 man's life is 
 
 I. Intellectual, II. Practical, 
 
 FEELING 
 coviprehcnding , '^ v cnmprchcnding 
 
 a. Sensation, to wliicli answer InstinctiJ. 
 
 b. Perception, ......... Passions. 
 
 c. Understanding, K<lational Emotions. 
 
 d. Reason, .......... .■Esthetic, Moral, and 
 
 "• V ' Religious Emotions. 
 
 FAITH. 
 
 Now in every one of the above gradati<Mis the intollfctual state 
 chronologically precedes the emotional, and is that fmrn which the 
 correlate emanates. Naturalists, for example, tell us that the re- 
 markai)le impulse termed instinct arises from some sensation which 
 is experienced by the animal in some portion or other of the bodily 
 frame. When our passions again are roused, there is always some 
 object from the perception of which those passions apjiear to orig- 
 inate. Further, the understanding must come into play, and give 
 us a due conception of the various relations in life, before tlie re-
 
 560 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 lational emotions are excited. And, lastly, reason, at least in its 
 spontaneous action, must unfold to us the beautiful, the good, the 
 Divine, ere the higher affections are developed. This has been re- 
 peatedly acknowledged, both in morals and theology. There must 
 be first the notions of right and wrong, and then the contemplation 
 of some action, to which merit or demerit is attached, before any 
 feeling of moral approbation or disapprobation can be evinced. In 
 the same way our religious affections spring from oui* religious 
 ideas, and, just according to our conceptions of God, their great 
 object, will be the feelings we exercise in worship towards him. As 
 a whole, therefore, the intellectual man must be said to guide the 
 practical man, the groundwork of all our emotions being found in 
 our conceptions. 
 
 Such, however, cannot be said to be entirely and exclusively the 
 case ; for these emotions, when once excited, react in their turn 
 upon the intellect. They invest its ideas with new lustre and 
 beauty : they add intensity to all its operations ; and by their nat- 
 ural tendencies they often direct it in its researches after fresh 
 truths. The result is, that in estimating the human mind as a 
 whole, and giving their proper place to all the phenomena of its 
 conscious existence, due stress must be laid both upon the intel- 
 lectual and the emotional element ; if either side be left unappre- 
 ciated, error will be the sure result. 
 
 Now the sensationalist and the idealist both neglect, to a great 
 degree, the emotional element contained in our nature. The 
 former, more frequently than not, confounds emotion altogether 
 with sensation, making them both but different modifications of 
 the same power ; while the latter too commonly confines himself 
 simply to the analysis of reason, neglecting the reflex influence 
 which the emotions exert upon it. On the contrary, the mystic 
 goes exactly into the opposite excess. To him the emotions of 
 the human mind are regarded as supreme ; so that, instead of al- 
 lowing the intellectual faculty to lead the way, it is degraded to an 
 inferior position, and made entirely subservient to the feelings. 
 Reason is in that case no longer viewed as the great organ of 
 truth ; its decisions are enstamped as uncertain, faulty, and well 
 nigh valueless ; while the inward impulses of our sensibility, de- 
 veloping themselves in the form of faith or of inspiration, are held 
 up as the true and infallible source of human knowledge. The 
 fundamental process, therefore, of all mysticism, is to reverse the
 
 MYSTICISM IN ENGLAND. 5G1 
 
 true order of nature, and give the precedence to the emotional in- 
 stead of the intellectual element of the human mind. 
 
 This, then, being the common ground of all mysticism, we have 
 next to seek after the various forms which it assumes, and to make 
 out as far as possible .some classification of them. Cousin, in the 
 lectures to which we before referred, has given a twofold classifi- 
 cation of the different mysticisms grounded upon the two funda- 
 mental ideas, or categories, which lie at the basis of all human 
 knowledge ; those, namely, of the finite and the infinite, of the rel- 
 ative and the absolute, of phenomena and substance. Phenomenal 
 mysticism with him is that which actually transfers the phenomena 
 of our inner self into the natural world, giving rise, first, to pagan- 
 ism, or the deification of nature, and then, as a natural conse- 
 quence, to invocation, evocation, and theurgy. Substantial mys- 
 ticism is that which imagines the infinite being to reveal himself 
 immediately to the feelings of the human soul, giving rise to those 
 extraordinary attempts (for which some have been celebrated) at 
 sinking down, in their inward contemplation, beneath the veil of 
 mere phenomena, and gazing face to face upon God. In this clas- 
 sification there is unquestionably much truth and nuich ingenuity ; 
 as it is, however, too recondite and too subjective for our pre.sent 
 purpose, we shall attempt another, which may better answer the 
 purpose we have before us, that, namely, of describing the history 
 of philosophy from a more objective point of view. We divide 
 the various species of mysticism, then, into three ckisses. It 
 arises — 
 
 I. When truth is supposed to be gained in pursuance of some 
 regular law or fact of our inward sensibility ; this may be vari- 
 ously termed a mode of faith, or of intuition.* 
 
 II. When truth is supposed to be gained by a fixed suiHjrnaturaJ 
 channel. 
 
 III. When truth is supposed to be gained by extraordinary su- 
 pernatural means. 
 
 We do not assert, that any one of these suppositions is absolutely 
 and unifon/ili/ iiimrrcct ; nay, we are far from denying that knowl- 
 edge cannot be conununicated by all three of these inetlnnis ti> the 
 human mind. The mysticism which attaches itself to such views 
 
 • Faith, or the direct intuitive reeepti^n of nriin.iry truth, »<• have hImwo tn l>c in 
 fact the necessary Imsis of all fundamentiil pliilosophy, the |M>int in whi.h the hii;hrr 
 faculties iind sensibilities inc<t. Faith, hnwever, may partake prrdoininantly of the 
 rational, or of the emotional element. In the former insLiiK e, ii must be rcgarJcd as 
 the fuunJatiun uf the idcnl ; in the latter, of the myHlicul philosophies.
 
 562 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 lies in the belief, that some one of these three is the great, if not 
 the sole channel by which we have to gain infallible truth. The 
 former, it will be seen, is par excellence a philosophical mysticism, 
 the two latter partake more largely of the element of religious 
 mysticism. 
 
 I. We begin, then, with the first of these three modes of mysti- 
 cism, that which supposes truth to be gained in pursuance of some 
 regular law or fact of our inward sensibility. Here, of course, as 
 in all philosophical systems, there is to be noted a progressive ad- 
 vancement from the milder to the more intense form, in which it 
 makes its appearance to the world. The first step in the develop- 
 ment of a new metaphysical school is often so insignificant, that 
 we can scarcely perceive in what it really differs from those al- 
 ready in existence ; just as the first deviation of two lines which 
 form an extremely acute angle can hardly be observed, while in 
 their progress they soon become widely separated. Such is pre- 
 cisely the case with respect to the point, in which idealism and 
 mysticism first commence to diverge from each other. The former 
 accepts reason as the organ of truth, the latter faith ; but reason 
 and faith, however they may stand apart as distinct prenomena 
 in their ordinary acceptation, yet in their higher acceptation blend 
 together like the colors of the spectrum, without our being' able to 
 say where the one ceases and the other begins. 
 
 Now the writer, whose works fill exactly this angle of our philo- 
 sophical literature, is Coleridge. Our literary periodicals and re- 
 views have teemed, for the last twenty years, with articles or ob- 
 servations upon the genius, the style, and the opinions of this our 
 great poet-philosopher. To record anything here respecting his 
 life and character, would be to repeat what almost every one al- 
 ready knows. His dreamy youth, his opening manhood, his colle- 
 giate life in Cambridge and in Germany, his wild purposes only 
 created to fade away, his lecturings, his writings, his marvellous 
 conversations, all have formed the topics of many a page and 
 many a reminiscence. Waiving, therefore, all further allusion to 
 these subjects, we shall now merely attempt rightly to estimate 
 and determine the place which Coleridge holds on the philosophi- 
 cal stage of our country. 
 
 The philosophy which Coleridge was first taught must have 
 been the sensationalism of Locke, as adapted to the wants and 
 contingencies of modern times. The moral philosophy he heard 
 at Cambridge, if indeed he ever attended it, was that of Paley ;
 
 -MYSTICISM IN ENGLAND. 563 
 
 and strange must it have seemed to his profound and earnest spirit, 
 then beginning to dive into the deeper world of speculation, to 
 hear an unpoetical utilitarianism delivered from the post of instruc- 
 tion in that venerable university, where once Cudworth and More 
 poured forth all the richness of their Christianized Platonism. No 
 wonder that he craved after the more congenial minds of Ger- 
 many ; of Germany with its mystery, with its poetry of life, with 
 its spiritual philosophy : and no wonder that the literature of that 
 country, when he once knew it, exerted a mighty influence upon 
 him through the rest of his life — an influence which shows with 
 what eagerness he gazed upon the new world of thought and of 
 feeling, which was there opened to his wonder and delight. 
 
 Having mastered the principles of Kant, and looked into those 
 of Fichte, Coleridge returned home with his predispositions to the 
 higher metaphysics at once fixed and directed. Had he been 
 brought up amongst the metaphysicians of Germany he would un- 
 doubtedly have been a German idealist of the true stamp ; as it 
 was, however, the commingling of his early education with the 
 idealism of Kant and Fichte gave to his mind a tinge of mysti- 
 cism, which was only heightened by his passionate love of poetry 
 and aesthetics. To comprehend, then, the exact nature of this 
 mysticism, (which is the precise object we have now in view,) we 
 must first attempt to grasp some of the grand metaphysical princi- 
 ples, which our author labored to establish. 
 
 Man is viewed by Coleridge as possessing (besides some minor 
 ones) four great and fundamental laculties : — sensation, under- 
 standing, reason, and will. With regard to sensation, we find 
 nothing in his writings that can be considered of any importance. 
 The reality of our sense-perceptions was antecedently admitted by 
 him, just as they were by Locke, Kant, and most others ; in no 
 case that I am aware of, did he venture upon any transcendental 
 theory to account for these phenomena, or dive so far into the 
 spirit of idealism, as to deny their objective validity. In proceed- 
 ing, however, from sensation to understanding and reason, we soon 
 get at one of the main points of Coleridge's metaphysical opinions. 
 The distinction drawn between the Verslatuf and the Vcrnnnft, in 
 the philosophy of Kant, has been already explained at some length. 
 Coleridge seized this distinction with great clearness, and, having 
 done so, preached, defended, and illustrated it, with all the ardor 
 of his profound and philosophic mind. The one he terms reason- 
 ing by sense ; the other, reasoning beyond sense. The one is con-
 
 564 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 fined to the objects and relations of the outward world ; the other, 
 to those of the spiritual world ; — the one relates to the forms, under 
 which We view the finite and contingent ; the other relates to the 
 forms, under which we image to ourselves the infinite, the absolute, 
 the eternal. This distinction, to which we have already so often 
 referred, unquestionably underlies a very large proportion of Cole- 
 ridge's philosophical theories. I will simply recall one passage 
 from " The Friend," (vol. iii. p. 202,) as an example of this pecul- 
 iar feature of his writings. Speaking of the idea of pure being, 
 he says — " The power which evolved this idea of being, — being in 
 its essence, being limitless, — how shall we name it ? The idea 
 itself, which, like a mighty billow, at once overwhelms and bears 
 aloft, what is it ? Whence did it come ? In vain would we derive 
 it from the organs of sense ; for these supply only surfaces, undu- 
 lations, and phantoms ! In vain from the instruments of sensa- 
 tion ; for these furnish only the chaos, the shapeless elements of 
 sense. And least of all may we hope to find its origin or sufficient 
 cause in the moulds and mechanism of the understanding ; the 
 whole purport and functions of which consist in individualization, 
 in outlines, and differencings, by quantity, quality, and relation. 
 It were wiser to seek substance in shadow, than absolute fulness in 
 mere negation." * * * After showing that the idea of pure being 
 is, notwithstanding all this, a real one, borne witness to by the 
 clearest light of our inward nature, he adds — " By what name, 
 then, canst thou call a truth so manifested ? Is it not a revelation ? 
 And the manifesting power, the source and the correlative of the 
 idea thus manifested, is it not God ?" How is it possible to show 
 more clearly than this, the blending of our higher reason and intel- 
 lectual sensibility in the one supreme principle of faith, as the or- 
 gan of all primitive and fundamental truth ? 
 
 Our author, however, has not only imitated Kant in reference 
 to the general distinction between understanding and reason, but 
 has also accepted this twofold division of reason itself into the 
 theoretical and the practical. The one is reason, as applied to the 
 comprehension of truth ; the other is reason, as applied to the reg- 
 ulation of actions. Pure reason tells us what is necessary and 
 real in existence ; practical reason tells us what is incumbent upon 
 us as moral agents. The one has to do simply with the intellec- 
 tual man ; the other has to do with the will. All the moral philos- 
 ophy, we believe, which the writings of Coleridge contain, ulti- 
 mately rests upon the validity and the authority of the practical
 
 MYSTICISM IN ENGLAND. 565 
 
 reason, as a categoric imperative, an indisputable law, formed to 
 regulate and control human life. 
 
 The part of our constitution, however, which Coleridge dwells 
 upon with the greatest delight, is the will. It had been the effort 
 of sensationalism to identify volition with pathological and sensa- 
 tional phenomena ; that is, to sink the personality of the human 
 will in feelings arising from our nervous sensibility. Coleridge had 
 drunk deep enough into the subjective spirit of Kant's philosophy, 
 to see the complete futility of all such attempts : he learned there 
 to look with an almost piercing intensity of vision into the native 
 constitution of the mind, the original power of the me ; and applying 
 this keen perception to the practical side of our humanity, he recog- 
 nized in every man a will, a spiritual force (entirely distinct from 
 his animal nature) given to him by God, to regulate his higher life. 
 This will, accordingly, he regarded as the source of moral obliga- 
 tion, the germ of our religious being, the link by which our earthly 
 nature is united to those higher natures, which evince a pure spon- 
 taneity for eternal holiness and love. These elements, therefore — 
 the understanding, the reason, and the will — form the basis of Cole- 
 ridge's metaphysical speculations. The view which he takes of 
 them, though strongly marked, yet is by no means original ; the 
 counterpart of almost all his notions on these subjects, is to be 
 found somewhere or other among the German idealistic writers — 
 the greater part of them in the philosophy of Kant. 
 
 So far, then, Coleridge is to be reckoned properly as idealistic in 
 his tendency ; and had he stopped here, must have been classed as 
 one of that school. Having carried on his investigations, how- 
 ever, up to this point, he proceeds to construct, out of the elements 
 above mentioned, a new organ of truth, termed faith, by means 
 of which a fresh light, unattainable by reason alone, is shed over 
 the whole mind. Reason, according to Coleridge, blends with the 
 will : in other words, the faculty by which we gaze upon absolute 
 truth, unites with that by which we are conscious of our own per- 
 sonality ; and from hence originates a new insight into the secrets 
 of man's destiny both in time and eternity. " Faith," to use his 
 own words, " consists in the synthesis of the reason and the indi- 
 vidual will. By virtue of the latter, therefore, it must be an 
 energy ; and, inasmuch as it relates to the whole man, it must be 
 exerted in each and all of his constituents, or incidents, faculties, 
 and tendencies : it must he a total, not a partial — a continuous, not 
 a desultory or occasional energy. And by virtue of the former
 
 566 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 (that is, reason), faith must be a light — a form of knowing — a be- 
 holding of truth. In the incomparable words of the Evangelist, 
 therefore, faith must be a light, originating in the Logos, or the 
 substantial reason, which is co-eternal and one with the holy will, 
 and which light is at the same time the life of men." 
 
 From this passage it is evident, that the faith element enters de- 
 cidedly into the higher branches of Coleridge's metaphysical sys- 
 tem ; that truths are supposed to be conveyed to us by its means, 
 which could not come solely through the understanding or the rea- 
 son, and that there is a mixture of mysticism, therefore, with his 
 idealistic principles, showing itself particularly in the application 
 of his philosophy to religion. At the same time, faith, as viewed 
 by Coleridge, is not a distinct and independent faculty, but the 
 blending of the higher faculties in one ; so that his mysticism is of a 
 kind which stands on the very verge of idealism, not daring to ven- 
 ture without the sight of the reason, nor choosing to trust itself to 
 the uncontrolled suggestions of faith or of feeling. 
 
 The extraordinary value of Coleridge's writings, we think, must 
 be fully admitted by every impartial mind. They form the first 
 successful attempt of modern times, in our own country, to ground 
 any of the great doctrines of Christianity upon a philosophical 
 basis, without at the same time detracting aught from their pecul- 
 iarly evangelical character. Added to this, they open a sphere of 
 metaphysical thinking well adapted to counteract the objective 
 tendency of our national philosophy, and to direct the mind to 
 those lofty views respecting human nature and human destiny, 
 which, in the turmoil of our practical life, and in the want of a 
 more spiritual system, we are so inclined to forget. 
 
 To estimate the mind of Coleridge philosophically, we should 
 say, that most of his opinions and tendencies arise from the pre- 
 dominance which the ideas of self and God ever held in his intel- 
 lectual being. The former idea led yiim to the deep investigation 
 of the intellectual faculties, and the will ; the latter led him to 
 apply his metaphysical principles to the truths of religion. When, 
 therefore, he found that the objects of religious contemplation 
 transcended the powers of his rational nature to comprehend, im- 
 mediately he sought to bring in the aid of his moral nature, and to 
 construct out of the reason and will combined, another faculty 
 which should be adapted to the perception of these sublime truths. 
 In so far as he has attributed to this new power of faith a super- 
 rational capacity, must Coleridge be termed a mystic ; but his mys-
 
 MYSTICISM IN ENGLAND. 567 
 
 ticism, religiously speaking, only consists in attempting to explain 
 by these means the scriptural doctrines which most men receive, 
 simply upon the authority of inspiration. The influence of Cole- 
 ridge upon the age has been, and still is, more extensive than many 
 imagine. His works form just the turning point in the philosophi- 
 cal history of our country, in which the advancement of sensa- 
 tionalism came to a stand, and the tide of spiritualism began to 
 return. That tide has since continued to deepen and increase, 
 and we anticipate ere long the time, when England shall again 
 boast a philosophy which is worthy the name, and take its stand 
 with France and Germany, as partner in the further development 
 of abstract truth.* 
 
 Another somewhat remarkable development of philosophical 
 mysticism appears in the works of Thomas Taylor, the learned 
 translator of Plato. This, we should say, is chiefly remarkable as 
 being a complete revival of the ancient Platonism — a fresh estab- 
 lishment of it amidst the varied systems of modern times. The 
 power of gazing upon the pure forms of all existence — of seeing 
 the archetypes of all creation, reposing in the mind of Deity, we 
 must regard as being a kind of intellectual intuition, sufficiently 
 distinct from reason to warrant the appellation of mysticism rather 
 than idealism, as distinctive of the system. The Platonic point of 
 view we regard, indeed, as one step in advance of Coleridge : it 
 not only advocates that kind of immediate intuition of truth — that 
 gazing upon pure ideas, which Coleridge admitted; but it denies 
 the possibility of rising to this lofty contemplation, while the mind 
 is debased by the perpetual contact of material things. Listen to 
 Mr. Taylor's reflections upon this point — " The conceptions of 
 the experimental philosopher, who expects to find truth in the laby- 
 rinths of matter, are not much more elevated than those of the 
 vulgar ; for he is ignorant that truth is the most splendid of all 
 things ; that she is the constant companion o\' the divinity, and 
 proc'eeds together with iiim through the universe : that the shining 
 traces of her feet are conspicuous only in form ; and that in the 
 dark windings of matter ^h>i left nothing but a most obscure and 
 fleeting resemblance oi' herself. This delusive phantom, however, 
 the man of modern science ardently explores, unconscious that he 
 is running in profound darkness and infinite perplexity, and that he 
 
 • Thn student of Coleridge, as a philosoplirr, shoul.l first peruse the " Biogrnphia 
 Litcrariu," from thence he may proceed to jKjnder over the " AiMs to Rrf1<-xion." Next 
 he may make acquaintance witli • The Friend;" and not foriret. ;it lust, those few 
 sug<»cstive pages, which purport to be tlic '• Confc-s.-^ions of an Enquirmg Spirit."
 
 568 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 is hastening after an object, which eludes all detection and mocks 
 all pursuit," 
 
 Coleridge would scarcely have proceeded to this extent. He 
 would have asserted the combination of our best faculties into one 
 supreme faith-principle, by which truth could be immediately con- 
 veyed to the mind ; but he would not have insisted upon the re- 
 nunciation of physical investigation, and the absorption of the 
 mind in Deity, as the only method of rising to the heights of true 
 science. It is through advancing such opinions, that the name of 
 Plato, even to the present day, stands on the threshold of almost 
 every system of mystical philosophy. 
 
 The most remarkable phase, however, of this school of mysticism 
 has been realized in the notions of James Pierrepont Greaves, 
 the friend, and for some time the coadjutor, of Pestalozzi. Mr. 
 Greaves was born near London, in 1777, and educated to mercan- 
 tile life. On meeting with some reverses in business, he went to 
 the Continent, and spent some time at Heidelberg, where he 
 gathered many of the rising literati around him, and first began to 
 open his new and strange opinions. From thence he went to 
 Switzerland, and lived ten years with Pestalozzi, engaging ardently 
 with him in the work of infant tuition, and maturing still further 
 his spirit-philosophy. On his return to England, he devoted him- 
 self to the improvement of popular education, and to spreading the 
 views he had formed among his fellow- men. He died in the year 
 1844, beloved by many, and admired by a few. 
 
 To gain a clear conception of Mr. Greaves' philosophy, is a mat- 
 ter of no ordinary difficulty ; and still more difficult is it to explain 
 it. The idea which lay at the basis of all his thoughts, seems to 
 be the superiority of heing to all knowing and doing. He consid- 
 ered that the great evil in life was selfishness, i, e., the regard to 
 individual instead of general being ; that before any improvement 
 could be made, the inner man must be appealed to, and united with 
 the love-spirit — the eternal and divine nature. His philosophy 
 was, in fact, a species of spiritual socialism, in which all human 
 natures were to be united and harmonized by the perfect submis- 
 sion of every soul to the law of love, and the passive yielding 
 itself to the impulse of the spirit. 
 
 A memoir of Mr. Greaves has been written by Mr. A. F. Bar- 
 ham,* one of his friends and admirers, as an introduction to a vol- 
 
 * Mr. Barham is himself a mystic philosopher. His system is termed Alism (from 
 ^ the name of Jehovah), and purports to view everything in the light of the Divine.
 
 MYSTICISM IN ENGLAND. 569 
 
 ume of his private correspondence. I select the following passage 
 from this life, as giving a very intelligible delineation of the man ; 
 though we may not be so well able to grasp his views as a philoso- 
 pher. *' His mind was of a very ethereal, transcendental, and 
 mystical cast, resembling that of Jacob Behmeh, to whom he was 
 fervently attached. This peculiarity in intellect, did not well ac- 
 cord with the mercantile business in which his earlier years were 
 spent, and, after getting rich in commerce, he lost his fortune by 
 imprudent speculations. On the settlement of his afTairs, he went 
 abroad, and became particularly intimate with Pestalozzi, and his 
 educational system ; in short. Greaves was for years Pestalozzi's 
 right hand man, and he first introduced Pestalozzi's books and 
 methods into this country. It was during his residence abroad, 
 that Greaves became profoundly initiated in the German and Swiss 
 illuminism ; he also attached himself to the aesthetic or sentimental 
 philosophy, on which Baumgarten, Kant, llichter, and Schiller 
 wrote so eloquently. This aesthetic philosophy, long jwpular in 
 Germany, Greaves endeavored to promote in this country ; and lie 
 formed an aesthetic society, the only one I ever met with in Britain, 
 which used to meet every week in his house in Burton Street. 
 
 " The divine reality to which Greaves ever directed was the life 
 of God in man's soul. He professcfl himself an AUst cmphaticallv 
 in my presence. He recognized, like Fcneion, Puiret, Law. and 
 other mystics, an inspiring vital divinity, which he used to term 
 the central spirit, or fountain of immortality within. It is almost 
 impossible to describe aright the fervor and enthusiasm with which 
 Greaves maintained the reality (»f the alistic and divine spiritualism. 
 He professed that he realized it as actually present, as an element 
 in life n)ore intense than any imaginal^le electricity ; and his t'aith 
 in this spirit, by wliich he felt himself inspired, always preserved 
 in him the most lively cheerfulness and freedom from anxious care. 
 This was the more remarkable, as Greaves ilrank nothing but water, 
 and ate only fruit and vegetables for many years before his death. 
 He said to those who recommended him a grosser style of diet, 
 that the central spirit always burneil brighter and stronger in prt> 
 portion to his abstinence from meats ; nor was his joyous anima- 
 tion ajiparently depressed by a painful internal disease, which tor- 
 mented him extremely, and finally l)rought him to his grave." 
 
 Wo might go on to multiply our explanations of this mystical 
 
 His VH-WH lire rontiuniil in n voluinr, rntiUoil " A," wliiiU coinprcheniU three number* 
 of n ])criodii-ul Urnutl T'u- Alisl, willi ottur miaccllunii d.
 
 570 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 philosophy to an indefinite extent ; but as the author seemed to- 
 tally incapable of throwing his ideas into a systematic and logical 
 form, we fear that the reader, like ourselves, would fail to grasp 
 the essence of it after all. As, however, Mr. Greaves has some 
 followers and admirers, of whom we may name Mr. H. N. Wright 
 in England, and Mr. Alcott in America, who has already written 
 many valuable thoughts on education, we must look forward to see 
 whether there is really a germ of living thought lying under the 
 uncouth phraseology with which we are scandalized ; and whether 
 it can ever unfold itself to a system of philosophic truth. Mean- 
 time, we must request the reader, whose curiosity would prompt 
 him to look into this form of modern mysticism, to consult " The 
 Contrasting Magazine," published in 1827, a small volume, entitled 
 " Physical and Metaphysical Hints for Everybody," " Thoughts on 
 Spiritual Culture," and a pamphlet, entitled " The sentiments of R. 
 Owen and J. P. Greaves contrasted." To attempt fully to explain 
 the system which these works unfold, would be attempting to ex- 
 plain that of which we have never succeeded in gaining a clear 
 conception ; we merely point out the above works as containing 
 one of the most mystical of all the mysticisms of the present age. 
 II. The second mode of mysticism is that which supposes truth 
 to be gained by a fixed supernatural channel. And, first, we must 
 show the distinction between the mysticism we have now to con- 
 sider, and the scepticism, based on authority, to which we made 
 reference in the former chapter. In that case, it will be remem- 
 bered, there was a formal denial of the validity of the human fac- 
 ulties ; truth, attainable by no other means, was supposed to flow 
 by various channels from a primitive revelation of God to man ; 
 and the mind, well-nigh powerless in itself, was regarded as the 
 bare receptacle of ideas coming to it from an outward source. In 
 the mysticism now before us, there is, indeed, the same denial of 
 validity to the intellectual faculties in their original state ; but by 
 supernatural interposition, regularly and systematically supplied, 
 they are imagined to be so enlightened and stimulated, as to appre- 
 hend truth — even such as lies beyond the reach of the natural 
 man. We term the former scepticism ; because, on the hypothesis 
 there made, the mind of man never becomes per se cognizant of 
 absolute truth, but simply receives it through a given medium from 
 an objective source. We term the latter, on the other hand, mysti- 
 cism ; because the mind is made actually capable subjectively, of
 
 MYSTICISM IN ENGLAND. 571 
 
 acquiring truth, but is conditioned for this process by supernatural 
 agency. 
 
 This form of mystical philosophy has been maintained in our 
 own country chiefly by teachers of religion, some of whom have 
 put forth sentiments on the subject sufficiently remarkable to de- 
 mand our attention. Their speculations, as might bs expected, 
 refer rather to moral than to metaphysical truth, their object being 
 to show, that a valid moral philosophy is impossible when the as- 
 sistance of revealed religion is not embraced in the creation of it. 
 We shall attempt, therefore, to give a brief analysis of the system, 
 as it appears in the writings of one or two of its abettors. 
 
 And, first, we shall refer to a somewhat small volume, entitled 
 "Christian Morals," by the Rev. W. Seut.-ll, M.A., formerly Pro- 
 fessor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Oxford, — a volume 
 pretty extensively known, as containing the ethical .system adopted 
 by the Tractarian Theologians. In this work there is, undoubtedly, 
 much to admire, but much also, as we think, to repudiate ; much 
 good reasoning, but still more unwarrantable assumption ; many 
 glimpses of truth, but still too many admissions of error. With 
 the anti-sensationalism of the author we fully coincide, and have 
 rejoiced in the stern rebukes with which he has met its shallow 
 pretensions ; but, with the excej)tion of what bears upon this point, 
 •we can find very little that assumes a truly scientific character in 
 the whole volume. 
 
 The object of the work, it shoulil be understood, is to sketch out 
 a complete system of ethics ; to account f>r the existence of moral 
 truth in the world ; to explain the nature and growth of the moral 
 emotions in the human mind. The author, almost at the outset, 
 abjures all the attempts wliich a rationalistic or ideal philosophy 
 is able to make, in order to do this : with oijual decision he denies 
 the claims both of eclecticism and syncretism;* and, having thus 
 cleared the way, introduces at length his own (heorv on the subject. 
 The essence of this theory may be stated in few words. 
 
 Man, by the very constitution of his mind, is adajited to perceive 
 certain relations, as existing between persons, just in the same 
 manner, as by a primitive judgment we perceive relations between 
 things. "t 
 
 The feelings, which arise within us, on the perception ot' theni 
 are instinctive, and, consequently, both universal and eternal. J 
 
 • Chaps. 7, H, nn.] 9. f riiMp!.. 23 nnil 'Jl 
 
 X Page 310. " From wlirn,-,- ,|,, tl,rso ideas of relation come 7 Tliey arc iinpluntcd
 
 572 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 In this perception, then, and in these feelings, lies the primitive 
 germ of our moral being. 
 
 Man, however, at his birth, is under the influence of a corrupt 
 nature; the evil spirit has dominion over him ; so that, instead of 
 perceiving these moral relations aright, he views them distortedly, 
 and acts, as the consequence, incongruously.* 
 
 All moral education consists in impressing upon minds the right 
 knowledge of these relations ; because from right knowledge of 
 them, right actions will infallibly flow.f 
 
 This education begins in the act of Christian baptism ; by which 
 we are placed in an entirely new position with respect to moral 
 evil, the heart being in that act regenerated, and the powers of 
 evil exorcised.J 
 
 The moral faculties being thus set right, they must be further 
 enlightened, strengthened, and perfected by the instruction of the 
 Catholic Church ; by perfect submission to all its requisitions ; and 
 by the mystery of the holy communion, in which we become par- 
 takers of a Divine nature — the old man being crucified and dead. 
 
 In this manner the moral emotions become healthy and active ; 
 the dim undefined light of nature is no longer our guide ; but we 
 follow the road pointed out to us by the authorized teachers of 
 Catholic Christianity, our faculties having been prepared before- 
 hand rightly to receive and clearly to comprehend all their instruc- 
 tions.§ 
 
 These ideas, then, we select out of the mass of theories and 
 opinions which come before us in the work under consideration, as 
 containing the essence of its moral system. The whole, in fact, 
 may be compressed in these few words. Man is born with a moral 
 capacity, but in a confused and perverted state ; the grace con- 
 veyed in baptism sets him morally right ; and the living teaching 
 of the Church has to perfect what is thus commenced. 
 
 Now, in the whole development of this system, however ingen- 
 ious it may be, it cannot be concealed that the writer is aiming at 
 a particular purpose, rather than investigating impartially scientific 
 truth. The whole plan of it is so heterogeneous, that it could 
 hardly have been foimed in any mind without the influence of 
 
 in us by nalure. They lie dormant in the mind of every human beinji, are unaltera- 
 ble, eternal." In p. 381, however, the author says, that " We must learn both the rela- 
 tions, and duties consequent on them, from the witness appointed by God to reveal his 
 will " and these are the parent, the king, and the Church. I cannot undertake to 
 expound this jumble of Platonism and Hobbism. 
 
 ♦ Chaps. 12 and 14. t Chap. 23. 
 
 X Chap. 16. ^ Passim.
 
 MYSTICISM IN ENGLAND. 573 
 
 certain outward motives to mould the opinions advanced into their 
 fantastic shapes. It is with the greatest difficulty indeed that we 
 can arrange the system, scientifically speaking, under any partic- 
 ular school. The first step in man's moral development, as our 
 author views it, is grounded upon idealism, — it affirms innate moral 
 powers and instincts. The next step is scepticism; for it affirms 
 the fundamental disorder of these powers, and the consequent 
 impossihility of gaining moral truth by them alone. The third step 
 is mysticism; for by a supernatural agency, the nature of which is 
 not very explicitly stated, the moral perfections are all rectified in 
 a moment, the spirit that haunted them exorcised. Lastly, with all 
 the author's horror for eclecticism and syncretism, yet we find him 
 culling from Plato, from Aristotle, from the Christian fathers, as 
 well as all the diffi?rent philosophical schools of modern times, to 
 which we have just alluded. Let any one compare the ethical 
 philosophy of Jouffi-oy (the great eclectic moralist of France) with 
 the work now before us, and say in which lies the least eclecticism 
 and the greatest unity, both of design and of execution. We doubt 
 not, but that any impartial and scientific judge would give the 
 palm in this respect to the former. 
 
 With the idealism, and, to a certain extent, with the eclecticism 
 of Mr. Sewell (for eclectic he assuredly is) we can fully sympa- 
 thize ; they harmonize perfectly with the principles we have main- 
 tained throughout this whole work : with his .scej)ticism and his 
 mysticism, however, wc entirely disagree. Let us turn our atten- 
 tion for a moment to his scepticism. The i)rinciple upon which 
 this proceeds is shown, first of all, in the contest that he undertakes 
 against rationalism. The author here attempts to repel and to pour 
 abundant ridicule upon the attempt, which some philosophers have 
 made, to form for themselves a system of ethics siii)i)ly by the ex- 
 ercise of their own reason. Moral truth, derived in this way, he 
 considers as synonymous with '' the fancies of individual mcn,^' 
 and strives to prove that, whatever may be viewed ujX)n this ground 
 as right one day, may be proved wrong the next. 
 
 To bear out his assertions on this jjoint, he takes some two or 
 three parallel (!) illustrations from the experimental sciences — as 
 geology, chemistry, Slc. ; as though it fi)lloweil, that, because men 
 cannot form right conclusions on these matters without the aid of 
 the observation and testimony of others, therefore they cannot do 
 so in the ca.se of abstract and necessary truth. Whv. the argu- 
 ment of the ideahst is constructed to meet this very objection. He
 
 574 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 contends that there are certain principles of eternal and immutable 
 truth in the world ; that, while empirical facts must be gained by 
 observation, by diligent colligation, and by the testimony of others 
 on the same points, there are certain foundation truths, which rest 
 upon the necessary constitution of our own minds, and for the 
 pledge of whose validity we need no second opinion. Might not 
 the " deal' little original independent thinker,^' whom the author 
 chuckles over, perchance discover, that the angles at the base of 
 an isosceles are equal ? Might he not haply rear up a whole edifice 
 of mathematical truth without the least fear, that what he discovers 
 to-day may prove wrong to-morrow ? Now idealism contends that 
 there are axioms of metaphysical, of moral, aye, and of theological 
 truth, too, which are quite as certain as those we have just men- 
 tioned. The only proof of the validity of mathematical axioms and 
 deductions, is, that they express necessary relations, which our rea- 
 son, constituted as we have it, can never reject ; and precisely the 
 same proof is at hand to verify the fundamental laws, both of moral 
 and of metaphysical philosophy. Here, as well as in mathematical 
 investigations, we discover principles which appeal at once to the 
 human consciousness, and which possess that mark of necessity, 
 which raises them altogether above the reach of mere observation, 
 or the province of external testimony. Let men beware how they 
 tamper with these primary laws of human belief; let them beware 
 how they allow scepticism to plant its first step within the region 
 of our rational convictions : once undermine the power and validity 
 of our faculties in their application to the grounds, either of meta- 
 physics, morals, or religion, and the catholic testimony of the whole 
 Church will not save the most precious truth we possess from 
 refutation and ruin. 
 
 Again, the author's scepticism shows itself in the effects which 
 he regards as flowing from the corruption of human nature. His 
 theory is, that this corruption prevents us from viewing moral re- 
 lations aright ; and that the evil cannot be rectified without the 
 rite of baptism and the aid of the Church. What is here involved, 
 we would ask, but a perpetual paralogism ? The duty of belief, 
 the duty of submission, the duty of entire trust to authority, is re- 
 iterated and asserted to satiety ; but whence, it is demanded, does 
 the obligation of exercising such belief and such submission flow ? 
 My friend over the way, perchance, was never canonically bap- 
 tized ; he has never had the mysterious influence supposed exerted 
 upon him ; he has never sat at the feet of a Catholic, or Anglo-
 
 MYSTICISM IN ENGLAND. 575 
 
 Catholic priest ; his moral nature, therefore, is unsound ; he can- 
 iwt possibly view the relations of duty aright. On what ground, 
 then, do you urge upon him the duty of belief? lie has not, on 
 the hypothesis before us, the capacity to feel it to be a duty. 
 Words to him are nothing : for there is no correct moral sen- 
 sibility to work upon. Talk not of his sin, his pride, his resist- 
 ance of law, his rejection of (lod's authorized teachers; if his 
 fundamental notions of moral obligation are perverted, duty is to 
 him, in comparison with a baj>lizcd person, a nonentity. In brief, 
 if those without the Catholic Church are left so perverted, that 
 their moral nature does not act aright within them, then all argu- 
 ment to bring them to the pale, all attempts to prove them wrong, 
 must be unavailing : the only course must be to cajole them to the 
 font, and having regenerated them, then, at length, to appeal to 
 their renewed hearts. Whilst, however, the moral faculties are 
 all twisted, in the name of consistency do not blame them for a 
 want of belief, the obligation of which they are morally incapable 
 of perceiving. Again we say, to deny the validity of a man's 
 moral faculties, and then to aflirm him wrong in not performing 
 the moral act of belief, imj)lies a j)aral<)gism in reason, and an ab- 
 surdity in practice. 
 
 Into the author's Tnysticiam we should be tempted to enter far 
 more largely, were we writing on theological principles rather than 
 those of speculative philosophy. As, however, we certainly regard 
 it entirely out of j)lace. in a work pretending to scientific rigor, to 
 advance so loosely and ailirm with so little proof, as our author 
 has done, the reality of sacramental ellicacy, so we should be stejv 
 ping out of our own track in marshalling any arguments, derived 
 from Scripture or experience, which may lie against it. But ex- 
 traordinary it certaiidy appears to us, that any one should accuse 
 man's instinctive moral convictions of indcfnitrncss, ami then ajv 
 peal to an abstraction, called the Catholic Church, to obtain a sci- 
 entific system of ethical truth in which this indistinctness should 
 be rectified. Let any one consider the mass o( conllicting opin- 
 ions, both on religion and ethics, which has been held by the visible 
 church in diflerent ages; let any one consider the diflicully of de- 
 ciding which out of this whole mass must be Catholic truth and 
 which the incrustation of error ; let any one look round him now, 
 and see how many authorized teachers of the Church itself are 
 giving coiiij)letcly cttnfradictory views on the same {Ktints, and 
 those of fundamental importance ; let any one, in fine, eslim ile
 
 576 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the difficulty and uncertainty of historical inquiry reaching back 
 into remote ages, the chief monuments of which have perished in 
 the wreck of time, and then say, whether he is wdlling to rest the 
 fundamental principles of moral obligation upon this basis. 
 
 The whole work is in fact a feeble imitation of the modern 
 French Catholic school of philosophy. When the authors of such 
 works have so vast an amount of authority as is presented by the 
 Catholic Church to back these arguments, there is at least some 
 semblance of argument, especially as addressed to a Catholic peo- 
 ple. But for the advocate of one small school out of the whole 
 mass of Protestantism to set up the plea of universal authority, 
 and that too grounded on his own sectarian interpretation of the 
 Christian doctrines, — this is indeed an exhibition over which the 
 Galilean Catholic may smile, but the English Protestant will only 
 be inclined to mourn. 
 
 Leaving, therefore, the Anglo-Catholic system of ethics, we go 
 on to notice another form in which this same species of mysticism 
 is sometimes advanced, and that is, when the authority of the Bible 
 is substituted for that of the Church. I might mention Dr. Ward- 
 law's " Christian Ethics" as an instance of that to which I am now 
 alluding ; in which it is maintained that human nature is too per- 
 verted morally ever to arrive at pure ethical truth without the in- 
 fluence which the revealed word exerts upon the mind. Here, as 
 in the other case, there is a principle involved, which, if consist- 
 ently maintained, would strike at the root of all moral obligation. 
 For, not only must our personal responsibility on this hypothesis 
 be diminished, but even religion itself must lose its foundation and 
 its force, when once the sanctity of conscience, as aii inward law, 
 is disowned. All religion rests upon the existence of a God, infi- 
 nitely just and holy, as well as powerful and great ; but of what 
 use were it that the moral perfections of Deity should be displayed 
 in the world around us, or in the written word, if we had no cor- 
 rect moral sensibility, to which these manifestations might appeal ? 
 Unless there were a standard of right within us, we could never 
 conceive of holiness or moral perfection as the attributes of the 
 Supreme Being ; and, wanting this conception, religion would be 
 a nonentity. 
 
 The influence of depravity falls primarily upon our dispositions. 
 Indisposition towards what is holy may divert our thoughts from 
 moral truth, and weaken our conceptions of it ; then, the concep- 
 tions being weakened, the moral emotions will be less intense.
 
 MYSTICISM IV ENGLAND. 577 
 
 But never can sin invert or disturb the great principles of man's 
 moral nature. Conscience may be seared, but never deranged; it 
 may cease to speak, but it will never turn upside down the great 
 relations of good and evil. Moral approbation will ever follow the 
 perception of what is esteemed right ; moral disapprobation the 
 perception of what is esteemed wrong. Were we to suppose it to 
 be otherwise, man would not only be placed beyond the region of 
 responsibility ; but there would be a moral impossibility that he 
 could ever be taught the sacredness of virtue, or the turpitude of 
 vice. Just as no teaching could convey the notion of salt or bitter, 
 if sensation were deranged, so, also, no course of moral instruc- 
 tion, not even a revelation itself, could ever give us the perception 
 of good and evil, if our moral sensibilities were thrown into con- 
 fusion. 
 
 III. We come now to consider the third mode of mysticism, to 
 which we have alluded ; that, namely, which supposes all truth to 
 be gained by extraordinary supernatural means. This, of course, 
 must be regarded simply as a species of religious mysticism, held, 
 for the most part, by those who make but little pretension to philo- 
 sophical investigation. It results frequently, for example, from an 
 exaggerated view of the Scriptural doctrine of Divine influence. 
 Not a few earnest believers in Christianity, with a mistaken desire 
 of enhancing the value of revelation, would have us to suppose, 
 that all absolute truth must be communicated by the sj)ecial opera- 
 tion of the Spirit upon the mind. iNIan, it is argued, is blinded by 
 sin, his reason is beclouded, he cannot understand revealed truth 
 though it blaze forth in the clearest light from the sacred page ; but 
 a special enlightenment comes over bin), and then truth becomes 
 plain and obvious. 
 
 In this system, we see simply the exaggeration of a great theo- 
 logical doctrine. That the eternal and infinite Spirit should com- 
 municate with those finite spirits, which are emanations from its 
 own essence, is philosophically probable, and theologicallv certain ; 
 but far is this from justifying the sweeping conclusion, that all 
 absolute truth must depend upon such esjiecial communings of God 
 with man. To the spiritual nature of man, indeed, they may bo 
 all in all ; but Cod has not left him so irresponsil»le as it would he 
 implied that he really is, were he entirely deiKMident intrUtctually 
 upon the extraordinary communications of spiritual influence, in 
 order to view truth aright. That <lirect intercourse with G(xl is 
 permitted, and that it answers a purpose infinitely unix)rtant in 
 
 37
 
 578 MODERN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 human destiny, we fully believe ; but assuredly it was never 
 intended to supply the place, or to contravene the duty, of our 
 own intellectual effort. As these phenomena, however, come more 
 under the idea of religious than philosophical mysticism, we shall 
 now, having indicated their existence, forbear to pursue them any 
 farther. 
 
 To sum up, then, our remarks upon the modern mysticism of 
 England in few words, we would remind our readers that the 
 errors which it contains are all errors either of defect or of exag- 
 geration ; and that every form of it really contains some germ of 
 truth at the basis, to which it owes its existence. Look at the first 
 form. That truth may stream in rays of beauty upon the mind, 
 through the medium of our inward sensibility, (since all our affec- 
 tions have their appropriate object,) we can hardly entertain a 
 doubt ; but when sensibility is substituted for reason, and raised to 
 a position superior to it in the development of our knowledge, then 
 there is an error admitted, which only needs a little unfolding to 
 produce the wildest fancies of the philosophical mystic. Again, to 
 adduce the second form — we should be far from denying that there 
 is such a thing as a fixed supernatural channel, by which God re- 
 veals his will to mankind ; for the Bible, as we regard it, is such a 
 channel, and so also is the Church. But when the Bible on the 
 one hand, or the Church on the other, is raised up as an authority 
 upon the ruins of human reason, we cannot but think that a suicidal 
 act is virtually committed, inasmuch as if the validity of reason is 
 undermined, the possibility of proving the authenticity of revela- 
 tion itself is forever destroyed. Lastly, to adduce the third form 
 of mysticism, we do not reject the illumination of the soul of man 
 by especial outpourings of Divine influence ; but we contend that 
 such influences relate to man's religious progress in his probation- 
 ary state, and are not to be regarded as the channels for conveying 
 to any mind either physical or metaphysical truth. Mysticism, in 
 fact, within its due limits, expresses what is true and sacred ; be- 
 yond those limits it becomes a vain and a pernicious assumption. 
 
 Sect. IL — Modern Mysticism in France. 
 
 France is a country by no means favorable to the rise or the 
 growth of mysticism. In no other nation of Europe is the under- 
 standing so perfectly developed as there. In none is the higher
 
 MYSTICISM IN FRANCE. 579 
 
 reason, generally speaking, developed so imperfectly. As a conse- 
 quence of this, sensationalism has long been, and still is, the philo- 
 sophical system of the mass ; and although a strong reaction has 
 set in, it has not yet worked long or powerfully enough to raise the 
 minds of many into that lofty region of thought, which is chiefly 
 accustomed to be swept by the clouds and vapors of mysticism. 
 France is the country of clear, transparent, mathematical thinking. 
 Its language is of all others definite ; its idioms of all others most 
 logically correct, and least poetical. In vain do we search in 
 France for the poesy of England, or the deep, mystic, and reflec- 
 tive spirit of Germany. Extravagant romance may be sufficiently 
 at home there, both in Uterature and in life ; but the spiritual 
 nature, the spring of what is greatest in humanity, is too often un- 
 touched. 
 
 The stirring scenes of the Revolution, and the expectations 
 which it raised throughout the world of the coming regeneration 
 of human society, directed the thinking minds of France more par- 
 ticularly to the philosophy of social life ; and it is in this depart- 
 ment that speculations nearest bordering upon mysticism have 
 made their appearance in that country. 
 
 »<^The name of St. Simon is well known as heading a band of po- 
 litical regenerators. The system, however, which he originated, 
 embraces not only the details of a new social constitution, but 
 some other doctrines, which demand a little consideration under the 
 present section. The mystical element, we should premise, does 
 not attach itself to St. Simon ism in its principles, so much as in its 
 details and its spirit. However rational the grounds of any system 
 may appear, yet when its advocates separate themselves from the 
 rest of the world, as some superior race ; w hen they adopt a pecul- 
 iar garb and dress ; when they announce a great crisis in the 
 world's history, and 'promise a complete regeneration of human 
 society of which they are themselves the precursors : it is hardly 
 possible to withhold from such visionary enthusiasts the charge of 
 mysticism. St. Simon not only attcmi>ted to introtluce new social 
 principles, but a new Christianity. Moses, it was said, had prom- 
 ised to men a universal fraternity. Jesus Christ had prepared 
 it: St. Simon has realized it. In him the universal Church at 
 length appears, in which the whole man, socially as well as individ- 
 ually, is embraced. 
 
 Claude Henri Count de St. Simon was born at Paris. A.D. 1760, 
 of a noble family. At an early age he went to America, and
 
 580 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 served in the republican army. There his first ideas of a new 
 state of society were formed ; and when he returned to France, 
 instead of taking any part in the Revolution, he gave himself up 
 entirely to the realization of his cherished plans of social reform. 
 In 1814 he published a tract on the " Reorganization of European 
 Society." Other works on the same topics followed in quick suc- 
 cession ; at length, poor in resources, and neglected by his country- 
 men, yet to the very last urging his few followers to go on in the 
 path he had opened for them, he expired A.D. 1825. 
 
 After the death of the apostle, strange to say, the doctrines he 
 had lived for became suddenly popular. Many of the first men 
 joined the ranks of his disciples ; and his principles were power- 
 fully advocated in the " Producteur," and even to some extent in 
 the " Globe." Around these elements a school of social science 
 was soon gathered. The sentiments it upheld were publicly 
 taught ; books were written to defend them ; journals published to 
 advocate them ; and even missionaries were sent forth to preach 
 the new faith throughout Europe. At this juncture, the civil 
 authority interfered, — the school itself, erected upon a very shallow 
 foundation, suddenly fell, and after a brief but brilliant career, 
 passed away like a dream. 
 
 St. Simonism comes before us as a system at once of religion, 
 philosophy, and government — one, too, by which professedly all the 
 ills of humanity are to be removed. That those ills are at present 
 fearful both in character and extent, all are ready to admit ; but 
 there are few who can understand the source from whence they 
 arise. Their real source, says St. Simon, is to be found in the total 
 and universal want of social unity. Human life has now no com- 
 mon principle, no common ideas, no common aim. Individualism 
 rules throughout society ; each man has his own views, and follows 
 his own purposes ; so that the body politic, which ought to be 
 working harmoniously in all its parts, is given up to virtual anarchy 
 and confusion. 
 
 Philosophy and religion have both attempted to remedy these 
 evils, but in vain. Sensationalism and idealism, though presenting 
 many a fine-spun theory, have been practically worthless ; moral ^-, 
 systems have proved equally empty and futile. Religion, though ! 
 
 it has done its part, yet has never assumed its highest form — that 
 in which the spiritual is made to bear upon the material interests 
 of mankind. The real gospel of social happiness has yet to be 
 proclaimed. 
 
 -i.
 
 MYSTICISM IN FRANCE, 581 
 
 The true philosophy, as also the true religion for man, is to be 
 sought for historically ; to find it, we must attempt to deduce the 
 law of human development, both as regards religion and society ; 
 in this way only can we interpret the past, comprehend the pres- 
 ent, and predict the future. Whatever elements, moral, intellec- 
 tual, or religious, we find operating upon human nature in the prog- 
 ress of its development, these are the real elements with which 
 philosophy has to do. 
 
 St. Simon's doctrine, therefore, gives a philosophy of minds, 
 rather than oimind; it presents a science of humanity as a whole, 
 rather than of human nature in its isolation. This principle is one 
 to which no real objection, that we are aware, can be made ; nay, 
 we regard it as a most important branch of philosophy, to trace the 
 mental progress of mankind in the world. All the mysticism at- 
 taching to it in the present instance arises from the enthusiasm 
 with which the law of development was proclaimed, as a divine 
 discovery of the new prophet, and as a substitute for all philosophy, 
 all politics, and all religion for the future. 
 
 And what, then, is the law of development, by which humanity 
 marches onward to perfection ? Society, according to St. Simon, 
 has shown two great phases or epochs, which, in long cycles, have 
 alternated with each other. The one is the organic epoch, the 
 other the critical. Under the former, society is always bound to- 
 gether by some general law — all its facts regulated by some great 
 theory. Under the latter, all law and theory is broken up ; unity 
 of action ceases ; and individual interests goon clashing with each 
 other. This alternation has already taken place twice in the his- 
 tory of humanity. The ancient pagan period was an organic state ; 
 the breaking up of paganism the critical. This led to the second 
 organic period, by the consolidation of human opinion under the 
 power of the Catholic Church ; while the second critical epoch, 
 commencing with the Reformation, found its climax in the French 
 Revolution. St. Simon considered himself raised up to announce 
 the advent of a third organic period, now just at hand, in which 
 war, confusion, discord, shall all cease, and man be united by the 
 triple bond of a moral, intellectual, and industrial perfection. 
 
 The same law of progress, which history shows us on the broad 
 sui'face of human society, is seen under another point of view, in 
 the successive features of man's religious belief Religion has ap- 
 peared under four different aspects ; that of Fetishism, of Polythe- 
 ism, of Monotheism, and lastly St. Simonism. Under the reign
 
 682 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 of Fetishism, cruelty and fear reigned universally throughout 
 society — it was the age of cannibalism, man devouring man, 
 society preying on itself. Polytheism was an advance upon this 
 state of barbarity ; — the sentiment of humanity began to dawn ; — 
 slavery took the place of Islamism, and the foundations of the social 
 edifice became visible. Monotheism, both Jewish and Christian, 
 succeeded. Slavery now gave way to national institutions ; the 
 spirit of love began to expand itself over society at large, and the 
 principle of selfishness to be resisted. Christianity, however, while 
 accomplishing these glorious results, has chiefly aimed at the spir- 
 itual education of man, and has not yet operated directly upon the 
 building up of his social and temporal happiness. So far from that, 
 the spiritual and material are put into a state of antagonism by it ; 
 which, however necessary as a critical era in the progress of truth, 
 yet gives rise to a thousand immediate evils. We await, then, the 
 last and perfect organic form of the religious life in the world ; 
 that in which the temporal and material interests of man shall be 
 blended in one, and social life find its perfection in the full expan- 
 sion of religious truth. In this state of society there will be a due 
 provision for education, legislation, and religious worship. Every 
 man must be a producer, and every class of producers must have 
 its own proper sphere of action. Priests of religion, men of science, 
 and the industrial classes, these will form the whole mass of society. 
 The most eminent of the three divisions will form the aristocracy 
 . — the whole together will form at once the church and the state ; 
 and the great principle of action will be, each man according to his 
 capacity/, and each capacity according to its work. .Such are the 
 broad outlines of the St. Simonian dictrines.* Inadmissible as they 
 appear in their original form, they have, notwithstanding, proved 
 very suggestive to many active minds ; and stand, in fact, at the 
 vestibule of a school of social inquiry, which is now actively en- 
 gaged in bringing forth many remarkable results. 
 
 The social system which now holds by far the most prominent 
 ■^ace in France, is that of Charles Fourier, (born 1772, died 1837.) 
 It is a very common, but a very erroneous opinion, that Fourier's 
 system sprang from the St. Simonian doctrines. It is well known, 
 on the contrary, that the main points of it were clearly developed 
 in the mind of the author so early as the year 1779 ; and in the 
 year 1808 he published his "Theorie de quatre Mouvenients," which 
 
 * Abundant materials exist in France for studying the St. Simonian system. The 
 best works to consult are, " Doctrine de St. Simon," (Paris, second edit. 1839,) and an 
 " Exposition de la Doctrine Saint-Simonienne," 2 vols.
 
 MYSTICISM IN FRANCE. 583 
 
 was many years before St. Simon Iiad produced the least impres- 
 sion upon the world. The fact is, that many of the St. Simonian 
 school, after the death of the founder, adopted portions of Fourier's 
 phraseology, and that, at the dissolution of it, some of the ablest 
 writers came over to the other system. This may, probably, have 
 given .rise to the notion, that the phalansterian doctrines were affil- 
 iated upon the St. Simonian. 
 
 For many years after the publication of his first work, Fourier 
 excited no attention ; his only friend and follower was M. Just 
 Muiron, who, impressed with the grandeur of his views of society, 
 entered warmly with him into the task of propagating them. In 
 1822 Fourier published his " Theorie de I'Unitu Universelle," which 
 was succeeded by the " Nouveau Monde Jndustriel et Societaire," 
 and "La fausse Industrie." These works, though giving a very full 
 and even learned exposition of his doctrines, yet are written in a 
 style so strange, and a technology so unusual, that it is not to be 
 wondered at that they produced but little effect upon the public at 
 large. Fortunately for the credit of the system, it succeeded in 
 engaging the eloquent pen of M. Victor Considerant ; to him were 
 added from the ranks of the St. Simonians, INI. Abel Transon and 
 M. Jules Le Chevalier. After the death of Fourier, accordingly, 
 in 1837, the school began to organize itself; and the doctrines 
 it maintained began to spread amongst many thinking minds in 
 France. A journal entitled "La Phalange,'' which had been insti- 
 tuted in 1836, advocated, and still advocates the views of the 
 society with great spirit ; and within the last year or two a daily 
 paper, " La Democratic Pacifique," has been entirely devoted to 
 its principles and interests. The school is at this moment, we be- 
 lieve, greatly on the increase: the '• bulletins" fur the last three 
 years show, at any rate, a vast accession both of money and 
 men.* 
 
 Our readers may now be interested to understand something of 
 a system, which confessedly constitutes a "great fact" in the lit- 
 erary history of the present day ; fur although it apj^cars jtromi- 
 nently as a social theory, yet being grounded in metaphysical prin- 
 ciples, it can be viewed, strictly speaking, as a complete system of 
 philosophy. 
 
 First of all, then, according to Fouiicr. it must be admitted that 
 
 • An nttrmpt was made to intro<liicc the svHtrm into F.nijliinil liy Mr. Dohcrty, who 
 pvililisilud tor II short lime the " I,omlon l»h;ilan\." While thi^ has ilisappoarwl in 
 Kn<ilanil, the litfiriiturc has been vastly inrrrasin;f in Franrr. I have Ix-torc mc a 
 caUilogue of more than tliirly scparutc works, advocating the phuhinstcrian system.
 
 584 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 reason is to man an organ of truth. Without this admission, all 
 philosophy, nay, all human knowledge, is worthless. But reason 
 grasps not truth at once. Starting from a few fundamental prin- 
 ciples it makes many tentative efforts, falls into many errors, and 
 yet in the main advances. So it was, for example, in astronomy, 
 until the true law of gravitation was established, when all became 
 plain. So it is with regard to society ; theories of socialism can 
 be only tentative until the real law of human nature is eliminated ; 
 but then society will become harmonious. 
 
 As the foundation of all science, we must raise our minds to the 
 contemplation of God. Everything within and around us pro- 
 claims the existence of a supreme being of infinite intelligence, 
 wisdom, and goodness. From him all creation has flowed forth ; 
 and all must, therefore, bear upon it the impress of his own divine 
 and harmonious mind. Experience proves that this is the case, 
 for nature is full of harmony. Music is a manifestation of divine 
 harmony ; the colors of the spectrum afford us another manifesta- 
 tion of it ; wherever we look, the same great feature of the divine 
 nature is exhibited.* 
 
 Man was made in the image of God ; he is the mirror of the 
 universe. As such, there must be in human nature at once the 
 purest harmony, and the highest unity. To suppose otherwise, 
 would be absolutely derogatory to the wisdom, the power, or the 
 beneficence of the Creator. Evil, it is true, exists, but this may 
 be easily explained. Suppose a mechanic to construct a beautiful 
 machine, and some bungling workmen were to throw it into con- 
 fusion, should we say that the' fault were in the machine, or in the 
 ignorance of the workmen ? Of course the latter. So it is with 
 humanity. As made by God, it is a perfect and harmonious con- 
 struction ; and the source of all evil is to be sought for in that 
 wide-spread ignorance, which, without comprehending human na- 
 ture aright, throws it into false positions, and puts all its fine-strung 
 harmonies into discord. f 
 
 The great thing, then, is to study man : — to study him by the 
 purest light of our reason ; to bring to bear on the investigation 
 all we know of God, the Creator, and all the analysis of creation 
 at large. The study of man comprehends two fields of research, 
 — that of his history, and that of his constitution. History shows 
 
 * See " Nouveau Monde Indust." p. 445. Also, " Solidarite," by Hippolyte Renaud, 
 chaps, ii. and viii. Throughout all his works, Fourier draws frequent illustrations from 
 music, to which he had been early passionately attached. 
 
 t " Solidarite, p. 25.
 
 MYSTICISM IN FRANCE. 585 
 
 US humanity passing through a succession of phases, answering to 
 the infancy, youth, adolescence, virility, and old age of the individ- 
 ual, and termed by Fourier, Edenisme, Sauvagerie, Patriarcat, 
 Barbarie, Civilisation. In these several eras, we see the principle 
 of union gradually developing in connection with the rise of the 
 arts and sciences. 
 
 The next step in human progress, must be that in which the 
 present system of individualism prevalent through society shall be 
 broken up; in which the true law of society shall be discovered; 
 in which men shall find their highest interest and happiness in the 
 public weal ; in which the happiness of the individual and the com- 
 munity shall be absolutely identified. This state is termed that of 
 harmony * 
 
 To understand this state, and the means of attaining it, we must 
 become acquainted with man in his nature and constitution. Upon 
 the knowledge of these, Fourier's whole social system depends. 
 Man is in himself a trinity, a compound of three principles. f 
 
 1. The Passions — Active or motive principle. 
 
 2. The Body — Passive principle. 
 
 3. Intelligence — Regulative or mathematical principle. 
 
 The body is the mere organ or tool of the man. Intelligence 
 gives the rules or laws of all movement ; and the passions are the 
 sole causes which impel the will to action. J The real man, then, 
 is to be studied in the ivill, and in all the passions (?. e. motives) 
 which determine it ; to understand man, therefore, aright, we must 
 endeavor to grasp the whole of the principles of his activity, and 
 comprehend the mechanism of his passions. 
 
 These have been discussed by Fourier with great acuteness and 
 precision. As there are three parts of the human constitution, so, 
 he considers, there are three classes of passions, representing three 
 ruling tendencies or attractions. 1. There is the tendencv to i)hy.«;. 
 ical enjoyment, (tendance au luxe,) and this is satisfied through 
 the sensitive passions ; namely, taste, smell, sight, hearing, touch. 
 2. There is the tendency in man to form into groups with his fel- 
 low-man : this tendency is supplied by the alU'ctivo passions, 
 which are friendship, ambition, love, and domesticity. 3. There 
 is the tendency to series or rank. INIen not only form into groups, 
 but difl'erent groups seek to attain a dilfereut rank or standing in 
 society, thus creating a regular system of srrirs or degrees from 
 
 • " Nouvcau Monde," sees. vi. nnii vii. f " Solidnrit^," p. 38. 
 
 \ The term p&ssiun is used by Kouricr to signify any iniauJ mUivt wKaievtr.
 
 586 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the lowest to the highest. This tendency is served by three pas- 
 sions — emulation, agreement, and diversity; for men of different 
 ranks will stand affected to others by rivalry, by sympathy in their 
 views, or by the love of change. These are termed by Fourier, 
 " la Cabaliste, la Composite, and la Papillonne" — forming the dis- 
 tributive, as the others formed the affective passions. The whole 
 of these springs of action thus tend to create perfect harmony in 
 society ; for just as nature has taken care to balance the numbers 
 of the sexes, so also does she distribute men of different tendencies 
 in such a way, that the whole of the passions shall be in equilib- 
 rium, and perfect unity be the result, forming, as it is termed, the 
 pivot around which the whole revolve. 
 
 The following table will give a clear idea of the whole analysis : — 
 
 i\ 
 
 PIVOT-PASSION. GENERIC PASSIONS. 
 
 a Tendency to Luxury 
 or physical enjoyment. 
 
 RADICAL PASSIONS. 
 
 Unity or 
 Harmony. 
 
 P Tendency to Groups. 
 
 y Tendency to Ranks 
 or Series. 
 
 1. Taste. 
 
 2. Smell. 
 
 3. Sight. 
 
 4. Hearing. 
 
 5. Touch. 
 
 6. Ambition. 
 
 7. Friendship. 
 
 8. Love. 
 
 i). Domesticity. 
 10. Rivalry. 
 IL Concord. 
 12. Diversity. 
 
 )■ Sensative. 
 
 Affective. 
 
 Distributive. 
 
 Of these twelve radical passions, the four affective are the car- 
 dinal, like the four notes in the octave, which form the main chords ; 
 the three distributive answer to the other three notes, w^hich form 
 the subordinate chords ; while the five sensitive, answer to the five 
 semi-tones, which complete the twelve parts of the chromatic 
 scale.* 
 
 Such, then, are the elements of human nature, such the mate- 
 rials with which society has to be constructed ; we can now pro- 
 ceed, therefore, to discover the organization of social life. Hu- 
 manity is at present like a splendid organ, entirely out of tune. 
 Harmony exists not, for each man is individuahzed in his interests, 
 and stands in a kind of antagonism to all the rest. Moral purity 
 exists not; for the passions not having their natural sphere of 
 action, become contorted or extravagant, and lead into every 
 species of crime. Happiness and liberty exist not ; for of w^hat 
 use is it to have freedom inscribed upon the parchments of the 
 empire, when the man is a slave to a labor, which is totally at 
 
 * Vid. Solidarity p. 47.
 
 MYSTICISM IN FRANCE. 587 
 
 variance with his tastes and attractions ? For the passions to 
 exist in a state of harmony and equilibrium, society must be con- 
 structed on rational and philosophical principles ; each attraction 
 must have its satisfaction, and the tendency to vice must be re- 
 pelled, and overcome, not by punishment and restraint, but by the 
 happiness each man will find in following out his proper destination. 
 
 A community of 400 families, comprehending aljout 1800 souls, 
 is considered by Fourier sufficient to carry out his jjlan of society. 
 Such a community he terms a Phalange, and the palace in which 
 they reside a Phalanstere. The Phalange is to be built in a pe- 
 culiar form, containing dwelling-houses of different sizes, gardens, 
 workshops, and everything necessary for the conduct of social life. 
 It is to stand in the centre of an area of about a league square, 
 which is to be cultivated for the benefit of the community. The 
 cattle, fruit, flowers, &.C., which are reared on the estate, will sup- 
 ply the five senses with objects of satisfaction, and administer to 
 the physical necessities of the inhabitants. Next, the affective pas- 
 sions are to be consulted. Friendships will be formed between 
 those who have a natural attraction for each other, uninfluenced 
 by the sordid motives which society now presents. Ambition will 
 find an ample field for exertion, and men will unite into groups to 
 carry out their plans. Love will unite the sexes in perfect har- 
 mony, when all selfish interests in the shape of property, «fec., cease 
 to be consulted. And, lastly, the family circle will havb all its 
 charms without its anxieties ajid its cares. Such will be the pri- 
 mary grouping of mankind, \\hen these affections are left to their 
 natural play. 
 
 But now the distributive passions will come into jtlay. Men have 
 different tastes. Some will follow agriculture, some gardening, some 
 commerce, some domestic duties, while others will choo.se education, 
 literature, science, or religion, as their favorite employment. Every 
 man will be at liberty to enter whatever group he pleases, or to 
 change his occupation as often as he may desire ; but assuredly, as 
 every man finds his happiness alone in activity, he will do something, 
 where everything lies open to his choice. Some will be incited by 
 rivalry, others by syinpallnj, while all may enjoy variety. The 
 property of the community will ct)nsist of capital, labor, talent. 
 These will all be rewarded proportionally to their value ; the whole 
 community will partake of the benefit of what each member artbrds, 
 and a state of harmony will ensue, which, while it gives employ- 
 ment and support to all, will excite all to emulation, and give a
 
 588 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 stimulus to commerce, science, and literature, such as, under the 
 present state of things, it is utterly impossible to realize. Diversity 
 of rank there must ever be ; for while there is harmony in nature, 
 there is no such thing as equality. Every man, however, will have 
 the opportunity of realizing wealth, honor, esteem, and even power* 
 exactly in proportion to his talent and his industry. 
 
 It is vain for us to attempt entering into the details of the Phal- 
 ansterian community. Doubtless they must appear very Utopian, 
 as here described ; but the genius and benevolence of the author of 
 the system, certainly afford good reason for giving an attentive ear 
 to his suggestions, since much may often be learned even from a 
 theory which appears to be only dictated by the boldest enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 Fourier, to complete his philosophy, carried his principles at 
 length into the highest regions of human thought. Under the title 
 of " Cosmogony," he pushed his researches into the spiritual nature 
 of man, showing his unity with God, and with the universe at large. 
 Under the title of " Universal Analogy," he attempted to carry his 
 laws of harmony into the various realms of nature ; and thus to 
 make discoveries which, to the method of induction, would have 
 been forever impossible. Some of his school are now carrying on 
 similar researches, and applying the numerical laws we have re- 
 ferred to, to the questions of physiology, language, and religion. 
 Having just indicated, however, the main principles of his system, 
 as a philosophy, we must be content to point out the works by 
 which our readers may enter, if they choose, into the details of the 
 Phalansterian doctrines.* 
 
 Many of Fourier's doctrines upon cosmogony, upon the spiritual 
 body in man, upon metempsychosis, upon the details of universal 
 analogy, are, we believe, regarded, even by many of his followers, 
 as extravagant and theosophic. It should be remembered, however, 
 that he only put them forward as speculations, not as scientific facts. 
 What he regards alone as strictly scientific, is his analysis of human 
 nature, and his theory of social organization. On these subjects, 
 however, there are some points very unsatisfactory. His doctrine 
 of evil, though containing some truth, is far from probing the mis- 
 chief to its centre. There is a perturbation in human nature which 
 
 * The student of Fourier should begin by some of the simpler writings of the school, 
 as the " Exposition Abregee," of M. Considerant. He will be highly interested by M. 
 Cantagrel's Dialogues, entitled " Le Fou du Palais Royal " The best synthetical 
 view of the system, is that entitled " Solidarite," by M. Renaud. After these works, 
 he may proceed to the writings of Fourier himself, particularly the " Nouveau Monde 
 Industriel." A life of Fourier has been written by M. Charles Pellarin. 
 
 /
 
 MYSTICISM I\ FRANCE. 589 
 
 needs a Divine cure, before holiness and happiness can result from 
 its being left to the play of its natural attractions. I know we 
 must separate, as Bishop Butler does, between the original consti- 
 tution of man by God, and his superadded sinful tendencies ; but 
 those tendencies demand something more potent than a Phalan- 
 stere, to bring the heart right, and purify the conscience. Till this 
 is done, society may present an outward paradise, but there will be 
 all the elements of hell itself within the soul. Another point that 
 wants great consideration is the analysis of the passions. If that 
 be imperfect, the credit of the whole system is broken down. But 
 we are not yet prepared to admit that the science of human nature 
 has been at "once begun and completed in the person of Fourier. 
 That he merits the title of great genius and great philanthropy, 
 must be admitted ; but he has added only his portion to the noble 
 edifice of human science. Much that he has written will pass 
 away into oblivion ; but the truth he uttered (and he uttered much) 
 will mingle up with the mass of our knowledge, when the system, 
 as'a whole, has vanished forever, like a splendid dream. 
 
 In the above sketches of St. Simon and Fourier, we have given 
 the two main social systems of modern times^ As schools of phi- 
 losophy, they are both marked by the use that is made of the his- 
 torical element. Both have regarded mankind as being in a state 
 of perpetual progress ; and it is this idea of progress (one which is 
 also shared by the Eclectic school) which has given a distinctive 
 feature to every system, that has aimed prin»arily at illustrating the 
 philosophy of social life. On the contrary, the theological school 
 we have described under the title of Scepticism, advocating, for 
 the most part, the doctrines of absolute power, have rejected the 
 idea of progress, as involving all the errors of pantheism in theol- 
 ogy, and radicalism in politics ; and maintained the existence of a 
 fixed and unalterable standard of eternal truth. 
 
 There is a class of writers, however, which take their stand 
 midway between these two ideas. Convinced, on the one hand, 
 of the reality of human progress, still they recognize the existence 
 of a body of traditional truth, which has come down ujK)n the 
 stream of time, from the earliest ages to the present day. Of these 
 writers, some regard the traditionary element as being thr tniivrr- 
 sal consent of mankind, of whatever period or of whatever relig- 
 ion ; others, on the contrary, regard it as belonging more particu- 
 larly to the Christian revelation, either in its i)reparatory forms or 
 its subsequent development ; but both unite in recognizing the re-
 
 590 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ality of progress as the law of human nature. The former of 
 these schools is represented by M. Pierre Leroux ; the latter, by 
 M. Buchez. 
 
 M. Pierre Leroux was one of the ardent and aspiring minds 
 who studied first in the school of St. Simon. In 1824 he became 
 one of the originators and first editors of " The Globe ;" and it 
 was probably owing to his influence, that that remarkable journal 
 savored for some time so strongly of the St. Simonian doctrines. 
 Since the disappearance of St. Simonism, M. Leroux has assumed 
 an independent position, attempting to centre in himself, as far as 
 possible, the results of the eclectic psychology, the traditional ele- 
 ment of the catholic philosophy, and the historical speculations of 
 the sociologists — a position truly of no little difficulty, but one 
 which his metaphysical acumen, and his universal learning, emi- 
 nently qualified him to assume. 
 
 About the year 1833 he commenced, in conjunction with M. 
 Renaud, the composition of the " Encyclopedic Nouvelle," (as yet 
 incomplete,) in which many of his philosophical and religious opin- 
 ions are somewhat fully developed. Since then, there have ap- 
 peared from his pen,«a " Refutation de I'Eclecticisme," in which he 
 has attempted to develop the true idea of philosophy ; an " Essai 
 sur I'Egalite," in which he defines and illustrates the modern notion 
 of humanity, as being one united organization of labor and inter- 
 est ; a little treatise entitled " De la Doctrine du Progres Continu," 
 and, finally, an elaborate work " De I'Humanite, de son Principe, 
 et de son Avenir."* It is from this last work, as being the resume ' 
 
 of his former opinions, that I shall give the following account of 11 
 
 his philosophical stand-point. ' 
 
 The great object of M. Leroux's philosophy is Man. It attempts 
 to determine what he is, what is his destination, what his rights, 
 what his duties, and what his law. The psychological schools of 
 philosophy since Descartes have labored at these questions, but 
 labored unsuccessfully. Their point of departure has always been 
 the me ; in this they have expected to find all truth embodied ; to 
 the individual reason they have applied for the solution of every 
 fundamental problem. To say that their labors have been alto- 
 gether vain, would be incorrect, for many results have been gatli- 
 ered up on the way ; but still they have totally failed of getting 
 upon any solid ground, or of educing any satisfactory result. 
 
 * M. Leroux is also united with Mad. Dudevant in the editorship of the " Revue 
 Indcpendant."
 
 MYSTICISM IN FRANCE. 591 
 
 What, in fact, is the me, what is the individual reason ? A mere 
 abstraction, a fiction of philosophy, which has no real existence.* 
 No man can regard self as an independent creation, containing an 
 independent revelation of truth. Every separate mind, and every 
 individual reason, only exists as part of a vast whole, as a link in 
 that great series, the totality of which we call humanity. The 
 thoughts, feelings, beliefs, principles, which each man recognizes 
 in himself, do not spring up originally in his individual mind ; he 
 receives them as a part of the universal truth of mankind. Had 
 he Uved earlier, he would have had other thoughts ; those who live 
 later, will have others again. The me, then, or the individual man, 
 must hold a very subordinate place in the investigations of philos- 
 ophy ; the great point is to study mankind, to know what it has 
 been, what it is, what it will be hereafter. 
 
 This investigation, according to M. Leroux, all comes under the 
 science of life. The individual reason may discover formal or 
 mathematical truth ; but to study man, we must cast our gaze 
 upon the whole flow of liuman life ; and here only can we make 
 discoveries which can be of any value as elucidating his nature 
 and destination. The origin of humanity lies beyond our reach, 
 the end lies equally beyond it. All we see is a certain number of 
 links in the centre of a series, of which we know neither the com- 
 mencement nor termination, and these form the whole material of 
 our scientific research. The direct object of philosophy, therefore, 
 is to gain a complete view of the catholic tradition of mankind, so 
 far as history can reach ; secondly, to determine its progress in the 
 past ; and, thirdly, from this to deduce its continued progress for 
 the future. t 
 
 M. Leroux having thus explained the nature and objects of phi- 
 losophy, takes the individual man as his starting point, and as being 
 to us the necessary link with humanity at large. And what is the 
 individual man ? A being alone in time and space, isolated from 
 all the other creation ? Is he an animal only ? or is he a soul ? 
 None of these definitions or ideas will come near the truth. What 
 shall we say then ? " L'homme n'est ni une ame, ni un animal ; 
 I'homme est un animal transforme par la raison, et uni a Phu- 
 manite."J The ancients defined man as a social and political 
 animal, and so far they were correct ; but history since then has 
 taught us more. It has taught us that man is iierfectible, that so- 
 
 • " De rHumanitc," p. 113. f ''"' " '^-^ 'i ^oct. ilu Progrcs Humoin." 
 
 X " Dc I'HumuniU," p. V20.
 
 592 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ciety is perfectible, that the liuman race is perfectible. It has 
 taught us that by social combination the evils of the world may be 
 overcome, that all the antagonism of society may cease, and that the 
 interests of all may become solidified in the very structure of social 
 life. This alone can bring about human happiness, and this has 
 been the very point to which society is ever tending. " Yes," ex- 
 claims our author, " Plato says truly — We gravitate to God, attracted 
 by him who is the sovereign beauty, by the loving and rational 
 instinct of our nature. But just as the bodies placed on the sur- 
 face of our earth do only gravitate towards the sun all together, 
 and as the attraction of the earth is, so to say, only the centre of 
 their mutual attraction ; so we gravitate spiritually to God, by the 
 intervention of humanity."* Such is the compendium of the 
 whole history of philosophy. 
 
 In prosecution of these views, M. Leroux has devoted himself 
 with great ardor and learning to historical research. He has in- 
 vestigated the relics of ancient tradition, labored to gather up the 
 testimony of mankind in all ages upon the idea of God, of immor- 
 tality, and a future life ; and attempted to show that Christianity 
 is the regular development of the catholic truth of the world upon 
 these points. As, however, the law of progress still remains in 
 force, the conceptions of Christianity will give way to a more per- 
 fect religion. What the future will be we are at present ignorant ; 
 but we are laboring for it. The tradition of Europe will be handed 
 down to the next generation, and as is ever the case, the science 
 of the present will become the basis of the religion of the future. 
 
 Such are the main ideas of the philosophy now under review. 
 Like the system of St. Simon and of Fourier, it looks only upon 
 the more outward features of human nature ; expects the creation 
 of a state of earthly bliss from the improved arrangements of hu- 
 man society ; passes by the real elements of evil and of suffering 
 which lie deep in the core of the human heart ; and, in conse- 
 quence, mistakes the whole nature, genius, purport, grandeur, 
 and divinity of Christianity. So far as such speculations bear 
 upon social life, they assume a genial, a benevolent, and a bene- 
 ficial aspect ; they teach us what Christianity has taught them — 
 the principles of charity, peace, and human brotherhood. But they 
 comprehend not the deep philosophy of the Christian revelation, 
 which aims at the regeneration of society, only through the regen- 
 eration of the human soul. In brief, neither of the three systems 
 
 * « De I'Humanite," p. 120. 
 
 .jtliV
 
 MYSTICISM m FRANCE. 593 
 
 we have reviewed, can be honestly cleared of the charge of pan- 
 theism ; and hence they virtually involve the fatahstic conclusions 
 to which all pantheism inevitably leads. 
 
 M. Buchez, like Pierre Leroux, had his philosophical ability first 
 awakened in the school of St. Simon, and, like him also, has since 
 its disruption assumed an independent position. Like all the minds 
 which received their first impulse from the doctrines of sociology, 
 he has taken his stand upon the idea of human progress, and 
 sought for the solution of his philosoj)hical problems from the phe- 
 nomena of history. In his " Essai dun Traito de Philosophic/" he 
 attempted to explain every great philosophical question from a 
 moral point of view, considering that they find here their most 
 satisfactory solution. It is, however, in his "Introduction a la 
 Science de I'Histoire," that he has pursued his own peculiar doc- 
 trines with the greatest fulness and originalitv. 
 
 In the prolegomena to that work, he begins by giving a picture 
 of the evils under which mankind is now groaning, and shows that 
 it is the province of history to reveal the real function of human 
 society. In the first book he enters at once upon the science of 
 history, which is defined to be " that which enables us to see the 
 ^ocial future of the human race in the order of its free activity." 
 This science turns upon two ideas : 1. That of humanity, and 
 2. That of progress. Humanity, philosophically viewed, is the fiaic- 
 tion of universal order, the highest expression of the Divine ideas. 
 Progress is the law of universal order, a process in the nature of 
 man analogous to that which we see in every part of the whole 
 creation. 
 
 The second book brings us to the method in which the science 
 of history is to be pursued. A valid science may be said in any 
 case to exist, when we have so far discovered the law of the case, 
 as to foresee the future with precision and certainty. This leads 
 to a very full and acute discussion of the law of the generation of 
 social facts, in the determination of which he has brought to his aid 
 the notion of progress, the logical development of ideas, and the 
 tendential movements of society. 
 
 The third book is on social constants, those great features of 
 humanity w-hich remain ever the same amidst the porj)etual changes 
 of human opinion. These refer to morals — the Divine law of our 
 free activity to art, to science, and to labor. 
 
 The fourth book is one of great interest ; referring to the affilia- 
 tion of all the diflcrent branches of human knowledge, and showing 
 
 38
 
 694 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 how the idea of progress may be made the basis of a complete En- 
 cyclopaedic arrangement of them. 
 
 The fifth book is occupied with speculations on the origin and 
 natural history of the globe we inhabit, while the last two books, 
 entitled " Androgenic," discuss the creation of man and the differ- 
 ent revelations by which he has been instructed by God, and ren- 
 dered fit for the high destiny to which he has been called. 
 
 This may give a general idea of the plan and the purport 
 which M. Buchez has kept before him in this remarkable work. 
 While on the one side the idea of progress is his guiding star, yet 
 it is evident, from his general style of remark, that he has been led 
 near to the Catholic doctrines of Christianity, and finds in them the 
 germ of all the notions which it is the aim of philosophy to evolve 
 from the phenomena of universal history. The method of philo- 
 sophical investigation thus determined, has been pursued by several 
 other writers of considerable ability. M. J. F. A. Boulland has 
 folllowed it up by an " Essai d'Histoire Universelle, ou Expose 
 comparatif des Traditions de tous les Peuples," and a similar work, 
 entitled " Histoires des Transformations Rehgieuses et Morales des 
 Peuples." Dr. Ott also, to whom we have before referred as a 
 commentator upon Hegel, has joined himself to this school in his 
 " Manuel d'Histoire Universelle." 
 
 The only additional author we shall notice as belonging to the 
 modern school of French mysticism, is M. Ballanche. This volu- 
 minous writer was born at Lyons, in 1776, and during the first 
 twenty years of his life was the almost constant prey of the most 
 painful afflictions. Endowed by nature with a mind of high sensi- 
 bility, warmed by the rays of a vivid imagination, and chastened 
 in spirit by the cup of suffering, M. Ballanche gradually developed 
 a character of singular excellence and beauty. During his earlier 
 years of literary activity, he devoted himself almost entirely to 
 poetry, or the higher order of sentimental prose composition ; but 
 about the time of the Restoration, he was led, probably by the po- 
 litical circumstances of the country, into the region of philosophical 
 thinking. Besides the prolegomena to some of his poetical writings, 
 he has developed his views on the philosophy of society in two 
 distinct works, the one entitled an " Essai sur les Institutions So- 
 ciales," the other entitled " La Palingenesie Sociale." 
 
 In the former of these works he treads in the footsteps of M. de 
 Bonald, regarding language as a primitive revelation from God, 
 and containing the primary germs of all truth. To this theory oi 
 
 H 
 
 il
 
 MYSTICISM IN FRANCE. 696 
 
 M. de Bonald, however, he has appended the idea of progress. The 
 primitive tradition, couched in words, presented truth in a very- 
 material and symbohcal form, and it was only preserved and spread 
 by the ancient myths and poenls, by which the early tribes handed 
 down their wisdom from age to age. After a time, writing was 
 invented. Truth now became, as it were, embalmed in signs ; and 
 just in proportion as it lost its character of poetic inspiration, it 
 gained in reflective clearness and certainty. Now, truth is not 
 only spoken and written, but is also printed. Here, again, it is 
 held up still more distinctly to the contemplation of the reason, 
 which still struggles on to comprehend the ideas which lie about it, 
 and will continue to do so till it brings them into the broad daylight 
 of a philosophical deduction. The great mission of these ages in 
 which we live, is so to interpret the revelation which we have in 
 the Christian tradition, that it may mould all the features of human 
 society, and bring humanity to a state of purity and peace. 
 
 The " Palingenesie Sociale" also advocates a primitive revela- 
 tion, and shows how man has departed from his original state of 
 purity, the golden age of the poets, into a state of sin and conse- 
 quent suffering. The plan of God, developed through the ages, is 
 to restore man to his original state, to perfect him by means of the 
 perfection of his social institutions, until the law of the Gospel be- 
 comes the law of the whole world. 
 
 " Then shall the reign of viind begin on earth, 
 And, starting forth as from a second birlh, 
 Man, in the sunshine of the world's new spring, 
 Shall walk transparent like some holy thing." 
 
 Thus we see M. Ballanche holds the balance almost evenly be- 
 tween the theological school of De Maistre and Bonald on the one 
 side, and between the progression — and perfectionists on the other. 
 " He is, in fact," remarks M. Damiron, " of the same faith as M. de 
 Maistre, but of altogether diflcrent feelings ; having greater tender- 
 ness for his brethren, greater sympathies, and better hopes. If he 
 has not indeed the wing of the eagle, still he is without its stern 
 look, its pitiless cry, its thunder ever ready to strike. In a region 
 less high, but more serene and calm, he goes like the dove, scatter- 
 ing ever on his way sentiments which do not trouble, and words 
 which console. In his eyes humanity is not destined never to be 
 good except by fractions, to have eternally its plebeians and pa- 
 tricians, its weak and strong, its righteous and wicked ; from day 
 to day it will extend the circle of its influence, and will evangelize
 
 1 
 
 596 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the multitude, and at last will be entirely good and happy."* Such, 
 according to M. Ballanche, is the origin of truth, as far as man is 
 concerned ; such is its republication, such its progress, and such its 
 final issue. 
 
 Sect. III. — Modern Mysticism in Germany. 
 
 Germany is a country in which mysticism has ever found a 
 somewhat congenial resting place. Religious mysticism, for ex- 
 ample, has often exhibited there some of its most remarkable 
 phases. Even Luther himself, the great religious hero of the coun- 
 trv, may be said to have shown a decided tendency to it in several 
 features of his character ; and modern times have not wanted in- 
 stances still more marked and decisive. It is not our intention, 
 however, to dwell, even for a moment, upon the purely religious 
 mysticisms of Germany, as this would carry us too far from the pro- 
 posed object of the present history ; our purpose will be simply to 
 delineate, as clearly as possible, the philosophical mysticism which 
 that country has originated during the present century. This 
 course is rendered the more satisfactory, because philosophy and 
 theology, in Germany, more than in any other part of the world, 
 delight to go hand in hand ; so that mysticism in religion, as it ex- 
 ists there, is for the most part but the application of philosophical 
 mysticism to theological questions. 
 
 In describing any particular department of the modern philos- 
 ophy of Germany, we must always revert to the Kantian period, 
 as that from which it has taken either its origin or its chief tenden- 
 cies. In order to carry our readers back, then, for a moment, to 
 that period, we would remind them, that Kantism contained in it 
 a twofold element. On the one hand, Kant admitted the objective 
 validity of our sense-perceptions ; and herein consisted his realism : 
 on the other hand, he made all the peculiar features of these per- 
 ceptions dependent upon the subjective laws of our own under- 
 standing; and herein consisted his idealism. The expansion of the ' '' 
 idealistic element we have followed through the writings of Fichte, 
 Schelling, Hegel, and the respective schools to which they gave 1 '^ 
 rise ; the realistic element, on the contrary, was that upon which "^ 
 
 Jacobi linked his speculations, and from which he originated his 
 profound system of philosophical mysticism. It is from this system 1 "^1^ 
 
 * Damiron's " Histoire de Phil." vol. ii. p. 368. 
 
 il
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 597 
 
 that all the German mysticism of the nineteenth century, which is 
 worthy of notice, has regularly flowed. 
 
 Frederick Henry Jacobi was born at Diisseldorf, on the 25th of 
 January, 1743. In the eighteenth year of his age he went to Ge- 
 neva, and studied under some of the most celebrated professors in 
 the different departments of mathematics, medicine, and philosophy. 
 On his return to Diisseldorf, his first object was to devote himself 
 to the mercantile profession ; but being soon after appointed to an 
 office under government, he gave himself up for the most part to 
 public affairs, residing at a country-seat at Pempelfort, and occupy- 
 ing his leisure hours in philosophical researches. Metaphysical 
 speculation was always his favorite employment — an employment, 
 too, which, far from viewing as a mere amusement, he entered into 
 with the most intense earnestness.* Prompted by his love for 
 philosophy, and justified by his position in society, he entered into 
 extensive correspondence with many of the first scholars and 
 writers of the age ; and this fact, perhaps, may in some measure 
 account for the wide and rapid influence of his literary pro- 
 ductions. 
 
 As an author, it was never Jacobi's intention to develop any 
 connected system of philosophy ; his works are all of a brief and 
 somewhat temporary character (Gelegenheits schriften), to which 
 he was impelled by circumstances, rather than induced by the sys- 
 tematic development of his speculative opinions.f 
 
 His first publication consisted of a series of letters on Spinoza, 
 addressed to his friend Moses Mendelssohn (1785). To this Men- 
 delssohn replied, and thus drew forth from Jacobi a second publica- 
 tion, intended to establish his statements respecting both the fatalism 
 and atheism of Spinoza's principles, and to vindicate the assertion 
 he had made, that every system of logical dogmatism inevitably 
 tends to the same point. In the next year (1786), Jacobi wrote a 
 treatise, entitled David Hume — vn Faith, or Idealism and Realism,"' 
 a treatise which we may compare with Ileid's polemical writings, 
 taking due account of the different schools to which the Scottish 
 and the German opponent of scepticism belongctl. The immediate 
 object of this work, however, was to answer the outcry which had 
 been raised against him, for the assertion he had made, that all our 
 knowledge must rest ultimately w^on faith, and not upon reasoning. 
 In 1799, he published some letters to Fichtc, in which he opposed 
 
 ♦ It is rcconlod that the perusal of Kant's tractate on the proofs for the being of a 
 God, produced in the younij pliilosopher the most violent palpitation of the heart, 
 t " Werkc," vol. iv. Preface.
 
 598 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the " empty formalism " of his philosophy ; another treatise, *' On 
 Divine Things," and various articles in the philosophical journals, 
 complete the list of his strictly metaphysical labors. A perfect edi- 
 tion of Jacobi's w^orks in six volumes was published, partly from 
 his own direction, by his friend Friedrich Koppen, containing, be- 
 sides the above-mentioned treatises, two philosophical romances, an 
 interesting selection of the author's correspondence with Hamann, 
 and an introduction to his philosophy by the editor. 
 
 Jacobi came just at the period when some attempt at founding 
 a mystical philosophy was naturally to be expected. The energetic 
 idealism of Kant had swept away, after a manful struggle, the pre- 
 tensions of empiricism, throughout the whole country ; and, not 
 content with that, had given a manifest opening to the revival of 
 a profound scepticism, such as we have already noticed in Schulze. 
 Sensationalism, idealism, and scepticism, therefore, had all three 
 been engaged in the struggle to which the giant of Konigsberg 
 gave occasion ; and now mysticism stepped in to assert its claims 
 also to the reverence and the confidence of mankind. Hamann 
 had, some time before, attempted to found a system of faith-philos- 
 ophy, and Herder to graft his results upon the metaphysics of 
 Locke ; but it was Jacobi who first brought the faith-philosophy 
 into repute, and, by his profound genius, as well as elegant taste, 
 raised it to a position, in which it was enabled to contest the 
 supremacy with the other philosophies of the age and country. 
 
 One of the first things we observe in the writings of Jacobi, is 
 his deep-rooted aversion to those formal rationalistic systems of 
 metaphysics, for which Germany, especially, had been famous. 
 He assailed the Wolfian school, the pantheism of Spinoza, and all 
 other dogmatical systems of a similar kind, with a force and perse- 
 verance amounting almost to rancor. To comprehend the method 
 of this opposition, is by no means a difficult matter. All knowl- 
 edge, he affirmed, communicated to us through the medium of the 
 understanding, (or the logical faculty,) must be of a contingent 
 character, and can never attain the marks of the universal, the in- 
 finite, the purely philosophical. To demonstrate any truth, we 
 must infer it from another, that lies beyond it ; this, again, from 
 another still more general ; and so on, to an infinite series. The 
 human understanding, therefore, can never get beyond a series of 
 conditions ; it can never rise to first principles ; never reach that 
 point where truth is known, and gazed upon by a direct intuition 
 of the soul. Hence, he shows that the philosophy which is grounded 

 
 • MYSTICISM IN GEKMANY. 599 
 
 simply on the understanding, and which attempts to define and de- 
 monstrate all things, necessarily leads to fatalism. The philosophy 
 of Spinoza he regards as the complete type of these demonstration- 
 seeking systems — systems which can never really transcend the 
 finite and the conditioned — never attain to the absolute and real ; 
 and, consequently, never consistently adm.it a Deity, except in that 
 pantheistic sense, which regards God as the totality of finite and 
 conditioned existence. 
 
 " It has been," he remarks, " since the time of Aristotle, the in- 
 creasing striving of all philosophical schools, to make immediate 
 knowledge secondary to mediate ; to make the original perceptive 
 capacity, which grasps all things directly, secondary to the reflec- 
 tive capacity, which is conditioned by abstraction ; to make the pro- 
 totype secondary to the type — the essence to the definition — and 
 intuition to understanding; yea, to make the former altogether 
 vanish in the latter. Nothing is allowed to hold good by these 
 philosophers, except what admits of being proved, yea, twice 
 proved, by turns, in the intuition, and in the conception — in the 
 thing itself, and in its image or its name ; so that in this last alone 
 the thing itself is supposed to lie, and to be really seen."* 
 
 To these kind of remarks, the dry and formal definitions of the 
 Leibnitzian-Wolfian philosophy had certainly given abundant oc- 
 casion. It seemed to be imagined by the adherents of that school, 
 that no sooner could anything be defined by the rules of logic, than 
 its whole nature was determined. Jacobi, impressed by the folly 
 of this procedure, opened a campaign against all dogmatical sys- 
 tems whatever, and, with great ingenuity, drew the conclusion, that 
 a purely demonstrative philosophy, as it has no first principles to 
 rest on, must lead to scepticism and absurdity.f 
 
 The philosophy of Kant he excepted from these sweeping ob- 
 jections, although he did not consider even this to be by any means 
 fundamentally sound. He admitted, that that great thinker had 
 effectually opposed the dogmatical systems of the day ; that he had 
 shown their futility, in his theoretical philosophy ; and pointed out 
 the road to truth, in his practical: but still he objected to him, 
 that, having once admitted the validity of demonstration, .and, by 
 its means, having undermined the arguments on which our belief 
 in God and immortality rests, he could not consistently restore by 
 his practical movement what lie had destroyed by his theoretical. 
 
 * Michelct, " Geschichte der neucrn Syst.,"' .vol. i. p. SKI. See also Jacobi's 
 "Werke," vol. i. Introduction, p. 11, r/ .v^. c.- .. 
 
 f These results arc brought out with great force in the " Letters on bpinoza.
 
 600 MODERN PHII^OSOFHY. 
 
 I 
 
 It was evident to him, that some more fundamental principle was 
 wanting ; something to furnish a basis for Kant's demonstrations, ] 
 and to give validity to his practical conclusions.* This principle, 
 then, he asserted to he faith — the direct inward revelation of truth 
 to the human mind.f m 
 
 The true idea, then, of Jacobi's philosophy lies here : — that all 
 human knowledge, of whatever description, must rest, ultimately, 
 on faith or intuition. As it regards sensible things, the understand- 
 ing finds the impressions, from which all our knowledge of the ex- 
 ternal world flows, ready formed. The process of sensation itself 
 is a mystery ; we know nothing of it, till itself is past, and the feel- 
 ing it produces is present. Our knowledge of matter, therefore, 
 must rest entirely upon our faith in these intuitions. There is, 
 however, another and a higher species of faith than this. Just as 
 sensation gives us an immediate knowledge of the world, so there 
 is an inward sense — a rational intuition — a spiritual faculty — by 
 which we have a direct and immediate revelation of supersensual 
 things. God, providence, freedom, immortality, moral distinctions, 
 &c. — these are things which come not to us by demonstration. 
 We gaze upon them by the inward eye ; and have just as firm 
 conviction of their reality, as we have of those material objects 
 upon which we look with the bodily eye. It is by this twofold 
 faith or revelation, that man has access to the whole material of 
 truth — material which his understanding afterwards moulds into 
 various shapes, and employs, on the one hand, for the purposes of 
 this life ; and, on the other, for preparation for the life to come. 
 Leave out, however, this direct inlet to our knowledge, and all 
 demonstration, all definition — in short; all philosophy is but a sport J 
 with words ; a superstructure sometimes complete enough in itself, j 
 but baseless as the most airy visions of the imagination.^ i 
 
 It may now be easily seen, how Jacobi linked his views of phi- 
 losophy upon the realistic principle of Kant. Kant admitted, with- 
 out proof, the reality of our perceptions : here, then, was the faith- i 
 principle already in operation, and only needed some additional 
 fencing against the encroachment of the ideal element, to give it 
 
 * " Werke," vol. ii. p. 17. et seq. 
 
 f In the earlier treatises which Jacobi wrote, (those which related more immediately 
 to Spinoza,) he made constant use of the terms Glaube and Offenbarung, to designate 
 the immediate knowledge we gain of primary truth, in opposition to that which is logi- 
 caUy deduced. The use of these expressions first drew on him the charge of mysti- 
 cisra ; but it is right to point out the fact, that he afterwards employed the term Vern- 
 unft, to express the faculty of immediate intuition, which he had before explained as a 
 Tevelalion. On his use of the term Vernunft, see " Werke," vol. ii. pp. 55 — 81. 
 
 4" " Werke," vol. iv. Die Lehre des Spinoza, Pt. i.
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 601 
 
 its due weight and importance. While Kant, therefore, supposed 
 the sense-perception to be a subjectively formed phenomenon, in 
 which, not indeed the thing itself is represented, but simply the ex- 
 istence of an objective reality declared, Jacobi affirmed the object 
 of our perceptions or of our faith, to be a real and adequate intui- 
 tion of the outward reality ; so that he completely fortified this 
 part of our mental constitution against the sweeping results of the 
 rising idealism. He showed, in brief, that in every perception there 
 is something actual present (Princip der Thatsachlichkeit,) which 
 can never be explained away into the operation of our own subjec- 
 tive laws and faculties. 
 
 From this principle of actuality in perception, Jacobi proceeded 
 to establish the same with reference to the higher perceptions of 
 the reason. Here, too, he had the example and authority of Kant 
 for his method of procedure. Kant, it is true, in his Critick of pure 
 Reason, had viewed both the understanding and the reason as sim- 
 ply formal or logical faculties, from which no actual material of 
 knowledge could possibly come ; and, on this ground, he removed 
 the notions of God, of the soul, of substance, &c., as objective reali- 
 ties, beyond the bounds of philosophical truth. But he allowed the 
 validity of those great moral conceptions of Deity, of immortality, 
 and of rectitude, which come to us through the medium of the prac- 
 tical reason. To the latter principle, accordingly, Jacobi appealed. 
 He contended, that the conclusions of the practical reason were as 
 valid, philosophically, as those of the pure reason ; and that the one 
 was as much the organ of scientific truth as the other. Following 
 out this mode of argument, he was led to view reason itself (Vern- 
 unft) as an inward sense — a direct revelation of spiritual things, 
 upon the actuality of whose intuitions there is as much depend- 
 ence to be placed as upon those of the senses. 
 
 In brief, Jacobi, at a time when idealism seemed preparing to 
 sweep away all the great and recognized boundaries of human 
 knowledge, stood forth as the apostle of realism — a realism which 
 rested upon faith in our direct intuition of truth, whether humau 
 or divine. " He showed," says Chalybiius, '• that there is something 
 more in our soul, than a dead and empty mecluinism of logical 
 thinking and shadowy representations ; he reassured us of a deeper, 
 and, as yet, an inviolable treasure in the human s[)irit ; and, al- 
 though this boon be hidden in the sevenfold veil of Isis, yet has he 
 powerfully excited us to the investigation of it, by pointing to the 
 reality of so precious a germ. He himself, indeed, thought, (and
 
 602 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 herein lies his mysticism,) that, if we would not sport it away, we 
 must preserve this germ, without exercising a sinful curiosity ; that 
 it happens to every one, who ventures to enter this sanctuary with 
 the torch of demonstrative knowledge, as it did to the youth before 
 the veiled image of Sais ; for that every complete and scientific 
 demonstration could only lead to Spinozism."* 
 
 Without entering more particularly into the details of Jacobi's 
 philosophy, we shall conclude our remarks upon it by the follow- 
 ing beautiful and significant passage from the pen of Hegel : — 
 
 *' Jacobi," he says, " is like a solitary thinker, who, in the morn- 
 ing of his day, found some ancient riddle, hewn upon an eternal 
 rock. He believes in this riddle, but he strives in vain to guess it. 
 He carries it about with him the whole day, allures w^eighty sen- 
 timents from it, spreads it out into doctrines and images, which 
 delight the hearer, and inspire him with noble wishes and hopes ; 
 but the interpretation fails ; and in the evening he lays him down, 
 wdth the hope that some divine dream, or the next waking, will 
 pronounce to him ' the word' for \vhich he longs, and on which he 
 has so firmly believed. "f 
 
 Jacobi's style of writing is so chastely poetical, and yet so phil- 
 osophically accurate, that it has often been compared to that of 
 Plato, and is regarded by many as a model for imitation. As a 
 thinker, too, Jacobi is despised by none. Even the Hegelians 
 themselves, so severely logical in their theory, and so supercihous 
 towards those who disagree with it, have repeatedly acknowledged 
 his services to the cause of philosophy. From Jacobi we must 
 begin to date the introduction of a new element into the German 
 metaphysics, that oi feeling ; an element which, if it had not been 
 before altogether disowned, still had never been looked upon in the 
 same manner as an organ of truth. J 
 
 The path, however, being once pointed out, a number of philo- 
 sophical thinkers, and some of no ordinary character, began to 
 discuss more fully the respective claims of feeling and intelligence 
 as sources of human knowledge. The relative position assigned 
 to each was very different in the different systems which were 
 now propounded. Some placed faith or feeling in the foreground, 
 
 * " Entwickelung," p. 45. 
 
 t •' Vermischte Schriften," vol. i. p. 203. 
 
 j As aids to understand Jacobi's philosophy aright, the student may consult the " In- 
 troduction,'" printed in the second volume of his works ; Schlegel's " Charakteristikin 
 und Kritilcen ;" Hegel's review of his philosophy, contained in his '■ Vermischte 
 Schriften;" Michelet"s " Geschichte," vol. i. p. 339; and Chalybaus' " Entwickelung," 
 Sec. iii.
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 603 
 
 as Jacob! most decidedly had done ; others made it only secondary. 
 Some, again, tried to show how the two elements co-operated 
 equally in the creation of our ideas ; others, to prove that they 
 both flowed from the same fundamental principle. Of these, very 
 few, of course, could be strictly termed followers of Jacobi, and 
 even those few kept by no means close to their master ; the ma- 
 jority had belonged already to some other school, aiui being struck 
 with the importance of many of Jacobi's ideas, were anxious to 
 combine them with the principles they had before imbibed. Fred- 
 erick Koppen and Jacob Salat are the only two we can at present 
 recall, who may be properly termed the successors of Jacobi in 
 the advocacy of his faith-philosophy ; the others must be regarded 
 as seeking to unite this philosophy with that of Kant, of Fichte, 
 or of Schelling ; oftentimes adding original suggestions of their 
 own. In following, then, the fortunes of this new element of 
 feeling (whose introduction upon the stage we have just shown), 
 we shall notice three classes of advocates, whom we may charac- 
 terize as grafting the faith-philosophy of Jacobi respectively upon 
 the idealism of Kant, of Fichte, and of Schelling. 
 
 1. The writers to whom we ventured to give the ajipellation of 
 Jacobian-Kantists, are Bouterwek, Krug, Fries, and Calker. 
 
 Bouterwek (born 1766, made professor at Gottingeu 1791, died 
 there 1828,) began his philosophical career just at the time when 
 the writings both of Kant and Jacobi were in the flush of their 
 fame. From the former he learned that there is a realistic ground 
 which lies at the basis of all phenomena, and without which all 
 thinking is simply a logical play upon empty terms and notions : 
 from the latter he learned that, in addition to the external senses, 
 there is an inward sense (whether it be termed faith or feeling) by 
 which all real objective existence, of a spiritual or rational nature, 
 is communicated to us. Hence he concluded that whether we 
 direct our attention to thought or to feeling, there must be a real 
 basis, a "seyn," from which they equally spring. This basis, he 
 argued, can neither be found by thinking nor by feeling, as these 
 are both subjective phenomena; ])ut there must be an absolute 
 knowing-faculty (Erkenntniss-vermogen), by which it is imme- 
 diately revealed to us, and out of which, as the ultimate ground, 
 both thought and feeling spring forth. The science of this prim- 
 itive faculty, and the knowledge which arises from it. Bouterwek 
 terms Apodiktik (from «no(5.<xrM/,), an expression which he found 
 it convenient to use, in order to make clear that primary fact of
 
 604 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 consciousness, which bears the type neither of feeling nor think- 
 ing, but lies deep at the very foundation of both. In order to 
 make this apodiktical starting point sufficiently broad, Bouterwek 
 lays down three primary facts of consciousness to which it is to 
 be applied, and these are thought, knowledge, and action. We 
 have accordingly three divisions of Apodiktik, termed respectively, 
 the logical, the transcendental, and the practical. In the logical 
 Apodiktik, the author seeks the absolute basis or principle of 
 thought per se, and shows that the very fact of thinking implies a 
 reality, both in the subject and object. To investigate this reality, 
 is the problem of the transcendental Apodiktik, the result of which 
 is, that we must admit an absolute, a primary essence, as the con- 
 stitutive principle of all things. This has been termed by some, a 
 negative Spinozism. 
 
 The real nature of the absolute, lastly, is only found in the prac- 
 tical Apodiktik, which shows us that the most intimate and essen- 
 tial conception we can have of all heing, is that of a power, or 
 rather a virtualiiy, by the action and reaction of which all things 
 consist. Such was the original philosophy of Bouterwek, as de- 
 veloped in his " Idee einer allgemeinen Apodiktik." In some of 
 his late works he altered his views on the foundation principles of 
 human knowledge, so as to bring them far nearer to the faith- 
 philosophy of Jacobi. Throughout his whole career, indeed, he 
 was floating in uncertainty between the two principles of faith 
 and reflection ; sometimes tending to the one, sometimes to the 
 other, and ever struggling to discover some common ground which 
 might unite the claims of both.* 
 
 Bouterwek had placed thought and feeling very nearly upon an 
 equality, varying as to the degree of preponderance he would assign 
 to each. In the writings of Krug (born 1770, since 1808 Professor 
 at Leipzic, died 1842), to whom we next advert, we have another 
 instance of this kind of mixed metaphysical system. Krug began 
 by attempting to furnish a new critical philosophy, in which the 
 true method of metaphysical investigation should be better shown, 
 and the full extent of the human faculties sounded. This was ac- 
 complished in a work, entitled " Sketch of a New Organum for 
 Philosophy," published at Meissen, in 1801, in which he shows that 
 
 * The chief philosophical work of Bouterwek may be considered that above men- 
 tioned, the " Idee einer allgemeinen Apodiktik," (1799.) The one of next importance is 
 the " Lehrbuch der Philosophischen Wissenschaften," (1810.) The "Religion der 
 Vernunft," (1824,) is interesting, as containing the most obvious modification of his 
 original system.
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 605 
 
 true philosophy arises from turning our contemplation inwards, and 
 searchincT into the facts of our own consciousness. In the con- 
 sciousness, he affirms, subject and object, knowing and known, 
 thought and existence, are ahsolutehj luiited. Beyond this synthe- 
 sis, as a fact of our own observation, we are unable to reach ; for 
 there is the ultimate bound of all metaphysical research. (Trans- 
 cendentaler Synthetismus). Should it be attempted to penetrate 
 beneath this fundamental fact, and deduce either knowing from 
 being, or being from knowing, the only result which can follow will 
 be materialism in the one ca.se, and idealism in the other. The 
 sole ground on which we can take our stand, is that of the follow- 
 ing fixed and unalterable convictions :— first, that I am ; secondly, 
 that there is an existence out of myself; and, thirdly, that the two 
 exist for each other. In this threefold conviction, all our absolute 
 knowledge is grounded. In his next work, entitled " Fundamental 
 Philosophy," he develops more at large the nature of human knowl- 
 edge, and draws the distinctions which he thinks warranted, be- 
 tween the various organs that subserve the acquisition of it. 
 Knowing, he affirms, is conviction from objective grounds— believ- 
 ing, from subjective grounds. Knowing is the first degree of con- 
 viction, faith the second; while opinion is conviction of a still 
 
 feebler kind.* 
 
 Lastly, to probe this faith-principle to its foundation, he furnishes 
 a new theory of the Feelings, (published 1823.) in which he at- 
 tempts to show that feeling is the dim and undefined ground from 
 which thought springs forth, and that it is by means of thought or 
 reflection that the knowledge which feeling conveys is rendered 
 clear and valid. The motto which he prefixes to this work well- 
 nigh explains its whole theory. 
 
 Fvihlcn willsl ilu 1 Wohliin ! Es regt sich inncrst iin Ilcrzen 
 Jedes schune Gefiilil, staininend von ohon li<r;il), 
 Doch ver<nss niclit, dass audi von dorthpr stainiiit dt-r Gcdanke, 
 Funke dcr Gollhdt, Gefuhl ! Funkc der Gotlhcit, Virnunt\ !t 
 
 ♦ See Michelet, vol. i. p. 400. . . , ,r • i- • • . r 
 
 t The iollowinir graphic sketch of Kni<r's philosophical life in ii rrliorious point of 
 view, is given by M. Ainand Sainles, in hi.s •' Ilistoirc Critique du Rationalismc, 
 
 ^' " Fertile and earnest as a writer, Kruij made use of all possible mothotls to extend 
 the empire of Kant's philosophical ideas at the expense of the ancu-nt (luth. S,>ecchn9, 
 articles pro.rrammes, dissertations, dictionaries, inanu .Is. all tonus, and one miijht say 
 all fashions"were employed to arrive at his purpose ; for he .lid not even disdain satire 
 when he iud-red it necessary to shut the mouth of his a.lversanes. He api^ared, after 
 u Ion-' life spent in stru.'frlcs, to have earned some enjoyment of the fruit of his lalwrs ; 
 but w"c are assur.d that his wounded self love contemi.l.ites with hitler leelin^ a (tener- 
 ation which no longer aj.plauds with the same warmth his philosophical dissertations, 
 ♦ ♦ • and that he has not been insensible to the wilhcnng of his laurels, '
 
 606 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 This last attempt of Krug opens the way for the philosophy of 
 Fries (born 1773, since 1805 professor of philosophy at Heidelberg 
 and Jena, died about 1844), in which the element of feeling again 
 attains a predominance more nearly equal to what it held in the 
 writings of Jacobi. The chief work of this author is entitled " A 
 New Critique of Pure Reason" (published first in 1807), the object 
 of which was to place the categories of Kant upon a fresh basis, 
 and to show how they all spring forth from inward sense, or feeling. 
 The position, accordingly, which Fries holds in the history of phil- 
 osophical doctrines, is between Kant and Jacobi, with a predom- 
 inant leaning to the latter. He admits, with Kant, that all our 
 notions and conceptions, all that we properly term knowledge, 
 (Wissen,) arises from our inward faculties, and, consequently, is 
 purely subjective : on the other hand, he maintains, with Jacobi, 
 that there is an inward faith-principle, to which all our thoughts 
 and notions are secondary. The one he regards as fallible, and, 
 consequently, unworthy our implicit confidence ; the other he holds 
 up as that sure and infallible organ of absolute truth, by which the 
 real nature of things is made known to us. 
 
 The philosophy of Fries may be regarded fundamentally as a 
 mixture of scepticism and idealism. His theory of certitude is 
 purely subjective — his theory of truth simply the agreement of our 
 ideas within themselves. So far he must be considered as assuming 
 a sceptical position with regard to all objective reality. To avoid 
 this result, however, he brings in, in addition to Wissen, other two 
 principles of knowledge, termed Glauhen and Ahnung. Knowledge 
 simply comprehends the phenomena which we gain by means of 
 sensation and understanding. Faith gives us an insight into the 
 more intimate nature of things — raising us to the intuition of the 
 true, the beautiful, the good, still only as subjective principles. That 
 which he terms Ahnung, alone gives us any conception of these 
 things as sublime objective realities. 
 
 The chief feature, then, in Fries' system (which he terms phil- 
 osophical anthropology) is the attempt to draw thought and feeling 
 into closer connection ; to show that, instead of being entirely 
 different phenomena, the one naturally arises from the other ; that 
 they both conspire to aid us in reading our own inward nature 
 aright ; and, through that, of understanding the nature of the 
 world without. The opinions of Fries have perhaps gained the 
 greatest fame through their application to theology.* As we for- 
 
 * The celebrated theologian, De Wette, has made much use of the philosophy of 
 Fries, in the construction of his theological principles.
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 607 
 
 bear, however, as much as possible, to venture upon this ground, 
 we pass on to the last of the names we have placed together under 
 this sub-division, that, namely, of Calker. 
 
 Frederick von Calker (formerly private teacher at Berlin, si ,ce 
 1818 professor at Bonn) has brought the two elements of thought 
 and feeling into complete union, so that the whole difference be- 
 tween them in his system altogether disappears, and the faith-phi- 
 losophy becomes entirely sunk in the ordinary procedure of meta- 
 physics. Like those whom we have before noticed, he appeals to 
 consciousness, as being to us the foundation of all truth. In the 
 consciousness we find three features of spiritual existence, namely, 
 knowledge, action, and love ; and, by the play of these, three laws 
 of our being, we are placed in close fellowship with the very na- 
 ture and essence of things themselves, which fall under the three 
 corresponding ideas of the true, the good, and the beautiful. The 
 object of Calker is to exhibit the original laws (Urgesetze) by 
 which these three ideas develop themselves, in all their fruitful re- 
 sults, to the human mind ; in doing which, faith is not viewed 
 either as the beginning or ending of philosophy, but is made abso- 
 lutely identical with scientific knowledge.* 
 
 In summing up, then, this movement of the philosophical mys- 
 ticism of Germany, we must consider that it all results from the 
 varied application of the two facts of logical thinking and inward 
 faith, as they were furnished, the one by Kant, the other by Ja- 
 cobi. In Krug, thought or reflection is the more prominent of the 
 two, and plays decidedly the greater part in the creation of all 
 human knowledge ; in Bouterwek, the two elements as nearly as 
 possible balance each other, the scale trembling alternately on 
 either side ; in Fries, the faith-principle becomes greatly predom- 
 inant ; whilst, lastly, in Calker, the distinction vanishes, and both 
 facts are blended in one. Such are the attempts which have been 
 made to complete the Kantian philosophy, by the introduction of 
 mysticism ; and if the results have not been entirely successful, 
 yet they have called forth much truth, and may be looked upon as 
 making one appreciable step in the march of j)hil()sophy.t 
 
 * Calker's chief work is entitled " Urgesetzlchre des VVnhrcn, Guten, und Schonen, 
 als Darstellunif der Sotrenannten Motaphysik." Tlu? principle of ralkcr, as above 
 stated — that, namely, which incrg( s all tli(' dinVrcnt proctsscs of our inlillcctiial life, 
 whether knowledge, faith, or love, into the science of consciousness — is virtually a re- 
 turn to the subjective idealism of Kichte. The reailcr will also be reminded here of 
 some of the main features of 1\I. de Lamennais' latest philosophy. 
 
 •j- In this representation of the .Tacobi-Kaiitists, I have chif-lly Ibllow.d Michelct. 
 The view he takes of them is, however, fully confirmed by all the principal historiins 
 of the modern philosophy of Germany.
 
 G08 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 2. The writers who have grafted the faith-principle upon the 
 philosophy of Fichte, are Schlegel, Schleiermacher, and Novalis. 
 Charles William Frederick Schlegel was born at Hanover in 1772. 
 In 1796 he commenced private lecturing at Dresden. After a 
 time he went to Berlin, and lectured there with great approbation 
 and success. From thence he removed to Paris, where he studied 
 chiefly the oriental languages. On his return to Germany, he 
 joined the Romish Church, and settled at Vienna as court secre- 
 tary. After experiencing some other changes, external and men- 
 tal, he died on a temporary visit to Dresden, January 11. 1829. 
 
 To estimate the literary life of Schlegel aright, we must regard 
 it in its progressive development. His earlier years, it is well 
 known, were given to classical literature and criticism ; and ever 
 after, indeed, he retained the faculty of presenting ideas in a pop- 
 ular and descriptive form, to a much higher degree than that of 
 constructing a connected and logical system. Hence, while the 
 writings of Schlegel are far better known out of Germany than 
 most other philosophical works of the present century, they pre- 
 sent much greater difficulty when we attempt to condense them 
 briefly into an organic whole. 
 
 He tried his pen, first of all, in the department of philosophy, by 
 writing sketches and reviews for some of the higher periodicals of 
 the day. These were afterwards collected, in conjunction with 
 those of his brother Augustus William, and published under the 
 title of " Characteristiken und Kritiken." The earliest work in 
 which Schlegel published his philosophical views, independently, to 
 the world, was a romance entitled " Lucinde." Here he sought to 
 employ the subjective philosophy of Fichte, in order to explain 
 the nature and the mysteries of human life. In the years 1804-5-6, 
 he delivered courses of lectures, in which he aimed at explaining 
 logically the views he had presented before only in their poetical 
 form, but in which it is easy to detect a gradual swerving from his 
 original subjective stand-point, towards the mysticism of his later 
 life.* 
 
 A period of twenty years now intervenes before our author 
 again appears before the public in the garb of a philosopher ; but 
 in the meantime, his whole intellectual life had undergone almost 
 an entire alteration. He had gone from the hterary activity of 
 Saxony to the mental stagnation of Vienna, from the religious 
 
 * These lectures were published posthumously in his remains by Windishmann. 
 (1836).
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 609 
 
 freedom of Protestantism, to the absolute submission of the Cath- 
 olic. In a word, the subjective principles of his former works had 
 produced their recoil, and driven him into an utterly objective 
 mysticism. In 1827, he began again to lecture on philosophy, at 
 Vienna, and to develop his altered views in a popular and discur- 
 sive form. These lectures comprehend " The Philosophy of Life," 
 " The Philosophy of History," and " The Philosophy of Language." 
 It was whilst engaged indeed in completing his last course, then 
 delivering at Dresden, that his career was arrested by the hand of 
 death. We must proceed accordingly to give an exposition of 
 Schlegel's philosophy, as it appears before us during the different 
 eras we have just described. 
 
 In order to comprehend the philosophy contained in the " Lu- 
 cinde,"* it is necessary to cast a glance upon the " Wissenschafts- 
 lehre" of Fichte. Fichte made the me, the absolute ^eneratino- 
 principle of all things, There are, however, two sides to this 
 position, the theoretical and the practical. In his theoretical 
 philosophy, Fichte represented the me as fettered and deter- 
 mined by certain inexplicable laws, which took the place of the 
 not-me — the objective world ; and to which the endless activity 
 of the me was subjected. On the other hand, these laws, these 
 objective bounds, were explained by the practical philosophy, as 
 themselves the product of the absolute activity of the me, created 
 in order to bring that activity to some distinct end, and aid it in 
 the accomplishment of its own destiny. Hence two views of hu- 
 man life could arise. Either on the theoretical principle the me 
 yields itself to the power of what appear then to be objective laws 
 and realities, or, assuming its practical independence, it holds itself 
 free from such trammels, and lives simply and solely for itself 
 This latter, according to Schlegel, is the spirit of the romantic in 
 human life in its loftier meaning, and forms the view of life itseli' 
 which is pictured in " Lucinde." 
 
 To get a deeper insight into this remarkable aspect in which 
 human life was portrayed by our author, it must be further ob- 
 served, that the theoretical and practical stand-points are in them- 
 selves paradoxical. The one supposes that the mind is controlled, 
 the other that it is free ; the one subjects it to objective laws, the 
 other elevates it above them, so that they appear to be made only 
 by and for itself How, then, is this contradiction to be solved ? 
 
 * Lucinde, whom he pictures in this romance, was his future wife, a dauirhter of 
 Mendelssohn, the philosopher, and the German translator of Mad. do Stael's " Co- 
 nnne." 
 
 39
 
 610 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 By bringing in, says Schlegel, the idea of Irony. The me is abso- 
 solutely free ; but it loves paradox, and chooses of itself to submit 
 to the objective. At the same time it knows that this submission 
 is in itself unreal, that it is only true ironically ; and that, while it 
 plays off the paradox of submission, it may still feel itself indepen- 
 dent. Such is the philosophy of the higher romantic in human 
 life. There the mind, though involved in all the habits and regu- 
 lations of outward life, yet lives for itself, clothes the objective in 
 the garb of its own individuality, throws the light of the inward 
 world over the most common scenes and events of the outward ; 
 and lives thus itself, a paradox and a perpetual irony upon human 
 existence. 
 
 This state of mind expresses itself by a tender and hallowed 
 feeling, a longing which, independently of its object, is itself bliss. 
 This longing cannot be realized in action. What avails action, 
 when the whole circumference of being, and even of possibility, is 
 already included in the very nature of the me ? To act, is to sup- 
 pose that something more can be produced, some higher and hap- 
 pier condition, than that already attained. As all being and all 
 possibility is already in the me, the only high and blissful life is to 
 give ourselves up to divine idleness ; to allow our being spontane- 
 ously to vegetate ; and the nearer the life of the man approaches to 
 that of the plant, the more pure and perfect it is. Here, at length, 
 in this spontaneous vegetation of our being, in this hallowed idle- 
 ness, we find eternal sunshine and youth ; instead of grasping 
 eagerly after some distant object, some unrealized bliss, we find in 
 our very longing itself, the goal and the prize at which it aims. 
 Only in the seeking itself, does the spirit discover the mystery after 
 lohich it seeks. Here, then, we see the subjective principle abso- 
 lutely complete. The me, at length becomes the cause, impulse, 
 boundary, and goal of its own action. Such is the ironical stand- 
 point in Schlegel's philosophy ; such the nature of the truly ro- M> 
 mantic in human life.* 
 
 We must now pass to our author's lectures, as delivered in the 
 years 1804-1806. Here we find him attempting to bring his prin- 
 ciples, hitherto presented in a very discursive form, into some 
 degree of philosophical order; and at the same time struggling 
 ascainst the extreme results to which they seemed infallibly to lead. 
 The first volume contains an introduction, a logic, and a rapid 
 
 * On the scientific principle of " Lucinde," see Schaller's " Vorlesungen viber Schlei- 
 crmacher," Lee. i. (Halle, 1844.)
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 611 
 
 survey of the history of philosophy. The second volume includes 
 his lectures on psychology, on nature, on man, on the Deity, and, 
 to some extent, on morals. 
 
 In the introduction he explains the idea of philosophy, as being 
 that of a fundamental science, which gives life and soul to all the 
 rest, and affords the only absolute basis on which they can rest.* 
 To determine the method of philosophy, is the province of logic. 
 Logic, in its lower acceptation, is the " science of the rules of 
 thinking," and, accordingly, has to do simply with the forms of 
 thought. In tiiis respect, of course, it can have nothing to do with 
 objective truth ; and to use the syllogistic organum for this pur- 
 pose, is to involve ourselves in a mere emptj' dogmatism. There 
 is, however, a higher logic, which has to do with the real objects 
 of philosophy ; which points u§ at once to their inward essence, and 
 shows us their progressive development. The former is termed the 
 syllogistic, the latter the genetic method. 
 
 The genetic or speculative method gives us the real and essen- 
 tial development of the idea we form of existence itself; it affords 
 us a philosophical construction of the universe. This method has 
 three movements, which must concur in the evolution of an idea : 
 the first is abstraction, by which we grasp the pure essential idea 
 itself; the second is constncction, by which we exhibit its varied 
 properties in their order and connection ; and the third is rejlection, 
 in which we recombine the parts into a whole. In this part of 
 Schlegel's logic, we are strongly reminded of the dialectic method 
 of Hegel ; and it has even been reproached to the latter by some 
 of his opponents, that he has borrowed the essential ideas of 
 his own world-renowned system from these early deliverances of 
 Schlegel. Whichever may have been first in the field, certain it 
 is, that the lectures before us contain a logical constructive method 
 which proposes to show the rhythm of all being, and that this 
 method contains the triple movement, consisting of the union of 
 two opposites in a higher indifference. f This method is, indeed, to 
 a great extent, developed by the deduction of the cliief categories 
 of existence, and the construction of the full conception of God. 
 
 As another preparation for his metaphysical system, Schlegel 
 next gives a sketch of the history of philosopliv, following the great 
 schools of idealism, empiricism, scepticism, and mysticism, through 
 their various changes, and estimating their various merits. The 
 
 * " Vorlesungen ufeer Schleiermachcr," vol. i. p. 13, &c. 
 f " Vorlesungen iiber Schlcicrmochcr," vol. i,p. 159, el xq.
 
 612 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 result is, that each of these systems is seen to contain some element 
 of truth ; but that, after all has been done, the only source from 
 which a clear and steady light can be thrown on our researches, the 
 only spirit which can unite all the results of our science into a har- 
 monious whole, the only guide which can lead us through the laby- 
 rinth of human opinions into the broad daylight of truth, is that 
 faith, which, dimly seen in the Platonic, has been fully developed 
 in the Christian philosophy. Here, then, we see the mysticism of 
 Schlegel breaking through the clouds of his original subjective 
 idealism. In fact, he had carried his subjective principle to such a 
 pitch, that at length he took refuge in an objective and historical 
 revelation, against the bottomless abyss of his own scientific con- 
 clusions.* 
 
 This leads us to Schlegel's later philosophical system. Hitherto 
 he had been only groping out of his subjective trammels ; now, how- 
 ever, having reached the religious point of view — the only one, as 
 he thinks, from which truth can be seen with distinct and steady 
 eye — he begins to build up his edifice. Seen from the religious 
 point of view, the real object of philosophy is to restore to mankind 
 that Divine image which it has lost. Men, for the most part, are 
 buried in objective pursuits, and gratifications of sense ; they do not 
 see the purport of their existence ; they do not comprehend the true 
 end of human life ; they do not gaze steadfastly at their high des- 
 tiny. To bring these things home to our inner consciousness, to 
 restore truth to the mind, and inspire it to labor for high purposes 
 — this is the noble aim of all true philosophy. Schlegel, then, di- 
 vides his system into three parts : — 1. Philosophy of Life ; 2. Phi- 
 losophy of History ; 3. Philosophy of Thought, both subjectively 
 and objectively considered. In the first, he shows the primary 
 state of the human consciousness in its rise above the grossness of 
 common life, and its first aspirations after truth. In the second, he 
 traces the development of this higher life through the various ages 
 of history ; in the last, he intended to picture the state of man in 
 his final restoration to the Divine likeness. 
 
 1, The philosophy of life comprehends, first, psychology, and 
 then theology both in itself and in its applications. In his psy- 
 chology, Schlegel regards our whole compound humanity as con- 
 sisting of mind, soul, and body. The mind possesses the two 
 faculties of will and understanding ; the soul possesses other two, 
 termed reason and imagination. Imagination invents ; reason 
 * See Michelet, vol. ii. p. 4 ; also Schaller's " Vorlesungen," pp. 89-31.
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 613 
 
 regulates ; understanding perceives ; and will impels to moral 
 action.* 
 
 Man, at his creation, not only had these faculties in their high- 
 est perfection, but they all worked harmoniously together, so as to 
 bring out the most glorious moral and intellectual results. But 
 since the entrance of sin into the world, they have been thrown 
 into fearful disorder ; so that, by the operation of one faculty 
 clashing with another, the purport of the whole has been frus- 
 trated and destroyed. The object alike of religion and philosophy, 
 is to restore the harmony which has been thus broken. f 
 
 With regard to the ground-principles of natural theology, Schle- 
 gel rests the knowledge of God upon a fourfold revelation which is 
 made to us in Scripture, in nature, in conscience, and in history. 
 In treating of the first of these proofs, that of Scripture and 
 tradition generally, Schlegel employs a course of reasoning pre- 
 cisely similar to that of the French theological school. With re- 
 gard to the light of conscience, he reminds us strongly of Kant and 
 Jacobi. 
 
 The principal object he has in view, however, in entering the 
 region of theology, is to show its vast importance in the piiilosoph- 
 ical exposition of the other branches of human knowledge. Once 
 let us light up the torch of a pure theology, and we see everything 
 around us as parts of a great plan. From this point of view, for 
 example, we gain a deeper insight into the philosophy of nature, 
 which is still going on to its perfection, and awaiting the new 
 heavens and the new earth. From this again springs the true 
 philosophy of government. God is the ruler of mankind, the sole 
 origin of all power; and the three relationships in which the power 
 of God is represented on earth, are those of the father, the i)riest, 
 and the sovereign. The authority which each of these possesses, 
 according to Schlegel, is Divine. In brief, the author here dis- 
 cusses every philosophical question from a purely religious stand- 
 point. Man, nature, history, human life, everything is viewed in 
 its relation with God ; and from Divine revelation alone are we to 
 find the key to their interpretation. 
 
 2. If the object of the philosophy of life is to describe the first 
 awakening of conscience to a higher existence, the jihilosophy of 
 Histonj shows the process by which this great end has hitherto 
 been unfolding itself in the world. The loss of the Divine image 
 
 ♦ Schlegel enumerates also four subordinate faruitirs ; the senses, the passions, tho 
 memory, and conscience. These are the connecting Unks between the four principal, 
 •f " Pliil. des Lebens," p. 140, ct seq.
 
 614 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 consisted in the separation of the elements of the human conscious- 
 ness ; its restoration will consist in the complete reunion of them. 
 In the first period of the world, the Chinese represented the pure 
 reason ; the Indians, the imagination ; the Egyptians, the under- 
 standing ; and the Jews, the will — each in its false and fatal isola- 
 tion. The second period of the world's history began with the 
 Persians, and included the Greek and Roman world. In this age, 
 we see the uniting process in its commencement — we see human- 
 ity stepping forth into a more commanding position, and becoming 
 more blended in political relations, and in mental communion, 
 through the world. The third age is the Christian. Here we find 
 the true uniting principle, which, though striven against by self- 
 love, by natural vanity, and by the false spirit of independence, 
 shall at length unite all mankind into one vast brotherhood ; shall 
 brinsf back all the scattered elements of man's consciousness into 
 one focus, and make humanity itself Divine.* In all this, Schlegel's 
 Catholicism burns forth most conspicuously. To him everything 
 that favors freedom, political or mental, is antichrist ; and peace is 
 to be found only in submission to authority, both in church and 
 state. 
 
 3. Having taken an historical review of man's spiritual life up 
 to the present day, Schlegel proceeds to describe the final comple- 
 tion and reunion of man's consciousness in the world, which he 
 proposed to explain at length in the philosophies of language, of 
 religion, and of nature.^ In all these, the mystical element is most 
 prominently shown forth. Language, he considers, is the outward 
 transcript of those eternal ideas and feelings, which have flowed 
 from the mind of God into that of man. Religion expresses the 
 innermost point of the human consciousness — that in which reflec- 
 tion and feeling unite, and in which God is realized as the very 
 corner-stone of our inward life. Lastly, nature is to be viewed by 
 the philosopher as the perpetual manifestation of the Divine love 
 in a material form. In these lectures, delivered at Dresden, we see 
 a somewhat higher philosophical element than in those which he 
 composed for the lecture-room of Vienna. In the " Philosophic 
 des Lebens," indeed, he departed almost entirely from the very 
 idea oi science, and took his stand upon a purely objective revela- 
 
 ♦ " Phil, der Geschichte," lees. 5, 7, and 18. 
 
 t These topics were treated of in a course of lectures which he commenced in Dres- 
 den. Nine of them were delivered, and it was whilst preparing the others, that he was 
 suddenly called from his labors. The last words he wrote on MS. were these : — " Das 
 ganz vallendete und voUkommene Verstehen selbst aber— "
 
 MYSTICISM IN GEKMANY. 615 
 
 tion, coming to us through tradition and the Bible. In the Dresden 
 lectures, the spirit of mysticism is equally apparent; but it appears 
 in a more subjective form, and approaches nearer to the faith- 
 philosophy of Jacobi. The result to which they virtually arrive, 
 may be briefly stated as follows : — That true knowledge consists, 
 not in viewing things as they externally appear, but as they are 
 essentially in themselves ; and that the only way by which we can 
 attain to such a perception of them is, by seeing how they have all 
 flowed forth from God, and how they eternally subsist in Him. 
 The method by which this result is prosecuted, is a mixture of 
 religious faith, historical research, and speculative reasoning ; a 
 method w'hich seems to combine, in strange association, the reflec- 
 tion of Fichte and the faith-philosophy of Jacobi, with the submis- 
 sive religious belief of the Catholic* 
 
 Pass we now from Schlegel to his friend Frederick Daniel Er- 
 nest Schleiermacher. This extraordinary thinker and writer was 
 born at Breslau, a. d. 1768, of parents who belonged to the so- 
 ciety of Moravian Brethren. His earliest years were spent in the 
 midst of the religious life, for which that brotherhood was remark- 
 able ; and never did he lose the impressions which were made upon 
 him at that period. He studied theology at the University of 
 Halle; and, in 1794, was ordained to a pastorate, first in Lands- 
 berg, and then at Berlin. In the year 1802, he became professor 
 of theology and university preacher at Halle; and, in 1806, re- 
 moved again to Berlin, where he resided, sustaining the various 
 offices of preacher, professor, and royal minister of instruction, 
 until his death, which took place on the Tith of Feb. 1831. 
 
 Schleiermacher was, par excellence, a theologian. Religion had 
 been the friend and companion of his childhood ; and he never de- 
 serted his first love. The instruction of religion formed the great 
 purpose of his life; the reformation and s])read of religion was the 
 object of his most earnest endeavors ; and his last words, after re- 
 ceiving the holy communion, were, " In thin faith I die." Had we 
 to portray the influence which Schleiermacher exerted upon the 
 theology of his age, we should fill many pages, ere we could do 
 justice to his long and laborious life. We should h:ivo, for exam- 
 ple, to describe the startling effect of his discourses on religion, 
 ("Reden iiber die Religion,") where hi- attacked infidelity in its 
 last resource, namely, that of inditll-rence ; to recall the solcum 
 accents with which his " Monologues" fell upon the ear of his 
 • Michckt, vol. ii. pji 5 — 46.
 
 616 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 countrymen ; to picture the mighty power of his eloquence, as felt 
 by those who listened to his Sabbath-day labors, or perused them 
 after they were immortalized by his pen : most of all, should we 
 have to trace the entrance of his great production on the " Doc- 
 trine of Faith," (Glaubenslehre,) into the abodes of the learned, 
 and the halls of theology and science, to see it wrestling there 
 with the cold-hearted rationalism of the age, or recalling the com- 
 mon soul of humanity back to its better nature and its final rest. 
 These things, however, we must waive, and only take a brief view 
 of Schleiermacher, as a speculative philosopher. 
 
 One of his earliest efforts in philosophy was his undertaking, in 
 conjunction with Schlegel, to execute a complete translation of 
 Plato.* The influence that flowed from his love for that sublime 
 thinker, was visible, more or less, through his whole life ; so that, 
 while the right understanding of Platonism owes much to his ef- 
 forts in its elucidation, he undoubtedly owed much that was lofty 
 and spiritual in his metaphysical views to it. To deduce a com- 
 plete and connected system of philosophy from the miscellaneous 
 writings of Schleiermacher would be impossible ; in fact, it was a 
 part of his very doctrine, that no philosophical system should be 
 propounded for universal reception, and that no school should be 
 formed. Whilst, therefore, he lectured much upon philosophy, and 
 took many original views upon most questions which it brings be- 
 fore us, he has left no followers behind him, to associate his name 
 with any peculiar class of metaphysical opinions. The writings 
 of Schleiermacher may be divided into three classes. 1. Those 
 which are presented in the oratorical, or, at least, the more poetical 
 form. To these belong the " Reden iiber die Religion," the " Mo- 
 nologen," and the " Weihnachtsfeier." 2. Those which bear the 
 stamp of a purely philosophical character; amongst which we 
 reckon chiefly the lectures on " Dialektik," published as part of 
 his remains, (1839,) and his "Sketch of a System of Morals." 
 3. Those which bear more immediately upon theology. The prin- 
 cipal of these (excepting of course his discourses, and tracts of 
 merely local interest) are the work entitled " Christlicher Glaube," 
 and his " Kurze Darstellung des Theologischen Studiums." We 
 must attempt, therefore, to take a rapid glance at these writings, 
 so far, at least, as they carry with thcui a philosophical interest. 
 
 With respect to the " Reden," a cursory view shows us that the 
 
 * At this time, too, Schleiemiacher entered enthusiastically into the views expressed 
 by Schlegel, in his " Lucinde." The result was the publication of a little work, enti- 
 tled " Vertraute Briefe iiber die Lucinde."
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. G17 
 
 chief philosophical interest of the whole is concentrated in the 
 second. It is here that the author proposes to search into the es- 
 sence of religion ; to strip it of all collateral phenomena ; and to 
 hold up the man himself, in his real relation to the Divine. With 
 great and impressive eloquence, he negatives the idea, that religion 
 can be a mere science ; and e()ually so the supposition, that it can 
 be a form of action. Religion must be something which has a 
 sphere of its own, in connection with the human mind, and into 
 the nature of this sphere we must endeavor to penetrate. Ac- 
 cording to Schleiermacher, then, religion is a deep emotion of the 
 mind, arising from the absorption of the man — the individual man 
 — in the infinite. " The universe," he remarks, " is in one unin- 
 terrupted activity, and manifests itself to us every moment. Every 
 form which it brings forth ; every being to whom, according to the 
 fulness of life, it gives a separate existence ; every event which it 
 shakes out of its rich and ever-fruitful bosom, is a working of the 
 same upon us ; and to grasp every single thing, not for itself, but 
 as a part of the whole ; to view everything limited, not in its oppo- 
 sition to anything else, but as a manifestation of the infinite in our 
 life ; and to give ourselves up to the emotion thus occasioned, — 
 this is religion."* Again, he says, — " The one and all in religion, 
 is to perceive everything which moves us in feeling, in its highest 
 unity, as one and the same ; and everything particular and singu- 
 lar as only existing through this ; consequently, to regard our life 
 and being as a life and being in God."t Throughout the whole 
 oration, the author labors to make it clear and convincing, that 
 religion is the feeling of the infinite — the particular seen to be a 
 part of the universal ; in brief, that it is to view God in all things, 
 and all things in God. 
 
 So far Schleiermacher would seem to be throwing himself into 
 a kind of theological objective idealism ; in fact, as an evidence of 
 this, he passes a s})lendid panegyric upon Spinoza as a man " full 
 of religion, and full of the Holy Ghost."J In the .Alunojogues, 
 however, we see the influence of Fichte reapj>earing ; here in due 
 time we have the subjective phase of the religious lit'e fully ex- 
 pounded, and placed by the side of those former and more objec- 
 tive speculations. As in the Orations, so in the Monologues, the 
 second toj)ic of discussion is that which excites the deepest interest 
 — it is that, namely, in which Schleiermacher develops his peculiar 
 doctrine of individuality (Princip der Eigenthiindichkeit). Fichte, 
 
 • Rcden, p. 58, (Berlin, IS-ia). f Ibid. p. 59. % I**''' P '^
 
 618 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 as we have seen, made the-me absolute ; the very essence of man 
 to him consisted in our self-consciousness ; no higher absolute 
 principle was admitted as at all conceivable. Schleiermacher, on 
 the contrary, started with a conception of the absolute as complete 
 as that of Spinoza ; but now comes back to the affirmation of 
 the-me, as itself comprehending and involving the absolute. This 
 blending of the objective and subjective stand-point might at first 
 seem altogether contradictory, but this is far from being the case. 
 We may abstract from self all mere finite individuality ; we may 
 attain the notion of pure personality as existing in every man : and 
 then what results ? Clearly this, that every man is a peculiar 
 manifestation of the absolute, a representation in himself of the 
 whole universe. The human consciousness is a microcosm — each 
 one a distinct microcosm. In a word, the Deity unfolds and mani- 
 fests Himself through the individualities of the different minds 
 which He has created. Here, therefore, the objective philosophy 
 of the Orations, and the subjective philosophy of the Monologues 
 unite. In the former we see man elevated by religion to oneness 
 with the absolute ; in the latter, we see him manifesting the abso- 
 lute through the very medium of his own peculiar individuality. 
 
 But the question now comes, how are we to realize our oneness 
 with the absolute ; how can we rise to this high and holy religious 
 consciousness? This is the point illustrated in the Weihnachtsfeier; 
 in which Christ is represented as the perfect union of the human 
 consciousness with the Divine ; and man, exhorted by a living 
 union with him, to realize his own union with God. " As Schleier- 
 macher," observes Michelet, " could not but perceive that the pecul- 
 iar (das Eigenthiimliche), as such, must be a very inadequate ex- 
 pression of the universal, while still the peculiar was the very prin- 
 ciple of his philosophy, he holds up a privileged personality, that of 
 Christ, as the highest expression of the absolute. This is the only 
 unity, in which the many can know themselves as one. Accord- 
 ingly he lays down, in the life of the individual, two sources of joy 
 which should be celebrated. Our birthday is the type of a definite 
 and limited feeling. The Christmas festival is the universal feel- 
 ing, in which we celebrate human nature, as it is seen flowing from 
 the Divine principle. The earth-spirit, namely, humanity itself, is 
 perfect and without growth, but the individual man is subjected 
 both to imperfection and to progress, until he becomes one with 
 humanity at large. Only when the individual regards humanity 
 as a living assembly of individuals, only when he bears in himself 

 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 619 
 
 its spirit and its consciousness, when he loses himself in its separate 
 existence, and anon finds himself again, — only then has he in him- 
 self the higher life, and the peace of God. This communion, the 
 self-consciousness of mankind in the individual, is the Church. We 
 seek a point, then, from which such communion has sprung, and be- 
 cause in Christ this self-consciousness of the earth-spirit first awoke, 
 therefore he is the Word of God become ^esh. In tlie God-man, 
 therefore, all are one, for every one must manifest this identity. In 
 the birth of Christ every one sees his own higher birth, and therefore 
 universal joy is the character of the Christmas festival."* 
 
 Here, then, we see the first series of Schleiermacher's specula- 
 tions completed. In the Orations we have religion contemplated 
 as a feeling, the feeling of the infinite ; in the Monologues we 
 have it regarded as moral energy ; and in the Christmas festival, 
 we have it brought into the form of a distinct idea, the union of 
 the finite and infinite personality through oneness with Christ. 
 
 We must now pass to the consideration of Schleiermacher's 
 philosophy, as it appears in its more direct and formal character. 
 Every kind of knowledge which is not based upon philosophy, he 
 regards as either traditionary, or in some way incomplete. Real 
 knowledge can only arise from a perception of the unitv and com- 
 pleteness of all science, as springing from fixed fundamental prin- 
 ciples. The basis of all philosophy, therelbre, and consequently of 
 all truth, must be found in the essential identity of the knowing 
 and the known, of thought and existence. This unity, it is evident, 
 cannot be realized as an idea or conception ; for then it would 
 already be within the region of the ideal, neither can it be realized, 
 as Fichte would have it, in the will. The blending of thought and 
 volition, however, produces a phenomenon termed feeling, and it 
 is here that all opposition between subject and object vanishes, here 
 we obtain a direct intuition of the absolute (Jacobi). 
 
 All philosophy, then, supposes the absolute in itself, and likewise 
 assumes the opposition of subject and object, of the intellectual 
 and the natural, as fundamental determinations of it. This gives 
 rise to two main and all-embracing sciences ; the science of nature 
 and the science of reason. To look still further into the details of 
 philosophy, we must take into consideration, that there are two 
 modes in which all science may be viewed ; namely, as empirical 
 or observing on the one hand, as speculative or intuitional on the 
 other. All real knowledge is both empirical and speculative ; the 
 
 ♦ " Entwickelungs-geschichtc," p. 97.
 
 620 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 difference between its various departments, consisting only in the 
 relative preponderance of the one form of knowing over the other. 
 Accordingly, taking the sciences of nature and reason as funda- 
 mental, we may regard each of them in two different lights ; that 
 is, as having a preponderance on the one hand of the empirical, on 
 the other of the speculative. Nature, viewed with a m.aximum of 
 the empirical, is Natui:al History (Naturkunde) ; with a maximum 
 of the speculative, it is Physics (Naturwissenschaft). On the other 
 side, reason, viewed with a preponderance of the empirical, gives 
 the Philosophy of History (Geschichtskunde) ; with a preponder- 
 ance of the speculative it gives Ethics. The science of nature is 
 only real and philosophical in as far as it is penetrated with reason ; 
 that of reason, only so far as it is viewed in connection with 
 nature. The empirical and the speculative must mutually pene- 
 trate each other, in order to produce real and valid knowledge. If 
 the empirical be viewed alone, then we have merely the bare ob- 
 servation of phenomena, but no science; if the speculative be 
 viewed alone, then we have formal logic or dialektik, which has no 
 element of realism to support it.* 
 
 In his dialektik, Schleiermacher develops the forms of our knowl- 
 edge with great logical skill, showing (something on the plan of 
 Fichte) how all can be deduced from the fundamental opposition 
 of subject and object, as that in which they are all virtually in- 
 cluded. The union of these leads to a higher sphere of mental 
 activity, that of the religious feeling — the intuition of the absolute. 
 By far the most important part of our author's philosophy, how- 
 ever, is contained in the ethics, which have gained in his hands a 
 depth and a significancy never before attained to. Ethics, accord- 
 ing to Schleiermacher, is the science which treats of the unity of 
 nature and reason. Now ethical philosophy, as we showed above, 
 is a branch of science in which the speculative predominates, and 
 consequently, like all speculative science, must take its stand upon 
 the universal, and deduce from thence the particular. Ethics ac- 
 cordingly, scientifically considered, is the expression of a perpetual 
 operating of reason upon nature. Should it lead us to deduce their 
 absolute unity, so that nature becomes all reason, or reason all 
 nature, the science would be complete, and no further philosophy 
 on the subject required ; the continued attempt, however, to unfold 
 their connection and unity, is precisely the process in which ethical 
 science, as we now grasp it, consists. 
 
 * " Entwurf eines Systems der Sittenlehre." See the " Introductory Explanations."
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 
 
 621 
 
 Reason, in its operation upon nature, assumes two great charac- 
 teristics. First of all, it shows itself as the principle oi form, or 
 organization. But, secondly, inasmuch as every form in nature is 
 sjfrnificant of some idea, reason shows itself, also, in connection 
 with nature as a sijmbolizing power or activity. These character- 
 istics, which are seen in the material world, impress themselves, 
 also, upon all the features of human society. Whenever nature 
 and reason blend in harmony, there is what we term good. Ac- 
 cording as reason and nature stand affected to each other, different 
 kinds of good come to view. Sometimes the organizing power is 
 predominant, and sometimes the symbolizing — sometimes the idea 
 of unity is in the foreground, and sometimes that of individuality. 
 On these principles, Schleiermacher explains the moral constitution 
 of the family, the state, the principle of association, the priesthood 
 of science, and the ethical nature of the Church. 
 
 After these hints as to the position which the ethics hold in our 
 author's philosophy, we must be content to refer our readers to the 
 works themselves for a fuller elucidation.* 
 
 Schleiermacher's most voluminous writings are those which 
 relate to theology. His " Dogmatik " is built upon the reality of 
 religion as developing itself in feeling. Starting from this point, 
 he has produced a system of theology which has had more influence 
 upon the theological thinking in the present age, than, perhaps, any 
 other production of our whole European literature. The subjec- 
 tive idealism of Fichte, and the faith-philosophy of Jacobi, arc here 
 seen to pour out all their treasures as humble contributions to the 
 full expansion of the Christian doctrine. We would earnestly 
 recommend the reader who wishes to understand somewhat of 
 the best, the most spiritual, the most religious of the German 
 theological literature, to peruse these noble writings of Schleier- 
 macher ; where, amidst much that he may perchance reject, he 
 will find no few materials of instruction and delight.* 
 
 There is yet another name which we must not altogether omit, 
 that, namely, of Novalis. Friedrich Baron von Ilardenberg (such 
 was his proper appellation) was born, like Schleiermacher. of Mora- 
 vian parents, in the duchy of Mansfield, a. d. 1772. In 1790 he 
 entered the university of .Tena, and completed his studies in Leip- 
 
 ♦ The chief ethical works of Schleiermacher are, " Orvinillinicn einer Kritik der hish- 
 crigen Sittenlehre, (1803;) " Ueber die WissenschanUcho BehaniiUin<T des Tu<:endbe- 
 griffs, (ISID:) Ditto "Des PflichtbcsrilTs, (IS-JI ;) "Ueber dm HerrrilT des hochstcn 
 Gutes, (1827 and 1830 ;) and the " Kntwurf der Sittenlehre,'' as liefore mentioned. 
 
 ■f As a good introduction to Schleiermaclicr, sec Sehaller's " Vorlesungen "
 
 622 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 sig and Wittenberg. In 1795 he settled at Weissenfels in Thu- 
 ringia, where, about the same year, he married. Death, however, 
 soon removed his bride from his then happy home, whom, after Un- 
 gering three melancholy years, he followed into that eternity, with 
 thoughts of which his writings were so deeply imbued. Novalis 
 completes the cycle of mysticism, which we have seen springing 
 from the mixed influence of Fichte and Jacobi. Schlegel, in whom 
 it commenced, took refuge, as we saw, from the abyss of scepticism, 
 to which his extreme subjective principles led, in an objective 
 revelation, as the organ of eternal verities otherwise unknown. 
 Schleiermacher, while making each human consciousness the su- 
 preme arbiter and test of truth, yet would assimilate them all to 
 the perfect mind of Christ, the Divine Man, the type of infinite 
 purity and love. Novalis, proceeding one step further, regards it 
 as the true purport of philosophy to destroy the individual, the 
 finite, the imperfect, the subjective self; and to enable us to be- 
 come one with the infinite and all-perfect mind. To him the foun- 
 dation of all philosophy is faith, that is, an inward light, which 
 reveals to us the infinite and the real ; a direct perception of the 
 Divinity ; an irresistible conviction of the presence of the great 
 spirit of the universe in all we see, hear, and feel around us. Think- 
 ing is to him but the reflection or the dream of faith, one which 
 pictures to us truth only in dim, unreal, and fantastic forms. It is 
 only when we cause our own individuality to sink and die within 
 us, when the peculiar thoughts and feelings of the finite self are 
 crushed under the power of the higher feelings, and we become 
 absorbed in the Divine, that we rise to the full light of truth, and 
 gaze upon things as they are. In Novalis, accordingly, we no 
 longer see the idealist taking his stand upon the principles of a 
 purely subjective philosophy ; but we see him, having left the road, 
 and introduced the additional element of a higher faith, completely 
 overcoming the subjective point of view, sinking the individual self 
 in the great spirit of the universe, and evincing a sublime mysti- 
 cism, that strives to unite man with God. 
 
 Novalis only published during his lifetime a few poetical rhapso- 
 dies (Hymns on the Night), and other light productions ; the chief 
 of his philosophical notions are derived from his posthumous frag- 
 ments, in which he touches upon many points in morals, physics, 
 and philosophy ; and develops somewhat at large the ideas to which 
 we have just adverted.* The merits of Novalis, as an aesthetic 
 
 *" Novalis Schriften;" " Herausgegeben von Tieck und Schlegel." (1814 and 
 1837.) These consist of two small vols. l2mo, containing the poems and other frag-
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 623 
 
 writer, have been discussed in several of our English reviews. Tlie 
 reader can judge of his general style of composition by a refer- 
 ence to these articles : our object has been simply to show his 
 proper position in the development of the subjective mysticism 
 of Germany, as it arose during the earlier yeai's of the present 
 century. 
 
 Let us sum up our remarks in a few words. The tendency of 
 Kant's philosophy flowed decidedly towards the point of view we 
 have indicated by the term subjeclioe idealism ; that, namely, which 
 makes all human knowledge spring from and concentrate in self. 
 This subjective principle was completed in Fichte. In Schlegel 
 we see the subjective philosophy just about to open into the region 
 of scepticism, we might even say of nihilism, and the fatal conse- 
 quences only retrieved by the interposition of faith. This, accord- 
 ingly, is to be viewed as the critical turning-point between the 
 subjective and objective tendency in the German philosophy. In 
 Schleiermacher w^e see the subjective principle not repudiated as 
 by Schlegel, but beginning to assume a more objective character, 
 inasmuch as the human individuality, according to iiim, is to be 
 moulded into the likeness of Christ, until all men, in their religious 
 consciousness, reflect his Divine image. In Novalis, at length, the 
 subjective self is to be crushed and destroyed, and we are to be- 
 come one with God, the soul of the world.* 
 
 Here subjective mysticism terminates, and we find a transition 
 from the predominant influence of Fichte to that <»f Schclling. 
 Schelling saw the abyss of nihilism, in which subjective idealism, 
 when consecutively developed, must end ; and began bv asserting 
 the claims of some objective reality, upon our firm belief We 
 have already shown in what manner he developed his whole sys- 
 tem of objective idealism, and how nearly he had come in his later 
 views upon the verge of philosophical mysticism. The majority 
 of his followers, indeed, have become decided mystics ; and we 
 must now, accordingly, advert to the views which have arisen from 
 the conjunction of the opinions of Schelling with those of Jacobi. 
 Schelling's most popular and striking productions, are un(|uestion- 
 ably those in which he develops his piincij)les of '' Natiir-Philoso- 
 
 incnts. The first vol. consists of ii little romance, cnlitli'il •' Urinricli von Ortcnlinijrn." 
 The second coni])rehenils the " Hymncn nn die Naclit," llie •• Lehrlin^je jm .Saig,'' and 
 some ])liil()sopluc!il fragments. ()r tlnse, the first is on " IMiiK)sophy and IMiysics,' in 
 which the idea of nature is parlicuiarly ilevelo|ied. The second is on " .1-].xthetic« and 
 Lil<'rature." 
 
 • Set Michelet " Gcschichtc," vol. ii. pp. ■\, and 1 1 1. Sec also his " Enlwickclungs- 
 geschichte," Ice. 5.
 
 624 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 phie.''^ The school of Schelling, accordingly, has ever been char- 
 acterized by its tendency to institute speculations of this kind ; 
 which, when united with the faith-philosophy, have given rise to 
 theosophic systems, some of a more sober, and others of a more 
 extravagant character. This leads us, then, to consider, 
 
 3. Those writers who have combined objective idealism with the 
 philosophy of feeling. One of the most celebrated, and, at the 
 same time, most valuable of these authors, is Gotthilf Heinrich 
 Schubert, now professor at Munich. Incited by his objective 
 tendency, and by his evident admiration of Schelling, Schubert 
 directed his attention, for the most part, to the philosophy of nature, 
 and proposed mystical interpretations of many natural phenomena. 
 In fact, his system, as a whole, starts from nature, and proceeds 
 upwards to spirit ; and, accordingly, most of his first writings refer 
 entirely to the world of outward phenomena. The following titles 
 of some of these works will give an idea of the primary branches 
 of Schubert's philosophy : — " Views from the Night Region of 
 Natural Science" (1808), "The Original World and the Fixed 
 Stars" (1822), "Universal History of Nature" (1826, last and com- 
 plete edition, 1837), &c. 
 
 To recount the theories which are here proposed, in their bare 
 principles, would be by no means interesting ; and as we have 
 somewhat fully explained the Natur-philosophie of Schelling in a 
 former chapter, our readers can gain from thence an idea of 
 the method in which the same subjects are treated by the author 
 now before us. Suffice it to remark, that, beginning with the fixed 
 stars and the hai-e framework of nature, he attempts to write her 
 complete history through the regions of inorganized masses, plants, 
 and animals, up to the point where the philosophy of nature hands 
 us over to the philosophy of mind. Recommencing his labors, he 
 then sets out upon another journey, and proposes to write the 
 " History of the Soul ;" and here it is, that we have peculiarly to 
 look for his metaphysical opinions. In accomplishing this history, 
 he shows, first, how the soul is, as it were, reflected in and by the 
 body ; how it gives form and perfection to our material organiza- 
 tion. Next entering upon the analysis of mind, he brings forward 
 a somewhat remarkable doctrine, setting forth the distinction be- 
 tween the soul (Seele) and the spirit (Geist). The soul is the in- 
 ferior part of our intellectual nature — that which shows itself most 
 distinctly in the phenomena of our dreams — the power of which 
 also is situated in the material constitution of the brain. The
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 625 
 
 spirit, on the contrary, is that part of our nature which tends to the 
 purely rational, the lofty, the divine. The doctrine of the natural 
 and the spiritual man, which we find in the writings of St Paul, 
 may perhaps have formed the basis upon which Schubert founded 
 this system of mental dualism. Whatever may have been its 
 origin, however, it forms a very prominent feature in his meta- 
 physical analysis, and affords an explanation of many facts, which 
 is by no means unreasonable or worthless. 
 
 The feelings, as might be anticipated, play a very considerable 
 part in Schubert's psychology. Feeling, in reference to the soul, is 
 the great impulse of all oin* outward actions, more especially when, 
 by a ray from heaven, it acquires a moral character, and impels us 
 to what is good and virtuous. Feeling, however, with reference to 
 the spirit, is of a far higher character, and appears to us in the form 
 of faith — faith, which conquers sense, and sight, and the power of 
 death — faith, which enables us to realize the Divine, and which 
 gives us at once the longing after, and the full conviction of an 
 immortal life beyond the tomb. Thus, starting from nature in its 
 most original forms, our author pursues his investigations through 
 the whole region of inanimate and animated existence, passes from 
 the world of matter to that of mind, and follows the course of our 
 faculties and feelings, in their gradual rise from the inferior to the 
 superior, until he at length atlem})ts to solve the mysteries of our 
 spiritual being, by the development of that higher faith, which binds 
 us by close affinities to the immortal and the divine. In brief, 
 Schubert may be regarded as one of the best, the most moral, and 
 perhaps we may say, the most religious writers, who have sought 
 to combine the objective philosophy of Schelling with the mystical 
 tendencies of the school of Jacobi. 
 
 The next writer of the same school that we have to mention, is 
 Franz Xaver Baader. Unlike Schubert, he begins with the sub- 
 jective point of view, and from the central region of the soul itself, 
 attempts to spread a new light over the whole realm of being at 
 large. His writings consist, for the most jiart, of lectures, short 
 treatises, and articles furnished for the ])hilosophical periodicals of 
 the day, in which we find glimpses into the dilferenl regions of 
 metaphysical truth, rather than a coni}>lete and connected system. 
 Of all the philosophers who have taken from Schellini^ the idea of 
 a dynamical theory of nature, Baader is decidedly the most mys- 
 tical. There is, indeed, comparatively little in his works to re- 
 mind one of Jacobi, but a strong affinity for the mystics of earlier 
 
 40
 
 626 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 times. It is evident that the author has studied in the school of 
 Jacob Boehme, Paracelsus, and Tauler, and adopted at once their 
 mysticism and their spirituality. 
 
 As an opponent of the modern pantheism, Baader stands pre- 
 eminent. He has seized the precise points in which it is most 
 vulnerable, and dealt some of the most sturdy blows against the 
 all-absorbing fatalism to which it inevitably leads. Incapable as 
 are his writings ever to form a distinct school of philosophy, yet 
 there are few men who have scattered around them more fruitful 
 and suggestive ideas ; few who have combated more earnestly 
 for the principles which contain the most precious germs of meta- 
 physical, moral, and spiritual truth. 
 
 To pursue the windings of the mystical and theosophic systems, 
 which the inordinate speculations of modern times have thrown 
 up to light, would be anything but easy, and anything but instruc- 
 tive ; and w^e should be tempted at once to close our list of au- 
 thors, chosen from an extraordinary number of names, all candi- 
 dates for the honor of a philosophical reputation, were not the 
 name of Henry StefTens too prominent, as a mystic natural philos- 
 opher, to be passed over in silence. Steffens was born in Sweden 
 in 1773, but since the commencement of the present century, has 
 belonged almost entirely to German}'.* The fact which places 
 this voluminous author somewhat prominently forward in the phil- 
 osophical world, is this — that while some of the followers of Schel- 
 ling have verged more to the subjective, and others to the objec- 
 tive side of his system, Steffens has seized upon the middle point, 
 and labored with much ability to show the absolute unity of nature 
 and spirit. " The totality of the school of Schelling," remarks 
 Michelet, " is most manifestly set forth in the writings of Steffens. 
 1. In his ' Principles of Natural Science philosophically considered' 
 (1806), he comes near to Oken, and to the formalism of the philos- 
 ophy of nature. 2. The spiritual side of our knowledge is shown 
 forth in his ' Caricaturen des Heiligsten' (1821). 3. In the third 
 series of his writings, the unity of nature and spirit is developed, 
 from various points of view. First, eternal nature is considered 
 historically, as representing itself in time, and consequently, as a 
 spiritual thing — an idea which Herder had already pointed out, 
 and which Steffens regards as the great theme of his life, the 
 highest aim of all his investigations. To this belongs his ' Con- 
 
 * Steffens died a year or two ago. His " Nachgelassene VVerke" were published in 
 1846, with a preface by Schelling, the last word which that veteran in philosophy has 
 spoken to the public.
 
 MYSTICISM IN GERMANY. 627 
 
 tributions to an inward Natural History of the Earth,' and his 
 'Polemical Treatise towards the furtherance of Speculative Phys- 
 ics.' In the first part of the latter work, lie shows how the orig- 
 inal union of spirit with nature had been an ancient opinion — 
 that, e. g., of Roger Bacon ; how the mechanical view of jihysics 
 had become entirely predominant in the seventeenth century ; 
 and how, in the eighteenth century, men began to rise from the 
 bare material relations to the dynamical opposition of magnetism, 
 of electricity, and of chemistry, i. e., to a dynamical system of 
 physics ; until, in our own century, the remarkable union of all 
 the main phenomena of nature, under the idea of one spirit, has 
 introduced the dawn of natural science, properly so called. * * * 
 Secondly, in his ' Anthropology,' Steflens has exhibited mind or 
 spirit as something reposing upon nature, and remaining in close 
 unity with it, much in the sense of Schubert. Thirdly, he pro- 
 ceeds at length to the mystical-religious point of view, after the 
 example of Baader, and reproaches himself with the boldness of 
 his earlier knowledge. To this period belong his writings on 
 ' False Theology and True Faith, — A Voice out of the Churches,' 
 and his treatise, entitled ' llow I again became a Lutheran, and 
 what to me Lutheranism is.' "* 
 
 The three authors above mentioned form but a very small \k>t- 
 tion of those \\ hom the caj)tivating philosoj)hy of Schelling incited 
 to similar investigations. Of these, the majority became mystics, 
 and even Schelling himself cannot be freed from the charge of de- 
 cided mysticism, in most of his later protluctions. The course of 
 the German mysticism, therefore, as a whole, now lies before us. 
 Retracing our steps to Jacobi, we see him inlroiiucing into the 
 speculative spirit of the age, the element of faith, as a tiling abso- 
 lutely necessary to the perfection of our knowledge, and the due 
 explanation of the phenomena oi' the human mind. This faith-ele- 
 ment was combined, first, with the current Kantism of the age, 
 and cave rise to the somewhat sober and miMJified mvsticistn of 
 Krug, Fries, and Calker ; next, finding its way into the subjective 
 idealism of Fichte, it produced the paradoxical mysticism of Schle- 
 gel, and the Christian I'latonisni of Sehleierniacher and Novalis ; 
 
 ♦ StcfTcns was a man of vast versatility ol" gi>niun. In hi* " fJrumlmgr ilrr Phil. 
 Naturwissfriscliat\," In- has travi rsid tlir s<.-iiiir«s «)l' iiiiniTahi^y , C'oli'^v, ami naturaj 
 soiincf at larj;c. In liis ■' Aiillir(i|H)I»i,'y." In- hits <-arri<il ihf t<ir\-h of philiMsophy into 
 the regions ot' [ihvsiolotrv, and lh<: constitution ot" human nature. In ihi- " ('urica- 
 turen des Iliilijrstcti," lie iliseusses the philosopliy of inililirn uml lUM-iity. .\nil hialjy, 
 in hi.s r( lifziouH \vritin;;s. he has uttcmplcd to throw liglil ujKjn Ujc pruviiicc of theology, 
 both nuturul anil rcvuulcd.
 
 628 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and, lastly, obtaining a lodgment in the objective philosophy of 
 Schelling, it brought to light those multifarious mystical interpre- 
 tations of natural phenomena, to a few only of which we have now 
 reverted. 
 
 The writers I last mentioned, as advocates of modern mysticism 
 in Germany, are the latest representatives of the present age, and 
 in them, therefore, we recognize the exact point to which the mys- 
 tical tendency has just reached, and with which, accordingly, the 
 present historical inquiry into the German mysticism must termi- 
 nate. We only add one remark in conclusion. The whole of the 
 intellectual phenomena we have just been reviewing, originated 
 from a new philosophical element, which Jacobi added to the pure 
 logical rationalism of Kant. What is this element ? In art, it is 
 called genius, in poetry, inspiration, in philosophy, feeling, in re- 
 ligion, faith, in Jife, enthusiasm. Be it what it may by name, 
 there is assuredly a spontaneous movement of the soul, an intui- 
 tive apprehension of moral and spiritual truth, developing itself 
 sometimes in meditation, sometimes in action, which gives rise to 
 some of the most striking phenomena of human life. This move- 
 ment is the basis of mysticism. Mysticism, then, when confined 
 within its proper limits, like all the other philosophical systems, is 
 truth ; it is only when this spontaneous element in the soul is ele- 
 vated over the calm reflection of the understanding and the rea- 
 son, that it is likely to lead into extravagance and folly.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ON THE ECLECTIC SCHOOL OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Sect. I. — Rise and Progress of Modern Eclecticism in France. 
 
 The school of philosophy which forms the subject of the present 
 section might have been treated of as one branch of modern ideal- 
 ism, and would not have found an inappropriate place at the end 
 of our fifth chapter. As, however, eclecticism is not necessarily 
 idealistic in its tendency, we have thought it, upon the whole, more 
 convenient to devote a separate portion of our work to the devel- 
 opment of its rise and progress, more especially in France. 
 
 The current philosophy in France, at the commencement of the 
 nineteenth century, was that which we have already portrayed 
 under the title of ideology. So firmly fixed, indeed, was this sys- 
 tem in the schools of instruction, and in the very habits of the 
 thinking part of the population, that it seems necessary in the out- 
 set to offer some conjectures on the probable causes of its rapid 
 decline. These causes we shall be able to trace by observing the 
 various movem'ents, by which the reaction against sensationalism 
 was gradually developed. 
 
 The first indications of discontent towards the reigning system 
 made their appearance amongst some of the more sjiiritual of the 
 theological writers of the age. Ideology was without a rehgion— 
 without aught of the Divine and mysterious — without any means 
 of satisfying the irrepressible cravings of the human mind after 
 God and immortality. Even Bonaparte himself is known to have 
 commented with severity upon its utter incapability of showing 
 anything great in human destiny. Considering, then, the force of 
 man's spiritual nature, there is no wonder that there were many 
 prepared, on theological grounds, to combat a philosophy that could 
 lead to so dreary a view of human life.
 
 630 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Again, Ideology, by reducing all the finer sentiments of the mind 
 to mere nervous susceptibility, stripped them of that poetic color- 
 ing, which the doctrines of spiritualism so well knew how to throw 
 around them. The poet, the critic, and the man of taste, possess 
 by nature, a kind of spiritual philosophy, which, if not embodied in 
 any distinct doctrines, yet shows itself with equal certainty in the 
 excursions of their fancy, and the refinement of their feelings. 
 Those writers of the age, who, like St. Pierre, Chateaubriand, and 
 Madame de Stael, embodied in their thoughts a tone, either of 
 religious sensationalism or of poetical fervor, must have contrasted 
 very strikingly with the philosophers, who sought to reduce even 
 the most ethereal of our feelings to the mere pulsations of the 
 nervous system. Thus, if there were none ready to contest the 
 dogmas of sensationalism upon scientific grounds, there were many 
 who tacitly refuted them by the philosophy of their feelings and the 
 spiritualism of their sentiments. 
 
 Another discouragement was thrown in the path of ideology, by 
 the rapidity with which the power of Bonaparte, during the first 
 decade of the present century, reached its climax. In addition to 
 the ardor for military glory, by which he dazzled the universal mind 
 of his country, and which was anything but favorable to such 
 philosophical pursuits, it is well known that he had a personal an- 
 tipathy to the so termed ideologues, which he took little care to 
 conceal. Accordingly, in all the schemes for education which 
 issued from his government, the study of this philosophy was 
 thrown altogether in the background, and its cultivation attended 
 rather with the chance of penalty than the expectation of re- 
 ward. 
 
 These several circumstances all tended to foster the doubts which 
 some even of the ideologists themselves began to evince respecting 
 the soundness of their principles. The rage for materialism had, 
 in fact, gone by ; the arguments by which it could be upheld, were 
 exhausted ; the whole extent of its possible influence (an influence 
 not much to be vaunted) was now made visible ; the charm of its 
 novelty was fled. Those who were the professed metaphysicians 
 of the age began to feel that, if any further progress was to be made 
 in their department, it must be by a change of system, rather than 
 a closer investigation of their old one ; and that, if the mysteries 
 of the spirit of man were ever to be sounded, other lines must be 
 used than those furnished by sensation alone. Our present object, 
 therefore, will be to trace these indications of reaction from their
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 631 
 
 first commencement, and show in what manner they have gradually 
 led to the present system of French eclecticism. 
 
 In doing this, our first attention must be directed to M. Laromi- 
 guiere, who was originally reckoned amongst the abettors of ide- 
 ology, and formed one of the celebrated society who assembled in 
 the retreat of Auteuil. This elegant philosophical writer was born 
 in the year 1756, and having taught metaphysics for some time at 
 Toulouse, removed to Paris towards the commencement of the 
 present century, where he soon became a professor in the normal 
 school. With the exception of a few miscellaneous pieces, his 
 chief reputation as a philosopher rests upon the lectures which he 
 delivered, ex cathedrd,dm'ing the years 1811, 1812, 1813, and which 
 were published in two volumes, with the unassuming title of Le- 
 90ns de Philosophie."* 
 
 M. Laromiguiere had been educated a zealous pupil of Condil- 
 lac ; and, although he was led by liis own superior genius for men- 
 tal analysis to depart widely from the opinions of his master, yet he 
 ever seemed to do so with reluctance, and everywhere attempted to 
 make his own opinions coincide as much as possible with the views 
 advanced in the " Traite des Sensations." There were, as Cousin 
 expresses it, in M. Laromiguiere two men, the ancient and the 
 modern ; the disciple and the adversary of Condillac ; and it is the 
 struggle between these opposed spirits, which forms the great lead- 
 ing peculiarity in all his writings. If, therefore, our author did 
 not make that progress towards a more reflective philosophy, which 
 was soon afterwards made by those who fallowed in his footsteps, 
 yet at any rate, to him must be awarded the honor of the first 
 great struggle to throw of the chains of the reigning authority. 
 
 The philosophy of M. Laromiguiere is by no means difiicult to 
 expound; his clear, consecutive, and precise habit, both of think- 
 ing and writincf, aflbrdinfr ample means of doing so with ease and 
 distinctness. In the volumes to which we have just alluded, there 
 are two great subjects which are brought uiuier discussion ; the 
 first is, the analysis and classification of the human faculties ; the 
 other is, the nature and origin of our ideas : and from each of 
 these portions we can derive a tolerably accurate insight into the 
 spirit of his philosophy. Let us first advert to his classification of 
 the faculties. Here, instead of beginning, as Condillac does, with 
 the great fundamental faculty of sensation, he substitutes in its 
 
 ♦ Several editions of these Leetures have since .ippenred. The rcferences are here 
 given to the llli edition, !{ vols. I'Jino, [jubhshed in Paris in ISJG.
 
 632 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 place that of attention ; from which, as the basis, he derives in 
 regular succession, all the other powers and capacities of the hu- 
 man mind.* These powers and capacities he separates into two 
 great classes — those of the understanding and those of the will ; 
 not regarding, indeed, either the understanding or the will, as de- 
 signating separate and individual faculties, but using them simply 
 as general terms by which to denote two distinct assemblages of 
 mental phenomena. The faculties of the understanding he reduces 
 to these three : — 1. Attention ; 2. Comparison ; 3. Reasoning. Of 
 these three, attention is the fundamental principle from which the 
 other two proceed ; and of these two, again, the phenomena usually 
 denoted by the words memory, judgment, imagination, &c., are 
 simply modifications. Thus there are, according to M. Laromi- 
 guiere, three generic powers of the understanding, from which all 
 the specific or subordinate phenomena proceed. Since, however, 
 these three generic powers in their last analysis are all seen to be 
 included in the first, the whole of the phenomena of the under- 
 standing may be said to spring from the one great fundamental 
 faculty of attention. ^ 
 
 If we now turn to the will, w^e find, according to ]M. Laromi- 
 guiere, a complete parallel existing between its phenomena and 
 those we have just been considering. The foundation of all vol- 
 untary action in man is desire ; and in the same manner as we 
 have already seen the two latter faculties of the understanding 
 spring fi'om the first, so now we see springing from desire, as the 
 basis, the tw^o corresponding phenomena o{ preference and liberty. % 
 These three powers, then, being established, all the subordinate 
 powers of the will are without difficulty reducible to them, so that, 
 at length, we have the complete man viewed in two different as- 
 pects : — in the one, as an intellectual ; in the other, as a voluntary 
 being ; the chief facts of his intellectual exactly corresponding to 
 those of his voluntary existence. Lastly, to bring the whole sys- 
 tem to a state of complete unity, our author shows that desire it- 
 self is, strictly speaking, a peculiar form of attention ; that the fun- 
 damental principle, therefore, of our intellectual and voluntary life, 
 is the same ; that the power of attention, broadly viewed, (being, 
 in fact, but another expression for the natural activity of the hu- 
 man mind,) is the point from which the whole originally proceeds. § 
 
 * For his analysis of Condillac's classification, see Part I. lee. iii. For the state- 
 ment of his own system, see Part I. lee. iv. 
 
 t Lemons, vol. i. p. 104, et seq. % Ibid., vol. i. p. 113, et seq. 
 
 § " La liberie naitde la preference, la preference, du desir : le desir est la direction des 
 
 1
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 633 
 
 Now, the contrast between this psychology and that of Condil- 
 lac is sufficiently striking ; the one being indeed, in a measure, 
 directly opposed to the other. The latter system assumes sensa- 
 tion, not only as its point of departure, but as the formative j)rin- 
 ciple of every other faculty ; the former builds up the whole upon 
 attention. The one lays at the foundation of our whole intellec- 
 tual and active life a faculty purely passive in its nature, and re- 
 gards all phenomena as simply transformations of it ; the other 
 assumes a primitive power, the very essence of which is activity, 
 and makes all our other powers more or less share in this essence. 
 The one deduces all the facts of consciousness from the impulse of 
 the world without upon the mind within ; the other derives them 
 from the reaction of the mind within upon the world without. So 
 widely had the pupil, perhaps almost unconsciously to himself, de- 
 parted from the philosophy of his master. 
 
 The second part of M. Laromiguierc's lectures refers to the 
 origin of our ideas. Here, in order to swerve as little as possible 
 in appearance from the philosophy of Condillac, he makes the 
 whole material of our knowledge come from our sensibility. Con- 
 dillac had derived all our ideas from sensation in its ordinarv and 
 contracted sense ; Locke had derived them from sensation and re- 
 flection, thus taking in the active as well as the passive element to 
 account for the phenomena of the case ; M. Laromiguiere, how- 
 ever, explains his meaning of the word sensihilitv in such a man- 
 ner, as to make the foundation still broader than that of Locke 
 himself. Sensibility, he shows, is of four kinds: — \. That pro- 
 duced by the action of external things upon the mind — this is sen- 
 sation in the ordinary sense of the word ; 'J. That pnxluced bv the 
 action of our faculties upon each other — this is equivalent to 
 Locke's reflection ; 3. That which is produced by the recurrence 
 and comparison of several ideas together, giving us the {x.'rception 
 oi relations; and 4. That which is ])roduccd by the coiitem|)lation 
 of human actions, as right or wrong; which is the moral faculty.* 
 
 In this theory, it appears at once evident that there is a secret 
 revolt from the doctrines of sensationalism. Our author, in I'x- 
 plaining his notion of the sensihilitv of the human mind, recedes 
 step by step, until ho has virtually undone all that had been at- 
 
 fiicultes d' I'entcnilcmcnt, qui nuissrnt It-s uncs, <lfs ••uitp's, li> r.iisunnrinrrit ili* la coin- 
 j);iraison, ct la companiison tie I'altontion. Par cons.ijucnl, il i-st prouv. niir la p«>n- 
 8i'c, ou la faculti- de pt-iiscr, (|iii nulirasse toutt-s Ics farullrs di- I imr, dcnvc dc I'at- 
 tcntion, c'rst-;i-dire du pDUvoir (|m' nous avdus dc i-onn-nlrrr notrt- ariiviic cl noire 
 8cnsil)ilit('- sur un soul objct pour Ics distribucr cusuilc sur plusicuni." Vol. i. p. ViHS. 
 * Pt. II. Le^on iii.
 
 634 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 tempted in the analysis of our simpler notions, from Locke down to 
 his own times. From sensation, as the most obvious form of our 
 sensibility, he goes back to reflection ; from reflection he goes back 
 to the power of perceiving relations, i. e., to judgment in its primi- 
 tive form ; from judgment he comes at last to the moral faculty, 
 viewing it, also, as an original and irreducible fact in our constitu- 
 tion. The very manner, indeed, in which these four classes of 
 phenomena are presented, namely, as different branches of our 
 sensitive life, shows the struggle which was going on in the mind 
 of the author, between the system he had left and the broader and 
 deeper views which were opening before him. This struggle, 
 however, was the harbinger of better days. The activity of the 
 human mind was again vindicated ; the majesty of reason restored ; 
 and, what was still more important, the moral faculty was again 
 raised from its ruins to sway its sceptre over human actions and 
 purposes. M. Laromiguiere, the ideologist, will always be viewed 
 as the day-star of French eclecticism.* 
 
 Hitherto there was no open revolt manifested against the author- 
 ity of Condillac in the public expositions of philosophy. France 
 was, as yet, entirely pledged to sensationalism ; and although 
 deeper thoughts were stirring in the minds of those who, like M. 
 Laromiguiere, were dissatisfied with the reigning system, yet no 
 direct hostility was shown to the system itself. To show this was 
 reserved for M. Royer-Collard, whom we now accordingly intro- 
 duce to the notice of our readers. Peter Paul Royer-Collard was 
 born in the year 1763, and began his career as an advocate in the 
 French Parliament. During the Revolution, he was one of those 
 who, while advocating the principles of popular liberty, yet en- 
 deavored to restrain the outbreaks of hcentiousness by which that 
 age was unhappily characterized. In the year 1810 he was made 
 Dean of the Faculty of Letters, in the Normal School at Paris ; 
 and it was in the lectures which he delivered there, from the year 
 1811 to 1814, that he laid the foundation for his reputation in phi- 
 losophy. It is to be lamented, however, that so small a portion of 
 these lectures has been given to the public through the medium of 
 the press. An introductory discourse forms the whole of what 
 was published under his own eye ; and although his papers have 
 been admirably arranged and edited by M. Jouffroy, as an adjunct 
 
 * Those who wish to see a masterly estimate of M. Laromiguiere's philosophical 
 character, shoulil read the funeral oration delivered hy M. Cousin, and inserted in his 
 •' Fragments Phiiosophiques." Also M. Maine de Biran's Examination of his " Le- 
 mons de Philosophic."
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 635 
 
 to his translation of Dr. Reid's philosophy, yet the real mind and 
 spirit of an author must necessarily suffer much when they are 
 only known through the medium of posthumous fragments. We 
 shall attempt, however, as far as our means will admit, to give the 
 main features of our author's metaphysical system. 
 
 M. Royer-Collard, on assuming the chair of tnolaphysics at 
 Paris, boldly commenced by setting at defiance the whole authority 
 of Condillac, and the ideologists; and though he stood alone, with- 
 out any kindred mind to aid and sympathize with him in his un- 
 dertaking, yet he firmly persisted in declaring himself the advocate 
 of a new philosophy. The student who has thoroughly mastered 
 the controversy of Reid against the scepticism of his day, will 
 have no difficulty in understanding the position which was held by 
 M. Royer-Collard, as the professed opponent of sensationalism. 
 Well instructed in the philosophy of Scotland, and deeply imbued 
 with its spirit, he saw that he had to direct the same arguments 
 against Condillac, as Reid had directed against Hume. He clearly 
 comprehended that the ideal system, which upheld the scepticism 
 of the one, equally upheld the sensationalism of the other, and that 
 by shaking this foundation he should destroy every edifice which 
 could be erected upon it. 
 
 To make this more evident, we must remind the reader, that 
 Hume's argument proceeded somewhat in the lollowing manner. 
 First, let it be conceded that all our knowledge of external things 
 is communicated through the medium of ideas, and that its vera- 
 city depends solely upon the inward ideal representation being cor- 
 rect. This point being establi&lied, it follows, that we can never 
 attain to any certainty with regard to the existence of the external 
 world ; it being perfectly impossible to verify the accuracy of the 
 image by a comparison of it with the original. Once grant, then, 
 that all our knowledge consists in ideas, and we can never get be- 
 yond them ; the passage from the ideal to the real can never be 
 discovered, and even if it could be discovered, still the real itself 
 must remain to us perfectly unknown. M. Uoycr-Collard perceived 
 that if we admit this hypothesis at the cominencement to be cor- 
 rect, the whole train of reasoning based upon it was irrefragable : 
 and he still further perceived, that the doctrine of Condillac vir- 
 tually included in it all these consequences. If. as that philosopher 
 maintained, all our knowledge is derived from our sensations, if our 
 whole consciousness, in fact, consists of nothing else, then why 
 should we attribute an objective reality to one sensation more than
 
 636 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 another — why should we suppose, for example, that the sensation 
 of magnitude and extension has a real and material object an- 
 swering to it, while that of a sound or an odor has none ? 
 
 Following up the reasoning of Dr. Reid, our author showed with 
 great force and perspicuity, that in connection with certain sensa- 
 tions we are led by the very constitution of our minds to supply the 
 further idea of an external object, from which those particular sen- 
 sations proceed. Reid termed these primitive judgments principles 
 of common sense ; Stewart called them primary laws of reason ; 
 M. Royer-Collard considered it to be a kind of intellectual instinct, 
 by which we pass from the inward sensation to the outward reality. 
 The working of this instinct he explains under the idea of a natu- 
 ral process of induction, which leads us infallibly to conclude from 
 the unceasing variety of sensations which crowd in upon us, not 
 only the real existence of external objects, but also, much concern- 
 ing their nature and properties. So far, then, our author trod in 
 the footsteps of his Scottish instructors, and wielded with admira- 
 ble success the weapons of which they had first proved the utility. 
 
 Next to this controversy, M. Royer-Collard proceeded to the 
 analysis of our fundamental ideas. The notions we possess of sub- 
 stance, of cause, of time, of space, of eternity, of infinity, &c., 
 were all brought under review ; and, by a most careful investiga- 
 tion, it was shown that they do not bear the character of abstrac- 
 tions, or generalizations, made from experience, but that they are 
 primitive a prioin notions, with which the mind is furnished as 
 starting points for all its knowledge. After this, he proceeded to 
 explain the notions of right and wrong, of duty and obligation, of 
 all, in a word, which peculiarly distinguishes our moral nature ; 
 and tearing to shreds the flimsy reasoning of Helvetius and Vol- 
 ney, he drew forth from the depths of the human consciousness the 
 indestructible element of eternal and immutable morality, which 
 they had alike rejected in theory, and too much despised in prac- 
 tice. " We recall," says one of his biographers, " the effect which 
 his whole address upon this subject, so grave, so powerful, so full 
 of emotion, produced upon the minds of the hearers. He arrested 
 the understandings which he did not gain, or which did not fully 
 comprehend him ; he captivated the rest ; he elevated, fortified, 
 and filled them with wisdom and with reason ; he played the same 
 part as did Socrates with the youth, who listened to his instruc- 
 tions." 
 
 From this brief sketch of M. Royer-Collard 's labors in the de-
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 637 
 
 partment of philosophy, it is sufficiently evident, that he had recon- 
 sidered and recast the whole method of philosophical research in 
 his own country. No longer content with the attempts which the 
 ideological school had been making to explain the facts of our 
 moral and intellectual nature, by an appeal to external influences, 
 he felt and acknowledged the existence of a world within,, the facts 
 of which have to be observed, classified, and reasoned upon, just in 
 the same manner as the facts of the world without. He entered 
 the hidden chamber of the human mind, with the lamp of induc- 
 tion in his hand ; and if his life was neither long enough, nor calm 
 enough, to inspect the whole region which he had opened to view, 
 yet, having pointed out the way, he did not want those, among his 
 admiring pupils, who were ready to enter into his labors, and carry 
 them forward towards their completion. Before we proceed, how- 
 ever, to exhibit the effects of his instructions upon the progress of 
 mental science, we must pause to notice a contemporary author, 
 whose extraordinary philosophical genius has left many traces 
 behind it, not only in France, but in various parts of Europe 
 besides. 
 
 The author to whom we now allude is M. Maine de Biran, who 
 was born in 1766, and died, too soon for the interests of philosophy, 
 in 1824. Maine de Biran was one of the celebrated society of 
 Auteuil, to which we have before alluded, and from which all the 
 modern philosophy of France has virtually proceeded. In the year 
 1800, the National Institute offered a j)ri/.e for fho best essav "On 
 the Influence of Habit upon the Faculty of Tliinking," which was 
 awarded to M. Maine de Biran, as the successful competitor. In 
 this essay he showed his entire predilection for the principles of 
 ideology, accounting for all the phenomena of the human con- 
 sciousness by the action and reaction of the nervous system. Soon 
 after this (in 1803) he bore off another prize for an essay "On the 
 Decomposition of the Faculty of Thinking," in which essay he 
 showed the first signs of defection from the philosophy of Con- 
 dillac, and the first germs of those peculiar sentiments, for which 
 he afterwards became celebrated. In 1807 he bore off fresh honors 
 from the Academy of Sciences of Berlin, for a memoir on the 
 question " Whether there is in man an immediate internal intuition, 
 and in what it differs from the ])erceptions of the senses." Other 
 honors he gained shortly after from (\)j>enhagen, for an exi)Osition 
 of " The mutual relation of man's moral and physical constitu- 
 tion." In both these last essays he departed still further than ever
 
 638 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 from his original views, and gradually brought his new philosophy 
 to maturity. Anxious to impart his doctrines to France, he em- 
 bodied them in a short work, which he entitled " An Examination 
 of the Lectures of M. Laromiguiere ;" and finally crowned his 
 philosophical labors by his magnificent article on Leibnitz in the 
 " Universal Biography."* 
 
 The great fact of consciousness which M. Maine de Biran de- 
 veloped with so much perseverance, was that of the activity of the 
 human mind — the power of the urill. This fact had been entirely 
 neglected by the sensational school, which, only intent upon the 
 influence of the outward and material, had altogether banished one 
 at least of our three fundamental notions. It was M. Biran's pe- 
 culiar merit to recall this notion from oblivion, and to re-establish 
 it with due honor as a great and leading idea in our intellectual 
 existence. Already, in his Essay on the decomposition of thought, 
 he began to depart from his former physiological tendencies, and 
 to assert the distinct reaction of some active immaterial principle 
 upon the intimations of sense. f In the memoirs of Berlin and 
 Copenhagen he placed the activity of the human mind in a still 
 clearer light ; and in his next published work — that on Laromi- 
 guiere — he fully establishes the doctrine, that the soul is a cause, a 
 force, an active principle ; and that the phenomena of conscious- 
 ness can never be explained until we clearly apprehend the volun- 
 tary nature of its thoughts and impulses. 
 
 Not content, however, with this, he began next to ask whether 
 there was anything whatever within the bounds of existence, which 
 might not equally be reduced to the notion of a power or force ; 
 whether the idea of substance itself is to us anything more than 
 that of a cause ; whether, in a word, the dynamical theory of the 
 universe was not the one grounded upon the most solid and philo- 
 sophical basis. To this notion he at length yielded his full assent, 
 and in his article on Leibnitz avowed himself a believer in the spir- 
 itual monadology advocated by that great founder of German ideal- 
 ism. In the whole of the process by which our author had grad- 
 ually advanced from the ideology of Cabanis to the absolute 
 
 * Several philosophical treatises of M. Maine de Biran, besides those above men- 
 tioned, have been published since his death. A posthumous work, entitled " Nouvelles 
 Considerations sur les Rapports du Physique et du Moral de THomme," was edited by 
 M. Cousin in 1834, together with the examination of M. Laromiguiere, and the arti- 
 cle on Leibnitz. In 1841, three vols, entitled " CEuvres Philosophiques de Maine de 
 Biran," were also edited by M. Cousin, containing ail the other treatises above referred 
 to, besides some additional' opuscula and fragments. 
 
 ■f- See particularly Part i. sec. 2, on the Principle of CausaUty ; and Part ii. chap. 2, 
 on Power, Will, and Personality.
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 039 
 
 dynamical spiritualism of Leibnitz, he had relied simply upon his 
 own power of reflection. Disciple of none, he had philosophized 
 simply within the region of his own consciousness ; so that what- 
 ever merit some may deny him, there are none, assuredly, who can 
 reject his claim to that of complete originality. " Of all the mas- 
 ters of France," remarks M. Cousin, " Maine de Biran, if not the 
 greatest, is unquestionably the most original. M. Laromiguiere 
 only continued the philosophy of Condillac, modifying it in a few 
 important points. M. Royer-Collard came from the Scottish phi- 
 losophy, which, with the rigor and natural power of his reason, he 
 would have infallibly surpassed, had he completely followed out the 
 labors which form only the least solid part of his glory. As for 
 myself, I come at the same time from the Scottish and German 
 school. M. Maine de Biran alone comes only from himself, and 
 from his own meditations."* 
 
 After this general notice we must attempt to afford our readers 
 a glance into some of the peculiar tenets of the philosophy now 
 under consideration. In order to unfold the fact and expound the 
 nature of man's natural activity (the hinge upon which the entire 
 system turns), M. Maine de Biran analyzes the whole of what is 
 contained or implied in a given action ; for example, a movement 
 of the arm. When I move my arm there are three things to be 
 observed: — 1. The consciousness of a voluntary effort; 2. The 
 consciousness of a movement produced ; and 3. A fixeil relation 
 between the effort on the one hand and the movement on the other. 
 Now, the source or cause of the whole movement is the icill ; 
 and this term will we now use as virtually synonymous with self. 
 Whether we say I moved my arm, or my will moved it, the senti- 
 ment is exactly identical. Hence the notions oi cause, of u-ill, of 
 self, we find to be fundamentally the same ; and several truths are 
 by this means brought to light of great importance in metaphysi- 
 cal science.f 
 
 First, it becomes evident that we jxissess a natural activity, the 
 seat of which is in the will ; so that whether we roijard man as a 
 thinking or an acting being, yet it is the will which alike presides 
 over and regulates the flow of our thoughts, or the course of our 
 actions. Secondly, we infer that the will is the foundation of |>er- 
 sonality ; that my will is virtually myself And, ihirtlly, we infer 
 that to will is to cause, and that frotn the inward consciousness of 
 
 • Preface to tlic " Fragments Philosophiqucs." 
 
 ■f Preface to the " Nouvcllcs Considcrutions," p. 10.
 
 G40 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 volition, viewed in connection with tiie effect produced, we gain 
 our first notion of causality. These three points, as Cousin has 
 shown us, embrace in a small compass the whole philosophy of M. 
 Maine de Biran. He first seizes, with admirable sagacity, the 
 principle of all human activity, as resident in the power of the 
 will, exemplifying it even in the case of those muscular movements 
 which may appear to the unreflecting to be simply the result of 
 nervous excitement. Having estabUshed the principle of activity, 
 as residing in the will, he proceeds to identify the will with our very 
 personality itself, showing, that the soul is in its nature a force, the 
 very essence of w^hich is not to be acted upon, but to act. Finally, 
 he proves that we gain our first notion of causality from the con- 
 sciousness of our own personal eflfort ; and that, having once ob- 
 served the conjunction of power exerted, and effect produced, in 
 this particular case, we transfer the notion of cause thus originated 
 into the objective world, and conclude by analogy the necessity of 
 a sufficient power existing for every given effect.* 
 
 M. Maine de Biran having thus drawn forth, from the depths of 
 his own consciousness, these undoubted facts of our voluntary ex- 
 istence — facts which the sensational school had neglected or denied 
 — proceeded to show how these facts avail to explain the nature 
 of the human faculties, and the origin of our fundamental ideas. 
 Here, however, he began to carry his principles to an extreme, 
 which led him from his original attachment to sensationalism, at 
 length, into the opposite theory of pure idealism. First of all, in 
 the ardor with which he applied the powers of the will to the elu- 
 cidation of the facts of our consciousness, he was induced to 
 neglect those other phenomena, which spring forth, not from our 
 voluntary, but from our rational nature. Hence, as we before 
 showed, he threw a doubt over the notion of substance, as being a 
 purely rational idea, and proposed to account for it under the 
 notion of cause or force. This principle expanded, naturally led 
 to a dynamical theory of physics, and was the ground on which 
 our author gave in his adherence to the monadology of Leibnitz, 
 as being the best explanation of the material universe upon the 
 dynamical hypothesis."! 
 
 Had he rested here, however, it might have been difficult to 
 show that he had carried his notion of causality too far, the dynam- 
 
 * These results may be seen partly in the Memoire " De la Decomposition de la 
 Pensee," but more clearly in the " Nouvelles Considerations," Pt. I. sec. 1, and Pt. II. 
 sees. 1 and 3; also in the " Examen des Lemons de Philsosophie," sees. 8 and 9. 
 
 ■| Doctrine Phil, de Leibnitz.
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 641 
 
 ical system of the universe being much more easy to deride than 
 to disprove ; but in his limitation of the principle of causality to 
 the idea of our own personal effort, he showed the evident <Term 
 of pure subjective idealism. That we derive our first notion of- 
 cause from the consciousness of our own voluntary power of ac- 
 tion, there can be little doubt ; but M. Maine de Biran proceeds to 
 show that our whole notion of causality is but the transference of 
 this consciousness to the objective world. In doing this, he strips 
 the category of causality of its necessary and universal character, 
 and admits a principle, the result of which was perhaps unseen by 
 himself, but which we have fully carried out in the idealism of 
 Fichte. The universe, atfirms M. de Blran, consists of certain 
 powers or causes which are in operation ; and these powers or 
 causes are only known as objective realizations of our own inward 
 personal effort. In other words, everything is a power, and all 
 power is conceived of only as 7ny own power. This principle dUly 
 expanded makes self the absolute ground of everything, and must 
 ultimately bring the subjective form of ideal philosophy to its well- 
 known climax.* 
 
 It is tru^ M. Maine de Biran did not live to evolve these results ; 
 but, once shut up within his own subjectivity, there can be little 
 doubt but that, if he had developed his whole system with the same 
 logical rigor with which he sketched it out, we must have had a 
 second edition of Fichte's philosophy indigenous to France. It 
 was his intense absorption in the contemplation of the power of 
 the will — in the fundamental notion of self — that led to the neglect 
 of the other two elements ; giving us another proof that the closest 
 analysis, whilst evolving truth, ever errs, from its very concentra- 
 tion upon the question which it illustrates, and showing the im- 
 portance of an enlightened eclecticism, in aiding the true advance- 
 ment of philosophy. We must now come, therefore, to consider 
 the metaphysical labor and services of him, whom we may term 
 the founder of modern eclecticism in France — I mean Victor 
 Cousin. 
 
 M. Cousin was born in the year 1792, and entered, whilst quite 
 young, upon a course of instruction in the normal school, whicli 
 was to fit him to be himself an instructor of the youth of his coun- 
 try. In 1811, he had the good fortune to attend the cajifivating 
 lectures of M. Laromiguiere, and, following them uj) soon after by 
 
 • See M. Cousin's refutation of M. de Biran, in his preface to the " Nouvellea Cout 
 
 sidcrations," p. '27, ct seq. 
 
 41
 
 642 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the still more deep and earnest philosophy of M. Royer-Collard, he 
 determined to devote his whole life to the investigation of moral 
 and metaphysical truth. So extraordinary was the aptitude which 
 he manifested in this department, that on the retirement of M. 
 Royer-Collard, in the year 1815, he was at once appointed to the 
 vacant chair of philosophy in the normal school. For five years 
 he carried on his labors there with the utmost assiduity. Ardent, 
 and even passionate, in his love for metaphysical speculation, he 
 worked onwards with untiring energy towards the reformation of 
 the French philosophy ; and being endowed by nature with an elo- 
 quence extremely rare in minds devoted to the most abstruse sub- 
 jects, he soon fired the youth who attended his lectures with an 
 enthusiasm kindred to his own.* 
 
 In the year 1820, however, his progress was arrested. Looked 
 upon with suspicion by the contemptible government which had 
 been reinstated at Paris, by the wealth and blood of all Europe, he 
 was obliged to retire from his office in the normal school into pri- 
 vate life. This event, however unjustifiable in itself, yet contribu- 
 ted in the end to the speedier advancement of philosophy in France. 
 Having become already versed in the principles of Kan^and Fichte, 
 and having two years previously spent some time at Heidelberg and 
 Munich in company with Jacobi, Schelling, and Hegel, Cousin now 
 embraced the opportunity of making another journey beyond the 
 Rhine, and becoming more nearly acquainted with the idealistic phi- 
 losophy as it then existed in Germany. In Berlin he renewed his 
 acquaintance with Hegel, who had then become the most brilliant 
 star in the philosophical hemisphere of that country ; and it is from 
 the study of his ideas on the philosophy of history, and the history 
 of philosophy, that the most attractive features of the modern ec- 
 lecticism have to be dated. In 1828, being recalled from his ban- 
 ishment, he delivered lectures on the history of modern philosophy, 
 before a brilliant auditory, in Paris, and raised his reputation, both 
 for eloquence and philosophy, to the highest pitch. In 1832, ac- 
 cording to that noble policy which reckons learning and wisdom 
 the best title to aristocracy, he was made a peer of France, and in 
 1840 was created Minister of Public Instruction. His published 
 works on philosophy consist — 1. of a succession of brief articles, 
 called " Philosophical Fragments," in the two admirable prefaces 
 to which, we have at once the most lucid and succinct portraiture 
 
 * His three earliest pupils, MM. Jouffroy, Damiron, and Bautain, attest the efficiency 
 of bis instructions as a professor.
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 643 
 
 of his views and doctrines. 2. Several courses of Lectures on the 
 History of Philosophy, delivered at Paris, as above stated. 3. A 
 course of Philosophy, in thirty-eight Lectures, founded on the fun- 
 damental notions of the true, the beautiful, and the good. 4. Trans- 
 lations or Editions of Plato, Aristotle, Proclus, and other ancient 
 and modern philosophers ; and, lastly, a course of admirable Lec- 
 tures on the Philosophy of Kant.*^ 
 
 This brief sketch of the life of M. Cousin is sufficient at once to 
 point out the schools in which he has studied, and the influences 
 under which he has lived, thought, and written. He came upon 
 the stage exactly at the moment when the sensational school was 
 retiring from its prominent position in the public regard. M. La- 
 romiguiere, though himself, by profession, an ideologist, yet was 
 virtually undermining the doctrine he professed ; and M. Royer- 
 Collard, having made an open revolt, cherished and matured in the 
 mind of his pupil (so soon to be his successor) the desire of carry- 
 ing on the reformation thus auspiciously commenced. His retire- 
 ment to Germany, though compelled by a false act of arbitrary 
 power, yet was fortunate in giving him leisure and opportunity to 
 sink down into the quiet depths of spiritualism, by which the Ger- 
 man philosophy is characterized ; and, finally, the public approba- 
 tion with which he was greeted on his return, all impelled him 
 fof-ward in a career, in which he seemed destined to obtain the 
 highest distinction. 
 
 His own account of his philosophical experience is precisely in 
 accordance with what we have just stated. " M. Laromiguiere," 
 he remarks, "initiated me into the art of decomposing thought ; he 
 exercised me to descend from the most abstract and general ideas 
 which we now possess, to the most common sensations, as their 
 primary origin ; and to give an account of the play of the faculties, 
 whether elementary or complex, which intervene between the two. 
 M. Royer-Collard taught me, that if these faculties have any need 
 of being solicited by sensation, in order to produce even the least 
 idea, yet they are subjected in their action to certain interior con- 
 ditions ; to certain laws ; to certain i)rinciples, which sensation 
 does not explain, which resist all analysis, and which are the nat- 
 ural patrimony of the human mind. With M. de Biran I studied 
 
 • Of Pnirliis, Cousin liiis pulilishi'd a complete edition. .Vnotlicr and morr complete 
 course of lectures, on the ycotlisli school, was also published in IKltJ. With the ex- 
 ception of the lectures on Kant and those on the .Scottish philosophy (Iwth which have 
 appeared more recently), I have made all quotations from the Brussels edition of his 
 works (3 vols. large 8vo, 1840),
 
 644 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 especially the phenomena of the will. This admirable observer 
 taught me to disentangle, in all our notions, and even in the most 
 simple facts of consciousness, the part of our voluntary activity — 
 that activity in which our personality reveals itself. 
 
 " It was under this triple discipline that I was formed ; and it 
 was thus prepared that I entered, in 1815, upon the public instruc- 
 tion of philosophy in the normal school, and the faculty of letters. 
 
 " Before long, I had exhausted, or thought that I had exhausted, 
 the teaching of my first masters : after France and Scotland, my 
 eyes naturally turned to Germany. I then learned German, and 
 set myself to decipher, with infinite pains, the principal movements 
 of the philosophy of Kant, without any other aid than the barbar- 
 ous Latin translation of Born. I thus lived two entire years, as 
 though buried in the depths of the Kantian psychology, and simply 
 occupied with the passage from psychology to ontology. I have 
 already said how psychology itself instructed me, and how I trav- 
 ersed the philosophy of Kant. That of Fichte could not detain 
 me long; and at the end of the year 1817, I had left the first Ger- 
 man school behind me." After stating his acquaintance with 
 Schelling and Hegel, M. Cousin thus refers to their relative merits, 
 and his own obligations to them : — " The admirers of Hegel con- 
 sider him as the Aristotle of another Plato ; the exclusive partisans 
 of Schelling only see in him the Wolf of another Leibnitz. How- 
 ever it may be with these rather lofty comparisons, no one can 
 deny that to the master has been given a powerful invention, and 
 to the pupil a profound reflection. Hegel has borrowed much from 
 Schelling ; and as for myself, much more feeble than either, I have 
 borrowed from both. It were folly to reproach me with this, and 
 it is certainly no great humility in myself to acknowledge it."* 
 
 After these few preliminary remarks, we must now proceed to 
 give our readers as clear an insight into the doctrines and spirit of 
 this philosophy, as our limited space may admit. In order to do 
 this, we cannot follow a better guide in the arrangement of the 
 materials, than that which the two prefaces, above alluded to, afford 
 us. According to the statements there made, every important 
 question in philosophy may be regarded as belonging either — 1, to 
 the method of investigation ; or, 2, to psychology ; or, 3, to ontol- 
 ogy. These three heads, together with some peculiar views on the 
 history of philosophy, pretty fully exhaust the topics which are 
 treated of in the metaphysical system we are now considering. 
 * See the preface to the second edition of the " Fragments," vol. ii. p. 19,
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 645 
 
 I. We direct our attention to the doctrine of method, as set 
 forth in the philosophy of Cousin. There are, in all, two grand 
 methods which it is possible to follow in conducting metaphysical 
 investigations ; and these are the rationahstic and the psycholog- 
 ical. The rationalistic method strives to sink down at once into 
 the very depths of existence ; to grasp the absolute or fundamental 
 principle, from which everything proceeds ; and then to explain all 
 phenomena by the operation of this law. In this way, for exam- 
 ple, Spinoza deduced everything from the idea of substance — 
 regarding this as the sole and universal existence — and making all 
 nature but different modes of its one immutable essence. Fichte 
 found his absolute existence in the idea of self, and from the law 
 of our personal activity, sought to explain all the objective phe- 
 nomena around us. In like manner, the reader may see, by refer- 
 ring to our sketch of the German idealism, how Schelling and 
 Hegel, each assuming an absolute existence, and a fundamental 
 law, deduced from thence the whole multiplicity of things, human 
 and divine. This process of logically deducing all phenomena from 
 some fundamental principle, is called by the German writers a 
 construction — by ourselves it would be termed simply an hypothesis. 
 Whatever plan, therefore, may be proposed for construi?ig the uni- 
 verse, that is, for deducing the existence of all things from certain 
 fundamental laws, this plan answers to our idea of the rationalistic 
 method of philosophy. 
 
 The psychological method is, in many respects, directly the re- 
 verse of this. Instead of beginning with the fundamental law of 
 our being, it first of all cautiously looks out upon the facts of 
 human nature, which present themselves to our attention. These 
 facts it attempts to observe and to classify ; and thus gradually to 
 discover the law or principle by which they recur. The one 
 method is deductive, the other inductive ; the one is synthetical, 
 the other analytical ; the one starts from the general, and descends 
 to the particular ; the other begins with particular facts, and as- 
 cends to the general ; the one is the ancient method of i)hil()S()phy 
 applied to metaphysical truth ; the other is the modern Baconian 
 organum, carried into the region of mental science. Now, of these 
 two methods, Cousin advocates, with all earnestness and decision, 
 the latter. He considers mental science to be a science of facts, 
 as well as all other ; he aj)plics the aid of observation and experi- 
 ment here, as well as everywhere else ; in a word, he views it as 
 one legitimate branch of inductive philosophy.
 
 646 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Whilst, however, he decides for the psychological method, he is 
 careful to free it from those defects under which it has ever labored 
 in the hands of sensationalism. The method may prove deficient 
 from two causes ; either from not starting with a due observation 
 of facts as the data, or from not reasoning upon them with patience 
 and accuracy. Locke, for example, although admirably adapted 
 to reason upon the facts presented, did not begin with a sufficiently 
 wide observation, and thus vitiated many of his results. The fol- 
 lowers of Locke betrayed a still greater deficiency ; for not only 
 did they exclude many undeniable facts of our rational and moral 
 nature from their system, but they reasoned upon what facts they 
 did admit in so perverted a strain, as often to change their very 
 character, confounding all the phenomena of memory, of judg- 
 ment, of the emotions, &c., with those of simple sensation. The 
 psychological method, therefore, in the hands of Cousin, demands 
 that we enter by reflection into the innermost chambers of the soul ; 
 that we investigate every fact of the consciousness which presents 
 itself there, with the utmost accuracy ; and, lastly, that, having 
 obtained these data, we reason upon them with precision, and de- 
 duce everything which seems to be warranted by the rules of 
 sound logic. Such is the method by which Cousin proposes to 
 prosecute the study of intellectual science.* 
 
 II. We come to psychology itself, i. e. the application of the 
 method just decribed to the elucidation of the ideas and faculties 
 of the human mind. Admonished on the one hand by the over- 
 simplification of the ideological school, and on the other by the 
 very imperfect classification advanced by the Scottish system in 
 the hands of Reid and Stewart, Cousin has taken the middle course 
 between the two. Without entering at length, into the grounds on 
 which he has reasoned the subject out in his own mind, we state 
 at once, that he enumerates amongst the facts of our conscious- 
 ness three generic classes; — 1. Those of the Will ; 2. Those of 
 the Reason; 3. Those of Sensation. L With regard to our 
 natural activity, M. Cousin has adopted almost entirely the theory 
 of M. Maine de Biran. The principal points in this theory are 
 these two — that the whole groundwork of our activity is in the 
 will ; and that it is the will which peculiarly constitutes our dis- 
 tinct personality. The peculiarity of those things which possess 
 no personality is, that they are entirely under external influence. 
 For this reason, nature is impersonal. It has no source of power 
 
 * Vol. ii. pp. 11 and 12; also, vol. i. p. 247, et scq.
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 647 
 
 in itself; it is absolutely at the command and in the hands of some 
 extrinsic agency. Just such, also, would man be without the will. 
 Sensations are produced by direct impulse from the external 
 world — ideas of pure reason arise spontaneously from the very 
 constitution of our faculties ; both the one and the other influence 
 us as certainly and as necessarily as outward force influences the 
 material objects around us. It is the will alone, therefore, which 
 makes us free agents. 
 
 Previously to the development of the will, man is but a part and 
 parcel of the natural universe ; he is a unit which is at the abso- 
 lute disposal of the forces, physical or spiritual, in the midst of 
 which he is situated. The moment, however, we are conscious of 
 an inward power, which we variously term activity, liberty, will, 
 that moment we assume a new character in the world. Far from 
 being now passively given up to the agency of other causes, we 
 become in our turn a cause which reacts upon them, and which 
 does its part, whether it be greater or less, in directing the future 
 course of our life. This icill, therefore, is in a peculiar sense the 
 man himself. While his sensations and his ideas axe fatal, origi- 
 nating from without (the one teaching him contingent, the other 
 necessary truth), the determinations of the will originate from 
 within, and going forth from our own activity, enstamp every- 
 thing to which they apply with the impress of personality. 
 
 To this fact of liberty, moreover, there not only attaches itself 
 the notion of personality, but, also, that of moral obligation. Sent 
 forth, as we are, not subject to an unconditional necessity, but in- 
 trusted with the power of the will, we are under the moral obliga- 
 tion of exerting ourselves for the accomplishment of our proper 
 destiny in the world. Wherever man goes, he carries with him his 
 fower ; and, consequently, has both his duties and his rights. 
 Thus, in a word, the whole aspect of our moral, social, and politi- 
 cal life, with all their spheres of activity, spring from the funda- 
 mental fact, that, endowed with liberty, we are the master of our 
 own actions, which actions have at once to be restrained from in- 
 juring the inviolable rights of others, and to be so directed, as to 
 fulfil the requirements of our own personal obligations.* Without 
 dwelling, however, upon this branch <>f iisychology, we pass on to 
 that which M. Cousin has elaborated with the greatest care and 
 ability ; I mean, 
 
 ♦ Vol. ii. p. 33 — 36. See, also, the preface to the posthumous works of M. Maine 
 de Biran, vol. ii. p. 148.
 
 648 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 2. The phenomena of our rational or intellectual Hfe. The first 
 thing to be accomplished in analyzing this part of our nature, is to 
 reduce the multiplicity of facts, which at once present themselves, 
 to their primary elements. Almost all philosophers have recognized 
 the importance of such a reduction, but very few have attempted 
 to perform it. Of these few, Aristotle classified our notions from 
 the objective point of view ; and in his table of categories, gave us 
 a complete list of those " summa genera," to one of which every 
 individual object that we have any knowledge of belongs. Kant, 
 after the revolution of many centuries, produced another table of 
 categories, made from the subjective point of view, in which table 
 he has given us a deduction of all those laws or forms of the un- 
 derstanding, by which the material of our knowledge is shaped into 
 distinct ideas. Cousin, again, takes up the same great problem, 
 applies to it a closer method of analysis learned from the schools of 
 modern idealism, and comes to the conclusion, that the whole phe- 
 nomena of our reason may be reduced to three integrant and in- 
 separable elements, which at once constitute its true nature, and 
 govern all its manifestations. 
 
 The first of these elements is that which is variously expressed 
 under the terms unity, identity, the absolute, the infinite. This we 
 term the category of substance, as being the one immutable essence 
 of the Eleatics and of Spinoza. The second of these elements is 
 that which, in direct opposition to the former, we term plurahty, 
 difference, the conditioned, the finite, the phenomenal. This we 
 name the category of causality, as being the principle of all change, 
 of all the passing phenomena of the universe. Now^ these two 
 categories are not to be viewed as separated from each other — 
 they are, in fact, indissolubly united. The absolute can only man- 
 ifest itself in the phenomenal — the phenomenal only subsists in the 
 absolute ; which facts, accordingly, give rise to a third element or 
 category, namely, that of the mutual relation which these two pri- 
 mary notions bear to one another. According to Cousin, these 
 three elements manifest themselves wherever the human reason is 
 seen in operation. They form the type, as it were, under which 
 every subject is viewed, and absolutely govern the whole develop- 
 ment of an intellectual nature. To give an idea of the extensive 
 application which is made of this doctrine of categories, we sub- 
 join the following list, which shows them as reproduced in the 
 various spheres of human thought or activity : —
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 649 
 
 First Category. Second Category. Third Category. 
 
 Unity Multiplicity 
 
 Absolute Space .... Bounded Space .... 
 
 Absolute Existence . . . Dependent Existence . . 
 
 Eternity Time 
 
 Infinite Finite 
 
 IrSc?""". ; ; ; ; lhr„Sa''°"". : : : ^ ReMon between .he„. 
 
 Mind Thoughts 
 
 Beau Ideal Beau Real 
 
 The Perfect The Imperfect 
 
 Contraction Expansion 
 
 Subject Object 
 
 Thus we see thought, morals, science, the fine arts, nature, in a 
 word, every subject of human contemplation, appearing under the 
 type of this trinity, that emanates from the fundamental laws of 
 our nature."* 
 
 But now comes a most important inquiry, namely, how far these 
 dictates of our reason possess authority ; i. e., how far we can de- 
 pend upon them as unfolding truth, not merely as it appears to us, 
 but as it really exists in its own intrinsic nature. It is in the dis- 
 cussion of this question that we come to some of those peculiar 
 doctrines which belong alone to Cousin and his school of philosophy. 
 Instead of admitting that our knowledge is relative, that we see 
 truth only as it stands in connection with ourselves, that we have 
 no other pledge of its objective accuracy than the perfection of the 
 instrument by which we attain it, he contends that the truths with 
 which reason is conversant are absolute, and that they both are, 
 and ever must be, precisely as we see them, altogether independent 
 of ourselves, and of the medium through which they are known. 
 So far, indeed, he is only treading in the footsteps of his German 
 instructors; but with respect to the groun^^s on which the point is 
 argued, he stands quite by himself There are two chief argu- 
 ments which Cousin uses to prove the absoluteness of our knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 The first is derived from the impersonality of reason. In this 
 point he shows the philosophy of Kant to be altogether erroneous. 
 That philosopher made all our necessary ideas and a priori con- 
 ceptions to be simply the results of the subjective laws of our own 
 minds. All abstract truth was to him but the personification, or 
 the reflection, of our own intellectual constitution. The two forms 
 of our sensational life — time and space ; the twelve categories of 
 the understanding ; the three regulative principles of the pure 
 reason giving origin to our notions of the soul, the universe, and 
 * Vol, i. pp. 31-34. Vol. u. p. 32.
 
 650 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 God, all had, in the Kantian system, no objective validity what- 
 ever. The germ of Fichte's subjective idealism, in fact, was 
 already latent in the philosophy of Konigsberg. 
 
 Now, to contravene these false and sceptical results, Cousin 
 labors to prove, that the dictates of pure reason are not merely 
 personal, that they do not simply express what seems to be real, 
 according to the constitution of our own faculties, but that they 
 are the direct reflection of absolute and eternal things. The will, 
 we are conscious, is, in all its various efforts, enstamped with the 
 impress of our personality ; our volitions are our own, our desires 
 are our own, our emotions are our own ; that which we experience 
 of all such phenomena is not experienced in the same manner by 
 any one else. But not so in the case of our intellectual judgments. 
 Necessary truth does not belong to one human being more than 
 another, it has no element of human personality about it — it is the 
 common patrimony of every rational nature — a direct emanation 
 from God. Such being the case, the decision of reason, within its 
 own peculiar province, possesses an authority almost Divine ; if 
 we are led astray by it, we must be led astray by a light from 
 heaven."* 
 
 But the question now arises, How can we strip any fact of our 
 own consciousness of its personality? Our rational judgments 
 and a priori conceptions, it might be argued, are as much phe- 
 nomena of our own individual minds, as are our volitions, desires, 
 or emotions. Admit that a truth appears to be absolute and neces- 
 sary, yet it only appears so by virtue of the constitution of our own 
 intellects. How, then, can we establish the objective validity of 
 anything, when it is certain that everything must be seen only 
 through the medium of our own subjective consciousness ? 
 
 This leads us to the second ground on which Cousin argues the 
 authority of reason ; one which is derived from the distinction be- 
 tween its spontaneous and its rejlective movements. When we take 
 up a subject designedly, when we search into its evidences, when 
 we put in array the arguments for and against, and at length draw 
 our conclusion, we term this step a rejlective process. The subject 
 has, by this process, to be analyzed or separated into its component 
 elements ; and then the truth of the whole to be deduced from the 
 validity of the parts. Now here, there are abundant opportunities 
 for errors to creep in. The analysis may be incomplete — some of 
 the parts, for example, may be omitted, others may occupy a too 
 
 * "Vol. ii. p. 33; also " Lecons sur la Philosophic de Kant," lec. 8.
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 651 
 
 prominent, or too subordinate place ; in a hundred different ways 
 the conclusion, as a whole, may be vitiated. Reason, therefore, 
 when it operates reflectivehj, can have no absolute authority — it is 
 involved in all the imperfections of our own personality. There is, 
 however, another process by which we arrive at knowledge, or 
 truth, and that a purely spontaneous one. There are moments of 
 thought in which the mind mingles up no element v/hatever of its 
 own personality. It does not analyze, it does not search, it does not 
 voluntarily attend, it does not even reflect ; but yet there is a dis- 
 tinct apperception of certain truths which it simply receives. Al- 
 most every one must be conscious, that his best thoughts come 
 upon him like flashes of inspiration ; and that when he has most 
 lulled to rest the workings of his own personal effort, then most 
 he seems to stand in the unobstructed light of eternal things. If, 
 therefore, there be a direct and immediate apperception of absolute 
 truth — if there be moments in which the mind receives the pure 
 light of heaven without any intermixture of its own personality, 
 then reason, viewed as a spontaneous principle, must possess an 
 authority which cannot be gainsayed or resisted. 
 
 That such an internal apperception really exists, Cousin con- 
 siders to be an unquestionable fact which may be verified by ob- 
 servation. We subjoin his own words. " It is by observation," 
 he remarks, " that within the penetralia of the consciousness, and 
 at a depth to which Kant never descended, under the apparent 
 relativeness and subjectivity of necessary principles, I have suc- 
 ceeded in seizing and analyzing the instantaneous, but veritable 
 fact of the spontaneous apperception of truth — an apperception 
 which, not immediately reflecting itself, passes unperccived in the 
 depths of the consciousness ; yet is the real basis of that, which 
 later under a logical form, and in the hands of reflection, becomes 
 a necessary conception. All subjectivity and reflectivity expires 
 in the spontaneity of apperception. But the primitive light is so 
 pure, that it is unperceived ; it is the reflected light which strikes 
 us, but often in doing so, sullies with its faithless lustre the purity 
 of the former. Reason becomes subjective by its connection with 
 the free and voluntary Me, which is the type of all subjectivity; 
 but in itself it is impersonal, it does not appertain any more to one 
 than to another, it does not even appertain to humanity as a whole, 
 its laws emanate only from itself* Such is the chief ground on 
 
 ♦ Vol. ii. p. 33, "On the Impcrsonjility and Spontaneity of Reason ;" see also vol. i. 
 pp. 44-47, 369, 388, 392, and vol. ii. p. 1 18.
 
 652 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 which Cousin repels the latent scepticism of a too subjective phi- 
 losophy, and such the method by which he proposes to place the 
 lofty authority of reason, as an evidence for objective reality, upon 
 an immovable foundation. 
 
 3. We pass on now to the third division of psychology ; that, 
 namely, which takes cognizance of the phenomena of sensation. 
 Sensation with Cousin, as with most other philosophers, is the fac- 
 ulty which acquaints us with the various facts and changes of the 
 outward world. In saying this, however, we do not pronounce 
 anything upon the nature of objective existence around us ; we do 
 not decide, for example, whether it be material in the ordinary 
 sense of the term, or whether it be not. That there are real phe- 
 nomena, independent of ourselves — that there is a Not-me limiting 
 and opposing the Me, our consciousness in every sensation attests ; 
 but it has yet to be shown what may be the nature, and what the 
 constitution, of this outward existence. The common sense of 
 mankind regards it as consisting of hard, impenetrable, and pas- 
 sive material ; in short, of atoms, characterized by nothing except 
 their vis inertice. But is this dictate of common sense to be ac- 
 cepted as philosophically correct ? or does metaphysical analysis 
 place the question in any other and clearer light ? Let us view 
 the evidence of the case. 
 
 The moment we begin to reflect, we are conscious of certain 
 states of mind produced within us from some source out of our- 
 selves. But, by a law of our reason, whenever we experience 
 change, either within or around us, we necessarily attribute that 
 change to some cause. Hence, the primary notion we must have 
 of the external world is that of an assemblage of causes, which are 
 able to produce given effects. These causes, of course, we refer 
 to some real existence, which is the principle, or substratum, on 
 which they depend ; that is, we view them under the notion of 
 certain finite, but independent forces, which bound, resi3t, or mod- 
 ify the exertions of our own volition. Let us put the question in 
 another light. All our knowledge of external nature arises from 
 internal impressions made by it, through the medium of sensation, 
 upon the mind. But what is it that can create impressions ? MdiXi- 
 ifestly powei^s, forces, causes, something that is active and produc- 
 tive of impulse : nothing that is barely passive, as matter is gene- 
 rally accustomed to be viewed, can possibly do so. Science, in 
 fact, has at length come to view all material existence in this light. 
 The principles of mechanics are entirely comprised in the doc-
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 653 
 
 trines of statical and dynamical /orce.? ; that is to say, oil material 
 phenomena are viewed as the productions of certain powers, act- 
 ing with different intensities, and in different directions. " What 
 natural philosopher," says our author, "since Euler, seeks after 
 anything beyond forces and laws ? Who speaks now of atoms ? 
 And even with respect to molecules, the newer form in which 
 atoms have been viewed, who regards them otherwise than as an 
 hypothesis ? If this fact is incontestable, if modern science occu- 
 pies itself only with forces and laws, I conclude rigorously from 
 hence, that natural philosophy, whatever it may know, or not 
 know, is by no means materialistic, that it became spiritualistic 
 the very day it rejected all other methods, except observation and 
 induction, which can lead us to nothing but forces and laws."* 
 
 From these and similar remarks, it is abundantly evident that 
 Cousin is to be regarded as an idealist, although certainly of a very 
 moderate kind, when compared with the German school in which 
 he was instructed. He does not lose sight of the fundamental idea 
 of nature : far from it ; he makes it play a very important part in 
 his system ; but he entirely denies its passive, inert, atomic char- 
 acter ; he- views it all under the type oi power or cause ; in short, 
 he makes it homogeneous with mind, only mind in its lower and 
 as vet unconscious development. Perhaps we should not be 
 wrong in placing him by the side of M. de Biran and Leibnitz, as 
 the advocate of a dynamical system of monadology ; indeed, with 
 reference to the latter, he says, " The more I advance, and the 
 more I believe in philosophy, the more clearly I seem to see into 
 the mind of that great man ; and all my progress consists in un- 
 derstanding him better." 
 
 Here we must close our sketch of Cousin's psychology ; brief as 
 our explanations have necessarily been, we trust that the careful 
 reader may gain from them a correct idea of its general nature ; 
 and if not, he has only to betake himself to the two prefaces pre- 
 fixed to the " Philosophical Fragments," in order to gain the most 
 definite views on this part of his philosophy. 
 
 III. We must now go on to the third point which was to claim 
 our attention, and that is. Cousin's Ontohmj. There are three dif- 
 ferent lights in which the subject of ontology has been viewed by 
 modern philosophers. First, by the German idealistic writers it 
 has been regarded as the starting point of all intellectual science.f 
 
 * Vol. ii. p. 37. 
 
 t Also by the Abbe de Lamennais in his " Esquissc d'une Philosophic. '
 
 654 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Commencing with the notion of being, in its most general and ab- 
 stract character, they proceed to add to it one attribute after the 
 other, until they have philosophically constructed the entire uni- 
 verse. The whole problem of the German metaphysics is, in fact, 
 to determine what is the prime absolute essence from which all 
 things proceed, and then to expand the law by which bare exist- 
 ence rises, through all the multiplicity of its changes and grada- 
 tions, to its most pregnant and most fully developed character. 
 These systems, therefore, are exclusively ontological. 
 
 Secondly, the English and Scottish writers generally interdict 
 the ontological branch of philosophy, as lying beyond the reach of 
 our faculties. Intellectual science with them is confined, for the 
 most part, to psychology, that is, to the analysis and classification 
 of our mental phenomena. Whatever the universal testimony of 
 the human faculties attests, that they accept as being true " quoad 
 nos," and on this principle they refute the pretensions of scepti- 
 cism ; but they do not admit the possibility of attaining to the mys- 
 teries of absolute existence, or of expounding what, independently 
 of our own perceptions, is the essential constitution of anything 
 whatever. Now, Cousin regards these two opinions as. extremes, 
 both of which it is necessary to avoid. In place of commencing, 
 as the Germans do, with ontology, he afhrms that the psychologi- 
 cal method is the only true one ; that we can only properly begin 
 by an analysis of i\\& facts of our conscious existence ; but, instead 
 of bounding himself by the limits of psychology, he affirms the 
 possibility of finding a solid passage from the subjective world to 
 the objective — from phenomena to real existence. Since reason 
 is not personal in its nature, but receives truth spontaneously, by 
 direct and immediate apperception, he considers that we may, by 
 the medium of this faculty, attain at once to the knowledge of es- 
 sential and absolute existence.* 
 
 Existence appears to us under three different forms. First of 
 all, we are conscious of our own personal and voluntary energy ; 
 this we are led by reason to attribute to an essential and ever- 
 abiding existence, which we term self, or the me. Again, reason 
 in like manner instructs us, whenever we are conscious of some 
 outward influence exerted upon us through the medium of sensa- 
 tion, to attribute this influence to real and essential causes, the ag- 
 gregate of which we term nature. But both self and nature are 
 finite ; they cannot, therefore, be self-existent or absolute, and must 
 
 * Vol. ii. p. 15.
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 655 
 
 consequently have proceeded from another source, which bears the 
 attributes of self-existence, infinity, eternity. Here, then, reason 
 leads us to the absolute essence from which all things i)roceed, by 
 which all things are sustained, in which all things subsist ; and that 
 essence is God. 
 
 According to this view, it is evident that God comprehends the 
 universe in himself, and that all finite existence is but the emana- 
 tion from his infinite existence. Still Cousin does not view Deity 
 by any means in the pantheistic light, which was advocated by 
 Spinoza and the Eleatics. " The God of consciousness (we quote 
 his own words) is not an abstract God, a solitary sovereign, ban- 
 ished beyond creation upon the throne of a silent eternity and an 
 absolute existence, which resembles existence in no respect what- 
 ever ; he is a God at once true and real, at once substance and 
 cause, always substance and always cause ; being substance only 
 inasmuch as he is cause, and being cause only inasmuch as he is 
 substance ; that is to say, being absolute cause, one and many, 
 eternity and time, essence and life, end and middle, at the summit of 
 existence and at its base, infinite and finite together ; in a word, 
 a Trinity, being at the same time God, Nature, and Humanity."* 
 Cousin's view of the Divine nature is confessedly somewhat re- 
 condite and indistinct. While on the one hand he altogether re- 
 pudiates the charge of pantheism, yet on the other hand it is diffi- 
 cult to say how his opinions, as above described, can be altogether 
 vindicated from it. Time, perhai)s, will show how far he has 
 grasped, or how far misconceived, tlie whole subject. There is 
 one point, however, upon which Cousin has expressed himself with 
 great clearness and precision, and that is the essential comprehen- 
 sibility of the Absolute by the human mind. This is, in fact, a 
 principal feature in his philosophy. He considers that the estab- 
 Ushment of the Absolute as a fundamental notion, and a constitu- 
 tive principle of the human intelligence, is his chief merit as a 
 philosopher, and upon this he grounds the peculiar claims of his 
 modern system of eclecticism. 
 
 Now, of all questions which philosoi)hy proposes for our investi- 
 gation, there is probably not one so dillicult to sound to its depths, 
 not one on which the greatest thinkers have so much differed, as 
 upon this. Sir William Hamilton has reduced the philosophical 
 hypotheses, which have obtained respecting our luKnviedge of the 
 absolute or unconditioned, to four distinct heads :— 1. The Abso- 
 
 ♦ Vol. ii. p. 17.
 
 656 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 lute is altogether inconceivable, every notion we have of it being 
 simply a negation of that which characterizes finite and conditioned 
 existence. This opinion he holds himself in common with the 
 English and Scottish schools of modern times. 2. The Absolute, 
 though not an object of real knowledge, yet exists subjectively 
 within our consciousness as a regulative principle. Kant held this 
 opinion : he believed that pure reason necessarily gives rise to the 
 notion of the infinite and unconditioned, which notion we view 
 under the tin-eefold type of the soul, the universe, and the Deity ; 
 but he did not admit the objective reality of these conceptions. 
 He regarded them merely as personifications of our own subjective 
 laws or processes. 3. The Absolute cannot be comprehended in 
 consciousness and reflection ; but it can be gazed upon by a higher 
 faculty, that of intellectual intuition. This is the well-known doc- 
 trine upon which Schelling has erected his system of philosophy. 
 4. The Absolute can be grasped by reason, and brought within the 
 compass of our real consciousness. Such is the theory of Cousin 
 himself 
 
 Now, here we have three minds standing severally at the head 
 of the respective philosophies of Britain, France, and Germany, 
 assuming each a different hypothesis on this subject ; while Kant, 
 the Aristotle of the modern world, assumes a fourth. Under such 
 circumstances he must be a bold thinker, who ventures to pro- 
 nounce confidently upon the truth or error of any one of these 
 opinions. Few, perhaps, in our own country would be inclined to 
 side either with Kant or Schelling ; the great point of dispute is most 
 likely to be between Sir W. Hamilton and M. Cousin ; that is to 
 say, whether the infinite, the absolute, the unconditioned, be really 
 cognizable by the human reason, or whether it be not ; whether 
 our notion of it be positive, or whether it be only negative. And 
 here we freely confess that we are not yet prepared to combat, step 
 by step, the weighty arguments by which the Scottish metaphysician 
 seeks to establish the negative character of this great fundamental 
 conception ; neither, on the other hand, are we prepared to admit 
 his inference. We cannot divest our minds of the belief, that there 
 is something positive in the glance which the human soul casts 
 upon the world of eternity and infinity. Whether we rise to the 
 contemplation of the Absolute through the medium of the true, the 
 beautiful, or the good, we cannot imagine that our highest concep- 
 tions of these terminate in darkness, in a total negation of all 
 knowledge. So far from this, there seem to be flashes of light, in-
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE, 657 
 
 effable it may be, but still real, which envelop the soul in' a lustre 
 all divine, when it catches glimpses of infinite truth, infinite beauty, 
 and infinite excellence. The mind, instead of plunging into a 
 total eclipse of all intellection, when it rises to this elevation, seems 
 rather to be dazzled by a too great effulgence ; yet still the light is 
 real light, altliough to any but the strongest vision, the effect may 
 be to blind rather than to illumine. It is not by negations that 
 men are governed ; but it is before the idea of eternity and infinity 
 that our fiercest humanity is softened and subdued. Until we are 
 driven from this position by an irresistible evidence, we must still 
 regard the notion of the infinite, the absolute, the eternal, as form- 
 ing one of our fundamental notions ; and one which opens to us 
 the highest field, both for our present meditation and our future 
 prospects. 
 
 Before we conclude this sketch of Cousin's philosophy, we must 
 advert to his merits as a historian. In doing this, we pass over 
 the labors he has undertaken, as a translator and an editor, al- 
 though, perhaps, he will not owe the least portion of his fame, 
 eventually, to the admirable manner in which he has introduced 
 the modern thinker into the profundities of Plato, and many other 
 regions of philosophy, hitherto but imperfectly explored. A better 
 foundation for modern eclecticism could not be laid, than that 
 which such an exposition of the thoughts of great minds affords. 
 In addition to this, however, the most attractive, perhaps, of our 
 author's own writings, are his Lectures on the History of Phi- 
 losophy. Many of the sentiments, it is true, are drawn from Ger- 
 man sources ; but still, they are so thoroughly individualized, and 
 portrayed with so much force and perspicuity, that we hardly 
 know which most to admire, the profound thinking by which they 
 were first conceived, or the clearness and beauty by which they 
 are here embellished. To comprehend the history of philosophy 
 aright, Cousin aflirms that we must have a distinct knowledge of 
 the constituent elements of the human reason. Now, observation 
 shows us, that these elements are three : the infinite, the finite, and 
 the relation subsisting between them. These three notions, ac- 
 cordingly, must have been the foundations of philosophy in every 
 age ; and in whatever manner they naturally develop themselves 
 in the mind of humanity, such must have been the course of ])hi- 
 losophy, historically speaking, from the earliest period.* 
 
 In the individual reason, the first idea that occupies the mind, is 
 
 ♦ Vol. i. p. 56. 
 42
 
 658 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 that of the infinite ; gradually this is lost sight of, to make way for 
 the knowledge of finite objects ; and, lastly, the two are united, 
 and viewed in their mutual dependency upon each other. Just 
 such has been the development of reason, in the whole course of 
 humanity. The early oriental philosophy was grounded upon the 
 idea of the infinite and absolute substance ; the Greek philosophy, 
 culminating in Aristotle, was the philosophy of the finite ; and, 
 lastly, the modern philosophy has developed the relation of the 
 finite to the infinite, and is thus destined to complete the whole 
 cycle of human thought. These three eras, in fact, have been 
 severally characterized by the existence of certain grand ideas, 
 which, though seen in their pure and abstract form in philosophy, 
 yet have virtually pervaded the whole religious and political exist- 
 ence of mankind. Thus, in religion, the first era gave rise to Pan- 
 theism, the second, to Polytheism, the third, to Theism ; whilst, in 
 politics, the first was the age of monarchy, the second, of democ- 
 racy, the last, of mixed government.* 
 
 It is not to be imagined, however, that these three eras of the 
 world were each exclusively occupied with the fundamental con- 
 ception in its various developments, upon which its grand pecu- 
 liarities were founded. All the elements of reason must have 
 really existed in every period ; and although each has had its time 
 of predominant influence, yet every age of mankind has exhibited, 
 in a subordinate degree, different systems of philosophy ; accord- 
 ing as different minds have been led, more or less, to the contem- 
 plation of God, of nature, or of humanity. Hence, we find, as we 
 gaze down the stream of history, the constant reproduction of the 
 four philosophical tendencies, which we have indicated by the 
 terms sensationalism, idealism, scepticism, and mysticism ; and 
 upon these four points, accordingly, the whole history of philos- 
 ophy must turn. Each of the four systems is based upon a true 
 idea, and has its own peculiar mission to perform in the develop- 
 ment of human reason ; but each is involved in error, arising from 
 its partial and exclusive view of the elements of which that reason 
 consists. Their error, therefore, is the error of deficiency : they 
 are each true in what they teach, and each false in what they re- 
 ject. In order to obtain the whole truth, they must be all united ; 
 the doctrines which are mutually contradictory wiU then be ex- 
 ploded, and those which are able to stand side by side, will be re- 
 tained, f 
 
 * Vol. i, p. 125, et seq. t Vol. i. p. 1 44, et seq..
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 659 
 
 This, then, is precisely the aim of modern eclecticism ; it is the 
 summing up of the positive and negative results of all other sys- 
 tems, and the complete separation of that which is valid truth, in 
 them all, from that admixture of error in which it was before in- 
 volved. Such is the purpose (one truly worthy of a great mind) 
 with which Cousin has devoted himself to the study of history ; 
 and although we might be more gratified had he written systematic 
 works upon philosophy, yet there can be little doubt, but that in 
 following his present course, he is laying a far more solid foun- 
 dation for the future stability and glory of the school which he has 
 founded. In fine, as a popular expositor of philosophy, we doubt 
 whether Cousin has anything approaching a rival in the present 
 age. There may be, in Germany, more profound thinking, and 
 more power in the purely abstract faculties, but we know of no 
 philosopher of modern times, who unites to great originality of 
 thought, so extraordinary a power of conveying his ideas in the 
 most clear and eloquent language. The German thinkers, from 
 their want of perspicuity, write almost exclusively for Germans ; 
 and, even of them, only for a small portion ; but the philosophy of 
 Cousin, although comprehending some of the most recondite points 
 of the German metaphysics, yet has already found its way through- 
 out Europe and America. 
 
 That this should be the case, we cannot but sincerely rejoice. 
 Although, it is true, we could not subscribe to the system as a 
 whole, yet we know of none which, diving deep into the interior 
 of the human consciousness, comes forth at length with so little 
 admixture of mere hypothesis, and so large a development of truth. 
 Much as some might be startled at the idealism manifested in his 
 analysis of sensation, we doubt whether any other ontological 
 theory of the natural world has been propounded, so little involved 
 in contradiction, and so thoroughly cajiable of explaining all the 
 facts of the case. Metaphysics and natural philosophy, it appears 
 to us, are both tending to a dynamical system of the universe, sim- 
 ilar to that, of which the mighty mind of Leibnitz caught t!\c dis- 
 tant glimpse. 
 
 In the analysis o'i reason, again, we can almost entirely coincide. 
 The development of its constituent elements — the exposition of its 
 spontaneous and reflective moven)ents — the vindication of its au- 
 thority — all present to us philosophical doctrines of the greatest 
 value ; all resting, moreover, upon the foundation of psychological 
 facts, as evidence of their truth. We do not deny that these doc-
 
 660 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 trines may yet require to be modified and perfected ; but still there 
 are pregnant germs of truth in them, as they now stand upon the 
 pages before us. To the analysis of the will, there may be some 
 objection, owing to its complete isolation from the reason ; but even 
 here, too, there are the elements of much truth, which only need a 
 little more development, to place the philosophy of our voluntary 
 activity upon a firm and intelligible basis. 
 
 There is one part, however, of the system now before us, which 
 we must distinctly except from the eulogy we have pronounced 
 upon the rest, and that is the part in which our author carries the 
 results of his philosophy into the region of theological truth. There 
 are two points in particular, which touch very closely upon the or- 
 dinary sentiments of the Christian world, and which open the door 
 for an almost boundless advocacy of religious scepticism. These 
 are, first, the notion he has given of Deity itself; and, secondly, 
 that which he has given of inspiration. 
 
 With regard to his notion of Deity, we have already shown how 
 closely this verges upon the principle of Pantheism. Even if we 
 admit that it is not a doctrine, like that of Spinoza, which identifies 
 God with the abstract idea of substance ; or even like that of Hegel, 
 which regards Deity as synonymous with the absolute law and pro- 
 cess of the universe ; if we admit, in fact, that the Deity of Cousin 
 possesses a conscious personality, yet still it is one which contains 
 in itself the infinite personality and consciousness of every subor- 
 dinate mind. God is the ocean — we are but the waves \ the ocean 
 may be one individuality, and each wave another ; but still they 
 are essentially one and the same. We see not how Cousin's The- 
 ism can possibly be consistent with any idea of moral evil ; neither 
 do we see how, starting from such a dogma, he can ever vindicate 
 and uphold his own theory of human liberty. On such Theistic 
 principles, all sin must be simply defect, and all defect must be ab- 
 solutely fatuitous.* 
 
 But the most dangerous door into religious scepticism, is the use 
 which Cousin makes of the spontaneity of the human reason, in 
 order to explain the phenomena of inspiration. Reflection alone 
 is considered to be the source of error ; while that pure appercep- 
 tion, that instinctive development of thought, which results from 
 spontaneity, is absolutely infallible. Now this spontaneity, it is 
 said, is the foundation of religion. Those who were termed seers, 
 
 * This part of Cousin's pliilosophy has excited a very lively opposition from various 
 quarters. In France it has been contested by Bautain, in his " Psychologie Experi- 
 mentale", Disc, Prelim. ; and by M. Maret, in his " Essai sur le Panthcisme," chap. i.
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 661 
 
 prophets, inspired teachers, of ancient times, were simply men who 
 resigned themselves largely to their intellectual instincts, and thus 
 gazed upon truth in its pure and perfect form. They did not rea- 
 son, they did not search, they did not reflect deeply and patiently, 
 they made no pretension to philosophy ; but they received truth 
 spontaneously, as it flowed in upon them from heaven. Now, in one 
 sense, all this may be true ; but, according to Cousin, this imme- 
 diate reception of Divine light was nothing more than the natural 
 play of the spontaneous reason ; nothing more than what has ex- 
 isted, to a greater or less degree, in every man of gi^eat genius ; 
 nothing more than what may now exist in any mind which resigns 
 itself to its own unreflective apperceptions. This being the case, 
 revelation, in the ordinary sense, loses all its peculiar value ; eveiy 
 man may be a prophet ; every mind has within it the same authority 
 to decide upon truth, as those minds had who dictated the Bible ; 
 we have only to sit and listen to the still small voice within, to en- 
 joy a daily revelation, which bears upon it all the marks of absolute 
 infallibility. 
 
 This doctrine, of course, may seem very plausible and very flat- 
 tering ; nay, it may arraign some evidence, and boast the explana- 
 tion of many facts ; but, assuredly, it can only be erected and 
 established upon the ruins of all the fundamental evidences of 
 Christianity. When the advocates of this natural spontaneous in 
 spiration will come forth from their recesses of thought, and deliver 
 prophecies as clear as those of the Hebrew seer — when they shall 
 mould the elements of nature to their will — when they shall speak 
 witii the sublime authority of Jesus of Nazareth, and with the same 
 infinite ease rising beyond all the influence of time, place, and cir- 
 cumstances, explain the past, and unfold the future — when they die 
 for the truth they utter, and rise again, as witnesses to its divinity 
 — then we may begin to place them on the elevation which they 
 so thoughtlessly claim ; but, until they either prove these facts to 
 be delusions, or give tiicir parallel in themselves, the world may 
 well laugh at their ambition, and trample their spurious inspiration 
 beneath its feet. 
 
 Much as we admire Cousin, while he keeps within his proper 
 limits, and much as we are disposed to maintain the truth of his 
 philosophy, in most of its principal features, we cannot but repu- 
 diate, with all our energy, his attempt to intrude upon the sacred 
 province of tiie Christian revelation. If he will stand up as a the- 
 ologian, and fight the battle upon its proper grounds, let him do so,
 
 662 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and there are plenty to take up the gauntlet which he throws down ; 
 but it is not the part, which his own philosophy would dictate, to 
 raise a new theory of revelation to supersede all the rest, without 
 considering the facts and the evidences which the Christian reve- 
 lation can display. 
 
 In the foregoing pages, we have seen the process by which the 
 principles of the ideological school have been gradually over- 
 thrown, and those of eclecticism established. M. Laromiguiere 
 began by secretly undermining the bulwarks of sensationalism ; 
 M. Royer-Collard made the first open breach in the wall ; and M. 
 Cousin has spent his life in rearing the edifice of a new philosophy. 
 Our next duty is, to exhibit the eflfects which this philosophy has 
 produced in France, and to describe the school, to which it has 
 given rise. To do this, will be a work of but little difficulty. 
 The school itself is so recent, that, as yet, it has had no time to 
 assume many variations ; and, although it numbers several thinkers 
 of great independence among its advocates, yet their opinions do 
 not depart so widely from those of the founder, as to require any 
 lengthened explanation. 
 
 By far the most celebrated of Cousin's pupils and supporters was 
 M. Theodore Jouffi'oy. This popular and eloquent writer was 
 born in the year 1796, and having studied philosophy in the faculty 
 of Uterature, under the direction of Cousin, was appointed soon 
 after Professor of Moral Philosophy in the same institution, — a 
 post which he retained until his death. M. Jouffroy first became 
 known to the public at large through the medium of a translation 
 of Dugald Stewart's " Moral Philosophy." To this translation he 
 prefixed an essay or preface, in which he vindicates the study of 
 intellectual science against the attacks of those who would banish 
 all, except natural philosophy, out of the domain of human inves- 
 tigation. The preface, as a whole, shows that the author has 
 deeply imbibed the principles and the spirit of the Scottish meta- 
 physicians, whilst, at the same time, he rises occasionally to those 
 more expansive views of philosophical truth, which were incul- 
 cated in the lectures of his illustrious predecessor. 
 
 Nothing can exceed the clearness, and even the beauty, with 
 which he establishes in this little production the fundamental prin-
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 663 
 
 ciples of intellectual philosophy. As all science must be built upon 
 facts, he first inquires, whether there be not an order of facts 
 peculiar to themselves, and valid in their nature, upon which men- 
 tal philosophy, as a branch of inductive science, can be erected ? 
 This leads to a very lucid exhibition of the contrast which exists 
 between the external facts of sensible observation, and the internal 
 facts of consciousness ; in which he shows, that no fact cognizable 
 by the senses could possibly be arrived at by a direct conscious- 
 ness, and that no fact of consciousness could ever be known 
 through the senses. He concludes, therefore, that two orders of 
 facts exist, perfectly unique in their character and perfectly distinct 
 from each other.* This point once established, he proceeds to 
 prove, that the facts of consciousness can be accurately observed, 
 and that their laws can be determined with the same precision as 
 the laws of the material world. Next, with regard to the commu- 
 nication of the facts of consciousness to others, he proceeds to 
 show, that although sensible evidence cannot be given, as is the 
 case in natural philosophy, yet, that the same end is attained by 
 appealing to what passes within the consciousness of our fellow- 
 creatures, who, in all important points, are able to verify the truth 
 of our descriptions by their own personal experience. That 
 nothing may be wanting to establish his point, he goes on to prove, 
 that physiologists themselves, even while they deny a separate 
 order of spiritual facts, virtually proceed upon them in all their 
 own investigations ; — natural science being as much grounded upon 
 abstract and philosojyhlcal principles, as any other. In this manner 
 he successfully deduces the conclusions, that there are valid facts 
 on which to build a science of psychology ; that these facts can be 
 accurately determined ; — that they can be communicated by one 
 mind to another ; and, that every branch of human research vir- 
 tually admits them. 
 
 The great requirement for the advancement of psychological 
 science is, that theories should be renounced, that hasty inductions 
 should be given up, and that we should apply ourselves to the col- 
 ligation of all the facts of consciousness, and to their proper clas- 
 sification, with the same diligence that has been expended upon 
 natural philosophy. Many problems, respecting the nature of the 
 human mind, are, at present, confessedly enveloped in darkness 
 
 * M. JoufTroy has overlooked the point in which the vwrnk and the phipiqm virtu- 
 ally unite, tiuit of muscular motion. This exception must always be taken against the 
 absolute distinction here made, between the facts of observation and those of con- 
 sciousness.
 
 664 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and obscurity. " Whence, then," says our author, " is the light to 
 come ? Where are we to seek for it ? In a more profound obser- 
 vation," he rephes, " of the phenomena of human nature, and espe- 
 cially in the study, which has been greatly neglected and which 
 is yet in the background, of the facts of consciousness." Such, 
 in brief, is the clear and common-sense view which our author has 
 taken of the proper method of philosophical research.* 
 
 The next source to which we must go, in order to estimate the 
 philosophical character of M. JoufFroy, is a collection of articles 
 upon a variety of topics, entitled "Melanges Philosophiques." 
 These were originally contributions to a philosophical journal, 
 termed " The Globe," but have since been published by the author 
 in a distinct form. In these articles, we see the zealous pupil and 
 successor of Cousin, the genuine modern eclectic, touching, more 
 or less, upon all points within the range of intellectual philosophy, 
 and pouring hght derived from all directions upon them. We feel 
 ourselves in company with a master mind, one who does not ser- 
 vilely follow in the track pointed out by others, but, yet, who knows 
 how to appreciate the labors of all true-hearted thinkers, and to 
 make their results tell upon the elucidation of his own system. 
 
 According to the views here advanced, man is to be regarded 
 and studied in a twofold point of view ; inasmuch as he compre- 
 hends in himself two separate elements — the thing on the one hand, 
 the person on the other. The former is human nature as subjected 
 to its necessary laws and impulses ; the other is human nature as 
 the possessor of that extraordinary personal power, by which our 
 natural capacities are directed, and our whole existence moulded to 
 the intelligent accomplishment of its destiny. These two elements 
 constitute in us two distinct modes of life, — the impersonal life and 
 the personal ; and it forms one of the chief features in the system 
 before us, that every faculty we possess is regarded as being devel- 
 oped, either, on the one hand, according to the necessary laws of 
 human nature, or, on the other hand, under the superintendence 
 and direction of our personal power. With regard to the faculties 
 themselves, Jouffroy has reduced them to the following heads : — 
 First, the personal faculty, or the supreme power of taking posses- 
 sion of ourselves and of our capacities, and of controlling them ; 
 this faculty is known by the name of liberty, or will, which, how- 
 ever, designates it but imperfectly. Secondly, the pri?nitive in- 
 
 * This preface is translated, and published in Clark's " Student's Cabinet Library," 
 together with many other of JoufTroy's Miscellanies.
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 665 
 
 clinations of our nature, or that aggregate of instincts or tenden- 
 cies which impel us towards certain ends and in certain directions 
 prior to all experience, and which at once suggest to reason the des- 
 tiny of our being, and animate our activity to pursue it. Thirdly, 
 the locomotive faculty, or that energy by which we move the loco- 
 motive nerves, and produce all the voluntary bodily movements. 
 Fourthly, the expressive faculty, or the power of representing, by 
 external signs, that which takes place within us, and of thus hold- 
 ing communication with our fellow men. Fifthly, sensibility, or 
 the capacity of being agreeably or disagreeably aflected by all ex- 
 ternal or internal causes, and of reacting in relation to them by 
 movements of love or hatred, of desire or aversion, which are the 
 principle of passion. Sixthly, the intellectual faculties. This term 
 comprises many distinct powers, which can be enumerated and de- 
 scribed only in a treatise on intelligence. This may suffice to give 
 what is peculiar to Jouffroy's system ; in most other respects he 
 has followed in the footsteps of his master.* 
 
 M. Jouffroy, however, is, by profession, a moralist, and, conse- 
 quently, his chief duty is to explain and illustrate this part of our 
 constitution. With many of the lectures delivered by him, in this 
 capacity, he has favored us, and we have learned to appreciate and 
 admire the profound, yet eloquent criticism with which he has ana- 
 lyzed all the principal moral systems of our own and of other coun- 
 tries. Without dwelling, however, upon his character as a critic, 
 we must glance for a moment at the peculiarities which exist in 
 his own views of ethical philosophy. f 
 
 According to Jouffroy, the primary question in ethics is, 
 " Whether there be such a thing as good, and such a thing as evil ?" 
 The whole life of mankind, he contends, furnishes one long and 
 continued affirmative to this question, inasmuch as men are con- 
 tinually engaged in deliberating, choosing, and deciding between 
 them. Allowing, then, that good and evil exist, the next point is, 
 to determine on what ground one thing is to be considered prefera- 
 ble to another. Here our author goes into an elaborate discussion 
 to show that we must regard everything as good on the one hand, 
 or evil on the other, i7i proportion as it serves to aid or to prevent 
 the fulfilment of our destiny. The great problem of human destiny, 
 then, lies at the foundation of all morality ; and it is according to 
 
 • Mtlanges Philosophiqucs, nrt. '■' Dcs Faculti's Ac. I'Amc Humnino," p. '263. 
 
 f JoufTroy's Ir.ctun's cm moral pliilosoi)hy luivt; liccn tnuiHlatid in AinnriiM, and pub- 
 lished as part of a series of works, entitled " Specimens of Foreign Literature," by 
 George Ripley of Boston, United States.
 
 666 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the bearing which every action has upon this that we must deter- 
 mine its ethical quality. To pronounce a ipriori concerning ac- 
 tions, whether they are good or bad, is impossible. This entirely 
 depends, first, upon the being to which they apply ; and next, upon 
 the influence they may have on the destiny for which that being 
 was created. Good, in the case of any particular being, is simply 
 the fulfilment of its own specific destiny ; and good, in itself, is the 
 accomplishment of the destiny of all beings ; i. e., the existence of 
 perfect order and harmony in the universe, where everything pro- 
 ceeds uninterruptedly to its end. In this world we find that there 
 are perpetual interruptions in the fulfilment of our destiny. This 
 constitutes moral evil ; and it is only when these obstacles shall be 
 all removed, when all intelligent beings gaze upon the great end of 
 their creation, and proceed without lingering to the realization of 
 it, that evil will be subdued, and the reign of moral perfection com- 
 mence. For this realization, however, we must look beyond the 
 present to a future, and that a sinless world. 
 
 For the further development, however, of these views, we must 
 refer the reader to Jouffi'oy's lectures, or for a briefer sketch of 
 them, to an article on "Good and Evil," which will be found 
 among his " Melanges Philosophiques." As a metaphysician, Jouf- 
 froy will, probably, ever rank considerably below Cousin, both in 
 depth and originality ; since, in fact, he hardly went beyond the 
 psychological stand-point of the Edinburgh school ; but as a mor- 
 alist, he leads the way in the eclectic school, without any appear- 
 ance of a rival. We believe, that there is no writer of the present 
 day who has grappled with the great problems of moral science, so 
 manfully and successfully — and who has succeeded in throwing so 
 much fresh light upon a subject which has commanded the ener- 
 gies of the greatest minds. 
 
 In Cousin and Jouffroy we have at once the two first, and the 
 two greatest advocates of modern eclecticism in France.* The 
 doctrines, however, which these have been inculcating in the Nor- 
 mal School at Paris, during the last twenty years and more, have 
 been warmly received by many others ; and not a few have gone 
 forth from their instructions to disseminate the same principles 
 throughout the country. M, Philippe Damiron may be regarded 
 
 * Jouffroy's views on eclecticism, may be seen in his Melanges Phil, articles, " Com- 
 ment les Dogmas finissent," " De la Sorbonne et des Philosophes," and '■ Reflexions 
 sur la Philosophie de I'Histoire." The most elegant critique upon the genius and phi- 
 losophy of Jouffroy with which I am acquainted, is that of M. Sainte-Beuve, in his ad- 
 mirable " Portraits et Critiques Litteraires," vol. i. of the Second Series.
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 667 
 
 as the third in order of time and eminence, to whom eclecticism 
 owes its present position among the philosophies of Europe- 
 Brought up under the tuition of Cousin, he soon proved himself 
 a worthy pupil of such a master, and has been since rewarded with 
 the Professorship of Philosophy, at the Normal School of Paris, 
 and the College of Louis the Great. M. Damiron has published a 
 course both of mental and moral philosophy, whicli liolds a some- 
 what distinguished place among the metaphysical productions of the 
 day.* The work, however, by which he is best known, and to which 
 I beg now to acknowledge my own obligations, is entitled, " Essai 
 sur mistoire de la Philosophic en France au Dixneuvieme Siecle." 
 This work, which has gone through many editions, and found 
 its way into many countries, is almos^t indispensable to the history 
 of modern philosophy in France, as it gives perhaps the only com- 
 plete account of the progress of metaphysics in that country, from 
 the period of the Revolution down to the period of its publication.! 
 The views of M. Damiron are formed closely after the model of 
 the school from which he came ; and in him, accordingly, eclecti- 
 cism has found a warm, and, we may add, an able advocate. To 
 detail his philoso})hical opinions would only be to tread over again 
 the same ground which we have already traversed ; and we shall 
 content ourselves therefore, with giving to our readers the spirited 
 remarks upon eclectichm, with which he closes the volume above 
 mentioned, and which we regard as being, upon the whole, a fair 
 estimate of the real worth and excellence of the system. "It 
 would not be impossible," remarks our author, " in strictness, to 
 make a whole philosophy without the aid of eclecticism. But such 
 a philosophy would be a monstrosity ; an<l for the work, there 
 would be requisite a genius which, alone and by itself, without aid 
 or co-operation, could equal in the best accomplishments the com- 
 bined genius of the greatest philosophers ; those who, in fact, were 
 great Snly through their preceptors, and through history. The 
 human mind, however, cannot count upon such a singular phe- 
 nomenon ; and eclecticism is much rather its proper production, be- 
 cause, after all, it is, in one view of the case, only the natural pro- 
 cedure of humanitv, namely, labor by concert and assocuition. 
 Eclecticism, in f\ict, is philosophy by association ; the philosophy 
 
 ♦ " Cours <le Philosophic," 4 vols. 8vo. 
 
 tThis " Kssui" was^mhlishecl first in 1H-J7 The ast o.l.l.on ..pp^nml ,n 183., 
 with copious ml.litions on th. morn recent l^ithors A st.ll inon- .-l:.l«uate work of 
 his pen has hiteJy appeared, entitled " Kssai sur 1 ll.sto.rc dc la Phil, en ^ nmce, au 
 ivii< Siecle." Two thick vols. 8vo, 18 IG.
 
 668 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 which, by means of criticism and history, enriches itself with all 
 the legitimate acquisitions that belong to the past. And this phi- 
 losophy is of so much the greater worth, because it is more in 
 communion with anterior philosophies, because it participates in a 
 greater number of doctrines, and because it has more out of which 
 to choose, and knows better how to exercise its choice. * * * *' 
 I called eclecticism philosophy by association : cannot I call it also 
 philosophy without exclusion — a sort of philanthropy applied to the 
 true ideas of all times and all countries ? The larger it is in its 
 admissions, so long as it be discreet, and the more it embraces, so 
 long as it does so wisely, so much the more legitimate and pure it 
 is — so much the more accomplished. 
 
 "It would be difficult to affirm, that eclecticism will never 
 change, whether it be in relation to its criterion (which is less 
 probable) or to its erudition, which latter will almost infallibly hap- 
 pen ; for already, since it has been in the world, it has undergone 
 many modifications, both in the rule and in the manner of its 
 choice. At present it is spiritual ; spiritual from proceeding upon 
 the data of psychology. This tendency I believe to be good, and 
 consequently to be durable ; but, nevertheless, I believe, it may 
 take some day another. In the same manner, it now moves in a 
 sphere of erudition without doubt very extensive ; but how can we 
 say that it will not proceed, and extend itself beyond it, since it 
 has yet altogether a new world, that of the East, hitherto little 
 known, to pervade and to master ? There is, then, a chance that 
 in process of time it may become varied and modified. 
 
 " But what will be the consequence ? Clearly, that it will be 
 amended, fortified, perfected ; not that it will come to an end. It 
 will not come to an end, at least, until it is fully completed ; and 
 then it will be able to be said, that the humanity of the present has 
 all the knowledge of the past ; that it has what is better and more 
 true, the sum of all science, and that nothing therein is deficient. 
 Until then, eclecticism, whether we know it or not, will be, and 
 will continue to be, the necessary procedure of every spirit in 
 progress. 
 
 " As we see, and as I have said, eclecticism is not for philoso- 
 phy a definitive state ; it is not an Ind, it is a means ; but this 
 means is yet for a long futurity, and in our days, more than ever, 
 of indispensable application. Humanity did not commence and 
 will not finish with eclecticism ; but it has lived, and will live and 
 develop itself by eclecticism, which is to the world of ideas that
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. G69 
 
 which association is to the world of persons ; or which is (to speak 
 more accurately) but one form of association itself. More than 
 ever do I find this conviction strengthened, the more I penetrate, 
 though with many difficulties, yet with much happiness, onwards 
 into the history of philosophy." Such is M. Damiron's estimate 
 of the philosophical school, to which he feels it his honor and hap- 
 piness to belong. We have been the more anxious to present our 
 readers with this extract, because it gives so decided an answer to 
 the frequent cry which has been raised against the eclectic system, 
 as though it undertook to develop a whole body of philosophical 
 truth, from the mere juxtaposition of all the conflicting opinions 
 of the present or of former days. Eclecticism, in Cousin's sense, 
 is not a mere syncretism ; it contains a definite philosophical 
 method, and would develop truth even were there no other systems 
 to compare with it. But convinced that all earnest thinkers have 
 had some true ideas to work upon, it sets itself manfully to deter- 
 mine what they are ; and strives to add the testimony of humanity 
 at large to its own investigations. Admitting, then, that the eclec- 
 tic starts with a clear philosophical method, we know not how it is 
 possible more firmly to strengthen its positions than to concentrate 
 upon them the universal truth, that flows through all the philoso- 
 phies which history or the present age present. 
 
 Cousin, JoufFroy, and Damiron, form the foremost rank among 
 the abettors of eclecticism ; but many names might vet be men- 
 tioned in the list of metaphysical writers, which show that there is 
 a " corps de reserve," to carry on the work as they may be removed 
 from the scene of action. The extraordinary development of a 
 spiritual philosophy under the name of eclecticism, within recent 
 times, presents to us a phenomenon, which is well worth our most 
 earnest attention. From the fall of the French republic the age 
 of grossness and materialism began to decline. A new tone of 
 thinking gradually sprang, up, which, while it rejected the excesses 
 of democracy, yet had tasted too much of the principles of national 
 liberty, to admit for a moment the idea of any return to the old 
 regime. This party, which gathered together after the restoration, 
 under the title of liheralism, numbered many ardent and philosophi- 
 cal minds, who looked forward to some bright fiituritv, in which a 
 deep philosophy and a rational faith should spread their benign in- 
 fluence throughout society at large. 
 
 The eloquent lectures of Cousin matured these views, and stim- 
 ulated these hopes ; and when the hand of tyranny silenced both
 
 670 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 his own voice and that of his no less eloquent pupil, and drove 
 them from the halls of public instruction, their deep murmurs only 
 found a readier ear among the more enlightened of the age, as they 
 rolled upwards upon society from the retirement to which persecu- 
 tion had banished them. 
 
 " The Globe," which was commenced in Sept. 1824, became the 
 rallying point around which those master spirits of the age were 
 gathered together. Its first editors were MM. Dubois and Leroux ; 
 but M. Jouffroy may be regarded as the presiding genius of its ear- 
 lier efforts. While these philosophic minds found here an organ for 
 their murmurs and their hopes, there were others of no inconsider- 
 able influence who indirectly gave it their support. M. Cousin saw 
 in it the fruits of his own otherwise ill-rewarded labors. M. Gui- 
 zot could not but favor a journal in which his own enlightened 
 views upon European civilization were maintained and expounded; 
 M. de Broglie, and others of like spirit, secretly rejoiced in the 
 broad and liberal principles which were there brought before the 
 public. At the same time, some of the higher order of minds, who 
 had gained new views of society in the school of St. Simon, took 
 part in the movement ; so that, in fact, the way was prepared for 
 the brief, but brilliant, revolution of 1830, which repelled the base 
 attempts of a restored monarchy to lay its hand upon the liberties 
 of the nation. 
 
 This point once achieved, and a period of repose having suc- 
 ceeded, the genius of philosophy began to rouse up its energies to 
 fresh action. From the accession of Louis Philippe to the present 
 hour, the French press has been sending forth a metaphysical litera- 
 ture, which in learning and eloquence will bear a comparison with 
 any former period of philosophical activity. The fruits of it, as 
 seen in the theological and mystical schools, we have already no- 
 ticed ; it remains for us only to notice it more especially in connec- 
 tion with the spirit of modern eclecticism. 
 
 The labors of eclecticism, during the last fifteen or twenty years, 
 may be distributed into three classes, — viz. translations or editions, 
 histories, and original philosophical works. In rendering an ac- 
 count of these labors, we cannot attempt to give anything like a 
 complete list of all the works of a school which has been so unusu- 
 ally productive ; v/e shall merely point out, therefore, some of the 
 principal movements of its more recent activity. 
 
 1. With regard to the labors of the editor and translator, it will 
 be recollected that Cousin himself, the head of the school, has nobly
 
 ECLECTICISM IN FRANCE. 671 
 
 led the way in his translation of Plato, and his beautiful editions 
 both of Proclus and Descartes ; M. Jouffroy and others have trans- 
 lated the works of Reid and Stewart ; and M. Peisse, in addition 
 to " Stewart's Elements," has given to the French public the col- 
 lected fragments of Sir W. Hamilton. The Charpentier editions 
 of the earlier movements of modern philosophy have all appeared 
 under the direction of the eclectic school. M. Saisset, professor 
 at the normal school, has furnished us with an admiral translation 
 of Spinoza. M. Jules Simon, also of the normal school, has per- 
 formed the same office for Descartes, so far at least as his philo- 
 sophical writings are concerned ; and M, Jacques, professor at the 
 Royal College of Versailles, has edited Leibnitz's and Clarke's 
 philosophical writings in the same form. 
 • With regard to the German philosophy, it may be said now to 
 exist almost complete in the French language. Through the in- 
 dustry of M. J. Tissot, professor at Dijon, and M. Jules Barni, 
 professor at the college of Charlemagne, together with MM. Mellin 
 and TruUard, the great works of the immortal Kant are now be- 
 fore the French public in their most intelligible form. jM. Paul 
 Grimblot has completed the translation of the two main produc- 
 tions of Fichte and Schelling, the " Wissenschaftslehre" of the one, 
 and " Transcendentaler Idealismus" of the other. Several of their 
 other works have also appeared in able translations by M. Fran- 
 cisque Bouillier, of Lyons, by M. C. Husson, by M. Nicolas, pro- 
 fessor at Montauban, (author of a defence of Eclecticism against 
 the attacks of Pierre Leroux,) and by several other laborers in the 
 same cause. Of the works of Hegel, the lectures on ^Esthetics 
 have already appeared, under the care of M. Benard of Rouen ; 
 while some of his other writings, as well as the letters of Jacobi 
 upon Spinoza, are we believe now^ in progress. When we add that 
 Vico's " Scienza Nuova," and the philosophical letters of Galluppi, 
 have appeared in recent translations, and that the grand produc- 
 tions, in fact, of every nation, are appropriated sooner or later to 
 the aid of eclecticism, we may reasonably look forward to the ad- 
 vantage of possessing, ere long, the philosophical thinking of the 
 world, in the most lucid and precise of all the languages of man- 
 kind. 
 
 2. The history of philosophy is a subject to which eclecticism 
 naturally directs its best energies. Nurtured as it is in extensive 
 erudition, it ever seeks to develop the progress of human knowl- 
 edge, and get as near as possible to the catholic thinking of man-
 
 672 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 kind. M. Cousin has here also led the way at once by his lec- 
 tures, and by the second series of his philosophical fragments. 
 Since his example has been before the world, many are the works 
 illustrative both of ancient and modern philosophy, which have 
 emanated from the French press. The logic of Aristotie is now 
 translated, and has been copiously illustrated in a memoire pre- 
 sented to the " Academic des Sciences" by M. Barthelemy St. 
 Hilaire. The schools of Megara, of Elis, and of Eretria, have 
 found an historian in M. Mallet, professor at the College of St. 
 Louis ; and the philosophical school at Alexandria, with its won- 
 drous mixture of western thought and oriental mysticism, has ex- 
 cited especial attention amongst the eclectic historians. M. B. St. 
 Hilaire, and M. Simon, have each brought their varied and exten- 
 sive erudition to bear upon the illustration of this remarkable page 
 in the history of the human mind. 
 
 The history of Cartesianism has not unnaturally claimed a con- 
 siderable share of attention from those who wish to vindicate for 
 France the honor of an original and native philosophy.* The last 
 work of M. Damiron, entitled " Essai sur ITIistoire de la Philoso- 
 phic en France, au l?"" siecle," gives a very full and clear descrip- 
 tion both of Descartes himself, and of the school which he orig- 
 inated ; and the memoire of M. Demoulin, entitled " Cartesianism," 
 which gained the prize at the French Institute, may be regarded as 
 one of the most complete expositions of the Cartesian spirit and 
 doctrine which have yet appeared. Other works on the same sub- 
 ject have been published, the principal of which have been already 
 noticed in our former remarks upon the Cartesian school of the 
 seventeenth century. 
 
 The philosophy of Germany, being in fact the great repository 
 of spiritualism in human thought, has confessedly exerted a vast 
 and almost unappreciable influence upon the modern schools of 
 France. Cousin himself confesses that it was under this influence 
 that his own powers were at once awakened, and directed to the 
 higher problems of fundamental truth. About ten years since, 
 M. Barchou de Penhoen, an intelligent French writer of Portuguese 
 extraction, published an "Histoire de la Philosophic Allemande 
 depuis Leibnitz jusqu'a Hegel," in two vols., 8vo. This was the 
 first attempt that was made to give a systematic and connected 
 view of the German idealism in the French language. M. Ch. 
 
 ♦ The still earlier philosophy of France, that of the scholastic age, is portrayed in 
 M. Remusat's recent work on Abelard,
 
 ECLIX-TICISM IN FRANCE. 673 
 
 Renouvier, in his " Manuel de Philosophie Moderne," has recently 
 undertaken the same task in a more brief, but equally intelli^nble 
 form, and, in truth, evinces himself a decided leaning to the llecre- 
 lian method. In 1846, M. Abel Remusat published his report on 
 the memoires presented to the Academie des Sciences, respecting 
 the present state of intellectual philosophy in Germany ; which he 
 has introduced by a preface filled with the most masterly illustra- 
 tions and criticisms upon the principal systems of that country. 
 The prize memoire by M. Willm is now in process of publication, 
 (the first of four volumes having just appeared,) and promises, 
 when completed, to be by far the most full and detailed exposition 
 of the German philosophy, from Kant to Hegel, which has yet 
 been sent forth from any other than the German press.* 
 
 3. With regard to original works on philosophy, the eclectic 
 school has already furnished a considerable number, although it 
 has not yet been long enough in existence to produce any great 
 variety of opinion and research. Several of the professors in the 
 different universities of France have published a " Cours de Phil- 
 osophie," (as, for example, M. Mazure of Poicticrs) ; but these are 
 most frequently adapted rather to instruct the student in the ele- 
 ments of intellectual science, than to develop any new or advanced 
 views with regard to the great problems of philosophy. Some of 
 the most important points, however, of the philosophy of Cousin, 
 have been elaborated in separate works, among which we may 
 mention, especially, those of M. Gruyer, entitled " Des Causes 
 conditionelles et productrices des Idees," and " Principes de Phil- 
 osophie Physique," intended to give the basis of the metaphysics 
 of nature. Of others, M. F. Bouillicr has discussed the doctrine 
 of the impersonal reason ; M. Ed. Mercier, the relations between 
 faith and science ; while JNI. Ernest Bersot of Versailles, in a work 
 entitled " Du Spiritualisme et de la Nature," has ventured upon 
 those most difficult of all (luestions, which refer to the relations 
 subsisting between creation and the Creator, both in their specula- 
 tive and practical import. 
 
 There is one work, however, to which we are desirous of making 
 especial reference, inasmuch as it sounds the first nolo of division 
 within the camp of the eclectic philosophy, and that is an " Essai 
 
 ♦ We might have mentioned here the Life of Kant l>v M. Amnnd Saintes, and a 
 History of the German Rationalism, l)y the same author ; hut it does not appear to 
 pertain to the eclectic school. The same may be sai<i of Dr. Ott, the author of the 
 work before referred to on the philosophy of Hegel. This acute writer belongs to the 
 historical school of M. Buchez. 
 
 43
 
 674 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 d'une Nouvelle Theorie sur les Idees fondamentales," by F. Perron. 
 The author having, given an historical sketch of the rise and prog- 
 ress of the modern spiritual philosophy in France, enters into a 
 searching critique of the principal doctrines of eclecticism, as pro- 
 fessed by the school of Cousin. In this critique, he attempts to 
 show that the relations which have been established between our 
 fundamental ideas, with regard to their logical and chronological 
 conditions, are perfectly arbitrary and unfounded ; that the char- 
 acters of necessity, of immutability, and of universality, by which 
 they are said to be distinguished, cannot be claimed for them in 
 any exclusive and peculiar sense ; that their origin is no more a 
 "priori, than the origin of anything is which we grasp by the under- 
 standing ; that the attempt to account for their objective vaUdity 
 by the impersonality of reason, has signally failed ; and, finally, 
 that the nature of the categories has been altogether misunder- 
 stood. 
 
 Having concluded his critique, the author attempts to prove, 
 that there is one, and only one cognitive faculty in man ; that this 
 cognitive faculty is adapted to grasp objective truth directly and 
 immediately ; that the properties of things which we perceive, are 
 but the modes of their existence ; that all our knowledge begins 
 with these concrete perceptions ; and that the categories are not 
 forms of thought, nor pure ideas, nor principles of common sense, 
 nor anything else other 'than the pure abstractions, or rather the 
 highest generalizations which we form from individual existences. 
 Having argued this theory respecting the notions of time and 
 space, substance and phenomenon, cause and effect, the finite and 
 the infinite, the good, the beautiful, and the true, the author ends 
 by giving a complete list of nine categories. We may ask respect- 
 ing things around us — 
 
 1. If they are? 
 
 Category 
 
 of Existence. 
 
 2. What they are ? 
 
 <( 
 
 Essence. 
 
 3. How they are ? 
 
 « 
 
 Mode. 
 
 4. By what ? 
 
 « 
 
 Causality. 
 
 5. Why ? 
 
 <( 
 
 End. 
 
 6. Where? 
 
 (( 
 
 Space. 
 
 7. When? 
 
 « 
 
 Time. 
 
 8. How many ? 
 
 « 
 
 Number. 
 
 9. In what relations ? 
 
 
 Relation. 
 
 These ideas, h"e shows, give us a complete view of all the differ- 
 ent relations in which things can be viewed ; that they are neither
 
 COLLATERAL BRANCtlES. 675 
 
 inadequate nor redundant ; and that they express precisely the 
 highest generalizations to which the human mind can arrive, with 
 regard to every inquiry it institutes on the proper determination of 
 existences at large. 
 
 The author has argued his points with considerable ingenuity, 
 but, as it appears to our own mind, is far from sustaining them 
 against the school he opposes. We are not sorry, however, to see 
 these questions brought down upon the arena of contest ; so long 
 as they are regarded as fixed and unquestionable data, the progress 
 of philosophy is only likely to be impeded ; the opening of a new 
 campaign, gives additional hope with regard to the progressive 
 results of philosophy for the future. 
 
 The mature age of a philosophy generally gives rise to an En- 
 cyclopaedia, which regards all philosophical questions from its own 
 peculiar point of view. The highest results of the eclectic school 
 are now being embodied in the " Dictionnaire des Sciences Philo- 
 sophiques," — perhaps the most complete attempt whicii has yet 
 been made at a universal biography and critique of all philoso- 
 phers and their systems. Above thirty of the first names which 
 France can boast at the head of her metaphysical literature, appear 
 as contributors to this noble undertalviiig — an undertaking which 
 not only supplies a desideratum in their own literature, but which 
 must prove of essential service to the progress of philosophy itself, 
 as being the most careful historical analysis which has yet appeared 
 of the catholic thinking of mankind.* 
 
 Sect. II. — Collateral Branches of the Eclectic Philosophy. 
 
 In the former section we have attempted to trace the process by 
 which the materialism that overran France at the commencement 
 of the present century, was gradually undermined and supplanted 
 by a more earnest and spiritual philosophy. Were we, however, 
 here to close our sketch of the French eclecticism, although we 
 may have tracked its actual progress up to tlie present time, yet we 
 should be far from doing justice to many jirofound thinkers and 
 excellent writers, who have aided in combating the doctrines of 
 materialism, and clearing the way for these new and nobler prin- 
 ciples. There are some authors in all countries, who, without ad- 
 
 * For an exposition of the philosophical principles wliich have guided the criticism» 
 of this work, see Appendix, note G.
 
 676 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 dressing themselves immediately to the solution of metaphysical 
 or ethical problems, yet, by the whole cast and spirit of their writ- 
 ings, exert a great influence upon the philosophy of their age. 
 There are others, moreover, metaphysicians by profession, whose 
 erratic genius defies all classification, and disowns the limits of all 
 schools, but who nevertheless obtain their share of influence in the 
 world of thought. To pass these by, in giving a faithful history 
 of philosophy, would be an inexcusable omission ; and we shall 
 attempt, therefore, to compress into a small compass a succinct 
 account of the collateral streams which have aided in swelling the 
 now deepening channel of the spiritual eclecticism of France. 
 
 I. And first, let us notice one or two writers who, in the earlier 
 portion of the century, lent their aid to the first attacks which 
 were made upon the reigning ideology. Foremost amongst these 
 we should reckon Benjamin Constant, a mind imbued with many 
 of the best qualities, both of the French and the German char- 
 acter, and free from most of the vices peculiar to each. The in- 
 fluence he possessed before and during his banishment by Napo- 
 leon, was rather of a personal character than exerted through the 
 press ; but on his return he became widely celebrated for his polit- 
 ical writings, and finally for his remarkable theologico-philosophical 
 work, entitled, " De la Religion consideree dans sa Source, ses 
 Formes, et ses Developpements." In this, his last legacy to the 
 world, he gave the most decisive proofs of his anti-sensational ten- 
 dency ; and, with a brilliancy of wit and eloquence for which he 
 was almost unrivalled, defended his more spiritual views against 
 the attacks of materialism. 
 
 His great principle is, that the religious'feeling in man is purely 
 instinctive, that it arises neither from sensation, nor from a sense 
 of fear, nor from physical organization ; but from the mysterious 
 and Divine constitution of the human soul. As Constant has 
 written so little of a purely metaphysical nature, we cannot as- 
 sign him a very prominent place in the history of speculative phi- 
 losophy ; by his whole style of thinking, however, by his religious 
 views, by his earnest feelings, as well as by his direct arguments, 
 he contributed his share in dethroning materialism from its long- 
 continued sway, and in abetting the first eflforts of the eclectic 
 school. In connection with Benjamin Constant we must also men- 
 tion Madame de Stael. It was in company with Constant, to- 
 gether with Villers, the first French expositor of Kantism, and 
 Schlegel the elder, that that extraordinary woman learned to ap-
 
 COLLATERAL BRANCHES. 677 
 
 predate the profound and spiritual philosophy of Germany. A 
 more admirable medium could hardly be imagined for adapting 
 the lofty thoughts of Germany to the French mind, than was af- 
 forded by her warm and enthusiastic style. Had the intense re- 
 searches of Fichte or Schelling been sent forth, just in the form in 
 which they flowed from the pens of the authors, to the French 
 public in its own tongue, they would, in all probability, have been 
 thrown aside in disgust, and left hardly an impression behind them. 
 No sooner, however, were these thoughts divested of all technical- 
 ity, no sooner were they stripped of their abstract form, and held 
 up to view by the light of her ardent enthusiasm, than they pen- 
 etrated into every mind, and, with the admiration which they at 
 first excited, left behind a longing for better things. France 
 learned first, from the pages of this its fair preceptress, that the phi- 
 losophy of Germany was not a tissue of unintelligible mysticism ; 
 it learned, that behind a forbidding exterior there were deep and 
 burning thoughts, which only needed a fitting channel, to shed 
 their influence upon every branch of human knowledge. Al- 
 though no system of philosophy was inculcated by her — none even 
 explained, with any approach to logical accuracy — yet it was im- 
 possible not to feel, in the perusal of her writings, that there ex- 
 isted a philosophy, far nobler than the dreams of materialism ; that 
 there were sentiments and impulses in the human soul, which 
 could never be brought down to the vibrations of a nerve, or the 
 commotions of the brain. Mad. de Stael, though not herself a 
 philosopher, did perhaps more for philosophy in France, than any 
 writer of the same age. She seized upon the few prominent ideas 
 which she had learned to love and to cherish, in her literary re- 
 treat at Coppet, and sent them forth, clothed with all the brightness 
 of her own enthusiastic spirit, to awake a response in the depths 
 of every earnest and thoughtful mind. In doing this, she well 
 performed her mission, and exerted an influence, to which the 
 country, from which she lived an exile, owes a lasting debt of 
 gratitude. 
 
 Another writer, of a class entirely different from those we have 
 just mentioned, but who has also had an indirect influence upon 
 the renovation of the French philosophy, is M. Degorando.* 
 
 * M. Degerando was born at Lyons, A.D. 17?i. When hi.s native town was be- 
 sieged l)y tlie republican army in 1 "^93, he took arms in its defence, and with difficulty 
 escaped into Italy, where he remained for three years. After his return to France 
 he joined the Army of Italy; but owing to his rising literary reputation, was soon ap- 
 pointed to civil service. During the regime of Napoleon he was advanced from one
 
 678 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 • 
 
 This somewhat celebrated author first appeared before the public 
 in the year 1800, by the publication of a work, proposing to ex- 
 emplify the relation between the signs of our thoughts and the art 
 of thinking.* At that time M. Degerando, in common with all 
 the other philosophers of the country, was a disciple of Condillac ; 
 but, although professedly belonging to the ideologists, yet he was 
 far from adopting the extreme opinions, for which many of them 
 became remarkable, manifesting even then a decided repugnance 
 towards the materialistic tendency of the age. In 1802 M. De- 
 gerando gave in a memoire to the Academy of Berlin, " De la 
 Generation des Connaissances Humaines," which was honored 
 with the highest prize of distinction. The memoire consisted, 
 first of a historical view of the different theories which have ob- 
 tained in different periods of the world, on the origin of our ideas ; 
 and, secondly, of an analysis of the true elements of human knowl- 
 edge. This ■ treatise, which was published at Berlin, in 1802, 
 formed the basis of a much more complete and valuable work, 
 entitled " Histoire Comparee des Systemes de Philosophic relative- 
 ment aux Principes des Connaissances Humaines," and which ap- 
 peared in Paris in 1804. This work, although estimating all sys- 
 tems of philosophy from the ideological point of view, yet seemed 
 to spread abroad a more popular knowledge, than had hitherto ex- 
 isted, of the world's great thinkers, and of the views and opinions 
 which they had entertained. The author showed himself clearly 
 to possess a liberal and enlightened mind — to be a sincere seeker 
 after truth, and not to be fettered closely by the trammels of any 
 system. Accordingly, as the spirit of the age began to change — as 
 the reaction against the sensationalism of the Encyclopaedic period 
 began to show itself, M. Degerando was one of the first to move 
 forward in the stream, and to welcome every fresh sign of real 
 improvement. In 1822, he commenced a second edition of his 
 History of Philosophy, revised, enlarged, and remodelled to the 
 altered character of the age. Here we find an increased attention 
 given to all those systems which partake of an idealistic character, 
 and a general tone of thinking, far more profound and spiritual 
 than that which was observable in the former edition. 
 
 In this latter form, the " Histoire Comparee" has proved a valu- 
 
 post of dignity to another, and after the Restoration was appointed professor a la Fac- 
 ulte de Droit. In 1837 he was raised to the peerage, and in 1843 he died. 
 
 * This was a memoire which he wrote for the " Class des Sciences Morales et Poli- 
 tiques," and which received the prize, an honor of which he received the intelligence 
 as he was reposing from the toils and dangers of the battle of Zurich.' It consists of 
 4 vols. Bvo. 
 
 I 
 
 i
 
 COLLATERAL BRANCHES. 679 
 
 able auxiliary to eclecticism. In presenting a faithful picture of 
 the principal schools of philosophy which have severally played 
 their part in the world, it has broken down a blind attachment to 
 any one peculiar system, and demonstrated the fact, that truth 
 exists, more or less, amongst them all. In a word, M. Degerando, 
 by introducing his readers so fully into the interior of the great 
 philosophies of ancient and more modern times, has induced many 
 a one to become an eclectic, even in spite of himself; so that we 
 must regard his elaborate volumes as no inconsiderable link in the 
 chain of causes, by which the elevation of the eclectic philosophy 
 to so high a position as it now assumes has been effected. 
 
 II. We must notice the contributions which have been brought, 
 by physiological researches, to the progress of eclecticism in 
 France. Physiology, during the earlier years of this century, was 
 considered to be all on the side of materialism. The views of 
 Cabanis (which we have explained in a former chapter) reigned, 
 for a time, almost supreme among metaphysicians, on the one 
 hand, and the members of the medical faculty, on the other. In 
 proportion, however, as the spirit of philosophy gradually altered, 
 and the reaction began to manifest itself against sensationalism, in 
 the same proportion we find a corresponding influence exerted upon 
 the speculations of the physiologist, forcing upon his attention facts 
 which, hitherto, had been either mis-explained, or altogether ex- 
 plained away. 
 
 In the year 1823, M. Berard, of Montpellier, published his " Doc- 
 trine des Rapports du Physique et du Moral," in which he re- 
 pelled the materialism of those who had preceded him in his inves- 
 tigation, and showed, upon purely scientific principles, that we 
 must admit something beyond the brain and the nerves, to account 
 for the simplest facts of human nature. The position in which he 
 intrenches himself is this ; that matter, being dead, motionless, 
 inert, could never give rise to any changes whatever, were there 
 not something besides matter to produce them. We may say, pop- 
 ularly, that certain particles of matter, when brought into contact, 
 give rise to motion ; but, evidently, it is not the mere j)roxiniity oi 
 them, which could produce such an effect. Proximity is, in fact, 
 only the condition upon which a certain force is put into action ; 
 and this force is the real cause of the wiiole phenomenon. Wher- 
 ever there is change or motion, therefore, we must necessarily 
 admit the existence of power, and power cannot possibly be con-
 
 680 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ceived of under the idea of atoms, molecules, or of any material 
 type or emblem. 
 
 With regard to the real nature of power, this, of course, must 
 vary with the effects produced. When food is assimilated in the 
 human stomach, here we have in operation a digestive power, of 
 a chemical nature : when life is produced and maintained, we see 
 the exertion of a certain vital power ; so, also, when we observe 
 intellisrence manifesting itself, we conclude the existence of an in- 
 tellectual power or principle, which we term mind. In short, all 
 causes, according to M. Berard, are immaterial, or spiritual ; and 
 mind is the name we give to that peculiar power or cause, by 
 which intelligence and emotion are called forth. To sum up his 
 doctrine in his own words — " The mind is one — indivisible, imma- 
 terial, though united to the body ; it cannot lend itself to this union, 
 except as mind, and not according to the law which unites body to 
 body. It cannot be placed by the side, or in the midst of the or- 
 gans ; but it is present in them— it perceives in them — it gives 
 activity to them, and receives it from them. It is bound in its 
 exercise, by certain physiological and vital conditions, without 
 which it would not be able to display its faculties ; but it does not 
 owe these faculties to them ; it is a force, in harmony and co-oper- 
 ation with other forces, which all have, in organization, their func- 
 tions and their attributes."* 
 
 Another author, who has conducted the physiological argument 
 against materialism with great ability, is M. Virey, whose volume 
 on the " Vital Power" appeared in the year 1823. According to 
 the theory there maintained, there is a life-power sent forth from 
 God, the great first cause, which is the basis of all the changes that 
 take place in the material universe, and all the phenomena of ani- 
 mated existence. This power we see first giving its crystalline 
 form to the mineral ; then entering into all the varied genera and 
 species of the vegetable world ; and lastly, achieving its greatest 
 wonders in animal life, and in man as its highest form. This same 
 vital power it is, which, pervading the whole of nature, bmds all 
 existence together in the most perfect harmony. Nothing stands 
 isolated and alone ; and even man himself, though raised above the 
 rest of creation around, yet is a link in the chain of universal being, 
 having relation both to the life below and the life beyond him. 
 Far as we should be from giving in our entire adherence to a sys- 
 
 * On the doctrines of M. Berard, see Damiron's " Essai sur I'Histoire de Phil." voL 
 ii. p. 12, et seq.; also a brief notice in the " Dictionnaire des Sciences Phil."
 
 COLLATERAL BRANCHES. 681 
 
 tern of nature founded upon the principle just stated, yet we must 
 regard the work of M. Virey as having been in its time highly val- 
 uable. The arguments, the assumptions, and the miserable shifts 
 of materialism, were there shown forth in the most plain and pal- 
 pable manner ; the ingenious devices by which Cabanis attempted 
 to overcome the difficulties of his adopted theory, were displayed 
 and refuted ; and the necessity was strongly demonstrated of ad- 
 mitting some power or other beyond the mere concurrence of 
 atoms, in order to explain the facts both of life and of intelligence. 
 In a word, M. Virey had succeeded in strongly impressing upon 
 his own mind the notion of power as the basis of all spiritualism ; 
 and he felt (as every mind must feel in which this notion has been 
 fully developed) that it is far less possible to banish the existence 
 of some all-pervading and ever energetic power of the universe, 
 than it is to banish the notion of matter itself Putting the three 
 possible hypotheses of the universe side by side — that which re- 
 gards it as entirely composed of material atoms, that which regards 
 it as consisting altogether of forces, and that which regards it as a 
 combination of the two, we have no hesitation in saying, that the 
 first is that which we can give up with the least violation of all the 
 fundamental principles of human knowledge. 
 
 In a country like France, where materialism had intrenched it- 
 self within the conclusions of physiology, it was assuredly no small 
 aid to the progress of eclecticism to find writers like those above 
 tnentioned (and other names, perhaps, equally eminent might be 
 added) who were ready to meet the materialist on his own ground, 
 and to dislodge him from his strongest positions. 
 
 III. While France, at the beginning of the century, was devoted 
 to the sensational hypothesis, the ne^hboring soil of Germany was 
 cherishing a most profound idealism. We may next mention, 
 therefore, one or two French authors, who, from residence in Ger- 
 many, imbibed the foreign philosophy, and who sought to extend 
 the knowledge of it to their own country. The name of Villers is 
 well known in this country, as the French expositor of Kant's 
 "Critick of Pure Reason." Passing by those, iiowevcr. who have 
 merely distinguished themselves by expounding the views of others, 
 we may mention one or two writers who have followed a more in- 
 dependent course in advocating their philosophical opinions. 
 
 First, we shall refer to the Baron Massias, some time Consul- 
 General at Hamburg, and afterwards Charge d'Aflliires at Berlin. 
 In this author we recognize a mind which, during a long course of
 
 682 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 years, has devoted itself with persevering and untiring energy to 
 the study of philosophy. As a writer, he may not appear so at- 
 tractive as many others, his style aiming rather at expressing his 
 own thoughts, and embodying his own individuality, than adapting 
 itself to the public mind ; but it is impossible not to remark in it a 
 great integrity of purpose, and an unbiassed love of truth. His 
 chief work is an elaborate production of five volumes, entitled 
 " Rapports de I'Homme a la Nature, et de la Nature a I'Homme," 
 in which he discusses a vast number of questions, touching upon 
 almost all branches of philosophy. 
 
 The Baron explains the whole phenomena of humanity under 
 the three facts of instinct, intelligence and life. Instinct is the 
 foundation of our very existence — that which guides and preserves 
 our life in all its primitive and most essential functions. Intelli- 
 gence is that which peculiarly distinguishes man as a moral agent ; 
 and, lastly, life, as developed in humanity, is that which results from 
 the harmonious combination both of instinct and of intelligence. 
 Without instinct, man would not live at all ; without intelligence, 
 he would not live morally ; under the influence of both together, he 
 lives for the accomplishment of the great end of his being. In a 
 similar strain our author discourses on the world, and on God, its 
 first cause. " He regards the whole creation," says M. Damiron, 
 " as a great drama. The mysterious and divine poet who has con- 
 ceived it, and put it into play, shows himself to no one : he is not 
 here rather than there ; he was not 3^esterday more than to-day ; 
 but everywhere and always he makes himself felt. He does not 
 unveil, and yet he proves himself; and, without developing himself 
 intimately, he makes himself known by signs and reveals himself in 
 symbols. This, he considers, if not enough for our curiosity, ought 
 to be enough for our reason." 
 
 In 1830, M. Massias published another work, entitled " Traite 
 de Philosophic Psycho-Physiologique," in which he has developed 
 the same views as those which are scattered throughout his larger 
 work, with a more particular reference to the physiology of the 
 mind. In addition to this, he has published two controversial 
 pamphlets in opposition to M. Broussais, in which he defends his 
 opinions with much warmth and vigor against the materialism 
 maintained by that author. In fine, though we cannot term M. 
 Massias a professed adherent of eclecticism, yet in many points he 
 coincides fully with their opinions, and has ever been a zealous co-
 
 COLLATERAL BRANCHES. 683 
 
 operator with them in subverting the principles of the sensational 
 school. 
 
 Another French author who comes still nearer to the spirit of 
 eclecticism, is M. Ancillon, formerly French Protestant preacher 
 at Berlin, afterwards professor of philosophy at the Military Acad- 
 emy there, and finally minister of foreign affairs to the King of 
 Prussia. M. Ancillon commenced his authorship, ia the depart- 
 ment of literature and philosophy, so far back as the ye:ir 1801 ;* 
 and appeared before the public from time to time almost to the pe- 
 riod of his death, which took place in 1837. His three principal 
 publications consist of essays and miscellanies, comprising many 
 subjects connected with metaphysics, politics, and general litera- 
 ture. The last work he wrote was an essay upon " Science and 
 Philosophical Faith," in whioh he takes a review of the conflicting 
 opinions of German}^, and points out in what respect the principal 
 philosophers of that country have erred, from taking an imperfect 
 view of the fundamental principles of human knowledge. His own 
 opinions approach most nearly to those of the school of Jacobi, 
 owing to the great stress he lays upon intuitive knowledge, or, as 
 he terms it, philosophical faith. He regards science, indeed, as 
 nothing more than faith developed by reflection, and includes 
 within the circle of this instinctive belief many truths of a purely 
 spiritual nature. Though not an eclectic, in the sense in which 
 that term is applied to the modern spiritualists of France, yet 
 M. Ancillon has displayed the spirit of eclecticism even more fully, 
 perhaps, than some of its professed advocates. Throughout the 
 whole of his career he has been a mediator between extremes, 
 whether in literature, politics, or philosophy ; and one of his works, 
 indeed, (written originally in the German language.) was published 
 with this precise object in view. Although it is the opinion of 
 many, that M. Ancillon is far from profound in the strictures he 
 has made on the German philosophy, and the expositions he has 
 offered of its principal doctrines, yet we should hardly supi)ose that 
 there can be any other author (^T. Cousin excepted) to whom the 
 French public owe so many valuable thoni^hts from the German 
 literature and philosophy, or any (^ther who has had so direct an 
 influence in rendering the princijiles of a cahu and spiritual phi- 
 losophy familiar to their minds. 
 
 • His " Melancrps de Littcrature et de Philosopliic" were pulilished nt Berlin in IHOI ; 
 and a second edition in Paris, in 1809. The " Kssai.s Philoso|)lii()U<'s, ou Noiiveaux 
 Melanges," appeared in 1H17; and the '• Noiivea\ix Tss.us" in IS-JJ. .Some years 
 later he published a work, entitled " Muiliateur dcs ExlrAnies en Politique ct en Littcr- 
 ature ;" and in 1830, appeared his last labor, " Sur la Science ct la Foi."
 
 684 xMODERN PHILOSOPHY. jj 
 
 1 
 
 IV. In rendering an account of the various influences that have 
 borne upon the modern philosophy of France, we must not over- 
 look those which have emanated from Switzerland. From its geo- 
 graphical situation, and, as it regards most of its inhabitants, from 
 a community of language, Switzerland has necessarily stood in 
 close relationship with Germany. On the other hand, that portion 
 of the country which uses the French language, and of which we 
 may regard Geneva as virtually the centre, has been almost as 
 closely united to Scotland, both by religious sympathies and his- 
 torical recollections. As a proof of this, be it remembered that 
 the philosophy of Reid and Stewart found there its first asylum on 
 the Continent of Europe. Amidst all the predominant French in- 
 fluence, therefore, which Switzerland experienced at the time of 
 the Revolution, there was ever mingled an under-current of op- 
 posing thoughts and feelings, arising from the Scottish philosophy 
 on the one hand, and the German idealism on the other. Notwith- 
 standing the strong sensational tendency manifested by Bonnet 
 (one of the first metaphysicians of Switzerland during the last cen- 
 tury), we find in such writers as M. Prevost, and even in those who 
 were pupils of Bonnet himself, an extreme readiness to throw off" 
 the fetters of the sensational system in which they were educated, 
 and to adopt the more profound and spiritual conclusions of the 
 Scottish writers. The only author to which we shall now make 
 any distinct reference is M. Bonstetten, in whose works the criti- 
 cal reader will not fail to trace the combined influence of Condil- 
 lac, of Kant, and of Reid. His works consist of two volumes, en- 
 titled " Recherches sur rimagination," published in 1807; and two 
 others, entitled "Etudes de THomme," published in the year 1821 ; 
 in both of which there is manifested the same earnest philosophical 
 spirit, which is so well calculated at once to please and instruct 
 the reader. The chief aim of his writings is to analj'Ze the intel- 
 lectual and active powers, to show the proper sphere in which each 
 of them operates and the ideas to which they give rise. Perhaps 
 he most nearly resembles a pupil of the school of Reid and Stewart, 
 exhibiting much of the same shrewd psychological observation, the 
 same moderation in his aims and purposes, and the same good 
 sense generally, which have ever characterized the Scottish meta- 
 physicians. 
 
 The influence of his works upon France must have been deci- 
 dedly in. favor of eclecticism. Firmly attached to spiritualism on 
 the one hand, and ever ready to borrow light from whatever source
 
 COLLATERAL BRANCHES. 685 
 
 on the other, he clearly sympathized in the main principles for 
 which the eclectic philosophers of that country have stru^Med ; 
 and to him, accordingly, they have appealed, as affording an unbi- 
 assed testimony in favor of their own opinions. M. Bonstetten 
 died in the year 1831, having completed eighty-six years, during 
 the greater part of which he had lived faithful in his devotion to 
 the cause of philosophical truth. 
 
 V. After having noticed the above extraneous sources, from 
 which the eclectic philosophy has received aid and encouragement, 
 we must now conclude by pointing out one or two philosophical 
 writers, purely and exclusively French, who, without strictly ad- 
 hering to eclecticism, have shown their sympathy with the anti- 
 sensational movement of the present day. Among these we should 
 place M. Thurot, who was carried off in the prime of life by the 
 fearful epidemic with which the French capital was so severely 
 visited, in the year 1832. This learned and elegant author had 
 published, shortly before his death, a work, in two volumes, entitled 
 *' De I'Entendement et de la Raison." By the understanding he 
 means the intellectual faculty generally ; by the reason he signifies 
 merely the proper use and employment of our faculties. The gen- 
 eral character of the work is almost entirely psychological. It 
 treats, first, of knowledge as derived from jierception ; then, of 
 knowledge in relation to language ; thirdly, of the power of the 
 will ; and, lastly, of the moral faculty. The author does not enter, 
 to any extent, into the deeper questions of ontology, nor does he 
 discuss at any length the spirituality of the mind. It is evident, 
 however, that his own views are decidedly opposed to materialism ; 
 and were we called upon to class him under any school, we should 
 say, as we did of M. Bonstetten, that in his habits of psychological 
 observation, and the general tone of his philosophical writings, he 
 might best pass as a follower of the Scottish school of intellectual 
 phibsophy. M. Thurot was a friend and disciple of M. Laromi- 
 guiere, and we may reckon him, therefore, as belonging to the 
 eclectic school in that particular stage of its progress. 
 
 Another philosophical writer of the same class is M. Cardaillac, 
 author of a work entitled " fitudes elementaires de Philosophie." 
 In this work we see simply a somewhat furtlicr development of the 
 philosophy of M. Laromiguiere, in which the i)rincipal defects of that 
 author are supplied, and some of his cruder views matured. Like 
 M. Thurot, he is clearly opposed to sensationalism, and may be re-
 
 686 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 garded as no mean coadjutor, though not a decided adherent of 
 modern eclecticism. 
 
 Among the most prominent and most voluminous writers of 
 France, at the present time, stands M. Lerminier, professor of 
 philosophy at the College of France. A succession of works upon 
 the philosophy of jurisprudence, and upon the history of metaphys- 
 ical systems in different countries, written with great brilliancy of 
 style and vigor of mind, have achieved for him a reputation, which, 
 if it may not prove to be perennial, yet at least sheds some glory 
 around his name as an author and a philosopher. M. Lerminier 
 has united himself to no school, and perhaps his opinions are not 
 very clearly defined. Of sensational principles, however, he has 
 ever shown himself a stern opponent ; and although he has far more 
 sympathy with the spirit of eclecticism as now developed in France, 
 yet he has thrown out even against it some bold and vigorous ob- 
 jections. His aim appears to be to hold up the necessity of found- 
 ing a native philosophy in France ; which, though grounded upon the 
 nature and authority of the human mind, shall contemplate it in its 
 historical development, as achieving for itself new conquests in the 
 departments of art, of science, of politics, of social institutions, 
 and of religion. In brief, M. Lerminier having well mastered the 
 main principles of the German philosophy, and being evidently im- 
 pressed with the validity of many of its researches, would unite 
 with its results the idea of progress, as proclaimed by the historical 
 school of France, and thus combine the deep metaphysics of the 
 one with the traditional and progressive light of the other.* 
 
 We have thus briefly passed under review a number of meta- 
 physical writers, (to which several more might have been added,) 
 who, though not professing eclecticism, yet have taken their part 
 in the reformation of the French philosophy. Our chief object in 
 doing so has been, not so much to make our readers acquainted 
 with their particular views, (which could not be satisfactorily done 
 in a mere manual,) as to show that the reaction in France against 
 the materialistic school of the last century, has been more general 
 and more decided than is frequently imagined. All this multiplicity 
 of antagonism, which the bold assumption of the sensational writers 
 
 * The principal works of M. Lerminier are a " Philosophie du Droit," 2 vols. 8vo, 
 Par. 1831 ; ■' Etudes d'Histoire de Philosophie." Par. 1836; '• Cours d'Histoire des Le^ 
 gislations comparee," Par. 1837 ; together with some minor works principally on the 
 German philosophy, of which the most interesting, as for as I have read them, is that 
 entitled " Au dela du Rhin."
 
 COLLATERAL BRANCHES. G87 
 
 called forth, has, in fact, only tended to encourage and develop the 
 spirit of eclecticism, in its more recent and energetic form. 
 
 We venture to predict, that there is no school of philosophy that 
 has arisen since the revival of literature in Europe, which is likely 
 to leave broader traces behind it, and play a more important part 
 in the development of the human mind, than is that to which this 
 chapter has been devoted. In point of originality, it must doubt- 
 less yield the palm to the idealism of Germany ; but as in other 
 branches of learning, so also in philosophy, Germany seems destined 
 to afford the material, which the more skilful and adroit minds of 
 England and France are to employ for the enlightenment and ad- 
 vancement of the great mass of humanity. Modern eclecticism, 
 though but of a few years' growth, has already begun to put forth 
 its vigor in many parts of the world. In addition to its having 
 succeeded in arousing France from the torpor of its extreme ma- 
 terialism — in addition to its having reinfused into that great people 
 a fresh taste for spiritual, and even religious ideas — it has crossed 
 the Atlantic, and founded, in America, a colony wiiich bids fair to 
 embrace and direct all the metaphysical tendencies ol" the New 
 World. England, moreover, is now beginning to appreciate the 
 labors of modern eclecticism ; and if we are destined, ere long, to 
 awake from the slumber, with which, as far as philosophy is con- 
 cerned, we have now, for many years past, been oppressed, we 
 must look to the spiritual movement of France as the chief source 
 from which our new life is to be derived. Already can we trace 
 its influence upon some of the most popular and most metaphysical 
 of our writers ; and we trust that, ere long, we may see the ele- 
 ments of a new school of philosophy on this side the Channel, 
 which may emulate France in those points which are most worthy 
 our imitation. 
 
 In estimating the merits of the eclectic school, care should be 
 taken not to confound it with that paltry attemjit at philosopliizing, 
 which, for want of any decided views whatever, puts together a 
 misshapen and incoherent mass of other men's opinions. Eclecti- 
 cism, as now advocated and understood, takes in a range of inves- 
 tigation, wide as i)hilosophy itself Philosojihy has a history in the 
 .world, as well as humanity ; and the true eclectic simply aims at 
 studying it in its historical development. He regards the human 
 reason as a germ, which has been ever unt(»lding. and is dcsii ud 
 yet to unfold, so long as the purposes of providence respecting 
 mankind go on to accomplish themselves upon the stage of human
 
 688 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 life. It is true, tnat we find tlie same great questions produced 
 and reproduced, the same systems sinking and rising again, the 
 same problems ever solving, and yet to be solved. Still, with all 
 this, there has been a gradual progress in the development of truth 
 in the world ; so that, instead of rejecting all the labors of those 
 great minds which have preceded us in the domains of philosophy, 
 and beginning to build a new edifice for each succeeding genera- 
 tion, it does appear to us both right and necessary to stand upon 
 the elevation already attained, and to strive to add our portion, 
 small as it may be,. to the erection of the edifice of philosophical 
 truth. This is the spirit of eclecticism — a philosophy which, un- 
 der the influence of meagre erudition, may, it is true, easily dwin- 
 dle down to absolute insignificance ; but which, under the guidance 
 of sound learning and intellectual power, promises the richest har- 
 vest to the patient and vigorous laborer.* 
 
 * Vid. Appendix, Note H,
 
 PART III. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ON THE TENDENCIES OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE NINETEENTH 
 
 CENTURY. 
 
 We have now completed the primary object we had in -> iew ; 
 namely, to portray the broader characteristics which the specula- 
 tive philosophy of the nineteenth century has already assumed. 
 Before we close the subject, however, and bring our labor to its 
 termination, we have thought it might add somewhat to the com- 
 pleteness of the sketch, were we to occupy a few pages in eluci- 
 dating the tendencies of the different systems which have been 
 discussed. 
 
 By the tendencies of a metaphysical system, we mean the whole 
 mass of ultimate consequences, which can be fairly and logically 
 drawn from its acknowledged principles. These consequences, it 
 must be remembered, are not always seen in the simple doctrines 
 it maintains, or in the objects which it professes to aim at ; very 
 frequently, we find it giving rise to sentiments, which were sup- 
 posed altogether foreign from its original principles, and accom- 
 plishing ends, at first by no means contemplated. Philosdphical 
 ideas are mighty and pregnant germs, which may expand almost 
 to infinity ; and often, it is no more possible to say, at once, what 
 lies potentially in a given principle, than it would be to jiredict, 
 from the appearance of some strange root or seed, of what kind is 
 the plant which it will eventually produce. 
 
 In order, then, to understand what the tendencies of any .system 
 of philosophy really are, there are two methods which may be em- 
 ployed for the purpose ; the one is the method of deduction, the 
 other, of observation — the former being an a priori, the latter an 
 a posteriori process. In emploving the deductive method, our aim 
 
 44
 
 690 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 is to unfold the consequences which he hidden in any given prin- 
 ciples, by logical reasoning. This is, in fact, what almost all spec- 
 ulative philosophy aims at. The germs of all abstract truth exist, 
 virtually, in every rational mind, only in a crude and undeveloped 
 state ; and it is for philosophy to make us reflectively conscious of 
 what these germs really contain. The whole history of philos- 
 ophy, indeed, is but the history of the successive attempts which 
 have been made to decipher the characters engraven by Deity 
 upon the tablet of the human soul. To comprehend, therefore, 
 the tendencies of any principles a priori, we, must reason or phi- 
 losophize upon them, until the thought they contain is expanded 
 and realized. In employing, on the other hand, the a posteriori 
 method, all we have to do, is to note down the effects, which his- 
 tory or personal observation show to have actually arisen from the 
 principles in question. This experimental process is often neces- 
 sary, to confirm or verify the conclusions of our a priori reason- 
 ing ; and it is when both methods are employed in conjunction, 
 that the clearest and fullest results are obtained. 
 
 But there is another thought, on which we must lay some stress, 
 in connection with the tendencies of philosophy ; namely, that to 
 estimate the effects of abstract principles aright, we must not con- 
 fine our view simply to the metaphysical theories they involve. 
 Metaphysical ideas exert a vast influence out of the region of philoso- 
 phy itself; and it is in these, their indirect and collateral bearings, 
 that their true tendencies are most readily observed. The precise 
 object, then, which we have before us in the present chapter, is to 
 look at the four generic systems, whose characteristics we have 
 already portrayed, in connection with some of those other spheres 
 of human thought and activit}^ upon which their influence is most 
 observable. This, it will be seen, has an important bearing upon 
 the future. If, by logical reasoning, aided by past experience, we 
 are able to unfold the natural effects of these different schools of 
 philosophy, upon questions of great practical moment, in society at 
 large, we have, in fact, the key by which to interpret at once their 
 present tendencies, and their future influence upon the coming his- 
 tory of mankind. 
 
 The next point to be considered is, — What spheres of human 
 thought and activity might be best adduced, as exemplifying the 
 tendencies of philosophical systems ? Here, of course, a wide field 
 of observation opens itself before us. Literature, art, government, 
 history — almost every branch of human research, might be regard-
 
 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 691 
 
 ed, one after the other, as modelled upon the type of certain funda- 
 mental conceptions, and varying, just in proportion as those con- 
 ceptions vary. In order, however, to bring our remarks within a 
 closer compass, we shall select for illustration three of the prov- 
 inces of man's mental activity, in which the working of philo- 
 sophical ideas is more direct and apparent ; and these are the re- 
 spective provinces of Science, Legislation, and Religion. 
 
 First, then, we say, that the tendency of abstract philosophy 
 may be seen, by its effect upon the progress of scientific investiga- 
 tion. Nothing can be more erroneous than the supposition, that 
 the pursuit of physical science lies entirely without the range of 
 abstract thinking, or that it consists wholly in the collection and 
 classification of facts. Facts alone can never create science. 
 They may furnish, it is true, the data on which it rests ; but 
 science, properly so called, only results, when these facts are con- 
 sciously grounded in some conception^ and tend to educe some 
 general principle. The facts of mathematical science, for exam- 
 ple, rest ultimately upon the pure conceptions, either of number or 
 space ; those of natural philosophy, upon the idea of causality ; 
 those of physiology, upon the notion of life ; and so, in every 
 instance, there is some thought, from which each particular branch 
 of investigation springs, as well as some general law or principle, 
 at which it aims. For science, then, to advance, it is just as neces- 
 sary that these abstract conceptions should be made clear and dis- 
 tinct, as that facts should be collected ; and while the latter process 
 requires the constant aid of observation and experiment, the former 
 can only be finally accomplished by a well cultivated and philo- 
 sophical habit of thinking. Science is as much indebted to those 
 who have expounded its nature, its conceptions, and its method, as 
 to those who have collected its actual data. It was Bacon's meta- 
 physical genius, for example, which turned the stream of physical 
 investigation into the right channel ; which laid open the true 
 method, by which it should be conducted ; and which enabled 
 mankind to recover, in three centuries, the loss of labor they had 
 sustained during two thousand years previous. Generally, then, 
 we may say, that in proportion as philosophy has succeeded in 
 clearing our conceptions, the facts of observation become so much 
 the more available for the construction of science. 
 
 Again, — the tendency of philosophical systems is seen in their 
 influence upon the principles of legislation. Society is humanity 
 in its natural combination ; and according to our estimate of what
 
 692 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. || 
 
 the fundamental laws, wants, and characteristics generally of 
 human nature are, will be the principles of government, which are 
 seen to be adapted to it. The statesman, who legislates for man 
 as nothing more than a superior animal, will follow a very differ- 
 ent course in the application of his authority, from one who feels, 
 that our humanity is Divine, and can only thrive under the shadow ' 
 
 of eternal justice, rectitude, and truth. The sensational moralist, 
 as a legislator, will seek to satisfy our corporal desires and appetites 
 at whatever cost ; the spiritual moralist, as a legislator, will seek 
 first to respect and to nurture the freedom, the justice, the moral 
 dignity, from which all true rational greatness must spring. 
 
 Thirdly, — it is hardly necessary to make any preliminary re- 
 marks upon the manner in which philosophical ideas influence our 
 theological creed and our religious practice. If it be true that the 
 foundation of theology is found in the laws of our reason, and the 
 witness they bear to the being of a God ; if it be true, that the 
 germ of the religious life is cradled in the affections of our nature ; 
 if it be true, that the human intellect must decide upon the authen- 
 ticity of a Divine revelation, and interpret the documents by 
 which it is conveyed to us ; — then it becomes evident, that the 
 conclusions of philosophy upon the validity of reason and the na- 
 ture of the affections, must intimately affect the whole region of 
 theology itself. With these few preliminary observations, then, we 
 shall proceed at once to the particular object of the present chap- 
 ter, namely, to point out, as far as we may be able, the respective 
 tendencies of the different systems of philosophy which prevail in, 
 this our nineteenth century. 
 
 Sect. I. — On the Tendencies of Modern Sensationalism. 
 
 The first or lowest step of sensationalism is that which teaches 
 us to attach an undue importance to the intimations of the senses : 
 the extreme development of it is, to symbolize everything with the 
 material ; to make the soul synonymous with the brain, and God 
 but the abstraction of nature. Between these two points there is 
 an infinite number of positions, which can be held by minds of a 
 sensational tendency ; and an infinite number of applications of the 
 views thus maintained. 
 
 A. According, then, to our proposed plan, we shall first notice 
 the tendency of sensationalism within the domain of physical sci-
 
 TENDENCIES OF SENSATIONALISM. 
 
 ence. Now, physical science, being an expansion of the funda- 
 mental idea of nature, is one of the most necessary products of a 
 sensational age. Physics, however, are not always regarded in 
 one and the same point of view, either in respect to their nature 
 or their objects : they have always had their deeper and more re- 
 condite, as well as their more superficial movement. While, on the 
 one hand, they may simply include the most commonplace obser- 
 vation of facts, yet they may reach, on the other hand, the highest 
 degree of scientific abstraction. Starting with a simple classifica- 
 tion of palpable phenomena, they may acquire progressively more 
 and more generality ; until, from being a science of simple obser- 
 vation, they become at length, to a great extent, one of purely ra- 
 tional deduction. The known laws of the heavenly bodies were 
 first included in the scanty observations of the Chaldsean shepherd ; 
 now they are reduced to the abstract doctrine of forces ; this doc- 
 trine itself, too, reposing upon the still more abstract and recondite 
 conceptions of power and motion. 
 
 Hence, we may observe the difference that will manifest itself 
 between the science of an objective and that of a subjective 
 age. The former will strive to create an empirical picture of the 
 universe ; it will add fact to fact, and phenomenon to phenomenon, 
 until the whole machinery of nature, which is open to the outward 
 observer, shall have been described. The latter, on the contrary, 
 will be ever searching either into i\\e forces by which the world is 
 governed, endeavoring to generalize them to their highest degree, 
 and seeking to reduce them to their most abstract form ; or, into 
 the ends, towards which all the phenomena of nature are ever 
 pointing. The one will investigate chiefly the matter of our 
 knowledge, the other will investigate the form ; the one will col- 
 lect the facts, the other will explain the conceptions in which those 
 facts are o-rounded ; the one will inquire little after the First Cause, 
 as lying beyond the range of sensible observation ; the other will 
 attempt to conceive how all creation has flowed forth from the 
 prime creating mind ; the one will look upon all things simply as 
 facts, the other will view them in relation to their eternal pur- 
 poses. 
 
 Now, although the rash spirit of the French Encyclopaedist has 
 happily disappeared, yet various indications still exist, in difierent 
 parts of Europe, of such a sensational tendency in the investiga- 
 tions of physical science. Some of these indications are observ- 
 able in the department of general physics, others more especially 
 
 «^
 
 694 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 in that of physiology. To distinguish these tendencies of modern 
 sensationalism from each other, we may call the former its cosmo- 
 logical, the latter its physiological tendencies. 
 
 First, then, sensationalism in its cosmological tendencies always 
 evinces a disposition more or less decisive to erect the idea of na- 
 ture over that of God ; that is, to merge the notion of a final cause 
 in the totality of secondary causes around us. So it is in the pres- 
 ent day. France, England, Germany, all three rivals to each 
 other in the discoveries of science, have each given recent mani- 
 festations of the still powerful influence of empiricism within the 
 domain of natural philosophy. France, as might have been sup- 
 posed, has led the way. Not many years have elapsed since 
 M. Comte poured forth his startling doctrines upon the world, and 
 attempted to persuade mankind that this glorious universe which 
 we exhibit, has come into being by the spontaneous working of 
 mechanical laws. 
 
 In our own country, and far more recently, the scientific world 
 has been thrown into commotion by the anonymous appearance of 
 the " Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation." In this work, 
 we have a very plausible, though a very imperfectly sustained ef- 
 fort of empiricism, to explain the process of creation. God is here 
 placed at some immeasurable distance from the universe, while it 
 is left to proceed onwards in its process of self-development, and 
 to bring all its multifarious phenomena into being, by virtue of 
 certain laws originally impressed upon it. The theory, stripped of 
 all its adornments, is this : — That it is possible, one vast universe 
 of nebula being granted, to trace the whole method by which it 
 has assumed its present form, with all its endless diversities, through 
 the medium of the physical laws now seen to he in operation. It is 
 true, that the a posteriori argument for the being of God is not 
 materially affected by this system, supposing it to be true, because 
 law must have a creator and a designer, as well as the most fully 
 developed existences : but the general impression of the theory is 
 one which leads us to exclude Deity from any immediate connec- 
 tion with, or interest in, the universe he has made. 
 
 Such an effect, however, we are far from thinking rationally de- 
 duced, even on the supposition that the physical processes and 
 laws, which the author attempts to make out, were fairly estab- 
 lished. Laws, after all, are merely abstractions ; the power itself 
 which works in them is still Divine ; so that, should the process, 
 by which everj^thing comes into being, be at length explained, the
 
 TENDENCIES OF SENSATIONALISM. 695 
 
 proper influence, so far from excluding Deity, would be only to 
 make us more than ever cognizant of the immediate workings of 
 the Divine hand around us. The whole theory has emanated, as 
 it appears to us, from a mind in which the idea of nature has ob- 
 tained the great predominance over our other fundamental concep- 
 tions, in which the power of intelligent mind is sunk in the vacrue 
 notion of law ; and in whicn, as a natural consequence, Provi- 
 dence (that is, the presence of the mind of God in the world) is re- 
 duced almost, if not altogether, to a nonentity. Those who would 
 further investigate the conclusions of this remarkable work, con- 
 clusions so plausibly supported and so eloquently drawn, should not 
 forbear to read the article in the " Edinburgh Review," in which 
 the scientific accuracy of the unknown author is probed with the 
 hand of a master, and his theory estimated with great acuteness. 
 
 Since the publication, we may remark, of several works of a 
 somewhat similar tendency, (of which " Combe's Constitution of 
 Man" may be taken as a fair specimen.) it has become by no means 
 uncommon with many besides the author of th* " Vestiges," to push 
 aside the doctrine of Providence as a thing altogether exploded. 
 Now we are quite ready to admit that the common idea of Provi- 
 dence has had many absurdities clinging around it, and that such 
 works as the above have brought many truths respecting the influ- 
 ence of the natural laws to light, which had been too much over- 
 looked. But here unfortunately we find, as in most other instances, 
 that a principle, when once applied with success, is apt to be gen- 
 eralized altogether beyond its legitimate extent ; and that a true 
 idea, once too eagerly grasped, is sure to 1)l' worked threadbare 
 before it is fairly dismissed. The fact that God operates by the 
 medium of natural laws, does not, in the least, crclude the idea of 
 providential interposition or superintendence. What are the nat- 
 ural laws after all ? They are not real existences. They merely 
 express modes of the^icine operation, which wc are able to trace 
 in the world around us. That God operates in these modes does 
 not imply that he operates in no other ; nor does the fact that an 
 event takes place by some secondary agency, exclude it from a 
 specific participation in the Divine plan as a whole. 
 
 Let us assume a case for example. Sujjpose a man, by some 
 act of imprudence, to contract a disease, and hasten on his death. 
 One says, in contemplating the scene, it is a dispensation of Provi- 
 dence. Not at all, says another, it is the natural eflecl of the laws 
 which he foolishly violated. We rejoin, however, (hut it is both.
 
 696 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The man broke the law, and paid the penalty ; but every thought, 
 every purpose, every action, every circumstance, in a word, which 
 influenced that man's life, and led him at length into the fatal reso- 
 lution under which he fell, has depended upon a succession of agen- 
 cies reaching back even to his infancy ; and these agencies, be it 
 remembered, all belong to the region of God's moral government. 
 We do not say that they are fixed by a stern necessity, since that 
 would destroy the notion of human liberty, but they are all under 
 the moral control of Deity from first to last, so that the penalty 
 which seems at first to be simply the result of breaking a natural 
 law, is really an effect of that providential power which governs the 
 world. Human things may appear to the unthinking to be abso- 
 lutely controlled by the fixed laws of our being ; but if we look 
 beneath the surface, we see the hand of God moving all the springs, 
 and making every event, even those arising from our free agency 
 itself, contribute to the development of his purposes. 
 
 How marvellous an exemplification does history give us of the 
 manner in which hifman agency is blended with Divine Providence ! 
 The sum and substance of the world's history is but the aggregate 
 of the voluntary actions of mankind upon the stage of human life. 
 Whilst, however, this is the case, yet God himself has composed 
 the drama ; it is he that framed the law of human progress ; he that 
 brings about its accomplishment by actions which to us, indeed, 
 are voluntary, but which, notwithstanding, form a part of his own 
 great plan from all eternity. To the man who looks unbelievingly 
 upon Divine Providence, the world's history is a problem that can 
 never be solved. 
 
 It is not only in France and England, however, that we find the 
 influence of sensationalism within the department of natural phi- 
 losophy. Germany, too, which has recently been making great 
 progress in physical research, has just given rise to a work of ex- 
 traordinary popularity, which stands forth j§ bold contrast to the 
 rationalistic systems for which that country has been famed ; I 
 mean the " Cosmos" of the Baron von Humboldt. Little more, 
 perhaps, could be observed with justice respecting the sensational 
 tendency of this work, than the total rejection which the author in- 
 dicates of all attempts to form an a priori explanation of the laws 
 of the universe, and the purely objective course which he follows 
 in all his own researches. We see throughout the whole the traces 
 of a mind in which the observing powers are wonderfully active, 
 while the eye by which we were designed to gaze upon the super-
 
 TENDENCIES OF SENSATIONALISM. 697 
 
 sensual and spiritual world has, comparatively speaking, grown dim. 
 The value of the facts which are brought forward by the baron is, 
 of course, not at all affected by this objective manner of viewing 
 them ; the only thing to be wished were that the learned author had 
 gained some idea of assigning their ends, and of tracing them up to 
 their Divine and spiritual source. On this point, however, his lan- 
 guage is anything but satisfactory. " In submitting," he remarks, 
 " physical phenomena and historical events to the exercise of the 
 reflective faculty, and in ascending, by reasoning, to their causes, 
 we become more and more penetrated by that ancient belief, that 
 the forces inherent in matter and those regulating the moral world 
 exert their action under the presence o^ di, primordial necessity, and 
 according to movements periodically renewed at longer or sho'rter 
 intervals." And, again, he says, " True to the character of my 
 earUer writings, and to the nature of my occupations, I confine 
 myself strictly to empirical considerations. This is the only ground 
 upon which I feel myself competent to move without sense of 
 insecurity." And so this is the end of a long life's search into 
 the wonders and glories of nature — either to hover in doubt and 
 insecurity around the idea of a primordial necessity, or to entertain 
 that of a godless universe. Thus it is, while the spiritual eye and 
 the higher reason can see God all around, the sensational theorist, 
 forever immersed in the "dark windings of the material and the 
 earthy," gradually loses all perception of the infinite and the Di- 
 vine. Here, as everywhere, the error of sensationalism in the de- 
 partment of natural philosophy is one of defect ; the observer is 
 impelled onwards to an unlimited extent in the collection of data, 
 but he stops short in his investigation ere he has attempted to trace 
 them to their first cause, or to realize the manner in which the 
 material is all cradled and embosomed in the spiritual. 
 
 So far, then, we notice the present aspect of sensationalism in 
 its cosmological tendency ; we now add a few words resi^ecting 
 its physiological tendency. Here, as in the last case, the gross 
 materialism of the French sensational school is at present com- 
 paratively seldom met with. Few will at present attempt to ar- 
 gue, like Cabanis, that all intelligence consists in sensation, and 
 that all sensation resides in the nerves; the bolder assumptions of 
 this system consequently have been fairly controverted and over- 
 thrown. Whilst, however, the system as a whole has been re- 
 futed, yet the same doctrine under another form virtually lives on, 
 in that peculiar school of cerebral physiology, which has adopted
 
 '? 
 
 698 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 extreme phrenological principles. In this view of the case, ma- 
 terialism has far greater plausibility. The theory of Cabanis was 
 not built upon any true idea. It was an enormous error to assert, 
 that all intelligence is but a form of sensation ; and not less so, to 
 suppose that sensation resides in the nerves ; but the materialism 
 of the ultra-phrenologists is grounded upon a true idea, namely, 
 that cerebral development is inseparably connected (as we are 
 now constituted) with mental manifestation. Let the notion of 
 efficient causes be rejected ; let simple antecedence and conse- 
 quence be regarded as the whole process of causation ; and from 
 the phrenological hypothesis materialism necessarily results. The 
 argument lies in a small compass. Here is the antecedent on the 
 one hand, namely, cerebral excitement ; here is the consequent on 
 the other, mental manifestation. What need have we of any link 
 between them, termed mind or spirit ? The whole process is com- 
 plete without it. The reply to this is a simple one, namely, that 
 all causation implies power or force ; that power, wherever ex- 
 erted or through whatever medium, is an immaterial thing ; much 
 more so, that wondrous power of which we are hourly conscious, 
 and which we term mind. The due analysis of the idea we have 
 under the one term power, cuts at the root of all materialism, of 
 whatever nature or complexion it may be. We lay the more 
 stress upon making this analysis aright, and firmly grasping the 
 idea resulting from it, because the present tendency of sensation- 
 alism, in the hands of the phrenologist, is fast bearing us back to 
 the materialism we had disowned, and can only be stayed by up- 
 holding the infinite distinction between the organ or law of any 
 operation on the one hand, and the power which produces it on 
 the other. 
 
 Before we conclude these remarks upon the influence of sensa- 
 tionalism within the department of physics, we must add a word 
 or two respecting its influence upon the rnethod of scientific inves- 
 tigation. It is here that the assistance of philosophy is more im- 
 mediately felt, and more imperatively demanded. Vigorous efforts 
 have been put forth from time to time in our own day, to reduce 
 the laws of induction to a system of definite rules, and base them 
 upon philosophical principles ; and these efforts in every case have 
 been modified by the metaphysical views which the author of them 
 has adopted. The two great writers on the logic of induction, 
 which our age can boast as peculiarly its own, are Professor Whe- 
 well and Mr. Mill, whose works, when put side by side with each
 
 TENDENCIES OF SENSATrONALISM. 699 
 
 other, present a very instructive instance of the manner in which 
 the fundamental principles of philosophy can bear upon the method 
 of scientific research. The former, as we have already seen, is 
 decidedly of an anti-sensational tendency ; and the effect of this is 
 seen in the whole theory he has propounded respecting the con- 
 struction of science.* The latter must bo reckoned as belonging 
 to the sensationalist school. Yet so different in his sensationalism 
 from what we have seen in the French materialist, that we may 
 almost regard him as a proof of the reaction which has set in 
 against their extreme empirical principles. The stress which is 
 laid upon the deductive method, the close, and often admirable 
 analyses which are given of many of our fundamental conceptions, 
 and the whole tone of philosophical thinking by which his " Logic" 
 is characterized, manifest a very different spirit from that of the 
 shallow empiricism of the preceding age. We believe that the 
 method of science in the hands of such analysts is not destined to 
 continue slavishly conformed to the Baconian model, but that it 
 will become more and more deductive, in proportion as the data 
 are enlarged upon which legitimate deduction can proceed. 
 
 B. We advance now to notice the tendencies of sensationalism, 
 as seen in the department of legislation. Many of the philosophers, 
 both of ancient and modern times, who have taken any comprehen- 
 sive views of mental science, have applied their system to the in- 
 vestigation of the fundamental principles of jurisprudence. Seve- 
 ral of our English philosophical writers, for example, from Hobbes 
 downwards, have applied their princijiles to the elucidation of this 
 subject', and a still greater number, perhaps, of the French moral- 
 ists, induced, probably, by the political aspect of their country, 
 have attempted to philosophize upon the grounds of law, govern- 
 ment, and social life. Germany, too, though so much more fixed 
 in its political relations, and so much more given to transcendental 
 researches, yet has not been behindhand in deducing theories of 
 legislation from the different metaphysical systems it has origi- 
 nated. Thus, it is evident, that the various philosophical ideas, 
 which have been in vogue, have had great influence upon the po- 
 litical principles of every age. 
 
 Now, if all human knowledge be reducible to the three funda- 
 mental ideas of self nature, and God, it follows, tiiat every theory 
 of law and government must find its primary conception in one of 
 these notions. On passing the dillercMit tlieories of government 
 
 ♦ See our remarks upon WhcwcU, in tlie section ui>on :^Ioil<rn Englisli Idealism.
 
 700 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 before our view, we find, accordingly, that they admit of a very 
 easy classification, on this principle. Some jurists, for example, 
 regard all law as proceeding from God ; his is the right supreme, 
 and He has delegated a divine right to whomsoever He will, to 
 exercise power and authority in the world. Those, accordingly, 
 to whom this right is granted, are the only proper dispensers of 
 law to man — every human enactment being founded on the Divine 
 will, expressed through them as its appointed organ. Another 
 theory, or, we may say, class of theories, is built upon the inde- 
 structible facts and phenomena of the human mind. Man has the 
 notion of justice ; he sees in every fellow-man the possessor of 
 certain inalienable rights ; and upon these firm moral convictions 
 of the human mind, the social fabric is to be erected. Again, a 
 third hypothesis bases all human legislation upon mere expediency 
 or utility ; moral principle, as a separate ground of legal enact- 
 ment, being discarded, and the outward happiness of the commu- 
 nity being the sole guide, by which the legislator is to be directed 
 in his course. 
 
 Of these three hypotheses, the last is evidently that which would 
 result from a sensational philosophy; the two former would as 
 naturally flow from an idealistic or a mystical system. Sensational 
 ethics affirm, that a thing is right because it is expedient — the 
 ethics of idealism maintain, that it is expedient because it is right. 
 In this, we have presented to us the great question, which stands 
 at the threshold of all morals and all legislation ; and it is accord- 
 ing as the one or other hypothesis is accepted, that the whole com- 
 plexion of the succeeding system will be determined. Let us see 
 how these conclusions are illustrated by the history of the present 
 century. 
 
 No author, in modern times, has advocated the sensational the- 
 ory of morals with so great warmth and vigor as Jeremy Bentham ; 
 it is in the political school of Bentham, therefore, that we are to 
 look for the due influence of sensationalism, as applied to the de- 
 partment of legislation. And what is the doctrine which that 
 school has maintained ? It has maintained, that the sole basis of 
 right is expediency ; that the sole incentive to human action is 
 self-interest; and that all law and all government must proceed 
 upon the supposition, that men will be influenced exclusively by 
 motives of personal advancement. This doctrine, indeed, we must 
 admit, holds a somewhat strong position, from the fact of its em- 
 bodying so large an amount of truth, to counterbalance its great
 
 TENDENCIES OF SENSATIONALISM. 701 
 
 deficiency in principle. No one can deny that self-interest is a 
 very fruitful motive to human action, and that the legislator must 
 keep this in view, in all the details of his legislative arrangements. 
 It was just to this point, therefore, that Bentham directed his chief 
 attention ; and few there are who would be unwilling to accord 
 him his meed of praise, for the many abuses he exposed, and the 
 many sound truths he inculcated. But with all his, we are far from 
 thinking that Bentham rose to the full height of his argument, or 
 rested his primary princijjles upon a right foundation. Legislation, 
 when adapted simply to the outward circumstances of the com- 
 munity, and springing from the morals of self-interest, may, at first 
 sight, appear very popular in its results ; but, with all this, it is for- 
 gotten, that men are by far the most powerfully moved by educa- 
 tional, moral, and spiritual motives, and that, while immediate 
 abuses can be kept off" by an external policy, yet the true great- 
 ness, happiness, and stability of a country can only be secured by 
 inculcating, by all possible methods, in all institutions, and upon all 
 minds, eternal justice and truth. The principle of expediency, we 
 allow, must not be, by any means, neglected, in legislating for the 
 physical interests of the people ; but expediency becomes a danger 
 and a curse, the moment it fails to take its stand upon the laws of 
 our moral nature, upon the principles of eternal rectitude, between 
 man and man. 
 
 By far the most able advocate of Bentham's school of legislation, 
 in this country, was Mr. James Mill ; and as this acute writer has 
 given us both an " Analysis of the Human Mind," and an " Essay 
 on Government," we can, in his case, trace the influence of a sen- 
 sational philosophy upon the theory of legislation, with much greater 
 ease and distinctness. The whole theory is here seen to flow from 
 the fundamental principle that all our mental phenomena arise from 
 sensation, as their primary source. If this principle be true, then 
 sensation is generically the same as desire ; desire, moreover, is 
 identical with the will. Consequently, all the phenomena of our 
 moral being are but different cases, in which we seek the fulfilment 
 of our desires ; that is, in other words, the gratification of our sen- 
 sitivity. With such a psychology, morals become necessarily of 
 the selfish character; all motives to action must centre in our per- 
 sonal happiness ; and legislation, consequently, must regard man as 
 impelled by no other impulses or principles, in the whole course of 
 his practical life. 
 
 The axiom, that men follow their interest, whenever they know
 
 702 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 it, cannot, we contend, be sustained with any approach to plausi- 
 bility. For what does interest mean ? If it mean the general 
 well-being, the greatest happiness of the greatest number, then we 
 know that many will sacrifice this to their own private ends ; or, 
 if it mean the prominent desire which exists, at any given time, 
 in the mind, then we know that many desire, and feel that tiiey 
 desire, what is not to their interest at all. In the whole of this 
 theory of expediency, whether applied to ethics or legislation, there 
 is an omission of the element of the will, the human personality, 
 with all the moral principles originall)^ impressed upon it. Once 
 regard men as possessors of a moral nature, as impelled or restrained 
 by the voice of conscience, as having the broad distinctions of right 
 and wrong marked out in plain characters upon their very being, 
 and inheriting a freedom of action, by which they can follow vol- 
 untarily the one course or the other ; once regard them, in a word, 
 as having a tribunal of justice within, and convinced of an eternal 
 justice hereafter, and you see before you springs of action more 
 potent than all self-interest, and elements of social life, which must 
 lie at the basis of all true legislation. Sensationalism, wanting in 
 these fundamental ideas and principles, has thrown out upon the 
 public, from time to time, theories of government, as crude in their 
 plan, as Utopian in their execution. Social systems in England, 
 industrial theories on the Continent, and models of republics in both, 
 have been held up for the admiration of the world ; but all, as far 
 as they regard man merely in his external relations, and consider 
 him as the creature of outward circumstances, evince a radical 
 deficiency, which nothing but sounder views of human nature can 
 supply. If the actions of mankind are to be regulated, so as to 
 conduce to the ultimate welfare of the community, then the foun- 
 dation of all such regulations is to be found, not in a calculation of 
 consequences, which, to our short-sightedness, must be infinitely 
 imperfect, but in a clear comprehension of those moral laws, which 
 God himself has formed, as the directories of human action, and the 
 sources of the gradual perfection of human society. 
 
 C. It yet remains to notice the tendency of sensationalism, as 
 exhibited in its bearing upon theology. As all human knowledge 
 rests upon the three notions of nature, mind, and God, it follows, 
 that an intelligence, in which these notions each occupy their due 
 place, and keep up the exact balance which was intended to exist 
 in our mental constitution, must be in the most natural and per- 
 fect state of development. Experience shows us, that if one of 
 
 II
 
 TENDENCIES OF SENSATIOXALISM. 703 
 
 these notions become too prominent, the other two must propor- 
 tionally sink into the shade, until, perchance, their fading hues 
 entirely vanish away. 
 
 Now, theology, in its broadest acceptation, is based upon two 
 of these fundamental notions — those, namely, of mind and of GoH. 
 Accordingly, if the idea of the material, or the visible, become all- 
 predominant in the mind, just in the same proportion, (and that by 
 a fixed law of our nature,) must the thoughts, on which theology 
 is built, become dim, and the theology itself be shallow and incom- 
 plete. Hence it is, that the mind, whose attention is mainly di- 
 rected to external things, experiences a want of intensity in all its 
 religious conceptions, and though speculatively convinced of their 
 truth, yet can never realize them with clearness and with power. 
 On these principles, we can easily estimate the effect of a sensa- 
 tional philosophy upon man's perception of religious truth ; for, 
 just in proportion as- the sensational element becomes more pre- 
 dominant, shall we find elevated and spiritual views, both of God 
 and of man, dying away, until they become at length altogether 
 unappreciated. 
 
 First, let us illustrate the truth of these conclusions, with respect 
 to our theistic conceptions. The unbeclouded reason, in the pres- 
 ent state of man's mental development, conceives of God, as an 
 infinite personality ; to it, the immensity of the Deity does not 
 detract aught from his individuality, as the presiding iiiind, that 
 directs the universe by unerring wisdom and benevolence. Nay, 
 further ; philosophy has not repudiated the existence of those diver- 
 sities in the Divine unity, the reflection of which there is in man 
 himself. The spiritual vision, even of some heathen minds, did 
 not fail to see in the infinite being that blending of unity and plu- 
 rality, which is the type of all perfection ; and to the Christian 
 idealist, the mystery of a Trinity has rarely proved a stone of 
 stumbling, or a rock of offence. But no sooner does reason be- 
 come " immersed in matter," than these conceptions of Deity grow 
 strange and incredible — his personality, as a mind, becomes grad- 
 ually sunk in the general notion of a groat first cause, and his spe- 
 cific moral attributes, in the physical idea of his immensity and 
 infinity. 
 
 Were we called upon to explain the progressive influence of 
 sensationaism upon man's theistic conceptions, we should do so 
 somewhat in the following manner. The first effect is to weaken 
 our perception of the Divine personality ; this, in the second place.
 
 704 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 makes itself apparent by overturning the doctrine of a particular 
 providence ; next, in order to remove the Divine working further 
 away from the world, secondary causes are adduced to explain, not 
 only all the phenomena of nature, but also the direction of human 
 life ; and then, lastly, the process advancing one step further, it 
 begins to be an object of speculation and of doubt whether there 
 be a distinct personality in the Deity or not ; until, at length, the 
 conception of God is entirely blended with that of the order and 
 unity of nature. 
 
 Again, equally decisive is the effect of sensationalism upon the 
 views we have been taught to entertain of man as a creature of 
 God. To the eye of sense a state of moral perfection is something 
 altogether transcendental — the dream of some glowing imagina- 
 tion. To it the present life appears void of any moral perturba- 
 tion ; man needs no redemption from it ; he requires no Divine 
 impulse beyond what exists originally in his own faculties ; and as 
 for immortality, it is a boon which he may long to realize, but the 
 reality of which is by no means clear and certain. In a word, 
 man is to the sensationalist wholly material ; his pleasure on earth 
 is but the result of nervous affections ; and it is hard to give any 
 reason why the capacity of thought itself should not pass away for- 
 ever when the bodily structure is dissolved by death. 
 
 Such, we might predict, would naturally be the dictates of a 
 sensational philosophy ; such, experience tells us, that they actually 
 are. The first real philosopher of more recent times, who advo- 
 cated the doctrines of materialism with zeal and ability, was Dr. 
 Priestley ; and the influence of these doctrines upon his theologi- 
 cal views was plain and undeniable. We see in him a living rep- 
 resentative of the sensational theologian, in the first stage of his 
 progress towards the system we have just described. That this is 
 the tendency of Priestley's Philosophy, as it regards theological 
 opinion, has been granted by many of his own professed followers, 
 both in England and America. Not a few have felt and lamented 
 the want of depth and intensity in spiritual ideas, which the incul- 
 cation of that philosophy gradually superinduced, and, as the best 
 evidence of this conviction, have renounced sensationalism, in 
 order to find in a more spiritual philosophy an antagonist tendency, 
 and a more steady ground of belief in the soul, in immortality, and 
 in God. Wherever sensationalism, however, has gone on, uncon- 
 trolled either by a belief in revelation on the one hand, or the an- 
 tagonism of idealistic doctrines on the other, (a state of things
 
 TENDENCIES OF SENSATIOXALISM. 705 
 
 which we see exemplified in France at the commencement of the 
 present century,) little additional impulse has there been required 
 to draw the deluded minds of its votaries into such an abyss of 
 scepticism as we have already described. 
 
 To go veryj)articularly into this branch of the subject, how- 
 ever, might, we fear, seem to savor of religious partisanship rather 
 than philosophical impartiality. To prevent this, we shall avoid 
 entering into details, and confine ourselves to the assertion of this 
 one fact : that where the study of nature, in its various phenom- 
 ena, occupies the mind's chief attention ; where there is the per- 
 petual attempt to account for everything by some secondary, and 
 that, perchance, a material cause ; where the notion of matter ab- 
 sorbs that of force, and the trains of thought flow habitually to- 
 wards the visible rather than the invisible, there has ever been a 
 weakening of our ideas of God, of providence, of inspiration, of 
 moral perfection, and of immortality hereafter. By the mere 
 force of a mental habit, all our religious conceptions may be di- 
 luted without one of them being formally renounced ; until, at 
 length, the impression of them fades away, and they all sink to- 
 gether into oblivion. 
 
 These assertions, we fear, are exemplified to a very wide extent 
 in the theological life of the present day. England is, at this mo- 
 ment, almost entirely destitute of a spiritual philosophy ; for the 
 few attempts which have been recently put forth to create one, 
 have not as yet made any extensive progress, even amont^st the 
 more thoughtful of the people. Devoid, therefore, of this influ- 
 ence, and absorbed so largely in the practical, the minds, even of 
 the educated classes, have everything to attract them to external 
 interests, and almost nothing to lead them into the regions of deep 
 spiritual reflection. It is useless to urge, in reply to this, that the 
 people have pure religious principles inculcated upon them as a 
 guide to the higher life : for, however pure may be tiie system of 
 religion that is presented, yet, if reflective habits are not formed 
 and nurtured, religion itself will quickly assume the coloring of the 
 medimn through which it is viewed, and ritualism boldly station 
 itself instead of penitence at the confessional, and instead of 
 prayer at the altar ; yea, and will even mount the sacred desk in 
 the place of holy intelligence, to defend a system, instead of con- 
 tending earnestly for truth. 
 
 Ritualism, more or less, prevails in the present age amongst all 
 communities ; a necessary result, indeed, of the absence of a spirit- 
 
 45
 
 706 JIODERN nilLOSOPHY. 
 
 ual philosophy. Even if there be in many cases sincerity enough, 
 yet there is for the most })art too httle of the reflective, too much 
 impatience at thinking beyond the leading-strings of custom or of 
 sense, too weak a capacity of realizing the spiritual, except in 
 name, to resist its chilling encroachments. The tendency of the 
 religious life amongst us is almost always towards outward com- 
 bination. That is to say, men rely upon each other in the battle 
 of good against evil, instead of relying upon the might of truth to 
 conquer the world. Christianity is thought to flourish in propor- 
 tion as we can form societies, raise wealth to maintain them, and 
 call together large masses of minds at once to express their joy, 
 and feed their excitement. Little is it considered that one mind, 
 going forth into the world, with an intense realization of the spirit- 
 ual, armed with the deepest subjective convictions of truth, and 
 cherishing a calm, but piercing faith, instead of a vague educa- 
 tional belief, will do more for the Church and for the world, than a 
 thousand minds valiant only for a system. 
 
 To these convictions many are unquestionably becoming alive. 
 There is, we believe, a }>erception nascent throughout Europe, 
 that Christianity is as yet too much on the surface, and too little 
 absorbed by the intellectual nature of man ; that it has been too 
 much an affair of education and profession, and too little a great 
 necessity for satisfying the reason. As Catholicism was based 
 upon the infallibility of the Church, so Protestantism has been 
 based upon the infallibility of the Creed. Perhaps the next step 
 in the historical development of Christianity may be that, in which 
 both shall rally round the infallibility of absolute and eternal truth 
 as developed in the Christian system, and leave all contention for 
 the temporary and the relative to die away. To such a consum- 
 mation the rise of a spiritual philosophy alone can lead the way. 
 
 Looking around, then, upon the philosophical horizon as a whole, 
 we can hardly fail to see that, in spite of all the objective char- 
 acter of the present age, the star of sensationalism is on the wane. 
 Never had it appeared with such brightness as it did at the close 
 of the last century, and the beginning of the present. In every 
 country, however, the reaction has taken place. Germany is still 
 idealistic ; France has abjured its materialism ; England is becom- 
 ing divided between the philosophy of Scotland and Germany ; 
 and even in America, Locke has become well nigh obsolete. The 
 effects of this reaction are now to be looked for in all the diflferent 
 spheres of mental activity ; and oh, may these pulsations of the
 
 TENDENCIES OF IDEALISM. 707 
 
 great spirit of humanity lead us ever nearer to happiness and to 
 truth. 
 
 Sect. II. — On the Tendencies of Modern Idealism. 
 
 Few unprejudiced minds would now deny that idealism (we use 
 the word in its broadest signification) occupies at present a proud 
 position before the face of Europe. In one form or another it is 
 enthroned in almost all the schools of learning where philosophy is 
 studied. Glasgow and Edinburgh have both come back, with little 
 exception, to the philosophy of Reid ; and seem to be recanting 
 the sensational heresy they began to imbibe under the impressive 
 genius of Brown and Mylne. Cambridge no longer bows to the 
 authority of Locke or Hartley ; but, amidst all its devotedness to 
 physical science, is evincing a manifest sympathy with intellectual 
 philosophy, and clearly indicating that the tendency of many minds 
 is verging towards the spiritual and the ideal In the schools of 
 France the power and energy of eclecticism, as developed in 
 recent times, has turned the ideological system well nigh into a 
 matter of past history ; v/hilst Germany, from Koenigsberg to 
 Basle, is still advocating the most profound systems of idealism. 
 To the attentive observer it is most evident, that there has been 
 infused into European society a stronger faith in the spiritual than 
 existed at the commencement of the present century. The reign 
 of sense has begun to give way to that of reflection ; and it is now 
 at least possible to bring out our thoughts respecting divine and 
 supersensual things, even in a philosophical form, without being 
 met with a smile either of pity or contempt. Literature has 
 caught the radiance of these loftier conceptions, and poetry has 
 found in them a field of delight, hitherto almost untried. Minds 
 which could only relish the stimulating sensualism of Byron begin 
 to feel that there is something which strikes a deeper note to the 
 inmost soul in the poetic philosophy of Wordsworth. The influ- 
 ence of the flesh (to use a scriptural phrase), with its passions and 
 instincts, is yielding to the might of the spirit. We shall j^roceed, 
 therefore, to make a few observations in order to exhibit the pres- 
 ent tendencies of idealism, as evinced in science, legislation, and 
 religion. 
 
 I. And, first, with regard to science. Here the eflect of meta- 
 physical investigations is, perhaps, less readily observed than in
 
 708 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 many other departments of human knowledge. Science depends 
 so much upon empirical observation and experiment, that our atten-' 
 tion is almost certain to be directed to them as the chief agents in 
 its progress. It should not be forgotten, however, that the method 
 of scientific research is owing very little to outward observation, 
 but almost entirely to philosophical thinking ; and that upon the 
 employment of the right method mainly depends all real success. 
 In addition to this, it should also be kept in mind that the funda- 
 mental questions in physics always partake of an abstract or specu- 
 lative character, which can be elucidated by .no empirical process 
 whatever. The influence of idealism, therefore, within the de- 
 partment of science, will be seen chiefly in the improved methods 
 of investigation, and in the more accurate study and fuller eluci- 
 dation of the primary ideas on which science itself is founded. 
 To verify this experimentally, we must see if it be borne out by 
 the facts, which the recent history of science has presented. 
 
 For this purpose let any one compare the writings of our living 
 philosophers with those of the brilliant age of the French Ency- 
 clopaedia, and say whether the contrast in this respect is not at 
 once most obvious. Let him take down a volume of D'Alembert, 
 and after that, one on a similar subject by Whewell, and then ob- 
 serve how much more fully and satisfactorily the latter of the two 
 has probed the primary conceptions of science, and how much 
 more readily he draws inferences of pure reason from outward and 
 visible things. The one generalizes the objects of nature in their 
 external relations, the other traces the phenomena around us to the 
 primary conception, subjectively considered, from which they 
 spring. To the former nature is exactly what it appears to the 
 eye — a stupendous machinery ever proceeding onwards by regular 
 and unerring laws ; to the latter it is a glorious mystery necessa- 
 rily prompting us to the conception of spiritual agencies, which 
 agencies are in fact only the " Indications of the Creator," the va- 
 ried forms in which a divine and spiritual power is diffusing itself 
 through its own immense creation. 
 
 The importance of duly explaining the conceptions of science, 
 and of drawing from the phenomena of the natural world infer- 
 ences respecting the spiritual, is twofold. First, it is of no little 
 value to the right interpretation of the facts which are adduced, 
 that these conceptions should be clearly apprehended. This view 
 of the case has been proved and illustrated by Dr. Whewell, accom- 
 panied with a most copious selection of examples drawn from
 
 TENDENCIES OF IDEALISM. 709 
 
 almost all the branches of natural philosophy. On this point, 
 therefore, we shall not enter more fully at present, but refer the 
 reader to the explanations he will find in the " Philosophy of the 
 Inductive Sciences." But, secondly, apart from all this, the influ- 
 ence of nature upon the human mind, morally considei-ed, is incon- 
 ceivably altered when we view everything around us as replete 
 with life, and that life divine. To our moral instincts, what avails 
 a huge piece of unconscious mechanism, however perfect and har- 
 monious ? The idea of an eternal and irresistible necessity, how- 
 ever it may inspire us with awe, does not strike a single chord of 
 our better feelings. But when this mechanism is recognized as the 
 direct product of a mind, or a personality like our own, when it is 
 regarded as answering some great and beneficent end, as moving 
 ever onwards to some vast destiny ; then, indeed, nature appears 
 no longer dead ; she becomes replete with moral significancy ; she 
 appeals to our deepest sympathies and feelings ; she is the very 
 link that connects us with Deity itself. 
 
 From these observations we form the general conclusion, that 
 the tendency which idealism exhibits in connection with physical 
 science, is to raise the idea of nature above that of mechanism, 
 and to impart to it a life and a soul. Sensationalism views all the 
 phenomena of the universe merely as a dull succession of changes. 
 Idealism views them as the productions of a living agency. By 
 the former, the conception of power as effecting change around us 
 is depressed or disowned ; by the latter, it is raised to the promi- 
 nence which it rightly demands. 
 
 Accordingly, if power be something real (though supersensual) 
 we are almost necessarily led, by an ideal philosophy, to inquire 
 into its origin and nature. The poioers inherent in unorganized 
 masses — the powers of vegetable and animal life — the powers of 
 passion and instinct — the powers of human intelligence — all be- 
 come subjects, not of transcendental speculation, but of philosophi- 
 cal interest. We find, in them, so many secondary causes, more 
 or less closely related to the one great first cause, from ^v^lom all 
 existence is an emanation. And such deductions, it must be ob- 
 served, fall strictly within the compass of science ; they are rational 
 inferences, drawn quite in accordance with the constitution of our 
 own minds, and equally valid, in their origin, with the very axioms 
 upon which induction itself is founded. Thus, by the application 
 of idealism to the elucidation of science, we are introduced into a
 
 710 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 new sphere of discovery, at once of intense interest, and incalcula- 
 ble value. 
 
 In confirmation of these views, we appeal to the words of Sir J. 
 Herschel, at a late meeting of the British Association. " The fact 
 is every year becoming more broadly manifest, by the successive 
 application of scientific principles to subjects that had been hitherto 
 empirically treated, that the great work of Bacon was not the com- 
 pletion, but, as he foresaw and foretold, only the commencement of 
 his own philosophy ; that we are yet only at the threshold of the 
 palace of truth, which succeeding generations will range over as 
 their own ; a world of scientific inquiry, in which, not matter only, 
 and its properties, but the far more rich and complex relations of 
 life and thought, of passion and motive, of interest and action, will 
 come to be regarded as its legitimate objects." 
 
 It is needless to say, that, upon sensational principles, such an 
 extension of the objects of scientific research could never be real- 
 ized ; on idealistic principles, however, it becomes, at length, inev- 
 itable. Although science, therefore, may be cradled in visible and 
 empirical facts, yet, by the aid of reason, it infers the existence of 
 other facts and other agents which lie beyond sense ; and, not con- 
 tent with this, it proceeds onward in its search, until all the secon- 
 dary agencies are seen to converge in one centre, where is their 
 common source, and that centre is God. Such, then, is the ten- 
 dency which idealism exhibits in connection with physical research 
 — a tendency, which is indispensable to the full development of 
 scientific truth, and still more so to its due influence upon the mind 
 of man. 
 
 Great as may be the service of idealism, however, in the depart- 
 ment of natural philosophy, yet it may easily overstep the mark, 
 and transform a science of rigid induction into one of mere hy- 
 pothesis. Its abuse, in this respect, has been quite as frequently 
 experienced in the world, as its proper use ; and we should be far 
 from faithful representers of its full tendencies, were we to pass by 
 these errors unnoticed. The empirical extreme, we have seen, on 
 the one hand, denies that the process of scientific investigation has 
 anything to do, beyond the observation and classification of facts, 
 — the idealistic extreme, on the other, contends that facts may be 
 altogether dispensed with, and that a whole system of natural phi- 
 losophy may be erected upon purely a priori, or rationalistic prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 Schelling's *' Natur-Philosophie," and Hegel's development of
 
 TENDENCIES OP IDEALISM. 711 
 
 the " Dialectic Process," are the most perfect instances we have of 
 this extreme. In both cases there is a bold attempt made to grasp 
 the fundamental law of being, in its most general form ; and then, 
 by logical inference, to construct the universe. The law being 
 either assumed or discovered, or said to be known by intellectual 
 intuition, in the outset, the attempt is made to evolve from it the 
 whole process and the whole product of creation itself. Now we 
 would not deny, indeed, but that reason, when stimulated and 
 directed by facts, may sometimes anticipate the results of induction, 
 and rise, almost by a leap, at some law of nature. It was thus 
 that Goethe, by a priori thinking, enunciated the doctrine of the 
 metamorphosis of plants, and thus, also, that Oken, stumbling on a 
 skull amongst the Hartz mountains, exclaimed, as though by a sud- 
 den flash of thought, that it was vertebrated ; but certain it is, that 
 purely rational systems of physics have failed to give any solid ad- 
 vancement to science, and that they could not even have been 
 constructed, without the knowledge derived from those who have 
 been willing to tread the slow but certain road of observation and 
 experiment. The healthy tendency of idealism is, to give life to 
 nature, by showing God in the midst of his works ; the extreme of 
 this tendency is pantheism — nature absorbed in Deity. Of these 
 two different tendencies, the former is now manifesting itself, both 
 in England and some other countries, gradually widening the 
 bounds of sjcience, and leading to its more recondite researches ; 
 the latter is that which has excited so much attention in Germany, 
 but which now appears to have passed its climax, and commenced 
 its decline. 
 
 2. But we must now leave the walks of science, in order to 
 seek the tendency of idealism, in the more practical department 
 of legislation. We have already adverted to the three possible 
 theories of government, based respectively upon the three funda- 
 mental conceptions of the human mind. Of these three theories, 
 all the systems of mere expediency, however skilfully they may be 
 adapted and expressed, are at once rejected, by 'in idealistic phi- 
 losophy, as hollow and unsound. Idealism says, Man is not a mere 
 animal, seeking the satisfaption of his instincts ; he does not regard 
 corporal pleasure as the sole aim of his existence ; he does not look 
 upon self-interest as the only rule of his conduct, nor upon physical 
 force as the only motive to which we may appeal in matter of 
 government. On the contrary, it protests, that man has a moral 
 nature, cognizant of an eternal justice, whose laws are inviolable ;
 
 712 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 it asserts, that there is a supreme ruler of the world, the principles 
 of whose government are sacred, and against which it is vain for 
 man to vent his nostrums of fancied utility. In a word, it declares 
 that institutions are not to be adjudged right, because they may 
 appear expedient, but that, relying upon the unerring sense of jus- 
 tice which God has implanted in our minds, they are to be adjudged 
 as most assuredly expedient, because they are right.* 
 
 That the idealistic principles of legislation are gaining ground 
 in the present day, we entertain but little doubt. Coleridge (in the 
 "Friend") was one of the first of the modern idealistic writers, 
 who showed the application of a reflective philosophy to the subject 
 of government ; and nowhere, perhaps, do we find the medium 
 between expediency, on the one hand, and the vicious employment 
 of reason, as the source of political institutions, on the other, more 
 clearly pointed out, than in the first four chapters of his section on 
 the principles of political knowledge. Albeit he gave, perhaps, too 
 wide a scope to the doctrine of expediency in his politics, yet his 
 entire rejection of it in the deeper principles of morals, (which are 
 at the basis of all politics,) and the power with which he contended 
 for moral truth, in its application to the exigencies of society, and 
 the wants of human life — all this rendered him a worthy pioneer 
 in the pathway of political reformation. 
 
 In speaking, however, of the politics of idealism, who does not 
 at once turn to the erratic and versatile genius of C gtrlyle ? Let 
 none suppose, that, because the works he has successively presented 
 to the public contain no systematic statement of political princi- 
 ples, therefore there are no specific principles to be gained from 
 them. So far from this, the philosophy of legislation blazes forth 
 from almost every page. Nowhere, perhaps, are the profoundest 
 wants of humanity, in its social state, probed with a firmer yet 
 tenderer hand — nowhere, the true remedies for social evil more 
 clearly pointed out. In saying this, we do not render our unqual- 
 ified assent to all the sentiments he has brought forward on this 
 topic ; — for who could ever do so without almost clothing himself 
 in the author's own individuality ? — but we mean to say, that he 
 has dived down to those deep, and too often hidden sources, at the 
 very heart of human nature, from which all sound principles of 
 legislation must flow, and grasped the true theory of human society. 
 If it be asked, in what respect, and by what means he has done 
 
 ♦ It is needless, perhaps, to explain, that we refer here only to the vioral grounds of 
 legislation ; the peculiar adaptation of these grounds must, after all, be determined ac- 
 cording to the circumstances of the case.
 
 TENDENCIES OF IDEALISM. 713 
 
 this ; I answer, by looking upon life in the light of an idealistic 
 philosophy, and thus realizing the fact, that men are held together, 
 not by motives of self-interest, but by the spiritual laws of their 
 common nature. 
 
 The two great ideas, of Mind, and of God — mind, in its intel- 
 lectual developments and moral principles, and God, in his relation 
 to the world — lie at the foundation of all his political theories. God 
 is regarded as the source of all order — man, as the exemplar of God 
 himself. What God has constituted must be right and expedient ; 
 and to know what God wills, with i-eference to human society, we 
 have to study his law, in the moral nature impressed upon his image 
 below. Strip society of all its embellishments, tear away all its 
 artificial trappings, let the conventional and the unreal depart, 
 and what then is left 1 The answer is, Man, as man — man, with 
 his original constitution — with his soul and his body, as God made 
 them — with his divinity alone around him. Sensationalism would 
 have us neglect this original constitution, and follow mere expe- 
 diency as our guide. Idealism shows us, that it is vain to make 
 artificial laws to rule mankind, while the very laws of our moral 
 nature are violated and set at nought. We look upon the political 
 views of Carlyle as intensely significant of the tendency of the pres- 
 ent age. Individual though they be, in their form, yet they are 
 echoing the thoughts of a thousand minds, and the feelings of a 
 thousand hearts. It is clear, that the reaction now experienced 
 against sensational principles, is preparing multitudes to enter into 
 spiritual views of human society, and though such views may sound 
 strange and mysterious at present, yet they will assuredly become, 
 ere long, the practical truths, by which man's whole political life 
 must be regulated. 
 
 Should any one doubt the truth of this anticipation, then let him 
 look around upon all the chief political theories of the present age. 
 Widely different as these may be, in many other respects, yet they 
 well-nigh all agree in rejecting the sensational principle, and ap- 
 pealing to the deeper elements of our nature. Take as example, 
 the theory of Dr. Arnold, (a man who was as little infected with 
 the prejudices, and who as fully sympathized with the spirit of the 
 age, as any great thinker of his time,) and however Utopian some 
 may pronounce it to be, yet who can deny, that he has taken many 
 deep and truthful views of social life, such as would do honor to 
 any country, and to any period ? Take as another example, that 
 of the modern Oxford politicians. What does Mr. Sewcll contend
 
 714 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 for with his church-supported state ? What, but a legislation, that 
 shall apprehend man as a rational, a moral, and a religious being, 
 that shall govern him through the medium of his faith in God, as 
 well as through the out\yard penalties of human law? No matter 
 whether his theory of a Catholic Church be right or wrong ; dis- 
 miss, if you should think proper, his dogma of the succession, as 
 being the mere war-cry of a party ; still there is the idea — there 
 the assertion, that nations cannot be governed by utilitarianism ; 
 that all law flows originally from God, and his moral creation in 
 the soul of man. 
 
 Look, again, at the principles asserted by the politicians of the 
 so-called " Young England" school. Listen, for example, to Mr. 
 Gladstone, in his eloquent strictures on the state-conscience and 
 the state-personality, and see how firmly he asserts it to be the 
 highest 4uty of Government to evolve the social life of man by 
 moral and religious motives. " There is, indeed, a doctrine," he 
 remarks, " that political society exists only for material, outward, 
 and mere earthly objects : that it is a contrivance prompted by 
 necessity for the defence of life and property, through the estab- 
 lishment of peace and order ; that it is a formula for producing a 
 maximum of individual freedom, by an apparent sacrifice, a small 
 payment beforehand of the same commodity from each member of 
 the community to the State. Here is the fulfilment of the decla- 
 ration of Burke, that the age of economists, sophists, and calcula- 
 tors has arrived. Here is the twin-sister of that degraded system 
 of ethics, or individual morality ; the injurious legacy of Locke, 
 which received its full popular development from Paley, and was 
 reduced to forms of greater accuracy by Bentham : which, in logi- 
 cal self-consistency, sought to extirpate the very notion of duty 
 from the human heart, and even to erase its name from language ; 
 and which made pleasure and pain the moral poles of the uni- 
 verse." 
 
 All these phenomena, and many others now manifesting them- 
 selves in the political literature of our country, as we regard them, 
 are but the expansions of the idealistic spirit of the age. True, 
 they may gather church-principles, and other principles around 
 them ; but they are none the less the offspring of the deep convic- 
 tion now settling in all thinking minds, that neither man nor so- 
 ciety " can live by bread alone." To what point these different 
 phenomena may tend, it is not easy to foresee. We may securely 
 hope, however, that the more reflection, the more humanity, the
 
 TENDENCIES OF IDEALISM. 715 
 
 more real knowledge of the human mind, in its secret spring, is 
 thrown into the political principles of our legislators, the less there 
 will be of mere party-seeking and party-subserviency ; and the 
 more will the solemn office of the nation's rulers become too fear- 
 ful a responsibility, to allow fixed principles to be shaken bv indi- 
 vidual interests. 
 
 There is only one extreme against which idealism h;".s to beware, 
 and that is, the state of things in which would-be philosophers, as- 
 suming that they have probed the human mind to its centre, take 
 it upon them to enunciate fixed political axioms as the off*spring of 
 their social science — begin to exclaim that the age of reason is 
 now to return, and, on the ground of their own philosophic infalli- 
 bility, seek to overturn all the ancient landmarks of society. Such 
 theories were rife throughout Europe during the stirring age of the 
 French Revolution, and led many to views of political society as 
 shallow as they were Utopian. This extreme, however, being 
 avoided, we can augur nothing but good from the application of a 
 rational philosophy to the exigencies of social life. 
 
 3. It now only remains for us, in this section, to observe the in- 
 fluence of idealism upon the religion of the age. It Iws been al- 
 ready shown upon a j)riori grounds, that, under the reign of sen- 
 sationalism, the religious life must become cold and feeble ; and 
 we have pointed out some actual facts which seem to bear out the 
 conclusion. The natural inference is, that some element of ideal- 
 ism is necessary to the proper expansion of theological ideas in the 
 human mind. In strict accordance with this inference, we find, 
 that, in a sensational age, the grounds, even of natural religion, 
 are secretly undermined, as was eminently the case during the in- 
 fluence of the French materialism. On the other hand, it is by 
 those chiefly, whose philosophy partakes more of the rational or 
 ideal, that these grounds have been fenced and delemled. 
 
 Writers, for example, like M'Culloch and Wiiewcll, who have 
 applied the highest scientific knowledge to maintain the validity 
 of our natural religious conceptions, are, philosophically speaking, 
 most evidently idealistic in their tendency; and we can harilly re- 
 sist the inference, that it was by the same habit of mind, which led 
 them to rise above the sensationalism so common to physical in- 
 quirers, that they were brought to gaze with such intensity upon 
 the conceptions which form the basis of man's natural religion. 
 The one set of thoughts is, indeed, very closely connected with 
 the other. Science, when transcending the bounds of sense, must
 
 716 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 soon soar upwards to God ; and the right being once admitted to 
 adduce unseen agencies from the visible phenomena around us, 
 there will soon follow, from the infinite design displayed in the 
 universe, the deep conviction of an infinite designer. 
 
 The present influence of idealism, however, on this department 
 of theology, not only tends to place the ordinary a posteriori argu- 
 ment in a clear and commanding light, but it has added to this the 
 force of considerations, which are derived from the constitution 
 and from the instinctive conceptions of the human mind. Lord 
 Brougham, in his " Preliminary Discourse," has dwelt excellently 
 upon this part of the argument, in so far as the constitution of the 
 mind is concerned ; drawing from it proofs of design equally strong 
 with any which could be selected from the external world. But, 
 in addition even to this, there are some few writers, chiefly those 
 imbued with German philosophy, who have begun to make power- 
 ful use of the argument derived from onx fundamental conceptions. 
 This method of proof certainly appears, to those unaccustomed to 
 abstract thinking, somewhat obscure and inconclusive ; but it has 
 the merit of becoming more forcible the more it is inwardly real- 
 ized ; and we much doubt whether the tone of metaphysical think- 
 ing in our own country will not, ere long, render an appeal to 
 these conceptions the most powerful, as also the most popular 
 proof of the foundation-principles of natural theology. Such it 
 has long become among the German divines ; such, we believe, it 
 will become everywhere else, when minds are no longer so sen- 
 sualized, that its cogency is obscured and its moral strength inval- 
 idated. As we can imagine an angel in heaven to beheve in God 
 from its own deep intuition of his existence, so will men attain a 
 similar intuitive persuasion, in proportion as they raise themselves 
 above the material into the region of the spiritual and the divine. 
 
 But it is not merely upon the grounds of natural religion that 
 idealism exerts its influence ; we mas^ trace its tendencies with 
 equal clearness in the effects which it produces upon the varied 
 phases of the religious life actually existing among different sec- 
 tions of the Christian Church. It is a fact universally allowed, 
 that there has been a great increase of spiritual vigor infused during 
 the last ten years into the English Church. The cold, dry, lifeless 
 formality, so common twenty or thirty years ago, has been broken 
 in upon by some living operating religious ideas. Whether those 
 ideas are right or wrong, in a theological point of view, is another 
 question — still, there they are, touching the deeper springs of hu-
 
 TENDEXCir.3 OF IDEALK^M. 717 
 
 man nature, and rousing hundreds at the present moment to thought 
 and emotion. Whence, then, have these movements originated ? 
 Not from the people — not from direct Christian effort — nothing of 
 the kind : they have originated in a few minds, deeply imbued with 
 an ancient, and, it may be, a mystical philosophy. These minds 
 have revolted from a round of cold and stiff morality ; they have 
 abjured sensationalism in metaphysics and in ethics ; they have scat- 
 tered their idealism, clothed in different garbs, on every side ; and, 
 as a consequence of this, they have roused the minds of thousands 
 to a new religious life. True, it may be a religious life that com- 
 bines much mysticism in its forms and its sentiments ; but it is no 
 less the offspring of idealism, in its reaction against a mechanical 
 
 age. 
 
 Look again to that community which, as the professed nursling 
 of Priestley and Belsham, was formerly the true representative of 
 a sensational theology. However unwilling some may be to admit 
 the fact, yet it cannot be concealed that an idealistic philosophy, 
 the natural antagonist of the Hartleian and all similar principles, 
 has invaded their theological system, and is rapidly \vorking a 
 marked change in their whole religious life. Whether this change 
 will lead to a fresh expansion of the elements of Christian faith, 
 whether to pantheistic mysticism, or whether to religious rational- 
 ism, properly so called, it yet remains to be seen ; certain it is, that 
 the' sensational point of view must give way to something more 
 spiritual, of whatever hue its spiritualism may be. 
 
 If we pass over from England to France, there we have a most 
 instructive example of the working of speculative philosophy upon 
 the religious life of a people. The close of the Revolution found 
 France almost without a religion at all. Direct efforts to awaken 
 religious faith seemed altogether unavailing. The Catholic and 
 Pro'testant Churches were alike powerless to arouse the mass of the 
 people from their lethargy and unbelief. Just at this point the 
 eclectic philosophy came to their aid, and under its influence, the 
 belief in God and immortality is again spreading among the people. 
 We do not say that the religion of the eclectic philosophers is by 
 any means a perfect one, or that it contains in it anything approach- 
 incr to the whole of the elements of Christianity ; but still it holds 
 up°a God to be worshipped, an innuortality to be secured, a soul to 
 be inspired ; and where these thoughts are impressed, there can- 
 not be an entire indifference to religious truth and religious duty. 
 Admit even that there are doctrines maintained by the eclectics
 
 718 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 which would disarm inspiration of its glory, that would destroy 
 everything peculiar to the Christian scheme, that would place 
 Christianity itself down under the same category with the religions 
 of mere human invention ; still this does not prevent the great ideas 
 which they embody from exerting an influence upon the mind, and 
 preparing it for better things. It may, perhaps, sound harsh in 
 some ears, but we firmly believe that the spiritual philosophy of 
 France has done more to bring back the people of that country to 
 a sense of religious obligation, than all the direct efforts of Christian 
 zeal combined. Such efforts are for the most part useless, where 
 the conscience has become seared ; where the belief in God has 
 died out; where the hope of immortality has sunk into oblivion. 
 Restore these thoughts to the people, and Christian effort will soon 
 tell upon them with redoubled force. 
 
 Whilst idealism has been working beneficially for the religion of 
 France, in Germany, on the contrary, its more extreme and daring 
 features have unhappily developed themselves, in connection with 
 the religious life of that country. In our section on the German 
 Idealism, ^e have already shown the vicious excess to which the 
 rationalistic speculations of the present age have been carried. 
 Neglecting that vast and important element of our knowledge, 
 which is derived from empirical observation, the philosophers of 
 that school have endeavored to lay down their a priori axioms, and 
 then to draw after them in one immense chain of logical sequence 
 the whole mass of human learning, whether of a moral or a demon- 
 strative character. They have not been willing to tolerate anything 
 whatever that is merely experimental, or even that includes an in- 
 ductive process. Whether it be politics, art, natural science, or 
 even history itself, all must be deduced from rational principles, 
 and built up by deductive reasoning ; so that we are even told what 
 the past state of the world must have been, and what logically it 
 must hereafter be. 
 
 This, then, being the spirit of their philosophy, it is not to be 
 wondered at, that religion should be drawn into the same stream 
 of logical inference, and pared down into perfect consistency 
 with it ; nor should it be an object of surprise that they have ap- 
 proached Christianity itself in the same spirit with which they 
 have approached everything else. Intolerant of moral evidence, 
 of experience, of testimony, they have swept away indiscrim- 
 inately, in one torrent of logical argumentation, the historical, the 
 inspired, the miraculous ; that is, the whole objective element of
 
 TENDENCIES OF IDEALISM. 719 
 
 Christianity ; and have left nothing behind to supply their place, 
 except the a priori religious conceptions of the human mind. 
 
 To see the folly of this procedure, as applied to religion, we 
 only have to observe it in the case of other branches of human 
 knowledge. Imagine all the labors of the historian discarded, and 
 history itself only studied from the page of some speculative the- 
 orist ; imagine the experience of the statesman set at nought, and 
 a nation of living men, with all their clashing interests, governed 
 by some logical hypothesis ; imagine the experiments of the nat- 
 ural philosopher all neglected, and the phenomena of the universe 
 deduced from rationalistic grounds alone ; and we need hardly say 
 that these glorious spheres of mental investigation w'ould at once 
 sink down into deserved contempt. And why would this be ? 
 Not assuredly because there are no a priori principles involved in 
 these sciences, not because there is no room for deductive reason- 
 ing in them, not because they are exclusively experimental ; no, 
 but because there is an element of fact in them all, which must be 
 observed and employed, before a firm platform is gained on which 
 logical reasoning can rest. 
 
 So it is also in Christianity. While bare natural religion is a 
 question of reason, Christianity is a question of facts. Leave out 
 those facts, rest the whole system upon rational axioms or deduc- 
 tive processes, and Christianity, too, like the other branches we 
 have mentioned, will sink down to a mere visionary and hypothet- 
 ical system, proving at the very best but an excrescence and a 
 useless appendage to natural theology. 
 
 And then, at length, what will natural theology itself become 
 under the guidance of the same ])hiloso))hy ? Ask the extreme 
 idealists of the present day, and they will tell you that God is one 
 with the universe itself. The glorious conception of the great 
 Jehovah, which we derive from the display of his wisdom, power, 
 and love, in the creation without, the constitution of our minds 
 within, and the intuition of our rational and moral nature, soon 
 sinks down into a vague personification of the human conscious- 
 ness. The final result of such a theology is, that the divine is 
 dragged down to a level with the human, instead of the human 
 being raised up (as it is by Christianity) to the divine. Thus, 
 then, the extremes of sensationalism and idealism at length meet. 
 The one says that God is the universe, the other that the universe 
 is God. Diderot and Strauss can here shake hands, and alike re- 
 joice in the impious purpose of sinking the personality of the Deity
 
 720 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 into an abstraction, which the holy cannot love, and which the 
 wicked need not fear. Such is the extreme of idealism in its in- 
 fluence upon Christian theology, an extreme which contravenes 
 and destroys all the good which at first it promised to effect. The 
 German religious rationalism, however, it is pretty evident, has 
 already passed its climax ; the battle has begun to gi'ow faint, and 
 the first symptoms of decline have appeared. When they have 
 begun to find repose, it is not altogether improbable that we may 
 be in the heat of contest. That England, as well as Germany, 
 must pass through the ordeal of religious rationalism, we regard 
 as a matter of more than probability. But, confident in the ul- 
 timate victory of truth, we shall rejoice in the conflict if it break 
 away the shackles which still rob the conscience of its full and 
 righteous freedom, and leave us a religion of manly vigor, that re- 
 quires no arm to support it but that of its own undying energy. 
 
 Sect. III. — On the Tendencies of Modern Scepticism. 
 
 We have pointed out, in a former chapter, three subordinate 
 species of scepticism, namely, the scepticism of authority, the 
 scepticism of ignorance, and absolute scepticism. The first of 
 these, moreover, we have shown to prevail chiefly in England ; 
 the first and second in France ; the third (though to a small ex- 
 tent) in Germany. In looking upon the features of the present 
 age as a whole, we should by no means come to the conclusion 
 that it is marked by any peculiar tendencies to scepticism of either 
 of these descriptions. So far from that, we think that the scep- 
 tical spirit which developed itself so largely during the last cen- 
 tury, has during the present become visibly feebler ; so that the 
 feeling of the age, instead of tending to unbelief, is rather seeking 
 after a faith of a more fixed and comprehensive kind. 
 
 In place of its being considered the mark of a manly and pen- 
 etrating mind to doubt what the rest of mankind receive as truth, 
 it is now attributed more accurately to ignorance, or to pedantry. 
 The common sense of the world has pronounced scepticism to be 
 a reproach. Our readers will, of course, bear in mind that we are 
 not now referring particularly to religious scepticism, but to the 
 spirit of unbelief, or the habit of resisting evidence in whatsoever 
 department it may be. A certain degree of incredulity, indeed, is 
 manifestly advantageous to the interests of truth, inasmuch as i*
 
 TENDENCIES OF SCEPTICISM. 721 
 
 ever operates as a check upon false theories ; but to carry it out 
 in cases where evidence is clear, or to require demonstration when 
 a cumulative proof only can be attained, is now pretty generally 
 felt to be a perversion of our natural faculties, and a manifestation 
 of folly altogether beneath the dignity of a wise man. We must 
 attempt however, to gather up the phenomena which scepticism 
 is now displaying in connection with the departments of science, 
 legislation, and religion. In this way we shall be able better to 
 see its present tendencies. 
 
 And, first, within the precincts of science, the influence of scej)- 
 ticism can now rarely enter. Time, indeed, was, when the philos- 
 opher not only had to encounter unbelief, but persecution as well. 
 The day, however, has now gone by when mankind could per- 
 suade themselves that the sun moved round the earth, because 
 some mitred head pronounced it to be so. Rome no longer sways 
 the opinions of the learned, even within its own communion ; the 
 Vatican pretends not to supreme authority in philosophy ; nor does 
 the college of Cardinals assume the functions of a scientific insti- 
 tution. All scepticism of this palpable character has been swept 
 away by the advancing lustre of demonstrative truth ; and science 
 now marches forward comparatively free from such obstructions 
 
 The only instance in which scientific truth now meets with op- 
 position is, when it runs contrary to some religious theory, and 
 enlists that strongest of passions, I mean, theological animosity, 
 against it. Geology has had to contend with a scepticism of this 
 nature, by which many of its leading facts, and those, too, resting 
 upon an evidence as palpable as the human reason could well re- 
 quire, have been rejected on the ground of their contradiction to 
 some previous hypothesis. The motives which have given birth to 
 such an exhibition of authoritative scepticism, we do not venture 
 to impugn. They may have been very pure and very reverential ; 
 but quite assured are we that they have been very unwise. It 
 never seems to be imagined by those who reject evidence of a 
 convincing nature, on the ground of som(? prejudication of the 
 matter in hand, that their own fondest and most sacred beliefs rest 
 upon evidence of the very same kind. 
 
 I will suppose, for example, that a man rejects tin* anticiuity of 
 the crust of the earth, on the plea (though a false one) that it con- 
 tradicts the Mosaic cosmogony. On what ground, we would ask, 
 does he accept and hold so firmly the truth of the IVnlateuch ? 
 His faith in it must rest primarily upon testimony borne to certain 
 
 46
 
 722 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 facts, and then be confirmed by conclusions, drawn by processes of 
 reasoning, from the facts presented. But this is precisely the evi- 
 dence which the geologist brings to establish the principles he as- 
 serts. He presents, first of a\\, facts of which he himself and others 
 have been eye-witnesses ; from these facts he draws, with great 
 caution, certain conclusions ; and then, on the ground of the truth 
 of the testimony, and the validity of the reasoning which builds 
 itself upon it, he summons the belief of mankind. On what plea, 
 then, does any man admit the evidence in the one case, and reject 
 it in the other ; or, if he repudiates the conclusion of the geologist, 
 how can he complain if another repudiates that of the theologian ? 
 We see not that there is any superior clearness and certainty either 
 with regard to the facts themselves or the reasoning based upon 
 them, in the first case than there is in the second. To deny evi- 
 dence blindly is always a dangerous thing to venture upon ; for the 
 right of denial admitted in one case may soon be applied to an- 
 other ; and the mistaken zeal of saving a theological truth at the 
 expense of a philosophical one, may end in involving both in a 
 common doubt or destruction. Where unquestionable evidence 
 asserts two facts apparently contradictory, we must await a fresh 
 apocalypse, natural or divine, to point out their reconciliation. 
 Opposition to scientific conclusions, however, on religious grounds, 
 is fast wearing away ; men are beginning to see that the same evi- 
 dence cannot be regarded as a shadow in one instance, and a sub- 
 stance in the other. 
 
 Secondly, in the department of legislation, the scepticism of au- 
 thority has also exercised some influence during the present cen- 
 tury, tending in every instance to the maintenance of the principles 
 of absolutism. It can hardly be wondered at, that after all the 
 Utopian theories of government, which France witnessed as the 
 offspring of the Revolution, a reaction should take place, and all 
 faith in human legislation be shaken. This reaction has led some 
 in recent times to deny that the capacity of realizing any sound 
 principles of legislation exists in human nature, and has brought 
 them to rest the whole fabric of political power upon the authority 
 of God, as expressed through his Church. If we would see, there- 
 fore, the natural tendency of scepticism as it regards the theory 
 of legislation, we shall find it most clearly exhibited in the present 
 absolutists of France, of whom we have already furnished some 
 account in a previous chapter. 
 
 The reason why scepticism should result in such a system, it is
 
 TENDENCIES IN FRANCE. 723 
 
 not difficult to account for. To live without government at all, 
 every man would admit and feel to be an incalculable evil ; when, 
 therefore, scepticism undermines the whole superstructure of polit- 
 ical science, the only resource left is to take refuge in some divine 
 command, and so to amplify the power of the keys as to embrace 
 within it the whole authority both of Cfmrch and State. 
 
 The very same tendency, which we have seen developing itself 
 i in the principles of absolutism in France, has begun to prevail, to 
 
 a certain extent, in England. Many hints have been thrown out, 
 respecting the uncertainty of all political principles not based upon 
 the authority of revelation. These hints, coupled with a lofty 
 assumption of ecclesiastical power, have betrayed a secret desire in 
 the minds of some to reinstate a spiritual despotism throughout the 
 country. That this may never take place is devoutly to be hoped 
 for. Experience sufficiently attests that national greatness and 
 national prosperity can only result from carrying out those great 
 principles of government, by which the interests of the whole peo- 
 ple are properly balanced, regulated, and watched over. When 
 power and property come irresponsibly into the hands of a class, 
 to the degradation of the rest of the community, the violated 
 moral laws will soon revenge their own unjust infringement. 
 
 With a spiritual despotism this is pre-eminently the case. How- 
 ever plausible it may seem in theory, to refer human power to the 
 power of God as its source ; however excellent to put the govern- 
 ment of the country into the hands of the professed guardians of 
 religious truth, and intrust the chief authority to those who have to 
 deal with the most potent influences of the human soul ; yet the 
 history of the past sufficiently proves, that of all despotisms, a spir- 
 itual despotism is the worst ; that of all the tyranny under which 
 the world has groaned, none is so fearful as that which, not con- 
 tent with holding the body in subjection, binds the very soul in the 
 adamantine chains of superstitious fear. The sceptic in legisla- 
 tion, however, may become a democrat as well as an absolutist ; 
 he may break down all the established principles of government 
 and head a lawless mob ; or he may set up an irresponsible power, 
 in the form of a spiritual tyranny. But in the one case, as in the 
 other, the distrust of rational political power leads alike to the most 
 bitter consequences of anarchy and confusion. 
 
 To conclude this section, we must notice, thirdly, the tendencies 
 of scepticism in connection with religion. By scepticism gener- 
 ally, we mean the habit of distrusting evidence ; this is the uni- 
 
 «^
 
 724 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 versal basis from which all the various forms of it arise. Distrust 
 of evidence originates in various ways ; most frequently, perhaps, 
 in the following : — The confiding, unwavering, all-embracing faith 
 of childhood is found, as life advances, to be partly deceptive : 
 many instances occur in which its confidence is misplaced ; and 
 then the spirit of doubt begins to operate upon the mind, and to 
 darken the bright atmosphere in which it first lived. Hence our 
 faith in evidence sensibly declines ; more especially in that kind of 
 evidence which has been found to lead the mind astray. 
 
 Now, all evidence is generically of two kinds — it is either subjec- 
 tive or objective ; it either comes from the soul within or from the 
 world without ; in other words, it is either the evidence of our own 
 faculties or that of testimony.* If, on the one side, our own facul- 
 ties have led us astray by wrong conclusions, we are apt to have 
 our faith shaken in their validity ; or if, on the other hand, men 
 have proved false or mistaken to us in their testimony, then we are 
 apt to distrust testimony at large. This aptitude, whether it refer 
 to the evidence of our faculties, or to that of our fellow-men, when 
 strengthened and developed in the mind, leads to what we term 
 scepticism. 
 
 Our present inquiry, then, is simply this, "What will be the 
 natural eflTect of distrusting evidence upon man's religious life ?" 
 The effect, it is manifest at first sight, will be very different accord- 
 ing to what kind of evidence is received or what rejected. If 
 both kinds are rejected, then the scepticism is universal, involving 
 all human knowledge in one common destruction ; if the evidence 
 of our reasoning faculties is rejected, then revealed theology may 
 still flourish, but with the distrust of all philosophical truth ; or, 
 lastly, if the evidence of testimony generally is doubted, then 
 natural theology may live, but Christianity, historically viewed, will 
 die. According to this deduction, therefore, the tendencies of scep- 
 ticism, as it regards Christianity, are threefold. Either, first, it 
 may attack and stifle all religious belief; or, secondly, it may admit 
 the historical element (as a revelation resting upon testimony), 
 while it denies the validity of the human faculties ; or, thirdly, it 
 may allow a natural religion, grounded on rationalistic principles, 
 but reject the testimony which supports the truth of a revelation. 
 
 Of these tendencies, the two last are abundantly exhibited in the 
 present day. In England, a distrust and contempt for reason pre- 
 
 * Under the evidence of our faculties is included that of the senses and personal ex- 
 perience.
 
 TENDENCIES OF SCEPTICISM. 725 
 
 vails amongst religious circles to a wide extent : many Christians 
 think it almost a matter of duty to decry the human faculties as 
 poor, mean, and almost worthless ; and thus seek to exalt piety at 
 the expense of intelligence. Delusive hope ! Is not Christianity 
 itself a matter of intelligence ? Must not its claims to authority 
 be weighed by the human reason ? Must not intelligence develop 
 the germ of truth given us in the word, to a beautiful and compre- 
 i hensive system to be realized in the world ? The ultimate effect of 
 
 this species of scepticism can be nothing else than to strip religion 
 of its energy, to turn the power of intelligent faith into a blind 
 attachment to a creed ; and amidst all its zeal for revealed truth, 
 to undermine secretly the very pedestal on which in peaceful 
 f security it reposes. The very same sceptical tendency is, at this 
 
 • moment, displaying similar features in France. What else is the 
 
 storm, which is now raging against the philosophical instruction 
 afforded at the universities of that country ? And what could 
 show more plainly than this, that the scepticism of authority, if 
 allowed to have its full sway, would not hesitate to hurl to the 
 ground everything that could possibly interfere with the blind cre- 
 dulity, which in matters of testimony it seeks to inculcate ? How 
 long this contempt for reason may continue, it is difficult to say ; 
 in our own country we believe it to be on the decrease ; and from 
 its final disappearance we look, not for any danger to Christianity, 
 but for a fresh vigor to infuse itself into the popular religion of the 
 age. 
 
 The third tendency of scepticism, that which assumes the form 
 of a distrust for testimony, is far more widely extended in Germany 
 than it is in our own country. The validity of reason is there sel- 
 dom denied ; in many instances, indeed, its province is made far 
 too extensive, so that the historical element of Christianity is en- 
 tirely absorbed in the rational. Such is the real nature of Strauss's 
 hypothesis, of which we hear so much in the present day. The 
 testimony upon which the historical authenticity of the Gosj^els 
 rests, is there, by a combination of ingenious artifices, weakened 
 and depreciated, the most competent witnesses are passed over as 
 not strictly trustworthy, the outward fact is made more and more 
 symbolical of moral sentiment, until, at length, the history is all 
 transformed into mythology, and the moral element left, as the sole 
 content of the written word. 
 
 Of the two phases of scepticism we have just described, we 
 believe the one to be in the end equally injurious with the other.
 
 726 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Distrust in one kind of testimony may very easily produce distrust 
 in another kind ; so that either phase may prove one stepping-stone 
 to that universal unbeUef, which involves all human knowledge in 
 doubt and confusion. The only method by which religion can 
 attain its full bloom in any mind, is by an intelligent confidence, 
 both in the validity of our faculties and the testimony of the past. 
 The one must lay the foundation — the other must erect the super- 
 structure of the religious life. 
 
 Sect. IV. — On the Tendencies of Modern Mysticism. 
 
 Mysticism, viewed simply in its principle, is built upon a true 
 idea, namely, that there is in human nature a primitive faith which 
 precedes and transcends reason. This faith, it is true, has been 
 termed by Cousin the spontaneous effort of reason, and is thus 
 identified with the other operations of our rational nature ; but still 
 the fact remains, that there is a truth-organ within the human soul, 
 which leads us to certain beliefs, long before they can be verified 
 by any logical or philosophical deduction. 
 
 Such an intuitive or spontaneous perception of truth frequently 
 accompanies the exercise of the feelings and affections of our na- 
 ture. The moral and social feelings, for example, necessarily in- 
 volve some conceptions respecting human duty and human destiny, 
 in which we may place confidence quite irrespective of the deduc- 
 tions of reason. In like manner, the aesthetic and religious emo- 
 tions lead us to the contemplation of an infinite beauty, perfection, 
 wisdom, and goodness, long ere reason has begun to construct 
 her argument for the being of a God. To a certain extent, then, 
 we may put faith in the feelings, we may regard them as primitive 
 witnesses for truth, in which we can repose confidence as long as 
 their voice comes to us with clear and distinct articulation. On 
 this ground it is, then, that mysticism professes to build ; and it is 
 the element of truth which it thus embodies, that has given it all 
 its strength. 
 
 But whilst this is the case, there is great danger lest the authority 
 of our feelings should be made too extensive, so that we should be 
 led to mistake mere evanescent impressions for sober truths, and 
 elevate the inspiration of the emotions altogether above the conclu- 
 sions of reason. In fact, the sphere of knowledge in which we can 
 trust these spontaneous impulses, is very confined ; over the greater
 
 TENDENCIES OF MYSTICISM. 727 
 
 part of the domains of trutli, the perceptive and the reasoning 
 faculties must necessarily be predominant. Most of the branches 
 of human science have to be pursued simply with a steady and 
 logical precision ; so that in their case the influence of feeling can 
 do little else than produce error and confusion ; in other words, can 
 lead only to a false and bewildering mysticism. 
 
 To verify the truth of these remarks, we have only to follow the 
 same course which we have pursued with reference to the other 
 three systems ; that is, to observe the influence of mysticism upon 
 some of the principal departments of human investigation. First, 
 with regard to Science, it might seem difficult to see where there 
 could be any room for mysticism to operate in the case of investi- 
 gations, which are so precise and definite in their character. It 
 must not be overlooked, however, that science has its higher as 
 well as its lower movement. The lower i)hysics, those which refer 
 simply to the classification of obvious phenomena, can hardly be 
 subjected to any mystifying process ; but the higher physics, those 
 which tread upon the verge of ontology, and theori/.e ui>on the 
 more recondite causes operating in nature, aflbrd abundant mate- 
 rial for the development of some of the most remarkable phenom- 
 ena of mysticism. 
 
 Schelling, for example, although he began as an idealist, yet has 
 introduced^into his later productions a large element of mysticism; 
 attempting, as he does, to give a theosophic view of nature in all 
 her varied phenomena. He proposes to show that nature is homo- 
 geneous with mind ; that it is, strictly speaking, the self-develop- 
 ment of Deity ; that, iu other words, it is the infinite objectifying 
 itself in the finite. On this principle he enters into various expli- 
 cations of attraction, gravitation, light, heat, magnetism, elec- 
 tricity, &c., carrying on his theories into the ditfeient regions of 
 creation, so as at length to aflbrd a connected deduction of all the 
 phenomena of organic and inorganic existence. 
 
 These theosophic views have been furtlu>r developed by the 
 pupils and followers of Schelling. Schubert has written the " His- 
 tory of Nature," beirinning from the objective point of view, and 
 tracing it up to God,' the soul of the world: Haader has begun from 
 the subjective side ; and, from the phenomena of mind, has inferred 
 the order of the universe : while SteA'cns has united both sides m 
 himself, and shown the absolute unity of nature and the soul. In 
 all these writers, there is one prominent purpose exhibite.l— that of 
 destroying the bare mechanical views v\' nature, which men have
 
 728 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 usually entertained, and showing it to be a living manifestation of 
 mind ; yea, to be nothing else than the infinite mind itself, in its 
 various potencies and reflections. These philosophers, accord- 
 ingly, imagine that the study of nature is only just dawning ; that 
 the time is coming, when, from our direct intuition of the soul of 
 the world, in its original essence, the whole theory and phenomena 
 of creation shall be fully explained ; that all observation and experi- 
 ment may be then dispensed with, and natural philosophy find its 
 completion in the deductions of our pure reason. 
 
 The tendency of such a system can, of course, be no other than 
 to discourage experimental philosophy, and to reduce physical sci- 
 ence to a string of deductions, resting upon certain original princi- 
 ples, claimed to be intuitive. To the due employment of our higher 
 reason, in the department of physics, we can conceive of no vahd 
 objection. Where conclusions can be drawn, in consistence with 
 the laws of our rational nature, let us boldly draw them, though 
 they should lead us into the depths of ontological speculation ; but 
 the admission of mysticism into these regions, is something quite 
 of a different nature. Reason, properly speaking, only erects its 
 deductions upon observed and tangible facts, (such as that of 
 the divine existence, from the marks of design displayed in the 
 universe ;) but the mysticism we have described assumes its foun- 
 dation principles, and erects its superstructure upon them in such 
 a manner that the facts are made entirely subservient to the theory, 
 instead of the theory emanating from the facts. 
 
 Mysticism, again, has made some few, and rather abortive ef- 
 forts, to mould into a new form the principle and the details of 
 legislation. ' Mr. Greaves, to whom we have before referred, has 
 attempted to found a new system of spiritual socialism, by discov- 
 ering the inward subjective bond, by which men are united in 
 society, and seeking to strengthen this bond by moral or educa- 
 tional means and appliances. " The religious, moral, political, and 
 commercial social arrangements," he observes, " have been based, 
 from the comencement of society, upon the modal natures, instead 
 of the universal natures." He proposes, accordingly, to look be- 
 neath the surface of humanity, down to the universal essence of 
 which it consists, to draw forth into intense operation the love- 
 spirit (as he denominates it), and, by these means, to lead men to 
 dwell everywhere without the wants or wishes of wealth, without 
 desire of individual accumulation, or any inequality of condition. 
 Such were a few of the benevolent dreams of this philanthropic
 
 TENDENCIES OF MYSTICISM. 729 
 
 enthusiast. Happy, indeed, would it be, if the love of self were to 
 perish, and the world were to become united in the strongest ties 
 of universal charity. 
 
 This consummation, however, we fear, is not to be attained by 
 the mysticism we are now considering. We trust, indeed, that it 
 may be attained at last ; but this will only be when the visions of 
 prophecy are fulfilled, and the spirit of true Christianity animates 
 every soul under heaven. We need not particularly refer to the 
 analogous doctrines of St. Simon and Fourier in France, who have 
 entertained similar visions of social perfection in the coming state 
 of society. Far would we be from discouraging, even were we 
 able to do so, any efforts of this nature to call forth the hidden 
 sympathies of mankind towards each other ; but we see not why 
 the ideas of human brotherhood, which are quite familiar to the 
 mind of every right-thinking Christian man, should be dressed up 
 in a strange and eccentric garb, and then propounded as some new 
 system which is to regenerate society. We fully believe that 
 everything good, belonging to these doctrines, may be found in the 
 social spirit of Christianity ; and that all which they contain beyond 
 this, is the ebullition of an ardent but false enthusiasm, yearning 
 after better things than society can now present. 
 
 It is in religion, however, that the tendencies of modern mysti- 
 cism are chiefly visible. In this department there is, as we imagine, 
 a true and a false mysticism — a true one, inasmuch as the direct 
 communion of the soul of man with the infinite gives rise to many 
 phenomena, which it were vain altogether to omit — and a false 
 one, inasmuch as there is a universal proneness in mankind to run 
 into extremes upon all those subjects which excite their deepest 
 feelings. To test the question, whether there be such a thing as 
 a true mysticism in religion, we have simply to ask, whether our 
 whole knowledge on this subject comes from reason and revelation 
 combined, or whether there is not another element of truth, flowing 
 from our spiritual feelings or our religious consciousness. The 
 primary truths of natural theology may, of course, be viewed as 
 deductions of reason ; other religious ideas, again, come from an 
 immediate revelation ; but are we to say, that this exhausts our 
 sources of religious knowledge ? Is there not a direct communi- 
 cation of the human mind with the Divine ? and does not this 
 communion give us a deeper insight into the divine nature than 
 reason or revelation, or both of them combined could ever afford ? 
 It is generally admitted, that the highest conception of Deity which
 
 730 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 our reason can form, is a very cold and abstract one — one which 
 can hardly reach beyond the notion of a first cause, and with diffi- 
 culty attain to that of an infinite personality ; and even if we come 
 to the page of revelation itself, yet all the descriptions which it 
 gives us of the attributes of God, form but a very indistinct image 
 upon a mind that simply puts these notions together by a logical 
 process, and has no community of feeling with Deity itself If it 
 be the case, therefore, that for gaining a deep insight into the per- 
 fections of God, we must rise to a communion of the heart and 
 sympathy of feeling with him, then there is in religion a true and 
 valid mysticism, which has to be cherished in every mind that 
 thirsts after God. Mysticism of this nature forms, in fact, a reg- 
 ular portion of the common belief of all Christian countries. The 
 theological doctrine of divine influence is but the dogmatical mode 
 of expressing a fact, which is almost equally evident on the prin- 
 ciples of natural religion ; namely, that ere we can enter fully into 
 the conception of God, both in his own nature and in his relation 
 to the world, the spirit of man must be brought into mysterious 
 communion and sympathy with the Spirit of God. 
 
 But there is also a false mysticism, as well as a true, to which 
 we must for a moment advert. This is of two kinds. First, when 
 communion with the divine mind is supposed to be gained by some 
 artificial agency ; or, secondly, when it is supposed to be of such a 
 nature, as to realize the full idea of inspiration. If a man assert, 
 that, by the performance of certain outward acts, the human spirit 
 can be united in sympathy with that of God, he advocates an in- 
 credible mysticism, inasmuch as he attributes spiritual functions to 
 bare material causes. Or, again, if a man asserts that, by any 
 means whatever, whether physical or mental, he has such an in- 
 tuition of spiritual truth, that it completely transcends, and renders 
 useless, the agency of his natural faculties, he is likewise a mystic ; 
 for he is laying claim to a species of inspiration, which is altogether 
 foreign to our present experience in the world. We do not say, 
 that he is laying claim to anything in itself impossible ; but we 
 mean that inspiration, in this sense, is a phenomenon so extraor- 
 dinary, that it must prove itself valid, by the most clear and un- 
 questionable evidences ; in default of which, it can be considered 
 nought but a deception. 
 
 Of these two species of false mysticism, there are many exhi- 
 bitions in the present day. We doubt whether the whole doctrine 
 of sacramental efficacy, as held by many sincere minds, is not ac-
 
 CONCLUSION. 781 
 
 curately designated as a mysticism of the former kind ; inasmuch 
 as it is all based upon the notion of a spiritual effect being commu- 
 nicated to the mind by an unconscious and objective instrumen- 
 tality. So entirely foreign is this from the ordinary modes of the 
 divine operation, in the worlds both of matter and of mind, that 
 we need a proof sufficient to attest a nnracle itself, to render the 
 doctrine at all credible. With regard to the other species of false 
 mysticism, namely, the pretension to, or belief in, a supernatural 
 inspiration now enjoyed, we suppose it still lingers amongst the 
 ignorant or the enthusiastic, and will only gradually expire, as the 
 province of faith and of feeling in religion becomes gradually more 
 accurately defined. Faith in the supernatural, we may safely say, 
 can never die out of humanity, but will ever remain a standin£r 
 proof of our connection with a spiritual world. While this, how- 
 ever, is the case, we may well anticipate, that the progress of sci- 
 ence, the further investigation of the laws of the human feelings, 
 and the fuller conception of what is included in religious faith, will, 
 ere long, bring the tendency to mysticism into its proper bounds, 
 and curb the extravagance of superstition, without crushing our 
 faith in what is spiritual and divine. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 There is one truth which the whole of our inquiries into the 
 speculative philosophy of the present age is calculated to teach — 
 namely, that the great question of philosophy is that of method. 
 Upon the view we take of this one point, must depend nrarly the 
 whole influence we exert upon the real progress of human knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 Amidst the vast variety of systems that prevail throughout the 
 world in the present day, we may trace the features of four generic 
 methods, /. e. of four grounds of appeal for the certitude of our 
 knowledge. These four methods we may term respectively, the 
 positive principle, the individual itrinciplo. the traditional princii)le. 
 and the eclectic principle. 
 
 The positive principle in strictness ought to br regarded, not so 
 much in the light of a jOiilosophical method, as the denial at once
 
 732 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 both of method and of philosophy. Instead of attempting the so- 
 lution of the great problems of human interest, it repels them : in- 
 stead of grappling with the questions which every thinking mind 
 asks with a trembling earnestness, it chides us for our longings, 
 our aspirations, our holiest hopes. Doubtless, it may claim some 
 degree of definiteness and precision ; but it is a definiteness and a 
 precision, which arise from negation, not from solution ; it owes 
 its security simply to the fact of its going, like the serpent, upon 
 its belly, and eating only of the dust of the earth. A philosophy 
 that never soars, can certainly claim exemption from the danger 
 of a fall. 
 
 We will suppose, however, nay, we will affirm, that there is such 
 a thing as truth beyond the limits of the senses : on what then is its 
 certitude grounded ? There are two opposite answers, which are 
 given to this question by the philosophies of the age. On the one 
 hand, we are pointed to the individual reason, as the absolute 
 source of all scientific truth. Our own consciousness, it is said, 
 must ever be the final appeal. In whatever way truth may come 
 to us, still reason must be the judge of its evidence, and the inter- 
 preter of its meaning. Whatever amount of truth may exist ob- 
 jectively, yet to us it can be nothing, until it is grasped subjectively 
 by the understanding. Upon the validity, therefore, of the intel- 
 lectual faculties, the whole ultimate certitude of truth must rest. 
 Such is the position which the individual principle assumes in the 
 struggle for truth. 
 
 Another and opposite system of philosophy answers the question 
 above proposed, in an entirely different manner. The individual 
 reason, it contends, is utterly untrustworthy. A man may ground 
 upon his own subjective convictions any amount of absurdity that 
 can be imagined. Besides this, it is asked, what is the individual 
 reason ? A mere nonentity. Every man is but a portion of hu- 
 manity — a link in the vast chain of being. His belief is not the 
 result of his own individual constitution, but of the influences of 
 the age in which he lives. Man, as an individual, is subject to 
 the grossest delusions ; neither at any time can human truth be any 
 other than relative to the state and conditions of the understand- 
 ing ; so that, if we possess absolute knowledge at all, it must come 
 from an objective source. This source is God. In the primitive 
 revelation, in the Divine gift of speech, and in subsequent commu- 
 nications, there has been a direct outpouring of truth from Heaven 
 itself Here, then, it is said, is the ground of all certainty ; here a
 
 CONCLUSION. 733 
 
 species of knowledge, which is altogether raised above the delusions 
 of the individual. 
 
 Now, that there is some amount of truth in each of the prin- 
 ciples above stated, can be readily admitted. The intimations of 
 sense, for example, though not the sole fountain of knowledge, as 
 the positivist supposes, yet give the primary incentive to all the 
 faculties, and furnish one very important element in our experience. 
 The individual self, again, most assuredly contains the mould 
 through which all the material of our knowledge must pass, ere it 
 can be apprehended and employed — in a word, ere to us it can 
 exist. But the individual self is still a portion of humanity, and 
 can only confirm its own subjective convictions by an appeal to 
 the authority of other minds around it. Hence, then, arises the 
 necessity and the value of eclecticism. 
 
 The term eclecticism, we should say, is here employed, merely 
 through deficiency of some better and more scientific appellation, 
 and in a sense very diflferent from that of its more general use. 
 We are desirous, therefore, in conclusion, of throwing some light 
 upon it, when viewed as a philosophical method. 
 
 Eclecticism, in the sense we employ it, may be described as the 
 philosophy of pi'ogress. Take any fixed philosophical method, and 
 if it be in itself complete, it ought to give a complete result. If all 
 truth, for example, can be eliminated from the individual reason, 
 there is the same possibility of its being completed in one period 
 of the world as in any other, because the individual reason — the 
 me — abstractedly viewed, is the same in all ages. U there be prog- 
 ress in the development of truth, then there must be some prin- 
 ciple out of and beyond the individual, which exerts its influence 
 upon the human mind at large ; that is, there must be some ele- 
 ment, out of and beyond the individual, on which jihilosophical 
 truth is partly grounded. The case is the same with regard to the 
 principle of tradition. Here we have a truth, fixed and abiding, in 
 which there can be no question of progress whatever. Wluit lias 
 come to us verbally and objectively from above, can neither be 
 further developed nor put into new relations, without admitting 
 another, and that a human priiicij)le, by means of which the devel- 
 opment takes place. In fact, whatever fixed appeal we may set up 
 as the ground of certitude, it can only hold good on the supj^osition, 
 that philosophical truth is something fixed and abiding likewise. 
 
 History, however, shows us, that in human knowledge — i. e. in 
 the compression and application of truth — there is perpetual prog-
 
 734 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ress. There is hardly a single subject, which is viewed exactly 
 in the same light one century that it is the next. The universal 
 field of knowledge being enlarged, all the particular portions of it 
 are thrown continually into new relations. 
 
 Regarding philosophy, then, as progressive, what appeal can we 
 have as final — what ground of certitude on which we can fully 
 rely ? We answer, that the one final appeal, and the ultimate 
 ground of certitude in philosophy, is humanity. Positivism gives 
 us truth and error ; the individual reason gives us truth and error ; 
 tradition gives us truth and error ; but humanity sifts the results 
 of individual thinking, and hands us down a stream of truth, ever 
 widening as it flows onwards. 
 
 The philosophy we advocate, then, is the philosophy of progress ; 
 we see a providential plan in the development of society ; under 
 this plan, we see the vast edifice of human knowledge gradually 
 perfecting by the laborers who are working upon it in all depart- 
 ments ; and the soUd material of which the edifice is composed, is 
 the catholic thinking of mankind. 
 
 Were not the phrase pre-occupied, we might term our philosophy 
 the philosophy of common sense, that 'i, of the sensus communis 
 of humanity. This sensus communis, however, is not anything 
 fixed, it is not made up of the mass of opinions which are held at 
 any one given period ; but embodies that gradual unfolding of great 
 truths and principles, by which the world's thinking rolls forward 
 to compass its mighty results. Only admit that humanity is verily 
 in progress, and it follows at once, that neither the individual nor 
 the common opinion of one given period, can represent the whole 
 cycle of philosophical truth. The fixed method of one period be- 
 comes inadequate to the wants of the next, and thus shows us that 
 we require a methodology, which can adapt itself to all the possible 
 phases v/hich knowledge may yet assume. 
 
 The method which appears to us best capable of supplying this 
 demand, is that which we have now described, and which we have 
 denominated eclecticism, or the philosophy of human progress. 
 According to this method, the great aim of philosophy from hence- 
 forth, must be to accept the light of truth, whencesoever it may 
 flow, to concentrate the rays it sheds around into one focus, and 
 thus to bring the catholic thought of the world, in each succeeding 
 age, into the region of pure idea. It has been well said, that the 
 problem of philosophy is common sense. The actual material of 
 which it is composed can be none other than the whole mass of
 
 CONCLUSION. 735 
 
 truth which Ues embodied in the thinking of every age ; and to the 
 authority of the age alone can we make our final appeal. The duty 
 of speculative science, is to bring the truth of the age to light ; to 
 clear it of its dross and its symbols ; to make it stand forth as 
 plain, reflective, philosophic knowledge. Accordingly, the common 
 mind and the individual mind have here each their department; 
 the one furnishes the matter of our philosophy, the other may give 
 it a form ; the one offers us the truth, so far as it can be at present 
 grasped, spontaneously ; the other reduces this spontaneous apper- 
 ception to the character of logical science — to philosophy properly 
 so called. Thus, while philosophy will be the last word which 
 every age pronounces, it will furnish the forepost of observation, 
 upon which the more advanced thinkers will stand to look forwards 
 and discern the din forms of the coming futurity. Doubtless the 
 same speculative tendencies will be again and again reproduced, 
 and upon some short-sighted minds may produce the impression 
 that philosophy is confined within one eternal circle, out of which 
 it can never free itself. But the mind which studies humanity 
 aright, will see that its movement is rather that of the spiral, which, 
 though making its perpetual revolutions, is ever tending upwards 
 towards a higher perfection, and pointing to Heaven itself as its 
 final aim.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Note A. 
 Philosophy — Theology — Religion. 
 
 The few passing remarks on the above subjects, inserted in the text, have excited 
 some attention. Several writers liave expressed entire concurrence in the views there 
 presented ; others, on the contrary, at least to some extent, have questioned their accu- 
 racy. Dr. Tholuck, in a notice of the present work, inserted in the " Literarischer An- 
 zeiger," has expressed his wish that the question between faith and science had been 
 more fully elucidated ; and Dr. Chalmers, in the North British Review, has reclaimed 
 against our theistic principles, in favor of those contained in his own " natural The- 
 ology." Under these circumstances, we need to make no apology for the additional re- 
 marks now inserted on a subject of such vast and universal importance. Our simple 
 object in doing so is, to rescue the theology of our age from the weak position which we 
 cannot but feel it has too often assumed, and place it upon a basis that is less assailable 
 by the shafts of scepticism. As the word philosophy, when used in connection with relig- 
 ion, is so apt to be misunderstood, we shall for the present lay it entirely aside, and 
 attempt to reduce the question to its simplest terms. 
 
 It will be admitted, in the outset, that we have minds ; that these minds have a given 
 constitution ; that by virtue of this constitution we are adapted to perceive certain 
 truths, and to exercise our faculties upon them. The problem, then, to be solved is this. 
 How far do we owe our theological belief to the nature of our constitution, and the ex- 
 ercise of our faculties ; and how far to a direct objective relation 1 in other words, What 
 part of the proof both of Theism and of Christianity comes from the one source, and 
 what from the other 1 Only let us premise, that we leave the question of Religion for 
 a little entirely in abeyance, and direct our attention simply to that of Theology — that 
 we are not now to search into the origin of our devotional feelings, but simply of our 
 theological ideas and principles. 
 
 Now, the whole question of theology must begin with the evidences we have of the 
 being of a God : this is the foundation truth on which the whole reposes. Respecting 
 these evidences there are three hypotheses we may assume. 1. That the being of God 
 is purely a truth of revelation. 2. That it is a truth, which rests partly on natural 
 grounds, and partly on revelation ; or, 3. That it rests in its last analysis solely upon 
 the light of nature. The abettors of the first hypothesis view the human faculties as 
 erring and untrustworthy, and appeal to revelation as the ultimate basis of all fixed 
 and eternal truth. Those who accept the second hypothesis, admit the validity of rea- 
 son on the whole, but consider the aid of revelation necessary to complete the full 
 strength of the theistic argument. Among these, we reckon the eloquent critic of the 
 North British Review. Those who take the last hypothesis, view natural theology as 
 the necessary basis of all revealed truth. 
 
 With the first class of these reasoners we have now but little to do. There are very 
 few among those that bear the name of Protestants, who deny the validity of reason 
 altogetherr Theologians of this class belong almost exclusively to the Roman Catholic 
 Church, who find it convenient to decry reason, in order to force us into the arms of 
 tradition, as the only ground of human certitude. To these, natural theology is a 
 nonentity ; it exists not in any form whatever ; all human belief is an affair of tradition, 
 handed down from a primitive or some posterior revelation. We may let this theory, 
 then, stand at present hors de combat. 
 
 We come, then, to the second hypothesis, viz., that the evidence of the being of a 
 God rests upon grounds partly natural and partly revealed. And here an objection 
 arises in the outset, against the hypothesis in question; namely, that the truth of tkc
 
 APPENDIX. 737 
 
 Divine existence is absolutely iiecessary , in order to establish the authority of revelation. 
 Take the evidences of revelation one by one, and it will be found, that they each and all 
 go upon the presumption of the existence of a God. What arc the internal evidences 
 but representations of the fact, that the doctrines of Christianity arc all in perfect con- 
 sistency with the highest conceptions we can form of the Divine character 1 Leave 
 the existence of God out of the question, or imagine yourself talking to an atheist, and 
 of what use are all the appeals you make to the purity, excellence, and Divine grandeur 
 of the Holy Scriptures'? These considerations do not prove the bcLiii; of a God; they 
 only show that on the previous admission of his existence, the sacred writings bear in- 
 ternal marks of coming from his Divine mind. 
 
 The case is the same with regard to the external evidences. What is a miracle to a 
 man who has no notion of or belief in a Godl If the universe couJd come by chance 
 or fate, surely any of the lesser phenomena termed miraculous, might occur so too. 
 We do not question, indeed, but that miracles may rouse the moral nature and draw 
 attention to divine truth ; but, lo^icatlij, if the wliol,; universe can exist without a maker, 
 miracles cannot prove the contrary. In a word, the whole authority of revelation is 
 derived from the fact of its coming from God ; consequently, its authority cannot be 
 appealed to as an evidence for the existence ov God. To nuike the credibility of reve- 
 lation rest upon the authority of God, and the being of God upon the authority of 
 revelation, is as complete an instance of a vicious circle as could well be imagined. If 
 it be said that the whole of the histories of the Old and New Testaiiient exhibit the 
 marks of a Divine hand in connection with the welfare and moral e<lucation of man, 
 I admit it. But this proof does not arise from the autliority of revelation a.s such, but 
 simply from the historical facts recorded. The religious history of mankind may cer- 
 tainly be used as a branch of the theistic argument ; but to argue from tlie facts of his- 
 tory wherever recorded, is as purely logical a process as to argue from any other facts 
 whatever. The case is the same, when we appeal to tlie Bible as a witness of the fact 
 that the world had a beginning. If we want to employ this fact as a step in our argu- 
 ment for the being of a God, and against the eternity of the universe, we can only 
 appeal to the Bible as history : to appeal to it as authority on this point, supposes the 
 previous knowledge of a divine Being from whom that authority is derived. And thus 
 twist about the evidences of revelation as we may, they cannot |)rove thid God is ; but 
 are simply adapted to show us that Christianity came from a Beijig, of whose existence 
 and attributes we have a previous conviction. 
 
 Thus, then, we are thrown entirely upon our third hypothesis; namely, that the 
 proof of the Divine existence, in its last analysis, lies entirely within the province of 
 natural theology. 
 
 Before we proceed to develop the line of argument we should employ in establishing 
 the existence of God, let us take a passing glance at the nature and purport of natural 
 theology. The aim of natural theology is not to give us the Icnoirlfl'^c, but to give 
 us the science of God. Our knowledge of Gk)d as a part of our personal history may 
 come from a variety of sources. We may believe in God from tradition, iVom the Bible, 
 from our feelings, from many other causes. Buf natural theology, originating as it 
 does after we have the knowledge of God as a practical beliet' seeks to render an ac- 
 count of that knowledge, to justify that belief to bring tiie whole matter into the light 
 of scientific or moral truth. To do this, it must coa-^truct, as it were, the very ide,i of 
 God : point out how it originates in the human mind, and show how far it is objectively 
 valid. It is necessary carefully to guard this distinction. We arc often told that we 
 must look out upon the universe, or study the page of revelation, or consult our relig- 
 ious affections, in order to find God. All this iiviy be true, as regards our personal 
 convictions, while yet tiie real scientific proofs may lie in another direction. Natural 
 theology does not preach, or appeal ; it simply reasons. It does not aim dhccJly at a 
 moral "effect, but only at a logical conclusion. 
 
 Another point to be carefully attcmlcd to is this, that wc do not start with the suppo- 
 sition, that ihcidea, of God is already found and agreed upon. This is an error lying 
 at the threshold of almost all the natural theology which our recent literature has pro- 
 duced. Our writers look around upon the laws and dispositions of matter, and finding 
 there the evidences of rte/ir/,,, exclaim, lo! here is God. True enough, but they had 
 gained their conceptions of God from other sources; they had t.iken .some theistic no- 
 tions, derived perhaps from the age, or from their own minds, or still more probably 
 from Christianity, and attributed the design manif.:st.-d in n:\\.\xTc tv this linn ;;. To 
 do so, however, 'is nvanifestly an illegitimate and totally illogical process. The problem 
 is. to find God, to deduce the true idea of the Deity, to lay aside all previous c,mr.rplio7%$, 
 and show how we arise step by step up to Deity itself When we see design in nature, 
 all we can say is, that there is a designer, or some designers : we are not to seize upon 
 our previous traditional or spontaneous belief and siy we have proved the existence
 
 738 APPENDIX. 
 
 of God in this particular sense. JVatural theology, we repeat, implies a logical pro- 
 cedure; it demands that we take nothing before received for granted, that we lay aside 
 every previous conception, that we render a scientific account of what God is as well 
 as a proof of the fact that he is. Strictly speaking, indeed, the former process is nec- 
 essary to the latter ; for to prove that God is, is proving nothing at all, unless you show 
 the notion we have to attach to the term itself Until this is done, the word God may 
 mean fate, or chance, or power, or a mere demiurge. 
 
 In this respect, there is an entire want of parallelism between the case, in which, 
 from seeing a watch, we infer some human constructor, and the case, in which, from 
 seeing the universe, we infer a God. In the former instance, we have previous experi- 
 ence of the agent 'ma?i, and at once attribute the work to an agent of this kind : in the 
 latter instance, we have no experience of the agent Gofi. We have, therefore, to gain 
 the conccpLion of him as well as prove his objective reality. Real parallelism between 
 the two cases would imply a question of this kind. If I were a pure disembodied spirit. 
 and having never known what man was, had to derive my knowledge of him from his 
 works, how much could I deduce respecting his nature from contemplating a watch 1 
 I should be obliged, of course, in such a case, to construct the conception of such an 
 agent from the qualities of my own mind, to rise from the known to the unknown, 
 from the agency I find in myself to that which I am now called on to suppose in an- 
 other. So it is also with regard to God. The very proofs which substantiate the 
 divine existence, have also to furnish us with our conceptions of the divine nature : 
 and, consequently, no proofs which do not carry with them the complete type of that 
 divine nature, are competent, single handed, to raise our minds to God. 
 
 The argument of natural theology, then, is a very complex one. Every part of the 
 creation, external and internal, brings its contribution to it. Instead of attempting to 
 deduce the existence of the Deity from one, and that the very lowest region of observa- 
 tion, namely, the region of matter, we endeavor to build the argument up step by step, 
 employing every species of proof, until it attains a cumulative force, before which the 
 sternest scepticism must be swept away. 
 
 First, then, let us look out upon nature. What do we see, gazing on it ovtwardly? 
 The answer is, jnechanism. As the mechanism of a watch irresistibly suggests a maker, 
 so the mechanism of the universe equally suggests a cause. We do not define yet of 
 what nature the cause is : let it be fate, let it be chance, let it be anything you please, 
 still it must have been somethinir. If a man be found murdered by the way-side, there 
 is no need of beginning the evidence in a court of law, that some one or somethimr 
 must have committed it. So in the case of the world, there is no need of bringing any 
 proof that there has been some cause or ca,uses, which have brought it into its present 
 state. If it have existed from eternity, the cause or causes must have operated from 
 eternity. Even those who speak of fate, as their God, must mean, that someihins, i. e. 
 some power or other, is signified under the word fate. The only thing we have to do 
 is to examine the ejffcct, and see if from it we can learn anything respecting the cause. 
 Now, the moment we come to ask respecting this cause qiialis sit, we begin necessarily 
 to argue from the only instance of direct efiicient causation with which we are ac- 
 quainted, namely, from our own minds. And probably the most immediate idea which 
 men unschooled in reflection, and accustomed simply to converse with nature, would 
 form of the world's cause, is that of a being like themselves, or more probably of a 
 hierarchy of human Deities. No one will affirm, that the earlier ages of the world 
 were destitute of any searchings after God. So far from that, everything in the myth- 
 ical period was wondrously gilded with the divine. The only thing to be noticed is, 
 that men in those ages conversed mainly with nature ; that they formed their conceptions 
 of the numina divina without much reflection, and chiefly from nature; and that the 
 argument from this source resulted more commonly than not in polytheism. Can we 
 say that the process was illogical 1 I think not. Confine our view to nature only 
 with its endless variations, and what is there unnatural in admitting the whole hie- 
 rarchy of Olympus 1 Nay, hi.story and present experience prove, that under such cir- 
 cumstances the polytheistic hypothesis is liy far the most acceptable to the human 
 understanding. Even on this ground, however, the chief share in the argument is 
 derived from the mind or the consciousness. The irresistible belief we have of causation 
 is a primary law of our consciousness, and the first attempt we make to hypostatize the 
 cause of the universe around us, is the transference of our own forms of intelligence 
 and our own personality into the conception of that vast architect, or hierarchy of 
 architects, by whom the world was constructed. The theistic argument, then, in 
 which the appeal to nature is the prominent feature, ends at best in the idea of a 
 
 Anfovfjyoi. 
 
 But, now, we enter upon another process of reflection. The universe presents to 
 our view innumerable objects, which are finite, changeable, and dependent. All of
 
 APPENDIX. 739 
 
 them consist of certain forms and attributes, united to a substance or substratum. But 
 substance, in its finite and dependent form, cannot be self-existent; for it has come 
 into that form from a previous state, i. e. has been brought into it by a prior cause. Go 
 backwards accordingly in the chain of causes, and you come at last to an absolute 
 cause. There must be, therefore, something previous to finite existence which we call 
 Being per se, something which is self-existent, underived, absolute, eternal. Under all 
 the fleeting appearmces which nature presents, there is something a/jidiii'!, which re- 
 poses alike at the basis of all — a Being which pa.sses not away with her chantres. 
 Here, then, is the dawn of the injlmte^ upon the human mind — an idea which is soon 
 reproduced in numberless different forms. Think of .*:/>«'■<?,•— we see it stretching out 
 beyond the world, beyond our system, beyond the furthest limits of creation ; and every 
 bound we affix to it only carries us to the unbounded beyond. Think of time ; — all the 
 limits of duration do but suggest the illimitable eternity. Think of dependent exist- 
 ence ; — and we sink lower and lower from one stage of dependence to another, till we 
 rest only in the independent, the absolute Think oi finite being ; — what is it but an 
 endless paradox without infinite being? Think of cause; — what docs it end in, but 
 the causa causarum, the spring and source of all things. The idea of the infinite is nec- 
 essary, absolutely necessary, to perfect the full conception of God. But this idea comes 
 not from without. We can never see, we can never have any experience of infinite 
 b^ing, and yet this is a. positive idea, an idea of which we feel the reality and necessity; 
 yea, without which, all being were but a paradox. The finii". is really the negative 
 idea : it onlij comprehends limitation and negation, a limitation which is universal 
 within the regions of our sensuous knowledge. But reason, taking its start from the 
 finite, brings us infallibly to the infinite ; and inasmuch as two infinites involve a con- 
 tradiction, it finds here the proof of the vnily and the eternity of the first great cause. 
 
 Nature, then, gave us a demiurge tor a Deity : reflection now asserts his unity, in- 
 finity, and eternity ; and we have thus before us the absolute Bciw^, without which all 
 thought, all creation, all nature, would be involved in one inexplicable contradiction. 
 As polytheism was the prevailing sentiment under the former conception, so pantheism 
 appears to be on the whole the prevailing result of the second or metaphysical stand- 
 point. But if there be any such thing as truth at all, if there be any common principles 
 on which the human reason can rest, then assuredly the universe has a grouncl, or 
 cause, and that cause is self-existent, absolute, infinite, eternal. 
 
 But again, we rise into another region of proot' and that is the moral. The only 
 personality of which we have any direct knowledge, is that of our own minds. We 
 must fake mind therefore as a field of observation, as a created effi.ct, and see what wc 
 can learn from this etfect of the infinite cause. Humanity is not self-cindcd. The 
 reason we possess is not construct"d by us out of a state of unreason If therefore, it 
 is implanted in us, then the being who i;nplanted it, the creator of the spirit, must kim- 
 .W/ possess reason. So it is with our moral sentiments. If there is a law of right and 
 wrong engraven upon our constitution, there must have been a lawgiver. All the ap- 
 peals of innocence against unrighteous tbrce are appeals to an eternal justice, and all 
 the visions of moral purity are glimpses of the infinite excellence. la a word, if wc 
 see in nature, in mind, in history, if we see in every region of the divine operation, 
 intellicrence adapting means to an end ; if we see moral sanctions expressed and implied 
 in the°natural tendencies of human action ; if we see all this moreover ciTected by a 
 supreme intelligent power, that is, a divine will ; then from the conceptions we have of 
 intelligence, moral sentiments, and will, as existing in our own personality, we are 
 constrained to regard the being froai whom they all flowed as himself a p^-rsonaliiy. in 
 ■which all these attributes exist in their fulness and perfection. And then, at length, 
 when we have once attained the idea of a divine personality, we may go back again 
 through all the realms of nature and existence, and gather nrw delight from the infinite 
 illustrations of power, wisdom, and goodness, whicii they perpetually show lorih. Thus 
 it is, that the teleological, the ontological, and the moral arguments, blend in one, and 
 mutually support each other. To extort from nature alone, a complete proof of the 
 divine personality, is throwing ourselves into a false position, and weakening our argu- 
 ment by making" it prove too much. That nature has a fnii<u\ every one whi> s|M:ak.s 
 intelligibly must admit. The main object of the ontological argument, is to prove that 
 this cause is infinite, self-existent, one; while that of the moral is to prove that he is 
 intelligent, holy, free. 
 
 Having arrived at this point, we have wherewithal to ground our belief in the au- 
 thority of revelation. The internal and external eviilcnccs can now i>oth appeal to the 
 power and purity of the Divinity ; and then, its elaiin to the title of a divine message 
 being once established, revelation can carry us onwards in our conceptions of the divine 
 natu're, to a still loftier elevation. Thus revelation, while useless at the basis, may yet 
 Isecome the crowning piece of our natural theology. Give it but a pedestal to rest
 
 740 APPENDIX. 
 
 upon, and it may lead us into the loftiest regions of divine knowledge, which are ac- 
 cessible to humanity in its earthly state. Such is the brief outline of what we regard 
 to be the true nature of the theistic argument. 
 
 Were we required to point out the region in which the whole argument is best con- 
 centrated, we should refer to man, as himself a living embodiment of all the evidences. 
 If you want argument from design, then you see in the human frame the most perfect 
 of all known organization. If you want the argument from being, then man, in his 
 conscious dependence, has the clearest conviction of that independent and absolute one, 
 on which his own being reposes. If you want the argument from reason and morals, 
 then the human mind is the only known repository of both. Man is, in fact, a micro- 
 cosm — a universe in himself; and whatever proof the whole universe aflbrds, is involved 
 in jrrincipk, in man himself. With the image of God before us, who can doubt of the 
 divine type 1 
 
 Having proceeded thus far with our theistic principles, we may attempt now some 
 few further adjustments with the " Natural Theology" of the " North British Review." 
 The eloquent author of the critique before referred to, handles with some severity the 
 principle of Cousin — that we must find the infinite, the absolute, the self-existent one 
 in the depths of our own consciousness ; and quotes against him his own previous 
 principle of pure spontaneous apperception, as being contradictory to it. " Pure spon- 
 taneous reason receives its light direct from heaven ; it looks up, and the beams of 
 eternal truth, in its objective reality, fall clear and unsullied upon it. This being the 
 case," says the reviewer, " why should we seek for God in the depths of our own psy- 
 chology : how can the reflection be brighter than the primary effulgence V 
 
 I confess it was somewhat surprising to me, that so able a metaphysician, in mak- 
 ing this objection, should have entirely overlooked the distinction between our primary 
 and spontaneous knowledg-e of God, and theology which is the science of God. Surely 
 we do not require natural theology, as a science, to give us our first conceptions of the 
 Deity. I might, if this were the case, with the same reasonableness, inquire whether 
 the reviewer himself could find the infinite and absolute being among the eyes and 
 claws of animals, or the fossil remains of the lower geological strata, or any other of 
 the regions of nature, which he traverses in search of the teleological dispositions of 
 matter. What we are required to do in natural theology, is to render a scientific ac- 
 cmnt of our belief in a God ; and the question here, accordingly, is not whence we 
 have the first spontaenous glimpse of the Divinity, but how we can establish the truth 
 of his existence on a clear and reflective basis. Our reviewer, we apprehend, traverses 
 nature, not to find God, but in order to render a scientific account of his belief; we 
 traverse the regions of psychology for the same purpose. 
 
 To render this account, the spontaneous apperceptions of the mind, reviewed alone, 
 are useless : they can have no scientific value about them, just because they are spon- 
 taneous and not reflective. The use of psychology is to give them a reflective value ; 
 to prove that they are not mere subjective delusions, but a veritable light from heaven. 
 This is, in fact, the very point which M. Cousin is establishing in the passage quoted, 
 and, alas! misunderstood by the reviewer, when he (M. Cousin) says, that " within 
 the penetralia of consciousness he had succeeded in seizing and analyzing the instanta- 
 neous but veritable fact of the spontaneous apperception of truth — an apperception 
 which, not immediately reflecting itself, passes unperceived in the depths of the con- 
 sciousness, yet is the real basis of that, which later, mider a logical form, and in the 
 hands of reflection, becomes a necessary conception.'^ 
 
 Theolocry, as the very termination ology implies, occupies itself solely in the reflex 
 and lotrical ; and it is for this reason we affirm, that we must seek for its basis in the 
 depths of our psychology. Take the instance of beauty, as an illustration. We have a 
 spontaneous apperception of the beautiful in nature or art. To find the beautiful, of 
 course, we need no psychology; but is it possible for us to ground the theory or science 
 of beauty, except upon the basis of psychological principles 1 So is it in natural the- 
 ology : — to establish the principle of causation, upon which the whole a posteriori argu- 
 ment depends, is an affair of psychology ; to find the scientific use and value of our 
 pure spontaneous apperceptions, is an affair of psychology ; to furnish the logical ex- 
 plication of the manner in which we rise from the idea of our own personality, to that 
 of the infinite personahty, is an affair of psychology ; in a word, take away psychol- 
 ogy, and although we may feel the presence of the Infinite Being, and love him still, 
 yet we can have no theology, no scientific basis for our belief Nature alone can never 
 give us the infinite; and how are we, therefore, to ascribe infinity to the Deity, unless 
 we show, philosophically, that our spontaneous perception of the infinite is grounded in 
 real scientific truth. 
 
 This leads us to another very important adjustment, on the relation between natural 
 theolotry and revelation. It is evident, that we may assume our spontaneous concep-
 
 APPENDIX. 741 
 
 tions of Deity as unquestionable, and be content to go with them to the establishment 
 ot the evidences ot revealed religion. In this case, our system of revealed theolo.ry may 
 undoubtedly appear to stand apart from, and independent of, the conclusions of nat- 
 ural theology. But who does not at once j.erceive, that in this process there U an en- 
 tire want 01 logical consecutiveness ? We take an unscientific formula and upon that 
 we ground a scientihc argument for the truth of revelation. We accept a mere siKjn- 
 taneous impression, and on its authority we ground a theology, /. e. a rcHectivc science 
 That the spontaneous and unscientific apprehension of truth is the ori-rinai nudler on 
 which the whole ot our theology must be based (just as our perception of the beautiful 
 is the basis ot all our scientific aesthetics), we fully admit ; but we have no ri<rhl to u.sc 
 It for scientific purposes, until it has become rcjledu-c truth. If we pretend to'construct 
 a theology at all, we must proceed logically, from the very first principles to the sum- 
 mit of our last conclusion. 
 
 On this ground, therefore, we affirm, in the name of all clear and consecutive think- 
 ing, that natural theology is the true and the only true basis of revealed theology. To 
 build the authority of revelation upon the idea of God, as furnished by the spontaneous 
 light alone, may serve well enough for moral purposes ; nay, for aught I know, we 
 might convert the whole world to Christianity, without proving a single doctrine it 
 contains, or even vindicating the truth of its evidences. But if we aspire to a LieoUixy, 
 the logical procedure cannot tor a moment be dispensed with : we must prove our 
 ground as we advance, and leave nothing behind, which can give occasion of oflence 
 to the sceptic himself To do this, we arc bound to begin by rendering a due account 
 of our spontaneous apperceptions, of our doctrine of final causes, or of^any other prin- 
 ciple upon which man is compelled to admit the validity of his primary beliefs. .Ac- 
 cordingly, we must establish the philosophical value of our primary theistic conceptions 
 by the light of a scarchmg psijc/udogij : and it is only when we have laid firm our basis 
 in the inviolable depths of the human consciousness, that we can proceed to build up 
 the noble superstructure of a sound Ikeubgij. Unless these principles be established, 
 theism fails of a scientific foundation ; and theism thus faihng, natural theology has 
 not its primary idea, and revealed theology is wanting in thc^very conception'which 
 gives it all its authority and all its power. We affirm, therefore, that all theoloo-y, 
 whether natural or revealed, like everything else which appeals to argiij/wnt for vinTii- 
 cating its truth, must be grounded in the da/a of our consciousness, and the exercise of 
 our faculties. To deny this, is to deny the right of appeal to the human understanding 
 in such matters at all ; it is to sacrifice the very idea of having a rational basis for our 
 religious belief; it is to give up the possibility of a theology properly so-called, and set 
 the whole of our theological conceptions afloat upon the uncertain ocean of mere 
 feeling, or of human tradition. 
 
 This conclusion is evident, not only when we turn our attention to the conception of 
 a God as the fnundal ton of all theology, but equally so when we consider many other 
 of the conceptions which the truths of revelation involve. Revelation comes to us in 
 the form oi' icords ; these words, in order to convey to us their /"/(//meaning, mu^t be fiUJi/ 
 understood. But how can this full understanding be attained ? Experience alone is 
 sufficient to tell us that the ideas which are embodied in many of the words and ex- 
 pressions of revelation, can only be adequately comprehended, by means of the progress 
 we make in moral thinking at large. \Vill any one say that the scriptural idea ot' hu- 
 man brotherhood has been comprehended through the eighteen centuries of (Miristian 
 teaching which have enlightened the world ? .Vs society advances, and the principles 
 of justice between man and man become gradually established, do wc not find that 
 the whole is contained in the spirit, aye, and in the letter of Christianity, but that the 
 moral thinking of the worltl was not sufficiently awake to see it ? Killy years ago, 
 did our fathers see slavery cursed in the Bible ! Or (en years ago, would any one 
 have dreamed of quoting scripture against the spirit of monopoly ! b'o it is with all 
 the other great subjects of moral interest. The idea of creation, of providence, of hu- 
 man freedom, or of moral evil, of retribution, aye, and of spiritual regeneration, all of 
 them involve conceptions, which can only be evolved into highest brightness by the in- 
 tense application of the reason upon them; that is, by the co-ojieration of pMttiMphi/ in 
 the elucidation of divine truth. We find, then, two important relationships which phi- 
 losophy bears to tlieology ; first, that it must ailord it a seinitifif basis: and secondly, 
 that it must clear up to us the great primary moral conceptions which rcvtl.ition in- 
 volves, but which it leaves us to investigate and develop. 
 
 Are we then, it might be said, to regard philosophy as the basis of all religion? I 
 answer, far from it. 'rheology and religion are two widely dilTerent tilings. Theology 
 implies a body of truth, founded upon indisputable principles, and having a connec- 
 tion capaiilc of carrying our reason with it, running through all its parts. Religion, 
 on the other hand, is the spontaneous homage of our nature poured forth with all the
 
 742 APPENDIX. 
 
 fragrance of holy feeling into the bosom of the infinite. Religion may exist without a 
 theology at all, properly so called. We may never have attempted to render account 
 of a single theological idea ; we may never have stepped out of the regioij of our purely 
 spontaneous imaginations ; we may be destitute of the least notion of the grounds on 
 which our belief rests, and yet the deepest waters of our religious being may be stirred 
 by the divine impulse upon the soul, and lead to all the noble results of a living 
 and entire devotion to God. And here we see the power of the word in its progress 
 through the world. It comes not with any philosophical pretensions, it claims not to 
 show us the grounds of our belief in God and Eternity : but it comes, all replete with 
 the pure, the holy, the divine. It appeals not to our logical consciousness, but speaks 
 at once to the religious nature, or, as we more often term it, to the heart. Scepticism ex- 
 isting, as it ever will, till the visions of prophecy are fulfilled, demands at our hands a 
 theology which shall stop the mouth of sophistry and contention : but, ah ! the world 
 at large, grovelling in the dust of the earthly, the sensual, and the devilish, needs not 
 so much a theology, as the deep inward stirrings of that religious nature, which every 
 bosom contains as the heritage of heaven, until the spirit is mastered by the flesh, 
 and the better feelings hurried away and lost in the torrent of imperious and irresist- 
 ible evil. 
 
 Since the above note was written, the spirit that dictated the sentiments on which 
 we have commented, has gone to its eternal rest. It may be interesting to some of 
 the survivors, to know that the views above expressed were communicated to him, 
 though in a very brief and imperfect form, by private correspondence, and that his 
 mind to the last was actively engaged in developing the principles of the knowledge we 
 may attain of that Divine being, whom he was so soon to adore in the higher world, 
 and on whose eternal love he is now reposing. The following is an extract from his 
 reply, dated April 30, 1847 :— 
 
 " I should have replied much sooner, but I have been much engrossed, and often 
 unwell. I read your letter with the greatest satisfoction. I must confess that if you 
 once admit the reality of the conception of a God, and also that the proof subsequent 
 to that point is successful, it is all I care for. I do not in the least object to the specula- 
 tion as to the origin of the conception. Enough for me that the starting post is there, 
 however it may have been set up. You will allow with me, that the conception is a 
 very general one ; and if an unexceptionable argument can be grounded on its mere 
 existence for the objective reality of a God, I seek no further. I would lay no interdict 
 on the attempt to trace our mental processes backward from the conception to its earlier 
 rudiments. But this anterior process, or rather the description of it, forms no part of 
 the proof for a God, which is grounded exclusively on the existence of this conception 
 as a mental phenomenon, and not on the causes whence it took its rise." Great as is 
 the loss to private friendships and affection of so noble a mind and so loving a nature 
 as was that of Chalmers, greater still is that which has been sustained by the Church 
 and by the world. Breathing as he had ever done the atmosphere of his country's 
 philosophy and theology, our admiration was only so much the greater to see his soar- 
 ing mind- ever ready to burst beyond the limits of mere nationality, into the broad 
 catholicity of human thought. Too soon is he removed from a sphere in which his 
 influence was at once so extensive and so deeply needed. Had another ten years been 
 added to his life, with all the fresh associations which were flowing in upon it from the 
 Uterature of Europe, with that lofty impartiality which more and more characterized 
 his spirit, with the aptitude he evinced to soar beyond the formalities of a dead symbol 
 into the higher regions of spiritual light and life, we can hardly picture to ourselves the 
 full dimensions to which his whole mental being might have expanded. May there be 
 many to catch the mantle of the ascending prophet — the mantle not only of his massive 
 intellect, but of his broad, his earnest, and his catholic spirit ! 
 
 Note B. 
 
 M. Peisse, an ingenious French author, in confuting the intellectual system of Dr. 
 Gall, puts the whole question of the v.7iifor7ii relation between the cerebral development 
 and the power of the mental faculties to the test, by adducing the instance of a young 
 Indian girl, who possessed a most monstrous configuration, but who never showed
 
 APPENDIX. 743 
 
 mentally the least peculiarity. After having attested and described the facts of the 
 case, he proceeds to reason with the phrenolo<rists as follows : — " I do not see how, on 
 your principles, this dirticulty can he surmountnd. You would not be ahlo to believe, 
 on the one hand, that a sound inttllect could dwell in a brain so monstrously deformed, 
 without abandoning your fundamental principle, whicii expressly suborditmlos the 
 mental manifestation to certain physioloirical conditions, determined by yourselves. 
 You are not able, on the other hand, to allege that the malformations of the cranium 
 have not had any influence ujjon the constitution of the brain, without taking away 
 from your own system its one and only basis, its only guarantee, its only demonstra- 
 tion, namely, cra/i.iosci:pij. If in fact, you agree that in this case disease or original 
 disposition have produced such considerable deviations upon the cranium, without the 
 brain participating in it, then all your classifications, distinctions, and localizations, are 
 destroyed ; for they rest upon a prior supposition of the perfect and continuous corres- 
 pondence of the cranium with the brain. What would then become of all your obser- 
 vations on the statues of the ancients— upon the heads of living men and animals— if 
 this correspondence does not exist, at l.Mst, within the limits which you have deter- 
 mined 1 * * * The fact which I now discuss is in direct contradiction with your prin- 
 ciples, for it demonstrates the one or the other of these two propositions :— 
 
 J. " Either, that the integrity of the intellectual and moral faculties can subsist witli 
 a monstrous brain ; or, 
 
 2. " That the cranium can be monstrous without the brain participating in its de- 
 formation. .,.,•. »•. 
 
 " And you cannot admit cither the one or the other, without reducing to a nonentity 
 
 all the organology of Dr. Gall." 
 
 Note C. 
 
 The philosophy of M. Azais may be in some measure comprehended from the follow- 
 ing extract: ,„,.,• .u 
 
 " The universe is the whole sum of existences and of their relation ; these existences 
 and their relations change and unceasingly renew themselves : action is then necessary 
 to the existence, and to the preservation of the universe. _ 
 
 " Matter, the substance of beings, is the passive subject of the uniMirsal action. C.o-J 
 impresses the action— matter obeys. • i r .„„:.. . 
 
 "The universal action has received from the Creator one unique mode of exercise . 
 on this condition only, it can be a source of order and at the same time production I-.x 
 vansion is the only mode of universal action ; that is to say, that every maten.d being 
 by the simple fact", that it exists, is pcnctrati'd in all the points ot its substance with an 
 inward action, which tends incessantly to dilate it, to divide it, to augment indehnitcly 
 the space which it occupies, and, con.sequently, to dissolve It 
 
 « Thus a material being, of any kind whatever, if it could tor a single moment be alone 
 in space ' if durin-r one moment, it could form of itself a universe ; woul.l only have 
 need of this 'moment to enter into an eternal and absolute dissolution. 
 
 "But every material being, of whatever kind, and occupying wiatever space, H 
 surrounded with material beings, like to. or diflVrent irom. itsell ; which are all likewise 
 penetr ed with a continual expansive force ; which, consequently, repress or prevent 
 Ss dissolution, by struggling against it ; and the expansion of every one of these bodie. 
 il itself epresed, retarded,"and modified by the concurrent expansion of^ all the bodies 
 with which it ,s surrounded; so that ,cnrra'h,M the universe, the act of reprcsMon 
 or ofconservation is the immediate eflecl of universal expansion. 
 
 The S or next .rocs on to account, upon thes.> mechanical principles, for thej^he- 
 nomna of hea" magnetism, electricity, and all the more subtle agents in nature. Worn 
 theTce he proceeds^) deduce all the ditlerent attrdnifs of malerial existence in ^U 
 solid liqll and a.^ritbrm character. The phcno.n.non of W.<^,c,:rns peculiarly i.n- 
 nortan i^i lis theory, as accounting for tlie vibrations by which sound, li^ht, &.- nn-. 
 jSuced. Withourdwelling upon these points, however, we must show his explana- 
 
 "^^^^^i^:^::?^ "^^^ in the bosom of which vibrating gl-^ulcs arc 
 espeSrcolkcted in particular focuses; having relations between them sustained by 
 Ed of fibres or channels; this provision does not exist in mwr^umzol elastic be- 
 Sgs their vibrating expansion proceeds indi.Ter.ntly from every pomt towards the 
 
 '"<'^ln plants, the organic relations arc very simple, because the channels which cstah-
 
 744 APPENDIX. 
 
 lish them do not fold back upon themselves and have no connection with one another : 
 there is, in a word, no clrcuiation. In animals, the organization is so much the more 
 elevated, as the circulation of the vibrating globules is more multiplied, and by this 
 means the general correspondence more rapid and more intimate. Man is the most 
 perfect of organized beings. Every organ, or focus of vibration, in an organized being, 
 of whatever nature, executes its particular vibration : there is health or harmony in the 
 whole of this being, when all the organs execute concordant vibrations among them- 
 selves, when they form a true concert. There is, on the contrary, disease when the 
 vibrations of the different organs are discordant among them : in organized beings of 
 the superior classes this discordance manifests itself by /ercr." 
 
 Having explained the phenomena of organization, our author proceeds to philosophize 
 upon man, in his mental, moral, and social capacities. " Man," he remarks, " experi- 
 ences both a want and a repression alike ; but of a much more multiplied character, 
 because it is of a nature much more rich, much more lofty. Each one of us is desirous 
 of prosperity, of well-being, of extension, of pleasure, of renown; each can only rest 
 satisfied and peaceful, inasmuch as he moderates the expansion which animates him : 
 if he abandons himself to his ardor, he soon meets with the resistance of his fellows — a 
 resistance which proceeds from their expansion, and which, if it is repulsed with vio- 
 lence, rallies, becomes in its turn hostile, rude, oppressive. Human laws, of whatever 
 kind — the laws of administration, the laws of justice, never do anything but regulate 
 the reaction of the common expansion against the usurpations of individual expansion: 
 every human law is a social form given to the single and universal law, to the law of 
 compensations. 
 
 " In fine, every people is a federation of expansive beings ; a federation which un- 
 ceasingly tends to the improvement and to the increase of posterity, of territory, of ce- 
 lebrity, of all kinds of enjoyment. This expansion, as long as it is limited by wisdom, 
 remains a principle of force and of harmony; but, favored by imprudence and heated 
 by ambition, it excites the reaction of surrounding peoples ; it j)rovokes their union and 
 energy. People, ambitious without moderation, only call forth catastrophes. The 
 earth has resounded with the violence of their movements ; soon it is frightened at the 
 noise of its fall : if it is not raised by a firm and conciliatory hand, it is crushed and 
 annihilated." 
 
 Note D. 
 
 Most of Fichte's works consist of somewhat small treatises ; in which his thoughts, 
 however, are developed at once with great brevity and great distinctness. The follow- 
 ing, we believe, is a correct list of them, with the exception of short pieces or articles 
 which appeared in the periodical literature of the day : — 
 
 1. " An Attempt at a Critique of all Revelation;" published anonymously in 1792, 
 and, then, generally attributed to the pen of Kant. 
 
 2. " Lectures on the Destination of the Learned ;" written on his first appointment 
 at Jena — 1794. 
 
 3. " On the Idea of a Doctrine of Science." Weimar, 1794. 
 
 4. " Principles of a Universal Doctrine of Science." Weimar, 1794. 
 
 5. " Sketch of the Peculiarity of the Doctrine of Science." Jena, 1795. 
 
 6. " Principles of Natural Right." Jena, 179fi. 
 
 7. " A System of Moral Philosophy." Jena, 1798. 
 
 These are the works in which Fichte's first views on the subjective philosophy were 
 embodied. From this point, we find a somewhat modified spirit introduced into all his 
 speculations, as we have indicated in the text. 
 
 8. " On the Destination of Man." Beriin, 1800. Recently translated into English 
 by Mrs. Percy Sinnett. 
 
 9. " Sun-clear Intelligence, offered to the Public at large, on the peculiar Nature of 
 the newest Philosophy." Berlin, 1801. 
 
 10. " The Features of the present Age." Berlin, 1884. 
 
 11. " On the Nature of the Scholar." Lectures delivered at Erlangen in 1805. Also 
 translated. 
 
 12. " Directions for a Happy Life ; or, the Doctrine of Religion." Berlin, 1806. 
 
 13. " Addresses to the German People." Berlin, 1808. 
 The following were published posthumously : — 
 
 14. " On the Facts of Consciousness." Stuttgard, 1817. 
 
 15. " Doctrine of Government." Berlin, 1820. 
 
 1 6. Throe volumes of Miscellanies, edited by his son.
 
 APPENDIX. 745 
 
 Several small controversial pamphlets are here omitted. The above list contains the 
 works which show the development of his pliilosopliicul ideas. 
 
 The most distinctive feature, and fur the most intcrestinsr of Fichtc's pliilosophy, is 
 that which refers to man's moral action, and hitjh destiny in life. However extrava- 
 gant we may consider his theoretical science, yet it is impossible to read his noble .sen- 
 timents on human duty, and to see them exemplifed in his own eventful life, without 
 feeling our moral weakness reproved, and our moral strength invigorated. 
 
 NOTK E. 
 
 To give anything approaching to a correct list of all Schclling's writings, i.-i a matter 
 of no small difficulty. His ever restless mind continued, for some years, to [»our forth 
 its productions, in treatises, pamphlets, and journals, in such a manner, that the only 
 possible way of getting a connected view of his literary life, would be to arrange these 
 articles in due order, as they appeared before the public. Instead of doinij this, we 
 shall give a classification of his writings, accordin;r to their general characteristics. 
 
 The first period in Schelling's philosophical life, is that in which he discusses the 
 grounds of metaphysical science, as seen from Fichte's subjective principles. To this 
 period belong his articles : — 
 
 1. "On the Possibility of a Form of Philosophy generally." Tiibingen, 1795; and 
 
 2. " On the Me, as Principle of Philosophy ; or on the Unconditioned in Human 
 Knowledge." 
 
 3. " Philosophical Letters on Dogmatism and Criticism," in " Niethammer's Phil. 
 Journal," 179(j. 
 
 The second period is that in which Schcllintr developed his Natur-Philosophie in its 
 original form. The chief works bclon<Ting to this period arc — 
 
 1. " Ideas towards a Philosophy of Nature." Leipsic, 1797. 
 
 2. " On the Soul of the World; an Hypothesis of the Higher Physics." Iltunburg, 
 1798. 
 
 3. " Sketch of a System of Natural Philosophy " Jena, 1799. 
 
 4. " System of Tran.sccndental Idealism." Tiibingen, 1800. 
 
 5. "The Journal for Speculative Physics." Jena, 1800— 1H03. 
 
 6. " Bruno ; a Dialogue on the Divine and Natural Principle of Things." Berlin, 
 1802. 
 
 7. " Lectures on the Method of Academical Study." Tiibingen, 1803. 
 
 In the third period of his philoso])hical lite, Schelling began to feel that he had con- 
 fined himself too much to the objective point of view, and lost sight of the powers and 
 freedom 6i the individual .sc//". We find, therefore, in the following works, a tendency 
 backward to the subjective principle. These are — 
 
 1. " Philosophy and Religion." Tiibingen. 1801. 
 
 2. " Representation of the true Relation of Natural Philosophy to the improved Doc- 
 trine of Fichte." Tiibingen, 1806. 
 
 3. " Yearly Journal of Medicine." Tiibingen, 180G. 
 
 4. " Memorial of the Work of Jacobi on Divine Things." Tubingen, 1812. 
 
 The last period of Schclling's life, is that in which he has come round to the Theo- 
 sophic point of view, and merged his former ideas in a comprehensive system of relig- 
 ious mysticism. To this belong — 
 
 1. " Researches into the Essence of Human Freedom." Tiibingen, 1812. 
 
 2. " The Pliilosophy of Mythology;" in a work on " The Deities of Samothrace." 
 Tiibingen, 1815. 
 
 3. " Preface to Cousin's Philosophical Fragments." The only thing %vhich the 
 Author wrote, after his work on Mythology, for twenty years. 
 
 4. His Lectures at Berlin, in the year 1812, on the " Philosophy of Revelation," of 
 which a few only have been printed. 
 
 NoTR F. 
 
 The wrilinjTS of Hegel are comprised in a much smaller number of independent 
 works, than those of Fichte and Schelling. Wc have to thank the zeal of his tolloweni 
 in Berlin, for giving us a comi)letc edition of them, edited in a most masterly style. His 
 publications appeared in the following order : —
 
 746 APPENDIX. 
 
 1. A Dissertation " De Orbitis Planetarum." Jena, 1801, 
 
 2. A small work, " On the Difference between Fichte's and Schelling's System of 
 Philosophy." Jena, 1801. 
 
 3. Many Articles in the " Critical .Journal of Philosophy." 1802, 1803. 
 
 Up to this period, Hegel was not (iistinguished from the ordinary school of Schel- 
 ling, but worked in conjunction with him. 
 
 4. The first work, in which he decidedly took up his own independent position, was 
 that entitled " Phenomenology of Mind." Wurzburg, 1807. (This work Hegel used 
 to call his " Voyage of Discovery.") 
 
 5. " Science of Logic." This is comprised in three volumes, which appeared suc- 
 cessively, from 1812 to 1816, at Nuremberg. 
 
 6. " Encyclopcedia of Philosophical Sciences." Heidelberg, 1817. 
 
 7. " Principles of the Rights of Nature." BerHn, 1821. 
 
 In addition to these, Hegel delivered many courses of Lectures at Berlin, on almost 
 every subject connected with philosophy and its history, many of which have been 
 pubhshed posthumously, from a collation of his own Notes with those taken by his pu- 
 pils, at their delivery. The most interesting of these are, the " History of Philosophy," 
 and the " Philosophy of History." 
 
 Note G. 
 
 The following is the statement which has been given by the authors of the " Dic- 
 tionnaire des Sciences Philosophiques," of the principles by which their criticisms have 
 been guided. 
 
 1. Retaining as we do, to the bottom of our hearts, an inviolable respect for that 
 tutelary power, which accompanies man from the cradle to the grave, speaking to him 
 always of God, and pointing him to heaven as the true country ; we believe, neverthe- 
 less, that philosophy and religion are two things altogether distinct, the one of which 
 cannot supply the place of the other, but which are both necessary to the satisfaction 
 of the mind, and the dignity of our race. We believe that philosophy is a science alto- 
 gether//Yc; which is sufficient in itself, and appeals to reason. But we maintain that, 
 at the same time, far from being an individual and sterile faculty, varying from one 
 man and from one period to another, reason comes from God ; that it is, like Him, in- 
 variable, and absolute in its essence ; that it is nothing less than a reflex of the Divine 
 wisdom, enlightening the consciousness of every individual man, enlightening the 
 tribes of humanity as a whole, under the condition of labor and of time. 
 
 2. We recognize no science without method. But the method which we have 
 adopted, and which we regard as the only legitimate one, is that which has already 
 twice regenerated philosophy, and through philosophy the whole su.m of human knowl- 
 edge. It is the method of Socrates and Descartes, but applied with more rigor, and 
 developed to the present proportions of science, the horizon of which has widened with 
 the ages. Equally removed from empiricism, which will admit nothing beyond the 
 grossest and most palpable facts, and from pure speculation, which feeds upon chi- 
 maeras, the psychological method observes religiously, by the aid of that interior light 
 which is called consciousness, all the facts and all the states of the human mind. It 
 collects one by one all the principles, all the ideas, which constitute, in any manner, 
 the foundation of our intelligence ; then, by the aid of induction and reasoning, it 
 fructifies them, and raises them to the highest unity, and develops them into abundant 
 results. 
 
 3. Thanks to this manner of proceeding, and thanks to it alone, we teach in psy- 
 chology the most positive spiritualism, allying the system of Leibnitz to that of Plato 
 and Descartes; not admitting that the mind is an idea, a pure thought, nor a power 
 without liberty, destined simply to put into play the machinery of the body; nor any 
 fugitive form of being in general, which, once broken, only leaves after it an existence 
 unknown to itself, an immortality without consciousness, and without memory. It is 
 in our eyes, that which it is in reality — a free and responsible power, an existence en- 
 tirely distinct from every other, which possesses itself knows itself, governs itself, and 
 carries in itseh', with the impress of its origin, the pledge of its immortality. 
 
 4. In morals we recognize no transaction between passion and duty ; between 
 eternal justice and necessity, that is to say, the interest of the moment. The idea of 
 duty, of good in itself, is for us the sovereign law, which allows no attaint, and rejects 
 all condition ; which binds states and governments, as well as individuals, and ought 
 to serve for a rule in the appreciation of the past, as in the resolutions of the future. 
 But we believe, at the same time, that under the empire of this Divine law, of which
 
 APPENDIX. 747 
 
 charity and the love of God arc the indispensable compliment, all the wants of our 
 nature find their legitimate satisfaction ; all the faculties of our being arc excited to 
 develop themselves in the most perfect agreement ; all the forces of the individual and 
 of society, being combined under one and the same discipline, are equally put out to 
 profit, we will not say for the attainment of absolute happiness, which belongs not to 
 this world, but for the glory and dignity of the human race. 
 
 5. In all questions relative to God, and the relations of God to man, we have trivcM 
 i;s due part to feelbng; we have recognized, more perhaps than any of our preil';."i s- 
 sors, its legitimate and salutary influence, even while maintaining, in their whole -k- 
 tent, the rights and the authority of reason. We accord to reason the ji >\ver of deiiiDn- 
 strating to us the existence of the Creator, of instructing us in hi- iniiiiite atiribut s, 
 and his relation to the universe of Beings ; but by feehng we entur, in some way, iiilo 
 more intimate communion with him, and his action upon us is at once more im iie- 
 diate and more present. We profess an equal separation from mysticism, which, sicri- 
 fi'jing reason to feeling, and man to God, loses itself in the splendors of the infiiiit.- ; 
 and from pantheism, which refuses to God the very pertections of man, by adiiiittiii4 
 under this name some mere abstract bring deprived of consciousness and of lil)erty. 
 Thanks to this consciousness of ourselves, and of this free-will, upon whi^h ar«i 
 founded at once our method and our entire philosojjhy, this abstract and vague D^iiy, 
 of whom we have just spoken, the God of pantheism, becomes forever impossible, an I 
 we see in its place Providence, the tree and holy God, whom the human race adon-s, 
 the le,rislator of the moral world, the source at the same time, as it is, the object of t!i.it 
 iaoxhaustil)l2 love of the beautiful and the good, which at the centre of our souls mix 
 tiiemsclves with the passions of another order. 
 
 G In fine, we think that the history of philosophy is inseparable from philos.ophy 
 ir-ielf; that they both form one and the same s:;ienc3. All the problems agititcil i>y \.\\<; 
 philosophers, all the solutions which have been given of them, all the systems whi.-li 
 in turn have reigned, or have struggled for the mastery in the same epoch, arc in u 
 certain manner of viewing them, facts that have their origin in the human cons.-iou-i- 
 n-sj, lacts that illustrate lind complete those which every one of us discovers in hi n- 
 s ;li': for how could they have proiluced themselves, if they had not had in us (in t!ie 
 Iwvs of our intelligence) their foundation and their origin 1 Independently of this 
 point of view, whicTi regards the history of philosophy as a counterproof, and neces- 
 sary compliment of psychology, we admit that truth belongs to all ti.nes and to all 
 j.iaces, that it constitutes in some sort the very essence of the human mind, but t!iat il 
 d.)e3 not always manifest itself under the same form, and to the sainc degree. ^ \Vc be- 
 ll -ve. in fine, in a wise progress, compatible with the invariaide principles of rea.s.>n. 
 and from that cause the present state of science attaches itself closely with ti»e p.isi; 
 tiie order in which the systems of philosophy follow and unite with each other, b<:- 
 comes the very order which presides over the devtiopment of the human intelligence 
 athwart the a^es, and throughout the entireness of humanhy. 
 
 Note H. 
 
 In the course of our " Historical View," we have said nothing respcctinff the phi- 
 I isophy of any of the European nations beyond England, France, and Germany. It 
 s'lould not be inferred, however, from hence, that philosophy has been entirely n<g- 
 K--.tc.l amongst all the other peoples of Europe except those thre<'. The reason why they 
 liold no prominent place in the history of philosopliy is— that they have attached them- 
 s Ives to some of the systems we have explained, rather tiian originated in any m-w 
 m 'thods or theories. ... 
 
 Next to the countries above mentioned, Italy has been the most active in the pur- 
 "^uit of philosophy. The merits of Vico, as father of the philosophy of history, have 
 been already mentioned. Besides Vico, however, the last century gave to It.dy several 
 writers more peculiariv philosoidiieal, who are worthy to stand side by side with thos.^ 
 <,( the other countries of Europe. Of these Antonio Genovcsi has been termed the re- 
 storer of i)hiIosophv to Italy. Appiano Buonafede, born four years later n7lfi.) was 
 an equally fertile, thou.Th very opposite writer. The former may be regarded as belong- 
 incr to the eclectic, certainly'to the spiritualist school, while his opjwnent was a child 
 of^the sensationalism of the eighteenth century. In morals the name of Muraton has 
 almost an European reputation. _ ^ , ., ir-.ii 
 
 In the present century we have Ilomagnosi as the historian of philosophy. Galluppi 
 as the psychologist, and Gioberti as the metaphysician ; so that every branch ot phil-
 
 748 APPENDIX. 
 
 osophical science has had its representative in Italy. In the person of the latter of 
 these especially, the spirit of philosophy has begun to menace the power both of su- 
 perstition and of authority, under which that unhappy country has for so loner been 
 oppressed. '^ 
 
 In Holland, Denmark, and Sweden, several authors have been incited to metaphys- 
 ical investigations by the German philosophy ; and even Portugal has produced one 
 or two works worthy of notice. As all these, however, have a reference to some of the 
 systems already explained, I have not thought it worth while to get up any distinct 
 account of them in the present volumes.
 
 INDEX OF NAMES, 
 
 Abercrombie, p. 391. 
 
 Alcott, 570. 
 
 Alison, 305. 
 
 Ancillon, 683. 
 
 Argens, Marquis d', 207. 
 
 Aristotle, 28, 31, 47, 48, 672. 
 
 Arnold, 713. 
 
 Azais, 353. — Appen. — Note. 
 
 Baader, 625. 
 
 Bacon, 29, 63—71, 79, 392. 
 
 Ballanche, 594. 
 
 Ballantyne, 390. 
 
 Barchou de Penhoen, 672. 
 
 Barlow, John, 347, 512. 
 
 Barbara, 568. 
 
 Barni, Jules, 671. 
 
 Bartheleray, St. Hilaire, 672. 
 
 Bauer, Bruno, 480. 
 
 Bautain, 539. 
 
 Bayle, 199, 200. 
 
 Beausobre, 153, 207. 
 
 Bell, Sir C, 307. 
 
 Belsbara, 283. 
 
 Benard, 671. 
 
 Bentham, 103, 272—280, 580, 700, 
 
 701. 
 Berard, 679, 680. 
 Berkeley, 5G, 94, 141, 143. 
 Bersot, 673. 
 Bicbat, 337. 
 Bohme, Jacob, 208. 
 Bonald, 537. 
 Bonnet, 109, 110, 684. 
 Bonstetten, 684. 
 Boulland, 594. 
 Bouillier, 121, 671, 673. 
 Bouterwek, 603. 
 Bowring, 273. 
 
 Bray, 283. 
 Branis, 489. 
 Broglie, Due do, 670. 
 Brougham, 112, 716. 
 Broussais, 351 — 353, 682. 
 Brown, Dr. T., 93, 375 — 389. 
 Brownson, 508. 
 Bruno, Giordano, 62. 
 Bucbez, 593. 
 Buckland, 35. 
 Burke, 714. 
 Butler, 140, 141. 
 Byron, 707. 
 
 Cabanis, 31, 335—339, 679, 697. 
 
 Calker, 607. 
 
 Campanella, 62. 
 
 Cardaillac, 685. 
 
 Carlyle, 508—512, 712. 
 
 Carmichael, 179. 
 
 Carpenter, Dr., 305, 308 — 310. 
 
 Chalmers, Dr., 46, 186, 389, 398, 
 
 399. — Note A. Appendix. 
 Chalybuus, 160. 
 Clarke, Dr. S., 96, 137—139. 
 Collins, 96. 
 
 Coleridge, 562—568, 712. 
 Combe, G., 318. 
 Combe, Edw., 195. 
 Comtc, 263, 354—362, 694. 
 Condillac, 31, 104—109, 335, 336. 
 Condorcet, 111. 
 Conradi, 480. 
 Constant, 676. 
 Cory, J. P., 221, 512. 
 Cousin, 49, 50, 51, 54, 174, 245, 
 
 395, 306, 641—662, 672, 726. 
 Coward, Dr., 319. 
 Cudworth, 134—137.
 
 750 
 
 INDEX OF NAMES. 
 
 Cumberland, 76, 134. 
 Cusanus, Nicolaus, 62. 
 
 Damiron, 208, 666—669, 682. 
 
 Darwin, 103. 
 
 Degerando, 611 — 679. 
 
 De la Forge, 122. 
 
 Descartes, 29, 63, 115, 116, 182, 
 
 194, 391, 672. 
 Destutt de Tracy, 335, 342 — 345. 
 Diderot, 112, 719. 
 Dodwell, 96, 139. 
 Dubois, 670. 
 Dupuis, 112. 
 
 Eckstein, Baron d', 541. 
 Edwards, Jonathan, 283. 
 Elliotson, Dr., 319. 
 Emerson, 508. 
 Engel, Jobanri, 201. 
 Engledue, Dr., 319, 320. 
 Epicurus, 275. 
 Epinay, Mad. d', 112. 
 Erdmann, 479. 
 
 Fauriel, 338. 
 Feder, 113. 
 Fenelon, 202. 
 Feuerbacb, 480. 
 Fichte, 56, 175, 414—433. 
 Fichte, jun., 489—493. 
 Ficinus, Marsilius, 62. 
 Fischer, 489. 
 Fludd, Robert, 211. 
 Foucher, Simon, 198. 
 Fourier, 582—589. 
 Fries, 606. 
 
 Gabler, 479. 
 Gale, 213. 
 Galiani, 112. 
 Gall, Dr., 353. 
 Galluppi, 671. 
 Garat, 339, 340, 345. 
 Gassendi, 72, 76, 194, 230. 
 Gay, 275. 
 Geulincx, 122. 
 Gladstone, 714. 
 Glanville, 210, 211. 
 Godwin, 282. 
 Goethe, 711. 
 GoscheU, 479. 
 
 Green, J. H., 512. 
 Greaves, 568. 
 Grimblot, Paid, 671. 
 Grimm, 112. 
 Gruyer, 121, 673. 
 Guizot, 670. 
 
 Hallam, 62, 71, 73, 75, 90, 197. 
 Hamilton, Sir W., 93, 133, 183, 186, 
 
 386, 393, 406—409. 
 Harris, 144. 
 Hartley, 96—102. 
 Hegel, 57, 456—477. 
 Heinsius, 62. 
 Helmont, Van, 200. 
 Helvetius, 110, 337. 
 Remj, 507. 
 Heraud, 206. 
 Herbart, 482—489. 
 Herbert, Lord, 133. 
 Herder, 113. 
 
 Herschel, Sir J., 245, 327, 710. 
 Hiliebrand, 494. 
 Hinrichs, 479. 
 Hirnhaim, 198. 
 Hobbes, 71—76, 133, 230. 
 Hoi bach. Baron d'. Ill, 337. 
 Housel, Zachary, 319. 
 Huet, 195, 196, 523. 
 Humboldt, 696. 
 Hume, 94, 180, 182, 215, 224. 
 Husson, 671. 
 Hutcheson, 179, 180. 
 
 Jacobi, 597. 
 Jaques, 671. 
 Jouffroy, 305, 322, 332, 662—666. 
 
 Kant, 48, 154, 177, 187, 217, 399, 
 
 411, 550, 656. 
 Kepler, 80, 81. 
 King, 275. 
 Koppen, 598, 603. 
 Krause, 494. 
 Krug, 604. 
 
 Lacordaire, 542. 
 
 Lambert, St., 111. 
 
 Lamennais, Abbe de, 527 — 537. 
 
 Laromiguiere, 631. 
 
 Law, Bishop, 96. 
 
 Lay ton, 319.
 
 INDEX OF NAMES. 
 
 751 
 
 Leibnitz, 29, 146—151. 
 
 Lerminier, 686. 
 
 Leroux, Pierre, 590, 670. 
 
 Lessing, 26. 
 
 Lewes, 222, 258—264. 
 
 Lipsius, 62. 
 
 Littre, 360, 261. 
 
 Locke, 29, 31, 56, 76—113, 391. 
 
 Macaulay, 67, 71. 
 
 Mackintosh, 137, 224, 280, 405, 
 
 406. 
 M'Cormac, 264. 
 M'Culloch, 715. 
 Magendie, 353. 
 Maine de Biran, 637. 
 Maistre, Compte de, 524. 
 Malebranche, 122—124. 
 Mallet, 672. 
 Mandeville, 96. 
 Marci, Marcus, 201. 
 Maret, 542. 
 Marheineke, 479. 
 Martin, St., 208, 209. 
 Massias, 682. 
 Mazure, 673. 
 Mellin, 671. 
 Mercier, 673. 
 Michelet, 201, 473, 479. 
 Mill, James, 237—254, 698. 
 Mill, J. S., 68, 71, 252—258. 
 Montaigne, 199. 
 More, Henry, 208, 211—213. 
 Mylne, 390. 
 
 Newton, Sir I., 29, 79, 81. 
 Nicolas, 542, 671. 
 Norris, 96. 
 Novalis, 621. 
 
 Oken, 711. 
 Oswald, 190. 
 Owen, R., 293—299. 
 
 Paley, 103, 267, 268, 271. 
 Parker, T., 508. 
 Parmenides, 28. 
 Pascal, 196—197. 
 Patritius, F., 62. 
 Payne, Dr., 499. 
 Perron, 674. 
 Peisse, 671. 
 
 Picus, John, 62. 
 
 Platner, 207. 
 
 Plato, 28, 62, 411. 
 
 Playfair, 70. 
 
 Poiret, Peter, 201. 
 
 Pomponatius, Peter, 62. 
 
 Pordage, 213. 
 
 Prichard, 305. 
 
 Price, 143. 
 
 Priestley, 101—103, 704. 
 
 Pythagoras, 28. 
 
 Ramus, Peter, 62. 
 Regis, Pierre, 122. 
 Reid, 5(i, 93—95, 181—189, 364, 
 
 365, 391, 402. 
 Reinhold, 177, 178, 552. 
 Remusat, 172, 673. 
 Renaud, 590. 
 Renouvier, 673. 
 Ripley, George, 507. 
 Robinson, 319. 
 Rosenkranz, 479. 
 Royer-Collard, 637. 
 Rutherford, 267. 
 
 Saintes, Amand, 673. 
 
 Saisset, Emile, 124, 125, 360, 671. 
 
 Salat, 603. 
 
 Schaller, 479. 
 
 Schelling, 57,- 433—456, 596, 727. 
 
 Schlegel, 608—615. 
 
 Scldeiermacher, 615 — 621. 
 
 Schubert, 624, 727. 
 
 Schulze, 552. 
 
 Sedgwick, 503. 
 
 Sewell, 571, 713. 
 
 Shaftesbury, 96, 137. 
 
 Simon, Jules, 671. 
 
 Simon, St., 579, 672. 
 
 Smart, 501. 
 
 Smith, Adam, 180, 181. 
 
 Smith, Dr. P., 35. 
 
 Socrates, 28. 
 
 Sorbiere, 198. 
 
 Spalding, 499. 
 
 Spinoza, 57, 124—132, 411. 
 
 Stael. Mad. do, 676, 677. 
 
 Steffens, 626. 
 
 Stewart, Dugald, 254, 322, 365— 
 
 375. 
 Stillingfleet, 96.
 
 752 
 
 INDEX OF NAMES. 
 
 Strauss, 480, ll^d, 725. 
 
 Suabedissen, 494. 
 
 Swedenborg, 202 — 206, 224, 302. 
 
 Tappan, 507. 
 
 Taylor, Isaac, 500. 
 
 Telesius, 62. 
 
 Tennemann, 21, 152, 198. 
 
 Thales, 28. 
 
 Thomson, W., 512. 
 
 Thurot, 685. 
 
 Tiedemann, 113. 
 
 Tissot, 315, 331, 333, 671. 
 
 Tittel, 113. 
 
 Troxler, 494. 
 
 Trullard, 671. 
 
 Tucker, 98. 
 
 Turner, Sharon, 35. 
 
 Vatke, 479. 
 
 Vayer, F. do la Mothe le, 199. 
 
 Vico, J. B., 41, 671. 
 
 Villers, 676, 681. 
 
 Virey, 680, 681. 
 
 Volney, 335, 340—342, 345, 349, 
 
 350. 
 Yoltah-e, 112. 
 
 Wardlaw, 576. 
 
 Weisse, 490. 
 
 Weisshaupt, 113. 
 
 Whately, 301, 
 
 WhewelJ, 38, 67, 70, 254, 323, 698, 
 
 708, 715. 
 Wilkinson, J. J. G., 206. 
 Willm, 454, 673. 
 Wolf, 151—153. 
 Wollaston, 137. 
 Wordsworth, 707. 
 Wright, H. N., 570. 
 
 Young, Dr., 389, 390. 
 
 Zeno, 28.
 
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