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VOL. IX.

 

EDINBURGH:

THOMAS CLARK, 38. GEORGE STREET.
LONDON—HAMILTON, ADAMS & CO. ;

DUBLIN—CURRY & CO.

MDCCCXLIII.CONTENTS OF VOL. IX.

N. B.— Tike figures on the right-hand margin refer to the paging at the bottom.

I; Cousins Philosopuical Bssayé,. .° 6. 5
(Being No. XXXII. of Students’ Cabinet Library of
Useful Tracts.)

Il. Cousin’s Exposition of Eclecticism, . . . .

(Being No. XX XIII. of Students’ Cabinet Library
of Useful Tracts.)

III. Murpocx’s Sketches of Modern Philosophy,
especially among the Germans, . ... .

(Being No. XLIII. of Students’ Cabinet Library
of Useful Tracts.)

Page.

1-62

—198

ao

6

199—323PHILOSOPHICAL

ESSAY 8;

BY

M. VICTOR COUSIN,

PEER OF FRANCE, MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE, AND OF THE COUNCII

OF PUBLIC INSTRUCTION, AND DIRECTOR OF THE NORMAL SCHOOLS.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH,

WITH INTRODUCTORY AND CRITICAL NOTICES,

GEORGE RIPLEY.

EDINBURGH:
THOMAS CLARK, 38. GEORGE STREET;

LONDON—HAMILTON, ADAMS c& COs

DUBLIN—CURRY & CO.

MDCCCKXXIX.«¢ Non ambitione, non QiAoverxic, non semulatione, non ut sererem rixas,
hee et institui et collegi, sed primum ut me ipsum erudirem, deinde ut

aliquorum, qui hec legebant, honesta et pia studia adjuvarem.”
MELANCHTHON, Pref. in loc. Theol.

ais

J. THOMSON, PRINTER, MILNE SQUARE-CONTENTS.

Page
BIOGRAPHICAL AND INTRODUCTORY NOTICE ° 5
ON THE DESTINY OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY : ov
NOTES.

Note A.—Schelling’s Opinion of Cousin

Nore B.—President Hopkins on Natural Theology 61Se ere i hake Ni Bi be hel Rett |

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INTRODUCTORY NOTICE.

Victor Cousin was born at Paris, the 28th of No-
vember, 1792. His parents, who were not in weal-
thy circumstances, placed him for his early educa-
tion, at the humble schools of his native city. He
soon gave such indications of a love of learning, that
they were induced, by the advice of his teachers, to
allow him the advantage of a liberal education. The
first public seminary which he entered was the Lycée
Charlemagne of Paris, where he at once took the
precedence of his fellow students, and gained the
high rank in the classes which he never afterwards
lost. He was every year honoured with numerous
prizes, particularly with that for distinction in rheto-
ric, a department in which he has since exhibited
such eminent ability. He was indebted for his suc-
cess, not only to his uncommon mental endowments,
but to the unwearied industry which had become a
habit with him at this earlyage. At that time, when
the Empire enlisted in its service every variety of
talent, and kindled a glowing ambition in all classes
of society, different careers were every where open-
ed to the most distinguished pupil of the Colleges of
Paris. He was entitled, on account of having re-
ceived the highest honours, to be exempt from con-
scription, and to enter the Council of State as audi-
tor with an annual grant of 5000 francs. But the
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enthusiastic love of study was sfronger than any
other consideration; and M. Gueroult, the celebrat-
ed translator of Pliny, honorary counsellor of the
University, commissioned by M. de Fontannes to
organize the Normal School, decided the young
student, whom he had known and patronized in his
previous career, to engage in the profession o1 public
instruction. His name was, accordingly, inscribed
the first on the list of the pupils admitted into the
Normal School, at its commencement. M. Cousin
was eighteen years of age, when he first entered the
Normal School in 1810, whieh he never afterwards
quitted ; and of which he became the Principal, sub-
sequent to the Revolution of 1830. After having
remained in it for two years as a pupil, he was ap-
pointed an instructer in the department of Litera-
ture, at the close of 1812, and in 1814, was made
Master of the Conferences, in the place. of M. Ville-
main. At the same time, he was employed as assis-
tant teacher in the different Lyceums of Paris. In
1815, he was entrusted, during the Hundred Days,
with the class in philosophy at the Collége Bourbon.
In this manner, M. Cousin passed through the suc-
cessive functions of secondary instruction.

He had not yet however discovered his true
sphere. He has himself described in the preface to
his Philosophical Fragments, the impression which
he received, upon his entering the Normal School,
from the Course of M. Laromiguiére, and a short
time afterwards, from that of M. Royer-Collard.
After hearing those celebrated professors, his heart
was irrevocably given to philosophy. But his pa-
tron, M. Gueroult, Principal of the Normal School,
entertained different views with regard to him; and
after many useless struggles, M. Cousin found him-
self condemned, even by his very success, to the
teaching of Literature. He did not lose his attach-
ment, however, to his favourite science; and all his
wishes were at last fulfilled, when towards the close

of 1815, he was appointed by M. Royer-Collard, who
6

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INTRODUCTORY NOTICE, <

had been placed by the new government at the head

of the University, to succeed him as Professor of

Philosophy in the Faculty of Literature.

From that time, M. Cousin devoted himself entire-
ly to‘philosophy, at the University and at the Nor-
mal School. For five years he sustained the burden
of this double teaching. His Course at the Univer-
sity gave a lively impulse to the public mind, and
produced a more general taste for philosophical
studies; while his teachings at the Normal School
were adapted to call forth and cultivate those young
men who have since so ably seconded his labours.

‘“‘ M. Cousin,” says Damiron,! « possessed a very
simple, but very powerful means of success in his
Lectures. This was the eloquence with which he
was inspired by his thought. His manner of being
taken possession of by his ideas; his facility in re-
presenting metaphysical abstractions in graphic
sketches; the lively bursts of his mind; the bold
expressions of consciousness, which made up those
improvisations, at once so animated and so serious,
so graceful and so imposing,—all conspired to im-
press and captivate his numerous auditory. As he
was not merely a simple demonstrator, a cold and
unimpassioned witness, but an earnest observer and
an enthusiastic teacher, a philosopher and an orator
at once, both in his chair and out of it, at the Normal
School and in the familiar conversations which he
was always ready to engage in with his young friends,
he announced the truths of philosophy, with that
glow of feeling, that profound earnestness, that ele-
vation of thought, which moved and carried away
every mind. His Lectures contained something
beside doctrine. They displayed the labour by yeas
it was prepared, the method which led to it, the love
and the zeal with which it was investigated ; these
passed from his soul to that of bien: a
spired them with the very spirit of his philosophy.

1 Histoire de la Philosophie en France.

   
  
  
   
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
   
 

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Of his labours at the Normal School, M. Cousit
has given an interesting account in the Appendix to
his volume of Philosophical Fragments. He refers
to the period from 1815 to 1820, during whieh, as
he says, “in profound obscurity, master and pupils,
equally feeble, but full of zeal, we were uninterrupt-
edly employed in the reform of philosophical studies.
The course of instruction at the Normal School in-
cluded three years, after which the pupils were sent
into the provinces to take possession of the vacant
Chairs. As Master of the Philosophical Conferen-
ces of the third year, it was my office to prepare
them for the important duties on which they were
about to enter. All the pupils of the third year at-
tended my course; but it was particularly intended
for the small number of them, who were destined to
a philosophical career. They bore the weight of the
labours of the Conference ; and were the principal
source of the interest which was taken in those labours.
They were present also at my Lectures in the Faculty
of Literature, where they might have the opportunity
of obtaining more general ideas, and breathing in a
more vigorous life in an atmosphere of greater pub-
licity. Within the interior of the school, the teach-
ing was more didactic and rigid; the Course bore
the name of Conferences, and deservedly so; for
every Lecture occasioned a discussion in which all
the pupils participated. Formed to the philosophical
method, they made use of it with the professor as well
as with themselves; they presented their doubts,
their objections, their arguments, with perfect free-
dom; and were thus exercised in that spirit of in-
dependence and of criticism, which I trust, will one
day bear its fruits. A truly fraternal confidence
united the professor and pupils; if the pupils took
the liberty to discuss the instructions which they re-
ceived, the professor also felt authorised by reason
of his duty, his intentions, and his friendship, to be
eee At this day, we all love to recal that period,

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INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. a

so cherished in our memory, when ignorant of the
world and unknown by it, buried in the study of the
eternal problems of the human mind, we passed our
life in attempting those solutions of them, which,
though they have since been modified, continue to
interest us, on account of the labour which they cost
us, and the sincere, earnest, and persevering research-
es of which they were the result. It was under this
austere discipline, but at the same time free from
every narrow, mechanical restraint, that we were all
formed ; and, in truth, if I do not deceive myself,
many of my friends owe me some favour for my se-
verity at that time, for having so often made them
recommence their imperfect compositions, for having
required more precision in the details and a closer
connexion in the whole performance; and, above all,
for having endeavoured to inculcate upon them so
earnestly the spirit of philosophical method,—that
psychological sense, that art of inward observation,
without which man remains unknown to man, and
philosophy is nothing but an assemblage of lifeless
conceptions, of arbitrary formulas, more or less in-
genious, bold, comprehensive, but always destitute of
reality. For myself, I confess, that the exacting zeal
of the Conference has often been of use to me; and
I feel a pleasure in recording here the expression of
my regret for that epoch, so tranquil and so studious,
of my life.”

In 1817 and 1818, M. Cousin employed his vaca-
tions in travelling in Germany, with a view to in-
creasing his acquaintance with the German philo-
sophy. His intercourse with the most distinguished
philosophers of that country is described in the Pre-
face, which will form a subsequent number of this
volume.

In 1820, he made a voyage to the north of Italy,
for the purpose of comparing the manuscripts in the
public libraries, with reference to his contemplated
edition of the unpublished works of Proclus. But

on his return, he found a great change in the ete

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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10 BIOGRAPHICAL AND

of affairs in France. M. Royer-Collard was no
longer at the head of the University. He had been
dismissed from the Council of State, together with
M. Guizot; and both the government and public
instruction were subjected to a retrograde influence.
M. Cousin himself was suspected of liberal views in
polities ; his Course at the University was suspend-
ed; and he remained in disgrace for seven years.
The Normal School was suppressed in 1822. Dur-
ing this interval, M. Cousin, though deprived of all
public employment, and destitute of fortune, did not
abandon his philosophical mission. His writings, at
this time, served to increase his own reputation and
to advance the cause of philosophy.

A singular incident took place in 1824, which
added, im no small degree, to his previous well-earned
popularity. While travelling in Germany with the
eldest son of Marshal Lannes, the Duke of Monto-
bello, he was arrested at Dresden, and conducted to
Berlin, where he was detained in prison for several
months. This affair, however, terminated to his
honour and to the shame of his enemies. He dis-
played through the whole process a firmness and
moderation which gained for him the high esteem of
the Prussian government, and indeed of all the en-
lightened men of Germany. It was demonstrated

that M. Cousin was entirely innocent of all the plots
which he had been accused of forming against the
German governments, and that the whole secret was
to be found in the policy of the Jesuits, who wished,
by means of Germany, to be revenged upon him,
tor his conduct in Frarice. In fact, although a phi-
losopher, or rather because he was a philosopher,
the pupil and friend of M. Royer-Collard could not
remain a stranger to the affairs of his country ; and,
at all times, he had exhibited the most liberal prin-
ciples, and regulated his conduct in accordance with
those principles. Thus, in 1822, having accidentally
become acquainted at Paris with the Count de Santa-

Rosa, who had taken such an honourable part in the
G

Feo ag aba aE SaiINTRODUCTORY NOTICE. il

Piedmontese revolution of 1820, struck with the
noble character of the unfortunate Italian, he formed
an intimate and fraternal friendship with him. When
without the slightest pretext, Santa-Rosa was arrest-
ed and thrown into prison, M. Cousin did not hesi-
tate to offer himself as security for his friend; and
after the perfect innocence of Santa-Rosa had been
proved by inquiry, and, as he could not be con-
demned, he was banished to Alencon, M. Cousin
went as his companion. It was for crimes like these
that M. Cousin became odious to the Jesuits. As
they dared not accuse him at Paris, they persecuted
him in Germany. They only gave him the occa-
sion, however, of gaining new titles to the esteem of
every honourable man. M. Cousin displayed the
utmost energy of character while a prisoner; and
no less mildness after his restoration to liberty.
Satisfied with the marks of respect which were given
to him by the Prussian government, he forgot all
feelings of resentment in the midst of the old friends
whom he found at Berlin, and among others Schleier-
macher and Hegel.

Upon his return to France in 1825, he was not
permitted to resume his Lectures. It was not until
after the elections of 1827, when M. Royer-Collard
was re-established in the Presidency of the Univer-
sity, that he received a new appointment as Professor
in the Faculty-of Literature. He resumed his course
in 1828, with a brilliant success, such as has been
rarely known in the history of philosophical instrue-
tion. At the same time, his Lectures were distin-
guished by the greatest moderation in philosophy, in
religion, in politics, in every thing.

At the Revolution of 1880, with the high reputa-
tion of M. Cousin, his singular talents as an orator,
his practical energy, and the popularity which een
gained during the three celebrated days, he ou
easily have entered into the Chamber of Deputies,

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12 BIOGRAPHICAL AND

      
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  

leagues, M. Guizot and M. Villemain, and his friend
M. Thiers. But M. Cousin declared that he would
remain faithful to philosophy. <¢ Politics,” said he
at that time, ‘‘are an episode with me; but the foun-
dation of my life belongs to philosophy.” The only
change, which he was willing to accept, was the pass-
ing, according to the most rigid forms of University
advancement, from the Faculty of Literature to the
Royal Council of Public Instruction, and the princi-
pal direction of the Normal School, which he re-esta-
blished and organized. To give place to one of his
most able pupils, M. Jouffroy, he exchanged the
Chair of the History of Modern Philosophy, for that
of the History of Ancient Philosophy. He refused
to accept any political function, confined himself
entirely to the University, and devoted his well-
known activity, to the continuation of his philosophi-
cal writings, which had been interrupted by his
Lectures. From 1830 to 1835 he published a great
number of works ; four new volumes of the transla-
tion of Plato; a new edition of the Fragments, with
the Preface already alluded to; an edition of the
posthumous works of M. Maine de Biran, with a Pre-
face, which is itself a treatise of philosophy; and
finally, a labour of considerable magnitude on the
Metaphysics of Aristotle; to Say nothing of nume-
rous special memoirs and dissertations. He is now
occupied with extensive researches on the Scholastic
philosophy, and has just published the unprinted
manuscripts of Abelard.

The merits of M. Cousin, as an historian of philo-
sophy, are admitted by all to be of the highest order.
His labours embrace almost all of the great epochs in
the history of philosophy. 1. For antiquity, a Trans-
lation of Plate with Critical 7 fotes and Lntroductions,
of which nine volumes have been already given tothe
publics the Metaphysics of Aristotle ; six volumes of
Alexandrine Commentaries 3; a volume entitled New

Fragments, treating of the most difficult points of

12INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 13

ancient philosophy. 2. For the Scholastic philo-
sophy, a large quarto on Abelard. 38. For modern
philosophy, a complete edition of Descartes and a
multitude of special dissertations. 4. Finally, for
the general history of philosophy, several volumes,
comprising the most original and fruitful views, and
at their side, the translation of the valuable Manual
of Tennemann.

The efforts of M. Cousin for the improvement of
publie instruction have gained him no less honour
and far more popularity than his philosophical career.
‘“‘ The edneation of the people and the progress of
philosophy,’ says M. Cousin in a letter to an Ameri-
can correspondent, “ are to: decide the future condi-
tion both of your country and mine. These are the
holy interests to which I would devote my life; and
for which I rejoice to see so many good and useful
exertions in a country called to such a high destiny
as the United States.” The services of M. Cousin,
to the cause of popular education are generally well
known among us, and have awakened a deep interest
in his name with many who are comparatively
strangers to his philosophy. It is gratifying to per-
ceive that the two great objects, which should never
be separated—the instruction of the people and the
advancement of philosophy—have found such an
earnest advocate in the most popular philosophical
writer of the day.

M. Cousin is admirably qualified for the formation
of an improved system of education, no less by his
practical experience, than his native abilities. This
subject, it is said, has too often occupied the atten-
tion in France only of speculative men, like Rous-
seau, who, unacquainted with the affairs of life, have
proposed theories, without reference to existing facts,
and which could not be realized without destroying
the actual institutions ; or of men who were conver-
sant only with practical details, and incapable of
comprehending any general views. M. Cousin, ac-

quainted at once with the schools and with ee

    
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

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14 BIOGRAPHICAL AND

phy, combines all the elements which form an ac-
complished teacher. As the historian and critic of
the most important systems of philosophy, he could
not remain the slave of ancient routine; and asa
pupil and professor of the Imperial University he
was not tempted to destroy the illustrious body, at
whose bosom he had been nursed. Hence the course
which he has pursued as one of the magistrates ap-
pointed to preside over the interests of education.
ft has been his endeavour to enlarge the frame-work
of the University, without deforming it.

From the commencement of his labours in the
Council of Instruction, M. Cousin has been employ-
ed with two principal objects, namely, the organiza-
tion and direction of the Normal School, and the
arrangement of philosophical studies, in the Colleges.
He is the author of the present constitution of the
Normal School, and of that admirable system of
studies, which does the utmost honour to his practi-
cal talents. Nor have his services been less valuable
in the improvement of the teaching of philosophy in
the Colleges of France. He has thus laid a broad
foundation, which promises the happiest results for
the growing advancement of philosophy in that coun-
try, and consequently, in every country on which it
exerts an influence.

M. Cousin is no less interested in the schools for
primary instruction. He has, in this way, acquired
a new title to the gratitude of France. He is a true
iriend of the people. He sprung from them. He
wishes for their happiness. He delights to labour
in their behalf. He is never weary in pleading their
cause. He looks less, however, to chan s

ment, than to their own elevation, for any permanent
advantage. The regeneration of the people, he is
persuaded, must come from within. He would have
no pains spared to give them true light,—the light
of morality no less than of knowledge 2

1 no ' e, of pure and
virtuous principles as well as of scientific instruction.
“« Primary instruction,” says M. Cousin, «is not to
14

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Sah hae ae eas
inte ene
7 re ae oP,INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. bDS

be found in the Programme of the Hotel de Ville ;
it is the genuine benefit which the Revolution of
July should procure for France. The practical part
of my life is devoted to the labour of procuring this
instruction. Asa philosopher, I address myself to
the é/ete of thinkers, to fifty individuals in Europe.
in labouring for primary instruction, I labour for the
masses of my countrymen.”

In 1831, M. Cousin solicited of the French go-
vernment, a special mission for examining the esta-
blishments of public instruction in Germany. He
received the appointment, and left Paris, May 24,
1831, for the discharge of its duties. He inspected
all the public establishments of the city of Frankfort;
of the Grand-Duchy of Weimar; of Saxony, and
particularly of Leipsic; of Prussia, and particularly
of Berlin; and was on his return to Paris about the
middle of July, having sent his Reports to the minis-
ter, dated at Frankfort, Weimar, Leipsic, and Berlin.
These reports have been received with an almost
universal interest in every civilized country of Eu-
rope, and in the United States.

M. Cousin has been elected a member of the
French Academy,—an honour which was justly due
to his eminent talents and extensive literary acqui-
sitions. In 1832, he was made a Peer of France.

He has recently been employed in examining the
establishments for public instruction in Holland.
The last work of his, which we have seen, is entitled
De Vinstruction primaire a Rotterdam, Dec. 28,

1836.

 

The philosophy of Vicror Cousin forms an im-
portant epoch in the history of metaphysical science
in France. It marks the period of transition from
the sceptical and sensual theories of the eighteenth

century, to the more elevated and spiritual views of

the nature of man, which are the cheering result oi
the philosophical investigations of the present a
5

   
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
   
   
 

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16 BIOGRAPHICAL AND

The very name of French philosophy has been iden-
tified, to a great extent, with materialism and infide-
lity. The labours of Cousin have been directed,
from the commencement of his career, not to clearing
it from the accusation, but to placing it in a new path,
and impressing it with a higher character. The de-
sign of his teachings, in fact, has been to restore phi-
Josophy to the eminence which it held in the golden
days of English literature, and to revive the lofty
spirit of Hooker, Cudworth, and Milton, in the midst
of modern unbelief and selfishness.

This has been the great problem of philosophical
speculation since the appearance of the Critique of
Pure Reason, by Immanuel Kant. That remarkable
thinker clearly comprehended the magnitude of the
work ; and though he did not complete it himself, he
has furnished materials for future inquiry, the value
and importance of which will always be more highly
appreciated, in proportion as the soundness and depth
of his thoughts are perceived through the obscurity
of his language. His writings form an admirable pre-
paration for a philosophy which reconciles the holiest
instincts of man with the rigid precision of science ;
which beats down the pretensions of scepticism by a
skilful use of its own weapons; and which establishes
the sublime convictions of the spiritual leaders of
humanity on the basis of a thorough observation and
analysis of facts.

Among the promoters of this philosophical deve-
lopment in France, Victor Cousin holds the most
conspicuous place. The influence which he has eX-
erted on the condition of thought in his own country
is such as rarely falls to the lot of an individual; and
the splendour of his intellectual endowments has won
for him a distinguished reputation in almost every
cultivated nation in Europe. The essential charac-
teristics of his philosophy are opposition to all partial
and exclusive theories, and the endeavour to compre-

hend every element of human nature, in a broad and
16

ae,
Pe tue we

renee ee besINTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 17
universal system, which reposes on the foundation of
actual inquiry and induction.

The prevailing philosophy in France during the
greater part of the eighteenth century was precisely
the reverse of this. It was founded onan inadequate
examination of the nature of man, and failed of doing
justice to some of its most important elements. The
results, at which it arrived in the regular course of
logical deduction, were inconsistent with many ob-
vious tendencies, many incontestable attributes of
humanity. It placed itself in opposition to the uni-
versal sentiments of our race. It attacked the foun-
dation of the religious hopes and the moral convic-
tions, which no force has ever been able to wrest from
the great. mass of mankind. The history of the world,
and the consciousness of individuals, were equally at
war with the conclusions which it obtained, and the
spirit which it breathed. Its doctrines produced a
harsh dissonance with the whispers of that voice
which is uttered, clearly though faintly, in the heart
of every living man. Such a system could not gain
a permanent footing, as the philosophy of an en-
lightened and reflecting nation. It was doomed,
sooner or later, to meet the fate of all error. It bore
the seeds of corruption within itself, and, from its
very nature, could not aveid coming to a more or
less speedy end. It was inevitable that whenever
the attention of free and original minds should be
turned to the examination of this philosophy, its
popularity should be unable to save it from destruc-
tion. Its defective representations of human nature
must be perceived, as soon as they were compared
with the original reality ; the weakness of its foun-
dation must be brought to light; and the authority
which it had usurped over the minds of men must be
called in question, and for ever set aside.

Such is the character of the work in which Cousin
has been called upon to engage. The errors of the
dominant system had been long suspected,—a portion
of its fallacies had been pointed out,—a new move-

h7se iee seni bes ihanig Saas tpiitd CAM aE aaa ea SE Ra Oe Co or gee eee eo Le ae renee ean meaeee

 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

18 BIOGRAPHICAL AND

ment had been commenced in the opposite direction ;
but a reformer was needed who should examine its
pretensions to the bottom, exhibit the defects of the
foundation on which it reposed, and invalidate its
claims to universal reception, by the introduction of
a purer and sounder philosophy. The appearance of
Cousin as a public teacher was at the appropriate
moment. Every thing was ready for his reception.
He announced an order of ideas which met with a
loud and sincere response. He raised the standard
for which many eyes were looking, and around which
a host of youthful disciples at once gathered with
congenial enthusiasm and love. Cousin has felt the
importance of his mission ; he comprehends the work
which is demanded of him by his age; and has
devoted himself to its accomplishment with a calm
zeal, a wise and modest energy, such as nothing but
strong convictions and disinterested purposes can
inspire. The purity of sentiment which distinguishes
his writings, the vigour and justness of his mtellect,
the wealth of erudition which he brings to the illus-
tration of truth, the clearness of his style, and the
force of his eloquence, give him singular qualifications
for the task with which he is occupied; and the
brilliant success of his career, the glowing interest
which he has excited in the abstractions of speculative
philosophy, the dignity with which he has filled a
wide and honourable sphere of action as well as of
thought, display a beautiful example of fruitful intel-
lectual effort, to which there are few parallels in
modern times.

In order to present a complete idea of the philo-
sophical position and merits of Cousin, we must re-
view the circumstances which led to his undertaking.
A brief sketch of the history of opinion in France,
prior to the new development of which he is at the
head, will enable the reader to appreciate, with jus-
tice, the character of his reform, and the tendency
of his speculations. :
Ws philosophy which prevailed in France during

  

TE LP A ge LE ALOE LEG SE OL ONE EE LETTS GTO Ae EE LEERaa ad A ME PEE SRN TE Se Oe ee ETRE ee See Se oe Se eS ie Se
Soe ot SSS
a P
‘ey

       
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 19

the eighteenth century has received the name of the
Sensual system. ‘This name, it should be observed,
is not given to it, in any invidious application, but
as expressing with more precision than any other
term, the exact idea which it is intended to convey.
it is used not to denote its character or consequences,
in a moral point of view, but to designate the prin-
ciple which forms the basis of its theory, and with
which it attempts to explain all the phenomena of
human nature. The Sensual system, accordingly,
admits the reality of no ideas but those which can
be traced to sensation. It maintains that the mate-
rials of our knowledge are all obtained from the im-
pressions which are made on our senses by the ac-
tion of external objects. The only legitimate cer-
tainty is founded on the notices presented by the
material organs; and as soon as we leave this sphere,
we abandon the natural use of our faculties, and are
lost in the regions of imagination and fiction.

It is not difficult to account for the origin of this
system, in the infancy of our scientiiie knowledge of
the human mind. Like every system which has ex-
tensively prevailed among sincere and _ intelligent
seekers of truth, it is not altogether destitute of
foundation in reality. It proceeds from the actual
observation of incontestable facts; else it could
never have met with such a general reception ; but
it loses sight of another order of facts, no less im-
portant, no less incontestable, no less capable of
being submitted to observation; or it would never
have been so earnestly and perseveringly called in
question. If it can be shown that its establishment
was the result of an hasty and imperfect analysis; of
the error so common with incautious and impatient
thinkers, in the ardour of discovery, of a precipitate
generalization ; we shall not be surprised at the wide
influence which it has obtained, and while we gain
an insight into its narrow and superficial character,
we may learn a lesson of philosophical toleration for

its defenders and friends. :
1920 BIOGRAPHICAL AND

The Sensual system is founded on a few simple
principles, which, as Cousin has clearly demonstr at
ed,! are of the utmost importance in the science ot
human nature, so long as they are limited to their
legitimate sphere, and are not perverted to the sup-
port of bold and extravagant inductions.

We find, upon a slight examination of conscious-
ness, a certain number of phenomena which are dis-
tinguished by the fact that they are altogether beyond
our rcontroul. We can neither produce them, nor de-
stroy them. They come and go, without our coope-
ration, with no reference to our will. Such, for in-
stance, are our emotions of every kind, our desires,
our passions, our appetites, the feeling of pleasure
and of pain. These phenomena are occasioned by
an external impression which has been experienced,
that is, by a sensation. ‘They are of unquestionable
reality; they occupy an extensive sphere; they com-
pose no small proportion of the motives of human
action. It is true, moreover, that many of our most
general ideas may be resolved, by a delicate analysis,
into ideas that are less general; and that these, in
their turn, by repeated decompositions, may be re-
solved into ideas that proceed from sensation. Now
these sensible phenomena are the first to attract the
attention. They are submitted the most easily to
observation. ‘They are found, not in the interior,
but, as it were, on the surface of the soul. For this
reason, they are the favourite subjects of reflection,
in its early imperfect and feeble efforts. They afford
it a useful exercise, and contribute to its growth ae
improvement. The analysis which it undertakes, i
not confined entirely to the phenomena of conscious-
ness. It refers the sensation which it has received
to the i impression made on the organ; and this im-
pression again to external objects, w uch thus become
the root of our sensations, and consequently of our

* See Cours del’ Histoire de la Philosophie, par V. Cousin.
Tom. I. p. 139.
20)

NOS A
he we tae Be,
aa eee Dl be a yy ae ae A ata Pe OF i, oe ee
Cr PP PPP Oy PT a oP Poe ole Pa oP or et er gly we eed yp gh — PoP PEP IL De BT aie a eaeh tk SE OE a a oh Ee ee

  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. OT

ideas. Hence the importance of the study of nature.
Hence the desire and the ability to observe its phe-
nomena and to ascertain its laws. The results which
are obtained in this manner, enlarged and developed
in the progress of ages, compose, together with phy-
sical science, a certain science of humanity,—a phi-

losophy, which is not without a portion of truth, of

grandeur, and of utility.
Now if this philosophy pretended only to explain
a large number of the phenomena of consciousness
on the principle of sensation, there would be no
cause of objection to it. Such an explanation would
be perfectly admissible. The conclusion would not
go beyond the premises which have been furnished
by a cantious induction ; and no error could be charg-
ed upon the system. But the case, in fact, is very
different from this. Reflection is obliged to divide
the subject of its inquiries, and, for the sake of a
more distinct view, to look at but one thing at a
time. As it is feeble, when it commences its task,
it is natural that it should stop with the part which
it first studies, that it should regard this as the whole
of reality, and that after having discovered an un-
questionable order of facts, it should be so struck
with their truth, their importance, their variety, their
beauty, as to take notice of nothing else, and to be-
lieve that they are the only phenomena contained in
the consciousness. Reflection goes through with a
process like the following. A certain number of our
ideas are derived from sensation ; sensation accord-
ingly explains and constitutes an important order of
phenomena ; therefore, all our ideas are derived from
sensation ; and there are no, phenomena in the con-
sciousness which are not reducible to this source.
Such is the foundation of the Sensual philosophy.
The fundamental error of this system is no less
obvious, than the manner in which it originated. it
is essential to its truth, that there be no element in
consciousness which cannot be explained by sensa-
tion. But a slight analysis will show that this con
NO. XXXII. S 21

 

   
  
 
   
  
  
    
  
  
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  

Ae 5
ee anes Coad

x

+

ta ay Age
ee Eneet Ge

99 BIOGRAPHICAL AND

dition does not hold. For instance, we find in con-
sciousness certain acts of volition, free determina-
tions. We know that we often resist passion and
desire. But is it passion and desire which combat
passion and desire? Is it sensation by which we
overcome the force of sensation? If sensation be
the only principle of all the phenomena of activity,—
as it is the essential characteristic of sensation, and
consequently of all the products of sensation, to be
passive,—the free and voluntary activity is destroy-
ed. The philosophy of sensation is thus reduced to
Fatalism. Sensation, moreover, not only bears the
stamp of necessity, but of variety. Our sensations,
emotions, passions, desires, are constantly changing,
assuming new forms, but this verpetual transtorma-
tion does not include all the reality of which we are
conscious. We believe, and cannot but believe, in
our own personal identity, that we are the same to-
day that we were yesterday, that we shall be the
same to-morrow that we are to day. The identity,
the unity of our being is in truth the principal fact
of consciousness, or rather the very foundation of all
consciousness. But how is identity to be obtained
from variety ? How is the unity of our personal
being to be derived from the multiplicity of sensible
phenomena? This is clearly impossible. The phi-
losophy of sensation has no means of arriving at the
unity which combines, compares, and judges the
variety of sensations. We have just seen that this
philosophy destroys liberty. We now see that it
destroys personality itself. It has just led us to Fa-
talism; it now leads us to Materialism. Finally, as
this system regards the soul of man as the result and
the combination of our sensations, it is also compelled
to regard the Deity only as the possibie result, the
combination, the last generalization of all the pheno-
mena of nature. God is a kind of soul of the world,
which sustains the same relation to the world, as
the soul that is admitted by the Sensual philosophy
does to the body. The human soul, as it is regarded

be
‘iy o

anni

i he

ee pat ae taeEO ES A Rad etter te re Kes Sg eRe ee he

  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. a5

by this philosophy, is an abstract, general, collective
idea, which represents, in the last analysis, the diver-
sity of our sensations. The Creator of the world, as he
is regarded by this philosophy, is an abstraction of
the same character, which may be successively de-
composed into the different portions of the world
which alone possesses reality, actual existence. But
such a being is not the God of the human race. He
is not a God distinct from the world. Now the ne-
gation of a God distinct from the world has a well-
known name in every language, as well as in philo-
sophy.

Such is the character of the system, considered in
its elementary principles, against which the philoso-
phy of Cousin is a declared revolt. The analyses
that has been now given,
abstract thought. The next step is to inquire into
its historical development, with special reference to

its position and consequences in the philosophy of

France. I have only to follow in the path of Cousin,
as I have hitherto done, to make this clear to every
reader.!

In the age of Bacon, the doctrines of a spiritual
philosophy were generally prevalent, although mingled
with singular exaggerations, and destitute of the sup-
port of scientitic observation which they have since
received irom the profound and accurate researches
of modern times. It was a matter of course for the
broad and comprehensive intellect of Bacon to per-
ceive the absurdity of those subtile speculations which
were connected with the bigher philosophy of his day;
and to oppose to their airy texture, the substantial
results of outward experience and observation. The
tendency of his principles is to withdraw the attention
from the contemplation of the mind, and to direct it
exclusively to the study of the facts presented by ex~
ternal nature. He may accordingly be considered

1 S07

. . mF? ones mn. ‘ i {2
Cours de PV Histcire de la Philosophie. 'Tom. I. p. 443.
“Zo

2

resents 1t as a process of

ries

   
   
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 

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niece) ace amepenaged! domcttbnee seeet tt eee ee
SIRE PEPER PSM OCPRE RCE RISER ERA EEE PES

DA BIOGRAPHICAL AND

the father of the modern Sensual philosophy, although
he was far from admitting its logical consequences,
and occasionally advances principles which are in
direct opposition to its procedure and results.

The doctrines of Bacon, which regard experience
as the sole foundation of our knowledge of reality,
were adopted by the eminent English philosophers,
Hobbes and Locke, and applied by them to the inves-
tigation of human nature. The fundamental idea of
Hobbes was the exclusive certainty of the senses.
We can rely upon no testimony but that which they
present. There is not a single idea in the mind ex-
cepting those which we obtain through their medium.
Every conviction which we cherish must be supported
by their authority, or it rests on an insecure founda-
tion. But the senses give us only the knowledge of
material bodies. Therefore, only material bodies
exist. Therefore, philosophy is only the science of
material bodies. As all our ideas come from the
senses ; all the phenomena of consciousness have their
source in organization; and consciousness itself is
only the result of organization. To think is to calcu-
late; intelligence is nothing but arithmetic. Contin-
gent ideas are all that exist ; the Finite alone can be
conceived of by man; the Infinite is merely the ne-
gation of the Finite; beyond this it is a mere word,
‘nvented to honour a being of whom we can know
nothing. The idea of good and evil is founded on
agreeable or disagreeable sensations; the only law of
conduct is to pursue the one and to avoid the other ;
hence the whole moral system of Hobbes. ‘This sys-
tem is the foundation of his politics. Man is capa-
ble of enjoyment and suffermg. His only law is to
enjoy as much, and to suffer as little as possible; as
he has no other law he has all the rights that are
conferred by this law; he may do whatever he pleases
for his preservation and happiness ; he is absolutely
and completely selfish ; he has a right to sacrifice
every thing to himself. Such is the condition in
which we are placed on the earth. We are provided
242 be a ke Se

Wea ad Teas a Tis ag Map hy ar tees as “ia ig ey ie

   
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

NTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 2e
with scanty means of enjoyment, to which all have a
common right, by virtue of their capacity for enjoy-
ment. This is the state of nature. It is always a
state of war. It is disturbed by the anarchy of the
passions, the combat of all with one another. But
this state is contrary to the happiness of the majority
of the individuals who compose it. Utility, the off-
spring of selfishness, requires it to be changed into
the social state. The social state is the institution of
a public authority superior to the power of indivi-
duals. But the passions of individuals constantly re-
volt against this new authority. Hence this autho-
rity cannot be too strong. Hence, again, the only
alternative is between a complete anarchy and a
despotism which is excellent in proportion as it is
arbitrary. Hence, finally, in the opinion of Hobbes,
absolute monarchy is the ideal of true government.
According to his opinion, therefore, the Sensual
philosophy is inconsistent with popular liberty.

If Hobbes is the moralist and politician of this
philosophy, Locke may be regarded as its metaphy-
sician. He is the first who endeavoured to exhibit it
in a regular and systematic form. The signal merits
of this philosopher can never be forgotten by the
lover of truth and independent inquiry. Neither
should he be mentioned without the profound respect
which is due to great abilities united with rare moral
worth. But in judging of a system, we do not judge
of a man. ‘The character of Locke is one before
which we may bow in reverence. His doctrines are

the proper object of critical examination and dis- .

cussion.

The peculiar excellence of the system of Locke
consists in its distinct exhibition of the purpose oi
philosophical investigation. This is to obtain a
knowledge of the human mind, by the actual obser-
vation of its laws, its operations, and its effects.
This is the idea, at once simple and grand, which lies
at the bottom of all his inquiries. This constitutes
his best claim to originality ; and by this he has

os
fond &

PRR re Tein my mers

re eae cdBIOGRAPHICAL AND
rendered an essential and lasting service to mental
philosophy. But the greatest man is not exempt
from inconsistency and error. While Locke opened
the way which leads to true philosophy, he faltered
in it himself; and was insensibly betrayed into the
path of an exclusive and unfounded hypothesis.
Locke institutes an inquiry with regard to the
sources of human knowledge. He finds that these
are two, namely, sensation and reflection ; reflection
applied to the operations of the understanding, that
is, in the last analysis, sensation and the operations of
the understanding; for reflection applied to these
operations is limited to informing us concerning their
number and their character. These operations are
comparison, reasoning, abstraction, composition, asso-
ciation.—all of them faculties which separate or com-
bine the elements that are derived from the other
source of knowledge, sensation, but which add no-
thing to them. Not one of these faculties has the
power of introducing into the mind any portion of
knowledge, any idea whatever peculiar to itself.
The operations of the understanding therefore add
nothing fundamental or essential to the ideas derived
from sensation; all our knowledge therefore has its
beginning and end in sensation. Such is the theory
of Locke presented in its lowest terms. ‘Thus re-
duced, it is already judged; it clearly belongs to the
great Sensual school. ‘The principle once estab-
lished, it is easy to foresee the consequences. ‘The
native wisdom of Locke could not keep them back ;
they every where escape from his system; and con-
nect him with that chain of Sensual philosophers of
which Hobbes formed the last link. Locke, in fact,
is Hobbes, with such differences as the case requires.
He hardly ever quotes him, but he constantly repro-
duces him. Thus his chapter on the influence of
language closely resembles the chapter of Hobbes on
the same subject ; Hobbes was professedly a Nomin-

alist; Locke should have been one in accordance
26

PSEC PSE PST pena e shri Pad SRL ae eanee ee ree at Ss ee Soe Od Te 3 te gt ae 6b ee
es ke he BBN

  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE.

with his system ; but although he did not openly avow
Nominalism, he contributed to give it currency.
Hobbes and the whole Sensual school assimilate the
soul, to a greater or less degree, to the body, as is
very well known. Locke does not go so far as that ;
but with Occam and Scotus he maintains that it is
difficult to prove, except by revelation, that the sub-
ject of the operations of the understanding is spirit
and not matter; and he suspects that God, in his
omnipotence, might have endowed matter with the
faculty of thought.

Such is the character of the Sensual philosophy,
in the earlier stages of its progress. It was reserved
for the acute and intrepid thinkers of the French na-
tion to carry it to its utmost logical consequences,
and to present it in a form which may justly be said
to bear the ghastliness of death.

The principles of Locke were greatly aided in their
reception in France by the authority of Voltaire.
During his residence in England, he became acquaint-
ed with the system, and at a subsequent period, de-
voted the brilliant resources of his imagination and
wit to its defence. It soon became the property of
the saloons ; imperceptibly it took possession of the
excited mind of the nation ; its adoption was deemed
the standard of culture and taste; and, at last, it
obtained an able expounder in the clear-minded and
sagacious Condillac. This fertile writer not only
illustrated the system of his predecessor by his la-
minous exhibition of its principles, but enriched it
with numerous observations of his own, reduced
many of its scattered ideas to a compact form, and
presented it in a style at once scientific and popular.
The leading aim of his philosophy is to deduce the
complete development of the human mind from the
single principle of sensation. His writings containa
more able and ingenious defence of. this doctrine
than is to be found in the English successors ot
Locke ; and, with the simplicity and good faith cos

  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

eT ee eer orePe eee eet Spee abe aree si

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
  
   

   

28 BIOGRAPHICAL AND
which he always sets it forth, it is by no means sur-
prising that he should have gained such a wide-
spread influence over the national mind, 4 We
should also do Condillac the justice, as a man, it 1s
well remarked by a late French writer, “ to remem-
ber that he did not follow out his system to 1ts ulti-
mate disastrous consequences 5 perhaps he did not
even perceive them; for this is not unfrequently the
case. If Locke, religious before his philosophy, con-
tinued religious after it, it would be inadmissible to
conclude from it, that the philosophy of Locke is a
religious philosophy. Materialism, in the form in
which it has been seen in our own days, is only the
necessary result of the philosophy of Locke, as inter-
preted among us by Condillac.” It was not long
after the establishment of this philosophy in France,
that its legitimate conclusions began to be perceived.
We have already seen the principles which it in-
volves, when considered merely as an abstract but
connected process of thought. The correctness of
that analysis is verified by the actual manifestation
of those principles in the progress of French philoso-
phy. It has been shown that the sensual system
leads to Materialism. In the hands of Cabanis, we
find this doctrine fully developed. His great work
on the Physical and Moral Relations of Man,' sup-
ports the theory that the soul is not a separate prin-
ciple in our nature, a real existence, but merely the
product of the nervous system. Sensibility is the
property of the nerves; and sensibility explains the
moral faculties, the intelligence, the will, the whole
inward nature of man. Man is a moral being be-
cause he is capable of sensation; he is capable of
sensation, because he has nerves; the nerves make
the man. The brain secretes thought, as the liver
secretes bile? In justice to Cabanis, however, it

_* Rapports du Physique et du Moral de Homme, Paris, 2
Vols. 1824.

ae as ; 4
See Daminon, Histoire de la Philosophie en France au
® e\ «
dixneuvieme siecle.

288g ie Pe Se Sas tar ta ae hy Sey Sg ye, SG 4
a a Sen ar rs ig Sy SET ata Figg Ses ad Kgs Be ho ea

  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICR. 29

should be added, that he modified his system before
his death ; but not till it firmly established the doc-
trines of Materialism among the most intelligent
thinkers of his country. "

The physiological theories of Cabanis were adopt-
ed by Destutt de Tracy, and applied by him to the
more complete explanation of the intellectual faculties,
In his opinion, thought is nothing but sensation, or
rather sensibility, of which sensation is the exercise.
Thought is modified according to the nature of the
impressions which are made on the sensibility. It
becomes, in different cases, perception, memory,
Judgment, will, as the external organs are acted on
in a different manner. The will, therefore, is merely
an affection of the sensibility; that is to say, the
will is passive; that is to say again, the will is not
will; man is deprived of liberty ; the Sensual philo-
sophy is Fatalism.

The moral results of this system were exhibited by
Volney. His leading doctrine is, that man should
act only for the sake of self-preservation. This is
the great law of human nature. Accordingly, good

is every thing which tends to the preservation of

man ; evil every thing which tends to his injury and
destruction. The greatest good is life; the greatest
evil is death ; nothing is better than physical happi-
ness ; nothing worse than bodily suffering; the main
object is health; virtue and vice, therefore, are the
voluntary habits which are in accordance with or
contrary to the law of self-preservation. Every thing
is right which contributes to enjoyment; every thing
is wrong which interferes with enjoyment. This is
the moral philosophy of the Sensual school. Finally,
in the logical order, as the ultimate result of this
school, we have the author of the System of Nature.
His theory of the Universe resolves every thing into
matter and motion. These exist from eternity, and
are the causes of all the phenomena which take place.
Matter can neither be created, nor destroyed: and

the existence of a cause on which it depends a

A) erent | dewetalemes re30 BIOGRAPHICAL AND
be demonstrated The idea of a Godisa fiction 5
the hope of immortality a dream; and all the religious
convictions of man are founded on self-flattery or
fear. This is the limit of the Sensual philosophy.
Its principles had been discussed in every point of
view ; its consequences drawn forth with no common
logical power ; and its foundation strengthened with
all the aids that could be derived from skill in rea-
soning, and ‘courage in examining. ‘The question
now arose, whether this philosophy was to continue
to be the prevailing system in Trance during the
nineteenth century, as it had been, in its primary
elements, during the eighteenth.

The first symptom of a decided philosophical re-
action was exhibited in the lectures of Laromiguiere,
as Professor in the Faculty of Literature. These
were delivered in the years 1811, 1812, and 1813,
and were subsequently published in several editions.
Soon after their appearance, it was observed by
Cousin, in a Review inserted in the Philosophical
Fragments, that “ the favourable reception given to
this work was a proof, in the first place, that a phi-
losophical revolution was secretly going on in indl-
vidual minds ; and, secondly, that public opinion was
already prepared for this revolution.”

Laromiguiere had been formed in the school of
Condillac, and hardly considered himself to have
abandoned the system of his master. The struggle
between his early associations and his new convic-
tions is every where visible in his writings; but he is
compelled to admit the defects of the popular views,
and advances principles of his own which contain
the germs of reform. After a long examination, La-
romiguiere comes to the conclusion, that sensation is
not the only principle of thought, of understanding,
and of will. He maintains that there is a broad
chasm between sensation and the faculties of our mind.
These faculties, both of the understanding and the

will, are referred to attention as their ultimate foun-
30we hp Me thes Gta, Sek Se eK Ee es Sy SEG
- ad ate Se "hg Saad Yaris Dat Sg ' ME a a Of Os Se a ea te

  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. ST

dation. This is an important departure from the fun-
damental principles of Condillac. The influence ex-
erted by Laromiguiere in the philosophical culture of
Cousin himself will be found alluded to by the latter
in another part of this volume. A more important
element, however, in the formation of his opinions,
was derived from the teachings of Maine de Biran,—
a philosopher whose name has gained its principal
celebrity from the grateful commemoration of his elo-
quent pupil; but whose uncommon ability in analy-
tical investigation, as manifested in the few writings
which he gave to the publie, entitle him to the praise
of being one of the most profound and original
thinkers, in his peculiar department of study, which
France has produced.

Maine de Biran was one of those fortunate indivi-
duals who find the highest gratification of taste in the
indulgence of severe meditation. He was far more
desirous to ascertain the truth, for the satisfaction of
his own mind, than to obtain the glory of communi-
cating it to the world. He habitually fed on those
rigid abstractions, which, though seemingly remote
from all popular interests, are at the foundation of
social improvement, and the progress of man. His
love of philosophy was pure and single-hearted. He
cultivated it, not for emolument or renown, for the
sake of office or of fashion, but for the light it
threw on the laws and destiny of our being. On
this account, he took little pains to make his ideas
known to others. Content in the calm pursuit of
truth, he seems to have had no ambition of acting
on the opinions of philosophers; but the progress
which has since been made in France is indebted for
some of its earliest and strongest impulses to his so-
litary reflections.

The principle, to the exposition of which Maine de
Biran devoted almost exclusively his philosophical
labours, was the activity of the human mind.! The

+ See Nouvelles Considérations sur les Rapports du wi

    
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

Cae ls
Tere ey

a

ere

7
Uc teeea abe payasscedetinat

Car rs
Pe ale eeeBIOGRAPHICAL AND

prevailing philosophy, as we have seen, referred all
our faculties, as well as all our ideas, to sensation,
which it explained by the excitement of the brain
produced by the impressions of outward objects upon
the organs. Maine de Biran demonstrated that this
was a merely hypothetical assumption, without the
slightest foundation in truth. He pointed out among
the elements that are essential to a complete science
of man, a fact as certain as any which have been ob-
served, which, though connected with sensation, can-
not be explained by it, and which, though subject to
organic conditions, is independent of organization.
This fact is activity. Maine de Biran separates this
from all the circumstances in which it is found, ana-
lyzes its character, ascends to its original source,
follows it to its ultimate developments, restores it
to its rank in the intellectual life, and presents a
theory of it which must hereafter hold an important
| place in every sound philosophy. This theory, which
will be found developed at length in the writings of
Cousin, and applied with admirable success to some
of the most difficult and important topics of philoso-
phical inquiry. consists of the following elementary
principles. 1. True activity is in the will. 2. The
will is the essence of personality. It constitutes the
whole of what we call me or seLF. 3. To will is to
exercise causation. The first cause which we be-
come acquainted with is ourselves. This may be
proved by the phenomena of muscular effort. In
every act of this kind, two things are to be taken
into consideration. 1. A muscular sensation more
or less lively. 2. The effort which produces it. Mus-
cular sensation is not merely subsequent to the effort ;
it is produced by it; the relation which connects
them is not that of simple succession, but of cause
and effect. This is attested by consciousness, and
no proof of it is necessary, but the performance of

et du Moralde Homme. Ouvrage posthume de M. MaIne
DE Brran, publié par M. Cousin, Paris, 1834. Preface, p. ix.

32

SPER PSST ES PSS POST ROA PPT ee La ap Phe Pe oe SO a SRR Roky 6 OP ue

ae a a SP EP aD oP ees CN NN 8 ON et ee tp tg te, DE eewt Sd eg Sere Lerten hy ee TS ek TT Me Ee Sr om, SO Sk
Nae She ha a Sead Tat is Bs Sig a es eg eg er tg ee ca Sg Os Se hg Se ee

  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. Bo

the act. Now every effort implies volition. There
is no such thing as an involuntary effort. Hence the
will is the foundation of the effort in question, and
the cause which operates is a voluntary cause. But,
on the other hand, it is we who make the effort ; we
certainly impute it to ourselves; the will which is
the cause vf it is our own will. Will, cause, per-
sonality, are therefore identical. I arrive at the con-
sciousness of myself, by acting as a cause; and I
act as a cause when I will, when I exercise a volition.
Take away volition, that is, effort, and nothing re-
mains; the whole fact disappears.

This demonstration gives us the most fruitful con-

sequences. For instance, as the will is the type of

personality, and as the very essence of the will is
liberty, it follows that the liberty of what we call
SELF 1s identical with its existence, and immediately
perceived by consciousness. Liberty is thus placed
beyond the reach of every sophism ; since it is not
revealed by a process of reasoning, but by the direct
testimony of consciousness.

The case is the same with regard to the spiritual
nature of our being. That which every man considers
as his true and proper self, that which he refers to
when he says ME, is spiritual. This is not proved by
a course of argumentation. The question can never
be decided in this way. Hence the interminable con-
troversies respecting it. The proof of the spirituality
of our inward nature is to be found in the immediate
perceptions of consciousness. It is made known to
us in the unity and identity. of which we are conscious
in every act of volition. These are not the properties
of matter. In the continuity of effort, we feel that
we always will, that we always act; we feel also that
we are the same will, the same cause, even when
the effects which we will and produce are various.
Now this sEuF, conscious of unity and identity, dis-
tinct from its variable effects, does not come within
the sphere of the senses or the imagination ; it per-
ceives itself directly in the continuity of its co
Se

so) mage emlshionieals Jrpettbabe seea4 BIOGRAPHICAL AND

which it regards in fact as the continuity of its exist-
ence ; it therefore exists incontestably in its own view,
with an existence which escapes both the senses and
the imagination; and this is precisely what we mean
by a spiritual existence. No reasoning can produce
this certainty, and no reasoning can destroy or weaken
it; for it depends on one of the first principles which
are perceived prior to reasoning, without which no
reasoning can be carried on.

In this manner, Spiritualism is reinstated in philo-
sophy on the basis of experience. Not that extrava-
gant Spiritualism, however, which has no connexion
with the world we inhabit; for the spirit which we
are, the being which we call srr is manifested to us
in arelation of which it forms the first term, but of
which the second term is a sensation, and a sensation
which can be referred to a specific part of the body.
The spirit, accordingly, is revealed to us together
with its opposite, the inward and the outward world,
man and nature at once.

It was not, however, until the Lectures of Royer-
Collard were commenced in the University of Paris,
that a public and uncompromising attack was made on
the philosophy of sensation. ‘hese were delivered
in three courses, from 1811 to 1814; and since that
time the reform of the prevailing philosophy has been
in constant progress. Royer-Collard was singularly
fitted by his character and talents for the work which
he undertook. His personal qualities enabled him to
speak with no common authority, and preserved him
from the unthinking opposition to which the herald
of new ideas is usually exposed. The vigour of his
intellect was every where acknowledged ; he was
understood to have mastered his subject by profound
reflection; no one could doubt that his convictions

were the result of inquiry; his sincerity was above
suspicion. He was free from the charge of a love of
innovation 5 a tendency to idle and extravagant spe-
Te ee incompatible with the whole structure
uo is mind; and it was evident to all, that the ob-

;

Par Pe earet. tt eet ee ee
nave hak hos are! Ta arr, eee ee Oe Se Oe sO Oe ae ns
Rea as Saag as Sat She aa Sel ad ak 4 er Se gee es ee a

  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 35

jections which he brought against the theories of the
day proceeded from meditation, and not from ca-
price.

The teachings of Royer-Collard were immediately
connected with the philosophical inquiries of Reid.
He was led by the study of Dr. Reid's writings to
perceive the radical error of the Sensual philosophy,
and to adopt a method founded on the natural laws of
thought, and in accordance with the processes of en-
lightened physical investigation. He could not fail
to perceive that the arguments of the Scottish philo-
sopher against the doctrines of Locke and of Hume
were equally valid against those of Condillac. The
principal subject to which Royer-Collard directed his
attention was the same with that which chiefly occu-
pied the inquiries of Dr. Reid,—the perception of
external objects by the organs of sensation. But the
influence which he exerted was not confined to any
specific branch of philosophy ; it extended through
the whole sphere of reflection ; it presented new as-
pects of familiar truths, and revived ideas that had
passed away; it inspired the youthful students of the
nature of man, with a fresh and vigorous life; and
thus gave birth to a movement of thought which forms
one of the most important elements in the character
of the nineteenth century.

Victor Cousin was the favourite pupil, and soon be-
came the intimate friend of Royer-Collard. They
were united by similarity of tastes, devotion to the
pursuits of science, zeal for the improvement of the
age, and faith in a higher order of ideas than had been
recognised in the popular philosophy of France. The
wide fame which has since been acquired by the ac-
complished pupil should not make us forget the signal
merits of the sound and clear-sighted instructor.
Cousin himself seems to lose no occasion of expressing
the deepest gratitude and admiration towards his dis-
tinguished master, and, with a modesty which is no
less beautiful than it is rare, he always refers the com-
mencement of his brilliant successes in pale

ed36 BIOGRAPHICAL AND

to the masculine and impressive wisdom of Royer-
Collard.

The advancement which has been given by the
labours of Cousin to the philosophical reform, thus
happily begun, will appear from the selections from
his writings that are contained in the present work.
They consist of the Preface to his Translation of
Tennemann, his two celebrated Prefaces to the “ Phi-
losophical Fragments,” and several of the most impor-
tant shorter articles of that volume. The student of
Cousin’s philosophy will find his knowledge refreshed
by those compact, though luminous summaries of his
principal ideas; while those who desire to obtain a
just insight into the character and spirit of his pecu-
liar system will be able to gratify their wishes, with-
out the labour of perusing a multitude of voluminous
works. The prefaces, in particular, have excited an
extraordinary interest among the philosophical read-
ers of Europe ; and it is not too much to hope that
they may be made the subject of an earnest and en-
lightened study by the reflecting lovers of truth and
science in our own country.

The philosophical merits of Cousin will probably
not be new to the majority of the readers of this
volume. ‘The translations which have been already
made of two of his most important works, have con-
tributed to give currency to his ideas, and in many
cases, to awaken a lively zeal for the study of the
original! I may venture to say that there is no liv-
ing philosopher who has a greater number of readers
in this country, and none, whose works have met with
a more genuine sympathy, a more cordial recogni-
tion. He is destined, in my opinion, to exert an

1 Introduction to the History of Philosophy. Translated by
HENNING GorrrieD LinBeERG, Boston, 1832. Elements of
Psychology ; included in a Critical Examination of Locke's
Essay on the Human Understanding. Translated by C. 8.
Henry. With an Introduction, Notes, and Additions.
Hartford, 1834.

36eke oe
Oi Wd fry he te? 8 A YA

  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. DF

important influence on the development of th lought
and the condition of philosophy in our
land.

i do not mean that Cousin will ever be regarded
as the founder of a philosophical sect among the
thinkers of this nation. This is forbidden by the
whole character of his system. It does not contain a
single element which can lead to the establishment
of an exclusive school. The happiest effect which
he produces on the minds of his disciples is to lead
them to think no less independently of him, than of
others 5 to accept the fruits of his inquiries, as con-

tributions to philosophy, rather than as a complete
and ultimate philosophy ; to APPIAGIARE, with a wise
and tolerant discrimination, the merits of every la-
bourer in this boundless field; and to comprehend
and value the forgotten ere aia of the past, as
well as the splendid discoveries of modern times.
The aim_of-his.philosophy is to furnish a criterion,
taken from the actual observation of human nature,
by which to estimate both the phenomena of daily
experience, and the speculative systems which have
been constructed for their explanation in every age
of_the werld.— For these reasons, his foltowers-can
never be linked together in the strong bands of an
exclusive party. They will possess in common the
admirable logical method of their teacher; they will
start with himefrom the rigorous analysis of the facts
of consciousness ; and they will search like him for
the elements of truth in every system, through all
ages. But they will not be bound to adopt any of
his specific doctrines, except in so far as ee can
verify them for themselves; nor, on any pretence,
will ‘they be restrained, through deference to his
authority, from ulterior inquiry and independent
thought. This is the genuine spirit of the teachings
of Cousin. He latices: to make students, rather than
disciples ; sound and liberal thinkers, 1 rather than ad-
herents to his system ; philosophers, rather than sec-
tarians. t
No. XXxIE D vd

4] }
VON
§ ou thft AkBIOGRAPHICAL AND

This characteristic is adapted to give his philoso-
phy a favourable reception among ourselves. ‘The
reign of authoritative dogmatic systems has never
been firmly established over the mind of this nation ;
every exclusive faith has called forth a hest in dis-
sent ; and the time appears to have arrived when no
opinions can gain a Benen al reception, unless they
appeal to the spirit of inquiry, a nd disdain the aid of
prescription or restraint. This tendency of thought
will find a congenial object in the philosophy. of
Cousin. It wil ‘be nourished by his calm and lucid
expositions of truth; it will be supplied with mate-
ri ials for the loftiest contemplation ; while no shackles
will be placed upon its freedom, no system forced
upon its reception, no sacrifice called for of its in-
dependence.

The writings of Cousin are no less distinguished
by their Meni ebs and beauty of express Se than i
their freedom from every thing like an exclusive and
sectarian spirit. In this re spect, he may be compared
advantageously with the best authors of his own or
any other nation. It is not pretended, indeed, une
he possesses the talent of making a ne subjec
intelligible without profound study. He is not a be
| ranked with those writers who are always clear, be-
| cause they are never deep ; always popular, because
they are always superficial. He cannot present th
results of an exquisite analysis of thought in a , form i

vhich shall be palpable at once to the coars¢st intel-
leet; but it is certain that whatever illus derationn can
be given to the subtile researches of the philo sopher
by a skilful use of language is to be found in oh
copious and expressive style. It would be saying
little, to remark that he never affects mystery, and
alw vays aims at being understood by the genera alreaden

ea ts would do no Sustice to his mode of expression.

t would be more correct to say that he re ens
tl 1€ Mos t abstract ideas in such ipa dee diction,
il ae cannot fail to impress themselves on the
understanding of all who desire to be nceue tes In
a8

CP OP Ge ae BP Bi oe ase Si Fee ah Sh ca Yas Se ws Say Fie Say Sas "Se 4
a aS ag Tage Ba Se Be Sa eres

  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 39

oe

point of orderly arrangement, of continuous and sys-
tematic reasoning

tem: ¢, and of admira a taste in the se.
jection of jon 18, Cousin presents a favourable contrast
to the mos eminent philosophers of Germany. W

W itl it
Vor of SF 1 Ws
the exce SHG on of Reinhold and Fries, to whom per-

haps Jacobi should be added, I know of no modern
German wri ae on — osophy to whose Sige we are
not obliged to pardon much, through respect for the
depth of their thou ghts, and the completeness of their
investigz ations. They are compelled to suffer the
severe penalty of addressing themselves to scholars
ar kers by profession, instead of t!

elligent population.! There is nothing more
dangerous to correctness of thought ox !

of expres ssion, than for the literary

3
or

€ iterary men of a nation
hdraw from the sympathies of the common
sal and thus to lose the benefit of comparing the
abstractions of speculation with the natn cood
f the body of the pe The most sublime

contemplations of the philosopher can Be translated
into the language of the market; and unless they

ot
find a ae in the native feelings of nae y
there is probably some error in the doctrine, or some
defect in its exposition. This source of difficulty hes
ie avoided by Cousin. Called upon to exhibit the

easonings and conclusions of the ee philosophy

toa a promiscuous audience in t hei iv ‘opolis of France,
he ve addressed the popular n 1 with singular suc
cess, and solved the cardinal sik em of presenting

the highest truths of speculati ion in a form adapted to
the average intelligence of enlighte ned society. He
has put the gener: lt reader i 1 posses sion of the most
aluable results of a pont philosophy: this is all
that can be demanded of a teache er; more than th
is beyond the reach of aby style, however clear ; and
in order to con nuprehend the entire significance and
fulness of the truth which is thus obtained, nothing
will suffice but the voluntary exertion of our own in-

1 See Note A.

    
    
  
  
 
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
  
       
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
 

oe) age aeeeritel + dryricbnes ceeAO BIOGRAPHICAL AND

tellect, the free reproduction in our consciousness of
the ideas we have received from the instruction of
another.

The characteristic which has now been alluded to
in the writings of Cousin, presents an additional claim
upon the attention of our countrymen. Our national
taste—as far as it is formed—may certainly be said to
repudiate all mystery and concealment. We have
even less patience with obscurity of style, than with
shallowness of thought. We are often tempted to
slight or discard truths of unutterable consequence
both to society and to individuals, on account of
the unusual, it may he, the repulsive phraseology
in which they are conveyed. ‘The first condition of
popularity among us is the clear expression of dis-
tinct thoughts. We forgive any thing sooner than
those entanglements of words which leave us to
guess at the meaning of the writer, and at last to
remain doubtful whether we have read his riddle
aright. For this reason the German philosophers, in
their native costume, will never become extensively
popular in this country. ‘The fruits of their inquiries
will one day pass into general circulation among us ;
but not till they have been refined and clarified by
successive operations in different minds. ‘Their writ-
ings will be studied by all who love philosophy for
its own sake: the true-hearted scholar, who fears no
toil, nor pain, in the pursuit of science, will descend
with them to the darkest caverns of abstraction, so
he may return with the pure ore of truth; and the
lover of literary history will never cease to ponder,
with thoughtful admiration, that great intellectual
movement, in which even the political and material
interests of a mighty nation have been comparatively
forgotten. But they cannot be made the direct foun-
dation of philosophical culture in a country like our
own. We must start with the freer, more popular,
more concrete, and more finished productions of the
great French writers who have been formed in the
German school; who retain its vigour and depth, and
40Tha gil, ah, he a Me PS OR Tg Oe Ya Ted Oe Sey Wr Oey in, SaaS
gs ee saz a tag a Se Og ae he ere

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
   

  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. Al
combine with it the graceful ease of their own beauti-
ful literature.

Intimately connected with its distinctness of ex-
oxression, is another essential characteristic of the
philosophy of Cousin, which will serve to facilitate its
advancement among the intelligent thinkers of this
nation. Iallude to the substantial basis which it gives
to the instinctive convictions of the human mind.
This is the ultimate aim of all genuine philosophy.
No system can be of any permanent utility which
does not reproduce and legitimate the indestructible
faith, that is cherished by the common sense of the
mass of humanity.’ A philosopher who makes war
upon this is guilty of the same absurdity with the
artist who should make war on natural beauty. Of
this fact, Cousin is not only fully aware himself; but
he takes unwearied pains to explain its origin, to jus-
tify its importance, and to urge its consequences
upon the attention of the reader. Every primitive
belief of humanity is invested in his eyes with a cha-
racter of peculiar, I may say indeed, of awful sanctity.
In following the process of his investigations con-
cerning the essential elements of reason, the absolute
foundation of faith, the instinctive convictions of our
race which are found, to a certain extent, in every
mind, and manifested, in a certain form, in every
epoch of the world, we are led to forget the impulses
of merely intellectual curiosity, and to yield ourselves
up,—if I may so express it without temerity,—to a
solemn emotion of religious reverence. He gives us
the true key to the meaning of those remarkable ex~
pressions, which, in almost every language, indicate
the conviction that the voice of God is uttered in
the heart of man, that the light of the soul is a light
from Heaven.

The scientific interpretation and proof of these
popular phrases are unfolded at length in the writings
of Cousin. They form the substance of the doctrine
which exhibits in a great variety of forms, as the
spontaneous and reflective development of —

PAL HOR &
& homme ROT ‘ale ae

eR Pr AH AR 9 COCBIOGRAPHICAL

There is no portion of his philosophy, itappears to me,
more original, or more truly valuable than this. Its
importance is, certainly, not obvious to the inattentive
reader; but it will be found upon examination, if I
mistake not, to throw the brightest light on many of
the darkest questions ; to contribute some essential
elements towards the solution of the great problem
of our age,—the reconcilement of faith and reason,
authority and free conviction.

The respect which is every where testified in the
system of Cousin for the spontaneous belief of hu-
manity, presents a bond of sympathy between the
highly educated and the masses, which is strikingly
adapted to the condition of society among ourselves.
‘The office of the true scholar in our republic is to
connect himself in the most intimate and congenial
relations with the energetic and busy population of
which he is too often merely an insignificant unit.
He is never to stand aloof from the concerns of the
people; he is never to view them in the pride of su-
perior culture or station as belonging to a distinct
order from himself; he is never to set himselfabove
them as their condescending instructor, from whom
they are to receive wisdom and light, according to his
estimate of their capacity ; but he is called upon to
honour the common mind, to commune with the in-
stinctive expressions of the mighty heart of a free
nation, and to bring the aid of learning and philoso-
phy to the endeavour of the people to comprehend
their destiny, and to secure its accomplishment.
The direct tendency of the system of Cousin is to
produce this effect. It abases the proud and exalts
the humble. ft destroys the arrogance of mere
scholarship, and teaches us to listen to the voice of
humanity, though uttered from the lowliest shrine. At
the same time, it substantiates the principle of so-
cial progress, and inspires a serene and patient faith
in the promised fortunes of our race.

I have already alluded to the religious character of
i philcsophy in question. I will add, that it seems

-Oe Sig Wert tant torte. tos tar erates See,
PR Ne MT PRs SA Site Sire J

    
  
 
 
 
   
   
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE.

to me to contain more fully than any other system
which is likely to gain adherents in this country, the
principles which lie at the foundation of an elevated
and spiritual philosophy of religion. Its accordance
vith ¢ Christianity, 1 in the view of its author, is proba-
bly too v ell known to the reader, for me to enlarge
11S place. It may be remarked, haw ever,
fends to justify no sectarian views of Christi-
ity, whether manifested in the form of attachment
tot madi anee ideas, oF of love ap oe inno-
rat d and in-

estin cations of all beli ievers, form the essence of Chris-
tianity, and the reception of which is deemed neces-
sary to the salvation of the soul.
It is with ee 2 to another department of theo-
logy that I have referred to the religious influence of
the philos¢ es of Cousin. In the opinion of many
individuals,—and I own myself to be one of the num-
ber,—the prevailing philosophical theories in this
ecounEry, are not co inpletely adequate, to say the least.
the scientific grounding of a spiritual religion.
The wedded union of philosophy and religion, SO
essential to the peace of the meditative mi nd, has not
yet been oneninaeeild in the sanctuary of our holiest
thoughts. This is the true cause of the ominous fact
that an open dread of f philosophy and a secret doubt of
religion are not unfrequent in the midst of us. This
s the most candid, and probal bly the most just, ¢ expia-
ae on that can be given of the strange aversion to
inquiry, the mor bid sensitiveness to new manifesta-
tions of truth which is sometimes exhibited by well-
meaning and excellent individuals. If we felt the
ground five beneath us, we should not fear the conse-
quences of the most searching scrutiny into the foun-
dation on which we stand. There is a repose, @
quietness, a a cheerful trust, a blessed assurance in the
mind which has passed from unreiecting dogmatism
to enlightened faith, in the enjoyment bon which it
looks calmly on every free and ear nest working of the

43

 

S
S

eee ee

2? %
DEAR AA OO
fake ee CT pABIOGRAPHICAL AND

oe

4
“ae

intellect in pursuit of truth,—.confident that truth is
always consistent with itself, and that no genuine ex-
pression of the Deity or of the human soul can be set
aside by any new discovery. But this state of mind
ean be produced only by establishing an unbroken
harmony between feeling and speculation, between the
spontaneous impulses of the heart and the profound
results of reflection. I should be glad to believe that
we have a philosophy among us which is capable of
doing this. The experience of several years, with
some opportunities for observation, has convinced me
however that this is not the case. There is an inter-
ruption in the continuity of our thought. We are
believers in a spiritual religion; but we are not mas-
ters of a spiritual philosophy. There is little danger
in this condition of things to those, with whom piety
is such a strong natural sentiment, that no force can
| pluck it out of their hearts. They will never feel the
burden of doubt, or need the aid of philosophy to ex-
plain the mysteries of their being. On those virgin
souls no blight can fall; their robes are al ways white ;
and they will pass upward unstained by the breath of
unbelief. But our world, in this country, at the pre-
sent age, is not composed of such beautiful spirits as
these. ‘There are few who have not been ealled to
test the validity of their dearest convictions, either by
the assaults of scepticism from without, or the course
of their own reflections. It must be a mind of extra-
ordinary construction which has not felt the need of
comprehending its own instincts more clearly ; of
looking into the foundation of the primitive truths on
which the well-being of man reposes; and of settling
the lofty spiritual faith in which it has grown up on
the firm ground ofa broad and clear philosophy. A
sense of this want is widely spread in almost every
circle of society, into which we enter. A deep con-
viction of the reality of spiritual truth, and, at the
same time, a strong desire for a philosophical system
which shall explain and legitimate it, are every where
ee among contemplative individuals. Too often
A4Saas as hs a a ae eee
yee A LA er iS hh ON TS

  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 45

however, the clearness and strength of the former are
impaired, by failing to meet with the latter. More
bs one young man has told me, in sadness of spirit,
ot the struggle which was going on in the very depths
of his being, between reflection and faith, between the
convictions to which he clung, and the theories by
which they were sustained. The same testimony is
given by writers of the most opposite opinions and
experience. One of the ablest metaphysicians in this
country, in a masterly essay on the present state of
philosophical speculation, thus speaks of the effect
which is produced, within the sphere of his observa-
tion, by the usual mode of presenting the argument
for the foundation of religion. ‘Is it not indeed a
fact, notwithstanding the abundant commendation be-
stowed upon the work of Dr. Paley, the dependence
placed upon it in our systems of instruction, and the
assertion that a mind unsatisfied with this argument Is
not to be satisfied at all, —is it not a fact, I say, that
many young men of ingenuous minds, but at the same
time logical and critical in their inquiries, are left
unsatisfied with the results of the work? I fear there
are many who, having been taught that this is the
great and triumphant argument, the sure ground, on
which a belief in the existence of God depends, find
their faith rather weakened by it than confirmed, or
at best lose more in regard to their views of his cha~
racter, than they gain in their belief of his existence.
__How do we know, or how can we learn by this
process of arguing, that the unknown cause of those
effects, which Dr. Paley bas exhibited, that the mys-
terious and dread ground of being in all, that exists
and that we call nature, is not a necessitated as well

as a necessary Being, or that it is even self-conscious

and intelligent ¢ If now, as I trust will be the case,
the reader shrinks with a conscious feeling of dread
and abhorrence from such a conclusion, as impious,
I would earnestly beg of him not to charge it upon
me, and at the same time warn him not to ascribe

ng which such a co SI ‘ould awaken,
the feeling hicl I nelusion would awaken
45RIS Pa PS

eg ite ae

BIOGRAPHICAL AND

to any convictions of the bemg and attributes of a
personal God which the supposed strength and in-
fluence of Paley’s argument may have been thought
to produce. That faith in the being of God and
that reverence for his holy and perfect character, in
virtue of which we shrink from atheism, as a viola-
tion of our moral being, as absurd and impious, lie
far deeper, than those convictions of the mere un-
derstanding, ‘the ene judging a according to sense,’
which may have been derived from the argument i in
question.”

The same train of thought is presented, with sin-
gular ability and strength, in an article in a recent
periodical publication,? which may perhaps be con-
sidered as representing the views of a large class of

thinking men, whose iics and habits entitle their
opinion on a subject of metaphysical inquiry to a
listened to with peculiar respect.s It is a distinc
avowal that the philosophy of our day is rae coite
to the support of the holiest religious convictions.
From these and similar facts, I am led to conclude,
that the want ofa higher system is more and more
generally felt, « ale that the interests of a sound
philosoph y and a true religion cannot much longer be
separated from each other.’

It is by the prevalence of this feeling that I ac-
count for the remarkable popularity of Mr. Colerid; ge
as a philcsophical writer, with a great number of in-
dividuals Heo cannot be insensible to his signal de-
fects and in nperfections. The works of Mr. Coleridge,
in my opinion, are exceedingly valuable to two

1 any ee See
PRESIDENT Ma RSH’s Note to Coler idge’s Aids to Reflection,
: 1e whole of his Prelimina ry Essay to the
°O la which has desery eee creat

attention, and w ae a may be reckoned, for the depth of its
of the finest pieces of

reasoning and the force of its style, one
hich has appeared in our langua age

Ss
sume work,—;

p hilosopt ical composition Ww
for many years.

; American Quarterly Observer, No. II. Boston, 1833.
See Note B.

46Nie te 6 Te ee a he ee
ee ere ae ee

  

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 47

classes of persons. To those, in the first place, on
whom the light of spiritual truth is beginning te
dawn; who are just awakened to the consciousness
of the inward powers of their nature, and who need
to have the sentiment of religion quickened into
more vital activity ; and, secondly, to those, who
have obtained as the fruit of their own reflections, a
living system of spiritual faith. The former will
find the elements of congenial truth profusely scat-
tered over his pages; the latter will be able, from
their own experience, to construct a systematic whole
with the massive fragments which are almost buried
beneath the magnificent confusion of his style. But
Mr. Coleridge cannot satisfy the mind whose primary
want is that of philosophical clearness and precision.
He is the inspired poet, the enthusiastic prophet of
a spiritual philosophy; but the practical architect,
by whose skill the temple of faith is to be restored.
cannot be looked for in him.

The objects at which Mr. Coleridge aims, it seems
to me, are in a great measure accomplished by the
philosophy of Cousin. This philosophy demolishes,
by one of the most beautiful specimens of scientific
analysis that is any where to be met with, the system
of sensation, against which Mr. Coleridge utters
such eloquent and pathetic denunciations. It esta-
blishes on a rock the truth of the everlasting senti-
ments of the human heart. It exhibits to the specu-
lative inquirer, in the rigorous forms of science, the
reality of our instinctive faith in God, in Virtue, in
the human Soul, in the Beauty of Holiness, and in
the Immortality of Man.

Such a philosopiy, I cannot but believe, will ulti-
mately find a cherished abode in the youthful affec-
tions of this nation, in whose history, from the be-
ginning, the love of freedom, the love of philosopi-
cal inquiry, and the love of religion have been com-
bined in a thrice holy bond. We need a phil sophy
like this to purify and enlighten our politics, to con-
secrate our industry, to cheer and elevate society.

49
“tf

    
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  

eres Ce ed+

 

8 BIOGRAPHICAL AND

We need it for our own use.in the hours of mental
misgiving and gloom; when the mystery of the uni-
verse presses heavily upon our souls; when the
fountains of the great deep are broken up, and the

‘* Intellectual Power
Goes sounding on, a dim and perilous way,”

over the troubled waters of the stormy sea. We need
it for the use of our practical men, who, surrounded
on every side with the objects of sense, engrossed
with the competitions of business, the rivalries of
public life, or the cares of professional duty, and ae-
customed to look at the immediate and obvious
utility of every thing which appeals to their notice,
often acquire a distaste for all moral and religious
inquiries; and, as an almost inevitable consequence,
lose their interest, and often their belief, in the moral
and religious faculties of their nature. We need it
for the use of our young men, who are engaged in
the active pursuits of life, or devoted to the cultiva-
tion of literature. How many on the very threshold
of manly responsibility, by the influence of a few un-
happy mistakes, which an acquaintance with their
higher nature, as unfolded by a sound religious phi-
losophy, would have prevented, have consigned them-
Selves to disgrace, remorse, and all the evils of a
violated conscience! How many have become the
dupes of the sophist’s eloquence, or the victims of
the fanatic’s terrors, for whom the spirit of a true
philosophy—-a philosophy « baptized in the pure
fountain of eternal love,” would have preserved the
charm and beauty of life.

The elements of a philosophy of this character, I
venture to think, are contained in the doctrines of
Cousin and his distinguished pupil Jouffroy, as ex-
hibited in the present volume. They do not profess
to offer a complete exposition of the views of the
authors, from whose writings translations are given.
Their aim is a more humble one. If they shail in-

crease the interest which is already felt in the works
48

fa al Ne GY OEP iP ae are P  o ei ReINTRODUCTORY NOTICE. A9

of those eminent philosophers, and contribute in any
degree to the better understanding of their ideas,
their purpose will be accomplished. They are com-
mended, with difidence in my own share of the
work, but with confidence in the merits of the origi-

nal writers, to the free spirit and candid judgment of
the reader.

}
q
4
24
q
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“¢
“4
a
:
.50 DESTINY OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY.

poe

ON THE DESTINY OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY.!

PuiLosorny, at the present day, can do only one
of these three things :

Hither abdicate, renounce its independence, st
again to the ancient authority, return to the Middle

4 *
A oes e
ZA bay CS

sbmit

A.
°

5

Or continue its troubled motion in the circle of
worn-out systems which mutually destroy each other;

Or finally disengage what is true in each of these
systems, and thus construct a philosophy superior to
all systems, which shall govern. them.all by being
above them.all, which shall be no longer this or that
philosophy, but philosophy itself in its essence and in
its unity.

‘The first course is impossible. For philosophy is
onlyan effect andnot a cause. The independence, and,
so to speak, the secularization of thought, are produced
by the general progress of the spirit of independence
and of secularization in every thing, in the State, in
science, in art, in industry. This being laid down,
the question is easily resolved. What wind could now
root up that tree which has put forth in the midst of
storms, and which has grown up moistened with the
tears and blood of so many generations? Modern
civilization cannot go back, nor consequently the phi-
losophy which represents it. Here is the vanity of the
Theocratic shool. Theocracy is the legitimate cradle
of infant societies, but it does not accompany them in

From the Preface to the Translation of ** Tennemann’s
Outlines of the History of Philosophy.—1829,

30Vee ee ae
oe he oh eae bar San ls Sas Se See ere, Se
aed et Og Se oe Ser epee y Tyee SEA

        
    
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
   
 
   
   
  
 
   
   
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 

STINY OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY. o|
the progress of their development,—that Beene
progress which is derived from the nee of things

and as the nature of things cannot be e separated from
the designs of providence, it fo rows that every strug-
gle against the nature of things is in fact-direeted
against Providence itself; and that ede the
attempt to~arrest thecourse of civ lization, and to
extinguish philosophy is an enterprize against God
a the strength ‘of the world must
fail of success. And besides, what is me foundation

3 |

oH S

~
pom
©)
acon
==)
eS

> 1 > .
of the arrogant quarrel of theocracy against philoso-
1 2) aa) q
pny: very body knows at the peut day; a par-
a t

alogism. It is with reason that they attack reason,
ling to the very authority which they com-
ine ey unde! ‘take to convict of impotence.
A certain degree of rigour and co! asisteney has led
the Theocratie school to reject, not this or that phi-
losophical system, but the common spirit of all sys-
tems, namely, f free reflection, that is to say, philoso-
phy itself. A greater degree of rigour and consis-

ot
oe ener ern ey

re

tency would tae driven’ it to absolute scepticism,
or restored it to philosophy. Without doubt, after

the great x hovenients ot these e.modern times, which
have p nance such various and such profound agi-
tations in society.and.in. human thought, without sa-
tisfving 1 Te oe hope of those who wish to sow
p in a single day, the..appeal to the Middle
APPS ‘and to blind. fait: would-nata rally-seduce.the
weavied mind, by the allurement..of novelty. and the
false ESDP SALSnCE Or..a.perfeet-consistency. Hence
those philosophical abj rata the offspring of dis-
couragement—and_despail es appeared to un-
pra tised e eyes the signal for the defeat of philosophy

and. for return to the ancl sa authority. But the
sécret is now divulged. The innocence and peace

of the Middle Ages are well understood ; an d the
itself

Pen te erent ate teneenes

appeal to blind faith against reason by reason
g only a misera ble Pa e
a
oe

his truth a ares enceforth p

a
is convicted of bein

The manifestation of
tects philosophy ; and will arrest its deserters.2 DESTINY OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY.

Gr

On the other hand, to leave philosophy in the state
in which the nineteenth century received it from the
preceding centuries, would be to make a use of reason
that is by no means reasonable. It would be to con-
sent to the decrial of philosophy by itself, and to place
the most formidable weapons in the hands of the the-
ocracy, and of its enemies, who observe the specta-
cle. It would not be to combat the spirit of the age,
but to remain behind it. In fact, the quality which
most distinguishes us, which we seek with the great-
est ardour; and cherish with the greatest pride, is uni-
versality.. In every department, in politics, in the
arts, in literature, we aspire to completeness; we re-
fuse to be dazzled by a single aspect of things, how-
ever brilliant it may be ; we wish to contemplate every
aspect in succession, in order to form a true and per-
fectidea of the objectin question. Here is the favour-
able side. The evil consists~in the weakening or
the absence of enthusiasm, and of great originality ;
of great originality, I say, for of small originality,
there is more than enough. In this state of the ge-
geral mind, what can be the attraction of those aged
systems, which modern philosophy produced at its
birth, and which it has reproduced a hundred times
within the last two centuries, without one of them
having been able to sustain itselfr It is evident
that no one of the systems which we have inherit-
ed from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,
is absolutely false, since they were all able to
exist; but it is equally evident also, that no one of
these systems. is absolutely true, since they have all
ceased to exist,—the contrary of absolute truth, which
if it should appear, would at once enlighten, rally and
subject the understandings of all. There is no
one of these systems which has not been made the
object of an overwhelming attack. There is no one
which has not in some sort been pierced through and
through, arraigned and convicted of intolerable ex-
travagances. Let one of those principles be presented
mich in its day has seduced so many excellent
3

snd

TE Lf get A em ee 8 oyOe tae Tee Re eh ee SEO oe Oa

  

DESTINY OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 53

minds ; there is not a man who will not at once
charge upon this principle the long array of conse-
quences which it has successively produced, and
which have betrayed and disgraced it. Do you pro-
pose to explain intelligence by the celebrated prin-
ciple of sensation, which formerly, in the hands of
Locke and Condillae, exercised such an irresistible
charm? At the present day, without any great outlay
of sagacity or of logic, a little reading will suffice to
point out behind this attractive principle its terrible
consequences ; by the side of Locke, Mandeville and
Collins; by the side of Condillac, @’Holbach and La-
métrie, and all the Saturnalia of Materialism and of
Atheism. Do you propose to explain all human
knowledge by the mere force of the soul, of thought,
and of its laws,—a very natural procedure. This
noble Spiritualism has against-it-the equtvocal-repu-
tation of the-sublime and chimerical abstractions, to
which, so wise at_its starting-point, it has ended by
conducting more than one. illustrious school, Are
you disposed to make trial of doubt? The phan-
tom of scepticism is there. Are you tempted to
seek refuge in sentiment? But who will not an-
nounce to you beforehand the tendency which pre-
cipitates you towards mysticism? Thus, principles
and consequences, there is nothing now unforeseen;
hence, nothing which can deceive; for it cannot be
denied, reason like the imagination, hardly wings its
fight except after the Unknown and the Infinite.
Now what system yet possesses this charm? It is
the glory of human reason, that it submits only, I
will not say to absolute truth, but to what it believes
to be absolute truth; and at the present day, there
is no mind of tolerable cultivation, which does not
know very well, that all the systems presented by
modern philosophy, are nothing, in the last analysis,
but particular systems, which may indeed. contain a
greater or less degree of truth, but which roe
be ludicrous to propose or to receive as the complete
and absolute truth. i

NO. XXXII E veo4 DESTINY OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY.

The third course then remains. In the absence
of fanaticism for this or that specific system, whick
a tendency to enthusiasm and an incomplete view of
things would perhaps produce, and of which we must
almost despair with our present characteristics, both
good and bad, J_see no resource left to philosophy,
if it is unwilling to pass under the yoke of. theocracy,
but equity, moderation, impartiality, wisdom. It is,
[ confess, somewhat. of .a desperate resource, but for
myself, I see no other. It would be strange if there
were no longer any thing but common sense which
could produce an effect on the imagination of men.
But it is certain that every other charm appears to be
worn out. All the parts of fanaticism in philosophy,
all the parts which have been performed at once by
injustice and by folly, that is to say again, all the in-
ferior parts have been taken from the nineteenth cen-

_tury by the preceding centuries ; it iscondemned to

a. new part, the most humble in appearance, but the
most elevated and important in reality—that of being
just towards all systems, andthe dupe of none of
them? of making them~all-the.object_of-study, and
instead of following in the train of any-one, whatever
it-may be, of enrolling them all under its own banner,
and thus marching at their head to the discovery and
the-eonquest of truth. This procedure—to reject no
system and “to accept_none entirely, to neglect. this
element-and to-take that,-to select in all what. ap-
pears to be true and good, and consequently ever-
lasting —this, in.a single word, is EcLEcricism.
Tam not ignorant that this name alone arouses all
the exclusive doctrines. But is it surprising that an
opinion which appears a little novel should meet with
lively opposition? Especially an opinion like Ke-
lecticism. Propose then to the different parties, I
beg of you, to lay aside-their tyrannical pretensions,
in the service. of their common country. Every party
will accuse-you_of being a bad citizen. Exclusive

~doetrines-are-in-philosophy what—parties are in the

State. Felecticism tends to substitute for their vio-

™,
wvhy Sysh a Soe
Pod Nast tas its as ia

  

DESTINY OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY.

lent and irrecular action-a-frm and--moderate-direc-
tion, which shall-eall every foree-into-operation, but
shall sacrifice to_none the interests of order, or the
public good. Suppose, once more, that among those
opinions which al] aspire to exclusive dominion, there
was one, which, for more than half a century, had
been in possession of universal and undisputed au-
thority, accustomed to receive nothing but homage,
and treated almost as if it were divine. Attempt to
call in question the sovereignty of this proud idol;
propose to it, as gently as possible, to come down from
its throne, to enter the ring, to assert its rights for
itself, in fine, to be only an opinion, like every other
opinion, containing, like others, both what is true and
what isfalse; accepted by someand rejected by others;
in a word, propose to it to submit to the right of in-
quiry, and you will soon hear a fine storm bursting
about your ears. I had accordingly counted on a
warm controversy; but, I had hoped, a serious and
earnest one. Instead of objections, I have met only
with declamations, with ecalumnies. In truth, I had
believed that the Sensual school was stronger. Far
trem wishing to weaker it;ifit-were-in my-power, I
would rather fortify it, I would give it a serious repre-
sentative, one worthy of it; for it comprises great
truths ; it ought to hold an elevated rank in science 5
and I sincerely regard the deplorable state into which
it has fallen among us as a real calamity. I heartily
regret that M. de-Tracy, disarmed by—age, cannot
enter.the-lists-with the new philosophy. It is not
from the arsenal of Jesuitism that an adversary lik

him would borrow his weapons. He would find them
in the profound study of philosophical subjects, in the
talent for analysis and the severe logic of which he
has given so many proofs; and thus a truly honest and
scientific controversy would be instituted. We are
the first to demand this, for the general interests of
science. Meanwhile, neither my friends nor myseli
have hearts so feeble as to be retarded by the obsta-
cles which are thrown in our path. We did not enter

es
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ate

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Vee
7 es56 DESTINY OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY.

our present career for the sake of frivolous applause,
but to.serve the cause of philosophy. For my own
part, it is along time since,—having studied and gone
through with many different schools, attempting to ex-
plain the attraction which by turns I found in each,
and the credit of widely opposite systems, that of Con-
dillac and that-of Reid for example, with the most
enlightened minds and with the distinguished men,
of whom I had been a pupil, M. Laromiguicre and
M. Royer- Collard,—I discovered that the authority
of these different systems proceeded from the fact that
they all contain something which is true and good ; I
suspected that in reality they were not all so com-
pletely at war with each other as they pretended cod
was convinced by degrees that, on certain conditions,
they could ail go very well with each other; and I
proposed. to. them a ireaty of peace on the basis of
mutual.concessions.Sincethat.time I have used the
word Eclecticism. If any are startled by it, I will
gladly take back the word, provided they will allow
me the thing. This word, however,—exact in itself,
already employed by those who, in the course of ages,
have had nearly the same idea, generally accepted in
the language of the history of philosophy,—appears
to me as good as any conventional expression can
be, and I see no reason why it should be abandoned.
As to the essential purpose of the enterprise itself,
reflection and study have attached me to it more
strongly than ever. Even the view of the fanaticism,
to which an exclusive opinion may conduct, recom-
mends moderation and wisdom more than ever in my
eyes; and_it-is mydeliberate..wish, if not-my-hope,
that Kclecticismimay-serve-as.a_cuide to the French
philosophy -of.the nineteenth century.
if this philosophy is to be Eclectic, it must also be
sustained by the history of philosophy. In fact, it is
evident that every Eclectic philosophy must necessa-
rily have its foundation in a profound knowledge of
1€

 

ve it
all the systems, of which it professes to combine the
true and essential elements. Besides, what is theFlog He, Meet Pat Ye ine i an Sigg Cae Saye, Sy Ss Tat the ta de
gatas ea Se Ey See 4 Se Se ee ag CPE A a

  

DESTINY OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. a7

whole history.of philosophy, but a perpetual lesson of
Eclecticism ? What is taught by the history of philo-
sophy, except that all systems are as old as itself, and
inherent in the human mind, which produces them
from the first moment, and reproduces them without
end; that the wish to establish the dominion of any
one exclusively. is.a vain attempt, which, if it should
succeed, would prove the tomb of philosophy ; that
consequently there is nothing to do, but to honour
the human mind, to respect its liberty, to determine
the laws which regulate it, and the fundamental sys-
tems which grow out of these laws ; to improve con-
tinually these different systems by means of each:
other, without attempting to destroy any of them,
by investigating and disengaging the everlasting
portion of truth which each of them contains, and by
which each of them _is made the brother of every
other, and the legitimate offspring of the human mind.
The_history of philosophy would have been sufficient
by itself to produce Kelecticism, that_is_to—say,
philosophical toleration; and as soon as this tolera-
tion is brought to light, after the long reign. of fana-
ticism, it necéssarily calls forth the desire and the
“taste for a profound study of every system.

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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aa ciety aeNOTES.

 

NOTE A.—Pacz 39.

SCHELLING’S OPINION OF COUSIN.

THE cbscurity of style, which, to a greater or less degree, i
found in the writings of the most eminent philosophers of Ger-
many, and which repels so many from the study of their sys-
tems, begins to be perceived and complained of by the Germans
themselves. This is a good omen. It cannot be repeated too
often, it cannot be insisted on too strongly, that truth is va-
luable to the human mind only in proportion to its clearness ;
and that all truth is intended to be the property of the world,
not the monopoly of afew. The admirable reasonings of Kant
on the immutability of moral distinctions, the absolute autho-
rity of conscience, and the reality of disinterested virtue, are, in
a great measure, lost to the world, by reason of the perplexed
phraseology in which they are expressed. We can hardly be
too grateful to students and writers, like Cousin and the school
which he has formed, for their services in giving eurrency to
ideas, in holding up to the popular mind in broad day-light,
truths of universal interest and importance, which but for them
would have remained loeked up in the iron abstractions of
scholastic formulas. With regard to the merits of Cousin in
this relation, we have a distinct confession from Schelling’s own
lips,

‘* In his different visits to Germany,” he remarks, “‘ Cousin
has won great personal esteem and friendship, not only among
philosophers by profession, but among the German scholars in
general. The peculiar cireumstance, however, which gives the
Germans a permanent interest in his labours is, that he, toge-
ther with the able and profoundly learned Guizot and a few
others, was the first, after the restoration of peace from the
wars of the Revolution, to awaken the attention of his country-
men to German science and literature. Cousin aceomplished
this particularly in regard to German philosophy. _ Whoever
among us should imagine that the advantage of this is altoge-

ther on the side of the French, would betray a singular nar-
rowness. For it is now pretty generally acknowledged, that in
point of a simple, lucid, and well-considered mode of exhibit-
ing scientific subjects, we have something to learn from our
Western neighbours. But style, if any value at all be ascribed

o9

  
 
   
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 

nepal sochetnksli+ deyettben dees

er

arr60 NOTES.

to it, always reacts on thought, on the subject-matter of dis-
cussion. ‘The Germans have so long philosophized merely
among themselves, that they have been gradually departing
more and more from what is universally intelligible, both in
thought and expression, and the degree of this departure has at
length been almost assumed as the standard of philosophical
superiority. It is hardly necessary to adduce examples. As
families, which, avoiding the general intercourse of society, live
altogether with each other, at last, among other disagreeable
peculiarities, come to use a singular phraseology, intelligible to
none but themselves; so the Germans have proceeded in philo-
sophy; and, as after many ineffectual attempts to spread the
philosophy of Kant, beyond the limits of their country, they
have renounced the idea of making themselves intelligible to
other nations, they have been led also to regard philosophy as
something existing for themselves alone, without considering
that the original purpose of all philosophy,—which is never to
be lost sight of, though it has been so often unsuccessful,—is
to arrive at universal intelligibility. It certainly does not fol-
low from this, that works of thought are to be judged of as
exercises of style; but it does follow unquestionably that a
philosophy, whose essential doctrines cannot be made compre-
hensible to every cultivated nation, and accessible to all lan-
guages, for that reason atone, cannot be the true and universal
philosophy. The interest accordingly, which is manifested by
foreign nations in German philosophy, cannot fail to exert a
favourable influence upon that. The philosophical writer, who
some ten years ago could not lay aside the scholastic language
and forms which he had once assumed, without prejudice to
his reputation as a scientific man, will more easily free himself
from this restraint. He will seek for profoundness in his
thoughts; and at least, a total incapacity and unskilfulness of
expression, will not be considered, as has been the case, a to-
ken of philosophical inspiration.

‘* Cousin has been reproached with his love for German phi-
losophy, as an anti-national tendency; but, on the contrary, he
has remained true to that national character, of which he says,
that it makes an absolute point of purity, precision, and clear-
ness of connexion. If any man is called to give to. France. a

correct notion of the progress and the historical development
of modern philosophy, it is Cousin, who combines,..in an. emi-
nent degree, in himself,and_ has displayed through his whole
scientific career, the indefatigable research, the acuteness, the
moderation, the honourable impartiality, and in short, all the
peculiar qualities. which forma philosophical historian of phi-
losophy.””?

1 See Victor Cousin tiber franzosische und deutsche Philosophie, Von Dr.
HuBeRT Beckers, Vorrede von SCHELLING, pp. iii.—v. xxviii. Stutt-
gart und Tiibingen, 1834,

0NOTES.

NOTE B.—Pace 46.
PRESIDENT HOPKINS ON NATURAL THEOLOGY.

Tue article here alluded to is entitled «Ar. gument from Nature,
for the Divine Existence,” and is from the pen of the Rey . Mark
Hopkins, President of Williams College. Its purpose ae
discuss the e place which is held by the ar gument from design,
as exhibited in external na ture, in producing the belief of a

God in mankind at lar ge; and also the real import and logical

validity of that arg acne It by no means follows, the writer
maintains, that because the argument from design is generally

stated as the formal proof of the being of a God, it is therefore
the real ground of our belief; for it often pilin that we are
fully convinced of a truth Gurcely es, and yet, when we would
convinee others, we are obl liged to adduce a arguments, and in-

ent media of proof entirely differ rent from those on which our
own conviction rests. It is, moreoy er, a fact that the universal]
belief in God is altogether disproportioned to the pere eon of
design in the material universe. In the inf ancy of socie in
the early stages of the civilization of ev ery country, the opera-
tions of nature are obscure and perplexing. Design is often
concealed. It is still oftener seen but indi istinetly, a unity
of design is not seen at all. Yet a faith in God, in some form
or other, is every where displayed. In like manner, the great
import tance of this faith to the highest interests of our race,
makes it Boe that it was not intended to be entirely de-
pendent on the varying process of induction from outwa urd pre-
mises. We may suppose that religion, which necessaril y in-
volves the idea of God, must have its roots in the very founda-
tion and elements of the soul of man. It is only on this sup-
position that the common definition of man as a rel igious being
can be sustained.

This view is confirmed by a nee examination of the argu-
ment from design. Such an examination forces us to the con-
clusion, in the opinion of President Hopkins, that correct, logi-
eal accuracy does not compel the deduction of a Be eing pos-
sessing the highest attributes of intelligence,—that the ar-
sument from design falls short of bei ing a strict proof of the ex-
istence of a personal God. But if this argument be not logi-

cally valid, as this writer shows, and as Kant had prey) iously
shown, there is another argument, according to his theory, which
may be pressed with perfect success. This is deriv ed fom n th
nature of the human soul. The soul exhibits effects o dif.
ferent character from any that are found in the material universe.
These are spontaneous activity , thought, free-will, reason, con-
science. The existence of a soul, endowed with these ats
butes, is a direct proof, reasoning from ett rect to ealise, OLA
creative Mind, and is indeed the only eondition on which the

6]

  
   
   
  
   
    
  
 
  
 
 
 
   
  
  
   
  
 
 
   
    
    
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
    
  
  
 
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
     

rs62 NOTES.

conception of such a mind can be formed, or. the knowledge of
it brought to light. Having thus vérified our belief in the ex-
istence of the Father of Spirits, we are led to the conviction,
from the adaptation of the body to the mind, and their mutual
action on each other, that one being was the Creator of both,
and we again perceive the reality of God, as the Author of na-
ture. ‘* We have therefore, as the source of all things, as the
principle of unity in all things, instead of a blind, unconscious
principle, which general laws would seem to indicate, and which
men call nature, or by whatever name pleases them, one, free,
all-pervading, all-inspecting, all-comprehending, personal God.”

The above meagre sketch does little justice to an argument
which is carried out by the author with a sufficient complete-
ness of detail and great beauty of illustration. Allowing the
principles which are established by a sound, spiritual philoso-
phy, I know not how its force and conclusiveness can be invali-
dated. It coincides, in the main, with the process of reasoning
by which Cousin infers the Absolute Causality, or Free-Will
of God, from the existence of those attributes, in a relative
character, in the human soul; and also the moral and intellec-
tual attributes of God, from a view of analogous attributes in
man. The only thing wanting, as it seems to me, in the argu-
ment of President Hopkins, is the legitimation of our reasoning
from the Finite in ourselves to the Infinite in God. With this
omission, it presents a vulnerable side to the Materialist, who
contends that the soul itself, with all its attributes, is the result
of organization ; and also to the Idealist, who should be disposed
to maintain that the soul itself is the Absolute Existence, and
implies no objective reality corresponding to the inward phe-
nomena of which we are conscious. The true basis of our be-
lief in God must be found, in the last analysis, in the two prin-
ciples, that our own existence is relative, limited, finite, and
that we are compelled, by the necessity of our reason, to admit
an absolute, perfect, and infinite existence. This view is re-
peatedly unfolded by Cousin, and indeed forms the principal
element in his philosophical system, as may be seen in the pre-
sent work.

With the addition of these principles, the argument of Pre-
sident Hopkins furnishes us with a conclusive vindication of the
great, fundamental belief of humanity. If I mistake not, its
value and importance will be more highly estimated by future
inquirers, than it has yet been, as far as I am informed, among
our philosophical theologians. The manner in which it is ex-
hibited in the article referred to, indicates a mind of very rare
analytical skill, and familiarity with the precise bearing of the
various points, which it undertakes to set in order. It can
searcely fail to meet with the attention which it deserves from
the student of metaphysics, in proportion as that science is cul-
tivated with freedom and earnestness.

62

ES bbw. by ae Ereee ee ee ee ee
Mk eT Ke ok Tel id Ma OR Ue SE SESS Tatas Ye Se a ae Wir Oi Sion Se Sn
hae gat ae oe Sar Yo Seg hg hy Sais Bg se oad Nal se is eg eae eek

EST ee eat a
6 oe

  

EXPOSITION

ECLECTICISM.

BY

M. VICTOR COUSIN,

PEER OF FRANCE, MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE, AND OF THE COUNCIL

O# PUBLIC INSTRUCTION, AND DIRECTOR OF THE NORMAL SCHOOLS,

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH,
WITH CRITICAL NOTICES,
BY

GEORGE RIPLEY.

EDINBURGH:
THOMAS CLARK, 38. GEORGE STREET;
LONDON—HAMILTON, ADAMS & CO.;

DUBLIN—CURKY & CQ,

MDCCCXXXIX.

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BSE ROM ee SS

EXPOSITION

OF

ECLECTICISM’

TuEse fragments are now reprinted just as they
appeared in 1826, with some corrections, which it is
not important to indicate. Jt seemed to me proper
that this work, if I may give the name to a collec-
tion of detached pieces, should preserve its original
character, the defects and the merits with which it
was at first presented to the public.

The Preface to these Fragments was all that de-
served any considerable attention. It has met with
it far beyond my expectation. Received in Germany
with indulgence, it found an able interpreter in that
country.2. A translation possessing an exactness
which discovers a mind familiar with such subjects,
made it known in the North of Italy.2 It even

1 Preface to “* Philosophical Fragments,’’ Second Edition.
1833.
_2-Ffeligion und Philosophie in Frankreich, von F. W.
Carove, Dr. der Philosophie. Géitingen, 1827, See anaccount
of this translation and of the notes inthe Globe, 9 March 1800.

3 Manuale di Filosofia, di A. MaTHLA, traduzione di tedes-
co con un saggio della nuovo Filosofia francese del signor Vou-
sin. Lugano, 1829. :

NO. XXXIII. B 69

 

   
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  

Vos d ate Pe ree yenee on em hye wee havens? Ml

a
rye bi Bd refed! >
Si se avedheednad teat igs EEF Ae once g BO ag 2 hematiteEXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

excited some interest in England ; and I was quite
surprised to find that it had attracted the attention of
transatlantic criticism! In France, it has been made
the subject of a controversy which was not without
use to the cause of philosophy. I do not now pro-
pose, after the lapse of six years, to revive this con-
troversy, of which the details are deservedly forgot-
ten; I would merely say a few words in regard to
it, which may not be out of place in the present state
of things.

The Preface to these Fragments was intended to
give an idea of the general system, to which they re-
late ; it could only indicate the system, but it at
least described all its elements in their connexion and
their harmony. The four pointsin this rapid sketch
to which all the others may be referred are as follows:

I. Method.

II. Application of method to that part of philo-
sophy, which method itself places at the head of the
others, namely, psychology.

iil. Passage from psychology to ontology and to
the higher metaphysics.

IV. General views on the history of philosophy.

I. METHOD.

I. Here, as elsewhere, as every where, as always,
I declare for that method, which places the point of
departure for all sound philosophy in the study of
human nature, and consequently in observation, and
which then appeals to induction and to reasoning, in
order to obtain from observation all the consequences
which it involves. We are deceived when we Say
that true philosophy is a science of facts, unless we
add that it is also a science of reasoning. It rests on

 

: North American Review, No. LXIV. July, 1829. This
article is by Mr. EVEREr T, ex-minister of the United States in
Spain.

66

  

PSPS oP eS a> <
DOR haem gt ft ae Aa ateh te ete Se oe Tal a EL A Uh PE ke 8 ee
Sh be he eh eh eR ee
a ‘ Mt

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

observation ; but it has no other lin 1its than those of
reason itself, just as physical science starts from ob-
servation, but does not ae with it, and rises by
calculation to the general laws of nature, andto the
system of the world. Now reasoning is in philoso-
phy what calculation is in physical science; for
after all, calculation is nothing but reasoning in its
most simple form. Ca leulation is not a mysterious
power ; it is the power of human reasoning itself; its
eculiar character consists entirely in its language.
Philosophy abdicates, it renounces its true end
which is the understanding and the explanation of all
things by the legitimate e nployment of our faculties,
when it renounces the unlimited employment of rea-
son; and, on the other hand, it falls into error, and
eads reason itself into error, when it employs it at
random, instead of placing it at the service of facts,
which iN been scrupulously observed and rigo-
rously classed. It is thus exposed to two perils; first,
anill-regulated flight, which, disdaining obser ae
going through it too rapidly, shoots i nto adventurou
inducti Ons 5 “and secondly, a pusi a nimM0Us dale
which, in spite of our deepest cravings and our most

imperious instincts, chains itself down to the poverty
of a barren observation. To hmit eee to

4

observation Hs whether we know it or not, to place

it in the path to scepticism; to neglect abet vation,
is to throw it into the ways ol hypothesis. Scepti-

ism and oe esis,—tnese are the two rocks to which
phi losophy 1 s exposed. The true method avoids
them both. It does not be tthe end, it does ne
end at the beginning. | 9

reasoning, but it supports it on sutficie
for precisely in proportion to the value of ©
tion, will be the subsequent v
Thus, while it preserves the right |
employment of the resources oi intelligence, —
phy cannot attach itself to observation with om
care, and, like true physical science, 1f cannot too

 

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red6 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

loudly proclaim observation, as its necessary point
ot departure

In that case, it is distinguished from physical
science only by the nature of the phenomena which
it observes. The peculiar phenomena of physical
science are those of external nature, of that vast
world of which man forms so small a part. The
peculiar phenomena of philosophy are those of that
other world, which every man bears within himself,
and which he perceives by the aid of the inward light
which is called consciousness, as he perceives the
former by the senses. The phenomena of the inward
world appear and disappear so rapidly, that conscious-
ness perceives them, and loses sight of them almost
at the same time. Itis not then sufficient to observe
them transiently, and while they are passing over
that changing scene; we must retain them as long
as possible by attention. We may do even still more.
We may call up a phenomenon from the bosom of
the night into which it has vanished, summon it again
to memory, and reproduce it in our minds for the
sake of contemplating it at our ease; we may recall
one part of it rather than another, leave the latter in
the shade, so as to bring the former into view, vary
the aspects in order to go through them all, and to
embrace every side of the object; this is the office
of reflection.

Reflection is to consciousness what artificial instru-
ments are to the senses. It is not sufficient to listen
to nature, we must interrogate it; it is not enough
to observe, we must experiment. Experience has
always the same conditions and the same rules, to
whatever object it be applied ; and it is by following
these rules, that we arrive at exact classifications, no
less in the science of man than in that of nature.
these classifications contain all the primary part of
philosophy, that which is at the head of all the other
parts, and which,—on account of its peculiar subject,
humanity, the human soul,—is called in the schools,

ye Orey The science of man, psychology, is
68ae tek
Tages og Cy ae Sata Nor Soe Sp ty Pts
Pasi Sia has Waka

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

assuredly not the whole of philosophy, but it is the
foundation of it. This point is one of the highest
importance, for it is decisive of all the rest, and of
the character of the entire system. It is to establish
this point that I have consumed, not I hope without
some fruit, the first years of my teaching. I have
brought it forward on every occasion, and have built
upon it, as upon a demonstrated fact, as upon a truth
which is henceforth placed beyond the need of dis-
cussion. It has been believed that it should yet be
insisted on after me; and very justly, for in philoso-
phy we cannot too much insist on the true method,
provided that we do not at length make a common-
place of it, in which we rest ourselves and confine
others.

I repeat it then, if psychology is not the limit of
philosophy, it is the basis of it; and by this principle,
which comprises so many others, the general charac-
ter of my philosophical undertaking is strongly
marked with the spirit of modern philosophy, which,
since Descartes and Locke, admits no method but
that of experience, and places the science of human
nature at the head of philosophical science ; it con-

nects itself still more closely with the philosophy of

the eighteenth century, which it continues, while it
modifies it; and separates itself, on the contrary,
from the new German philosophy. .

This philosophy, aspiring to reproduce in its con-
ception the very order of things, commences with the
Being of beings, so that it may afterwards descend
through all degrees of existence till it comes to man,
and to the various faculties with which he is en-
dowed: it arrives at psychology, by ontology, by
metaphysics and physics combined. And certainly,
for my own part also, I am convinced that in the
universal order, man is nothing but a result, the sum-
mary of all that precedes, and that the root ony
chology is to be found, at the bottom, 1n ontology.
But how do I know this? How have I learned it ¢

: ry dieting
Because, having made a study of man, having ie
Dd

 
   
   
 
  
  
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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AUS. a

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57

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<r eee
'SIRS PS SSSI SS PL PF a eee. Senay a PEP MPa TP ee aTS
ar TL SN TT eg de gee ot Lt AGE ee COREE LE EE orm

   

8 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

guished certain elements in his nature, I discover the
same elements, in different forms, and under different
conditions, in external nature ; and because, proceed-
ing from induction to induction, from reasoning to
reasoning, 1 am compelled to refer these elements,
those of humanity and those of nature, to the invi-
sible principle of both. But I did not begin with
this principle, I did not ascribe to it certain powers,
certain attributes; for by what means could I have
done so? This would not have been an induction,
for as yet I knew neither man nor nature. It would
then have been what is called in Germany a con-
struction, and with us an hypothesis. If this hypo-
thesis were a truth, as I have no doubt it is, it were
nevertheless no scientific truth. The first thing on
which I necessarily fall, in attempting to know, is
myself; it is I who am the instrument with which I
know every thing; I must then rightly appreciate
this instrument before I employ it, without which,
properly speaking, I know neither what I do, nor by
what right I do it. Undoubtedly I know at this mo-
ment that the little world of humanity is only the re-
flection ofa larger world; but it is by this little
world that I have arrived at the large one,—I have
comprehended the one only by the aid of the other.
i am now on the summit of the mountain, from which
a vast horizon is displayed before my eyes; but I
come from the depth of an obscure valley, and can
still perceive and point out to others the way which
has led me to the point on which I stand, so as to aid
and encourage them to rise to the same eminence
with myself, instead of letting them believe, and of
persuading myself that I have fallen upon it from the
height of the clouds. In a word, I wish that the
same course should be pursued in the exposition of
ideas as in their discovery. I prefer analysis to
synthesis, because it reproduces the order of dis-
covery which is true; while synthesis, in pretending
to reproduce the necessary order of things, runs the
a of engendering only hypothetical abstractions.
=EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 9

Where, I ask, should we be, if the author himself had
not more or less exercised this humble method
which he dissembles, or which he isashamed of after
he has followed it; if in hearing or reading him, we
did not silently verify his assertions .with regard
to the knowledge which has been obtained by a dif-
ferent process ; and if, finally, we did not arrive at
apart of the system, namely, psychology, the light of
which is reflected. on every other part, and the truth
of which we adopt as the measure for the truth of the
whole system? Is synthesis only employed as a me-
thod of exposition for the use of the author and of a
few adepts? Very well. It then becomes merely a
question of art. But if we make it a question of phi-
losophy—if we elevate synthesis to a philosophical
method, and from the height of this method look
down with pity on the psychological method, as in-
capable of attaining to any great result, the affair
then becomes more serious, and I abandon genius it-
self for fear of being led astray in its path.

 

II, APPLICATION OF METHOD TO PSYCHOLOGY.

But if in regard to method I depart from the new
German philosophy, and connect myself with the old
French philosophy of the eighteenth century, I re-
main with this scarcely beyond the first application of
the method which we hold in common. ‘This philo-
sophy observes, it is true, but it observes only the
facts which suit it, and from the beginning corrupts
the experimental method by systematic views.

It is certain that upon the first examination of con-
sciousness, we perceive a succession of phenomena
which, decomposed into their elements, may be traced
back to sensation. These phenomena are both incon-
testableand numerous; their action, though sufficient-
ly complicated, may easily be detected 5 and they have
the advantage of resting on a primitive tact, which by
connecting the science of man with the physical oe

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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10 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

ences, gives it the appearance of more certain evi-
dence; this fact is the impression produced on the
organs and reproduced by the brain in. our conscious-
ness. We are led then by a very natural illusion to
believe that this order of phenomena comprises all
the phenomena of which we can be conscious. Now
if there be in fact but asingle order of phenomena in
our consciousness, we can refer these phenomena only
to a single faculty, which in its transformations pro-
duces all the others. This faculty is sensibility.
But if sensibility be the root of all our intellectual
faculties, it cannot but be the root of our moral fa-
culties; if every thing in man be reduced to sensa-
tion, every thing is reduced to enjoyment and suffer-
ing; to avoid pain, to pursue pleasure is the sole rule
of our conduct; hence, in a word, a whole system,
the consequences of which have been drawn out and
are perfectly well known at the present day. This
system is that of the Sensual school, so called from
the only principle which it recognises. An impartial
observation destroys both the principle and the whole
system, by showing that there are phenomena in con-
sciousness which no effort can legitimately trace back
to that of sensation, that there are numerous ideas, of
indisputable reality, which hold an important rank
both in language and in life, and which sensation by
no means explains. After having been impressed
with the relations of the human faculties, we are also
impressed with their differences, and a rigid method
enlarges the field of psychology.

I have divided all the phenomena of consciousness
into three classes, connected with three great elemen-
tary faculties, which, in their combinations, comprise
and explain all the others; these faculties are sensj-
bility, activity, reason. This is not the place to give
an account of this classification. I will merely remark
that it has met with some success, for I find it repro-
duced in almost every work on psychology which has
appeared for some time past. It is unnecessary to

show how a psychology of this character overthrows
72

PP or EP DF PoP ee oP Pho ote ORL OF ae ae |hg wf “sa
ce

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. {i

the philosophy of sensation, and leads to a philosophy
the reverse of it in every department; in metaphysics,
morals, theology, politics, history. This philosophy
is represented in the philosophy of the nineteenth
century by the Scottish school ; and especially by the
school of Kant, which, professing the same method,
applies it with far more rigour and completeness,
which has enriched psychology with so many inge-
nious and profound observations, and which, above
all, by the grandeur and beauty of its morality, will
always be one of the most admirable schools of phi-
losophy, of which the human mind can boast.
Consider the importance of psychology. It wasa
single psychological error that seduced Kant into a
path which led to an abyss. Kant has made an ad-
mirable analysis of humanreason. It is impossible to
describe, with more clearness and precision, the con-
ditions and the laws of its development ; but not hav-
ing analyzed, with the same care, the free and volun-
tary activity, this great man did not perceive that it is
particularly to this class of phenomena that personal-
ity is attached ; and that reason, although connected
with personality, is essentially distinct from it. Now,
if reason be personal, like attention and will, it fol-
lows that all the conceptions which it suggests are
personal also; that all the truths which it reveals to
us are merely relative to our mode of conceiving ;
and that the objects, the things, the beings, the sub-
stances, which claim to be real, whose existence is
made known to us by reason, as they rest only on
this equivocal testimony, can have only a subjective
value, that is to say, relative to the subject which per-
ceives them, and no objective value, that is to say,
actual and independent of the subject. We may in-
deed continue to believe in the reality of these objects,
if our reason be so constituted that it cannot but be-
lieve in them, and because it is so constituted but
in that case there is an abyss between believing and
knowing; and all our knowledge then consists only

in recognizing the internal and psychological oo
/

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

2
a i ed

mon
a ae ae
ee ee

AAG

A i TE A
baa AL)

ey
ae

meet

a aA

Son eae eae ewer ee

A
ae Seas12 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

tions of the necessity of believing,—which in itself
is barren of all real and absolute knowledge. From
this proceeds a new and original scepticism, which
not calling in question the existence of reason as a
faculty distinct from sensibility, admits that, in its
regular development, reason in fact suggests to us the
idea of the soul, of God, and of the world,—a scep-
ticism, entirely distinct from that of the Sensual
school, which takes its stand in psychology even with
dogmatism, and begins to doubt only when ontolog
is concerned ; but as soon as that is brought up, dis-
putes the legitimacy of every passage from psycholo-
gy to ontology, on the principle that reason being a
faculty peculiar to the subject, can have. no validity
beyond the limits of the subject, and that accordingly
ail the objective and ontological truths which it re-
veals are only the subject itself, transported away
from its sphere by a force which belongs to it, and
which itself is subjective.

Would you know the last result of this system ?
Go from the principle to the consequence, from the
circumspect master to the daring pupil. Go from
Kant to Fichte ; and you willsee reason already sub-
jective in Kant, confounded by Fichte with person-
ality itself. Hence his formula, the mz! supposes
itself, it supposes the world, it supposes God ; it sup-
poses itself as the primitive and permanent cause with
which every thing commences, to which every thing
is referred, as at once the circle and the circumfer-
ence ; if supposes the world as a simple negation of
itself; it supposes God as itself again taken absolutely.
The absolute mz,—this is the last degree of all sub-
jectivity, the extreme and necessary term of the system
of Kant, and, at the same time, its refutation. Good
sense cannot fail to do justice to this extravagant con-
sequence 5 but it belongs to philosophy to destroy this
consequence in its principle, and this principle is the
subjectivity and personality of reason. This is the

1 See Note C.
iA.Rie Rie Sree eS OG SG

eee te

  

2

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 13

radical error, the psychological error, which a rigid
psychology should dissipate. All my efforts have been
given therefore to demonstrating that personality, the
me is eminently the free and voluntary activity ; that
this is the true subject, and that reason is no less
distinct from the subject than sensation and organic
impressions.

Reason, certainly, is developed only on condition
that the me already exists, just as the me 1s not mani-
fested in consciousness except on condition of pre-
vious sensations and organic movements. Reason is
intimately connected with personality and with sen-
sibility, but it is neither the one nor the other; and it
is because it is neither the one nor the other, because
it is in us without being ourselves, that it reveals to
us that which is not ourselves, objects beside the sub-
ject itself, and which lie beyond its sphere. The hu-
man race, moreover, has never doubted for a moment,
I will not only say of the existence of the objects
which reason reveals to it, of the existence of the
outward world for example, but of the absolute truth
of this existence. No abuse of language has ever
gone so far as to ascribe to ourselves the revelations
of reason. Wesay, my action, and consequently my
virtue, my crime; we impute them to ourselves; we
are responsible for them, and we feel that we are so,
because we feel that we are their cause. We say,
my reason, but this is merely to express the relation
of reason to the me in consciousness. We say, my
error, and very justly; for our errors are often ou
own acts, and this makes us sometimes reproach our-
selves with them. But, I ask, who has ever presum-
ed to say, my truth. Every body feels, every body
knows that truth does not belong to him, nor to any
bodv else. Here is a remarkable inconsistency. We
dispute the independence of reason, when it trans-
ports us beyond the sphere Ol consciousness, but
within that sphere, it is never disputed. Who doubts,
for instance, of the truth of the immediate perceptions
of consciousness, perceptions on which the knowledge

)

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Aah

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ae . . Sarees
PIOUS we Pe

a

) ee a
ee ee ee ee

7

ke
a vi

hate! a
ene er ee Renn oe14 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

of our personal existence is founded? Not asceptic
in the world doubts of it. For no sceptic doubts at
least that he doubts. Now not to doubt that he
doubts is to know that he doubts, is to know some-
thing, is in short to know. But what is it that knows,
that perceives, that understands to such or such an
extent? Is it not, I ask, reason itself? If then the
knowledge given by reason within these limits and
to this degree be incontestable, why should other
kinds of knowledge given by the same reason be
more uncertain? Why should we admit the inde-
pendence of reason in one case and not admit it in
another? Reason is one inall its degrees. We have
no right arbitrarily to contract or to extend its autho-
rity, and to say to it at pleasure,—thus far shalt thou
go and no farther.

Ill. PASSAGE FROM PSYCHOLOGY TO ONTOLOGY.

As soon as reason is re-established in its true na-
ture and its rightful independence, we easily recog-
nise the legitimacy of its applications, even when,
after having been confined within the sphere of con-
sciousness, they regularly extend beyond that sphere.
Reason accordingly arrives at beings as well as phe-
nomena ; it reveals to us the world and God with as
much authority as our own existence or the least of
its modifications ; and ontology is no less legitimate
than psychology, since it is psychology, which, by
enlightening us as to the nature of reason, conducts
us itself to ontology.

Ontology is the-science of Being. It is the know-
ledge of our own personal existence, that of the ex-
ternal world, and that of God. It is reason which
gives us this threefold knowledge on the same autho-
rity with that of the smallest knowledge which we
possess ; reason, the sole faculty of all knowing the
only principle of certainty, the exclusive standard of

the True and the False, of good and evil, which alone
76bP a Ra VE ad Say Sag Tia Sayre Se Ss Pare Ne Se ie %
Ct ag ae in Se hs Big > 5 Bi Sy her ess eS ES

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 15

can perceive its own mistakes, correct itself when it
is deceived, restore itself when it is in error, call it-
self to account, and pronounce upon itself the sen-
tence of acquittal or of condemnation. And we must
not imagine that reason waits for slow developments
before it presents to man this threefold knowledge of
himself, of the world, and of God; on the contrary,
this threefold knowledge is given to us entirely in
each of its parts, and even in every fact of conscious-
ness, in the first as well as in the last. It is still] psy-
chology which here explains ontology, but a psycho-
logy to which only profound reflection can attain.

Can there be a single fact of consciousness with-
out a certain degree of attention? Let attention be
weakened or entirely destroyed, and our thoughts
become confused, they are gradually dissipated in
obscure reveries which soon vanish of themselves,
and are for us as if they were not. Even the per-
ceptions of the senses are blunted by want of atten-
tion, and degenerate into merely organic impressions.
The organ is struck, often perhaps with force; but
the mind being elsewhere, does not perceive the im-
pression; there is no sensation; there is no con-
sciousness. Attention therefore is the condition of
all consciousness.

Now is not every act: of attention more or less
voluntary’? And is not every voluntary act charac-
terized by the circumstance that we consider our-
selves as the cause of it? And is it not this cause
whose effects vary while it remains the same itself,—
is it not this power which is revealed to us only by its
acts, but which is distinguished from its acts and
which its acts do not exhaust,—is it not, I say, this
cause, this force, which we eall I, me, our individua-
lity, our personality,—that personality of which we
never doubt, which we never confound with any
other, because we never refer to any other those vo-
Juntary acts which give us the inward feeling, the
immoveable conviction of its reality ? :

The me is then revealed to us in the character s
/

 

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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EE BR gh sete Hs ae Hatin BAN Uae,

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Fs ong Mar OVO TRY Yc a eal emia

ae ‘
e.ecdedsneet 9h aeenkeee ee het
‘GN } sere

ete ee teaer caer Datta

Ce ee el Mn Chiara

  

16 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

cause, of force. But can this force, this cause which
we are, do every thing which it wishes? Does it
meet with no obstacles? It meets with them of all
kinds, at every moment. A sense of our feebleness
is constantly united with that of our power. A thou-
sand impressions are at all times made upon us; take
away attention and they do not come to our con-
sciousness; let attention be applied to them, the phe-
nomenon of sensation begins. Here then, at the same
time that I refer the act of attention to myself, as
its cause, I cannot, for the same reason, refer to myself
the sensation to which attention has been applied;
I cannot do this, but I cannot avoid referring it to
some cause, to a cause necessarily other than myself,
that is to say, to an exteral cause, and to an external
cause whose existence is no less certain to me than
my own existence, since the phenomenon which sug-
gests it to me is no less certain than the phenomenon
which suggested my own, and both the phenomena
are presented to me with each other.

We have here then two kinds of distinet causes.
The one personal, placed in the very centre of con-
sciousness—the other external, and beyond the sphere
of consciousness. The cause which we are is evi-
dently limited, imperfect, finite, since it constantly
meets with bounds and obstacles among the variety of
causes to which we necessarily refer the phenomena
that we do not produee—the phenomena purely affec-
tive, and not voluntary. On the other hand, these
causes themselves are limited and finite, since we
resist them to a certain degree as they resist us, we
limit their action as they limit ours, and they also
nutually limit each other. It is reason which reveals
tous these two kinds of causes. It is reason, which,
developing itself in our consciousness, and perceiving
there at the same time attention and sensation, as
soon as these two simultaneous phenomena are per-
ceived, suggests to us immediately two kinds of dis-
tinct causes, but correlative and mutually limited, to
which they must be referred. But does reason stop
78Le CTR ee 9 Ok Oe as te At SS SOS Te tae a See
Sas ie Wet eG Sg ae ara at cae Ya i eT ed ee ae

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. U7

ALU C

c
it is a fact, moreover,

with this? B y no means.
1 ae Re
that as soon as the notion of finite and limited causes

is given, we cannot but conceive of a superior cause
infinite a iH absolute, which is itself the first and ast
cause of all others. Che internal and personal cause

and external causes are incont testably causes in rela-
tion to their own LL but the same reason which
neveals them to us as causes, reveals them as lin imited
and relative causes, and thus prevents us from stop.
ping with them as causes Sica to clip ined Iirass and
compels us to refer them to a supreme cause, which
has ae them and which sustains them; which is in
relation to them what they are in relation to the e phe-
nomena that are peculiar to them; and which, as itis
the Cause of all causes, and the Being of alt beings,
is sufficient in itself, and sufficient to reason, which
seeks and which finds nothing Peron:

Let this fundamental point ‘be well considered. Its:
consequences are of the mck importance. As the
notion of the me is that of the cause to which we
refer at phenomena of volition, so the notion of the

eis contained entirely in that of the cause of

Se a and involuntary phenomena. Now, as
the being which we are and the external w one d are
nothing but causes, it follows that the Being of | beings
to which we refer them is e¢ jually revealed to us in
the character of cause. God exists for us only in
the relation of cause; without this, reason would no
refer to him either humanity or the world. He is ab-
solute substance only inasmuch as he is absolute
cause, and his essence consists precisely in his crea-
tive power. I snould here require a volume in order
to describe completely and to place in a clear light
the manner in which reason elevates us to the abso-
lute cause, after having revealed to us the duality of
the personal cause, and of external causes. I merely
sum up in a few lines the long researches, of which
the remains are to be seen in these Mragments, and
the course in the Preface. It is only this course
which 1 have wished to recall.

°
cS
poe

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ae rd

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AN os

Aa) <)
Sas osc

maMarpes.l S eo yp eenan en

*

Py18 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

Here is no hypothesis. We need only enter with-
in our consciousness,—to a considerable depth it is
true,—in order to find every thing which has been
stated; for once more to sum up this summary, there
is not a single fact of consciousness possible without
the me; on the other hand, the me cannot know it-
self without knowing the not-me; neither the one nor
the other can be known with the reciprocal limitation
which characterizes them, without the conception
more or less distinct of an infinite and absolute Being,
to which they must be referred. These three ideas
of the me or of the free personality, of the not-me or
of nature, of their absolute cause, of their substance,
or of God, are intimately connected with each other,
and compose one and the same fact of consciousness,
the elements of which are inseparable. ‘There is not
9, man in the world who does not bear this fact, in all
its parts, within his consciousness. Hence the natu-
ral and permanent faith of the human race. But
every man does not give an account to himself of
what he knows. To know, without giving an account
of our knowledge to ourselves; to know, and to give
an account of our knowledge to ourselves,— this is the
only possible difference between man and man, be-
tween the people and the philosopher. In the one,
reason is altogether spontaneous; it seizes at first
upon its objects; but without returning upon itself
and demanding an account of its procedure; in the
other, reflection is added to reason; but this reflec-
tion, in its most profound investigations, cannot add
to natural reason, a single element which it does not
already possess; it can add to it nothing but the
knowledge of itself. Again, I say, reflection well-
directed ; for if it be ill-directed, it does not compre-
hend natural reason in all its parts; it leaves out
some element, and repairs its mutilations only by ar-
bitrary inventions. First, to omit, then to invent;
this is the common vice of almost all systems of phi-
losophy. The office of philosophy is to reproduce in
its scientific formulas the pure faith of the human
50pp ee nee Ty te ee ot ok coe ag tu et Uh Pek Se Sa te eae y
Ba ag Eb eg Sere ig rs 5 ts RA LA

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 19

race; nothing less than this faith; nothing more than
this faith; this faith alone, but this faith in all its
parts. Its peculiar characteristic is to build ontology
on psychology, to pass from one to the other by the
aid of a faculty, which is both psychological and on-
tological, subjective and objective at once; which
appears in us without properly belonging to us;
which enlightens the shepherd as well as the philo-
sopher; which is wanting to no one, and is sufficient
for all. This faculty is reason, which from the bosom
of consciousness extends to the Infinite and reaches
at length to the Being of beings.

A system so simple in its processes and its results,
which, starting with the popular method of the age,
discovers with it all the great elements of the eternal
faith of the human race, and reconstructs positive
doctrines with no other instrument than reason, could
not fail to shock each of the two schools, into which,
with us, philosophy is divided, like every thing else ;
I mean the Sensual school and the Theological school,
one of which chains down the reason within the li-
mits of the phenomena of sense, while the other pro-
scribes it altogether, and declares it incapable of
attaining the truth.

From the controversy of the Sensual school against
the Fragments, I will take the two or three following
arguments, because they have since been loudly re-
peated, and have become in relation to me as the
common-place of Sensualism.

1. There is a contradiction between the method of
observation and of inducticn announced in the Pre-
face and its systematic applications; for when we
start from consciousness, we cannot legitimately ar-
rive at ontology,

In reply to this, I observe, that if we find in con-
sciousness a faculty, the characteristic of which is
that it is universal and absolute, the authority of this
faculty is not confined to the limits of consciousness,
because it falls within its sphere; otherwise Sen-
sualism could not pass beyond those limits; for that

NO, XXXIII. C 81

    
   
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

Ra
Bans nape penta eres dew ttbmen sen

oes + 4% a 5 bMigth | M
er oaen 4 A i ss rh eat OR Rien er etree LT ed
FONT SEM Tne = Fcpmeinirnt une eens Sk PURO RCIOSNS wah TO EEO Oe eee ns
he

wren on

ae De seman
Ft SAARC a

LI —ae
Soe te tke a ee

aa mr na
erhks hake hd W Pata

peer
ere i
eee roe!

Ao

e
hese te)

pet eee ea eae: Weewrer ne

os ew20 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

also starts from a fact given by consciousness, man. ONy
sensation; and it is by means of this fact, that it
knows by. consciousness, t that it arrives by reasoning
the use of which again is attested to it by eonsoious-
ness, at the knowledge of ou itward existence, that is
to say, a t ontology. But the objection is not valid
either against Sensualism or again ee m ea In fact,
consciousness is nerely a witness. ‘The faculties
of which it testifies do not cease, on ack oe to
have their peculiar patient and their legitimate extent,
which it is requisite to measure and ascertain; now
sensation by itself is destitute of all light, and does
not even know itself, while reason knows itself and
knows all the rest, and goes beyond the sphere of the
me; because it does not belong to the me.

. This system, which pretends to restore Spiritu-
a by establishing it on the basis of expemenee, .
nothing, after all, in its last conclusions, but the cele-
brated § system of Spinoza and the Eleatics, a ew,
which completely destroys the received notion of
God and of Providence.

It is in reply to this accusation, which has found
o many aloes even be syond the Sensual school, that
have written a special dissertation on the Eleatic
school, in which I fully explain myself, on the sub-
ject of Pantheism, its philosophical and historical
origin, the pruicipie of its errors, and also on that
element in it which may be called good and even
useful,

Pantheism, properly speaking, is the ascribing of
Divinity to the All, the grand Whole considered as
God, the Universe-God of the greater part of my
adversaries, of Saint Simon, for exam) Ble. It is in

its essence a kind of genuine he sm, but with which
qQ | ca

S
r
i

may be combined, as has been done, if not by Saint
Simon, at least by his school, a certain religious
i bs y nee to the ie world, without the sli htest

10se ideas of the Good and the Beautiful,
of ae Teaite and of Unity, which belong only to
the Supreme Cause, and are not to be met with in the

82wee Nae PM py ag eet Shen) Peat hee Rhy ed the OR ER Mh ae Yak Se ay Say See Say Son Sa es tae ee Ps

         
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
    
 
 
 
 
  
    
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
   
 
 
 

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 21
world, except in so far as, a every effect, it is the
manifestation of all the powers aoe in the cause.
he system opposed to Pantheism is that of absolute
Unity, so far superior and bl or to the world, as to
be foreign to it, and to make it impossible to compre-
hend how this unity could ever depart from itself,
and how from a princij ple like this, the vast Universe,
with the variety of its forces anc phenomena, could
proceed. This latter system is the abuse of meta-
physical abstraction, as the former is the abuse of an
enthusiastic contemplation of nature, retained, some-
times uncons clously, in the bonds of the senses and
the imagination. These two 5 Mineiies are more natu-
ral than one would suppose, who was ignorant of the
hi ance ot philosophy, or who had not himself passed
through the different states of mind which produce
them both. As a general rule, every naturalist —
S wl uard against the former, and every metaphysici

la

nst the latter. The perfection, but at the same

Ne Bache OS CSO

tim e, = 1e difficulty, is not ? lose the sense of nature
in the meditations of the school, and, in oe e presence

of nature, to ascend, in cp irit and in trut th, to the in-
visible principle, which is at once

ek Se 8k

*

Ww acts bc! Lk

A ia ae Ye eeeetn Sn) © Senn ier Sere we bs
to BH aes

oF manifested and :

Marge laa kK ae a 1. I ¥ of } U Ty e
concealed by the i set sing harmony of the Universe. é
Would it be thought possible that it is the Sensual Z
school which brings against a any one the accusation 5
of Pa — which brings it against myse elf? To 2

Ur
pt ae

emer 1
v4
eee

accuse me of Pantheism, is to accuse me of confound-

Ine th a At Q £ ite Cansca with the T) L

ing the First, Absolute, Infinite Cause with the ue

verse, that is to say, with the two relat

ea a of the me and the not-me, of wiih ahi Bats
and t the evident pears rare the foundat

~

a

oe

o

a

-

b=

=

an

©

ot

©

oh

S

fq?)

hy

wv

I

jus)

; ©

<A

=

ed

@

ou

A

a

O

oe

fo

Sef

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QD

ba

Sraecey, &
¢

i
pt

aS
~~

= ad

eo joe

po

—_ ”

we SS
peey

pee FS

did. not suspect that Bis sonic rer be calle od up
defend myself from a charge like this. But if
not confounded God and the world; if my God i
not the Universe-God of Pantheism, neither is he
confess, the abstraction of Absolute Unity, the life
less God of the scholastic theology. As God is made
known only in so far as he is absolute cause, on this

fasten
ol
a
—) ¢
et Ot
he 4
bem
ab.
Cf22 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

account, in my opinion, he cannot but produce, so
that the creation ceases to be unintelligible, and God
is no more without a world than a world without
God. This last point has appeared to me of such
great importance, that I have not shrunk from ex-
pressing it with all the strength that [ possessed.
“ The God of consciousness is not an abstract God ;
a solitary monarch exiled beyond the limits of crea-
tion on the desert throne of a silent Eternity and of
an absolute existence, which resembles even the ne-
cation of existence. He is a God at once true and
real, at once substance and cause, always substance
and always cause, being substance only in so far as he
is cause, that is to say, being absolute cause, one and
many, eternity and time, space and number, essence
and life, indivisibility and totality, principle, end and
centre, at the summit of Being and at its lowest de-
gree, infinite and finite together.” It is not a little
surprising, that it is this passage from which it has
been inferred that my system was identical with that
of Spinoza and the Eleatics. There is only one diffi-
culty in that inference, namely, that this passage is
immediately directed against all metaphysical specu-
lation in the spirit of Spinoza and the Eleatics. I
beg pardon of my adversaries, but I must remind
them that the God of Spinoza and the Eleaties is a
pure substance and not a cause. In the system of
Spinoza, creation is imposible: in mine it is neces-
sary. As to the Eleatics, they admit neither the
testimony of the senses, nor the existence of di-
versity, nor that of any phenomenon; and they ab-
sorb the entire Universe in the abyss of Absolute
Unity. But let this pass. My adversaries have so
often repeated that I was a Pantheist and an Eleatic,
—a contradictory assertion,—that for some time
it was taken for granted by a large part of the
public, and I was compelled to give a history of the
Eleatic school, to show that I did not belong to it
myself
+ See Note D.ie ee ee te ee ot oe oo ok Es ee te PSS ee

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 23

3. But here is the grand, the overwhelming objec-
tion. All this is only an importation from the German
philosophy. This idea alone raises as many patriotic
scruples as if I had introduced the stranger into the
heart of my country. I will distinctly reply, that in
philosophy there is no native land but truth; and that
it is not the question, whether the philosophy which I
teach be German, or English, or French, but whether
it be true. Who ever heard of a French geometry,
of a French science of physics? And philosophy, by
the very nature of its objects,—has it not, or at least,
does it not seek after that character of universality
in which all national distinctions shall disappear ?
And besides, have we not borrowed for the arts from
Italy ? Do we not still borrow every day from Eng-
land for the understanding and the practice of Re-
presentative Government, for political economy, for
every thing which relates to the external life? Why
should we not also then borrow from Germany for
what relates to the internal life, the art of education
and philosophy ? In fine, have our adversaries for-
gotten whence they obtained their own philosophy
Is not that philosophy an importation of the philoso-
phy of Locke, that is to say an English philosophy,
a foreign philosophy? And yet it reigned in France
during all the latter part of the eighteenth century,
with an almost unlimited authority : it became na-
tional as far as a philosophy can be so. That of
Descartes also reigned in France in the seventeenth
century ; it was thoroughly national, since all the
best minds in the nation, from the time of Pascal to
that of Madame de Sévigné, experienced its ascen-
dency. And yet these two philosophies, which, at
the interval of half a century, have been almost
equally national in France, are diametrically opposite
to each other. Whence then is their common na-
tionality, in the profound differences which separate
them? In my opinion, the secret of the common
nationality of these two opposite philosophies 1s to

be found entirely in the common spirit which pre-
Sopiascictbentosiva tart bed aoe gt BC

Nea hes sheashcl ath isis bi et MTN

Cel

Cs

Sewers eens werner cn |

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

sides over both, and which controls all their differ-
ences ; that spirit of method and of analysis, that
aiming after perfect clearness, precision, and con-
nexion, which is eminently the French spirit. This
is our true nationality in philosophy. It is this by
which it becomes us to rise, and which nothing should
tempt us to abandon. If I have sinned against this,
L acknowledge myself guilty, but guilty in spite of
myself. But the French spirit is not condemned to
remain ignorant of every thing else, in order to be
faithful to itself. It has nothing to fear from con-
tact with the philosophical schools which flourish in
the other parts of the great European family; and it
will be able, with its ordinary sagacity and firmness,
to distinguish the good and the evil which they con-
tain, to render to the winds that which is merely va-
pour and chimera, and to make use of that which is
substantial and true. It was not then a bad enter-
prise to engage in the depths of the German philoso-
phy, though somewhat dark, to seek out the treasures
of thought which it conceals, and to make them
known to France. If there be any evil in this, I
must confess that IJ was the first to give the fatal ex-
ample: I have opened the path; from every quarter
others have followed upon my steps; and I venture
to believe that I have performed a valuable service
for my country, and one which, sooner or later, will
be recognised. The question of originality remains
then in what concerns myself. But where have my
adversaries found that | pretend to originality ? In
the Republic, when the sophist Thrasymachus brings
almost the same charge against Socrates, the latter
replies to him: “ You are right, Thrasymachus, in
saying that I go every where to learn of others; but
you are wrong in adding that I do not thank them
tor 13 on the contrary, I testify my gratitude by
vvery Means in my power.” ! ‘This is Socrates, it is
Plato himself, it is Aristotle, it is Leibnitz, it is every

" République, Tom. ix. of my Translation, p. 27.

86ps gro ae ET G tee Te te oA es as Mie ee th HS SOR Tk
Ee He aa peat Reheat chs ts ig AS Vie PORT tae a Sa hay Say Gy Sas iyo Sp ths om ae Ey

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 29
;

nan, who has had the happiness to be born with a ny
ant ion of soul, with a mind of any ex pansion, a and
with the love of truthin a nage of light, rich in noble
examples and in brilliant genius. And for myself, e
also have always been grateful to Providence for eal
ing me birth at a period in which | ene I va SO
hany sources of instruction, so many books, md sO
many men, from whose influence I have gained ad-
vantage. Far from pretending that I have ne had.
nasters, I avow that I have had many, both in the
past and in the present, both in France and out of
France. For the sake of brevity, I will speak here
only of contemporaries.

The day,—in which for the first time in 1811,
pupil of the Normal School, destined to teach in the
pene of Literature, [heard M. Laromiguiére,—
remains a d always will remain in my memory, with
grateful emotions. That day decided my whole life.
it took me from my former studies, which promised
me tranquil success, to throw me into a career in
which I have not failed to meet with opposition and
storms. Lamnot Malebra mebes but I experienced in
hearing M. Laromiguiére what Malebranche is said to
have ey ed in accident ce opening a treatise of
Descartes. M. Laromiguiere tat ught the philosophy of
Locke and a Condillae, happily modified on some
points, with a clearness and grace which removed
every appearance of difficulty, and with the charm of
an intellectual benevolence which won all hearts. The
Normal School was entirely under his direction. The
following year, a new course of instruction came to
Sas the first in our regards; and M. Royer-Col-

lard, by the severity of his logic, by the gravity and
weight of his discourse, gradually turned us, and not
without resistance, from the beaten way of Condillac,
to the path which has since become so easy, but then
rugged and solitary, of the Scottish p yhilosophy. At
the side of these two eminent professors, I had -
advantage of finding still another man, without a

equal in France, for the talent of internal observa dea
87

ee Te Sree

      
   
   
 
  
 
  
      
 
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 

JF Ee ee . 4 oe eee
Sewanee eT aa

ete ah eee
si iesjte) ahedgralegerahaad+ drecbbobtskeBie. ust hase SS

  
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
      
  
   
   
   
  
   

   

26 FXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.
for refinement and depth in psychological research,—
[mean M. Maine de Biran. Here then I have given
an account of three masters in France. I shall never
say how much I owe to them. M. Laromiguiére ini-
tiated me into the art of decomposing thought. He
exercised me in the habit of descending from the
most abstract and the most general ideas that we pos-
sess at present, to the most common sensations which
are their primary origin, and of explaining the action
of the faculties, elementary or compound, which suc-
cessively intervene in the formation of these ideas.
M. Royer-Collard instructed me that if these fa-
culties must be solicited by sensation, as a condition
of their development and of the production of the
least idea, they are submitted also in their action to
certain interior conditions, to certain laws, certain
principles, which sensation does not explain, which
resist all analysis, and which form as it were the na-
tural patrimony of the human mind. With M. Maine
de Biran, I studied particularly the phenomena of
the will. That admirable observer taught me to dis-

| engage in all our knowledge, and even in the most

| simple facts of consciousness, the element of volun-
tary activity, of that activity in which our personality
is manifested.

It is by this threefold discipline that I have been
formed. It was with this preparation that I entered
in 1815 upon'the public teaching of philosophy, in
the Normal School and in the Faculty of Literature.

I had soon exhausted, as I thought, the teaching of
my first masters, and began to seek for new ones,
After France and Scotland, my eyes were naturally
turned towards Germany. I therefore learned Ger-
man, and undertook, with infinite pains, to decipher
the principal monuments of the philosophy of Kant,
with no other assistance than the barbarous Latin
translation of Born. I thus lived, for two whole
years. buried, as it were, in the caverns of the Kantian
psychology, and exclusively occupied with the passage
from psychology to ontology. J have already said

88ve Sg. Se ot
ate Sar

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. “

bS

é

how I was taught this by psychology itself, and how
I passed through 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 German School be-
hind me. At that time I made a tour in Germany.
I may say that at this epoch of my life, I was precisely
in the state in which Germany itself was found at the
commencement of the nineteenth century, after Kant
and Fichte, and at the appearance of the Philosophy
of Nature. My method, my direction, my psychology,
my general views, were fixed; and they conducted me
to the Philosophy of Nature. I saw nothing else in
Germany. Undoubtedly, I met with men of incontest-
able merit, in the enjoyment of ajust renown, usefully
employed in supplying the defects of the philosophy
of Kant, in correcting its imperfections, and placing
it in a condition to resist the new philosophy. I did
justice to their talents, but without espousing their
cause. I met also with the school of Jacobi, almost
united with that of Kant, against the common enemy,
labouring in concert to elevate faith above reason, and
placing faith in enthusiasm. And enthusiasm, in fact,
is one of the most legimate sources of faith3—for
enthusiasm _is nothing but the spontaneous intuition
of truth, spontaneous intuition more natural, more
general and more.certain than reflection, and which
is no less real and no less visible in the eye of. con-
ciousness But the error of.the-schoel-of-Jd-aeobi-—is
that it fails to perceive, that this trustworthy enthusi-
asm, this illumination which resembles a prophecy,
belongs to reason itself, and is_only.a_—higher and
purer application of it ;so that faith still has its root
in reason. Jacobi, on the contrary, separates reason
fromrfaith,and thus, taking from faith its foundation
and-its-rule, abandons it to all the errors of the heart
and of the imagination,..and leaves to philosophy no
other-asylum.than a restless and dazzling mysticism,
without true light or true repdse:* A philosophy

1 See Note E. 2 See Note F.

ha A oii 5 Sh te

Ane St)

    
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

he heray teai Fat ried be eh ened
‘ ;

— a ren yt pan” gh eee ger mene nad ae
Sis weaates ianien bea bacsaAdaaeanaa hanes Eesha I NEL

oth bl Shee DAT
> x NS)

28 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

which starts precisely from the divorce of faith and
reason was too much opposed to the results I had
arrived at, to detain me long, or even to interest me,
and I was, accordingly, strongly impressed only by
the new philosophy. It yet divided and excited Ger-
many, as at the time of its original appearance.
Every school rung with the name of Schelling ; it
was here celebrated, there almost caluminated, every
where arousing that passionate interest, that concert
ot glowing panegyrics and stormy attacks, which we
call glory. I did not see Schelling at that time; but
in his plaee, I accidentally, and without seeking it,
met with Hegel at Heidleberg. I began with him,
and with him I also ended in Germany.

At that time, Hegel was far from being the cele-
brated man that I have since found at Berlin, draw-
ing all eyes upon himself, and at the head of a large
and enthusiastic school. Hegel as yet had no repu-
tation but that of a distinguished disciple of Schelling.
He had published some books which were little read;
and his teaching had hardly begun to make him
better known. The Encyclopedia of the Philosophi-
eal Sciences appeared just then, and I had one of the
first copies. It wasa book all bristling with formulas
of a sufficiently scholastic appearance, and written
in a style by no means lucid, particularly for me.
Hegel knew but little more French than I did Ger-
man; and, buried in his studies, as yet uncertain of
himself and of his reputation, he scarcely saw any
body, and, to tell the truth, his personal qualities
were not uncommonly attractive. I cannot under-
stand how an obscure young man should have suc-
ceeded in interesting him, butat theend ofanhour, we
were on the best possible terms ; and to the last moment,
our friendship, though often tried, was never impaired.
From our first conversation, I divined what he was, I
comprehended his whole reach, I felt that | was in the
presence of a superior man; and when | continued
my Journey from Heidleberg into ot!

her parts of
Germany, I proclaimed him wherever [| went, I pro-
90

yeastGrete ete te Ya ee ie Me Ue OE OR Sea
a Si Sa ar Yar Sar age hg ey Shay Set Nag Ta

i ie ha OS ae ee ge ae ee iy eat ge ety ca te ty ing a, Cok ee eS

       
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
    
 
  
 
  
    
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 99

phesied him, as ne we ne 5 and upon my return to
France, I said to EY; friends ; gentlemen, I have see
aman of aenane "Phe | impression Ww hich Hegel left
upon me, was profound, but indistinct. The follow-
ing year I went to Munich to seek out the author of
the system himself. No two men can resemble each
other lessthan did the disciple and the master. Hegel
scar ely let drop some rare and’ profound words, a
little enigmatical ; his diction strong but embarrassed;
his countenance immova ible ; his brow covered with
clouds, seemed the image of thought returning on
itself. Schelling, on the other ha ind, iS thought in
development ; his langua age, like his look, is full of
fire and animation; he is natt iraliy eloquent; I
passed a whole month with him and Jacobi at Mu-
nich, in 1818, and there, for the first time, began to
oe a a little more clearly into the Philosophy of Nature.
Vhat me nis this philosophy? Can I describe it
iere in a few words? Is it possible to give even the
light a intelligible idea of it to those who have not
assed through a ‘all the antecedents of this philosophy,
ough all the degrees of the school of Kant? The
ie resale of the philosophy « of Kant was the system of
Fichte, and the last result of the e system of Fichte was
the mu supposed, or rather supposing itself, as the sole
principle. Having arrived at this extremity, it was
necessary that the ina philosophy should either
depart from it or perish. alka is the man who
took it from the lepemimilina! of a psychology, at once
ideal and sceptical, in order to restore it to re ality
and life. Especially he vindicated the rights of the
external world, of nature ; and it is from this circum-
stance that his philosophy derives its name. In the
ayetems of Kant and oh Fichte, all abso — and sub-
stantial existence is merely an hypothesis, with no
other fle than the want of the yenwe me,
which admits it in order to satisfy itself. Schelling,
in order to oopeee from the Relative and Subjective,
takes his stand at once in the Objective. In his opi-
nion, philosophy, if it wishes for substant ial eros
J

fomxeed

Dm

ea

BES

bah

SN,
GR

MD

i"

Sere

ra
hath at

AI
heh
eras

ty Seer
nya ohh
hire or
rt ene aLset hay henna area

ster rolesheabiedanis hat Ti

©

30 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

must leave psychology and dialectics, the me as well
as the not-me, and without embarrassing itself with
the objections of scepticism, rise at first even to the
Absolute Being, the common substance and the com-
mon ideal of the me and the not-me, which does not
relate exclusively either to the one or the other, but
which comprehends them both, and forms their iden-
tity. This absolute identity of the me-and the not-me,
of man and nature, is God. _It follows from this that
God isin nature,_as well_asin- man. It follows more-
over that this nature possesses in itself no less value
than man, that it has its own truth no less than he,
since it exists on the same ground, and that it must
needs resemble him, since it is derived from the same
principle; their only difference being that of con-
sciousness and non-consciousness. On the other
hand, God cannot be less in humanity than in nature;
if nature, in some sense, is as rational as the spirit of
man, the spirit of man must have laws as necessary as
those of nature ; so that the world of humanity is as
regularly constructed as the external world. Now the
world of humanity is manifested in history ; history
themtiasits laws; it forms then, in its different epochs,
and in its apparent _abberrations, an harmonious SyS-
tem,just as the external world is-one in the diversity
of its phenomena. ~ F¥ronithese twofold consequences,
and from their common principle, proceeds the high
importance of historical studies and of the physical
sciences. Hence, for the first time, Idealism intro-
duced into the physical sciences, and Realism into
history ; the two departments of philosophy hitherto
enemies, psychology and physics, at length recon-
ciled; an admirable sentiment composed at once of
reason and of life, a sublime spirit of poetry spread
through the whole sphere of philosophy ; and erown-
ing all, the idea of God every where present, and
forming, for the entire system, its principle and its
light.

The first years of the nineteenth century saw the

appearance of this great system. Europe owes it to
O

oO faloe ee eae hee had et Rare Ee oh Me ls Ui SE SOR So Tae tae Na tak Ni tas Ca Sar Gy, 2 Man Sin re OM
aegis he ER EOE IE OTe HY Na Tid Hag is Ba Oe, Me ng he ha Nita nk) a egg eM
rea

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICisSM. ol

Germany, and Germany to Schelling. This system
is the truth; for it is the most complete expression
of entire reality, of universal existence. Schelline
brought this system into the world: but he left it
filled with all manner of imperfections and defects.
Hegel, coming after Schelling, belongs to his school.
He is entitled to a separate place in it, not only for
developing and enriching the system, but for giving

it in many respects a new aspect. The admirers of

Heégel-consider him as the Aristotle of a second
Plato; the exclusive partisans of Schelling see in
him only the Wolf of another Leibnitz. However it
may be with these rather arrogant comparisons, no
one can deny that the master is gifted with the talent
of powerful invention, and the disciple with that of
profound reflection. Hegel has borrowed much
from Schelling. JI, far more feeble than either,
have borrowed from both. It is folly to reproach
me with it; and certainly no wonderful humility in
me to acknowledge it. It is more than twelve years
since, in the dedication of my edition of the Com-
mentary of Proclus on the Parmenides, to Schelling
and Hegel, I publicly called them both my masters

and my. friends,-and—theleaders.of the philosophy of

the present age. Ii is delightful to me to renew this
homage here; and I can never repeat it enough to
do justice to my sincere admiration and my heart-
felt friendship. I thank God my soul is not so con-
stituted as ever to be embarrassed by gratitude. But
while I love to announce the resemblance which con-
nects the philosophy I profess, with that. of these two
great masters, I owe it also to truth to avow that I
am separated from them by fundamental differences,
even in spite of myself. A Scottish critic, whose eru-
dition equals his sagacity, and who will certainly not
be accused of flattery towards .me,has.setforth-these
differenees*—TI should blush to insist upon them here.
But Teannot help alluding to the first and the most

1 Sir Witi1aM Hamixtton. Edinburgh Review, No. XCIX.

93

Sg eS

er tpt be? eS32 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

fruitful_of_all, that of method. As I have already
said, my two-illustrious Tiends take their-stand-at
once on the height of speculation; while T commence
withéxperienee.” In order to avoid the subjective
character of the inductions which proceed fro m an
imperfect psychology, they begin with ontology, wh “a
is then merely an hypothesis; [ be egin with psycho
ey; and it is psychology itself which conducts me ib
ontology, and saves me at once from scepticism and
from hypothesis. Confident that truth bears with
it its own evidence, and that it belongs moreover
to the whole to justify its parts, Hegel starts with
abstractions uid in his view are the foundation
and the type of all reality; but he nowhere indicates
or describes the process by which he. obtains.these.ab-
stractions... Schelling indeed speaks sometimes of in-
tellectual intuition as the process which lays hold of
being.itself; but through fear of giving a ene
choraeter to..this int ellectual:i intuition, he contend
thatit does not fail within.the sphere of*conscious-
ness; and thus, to my mind, makes it soba ies in-
comprehensible. In ne theory, on the contrary, in-
tellectual intuition, without being personal ad sub:
jective, attains to the knowledge of ee from the
bosom of consciousness ; it is a fact »f consciousnes:

C838

no less real than the notions of reflection, only more

difficult to seize, but still not beyond our reach, for
in that case it Senll beas if it were not. Tn fine, to
what faculty does the intellectual intuition of Schel

ling belong? Is ita special faculty? Or is it not,
as in my theory, merely a purer and more oe
degree of reason itself? We are not permitted, i

my y opinion, to slide over these points, nor many

others, which I cannot even indicate. Far from it, |

am strongly ee hat we cannot astral with

too much care the pas age from psychology to on-

tology, in order to pre seen the latter from being, or

—

at least from appearing to be, at issue of hypotheses
nore or less artificial y woven together ae as

aoe where, is manifested the gene

C4

‘al differenceee tent a ee ee Se oe wor ae as Ok Ue YE OS CEOS tartar fac >
oie tas Sas Re eS ME Te MG RL at BO Se, Ma hg Ber Soar nets he ieee ae

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. o3
which separates me from the new German school,
namely, the psychological character which. is im-
pressed on all my views, and.to which I serupu-
lously adhere as to a support for my..weakness.and
a guarantee for my inductions.!

~skoueht perhaps to ask pardon for this apology,
which seems more like a chapter of personal memoirs,
than a discussion of philosophy. At present, cer-
tainly, the reader knows as well as myself all the in-
fluences which have acted on my mind and my ideas.
As to my originality, I hold it at a very cheap rate.
I have never sought, I still seek but one thing, that
is, truth ; first to nourish and penetrate myself with
it, then, to communicate it to my fellowmen. I have
already had numerous masters; and I hope, even to
my latest breath, to be always the disciple of any
one who shall have new truth to communicate to my
mund.

{ now pass to other adversaries, to accusations of
a quite different nature, proceeding from the Theo-
logical school.?

What can be the quarrel between the Theological
school and myself’ Am J then an enemy of Christi-
anity and the Church? I have made many lectures
and far too many books; can a word be found in one
of them inconsistent with the reverence due to sacred
things’ Leta single light or doubtful expression be
pointed out, and I will retract it; I will disclaim it
as unworthy of a philosopher.

* See on the character of the Philosophy of Schelling, the
excellent summary of Tennemann, Manuel de I’ Histoire de la
Philosophie, French translation. Vol. 2, p. 294—312. or
Heyel, it is sufficient to refer to the division of his Bneyclopadie
der philosophischen Wissenschafien, 3d Ed. Berlin, 1530.
First Part; Science of Logic, taken in the sense of Plats as
the science of ideas in themselves, that is to say, of the neces-
sary essence of things. Second Part; Philosophy of Nature.
Third Part; Philosophy of Spirtt. This ‘Third Part of philo-
sophical science contains psychology. Also in the Logic: 1.
Being. 2. Essence. 3. Notion. And in Being. three de-
grees, in the following order; Seyn, Daseyn, Fursichseyn.
Noie G,

9 {
&
“St

 

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Sas ah eaten, bn | ssid |

Wie RRR CRORE,

ae eer

ee

Meta tate yt
a!

tga
ce yer +

vt np eee ee nee
«jenna

ad a ary ‘ye
so aS Th Hh i ON
rail34 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISMe

But, perbaps, without my knowledge or wish, the
philosophy which I teach tends to weaken the Chris-
tian Faith. This would be more dangerous and at
the same time less criminal; for he is not always
orthodox who wishes to be so. Let us look at it.
What is the dogma which my theory places in peril ?
Is it the dogma of the Word and of the Trinity ? Be
it that or some other, let it be declared, let it be
proved, let the attempt be made to prove it; there
will then at least be a serious and truly theological
discussion. I accept it, in advance ; I solicit it.

No. This is not the point. I am not accused of
speaking ill or of thinking ill of Christianity. It is
not in any specific place that my philosophy is im-
pious. Its impiety lies far deeper; for it is in its
very existence. Its whole crime is that it is a philo-
sophy, and not merely, as in the twelfth century, a
simple commentary on the decisions of the Church
and on the Holy Scriptures.

Let us speak distinctly ; the Theological school, in
order to defend religion to better advantage, under-
takes to destroy philosophy, all philosophy, the good
as well as the bad, and perhaps the good still more
than the bad. This is the ground of its scepticism
with regard to philosophy. But it is a mere game ;
for all scepticism tends to the most outrageous dog-
matism. lhe great argument of the Theological
school, and, as it were, its war-cry, is the impotence
of human reason.

Here is the well-known argumentation of this
school. Reason is a faculty altogether personal.
When therefore we athirm any thing in the name of
reason, it is in the name of our own reason that we
affirm it; certainty in that case has no other basis,
no other criterion than our individual sentiment; but
this is absurd. Reason then cannot give us genuine
certainty. Now, reason once proved to be impotent,
we must. look for another authority. This authority
is that of common sense opposed to individual sen-

eee common sense preserved by tradition, madeEXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 35

visible by the Church, and promulgated by the Holy
See. |
This boasted scaffolding has been a hundred times
overthrown. In the first place, we maintain, as phi-
losophers, that what it pleases the Theological school
to call individual reason is in fact the general and
universal reason, which in every man is the epitome
of the common sense of the human race. We main-
tain that if this common sense actually exists in the
human race, it cannot be composed of the fragments
of different individual reasons, compared and com-
bined with each other; for there can be no more in
the collection than in each of its elements, and a
thousand impotent, individual reasons cannot receive
infallibility from their union. Who, moreover, would
effect this union? Ina word, we maintain that the
common sense of the human race exists, because every
man is in possession of a reason, not individual, but
general, which being the same in all, because it is
individual in none, constitutes the true fraternity of
men, and the common patrimony of human nature.
Otherwise common sense is a mere hypothesis. Sup-
pose that this hypothesis were a truth ; then for each
one to submit his individual sentiment to the common
sense of the race, it would at least be necessary that
each could ascertain this common sense. -But how
would he ascertainit? With his individual sentiment?
Evidently he would, according to the system in ques-
tion, for man has nothing better. But, in that case,
with this individual! sentiment, how could the common
sense be infallibly ascertained? It would be impossi-
ble, under the penalty of concluding from the indi-
vidual to the general, and of taking ourselves as the
measure of certainty. We ought then to have a pre-
vious measure of certainty in ourselves, in order to
ascertain that which is proposed to us. We ought to
possess still another, in order to ascertain that the
Church in fact represents the comnion sense of the
human race; for it is this relation of conformity
which alone constitutes the authority of the Church.
NO. XXXII. D 97

   
   
   
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
 

cto
+ ep eye

Se eet
Sia ook hk ;
See SS St eo36 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

It is apparently a reasonable submission that is de-
manded of us; but for this reasonable submission,
the employment of reason is first necessary.

All the eloquence and all the sophistry in the world,
cannot conceal this perpetual paralogism. And yet
this is the triumphant argument. Constantly over-
thrown, it is constantly reproduced. It has ascend-
ed from the Journals of party to the mandates of
bishops,! it is the foundation of teaching in semi-
naries, it fills the first chair? in Christendom; and
that no inconsistency may be wanting, the Protest-
ants have found it so admirable that they have not
hesitated to borrow it of Catholicism. Open any of
the Methodist publications; except in ability, you
would think that you were reading the Abbé de la
Mennais.2 The same principles, the same mode of
reasoning, the same hatred of reason and philosophy ;

the only difference is, that the word of God is sub-
stituted for common sense, and the Holy Scriptures
for the Church. In every philosophy, they say, it
is always a man who speaks; it is a single man
who addresses himself to our reason with his own;
but we wish for no man between us and truth; we
wish to surrender our minds only to God himself and
to his word. Assuredly our adversaries are not dif-
ficult ; but, I ask, who is to teach them that word ?
Who will warrant them that it is the word of God?
What ground have they for believing it? Who shall
tell them that God has spoken? And by what sign
shall they know it? The former propose to us, as
proof, the researches of erudition and of historical
criticism; the latter appeal to a sort of immediate
illumination in the reading of the Holy Scriptures.
But it is not a little strange to refer us to criticism
through fear of philosophy ; to send us back to his-

* See among other pieces of the same kind, the Pastoral in-
struction of the Bishop of Chartres, against my Course of Phi-
losophy, Quotidienne, 16 Feb. 1828.

* De Methodo Philosophandi, pars prima, Rome, 1828, by
Pere VentuRA, Professor in the College dela Sapienza.

* See le Semeur, the Organ of the Methodist party.

98EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. ov

tory in order to avoid the intervention of men be-
tween truth and ourselves. As to immediate illumina-
tion, the intervention of reason in that is less evident,
but quite as real. Indeed, which of our faculties is
it that in the reading of the Holy Scriptures must
receive this sudden light? It is not sensibility, we
presume ; it is not imagination; neither is it reason-
ing. Examine and you will find that it must be rea-
son. It is reason which, endowed with the power of
recognising the True, the Good, the Beautiful, the
Grand, the Holy, the Divine, wherever it is, recog-
nises it in the Holy Scriptures, as it recognises it in
nature, as it recognises it in conscience and in the
soul, which is also a Bible in its own way. You
would reduce philosophy to a commentary on the
Holy Scriptures ; you then trust to him who makes
this commentary. The Scriptures have their obscure
and difficult passages; their language is that of the
symbolical East; it cannot be comprehended and
interpreted without the aid of a practised and deve-
loped reason. It is reason, then, in the last analysis,
to which we are compelled to return ; it is the testi-
mony of reason which measures all other testimonies ;
and the authority of reason on which repose all other
authorities. If this authority be purely individual,
as it is pretended, there is no certainty, no universal
truth in the world. But if certainty is to be obtained,
if there are universal truths, it is because reason,
which teaches them to us, has in itself a sovereign and
universal authority. Indeed, we cannot but smile to
see a Protestant sect, after having separated from the
Church in the name of the right of free inquiry, end
with denying the authority of the faculty which in-
quires. Let it then return to the Church; it will
there find at least a uniform rule, a general discipline
which will give it a support and a refuge against
the extravagances of mysticism.

I need not say that this question does not concern
Christianity, nor the Church, nor the Holy Scriptures ;

but merely the presumptuous war which a blind fe3

Bee

ee

il hike Sak bp Leave tse 3) maneciar sc

   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
   
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
 
  
   
    
  

38 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

wages in their name against reason and philosophy.
To separate faith from reason is doing a poor service
to the faith of the nineteenth century. To reduce
philosophy to theology is an intolerable anachronism.
Philosophy is for ever emancipated. It is almost
ludicrous to propose to it at this day to be nothing
but the handmaid of theology. Let us yield to each
of them a becoming indeperdence. They can exist
together without difficulty. Their provinces are dis-
tinct; and each is vast enough to prevent the need
of intruding on the other. Religion, which addresses
itself to all men, would fail of its end, if it were
presented under a form which intelligence alone can
reach ; for in that case its teachings would be lost
for three quarters of the human race. It speaks
not only to intelligence, but also to the heart, to
the senses, to the imagination, to the whole man.
It is this which renders its utility incomparably su-
perior to that of philosophy, by the multitude of
human beings on whom it acts. But this immense
advantage brings with it difficulties which gradually
show themselves in the progress of time and of civi-
lization. Strictly speaking, religions are the found-
ers and nurses of the human race. To them belong
temples, public places, all great influences, popularity,
power. It is not so with philosophy. That speaks

/only to intelligence, and consequently to a very small

number of men; but this small number js the select

{ portion and the van-guard of the human race. The

functions of philosophy and of religion being so diffe-
rent, why should they combat each other ? They
both serve the human race; each in its own way and
according to its own forms. The wish of philosophy
to destroy religion would besenseless and criminal; for
it could not hope to supply its place with the masses,
who are unable to attend courses of metaphysical
instruction. On the other hand, religion cannot de-
stroy philosophy ; for philosophy represents the sacred
right and theinvincible craving of human reason to give
eC to itself of all things. A profound theo-EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICIsM, 39

logy, which understands its true ground, will never be
hostile to philosophy, with which, in reality, it cannot

Ispense ; and at the same time, a philosophy which
understands the nature of philosophy, its true object,
its compass and its limits, will never be tempted to
impose its processes upon theology. It is always a
bad philosophy and a bad tl eology which quarrel
with each other. Christianity is the cradle of modern
philosophy; and I have myself set forth more than
one lofty truth concealed under the veil of the Chris-
tian images. Let those holy and sublime images be
early presented to the souls of our children, let them
deposit there the germs of every truth; our country,
humanity, philosophy itself will gain from it immense
and priceless advantages ;! but let it not be pretended
that reason should never attempt to give an account
to itself of the truth under another form. This would
be to lose sight of the diversity and the riches of the
human faculties, their distinct wants and the legiti-
mate sphere of these wants; it would be to stand in
opposition to the necessary march of events, But in
the midst of these aberrations, it is for philosophy,
attacked and calumniated, to render good for evil,
and, while maintaining its independence with an im-
moveable firmness, to maintain also, as far as in it
lies, the natural alliance which connects it with reli-
gion.” It would moreover be a very superficial phi-
losophy which should deem Christianity a burden.
By that very fact, it would acknowledge itself con-
victed of a manifest incompetency, since it would fail
to comprehend, and could not explain the greatest
event of the past, the most important institution of the
present. T’his leads me to the last point on which it
remains to say a few words, namely, the application
of philosophy to history, and particularly to the his-
tory of philosophy, so as not to forget the purpose of
these /ragments, or too much extend this Preface
already very long.

1 See Note H. 2 See Note I.

101EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

IV. GENERAL VIEWS ON THE HISTORY OF
PHILOSOPHY.

The views of every system on the history of the
science to which it relates, furnish the most certain
estimate of that system, the exact measure of its prin-
ciples. Is it incomplete? Does it contain only a
single element of consciousness and of reality? Is it
founded only on a single principle, however brilliant
and imposing itmay be? It is then compelled, in or-
der to be consistent with itself, to perceive no truth in
all the systems founded on a contrary principle, to
discover no reason except in those which rest on the
same principle. An historical conception like this is
the final sentence of a system ; for it is a melancholy
wisdom which has universal folly for its condition ;
and to defend ourselves only by accusing every body
else is to accuse and condemn ourselves. “But sup-
pose a system which; by a patient and profound ob-
servation, and an induction at once comprehensive and
scrupulous, has succeeded in embracing all the ele-
ments of consciousness and of reality ; when after-
wards it shall give its attention to history, to what-
ever side it turns, it will not find a single system of
any considerable importance, in which there are not
some of its own elements, and—with which it agrees,
atleast, on certain points. In fact, it is no easy thing
to wander so far from the common sense which is the
giit of all men, as to fall into errors and remain in
them, that are entirely destitute of truth ; error gains
admission into the understanding only in the mask of
a truth which she disfigures. A truly complete sys-
tem;-therefore, can be applied with singular facility to
history. It is not compelled to proscribe all systems,
in order to justify itself; it is satisfied with disen-
gaging the inevitable portion of error that is mixed
with the portion of truth, which forms the life and

strength of each of them; and by pursuing the same
102EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 41
course with them all, enemies as they were by their
contrary errors, it makes them friends and brothers,
by the truths which they contain, and thus purified
and reconciled, it composes with them a_vast_whole,
adequate to.the expression of complete and universal
truth... Now this method, at—onee_philosophical and
historical, which, in possession of truth, is able to find
it scattered here and there in all systems, is. Eclecti-
cism. We must-distinguish.three.things in Eclecti-
cism; its point of departure, its processes, and its end ;
its principle, its instruments, and its results. Eelec-
ticism supposes a system which serves it as a point of
departure and a principle in the labyrinth of history ;
it demands as an instrument a rigid criticism sustained
on a solid and extensive erudition; it has for its-pri-
mary result the decomposition of all systems by the
fire and steel of criticism, and for its definitive result
their reconstruction in_a new system which is the
complete_représentation of consciousness in history.
Eclectieism-—bégins with a philosophy, and proceeds
by-means.of history,to_the living demonstration of
that philosophy... For this reason I said at the close
of the Preface to the Fragments, after giving an ex-
position of the system which I have now discussed ;
«I shall pursue the reform of philosophical studies
in France, in illustrating the history of philosophy by
this system, and in demonstrating this system by the
whole history of philosophy.” Would it_be thought
after this, that. any--one-should_see_in Eclecticism
only a blind Syncretism, which mingles. together all
systems, approves all, confounds..the..True_and the
False, good and evil ;. a. new fatalism ; the dream oi
a deceived mind,.which, unable.to produce a system
for itself, demands one of history ?... All these objec-
tions will vanish of themselves before the slightest ex-
amination. —

Frrst Opsection. Eclecticism is a Syncretism
which mingles together all systems.

Answer. Eclecticism does not mingle together

all systems; for it leaves no system entire ; it Te

eas 2 =
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uD + t "

Nee en ee AELal EimaLeEhnn

4? EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

poses every system into two parts, the one false, the
other true; it destroys the first, and admits only the
second in the work of reconstruction. It is the true
portion of each system which it adds to the true por-
tion of another system, that is to say, truth to truth,
in order to form a true whole. It never mingles one
entire system with another entire system; therefore
it does not mingle all systems. LEclecticism,. there-
fore, is not Syncretism ; the one indeed is the oppo-
site of the other; philosophically and etymologically,
they resemble each other like choice and mixture, dis-
crimination and confusion.

SECOND Ogsection. Eclecticism approves every
thing, confounds the True and the False, good and
evil.

Answer. Eclecticism does not approve every
thing; for it maintains that in every system there is
a considerable portion of error. It does not con-
found the True and the False; on the contrary, it
distinguishes them from each other, neglects the
False, and makes use only of the True.

Tuirp Oxzsection. LEclecticism is fatalism.

ANSWER. It is not fatalism to say that man is so
constituted as, with his noble intelligence, always to
seize a portion of truth; and with the limits of his
intelligence, above all, with his indolence, his super-
ficialness, his presumption, to believe that he has at-
tained the whole truth when he possesses only a part.
Hence there is always a portion of the True and the
False, of good and evil, in the works of man, and par-
ticularly in philosophical systems. There is so much
the less fatalism in this, as Eclecticism maintains
that by great efforts with ourselves, by a double share

of vigilance, attention, circumspection, we may suc-
ceed in diminishing the chances of error; and as this
is the result to which it aspires.

Fourts Oxzszction. Eclecticism is the absence
of all system.

ANSWER. Eclecticism is not the absence of all
system ; for it is the application of a system > it sup-

x.

104 cre auEXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 43

poses a system,.jt.starts froma system. In fact,if we
would collect and combine the truths scattered in dif-
ferent systems, we must first separate them from the
errors with which they are mingled; and in order to
do this, we must know how to ascertain and distin-
guish them ; but to ascertain whether a given opinion
is true or false, we must know ourselves what is error
and what is truth; we must therefore already. bein
possession, or.at-least-think-that.we are in possession

of truth ; we must have a system in order to judge all

_ systems, Eclecticism-—supposes a system--already
‘formed, which.it continues.to illustrate and.enrich ;
it is not therefore the absence of all system.

I would now ask, if Eclecticism be a conception
which belongs exclusively to myself? By no means,
I should greatly distrust an idea which was entirely
new in the world; which no one had ever thought of
before. No, thank God, Eclecticism is not of yester-
day. It was born the moment that asound head and
a feeling heart undertook to.reconcile.two.passionate
adversaries, by showing them that the opinions for
which they combated were not irreconcilable in them-
selves, and that, with a few mutual sacrifices, they

might be brought together.. [clecticism was long |

ago inthe mind of Plato; it was the professed enter-

prise, whether legitimate or not, of the school “ot,

Alexandria, Among the moderns, it was not merely
professed by Leibnitz, it was constantly practised by
him ; and it is every where presented in the rich his-
torical views of the new German philosophy. ‘The
time has arrived at last to elevate it to the precision
and the dignity of a principle. This is what I have
attempted to do. This word, long since fallen into
deep oblivion, scarcely uttered by a single voice, has
echoed from one end of Europe to the other, and the
spirit of the nineteenth century has recognised itself
in Eclecticism. They will know how to pursue their

path together in spite of every obstacle. =>
In the midst of such success, when Eclecticism has
already made so many unlooked for conauee ey
5

c.

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SEARO eee Bee
rarer renee ore Picea rjfo ene gt oregon
rind seteaheitarabeuinanainasisa nea teohali aa SFuIMIENEL END a

44 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

were a singular weakness, both of mind and charac-
ter, to be surprised or wounded by the violent at-
tacks of which it has been the object. It was inevi-
table that all exclusive systems should rise against a
system which undertook to put an end to their quar-
rels, by crushing their opposite pretensions, and sub-
mitting them to a common discipline. All extreme
parties, therefore, are Jeagued against Eclecticism,
under the honourable flag of the support of discord.
Heaven knows what war they have waged, and with
what arms! I have had the benefit of holding against
me, for many years, the Sensual school and the
Theological school united. In 1830, both schools
descended into the arena of politics. The Sensual
school naturally produced the party of demagogues ;
and the Theological school quite as naturally took
sides with Absolutism, except as from time to time
it assumed the mask of the demagogues so as to
sooner gain its ends, just as in philosophy it under-
took to restore theocracy by means of scepticism.
The system, on the contrary, which combated every
exclusive principle in science must needs have re-
jected also every exclusive principle in the State,
and defended Representative Government. In 1828,
I gave a theory of Representative Government and
of the Charter, in which I still persist.! Convictions
which are founded not on temporary circumstances,
but on a profound study of humanity and of history,
are not swept away by the wind of the first tempest.
Three days have not changed the nature of things
and the state of French society. Yes, as the human
soul in its natural development contains many ele-
ments of which true philosophy is the harmonious
expression, so every civilized society possesses many
elements altogether distinct, which true government
ought to recognise and represent ; and the exclusive
triumph of one of these elements in a simple govern-
ment, under whatever name, could be nothing but a

1 See Note K.
106EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 45

FE ee
Preheat ea are te Ret testy

tyranny. A mixed government is the only one ap-
propriate to a great nation like France. The Revo-
lution of July is merely the English Revolution of
1688, but in France,—that is to say, with far less
aristocracy and a little more democracy and monar-
chy. The proportion of these elements may vary
with circumstances ; but these three elements are ne-
cessary. Let us leave republicanism to the youthful
societies of America, and absolute monarchy to aged
Asia. Placed between the old world and the new, at
an equal distance from decrepitude and infancy, our
Europe, in its vigorous maturity, contains all the
elements of social life, brought to its complete de-
velopment: it is therefore doomed as it were to
Representative Government. This admirable form
of government is a happy necessity of our times; and
without the folly of proselytism, will make the tour
of Europe. For France, the question I fear not to
say, is that of existing in this manner, or of ceasing
to exist at all. With Representative Government, I
see public liberty, union, and power at home, and
consequently the certain prospect of greatness and
glory abroad. Let Representative Government be
destroyed, and I perceive nothing but barren convul-
sions, civil war with foreign war, a powerless imita-
tion of agrand epoch for ever gone by, and as a com-
plete novelty, perhaps the dismemberment of France,
and the fate of Poland and Italy. I turn my eyes
from a result like this, and desire nothing that can
lead to it. My political faith is therefore in entire
accordance with my philosophical faith ; and both the
one and the other are above the outrages of party.E

 

XPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED.?

Turse Fragments are articles inserted for the most
part in the Journal des Savans and in the Archives
Philosophiques from 1816 to 1819. Borrowed from
my Lectures of that period, I cannot attempt to re-
store them to a certain degree of unity without say-
ing a few words on the teaching to which they relate,
and which they represent as far as insulated pieces
can represent a whole. Called upon to speak of my-
self, I shall do so, without the precautions of modesty,
which are of no value compared with simplicity and
rectitude of intention; I will frankly relate every
thing which I have done or wished to do, from the
time of my appointment as Master of the Philosophi-
cal Conferences in the Normal School, and Professor
of the History of Modern Philosophy in the Faculty
of Literature, when [ unreservedly and irrevocably
devoted my whele-life..to the pursuit.of the philoso-
phical reform so honourably commenced by M.
Royer-Collard:

in.the position in which I was placed, my first at-
tention.was given to method. A system is scarcely
any thing but the development ofa method applied
to-certain. objects. Accordingly nothing is more
important than to ascertain and determine, in the first
place, the method, which we wish to pursue to give
an account to ourselves of our good and our bad in-
stincts, and of the direction in which they impel us,

' Preface to “ Philosophical Fragments.”
1826.

108

First edition,EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 47

and to which we must know whether or not we mean
to consent; for our philosophy, like our destiny, must
needs be.our_own. Undoubtedly, we should borrow
it from truth and the necessity of things; but we
ought also to receive it freely, with a perfect com-
prehension of what we borrow and what we receive.
Philosophy, whether. speculative or practical, is the
alliance of necessity and liberty in the mind of the
man, who spontaneously places himself in harmony
with. the laws, of .universal.existence... The end is in
the Infinite, but the point of departure is in ourselves,
Open the books of history ; every philosopher who
has respected his fellowmen, and who has not wish-
ed to offer them merely the indefinite results of cer-

tain dreams, has begun with the_consideration_of

method. Every doctrine which has exercised any
influence, has done so and could do so, only by the
new _direction-which it has given to the mind, by the
new-point-of view in-whieh-it-has presented the sub-
jects-ef inquiry; that-is.to.say, by its method. Every
philosophical reform has its avowed or secret prin-
ciple in a change or in an advancement of method.
My first effort. therefore must needs have been to
examiné conscientiously the point from which I was
to start, the direction which I was to take, the method
whreh-I wasto émploy, and which contained the re-
sults of every kind, yet unknown to me, to which its
successive application would necessarily lead. Be-
sides, as a public Professor, the Master of Confer-
ences in a school of professors, who were destined by
their teaching or their writings to influence the future
condition of philosophy in France, I deemed it a sa-
cred duty to inculcate upon them from the first the
spirit_of free and critical inquiry, by which sooner
or later, they might ascertain my errors, modify my
teaching, or abandon it altogether. Conviction may
be dangerous in proportion to its depth and sincerity ;
and the honourable man who feels it at the bottom of
his heart with the perilous authority which it gives
him, is solemnly bound to absolve himself in cede
109

   
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 

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48 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

from the contagion of the errors which escape him,
by arming his auditory against himself, by forming
it to independence, by previously and constantly dis-
cussing the general spirit of his teaching, that is to
say, by insisting on method.

This, then, was my first care. But what method
have I taken up? That which was in accordancé
with the spirit of the times,—éarnestly studied and
freely accepted,—in accordance with the habits of the
nation.as.well-as-my-own.Let.me-explain-myself.

It is an incontestable fact that in England and
France in the eighteenth century, Locke and Condil-
lac took the piace of the great schools of a previous
date, and have reigned without contradiction to the
present day. Instead of being irritated at this fact,
we should endeavour to comprehend it; for after all,
facts do not create themselves; they have their laws
which are connected “with the. generallaws_of the
human race. If the philosophy of sensation actually
gained credit in England and France, there must
have been some reason for this phenomenon. Now
this reason, when we come to reflect upon it, does
honour and not injury to the human mind. It was
not its fault, if it could not remain in the shackles of
Cartesianism ; for it belonged to Cartesianism to pro-
tect it, to satisfy all the conditions which can perpe-
tuate a system. In the general movement of affairs
and the progress of time, the spirit of analysis and
observation must also have its place ; and this place
it found in the eighteenth century. The spirit of
the eighteenth century needs no apology. The apo-
logy for a century is the fact of its existence ; for its_
existence is a decree _and-a-judgment-of..God_him-
self; or else history is nothing but an_insignificant

.phantasmagoria. ‘lhe modern spirit is often accused

of incredulity and scepticism, but it is sceptical only
with regard to what it does not understand, ineredu-
lous only concerning what it cannot believe, that is
to say, the condition of understanding and of believ-
ing, at that epoch, as at many former epochs, having
110EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 49

been changed for the human race, it was indispensa-
ble, on pain of surrendering its independence, that
it should impose new conditions on every thing which
aspired to govern its intelligence and its faith. Faith
is neither exhausted nor diminished. The human
race, like the individual, lives only by faith ; but the
conditions of faith, however, are.constantly renewed.
In the eighteenth century, the general condition of
comprehending and of believing was that of having
observed the object ; from that time, all philosophy
which aspired to authority must needs be founded on
observation. Now, Cartesianism, especially with the
modifications whichit had received from Malebranche,
Spinoza, Leibnitz, and Wolf,—Cartesianism, which
in the second stage of its progress, abandons observa-
tion and loses itself in ontological hypotheses and
scholastic formulas, could.not pretend to the cha-
racter_of experimental philosophy. Another system
was presented in this character; and in this charac-
ter, it was accepted. Such is the explanation of the
fall of Cartesianism, and the unexampled success of
the philosophy of Locke and Condillac. If we re-
fect for a moment on the subject, the success of this
miserable-philosophy still testifies to the dignity and
independence of the human mind, which forsakesin
its turn the systems which forsake it, and pursues
its path even through the most deplorable errors,
eather than not advance at all. It did not adopt the
philosophy ofsensation on account ofits Materialism ;
but on account of its-experimental--character; which
toa. certain degree itactually possessed. The favour
with which this philosophy wasreceived did not come
from its dogmas, but from its method; and.this me-
thod-was not itsown; but that of the age. And it
is-true that the experimental method was the neces-
sary fruit of time, and not the transient work of a
sect in England and France; and that if we calmly
examine the contemporary schools, the most opposed
to that of Sensation, we shall find the same pretensions

to observation and experience. Reid and ay aces So a EET

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
   

50 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

Scotland and in Germany,. had fought to the death,
had overthrown from top to bottom, the doctrine of
Locke; but with what weapons? Why, with those
of Locke himself ; with the experimental method dif-
ferently applied. Reid starts from the human mind
‘and its faculties, which he~analyzes in their actual
operation, and. the laws of which he determines.
Kant, separating reason from all its objects,.and-eon-
sidering, if I may so speak, only its interior,gives a
profound and exquisite statistical account_of.it-5—his
philosophy is.a-Critique ; it_is always that of observa-
tion and experience. Make the tour of Europe and
of the world, you will every where find the same spi-
rit, the same method; and this_in—-faet_constitutes
the unity of.the age, since this unity—presents-itself
in the wiidst-ofthe-mest striking diversities.

Let us now lock at our own men, and especially
the French of the nineteenth century. The spirit of
ve j analysis has-destroyed.much around us. Born in the

t+ (\ |midst_of ruins of every kind, we feel.the need of re-
| \ | \yconstrueting this need is deep, pressing, imperious ;
{if | \ \ ““theréts ro small peril for us in our present state;
| \ \. \ “and yet if we are more just than our fathers towards
| | the past, we can rest in it no more than they; we
| absolve our fathers and‘the age; and we also have
Ma . no faith but in observation and experience. This
is our condition. We must submit to it with resig-

nation.
And is it after all such a great evil? Let us re-
' flect upon it. To be limited to observation and ex-
| perience is.to..bedimited to human nature; for we
observe only with ourselves, in proportion to our fa-
culties and their laws. We are then limited to human
nature. But what else would we have? If the ob-
servation which goes as far as human nature can go,
does not suffice for the attainment of all truths and all
convictions, and for the completion of the whole cir-
cle of science, the evil is certainly not in the method
which limits us to‘ our natural means of knowledge,
but in the weakness of those means and of our nature
112

 

Pe iiacie car fai ua iS hoch ins pLdanrcsnn heir tesroeeseaaeateiaates tabi it a aL

Nee ee att atte te ilk abet
" id ‘EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

from which we eanos escape. In fact, whatever
nethod we ma y ad lopt, it is always ourselves who

h 7 q . a y an .

have made it or who employ it ; itis ae LYS en our-
salyaag 1 - ET 2 ° 1
selves that we act; it is always human nature which,
appearing to frags itseli, is alw Ae replace which

does every thing that is done or attempted, even
apparently: beyo nd its power. Hither we must_de-
spair_of scienee;-or-human nature-ts-competent.to_at-
tain it. “Observation, that is, human nature accepted
as the sele instrument of discovery,_1s. competent,
when properly employed, or ee is competent ;
for we have nothing he and our predecessors had no

more. Let us sry tne systems on Wi bey

passed sentence ? Whi at has it destroyec
could it destroy ? The hypothetical oe of

systems. But what gave life and coherence to those
hypotheses Merely certain hi

discovered by of vser vation, which observati

°

Q 1

covers, and oe rn possess, for that reasc
same certainty and the same novelty as her

 

W hat has ak SO o high and yet sustains the
of Pythagoras, the ideas of Plato, the categories of
Aristotle > <A fact, no less real at this moment than
it was in antiquity, namely, that there are real ele-
ments in intelligence, 1 vyhich the aes juisitions of the
senses alone cannot explain. What has producec d the
ision in God.of Malebranche, and the pre-esta ablish-
ed har Le of Leibnitz ? Fact s again,—the fact that

there is not single cognit ion which does not suggest
to our minds a notion of existence, that is to say,

of God; ae e fact that our intelligence and our sensi-
bility, though inseparable, are distinct, rar each
its indepe sadent laws by which it is § coverned, but
that these laws have their secret relation and har-
mony. If we thus examine the mos t celebrated hy-
pot heses, we shall perceive that even w hen they are
lost in the clouds, their root is here below in some
fact, real in itself; and that it is by this fact that they

have been established and brought into credit among
is incompl rehe Sule

men. Every unming oled error 113
O. XXXII. E

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52 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

and inadmissible. It is only by its relation with the
truth that it is sustained. It is impossible for the
most extravagant systems not to have some reason-
able aspects; and it is always the unperceived com-
mon sense which gives success to the hypothesis with

seer =r. combined. At the bottom, every thing

{rue and permanent in the systems that are scattered
through the course of ages is the fruit of observation,
which often labours for philosophy without the know-
ledge of the philosopher; and, what is remarkable,
there is nothing everlasting in the changing forms of
human opinion but that which comes precisely from
this experimental method, which at first appears com-
petent to attain only that which 1s transitory.

The method of observation is good in itself, Itis
given to us by the spirit of the age, which itself is the
product of the general spirit of the world. We have
faith only in that method, we can do nothing except
with that, and yet in England and in France, it has
hitherto done nothing but destroy without building up.
With us, its single work in philosophy is the system
of transformed sensation. And whose is the fault ?
Not of the method, but of men. The method is irre-
proachable; but it should be applied according to its
true spirit. We must do nothing but observe; but we
nust observe every thing. Human nature is not im-
potent; but we must deprive it of no portion of its
strength. We may arrive at a permanent system ; but
provided only that we are not stopped-at the entrance
of our course by a systematic prejudice. The philo-
sophy of the eighteenth century did not proceed and
could not proceed inthis manner. The offspring of a
struggle against the past, and wishing to gain by this

e oS . e oo
struggle, it was experimental against the past, but sys-
tematic in relation to experience; fearful of going

& e Cc

Mati
astray in the ancient darkness, finding evident facts
under its hand in sensations, it was led to rest with
them; at first through weakness, for every new method
is weak ; then by the enticement, at that time, almost
ee of the success of the physical sciences,
4.EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 53

aa seduced the attention from every other order
fF phenomena ; and finally, by the .blindness..of_the
spinit of re oer setia which.could-be-enlightened.only
by its sses, and which was destined to go on until
it had obta ained an-absolute-triumph. Its cradle had
been England; it was necessary that its battle-field
should be France. Bacon has been often celebrated
as the father of the experimental method; but the truth
is, that Bacon marked out the rules and processes of
the exper imental method within the sphere of the phy-
sical sciences, but not beyond; and that he was the first
6 lead that method astray in a syste ematic path, by
limiting it to the external world and to sensibility.
The language of Bacon is ; Mens humana si agat in
materiam, naturam rerum et opera Deveouteus lando,
pro modo materiz operatur atque ab eadem determi-
natur; sil psa in se vertatur, tanquam aranea texens
telam, tunc hye mum indeterminata est ; et parit telas
quasdam doctrine tenuitate fil operis que mirabiles,
sed quoa 1d usum frivolas et inanes.” As a general
rule, observation with Bacon is applicable only to the
phenomena of sense; but imduction s upported on this
basis alone-will-carry us but a little nee he eile
opl ee hich must needs proceed from such vanimperfect
ppt pleaiien ofmethod could not but be imperfect itself,
iserably imperfect. The system of transformed sen-
sation was at the end of a procedure like this; and

&s

Bacon necessarily Bae Condillac. Of so much
consequence are the aberrations G f method. Even the
C yu

7 7h + arpors
o bring 10 se eir pee ain the g gravest errors
ce Oo

which cannot be destroyed but by go sing ba ck to their
principle. The first a ab ven from the true pnilo-
1, its consequences

1

sophica onene comes from Bacol
stop only with Condi ees beyond whom there As no
room for any further aberration, W hetl 1er in point of
method or of Lge Is the imperfect method of
Bacon admitted? Then all the defects of the system
of Condillac must be adopted. It is only : feebleness
and inconsequence which can stop short of them.

Does the system of Condillac, in its rigour, shock fie:

er aan

59]

ny

7D ae
Phe vole Oy om
ae eee resCORRE ETN ETS Tate pee laiaan need ateeerror erates ere tr ee
‘ Are . 4 “ we ee "
F y ,

et

ra

nee et elite all
Rhee ee
ey

ea

ee eer

54 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

least attentive observation and human nature itself ’
We must go back to Bacon and endeavour to put a
stop to the evil at its source ; we must borrow the
experimental method from Bacon, but avoid corrupt-
ing observation at the outset by imposing on it a sys-
tem. We must employ only the-method_of observa-
tion, but apply it to all facts, whatever they may be,
provided they exist; its accuracy depends on its im-
partiality, and impartiality is found only in universa-
lity. In this way, perhaps, may be established the
long-sought-alliance between—the. metaphysical-and
the*physical sciences, not by the systematic sacrifice
of the one to the other, but_by-the-unity-oftheir-me-
thodapplied to different.phenomena. It might be
possible, in this*way, to satisfy the conditions of the
spirit of the age, and of all that was legitimate and
necessary in the revolution of the eighteenth century ;
and also perhaps to satisfy the most elevated wants
of human nature, which are facts in themselves,
facts no less incontestable and imperious than any
others.

Such were the reflections which occurred to me at
the commencement of my philosophical career. |
have been impelled by the feeling of historical con-
scientiousness to reproduce them here, almost pre-
cisely as they were presented in my Lectures at that
epoch. No method is brought to perfection except by
its application ; and if after eleven years-of teaching
and of study, _Icontinue faithful to the method which
guided my early endeavours,itis perhaps.by reason of

_Imotives more profound and more inherent in the nature

of things than those which Ihave now-developed.
Butin t815,T needed only these motives to adopt the
method of observation and of induction as the philo-
sophical method, with this law common to all observa-
tion; namely, that it must be complete, exhaust its
subject, and stop only when the facts fail; otherwise
induction can have no basis, and the mind of man no
hold. Facts, therefore, are the point of departure, if
not the limit of philosophy. Now facts, whatever
116 aeEXPOSITION

  

OF ECLECTICISM.
they may be, exist for us only as tl ey come to our
conscious nese! 2 “Tt as there alone that observation
seizes them and describes them, before.committing
them-to induction; which forées them to reveal the
te es=-which™they~contam-1n..their...bosom.
The field d of philosophical observation is conscious-
ness: there is no other; but in this nothing1s to be
neglected ; every thing is important, for every thing
is connected ; and if one part t be wanting, complete
Bo is unattainable. To return within.our_con-
sciousness, and scrupulously to study all the pheno-
rete their differences and their rélations;,—this is
thé primary study of philosophy. Its scientific
name is psychology. Psyc oe is-then the condi-
tion, and as it. were the vestib ule Of philosopiiye "The
psychological me ethod consist

1
u
T
i

ts n completely retiring
vithin the world of consciousness, in order to be-
come familiar in that sphere where all is reality, but
where the reality is so various and so ¢ . slicate ; and
the psychological talent consists in placing ourselves

vg
1

¢ PBs) ie vex
at will within this interior_world, in a senting the
spectacle there displayed to ourselves; and in repro=

= 7a

ducing freely and distinctly all the facts which are
acci dentally and confusedly brought to our notice by
the circumstances of life. "fT repeat it, the experience
of years citi made known to me many different de-
grees of profoundness in the psychological met hod 5
but in the end, in whatever dégree..it ES CORSi~
dered, if constitutes the fundame vatal unityof my
Lectures and of all these Fragments. This is the
primary point of view in which perhaps they stall
merit thé attention of the friends of philosophy.

Tanrnow-called upon to give an account of the
results to which I have been succe ot led by tl he
more and more rigorous application of the method of
psychology.

The year 1816 was wholly en ployed in trying
my own strength and the philosophical method a
particular questions, in which I had the advantage oi

often falling upon the traces of M. Lore 1

Riess ern cyte a

sree

ts ee ee

an

Tata
lei) mabe sinbeberns ett Aeqebabeis chee? “tind ale aeaten Cre aera

en ne ett aeieokial
Se Te c

eee ee

  

36 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

and of the Scottish philosophers,—excellent guides
for the commencement of my career. We shall never
forget,—either my friends or myself,—that laborious
year of 1816, distinguished by our first efforts, in
which the philosophical reform was definitively estab-
lished _in the Normal. school, on a foundation which

: was not shaken with the destruction.of the school it-

self. That_yearput.us in possession of the method
which still presides over our labours. As to its posi-
¢tive results, they scarcely went beyond the limits of
the Scottish philosophy, and have-no claim upon the
public attention. Those of the year 1817 are already
a little more important.

As soon as we return within our consciousness,
and, free from every systematic view, observe the
diversified phenomena which are there exhibited, with
the actual characteristics which distingt ush them, we
are at first struck with the presence of a multitude of
phenomena which it is impossible to confound with
those of sensibility. Sensation and the notions which
it furnishes, or with which it is combined, indeed con-
stitute an actual order of phenomena in our conscious-
ness; but it also presents other facts no less incon-
testable, which we may reduce to two great classes,
voluntary facts and_rational facts. The will is-not
sensation-;~for_the will often combats sensation; and
itas even in this Opposition-that~it-is_most-signally
manifested. ' Neither is the reason identical with sen-
sation; for among the notions which -reasen fai rnishes,
there are some, the characteri isties-of which are irre-
concileable with those.ofthe-sensible-phenomena, for
example, the notions of cause; of substance, of time, of
space, of Unity, andthe like. Let sensation be tortur-
ed, as much as you please, you will never draw from
it the characteristics of universality and necessity by
which these notions and many others are incontesta-
bly distinguished. ‘The case is the same with regard
to the notion of the Good and that of the Beautiful ;
and, consequently, art and morality are enfranchised
from the origin and the limits which have been im-
118EX POSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 57

posed upon by them by the exclusive philosophy of
sensation, and placed, together with metaphysics, in a
superior and independent sphere. But this sphere
itself, in all its sublimity, composes a portion of our
consciousness, and hence falls within the reach of
obseryation.....Observation disengages it from the
clouds in which it is usually enveloped, and-gives.to
the phenomena which it comprises the same authority
with the-other-phenomena of which consciousness
is the theatre: ~The method of observation. accord-
ingly, in the limits within which it is at first held
by a wise circumspection, presents to us already
many attractive prospects. These we must follow
and enlarge
The first duty of the psychological method is to
retire within the field of eonscrousness;-where.there
is nothing but phenomena, that are all capable of be-
ing perceived and judged by observation. Now as no
substantial existence falls under the eye of conscious-
ness, it follows that the first effect of a rigid applica-
tion of method is to postpone the subject of ontology.
It postpones it, I say, but does not destroy it._It is
afact, indeed, attested by observation, that inthis same
consciousiéss; in which there is nothing but pheno-
mena, there are found notions, whose regular deve-
lopment passes the limits of consciousness, and attains
the knowledge of actual existences. Would you stop
the development of these notions? You would then
arbitrarily limit the compass of a fact, you would at-
tack this fact itself, and thus shake the authority of all
other facts. We wmust either call in question the
authority..of consciousbess 1n.itselt; or admit this
authority without reserve for all the facts attested by
consciousness. The reason is no less certain and real
than the™witl or the sensibility ; its certainty once
admitted, we must follow it wherever it rigorously
conducts, though it be even. into-the depths.ot onto
logy. For example, it isa rational fact attested by
consciousness, that in the view of intelligence, every

phenomenon which is presented supposes cause. a

oa

BAF i UG A
- Mt mee J or a
ROS Them StL Te aoe

  
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 

raked piabeherksid> bench enh chin) is aiaeneetraeSoe hen ROTOR Tall heey

O ineed peeks ernie ett amare Re hihd at

Seem tacut er trans

i he

nen errs raat heehee uid
p i ; C

  

58 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

is a fact,..moreover,.that.this.principle-of causality is
marked with the characteristics of universality and
necessity. Ifit be universal and necessary, to limit
it would be.to destroy it. Now in the phenomenon
of sensation, the principle of causality intervenes uni-~
versally and necessarily, and refers this phenomenon
to a cause; and our consciousness testifying that this
cause is not the personal cause which the will repre-
sents, it follows that the principle of causality in its
irresistible application conducts to an impersonal
cause, that is to say, to an external cause, which
subsequently, and always irresistibly, the principle of
causality enriches with the characteristics and laws,
of which the aggregate is the Universe. Here then
is an existence ; but.an existence revealed.by a prin-
ciple which is itself attested by consciousness. Here
is a primary-step in ontology, but by the pat!
chology, -that.is.to say, ofobseryation. W.e..are led
by similar processes to the Cause of all causes, to the
substantial.Cause ; to.God, and not only to-a-God of
Power, but.to.a.God.of Justice, a God of Holiness ;
so that this experimental method, which, applied to a
single order of phenomena, incomplete and exclusive,
destroyed ontology and the higher elements of con-
sciousness, applied with fidelity, firmness and com-
pleteness, to all the phenomena, builds up that which
it had overthrown, and ‘by itself furnishes. ontology
with a.sureand.legitimateinstrument. Thus, having
commenced with niodesty; we can end with results
whose certainty is equalled by their importance.

I have searcely indicated these results, but the
reader will find them explained at large, with the
methodical processes by which they are obtained
and verified, in the Programme of my Lectures of
the year 1817, which is inserted among these Frag-
ments.

in the year 1818, our labours were continued in the
same path, and began to assume a character of greater
profoundness andextent. The facts of consciousness
fete been reduced the preceding year to three great

c
Or DSY-
+ veEXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM, 59

z ot
classes, ey, sensible facts, voluntary facts, and
rational facts, the fime had come fora more coniplete
analysis of each of them, and e the relations by

which they are united in { the indivisible unity of con-

J
AT

sciousness. My attention was a articularly directed.
to the voluntary facts and to the rational facts, be-

cause these had been the most neglected in the
French philosophy.

Sensible facts are necessary. We do not impute
them to ourselves. Rational facts are also necessary ;
and reason is no less independent of the will than sen-
ity. Voluntary facts alone are marked in the
view of consciousness with the characteristics us
personality and responsibility. he will alone is th
person or the me. Th 1e me is the centre of the ier
léctual sphere. So long as the me doesnot exist; the
conditions of the existence-of-all-the-other phenomena
might be in force, but, v wi ithout ey a the me, they

‘be for it as though they were not. On the other
trand, the will creates none of the rational and sen-

it even supposes them, since it does
not apprehend itself, ae in distinction from them.
We do not find ourse “ eRe in a foreign world,
between two ord nenomena which do not per-
tain to us, which we do not even perceive e, except on
condition of oe. ourselves from them. Still

aly é:
» we do not perceive at ae xcept by-a light
which does not come from ourselve 5 for our person-
more 5 ball light com

2
ye . ' 1
allty is the will and nothing
i

qe

he
irom reason; and it is reason which perceives both
itself, and the sensibility which env elopes it, and the
wil which it obliges, without constraining. The

element of knowledge i s rational by its essence ; and
consciousness, although composed.of three integrant
and insepara able élements, | borrows its most immediate
foundation from reason, without which no knowled ive
would be possible, and consequently no co gia
ness. Sensibility is the/external condition of con-
sciousness ; the will is its centre, and reason its light.
TZ

    
  
 
   
  
 
   
 
  
 
 
   
   
    
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 

oe 67
ACK ek ick! ‘
+ satget probed etndend) Lopebabenes chen} csintiasene

  

60 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

A profound and thorough analysis of reason is one of
the most delicate undertakings of psychology.

Reason is impersonal in its nature. It is not we
who-vmaké if. It is so far from being individual, that
ttspeculiar characteristics are the opposite of indi-

_viduality, namely, universality and necessity ; since it

is to reason that we owe the knowledge of universal
‘and necessary trutlis, of principles which we all obey,
and which we.cannot but obey. The existence of
these principles is then a preliminary fact which it
was essential to establish in the first place upon the
most complete evidence. It is a triumph of the me-
thod of observation, to which it must have been in-
debted for an incontestable basis. Then comes the
question with regard to the precise number of these
regulating principles of reason, which, as far as we
are concerned, are reason itself. After having esta-
blished the existence of such principles, it is the busi-

fe)

ness of method to attempt a complete enumeration
and a rigorous classification of them, Plato, who
following

s Pythagoras, built_his philosophy_on these
principles, neglected to count them ;, It seems as if he

ao

@®

shrunk from permitting a profane analysis to touch
those divine wings on which he soared into the world

of ideas» The methodical Aristotle, faithful to his

mas

master, but still more faithful to analysis, after having
changed ideas into categories, submitted them to a
severe examination, and did not hesitate to give a list
of them. This list, so much despised by frivolous
minds as an arid nomenclature, is the boldest and the
most hazardous effort of method. Is the_list.of Aris-
totle- complete? T believe that-it-is. It-exhausts.the
swhyect. Let this be-its-immortal glory. But if the
enumeration is complete, is there nothing to be desired
in the elassification and the arrangement of the cate-
gories? Here commences the defect_of the list of
Aristotle. In my opinion, its order is arbitrary, and
does not correspond to the progressive development

ofintelligence. Besides, does not this list contain re-
122 :EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 61

petitions ! ’ Would it not be possible to reduce it? I
have no doubt of it. Among modern systems, Carte-
Slanism recognises nece ssary truths 5 oi it makes no
attempt at eomple ALeMeSs and_precision.with-regard-to
them. In the eighteenth century, in France, neces-
sary truths were set aside as by the previous question ;
they did not even receive the honour of b yeing submit-
ted to exam ait, ; they were guilty of being found
in the old system; they must be sacrificed to_sen-
sation, the only basis aa standard_ of. all possible
truth. —~-FPhe-Scottish school, which restored.them-te
honour, enumerated a pat rt of them, but did not think
of making a complete account. It Wasixe eserved for
Kant to renew.the unc Teas of Aristotle, and the
first among the moderns to attempt to form a complete
oe of the laws of thought.” Of these, Kant made an
xact and profound review: and his labour, in this
respect, is superior even to that of Aristotle; but, in
my opinion, similar charges can be brought against
him; and a long and detailed exami ation may nave

ely
41.
th

demonstrated to those ae oe my Course of

1818, that if the list of Kant is complete, it is arbi-

trary in its classification, and is susceptible of a legi-
timate reduction. Tet have accomplished any thing

useful in my teaching, it is perhaps on

have at -least-renewed an important question ; Thave
debated the two most celebrated wattonk ; and I

a 5
have ventured to prope ose another, which time and

this point. I

Se anal
discussion | have not yet_shaken. In my opinion, all
the laws of thought may ce ee to £ wo, name ly,
the Taw of Causality-a arrd—that-ef—sulstance. These

are the two essential and fundamental laws, of which
all others are only derivatives, developed in an order
by no means arbitre ry. I have demonstrated, as I
think, that if w e examine these two laws in the order
the nature oi things, ine Hirst is that of substance es

of
J hia 4
and the second that of causality; while in the orue
of the acquisition of our art the law of oa alee
precedes that of “substamee; or rather both are given

123

      
    
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
 

Een PUrRPn TS paar mOneranee ee
See eae :

Se

seemed to be imposed upon {

62 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

to us together, and are contemporary in our con-
sciousness.
“It is not sufficient to have enumerated, classed,
and reduced to a system the laws of reason; we
must prove that they are absolute, in order to prove
that their consequences, whatever they may be, are
also absolute. Here is the defect of the celebrated
discussion of Kant respecting the Objective and
Subjective in human knowledge. That great man,
after seeing so clearly all the laws which preside
over thought, struck with the character of necessity
which they bear, that is to say, our inability not to
recognise and follow them, supposed that he saw in
this very-fact.a bond of dependence and relativeness
with respect to the me, the peculiar and distinctive
characteristic of which he was far from having com-
pletely fathomed. “Now as soon as the laws of rea-
son are degraded to being nothing but laws relative
to the human condition, their whole compass is cir-
cumscribed by the sphere of our personal nature ;
and their widest consequences, always marked with
an indelible character of subjectivity, engender only
irresistible persuasions, if you please, but no inde-
pendent truths. This is the procedure, by which
that incomparable analyst, after having so well de-
scribed all the laws of thought, reduces them to im-
potence; and with all the conditions of certainty,
arrives at an ontological scepticism, from which he
finds no other asylum than the sublime inconse-
quence of allowing more objectivity to the laws of
practical reason than to those of speculative reason.
Lhe whole endeavour of my Lectures of 1818, after
a systematic catalogue of the laws of reason, was to
free them _from-the~character.of subjectivity-which
them by that of neces-
sity; to reinstate them-in their-independences and
toSave philosophy from the rock on which it-had
been thrown the moment of reaching the port. Our
public discussions, for several months, were devoted
124

tu ¥Oe Si a Sar vas ae

        
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
    
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
   
   
  
 
  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 63

g that the laws of human reason are no-

thing less than the laws of reason in itself. More
faithful t}

1an ever to the psychological method, in-
stead of departing from observation, I plunged into
it more deeply ; and it is by observation that in the

esses_of consciousness,-and—at—a depth.to-whieh

{ under the apparent relative-

ness and subjectivity of the e_lecessary-prineiples-of

thought, I detect ed _and_unfelded—the fact, instanta-
neous but real, of the spontaneous peueenl 10n of truth, ‘

Which not reflecting itself 1 imme-

without notice in the cas of con:

liatéely, passes
sclousness, but_is- ae aetual—basis-ofthat. which, at

a 4 _subsequen it period, in..a.logical form, and in the

ids of ction, becomes.a necessary conception.
ae with all that is of a reflective cha-
racter, expires in the spontaneity of perception.
But the spontaneous perception. is_so_pure that_it
escapes our_notice ; it is the reflected light which
strikes us, but often obseur ‘Ing, by i its lee bright {-
he purity of the primitive light. “Reason, it is

Aen bjee

4+

true, becomes sui bjective byl a relation to the free

ole me, the seat and the ty, pe of ‘all sub-

mitself itis impersonal; it belongs to

| ata rather than another within the
2

compass of humanity; it belongs 1 BOY even to huma-
nity itself; and itsdlajs /consequently depend only
on themselves. (They sia over and govern hu-

nor the gies It mi rht even BS oF Ta ereater
truth that nature and humanity belong to them; since
they Have a 10 beauty or truth but by their r elation 19.

ae
intelligence, and since nature who the laws.

which itis governed, and seen without the prin-
ciples which guide it, would soon be Tost in the abyss
of nothingness,.from which they could never escape.

The laws of intelligence therefore constitute a sepa-

rate world, which governs the visible world, pre canes
over its movements, sustains..and. preserves it,Se

  

64 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

does not depend eon it. This is the intelligible
world, the sphere of tdeas, distinct from and inde-
pendent of their subjects, internal and external,
which Plato had glimpses of, and which modern
analysi is and psychology still discover at the present
day in the dep ths of consciousness.

The laws of thought having been demonstrated to
be absolute, 1 imMCtON oe make use of them without
hesitation ; and from absolute principles obtained by
observation can legitima aie conduct us to a point
beyond the immediate sp ohere of observation itself.
Now,-ameng-the laws of thought given by psycho-
logy, the two fundamental orae which contain all the
Giers the law_of causality and thejaw_or substanee,
irresistibly applied to themselves, elevate us imme-
diately to their cause and their substance; and as
they are absoluté, they elevate us to an absolute
cause and an absolute substance. But an absolute
<cause and an absolute substance are identical in
essence; since every absolute cause must be sub-
stancé in so far as it is absolute, and oy absolute
-substance must_be cause in order to be able to-mani-=
fest itself. Besides, an absolute subs cane must be
-One, in order to be absolute ; eo absolutes are a
contradiction; and the absolute s oe must be
One, or not at all. We may even say that all-sub«
stance Is ailosolite. in so far as it is su ve sane. 2 and

consequently One; for relative subs tan destroy
the very idea of substance, and fi hee substances,
which suppose beyond them inetliot substance still
to which they belong, bear a strong oe to
phenomena. The Smee. of substane therefore, is
involved in the very idea of Pbkianos, which is
derived from the law of su bstance, an incontest-
able result of psychological observation; so that ex-
perience applied to consciousness, at a certain degree
oe profoundness, gives that which appears at first
view.to-be.the-most.opposed to it, namely,on tology.
In faet, sesso causality is Being-in itself; the
rational laws, therefore, are laws of Being , and reason
126te OTe St. ok Tks ek Pi:

  

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM, 65

is the true existence. Thus, as analysis applied to
consciousness at first separated reason from person-
ality, so now on the elevated point to which we have
been conducted by analysis, we perceive that_reason
and its laws,_referred_.te substance, can be neither a
modification nor an effect of the me, since they are
the immediate.effect of the manifestation of absolute
substance. Ontology, therefore, returns to psycho-
logy the lights which it borrows from it; and wé
thus arrive at the identity of the two extremities of
science.

Such is the analysis of reason. That of activity is
not less important. Of all the active phenomena,
the most striking undoubtedly is thafOfwill. It is a
fact, that in the midst of the movemienfS.which are
carried on within us by external agents in spite of
ourselves, we have the power of commencing a dif-
ferent movement, in the first place, of conceiving it,
then of deliberating whether we shall execute it,
finally, of resolving and proceeding to execution, of
beginning it, of pursuing or suspending it, of accom-
plishing or retarding it, and at all times of controlling
it. The fact is certain; and it is no less certain,
that the movement accomplished on these conditions
assumes a new character in our eyes; we impute it
to ourselves, we refer it as an effect to ourselves,
and.in that case we consider ourselves as its cause.
This is the origin of our notion of cause, not of an
abstract cause, but of a personal cause, of ourselves.
The peculiar characteristic of the me is causality,
or will, since we refer to ourselves, we impute to
ourselves only what we cause, and we cause only
what we will. To will, to cause, to exist for our-
selves,—these are synonymous expressions of the
same fact, which comprises at once will, causality,
and personality. The relation of the will and the
person is not a simple relation of co-existence; it is
a true relation of identity. To exist for ourselves is
not one thing, and to will another, for in that se

ad

ee eC ener oodSe te het eee deat

a

66 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

there could be impersonal volitions, which is contrary
to facts, or a personality, or self-conscious me without
will, which is impossible ; ; for to know myself as the
me, is to distinguish myself from a not-me; now, we
cannot distinguish ourselves from that but by separat-
ing ourselves from it, by leaving the ak Sn
movement and producing one which we in npute to
ourselves, that is to say, by exercising an act of
volition. Will therefore is the essence of the person.
The movements of sensibility, the desires, the pas-
sions, so far from constituting personality, destroy it..
Personality and passion are essentially in an Ne
relation, in an opposition to each other, which coi
tutes life. As we can find the element of personality
only in the will, so also we can find the elem ent “of
causality only in the same place. We must not con-
found the will or the internal causality which imme
diately produces effects, internal at first like their cause,
with the external and actua lly passive instruments of
this causality, which, as ee ents, ¢ appedr at first
sight also to produce effects, but without being their
primary cause, that is to say, their true cause.
When I throw a " all against another, it is not the
ball which actually causes the motion that it commu-
nicates, for this motion was communicated to it by
the hand, by the muscles which, in our wonderful
organization, are at the service of the will. Pr operly
speaking, these actions are only ees connected
with one another, alternatel y resembling causes, w a
out containing a single real cause, fend all tracea
tantly, to the
primary cause. If we see one 1e notion of cause in the
ee of one bail other, as was done prev
ously to Hume ; or ae he action of the hand on the
ball, and of the prin as uscles of motion on their
extremities, or ge in the re of the will on the
muscle, as was done by M. Mame de > Biran ; we shall
find it in none of these cases, not even in the last, for
it is possible that cee should be a paralysis of the
sean which dep r over them,

1S
ae
Vk

‘LV eS th e W ill of pow

YM
tb
ikEXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 67

makes it unproductive, incapable of being a cause,
and consequently of suggesting the notion of it. But
what no paralysis can prevent, is the action of the
will on itself, the production of a resolution, that is
to say, an act of causation entirely mental, the pri-
mitive type of all causality, of which all external
movements, commencing with the muscular effort
and ending with the action of one ball on another,
are only symbols more or less imperfect. The first
cause for us therefore is the will, of which the first
effect is a volition. This is at once the highest and
the purest source of the notion of cause, which thus
becomes identical with that of personality. And it
is the taking possession, so to speak, of the cause in
the willand the personality, which is the condition
for us of the ulterior or simultaneous conception
of external impersonal causes.

The phenomenon of will presents the following ele-
ments: I. to decide upon an act to be performed ;
2. to deliberate ; 3. to resolve. Now if we look at it,
it is reason which composes the first element entirely,
and even the second; for it is reason also which deli-
berates, but itis not reason which resolves and deter-
mines. Now reason, which isthus combined with will,
is combined in a reflective form ; to conceive an end,
to deliberate, involves the idea of reflection. Reflec-
tion is therefore the condition of every voluntary act,
if every voluntary act supposes a predetermination of
its object and a process of deliberation. Now to act
voluntarily, is, as we have seen, to act in this manner;
and it is because the will is in fact reflective, that it
presents such a striking phenomenon. But can a
reflective operation be a primitive operation ? To
will is,—with the consciousness that we can resolve
and act,—to deliberate whether we shall resolve,
whether we shall act in such or such a manner, and
to decide in favour of one orthe other. The result of
this choice, of this decision, preceded by deliberation
and predetermination, is volition, the immediate effect
of personal activity ; but in order to resolve and to
NO. XXXIII F 129

 

   
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

ra anee ee eet
ener aie et et eae cially

See tes acter esis

pe me

68 XPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

act in this manner, it was necessary to know that we
could resolve and act, it was necessary that we should
have previously resolved and acted in a different man-
ner, without deliberation or predetermination, that is
to say, without reflection. The operation previous to
reflection is spontaneity. It is a fact that even now
we often act without having deliberated, and that
rational perception spontaneously making known to
us the act to be performed, the personal activity also
spontaneously enters into operation and resolves at
once, not by a foreign impulse, but by a kind of im-
mediate inspiration, prior to reflection, and often su-
perior toit. The Qwil mourtt! of the old Horatius,
the a mot, Auvergne ! of the brave d’Assas, are not
blind impulses, and in consequence destitute of mora-
lity ; but neither is it from reasoning or reflection that
they are borrowed by heroism. The phenomenon of
spontaneous activity therefore is no less real than that
of voluntary activity. Only, as every thing which is
reflective is completely determined, and for that rea-
son distinct, the phenomenon of voluntary and reflec-
tive activity is more clear than that of spontaneous
activity, which is less determined and more obscure.
Moreover, the characteristic of every voluntary act
is the power of repeating itself at will, the power of
being summoned, so to speak, before the tribunal of
consciousness, which examines and describes it at its
leisure; while, on the other hand, as it is the charac-
teristic of aspontaneous act that itis not voluntary. the
Spontaneous act is not repeated at will, and when it
takes place, is either unperceived or irrevocable, and
cannot be afterwards summoned back but on condi-
tion of being reflective, that is to say, of being de-
stroyed, as a spontaneous fact. Spontaneity is there-
fore necessarily subjected to that obseurity which sur-
rounds every thing which is primitive and instanta-
neous.

With all our seeking, we can discover no other
modes of action. Reflection and spontaneity com-
prise all the real forms of activity. |
130

ReeReflection as a principle and as a fact supposes and
fohows-spontancity; but_as there ean be nothine-in
the Reflective Which is not in the Spontaneous, all
that we have said-of the one.will apply to the other ;
and although spontaneity is not accompanied either
with prédetermination™or~deliberation, it is no less

4

than will a real powerof~action, and consequently a
productive-eause;-and-consequently. agaln,.a.personal
cause-—Spontaneity then contains all that is contain-
ed by the will; and_it contains it previously to that,
in a less detérmined, but a purer form ; and hence we
afrive at the immediate source of causality and.of the
me. The me already exists with the productive power
which characterises it in the flashing forth of spon-
taneity; and it is in this instantaneous flashing forth
that it instantaneously apprehends itself. We might
say that it discoversitselfin spontaneity, and establish-
.€s itself inreflection. The me, says Fichte, supposes it-
selfin a voluntary determination. This point of view is
that of reflection. In order for the me to suppose itself,
as Fichte says, it is necessary that it should clearly
distinguish itself from the not-me. To distinguis!
is to deny ; to distinguish one thing from another, is
to afirm again, but by denying; it is to affirm, after
having denied. Now it is not true that the intellec-
tual life commences with a negation; and before re-
fection, and the fact, te the description of which Fichte
has for ever attached his name, there is another
operation, in which the me finds itself without seek-
ing, supposes itself, if you please, but without having
wished to suppose itself, by the sole virtue, the peculiar
energy of the activity, which it recognises, as it mani-
fests it, but without having previously known it;
for the activity is revealed to itself only by its acts,
and the first act must have been the effect of a power
which has hitherto been ignorant of itself.

What then is this power which is revealed only by
its acts, which finds and perceives itself in spontan-
eity, and again finds and reflects upon itself in roe

% 4 3]

L

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 69

ong Pe
a Maeih chk ae ee
. fa alt HB)

   
    
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 

(a
4 Soe:
De ee lees

i

a
hae
ia

ie Pie
ois aah Rit
Pa eon eed

tAAdL LASERS REC IN
’

Cee eee een ee eam renee slid
hs

70 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

Whether spontaneous or voluntary, all personal acts
have this characteristic in common, that they can be
referred immediately to a cause which has its point
of departure altogether in itself, that is to say, that
they are free ; such is the proper notion of liberty.
Liberty cannot be confined to the will, for in that
case, spontaneity would not be free; and, on the
other hand, liberty cannot consist merely in sponta-
neity, for then the will in its turn would not be free.
If therefore the two phenomena are equally free, they
can be so only on the condition, that we discard from
the notion of liberty every thing which belongs exclu-
sively either to the one or the other of the two pheno-
mena, and that we allow to it only what is common
to both. Now, what circumstance is common to both,
except that they have their point of departure in
themselves, and that they can be referred immediately
to a cause, which is their proper cause, and which
acts only by its own energy ? Liberty being the com-
mon characteristic of spontaneity and of will, com..
prises both these phenomena itself; it ought te
possess, and it consequently does possess, something
more general than either, and which constitutes their
identity. This is the only theory of liberty that
agrees with the different facts which are announced as
tree by the consciousness of the human race, and
which in their diversities have occasioned theories
in contradiction with each other, because they have
been constructed exclusively for a specific order of
phenomena. ‘Thus, for example, the theory which
concentrates liberty in the will must needs admit no
other than reflective liberty, preceded by a predeter-
mination, accompanied with a process of deliberation,
and marked with characteristics which greatly reduce
the number of free acts, which take away liberty from
every thing which is not reflective, from the enthu-
siasm of the poet and artist in the moment of creation,
trom the ignorance which reflects but little and
scarcely acts otherwise than spontaneously, that is to
say, from three quarters of the human race. Because
132Na See a 9

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
   

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 7h
the expression free-will implies the idea of choice, of
comparison, and of reflection, these conditions have
been imposed on liberty, of which free-will is only
one form; free-will is free-volition, that is to Say, vo-
lition ; but will is so far from being adequate to the
extent of liberty, that even language adds to it the
epithet free, thus referring it to something still more
general than itself. We may assert the same of spon-
taneity. Disengaged from the accompaniment more
or less tardy of reflection, of comparison, and of de-
liberation, spontaneity manifests liberty in a purer
form, but it is only one form of liberty, and not li-
berty entire; the fundamental idea of liberty is that
of a power which, under whatever form it act, acts
only by an energy peculiar to itself}

If liberty is distinct from free phenomena,—as the
characteristic of every phenomenon is to be more or
less determined, but always to be so in some de-
gree,—it follows that the peculiar characteristic of
liberty in its contrast with free phemonena, is inde-
termination. Liberty, therefore, is not a form of ac-
tivity, but activity in itself, the indetermined activity,
which, precisely on that account, determines itself in
one form or another. Hence it follows, once more,
that the me or the personal activity, spontaneous or
reflective, represents only the determined form of
activity, but not its essence. Liberty is the ideal of
the me; the me must needs constantly tend to it,
without ever arriving at it; it participates in it, but
is not identical with it. The me is liberty action,
not liberty in power; it is a cause, but a cause phe-
nomenal and not substantial, relative and not abso-
lute. The absolute me of Fichte is a contradiction.
The very terms imply that nothing absolute and sub-
stantial is to be found in what is determined, that is
to say, phenomenal. In respect to activity, substance
then cannot be found but beyond and above all phe-
nomenal activity, in power not yet passed into action,

 

1 See Note L.

133

Chae a ae
Mae taupe eo) i
3 lan aed "

,
ot

bs)

kee
oh
eee er nebee Sel

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
    

Hk aks het bab haan banal alc
i gh tae | ie

   

ey
d

 

2 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

in the indetermined essence which is capable of self-
determination, in liberty disengaged from its forms,
which limit while they determine it. We are thus
arrived then, in the analysis of the me, by the way of
psychology still, at a new aspect of ontology, at a
substantial activity, anterior and superior to all phe-
nomenal activity, which produces all the phenomena
of activity, survives them all and renews them all,
immortal and inexhaustible in the destruction of its
temporary manifestations. And it is a remarkable
fact, again, that this absolute activity, in its develop-
ment, assumes two forms parallel with those of reason,
namely, spontaneity and reflection. These two ele-
ments are found in one sphere as well as the other,
and the principle of both is always a substantial
causality. Activity and reason, liberty and intelli-
gence, are therefore intimately combined with each
other in the unity of substance.

The last phenomenon of consciousness, which we
have not yet analyzed, sensation, would require simi-
lar developments, but thé time does not admit of them.
I must content myself with afew words, which think-
ers will comprehend, and which will serve at least as
a touch-stone for my future-labours-on-the philosophy
of natire.

Sensation isa phenomenon of consciousness no less
incontestable than either of the others ; now if this
phenomenon is real, as no phenomenon is sufficient
to itself, reason which-acts-under the-law_of causality
and of substatice, compels us to-refer the phenomenon
of-sensation-to.an existing cause; and as this cause
is evidently not the me, it is necessary that reason
should refer sensation to another cause, for the action
of reason is irrestible 3 it refers it therefore to a
cause foreign to the me, placed beyond the influence

of the me, that is to Say, to an external cause; this is
our notion of the outward world as opposed to the
inward world, which the me constitutes and fills, our

notion of an external object as opposed to the subject
134of Oe Sees

ry ie I a
pat ena a

 

ae
peer

    
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
    

coat

Ce Lh ok
en erent

EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 73

Cat
ah

 

which is personality itself, our notion of passivity as
opposed to liberty. But let us not be deceived by the
expression passivity; for the me is not passive and
cannot be so, since it consists in free activity ; neither
is the object any more passive, since it is made known
to us only in the character of cause, of active force.
Passivity therefore is nothing but a relation between
two forces which act on each other. Vary and mul-
tiply the phenomenon of sensation, reason always and
necessarily refers it to a cause which it successively
charges, in proportion to the extent of experience, not
with the internal modification of the subject, but with
the objective qualities capable of producing them, that
is to say, it developes the notion of cause, but without
departing from it, for qualities are always causes, and
ean be known only as such. The external world there-
fore is nothing but an assemblage of causes corre-
sponding to our real or possible sensations ; the rela-
tion of these causes with each other is the order of
the world. The world accordingly is of the same
stuff with ourselves, and nature is the sister of man ;
it is active, living, animated like him; and its history
is a drama no less than our own.

Besides, as the development of the personal or hu-
man force takes place in consciousness, in some sort,
under the auspices of reason, which we recognise as
our law even when we violate it; so the external
forces are necessarily conceived of as submitted to
laws in their development, or, to speak more correctly,
the laws of external forces are nothing but their mode
of development, the constancy of which forms what
we call regularity. Force in nature 1s distinct from
its law, as personality in us 1S distinct from reason ;
distinct, I say, and not separate 5 for all force carries
‘ts law with it and manifests it in its action and by its

Now, all law supposes a reason, and the laws
manifested in
an with

action. )
of the world are nothing but reason as mal
the world. Here then is a new relation of m
Nature, like humanity, ts composed of laws

nature. d of activit nd in thi
ee Ivity; and 1 this
and of forces, of reason and OF acliVily; § 135PiawLiaciee 13533) (ot bas Ua

ae ne a
eee rere a oie Saeaik /
epee nee re See marae Ste f

Say, every phenomenal cause and every phenomenal
136

74 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

point of view, the two worlds are again brought closely
together.
Ts there nothing further? As we have reduced the
laws of reason and the modes of free force to two,
could we not also attempt a reduction of the forces of
nature and of their laws? Could we not reduce all the
regular modes of the action of nature to two, which
in their relation with the spontaneous and the reflec-
tive action of the me and of reason, would exhibit a
still more intimate harmony than that which we have
Just indicated between the internal and the exterral
world? It will be perceived that I here allude to ex-
pansion and concentration ; but so long as methodical
labours shall not have converted these conjectures into
certainty, I will hope and be silent; I will content
myself with remarking that the philosophical conside-
rations which reduce the notion of the external world
to that of force have already gained currency, and se-
ceretly preside over modern Physics. What physical
inquirer, since Euler, seeks any thing in nature but
forces and laws? Who now speaks of atoms? And
even molecules, the old atoms revived,—who defends
them as any thing but an hypothesis? Ifthe fact be
incontestable, if modern Physies be now employed
only with forces and laws, I draw the rigorous conelu-
sion from it, that the science of Physies, whether it
know it or not, is no Jonger material, and that it be-
came spiritual when it rejected every other method
than observation and induction, which can never lead
to aught but forces and laws. - Now what is there ma-
terial in forces and laws? The physical sciences then
themselves have entered into the broad path of an en-
lightened Spiritualism; and they have only to march
with a firm step, and to gain a more and more pro-
found knowledge of forces and laws, in order to arrive
at more important generalizations. Let us go still
further. Asitisalaw already recognised of the same
reason which governs humanity and nature, to refer
every finite cause and every multiple law, that is toEXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM, 75

law, to something absolute which leaves nothing to be
sought beyond it in relation to existence, that is to say,
to a substance ; so this law refers the external world
composed of forces and laws to a substance, which
must needs be a cause in order to be the subject of the
causes of this world, which must needs be an intelli-
gence in order to be the subject of its laws, a sub-
Stance, in fine, which must needs be the identity of
activity and intelligence. We are thus arrived ac-
cordingly, for the second time, by observation and in-
duction in the external sphere, at precisely the same
point to which observation and induction have suc-
cessively conducted us in the sphere of personality
and in that of reason; consciousness in its triplicity
is therefore one; the physical and moral world is
one, science is one, that is to say, in other words,
God is One.

Let us sum up these ideas, and at the same time
more fully unfold them.

In returning within our consciousness, we have seen
that the relation of reason, of activity,-andof.sensa-
tion is so intimate, that one of these elements being
civen, the Other two immediately come into exercise,
and that this element is the free activity. Without
the free activity or the me, consciousness does not
exist, thatis to say, the other two phenomena, whether
they take place or not, areas if they weré not, for-the
mé which does not yet exist,. Now the me does not
exist for itself, does not and cannot perceive itself, but
by distinguishing itself from sensation, which by that
act is perceived, and which thus takes its place in
consciousness. But as the me cannot perceive itself,
nor perceive sensation except by.pereeiving, that is to
say, by the intervention of reason, the necessary prin
ciple of all perception, of all knowledge, it follows
that the exercise of reason is contemporary with the
exercise of personal. activity.and_with sensible impres-
sions. . The triplicity of consciousness, the elements
of which are distinct and irreducible one to the “ee

: éen eine ie Lin.
aera aS ater ee ad : 1: ; ‘ Y

nnn ee Bic LRabeERInT
ae -

76 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.
is then resolved into.a single fact, as the unity.of een-
sciousness exists only on condition of that triplicity.
Moreover, if the three elementary phenomena of
conselousness are contemporary, if reason immedi-
ately illumines the activity which then distinguishes
| itself from sensation ; as reason is only the action of
the two great laws of causality and of substance, it
is necessary that reason should immediately refer the
action to an internal cause and substance, namely, the
me, and sensation, to an external cause and sub-
stance, the not-me; but as it cannot rest in them as
causes truly substantial, both because their contin-
gent and phenomenal character takes from them every
claim to being absolute and substantial, and because
as they are two, they limit each other, and thus ex-
clude each other from the rank of substance, it is
’ necessary that reason should refer them to a single
substantial cause, beyond which there is nothing to
be sought in relation to existence, that is to say, in
respect of cause and substance, for existence is the
identity of both. The substantial and causative ex-
istence, therefore, with the two finite causes or sub-
stances in which it developes itself, is made known at
the same tine with these two causes, with the differ-
| ences which separate them, and the bond of nature
na which connects them, that is to say, ontology is given
to us at the same time in its completeness, and even
at the same time with psychology. Thus, in the frst
fact of consciousness, the psychologiéat unity_in its
triplicity is found, so to speak, face to face with the
ontological unity in. its parallel triplicity.. The fact
of consciousness, which comprehends three internal
elements, reveals to us also three external elements.
Every fact of consciousness is psychological-and-onto-
logical at once, and contains already the three great
ideas which science afterwards divides or brings to-
| gether, but which it eannot go beyond, namely, man,
nature, and God. But man, hature, and God, as re-
vealed by consciousness, are not vain formulas, but
ee and realities. “Man is not in the consciousness

> eeeEXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. VF

without nature, nor nature without man, but both
meet together in their opposition and their recipro-
city, as causes, and as relative causes, the nature of
which is always to develope themselves, and always
by each other. The God of consciousness is not an
abstract God, a solitary monarch exiled beyond the
limits of creation, on the desert throne of a silent
Eternity, and of an absolute existence which resem-
bles even the negation of existence. He isa God at
once true and real, at once substance and cause,
always substance and always cause, being substance
only in so far as he is cause, and cause only in
so far as he is substance; that is to say, being
absolute cause, one and many, eternity and time,
space and number, essence and life, indivisibility
and totality, principle, end and centre, at the sum-
mit of Being and at its lowest degree, infinite and
finite together, triple, in a word, that is to say, at the
same time God, nature, and humanity. In fact, if
God be not every thing, he is nothing; if he be ab-
solutely indivisible in himself, he is inaccessible ; and
consequently he is incomprehensible, and his incom-
prehensibility is for us the same as his destruction.
Incomprehensible as a formula and in the school,
God is clearly visible in the world vhich manifests
him, for the soul which feels and possesses him.
Every where present he returns, as it were, to him-
self in the consciousness of man, of which he indi-
rectly constitutes the mechanism and the phenomenal
triplicity by the reflection of his own nature and of
the substantial triplicity of which he 1s the absolute
identity. !

Having gained these heights, philosophy becomes
more luminous as well as more grand ; universal har-
mony enters into human thought, enlarges it, and gives
it peace. The divorce of ontology and psychology,
of speculation and obsérvation, of science and con)
mon sense, is brought to an end by a method which

1 See Note M.
139

Ste oe Se oe Sa
ce tea Ne ee 8

og og
ae
=
—*

*f ;
—ae ot
Lestat be Surat Mat a

man, if he knows himself, knows all the rest, nature

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
      

78 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

arrives at-speculation by observation;-at ontology by
psychology, in order then to confirm observation by
speculation, psychology by ontology, and which, start=
ing from the immediate facts-of Gonsciousness, of
which the common sense of the human race is com-
-posed;-derives-from-them.the-seience which contains
nothing more than common sensé; but Which elevates
it to its purest.and most rigid form, and-enablées it to
comprehend itself, But I here approach a funda-
mental point.

v. If every fact of consciousness contains all the human

faculties, sensibility, free activity, and reason, the me,
the not-me,.and their absolute identity ; and if every
fact of consciousness be equal to itself, it follows that
every man who has the consciousness-ef himself pos-
sesses;-and.cannot but possess, all the ideas that are
necessarily contained in consciousness. Thus every
and God at the same time with himself. Every man
believes in his own existence, every man therefore
believes in the existence of the world and of God;
every man thinks, every man therefore thinks God,
if we may so express it ; every human proposition, re-
flecting the consciousness, reflects the idea of Unity
and of Being that is essential to consciousness ; every
human proposition therefore contains God 5 every
man who speaks, speaks of God, and every word is
an act of faith and a hymn. Atheism is a barren
formula, a negation without reality, an abstraction
of the mind, which cannot assert itself without self-
destruction; for every assertion, even though nega-
tive, is a judgment which contains the idea of being,
and, consequently, God in his fulness. Atheism 18
the illusion of a few _sophists, who place their liberty —
In opposition to their reason, and are unable even
to give an account to themselves of what they
think ; but the human race, which is never false to its
consciousness, and never places itself in contradic-
tien to its laws, possesses the knowledge of God,
140EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

elieves in him, and never ceases to proclaim him. !
in fact, the human race believes in reason, and can-
not Hut believe in it, in that reason which is ma-
nifested in consciousness, in a momentary relation
with the me,—the pure though faint reflection of
that primitive light which Hows from the bosom of
the eternal substance, which is at once Substance,
Cause, Intelligence. Without the manifestation
‘of reason in our cOhsciousness, there could be no
knowledge,—neither psychological, nor still less,
ontological. Reason is,1n.some_sort, the bridge be-
tween-psychology.and_ontology,. between conscious-
ness and being.5.di.rests at the same time on both ;
it descends from God and ¢ approaches man 3 it makés
its appearance in the enc ee S, as a guest who
brings intelligence of an unknown world, of which it
at once presents the idea and awakens the want. If
reason were personal, it would have no value, no
authority, beyond the limits of the individual subject.
If it remained in the condition of primitive substance,
without manifestation, it would be the same for the
me, which would not know itself, as if it were not.
It is necessary therefore that the intelligent substance
should manifest itself; and this mat nifestation is the
appearance of reason in the consciousness. Reason
then is literally a revelation, a necessary and univer-
sal revelation, which is wanting to nu man, a and which

saliehtens every man on his coming into the world:
stein omnem hominem venientem in hune mundum.
Reason is the necessary mediator between God and
man, the Adyog of Pythagoras and Plato, the Word
made flesh, which serves as the interpreter of God and
the teacher of man, divine anc human at the same
time. It is not, indeed, the absolute God in his ma-
jestic individuality, but his manifestation in spirit
and in truth; it is not the Being of beings, but it is
the revealed God of the ieee race. As God is
never wanting to the human race, and never abandons

1 See Note N.
L

14

  

ae Se ee Pace Sor

at ee oe ieeee rere
+) M

EE

80 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

it, so the human race believes in God with an irre-
sistible and unalterable faith, and this unity of faith
is its own highest unity.

If these convictions of faith be combined in every
act of consciousness, and if consciousness be one in
the whole human race, whence arises the prodigious
diversity which seems to exist between man and man,
and in what does this diversity consist? In truth,
when we appear to perceive at first view so many
differences between one individual and another, one
country and another, one epoch of humanity and an-
other, we feel a profound-emotion of melancholy ;
and are tempted to regard an intellectual develop-
ment so capricious, and even the whole of humanity,
as a phenomenon without consistency, without gran-
deur, and without interest. But it is demonstrated

by a more-attentive observation of facts, that no-man—>

isa stranger to either of the three great-ideas-which
constitute -eonsélousness, namely, personality or.thes
liberty of man, impersonality or the necessity of na-
ture,-and-the-Providence-of-God. Every man com-
prehends these three ideas immediately, because he
found them at first and constantly finds them again
within himself. The exceptions to this fact, by their
small number, by the absurdities which they involve,
by the difficulties which they create, serve only to
exhibit, in a still clearer light, the universality of
faith in the human race, the treasure of good sense
deposited in truth, and the peace and happiness that
there are fora human soul in not discarding the con-
victions ofits kind. Leave out the exceptions which
appear from time to time in certain critical periods
of history, and you will perceive that the masses
which alone have true existence, always and every
where live in the same faith, of which the forms only
vary. But the masses do not possess the secret of
their convictions. Truth is not science. Truth is
fer all; science for few. All truth exists in the hu-
man race; but the human race is not made up of phi-
losophers. In fact, philosophy is the aristocracy of
142

 

       
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
    
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
    
   
   

  

t/

paloma Neate

a Kona

ee eeEXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. Sl

the human species. Its glory and its strength, like
that of all true aristocracy, is not to separate itself
from the people, but to sympathize and identify itself
vith them, to labour for them, while it places its
foundation in their hearts. Philosophical science is
the rigorous account which reflection renders to
itself of the ideas which it has not created. We have
already shown, that reflection supposes a previous
operation-to-whieh-it-applies itself, since reflection 1s
merely a.return upon what has. gone-before.

If there had been no prior operation, there could
have been 1o-volintary repetition of this operation,
that is to say, no reflection ; forreflection 1s nothing
else ;_ it does not produce.; it verifies and dev elopes.
There i8 therefore actually nothing morein reflection
than in the operation _w hich precede sit, than in spon-
taneity ; only reflection is..a.degree.of. intelligence,

rarer and more elevated than spontaneity, and with
the condition, moreover, that it faithfully represent
it, and develope without d estroying it Mares in my
opinion, humanity. aS-8 ASS TS spontancous and not
reflective; humanity is inspired. ‘The divine breath
which is in it, always and every where reveals to it

all truths under one form or another, according to the
place and the time. The soul of humanity is a
poetical soul which discovers in itself the secrets of
beings 3 and gives utterance.to them. in prophetic
chants_which ning from.ageto.age. At the side of
humanity is p! hilosophy, which listens with attention,
gathers up its w oy. registers them, if we may so
speak ; and when the moment of inspiration has pass-
ed aw ay, presents them with reverence to the Te ra
ble artist who had no consciousness of his genius,
and who often does not recognise his own w a
Spontaneity is the genius of human nature 5 refle
tion is the genius of a few individuals. The differ-
ence between reflection and spontaneity is the only
difference possible in the identity of intelligence.
I have poe as I flatter myself, that this is the

only real difference in th e forms of reason, in those
Vv : =
a 495

oO

PON cheney TN

See See Sen eeHeoicintels SOC ETS

, A peneasennal er
Dod SGML ns nalaesconalbis ater coehaansebateota ns ALESIS RNG TENT Te ane
: ; “yey bes fet Soe i

ee

82 EXPOSITION OF BCLECTICISM.

of activity, perhaps even in those of life; in history
also, it is the only difference which separates a man
from his fellow-men. Hence it follows that we are
all penetrated with the same spirit, are all of the same
family, children of the same Father, and that the
brotherhood of man admits of no differences but such
as are essential to individuality. Considered in this
aspect, the differences of individuals exhibit some-
thing noble and interesting, because they testify to
the independence of each of us, and separate man
from nature. We are men and not stars; we have
movements that are peculiar to ourselves; but all
our movements, however irregular in appearance, are
accomplished within the circle of our nature, the two
extremities of which are points essentially similar.
Spontaneity is the point of departure; reflection the
point of return; the entire circumference is the in-
tellectual life; the centre isthe Absolute Intelligence
which governs and explains the whole. These prin-
ciples possess an inexhaustible fruitfulness. Go from
human nature to external nature, you will there find
spontaneity under the form of expansion ; reflection,
under that of concentration. Extend your view to
universal existence ; external nature there performs
the part of spontaneity, humanity, that of reflection.
In fine, in the history of the human species, the Ori-
ental world represents that first movement, the vi-
gorous spontaneity of which has furnished the race
with an indestructible basis; and the Pagan world,
and still more the Christian, represents reflection
which gradually developes itself, combines with spon-
taneity, decomposes and recomposes it with the li-
berty which is its essence, while the spirit of the
world hovers over allits forms, and remains at the
centre ; but under allits forms, in every world, at all
degrees of existence, physical, intellectual, or histori-
cal, the same integrant elements are discovered in
their variety and their harmony.

Such is the character. of the system, in which, at

144———EXPOSITION@@E ECLECTICIS}

the end of the year 1818, all the labour of the pre-
ceding years terminated ; asystem undoubtedly very
imperfect, and which has since been enlarged and
modified in my mind. But I should still defend th.
essential elements of this system, whicl

the advantage, in spite of its defects, at th
when it was conceived and set forth, of realising in
part_the=denominant idea.of my whole life, that of
reconstructing the eternal .convictions-of man in har-
Meny..with-the spirit of the age, and of thus arrivin
at unity, but by the path of the experimental method,
This is the-peint.-of view.in which it should bé ex-
amined..and.judged.

se

0

This system was at the foundation of my teaching
in the year 1818 ; and it is to this, that all the Frag-

ments of which the present volume is composed,
directly or indirectly relate; it forms their unity, and
may serve as a clew in the midst of articles on differ-
ent subjects and with different dates. ‘This is the li-

\ 5 ¢

mit of my researches so far as the year 1819; and
i | Tot] > : 1s A hictamesl de
the foundation of all the dogmatic and histerical de-

velopments of my teaching for the succeeding years.
4 Pe ce

If we look at it, we find that the system which has

a

It was also applied from that time to the aiff
doctrines which compose the history of philosophy,
and numerous traces of this will be found in these
Fragments ; but it has since assumed, bot 1D my
own mind and in-my_labours,.animporiance of which
it is impossible here to present.the slightest idea.
I will only say that since 1819, my dogmatic and
systematic point of view being somewhat confirmed
and elevated, I quitted speculation for_a considerable
time, or. rather, [pursued and realised it, by applying
it more_ directly than.I.had.yet.done.to.the history
of philosophy... Always faithful to the psychological
method,-L-intredueed-it-into-history,.and cononung
diferent systems with the facts of consciousness, de-
manding of each a complete representation 01 con-

NO. XXXII. G SO\-

'| the path is open.

84 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.

sciousness without being able to obtain it, I soon ar-
rived at the result which my subsequent studies have
so fully developed, namely ; that every system _re-
presents an order of phenomena and of ideas,which
is perfectly real and true, but which is not-the-only
,one-in consciousness, although in the system it holds

van almost exclusive rank ; whence it follows that the

|imdividual systems—are not false but. incomplete ;—
| whenee—it—follows again- that~by~combining the va-
| rious incomplete systems, we.should.have_a complete
philosophy, corresponding to..the totality of con-
isciousness. From_this,.to a true historical system,
umiversal and precise,.at once, the interval is~un=—
doubtedly great; but the first step has been taken ;
I shall undertake to complete the
~work ;“T'shall undertake, in spite of every obstacle,
to pursue the reform of philosophical studies in France,
in illustrating the history of philosophy by a system,
and.in.demonstrating this system by the whole his-
tery_of philosophy.» With this object is connected
the series of my _ historical publications, the whole.
scope of which my friends only can comprehend ;
and in pursuance of this plan, my teaching in the
years 1819 and 1820, entered upon the history of
the-philosephy_of the eighteenth century, in. France,
in England, and.in-Germany. I may, perhaps, pub-
lish those Lectures; but my previous Lectures from
1815 to 1818, will never see the light. They are
studies which I have made before the public, and
which I trust will not have been without use in re-
storing a taste for philosophical subjects among my
countrymen, and in communicating a salutary direc-
tion to the pupils of the Normal School, and to the
young men who attended my Courses in the Faculty
of Literature. But I condemn them myself to ob-
livion; they are too far-belrind the point at which we
have all now arrived. I should even have to ask
pardon for these Fragments which relate to those
Lectures, and which certainly are inferior to them, if
they had not been already printed, and their re-
146EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM. 85

publication were not their final burial. I have
thought, moreover, that without possessing sufficient
generality to enter into.the wants_of the moment, and
the discussions which the quarrels of parties have
made the order-of-the day,..they might be useful in
recalling the attention to _psyc chological details, arid
without doubt, and destitute-of-all Lapparent-e grandeur,
but which should never be lost sight of, since they
are the legitimate point of departure for all the de-
velopments which can be received by philosophy.
Ihave also thought that at_a time when the parties
of_industry-.and_of_theocracywere both endeavour-
ing to seduce the mind from the broad and impartial
paths of science, it was almost a duty for me to raise
an independent flag, which is perhaps not forgotten,
and to remind the friends of truth.of-the.only philo-
sophical method which, in my opinion, can conduct
tomits that’ method of observation and induction,
which has raised all the physical sciences so high, and
has carried them so far; which gives a movement to
thought, at once vast and regular ; which_rests-only
on Giivian nature, but w ich’ embraces the whole of
human naturé; and with it attains the Infinite ; which
_imposes-no_system on reality, but-undertakes-tode-
monstrate that reality, if it_be entire,  is_itselfa.sys-
tem, a system-c omplete and living, in the conscious-
ness and beyond the consciousness, in the Universe
and in history ; that method>~which pone to
itself no other task than that of co ae hending
things as they are, accepts, explains, and respects
every thing, apd destroys nothing but the artificial
arrangements of exclusive hypotheses; that severe
method, whose circumspect. character con ceals and
justifies boldness, and be eyond which ali the move-
ments of the mind are mere ely struggles without fruit
for a or for others, for science, for the country,
or for the future
Finally, I have wished to take a formal leave of
three years of my life which are endeared to me by
the remembrance of the obscure and painful labour

Ss
Ay7
=
Es
E
ay
as
:
fe
3
f
ie

86 EXPOSITION OF ECLECTICISM.
with which they were filled; I here salute them for
the last time and bid them a final adieu. It is from

1819 that my future publications will henceforth be
dated.NOTES.

NOTE C.—PaAcE 12.

ME AND NOT-ME.

THE expression equivalent to this is now so common in the
philosophical language of continental Europe, that I might
perhaps justly be charged with affectation, if I were to avoid
the use of it in translating. At any rate, I could not do so,
without an awkward circumlocution, by which nothing would
be gained, either in respect of significance or grace. No one,
indeed, is bound to be more scrupulous with regard to the in-
troduction of foreign modes of speech into our native English,
than the conscientious translator. If I have transgressed in
this way, in the present instance and in some others, it has
been by compulsion and not by choice ; and I shall look for the
most speedy forgiveness from those who are best aware of the
necessity of the case. As regards the phrase in question, it
seems to be as forcible as any that could be selected for the ex-
pression of the abstract idea of personality and its opposite ; an
¥dea which lies at the foundation of all philosophical inquiries
concerning the higher nature of man. The old English writers
were in the habit of using the corresponding Latin term, to ex-
press the same idea; but I think this is more barbarous even than
the modern phrase; and with the example of some good writ-
ers and translators who have preceded me, I must solicit for it
a hospitable reception from the reader.

NOTE D.—Pace 22.
PANTHEISM.

“ Arrstorzie in his book on Xenophanes, Gorgias, and
Zeno, Simplicius in his Commentary on the Physics of Aris-
totle,2, and Theophrastus in Bessarion,® have preserved the
substance of the argumentation, by which Xenophanes demon-
strated that God had no beginning and could not have been
born. It is impossible not to experience a profound and al-
most a solemn impression, in considering this argumentation,

1 Ch. 3: 2 Ibid. 3 Contra calumniatorem Platonis, I. 11, p. a4

bod i hh oli Laine taal nas

ee eT et et ee arlaeh Cheenti) MRAM Miah

ae

eer

88 NOTES.

when we reflect that it is perhaps .the first time, at least in
Greece, that the human mind has attempted to give an account
to itself of its faith, and to convert its belief into theories. It
is curious to be present at the birth of religious philosophy ;
we behold it there, if we may so speak, in its swathing clothes $
as yet, it does but stammer on those formidable problems ; but
it is the duty of the friend of humanity to hear with attention,
and to gather up with care the half-formed words which escape
from it, and to salute with respect the first appearance of rea-
soning. Here is the'argumentation of Xenophanes, as preserv-
ed by Aristotle and Simplicius. ‘It is impossible to apply to
God the idea of birth, for every thing which is born must of
necessity be born either of something like or of something un-
like. Now each of these cases is impossible, for the like has
no action on the like, and can no more produce it than it car
be produced by it. On the other hand, the unlike cannot be
born of the unlike ; for if the strongest is born of the weakest,
or the greatest of the smallest, or the better of the worse, or
on the contrary, the worse of the better, being would proceed
from non-being, or non-being from being, which is impossible.
God therefore must be eternal.’ We ought to read the same
argumentation abridged in Simplicius, and still further reduced
in Bessarion; we should not neglect even the passage of Plu-
tarch in Eusebius, a passage which, in the midst of grave errors,
contains happy illustrations of the fragment of Aristotle, and in
which Plutarch expressly acknowledges that Xenophanes has here
taken a path peculiar to himself; and in fact Diogenes asserts
that Xenophanes was the first to demonstrate that every thing
which is born must also perish. We here see the early dawn
oi the principle, which was afterwards to become so celebrated :
being cannot proceed from non-being, non-being can produce
nothing, that is to say, nothing creates nothing. Here is per-
haps the first expression of the principle of causality. Xeno-
phanes did not invent this principle; it is inherent in the hu-
man mind, which possessed it, made use of it, and applied it, or
rather was governed by it in all its proceedings, though uncon-
sciously ; for that which most escapes the notice of intelligence,
is precisely that which lies the deepest in its nature. To draw
forth this principle from the depths and obscurity, in which it
acts spontaneously and developes itself in a concrete, living, and
active form, to unfold it to the light of reflection, and to trans-
form it into a law, into an abstract and general formula, of
which the mind obtains the consciousness, and which it ex-
amines in some sort, as an external object; this is the glory of
philosophy. |

‘* The conclusion of this argumentation in Aristotle is that,
‘ since God cannot be born, he cannot perish, as every thing
which is born must needs perish, while that which is not born,
that is to say, that which does not become a being by means of
another, but which is a beg in itself, is eternal.’ This is not

150

 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  

—_—_NOTES. 89

merely the principle of causality, it is the distinet conception
of accident and of substance; of phenomenal being and of be-
ing in itself, and the attributing of the notion of corruptibility
to the one, and the notion of incorruptibility and eternity to
the other, that is to say, the principle of substance, in all its
extent and relations.

‘“The presence of two opposite tendencies in the physics
and theology of Xenophanes is evident. It indicates two sorts
of antecedents, through which it has passed, and of which it
forms the point of reunion. But how has it combined these
contrary elements? How is the Pythagorean theology united
in Xenophanes with the Ionic physics? This is the question
which ought to be settled, for it is precisely this combination
which characterizes the original doctrine of Xenophanes, gives
it a peculiar physiognomy, and assigns to it an independent
yank in the history of the philosophy of this epoch.

The Ionic school and the Pythagorean school introduced in-
to the Greek philosophy, the two fundamental elements of all
philosophy ; namely, physies and theology. We may thus see

yaeas on

Ceca}

philosophy in Greece in possession of the two esse ntial
which it turns, the idea of the world and that of God. The
two extreme terms of all speculation, accordingly, being given,
nothing remains but to discover their relation. Now, the first
solution which presents itself to the human mind preoccupied,
as it necessarily is, with the idea of unity, is the absorbin of
one of the two terms in the other, the identifying of the world
with God, or of God with the world, and thus cutting the knot in-
stead of untying it. These two exclusive solutions are both per-
fectly natural. {tis natural,_—when we possess the feeling of life,
of this grand and diversified existence of which we are a part ;
when we consider the extent of this visible v
same time, the harmony which every where rei
beauty which shines through all its parts,—that we should stop
with the limits of the senses and the imagination, that we s ,0uld
suppose that the beings of which this world is made up are the
only beings which exist, that this great whole, so harmonious
and so uniform, is the true subject and the last application of
the idea of unity, that this whole, in a word, is God. Express
this result in the Greek language, and we have Pantheism.
Pantheism is the conception of the whole as the only God.

<‘ On the other hand, when we discover that the apparent
unitv of the whole is only a harmony and not an absolute unity,
a harmony which admits an infinite variety, which strongly Te
sembles a systematic war and revolution, it 1s no less natural,
in that case, to detach from this world the idea of unity which
is indestructible in our minds, and, thus detached from the ats
perfect model of this visible world, to refer it < an nes
being placed above and beyond this world, the sacred ty}

: a =e i > conceive |
absolute unity, beyond which there 15 nothing to be ¢ Ted

es
oO

le world, and at the
ee ee viel tas qo
ons in It, and the

PTS CRIrepeat nag aetap nena

ern Tet tL Uk cele ber abies
i, ,

sais gic neat Shale Mee ELS

SO NOTES.

or sought. Now, having once arrived at this absolute units if
is no lor nger or to dep art from it, and to comp? rehend ho
absolute unit ne given asa principle, it is possible ia
arrive at bean x8 the consequence; for absolute unity ex-
eludes all pl berate, Nothing remains then, i in relation to this
consequence but to deny it, or at least, to despise it, and to re-
gard the plurality of this visible world as a deceptive shadow
of the absolute unity which alone exists, a fall hase iy compre-
hen sible, a negation and an evil which we ought to escape from,
in order to tend i: neessantly to the only true being, to the abso-
lute unity, to hog: Here is the sy stem opposed to Pantheism.
Call it whatever you please, it is nothing but the idea of unity
applied lees to God, as Pantheism is the same idea
applied ex clusively to the world.

‘* Now, once more, these two exclusive solutions of th 1e fun-
damental pro pee em are both equally natural; and this is so true
tha S nile return at every great epoch of the history
of phi losophy,. with the modifications which are caused by the
progress of time, but at the bottom always the same; and we
may even say, that the his istory of their perpetual conflict, and of
the aos nate dominion of ene or the other, has hitherto com-
posed the history of Ee epephy itself. It is because these two
eGlwnine belong to the foundations of thought, that it constaz atly
‘eproduces them, with an _egual inability ‘to dis spense with one
or the other, and to satisf fy itself with either alone. In fact,

neither taken separately, is sufficient for the human mind; and
these two

)

+1
ws ieY econ

A

Sebe s te points of view, so natur al, and consequently
so durable and so vital, exclusive: as they are by themselves, for
this very reascn, are cually defective and unsatisiactory, A
cry is raised again e antheism. All the ability in the world
‘an never absolve t

ce or reconcile 1¢ with the feel.
ings of the aes race. If we are consistent, all our efforts
are vain; we can arrive with it m sort

rerely at a sort of 5 oul of the
world as the e principle of things ; at fai tality as the only law; at
the confounding together of good and evil; that is to sa LY, at
their destruction, in the bosom of a vague and

abstract unity,
witl 10ut any fixed subject; for there is certain! y no absolute
unity in any of the parts of this world taken separate ly; how
eS on should it exist in their ageregate? As no effort can de-

ve the Ab solute and the Nec cessary from the Relative and the
added to itself as often as

a ntingent, SO also from plura ality,

you a se, NO generalization can derive u nity ; totality only is
thus obtained. At bottom, Pantheism turns on the confusion
of these two ideas, which are so essentially distinct. On the
other hand, unity without plurality is no more real, than plu-
rality without 1 unity is true. An absolute nny which does not
dee fron itself, or which projects only a shadow, may over-
whelm us with its grandeur, 1 may alate us with its mys-
terious charm ; but it is all in vain; it does not enlighten the

mind: at401 Ti J (}
ming; 1¢ 1s ioudly contradicted by those faculties, which are in=
2

A

OTES.

posed

c &
our active and moral faculties, which would bea mockery,
which would be an accusation again: st their atbOn: if the theatre
in which they are called to exerci ise the amiselves, were only
an illusion and a snare. A God without a world is no less
false than a world without a God; a cause without effects which
manifest it, or an indefinite series of effects without a primary
cause; a substance which should never be developed, ora rich
development of phenomena without a substance which sustains
them ; reality borrowed only from the Visible or the Invisible ;
in both these extremes, there are equal error and equal danger,
equal forgetfulness of human nature, equal forgetfulness of one
of the essential sides of cHoupht and of things. Between these
two abysses, the good sense of the human race has long pursued
its path ; far from systems and from schools, the human race has
long believed with equal certainty in God and in the world.
It believes in the world as a real and permanent effect, which
it refers to a cause, not to animpotent and contradictory cause,
which, forsaking its effect, would thus de estroy it, but toa cause

relation with this world, and which attest its Tek and by al!
] ;

CC
pated
~ond

worthy of the name, which constantly produci ng and reproduc-
ing, deposits i its stren igth and its beauty, without ever exhaust-

ing them in its work; it believes in the wor rid as an aggregate

au
4

of phenom nena, which would cease to exist the moment the
eternal substance should cease to sustain them; it believes in

the wor de as the visil he manifestation of a hidden UARODE.
which ees cs to it beneath this veil, and which it adores in
nature and in its own consciousness. This is what, as a mass,
the tein lieves, The glory of true philosophy would
- to accept universal faith, and to give a legitimate ex-
planation of it. But through want of supporting its elf on the
human race, and of taking common sense for its gu ide, phi-
losophy, hit

coin
ct

bmet 7
~

ele

uy

herto straying on the right hand and left, } has fallen
by turns into one or the cues extreme of systems Oe are
ec qually true in one relation and equally ft false in another; and

both vicious for Poe same reason, because they are ‘equally
hi , A fe
exclusive and incomplete. ‘This is the everlasting rock to

os
which philosophy is Sapowdl ”___Nouveauxy Fragmens, pp. 8,
et seq.

Bs

NOTE E.—Pace 27.

PHILOSOPHY OF ENTHUSIASM.

<‘T woLp that the highest degree of knowledge is intuitive
knowledge. This know vledge , in many cases, —for e example, in
regard to time, space, persone al identity, the Infinite, all sub-
stantial existence, as on as the Beautiful and the Good, has
this characteristic, that it is not founded on the senses or on

AL l 5 3

Sls
a een
Seihaan ae

ah
at

    
 
 
   
  
    
  
    
  
 
  
 
   
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
    
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

sere

SR On SR APR OS BRSCe ET ae eine
rn ee eta ety v4

an

99 NOTES.

consciousness, but on reason, which, without the intervention
of reasoning, arrives at its objects and conceives them with
certainty. Now it is an attribute inherent in reason to believe
in itself; this is the origin of faith; if therefore intuitive reason
is above inductive and demonstrative reason, the faith of reason
in itself, in intuition, is purer and more elevated than the faith
of reason in itself, in induction and demonstration. Let it be
remembered that the truths which reason intuitively discovers
are not arbitrary, but necessary ; that they are not relative, but
absolute; the authority of reason is absolute; it is therefore a
characteristic of the faith which is attached to reason, that it is
absolute like reason itself. Such are the admirable character-
istics of reason, and of the faith of reason in itself.

** This is not all. Whenever we interrogate reason concern-
ing itself, whenever we demand of it its peculiar principle and
the source of the absolute authority which characterizes it, we
are compelled to perceive that this reason is not our own, in
the sense that itis we who constitute it,
it is not in the power of our will, to cau
not to give us such or such atruth. Independently of our will,
reason intervenes, and certain conditions being accomplished,
gives us, or rather imposes upon us, those truths. Reason is
manifested in us, although it is not identical with us, and can
never be confounded with our personality ; reason is imper-
sonal. Whence then comes this wonderful guest? What is
the principle of this reason which enlightens us, without be-
longing to us? This principle is no other than Ged, the first
and last principle of every thing. Now if reason has hitherto
cherished an unbounded faith in itself, when it refers itself to
its principle, when it knows that it comes from God, the faith
which it before had in itself inereases, not in degree, but in
nature. It receives, if I may so speak, all the superiority of
the eternal substance over the finite substance, in which it is
manifested. Faith thus gains a double energy in relation to
those truths which the supreme reason makes known to us
within these shadows of time, within the limits of our own
frailty.

“‘ Reason is thus elothed in its own eyes with divine autho-
rity on account of the principle on which it rests. Now this
state of reason which listens to and regards itself as the echo
of God on earth, with the peculiar and extraordinary charac-
teristics which then distinguish it, is what we call enthusiasm.
The word is a sufficient explanation of the thing. Enthusiasm
is the breath of God within us; it is immediate intuition
opposed _to induction and demonstration; it js primitive
spontaneity opposed to the ulterior development of reflection ;
it Is the perception of the loftiest truths by reason, when it is
most independent both of the senses and of our personality.
Enthusiasm, in its highest degree, and, so to speak, in its
crisis, 18 peculiar only to certain individuals, and again to

154

It is not in our power,
se reason to give us, orNOTES. 93

eertain individuals in certain circumstances ; but in its faintest
degree, enthusiasm is a fact like any other, a fact by no means
extraordinary, which does not pertain to such or such a theory,
individual, or epoch, but to human nature itself, in all men,
in all conditions, and almost at every hour. Itis enthusiasm
which produces spontaneous convictions and resolutions, on a
small as well as on a large scale, in heroes, and in the feeblest
woman. It is enthusiasm which forms the poetic spirit in
every thing; and the poetic spirit, thank God, is not the ex-
clusive property of poets; it has been given toall menin some
degree, more or less pure, more or less elevated ; it appears
especially in certain individuals and in certain movements of
the life of those individuals who are Poets by way of eminence.
It is enthusiasm, moreover, which gives birth to religions; for
every religion supposes two things; namely, that the truths
which it proclaims are absolute truths, and that it proclaims
them in the name of God himself, by whom they are re-
vealed.

‘¢ So far all is well, We are still within the sphere of hu-
manity and of reason ; for it is reason which composes the foun-
dation of faith and of enthusiasm, of heroism, of poetry and of
religion; and when the poet or the priest repudiates reason in
the name of faith and of enthusiasm, he does nothing else,
whether he know it or not, and it is not the concern of either
to know what he does, does nothing else, I say—than
place one mode of reason above the other modes of the same
reason; for if immediate intuition be above reasoning, it still
pertains no less to reason; we attempt in vain to repudiate
reason, we are always obliged to make use of it. Enthusiasm,
therefore, is a rational fact which holds its place in the order
of natural facts and in the history of the human mind; but
this fact is one of singular delicacy, and enthusiasm can easily
be converted into folly. We are here on the doubtful confines
of reason and extravagance. Here is the universal, necessary
and legitimate principle of religious philosophy, 01 religions,
and:of mysticism, a principle which we should not confound
with the aberrations which may corrupt it. Thus unfolded
and illustrated by analysis, philosophy ought to recognise It, if
it wishes to recognise all the essential facts, all the elements of
reason and of humanity.

‘¢ Look now at the way in wh
I repeat it, is the spontaneous intuition of truth by reason, in-
dependent also as it can be of the personality and the senses,
of induction and of demonstration,—a state, which we have
discovered to be genuine, legitimate, and founded on the na-
ture of human reason. But it often happens that the senses
and the personality, which inspiration ought to surmount and
reduce to silence, still continue and introduce themselves even
into inspiration, and combine with it details one material
character, which are at once arbitrary, false, ana ing

¢

nea
£it

 

ich error begins. Enthusiasm,

 

Se Ee ge eee
- Seng

et
esas

eyEs etiat haee erhalinatae

- Pot eet REO ET
Th casted Mian hikh, alan lal DGC: aLaerscine Na naiakre)
ener neennser iat ree gente

Se eee aan net acter hel aiad

94 NOTES.

It happens, moreover, that they who participate, to a remark-
able degree, in that revelation of God, which is made to all
men by reason and truth, imagine that it is peculiar to them-

selves, that it has been refused to others, not only in the same

degree, but totally and absolutely ; they constitute in their
own minds, to their advantage, a sort of privilege of inspira-
tion ; and as in inspiration we feel the duty of submitting our-
selves to the truths which inspiration reveals to us, and the
holy mission of proclaiming and spreading them, we often go
so far as to suppose that it is also our duty, in submitting our-
selves to those truths, to submit others with us; to impose
them upon their reception, not by virtue of our personal light
and authority, but by virtue of the superior power from which
all inspiration proceeds ; bowing the knee before the principle
of our enthusiasm and our faith, we wish also to make others
bend under the same principle, to cause it to be adored and
served for the same reason for which we adore and serve it
ourselves. Hence religious authority; hence, in a short
time, tyranny. We begin with believing in special revelations
made in our favour; we end with regarding ourselves as the
delegates of the Deity and of Providence, commissioned not
only to enlighten and to save docile spirits, but to enlighten
and to save those, whether they will or not, who offer resis-
tance to the truth and to God. ‘The folly of enthusiasm soon
conducts to the tyranny of enthusiasm.”—_Cours de ? Histoire

de la Philosophie, Tom. Il. pp. 478485.

The belief that reason and conscience possess an authority
superior to that of our personal desires, is one of the common
sentiments of humanity. The philosophical validity of this
belief is established by Cousin in the above extract, as well as
in many other passages of his writings. We find the same
doctrine not unfrequently alluded to by the most profound
philosophers both of ancient and modern times, but I have
never met with any one who has developed it so clearly, and
pointed out its foundation in human nature, with so much pre-
cision, as Cousin has done in this passage, in the first and
second Prefaces to the F ragmenis in the Programme of his
Course on Absolute Truths, and in the sixth Lecture of his
Intreduction to the History of Philosophy. Cousin himself
quotes these striking expressions of Fenelon from his treatise
on the Existence of God in illustration of his own views.
They are doubtless familiar to most of my readers; but they
‘Tn truth, my reason is in

deserve their repeated attention,
myself; for I must constantly return within, in order to find
it. But the superior reason which corrects me when neces-
sary, and which I consult, does not belong to me; it makes

no part of myself. Accordingly, that which appears to us the
156NOTES.

most constantly, which seems to form the very essence of our-
selves, I mean our reason, is that which is least of all our
property, which we ou
treasure.

own
ght the most to regard as a borrowed
We receive, every moment, without cessation,
reason superior to ourselves, just as we constantly breathe the
air which is a foreign substance, or as we constantly see the
objects around us by the light of the sun, the rays of which
are bodies foreign to our eyes. There is an interior school, in
which man receives what he can neither give himself, nor ob-
tain from other men, who live like him on what is borrowed.
Where is this perfect reason which is so near me, and yet so
distinct from me? Where is this supreme reason? Is it not
the God whom I seek ?”

Cousin refers also to Bossuet, Introduction & la Philoso-
phie. Ch. IV. Sec

‘t. O—9, and to the whole system of Ma-
lebranche.

2
G&

The excellent Reinhold, in the latter part of his philosophi-
eal career, seems to have had a glimpse of the necessity of this
doctrine, in order to escape from the too subjective conclu-
sions of Kant. He failed, however, to reduce it toa satis factory
systematic form, and probably never comprehended it in its
full extent. The first hint of the independence of reason

appears to have been suggested to him by his friend Bardili.
An interesting account of the operations of his mind in regard
_to this point is given by his biegrapher.

‘‘ Just before the conclusion of the century, late in the
autumn of 1799, Reinhold became acquainted with Bardili’s
Outlines of Logic, which had been recently published, Al-
though he was not satisfied with the language and the tone of
this book, his attention was strongly aroused by its principal
thought, which, the more he considered it in a clear light,
appeared to him to be important and true, it was a thought
to which he had nearly approached himself in this expression,
‘that there is a power in a human being to perceive the being
of God above nature, in a manner which transcends the acti-
vity of our individual conception.’ This fundamental thought,
as it presented itself to Reimhold, may be expressed in the fol-
lowing propositions. Reason, as it is in itself, must be distin-
guished from reason, as it is exhibited in human conscious-
ness. Reason in itself is the manifestation of God, the prin-
ciple of all being and knowing. It displays Hoo in our con-
sciousness, where its development is conditioned by the na-
ture of sensible intuition, and inseparably united with that,
assumes the character of our human mode of thought; in the
first place, by our reference of variety to unity, of consequen-
ees to grounds, of effects to causes, of actions aug
by the recognition of design, calculation, the ada “— he

aCores

Sit ad Se athe haies |

Se ri le tn
SaTnds betaai nian beanslaceaiaoala Aa musa) AK sa et

eee ern eee er atetaal

ee

96 NOTES.

means to ends in the whole Universe; still further by the re-
ference of unity in point of quantity to absolute unity, of
grounds to the original ground, of causes to the ultimate cause,
of intention and ends to the final end; in short, by the refer-
ence of the Universe to the One in which and through which
every thing is arranged, grounded, designed, and effected.
While the philosopher is conscious of rational activity, which
although it appears in man only in union with sensible intui-
tion, bears the character of absolute, of divine thought, he will
at the same time be conscious in it of the existence of all
reality as determined by this thought.”!

A quotation to the same effect from a valuable writer of
the seventeenth century, is given by Mr. Coleridge in the
Aids to Reflection. Mr. Coleridge says, “Take one passa
among the many from the posthumous ‘l'racts (1660) of John
Smith, not the least Star in that bright Constellation of Cam-
bridge men, the cotemporaries of Jeremy ‘Taylor. ‘While
we reflect on our own idea of Reason, we know that our own
souls are not it, but only partake of it; and that we have it
xara webcev and not xar’ oveimy, Neither can it be called a
faculty, but far rather a light, which we enjoy, but the source
of which is not in ourselves, nor rightly, by any individual, to be
denominated mine.” This pure intelligence he then proceeds to
contrast with the discursive faculty, i. e. the understanding.’

It is also clear, I think, from many passages in the writings
of our great American metaphysician, Jonathan Edwards, that
he had an indistinct conception of the character of reason as
independent of personality, and involving a divine principle.
He expresses this idea, it is true, in the language of his pecu-
liar theology, and as Sir James Mackintosh justly observes of
him in another connexion, “ thought it necessary to limit his
doctrine to his own persuasion, by denying an insight into divine
things to those Christians who did not take the Same view with
him of their religion.’ No writer, however, is more strenuous
in claiming for the human mind, under certain conditions, the
power of perceiving and judging spiritual truth. This power
is the result of a divine principle imparted to the nature of man,
and as such possesses absolute and infallible authority. The
essential difference between Edwards and Cousin is that the
former regards the intuitive power as a special gift, and limited

] See REINHOLD’s Leben und litterari
HOLD, S. 99. Jena, 1825.
2 dids to Refleciion, Note, p. 323, Burlington Ed.
)

158

sches Wirken, von Eranst RgeIN-NOTES. 97

to the sphere of religion, while the latter regards it aS an uni-
versal attribute of humanity, and the ground of all knowledge.
it would be no difficult thing to bring these views into harmo-
ny, were this the place for it. With all its defects, the advo-
cacy which Edwards has given to the faculty of spiritual intui-
tion, forms an invaluable contribution to a sound religious phi-
losophy, and in spite of great differences of opinion, must al-
ways make him a favourite author with thinkers who wish to in-
vestigate the ultimate grounds of truth. The following pas-
sage trom his celebrated Discourse on the “ Reality of Spiritual
Light” applies as well to the theory of Cousin, as to that which
was had immediately in view by Edwards himself.

‘* It is rational to suppose, that this knowledge should be
given immediately by God, and not be obtained by natural
means. Upon what account would it seem unreasonable, that
there should be any immediate communication between God
and the creature? It is strange that men should make any
matter of difficulty of it. Why should not he that made all
things, still have something immediately to do with the things
that he has made? Where lies the great difficulty, if we own
the being of a God, and that he created all things out of nothing,
of allowing some immediate influence of God on the creation
still? Andif it be reasonable to suppose it with respect to
any part of the creation, it is especially so with respect to rea-
sonable intelligent creatures ; who are next to God in the gra-
dation of the different orders of beings, and whose business is
most immediately with (40d ; who were made on purpose for
those exercises that do respect God, and wherein they have nextly
to do with God: For reason teaches, that man was made to
serve and glorify his Creator. And if it be rational to suppose
that God immediately communicates himself to man in any af-
fair, it isin this. It is rational to suppose that God would re-
serve that knowledge and wisdom, that is of such a divine and
excellent nature, to be bestowed immediately by himself, and
that it should not be left in the power of second causes. Spi-
ritual wisdom and grace is the highest and most excellent gift
that ever God bestows on any creature: In this the highest ex-
cellency and perfection of a rational creature consists. _ It is al-
so immensely the most important of all divine gifts: It is that
wherein man’s happiness consists, and on which his everlasting
welfare depends. How rational is it to suppose that God, how-
ever he has left meaner goods and lower gifts to second causes,
and in some sort in their power, yet should reserve this most
excellent, divine, and important of all divine communications,
in his own hands, te be bestowed immediately by himself, as a
thing too great for second causes to be concerned in? It is ra-
tional to suppose, that this blessing should be immediately from
God; for there is no gift or benefit that is in itself so nearly
related to the divine nature, there is nothing the creature re-

15!

Rican

ess
ierath baie et

a Saees ies el at neiesln petes reesei aia eae

RAY

a

——

Settee tases cen le os he oe tae: oem raices areal hai eae ea s

> TS

98 NOTES.

ceives that is so much of God, of his nature, so much a partici-
pation of the Deity: It isa kind 6f emanation of God’s beauty,
and is related to Ged as the light is to the sun.” —EDWwakDbDs’S
Works, Vol. VIII. First American Edition.

NOTE F.—Pace 27.

JACOBI—REASON AND UNDERSTANDING.

THE description which is here given of Jacobi’s philosophy
is, Strictly speaking, applicable only to an early period of his in-
vestigations. At the commencement of his career, his attention
was almost exclusively directed to the faculty of perceiving su-
per-sensual truth, in reference to its actual results, rather than
to its character and authority. The primary fact of conscious-
ness with which he commenced, was that the human mind is in
possession of indestructible convictions, that are not the pro-
duct either of sensation or of reasoning. These convictions, as
he maintained, are grounded on immediate feeling, and on faith
in the reality and certainty of feeling. At this point of his in-
quiries he considered reason only as the faculty of reflection, of
deducing logical consequences from given premises; but did
not recognise it as the highest principle in man, the source of
his holiest convictions, the universal and absolute teacher of
spiritual truth. He was accordingly accused of making war
upon reason in behalf of feeling, of elevating sentiment at the
expense of science. His philosophy was reproached with being
merely an individual product; grounded on his own personal
experience and temperament ; and destitute of a legitimate
foundation on universal principles. In the course of his inves-
tigations he was led to perceive these defects of his system.
His mind was thus turned to a more thorough examination of
the nature of reason ; and the conclusions at which he arrived
with regard to its ultimate authority, although expressed in a
popular rather than in a scientific form, bear a close analogy
to those maintained by Cousin, as the principal elements of his
own philosophy. Jacobi, it must be confessed, was better able
to obtain a genuine insight into super-sensual truth for himself,
than to demonstrate its validity for the satisfaction of others.
His writings, accordingly, are more valuable for their strong
and eloquent statements of the essential facts of our nature,
than for their elucidation of the manner in which those facts can
be established to the conviction of the scientitic inquirer. They
form an excellent preparatory study for the system of Cousin ;
while that serves to complete and legitimate the spontaneous
perceptions which they present.

The leading principles of Jacohi’s philosophy are of such an
interesting character, that perhaps, a slight exposition of them

160

ennNOTES.

oy be gratifying to the reader. ‘The few extracts which I
shall here give from his works, exhibit a favourable view of his
personal character, his earnest and unwearied strivings after
truth, his taste for the most elevated ideas, and the strong re-
ligious tendency of his mind. Perhaps also they will throw
some light on the distinction between reason and understand-
ing, of which so much account is made by Mr. Coleridge, but
which is no where so clearly unfolded as in the writings of
Jacobi. f

*¢ With the earliest thought that has remained in conscious-
ness,” he tells us of himself, “ I have sought for the truth ;
and afterwards have waited upon its steps, with every thought
of my mind ; but, as at that time, so also at all subsequent pe-
riods, never with the vain and idle desire of adorning myself
with it, as if I had been the discoverer, as if it had first pro-
ceeded from myself. I was craving for a truth, which should
not be my creature, but of which I was the creature myself; a
truth, which should turn my poverty into fulness; bring light
into the darkness which surrounded me; eall forth the dawn
before me and within me, according to the instinctive promises
of my nature.””!

** My philosophical reflection was never without purpose,
but always had a determinate object in view. It was not
merely to obtain that self-understanding, which, regardless of
its direction, begins sometimes in this way, and sometimes in
that, turns first in one quarter and then in another; but I
wished to come to the understanding of a specific fact, and that
was, the inborn devotion which I felt toan unknown God. If
self-understanding should lead me to the conclusion, that all
faith in a God to whom we can pray—and devotion recognises
no other,—was a folly ; then I should have become wise to my
own injury; my great want would not be satisfied, namely,
the want to discover God as the primary ground of all know-
ledge, and to find him again every where. It was never my
object to establish a system for the school; my writings came
forth from the depths of my life; they possess an historical
connexion; I composed them, as it were, not by my own will,
not according to my own pleasure: but impelled by a higher
and irresistible power.’’?

‘* The human soul seeks the Eternal, Unchangeable, Self-
subsisting, Absolute ; it is not willingly deprived of truth ; but
it wishes to discover, not the shadow, but that which casts the
shadow. All men inwardly call something the truth, in anti-
cipation ; of which they are not yet in possession ; after which
they strive; and yet which they could not suppose, unless it

1 Scheiling’s Lehre u. s. Ww. ven FrieprRicH Koppsn, nebst drey
Briefen verwandien Inhalts von F. H. JACOBI, quoted in JAcoBI’s Werke,
B. rv. Vorrede, S. Xili. :

2 Werke, B. itv. Vorrede, S. xV1 isl

NO. XXXIII. H

hs eee

Seattained

Se eae vena ee S

 

100

WOoOmMpa
4N TES.

had been manifested to them in some w vay already. The twi-
hight opens their eye, and strangely announces to them a Sun
which has no yetarisen. ‘The morning has broke, but the day
has not come. God alone celebrates the § sabbath-rest ; but it
is for man to keep it holy. Ifthe supposition of this truth be
a mere personal de ception of ee ei ngs, if they have not

ven the most dim intuition

n of it, then is their inquiry vain and
idle. * But not vain and idle is this inquiry ;? so prophecies
devotion in the pee et

AS 1b 1s relig

igion which raises Man above the animals, asit

is this which makes him a man. it is ANE also which makes him
a anes pher. Does religious feeling strive with devout pur-
se to fulfil +1 i

he will of God, religious in sight more surely
S the k nowledge of God, to discover that which
is concealed. It was v ue this religion, the central point of all
ulosophy had to do, not with the acqui-
scientific ee which might be obtained
vat phi ii Intercourse with nature was to help
Foqumse. ith God. Eternal ly toremain in nature, to
orget and to dispense with God init, I was unwilling,
‘* { appeal to an uncona pee resistless feeling a as the pri-

di | of all pt hilosophy and religion ; to
1e perception and the consciousness,
oe super-sensual. This sense I
it from the senses which are conver-
d. Such an appeal can be know;

 
 
     
    
 
   
  
   
     
   
    
 

 

a

   
  

CUuiare Srour

a feeling LALA gives man t

pe)

fe: ry

ny
n condition of personality and con-
he first ‘alr, first good, and first true,
he contemplating Spirit ; and because he
ows that a spirit ices in him, and

Jasob, in one of his latest writin gs, that
‘roneous use of language, Cn account of
ental distinction in our intellectual n a-
nd understanding. This distinc ition,

” the terms just named, by the nue nta-
ec or by the constitt lent laws s of human

S of the sens ses, is so far from being an in-
SS § be it y; that it is cons tantly recognised by
ind , and is essential

tial to a o¢ omprehensive

 

  

ty a aE ve ko O vladoo F 7 >

i ® OF <nOwledge. For want of per-
é] i te sus, he was for 1 long time
to al support to his main joota Pee a
»f the f; culty which is nel Loyed in

de strative § he eadin g purpose of his phil os ophy
,atas 1, was ¢ to establish the certaint y
or tinguished from that which is

(X—X XI,NOTE S.

ey, and dependent for its proof on a process of ratio
tion. His system, in iact, is an attempt to investigate the laws
and results of the Spontaneous reason, l

as Cousin would call i
in Opposition to the reflective understanding It is 1

4

ld t
S plain t

every one who ha as locked into the subject at all, that a great
igal of our rea soning is concerned + oak fi

acts, of which we

lave obtained an intuitive knowled dge, through the medinn

of <ternal senses. The materials thus urnished by the
eye, the « ear, the touch, are acted on ay int elligence according
to its ow n laws s, reduced to order and harmo ny; and from the
changing

a bear in them-

2 perceptions of
The facts are supplied by the Senses ; the

oO

ging and fragmentary character which ¢
selves, brought to a systematic unity in the
CONSTIO sUSNESS

form is given by the understanding : the original data of this
kind of knowledge are brought from without: the conclusions

of science are the product cf the intellect, In 1] is Way we
obtain an acquaintance with the Pee world

 
 

OU

iG, Inves sti gate
and establish the physical science: This is the relation
which subsists between the senses ae the unders standing. §

far there is | no doubt in any mind, no room for a difference of
m

opinion. But the question then arises, is a refiective

LISS, c

derstan ling conversant with a higher order of idea

2k

Uti-

55 than the
re are suggested by the notices of the senses? Is th

 

CilHwTs ¢
a source of inward light corresponding to the outward sen 3¢
in connexion with which the ‘understandir ng

 

      
 
       

is peated 3
which it receives truths with equal certainty as from the latt
without which it would know nothing save the material Uni-
verse, and its own operations in regard to the facts whic!
presents ? Jacok bi maintains that there is su eh a fact ulty in
the nature of man ; the power of immediate perception oi
spiritual truth ; ‘the foundation of religion ai anil morality; the
medium of commt 1ication between the under 1 Lt
invisible world, ‘ust as the senses are Po th
visible world. This power he calls e
which receives its notices he calls understanding Materials
of thought, of knowledge, = science are given us both by the

SOS 2 “but the n aerials pee ee must be

1
ed, in short, acct riding to

Seance T+

the essen

   

would appear aah

Poet

¥

Sahl

Die hors nc ielanbeceeigin ter eteebeabal stad ir

Mtg ot har

ae
Se ett .

  

102 NOTES.

animal nearer to reason. All, the more perfect as well as the
more imperfect, are destitute of it, to the same extent, that is,
absolutely and entirely.

But how is it that there can be a merely animal understand-
ing, which sometimes appears to surpass the human under-
standing, and absolutely no merely animalreason ? A thorough
discussion of this question must bring us the solution of the
riddle.

The animal perceives only the objects of sense. Man, en-
dowed with reason, perceives also what is beyond the objects
of sense. The faculty with which he peceives what is super-
sensual, he calls his reason ; just as the faculty with which he
perceives the objects of sense, he calls his eye. The organ
of super-sensual perception is wanting in the animal. On
account of this deficiency, the notion of a merely animal reason
involves an impossibility. Man possesses this organ, and it
is only by virtue of this, that he is a reasonable being. If that
which we call reason were only the product of a faculty of re-
flection resting upon sensible experience, it would be the
merest folly to speak of super-sensual things. In that case,
reason as such, would be without foundation, nothing but a
fiction. But if reason be a power which actually reveals truth
above the cognizance of the senses, then the human under-
standing is one elevated above the animal, and having know-
ledge of God, Freedom, and Virtue, of the True, the Beauti-
ful, and the Good.}

These views,’ says Jacobi, ‘‘ which did not become per-
fectly clear to me, until a later period, and after many strug-
gles, were, at the time of my previous work,? still dimly seen
through the cloud of prevailing conceptions. With all the
philosophers of that epoch, I gave the name of reason to that
which is not reason; namely, the mere faculty of notions,
judgments, and conclusions with regard to the perceptions of
Sense,—a faculty which of itself is absolutely incapable of giv-
ing any positive knowledge. But that which reason truly
and properly is, the faculty of supposing the True, the Beauti-
ful, and the Good, in themselves, with entire confidence in
the objective validity of this supposition, I stated under the
name of the power of faith, as a faculty above reason; and
this gave occasion to unpleasant misunderstandings, and pre-
vented the correct exhibition of my genuine opinion.’

According to Jacobi, philosophy commences, as soon as the
human consciousness begins to distinguish, with clearness
and precision, the perceptions of sensible objects from the per-
ceptions of those objects which are above the senses. This
distinction is dimly seen even by the child, which yet in the

1 See Werke, B. 11. Vorrede.
2 Hin Gespriéch iiber den Glauben, oder Idealismus und Realismus.
3 Werke, B. 11, Vorrede.

164NOTES. 103

cradle, attempts its stammering words, and, as mothers say,
smiles with the angels; but centuries must elapse, before an
«Anaxagoras appears, who opens the way for a higher develop-
ment to the understanding, which has been so long turned
to the contemplation of external nature, in its scientific ad-
vancement,—the way to the knowledge of a Spirit presiding
over nature, of a Creative Intelligence.
| Like every other system of knowledge, philosophy receives
its form from the understanding alone, as the general faculty
of intellectual conceptions. Without the conceptions of the
understanding, there is no reflected consciousness, no con-
sciousness of the actual cognitions that are brought to it; and
hence also, no discrimination and comparison, no division and
combination, no weighing and considering of these cognitions,

1

in a word, no actual taking possession of any truth whatever.
The substantial and peculiar contents of philosophy, on the
other hand, are given alone by reason,—the faculty of know-
ledge independent of sensibility and unattainable by it. Rea-
son creates no intellectual conceptions, builds no systems,
passes no judgments ; but, like the external senses, merely re-
veals to the understanding the materials of actual, positive
knowledge.

This is to be held fast above every thing else. As there is
a sensible intuition, an intuition by sense; so also there isa
rational intuition, an intuition by reason. Both are opposed
to each other as peculiar sources of knowledge. [tis no less
impossible to derive the latter from the former, than the for-
mer from the latter. In like manner, both sustain the same
relation to the understanding, and so far also to demonstration.
No demonstration is of force against sensible intuition, since
all demonstration is only the referring of the conception under
consideration to the sensible intuition on which it is founded.
This, in respect to physical knowledge, is the First and the
Last, that which is unconditionally valid, the Absolute. On
the same ground also, no demonstration is of force against
rational intuition, which gives us the knowledge of objects,
beyond the sphere of Physics; that is to say, which makes
us certain of their reality and truth.

We must use the expression, intuition of reason, because
the language has no other terms, to indicate the manner in
which the knowledge of that which is unattainable by the
senses is given to the understanding in immediate feel-
ing,—and yet as truly objective, not merely an affection ot
thought. ;

This power of feeling is the most elevated faculty which
man possesses; that which alone specifically separates him
from the animals; and which raises him incomparably above
them not only in degree, but in kind. This faculty 1s one
and the same with reason. As the senses bring knowledge
1697

5

rk bad seuiae bene tate aOR

en eas tes
MSL: bd rain aa non eo ce arhaeoa  ta AL CL

ei,
eee ere err S 3
Se ee Dae ia Nt ae i aha a KM oy

$ . ¥ Dyer ‘

po cpl} conalaeks

 

   
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
 
   
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  

q 04
to the understanding in Sensation, so the reason brings know-
ledge to the understandi

ing in feeling. The conceptions of
A are given us only in feeling (the intuitive
perceptions of reason) we call ideas. These ideas are at the

eedom and virtue, of our knowledge of God, ef

ie
> Y > + 5 1 >? ] rel
those truths whic

ioundation of freedom an
wisdom, and cf art.

““ We have started with the question, is human reason no-
thing but understanding hovering over the intuitions of sense,
and with no actual relation to any thing above them ; or is it
a higher faculty, actually revealing to man, the True, the
Beautiful, and the Good ; and not palming off upon him merely
false and hollow images, that are destitute of objective
reality ?

“We have shewn, that the first is assumed in all philoso-

phies since Plato, with and after Aristotle, until the time of
Kant, both in the so-called rational philosophies of Leibnitz,

Wolf, and Sulzer, and in the professedly merely sensual phi-
losophies of Locke, Condillac, and Bonnet.

“We could appeal for the truth of this assertion to the
proofs given of it by Kant, which incontestably make out,
that a reflective understanding, employed only on the sensible
world and on itself, as the faculty of intellectual conceptions,
whenever it attempts to pass beyond the bounds of sense falls
into a void and barren sphere, in which it can only seize its
own shadow, extended on all sides to Infinity. Hence, we
have further concluded, that every thing super-sensual is a
fiction, and the notion of it without significance,—or the
knowledge of the super-sensual must be given to man by a
higher faculty, which reveals what is true in and above exter-
nal phenomena, in a manner of which the senses and the un-
derstanding take no cognizance,’ /

‘“* The human reason is to be regarded, on the one hand, as
the faculty of perceiving what is divine over and beyond man ;
and on the other hand, as the faculty of perceiving what is di-
vine in man,—and as this divine element itself. If our rational
being were not originally of a Divive Nature, it would be im-
possible for it to attain, by any means whatever, to the true
<nowledge or the true love of God.”

The statements now given concerning Jacobi’s Philosophy,
though fragmentary in the extreme, like all his writings, will
enable the reader to perceive that he was a genuine scientific
inquirer, and no mystic, although he did not succeed in reduc.
ing his system to a Compact and luminous form. With all his
deficiencies, however, he has exerted no small influence on the
development of thought in Germany, and will always occupy
an elevated and an honoured rank in the history of its modern

philosophy. An interesting biographical sketch of Jacobi 18
1 Itid. 2 Werke, B

sn Si)

bh)contained in Mrs. Austin’s “ ee and his Contempora
Vol. IT.’ p. 189, and a strangely distorted accour
philosophical piney in tikes same °W ork, Vol. ITI
The student will find some NES and v
criticisms on the system of Jacobi, in eee 2s Grundwak

 

en der Wisse ee S. 491, 182! 9,and in J. H. Ficutn’s

Beitr age sur Charakteristik der neueren Philosophie, 8. 18

    

mie
244, 182 9. See also WetssE, Ueber da
Publier es sur Philosophie in dem Zetinur

Abscheiden, 8. 8, 9, 1832. ;

 

THEOLOGICAL SCHOOL.—ABSOLUTE PARTY IN FRANCE.

ine appellation Theological School, is given to the party 1
the Catholic Church which is distinguished by its attachment

s

to absolute government in poli ee and to oe gid doctrines in re-
ligion. One of its most celebrated represen aE was the elo-
quent De Maistre, whose posthumous wol ork, entitled nes Soi~
rées de Saint- Petersbourg, } has obtain j
tation. The following descrip
Damiron. 1!
“¢ The Theologic al s
as Sensualism ; but w
stead of seeing “nothin 1g in mal ve ut
in him an intelligence served b

oe

 

: , Py ig ee tyes Pega
ally an intelligence. It is eminently Spiritualist; but 10 is so,
. : ; ae ee Gt ee
according to the Church; that is, its psychological 1dea is com

bined with a traditional one which nproue a theory rather

 

 

mystical than scientific, more valuable to faith than to ) reason.
This dogma is original sin. In fact, it believes that the nrst

man fell, and in him all his race; that his crime became tnat

of his children, and of his children’s chi dren, to the L ge

neration; thathe has made us all like himself, all re

all sinners in his sin ; so that sin comes to us with |

one can escape from it. But if it be impossible t o avoid it, 16

is not impossible to expiate it and it dep pends on a conscience

3
oF nee individual to purify eS by virtue, and to redeem it-
y religion. This is the law of the human race. Its des
tiny is to regain by repentance the good which it has lost by
is painfu i s bet

the misfortune of its birth. Iti:
it is a punishment. ‘The work d
expiation. Nothing occurs in it | 2 § €
satisfaction. ‘The evils with wh ich it is filled are not simp
trials; they are chastisements ane penalties. Creatures w20
1 Histo

ire, PP.Poin sete beet SOUR,

Bhar eel narnia eee tkdameinad hs tida ut or eee

Pi

et oe te ete tee ae
etn us

106 NOTES.

should be born feeble but innocent, imperfect but without vice,
ought to be exposed only to those sufferings which are neces-
sary for their better education ; pain and want would be adapt-
ed to their condition as a motive, and a means for perfection
and virtue ; punishment would be unjust. If, on the contra-
ry, they were born vicious and guilty, their condition is no
longer the same, and in consequence, their life should be expia-
tory. It is important to remark this: for it is the great moral
principle of the Theological school, that life, above every thing,
is a discipline of penance.

‘* And as man can still increase his original sin by the addi-
tion of acquired vices and accidental crimes, and thus merit ad-
ditional correction, there are not only evils of common desert
on the earth, but also particular evils reserved for certain indi-
viduals according to their guilt. But if there be men suffi-
ciently depraved to accumulate vice upon vice, and to be sinners
at once on account of their fathers and on their own account,
there are others who, more happy, not only pay their own debt,
but who have besides sufficient merit to be able to be sureties
for their brethren in distress, to sacrifice themselves to God to
redeem them from sin. This they should do, as soon as they
can; charity prescribes it to them as a law; and the Son of
God has come into the world to give them the precept and ex-

ample of this, with divine authority.

‘* As a general rule, humanity is not good, it needs Severity ;
if the sovereigns who govern do not rule according to this prin-
ciple, there is reason to fear that it will fall into all manner of
disorder ; it must have masters who will restrain it, subdue it
and make it fulfil by force the conditions of its destiny. It
would be destroyed by liberty ; for it would certainly not em-
ploy it as a means of expiation ; it would not make use of it for
the sake of salvation ; it should be granted to it at least only
at the discretion of authority ; it should be a local and tempo-
rary Concession, but not an essential, national, and general
right.

“If therefore governments would answer to the wants of so-
ciety for which they are instituted ; if they wish to move in
obedience to the law which God has marked out to their power,
it behoves them to conduct according to the principles of expia-
tion, never to succumb before the people, but to rule over them
with authority, to manage them with absolute s:
they are something more for the people than instructors and
guides, they are their judges, their correctors; it is the de-
praved that they have to lead, Such, in their most general aspect,
are the political applications of the doctrine of the Theological
school. Hence the iiliberal opinions of the partisans of this
doctrine; hence their Systematic opposition to every form of
liberty ; hence the plenary power, which they claim for the
Prince and the State. It is true, that according to them, the
ene has not only force; he has also his spirit, his principles,

68

yvereignty ;NOTES. 107

his religion ; but where does he obtain his religion? At the
Holy See, of which he must be only the disciple and the spirit-
ual subject; thus, the Prince and the Pope, the Prince under
the Pope, absolute power under the law of the theocracy; here
is the definite limit of all ultramontane politics.”

And yet, I cannot but add, the connexion between the theo-
logical doctrines and the political principles here described is
accidental and arbitrary. It is far from being the case that the
sternest speculative theology is always allied with attachment
to absolute power in the government. Our English and Ame-
rican history is crowded with examples to the contrary. ‘The
Puritans, to a man, were the enemies of the royal prerogative.
With similar views in religion to those of the absolute party in
France, the English Puritan was ever the uncompromising ad-
vocate of political freedom. ‘‘ He could as little become the
slave of a priestcraft as of a despot. He was himself a judge of
the orthodoxy of the elders; and if he feared the invisible pow-
ers of the air, of darkness, and of hell, he feared nothing on
earth. Puritanism constituted, not the Christian clergy, but
the Christian people, the interpreter of the divine will, The
voice of the majority was the voice of God; and the issue of
Puritanism was therefore popular sovereignty.””’

NOTE H.—Pacs 39.

COUSIN’S VIEWS OF CHRISTIANITY AS A MEANS OF EDUCATION.

‘6 CyrRISTIANITY ought to be the basis of the instruction of
the people; we must not flinch from the open profession of this
maxim ; it is no less politic than it is honest. We baptize our
and bring them up in the Christian faith and in the

children
reflection, the breath

bosom of the church; in after-life, age, eat
of human opinions, modity their early impressions, but it 1s
good that these impressions should have been made by Christi-
anity. Popular education ought therefore to be religious, that
is to say, Christian ; for, I repeat it, there 1s no such thing as
religion in general ; in Europe, and in our days, religion means
Christianity. Let our popular schools then be Christian ; let
them be so entirely and earnestly. a

‘¢ Without neglecting physical science, and the knowle ie
applicable to the arts of life, we must make moral science, . MG ;
is of far higher importance, our main object. ‘The mind and
the character are what a true master ought, above all, to fashion.
We must lay the foundations ot moral life in pe of eu
voung masters, and therefore we must piace cee ee a
tion, —that is, to speak distinctly, ¢ hristian instruction,—1n the

1 See BANCROFT’S History of the t nited States, Vol. I. p. 462.

169

re | ‘ =~" a
aim) waged mabapetabs sd + Ayerbbnes ee

een payne Ate
- CW atte utee
ja atine feed raked Ci eat ianee etnies
ESET 2

ol sin at hao hain al

ew
a biscuit al abacaia nc ne eesheahaaeabie dail baa sak ET

rari dietia 1is.8) 3. ac i)

ee
< neeeet ree’ gt reegennermnenay aytie!
si

cat Wein Wdhanlbnaind an saatiad ase Maan LTA)

TE

 

= a

  

“AT ¢ YN
NOTES

42

first rank in the education of our Nor mal schools.
er

ae 1 to
the curé, or to the pastor of the place, the car

ice e of instilling ‘the
doctrines peculiar to each communion, we must doneueis: reli
gion a special o bject of instruction, which must have its place
in each year of the Normal course ; $0 that at the end of th
entire course, a young masters, without being theologians
may have a clear and precise knowledge of the history doc.
trines, and, above all, the moral precepts of Christianity.
WwW ithout this, the pupi ils, when they become masters, would
be incapable of giving any other religious instruction than
the mechanical repetition of the catechism, which would be
quite insufficient. I would particularly urge spies Wek nt, which
is the most important and the most del licate of all. Before we
can decide on what should constitute a true primary Normal
school, we must determine what oue ght to be the character of a
calc elementary sch ool, that is, a humble villa age school,
The popular sch 00 ols of a nation ought to be imbued with the
religious spirit of that nation. Now » Without going into the
nie on of diversities of doctrine, is ‘Christianity, or is it not,
he religion of the people of France ? It cannot be denied that
itis. Lask, then, is it our object to respect the reli igion of the
peuple, or to dest roy it? Ifwemean to set about destroying
it, ete T allow, we ought by no means to have it taught in the
»e schools. But if the object we propose to ourselves is

tot any diffe erent, we must teach our children that religion which

civilized our fathers ; that re ligion whose liber val spirit prepar-
ed, and can alone sustain, all the great institutions of modern
times. We must also permit the clerg y to fulfil their first du-
ty,—the superintendence of re ligious instruction. But in Ors
der to stand the test of this superintendence with honour, the
schoolmaster must be enabled to give adequate religious instruc-

tion 3 otherwise parents, in order to be sure that their children

hed
es
Oo

nm

receive a good religious education 1, Will require us to appoint
ecclesiastics as schoolmasters, which, though assuredly better
ni 1an having irreligious schoo olmasters,

would be liable to very
Serious ¢ )bjection 2s “of various kinds. The less we desire our

schools to be ecel lesiastical, the more ought they to be Christian.
it neces ssarily follows , that there must be a course of special re-
ligious instruction in our Normal schools. Religion is, in my
eyes, the best—perhaps the only—basis of popular education.
I know something of Europe, and never have I seen good schools
where the spirit of Christian charity was wanting. Primary
instruction flourishes in three count tries, Holland, § Scotland, and
ey in all it is profoundly religious. It is said to be SO

America.

‘fam not ignorant that this advice will

grate on the ears
ae Many persons, and that I shal

l be thought extremely dévot
at Paris. Yet it isnot from R Rom e, but from Berlin, that I ad-
dress you. The man who hol s this language to you is a phi-

Sard7 ROO
NOTES.

c Oe 1 «
d, and even be ee ted, by the priest

  
       

ved, Vy
a sopher has a mind 1 too bi ttle affected by the
IPOTLYY Or } 1a SUT x ne i ;
lection ot his own insults, and is too well acquainted wit!
1

2 A
numan nati ure and wi } his Se
aiUiti . } 1 T Orr nant - Wie. 1s ‘
ute and ith history, not to regard religion as an
1 Z : 7 .
i

Fispte power: ower rine Christiani

e power: genuine Chi stianity, as a means OF Cit
tna a nA aa g 7° }
the le, and a necessary support for those on

and humble duties, without the

   

aeneel of fortune, without the least eratificat ion of
—Cousin’s Report on the State of Public Instr
Translated by Sanaw AUSTIN, pp. 126, 288, 2

 

LOSOPHY.

   

  
 
 

[ sophy is di

ed atc ength, vith a ns 1d knov ried ds

the subject, by M. Vincent, one of the Beatin ors of the Protes

ant Church at Nismes, in his able work, entitled Views on Pro

testantism in France. 1 would bespeak the attention of the

theological reader in particular, to the following extracts.
a f O

he moment, in which I am writing these pa
sents an interesting spectacle to ‘the frier nds of ph
After a long interval of repose, during which the philos »phi-
hat had governed the world of thought for two
or three generations, have Hees Wie ended their career ;
after an almost total abandonment of philosop! AY occa

sionec by the inroads of the most pressing materia [aneee
rests, and themost certain dangers ; ee ened

f

again the spirit of meditation. 1 The mind, repulsed from

without, has turned in upon itself. Di iseusted with affairs, it
has gone back to man. W eariness with the visible world has
impelled +¢ to the centre of the moral world. It has contem-
plated 1 +n that another order of things, other laws, other p
ciples, other ends, in a word, entirely another nature, not
rea not less intei esting, than that which appears to the eye
sts the hand. From that moment, phi ilosophy
esumed the place which it eeu to occupy
men. And ata sin gle stroke, it changed
nature. It ceased to be an insigmifica
ranch of physical science, Or rather a siendé
f ranch, which had become § 9 contemptible, that
nerely the science of medicine, considere od as a subordinate
ysics. It usnmed an ei xinently spiritual
from that time, it has 10v ind its own Nee

rey

 

h

and which resisana

  

110 NOTES.

its peculiar universe as an object of study. It has been en-
nobled itself, at the same time that it has ennobled man, its
eternal and inexhaustible subject. As this higher movement
is strongly impressed on the prevailing ideas, every thing must
needs have been brought into accordance with it. This is the
most certain token and pledge of its triumph. Ideas concern-
ing humanity, morals, legislation, politics, religion, social in-
stitutions, the fine arts, literature, poetry, history, eloquence,
must all have borrowed their direction, their form, their colour,
from these ideas, which had taken the place of the old Mate-
rialism and Sensualism. The human mind never advances a
part at a time. And when it is strongly taken hold of in the
very principles of its development and its action, every thing
which proceeds from it bears the seal of its internal being, and
is nothing but the impression of the opinions and the ideas
which compose the foundation of its intellectual life.

“A twofold movement therefore is going on in respect to
philosophy. In the first place, the public, which formerly ap-
peared to care nothing about it, returns to the subject with
fresh interest. he Lectures of M. Cousin have almost as
many readers as the Journal of Debates. On the other hand,
philosophy itself has changed its direction. It is no longer a
material philosophy. It has become essentially spiritual and
moral.

‘* Not that every mind is in the same path; nor that the
spiritual system which has made its appearance, has overcome
all opposition, and gained a peaceable dominion over the masses.
Far from it. The systems which have hitherto prevailed, stil]
number many adherents. Epicureanism will never entirely
die out. It is the first philosophy, that is to say, the philoso-
phy of the man who has no philosophy at all, and who yields
to his outward impulses. But the power is not equally divided
between the old and the new philosophy. The one is advan-
cing, the other declines; the one takes possession of the mind,
the other departs from it; the oneholds those who are going off,
the other seizes and captivates those who are coming on; the one
is ending, the other beginning, T suppose there can be no rea-
sonable doubt as to the result of the struggle.”_Vol. II. pp.
223—225.

Having described the predominance of the sensu
M. Vincent continues as follows :__

“A state of philosophy like this could not last long. The
exclusive attention to sensation compelled men to say that sen-
sation could not explain every thing. It was in vain to trans.
form it; the production of a multitude of ideas, which are in-
herentin thesoul, and which are possessed by all menalike, could
never be accounted for in this manner.
that with those principles, which cl
172

al philosophy,

It was soon perceived
aimed to be taken from na-NOTES»

we” e ena ate to comprehend and to justify the grea
1uman intelligence, without which we could see nothing
and comprehend nothing in nature itself. Such for instance is
i pe No explanation being found for this in
tne 8" 01 isation, In external nature, in the not-me, it was
peceesaty te Beck A 48 ee ee nature, on the me. Here
Bn nee ee, yee series of philosophical systems,—
ose which have thei basis in the me. These are essentially
spiritual, as the former are essentially material.
“As the inadequacy of all the explanations which derive
thought only from sensation was more and more felt, the soul
in itself began to be made the object of study : the processes of
thought were watched; its different faculties were analyzed ;
the laws of their action were investigated. As the inquirers
lived much in company with the soul, as this was the constant
object of their labours, its existence, its thought, which was al-
ways found active and independent, whenever the attention
was turned within, were the phenomena which produced the
strongest impression. Every thing was made to converge to-
wards this centre ; and hence the system which was embraced.
was decidedly spiritual. This point was always reached,
whenever one withdrew from the world for intimate commun-
ion with his own mind. It was the experimental system, the
system of observation, still timid, but just and profound, by
which the system of Locke and that of Condillae were for ever
overthrown. It was the same cirele which had been before
marked out by the Scottish philosophers. It was this phi-
losophy, to which M. 2oyer-Collard had given currency in
France, and which has been continued with such brilliant
success by some of his principal disciples. The works of Dr.
Reid, those of Dugald Stewart, the Lectures of M. Royer-Col-
lard, and the writings of M. Jouffroy, are the sources from
which the most thorough knowledge may be gained of this
: ‘ntroductinn of this philosophy

into France gave @ nortal blow to the philosophy of sensation 5
and marked the revival of Spiritualism among us. The soul
held an independent place in that philosophy as an essentially
immaterial and thinking force. In reading the works of these
philosophers, especially those of Reid. and even of M. Laro-
miguiére, we feel that they are invincible in their attacks upon
Sensualism; they clearly show that sensation accounts for
nothing, not even for the primary ideas which arise in the
mind on occasion of sensible impressions ; but we also feel
every moment, that we have not yet obtained every thing
necessary to exhaust the subject, or to solve the problem under
consideration. We feel that we are brought to the vestibule
of another order of ideas, of another universe, as it were, but
that we have not yet entered it. ‘This at least is the impres-
sion which I have often experienced in reading the ee

fe

remarkable philosophy. The

a
4hee) ser

oe eta eS

   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
     

  

  
  
 

2 : a NGTES.

. |

‘: Fn and original work of Reid on the Human Mind

3 Ly ! the prix ciples of common sense It was necessary

La coor should be opened, and 1 the would within exp!

F man has done this. It S perhaps the most subli

i | tual conquest of the eig Bliteenth century. This ho

: reserved ior France.

i 4 o seek in the nature and constitution of the humat soul,
and notin any result of sensation, soe sid eas without ick
we can feel nothin 1g, perceive nothing, judge nothing, compre-

! hend nothing; to make of these ideas ‘anid of these laws, which
the school of sensation undertook to deny because it could not
i Lae es them in its system,—which the Scottish school recog-
4 nised and established without seeki ing their origin,—to make
I say, of these ideas and of these laws, essenti tial forms of the
human mind, which it inevi tably i impresses on all the materials
which are furnished by sensation 5 instead of making them
the result of sens ation, to make them a property, an active
force of the soul, nes ich is iz adispensable to the possibility of
sensation, judg sment, and consciou: Ss all is
manner space and die, Hones ange ause, ns
of i intelligence, the invincible limits which r a he
i principles of beauty, religion, and conscience ; to prostrate
See me) sm and Materialism a at benee this is the stionable
merit of the astonishing labour which Kant preser his
: a work of ¢ genius, if ever th oe e were one, reel
may form of adnate of its details. In itself, it is ye
but the s Spirit which az simates ae begins to display
| | the bottom of the writings which now gain the g est
I} larity. Althe ough we cannot expect to see it I gat
ee i France, just as it proceeded from the mind of its or

SNC
@UULt,

 

it has already received i Important improven

vements in the country
| of its birth : it may be said with truth that it is destined to
fi

iTU b&b
Hi ui neu the broadest foun dation on which a new an: d permanent
\ philosephy y “ill o established.

In continui , in the same direction, the study az
sis of the sou!

and of its de evelopments, one of the fj
most importan
: is to oe the bel

  

id eae! which we meet wi ith is that
ebef of th a soul, Ww Thi ch is fou

 
   

   

  

1ounde NEY Gii
i \ PA + ~y é 4 > 4 }
. reasoning nor on e ee by ut On 1tS OWn essential nature
q ; | FRY 7
ey | and inherent tendencies. These convictions are numerous and
} wT, TAWNXT DO 7 } > ae | ie xy fh
| profound in every mind; even in those individuals who stand
+h SAC eae onines. kia 1;
tue MOSt Upon reaso: ning Th ey are vital, but inexplical le,
> y+ WT Om, 7 } we ig t 3
except by our eo ness of them. We believe these
i . Yat 2 Q gar a. t :
just as we sex white and the meado Such
tie Pad eee iE f our \
is the make « OU] Cen rar r yi,
Ka Pity ee. } 1 <4}
God, and tutu, rity, ¢ placed b d the of reason-
ino and : Pe }
Ure’ ana experience ; rought within ¢t or
SPU any Gencve ‘ ay Vita Bi 5 ‘ :
4 ey Gie Feveaiea tO US bY ene Cy Oz toe Soni tay ards
174
Jd &the Infinite and the Absolute; but they escape as soon as we

attempt to seize them by reasoning and e

Spaidtied.

*¢ Tt is in this w ay, that we explain the eternal influence of
these visi ipon humanity, in all of its manifestations. They
do not come to man ; they form re Pee ssence of man. Re
does not invent them; i. feels them in his soul w!} re

1enever |
more powerful than when }

te poweriul than when ne
attempts with all his might to crush them.

C 7? . .

** These convictions assurediy belong to a different sphere :
from those at which we

leoks within. They are never

arrive by experience and syllogism.
We need a word to distingui: sh them from others. ‘She w ord
faith has been chosen, which, in this sense, is opposed to the
snowledge given by experience a nd reas iain: a —Pp. 230-238

al OL metitie

QO
ICH

*¢ It is evident that rel igion is inconsistent with every ma-
rial system, under whatever for m it may be presented.
Religion i the 2 ack nowledgment of a moral order, of a spiritual
world, which the eyes cannot see, nor the hands touch; the
recognition of a Ruler of this universe of intelligence and
conscience ; the desire to regulate life, in view of thi s order,

of this universe, of this Ros What have these eos in

i

common with c Scr anecles, organs of secretion, or transformed

tiks ct LOPE bADE

sensations ? Religion gains or loses, lives or dies, in the hu-

man mind, in proportion as these systems obtain more or les
authority. It canot co-exist with them. If this were not
proved by specu!

:
i
| ; ac sy . YA7 I -
uight appeal to experienc WV her-
)
3 <8 2 ~ A acd hn ana ree
ever the opinions of tk sts have prev wie , religion
I
;
u

has recede

|
hem; and within our Own notice, we

 

the ] ie eee than unferé eseen of a p!
Sian tanght vY MM. Royer-Collard and M. Cous

 

atie

 

~

it
Toure nr ? +}
mense advantage to religion, They have es the |
shave dissi ipated the prejudices, without appeaene to
ch were hostile to its progress VV itavut

essing to ne its champions, pelle ey [Rane re > prepared the way for

     
 
    
   
   
  
  

0 ke she, in Hateeey as a mass, aie es
ants, which are provided for by indust ke
ae sort, from the chaos of compli-
of humanity, which directs
stations ; and this spirit has

ts; it resembles reli-

  

 

 

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ta pp hy ote v=

te

Or toh arene

ee el

  

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retail e: Soretere

Pats ae URS

he tetas ee ettAili pinecnat secon oeanetedbadenasteiaaivasietaaibietaab wate hans SCE tee
at, . 7 % + +

rete teats

it hires fas Cal enh teal es bet oleae
i

coat ot tainty

|

eet Ce)
Nee ee ee eet eared de Da ai aeaE
as " "i 3

a eee mi ole

ries yoy eemre mente sett etvermines Nin ghee omen intial bt titer me +p

Sow

114 NOTES.

phy to Christianity, we must take into view its general spirit,
its acknowledged tendency, rather than isolated and hasty ex-
pressions. This spirit and tendency have been already de-
scribed. They are eminently favourable to religion; can they
be hostile to Christianity ? In order to answer this question,
we should consider two things in Christianity, namely, what
it came to teach, and the form in which its teachings are
clothed. Whatever opinion may be held as to the origin of
Christianity and the means by which it was given to man, it
is plain that Christianity is a teaching, that it contains a doc-
trine, that it sets forth a religious system. It is plain, more-
over, that if there be a difference of opinion on any point, it is
far more important to be agreed with regard to this religious
system, this treasure of ideas so precious in the history of hu-
manity, than with regard to the form in which it has been
transmitted to us. I confess, therefore, that when I compare
the impression which is produced on me by Christianity as a
doctrine, and that which is produced by the new philosophical
school, I find them connected in the most intimate relations.
There is the same spirit, the same starting-point, the same idea
concerning humanity, the same tendency, and I have no doubt,
that in its developments, the new philosophical school will gra-
dually arrive at the same conclusions and the same results. I
have no doubt even that it will approach so near to the most
mysterious dogmas of Christianity, that, by expressing its con-
clusions ina somewhat human form, bv spiritualizing in phi-
losophical language the declarations of Jesus and of his Apos-
tles, the distance may be made very small and easy to be passed
over, The new philosophy is eminently spiritual; so is
Christianity ; it is that which first rendered Spiritualism po-
pular. The new philosophy places man in consciousness ; it
raises him above sensuality ; it recognises in him a destiny and
faculties superior to those which the senses can discover, and
which consciousness alone reveals. This fundamental idea is
at the basis of Christianity. That also places man in con-
sciousness ; it raises him above sensation ; it hrings into per-
petual contrast, in its expressions at once so sublime and so
popular, the flesh and the spirit, the man of consciousness and
the man of sensation.

“* After having restored the human consciousness, not only
as the certain pledge of the existence of the spirit, but also as
the organ of a law superior to matter, the new philosophy
builds upon it all true and profound morality. It establishes
in this sanctuary at once the dignity and the liberty of man.
it for ever overthrows Hpicureanism, in whatever form it may
be presented, and determines obligation, neither by interest,
nor by pleasure, nor by any outward consequence, but by the
pure law of morality, announced with authority by the con-
science of man. Christianity does nothing else. If there be

176)X

NOTES.

focal
bens
QO

9 ve
dale share of attention and perseverance, it is this. Pe ae
guetly pe recalled man within his conscience. P fae ually he
Spiritualized morality. Perpetually he declare d that if we act
with a view to enjoyment, with a view to any interest what-
ever, and not through respect to conscienc eA d the eternal
order of which God is the centr oa re already received
our reward. Perpetually he dec ale a oe it external actions
are of no importance, except in theirr
which they are the expression. Perpet ually he opposed, by
every means in his power, the pret ensions of sacerdotal reli-
gions, which believe that good is ef ser by passive obedience
to legal forms, which lose sight of the conscience, that is to say
of the man. :

It is on this characteristic of pune ars and on all the wants
vhich result from it, that the new school of philosophy attempts
to establish the great truths of religion. According to this phi-
losophy, it is in the heart rather than in the feflective intellect,
that man is to find these truths. Conscience reveals liberty ;
liberty, moral order, in opposition to physical order; moral order
God and futurity, without which the human soul would be in-
complete and mutilated ; without which nothing that takes place
in it would have connexion or aim; withou tw No in short, it
would be an incomprehensible mystery. Chi tianity has not
presented these two great ideas in any other poi bof view. In
that, God and futurity are closely united with man and with
conscience. They are presented in the character which con-

one point, to which we may say that Jesus Christ gave a
‘S

 

 

  
 

science demands, and which it proclaims. in the midst of popu-
Jar images and expressions, that were essenti jal as an aid to

th
he ur derstanding, we alwa Lys find, upon the slightest effort,
he idea of God who is a Spirit, the Ruler of the moral world,
and of a futurity, which is the necessary completion of the re-
velations of conscience.—I repeat it, therefore, i n considering
puly its e ssence, we thus far find an accordance between Christi -
anity and the new philosophy.” —Pp. 245—243.

joe
CD
~

Tey he Ps 44

VU wy i\.—i AGE
THEORY OF THE FRENCH CHARTER.

‘ ArTER the great political and religious movel 1ent which
in Europe occupied the sixteenth ands seventeenth centuries, a
new and still more 1m} portant movement became necessary 5
civilization was called to a new and amin somparably more deci-
sive progress. ‘Tl he ei
What was fie general cl haracter of
It was the conflict of the old with the

very idea of the eighteenth ceatury is tl :

NO. XXXII. L L7é

4

   

hteenth century y-
feento century ?

ence, 2 entlemen,

Lte of society 3; the

ity of a Crisis.

elations to couscience, of

  
 
  
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

valet beaks ad + doscbsberbg chen) ais Rigen OT

\ "Ret estate Usenet ac

m 7) any eee
Pieter Lhtkt: oh as id HOLD: rence wn ee shell a sehen Bh ee n r
; 5 NEY . 4 -

eee eee erSTTer rs rrr eco cea ora aaiaaih hee aici bees cP OEE

ee een teehee

  

116 NOTES.

‘* The French monarchy, after having marched from con-
quest to conquest to its natural frontiers, and demolished suc-
cessively all the powers that had attempted to oppose its pro-
gress, had finally arrived, by the genius of Richelieu and of
Louis the Fourteenth, almost to the last boundaries of its terri-
tory and centralization. Nothing was wanting to France, thus
Situated as to externals, but a better internal organization.
But this new internal organization could not take place with-
out overthrowing that which already existed; and to overthrow
it was very easy, for the society organized of old had already
fallen into ruins. In fact, what had become of the monarchy
in the eighteenth century ? The monarchs themselves were
a mere tradition of splendour and magnificence, without real]
or apparent virtue. The monarchy which had been the pro-
vidence of France, which had created it, had raised it and ren-
dered it illustrious, was no longer sensibly perceptible to her.
What did it do for the country abroad? What useful war,
what glorious combats has it to show ? The seven years’ war
and the battle of Rosbach. What did it doat home? What
was the life of royalty ? It was the life of Versailles? ‘The
French noblesse, who formerly had served their country so
well, and had mingled their history with that of all the glorious
feats of arms of France, had lost the manly habits of their an-
cestors, and like royalty they slumbered amidst their pleasures.
Lhe French clergy, which had in the seventeenth century, pro-
duced the Church of France, had degenerated into a worldly
clergy, among which impiety was almost held in honour, and
which has produced the most envenomed adversaries of Chris-
tianity. Finally, the French people itself, wearied witha royal-
ty that no longer employed them, witha nobility that was nolong-
er an example to them, with a clergy that faintly taught them
articles of faith, which they no longer sustained by the authority of
their morals ; the French people had sunk into a state of deplora-
ble corruption, sufficiently betrayed by the success of the works
that then circulated among all classes, and carried into all the
poison of systematic immorality. In such a state of things, a
revolution was necessary for a thousand reasons ; it took place,
I come neither to defend nor to attack it; Iexplainit. It took
place, and the throne, the noblesse, the clergy, the whole an-
cient order fell to the ground. ‘the ancient order was the ex-
clusive dominion of the monarchical principle, of the noblesse
and of a religion of the state. In forsaking one exclusive sys-
tem we are led into another exclusive system of an opposite
nature. Hence the exclusive dominion of the monarchical
principle, of a religion of the state, and of a privileged noblesse,
was succeeded by the abolition of all public worship, by the so-
vereignty of the people, and an absolute democracy. But this
democracy, spreading terror around it, had soon to sustain for-
midable conflicts with the rest of Europe. ‘Thence the neces-
178Meese

Sa a Ss ci

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
      

nl
pened
“I

NOTES.

sity of a government purely revolutionary, that is, of a council
of war instead of a government. But after the sovereignty of
the people, that it might defend itself the better, had resolved
itself into a great council of war, it was necessary, in order to
defend itself still more effectually, and to be able to act with
greater energy, that it should resolve itself again into a great
individual who charged himself with representing it: as has
been said, the revolution became a man ; the sovereignty pass-
ed from the council of war to the dictatorship, toa military dic-
tatorship; thence our wars, our conquests, our victories, and
our disasters.

‘< These revolutions were necessary, and they were beneficial
to humanity; they have at least shaken if they have not re-
animated the south of Kurope ; they have visited the benumbed
and languid inhabitants of the two peninsulas, and apprized
them that the hour of awakening was come. On the other
hand, we have not appeared in vain upon the fields of battle in.
Germany ; there also we have given the first impulse to a
movement which has been useful and which endures. In the
mean time the revolutionary system substituted in France for
the ancient regime, exclusive as that which it had overturned,
and more ardent and violent, was commissioned only to destroy
what it has destroyed, without being itself established. It was
only to appear, to do its work, and to disappear. It appeared
for a moment with the convention ; it has disappeared for ever
with the empire.

“‘ Now let us cast our eyes towards the north, which is al-
ways in the face of France; for France draws the south along
with her without accounting to it for her actions; but she has
always been compelled to reckon with the north, which possess-
es a genius and a destiny of its own. What had been passing
in the north ? What was the state of society in the north ?
In a few words, gentlemen, you know that beyond the Rhine
were thrones, absolute but paternal; a warlike noblesse that
had covered itself with glory in the seven years’ war; a clergy
reformed once for all, perfectly identified with the masses of
population by their doctrines and morals, and in the enjoyment
of boundless authority and veneration ; and nations, honest,
sufficiently industrious, warlike, and moved to obedience by the
spontaneous impulse of sympathy and love. By the side of the
ancient Austria two new empires had arisen at the voice f ge-

nius, young and consequently full of futurity ; deeply imbued
with the new spirit, and at the same time absolute in their form
and military in their manners. Here you see the fair side of
the north. But we must not forget that the nations there vere
S alsposea

entirely in the power of their chiefs ; that these chiets «
of them at will, and sometimes disposed of them badly. The
people intervened not at all in their own affairs ; no national
representation, no free emission of thought, unless by ey ys
Bie

ee et

u

iS ae La Te 6
aera ee rena

ei RMN
a TA
ba beste Tres fos rm

2rinhiiacidiiid: aaanct

Se eee nn tt i aaoasl
one ene ere te ea . , ol

freee

Sea — een oe
ee ee oe

ae

a

 

118 NOTES,

privilege, and subject to the good pleasure of governments.
Such an order of things was surely not produced by the last
effort of German civilization, and consequently it was necessary
that this order of things should come to its end. ‘The formid-
able conflict of the north and south of Europe in the long war
between France and Germany is nothing but the eonflict of ab-
solute monarchies with democracy. The result has been the
downial of democracy in France, and a considerable loss of ab-
solute power to the monarchical governments of Germany.
You know that it is not the masses of population which appear
upon the fields of battle, but the ideas, the causes for which they
combat. Thus at Leipsig and Waterloo the causes which en-
countered each other were those of paternal monarchy and mi-
litary democracy. Which prevailed, gentlemen ? Neither the
one nor the other. Which was the conqueror? Which was
vanquished at W'aterloo? Gentlemen, none was vanquished.
No, I protest that none was vanquished: the only conquerors
were Kuropean civilization and the charte. Yes, gentlemen,
it was the charte, the voluntary present of Louis the Eigh-
teenth, the charte maintained by Charles the Tenth, the charte
called to rule over France, and destined to subdue, 1 say not
its enemies, for it has none, it has none any more, but all who
retarded French civilization ; it is the charte which has gone
forth brilliantly from the sanguinary conflict of the two systems
which now have equally served their time, namely, absolute
monarchy and the extravagances of democracy. The fact, that
from one end of Europe to the other the charte draws upon it-
self the eyes of all, causes every heart to beat, and rallies around
it the wishes and the hopes of all, is the most convincing proof
that it is the true result of all the troubles and the wars that
filled the conclusion of the last century and the commencement
of the nineteenth. Imitations of it, which were unfortunate,
and which | am far from approving, manifest sufficiently the
deep sympathy of the south of Europe with the glorious results
of the long labours of our nation. But also beyond the Rhine
our ancient adversaries have hastened to claim the work of the
new monarchy. In fact, gentlemen, all the banks of the Rhine
are ruled according to excellent though imperfect imitations of
our fine constitution. Bavaria, Wirtemburg, and Baden, have
now representative governments; and preparatory experiments
of inferior degrees of representative governments in the pro-
vincial districts, are already extending their circle in the north,
and reach even to the Baltic. Surely since 1815, European
civilization has by no means receded; on the contrary, it has
been in all parts extended and developed ; and I repeat it, this
charte, which went forth from the disasters of Waterloo, now
covers the greater and the better part of Kurope, and it is ex-
pected and invoked by the rest. Now, if it is an incontestable
fact that the future prospects of Europe depend upon it, and if

180NOTES.

ie :

this 1 . ae 1 more evidently th a case in regard to FE ce, let us

rapidly examine what is the nature of the charte pie is called

to such destinies.

' It appears, at first sight, as if the charte h oe sanctioned

the social order anterior to the eighteenth century, and

aes ae) ste é T

which the eighteenth century has ove Rete In ‘fact, I
| a0) Laue

moe behold a king, a powe erful mon archy, and a throne

efficient and re I behold a chamber of Bee in-

r tac xxv 1t} OT U7 oO }

vested W ae privile €¢ ges and surround ed with UDIV ersal vene-

ration; I be Te an established religion which, taking our
children in the cradle, teaches each of them, at an early
hour, his duties, iis destiny, and a end of this life. And
here we be ehold an element which does not proceed from
the French revolution. It is neve ertheless there, get rtlemen,
and it is necessary that it should be there; it is necessary
that it sh cee from day to day be more firmly established,
and win back for ever ‘both its respect and power ; but is

this the Kate element in the charte? No, gentlemen. By
the side of the throne and the Uhamber of Peers I also be-
hold a Chamber of Deputies nominated directly by the people,
and taking a part in the making of all the laws, that warrant
and authorize all particular measures ; SO that nothing can be
done in the last village of France in whi ch the Chamber of De-
puties doesnot concur. Hereisanew element. I perceive some
image of it to have fo merry existed in certain assemblies and
but it was more jappareat than real ;

certain judicial bodies
in the wishes of the eig shteenth cen-

3
I find it in reality only
tury, and in the irregular attempts of the French revolution
to establish it. We have then on the one hand an element of
the old government, and on the other an element of the revo-
lutionary democracy. Upon what terms do these elements
2 In fact, gentlemen, they are there,

subsist in the charte:
and their union is so intimate that the Get skilful civilian

would be much embar ee theoretically to define and to mark
the limits of the particular agency of each of these two

branches of the sovereign power ; and in this respect there ex-

ists a certain obscurity which has precisely the eifect of bind-
ing these two e elements more strongly together. In fact, our
glorious constitution is no mati hematical fiction of the equi-

librium of legislative and executive power, nor is it any of
sh should be left to the

those vain and empty abstra ctions whicl
infancy of representative governn 1ent; our constitution is the
real unition of the king and peop le, seeking jointly the best
manner of governing and of serving their common country.
This 1s not all ; in the charte _ woe notwithstanding the ex-
istence of the Chamber of Peers, that all Frenchmen have ac-
cess to all offices ; So that even ¢ oot nmon soldier, as the author
of the charte said himself, carries his
France in his cartridge box ; tae lowest Frenchman nea a
ol

batoon of a marshal of

phe th Ny SASip ad ethehehe ot SEO SIG TL

ieee os eee he al

er ee a ei he a
tte " .

a Deen eae anels
Ne enn aaa z

ee

  

120 NOTES.

every career ascend to the foot of- the throne. Notwithstand-
ing the existence of an established religion, I behold in charac-
ters equally manifest the liberty of every form of worship, and
the liberty of the press; so that none may be destitute of re-
ligious instruction, while at the same time the freedom of wor-
ship permits every one to seek it in the different communions
of the same Church ; and that, finally, thanks to the liberty of
the press, no truth being suppressed, every Man may in. sin-
cerity determine his own thoughts in favour of those opinions
which seem to him the most true. Thus I behold in the
charte all contrarieties; and this circumstance is what some
men deplore. There are some who admire nothing in it but
its democratical part, and would use that as the means of
rendering all other parts powerless ; there are others who sigh
over the introduction of democratical elements, and who turn
unceasingly the monarchical parts of the constitution against
the democratical elements which serve as their safeguard. On
both sides equal error, equal prepossession in favour of the past,
and equal ignorance of the present time. On _ both sides,
gentlemen, there are men whose age is exceedingly respectable,
and who, belonging some to the sevententh, and some to the
eighteenth century, and not being the sons of the present epoch,
are perfectly excusable in not comprehending the nineteenth
century and its mission. But, thank God, every thing pro-
mises that the irresistible march of time will by degrees unite
the minds and hearts of all in the intelligence and in the love
of this constitution, which contains at once the throne and the
country, monarchy and democracy, order and liberty, aristo-
cracy and equality, all the elements of history, of thought, and
of things.’ Cours de I’ Histoire de la Philosophie, Introduction.
Linsere’s Translation, p. 429—439,

It gives me great pleasure to avail myself of Mr. Linberg’s
accurate and elegant translation of the Introduction to the His«
tory of Philosophy, in the above quotation, as well as in one
or two others, which I have occasion to make from the same
work. This translation, which was the first to introduce
Cousin’s philosophy into the English language, is executed
with uncommon ability, and does honour to the literature of
our country.

NOTE L.—Pace 41.
COUSINS ANALYSIS OF THE WILL,

THIs discussion would be incomplete without the admirable

182NOTES.

analysis of the will which is given in Cousin’s critical ex-
amination of the philosophy of Locke _ It is, therefore, insert-
ed in this place. The principles, which it sets forth with such
rare precision and clearness, shed more light on the funda-
mental question of the free-agency of man, than most of the
elaborate volumes that have been written on this controverted
subject. In the hands of Cousin, the question is reduced
Within a narrow compass 3 divested of extraneous considera-
tions 5 and presented to the consciousness of every thinker, in
a simple and intelligible form. The genuine lover of
philosophical investigation, who is already familiar with this
argument, I am sure will thank me, for bringing it again to
his notice. As a model of accurate thought and lucid expres-
sion, it can scarcely be too strongly recommended to the youth-
ful student.

‘; All the facts, which can fall under the consciousness of
man, and consequently under the reflection of the philosopher,
may be resolved into three fundamental facts, which comprise
all the rest,—three facts which without doubt in reality are
never solitary, separated from one another ; but which never-
theless are essentially distinct ; and which a scrupulous analy-
sis must distinguish, without dividing, in the complex pheno-
menon of intellectual life. These three facts are feeling, think-
ing, acting.

‘¢T open a book and begin to read; let us decompose this
fact, and we shall Gnd that it contains three elements.

‘S Suppose that I do not see the letters of which each page
is composed, nor the order and form of those letters 5 it is
quite clear that I shall not comprehend the meaning which
custom has given to those letters, and that accordingly I shail
not read. ‘Losee therefore is here the condition of reading.
On the other hand, to see is not in itself to read ; for, the
letters being seen, nothing would be done, if intelligence were
not added to the sense of sight in order to comprehend the
signification of the letters under my eye-

‘“ Here then are two facts which the most superficial analy-
sis immediately distinguishes In the process of reading ; let us
examine the characteristics of these two facts.

<¢ Am I the cause of vision, and of sensation in general ?
Am I conscious of being the cause of this phenomenon ; of
commencing it, of continuing it, of interrupting it, of increasing
it, of diminishing it, of sustaining it, and of destroying it at
pleasure ? Let us take other examples that are more striking.
Suppose that I press upon a sharp instrument; a disagreeable
sansation is the result. I bring a rose to my smell ; an agree-
able sensation is the result. Is it I who produce these two
phenomena ? Can I put a stop to them? The suffering and
the enjoyment—do they take place or cease as [like ? Not at

183Pe he head ele SOMERS

FC a ee nis ibs at art heat

seer ATTY

ea ri,
rane abe arava - -

   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 

ho
ho

NOTES.

all. I undergo the pleasure as well as the pain ; the one and
the other come on, continue, and disappear without the con-
currence of my will; in a word, sensation is a phenomenon
marked, in the view of my consciousness, with the unquestion-
able characteristic of necessity.

‘* Let us now examine the character of the other fact, which
sensation precedes, but which it does not constitute. When
a sensation is effected, intelligence is applied to this sensation,
and, in the first place, it pronounces that the sensation has a
canse, the sharp instrument, the rose, and here, to revert to
our former example, the letters under the eye ; this is the
first judgment which is passed by intelligence. Besides, as soon
as the sensation is referred by intelligence to an outward cause,
for instance, to the letters and the words which they form, the
same intelligence conceives the sense of those letters and those
words, and judges that the propositions which they compose
are true or false. Intelligence therefore judges that the sensa-
tion which is experienced has a cause ; but, I ask, could it
judge the contrary? No, Intelligence can no more judge
that this sensation had not a cause, than that it was possible for
the sensation to exist or not to exist, when the sharp instru-
ment was in the wounded flesh, or the rose under the smell, or
the book under the eye. And not only does intelligence ne-
cessarily judge that the sensation is to be referred to a cause,
but it also necessarily judges that the propositions contained in
the lines perceived by the eye are true or false, for example,
that two and two make four, and not five and the like. This
is incontestable. I ask again if it be inthe power of intelli.
gence to judge at pleasure that such an action, of which the
book speaks, is good or bad, such a form, which it describes
beautiful or ugly ? By no means.

‘* Without doubt, different intelligences, or intelligence in
different moments of its ‘xercise, will often pass very different
judgments on the same thing. t will even often be deceived :
it will judge that what is true js false, that what is good is bad,
that what is beautiful is ugly, and the reverse; but at the mo-
ment in which it judges that a proposition is true or false, that
an action is good or bad, that a form js beautiful or ugly, at
that moment, it is not in the power of intelligence to pass a
different judgment from that which it does pass ; it obeys the
laws of its nature which it did not make for itself ; it yields to
motives which determine it without any concurrence of tite
wal In a word, the phenomenon of intelligence, to compre-
hend, to judge, to know, to think, whatever name we give to
it, is marked by the same characteristic of necessity as the
phenomenon of sensibility. If therefore sensibility and intel-
ligence are under the dominion of necessity, it assuredly is not
in them that we are to seek for liberty ? Where then shall we

seek for it ? Nothing remains but to look for it in the third
184

asate

TOY & a oN
oS 123

fact, which is combined with the other two, and which we have
not yet analyzed. We must find it in that; or we shall not
find it at all; and liberty is only a chimera.
‘¢ To see and to feel, to judge and to comprehend,—these
processes do not exhaust the complex fact, which is submitted
to our analysis. If { do not consider the letters of this book,
shall I see them, or at least, shall I see them distinctly ? If,
seeing the letters, I do not give my attention to them, shall I
comprehend them ? If instead of holding this book open, 1
close it, will the perception of the words and the understanding
of their sense take place, and the complex fact of reading be
accomplished ? Certainly not. Now what is it to open this
book, to give our attention, to consider ? It is neither to feel
nor to comprehend ; for to consider is not to perceive, if the
organ of vision be wanting or be unfaithful ; to give our at-
tention is not in itself to comprehend ; it is indeed an indispen-
sable condition of comprehending, but not always a sufficient
reason; it is not sufficient to be attentive to the statement of
a problem in order to resolve the problem; in a word, atten-
tion no more comprises understanding than does sensibility.
To be attentive is to act, to produce a movement, internal or
external,—a new phenomenon, vhich it is impossible to con-
found with the former two, although it 1s perpetually com-
bined with them, and together with them, completes the total
and complex fact of which we would give an account.

‘¢ Let us examine the character of this third fact, the phe-

2a
aoa

nomenon of activity. Let us distinguish, in the first place, dif-
ferent sorts of action. here are some actions which man does

not refer to himself, although he is the subject in which they
that we perform those

are displayed. We are told by others

actions $ for ourselves, we know nothing of them ; they are
performed within us; we do not perform them. Ina lethar-
gy, in a real or artificial sleep, in delirium, we execute a variety
of movements which resemble actions, which even are actiols,
if you please, but actions which present the following charac-

teristics.

“© We have no consciousness of
we appear to perform them.

“* We have no remembrance of havi!

“¢ Consequently, we do refer them to ourselves,
we are performing them, or after we have performed them.

‘© Consequently again, they do not pertain to us, and we do
not impute them to ourselves, any more than to our neighbour,
or to an inhabitant of another world.

‘¢ But are there no actions besidethese ? I open this book,
consider its letters, I cive my attention to them ; these also
re actions; do they resemble the preceding ?
“¢ { open this book; am I conscious of doing so ? Yes.
?

cc This action performed, do Iremember it? Yes.

them at the moment when

ng performed them.
either while

T
i

&

aed pialehvenbsal? revbchebs ches . a

f f Bh dat
Procter red

Syeda Tae bend eb Pigcie terjans

res

Serest yah wie hae Sit EOC

eee ee rT
wreroeret F
i 5

Seis

SN rind
SEER eet Ties Rate AS ALSTON ;
C \ o' *, .

ae

= .

124 NOTES.
“Do I refer this action to myself as having performed it 2
"es.

“Am I convinced that it pertains to me ?
it to any other individual as well as to myself, or am I not
solely and exclusively responsible for it in my own eyes ?
Here again I answer yes to myself.

‘“ In fine, at the moment when I perform this action, h
I not, with the consciousness of performing it, the conscious-
ness also of being able not to perform it? When I open this
book, have I not the consciousness of opening it, and the con-
sciousness of being able not to open it?) When I consider, do
I not know at the Same time, that I consider, and that I am
able not to consider 2 When I give my attention, do I not
know that I give it, and that I am able not to give it? Is
not this a fact which each of us can repeat, whenever
in himself and on a thousand occasions ? Is it not proved in-
contestably by experience? And is it not, moreover, the uni-
versal belief of the human race ? Let us generalise what has
now been shown, and Say, that there are movements and ac.

tions which we perform with the twofold consciousness of per-
forming them and of being able not to perform them, Now,
an action which we perform with the consciousness of being
able not to perform it, is precisely what men have called a free
action ; for here the characteristic of necessity no longer ex-
ists. In the phenomenon of Sensation, I was unable not to
enjoy when it was enjoyment which fell under my conscious-
ness; I was unable not to suffer when it was suffering; I had
the consciousness of feeling with the consciousness of being un-
able not to feel. In the phenomenon of intelligence, I was
unable not to judge that two and two make four; I had the
consciousness of thinking this or that, with the consciousness
of being unable not to think it. In certain movements, more.
over, I had so little the consciousness of being able not to per-
form them, that I had not even the consciousness of performing
them at the moment that I did perform them. But ina great
variety of cases, I perform certain actions with the consciousness
of performing them and of being able not to perform them, of
being able to suspend or to continue them, to complete or to de-
Stroy them. This is a class of facts perfectly real, they are
numerous, I have no doubt; but if there were but a single
one of them sui generis, that would be sufficient to establish
the existence of a special power in man, namely, liberty. Li-
berty therefore does not fal] under sensibility or

it falls under activity, and not under all the facts which are
referred to this class, but under a certain number which are
marked by peculiar characteristics, that is to say, those actions
which we perform with the consciousness both of performing
them and of being able not to perform them,

186

Can I impute

ave

he pleases,

intelligence :a kk

   
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
   
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
   
  
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
    

NOTES.

, After having thus established the existence of free action,
it 18 important to analyse it more attentively.

“ Free action is a phenomenon which contains several dif-
ferent elements combined together. To act freely, is to per-
form an action with the consciousness of being ‘able not to
perform it; now, to perform an action with the consciousness
of being able not to perform it, supposes that we have prefer-
red performing it to not performing it; to commence an action
when we are able not to commence it, is to have preferred
commencing it ; to continue it when we are able to suspend
it, is to have preferred continuing it; to carry it through when
we are able to abandon it, is to have preferred accomplishing
it. Now, to prefer, supposes that we had motives for pre-
ferring, motives for performing this action, and motives for
not performing it, that we were acquainted with these mo-
tives, and that we have preferred a part of them to the rest ;
in a word, preference supposes the knowledge of motives for
and against. Whether these motives are passions or ideas,
errors or truths, this or that, is of no consequence ; it is im-
portant only to ascertain what faculty is here in operation,
that is tosay, what it is that recognises these motives, which
prefers one to the other, which judges that one is preferable
to the other; for this is precisely what we mean by preferring.
Now what is it that knows, that judges, but intelligence.
Intelligence, therefore, is the faculty which prefers. But in
order to prefer certain motives to others, to judge that some
are preferable to others, it is not sufficient to knov
ferent motives, we must moreover have weighed and compared
them ; we must have deliberated on these motives in order to
form a conclusion : in fact, to prefer is to judge definitively,
to conclude. What then is it to deliberate? It is nothing
else than to examine with doubt, to estimate the relative value
of different motives without yet perceiving it with the clear
evidence that commands judgment, conviction, preference.
Now, what is it that examines, what isit that doubts, what is it
that judges that we should not yet judge 1n order to Juage
better? Evidently it is intelligence, the same intelligence
which, at a subsequent period, after having passed many pro-
visional judgments, will abrogate them all, will judge that
they are less true, less reasonable than a certain other, will

ass this latter judgment, will conclude and prefer after hav-
ing deliberated. Itis in intelligence that the pasiomen en: e
preference takes place, as well as the other phenpmenert ue
it supposes. hus far then we are still in the sphere 0 ante?
ligence, and not in that of action. Assuredly intelligence is
subjected to conditions ; no one examines who does not wish

} 1 + : ; ° L1IV+t } ain
to examine 5 and the will intervenes 1 deliberation; but this
:s the simple condi

tion, not the foundation of the phenomenon 5
for, if it be true; that w!

y these dif-

‘thout the faculty of willing, all ona
Q
LOfHint tat bane at NC

eae res
SE eetaesek ate te Raa
. " Re Une che a: mrt abies
7 woe Tt) nit s
Vid bl HE DA at pan i
i ¥ ¢ i

eee
a
ee ee 4 * Gays : [ ,

eS rN
Soe eaeat pieae ciel Gein te ahead ‘ ,

> aerate

=

126 NOTES.

mination and all d possible, it is also
true that the faculty itself which examines and which delibe-
rates, the faculty which is the pecul
tion, of deliberation, and of all judgment, provisional or defi-
nitive, is intelligence. Deliberation and conclusion,
ference, are therefore facts purely intellectual.
tinue our analysis,

“We have conceived different motives for
not performing an action ; we have deliberate
tives, and we have preferred some of them too
concluded that we ought to perform it
form it; but to conclude that we ought to perform, and to
perform, are not the same thing. When intelligence has
judged that we ought to do this or that, for such or such mo-
tives, i¢ remains to proceed to action, in the first place to re-
solve, to assume our part, to say to ourselves, not I OUGHT to
do, but I winx to do. Now, the faculty which says I ought
to do, is not and cannot be the faculty which says I will to do,
resolve todo. The office of intelligence here closes entirely.
I ought to do is a judgment ; I will to do is not a judgment,
nor consequently an intellectual phenomenon. In fact, at the

solution of doing a particular ac.

moment when we form the res

tion, we form it with the consciousness of being able to form
the contrary resolution. Here then is a new element which
should not be confounded with the preceding :

eliberation would be impossil
V
lar subject of examina-

or pre-
Let us con-

performing or
d on these mo-
thers; we have
rather than not to per-

83 this element is
Will; just before it was our business to judge and to know ;
HOw it is our business to will. To will, Tsay, and not to do;
for precisely as to judge that we ought to do js not to will to
G0, so to will to do is not initselfto do. To will is an act, not
judgment: butan act altogether internal. It is evident that

us act is not an action properly so called: in order to arrive
&t action, we must pass from the internal sphere of will to the
sphere of the external world, in which js definitively accom-
plished the action which vou had at first,conceived, deliberated
on, and preferred ; which you then willed ; and which it was
necessary to execute. If there were no external world, there
would be no consummated action ; and there must not only
be an external world, the power of will also, which we have
recognised after the power of comprehending and of judging,
must be connected with another power, a physical power,
which serves it as an instrument with which to attain the ex-
ternal world. Suppose that the will were not connected with
organization, there would be no bridge between the will and
the external world » NO external action would be passible,

The physical power, necessary to action, is organization; and

in this organization, it is acknowledged that the muscular sys-

tem is the special instrument of the will, Take away the
muscular system, no effort would any longer be possible, con-
sequently, no locomotion, no movement whatever would be

188ad

NOTES. 197

possible; and if no movement were possible, no external ac-
tion would be possible. ‘Thus, to r capitulate, the whole ac-
tion which we undertook to analyze is resolved into three
elements perfectly distinct: 1. The intellectual element, which
is composed of the knowledge of the motives for and against,
of deliberation, of preference, of choice; 2. the voluntary ele-
ment, which consists entirely in an internal act, namely, the re-
olution to do; 3. the physical element, or the external action.
“ Tf these three elements exhaust action, that is to say, the
phenomenon in which we have recognised the characteristic of
liberty in opposition to the phenomena of intelligence and of
sensation ; it is now the question to determine precisely, in
which of these three elements we are to find liberty, that is to
say, the power to do with the consciousness of being able not

Ss
5

to do. Is this power to do, with the consciousness of the
power not to do, to be found in the first element, the intellec-
tual element of free action ? No; for it is not in the power of
man to judge that one motive is preferable to another; we
are not masters of our preferences 5 we prefer one motive to
another, on this side or that, according to our intellectual na-
ture which has its necessary laws, without having the con-
sciousness of being able to prefer or to judge differently, and
even with the consciousness of being unable not to prefer and
to judge as we actually do. Itis not then in this element that
we are toseek for liberty, neither is it in the third element, in
the physical act ; for this act supposes the external world, an
organization which corresponds to it, and in this organization
a muscular system, sound and appropriate, without which the
physical act is impossible. When we accomplish this, we are
conscious of acting, but on condition of a theatre which is not

nts which are imperfectly at

at our disposal, and of instrumer

our disposal, which we can neither restore, if they leave us,
and they may leave us at any moment, nor set in order, if they
become deranged and deceive Us; and which often do deceive
us, and obey their own peculiar laws, over which we have no
power, and with which we are scarcely even acquainted :
whence it follows that we do not act here with the conscious-
ness of being able to do the opposite of that which we do. It
-s not then in this third element, any more than in the first,
that we are to look for liberty 5 it can only be in the second 5
and there in fact we find it.

“6 Neglect the first and the third element, the ju
the physical act, and let the second element, the will, subsist
alone, analysis discovers two terms stil le elen
f will, and the power of will within us
to which we refer this act. This act is an effect in relation to
the power of will which is the cause of it; and this cause, 1
order to produce its effect, needs no otner theatre and no other

directly, without any

instrument than itself It produces 1t mi
BL

doement and

>

1: Pees Tee
lin this single element,

namely, a special act 0setter hate teton SENSE
4 rn os ,
Hi

eriLincBi lind. ain JUSE ShcoLns nuanscinebneriasra aes TaD Leto
"

Neen ee ee ee nn neers LTLia IRE aatne mt!
Leas f Seay ge oN
4 iL ae " et te har Feit

eee een nen neem eT EIOOeee  teaeats

  

NOTES.

medium or condition ; it continues and completes it, or sus-
pends and modifies it, creates it entirely or destroys it en-
tirely ; and at the very moment when it exercises itself by a
special act of any kind, we have the consciousness that it
could exercise itself by a special act of a quite contrary kind,
without any obstacle, without exhausting itself by such ac-
tion, so that after having changed its acts a hundred times,
the faculty remains absolutely the same, inexhaustible and
identical with itself in the perpetual variety of its applications,
always being able to do what it does not do, and not to do what
it does. Here then in all its perfection is the characteristic
of liberty.” —Cours de 1 Histoire de la Philosophie, Tom. II.
Pp. 494-509.

NOTE M.

 

PAGE 77.
MANIFESTATION OF GOD IN CREATION.

“‘ THERE are men, reasonable beings, whose vocation it is
to comprehend, and who believe in the existence of God, but
who will believe in it only under the express condition that this
existence is incomprehensible. What does this mean? Do
they assert that this existence is absolutely incomprehensible ?
But that which is absolutely incomprehensible, can have no
relations which connect it with our intelligence, nor can it be
in aly wise admitted by us. A God who is absolutely incom-
prehensible by us, isa God who, ia regard to us, does not exist.
In truth, what would a God be to us, who had not seen fit to
give to us some portion of himself, and so much of intelligence
as might enable his wretched creature to elevate himself ev
unto Him, to comprehend Him, to believe in Him? Gent]
what is it—to believe? It is, ina certain degree, to compre-
hend. Faith, whatever be its form, whatever be its object,
whether vulgar or sublime—faith cannot but be the consent
of reason to that which reason comprehends as true. This is
the foundation of all faith. Take away the possibility of know-
ing, and there remains nothing to believe; for the very root of
faith is removed. Will it be said that God is not altogether
incomprehensible 2? That he is somewhat incomprehensible ?
Be it so; but let the measure of this be determined ; and then
f will maintain, that it is precisely the me
hensibility of God, which will be the measure of human faith.
So little is God incomprehensible, that his nature is constituted
by ideas—by those ideas, whose nature it is to be intelligible.
Many inquiries have indeed been made, to know whether ideas
do or do not represent, whether they are or are not conformed
to their objects. But in truth, the question is not whether
ideas are representative, for ideas are above every thing; and
the true philosophical question is, whether things are repre-

190

en.
emen,

asure of the compre-NOTES,

sentative e; for ideas are not the reflection of things, but things
are the reflection of ideas. Ged, the substance of ideas 1S eS~
sentially intelligent, and essentially intelligible.”

“ God is; He is, with all that constitutes his true existence ;

He is, with three necessary elements of intellectual existen 102.
We must go on, gentlemen, we must proceed, from the idea of
God to that of the universe; but how are we to proceed thi-
ther ? What is the road that leads from God to the universe ?
It is—creation. And what is creation ? What is ate create ?
Shall I state to you its vulgar definition ? It is this, ‘ to cre-
ate, is to make something out of nothing,” that is, to draw
something forth out of nothing ; and this definition must ne-
cessarily appear to be very satisfactory ; for, to this very day,
it is every where and continually repeated. Now, Leucippus,
Epicurus, Lucretius, Bayle, Spinoza, and indeed all w hose
powers of thought are somewhat exer cised, demonstrate,' but too
easily, that from nothing, nothing can be drawn forth, that out
of nothi ing, nothing can come forth; whence it follows, that
creation is impossible. Yet by pursuing a different, route, our
investigations arrive at this very different result, viz. that
creation is, I do not say possible, but necessary. But, in the
first place, let us look a little into this definition,—that to
create, is to draw forth from nothingness. ‘This definition is
founded upon the very identical i idea, of nothingness. But
what is this idea? It isa purely negative idea. ‘The mind
of man possesses the power of making suppositions of every
kind; he may, for instance,in the very presence of reality,
suppose its contrary ; but truly, it is a most extravagant folly,
from the meve possibility of a supposition, to infer the truth of
that supposition. This supposition however has, in addition
to those of many others, the misfortune of inv olving an abso-
lute contradiction. Nothingness i is the denial of all existence ;
but what is that, which in this instance, denies existence ?
Who denies it? It is thought; that is, you who think ; so
that you who think, and who exist, inasmuch as you think, and
because you think, and who know that you exist, because you
know that you think,— you yourself, in denying existence, deny
your own existence, “your own thought, and your own denial
of existence. If you will attend to the principle of your hy-
pothesis, you will “find, either that it destroys your hypothesis,
or that your hypothesis will destroy its own principle. W hat
is said of doubt, what Descartes has demonstrated in regard to
doubt, applies with ereaten force to the idea of nothingness.
To doubt is to believe; for todoubt is tothink. Does he w ho
doubts believe that he doubts, or does he doubt whether he
doubt ornot ? Ifhedoubt w hether he doubt or not, he destroys
his own sce epticism ; a ind if he believes that he doubts, es —
stroys it again. Just so, to think is to be; and to know that we
are ; it is to affirm existence; now, to ivrm the hypothetica

191Lscnad het haan tarot mapper ac ot

Bey rie hiad Siri ne el mcecns toss mee ststeoherbaabeadi ails bulb seh DA ARUN erence Terbeal ani hae
ot i betsy) "

ee
Me Re »
se ae

arr tata minal eaannnancnaatia hana ka Sina LDELSLS aR

ned

aN pa au

eae og

  

130 NOTES.

supposition of nothingness, is to think; therefore, it is to be
and to know that we are; therefore, it is to construct the hy-

pothesis of nothingness upon the supposition contradictory to it,

that is, upon the supposition of the existence of thought, and
of him who thinks. Vainly should we strive to go beyond
thought, and to escape from the idea of existence. ivery ne-
gation is founded upon some affirmation ; every hypothetical
supposition of nothingness, implies as its necessary condition,
the supposition of existence and of the existence of him who
makes this very supposition of nothingness.

We must therefore abandon the definition, that, to create is
to draw forth from nothingness ; for nothingness is a chimera
of thought implying a contradiction. Now, in abandoning
this definition, we abandon its consequences 5 and the immedi-
ate consequence of abandoning the hypothesis of nothingness as
a condition of existence, is another hypothesis ; for, once enter-
ed upon the career of hypothesis, we go on from one to another,
without being able to get out of that career. Since God can-
not create but by drawing forth from nothingness, and as nothing
can be drawn forth from nothing, and nevertheless, the world
incontestably, is, and could not have been drawn forth from
nothing, it follows that it has not been created; when¢e it fol-
lows again, that it is independent of God, and that it formed
itself, by virtue of its proper nature, at d of the laws which are

erived from its nature. Hence follows another hypothesis,
that of a dualism, in which God is on one side and the world on
the other, which is an absurdity. For all the conditions of the
existence of God are precisely absolute contradictions of the in-
dependent existence of the world. If the world is independent,
it is sufficient for itself; it is absolute, eternal, infinite, al-
mighty ; and God, if he is independent of the world, must be
absolute, eternal, almighty. Here, therefore, are two entire
powers, in contradiction one with the other. I will not plunge
farther into this abyss of hypotheses and of absurdities.

“© What is, to create?—not according to the hypothetical
method, but the method we have followed,—that method which
always borrows trom human cousciousness that which, by a
higher induction, it afterwards applies to the divine essence.
To create, is a thing which it is not difficult to conceive, for it
is a thing which we do at every moment 5 in fact, we create
whenever we perform a free action. I will, 1 form a resolu-
tion, I form another, and another ; I modify it, I suspend it,
I pursue it. What is it thatI do? I produce an effect which
I do not refer to any other person, which I refer to myself as
its cause, and as its only cause, so that, in regard to the exist-
ence of this effect, 1 seek no cause above and beyond myself.
his is to create. We create a free action, we create it, 1 say
for we do not refer it to any principle superior to ourselves
we impute it to ourselves exclusively. It was not; it begins

Oo»
es head

we weAE 9 she,

fig i Sy yeas Ses Saag te ete Sia a ate Sop
CuORAn: Meee See

   
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

a ligt

NOTES. 13h

to be, by virtue of that principle of causality which we possess.
bus, to cause 1s to create; but with what ? with nothing ?
Certainly not. On the contrary, with that which is the very
xoundation of our existence; that is to Say, with all our crea-
tive force, all our liberty, all our voluntary activity, with our
personality. Man does not draw forth from nothingness the
act which he has not yet done and is about to do; he draws it
forth from the power which he has to do it; from himself,
Here is the type of acreation, ‘The divine creation is the same
in its nature. God, if he is a cause, can create; and if he is an
absolute cause, he cannot but create; and in creating the uni-
verse he does not draw it forth from nothingness, but from
himself; from that power of causation, and of creation, of
which we, feeble men, possess a portion ; and all the difference
between our creation and that of God, is the general difference
between God and man, the difference between absolute cause
and a relative cause.

“* I create, for I cause, I produce an effect; but this effect
expires under the very eye of him who produces it ; it scarcely
extends beyond his consciousness; often it dies there, and it
never goes far beyond it ; and thus, in all the energy of his crea-
tive force, man finds very easily its limits. These limits, in
the interior world, are my passions, my weaknesses ; without,
they are the world itself, which opposes the motions of my vo-

lition. I wish to produce a motion, and often I produce only
the volition of motion; the most paltry accident palsies my
arm ; the most vulgar obstacle resists my power; and my cre-
ations, like my creative power, are relative, contingent, bound-
ed; but after all, they are creations, and there, is the type of
the conception of the divine creation.

“ God therefore creates; he creates by virtue of his creative
power ; he draws forth the world, not from nothingness which
is not, but from Him who is absolute existence. An absolute
creative force, which cannot but pass into act, being eminently
his characteristic, it follows, not that creation is possible, but
that it is necessary; it follows, that God is creating without
cessation and infinitely, and that creation is inexhaustible and
sustains itself constantly. Wemaygofurther. The creations
of God are from himself; therefore he creates with all the cha-
racteristics which we have recognised in him, and which pass
necessarily into his creations. God is in the universe, as the
cause is in its effect; as we ourselves, feeble and bounded
causes, are, in so far as we are causes, in the feeble and bound-
ed effects which we produce. And if God is, in our conscious-
ness, the unity of being and of intelligence and of power, with
that variety which is inherent in him, and with the relation,
equally necessary and equally eternal, which unites these two
terms; it follows, that all these characteristics are also in the
world, and in visible existence. Therefore, creation is not i

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132 NOTES.

evil, but a good; and thus do the holy scriptures represent
this truth, ‘and God saw that it was good.’ Why ? because
it was more or less conformed to Him.

‘‘ Thus, gentlemen, we behold the universe created, neces-
sarily created, and manifesting Him who created it. But this
manifestation, in which the principle of manifestation renders
itself apparent, does not exhaust that principle. Let me ex-
plain myself. I will, and I produce an act of volition; my
voluntary force appeared, by this act and in it; it appeared
there, for it is to it that I refer this act. Then is it there.
But how is it there ? Has it passed all entire into this act, so
that there is nothing more left of it? No; for after having
produced such an act, I may produce a new one,-I may modify
it, I may change it. The interior principle of causation, while
developing itself in its acts, retains that which constitutes it a
principle and a cause, and is not absorbed in its effects. So, if
God makes himself appear in the world, if God is in the world,
if God is there with all the elements which constitute his being,
he is nevertheless unexhausted ; and at once one and threefold,
he remains, after having produced this world, not the less per-
fect, in his essential unity and triplicity.

‘© We must therefore regard in two different points of view,
the manifestation of God in the world, and the subsistence ot
his divine essence itself; in order to see the true relation be-
tween the world and God. For it is absurd to suppose t
God, in manifesting himself, should not in some measure
transfer himself into his manifestation; and itis equally ab-
surd, to suppose that the principle of that manifestation
should not still retain all the superiority of a cause to its effect.
The universe is therefore an imperfect reflection, but still a re-
flection of the divine essence.””—Cowrs de ’ Histoire de la Phi-
losophie, LaNBERG’S Translation. —Pp. 132, 136—143.

Do we not again find Cousin anticipated in some sort,—
faintly shadowed forth, if nothing more, in this extract from
one of the least known but most remarkable productions of
President Edwards ?

‘¢ As there is an infinite fulness of all possible good in God,
a fulness of every perfection, of all exceilency and beauty, and
of infinite happiness; and as this fulness is capable f com-
munication or emanation ad extra ; soit seems athing amiable
and valuable in itself that it should be communicated or flow
forth, that this infinite fountain of good should send forth
abundant streams, that this infinite fountain of light should,
diffusing its excellent fulness, pour forth light all around.
And as this is in itself excellent, so a disposition to this, in the
divine being, must be looked upon as a perfection or an excel-

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NOTES. 133

lent disposition, such an emanation of good is, in some sense,
a multiplication of its so far as the communication or exter-
nal stream may be looked upon as any thing besides the foun-
tain, so far it may be looked on as an increase of g good. And if

the fulness of g good that is in the fountain, is in itself excellent
and worthy to ‘exist, then the emanation, or that which is as it
were an increase » repetition or multiplication of it, is excellent
and worthy to exist. Thus it is fit, since there is an infinite
fountain of light and knowledge, that this light should shine
forth in beams of communicated kr nowledge and under standing :
And as there is an infinite fountain of holines: s, moral excellence
and beauty, so it should flow out in communicated holiness.
And that as there is an infinite fulness of joy and happiness, so
these should have an emanation, and become a fountain flowi ing
out in abundant streams, as beams from the sun.

‘** From this view it appears another way to be a thing in it-
self valuable, that there should be such things as the knowledge
of God’s glory in other beings, and an high esteem of it, love
to it, and delight and complacence in it: This appears, I say, in
another w ay, ViZ. as these things are but the emanations of
God’s own knowledge, holiness and joy.

‘* ‘Thus it appears reasonable to suppose, that it was what
God had respect to as an ultimate end of his creating the
world, to communicate of his own infinite fulness of good ; or
rather it was his last ae that there might be a glorious ‘and
abundant emanation of his infinite fulness of good ad extra,
or without aiaseli; and the disposition to communicate him-
self, or diffuse his own FULNESS, which we must conceive of
as being originally in God as a perfection of his nature, was
what moved him to create the world. But here, as much as
possible to avoid confusion, I observe, that there is some im-
propriety in saying that a disposition in God to communi-
cate himself to the creature, moved him to create the world.
For though the diffusive disposition in the nature of God, that
moved him to create the world, doubtless inclines him to com-
municate himself to the creature, when the creature exists ;
yet this cannot be all: Because an inclination in God to com-
municate himself to an object seems to presuppose the exist-
ence of the object, at Jeast in idea. But the diffusive dispo-
sition that excited God to give creatures existence, was rather
a communicative disposition in general, or a disposition in the
fulness of the divinity to flow out and diff use itself. Thus the
disposition there is in the root and stock of a tree to diffuse
and send forth its sap and life, is doubtless the reason of the
communication of its sap and life to its buds, leaves and fms
after these exist. Buta disposition to communicate of its life
and sap to its {ruits, is not so properly the cause of its produc-
ing those fr uits, as its disposition to communicate itself, or dif-
fuse its sap and life in general. Therefore, to speak more

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134 NOTES.

strictly according to truth, we may suppose, that a disposition
in God, as an original property of his nature, to an emanation
of his own infinite fulness, was what excited him to create the
world ; and so that the emanation itself was aimed at by him as
a last end of the creation.’? End for which God Created the
World, Works, Vol. VI. p. 32. First American Edition.

NOTE N.—Pace 79.

 

ATHEISM CONTRARY TO NATURE.

** WHAT man, when he discovers himself in the act of ex-
ercising the spontaneity of his intelligence, does not believe in
himself and in the world ? This is evidently the case in respect
to our personal existence, and of that of the world. Itis the
same, in respect to the existence of God. Leibnitz said, there
is being in every proposition. Now, a proposition is only the
expression of a thought ; and in every proposition there is being,
because there is being in every thought. The very idea of
being implies, in its lowest degree, an idea, (more or less clear,
vet real), of being itself, that is, of God. To think, is to know
that we think; it is to confide in our thought, that is, to
confide in the principle of thought, that is, to believe in the
existence of that principle. As this does not imply that we be-
lieve ourselves, or that we believe the world, and yet implies,
that we believe ;—it is evident, that whether we know it or do
not know it, it implies, that we believe in the absolute principle
of thought ; so that all thought implies a spontanecus faith in
God, and natural Atheism has no existence. I donot say only,
that there exists not a language, in which this great name is
not found; but if complete dictionaries of a language were
placed before my eyes, in which that name were not to be
found, I should vot falter. Is there one man who speaks that
language, who thinks, and yet places no faith in his thought ?
For instance, does he believe that he exists? If he believes
this, I am satisfied ; for if he believes that he exists, he then
believes that his thought—that he believes his existence—is
worthy of faith; he therefore places faith in the principle of
his thought,—now, there is God. Hecause every thought con-
tains faith in the principle of thought, therefore, according to
my doctrine, every word pronounced with confidence, is no-
thing less than a profession of faith in reason in itself, that is, in
God. Every word is an act of faith ; and so incontestable is this
truth, that, in the cradle of societies, every primitive word is a
hymn. Search in the history of languages, of societies, and of
ێvery remote epoch, and you will find nothing anterior to the
lyric element, to hymns, to litanies ; such isthe intensity of the
truth, that every primitive conception is a spontaneous percep-

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NOTES, 135

tion, the impress of faith, and of an inspiration accompanied with
enthusiasm,—that is to say, of a religious emotion. ‘lhere
gentlemen, I repeat, is the identity of human kind. Prrecy
where, In its instinctive and spontaneous form, reason ‘is
equal to itself, in all the generations of humanity, and in all the
individuals of which these different generations are composed.
Whoever has not been cut off from the inheritance of thought,
has not been cut off from the inheritance of those ideas which
call forth its most immediate development, and which science
afterwards presents to him with the apparatus, and under the
affrighting title of the categories. In their simple and primi-
tive form, these ideas are everywhere the same. This is, in a
manner, the golden age of thought. Then, gentlemen, respect
humanity, which everywhere in this form, possesses truth.
Respect humanity in all its members; for in all its members
there is a ray divine of intelligence and essential fraternity, in
the unity of those fundamental ideas which are derived from
the most immediate development of reason.”

** Let not the example of the sceptic, who doubts every
thing, be brought as an objection to this doctrine. I shall re-
ply, as [ replied, in my last lecture: Does he deny that he
denies ? Does he doubt that he doubts ? Task him only that.
If he believe that he doubts, if he affirm that he doubts, then,
inasmuch as he affirms that he is doubting, he affirms that he
exists. He therefore believes himself;—thisis something; and
I would engage thus, successively to establish all the elements
of general belief. Reflection, in its strongest aberrations, may
always be brought back to truth; because its aberrations are
always only partial; because recourse may always be had to
some element of truth still existing in the mind; and because
there cannot fail to exist at all times, some element of truth,
even in the mind of him who may appear to be the most abso-
lute of sceptics. In days of crisis and agitation, together with
reflection, doubt and scepticism enter into the minds of many
excellent men, who sigh over and are affrighted at their own
ineredulity. I would undertake their defence against them-
selves ; I would prove to them that they always place faith in
something. HRegard things on their fair side, gentlemen.
When you lack truth on one point, attach yourselves to that
portion of truth which you still possess, and increase 1t succes-
sively. So also, when you behold one of your fellow creatures
who, not being able to deny his own existence, (an effort of
strength to which few feel competent), sets about denying the
existence of the world, (no very common occurrence either, )
and particularly the existence of God, (which without being
so, seems more easy and is more common, ) say to yourselves,
and repeat it constantly, that this being 1s not degraded ; that
he still believes, because he still affirms something 5 and that
his faith only lights upon, end is concentrated in'‘a slngie point,

197

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and instead of incessantly viewing him in regard to what he
wants, as an Atheist or a sceptics consider him rather, in re-
gard to what still remains to him, as a man; and you will see
that in the most partial, confined and sceptical reflection, there
will always still remain a very considerable element of faith,
and of strong and extensive convictions. So much for reflec-
tion. But besides reflection there still exists spontaneity, which
is within reflection; and when the scholar has denied the exist-
ence of God, hear the man; ask him, take him at unawares,
and you will see that all his words imply the idea of God; and
that faith in God, is without his knowledge, at the bottom of
his heart.”—Cours de I’ Histoire de la Philosophie, LianpeRa’s
ranslation.—Pp. 1f72—176, 178—180.* P gy ka
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MODERN PHILOSOPHY.

ESPECIALLY

AMONG THE GERMANS.

JAMES MURDOCK, D.D.

EDINBURGH:

THOMAS CLARK, 38 GEORGE STREET.

  

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PREFACE.

Tus work was commenced about a year ago, at the re-
quest of several gentlemen, chiefly clergymen, who said
they could obtain no definite ideas of the modern German
Philosophy. To meet the wants of these friends, and
others in like circumstances, the Author undertook to pub-
lish some short Essays in the Congregational Observer,
edited by Messrs Tyler and Porter of Hartford. Soon after
the publication commenced, the editors proposed striking
off a number of copies in the volume form ; and also en-
couraged some enlargement and extension of the plan of
the work. But before its completion, the Newspaper was
discontinued ; and the two last Chapters now first appear
in print. The piecemeal composition of the work will
account for some want of uniformity in the style and man-
ner of treating the subject : and the Author’s distance from
the press, and the difficulty of Newspaper correction, must
excuse several unfortunate errata.

The Author here brings before the public no new system
of philosophy, nor any attempted improvements of the
science. Neither does he offer a critique upon the writings
and speculations of others. He is not a philosopher; he
has no favourite opinions to introduce and recommend ;
and he does not assume the office of a teacher of philoso-
phical science. He comes forward as a mere historian,
narrating the progress of speculative philosophy in modern

eG ures BR gis a Nt Noe OE Te ie CO aa ae eae Cree aS “4
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1V PREFACE.

times, especially among the Germans. And for this pur-
pose, after a brief statement of the two principal modes of
philosophizing, he endeavours to describe summarily but
distinctly, all the more noted systems proposed by the
metaphysical philosophers, from the times of Des Cartes to
the present day. In this survey, he endeavours to discri-
minate accurately between the different systems men-
tioned, to state clearly and concisely the fundamental
principles of each system, its objects and aims, the estima-
tion in which it was held, and the extent to which it has
prevailed.

The principal authorities consulted in the twelve first
Chapters of the work, are W. G. Tennemann’s Grundriss
der Geschichte der Philosophie, ed. 1829; 7. A. Riwner’s
Handbuch der Gesch. der Philos. ed. 1822 ; W. T. Krug’s
Encyclopadisch-Philosophisches Lexikon, ed, 1832-38 ;
and the Algem. Deutsche Real-Encyclopadie, ed. 1824.
In the remaining Chapters, the authorities are generally
stated in the work. While writing the four Chapters on
the Kantian Philosophy, the Author had not the Critik der
reinen Vernunft before him, but relied upon very copious
extracts which he made from that work about eight years
ago. Since obtaining the Critik, he has not had leisure
for a thorough verification ; but he hopes his statements |
will be found substantially correct.

JAMES MURDOCK.

New Haven, Sept. 17, 1842.: ee ——? Sorte a ps
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CONTENTS,

 

CHAP. I,

TWO MODES oF PHILOSOPHIZING.

ne as Page.
Description and Character of the two Modes, : 7

CHAP. IT,

EMPIRICAL PH ILOSOPHIZING.,

Bacon, Locke, Berkeley, Reid, &e. é . : = iy

CIFAP: TIT.

METAPHYSICAL PHILOSOPHERS,

Des Cartes, Spinoza, Malebranche, ; ‘ d ‘ cu Le

CHAP. IV.

THE FIRST GERMAN PHILOSOPHY,
Leibnitz and Wolf,

CHAP. V.

KANT AND HIS CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.
Introductory Remarks.—Critie on Sensation.—Time and Space, 29

CHAP. VI.

THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.
Understanding defined.—Its Conceptions.—

CHAP. VII.

THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.
Pure Reason.—-Transcendental Ideas,—Rational Theology, . 44

CHAP. VIII.

THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.
Results to which this Philosophy arrives, 50

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CONTENTS.

CHAP. IX.
ANTI-CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.
Page.
old’s Doctrine of

Effects of the Critical Philosophy. —Reinh
Thought.—Fichte’s Doctrine of Science, or Wissenschafts-
: : . : : 4 00

lehre, ; :
CHAP. X.
PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY.

Schelling’s Doctrine of Identity, Identitatslehre.—Fichte’s alter-
ed Doctrine of Science.—Other Pantheists : Bouterwek,

Bardili, Eschenmayer, Wagner, Krause, 66
CHAP. XI.
PANTHBHISTIC PHILOSOPHY, ¢
74

Hegel's absolute Idealism.—Logic the only Metaphysics,
CHAPS XIE

INSTINCTIVE PHILOSOPHY.

Jacobi’s Philosophy of Faith or Instinct. —His followers : Koep-
pen, von Weiler, Salat.—Ability and Honesty of the German
Philosophers. —Schulze, the only Sceptic among them, . 81

CHAP. XIII.

FRENCH PHILOSOPHY.
The New School in France.—Its Origin, and Present State.

__lts Advocates.—Its Doctrines, : : 88
CHAP. XIV.
GERMAN PHILOSOPHY IN AMERICA.
its Introduction. —Coleridgeism, ; : . ° OM
CHAP OXY.
AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM.
Propriety of the Name.—Its Origin among us.—lts Radical
: - 104

Principles, ‘ : : :

CHAP. XVI.
PHILOSOPHY OF DR RAUCH.

Bographical Notice.—His Psychology—Transcendental —He-
gelian.—Qutline of his Philosophy.—Its bearing on Theology, 117CHAPTER I.

TWO MODES OF PHILOSOPHIZING.
Description and Character of the two Modes.

Two fundamentally different modes of Philosophizing
have long prevailed, and have divided Philosophers
into two general classes. Aristotle and Plato,— Bacon
and Descartes,—Locke and Leibnitz,—the Scotch and
English on the one hand, and the modern Germans with
some of the recent French on the other,—represent the
two classes. The first consider the human mind as
born without knowledge, and as incapable of originat-
ing any knowledge, from itself, or by the mere exercise
of its own powers. It must, they say, receive from
without, the subject matter of all knowledge; and this
it does, especially through the senses. Reflection on its
own sensations and perceptions, gives form and coisist-
ency to the given matter derived from without; and
thus leads to that true and perfect knowledge of things
which is properly called philosophy.—The other class
of philosophers do not deny, that the bodily senses are
an inlet of knowledge; and that reflection on our sensa-
tions and perceptions will give form and consistency to
this sort of knowledge. But, say they, this is not pro-
perly philosophical knowledge ; it is merely empirical
knowledge, or knowledge derived from sensations and
experience. It is the acquisition of the Intellect or
Understanding, and not of the Reason, which is a higher
power of the mind, and capable of a higher and more
important kind of knowledge. According to some of
this class, the human mind has certain znnate or connate

B 209> Sea

8 TWO MODES OF PHILOSOPHIZING.
ideas, which exactly correspond with the essence of
things, by contemplating and comparing which, and by
reasoning from them correctly, this higher and more 1m-
portant knowledge is obtained. Others among them,
not admitting of innate ideas, maintain that human
Reason—that higher faculty of the soul—is capable of
acquiring knowledge, by mere inspection or anturteon,
and likewise by reasoning a priori ; and in these ways,
it does acquire that higher and more perfect knowledge,
which is properly called philosophical or rational know-
ledge, that is, knowledge acquired by the aid of Meason.
This rational or philosophical knowledge, they say, dif-
fers essentially from empirical knowledge, or from the
experimental knowledge acquired by the Understand-
ing.—First ; itis more certain. For itis always either
immediate vision, or it is derived from demonstration ;
whereas empirical knowledge is derived directly or in-
directly from the senses; which are always liable to fail
us, and to give us either false impressions, or impressions
too feeble and too indistinct to be relied upon.— Second-
ly; it is more solid or fundamental. For it is know-
ledge of the real nature and essence of things ; whereas
empirical knowledge is always superiicial, and extends
only to the phenomena or appearances of things. It
does not acquaint us with things themselves, or with
their internal nature and character, but only with their
effects or operations upon our bodily organs.— Thirdly ;
rational knowledge has a character of necessity and
universality, which empirical knowledge never can
have. When we see the real nature and essence of a
thing, we know at once what must of necessity and
universally be its operation. But when we know a
thing only empirically, we actually know only what
was the fact in the several instances in which we ob-
served it, or put it to the test of experiment — We may
illustrate the difference by a case in pure mathematics.
Geometry demonstrates that the three angles of every
right lined triangle are equal to two right angles. And
the demonstration isso complete, that the mind is fully
saan that this must, necessarily, and universally,ter ey ee OL 52s PR We ig la sa oe en eS ae
RTE Sepee neg sina la uieaa aeRO Seo

      
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

TWO MODES OF PHILOSOPHIZING. 9

hold good of every possible right lined triangle. But
the empirical measurement of the angles of two, twenty,
or a thousand triangles, could not produce the same re-
sult. It would only prove to us, that all the triangles we
had examined, had been found to be of this character,
not that all others must necessarily and certainly be of
the same character. And so of all general truths or prin-
ciples, if Reason discovers them or brings us acquainted
with them, they have this character of universality and
necessity ; but if we have only empirical knowledge of
them, they have not this character ; they are only
maxims of experience, and though they may serve as
useful guides in matters of common life, they cannot
be made the foundation of demonstrative reasoning, or
of absolute certainty ; they cannot be admitted into
scientific reasoning; they belong not to the science of
philosophy, but only to the mass of our empirical know-
ledge.

The two general modes of philosophizing above de-
scribed, may be denominated the empirical and the
metaphysical. The term empirical, so current among
the Germans, comes from the Greek EMPEIRIA, ea'peri-
ence, which is derived from PEIRAN, to try. It is not
disrespectful in its import, and it well expresses the
thing intended. The term metaphysical is used, as
being suited to convey to Americans a correct idea of
the other mode of philosophizing. The Germans do
not use it in this connection, but call this mode of phi-
losophizing the rational, and the scientific mode. —

The manner in which these two classes of philoso-
phers regard each other, may easily be conceived. The
empirical class, not believing the human mind to possess
any higher power than that of the intellect or under-
standing, and supposing man to be incapable of any
other than empirical knowledge, of course look upon the
metaphysical philosophers as idle dreamers, who mis-
take the working of the imagination, and unreal specu-
lations, for truths of the highest order. Despising such
fancied wisdom, they will not take pains ne acdsee
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10 TWO MODES OF PHILOSOPHIZING.

unworthy the attention of one who secks only for solid
and useful knowledge. On the other hand, the meta-
physical philosophers regard the empirical as mere
children in science, and strangers to the noble powers
of human Reason, that divine or godlike principle in
man. Like the ancient navigators, they timidly coast
along the shores of the vast ocean of human knowledge,
keeping always in sight of land; they never venture to
Jaunch forth in search of foreign realms, depending on
the sure principles of science to guide their adventurous
course. Such explorers, say the metaphysicians, may
indeed advance the physical sciences by their close ob-
servation of nature, and by their laborious experiments
upon her phenomena; but they must ever remain
strangers to even the first principles of true philosophy,
and can never erect a solid and enduring system of phi-
losophical science. For, although they actually adopt,
unconsciously, many of the principles of rational know-
ledge, and apply them in their philosophical investiga-
tions, yet, not relying solely on such principles, or build-
ing exclusively upon them, but relying equally upon
empirical principles, commingling both, and _ erecting
superstructures out of both, their systems lack entirely
that character for certainty, solidity, and pure science,
which will entitle them to confidence and to the appel-
lation of true philosophy.

We may add, that the spirit and the tendency of the
two modes of philosophizing are very different. The
one is slow, cautious, dubitating, and modest. It ex-
amines every thing, fears deception and mistake, and
seldom ventures to be positive or dogmatical. The
other is more daring, bold, and self-confident : it feels
its own strength, is proud of its lofty powers, and there-
fore inclines to be dogmatical and overbearing. The
former prompts men to inquire, to hesitate, to confine
themselves down to sense, and to distrust all that cannot
be put to the test of fair experiment. Hence it has
actually led multitudes to scepticism, to materialism,
and to infidelity. The other prompts to an overweening
estimate of the powers of human reason, to bold and
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EMPIRICAL PHILOSOPHIZING, FI

hasty conclusions, and to the excessive love of novelty
and of paradox. And hence it has actually led to the
exaltation of reason above revelation,-to bold and conf-
dent dogmatism, to idealism, to pantheism, and to tran-
scendent supernaturalism.

Inconclusion, we remark that the English, the Scotch,
and the Americans, almost universally, belone to the
empirical school ; while nearly all the Germans, several
of the latest French philosophers, with a very few in
peo and America, belong to the metaphysical
school.

CHAPTER II.

EMPIRICAL PHILOSOPHIZING.
Bacon, Locke, Berkeley, Reid, &c.

In the first Chapter, two fundamentally different
modes of philosophizing were described. The present
Chapter will relate to the history of them, anterior to
the recent German systems of philosophy.

The founders of the two schools were Aristotle and
Plato: the former pursuing the empirical, the latter the
metaphysical method. During the middle ages, Aris-
totle had most adherents, but Plato found here and
there a few followers.

Prior to the 17th century, the empirical philosophers
made almost no experiments, but took up their first im-
pressions as adequate, and proceeded immediately to
generalization and the construction of systems. But in
the beginning of this century, Francis Bacon, Lord
Verulam, published his Chart of the Sciences, and his
New Method of pursuing them—de Augmentis Scien-
tiarum, in 1605, and Novum Organum, in 1620—in
which he recommended dependence on reiterated and
well conducted experiments, as being the only sure me-
thod of advancing the physical sciences. Lord ee
2

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2 EMPIRICAL PHILOSOPHIZING.

works put the friends of these sciences upon a new
course ; which has been pursued to the present time,
and with the most splendid results. The brilliant
achievements of the empirical method in these depart-
ments of knowledge, tended to bring the metaphysical
method of philosophizing into discredit in regard to
every branch of philosophy, especially in England and
France ; yet, for a time, there were a few who pursued
the metaphysical method, especially in ethics, natural
theology, and the law of nations. Thus, Lord Herbert
of Cherbury, a contemporary of Bacon, held to connate
knowledge, or to general truths latent in the soul as it
comes into life. And H. More and R. Cudworth, both
Platonists, believed in moral and religious ideas either
born with us, or coming to us by immediate inspiration
from God. In France, also, Des Cartes attempted,
though with little success, to revive the metaphysical
method in all the sciences. In England, however, the
metaphysical method was nearly extinct, when Mr
Locke, in the year 1698, attacked it, and wholly exter-
minated it from the British soil, by his famous Essay
on the Human Understanding. In this elaborate and
classical work, Mr Locke confutes the doctrine of innate
or connate ideas, and maintains, that all human know-
ledge is acquired, or 1s the result of sensation or reflec-
tion; that is, it is either obtained directly through the
bodily senses, or it originates from reflection on what is
so obtained. In addition to these common and funda-
mental principles of the empirie school, he maintained
the objective reality of our knowledge of the external
world. In this view, all our ideas are either simple or
complex : the former are derived immediately from our
sensations and reflection, and exactly correspond with
the real nature and essence of things. The latter are
formed by the understanding, being compounded of
simple ideas; and when duly compounded, they also
correspond with the nature of things. Mr Locke’s book
has been classical, and its principles have maintained
the highest authority, im all the empirical schools down

© z .
to the present time. The work was soon translated into

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EMPIRICAL PHILOSOPHIZING. 13

French, and subsequently into other languages; and for
more than a century it was revered and followed, very
much as the writings of Aristotle were in the days of
the schoolmen. ;

It has already been stated, that the spirit of this
mode of philosophizing is slow, cautious, dubitating and
modest: it examines every thing, fears deception and
mistake, and seldom ventures to be positive or dogma-
tical. At the same time, as it prompts men to inquire,
to hesitate, to confine themselves much to the senses,
and to distrust all that cannot be put to the test of ex-
periment, it has led multitudes to scepticism, to mate-
rialism, and to infidelity. The proof of this lies in the
fact, that from this school have proceeded all the English
and French freethinkers, deists, sceptics, materialists
and atheists, from the age of Bacon down to the present
day ; and that these, one and all, have depended on
arguments which they derived from this philosophy,
and from no other, to support their peculiar opinions;
and they have claimed for themselves exclusively
the appellation of philosophers, because they thus
followed this philosophy to its legitimate results,
unrestrained and untrammeled by vulgar prejudices and
by traditional belief. Of the sceptics, David. Hume,
and his imitators and admirers, are a striking example.
As to the deists, we might cite the whole catalogue,
both English and French: Hobbes, Blount, Rochester,
Toland, Shaftesbury, Collins, Woolston, Tindal, Morgan,
Chubb, Bolingbroke, Hume, Gibbon, &c. among the
English ; and Rousseau, Voltaire, D’Argens, Toussaint,
Buffon, Raynal, Condorcet, St. Lambert, Dupuis,
D’Alembert and Diderot, the encyclopadists, and all
the other infidel philosophers of France. Of material-
ists from this school, (and I know of none from any
other,) we may name as pre-eminent, Hobbes, Shaftes-
bury, and Priestley, among the English; and De la
Mettrie and Helvetius among the French. Among
the avowed atheists in this school, we may mention De
la Mettrie, Diderot, the Baron d’Holbach, Naigeon,
Marechal, and the astronomer, De la Lande. BiPs
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14 EMPIRICAL PIILOSOPHIZING.

As all these erratic philosophers belonged to the em-
pirical school, and professed only to follow this philoso-
phy into its legitimate consequences, the defenders of
the Bible and of Christianity have laboured much, to
shew that this philosophy, instead of subverting Chris-
tianity and all revealed religion, really confirms and
supports them, if it be rightly understood and applied.
And to make good this position, some of them -have
ventured to modify certain tenets of Mr Locke, yet
without departing from his fundamental principles.
Thus, Bishop Berkeley discarded the idea, that by the
bodily senses we apprehend material objects themselves,
and become acquainted with their real nature. The
senses, he maintained, can apprehend only the pheno-
mena of external objects, or their impressions on our
organs. Hence, he inferred, we know nothing of the
nature of the world without, or the material world, ex-
cept that it is an incomprehensible cause of various ef-
fects or impressions on our bodily senses. And he
deemed it most philosophical, to suppose that the oreat
First Cause, and Author of all things, is himself the
immediate producer of these sensations in us; and that
material objects, as secondary and intervening causes
between God and us, are mere fictions of our imagina-
tions. In short, he denied the existence of matter alto-
gether ; and maintained, that God and inferior or finite
spirits, (angelic and human,) are the only real existences
in the universe. By this amendment of Mr Locke’s
system, the excellent Bishop hoped to bring all philoso-
phers to believe, that they literally see and hear and feel
the immediate power of God, present every moment
with them, and operating all around them. And such
a belief, he imagined, would banish infidelity and irre-
ligion from every philosophic mind: but the idealism
or spiritualism of Berkeley, has not met general appro-
bation.

After this, Tho. Reid, Ja. Beattie, and some others,
in order to confute Hume's scepticism, Berkeley’s ideal-
ism, and other aberrations from the common belief, with-

out renouncing the empirical mode of philosophizing,
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EMPIRICAL PHILOSOPHIZING, 15

called in the aid of common sense, or the common ap-
prehensions of the unsophisticated mind, as a supreme
arbiter in such controversies. They did not recal the
long exploded doctrine of innate ideas, nor adopt that
of the intuitions and judgments of reason, as a higher
power of the mind—which would have been to take
their stand among the metaphysical philosophers—but
they held, that certain instinctive apprehensions of
mankind at large, apprehensions which mysteriously
accompany all our ordinary sensations, and are inde-
pendent of all reasoning and all philosophy, are often
more sound and correct than the apprehensions and con-
clusions of the most acute philosophers. Thus, by
making the principles of common sense, ora mysterious
and incomprehensible instinct, more to be relied on than
philosophical reasoning, and by teaching that the latter
must succumb to the former in case of disagreement—
they virtually taught, that the empirical mode of phi-
losophizing is unsafe, without a regulator and a guide ;
and, that unphilosophical conclusions are often more
correct than those of philosophy. This new doctrine of
common sense, without being formally recognised by all,
has spread widely among empirical philosophers in
England, France and America; and it has been the
frequent refuge of many, when grappling with adver-
saries whose arguments they were unable to confute by
sound logical reasoning.

Subsequent to these chief innovators upon Mr Locke’s
system, Dugald Stewart, Tho. Brown, and others, have
carefully revised, enlarged and perfected the whole sys-
tem, by elaborate treatises on the Philosophy of the
Human Mind, constructed on pure Baconian principles.
In France also, the Abbe Condillac, Chas. de Bonnet,
and some others, have attempted to improve upon

cke. ’
ase valuable treatises of various individuals of this
school, on particular branches of philosophy, ae 2
ethics, natural theology, the law of nations, oe :
omitted, as not being necessary to the main object 0
these Essays, which is, to convey to Americans some

213

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16 METAPHYSICAL PHILOSOPHERS.

clear and correct ideas of the modern German philoso-
phy. And for the same reason, the elaborate researches
and invaluable discoveries of numerous successful ex-
plorers of nature, in all her departments, are here pass-
edin silence. The voluminous publications of thesocalled
Philosophical Societies, and the numberless other pro-
found works on natural science, show the wonderful
achievements of experimental philosophy, when direct-

ed to its proper objects, and prosecuted according to
Lord Bacon’s rules.

 

CHAP EER: EI

METAPHYSICAL PHILOSOPHERS.
Des Cartes, Spinoza, Malebranche.

Tar metaphysical mode of philosophizing does not,
like the empirical, decide every point separately, and on
independent grounds; but it searches after general

truths, or first principles, and by applying them to

specific cases in a logical manner, it obtains a scientific
answer to every question.

The modern history of this mode of philosophizing
commences with Rene Des Cartes, a French nobleman
of fine talents, who flourished in the 9d quarter of the
17th century. Dissatisfied with all the systems of
philosophy then prevailing, he undertook to form a more
solid one, based on certain knowledge.

He began with the inquiry, What does man know
with perfect certainty? And he found an answer, In
the consciousness that he was then thinking. He there-
fore inferred his own existence to be certainly known :
(cogito: ergo sum :) and also, that he was 4 thinking
being. But he was likewise conscious, that his mental
powers were very limited; he could comprehend only
a small part of the numberlesg objects around him. At

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METAPHYSICAL PHILOSOPHERS. ir?

the same time, he could conceive of a mind capable of
comprehending every thing; and not only capable of
understanding, but also of creating and upholding all
things, and possessing every possible perfection. This
idea he found floating in his mind, and he was not con-
scious of having designedly fabricated it: he therefore
concluded, that it came to him from without, and from
that infinite Being himself, of whom it was the idea.
There is then a God, an all-perfect Being; and our idea
of him is innate. He likewise proved the existence of
God, by the marks of wisdom and design visible every-
where in the natural world. And from the perfections
of the divine Being who created us, he inferred the
truth and infallibility of human reasoning, when pro-
perly conducted; because it is not conceivable, that
such a Creator would endow us with faculties calculat-
ed to mislead us. Clearness and distinctness, he sup-
posed, are the evidence of the truth or certainty of our
knowledge. The bodily senses seldom afford clear and
distinct knowledge ; and therefore such knowledge as
they afford, cannot always be depended on. But, be-
sides the preceptions of the senses, we have ideas formed
in the mind, by reasoning and reflection ; and also inate
ideas, or ideas implanted in our minds by our Creator.
The last (our innate ideas) are the most clear and cer-
tain, and therefore the best sources of argumentation.
The ideas formed in the mind are the next in value for
reasoning ; because they can be made clear and distinct,
if weare only careful always tothink clearly and distinctly.

Assuming the broad principle, that all clear and dis-
tinct ideas contain true objective knowledge, Des Cartes
was less careful to search for the origin, and to demon-
strate the correctness of our ideas, than to make his own
ideas clear and distinct. And this was the chief source
of his many errors, and of his baseless theories: for
when he had analyzed any of his conceptions, and made
them very clear and distinct to his own mind, he con-
ceived them to be objectively true, or to correspond
with the real nature and essence of things. In this
way, he was led to believe, that the very essence 01

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18 METAPHYSICAL PHILOSOPIIERS.

mind or spirit, consists in thinking ; and the very essence
of matter in mere extension. Hence, he inferred, spirits
can have no extension, and no parts ; and matter can
never think, perceive, or will. And, as extension is
the very essence of matter, there can be no void space,
or space unoccupied by matter; and consequently, the
material universe is an infinitely extended plenum ;
and of course, all motion of bodies must produce a kind
of voriices or whirlpools. The soul, having no exten-
sion, is uncompounded; and therefore, it can never be
dissolved or die, being in its very nature immortal. But
the brutes are not immortal; of course they can have
no souls, and are mere machines, with no thoughts, no
volitions, and no preceptions. To explain the mode of
communication between the soul and the body, he sup-
posed a very subtile fluid, secreted from the blood and
called animal spirits, to circulate in the nerves, and to
convey intelligence from every part of the body to the
soul resident in the pineal gland of the brain; and
thence, also, to convey the commands of the soul to all
the muscles employed in voluntary motion.

Des Cartes was a man of genius, a fine writer, and,
in general, a sound logical reasoner. Yet his premises
were too often mere assumptions; and his conclusions
of course, without support. He struck out many new
thoughts, and he was the first in modern times to frame
a regular system of philosophy based on metaphysical
reasoning. His writings excited much attention, and
they prompted many to engage in philosophical studies ;
but they also met with great opposition. Gassendi and
the adherents to the Baconian method, of course reject-
ed Des Cartes’ views. The Jesuits in France, and many
of the Protestants in Holland, did the same. In Eng-
land, he scarcely had a follower. His principal adher-
ents were, in France, several of the Messieurs de Port-
Royal, especially Malebranche, and in Holland, Spinoza
and a few others.

The next metaphysical philosopher claiming a place
in this sketch, was Benedict Spinoza, a learned Jew of
Amsterdam, who died at the age of 45, in the year 1677.

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METAPHYSICAL PHILOSOPHERS, 19

He had studied the Talmud, and was dissatisfied
with its doctrines, Being discarded by the Jews for
his opinions, he associated with Christians, and among
them, read and admired the writings of Des Cartes.
But he thought the system of that philosopher suscep-
tible of improvement.

Des Cartes had defined a substance to be, “a thing
which so exists, as not to depend on anything «else for
its existence.” And he had said, that in this its proper
sense, the term belongs exclusively to the self-existent
God. Relying on the correctness of this definition,
Spinoza maintained, that there is but one proper sub-
stance in the universe; namely, the self-existent and
all-perfect God. All other creatures and things, not
only originated from this one infinite substance, but in
such a manner as to consist of it, and be inseparable
from it. They exist in God, and God in them. As to
essence or substance, the whole universe is God: God
existing and operating in numberless modes and forms,
which his infinite wisdom has devised. According to
this theory, God himself is natura naturans, as the
philosophers express it; and the created universe is
natura naturata. Spinozism, however, is not the Ber-
keleyan theory so extended as to include minds as well
asmaterial things. Berkeley supposed material objects,
to be nothing more than a constant divine operation,
supplying the place of permanent material causes. But
Spinoza did not suppose cither matter or mind, to be no-
thing more than a divine operation; he admitted them
to be a proper product, or rather efflux, of divine powér,
(though sustained and actuated permanently by the
divine Being,) and having in themselves the power of
action, according to certain laws impressed upon them.

With Des Cartes, be held the essence of mind to con~
sist in thinking, and the essence of matter to consist 1n
extension, And believing that there is but one proper
substance, or self-existent Being, from whom and in
whom all created beings and things have their existence,
he supposed this self-existing substance or Being, to be

infini ind or thinking power, and infinite ex-
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20 METAPHYSICAL PHILOSOPHERS.

éension, and that when he creates finite minds, it 1s, by
sending forth a portion of his thinking power, to think,
and will, and choose, according to certain laws; and
when he creates material objects, he in like manner
sends forth a portion of his other essential nature, eaten-
ston, to fill assigned places, to move and be moved, and
to exhibit all the phenomena which we ascribe to ma-
terial bodies.

All actions he supposed to be necessary, or governed
by the laws of causation: even those of God himself,
who cannot act otherwise than he does, being compelled
by his own infinite attributes. Yet we may say, God
acts freely ; because he is self-moved, or acts only from
internal impulses. Man, on the contrary, does not act
freely ; not only because he is a dependent existence,
but also, because he is a finite being, and is subject
to a thousand influences from the objects around
him,

All the divine perceptions or ideas, he supposed, are
absolutely perfect: and all our ideas would also fully
accord with the nature of things, if we were always
careful to think according to the laws of thinking. It
is only illegitimate and careless thinking, that can lead
to error; since the human mind, though finite, is an
efflux of the infinite and all-perfect mind. The object
which we can the most perfectly know or comprehend,
is the divine Being himself; in whom we exist, and
who is constantly developing himself in each and every
ereated thing around us. To know and contemplate
God, is man’s highest bliss ; and to obey his commands,
is man’s highest freedom.

Such is the best outline I can give of Spinoza’s pan-
theistic system. It is manifest, that he carried his spe-
culations quite beyond the bounds of human knowledge,
and ran into downright transcendentism, in which ob-
scurity must ever reign. But he also, wrote in very
barbarous Latin, and is a very obscure writer. I have
not relied so much upon my own power to unravel his
enigmas, as on the labours of those Germans, who have

attentively studied his works in order to compare his
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METAPHYSICAL PHILOSOPHERS. 21
opinions with those of the recent German pantheists.
Spinoza had scarcely a single follower, in the age in
which he lived; and he was generally regarded with
abhorrence, as being an atheist, and a subverter of all
that is rational. And yet he is reported to have been a
very amiable man, perfectly correct in morals, and devout
also, in his way.

The next philosopher we shall mention, was the pious
Nicholas Malebranche, of the Congregation of the Ora-
tory at Paris, who died in 1715, at the age of 77. His
principal work was, the Search after Truth, first pub-
lished in 1673, and afterwards, much altered and en-
larged in 1712, only three years before his death.

Malebranche, it has been said, was the most profound
metaphysician that France ever produced. He was an
original thinker; he called no man master. Yet he
took much from Plato, Augustine, and Des Cartes.
From the last he took, unaltered, his ideas of substance,
of mind, and of matter.

He undertook to search out, and to portray, the
sources both of error and of true knowledge.—The great
source of error, he supposed to be, the following of the
senses and the imagination And the only source of
true and certain knowledge, he held to be, God himself.

His grand principle was, WE SEE ALL THINGS IN Gop.
The manner in which we do so, (notwithstanding the
pains he took toexplain himself, ) is not very clear. Some-
times he seems to hold to a sort of mystical union and
communion of the soul with God, in which God imparts
knowledge to us.—At other times, and more generally,
he seemstocome very near to Spinoza’s pantheistic notions.
For he held the soul to be a portion of the divine Logos
or Reason; and the material world, to be a develop-

ment of the one infinite substance ; and both to exist

still in God, and to be incapable of any action whatever,
except as God works in them. The immediate objects
of all our knowledge of things, he declares to be the
ideas of things, not the things themselves. These ideas
of things existed in the divine mind, or in God, before

any thing was created ; and, when we direct our Bo
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4 METAPHYSICAL PHILOSOPHERS.

upon God, we behold these ideas of things, just as they
exist in the divine mind; and this is true knowledge.
These ideas of things, existing in God, and which we
can behold in him, are not the ideas or images of indi-
vidual objects, but general or abstract ideas, the ideas
of the genera and species of things; by knowing which
we know the very essence or the true nature of all
things material and immaterial. And as these ideas of
things are, at all times, to be seen in God, we may,
by viewing them in him, have a true knowledge even
ef objects that never fell under the cognizance of our
senses, or were never the objects of our empirical
knowledge. When we contemplate external objects
only through the bodily senses, we obtain only indis-
tinct images of those things; and we must turn our
view to God, and contemplate the ideas of those things
in him, or we cannot have any correct and adequate
knowledge of them. So when we attend to our own
internal consciousnesses, and endeavour thence to ob-
tain a knowledge of our own souls or minds, we have
only indistinct conceptions, until we look to God, and
contemplate the idea of a soul, as it there exists in the
most perfect form.— We may now see, why Malebranche
considered reliance on empirical knowledge, as the grand
source of all errors. We may also learn what he in-
tended, when he said, God is our intelligible world.
God himself, we are able to behold with immediate
vision ; and in him, we may see the perfect ideas of all
created things. Innate ideas, Malebranche did not
admit ; such ideas being unnecessary for those who can
at any moment see the perfect ideas of all things in
the ever present God.

The true religious spirit in which Malebranche wrote,
his easy and alluring style, and his very ingenious reason-
ing, caused his writings to be much read and admired ;
but the complete ascendency of the empirical mode of
philosophizing, prevented his views from gaining much
currency,

Q

20!

 

THE FIRST GERMAN PHILOSOPHY.

CHAPTER IV.
THE FIRST GERMAN PHILOSOPHY.

Leibnitz and Wolf.

WE come now to the rise of the first German Philo-
Sophy. Its author was Godfrey William von Leibnitz,
a contemporary of Locke and Malebranche, and a man
whom any nation might be proud to call its own. He
was a general scholar, acute, ingenious, and indefatiga-
ble in his exertions to advance both literature and
science. Although he gave much of his time to the
study of philosophy, and became the father of the first
German system of that science, yet he had not leisure
to compose a general treatise on the subject.

He pursued the metaphysical method ; imitating in
this the example of Plato and Des Cartes, whom he di-
ligently studied, but did not servilely follow. His aim
was, toreform the systems of his predecessors, and tomake
philosophy as perfect a science of reason, as the pure
mathematics. In this way, he hoped to put an end to
all strife and all controversy, not only among philoso-
phers themselves, but between them and theologians,
moralists, and others. To accomplish this object, he
proposed to treat philosophy in the mathematical man-
ner; that is, by laying down such first principles as
none can deny, and then giving logical demonstrations
of every proposition. This method he deemed practica-
ble, because necessary general truths are not confined to
the mathematics, but belong equally tophilosophy. These
truths, he justly supposed, are not the result of experi-
ence, but have their foundation in the mind itself. He
considered them to be innate, or a part of that intellec-
tual furniture which we receive from the Creator, ma

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24 THE FIRST GERMAN PHILOSOPHY.

which become developed by reflection. The ground of
their certainty, lies in the divine constitution of things;
and the perception or knowledge of them, is what dis-
tinouishes a rational soul from the souls of brutes.

But, unfortunately, Leibnitz did not build his super-
structure, entirely, of such solid materials. He held,
(with Mr Locke,) that all simple ideas of sensation
(simple perceptions by the senses) are objectively true ;
thatis, they correspond perfectly with their objects. And
he also maintained, (with Des Cartes and others,) that
all the simple ideas of reason are objectively true, or ac-
cord with the real nature and essence of things. At the
same time, he confounded the logically true, viz. what
involves no contradiction or absurdity, with the really
true, or the true in fact. Hence he supposed that, by
mere thinking, we may arrive at the knowledge of all
those primary truths or first principles of things, from

_which may be deduced, by logical reasoning, a complete

system of philosophical knowledge. The Cartesian
doctrine, that clearness and distinctness of ideas is ade-
quate evidence of their truth or correctness, Leibnitz
discarded as fallacious. He proposed more rational and
logical tests of truth ; namely, for all abstract and gene-
ral truths the principle which lies at the foundation of
mathematical demonstrations, that of identity or contra-
decltion; and for all questions of fact or real existence,
the principle of adeguate cause, or, that whatever occurs
or exists, must have a cause. Andon this last princi-
ple of reasoning, he proved the being of a God from the
existence of the world around us. He likewise deemed
the ontological proof, or that derived from the concep-
tion of a God in our own minds, to be valid proof.

Ais specimens of his deductions from these first prin-
eiples and laws of philosophizing, we may consider his
doctrines of Monads, of pre-established Harmony, and
of the Best System of the World.

i, His doctrine of Monads. All the objects appre-
bended by our senses, he said, are compounded bodies,
er such as may be separated into parts. How far the
subdivisions of matter may be carried, our senses, from

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THE FIRST GERMAN PHILOSOPHY.

their obtuseness, cannot determine. But infinite divi-
sibility is inconceivable and absurd. Yet the smallest
possible subdivisions of any and every substance, must
have no parts; and of course, can have no dimensions,
no figure or shape, and no exterior or interior, Such
elementary parts, he denominated Monads. And as
these Monadscan have no external qualities, (dimensions,
shape, colour, &c.) all their qualities must be strictly
internal, But the only strictly internal qualities are
those of mind, such as sensibility, thought, volition, &c.
Hence all Monads must be, in their nature, living, active
beings, or minds.—Our knowledge extends to four kinds
of Monads, and no more. First in the order of excel-
lence is the self-existing God, the author and upholder
of all the other Monads, the Monas Monadum, who is
infinite in all his attributes. Next in order are finite
spirits and human souls. These are distinguished from
their great parent Monad, by being finite and dependent
minds ; and they are distinguished from the lower or-
ders of Monads, by possessing reason. The third order
are the souls of brutes ; which have the power of percep-
tion, thought, and volition, but are not capable of under-
standing either general or necessary and eternal truths.
The fourth and lowest order of Monads are sleeping,
unconscious, and unthinking beings; yet they possess
life, feeling, and the power of action ; and they are al-
ways blindly struggling to change their condition. Ag-
gregates of Monads of this fourth and lowest order, con-
stitute material bodies. One Monad of the third order,
surrounded by an organized aggregate of Monads of the
fourth class, constitutes a brute animal. Andone Monad
of the second order, surrounded by a similar aggregate
of Monads of the lowest order, constitutes a man, or a
human being. Such being the essential nature of all
existing beings and things, space and time can be no-
thing more than the arrangement of Monads, considered
as co-existent or as existing in succession. Both are
mere ideal things, or things without real existence. By
this doctrine of Monads, Leibnitz supposed he could ex~
plain, what Plato intended by ideas, and Aristotle by

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26 THE FIRST GERMAN PHILOSOPHY.

his entelechias ; and likewise overthrow entirely the
pantheism of Spinoza.

2. His doctrine of pre-established Harmony. As the
created Monads have no external qualities, no shape, no
dimensions, no interior or exterior parts,—it is impossi-
ble, that they should act upon one another in a physical
manner. One Monad cannot penetrate another, nor
can one touch another externally. Each is, in its na-
ture, as independent of all physical actions from the
others, as it would be were it the only Monad in exist-
ence. In other words, as Monads have only énternal
qualities, or those of minds,—it is impossible that they
should either act, or be acted upon, mechanically.—How
then can we account for the constant action and reaction
apparent throughout the material world ; and for the
control of the mind over the body, and the influences of
the body on the mind, in human beings? He replies,
the created universe is an organized whole. Each
Monad stands connected with the whole system, but
has special relations to the Monads nearest to x and
in every living being, the unthinking Monads form a
sort of world around the intelligent Monad which is its
soul. -Now, by a law of their Cr eator, impressed on them
when they first issued from his hands, every finite Mo-
nad is compelled to act conformably to its relations, or
to do and to endure whatever its relations require, in
order to a perfect harmony in all the movements of this
vast and complicated machinery. And this law of the
Creator is what he denominates the pre-established
flarmony. Hence, the apparent action of finite Mo-
nads on each other, is, in reality, divine action, or the
result of an original law of the Creator; and by this
law, God secures infallibly those results, which he con-
templated when he formed the universe.

3. His Best System of the world. In his Théodicée,
or Tissay on the goodness of God, free-will in man, and
the origin of evil,—Leibnitz maintained that, among the
many possible systems for a created universe, God has
chosen the very best ; and that this may be proved from

his perfections. His infinite wisdom could devise the
224THE FIRST GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 27

best system, his infinite goodness would choose it, and
his infinite power would then produce it. Hence, the
present system must be the best possible in its place ;
and nothing could be changed, without changing the
system, and rendering it less perfect. God indeed
chooses nothing, for its own sake, but what is good.
But physical evil or imperfection, is inseparable from
whatever is finite; and, of course, such evil must per-
vade a world of finite beings and things——From this
imperfection of all finite beings and things, natural evils
(pain and suffering) naturally and necessarily follow ;
and moral evil or sin, is likewise a natural, though not
a necessary consequence. Natural evil God chose; not
indeed for its own sake, but as the means of good. He
designed it for chastisement or punishment; and, by
the pre-established Harmony of the universe, he causes
it naturally to overtake sooner or later the transgressors.
Moral evil or sin, arises naturally from the free-will of
finite rational beings; and God does not choose it, but
only permits it; and he permits it, because he could
not otherwise have the best possible system.— Pree- will
consists in acting according to our own choice, and with-
out any compulsion, or physical necessity. But our
choice is determined always by the circumstances in
which we are placed. It therefore depends, in all cases,
on the pre-established Harmony of the universe ; and,
of course, it was from eternity, absolutely certain how
we would choose in every instance.

This system of philosophy spread rapidly, and soon
became the national philosophy of Protestant Germany.
The man who did the most to explain and recommend it
to his countrymen, was Christian W olf, who died in 1754,
at the age of 75. He drew out and expanded the princi-
ples of Leibnitz into a complete system ; and composed
for this purpose, elementary works on nearly every
branch of the science. And as many of his treatises
were written in the vernacular language, this philosophy
spread among the common people. Wolf resolutely
met every assailant, and spent his life in explaining and
defending the Leibnitzian principles ; and hence, this

225.

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THE FIRST GERMAN PHILOSOPHY.

system has obtained the name of the Leibnitzian-
Wolfian Philosophy. In regard to principles, Wolf
scarcely deviated at all from Leibnitz ; except in deny-
ing sensations to the lowest order of Monads, and in
confining the so called pre-established Harmony to the
mutual intercourse of the soul and body. But in prac-
tical or moral philosophy, of which Leibnitz did not
treat, Wolf devised a new central point, or fundamen-
tal principle ; viz. that of perfection, as comprising all
that is morally right and obligatory. According to this
principle, the whole duty of man consists in striving
after perfection, in himself and in all around him ; the
perfection of his entire character and condition, for time
and eternity. As Wolf surveyed the whole field of
philosophy, so he distributed it into its several depart-
ments ; a thing which had not before been done. He
divided all philosophy into theoretical and practical, the
former treating of rational knowledge, and the latter of
rational conduct. Theoretical philosophy he divided in-
to Logic and Metaphysics ; and under Metaphysics, he
included Ontology, metaphysical (not empirical) Psy-
chology, Cosmology, and natural Theology.—Practical
or moral philosophy he divided into Ethics, the Law of
Nature, and National Policy. And this classification
of the Philosophical Sciences, with the addition of
esthetics, has been generally followed in Germany
quite to the present time. In all his elementary trea-
tises, which were numerous, Wolf pursued strictly the
mathematical method. He also introduced a multitude
of new technical terms, derived chiefly from the Greek
language ; nearly all of which have since passed inte
common use in the German schools.

Uhis Leibnitzian-Wolfian philosophy, reached its
culminating point, about the middle of the 18th century.
Soon afterwards, from various causes, 1t began to de-
cline. Many had all along questioned the soundness of
its principles, and still more, the tendencies of some of its
doctrines. The downright pedantry of most of its ad-
vocates, who dogmatized ostentatiously, and stuffed
their writings with formal demonstrations of the sim~

aon
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Rice gnrpeenrr TT
Jaa Ne reKANT AND HIS CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. 29
plest truth, rendered it disgusting to well informed
minds. About the same time, Mac Locke's principles,
or those of the empirical school, found their way into
Germany. And these principles were propagated in,
and along with, the writings of the English and French
deists and sceptics, (Hume, Voltaire, Rousseau, &c.)
which began now to circulate extensively, and to
produce in that country a set of free-thinkers and con-
temners of long established opinions. The friends of
revealed religion were alarmed at the progress of infidel-
ity and scepticism, under the assumed name of philoso-
phy; and they anxiously inquired, What is true philo-
sopby? It wasamid this state of things, that Emanuel
Kant appeared on the stage, as a master spirit control-
ling and guiding public opinion by his superior talents.’

CHAPTER. V.

KANT AND HIS CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.
Introductory Remarks.—Critic on Sensation.—Time and Space.

EMANUEL Kant was born at Konigsberg, in the year
1724, and spent his whole life in that city, never having
been more than 22 English miles from it. He first
studied theology, then became a lecturer, and after-
wards a professor of logic and metaphysics, in the unt-
versity ; and died in 1804, at. the age of 80. That he
was a man of great acuteness, and a patient investigator,
his works evince; and that he was a man of pure morals,
conscientious, upright, modest, and amiable, is the
testimony of all who knew him. He has been call-
ed the modern Socrates, and, emphatically, the Philo-
sopher of Konigsberg.

Kant arose at a most critical period in Germany.
French and English infidelity had just broken into the
country, and threatened to sweep away all the estab-

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—

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30 KANT AND HIS CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

lished religious opinions and institutions. Metaphysics
was sinking into disrepute. “The Leibnitzian-Wolfian
philosophy was waning; and the disgusting dogmatism
of its advocates only hastened its downfal. Many were
bewildered, and having little confidence in any system
of philosophy, adopted eclecticism as the safest guide to
truth. And Hume's scepticism was spreading and un-
dermining all established opinions. It was to arrest
this progress of infidelity, to raise the sinking character
of metaphysical learning, to discourage dogmatism and
eclecticism, and to guard the public mind against the
withering influence of scepticism, that this great man
undertook to discriminate between true philosophy and
false, to point out the nature, use, and ends of the for-
mer, and to unmask the sophistry of the latter.

With most of his countrymen, he considered philoso-
phy to be rational science, or the product of pure reason,
and divisible into two parts; the one speculative or
theoretical, and the other practical or moral ; the former
treating of rational knowledge, and the latter of rational
conduct. Hie expresses himself thus: «All the interests
of my Reason centre on these three questions; What
can Lknow? What ought Ito do# and, What may L
hope for?” The first of these questions, he says, be-
longs wholly to speculative Reason; the second belongs
wholly to practical Reason; and the third belongs to
both ; because, when practical Reason has decided the
question in a general manner, speculative reason must
come in to define more particularly what it is we may
hope for. (Kritik der reinen Vernunft, p- 833.)

Kant believed, that the failure of every preceding
attempt to establish a sound philosophy, had arisen
from the admission of unsound materials into the found~
ations of the building, or from the assumption in the
outset, that we have rational knowledge of things,
of which we have not such knowledge. Hence, he
wisely concluded that the only safe and sure method of
proceeding, was, to begin by tracing human knowledge
to its sources, to examine all the functions of the mind

concerned with the reduction or enlargement of know-
228=4

     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

KANT AND HIS CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

ledge, and to subject the whole process of the mind to
the most rigid criticism before the tribunal of pure
Reason. Such therefore was the method of proceeding
which he himself adopted, and which he pursued rigor-
ously, and with uncommon industry and perseverance.
Lhe work which he composed, in answer to the first
inquiry of Reason, What can I know, is the most cele-
brated of all his works, and is entitled a Critic oF
Pure Reason. It was the result of many years’ labour,
was first published in 1781, and fills an 8vo. vol. of
nearly 900 pages. The title of the book is expressive
of its true character: it is a criticism of pure Reason on
the powers of the human mind in regard to knowledge,
showing definitely how far they can go, and where
human knowledge must ever stop, so long as the mind
is dependent solely on its own resources. The work is
not properly a system of philosophical knowledge, em-
bracing a summary of all that philosophy can teach:
it is rather an introduction to sound philosophizing.
And, so far as I can judge from their titles, and
from the representations of others, (for I have not
had access to them.) most of his other philosophi-
cal works are of a similar character; that is, they
are critical introductions to the several branches of sci-
ence of which they treat. Such I understand to be,
his Critic of Practical Reason ; his Critic of the Judg-
ing Faculty; his Prolegomena to every future system
of Metaphysics that can claim to be scientific; a Founda-
tion for the Metaphysics of Morals; &c. &c.—Such be-
ing the character of Kant’s writings, we cannot expect
to find in them a statement of his opinions on all the
important questions in philosophy ; but, only the fun-
damental principles of his mode of reasoning and judg-
ing on such questions. oh
In the Introduction to his Critic of Pure Reason,
Kant first discriminates between pure knowledge a pre-
ori, and empirical knowledge. The former has the cha-
racteristics of universality and necessity—(the same as
described in Chap. I. of these {ssays); the latter has
not these characteristics, but always relates to particular

229

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32 KANT AND HIS CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

facts or things which have fallen under observation.
He then tells us, that the former kind of knowledge is
the proper basis of all philosophy. He next observes,
that philosophy requires a previous science, which shall
determine the possibility, the principles, and the extent
of this pure knowledge a priori. He then discriminates
between analytical and synthetical judgments. In the
former, the predicate is really and truly contained in the
subject ; and a mere explanation evolves it. But in
synthetical judgments, the predicate lies out of the sub-
ject, and the judgment advances to meet it. Of this
kind are, all our judgments of experience. Now it isa
question of fundamental importance, whether synthetical
judgments a priori, or synthetical judgments of pure
Reason, are possible. If they are not possible, then
Reason can only form analytical judgements ; that is,
she can only analyze her few and scanty pure ideas.
But he concludes such judgments to be possible, in cer-
tain cases; and that they actually occur in all the
theoretical sciences, in mathematics, in the physical
sciences, and in metaphysics. Such j udgments, however,
can never relate to the matter of our knowledge, which
must always be given; but solely to the forms of our
knowledge, or to the general principles or laws by which
our intellectual faculties are governed. These general
principles or laws by which our intellectual faculties
are governed, Reason can discover a priori, or by the
mere inspection of these faculties and their mode of
operation; and, having discovered them, she can in
some measure anticipate experience, or determine be-
forehand what is possible and what is not possible in
human experience.—And hence, there is a field open
for exploration by that previous science, which philoso-
phy requires. This previous science, he denominates
Transcendental Philosophy ; and of it he treats in
his Critic of Pure Reason. He divides the work into
two parts; the first and much the largest, treats of the
elements of this new science, or it surveys all the facul-
ties of the mind that afford us knowledge, and criticises
their several products; the second part gives the ge-
230KANT AND HIS CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. oo

neral results of the previous survey, and states tlie uses
of this preliminary science. ;

We now come to the Critic itself. Following the
established doctrine of metaphysical philosophers, that
we possess three distinct faculties, Sensation, Under-
standing, and Reason; Kant first subjects Sensation
to the scrutiny of Reason. And he makes Reason de-
cide, that this faculty is a mere receptivity of the impres-
sions made upon our senses by the objects around us.
Sensation therefore brings to us no knowledge of the
essential nature of external objects, but only of their
phenomena. The unknown objects which make the
impressions, Kant calls Noumena (vospeva, from voew
to understand ;) that is, things which are understood
or conceived to exist, but of which we have no certain
knowledge, and of which consequently we can give no
further account. Phenomena therefore, and phenomena
alone, are the elementary matter of all our knowledge
of the sensible world around us.

But Reason can discover a priori or by pure intui-
tion, that these phenomena must present themselves to
our senses either as being simultaneous, or as being con-
secutive; and if simultaneous, they must have a re-
lative location, and if consecutive, they must follow
each other in some order, and with a greater or less de-
gree of rapidity. And thus pure reason perceives, in-
tuitively, that all external phenomena must present
themselves to our senses as being limited and bounded
by time and place. Time and place, then, are pure in-
tuitions of Reason: they are not things existing m na-
ture, nor are they the properties nor the relations of
things in nature; they are purely ideal things, and are
merely the laws of sensation, the forms of the pheno-
mena of external sense, or the aspects in which those
phenomena must always present themselves to our
senses. Whether any other beings—God, for instance
—must also view material objects as existing in time
and place, we do not know. And, as time and place
are merely the laws of Sensation, we have no right to
predicate them, or either of them, of God, of spirits, or

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Sora HG , 1 er ae Or ;

  

34 KANT AND HIS CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

of any abstract truths or ideas. For, these objects
never presenting themselves to the bodily senses, can
never fall under the laws of sensation.

But although time and space are merely ideal things,
or mere laws of sensation, yet they are empirical reali-
ties ; that is, they always accompany our sensations,
and, without them, sensible perceptions cannot exist.
And being thus empirical realities, and at the same time
perfectly simple ideas, with no composition and no qua-
lities whatever, except mere magnitude, they are capa-
ble of being adequately depicted or represented by dia-
grams and numbers, and thus of becoming themselves
the objects of sensible intuition. And hence they lay
a foundation for a pure science of Reason, namely ma-
thematics. But no other of our simple ideas can be
thus depicted and subjected to sensible intuition; and
therefore they can never become the subject of a pure
science of Reason.

Such in general is the result of Kant’s criticism of the
sensitive faculty. His views of the wide difference be-
tween noumena and phenomena, seem to have met
general approbation. But his ideas of time and place,
though accordant with the dogmas of the Wolfian school,
have been controverted. Many cannot persuade them-
selves that noumena, or things themselves, have nothing
to do with time and place. And indeed, if we may predi-
cate time and place of phenomena, it seems difficult to
say why they are not equally predicable of noumena;
on the supposition that noumena really exist, and are
the immediate physical causes of phenomena. For how
can physical effects be limited to time and place, and
not also the physical causes which produce them ?
Can a material thing operate or produce effects, where
it is not present? Or can Reason any more conceive, a

priori, of a necessity for phenomena to exist only in time
and place, than for noumena to exist in the same manner 2
If then Reason decides a priori, or intuitively, that
phenomena must so exist, does she not equally decide
aprvori, or intuitively, that noumena must so exist 2 It

is no objection to this reasoning, that we do not under-
232KANT AND HIS CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. 35
stand the essential nature of noumena; or that we
know nothing of them, except that they are created
things and the immediate cause of all the phenomena of
the material world. For, by assigning them time and
place to exist in, we affirm nothing respecting their na-
ture or essence, but merely the when and the where of
their existence and operation. Besides, we must
suppose that there is an unknown difference of pro-
perties in different noumena, in order to account for
their producing different phenomena. And if we
are compelled to make such a supposition, notwith-
standing our total ignorance of the essential nature
of noumena ; why may we not assign them locations in
time and place, in consistency with the same ignorance
of their essential nature ?

_ Kant indeed tells us, in a subsequent part of the
Critic, (Elements, Pt. II. B. II. Ch. LIL.,) that all our
knowledge of external objects is limited to the condt-
tions which render experience possible ; and therefore
we can never attain to a knowledge [he should have
said, to empirical knowledge | of any objects which can-
not be subjected to the senses. Hence the only objects
known to us [empirically ] are phenomena. The objects
of real existence, which present to us these phenomena,
we do notknow. Yet, as we admit, and ought to admit,
their existence, they may be called noumena. This
statement may be fully admitted, without reducing
time and place to mere forms of our sensations, having
no relation to things themselves or to noumena.—For it
is not contended, that we have empirical knowledge of
the fact, that noumena exist in time and place. We
only infer the fact, from the known and necessary ex-
istence of their phenomena in this manner. It is Rea-
son which compels us to admit the fact, and not expe-
rience ; just as it is Reason, and not experience, which
compels us to admit the more general fact that noumena
really exist._*
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THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

CHAPTER VI.

THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

Understanding defined.—Its Conceptions.—The Categories.

Tue faculty of Sensation having been examined at
the bar of Reason, the Understanding is next arraigned
before the same tribunal— Reason pronounces the Un-
derstanding or Intellect, to be an active faculty of the
mind; and not a mere receptivity like Sensation. I¢
is the office of this faculty to take the multifarious im-
pressions on the senses or the crude matter of know-
ledge, just as it is brought into the mind by the sensi-
tive faculty, and to shape and fashion it into concep-
tions of objects, and judgments concerning them. ‘The
Understanding, therefore, is that faculty of the mind,
which forms conceptions and judgments of the objects
around us. In other words, it is the faculty which
thinks and judges of all the objects apprehended by our
bodily senses. To facilitate her operations, (which are
incessant, and endlessly various, and requiring not only
accuracy, but great despatch,) the human Understand-
ing classes all objects of frequent occurrence, under
genera and species, and forms both a conception and a
name for each class.

According to the received doct

trine of the metaphysi-
cal school, this faculty, like that of Sensation, is common
to man with the

brutes ; yet in men, it may have some
powers, which it has not in brutes : arising, perhaps,
from its being combined with Reason jn us, and not in
them. In men, the Understanding is distinguished from
Keason, by the sphere of its action, by the objects with
which it is concerned, and by the product of its labours.
The sphere of its action is the sensible world, or the

world of phenomena ; the objects with which it is con-
234THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. 37
cerned, are sensations, conceptions, and simple judg-
ments; and the product of its labours, is empirical
knowledge. The sphere of the operations of Reason,
on the contrary, is, the supersensible world, or the
world of spirits, of ideas, of general truths, of virtue,
&c.; the objects with which it concerns itself, are ideas,
(not conceptions,) things which the mind can contem-
plate, but which can never be subjected to the senses ;
and its product is, rational knowledge, or knowledge of
universal and necessary truths. The confounding of
Reason with Understanding, and of Zdeas with Con-
ceptions, by Mr Locke, in his Essay on the Human
Understanding, and by most of the English, Scotch,
and American writers since the days of Locke, (though
it was a natural, and almost necessary consequence of
supposing all human knowledge to be derived from
sensations, and reflections on them,) has spread much
obscurity and confusion through all the metaphysical
productions of these writers; and, by introducing the
indiscriminate use of terms, which should never be con-
founded, it has contributed not a little to render the
Knglish language unfit for clear and conclusive reason-
ing on metaphysical subjects. And I apprehend that
this is one great reason, Wiy SO Many among us can-
not understand and appreciate the writings of the Ger-
man philosophers. Their clear, precise, and definite
thoughts, the moment they are translated into English,
become obscure, indefinite, and vague; because the
language into which they are translated, is so. It is
true that the Germans have introduced a multitude of
new technical terms into philosophy, which sound very
strange in our ears; and Kant, in particular, has been
censured, even by his own countrymen, for his exces-
sive coinage: but if our language had appropriate terms
for expressing the more necessary distinctionsof thought,
we might contrive some way to avoid the use of German
technics, and yet convey to English minds the rea
views of the German writers.—After this necessary
digression, we will return to the Kantian Criticism.
The conceptions of the Understanding ne
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a FD “Ste a ‘6

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38 THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

our knowledge of material objects or things; or rather
they are the very objects themselves, so far as we know
them; for they are combinations of phenomena ; and
beyond phenomena, our knowledge of things does not
extend. These conceptions are a sort of mental mages
of sensible things. Each image is composed of more
or fewer distinct impressions, which were made by the
object on our senses, when we examined it; suchas, fioure,
colour, dimensions, attitude, position, motion, taste,
smell, noise or sound, its feeling, its actions, its opera-
tions on other objects, and the effects of other objects
upon it. These various impressions are called the cha-
racters or marks of the thing ; and, when duly combined
in the mental picture, they constitute the conception of
the object. As we sometimes wish to examine indivi-
dual marks or characters of objects, separately, or un-
combined with other marks, this gives rise to abstract
conceptions, or conceptions of the qualities or attributes
of objects. And, observing that various objects in na-
ture possess many marks in common, the Under-
standing combines those conimon marks into separate
conceptions ; and thus she forms conceptions of species,
genera, and higher, and still higher genera. But it is
obvious that, as the conceptions mount upwards to the
higher and more general classes, they must contain
fewer and fewer marks. The conception of an individual
object, will contain all the marks, which belong to that
object; the conception of the species, will contain only
the marks common to all the individuals of the species ;
and the conception of the genus, only the marks com-
mon to the genus: and so of the higher genera. Con-
ceptions, therefore, always become more meager or more
simple, the more extensive their sphere; that is, the
greater the variety of the objects they embrace, the
fewer are the marks they contain.

in forming these various conceptions, the Under-
standing exhibits the skill and judgment of a practiced
architect. Scarcely any object in nature presents itself
to the senses, as absolutely isolated or alone, Along

with the impressions from the object itself, many other
236THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

impressions, from the connected or surrounding objects,
enter the mind; for the sensitive faculty, like a faith-
ful mirror, presents them all Just as they strike upon it ;
and the Understanding has to separate them, in order to
combine together only those belonging to the object it-
self. This often requires a very critical examination of
the impressions or marks, and a discriminating judg-
ment. And when the proper marks or impressions are
selected, they must be skilfully combined, in order to
form a correct mental picture of the object. In referring
individual objects or things to their proper species, and
species to their genera, accurate discrimination is neces-
sary. And in putting her conceptions together, so as to
form from them a correct and useful system of empirical
knowledge, great skill and judgement are requisite. Yet
all this, the Understanding learns by practice, to per-
form with much accuracy and despatch.

After glancing at these manifold and important opera-
tions of the Understanding, (which it is the proper
business of Logic, or the Art of Thinking, to describe
more fully,) Kant makes Reason to decide, that the
Understanding is wholly dependent on the sensitive
faculty, for all the materials of her knowledge. She is
the mere architect to select, to combine, and to arrange
the materials brought into the mind by Sensation.
Hence, the Understanding can produce no knowledge,
except what 1s empirical. She cannot enlarge, at all,
our rational or philosophical knowledge.

But, by inspecting the operations of this skilful ar-
chitect, Reason discovers, that the Understanding has
four pure ideas; which serve her as general laws or
principles, by which to construct her conceptions, and
regulate her judgments, of all the objects of sensible in-
tuition.—These four ideas, to which Kant gives the
name of Categories, are those of quantity, quality, rela~
tion, and modality. When the Understanding would form
a conception, or a judgment, of any new bundle of meer!
sions brought to her by the senses, or would test the
correctness of any conception or judgment already forme
ed, she calls to her aid these four ideas; and they sug-

237AT itched ian ba dhe aie Seow eater iar ees

Pe TT ETE ITE ceatiactes thd Lia iat ha
UG sey :

Ne nee I egg es i

40 THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

gest that the thing must be examined as to its quantity,
its quality, its relations, and its modality ; and they
also teach, that there are three, and only three, results
under each inguiry, to which the understanding can
come.

1. The first inquiry respects the logical quantity of an
object or conception. And the only possible answers
are, it is a unity, a plurality, or a totality. For mstance,
the conception bearing the appellation man, must de-
note either a single man, or a plurality of men, or man
in general, that is mankind, the total race of men.—
There are only these three subcategories, under the
general category of logical quantity.

2. The second inquiry respects the logical quality
of an object or conception: (qualitas, from quals, of
what sort or kind.)—To answer this inquiry, the Under-
standing places the object by the side of another object,
whose quality is known, and then affirms their agree-
ment, or their disagreement, or decides that they agree
in part, or in a limited degree. Proceeding in such a
manner, the Understanding affirms, that this object is
an animal; that other object is not an animal,—it is
a plant; and that third object is partly an animal, and
partly not; it is azoophyte. So she declares, this house
is painted; that house ts unpainted ; and that third house
is partly painted, and partly unpainted. Thus, afirma-
tion, negation, and limitation of the affirmation or nega-
tion, are all the subcategories of logical quality.

3. The third inguiry respects the relation of the ob-
ject or conception to other objects or conceptions. There
are three, and only three species of relations; namely,
anherence, dependence, and external connection or coher-
ence. The relation of ¢nherence is, that which exists
between substances, and the attributes of substances.—
The relation of dependence is, that which exists between
causes and their effects. The relation of external con-
nection or coherence is, that which exists between any
ebject and the surrounding objects ; for all objects have
their places in the universe, or are surrounded by otber
objects, with which they are more or less closely connected.
238THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY, 4]
/

4. The fourth inquiry respects the modality, or the
mode of existence of an object, so far as it is Known to
us. According to our apprehensions of things, we may
predicate of them possible existence, actual existence, or
necessary existence. Whatever accords with the formal
conditions of experience, or is not contradicted by any
law of human experience, is possible or may exist.—
What is directly attested by our experience or observa-
tion, is actual or really exists. What all human ex-
perience requires, necessarily, must exist, or exists neces-
sarily. Of this necessary existence, there are two kinds,
the one internal, absolute, and unconditional ; as rownd-
ness in a circle ; because, if you take away the round-
ness, it is no longer a circle. The other is external, and
hypothetical, or conditional, depending on the laws of
causation ; as, every child that is born, must have a
father anda mother. “ Every house is builded by some
nan.” A ponderous body, in the air, must fall, if it is
not supported.

It is manifest, from a mere Inspection of these cate-
gories, and of our continual use of them, that they give
form or shape to all our conceptions and judgments of
sensible objects. They are the all-pervading laws of
human thinking, and of human language.

It is therefore of importance to inquire, from what
source did these categories originate ; what is the eround
of their validity ; and what limits are there to the ap-
plication of them. That they did not originate from a
knowledge of the nature of things themselves, or of nou-
mena, must be manifest; because we have no such
knowledge of things themselves; all our knowledge of
sensible objects, is confined to phenomena. It seems
then, that the categories must have been derived solelv
from the inspection of phenomena. And as they are
pure edeas, they must be the product of fteason, the
only faculty which produces ideas. This higher faculty
of the mind, in contemplating phenomenal matter, per-
ceived it to be capable of being arranged under the cate-
gories ; and as the Understanding needs some formule
for her conceptions and judgments, in order to make

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Nee ta eae

makin nae

 

THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

them capable of being wrought into a system of empiri-
cal knowledge, at the suggestion of her sister faculty,
Reason, the Understanding tried the system of the cate-
gories ; and finding the system to work well, and to
produce no discoverable errors or mistakes, she conti-
nues to frame all her conceptions and judgments accord-
ing to these formule. Such, Reason pronounces to be the
origin of the categories, so far she can discover. And
the admission of such an origin of them, will account
for the superiority of the human Understanding, which
is aided by Reason, over the Understanding of brutes,
which is not so aided—The validity of the categories,
therefore, or the right of the Understanding to make use
of them, arises from the necessity of her having some for-
mule to guide her, and from the eaperience of solid ad-
vantages, and no serious evils, arising from the use of
them.—But from this view of the subject, it is most ob-
vious, that we have no authority for extending the use
of the categories beyond the sphere of our sensible in-
tuitions. We have no authority for applying them to
noumena, nor to any thing supersensible ; because we
do not know, either a priori, or from experience, that
such things can be brought under their empire, without
producing misapprehensions and erroneous conclusions.
We cannot test the results of such application, by ea-
pervence, as we are able to do in the sphere of sensible
intuitions ; and hence, we can never make such applica-
tion on safe and solid grounds. Yet when we venture
beyond the sphere of our sensible intuitions, and attempt
to discuss such questions, as, Whether the world had a
beginning ; Whether there is a God; &c. it seems al-
lowable to apply the categories to them ; because know-
ledge on such subjects must rest on some principles of
reasoning, and we can discover none better than the
categories. Still we should not forget, that this is a
transcendent use of the categories, or an application of
them transcending the principles of certain knowledge.
Such, in general, are the doctrines of Kant, in regard
to the human Understanding.

Whether he has not gone too far, in confining the
240THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY,

legitimate application of the categories solely to the phe-
nomena of the sensible world, may be questioned. The
remarks made in the preceding Chapter on Kant’s
doctrine concerning time and lace, (the categories of
Sensation,) that they are ose our mode ‘of intuiting
phenomena, may be applied with little variation to his
doctrine concerning the categories of the Understanding.
It was there stated, that we must suppose some un-
known difference of properties to exist in different
noumena, in order to account for their producing different
phenomena. Now it is admitted by all, that phe-
nomena accord very well with the categories, May we
not then conclude, that nouwmena also must possess such
a difference of properties, as will make the categories in
some measure applicable to them? The supposition
does not imply, that the categories lead us to any ob-
jective knowledge of the inherent properties of noumena,
or of any other supersensible things. It only permits
us to say, that, from the diversity of their effects or
phenomena, we are authorized to judge, that they do
differ ; and that they so differ, as to present to us phe-
nomena corresponding with their own inherent differ-
ences.—I¢t is at least true, that Reason can discover,
prort, no valid reason why the categories should not be
as applicable to supersensible things, as to the pheno-
mena of sensible things. If the term man may always be
so used as to denote either an endividual man, or a plu-
rality. of men, or the whole race of men; why may
not the term angel, in like manner, be always used to
denote either an individual angel, or a plurality of angels,
or the whole host of angels? Can Reason discover any
other or better ground for the application of this cate-
gory of quantity, in the one case, than in the other ?
And so of all the categories. Indeed, the simple fact
that philosophers and metaphysicians, in all ages, have
applied the categories to supersensible things, unhesi-
tatingly, and most abundantly, shows that Reason dis-
covers no difficulties in making the application.9
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THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

CHAPTER VII.
THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

Pure Reason.—Transcendental Ideas.—Rational Theology.

Kant next brings theoretical Reason, that higher in-
tellectual faculty of man, under a critical examination.

The distinction between speculative or theoretical Rea-
son, which imparts to us rational knowledge, and prac-
tical or moral Reason, which enjoins upon us rational
conduct, has already been noticed. Our present concern
is with the former.—It will be recollected, that the
sphere of theoretical Reason is the supersensible world, the
world of spirits, of general truths, of virtue, &c.; that
the objects with which it is concerned, are tdeas, things
which the mind can contemplate, but which can never
be subjected to the senses ; and that the product of its
labours 1s rational knowledge, the knowledge of universal
and necessary truths.

The distinction between analytical and synthetical
judgments, was stated in the Introduction to the Critic :
and the power of Reason to form synthetic judgments, «@
priort, was there limited to the mere forms of our know-
ledge ; that 1s, to the determining what is possible, and
what is not possible, in human experience. In regard
to all objects of real existence, she can form only analyti-
cal judgments, unless the objects are given or already
known. And hence, to form analytical judgments by
means of middle terms, or to reason in the logical man-
ner, 1s the only function of theoretical Reason in regard
to our knowledge of whatever may exist around us,
within us, or above us. But analytical judgments
are those in which the predicate is really and truly con-
tained in the subject of the proposition. Of course,

theoretical or speculative Reason can never acquaint us
242THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. 45

with any unknown object, that may exist within us,
around us, or above us. She can only draw forth the
knowledge of these objects, which we already possess,
or can only present it to us in a different attitude and
form.

To establish these strong positions respecting the im-
portance of speculative Reason, Kant institutes an ela-
borate examination of what he calls the transcendental
edeas of pure Reason, that is, the ideas which Reason
attempts to form, by a logical deduction, of the nature
and essential properties of the human soul, of the mate-
rial world, and of God; and he shows, that the sup-
posed logical deduction is unsound and fallacious.

I. As to the idea of the soud:—The reasoning which
attempts to educe a knowledge of its nature and of its
inherent properties, from those acts of the soul of which
we are all conscious, is a mere paralogism. In the as-
sertions, f think, I love, I hate, I will, I choose, I re-
member, Sc. various actions are affirmed of the subject
Z ; and on the most solid grounds, because we are con-
scious of those acts. But the actions of any being or
thing, are notthe thing ttself; nor are they any part either
‘of its essential nature, or of its inherent attributes. We
may indeed infer, that whatever acts, must really exist ;
and that it must be of such a nature as to be capable of
performing the acts ascribed toit. But all this implies
no knowledge of the mode of its eaistence, or of those
inherent qualities which make it capable of performing
the acts. Hence, the following reasoning is wholly
inconclusive. J think; therefore I am a thinking Sub-
stance.—That substance is not perceived by the exter-
nal senses, but only by internal consciousness ; it 1s
therefore immaterial ora Spirit. It has no perceptible
or conceivable parts ; it is therefore a simple Substance.
Being a simple substance, and immaterial, it must be of
an immortal or undying nature. It acts in and by the
bodily organs; and therefore itis the Souw/, the anwat-
ing principle of the body. All this is sophistical rea-
soning ; because it mistakes the subject of the conscious-

ness, for the object of that consciousness. It is sa———

oihdes
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inc Ibias, cin AID MSCs Lan encanies cinnraemaaiea ak aeii aa as tae 1k a ARETE NE CNS SE
Be hy! , Vr vistastah " ee CHEE NG HEY. ,

baal

nen eT nn een aii

Ne nn et manana

  

46 THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

Figure dictionis—But, though inconclusive as reason-
ing, it may nevertheless be true: and it mayserve as a
convenient basis of a system of psychology.

II. The cosmological ideas of pure Reason, or those
transcendental ideas which Reason forms of the external
world, are equally baseless, considered as the results of
logical reasoning. For, both the thesis and the anti-
thesis of them, may be proved by very similar ar-
guments. Thus it may be proved—(1.) That the world
had a beginning in time, and is of limited or finite ex-
tent ; and, on the contrary, that it had no beginning in
time, and has no limits in extent.—(2.) That all sub-
stances consist of simple elementary parts, (or Monads,
as Leibnitz called them ;) and, on the contrary, that no
substance whatever consists of such simple elements,
because such simple elements cannot exist.—(3.) That
physical causes cannot be the only causes in existence,
there must be a free cause, to give existence to the phy-
sical causes; and, on the contrary, that no free cause
ean possibly exist, and consequently physical causes
alone must exist—(4.) That there must be, either in
the world, or beyond it, a Being who exists necessarily,
and who is the first cause of all things; and, on the
contrary, that no such Being exists, either in the world
or beyond it. As specimens of the arguments adduced
by Kant, take the following:

The 3d Thesis is thus proved: Unless we assume a
cause prior to the first physical cause, and commencing
the series of physical causes, there will be no cause: for
the whole series of physical causes, and of course none
for any part of it. We must therefore suppose an un-
caused cause, prior to the first physical cause. But an
wncaused cause must be one that is free, or one that acts
without being compelled to act, by any higher cause.
The Antithesis is thus proved: Every causality is in
itself a change, since it is the state of the cause when in
action, which is different from its state when not in ace
tion. Now as every change presupposes a cause, the
change in the supposed free cause, by which it proceeds

to action, must have a cause. And therefore, there can-
244THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. 47

not be any free cause, or one that acts without beine
caused to act. :

The 4th Thesis is thus proved: The world is full of
changes. But the existence of every change is condi-
tioned ; 1. e. it presupposes something which is its con-
dition, or a cause on which it depends. Now, if there
were no existence that is absolutely unconditioned, the
conditioned could not be conditioned. Consequently,
there must be an absolutely necessary Being, whose ex-
istence is unconditioned or uncaused: otherwise the se-
ries of the conDITIONS or causes would be incomplete.
The Antithesis is thus proved : Every member of a se-
ries of changes must, of course, be conditioned. Hence,
the supposed absolutely unconditioned Being, if in the
world, and a part of the series, must himself bea condi-
toned Being ; contrary to the thesis. And if such a
Being existed out of the world, and commenced the se-
ries of changes in the world, his causality at least
would belong to the world, and of course he would con-
stitute a part of the series : which contradicts itself. We
must therefore reject the thesis altogether, in order to
make the series of the conDITIONED complete.

The objects of these cosmological ideas lie wholly be-
yond the reach of experience. Hence, experience can
never decide in favour of either the Theses or the Anti-
theses. Reason alone must solve her own contradictions.
The side of the Theses, is that which good men incline
to take ; and it may be called the Dogmatism of pure
feeason. The side of the Antitheses is that which is
espoused by philosophizing sceptics ; and as its argu-
ments are founded on the principles of pure emporicism,
this side may be called the Empiricism of pure Reason.

Critical Idealism, which admits and even demonstrates
the existence of nowmena, or things lying beyond all
sensible intuition, can alone solve these dialectical con-
tradictions. This critical Idealism is equally removed
from materialism, which supposes we can have sensible
intuitions of nowmena, and from empirical Ldealism,
which denies the existence of nowmena. Now this eri-

tical Idealism, by maintaining’ that sensible a
245Mithaniscmien SON SROR TTL tic”

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Plas

ats tetahsaaneaiiad
ey

al Scans “sl guiness nactateereaaceablen ahs LG
. ye

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a } } in

exe yr egenemeena gta SEALE
EM TALC h Lehre

ee eben

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Po RUE LMS ; ue yan
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A8 THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY,

extends only to phenomena, or that we have empiricad
knowledge only of what is sensible, does not deny the
possibility of some knowledge, other than empirical, of
objects lying beyond the reach of our senses. It only
warns us not to strive after empirical knowledge of such
subjects, and not to reason about them upon the sup-
position of such knowledge. Taking this stand, and
carefully examining both the Theses and the Anti-
theses respecting the cosmological ideas, critical Ideal-
ism declares that both may be true, because they relate
to different things. The Antitheses direct attention only
to phenomena, or the objects of empirical knowledge ;
but the Theses look beyond phenomena, to their cause ;
and they consider the total series of phenomena as com-
plete and dependent as a whole, on an intelligible cause
lying without the bounds of nature. Hence, both the
Theses and the Antitheses may be true; the one main-
taining, e.g. that there is a God beyond nature, and the
other, that there is no God within nature. And so in
all the contradictions, one side includes an intelligible
thing among the phenomena of nature; which the other

. does not, but only reasons back through phenomena, to

an intelligible thing lying beyond them. And therefore,
though the side of the Theses failed of proving its asser-
tions with apodictical certainty, yet the opposite party
failed of proving the contrary, there not being any such
contradiction as would make the one proof overthrow
the other. Nor can the latter party overthrow the
Theses of the former, unless it can prove, e.g. that out
of and beyond nature there is no God, or in other words,
that the supposition is itself absurd and self-contradic-
tory, which it is not.

II!. The third transcendental idea of pure Reason, is
that of a supreme and all-perfect Being. Reason is
disposed to admit the existence of such a Being, because
she needs this perfect ideal of absolute excellence, and
still more, because her moral wants demand it. But
the arguments of speculative Reason, to prove that such
a Being exists, are defective.

The ontological proof, or that derived from the very
246THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. 4

idea of a God, (that to be a perfect Being, he must be
a necessary existence, and that a necessary existence can-
not but exist,) is entirely fallacious, being a mere as-
sumption of the thing to be proved, and then inferring
it from that assumption. The cosmological proof, or
that stated in the Theses of the third and fourth cosmo-
Jogical ideas, besides the objections already noticed, can
only prove a first cause, which is uncaused ; and not,
that this first cause is the great ideal himself. This
argument therefore rests upon the ontological for sup-
port. And the physico-theological proof, or that found-
ed on the marks of wisdom and design in the works of
nature, is illogically reasoning from objects of experience
among men, to objects lying wholly out of the reach of
all human experience; and, moreover, if admitted, it
does not prove the author of nature to be an infinite and
perfect Being, but only a Being of sufficient intelligence
and power, to produce such a world as this. Hence,
this argument also falls back on the ontological proof.

Kant here goes into a Critic of all Theology, on the
ground of speculative Reason. Theology is the know-
ledge of an Original Being, a God, the Author of all
things. ‘This knowledge may be derived either from
mere fteason or from Revelation. In the former case, it
is rational theology, (theologia rationalis ;) in the latter
case it is revealed theology, (theologia revelata.) Again ;
rational theology is either transcendental theology, or
it is natural theology.

Transcendental theology, which is that of a Deist,
contemplates its object as it is presented to us in those
transcendental ideas, of which we have been treating.
It therefore regards God as being known to us merely
as the original cause of all things, (ens originarium, re-
alissimum, ens entium.) Yet as it does not deny him
to be an intelligent Being, we must say, that it admis
the existence of a God. In so far as it takes the cosmo-
logical ideas for its basis, it may be called cosmo-theology «
and in so far as it relies on the ontological argument
for proof, in may be called onto-theology.

Natural theology is that of a Theist. It cons
aa]

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is eo M4

ae ies ar

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ttre cersaeatermeitayny  mepemncln ray tuapeme: mene montane Bere ie

Reece teens
5

50 THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

its object as being an infinite Intelligence or Mind, of
which the human mind is the finite image or likeness.
It therefore recognizes a living God, a Being of bound-
less intelligence, who by his wisdom and power created
and governs the world. This theology alone can satis-
fy the wants of man.—It is physico-theology, so far as
it relies upon the physico-theological proof of the exist-
ence of a God; that is, so far as it infers, from the
beauty and order of the natural world, an all-wise Ar-
chitect ; just as, from any production of human art, we
infer that it had an intelligent fabricator. But it is
moral theology, when, from the moral law within us,
it infers a moral government of the rational universe ;
and, of course, a supreme “awgiver and Judge, who
takes account of human actions, and will reward or
punish every man according to his deserts.

From all that has been said in the preceding criticism
of Reason, it will be seen, that every attempt to esta-
blish theology on a scientific basis, by means of mere
speculative Reason, must be futile. It cannot be done.
Yet when practical Reason, by means of the moral law
within us, has taught us to believe and to confide in
God, speculative Reason may be of use, to purify our

conceptions, and to give form and consistency to our
theological views.

 

CHAPTER VIII.

THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.
The Results to which this Philosophy leads.

WE now come to the concluding part of the Critic of
pure Reason.

The author says: If we compare a system of tran-
scendental philosophy with an edifice, the former part of
this work has examined the materials of which the edifice

248

rar Se ER a Rc AS

Sa
apenas ezTHE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. 51

is composed, and this second part will survey the plan
of it. And here we shall have to treat of a Discipline,
a Canon, an Architectonic, and a History of pure
Reason.

I. Discipline of pure reason.—A discipline is the op-
posite of a culture. It restrains, and ultimately des-
troys, the constant inclination to swerve from and over-
leap the rules by which we should be governed. Cul-
ture carries us forward in the right way; discipline
keeps us back from pursuing wrong ways.

(1.) Discipline of pure reason in its dogmatic use.

Philosophical knowledge is rational knowledge, deriv-
ed immediately from ideas or abstract conceptions. Ma-.
thematical knowledge is rational knowledge, derived
from the construction of such ideas or conceptions ; that
is, from schemata, diagrams, or sensible representations
of the conceptions. Mathematics is concerned only
with quantities; which are always capable of being
adequately constructed or represented to the eye. But
philosophy is concerned with qualities, which cannot be
thus constructed or represented. And this it is, makes
the wide difference between mathematics and philo-
sophy. For all our knowledge rests ultimately on intui-
tions of the objects of it. But philosophical knowledge
can have no other than empirical intuitions of its objects,
while mathematical knowledge can make its most ab-
stract conceptions the object of direct intuition by means
of its constructions. ‘Thus we can construct a conical

figure, which shall represent all cones; but we can
“never construct the colour of a cone; nor can we draw
any diagram which shall adequately represent simple
existence, though we may easily draw one to represent
extension or magnitude. For example; ask a mathe-
matician what is the sum of the three angles of every
right-lined triangle, and he will draw his diagram to re-
present every possible triangle, and will demonstrate
by it that the swm must be equal to two right angles ;
and his diagram subjects the whole to our intuition.
Now, ask a philosopher the same question, and he goes
to analyzing his abstract conceptions of angles and lines,

249

ee ow ee

< 4 I ee
AE EEL ALS. AB AOation.

Ce Lp ene
bape wiasta Meet batted neue halve Sacbot onc me Lag

a ett iets
the eras a reais Sa
wae Le ont w" ah

ee ee
ee v 5

Sete ee ate re weytnee pl oreeeeen: sah by
ee oe 5 7 ny ij

Se een
5 hy " M uy

aestintitemee

  

52 THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

but can never find an answer in this way. So the alge-
braist represents adequately his quantities, known and
unknown, by letters; and then by a regular process, he
can solve his problems. But the philosopher cannot
make out any such sensible representations of his general
conceptions; he can only analyze them; unless he will
recur to the sensible intuition of the objects themselves,
i.e. of some individual thing under the genus; which
will afford only empirical, and never philosophical
knowledge of them. Hence, all purely philosophical
reasoning is discursive, or purely logical, that is, is
based immediately on our conceptions. But mathema-
tical reasoning is not purely logical, as it rests on intui-
tions of the general conceptions, by means of its construc-
trons. Mathematics and philosophy are therefore es-
sentially different sciences: and the precision and cer-
tainty of the former can never be carried into the latter,
Philosophy cannot make out complete DEFINITIONS
of the objects of which it treats, as mathematics can do,
For those objects are either empirical facts, with regard
to which we are liable t0 much deception, and which
are moreover always particular facts, and not universal
truths ; or they are pure conceptions a prior, (e. Q.
substance, cause, right, equity, &c.) and therefore SO
obscure as to be incapable of any adequate description
on which reliance can be placed. We can indeed ex-
pound our conceptions of the things ; but we can never be
certain that our conceptions correspond exactly with
the things as they exist. On the contrary, the objects
of the mathematician being always arbitrary combina-
tions or creations of the mind, and also capable of con-
struction, and of course of being tntwited, are the only
objects that will admit of perfect definitions,
Philosophy moreover cannot have her Axtoms, as
mathematics can. For all axioms are propositions go
clear and evident, from mere Inspection, as to need no
proof. Now m athematics, by means of her constructions,
can submit many of her fundamental positions to our
immediate ¢nspection ; and therefore she has her axioms.

—But philosophy, being unable to construct any thing,
250 :THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. 03

has to depend wholly on discursive or logical reasoning,
and therefore can have no axioms. For, all discursive
reasoning is merely the analyzing of our conceptions, and
therefore it can educe from those conceptions only what is
really and truly contained in them. Philosophy can
make no synthetic judgments a priori respecting the ob-
jects of nature, but only empirical judgments: and she
can reason about them only discursively, that is, logi-
cally.— Direct synthetic judgments from perceptions, are
Pogmata : similar judgments from construction, are
Mathemata. Now all Dogmata are uncertain; Mathe-
mata are not.

(2.) Discipiine of pure reason in its polemic use.—By
its polemic use, I intend, its use in defending positions
against the dogmatical deniers of them, or in maintain-
ing that the contrary cannot be proved, or even be
shown to be more probable.

Here Kant introduces those critical remarks on the
theses and antitheses of reason in regard to her cosmo-
logical ideas, which were quoted in our last Chapter.

Me then proceeds: The Critic of pure reason is the
proper tribunal, before which all the contests of pure
reason should be brought.—Without the aid of this
tribunal, reason is situated like men in a state of nature,
where no impartial decision of controversies is practica-
ble, but the parties must fight it out, and never ‘come
to agreement, This critic may put us at ease, and dis-
pel all fear lest the enemies of religion should suc-
ceed in overthrowing the belief of a God, of the im-
mortality of the soul, a future state, &c. They can
never do any such thing. At the same time, it teaches
us not to rely on the ordinary proofs, (the* ontological,
cosmological, and physico-theological,) as alone ade-
quate, and such as none but bad men can hesitate to ad-
mit: and it shows us, that moral proofs, derived from
practical reason, and from the reasonableness 01 the
things themselves, must be our chief reliance. Such a
critic should never lead us to become scepiics, like
Hume and Priestley; but by showing us the true

boundaries of rational knowledge, it should ete
20™
S atshealahind Aiba alba) hatha vain

—— Til adeemertiershasin ai)
UL TONNPER AEE HE ET eye prea epententg cite ha i saa perc? Moet
t +A ae uo ye Saad Tip hag” ten fad See eal

a

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a ee
Ar grt. He eM tac an Mest trae he fete sates cise a tat
TO Retr ae rat
my

Sp ggg ee ge

  

54. THE CRITICAL PIILOSOPHY.

from dogmatism. The first steps taken in matters of
pure reason, are apt to make us dogmatists, as being
yet but children in knowledge. The next steps bring
us into perplexities, and seem to require universal scep-
fcism. But the third and last steps (those of sound
criticism) show us the limits of true rational knowledge,
and dispel scepticism as well as dogmatism.

(3.) Discipline of pure reason in regard to hypotheses.

Admitting that the conclusions of pure reason in
matters of fact are not proved with apodictical certain-
ty, it may still be a question whether those conclusions
may not be received as hypotheses, and be used advanta-
geously as such. And undoubtedly they may be so re-
ceived and used in certain cases, but not in all cases,
and for all purposes. In particular, they may be used
to answer objections; by showing the objector that his
arguments are liable to exceptions. But they must
never be made the foundation of any system of positive
knowledge. In the field of speculative reason, this rule
is necessary, in order that nothing may be assumed
without the evidence of certainty. But in the field of
practical reason, which does not aim to evince truth,
but only to advance the best interests of man, the same
caution in regard to hypotheses is not necessary.

II. The Canon of pure reason.—By a Canon, he
tells us, he intends a summary of the principles, a priori
of the right use, in general, of any of our intellectual
powers. ‘Thus the analysis of the powers of the under-
standing, in the first part of the work, is a canon of
pure understanding.

(1.) Of the ultimate aims of the pure use of our rea-
son.—It may be asked, What are the problems, which
it is the ultimate aim of pure reason to solve? The
answer is: The speculations of reason in her transcen-
dental operations all centre on three subjects; viz. the

Sreedom of the will, the ummortality of the soul, and the
existence of a God. But the merely speculative inter-
ests of reason in regard to all the three subjects, are
very small, and hardly worth pursuing through so much

toil. Because, the sum of our philosophical knowledge
252

ERT IE tart ela a er eee ore
Se : arama = seat pe Sere es Sr aaa ami as
RES Crapeaa 5 ee SSS > *

 

nea aepecan aeeies i ayaa i eee cee Sa

MIG PII

     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     

THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. 59
would be very little enlarged by an affirmative decision
of these questions. But it is far otherwise in regard to
practical reason, or when the question comes up, What
ought we do.

(2.) Of an idea of the supreme good, as determining
the aim of pure reason.—All the interests of my reason
unite in these three questions: I. What can I know ?
II. What ought I todo? III. What may I hope for ?
The frst question belongs wholly to speculative reason ;
and it has, I trust, been adequately answered already.
——The second question belongs wholly to practical rea-
son. It is not however transcendental, but moral ; and
therefore does not belong to this Critic. The third
question is both practical and theoretical; because, when.
practical reason has decided it in a general manner, spe-
culative reason must come in to define particularly what
we may hope for.

The second question, What ought I to do? inquires
after a rule of duty, not after a mere rule of expediency,
or a path to happiness. Complete happiness would con-
sist in the full, entire, and eternal satisfaction of all
our propensities or desires. Anda rule to guide us to
such a state, must be founded on empirical principles ;
because experience alone can show us what our propen-
sities are, and what will satisfy them. A moral law, on
the contrary, shows us what will render us worthy to
be happy. It overlooks our propensities, and the means
of their gratification. It treats us asfree rational beings,
and points us to the conditions of our being made happy.
It must therefore rest on the mere ideas of pure reason,
and must be known a priort. I assume the existence
of such a moral law ; and I refer to the moral judgment
of every man, who will candidly examine his own
moral feelings, for authority to make the assumption.—
Pure reason, in her practical or moral exercise, 18 our
voucher for some principles of the possibility ofexperience,
namely, for the practicability of such actionsas will accord.
with the precepts of the moral law. For, if the law
imperatively commands certain actions, those actions

must be possible, and the performance of them a
E 293

b es
rae os Pre a4 re ae ee A he en
= Bre Seg Oa een ote EA Ee CM Be ALE,

Jwt
*

root rant eactee etctrs Siicaes
re eC ot . } a Y \

TETSPERER REET TE Pty orate boa Pesnle ahem et

oer See
*

ee
, Mhel chk dek

  

a6 THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

on our free-will. And hence, the principles of pure
reason, in her practical or moral capacity, must have
objective reality.—From the absolute demands of the
moral law, we also infer the possibility of a moral system
or unity ; of which, however, speculative reason can
have no knowledge, because her province does not ex-
tend over the territory of free-will. A moral world
would be one conforming to all the precepts of the moral
law. Such a world must be possible, in consequence of
the freedom of the will; and such ought to be the cha-
racter of the existing world. It must be an éntellectual
world, and not a physical; because it must be free from
all compulsion, and must make no allowances for the
weaknesses and imperfections of human nature. The
adea of such a world has objective reality, not from any
actual intuition of it, but as an object of pure practical
reason.—Thus we answer the first of the two questions
of pure practical reason, (What must I do 2 )J—namely,
obey perfectly the moral law; make the existence of @
moral world to be a reality ; or in other words, do that
which will render you worthy of happiness.

The last question is, Jf I do so, may I expect to be
happy ? And, from the principles of pure practical reason,
we infer an affirmative answer. For we have seen, that
a moral world (one in which every man ‘shall do what
he ought to do) ought to ewist; such being the imper-
ative command of the moral law. But the possible ex-
istence of such a world presupposes a supreme moral
ruler or lawgiver who wills its existence ; because, no
otherwise can such a world be possible. Blind nature
could never produce it. So then, there must bea supreme
Feason, which legislates on moral principles, and which
is also the author of nature. Such an Intelligence, con-
necting a perfect moral will in creatures with their high-
est happiness, and thus causing all the happiness which
results from morality, I denominate the ideal of the
supreme good. Now, as we do not find the world
around us, or the present state of things, to be such
a moral world as we have seen should exist, and in

which perfect happiness reigns, we necessarily infer a
204seat 2 esate aoe esr aa
Saitatis Sg nas a egtalt  OH ey
di ; Tae BaF Sa a Sis ite ete Saar as “bas 2 tg Me eg TALS SS ee ree err tae nc ke ee et

        
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. on

future State, an unseen world, in which all this shall
be realized. This future state, as distinguished from the
kingdom of nature, Leibnitz called the kingdom of grace.
Practical reason commands us to connect ourselves with
the kingdom of grace, and to expect happiness in it,
provided we do not render ourselves unworthy of it. In
order to our happiness, it is necessary that all our con-
duct be regulated by moral maxims; that is, by the
precepts of the moral law. But reason cannot feel this ne-
cessity, if she regards the moral law as a mere idea with-
out objective reality. Hence, she is obliged to assume
the existence of an efficient cause, a Gop, the maker and
executor of this law. For if there be no God, and no
future unseen state, the ideas of morality may excite our
admiration or wonder, but can never become efficient
motives controlling the will and conduct. Neither hap-
press alone, nor morality alone, (the latter considered
as rendering man worthy of happiness,) can be reason’s
supreme good. We must superadd the expectation
of this happiness, on condition of being worthy of it.
And hence the necessity of assuming that there is a Gop,
the lawgiver, and the centre of the moral unity, or head
of the moral world. This supreme Intelligence must
be one, not many wills, because many wills would
destroy the unity of the moral world. He must be
omnipotent, to order all things in subserviency to
the unity of the moral world; omniscient, to know
the inmost thoughts and purposes of creatures and their
moral deserts ; omnipresent, to order all events in sub-
serviency to the interests of the moral world; and
eternal, to conduct all events to their final issue.

(3.) Of opinion, knowledge, and faith—Truth con-
sists in the agreement of a proposition with the objects
of real existence. The truth of a proposition may be
admitted either on objective grounds, or on subjective 5
that is, either for causes existing in the thing, or for
causes existing in our own minds. In the former case,
the admission is conviction ; in the latter, it is persua-
sion. In persuasion there is frequently an illusion, the

subjective ground being mistaken for an objective. oe
255oo
cad
es

—_
tal oa etheh hate ‘ets sehen tent og

ete rd saeehia aid
CNC ae .

oe i

Reid aes Lil Shad tan Tad cancel tae ak abled a ache mk
a Pony Be Dnata wt tar rt

A Seo tpiecee inter Secale meaTenb st need een aie aaa ea ae
H ert Re Salter ot tes eh da it

Sta eee ee eet ee eee
Rab Ys fe Sate ape iF . ‘s
Per UNG te Cue ron a eA

  

ag THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY:

prove whether we are under such illusion, propose the
case to others, and see if their minds view it as we do.

Yo admit without the consciousness of either subjec-
tive or objective validity, is to presume or to be of
opinion. If the ground of the admission is subjectively
adequate, but not objectively so, the admission is faith or
belief: as, e. g. when the object lies beyond our personal
cognizance, and we admit the statement because we have
confidence in the testimony of others, or for any other
Satisfactory reason existing in our own minds. If the
ground is both subjectively and objectively adequate, the
regarding as true is knowledge ; we know it.

We should never venture to hold an opinion, without
knowing something about the thing, which may render
it possibly true. In the judgments of pure speculative
veason, opinions are wholly inadmissible: the propo-
sition must contain what is known a priori, and therefore
have apodictical certainty, or be rejected altogether. In
the transcendental operations of pure reason, an opinion
is too little, and knowledge too much to be expected.
In the disquisitions of practical reason, Faith or belief
is admissible ; and indeed, generally, itis all we can ex~
pect.

The two remaining Chapters of the Critic of pure
Reason, (viz. the Architectonic, or systematic arrange-
ment, and the History of pure reason,) are so concise, and
contain so little to interest the reader, that I pass them
in silence.

In these sketches, I have endeavoured faithfully to
exhibit the leading views of Kant in his most celebrat-
ed work, and to show in general the spirit and tendency
of his Critical Philosophy. That I have in no instance
misapprehended his meaning, is more than I dare assert.
I can only say, I have done the best I could to repre-
sent him fairly and intelligibly to my readers; so that
they might be able to form some correct estimate of
the merits and demerits of this corypheus of modern
German philosophers,SET Ae

mechs fe em Sg

poe ag ie ser Sa tay
Saeed a Se See

  

ANTI-CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. 59

CHAPTER IX.
ANTI-CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

Effects of the Critical Philosophy.—Reinhold’s Doctrine of Thought
—Fichte’s Doctrine of Science, or Wissenschaftslehre.

5

Kant’s Critic of pure Reason, first published 1781,
was little noticed for a few years; and then it suddenly
arrested the attention of all Germany. The majority
of the learned assailed it, as subverting many of the
best established truths, narrowing far too much the
boundaries of human knowledge, and rendering philo-
sophy a meagre science of little value or importance.
Lhe Wolfian dogmatists considered it as a direct attack
upon their doctrines: and the philosophizing dogma-
tists regarded it as little short of a protestation against
all philosophy. Still it found numerous friends; and it
was speedily admitted and expounded in all the uni-
versities. And it was soon apparent, that it had com-
pletely subverted the older systems of philosophy:
and that it had roused the lovers of science throughout
Germany, to high enthusiasm for metaphysical studies,
and especially for investigating the foundation, source,
and origin of rational knowledge. During a very few
years, more new and essentially different bases for sys-
tems of philosophy were brought forward, and elabor-
ately discussed, in Germany, than in all the rest of
Europe since the revival of learning. Some of these
were only modifications of the Critical Philosophy ;
others were intended to subvert it, and to res-
tore the old philosophy remodeled and established
on sounder principles; and others again sought to
find entirely new principles, on which to establish a

OR

HP?
sav g

pee ae Aer)

Cor Sect Ser are Sea,

SMa died bai hain thal Narerat eat id ae

  

60 ANTI-CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

more perfect philosophy than had ever before beer
dreamed of.

The chief aim of most of these systems was, to pene-
trate into the terra incognita of Kant, that is, into the
region of noumena and of supersensible things. The au-
thors were unwilling to believe we can know so little,
as Kant had represented. They therefore attempted to
rend the val, which conceals the unknowable; or to.
bridge the unpassable gulf of Kant, which separates be-
tween phenomena and noumena in the material world,
and between ideas and the objects of them in the world
of thought.

One of the earliest of these projectors, was Charles
Leonard Reinhold, @ professor at Jena and Kiel, who
died in 1823, at the age of 65. His theory appeared as
early as 1789. It was, that thinking (Vorstellen), or
the representing a thing to our own mind, gives us the de-
sired objective knowledge. For our consciousness assures
us, that in all thinking there are present three things,—
the thinker, the thought, and the thinking. The thinker is
the sulyect of the action ; the thinking is the act of the
thinker; and the thought is the product of that act.
Now in this product there is—(1.) Something derived
from the objects without the mind, and which is the
matter or material of which the thought is composed :
—(2.) Something derived from the mind itself, namely,
the form of the thought :—and (3.) The consciousness
that the material, when shaped by the mind, does take
that particular form. But this theory was soon put
down; and the author himself ingeniously abandoned
it, when shown that it does not explain at all the na-
ture of the matter of thought, but only the process of
the mind in the act of thinking. This system was
called Vorstellungslehre, the Doctrine of Thought.

A far wider and more durable popularity attended
the speculations of John Gottlieb Fichte, a professor of
Jena, who died in 1814, at the age of 52. At first he
embraced the Critical Philosophy of Kant; but after-
wards he thought he discovered a way to carry absolute

science into regions, of which Kant affirms, we can have
258E05 *:
Peet Nee aks Se
Se i ety tt

    
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

ANTI-CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

no knowledge. His views were first published in
1794.

His system is entitled the Doctrine of Science, (Wis-
senschafislehre) ; and he describes it as being the Science,
which establishes the possibility and the validity of all
science. Such a preliminary science, he said, must rest
on a single fundamental principle; and that principle
must be so certain in itself as to need no proof from
without, and so comprehensive as to embrace both the
substance and the form of all scientific knowledge. And
such a principle, he maintained, is found in the simple
proposition, I am I. For, every thing 7s, what tt ts ;
neither less nor more. This self-evident truth may be
expressed thus: AA. Now, by substituting the J,
of which every one is conscious, in the place of A; and
the verb of existence Am, of which also we are conscious,
in place of the copula; we obtain the proposition I am
1; of which our consciousness, as often as we reflect
upon our own mental acts, furnishes the subject, the pre-
dicate, and the copula. Of course, this proposition
has apodictical certainty ; for it rests on the ground ofa
perfect and known identity between the subject and the
predicate.

Now by affirming this proposition, a judgment is ex-
pressed. But to judge, is to act. Here then is an act
of the J. The Z directly affirms its own existence. It
is the actor, and at the same time the object of 1ts own
action ; and herein consists the consciousness which fur-
nishes the knowledge of the proposition. But this act
of the J, affirming itself to be J, and nothing more nor
less, implies a stop, boundary, or limitation of the
sphere of the Z: in other words, it postulates the exist-
ence of something that limits the activity of the J, and
confines it to its own sphere. Now, this something
which limits the 7, whatever it may be, is certainly not
J. And hence the proposition I am I, proves the exist-
ence of two things or objects; namely, the LI which is
affirmed, and the not £ which is postulated. It more-
ever proves, that these two objects limit or bound each

other ; so that neither of them, in so far as it is consid-
259

es EA ee ee

pie bet Jer Tied ex ter or© AT Reese WILLD: ncaa nce or haiiels
hata BSUS ete dee ty oe
SE Paes |

interne be reed

ee
" eset
cr ee |

- Sel ne beeen ta eae ataeett an Tela conchae tbe maies eae nee
alae a ede Eee ey r ri cu ‘
ne Ss oe) 4 we Stn ; t :

reenter
Wek ey

ee ay
Prreneyearegpate cape. seater pe NE AS untAN HY oral srtah ainsi eae oI
tate a arc A tbaorat es mtn) , | i, i
A Y ‘4 1 eye vg - es Ah’ Ms be , :
4 oy Eerie’ . eat nr ot pe ‘
“ : ¥ . fee
bam
Wwe

intellectual activity ; here he contemplates it asa free
260

  

62 ANTI-CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

ered as bounded by the other, is infinite or unlimited,
but is finite.

But what is this not J, which sets bounds to the 1?

—Manifestly it is something which owes its existence
to the J. For the Z, when reflecting upon itself and
its operations, voluntarily or spontaneously limits and
bounds itself; and thereby it gives up its claim to
boundless existence and activity, and transfers a por-
tion of existence and activity to the not-Z s which is to
the Z the external world, or the universe without.
This not-J, therefore, has no existence but what the [
gives to it, by the act of limiting itself in the judgment,
Lam I. Of course the world around us, or the universe,
is only an ideal existence, a world of own creation. We
indeed conceive of it as real, when we consider i¢ as
limiting the Z: but this limitation isofour own making ;
the J is the only real actor. And this holds true of all
the individual objects, material or immaterial, which the
mind contemplates as exterior to itself, and to which
collectively she gives the appellation not-L. For the J,
in all its actions, meets with obstructions, boundaries,
or limitations to its activity ; and according to the
variety in the obstructions or limitations, it forms num-
‘berless conceptions or ideas of supposed or postulated
objects, which are endlessly varied, and which develop
themselves continually in new and unexpected forms.
The conceptions, so endlessly various, are the postulated
objects, considered as limitations of the f. But as the
/, in all cases, voluntarily limits itself, or gives being to
the obstructions to its own activity, the J is the only
actor ; and the various conceptions of objects without,
are only certain forms of the activity of the I; that is,
they are all ideal existences,

We now come to the practical or moral part of
Fichte’s system. And here again, he takes the same
proposition, I am I, for his fundamental principle: and
he also reasons from it in much the same manner. But
he contemplates the Zin a different character. In the
first or theoretical part, he considered the J asa merelySE IS stat

eee

  

ANTI-CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY. 63

agent, striving to accomplish objects or to attain
ends.

In itself, and as limiting the not-J, the practical J is
absolute and free, infinite, and the only real existence.
And as a free activity, it is a causality : but in its con-
sceousness, or when it affirms itself in the form I am J,
it always appears as something finite, something limit-
ed by a not-T ; and its causality can manifest itself to
the consciousness only as an effort to accomplish some-
thing ; which effort is always obstructed and limited by
the not-/. Hence the finite practical J contemplates it-
self as acted upon, limited, and restrained by a not-L;
while the absolute practical I contemplates itself as
acting upon, restraining, and limiting the not-£, and
therefore feels itself to be free, unlimited in action, and
the only real existence. But the not-Z is a mere crea-
ture of the J, as we have before seen. And hence, the
inert and lifeless not-J, by which the practical J is
limited in its free activity, is a mere ideal existence.
And thus we arrive at a knowledge of the essential
nature both of the practical J, and its opposing not-J ;
just as we previously ascertained the essential nature of
the theoretical / and its opposing nof-L£; and in both,
we find the J to be the only actor, and the only real
existence, and the not-J to be a postulated cdeal thing,
which owes its existence entirely to the action of
the J.

‘¢‘ After thus annihilating, by his idealism, the evi-
dence of the objectivity of any sensible world, and leay-
ing us only a system of empty images, (says Tennc-
mann,) he labours to establish, by means of conscience,
a belief in the reality not only of a sensible world, but
also of an intellectual world independent of it, and of a
supersensible order in the latter world; and moreover,
the possibility of acting for ends, which may be realized
by such action. He commences with the idea of free-
dom, i. e. a universal and absolute independence, mani-
festing itself in the tendency of the J, from which origin-
ates the idea of independence. The principle of morals,

therefore, or the moral law, (the law for free as
6]et Sr aa teshabia cies ta testa h Cla ig
‘ te *
ey ‘ Rs

wee tesens” ere katy

— — —
A saab aia POOLE ahaa ne tn nee haahacedlaaiitae 11 Oe LPO eM ae
‘ . a rae hae Sep! eo Mo .
4 Sch t Othe

Soster tateshaameatietoe alle cnathneans Inaba: eneienneiimartiaael nemeamienameacanenenaa RTE!
. ‘ d 5 ~~ mew Ne j Ny ta
7 bedi Me led ot ‘ by SE K 1"s
Parte wpe AIG! ite ute ete . 4p ese’ be Te tet?

SILL shania ipoiaetneieeeee naan eee ee ee
nies Satie Soha aetaas et Wiaterataetetot
CRUEILAL eee ee oe fr Se
ae i) i ;

  

ANTI-CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

consists in the necessary thought or purpose of an in-
telligent being, to determine its free choice uncondition-
ally, agreeably to the idea of independence ; or, in po-
pular language, to follow conscience unconditionally.
Lhis determines what is duty. Virtue consists in being
im perfect harmony with ourselves.” (Tennemann,
Grundriz, § 395, p. 500.)

“But Fichte’s religious philosophy attracted most
notice. For he there asserts expressly, that Gop is
the moral order of the world; and that to this conclu-
sion the J is brought, by the consciousness that its free
activity is bound by the idea of duty. Yor by striving
to realize duty, the J strives after a moral order in the
world of its own creation; and thus it approximates to
God, and has the life which comes from God. In this
moral order of the world, happiness is the result of
morality. But this happiness is not perfect felicity ;
which never existed, andnevercan. And thus all regard
for perfect felicity is excluded. We need no other God
than this order of the world; although we are prone to
think of a particular Being as the Creator of it: F or,
(1.) It is not possible to ascribe intelligence and per-
sonality to God, without making him a finite being like
ourselves. (2.) To conceive of God as a particular sazb-
stance, 1s idolatry, and militates with the very idea of
him ; because a substance is something which has a
sensible existence in time and place. (3.) We cannot
ascribe eaistence to him, because existence belongs only
to objects of sense. (4.) There has never yet been
brought forward any intelligible word, by which we
can express the creation of the world by God. (5.)
The expectation of perfect felicity (Gluckseligkeit), is a
chimera; and a God supposed to produce it, is an dol
ministering to our pleasure,—the prince of this world.
These representations, brought forward in extravagant
paradoxes and with great assurance, (but which Fichte
himself abandoned aiterwards,) were treated as real
atheism ; and they drew upon him very disagreeable
consequences, which he did not altogether merit.”
(Lennem. p. 502.)
962

Ged NS SecalANTI-CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY.

“‘Fichte attempted, by various statements of his doc-
trine, to bring people to understand him, and he also
changed his views on some points; as, among others, in
regard to the relation his system bears to the Critical
Philosophy, (for at first, he maintained them to be in
accordance, ) and in regard to the way in which the ori-
ginal activity of the Z is brought into consciousness,
(for he first attempted it by the mere laws of thinking,
but afterwards by an intellectual intuition.) But the
most striking difference between the more recent and
the earlier form of his Doctrine of Science, is, that at
first it was idealism, and afterwards realism. In the
former, the starting point was the activity of the ; im
the latter, it is the absolute existence of God, as the only
veal Being, who is self-existent and life itself, and of
whom the world and consciousness are a likeness or
schema; and objective nature, he considered, as the
absolute barrier or limitation of the divine activity. In
producing this change in the Doctrine of Science, Schel-
ling’s philosophy, as well as Fichte’s sense of religion,
seems to have been operative. The Doctrine of Science
excited great attention, and met with warm approba-
tion and warm friends; and likewise with severe critics
and strenuous opposers, especially among the Kantians.
And at last, it had the fate of every system: for,
notwithstanding its imposing tone, (by which it greatly
promoted an extravagant love of speculation, and con-
tempt for real knowledge,) it could not gain the stand-
ing of a generally received philosophy. Yet it cannot
be denied, that Fichte’s idealism had great influence on
the spirit of his age; and, by the force of the authors
peculiar eloquence, it fostered in many minds a strong
predilection for the super-sensible.”  ( Tennem. p. 509.)Me

  

ete kon eae Se etter DLA pte
her Sys Wee ha he | eM

Sn Deere eee rane erty!
im ra Th ae (ax)
ye . + *

AON yee TORN AY TTT Teer or erereatenetenry
Ny ee We et ge Sto Sap ie)
mot , APs me! Bed Mh Tad toby: Spray:

ae ote ee fai
oo : . Md *

taller hierar eet ene eee
ee acter 8 a Natit

Te

PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY;

CHAP RE R X.

PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY.

Schelling’s Doctrine of Identity, Identitatslehre.—Fichte’s altered Doctrine of

Science.—Other Pantheists : Bouterwek, Bardili, Eschenmayer, Wagner,
Krause.

THe next system demanding our attention, is Schel-
ling’s Doctrine of Identity, Identitatslehre ; so named,
from its maintaining the perfect identity of the know-
ledge of things and the things themselves, or the entire
coincidence of the ideal and real, the subjective and the
objective. It is also called the doctrine of ALL-ONE,
Alleinhettslehre, or Alleinslehre : because it maintains
that the universe is God, and God the universe ; or, that
God developing himself in various forms, and according
to general laws, is the only existence.

The distinguished author of this system, Fred. Wm.
Jos. von Schelling, was born in 1775, studied at Tubin-
gen till he passed Philos. Dr., then at Leipsic, and after-
wards at Jena under Fichte. In 1302 he became M.D.,
and the next year a professor of philosophy at Wurtz-
burg: thence he removed to Munich in 1817, to Erlan-
gen in 1820, and back to Munich in 1827, where he
probably still lives, an academician, a court-counsellor,
and a professor of philosophy. Schelling became an
author at the age of 20, being then an admirer of
Fichte’s philosophy, from which he soon swerved ; and
at the age of 25, had published the ground-work of his
new system, which he laboured to perfect during a
few years, and then turned his attention to other objects.
For nearly 30 years he has published very little on
philosophy: and his system has never been so fully and
so lucidly explained, that the philosophizing public
could perfectly understand it. And this, in the opinion
264terion t eas

  

PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY:

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

of Krug, is one reason why his philosophy, which at
first attracted so much notice and so many admirers, is
now seldom mentioned in the German universities, and is
sinking into oblivion.

The philosophy of Schelling depends less on logical
demonstrations, than on bold assumptions claiming to
be intellectual intuitions. Yet it does not disclaim all
support from sound reasoning. A fundamental princi-
ple with the author is, that the very idea of philosophy
presupposes the possibility of a perfect and known coin-
cidence between our knowledge of things and the essen-
tial nature of these things; because, it is only such a
knowledge of things that can be justly called philoso-
phical or true knowledge. Then, without stopping to
inquire, as Kant has done, how far such knowledge can
extend, he goes on the supposition that there are no de-
finite limits to it; and therefore his only inquiry is,
how such knowledge may be supposed to originate ; or,
how can the fact be explained, that we have such know-
ledge.

Now, if the laws of nature were also the laws of hu-
man consciousness, or if the former were always exactly
coincident with the latter, then our consciousness would
contain an exact transcript, a perfect fac-simile, of what
is taking place in the natural world around us, at least
so far as our cognizance of things without extends. In
other words, our minds would be mirrors reflecting per-
fect images of the things around us, and of all the
changes they undergo. And hence, by looking into our
own minds we might there read the laws of nature, and
learn perfectly the true nature of every thing that falls
within the circle of our obseryation. Now this suppo-
sition so perfectly explains how philosophical knowledge
is possible, and so pours broad day-light upon what was
before dark and inexplicable, that we cannot reasonably
hesitate to adopt it as true. It is therefore to be as-
sumed with confidence.

But still a difficulty remains; viz. How happens it,
that these two mysterious streams (the course of nature

in the objective world, and the course of human an
69

  

GFT PE
eeoy
7

SN ae La eaten rete

a tate ges mer yore lee
St aiahaaaietiahansaenaabinammanemed ites cedebeemar emanate seems oe aTrnRAAE ,
bi © } mot atS hee ae ‘ are

aa

partes

  

68 PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY.

sciousness in the subjective or intellectual world,) should
so perfectly agree, or be identical in all their meander-
ings ? Our actual observations cannot trace them back
to their source, nor follow them down to their final ter-
mination ; what then can explain the mystery of their
entire coincidence? Answer: Spinoza has shown us,
that there is only one substance, or one real existence, in
the universe, namely Gop, who is continually develop-
ing himself, and by that development gives being to all
that exists, whether material or immaterial. And here
is a key to the mystery. The two streams flow from
one and the same fountain, namely Gop, as he existed
anterior to his development. They are equally in their
nature Gop, or the divine first principle of all things,
who unfolds himself alike in both. They are therefore
not fwo, but one and the same, in their essential nature,
and of course also in the laws of their movement. We
thus arrive at the source, the grand central point, from
which all things radiate, and in which all contrarieties
and diversities meet and coalesce; viz. the Divine,
the Absolute, the All- One, in its primitive state or form.
And all true philosophy must begin with a knowledge
of this primal All- One, and then, by tracing the deve~
lopments of this All-One till it expands itself into the
universe around us, a complete and perfect system of
philosophy will be obtained.

This system, which Tennemann justly characterizes as
the poetry of the human mind, attempts to explain ex-
actly the process by which the Absolute or the All-One
gradually developeditself, till it became the now existing
universe. But it would carry us too far to go over the
whole process, and we therefore only subjoin the fol-
lowing general scheme of it.

I. The primitive form of the Absolute or All-One,
(God,) is that in which all contrarieties and diversities
are completely merged and lost, and only an abstract
identity of every thing can be apprehended. |

II. This Absolute reveals itself in nature ; which is
the Absolute in the copy. And it reveals itself under
Ne general forms or aspects; the one form is that of
onR

aodNe oar
ig Sa a ea Gs es et

       
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY, 69

real existences, or things; the other form is that of ideal
existences, or objects which exist only in the mind, and
which can never be subjected to the senses. The ob-
jects belonging to each form possess different degrees or
quantities of that essential nature which is common to
them as a class ; and this difference in degree or quan-
tity is denoted by the algebraic expressions for the
power of quantities, a/, a7, a3. The real existences, or
the proper things, are of three kinds or degrees; viz.

1. (a!) The ponderous, or mere matter.

2. (a*) The light, or motion, power, force.

3. (a®) The living, or organic beings.

The crown and complement of all these real exist-
ences, are (1.) Man, the microcosm or world in minia-
ture; and (2.) The external Universe, as a whole.

The ideal existences are also of three kinds or de-
orees ; VIZ.

1. (a!) Truth, the subject of knowledge and ideas.

2. (a?) Goodness, the subject of religion and feeling.

3. (a?) Beauty, the subject of taste and the arts.

The crown and complement of the zdeal existences,
are (1.) Society; and (2.) the Aistory of man or of the
human race.

Schelling has devoted himself chiefly to the develop-
ments of the Absolute in nature, or to the real side of
his system; and has only occasionally, and in general
terms, explained his views of the ideal and moral side
of his scheme. Respecting morals, he maintains, that
to know God is the foundation of all morality ; and
that there can be no moral world, unless there is a God,
Virtue is a state, in which the soul acts agreeably to the
internal necessity of its nature, and not conformably to
some law without. Morality is also happiness ; for
happiness is not a mere perquisite of virtue, but is vir-
tue itself, The tendency of the soul to be in union
with its centre, God, is morality. Civil Society is col-
lective life conformed to the primitive divine image, so
far as respects religion, science, and the arts. It is an
exterior organization of a self-erected harmony in the
department of freedom itself. History, as a whole, is a

267

i Racarnernr yyy ewes ps epee entee

a a
nadia hans rameter tate aoe

ae

ie ere Oe et hd

SU cok ec ARID Be Da hl nna partes oat aheribiall UR tithe 1 merci
ae We Sere fet 4 pe tay)
. Crue SEE ahet bebe a
. PNET Y at pe be! ;

See oe Se

eee ete
. rey he

  

70 PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY.

gradually developing revelation of the Absolute or of
God. Beauty is “the infinite represented as finite.”
Art, as an ability to represent ideas to the senses, is a
clear perception of God by the mind.

Tennemann objects to this philosophy: (1.) That it
subverts all virtue and moral obligation, by subjecting
every thing to blind fatality, or to a natural necessity ;
for God must develop himself; and whatever occurs,
must occur from the very laws of nature. ‘There is
therefore no freedom of action, and of course no virtue,
and no morality, in any being whatever. (2.) The
system has no basis or foundation; for the Absolute, in
which all things are said to originate, is a sheer nothing.
Because an Absolute, i.e. an abstract Identity, without
any relative identity, or without any things which are
identical, can have no existence. (3.) The form of this
system has only the appearance of being scientific. It
exhibits no substantial proofs, no scientific deductions,
but only positive assumptions, and naked hypotheses.
(4.) It presumptuously claims to have a perfect know-
ledge of God ; and it identifies him with external na-
ture, and is so far panthersm ; and, moreover, it subjects
God to the higher conditions or laws of his nature, and
therefore denies him all freedom of action. As a whole,
it is rather the poetry than the philosophy of a reason-
ing mind.

The pantheistic principle of Spinoza, or the doctrine
that God developes and expands himself into the exist-
ing universe, which Schelling thus revived and made
the basis of his philosophy, was eagerly adopted by vast
numbers in Germany ; and many who did not follow
Schelling’s opinions on other points, embraced this doc-
trine as true, and as shedding much light on philosophy.
Hence, in different ways, it was wrought into various
new systems of philosophy, of which it was made to be
an essential element.

Even Fichte himself, when he found how abhorrent to
public sentiment was his former doctrine, (namely, that
God is only the moral order of the world,) did not he-

sitate to adopt Schelling’s idea of an Absolute Existence,
268 |ive GaN teed sae Se te Tek Sey
Ste Griese re tea ete ce

         
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY. Tt

from which every thing finite is propagated or evolved.
From the year 1804, till his death in 1813, instead of
maintaining, as he had done, that the Jor the human
mind is the only real existence in the universe, antece-
dent to which nothing real ever existed, and around
and above which nothing real now exists, he acknow-
ledged an eternal self-existing God to be the only and
the living source of all being; and that he, by develop-
ing himself, gives real though not independent existence
to all human minds. These finite human minds are
still the Z of his philosophy ; and as they are divine in
their origin and nature, being a part of God himself,
they are capable of understanding and knowing God,
and of loving and serving him. As to the external
world, or the not-J, it is altogether inanimate and life-
Jess; it is no part of the divine nature or essence, but is
merely the abutting and bounding of the acts of God
and of human minds, or the voluntary limitations which
these acts affix to themselves; and therefore they are iz
merely ideal things, the creations of the spontaneous 2
activity of the living or real beings, viz. God and his
progeny. Fichte therefore no longer made the J the
sole foundation and source of all philosophy ; but rather
assumed a new foundation, namely the idea of God, of
which the J, from its participation in the divine nature,
is capable of an immediate and true knowledge. But
the general opinion of the learned was, that Fichte’s new
principle was entirely irreconcilable with all his former
doctrines. And hence his attempt to improve his sys-
tem, and to render it more acceptable to the public, on-
ly tended to convince people that it had no solid found-
ation; and thus to induce his followers to leave his
school, and seek for other guides in philosophy.
Professor Fred. Bouterwek, of Gottingen, likewise
supposed that there is but one real existence in the uni-
verse ; and that this absolute Existence pervades all
things, and constitutes their reality. Whatever is real,
or whatever truly exists, is a development of the Abso-
lute, or of this one real Existence; all else is merely
imaginary, or ideal, and destitute of objectivity. Andsss seit hate Stat oarcae a OL bk»
We : A

a ATEN Eta reateeeeenanhlatae heron pengtsemptepner /ftsencsemamtags ath a ete

staat teat ties alin sous eeata laces tatiana sae ake mieaaed a etnaeaaaaad ie t
er " 4 o ~*~! ait ie Sey Fie gr Myre
. te Mila 1 ee Ne

ee a
ey Merge '

nee nee

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
    

ia PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY.

therefore, to have any true objective knowledge of
things, or to understand and know when our concep-
tions have objective reality, must be simply to appre-
hend the presence or the absence of the Absolute ; that
is, it is merely to perceive where the Absolute exists, and
where there is only the deceptive appearance of its pre-
sence. But mere thinking and reasoning discursively
on the subject can never detect the presence of the Ab-
solute; for all thinking and discursive reasoning have
to assume it as already known. And hence reason
inust possess an absolute power of knowing the real; a
power which neither thinks nor feels, but which is the
foundation of all thinking and feeling on the subject.
Entertaining these views, Professor Bouterwek pub-
lished in 1799, what he called an Apodictic, or a demon-
stration of true knowledge; in which he maintained
that the human mind, as itself partaking of the Abso~
lute, has ¢mmediate perception or knowledge of the pre-
sence or absence of reality in the objects of its contem-
plation. But after a few years, recalling this opinion,
he maintained that reason can have no immediate intui-
tions of the Absolute himself, or of his actual presence
in objects: nevertheless, feeling her power to rise above
mere sense, reason confides in her conclusions or judg-
ments respecting the presence of the Absolute. He
moreover asserted, that it is the proper business of phi-
losophy to investigate this whole subject ; and to as-
certain definitely how far reason can go in detecting
the presence or absence of the Absolute in objects, and
where we must be contented with mere probabilities on
this great question.

Professor C. G. Bardili, of Stuttgard, brought out in
1800, a new method of connecting the Absolute, or the
Original- One, (Ur- Eins, as he denominated it,) with
philosophy. This Original-One is the subject-matter
of all logical thinking ; so that Logic is a real science,
and the only true metaphysics. All logical thinking,
moreover, is computation or reckoning, in the mathe-
matical sense. That is, it is the perpetual repetition

and involution of one and the same unit, the Original-
7 )
27a fare See Gin tha tae se te og oR Seg
ag oe sa Soe Wate ales

  

PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY. qs

One. But abstract thinking has reference to no definite
object or finite being. It therefore does not afford us any
objective knowledge, until we apply it to some definite
object. It only shows us what is possible in the na-
ture of things. But when we apply it to any definite
object, then real or objective matter is brought into the
process ; and a judgement is formed of that object, by
which the object is pronounced to be a real existence,
or only a possible existence. This seems to be the
amount of his obscure treatise, entitled the Elements
of the first Logic, &c. which puzzled the brains of
speculators for a time, and then was rejected as a
baseless phantom.

Professor C. A. Eschenmayer, of Tubingen, at first
agreed very well with Schelling; but in 1803, he de-
parted essentially from him, by maintaining that the
Absolute which reason intuits, is not directly and im-
mediately the Absolute himself, the primary source of
all that exists ; but is only an image or likeness of him.
And hence philosophical knowledge is far more limited,
than Schelling’s theory supposes. ‘The comprehensible
and the explicable fall within the sphere of knowledge
or philosophy ; but the Absolute himself, and whatever
is incomprehensible and inexplicable, belong to the
sphere of faith or religion.

So also Professor J. Wagner, of Wurtzburg, left the
ranks of Schelling’s adherents in 1804, and has ever
since philosophized in his own way. The Absolute him-
self, says Wagner, is no object of our direct knowledge ;
but the created universe is the living form of him; and
the laws of the universe are the type by which he
displays himself. Hence we must recognise him as ex-
isting beyond our ken, and as knowable only through
the laws of nature. And as mathematics is the science
which best investigates and defines the laws of nature,
philosophy must depend chiefly on that science, in con-
nection with the history of man and the study of ane

Professor C. C. F. Krause, of Gottingen, coincided
with the leading views of Eschenmayer, as above stated.
Heheldthe Absolute, or the Original Being, (das He

Resi SUS poeta te eaee So
ee ter ene eter rr oat
. J, w » ‘ *

) ag ‘ ‘ yi F x rn

“1 ryt ne es mpbamaE te weAwE OS LE ye mmmp
Pat hy 9 Me ee ea
ater eter hy te tat Ne
i ai Nese tee SU Me Tee

HY

° aia i ae ae eo
a ; . r ; i
a) ee m * “oe a) : a i -

supposed, that reason has direct intuition of the true na-
CpPre

&

  

74 PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY.

wesen, as he chose to call him,) to be the Eternal, far
above both the natural and the intellectual worlds,
those two spheres into which the created universe di-
vides itself: and yet he is the essential principle of both,
pervading them and giving them life and being, though
not discoverable by us. In his opinion, philosophy na-
turally divides itself into—(1.) General Philosophy, or
Ontology ;—(2.) Intellectual Philosophy ;—(3.) Philoso-
phy of Nature;—and (4.) Synthetic Philosophy.

 

CHAPTER XI,
PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY.
Hegel’s absolute Idealism.—Logic the only Metaphysics.

THE most famous, and the most recent of the German
pantheists, who have attempted to improve upon Schel-
ling, is Dr Geo. Wm. Fred. Hegel, a professor at Berlin,
who died in 1831, at the age of 61. He was born at
Stuttgard, and educated at Tubingen, where he became
intimate with Schelling, and adopted and for a time
defended his philosophy. But at length, gradually de-
viating from Schelling, he set up a new school, which
became very popular, and has of late altogether eclipsed
that of his former friend.

Both maintained the identity of God and the uni-
verse, and the perfect coincidence between subjective
and objective knowledge. But Hegel’s was a system
of absolute idealism; while Schelling’s was rather a
system of realism. For Schelling, like Spinoza, consi-
dered the original All-One as a real substance, which
evolved itself into the existing universe; but Hegel
considered mere ideas or conceptions, as the only real
existences; he believed, that there is nothing in the
universe more substantial or more real than what he
calls concrete ideas and conceptions. Again; SchellingNES Oe Se SE eS

es Bee ath Ser e 4 5

      
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY. 75

ture of things, or of the objects existing around us and
without us; but Hegel denied any such intuition of
objects without ; and maintained, that the mind only
looks inward upon itself, its conceptions and ideas, and
by analyzing them arrives at all philosophical know-
ledge. And hence, according to Hegel, a logical ana-
lysis of ideas and conceptions, is the only real meta-
physics, or the true and proper science of things; and
Logic, instead of being, what it has generally been re-
garded, a mere formal science, or one that treats only of
the abstract forms of thought, and the laws of correct
reasoning, is really and truly a science of things, and
the only source of true philosophical knowledge.

In accordance with these views, Hegel divides all
philosophy into three parts; namely, the science of Lo-
gic or philosophy in general ; the philosophy of nature ;
and the philosophy of mind. The first part, called Lo-
gic, ig the science of things in general, and corresponds
with what is usually termed Ontology and pure Meta~-
physics. The second part, the philosophy of nature,
treats of time and space, matter and motion, material
bodies and their properties, and of organic nature, geo-
logy, vegetables, and animals. The third part, the phi-
losophy of mind, treats of the human soul and its facul-
ties, of right and wrong, morality and duty, and of the
arts, religion, and philosophy. Only the first part has
been fully developed by the author, in his Science of
Logic, in two vols. 8vo. first printed in 1812 and 1816.
But he has given us a general treatise covering the
whole ground in his Encyclopedia of the philosophical
Sciences, in one vol. 8vo. first published in 1817, and
again in 1827 and 1830. Both these works are now
before me.

Hegel is the most unintelligible writer I ever read.
Even the most acute German philosophers complain of
his style, as being not only very harsh and dry, but so
extremely obscure that they cannot fully understand
him. Although abundantly warned on this point, I
had the temerity to take up his Encyclopedia, and

read it attentively from beginning to end, and es
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z e ae ne .

  

76 PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY.

parts of it a second, a third, and even a fourth time,
comparing it often with his Logic, vainly hoping to
get some idea of that logical analysis which he tells us
is the basis ofall philosophy. But after a fortnight’s hard
study, I was nearly as ignorant of the whole process, and
of every part of it, as when I first sat down to examine
it. The most I could learn was, that he commences
with the idea of entity (das Seyn) in the abstract. He
then tells us, that his second definition of entity is, that
it is nothing (das Nichts) ; and that the union of entity
and nothing, or the transition of the one imto the other,
constitutes actual existence (das Daseyn); which, he
says, may be illustrated by the verb to become (werden),
as whatever becomes any thing, passes over from noé
being that thing, to being that thing. It may also be
illustrated by the import of the noun beginning (An-
fang), as beginning is a transition from non-existence to
existence. After advancing thus far, I found myself in
the midst of water so deep and so turbid, that F could
neither reach nor see the bottom. Still I suffered him te
carry me forward. When he had fully analyzed and ex-
plained, as he averred, all that is material in the idea of
pure entity, he proceeded to analyzeand explain the idea
of being ( Wesen), or thing, in the abstract ; and then the
ideas of phenomenon, and actuality, and lastly of eoncep-
tion, and object, and sdeas. This closed the first part. On
the philosophy of nature and of mind, he was equally
obscure and incomprehensible : I could understand only
here and there a detached thought.

As I am unable to comprehend his works myself, I
can do nothing better than detail the opinions of others.
I will therefore translate from Krug, (Encyclop. Philo-
soph. Lexicon,) such parts of his statements as seem
most deserving a place in these sketches.

In the body of his work, as printed in 1833, Krug thus
writes: “Hegel was at first a true follower of Schelling,
with whom he united in publishing a critical Journal
of Philosophy, Tubing. 1802-3. In this period of his
philosophizing also appeared his Tract on the difference
oe Fichte’s system and that of Schelling. But hePANTHEISTIC PITILOSOPHY. Ve

gradually separated himself from his master, and reject-
ed in particular his doctrine of intellectual intuition, as
being an unwarranted assumption. Yet he retained
Schelling’s fundamental idea, namely the oneness of the
subjective or ideal, and of the objective or real; and in
the idea of this oneness he searches for that absolute
knowledge and absolute truth, to which, according to
the demands of this school, philosophizing must soar.
Hence also, he maintained that pure conception in it-
self, is entity ; and that real entity is nothing but pure
conception. And this he does, without first demonstrat-
ing the unity of entity and conception, or, as it should
be called, (since conception is only the product of the
thinking mind,) the oneness of entity and thinking.
Equally arbitrary is his assertion, in a practical view,
that whatever is rational is actual, and whatever is
actual is also rational ; a position which may be consi-
dered as making moral precepts, viewed as demands of
reason upon the will, altogether nugatory and superflu-
ous, since the will can make nothing to be real, but
what will thereby become rational. But the weakest
part of Hegel's system is the esthetical or the philoso-
pay of art, and the theological or the philosophy of re-
ligion. And here, one who was formerly avery warm ad-
vocate of his system, but who on a better acquaintance
with it cooled down considerably, ( Weisse, in his Syst.
of Aisthetics,) says that Aisthetics and Theology begin,
where Hegel leaves off; for, ‘ what we call ideas of the
Beautiful and of God, Hegel recognises only as to their
psychological and historical apparition : that is, he con-
siders them as phenomena, and the science of them as a
part of the phenomenology of mind,’ In short, Hegel
seems not to have fully perfected his system. And as
he was any thing rather than a master in the art of
composition, and as his writings suffer as much from
their obscurity as from a sort of dry harshness, 1t 1s
scarcely possible to form a satisfactory judgment of his
philosophy. Those who profess to comprehend it, dis-
cover in it the consummated system of pure rational
science. * * *: * *. * Moreover, it is a strik-
275

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PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY.

ing fact, that among the numerous followers of Hegel,
no one has hitherto been able to remove the obscurity,
heaviness, and dryness of his mode of philosophizing, by
a more clear, agreeable, and lively exhibition. All use
the words, the phrases, and the turns of expression of
their master; as if they were magi¢ formulas, which
would lose their power by the slightest change. Jurare
in verda magistrt seems to be no stranger in this school.
Yet this renowned philosopher, who received special
favour from the great, and thereby gained the more ad-
herents, did not fail of opposers who assailed him with
more or less ardour.” After recounting various attacks
upon Hegel’s system, Krug proceeds: “It may here
be asked, whether this school will be able to sustain it-
self long, against so many, and certainly not inconsider-
able opposers. To us it appears, this school no longer
has internal union ; and therefore it is not likely to es-
cape dissolution, whatever may be done from without
to bolster it up, on the false supposition that it is better
suited than any other to sustain theexisting order of things
inchurch and state. Even the founder of it himself seems
to have had some presentiment of such a result. For,
agreeably to a letter from Berlin, (inserted in a Period-
ical, Dec. 17, 1831, which in general speaks favourable
of Hegel,) he said, a little before he died, that he was
anxious respecting the fate of his philosophy after his
decease, because among all his disciples only one un-
derstood him, and that one misunderstood him.”

In his supplemental volume, printed in 1838, Krug
resumes his account of Hegel, thus: “The three prin-
cipal parts of his system, are :—Logic, as being the sci-
ence of idea in itself (an sich); Philosophy of N ature,
as being the science of idea in its secondary state (in
ihrem Andersein); and Philosophy of Mind, as being
the science of idea in its reversion from its secondary
state into itself. Accordingly, there appears every-
where in this system a triplicity of subjects, together
with their reconciling unity, in which they are all con-
tained as momenta or elements. In this system the
oneness of Entity and Conception is vindicated, on thecae oe ee Fa ee ed 2
aie Met oe he eee

  

PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY.

ground of a supposed necessity inherent in Conception
to move (develop) itself; and this it does, by a progres-
sive negation ; so that, e.g. Entity, by a negation of it-
self, passes into existence ; and God, by a negation of
himself, passes into a World; &c. For God is in self
(an sich), and must also be for self (fur sich) ; in order
to which, he must become his second self (seinem An-
dern,) and this is Nature, or the World. So in Hegel’s
Lectures on the Philos. of Religion, (published by Mar-
heineke in 1832,) this fundamental thought is various-
ly drawn out, that God is the eternal, all-comprehend-
ing process of the absolute idea, which returns from the
form of its secondary state (ihres Anderseins), its mani-
festation in nature, into itself, and, by means of human
consciousness, attains to its individuality (ihrem Fur-
sichsein) as Spirit. That this doctrine comes near to
Pantheism, is not to be denied; notwithstanding Hegel
and his school will not admit it, and by the use of
biblical and religious phraseoloegy—to which, however,
they annex a new and professedly deeper and more oc-
cult meaning, they endeavour to give to their doctrine a
colouring of orthodoxy. And hence Lschenmayer (in
his Tract, entitled, Hegel’s religious philosophy ¢ompar-
ed with the principles of Christianity, p. 100,) passes
the following judgment on this philosophy: ‘It is no-
thing but a Logic vaunting itself in Christian verities.’
And he goes on, perhaps with too much severity :
‘Hegel has a God without holiness, a Christ without
free love, a Holy Ghost without illumination, a Gospel
without faith, an Apostasy without sin, Wickedness
without conscious guilt, an Atonement without remis-
sion of sin, a Death without an offering, a religious As-
sembly without divine worship, a Release without im-
putation, Justice without a judge, Grace without re-
demption, Dogmatic Theology without a revelation, a
this Side without a that side, an Immortality without
a personal existence, a Christian Religion without Chris-
tianity, and in general, a Religion without religion.’
And in an Article on Hegel’s philosophy, (in the Allg.
Kirchenzeit. 1836,) in which the religious and ecclesias-

277

  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

19

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PANTHEISTIC PHILOSOPHY.

tical part of this philosophy is particularly reviewed, the
following severe judgment is pronounced : ‘ Hegel’s philo-
sophy is nothing i atse/f and by itself, nor was its author
in himself but beside himself? Compare also the Words
of a Layman on the Hegelian-Straussian Christology,
Zurich 1636, 8vo. No less unsatisfactory have the ex-
plorers of nature found Hegel’s theory of the philosophy
of nature. Thus Link (in his Propylaen, &c. vol. I. p.
46.) tells us, that Hegel’s system, although framed with
the greatest metaphysical acuteness, ‘is of no value in
the science of nature; indeed, it is painful to see what
blunders Hegel makes, when he speaks on subjects of
natural science, astronomy, and mathematics. He is
also so dictatorial and so bitter, that one would laugh over
him, if it were a laughable thing to see such a man so
self-deceived.’ ”

After these remarks, Krug fills nearly three large 8vo.
pages with notices of the numerous works for and
against Hegel’s philosophy, which issued from the Ger-
man press during about 12 years ending in 1837. After
Hegel’s death in 1831, his devoted followers and ad-
mirers, (chiefly young men, in and around Berlin,) re-
solutely met the assailants of his system, and exerted
themselves strenuously to recommend it and give it cur-
rency. For this end they collected and published a
voluminous edition of Hegel’s Works, including his pri-
vate letters, and his manuscripts and notes for Lectures,
with elaborate prefaces and introductions. On the
other hand, numerous adversaries, (and among them
were many of the older and graver philosophers, ) assailed
the Hegelian philosophy in an uncompromising manner.
They analyzed it, they confuted it, they ridiculed it,
and held it up to scorn and contempt. The issueof the
conflict, I have not the means of knowing.

278

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8 ASIN SC UG ie NE ae See
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INSTINCTIVE PHILOSOPHY.

CEA aie XLT.

INSTINCTIVE PHILOSOPHY.

instinctive Philosophy:—Jacobi’s Philosophy of Faith or Instinct.—His follow-
ers: Koeppen, von JVeiller, Salat.—Ability and Honesty of the German
Philosophers.—Schulze, the only Sceptic among them.

We have now taken a brief view of most of those
systems of German philosophy, which profess to give
us a true and scientific knowledge of supersensible
things ; of which [Kant tells us, we can have no scien-
tific knowledge. And we find, that all these systems
end either in absolute Idealism, or in what may be
called Panthersm ; that is, they either make all nou-
mena and all supersensible things, together with their
phenomena, to be nothing but conceptions and ideas ex-
isting in our own minds, and existing nowhere else ;
or they reduce all things to one primal substance, the
All-One, or God, which develops itself according to
certain laws inherent in its very nature, and thereby
presents to us all the variety, beauty, and harmony of
this great universe. And the latest and most renowned
of these philosophers makes this primal All-One to be
himself nothing but an idea or conception of the human
mind.

Opposed to all these schools, and also to the Kantian
school, was the celebrated Fred. Henry Jacobi, and a
very respectable number of philosophers and divines
who coincided with him in his general views. Of this
school we now proceed to give some account.

Fred. Henry Jacobi, privy counsellor to the king of
Bavaria, and president of the royal academy of science
at Munich, was distinguished as a fine writer, a poet,
and a philosopher. He died at Munich in 1819, aged
76. Disgusted with the speculations of the philoso-

phers around him, he assailed them all in their oe
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INSTINCTIVE PHILOSOPHY.

yet with candour and discrimination. He was also
more intent on overthrowing false systems, than on pro-
pagating a better one of his own devising, To Kant
he awarded great merit, for successfully prostrating the
delusive speculations of the former dogmatists, and for
establishing on a firm basis a pure system of moral or
practical philosophy. But he thought that Kant laid
too much stress on the necessity of demonstration in
order to true knowledge; for, by this error, he subvert-
ed all speculative knowledge of supersensible things,
and then was unable to derive any satisfactory know-
ledge of them from practical reason. But the other
schools, in his view, were still more erroneous. Their
entire schemes were fundamentally wrong, and when
carried out, would necessarily lead to fatalism and to
pantheism.

He supposed that there is a source of true rational
knowledge, which these philosophers overlook. They
reject all speculative knowledge, which cannot be traced
either to immediate rational intuitions, or to logical de-
ductions from self-evident truths; thus making the
intuitions of reason and the legitimate deductions
from such intuitions the only sources of scientific
or philosophical knowledge. But Jacobi supposed,
that we have true knowledge by faith in the operations
of our own faculties. This faith he considers as a ra-
tional znstinct, a knowing from immediate mental feel-
ing, a direct perception of the true and supersensible,
without any intervening proof; and of course, it is en-
tirely different from what is ordinarily called faith, or
a belief founded on testimony. And the knowledge
based on this faith, is essentially different from specula-
tive or scientific knowledge; which is generally only
second-hand knowledge, or knowledge derived from
itervening evidence or proof. According to Jacobi,
there are two grand sources or inlets of knowledge to
the human mind: first, external sense, by which we
acquire a knowledge of the external world, or of mate-
rial objects ; and secondly, an internal sense, the organ

a truth, (or, as he afterwards named it, Reason, the
0INSTINCTIVE PHILOSOPHY.

power of immediate knowledge,) by which we acquire
a knowledge of God, of what is foreseen, of free agency,
of immortality, of virtue, in a word, of supersensible
things. By this twofold revelation to him, (and Jacobi
believed in no other divine revelation,) man is roused
to self-consciousness, with a feeling of his elevation
above blind nature, or of his free agency. He recognises
God, and his own free agency, immediately, by means
of Reason. Moral doctrines also are capable of confirm-
ation only by feeling. Reason, as being the faculty
of ideas, which reveal themselves in our inmost feelings,
gives to philosophy its subject-matter ; and the Under-
standing, as being the faculty of conceptions, gives to
that subject-matter its form. At least, so Jacobi ex-
presses himself in his latest writings. Previously he
did not explain himself with sufficient clearness, res-
pecting that faith or internal revelation which he regard-
ed as the foundation of philosophy; but left the point
in considerable obscurity. And from this source, and
from his not making a clear distinction between Reason
and Understanding, and finally, from the fact that his
theistic doctrine of faith and internal feeling was de-
veloped in a loose and unsystematic manner, chiefly in
opposition to others, various misapprehensions and ob-
jections originated. Still his merits, at least indirectly,
in regard to the progress of philosophy among the
Germans, are undeniable-—(Tennem. Grundritz, p.
531, &c.)

Jacobi’s doctrine was well received, especially by
those who place a higher value on faith and feeling
than on the other manifestations of the mind. On the
contrary, it was regarded as a subordinate mode of
philosophizing, by those who give rational thinking a
higher rank than feeling. But his want of clearness in
discriminating between Reason and Understanding,
seems to have led the cultivators of his philosophy to
separate into two parties. For, some considered ideas
as a divine revelation to the mind, through the medium.
of Reason; and they supposed the conceptions of the
Understanding to have a negative relation to ideas, or

281ee

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INSTINCTIVE PHILOSOPHY.

that ¢deas can never be reached by conceptions ; that
¢deas are incomprehensible and inexplicable, they mani-
fest themselves in feeling ; and, that faith precedes all
scientific knowledge. But others allowed a wider sphere
for conceptions. They considered philosophy as con-
sisting in the union of Reason and Understanding, de-
riving its substance (Wessen) from the former, and its
form from the latter: and to this opinion, Jacobi, in his
latter years, was most inclined. In tho first party,
Frederic Koeppen stands conspicuous; in the latter,
James Salat. (Tennem. p. 533, &c.)

f’rederic Koeppen, a friend and pupil of Jacobi, was
born at Lubec in 1775, was first a preacher at Bremen,
and then a professor of philosophy at Landshut, whence
he removed to Munich in 1826, and afterwardsto Er-
Jangen, where he probably still lives. Once cordially
attached to his paternal friend and guide, he has since
become dissatisfied with Jacobi’s philosophy, and now
devotes himself to the study of the ancients, especially
Plato. Asa follower of Jacobi, he made free agency
his starting point; as Jacobi himself did. “Free agency
is a self- determining, self-originating, and perfectly in-
dependent activity. It is therefore an orginal cause,
the ground of all existence ; it is Being properly so call-
ed. But it is absolutely incomprehensible; even its
possibility cannot be clearly perceived; nor its actual
existence be demonstrated. It is an immediate matter
of fact, in our knowing and acting. Necessity is an
order of things established by free agency. The Divine
activity is a perfect, absolute free agency. But the
essence of humanity is, a combination of the internal
and the external man; and of course, man’s free agency
is limited. And hence philosophy is dualistic, reposing
on both sense and reason. And from this dualism,
arise the insurmountable contradictions of human science.
And, we may add, ( Says Tennemann, ) another legitimate
consequence, namely, that on this ground philosophy
itself is impossible; and the problem, to establish it as
a strict and proper science, falls of itself. Still, as
a admits, the public

ed

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Mee inetd Ser Sita ate Set

     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
    

INSTINCTIVE PHILOSOPHY. 85

as well as of Jacobi’s, had a salutary influence on the
philosophy of the day, inasmuch as they opposed the
philosophy and the blind dogmatism of the schools, and
exhibited in a lively manner many thoughts, either ap-
propriately their own, or borrowed from Plato.

To this branch of Jacobi’s school, belonged Cajetan
von Weiller, a learned clergyman of the Romish church,
secretary of the Academy of Science at Munich, and a
distinguished writer, who died in 1826, aged 64. But
he did not, like Jacobi, make faith or feeling the sole
basis of philosophy ; for he laboured to discover for it
some other and more intelligible grounds. He was
likewise a believer in supernatural revelation: which
Jacobi was not. ‘To the same school belongs, Christian
Weiss, born in 1774, first a professor of philosophy at
Leipsic, and since, a school and government counsellor
at Merseburg, a writer of considerable eminence. (Avrug,
and Tennem.)

Ja. Salat, a liberal Roman Catholic priest, born in
1766, professor at Munich, and afterwards at Landshut,
where he still resides, a voluminous but inelegant writer,
is a strenuous opposer of Romish bigotry, as well as of
Schelling’s and Hegel’s philosophy. He takes a middle
course between Kant and Jacobi, and founds philosophy
on a revelation through the medium of Reason. That
objective thing, which is to us the ground of philosophy,
has two aspects; first, as being the subject-matter of
philosophy ; and secondly, as being the foundation in
us, or the innate faculty for philosophizing. This native
faculty, when suitably brought into action, develops itself
in an announcement of the Divine, anterior to any subjec-
tiveaction of the mind. In consequence of this announce-
ment, the mind recognises the Divine, and eagerly seizes
upon it. This announcement is no logical act of the
mind, but is a realization of the Divine in the mind's
deepest recesses; whence it proceeds forth from the
will. If this announcement is apprehended by the
mind, it isnext to be comprehended, to be made intelli-
gible, and to become something known; and this is

what philosophy accomplishes by the aid of va~

  

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INSTINCTIVE PHILOSOPHY.

standing. He considers Metaphysics as the whole
of scientific philosophy ; and Logic, Anthropology, and
the Criticism of the intellectual powers, as only prepar-
atory studies. There are three branches of philosophy, —
corresponding with the threefold relations of man; viz.
moral philosophy, the philosophy of right, and the phi-
losophy of religion. (Krug, and Tenn. p. 536.)

We have now completed our survey of the various
methods devised by Kant’s successors, for passing that
impracticable gulf, which, as Kant supposed, must ever
separate between noumena and phenomena in the ma-
terial world, and between the objective and the subjec-
tive in the spiritual world.

Before we take our leave of these acute but adven-
turous German philosophers, it seems pertinent to re-
mark, that in general they appear to be, not only men
of great learning and industry, but, what is more im-
portant, sincere and honest inquirers after truth,—men
who labour to discover a true and useful philosophy, a
philosophy that will satisfy the wants of man as a ra-
tional and immortal being. And hence, though whole
schools of them have landed in Idealism, and Pantheism ;
and though great numbers of them were rationalists or
theists, disbelieving the divine inspiration of the Bible;
yet not a single individual, since the publication of
Kant’s Criticism, (so far as I know,) has professed either
atheism or materialism, or advocated lax moral princi-
ples, or treated religion with levity or contempt, or
denied a future state of rewards and punishments, or, in
a word, showed himself a disbeliever in the great prin-
ciples of natural religion. And only a solitary indivi-
dual among them has professed to be a sceptic ; and his
scepticism was of a mild character, and was afterwards
retracted or greatly modified. With some account of
that individual, we shall close the present Chapter.

Gottlob Ernst Schulze, (born in1761, Dr and Profes-
sor of philosophy at Gottingen, and honorary member
of the Philos, Acad. at Philadelphia in America, died
at Gottingen in 1833,) published in 1792 an anony-
ae work, in opposition to Reinhold’s theory, and toINSTINCTIVE PHILOSOPHY. 37

Kant’s Critic, entitled, AEnesidemus; or, on the found-
ation of Prof. Reinhold’s Elemental Philosophy ; to-
gether with a Defence of Scepticism, in regard to the
pretensions of the Critic of Reason. This work pro-
fessed to annihilate the illusions of imaginary know-
ledge, and to carry farther than Kant had done, the self-
knowledge of Reason, by detecting the hereditary faults
of all philosophy. The result of the investigation was,
that the origin of human knowledge is unknowable ;
and therefore, there can be no philosophy which shall
explain it; that all that the schools tell us respecting
the origin of knowledge, is mere play upon words with-
out meaning; and that our curiosity should be limited
to inquiries respecting the constituent parts of know-
ledge, the different kinds of it, and the laws by which
conviction accompanies its several species. And this
he called Scepticism, and likewise Antidogmatism, found-
ed on the essential and necessary condition of the mind
of man. This scepticism, moreover, recognised the so
called facts of consciousness; and it maintained, that
the human mind, from its very constitution, is obliged
to recognise these facts of consciousness as real, and to
govern itself by them in practice. After further in-
quiry, Schulze narrowed down his scepticism still more ;
for, while he still denied the possibility of infallible
criteria of truth, i.e. of the agreement of our knowledge
with the essential nature of things, he did not divest
the mind of ability to discover how far our knowledge
of particular objects is in harmony with the original con-
stitution of the human mind, and to discriminate be-
tween such knowledge, and that which originates from
our peculiar temperament or character as individuals.
At length, being fully convinced of the untenableness
of scepticism, he attempted an investigation of the ori-
gin, the truth, the perfectibility, and the limits of hu-
man knowledge, according to the approved laws of na-
tural science. His later views of philosophy approach
near to the doctrines of Jacobi. He agrees with those
who, taking Plato for their pattern, regard Reason (dis-

tinct from the comparing faculty, the adeniange)
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38 FRENCH PHILOSOPHY.

as a source of knowledge of supersensible things, and
who endeavour by means of.it to solve the proper pro-
blems of philosophy. With his eye on those feelings,
which distinguish men from brutes, he divides philoso-
phy into four grand departments ; viz. theoretical philo-
sophy or metaphysics, explaining religious feeling ;
practical philosophy, explaining moral feeling ; logic in

the sense of the ancients, explaining intellectual feeling ;

and esthetics, explaining the feeling of the beautiful.
(Krug, and Tennem. p. 537, &c.)

CHAPTER XIII.
FRENCH PHILOSOPHY.

The New School in France : its Origin, and Present State; its Advocates; its
Doctrines.

As a conclusion to these sketches, we shall notice the
part which France has taken in the modern develop-
ments of philosophy.

From near the times of Mr Locke till quite recently,
empiricism, and that of the grossest kind, has reigned
undisturbed in France. About the middle of the last
century, the Abbe Condillae expounded the philosophy
of Locke, omitting reflection as a distinct source of know-
ledge. Reflection, he said, can add nothing to the mat-
ter on which it reflects. It can only recognise, com-
pare, generalize, and give form to the ideas which sen-
sation presents. Of course, all our ideas, in his view,
are ideas of sensation, or in other words, are sensations.
This became-the reigning doctrine in France. The in-
fidels, Voltaire, the Encyclopeedists, &c. all embraced it :
and many of them deduced from it the materiality of
the soul, atheism, fatalism, and sensuality, as man’s chief
good. A few ecclesiastics and others feebly resisted the
tendencies of this philosophy ; but without exposing or
286Coa Sane ses tas ae ads

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
    

FRENCH PHILOSOPHY, $9

clearly discerning the unsound basis on which it rests.
During the first years of the revolution, (1789-95,) all
eyes were directed to the portentous occurrences of the
day, and the only branch of philosophy much regarded,
was political philosophy ; and in that, man was consi-
dered merely as a reasoning animal, whose interests are
all confined to the present life. Under the Directorial
government, (1795-99,) the Institute and the Normal
Schools called some attention to education, and required
the study of philosophy on the principles of Condillac,
and the materialists. Under the Consular government,
(1799-1804,) philosophy was more zealously pursued,
but on the same general principles. Cabanis and Des-
tutt de Tracy were the most distinguished writers on
philosophy. Under the Imperial government, (1804-
14,) a reformation in philosophy commenced, and it had “De
made some progress before the restoration of the Bour-
bons. From that time onwards it has been steadily ad-
vancing, and it now has the weight of talent and influ-
ence on its side. The philosophers of the new school

_assume the name of £iclectics ; and the name appears
appropriate. We shall first notice the principal persons
concerned in this reformation of philosophy, and then
attempt some description of their principles.

Peter Laromiguiere, born in 1757, first taught at
Toulouse, and afterwards at Paris, where he was a
member of the National Institute and a distinguished
writer, till his death in 1837. He deviated considera-
bly from Condillac; for he maintained that the soul is
active, and not merely passive, in the acquisition of
knowledge. Sensation indeed furnishes the materials
for all our knowledge: but the mind gives form and
shape to those materials. The activity of the mind is
therefore a source of knowledge, as well as sensation.
The two are co-ordinate. Laromiguiere being a charm-
ing writer, and a man of great acuteness, his doctrines
spread far, and were not without considerable influ-
ence.

Maine de Biran, who died at Paris in 1824, aged

58, obtained a prize from the Berlin Academy of eeete aoe Cae ete
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in 1809, for the best essay on this question, Is there
any immediate, internal, [intellectual] ¢ntwition; and
how does it differ from sensible perception ? Cousin
considered his works so valuable, that he undertook to
edit them himself so late as 1834. De Biran was so
opposed to the doctrines of the materialists, that he
leaned towards universal idealism ; whence Cousin com-
pares him with the German Fichte. He is said to have
adopted Leibnitz’s doctrine of Monads, with some al-
terations. He believed that all substances, or all real
existences, are active powers or forces of some sort ;
that minds or souls have intelligence, volition, &c. while
material substances have only motive foree. He there-
fore clearly distinguished the soul from the body ; and
in examining the faculties and powers of the former, he
commenced with consciousness.

John Peter Fred. Ancillon was born in 1766 at Berlin,
where his father was minister of the French Prot. Church.
Ee was himself preacher to the same church, then pro-
fessor of philosophy in the military academy at Berlin,
member of the Acad. of Sciences, counsellor of state
for foreign affairs, &c. ; and died in 1837. Ancillon
wrote altogether in French; and he published vari-
ous works on philosophical subjects, political, moral,
&c.; in which he appeared pretty clearly to belong to
the school of Jacobi. His works were read in France.

Peter Paul Royer- Collard, born in 1763, was first
an advocate in the Parliament of Paris, and then active
but moderate in the revolution ; afterwards, being made
Dean of the Faculty of Letters in the Normal School
at Paris, he lectured on philosophy with great applause

_. \ from 1811 to 1814, when he returned to political life,
~~—jand becamehead of the party called Doctrinaires, which
/ took middlé ground between the royalists and the ultra-

‘ republicans. In his lectures he brought forward Reid’s

doctrine of Common Sense, as an independent source of
true knowledge, and urged it strenuously and success-
fully, in opposition to the doctrine of Condillac. This
source of the knowledge of noumena and supersensible
ae he called natural induction ; and he described itFRENCH PHILOSOPHY. Oo]

as being a spontaneous and necessary action of the mind.
His eloquence, and his acute and powerful reasoning,
transfused this doctrine into nearly all his pupils ; and
thus laid the foundation for the new French school in
philosophy. Yet only one of his lectures has been pub-
lished entire, although many extracts from them have
been given to the public, especially in Jouffroy’s French
edition of Reid’s Works, Paris 1828.

Victor Cousin, born in 1792, and educated under
Royer-Collard, succeeded him in the Normal School in
1815, and carried forward the reformation in philoso-
phy begun by his predecessor. In 1820 he was dis-—
placed for his too liberal political opinions, and retired
to Germany ; but he returned im 1828, and resumed
his lectures. His lectures for that year contain an In-
troduction to the history of philosophy. These have
been elegantly translated by H. G. Limberg, and were,
published at Boston in 1832. They contain the best’
exposition I have seen of his philosophical opinions. In
1829, he published a course of lectures in two volumes,
on the philosophy of the 18th century. The first vo-
lume contains general views of philosophy and its his-
tory. The second volume contains an elaborate criti-
cism on Mr Locke’s Essay, which has been well trans-
lated by the Rev. C. 8S. Henry, D. D. of New York.
On the accession of Louis Philippe in 1830, Cousin was
admitted into the French Academy ; and the next year,
he was sent by the king to examine the literary institu-
tions of Germany, especially of Berlin, and make report.
On his return in 1832, he was made a peer of France ;
and in 1840, minister of public instruction. He may_.
be considered the corypheus of the eclectic or new
school philosophers of France. But before we examine
his philosophical doctrines, we will notice some others
who have co-operated in the reformation of French phi-
losophy.

The Baron de Massias, for some time French consul-
general at Dantzic, and then charge Waffaires at Berlin,
published various philosophical works, between 182]
and 1835; in which, it is said, he seems to come near

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92 FRENCH PHILOSOPHY.

to Kantian principles; but he professes to differ from
Kant, as well as from Royer-Collard and Reid. Krug
could not exactly define his position; but tells us, he
was ranked among the new eclectics of France.

The Baron Degerando, born in 1772, and made a
peer of France in 1837, the author of the Comparative
Hist. of Philosophy, was a follower of Condillac in 1802 ;
but when he published the 2d edit. of his History, in
1622-3, he accorded with Royer-Collard and Cousin, or
was an eclectic.

Berard, who died in 1828 at the age of 35, published
a work in 1823, in which he maintained the immate-
riality of the soul, and assailed the doctrines of the
materialists openly and vigorously. And in the same
year, Virey published a treatise on Vital Power, in
which he takes the same ground.

Lheodore Jouffroy, born in 1796, and now Professor
of philosophy in the Faculty of Literature at Paris,
is an active member of the eclectic school. In 1828,
he published Reid’s Works in French, with abstracts
from Reyer-Collard’s lectures; and likewise Dugald
Stewart’s Outlines of Moral Philosophy. Jouffroy de-
votes himself especially to Moral Philosophy ; and he
comes frequently before the public in works which are
said to be creditable both to his head and his heart.

Philip Damiron, educated under Cousin, and now Pro-
fessor of philosophy in the college of Louis le Grand at
Paris, is the author of a History of Philosophy in France
in the 19th century, 2 vols. first published in 1828, and
again in 1830. From this work, Krug and Dr Henry ap-

pear to have derived most of their information respecting
the recent history of French philosophy ; and on them I
am chiefly dependent. In 1831, Damiron commenced
publishing a Course of Philosophy ; of which four yo-
lumes had appeared in 1834, embracing Psychology
and Morals. In his history, Damiron gives account of
twenty-seven French philosophers of the 19th century ;
whom he divides into three classes, viz.
I. Sensualists; e.g. Azais, Cabanis, Destutt deTracy,
Gall, Laromiguiere, Volney, &c. a
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FRENCH PHILOSOPHY.

Il. Theologists ; e. g. Vallanche, de Bonald, de Mais-
tre, de la Mennais, &c.

Til. Eiclectics ; e.g. Ancillon, Berard, Bonstettin,
Cousin, Damiron, Degerando, Droz, Jouffroy, Keretray,
Massias, Maine de Biran, Royer-Collard, Virey, &c.

The French philosophers of the new school appear to
be ingenuous, liberal-minded, honest men; men who
have no selfish or sinister views, no vain ambition of
applause, no pride of learning, in short, no other aim
than to discover and to recommend the useful and the
true, ina branch of knowledge long degraded and abus-
ed in their country by superficial and reckless men.
They are harmonious in their efforts to raise philosophy
in France to the rank of an honourable and useful
science, by the careful study of foreign writers. Differ-~
ing among themselves on various points, they are yet
tolerant to each other, and assume the common name of
Eclectics. Indeed they appear not yet to have matured~
their thoughts. They all read the Scotch philosophers,
Reid and Stewart, and some of them also Kant, Fichte,
Schelling, Jacobi, &c.; and from all these, as well as
from Plato, Aristotle, Des Cartes, Leibnitz, &c. they
take what seems to them plausible, and too often with~
eut due regard to the congruity and incongruity of that
syncretism which they call eclecticism. At least this
appears to me to be true of Cousin, the present leader
of the school. Dr Henry has indeed exhibited a pretty
coherent system, as being held and taught by Cousin.
But he does not refer us to the works of the author for
proofs; and as, with the three volumes of Cousin’s lec-
tures before me, I cannot verify all his statements, and
yet find in Cousin some dogmas and positions which
are not distinctly mentioned by Dr Henry, instead of
abridging the Professor's statement, IT will subjoin what
I have been able to glean directly from Cousin. It
should be recollected, that the works I consult are not
precise and logical disquisitions, but loose popular lec-
tures, and addressed also to a French audience, whose
fancy must be pleased to secure their attention. Hence
not only is the language often popular rather than scien-

29194 FRENCH PHILOSOPHY,

petal hats teint nate ath akg
oy * -

tific, but in too many instances the reasoning also.
Most of my references are to the Introduction to a
History of Philos. &c. translated by Limberg, Boston,
1832.
According to Cousin, philosophy is the science which
strives to comprehend things, and to account for what
“—~——.y- takes place. It is the result_of reflection, of the study
of ideas and of thought ; and its aim is, 0 advance all
fii ~~ the great interests of man. It is one of man’s most real
‘ag | wants, (p. 19-25, 51, 52, 367, &c.) Philosophy com-
| ~——-mences with reflection, with a critical examination of
~— the human mind, or with what is called psychology,
| (p. 368, &c.380, 390, &c.) From psychology it proceeds
My to logic, metaphysics, ontology, natural theology, cos- |
| mology, morality, &c. And its method or mode of pro- |
ceeding is, to begin with observation and induction, or |
careful researches a posteriori; and then to introduce
analysis and deduction, or reasoning @ priori, (p. 416,
&e. 95-103.) |
| All the facts of psychology are found on the re-
| cerds of consciousness ; and to these records we must
| | go for a knowledge of them. It is by reflection,
Bi that we inspect that record, and learn ‘those facts,
| (p. 147, &c. 152, 159, 161, &c. 193.) Cousin recog-
nises three faculties of the mind; viz. sensibility, or
susceptibility of impressions from objects without ; vo-
ition or the will, the source of voluntary action; and
reason or intellect, the knowing, Judging, reasoning
Ni faculty. On the first, (sensibility,) he says but little
ii in this volume, and he seems to hold the common views
ie | of philosophers. Respecting the will or voluntary power,
| | he is singular in maintaining that this faculty is the
sole foundation of personality. The other faculties are
not of a personal nature; they are common properties
of our race; and they would operate in the same man-
ner, and with the same results, in all men, if they were
not influenced in individuals by the personal faculty
or the will, (p. 125, &c. 128, 169, 175, &c.)
Reason, or intelligence, is nothing personal to us as

individuals. There are not as many veasons as there are
2992

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wn a On oe ee .
+", RP eT Me ene OP wep be)FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. 95

reasoning beings; but there is one eternal reason,
which is a sort of common property of all intelligent
beings, and which they all use at pleasure, according to
their ability. The infinite God, who is intelligence it-
self, enjoys and uses it without any limitation ; but finite
beings can make only a limited use of it, (p. 125-129,
H67, 1:71,)

Reason as a faculty of the human mind, operates in
two ways; viz. spontaneously, or without the co-oper-
ation of the will; and voluntarily, or under the guid-
ance of the will, as when we intentionally reflect, think,
judge, &c. From its first mode of operation we de-
rive all our primary knowledge, and all those general
truths which seem to be innate or connate. This ope-
ration of reason is the Common Sense of Dr Reid ; and
by Cousin it is denominated the instinctive perception ot
truth, the instinct of reason, original perception, and
also faith and inspiration. (P. 162-175, 193, 417;
comp. his Hist. of Philos. II. 388-392.)

Reason, in both her modes of operation, is governed
by three fundamental laws or first principles; which
he calls the elements of reason, and which occupy the
same place in his system with the categories in the
Kantian system : they give form, consistency, and unity
to all our knowledge. Moreover, as reason is not sub-
jective or personal to us, but is universal, or the common
property of all intelligent beings, and is the same in
man as in God; hence these laws or elements of reason
are not merely the laws of owr mode of thinking, (as
Kant erroneously maintained,) but they are the laws
of all rational thinking, and the mode of God’s viewing
things ; and of course they accord with the divine con-
stitution of the universe, or with the real nature of
things ; that is, they have objective validity. They are
the basis, not only of human logic, but of true meta-
physics, and of a solid system of ontology. According
to these fundamental laws of reason, whatever exists
above us, around us, or within us, falls under one or the
other of these two categories; viz. (1.) the finite, the
multiple, the particular, the limited, the dependent,Seen netet eae sect egy bens
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96 FRENCH PHILOSOPHY.

phenomenal, &c.; or (2.) the infinite, the one, the uni-
versal, the unlimited, the absolute, the substance, &c.
These are the two first categories or fundamental laws
of reason. The third is the result of an analysis of the
two preceding. It is, that whatever exists under either
of these categories, stands in immediate relation with its
corresponding thing in the other category; so that
neither can be conceived as existing, or as being possible
without the other. Moreover, all the things existing
under the first category, (the finite, the multiple, &c.)
stand related to the corresponding things under the
second category, as effects stand related to their causes ;
that is, the infinite is the cause of the finite, the one of
the multiple, the universal of the particular, the un-
limited of the limited, the absolute of the dependent,
the substantial of the phenomenal, &c. And finally,
by summing up separately all that exists under each ‘of
the two first categories, we have, as the sum total of
the first, the world or nature; and as the sum total of
the second, God the author of nature; and then this
third category unites the two sums in a harmonious
whole, which is the universe, (pp- 108-131, 158-
160, 418.) Cousin seems aware, that these views ap-
proximate so near to those of Schelling, that they may
expose him to the charge of pantheism ; a charge which
he did not well know how to answer, (pp. 1382, 141-
143, 147, 158, 233, 420.) Yet he did not intend to
identify God with nature, or to teach that there is no
God distinct from the world, (pp. 16, 132,143.) Crea-
tion he held to be a development of God’s power, an act
of his wll ; and in some sense a necessary act, (pp. 186,
&c. 142, 158.) It will also follow from these laws of
reason, that God is as comprehensible by us, as any other
object: and Cousin admits the inference, (pp. 132,
133.) Indeed he is so fara Hegelian, as to believe
that ideas are real existences, and not the mere images
or representatives of something else, (p. 21, &c. 193
~125, 127, 129.) And he even tells us, that ideas

| constitute the nature of God, (pp. 133, 134, 158, 165,
“T66.) Cousin holds firmly to the providence and moral

294GERMAN PHILOSOPHY IN AMERICA. 97

government of God. He says: “ God’s perpetual
agency, in respect to the world and to humanity, is
providence.” ‘The great deeds recorded in history, are~~
the decrees of God’s moral government of the world,”
(pp. 224, 225.) And he distinctly avows himself to be
a Christian philosopher, (pp. 49, 57, 338, 339.) He
says: “I believe that in Christianity all truths are
contained ; but these eternal truths may and ought to
be approached, disengaged, and illustrated by philoso-
phy. Truth has but one foundation; but truth as-
sumés two forms, namely, mystery ” [the form in which
religion is presented to the mind in ordinances of wor-
ship, and in representations intended to excite devo-
tion] “ and scientific exposition : I revere the one, 1 am
the organ and interpreter of the other.”

CHAP TE Rs XV:

GERMAN PHILOSOPHY IN AMERICA.
Its Introduction.—Coleridgeism.

Tuer original design of these sketches was merely to
give a general idea of the principal systems of German
philosophy. This object was pursued through the
twelve first Chapters. Another Chapter was added, on
the new eclectic philosophy in France. And now, it is
deemed expedient to annex some account of those
schemes of modified German philosophy which have
excited most attention in our own country ; namely, the
philosophy of Coleridge, as contained in his Aids to
Reflection; the so called Transcendental Philosophy,
contained in the Dial and other recent works published
in Massachusetts; and the philosophic system of Dr
Fred. A. Rauch, contained in his Psychology. fe:

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98 GERMAN PHILOSOPHY IN AMERICA,

Until within about twenty years, the empirical
philosophy, as taught by Locke and the Scotch writers,
and which was described in the first Chapter of these
sketches, had dominion in all our colleges and schools,
and was regarded everywhere as the only true philoso-
phy. Berkeley’s idealism was indeed received by a few ;
and if it did not originate, it doubtless helped to give
currency to, that species of pantheism which is funda-
mental in the theology of the Emmons school. Ber-
keley made immediate divine agency the sole cause of
all the phenomena of the material world; and Emmons
extended the same immediate agency throughout the
intellectual world. But neither of these very acute
reasoners aimed to overthrow the empirical mode of
philosophizing. The first only wished to stenethen the
argument from experience for the being of a God, and the
second to reconcile the doctrines of Calvinism with a
sound philosophy.

A little more than twenty years ago the German
language, and with it, German literature and Science,
began to be studied in this country ; and soon, here and
there an individual was induced to look with some
favour on German philosophy. But the perfect novelty
of its principles, and its strange terminology, rendered
it almost unintelligible. Under these circumstances, the
writings of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who had mastered
and adopted some of the fundamental principles of Kant,
found their way into the country, and were eagerly
caught at and read by several of our younger theologians.
His Biographia Literaria, his work entitled The F riend,
and his Aids to Reflection, found as warm admirers in this
country, as in England. In 1829, Pres. James Marsh,
D.D. now a Professor in Burlington, Vt., published an
American edition of the Aids to Reflection, with an
elaborate Preliminary Essay vindicating and recom-
mending the principles of the book. From that period
Coleridgeism has spread very considerably in New Eng-
land. The Biographia Literaria of Coleridge, and his
Friend, which I read hastily soon after their publication,_ Ee ee a
$s selec hgh rte oe FEE Sy Tem a ae BAL Uae Wr Cr Sagan Oe

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     

GERMAN PHILOSOPHY IN AMERICA. ' 99

are not now at hand, and I shall therefore confine my
remarks to his Aids to Reflection.

This work is not so much a treatise on philosophy, as
a treatise on practical or experimental religion, and was
intended especially for the nse of young men who are
studying for the ministry. Dr Marsh well says: “ It
might rather be denominated a philosophical statement
and vindication of the distinctively spiritual and peculiar
doctrines of the Christian system.” Coleridge was one
of the most evangelical men of his times in the English
Episcopal church: and he supposed he could explain
and establish, in the most satisfactory manner, the reli-
gious doctrines which he held in common with Abp.
Leighton and other early Puritans, by means of those
principles of the Kantian philosophy which he had 1m-
bibed, and especially by means of what he calls the
momentous distinction between Reason and Understand-
ing. By means of this distinction, he thought he could
establish more clearly and precisely the import of ecer-
tain scriptural terms, such as carnal, fleshly; spiritual,
the flesh, the spirit, &c.; and likewise “establish the
distinct characters of Prudence, Morality, and Reli-
gion ;” and finally, could shew the perfect harmony of
‘all the peculiar doctrines of the Christian faith” with
reason or sound philosophy. (Aids, &c. pp. 62-64, ed.
New York, 1840.)

But Coleridge was a poet: and poets seldom write
well.on metaphysical subjects. Besides, he has justly
been pronounced a turgid and obscure writer: and al-
though, in his Aids to Reflection, he aims at a more
chastened and simple style than in his other prose wnit-
ings, yet he has preposterously employed, in this purely
didactic work, ArHorisms instead of logical definitions
and fully developed arguments. Heassumes that his read-
ers know too much, or that they can understand him from
a mere hint, a passing remark, a brilliant fragment of
thought, without any full and clear delineation of his
new theological views; and, like a genuine poet, he
leaps in medias res, and throws out his new and strange
ideas, without preparing our minds to recezve ems oF

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100 GERMAN PHILOSOPHY IN AMERICA.

even to understand them. Thus the all-important dis-
tinction between Reason and Understanding, which is
the basis of his whole system, but of which nine-tenths
of the reading public have no clear idea, is everywhere
held up to view as fundamental, and yet is nowhere
described or defined. And his learned editor, catching
too much of his spirit, says explicitly, (p. 46): “ What
is the precise nature of the distinction between the un-
derstanding and reason, it is not my province, nor have
I undertaken, to shew. My object is merely to illus-
trate its necessity.” The consequence is, most readers
of the book are utterly unable to comprehend it; and
therefore, they strongly suspect the author was groping
in darkness, or that he did not see clearly those sha-
dowy objects which he would not venture to describe.
From the language and reasonings of Coleridge, as well
as from his known partiality for German philosophy, it
is presumable that he adopted substantially that dis-
tinction between Reason and Understanding which was
described in the sixth Chapter of these sketches.
There, however, we had especially in view the distinc-
tion between what is called theoretical or speculative
Reason, and the Understanding considered as an intel-
lectual faculty : but Coleridge is principally concerned
with practical Reason, or Reason in its relation to the
Will and to the moral actions of man ; in which relation
Coleridge says, it is “the determinant of ultimate
ends,” that is, it is the source of those pure ideas of right,
of duty, of moral obligation, which should be the
supreme law of action to a rational being. In distinc-
tion from this faculty, the Understanding, considered as
u principle of action, bears a striking resemblance to the
Instinct of the more intelligent animals, the ant, the
bee, the beaver, &c. It is the ability to select and ap-
ply fit means to proximate ends. Its views are limited
to the object in immediate contemplation ; and it is
but another name for ingenuity, sagacity, practical
Judgment in affairs, or the power of judging according to
the maxims of experience. (See Aids, &c. p. 245
ae and p. 353.) Coleridge often calls it “the facultyGERMAN PHILOSOPHY IN AMERICA. 1G]

of judging according to sense ;” that is, according to em-
pirical wisdom.

Now man, according to Coleridge, was endowed by
his Creator with the faculties of Understanding and
Reason, which he was to develop and employ in the
fulfilment of his duties as a creature of God. His Un-
derstanding was to supply in him the place of Instinct in
the brutes; speculative Reason was to enable him to cul-
tivate scientific knowledge; and practical Reason was
to regulate and govern his moral conduct, or to enable
him to yield rational obedience to the laws of his Crea-
tor. But by the apostasy, in which all participate as
soon as they become capable of moral action, the Will
of man divorces itself from practical reason, and sub-
mits to the control of the Understanding, and the natu-
ral propensities. By so doing, fallen man turns away
from those high and pure principles of right, of duty, of
moral obligation, which should be his ultimate aims,
and fixes his regards on proximate ends, or, in the lan-
guage of an apostle, on “the lust of the flesh, the lust
of the eyes, and the pride of life.” He practically, if
not also theoretically, discards the idea of there being
any thing higher or more excellent than personal enjoy-
ment or individual happiness: and in determining what
will make him happy, or what is his supreme good, he
recurs to experience as the best and the proper criterion.
Thus, by following his Understanding as his only guide,
fallen man is selfish and earthly-minded, until, by the
new birth, practical Reason is restored to her throne in
the soul.

But for the full understanding of this subject, the
wide difference between nature and free- Will must not
be overlooked: for, as Dr Marsh says, “The key to his
system will be found in the distinctions which he makes
and illustrates between nature and free-Will, and be-
tween the Understanding and Reason.” (See Aids,
&c. p. 17.)—Throughout the kingdom of nature, ac-
cording to Coleridge, one universal law prevails, and
has absolute control. It is that of the. necessary de-

pendence of one thing on another, or the law of cause ae

Aee

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a ae Sead an al aa st rele ea £9 rat acuet aeaatnn bey 9 HN, 7
i's Rem: te By peer te tM HL I WP Ae Bb os +44 ae aT,
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102 GERMAN PHILOSOPHY IN AMERICA.

effect. To this law not only all material bodies, but
all vegetable and animal life, and all the sensitive
and elective faculties both of brutes and of man’s ani-
mal nature, are entirely subject. But the free- Will of
a rational being, in his opinion, is not subject to this
law. It acts spontaneously, and independently of any
causation from without. It is not controlled by motives,
as the proper causes of its elections: ‘“‘ Theman makes
the motive, and not the motive the man,” (p. 106.)
Now when the will renounces its allegiance to practical
Reason, and subjects itself to the guidance of the Un-
derstanding and the natural propensities, it renounces
its high and spiritual character, and consents to become
as it were a part of nature; and thus the whole man
becomes carnal, earthly, selfish, and scarcely superior to
the brutes, so far as the discharge of his duties and
obligations as a creature of God is concerned. And this
is the radical principle of sin or depravity in fallen man,
or what the Scriptures denominate the flesh, the carnal
mind, and the minding the things of the flesh. And
consequently, the recovery of man from this sinful state,
is making him spiritual or spiritually minded; it is
exciting his debased and degraded Will to renounce
its subjection to sense and to the Understanding, and
be obedient to the commands of practical Reason, or to
the law of right, of duty, of moral obligation. Now
both Scripture and experience show, that when the
Will has been long enslaved to sense, its energies are
paralyzed, and divine aid or supernatural grace is ne-
cessary to restore it to sound and healthy action.
Besides, the guilt incurred by a course of criminal dis-
obedience to the law of God, presents an additional ob-
stacle to the restoration of the sinner to the favourable
regards of his Creator. And hence the necessity of a
divine Redeemer for fallen man, a Redeemer who can
act both on and in the Will, and can stand up as a Me-
diator between God and sinful man. (See Aids, &c.
p. 297, &c.)

Coleridge has moreover taken much pains to ascer-

tain the precise import of the terms prudence, morality,
300en tats tart Gs hye te es

2

GERMAN PHILOSOPHY IN AMERICA. 103

and spiritual religion. Prudence, he says, has for its
chief organs the senses and the understanding. Itssole
aim is the advancement of our personal interest or well-
being; and it is especially careful to guard agains,
every thing that may do us harm, frustrate our planst
or mar our happiness. Morality has for its chief organ
the heart, or the natural affections and sympathies of
our nature; and it seeks the happiness of others, be-
cause we find pleasure in doing so. Spirtiual religion
has for its organs free-Will and practical Reason; and
sts sole aim is to make the whole conduct of the man to
harmonize with the divine law. From these definitions

it is manifest that a man may have and may exhibit
much prudence and much morality, and yet be entirely
destitute of spiritual religion.

Such, according to Coleridge, are some of the radical
principles of mental philosophy ; and they are of very
high importance to the nght understanding and the
vindication of the peculiar doctrines and precepts of
Christianity. They give us clear and just conceptions
of the apostasy of man, of both original aud actual sin,
of that carnal mind which is enmity against God, be-
cause it is not subject to the law of God, neither in-
deed can be; and hence also, of that redemption which
is by Jesus Christ, of regeneration by divine grace, and
of that holiness without which no man shall see the
Lord. Not that this philosophy, or any other, is com-
petent to teach us originally all the peculiar doctrines
of Christianity, or to demonstrate their truth, without
the aid of revelation. But when these momentous
truths are revealed to us, this philosophy enables us to
somprehend them, and to see that they are reasonable,
and are worthy of all acceptation as coming from God.

wed« . Pe
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104 AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM.

CHAPTER XY.
AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM.

Propriety of the Name.—Its Origin.—Its Radical Principles.

Tut species of German Philosophy which has =Prng
up among the Unitarian clergy of Massachusetts, an

which is advocated especially in a recent Periodical
called the Dial, is known by the appellation TRANSCcEN-
DENTALIsM. The propriety, however, of the appellation,
may be questioned. ant, who, so far as I know, first
brought the term Transcendental into philosophy, would
certainly not apply it to this or to any similar system.
He would denominate it TRANSCENDENT, not Transcen-
dental. The difference, according to his views, is im-
mense. Both terms indeed denote the surpassing or
transcending of certain limits; but the limits surpassed
are entirely different. That is called Transcendental,
which surpasses the limits of sensible or empirical
knowledge, and expatiates in the region of pure thought
or absolute science. It is therefore truly scientific ;
and it serves to explain empirical truths, so far as they
are explicable. On the other hand, that is called
Transcendent, which not only goes beyond empiricism,
but surpasses the boundaries of human knowledge. It
expatiates in the shadowy region of imaginary truth.
{t is, therefore, falsely called science: it is the opposite
of true philosophy. A balloon sent up by a besieging
army to overlook the ramparts of a fortification, if
moored by cables, whereby its elevation, its movements,
and its safe return into camp are secured, is a transcen-
dental thing ; but if cut loose from its moorings and
left to the mercy of the winds, it is transcendent ; it has
no connection with any thing stable, no regulator; it

302. ed ~~ ~ <
r s .
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AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM.

rises or descends, moves this way or that way, at hap-
hazard, and it will land, no one knows where or when.
Now, according to the critical philosophy, all specula-
tions in physical science that attempt to go beyond
phenomena, and all speculations on supersensible things
which attempt to explain their essential nature, are
transcendent ; that is, they overleap the boundaries of
human knowledge. In violation of these canons, Fichte,
Schelling, and Hegel plunged headlong into such spe-
culations, and yet called them Transcendental; and the
new German philosophers of Massachusetts follow their
example.

Waving, however, this misnomer—as every real Kant-
ian must regard it, we will call this philosophy Tran-
scendental, since its advocates choose to call it so, and
seeing the name has become current in our country.
And we will first inquire into its origin among us, and
then proceed to notice its prominent characteristics.

Origin of Transcendentalism among us.

According to their own representations, the believers
iu this philosophy are Unitarian clergymen, who had
for some time been dissatisfied with the Unitarian sys-
tem of theology. They tell us, they found it to be a
meagre, uninteresting system, which did not meet the
religious wants of the community. While labouring to
improve their system of theology, or to find a better,
they cast their eyes on foreign countries. There they
discovered a different philosophy prevailing ; a philoso-
phy which gives an entirely new version to Christian-
ity, invests it with a more spiritual character, with more
power to move the soul, to call forth warm emotions,
and to produce communion with God. This philosophy
they have now embraced. Such, they inform us, was
the origin of Transcendentalism among them. But 1t
may be more satisfactory to give their own statements
on this head.

The Rev. G. Ripley, or whoever composed the long
anonymous letter to Prof. Norton, on his Discourse be-
fore the Alumni of the Cambridge Theological ae oaee gt a” oh

  

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
  

106 AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM.

1839, says, (pp. 11, 12,): ‘In our happy state of society,
as there is no broad line of distinction between the clergy
and the rest of the community, they [the Alumni] had
shared in the influences, which, within the last few
years, have acted so strongly on the public mind: with
intelligent and reflecting men of every pursuit and per-
suasion, many of them had been led to feel the necessity
of a more thorough reform in theology ; they were not
satishied that the denial of the Trinity and its kindred
doctrines gave them possession of all spiritual truth:
they wished to press forward in the course which they
had begun, to ascend to higher views, to gain a deeper
insight into Christianity, to imbibe more fully its divine
spirit, and to apply the truths of revelation to the wants
of society and the progress of man. Their experience
as pastors had brought them into contact with a great
variety of minds; some of which were dissatisfied with
the traditions they had been taught; the religion of the
day seemed too cold, too lifeless, too mechanical formany
of their flock ; they were called to settle difficulties in
theology of which they had not been advised in the
school; objections were presented by men of discern-
ment and acuteness, which could not be set aside by
the learning of books; it was discovered that many
had become unable to rest their religious faith on the
foundation of a material philosophy, [-viz. the empirical
philosophy of Locke;] and that a new direction must
be given to their ideas, or they would be lost to Chris-
tianity, and possibly to virtue. The wants of such
minds could not be concealed,” &¢........... aces” Im the
course of the inquiries which they had entered into, for
their own satisfaction, and the good of their people, they
had become convinced of the superiority of the testimony
of the sow! to the evidence of the external senses ; the
essential character of Christianity, as a principle of
spiritual faith, of reliance on the Universal F ather,” &c.

The Rev. O. A. Browngon, in his Charles Elwood,
(Boston, 1840, p. 261,) says: “It cannot have escaped
general observation, that religion forsome time has fail-

ed to exert that influence over the mind and the heart
304

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pS Si Sut Set rig SSA Se Ts HT MSN OO Oi es Ss eer Ra te GaN GR se fess Se tale Sete

     
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM. 107

that it should. There is not much open scepticism, not
much avowed infidelity, but there is a vast amount of
concealed doubt and untold difficulty. Few, very few
among us but ask for more certain evidence of the Chris-
tian faith than they possess. Many, many are the con-
fessions to this effect, which I have received from men
and women whose religious character stands fair in the
eyes of the church. I have been told by men of un-
questionable piety, that the only means they have to
maintain their belief even in God, is never to suffer
themselves to inquire into the grounds of that belief.
The moment they ask for proofs, they say, they begin
to doubt. Our churches are but partially filled, and
the majority of those who attend them complain that
they are not fed.”—“ Surely, then, it is time to turn
Christianity over, and see if it have not a side which
we have not hitherto observed. Perhaps when we
come to see it on another side, in a new light, it will ap-
pear unto us more beautiful, and have greater power to
attract our love and reverence.”

The Rev. R. W. Emerson, in his Address to the Se-
nior Theological Class at Cambridge, in 1838, says, (p-
17,) “It is my duty to say to you, that the need was
never greater of a new revelation than now. From the
views I have already expressed, you will infer the sad
conviction, which I have, I believe, with numbers, of
the universal decay and now almost death of faith in
society. The soul is not preached. The church seems
to totter to its fall, almost all life extinct.” Again, (p-
94,) he says, “I think no man can go with his thoughts
about him, into one of our churches, without feeling that
what hold the public worship once had on men, 18 gone
or going. It has lost its grasp on the affection of
the good, and the fear of the bad. In the country
neighbourhoods, half parishes are signing off; —to
use the local term.”............And (on p. 21,) he says,
“The prayers, and even the dogmas of our church, are
like the zodiac of Denderah, and the astronomical in-

struments of the Hindoos, wholly insulated from Ae
5Ps J

Sd sbi ahs tetera nea kas Se

ee)

es
4. Loren,

‘% NATaa ol tae IR Benet fon ed eee ee Ve ne cae Sengtereprp rey j
stot Me Wed Tl a hag i ,
PIE he hee ee

  

108 AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM.

thing now extant in the life and business of the people.
They mark the height to which the waters once rose.

For the perfect accuracy of these statements, I cannot
vouch from my own personal knowledge. Nor are they
here adduced to prove the actual state of the Unitarian
congregations, but simply to show how defective the
Transcendentalists consider the Unitarian theology,
‘and of course, the grounds of their dissatisfaction with
it.

The author of an elaborate and highly interesting
article in the Dial for April 1841, entitled the Unitarian
Movement in New England, has given a very philoso-
phical account of the origin of the Unitarian community
in this country, as well as of the recent rise of the sect
of Transcendentalists in that community. According
to this able writer, the doctrine of the Trinity, and the
connected doctrines of man’s deep-rooted depravity, and
his dependence on divine grace for a recovery to holiness
and happiness, will.admit of a satisfactory explanation
and vindication, only on the principles of the Platonic,
or (as we have called it) the metaphysical philosophy.
Onthe principles of thesensuous or empirical philosophy,
as he supposes, a Trinity in the Godhead is an absurdity,
and the connected doctrines mysterious and inexplicable.
But, as is wellknown, from the days of Locke, this lat-
ter philosophy held the ascendency, or rather, it was, until
quiterecently, the only philosophy known in the country.
While addicted to such a philosophy, our theologians
could not reason closely on the articles of their faith,
without meeting with difficulties and perplexities ; and
they were in great danger of falling into different opi-
nions respecting the Christian doctrines. At the same
time, the orthodox creeds forbade any deviation from
the established faith. The result was, that those most
given to free inquiry, fell into Unitarianism, and the
doctrines connected with that system. Thus originated,
according to this writer, the Unitarian movement in
New England: for he says expressly, (p. 431,) “We
regard it [Unitarianism] as the result of an attempt to
a Christianity by the sensual philosophy, instigat-
306ee eee
= Fern Sts tata Si

  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
   

AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM. 109

éd by a desire to get rid of mystery, and to make every
thing clear and simple.”

The proximate causes of the rise of Transcendentalism
among the Unitarians, are thus described by this
writer, (p. 422-3,) “The Unitarian movement disin-
thralled the minds of men, and bade them wander
wheresoever they might list in search of truth, and to
rest in whatsoever views their own consciences might
approve. The attention of our students was then called
to the literature of foreign countries.—They wished to
see how went the battle against sin and error there.
They soon found a different philosophy in vogue, and
one which seemed to explain the facts of their own expe-
rience and observation more to their satisfaction, than
the one they had been accustomed to meet in their
books. In most cases the pleasure of the discovery was
heightened by the fact, that these men, in their previous
inquiries, had come to the same or similar conclusions.
In some cases they had been too diffident to express
them, while in others the expression of them had called
forth manifest indications of disapprobation, if not of
open persecution.”——The concluding sentences in this
quotation show, that the Transcendentalists, before
they became acquainted with foreign philosophy, were
not satisfied with the Unitarian system of theology ;
and that some of them had, at that time, arrived at
nearly their present theological views, the expression of
which then met the disapprobation, if not the open per-

ecution, of the staunch Unitarians. The inconsistency
of the Unitarian body in advocating unlimited freedom
of inquiry, and then censuring the Transcendentalists
for practising it, is severely rebuked in the following
passage, (/p- 434,) “They have made a great movement
in favour of freedom of inquiry, and thoroughness and
fearlessness of investigation : and now, like the witch
of Endor, they seem terrified at the spirit they have
called up. This would seem to indicate that the move-
ment in favour of freedom and liberty was not the off-
spring of pure, disinterested love of truth and prin-

ciple.”ae
St tliat stent te oe

ad ok Des CRE Relea Con ad re ne) al eke ated bide a he tac A neers tet saree addin tat eh ea sha bee
' hee 4 ae ee Sag ' 4 We
4 by behest ah -

of epee ye

An

  

110 AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM.

The defects of the Unitarian theology are described
by this able writer in the following terms, (p. 436,)
« Unitarians make Christianity too plain, plainer than
from the very nature of the case it can possibly be.”—
“There is, moreover, a degree of religious experience
that Unitarianism fails to satisfy.” [P. 438]: “Uni-
tarlanism is sound, sober, good sense. But the moment
a preacher rises to eloquence, he rises out of his system.”
[P. 440]: “ We think that, in its principles and logi-
cal tendency, it is allied to the most barren of all
systems.”

Characteristics of the Transcendental Philosophy.

None of the Transcendentalists of this country are
philosophers by profession. Nearly all of them are
clergymen of the Unitarian school; and their habits of
thought, their feelings, and their aims, are manifestly
theological. Nor do they give us proof that they have
devoted very great attention to philosophy as a
science. They have produced, I believe, no work pro-
fessedly on the subject, not even an elementary treatise;
and, if I do not mistake, they have brought forward no
new views or principles in philosophy. So far as I can
judge, they have merely taken up the philosophy of
Victor Cousin, and after comparing it, according to their
opportunity, with that of the more recent German
schools, have modified a little some of its data, and ap-
plied them freely to scientific and practical theology.
At the same time, they take little pains to elucidate and
explain the principles of their new philosophy. They
address us, as if we all read and understood their favour-
ite Cousin, and were not ignorant of the speculations of
the German pantheists; and their chief aim seems to
be, to shew us how much better this Gallo-Germanic
philosophy explains the religion of nature and of the
Bible, than the old philosophy of Locke and the Scot-
tish school. Whoever, therefore, would understand the
Transcendental writers, must first understand, if he can,
the French philosopher Cousin, and the German pan-
theists.

308AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM. 11}

The philosophy of Cousin, as well as that of the mo-
dern Germans, we have attempted to describe very
briefly in the preceding Chapters; and to them the
reader is referred.

Cousin maintains, that, by taking a higher point of
observation, he has brought all previous systems of phi-
losophy to harmonize with each other. [See his Introd.
to Hist. of Phil. by Linberg, page 414.] He therefore
adopts, and uses at pleasure, the peculiar phraseology
of all the systems, as being all suited to express his own
new views. This causes his writings to exhibit, not
only great variety, but apparently, if not really, great
inconsistency of terminology. And hence different per-
sons, aiming to follow him as a guide, may easily mis-
take his meaning, and adopt different principles ; or,
if they adopt the same principles, they may express
themselves in a very different manner. And, if we sup-
pose the same persons, with only a moderate share of
philosophic learning and philosophic tact, to attempt to
reconstruct the philosophy of Cousin, by comparing it
with the German systems from which it is taken, and
at the same time to adopt Cousin’s lax use of language ;
we may easily conceive, what confusion of thought and
obscurity of statement may appear on their pages. Now
tbe Transcendentalists, if I do not mistake, have thus
followed Cousin. Of course, they differ considerably
from one another: some following Cousin more closely,
and others leaning more toward some German ; some
preferring one set of Cousin’s terms, and others another,
or coining new ones to suit their fancy. After all, Lin-
berg’s translation of Cousin's Introduction to the His-
tory of Philosophy may be considered as the great
storehouse from which most of them—e. g. Brownson,
Emerson, Parker, &c.—have derived their peculiar
philosophical opinions, their modes of reasoning, and
their forms of thought and expression.

The radical principle of the Transcendental philoso-
phy, the corner-stone of the whole edifice, is Cousin’s
doctrine, that Spontaneous Reason acquainis us with the
true and essential nature of things. According to this

309a - - yt e 7 Phos Hn
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. : 4 ep Me | Me tm C ne Y .
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, Wht A

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112 AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM.

doctrine, Reason, when uncontrolled by the Will, or
when left free to expatiate undirected and uninfluenced
by the voluntary faculty, always apprehends things as
they are, or has direct and absolute knowledge of the ob-
jects of its contemplation. This clairvoyance of Reason,
Cousin calls “an instinctive perception of truth, an
entirely instinctive development of thought,’—*« an
original, irresistible, and unreflective perception of
truth,”"—“‘ pure apperception, and spontaneous faith,”
—‘“‘ the absolute affirmation of truth, without reflection,
—inspiration,—veritable revelation.”—[ Introd. &c. pp.
163, 167, 172, 166.] The characteristics of this kind
of knowledge, as being immediate and infallible, though
not always perfectly distinct at first, and as being di-
wine, OY as coming from God either directly or indirect-
ly, all Transcendentalists maintain. But in what man-
ner, or by what mode of action, our Reason acquires
this knowledge, they do not distinctly inform us.
Whether our Creator has endowed us with an intellec-
tual ¢nstinct, a power of rational intuition ; or whether
the rational soul, as itself partaking of the divine na-
ture, has this inherent sagacity in and of itself; or
whether the divine Being, God himself, is always pre-
sent in the soul, and acting in it by way of inspiration,
these philosophers seem not to have decided. They
use terms, however, which fairly impl¥ each and all of
these hypotheses, and especially the last. But however
undecided on this point, which is of so much importance
in a philosophic view, on the general fact that all ra-
tional beings do possess this knowledge, they are very
explicit ; and some of them attempt to prove it, by
reasoning from the necessity of such knowledge to us,
and from the current belief of mankind. [ See Cousin’s
Psychology, Chap. vi. and a writer in the Dial, vol. ii.
page 86, &c.]

The effects of this principle, when carried into theo-
logy, are immense. It dispels all mysteries and all
obscurities from this most profound of all sciences, and
gives to human Reason absolute dominion over it. For,
it makes the divine Being, his government and laws,

310eee en tt, eee eae
C gigctig ee ge Pe reg ee rh ei tert - or
aie Spe his z x Sa adae Sab gh Sia a TEE EME RS he FS SNS Tas mk ta her Mr Ca

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
     

AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM. Lies

and our relations to him, and all our religious obliga-
tions and interests,—every part of theology, theoretical
or practical,—perfectly comprehensible to our Reason in
its spontaneous operation. It makes all the doctrines
of natural religion the objects of our direct, intuitive
knowledge: we need no explanations and no confirma-
tions from any books or teachers; we have only to
listen to the voice of spontaneous Reason, or to the
teachings of our own souls, the light that shines within
us, and all will be perfectly intelligible and absolutely
certain. And hence, we need no external revelation,
no inspired teacher, to solve our doubts and difficulties,
or to make any part of natural religion, or any princi-
ple of moral duty, either more plain or more certain.
We are, all of us, prophets of God, all inspired through
our reason, and we need no one to instruct and
enlighten us. The great Seers of ancient. times,
Moses and the prophets, Christ and the apostles,
were no otherwise inspired than we all are; they only
cultivated and listened to spontaneous Reason more
than ordinary men: and this enabled them to see fur-
ther, and to speak and write better, than other men on
religious subjects. If we would determine whether the
Bible was written by inspired men, we need not pore
upon the so called external evidences, miracles, prophe-
cies, &c. but merely listen to the testimony of our own
souls, the teachings of spontaneous Reason, or what is
ealled the internal evidence, and we shall at once see
the clear and infallible marks of inspiration. And to wn-
derstand the Bible, we need no aid from learned inter-
preters. Only give us the book in a language we can
read, and the suggestions of our own inspired minds
will enable us to comprehend perfectly the import of
every sentence, and to see clearly what is divine, and
what is human, or what originated from spontaneous
Reason, and what from human infirmity, in the holy
Scriptures. And, of course, every man is competent to
decide, definitely and infallibly, all the controversies
among theologians, and all the disputes between differ-
ent sects of Christians, respecting the doctrines taught

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114 AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM.

in the Bible. In short, not only the profound researches
of philologists, antiquarians, and. biblical commentators,
but also the elaborate discussions of didactic theologians,
polemic, apologetic, and metaphysical, are all of little
or no value in theology. Instead of depending on them,
the theological inquirer should rather retire to solitude
and silence; and while musing on religious subjects, with
the Bible and the book of nature before him, he should
refrain from giving any determinate direction to his
thoughts, and allowing them to flow on spontaneously,
he should listen to the voice of Reason as she expa-
tiates freely in the open field of visions; then he will
be caught up, as it were, to the third heaven, and will
see all that the inspired prophets saw; his knowledge
will be superhuman and divine.

But to understand more fully the metaphysics of the
Transcendental writers, we must not overlook their on-~
tological doctrines. If Reason acquaints us with the
true and essential nature of all things, then the field of
ontology is open fully to our inspection, and we may
form there a perfectly solid and safe science. Accord-
ingly, all Transcendentalists, on both sides of the
Atlantic, assume some system of ontology as the basis
of their speculations. The prevailing system among the
modern Germans, and that to which Cousin and his
American followers assent, is pantheistic : that is, it re~
solves the universe into one primordial Being, who de-
velops himself in various finite forms: in other words,
it supposes God and the developments of God, to be the
only real existences, the ro way, the entire universe.
But when they attempt to explain this general state-
ment, the Germans bring forward different hypotheses.
Some, following Spinoza, invest the primordial Being
with the essential attributes of both a substance and a
person ; and they suppose him to create from himself,
or to form out of his own substance, all rational and
sentient beings and all material things. Others, with
Schelling, suppose him to be originally neither a person
nor a substance, but the elementary principle of both,
which, in developing itself, becomes first a person anda

ai?Seats a elegy a RNG ASHER PaO Teen actes na tx Gr Tn LS are tao ae

    
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM. 115

substance, and then a universe of beings and things.
Others follow Hegel, and adopt a system of pure ideal~
ism. They suppose concrete ideas to be the only real
existences, and the logical genesis of ideas to be the
physical genesis of the universe. Take the simple idea
of existence, and abstract from it every thing conceiv-
able, so that it shall become evanescent; and in that
evanescent state, while fluctuating between something
and nothing, it is the primitive, the generative princi-
ple of all things. For it is the most comprehensive or
generical of all ideas, including all other ideas under
it as subordinate genera and species; and therefore,
when expanded or drawn out into the subordinate
genera and species, it becomes the ro wav, the universe
of beings and things. Vacillating among all these
theories, especially between the two last, and trying to
amalgamate them all in one, Cousin, without exhibiting
any very definite ideas, merely declares the Infinite to
be the primitive, and all that is finite to be derivative
from the Infinite, while yet both the Infinite and the
finite are so inseparable that neither can exist without
the other.—The appellation Panthevsts, it appears, is
unacceptable to Cousin, and to most of his American
followers; but some of the latter voluntarily assume it ;
and they unscrupulously apply it to all Transcendental-
ists. That the doctrines of the Transcendentalists, as
well as those of Spinoza, Schelling, and Hegel, are
really and truly pantheistic, appears from the fact that
they all hold to but one essence, or one substance, im the
universe. They expressly deny, that God created or
produced the world out of nothing, or that he gave ex~
istence to beings and things, the substance or matter of
which had no previous existence: they say, he created
or brought forth the world from himself, or formed it out
of his own substance ; and also, that he still exists in
the created universe, and the created universe in him,
thus constituting an absolute unity, as to essence or sub-
stance. That the epithet pantheistic may properly be
applied to such doctrines, seems not to be deniable.
[See Krug’s Philos. Lexicon; art. Pantheismus. | a4Se erecta a

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116 AMERICAN TRANSCENDENTALISM.

As Pantheists, the Transcendentalists must behold
God, or the divine nature and essence, in every thing
that exists. Of course, none of them can ever doubt
the existence of God, or be in the least danger of athe-
ism ; for they cannot believe any thing to exist, with-
out finding God in it; they see him, they feel him,
they have sensible perception of his very substance in
every object around. Moreover, if our souls are only
portions of the Divinity, if they are really God working
in us, then there is solid ground for the belief that
spontaneous Reason always sees the true nature of
things, or has divine knowledge of the objects of its
contemplation. And again, if it is the Divine Nature
which lives and acts in all creatures and things, then all
their action is Divine action. All created intelligences
think, and feel, and act, as God acts in them ; and of
course, precisely as He would have them. There can,
then, be nothing wrong, nothing sinful, in the character
or conduct of any rational bemg. There may be
imperfection, or imperfect action, because the whole
power of God is not exerted ; but every act, so far as it
goes, 1s just what it should be, just such as best pleases
God. And hence, though men may sigh over their im-
periections, or may ardently desire and strive to become
more perfect, yet they can have no reason for repentance,
for sorrow and shame and self-condemnation, for any-
thing they have done or have omitted to do. Neither
can they feel themselves to need any radical change of
character, to make them acceptable to God; or any
Redeemer, to rescue them from impending perdition.
All they need is, to foster the divinity within, to give
it more full scope and more perfect action; then they
will become all that it is possible they should be, and
all they can reasonably desire. These inferences from
their principles, are not palmed upon Transcendentalists
by their adversaries, but are admitted and defended by
their ablest writers. Says one of them, whom we have
before quoted, [Dial, vol. i. pp- 423-4,] « Holding as
they do but one essence of all things, which essence is
Se Pantheists must deny the existence of essentialee ee nunieeazana ce ES ~ eee = en - * me : “
atte ata Sabo eG ae NTE eerie en ae ee ee
— _ Dg eas ee Sa St Sea US fate Getse

     
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
    

PHILOSOPHY OF DR RAUCH. 11%

evil. All evil is negative,—it is imperfection, non-
ae It is a essential, but modal. Of come there
é e no such i 1 i
Gy inal inttocond gags ein atoms
of a righteous law but the “diff Sie races
which the Infinite meets wi a ae te

init with in entering into the finite.
Regeneration is nothing but an ingress of God into the
soul, before which sin disappears as darkness before the
rising sun. Pantheists hold also to the atonement, or
at-one-ment between the soul and God. This is strict-
ly a unity or oneness of essence, to be brought about by
the incarnation of the spirit of God, [in us, ] which is
going on In us as we grow in holiness. As we grow wise,
just, and pure,—in a word, holy,—we grow to be one
with him in mode, as we always were inessence. This
atonement is effected by Christ, only in as far as he
taught the manner in which it was to be accomplished
more fully than any other, and gave us a better illustra-
tion of the method and result in his own person than
any one else that has ever lived.”

CHAPTER XVI,

PHILOSOPHY OF DR RAUCH.

Biographical Notice.—His Psychology—Transcendental—Hegelian,—Outline
of his Philosophy.—Its bearing on Theology.

Tur Rev. Frederic A. Rauch, Ph. D., late President
of Marshall College, Penn., was born in Hesse Darm-
stadt, in the year 1806. His father, a pious and ortho-
dox clergyman of the German Reformed Church, is still
living, and is an active pastor in the vicinity of Frank-
fort on the Maine. Dr Rauch received his education
at Marburg, Giessen, and Heidelberg, and became @

Professor in the two last named places. In some of his
| | 315ens eee el a oa
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Pe rr
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118 PHILOSOPHY OF DR RAUCH.
lectures at Heidelberg he uttered his thoughts too freely
on the affairs of government, and found it necessary to
flee the country. He came to America in 183]. The
next year he took charge of the classical school con-
nected with the Theological Seminary of the German
Reformed Synod at York, Pennsylvania 5 and on the re-
moval of that Institution to Mercersberg in 1836, he
was made President of the College and Professor of
Biblical Literature in the Seminary. He died on the
2d of March, 1841, in the 35th year of his age. (See

an Obituary Notice in the New York Observer, March

97, 1841; and the Preliminary Notice to Rawuch’s
Psychology, 2d edition. )

Dr Rauch was one of that class of German philoso-
phers, who, embracing fully the transcendental specu-
lations of Schelling and Hegel, have laboured to reconcile
them with the religion of the Bible. The two most
prominent men of this party in Germany, have been
Dr Philip Marheineke of Berlin, and Dr Charles Daub
of Heidelberg. The former is still living, and is the
editor of the Works of Hegel, and also of the Works of
Daub, who died in 1836. The biographer of Dr Rauch
characterizes Daub as being a “ giant in the sphere of
mind,” and “aman who had followed Kant, Schelling,
and Hegel, to the farthest bounds of speculation, with-
out surrendering for 2 moment his firm hold upon the
great objects of faith.” This metaphysical giant, who
travelled the whole round from Kantism to Hegelism, is
best known by his mystical work on the nature and
origin of Evil, entitled, Judas Iscariot, or Evil in tts
relation to Good; Heidelb. 1816-18. 8vo. Dr Rauch was
the favourite pupil of Daub; who, it is said, “ had fixed
his eye upon him asa young man of more than common
promise, who might be expected to do good service in
the cause of science, in the department to which he
wished to consecrate his life.” The doctrines which
Daub instilled into the mind of his pupil, Dr Rauch ap-
pears to have brought with him to America, and to
have retained as long as he lived.

The first and only publication of Dr Rauch in this
316Pre erent et tee ae ee 7 = Sees cares ter gees to ere onl i .
SAS sd SRE AC Rae gt Se at aes aes ea NG TRL IES TI SR SS Ge Ga Ss Sp He Sele SCRE SE,

Bi3é tase sa tesesetey aS es
ag

      
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

PHILOSOPHY OF DR RAUCH. 119

country, was his Psychology, or View of the Human
Soul, including Anthropology ; first published in 1840,
and revised by him for a second edition, 184]. The
subject of this work, like that of most German trea~
tises on Psychology, and like the Enolish treatises
on Mental Philosophy, is Empirical Psychology, not
Rational or Speculative Psychology. That is, it em-
braces that knowledge of the human Mind, which is
derived from eaperience and observation ; not that
which is obtained by philosophical speculations on the
nature and properties of the soul. It therefore has but
little to do with Philosophy in the proper sense of the
term, or with strictly rational science. It treats of
empirical knowledge, not of that which is scientific.
Still there is a philosophy underlying it, which itis not
difficult to discover ; and that philosophy is manifestly
transcendental, and derived from the school of Hegel.

Dr Rauch, being a man of genius, and familiar with
the numerous and learned works of the Germans on
Psychology, and having access to the more recent in-
vestigations of his countrymen in physical science, has
been able to embody in his work much that is new and
interesting to American readers, especially in the mode
of explaining and illustrating the mental phenomena,
In the first part of his work entitled Anthropology, he
treats largely of Life, both in vegetables and animals ;
of Instinct, as a part of animal nature; and of the in-
fluence of external Nature on the Mind, and of the Mind
on the body. In the second part, or Psychology pro-
per, he treats of Self-consciousness, the distinguishing
mark of a rational being: and of our two mental fa-
culties, Feeason and Will. Reason in man has three
modes of action, Sensation, Intellect, and Pure Thinking,
The Will, in the natural or unregenerate man, follows
the natural Desires, Inchinations, Emotions, and Pas-
sions: in the regenerate, it follows the Divine Will.
Some concise remarks on true and false Feligion, con-
clude the work. The short Chapter on Pure Thinking,
is the only part of the book that directly treats on spe-
culative Philosophy: but philosophical remarks and
observations occur throughout the work.

I 317120

  

PHILOSOPHY OF DR RAUCH.

As a philosopher, Dr Rauch was a Transcendentalist :
for he maintains that our Reason gives us objective know-
ledge of things, and not merely subjective knowledge.
Thus, in the department of nature or the material world,
he supposes our knowledge to extend beyond Pheno-
mena, and to embrace what Kant calls Nowmena. Af-
ter describing the Conceptions of the Understanding, as
being mental Images of objects existing in nature, he
says, page 227: “The image is the same as the thing it
represents,...the same as the object ; for it cannot be
without it, and unless it includes what the object in-
cludes, it is not its true image...... The image has there-
fore the same contents as the object, with this difference,
the one has them as they exist im the mind ¢deally,
the other as they are in the material thing really. We
would say, therefore, by the power of conceiving, the
contents of an object, and the object itself, become con-
tents of our conceptions or images.” So also, m regard
to supersensible objects, or things in the world of
thought and of ideas, he supposes we have power to dis-
cover their real essence, or their ontological nature.—
Describing the objects which are the subject-matter of
Pure Thinking, he says, page 281: “ They are wholly
general ; and as such have no existence independent of
thinking. Yet they truly eaist ; they are not a mere
abstraction ; they are the pure being and nature of in-
dividual things, their soul and life.” And we shall see as
we proceed, that he undertakes to tell us precisely what
is the essential nature of the human soul or mind; of
life also, both in vegetable and animal bodies; and in-
deed, of all the mysterious powers which operate in any
part of the created universe. |

Being a Transcendentalist, Dr Rauch was diametri-
eally opposed to the views of Kant, whose Critical Phi-
losophy has for its chief aim to overthrow all 7’ranscen-
dentalism, or as Kant would rather call it, Transcen-
dentism. Kant supposed an impassable gulf to lie be-
tween subjective and objective knowledge in all created
things. But Transcendentalists either discover no oulf
there, or they suppose they have found out a way to
transcend and faiuly get over it.

318ania Se cease ae squash er ercerer _ <s ' , ae ae sia /
si I a a Bg Sea NA ERS SS Se ae

   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
    

PHILOSOPHY OF DR RAUCH. 137

As a Transcendental philosopher, Dr Rauch belonged
to the school of Hegel, and not to that of Schelling. For,
his whole chapter on Pure Thinking shows that he did
not, with Schelling, regard a knowledge of the essen-
tial nature of things as attainable by mere znspection, or
by a rational intuetion : but, with Hegel, he considered
such knowledge as the result of a logical process, a ge-
neralization, or as he denominates it, Pure Thinking.
Thus he writes, page 275 :—“ Thinking is the true
basis of all our knowledge, for until we have penetrated
our conceptions by thought, until we know their nature,
their ground, their connection with each other, we have
no sctence.” He says also, page 277: “ Thinking is that
activity of mind which generalizes............. The gene-
rality here spoken of, is not gained by abstraction, but
by position; it is not the product of man, nor of any
object, it is neither subjective nor objective, but above
both ; its origin is in pure reason, as such. It exists
not merely in our thoughts, but equally as much in
nature; it is in the sphere of nature the genus ; in the
sphere of mind the identity; and in that of science
the generality.” In the passage quoted a few para-
graphs back, he says of these generalities : “ They are
the pure being and nature of individual things, their
soul and life.”

_ According to Dr Rauch’s philosophy, a created sub-
stance or thing, is a mere activity or power of acting ;
and not, as is generally supposed, an inscrutable essence,
with inherent qualities and accidents. Of course, as
many kinds of activity as exist, so many kinds of sub-
stances or things, are there in the universe. These, 16
seems, are ascertained to be four in number, viz. (1.)
Mind or soul, an activity that has self-consciousness,
intelligence, and will: (2.) Animal Life, a plastic
power having sensation or feeling, and generating orga-
nic bodies, which it nourishes and matures, and then
transmits itself through them to a progeny of similar
activities: (3.) Vegetable Life, a plastic power without
feeling, which produces organized bodies with roots and

leaves, and matures seeds, whereby it propagates wee
o, «Te at ceo a gnttes #
; . Fs

er

I os I Se ee eet OC
:

em

ate alae eS oe ee

Ne ee ae
* p — ts re

  

129 PHILOSOPHY OF DR RAUCH.

and (4.) Lifeless Matter, which can act only mechani-
cally, or by impulse, attraction, repulsion, decomposi-
tion, dispersion, combination, aggregation, &c. These
four kinds of activities, variously combined, and operat-
ing upon and with each other, and under various cireum-
stances and conditions, constitute the created universe,
and produce all its varied phenomena. Of course, a
thorough knowledge of these four activities involves or
includes a perfect and scientific knowledge of the entire
universe of created beings and things; for, each of these
activities is in the sphere of nature, the genus of all the
beings and things under it; in the sphere of mind and
thought, it is their identity ; andin the sphere of science
or logical arrangement, it is their generality, or that
which comprehends and embraces them all. If now
curiosity inquires, what is the essential nature of these
all-comprehending activities; Dr Rauch is prompt to
answer, Hach of them is a definite Thought combined
with a Volition of God. The infinite Mind conceived
them, and the divine fiat made them realities, Four
divine thoughts, therefore, combined with divine voli-
tions, constitute the entire created universe: and God
and his thoughts are all that exists or has any being.
Some of the passages in Dr Rauch’s Psychology, in-
volving such sentiments, here follow. Page 43: ** Most
of us are in the habit of considering nature and its mani-
fold powers as a mechanical whole, whose parts have
been brought together by some mechanic, and whose
powers exist side by side, without having any affinity to,
or connection with each other. But the opposite of all
this is the case. Nature is a system, not a conglomera-
tion ; alive and active in all its elements and atoms, it is
Jilled with powers, from the mechanical, chemical, mag-
netic, and galvanic, up to the organic, all of which flow
anvisibly into each other, affect and determine each other.
Liternal laws dwell in them, and provide that while
these powers receive and work with and through each
other, none interferes with the other, or in any degree
changes its nature, but supports and upholds it. Thus

we have a constant life, powers flow up and down, to and
320iia oh Re ae ge races At SS a an ee ot LAE ak rere ect erence eeseeamte
Stahl Ba. aS Se eae as dea Sau aa be aa nee EES ee See eae S ee
2 .

     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
   

PHILOSOPHY OF DR RAUCH. 123

Jiro.’ —Page 183: “ All life, wherever it exists, is formed
and organized. Form is not and cannot be the result
of matter, which is chaotic and shapeless. Form in
man, and throughout the universe, is the result of
thought. Hence life, being formed, does not proceed from
matter ; but is a thought of God, accompanied by the
divine will, to be realized in nature, and to appear exter-
nally by an organized body. As the thought gives the
form, so the divine will, resting in the thought, and in-
separably united with it, works as power and law in all
Nature..........Lhe animal, with its members and senses,
what else can it be but a divine thought exhibited in
an external form ?’—Page 184: “The soul of man is
likewise a divine thought, a creation of God, filled with
power to live an existence of its own.’—Page 150:
“The mind is pure activity............But this activity
takes different directions, and unfolds itself in different
ways, and thus it may be said to be the union of mani-
fold activities, all of which are internally united.’—
Page 195: “The soul contains in its simple, identicul
activity, all that afterwards appears in succession, under
the form. of faculties. They are but the development
of the energy of the soul.’—Page 256: “ Reason has
not its origin in itself; its author is God, whose will
lives in tt as its law.’ —Page 185 : “ Man is soul only, and
cannot be any thing else. This soul, however, unfolds
itself externally in the life of the body, and internally
in the Life of mind. Twofold in its development, it is
one in its origin, and the centre of this union is our per-
sonality.”——-P. 184: “ The particles of the body ......
... are not at all a part of man; they are dust, and
only their connection and the life connecting them, is
truly human.’”—P. 283: “ That which truly zs in nature,
are the divine thoughts, the divine laws: and all the rest
is but matter.,—P 191: “It is not nature nor matter
that produces personality, but God, who is the ground
of all personality. We can know a thing thoroughly
only when we are acquainted with its ground—so man
must know God before he can become truly acquainted

ith himself.
with himself. aSi A aaa acted ceria tes ATES
i . *

il stile AAI DA De “ah rar ati rested ihe tie ah Ok Aine aes elena eee
3 oe | " . a
ae he a Ss et tort. " A

Ce
. 4 is ‘<u

Se ni
: he “ ee i dali”

eS

   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     

PHILOSOPHY OF DR RAUCH.

In his Preface, p. iv. Dr Rauch tells us, that one
great object which he aimed to accomplish, was ‘* to
give the science of man a direct bearing upon the other
sciences, and especially upon religion and theology.” And
it must be admitted, that he everywhere manifests pro-
found reverence for God, and a deep sense of the
importance of religion. But whether his philosophy
is favourable to sound views of religion, deserves more
examination than comports with the design of these
sketches. If I have not entirely misunderstood him,
he is a Transcendentalist and a Pantheist of the school
of Hegel. It is also noticeable, that his book makes
no allusion to any special Revelation from God, or to
an apostasy of man, the intervention of a Saviour, the
forgiveness of sin in consequence of an atonement, a
future judgment, and eternal retributions after the pre-
sent life. At the same time, his pantheistic, transcen-
dental principles seem to leave little or no room for
these cardinal doctrines of the Bible; which are either
discarded, or essentially changed, by all German, as well
as American Transcendentalists. He utterly denies the
Sreedom of the Willin the natural man; and he gives to
the divine Will an absolute control over the human, in
the regenerate. See p. 155, &c. 292, &c. 309.—He
afirms, that, by nature, or in his natural state, man is
wholly tncapable of holiness. See pp. 383, 398.—He
explicitly says: “Religion is not a mere quality, but
the substance of man....<.....00. He ceases to be man, in
the full sense of the term, when he has no religion.”
See Pref. p. iv.—He defines true religion to be, “ a pe-
cuhar activity of God, which, announcing itself to the
heart of man, changes it, converts it, and restores man
to peace with himself, with the world, and with God.”
See p. 388. He thus explicitly admits a regeneration
of the soul by the power of God: but he makes it to be
a change of man’s substance or nature; a change too
which seems to constitute the whole of man’s redemp-=
tion, or to leave no room for the pardon of sin through
an atonement, and no work for a Mediator between

God and man. The simple activity of God upon the

322PHILOSOPHY OF DR RAUCH.

heart, accomplishes the whole business. In short, like
other Transcendentalists, he seems to make religion in
man,{to be an operation of God, carrying out and per-
Jecting the Creation of a rational soul.oe yy

re. sation tafe
Ce

” = I a

Silda thh thal ccm sell Neste enh . ” yo

o ss ae TAN

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