Revival Reformation Classics: Can Change the World Again.

A Critical History of Philosophy.

BY

REV. ASA MAHAN, D.D., LL.D.,

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I. & II.

FOREWORD BY THE EDITOR AND PUBLISHER.

_____

BOOK V.

THE MODERN EVOLUTION IN PHILOSOPHY.

INTRODUCTION.

What is denominated the Modern Evolution in Philosophy begins with Sir Francis Bacon (1561-1636), who is regarded as the author of the inductive method in science. To comprehend the Evolution under consideration, we must attain to a clear and distinct understanding of the true idea of science, on the one hand, and of the method in science really developed by Bacon on the other. 'The sciences,' says Bacon, 'have hitherto been in a most sad condition. Philosophy, wasted in empty and fruitless logomachies, has failed during so many centuries to bring out a single work or experiment of actual benefit to human life. Logic hitherto has served more to the establishment of error than to the investigation of truth. Whence all this? Why this penury of the sciences? Simply because they have broken away from their root in nature and experience. The blame of this is chargeable to many sources; first, the old and rooted prejudice that the human mind loses somewhat of its dignity when it busies itself much and continuously with experiments and material things; next, superstition and blind religious zeal, which has been the most irreconcilable opposer to Natural Philosophy; again, the exclusive attention paid to morals and politics by the Romans, and since the Christian Era to theology by every acute mind; still farther, the great authority which certain philosophers have professed, and the great reverence given to antiquity; and, in fine, a want of courage and a despair of overcoming the many and great difficulties which lie in the way of the investigation of nature. All these causes have contributed to keep down the sciences. Hence they must now be renewed and regenerated and reformed in their most fundamental principles; there must be found a new basis of knowledge and new principles of science. This radical reformation of the sciences depends on two conditions; objectively upon the referring of science to experience and the Philosophy of nature, and subjectively upon the purifying the sense and the intellect from all abstract theories and traditional prejudices. Both conditions furnish the correct method of natural science, which is nothing other than the method of induction. Upon a true induction depends all the soundness of the sciences.'

The validity of the above statements will not be questioned by any individual who is well read in the history of the sciences up to the time of Bacon. In none of the Schools of Philosophy up to this period, as we have said on a former occasion, had a single principle been developed which was of any practical value to mankind, nor a single deduction reached which the race had accepted as true, and about which philosophers themselves were not engaged in endless disputations. All, as Bacon states, was owing to a fundamentally false method which had obtained in all these schools. The question which here arises is this: has the procedure of the Modern Evolution been in fixed accordance with the right method? If we should refer to the Pure Sciences, we should say that the fixed method, in conformity to which they have been developed throughout, has been faultless and perfect. The same remark holds equally true in regard to certain of the Mixed Sciences, such, for example, as Astronomy, Chemistry, Physiology, and Natural Philosophy. Should we recur, however, to Metaphysics, Morals, Cosmology, Ontology, and Ultimate Causation, we should find that the methods which very largely obtain here are as old as those of Vayasa, Kapila, Kanada, and Gautama Buddha, that thought is moving now in the same identical circles as then, and is reaching no new deductions. When we shall have critically examined the principles and method of induction and deduction developed by Bacon, we shall also find them essentially imperfect, and adapted, if strictly followed, to mislead the scientific inquirer instead of giving the right direction to his inductions and deductions. When we shall have accomplished all that Bacon proposes, we shall find ourselves merely at the threshold of the temple of real science, instead of standing amidst the great revelations of the inner sanctuary. All these statements we shall have fully verified when we shall have developed the true idea and method of real science, and shall afterwards in their light have examined those of Bacon.

The True Idea of Science.

Science has been defined 'as knowledge systematized.' As Philosophy, the aim of science, is not to reveal mere facts as they are, but to answer the question why are the facts of the universe as they are and not otherwise. True science has its principles, facts, and deductions, and all as objects of valid knowledge. Every true system of science or Philosophy will be constituted exclusively of principles known to be absolutely valid, of facts known to be real, and of deductions necessarily resulting from said principles and facts and known as thus resulting. To render all this perfectly plain, permit us to invite very special attention to the following definitions and discriminations.

Necessary Ideas and General Notions or Conceptions distinguished.

Among thinkers of the Transcendental School especially, much is said about the distinction between ideas (necessary ideas), that of time or space, for example, and general conceptions, such as are represented by the term man, animal, or creature. While this discrimination is made, the essential characteristics which separate these phenomena of thought from each other are not generally understood. Let us see if we cannot apprehend the reason and ground of this discrimination.

1. The reality represented by a necessary idea is apprehended as really existing, with the impossibility of even conceiving of its non-existence. The object represented by a general conception, on the other hand, we may conceive to exist, but always with the conscious possibility of conceiving of its non-existence. Thus we apprehend the object of the idea represented by the term space or duration as a reality in itself, and that with the conscious impossibility of conceiving of its non-existence. In other words, we absolutely know that space and duration do and must exist. On the other hand, the object of the conception represented by the term man we apprehend as a reality, with the conscious possibility of conceiving of its non-existence. This distinction obtains universally between necessary ideas and general notions or conceptions.

2. All the elements which enter into and constitute a general conception are given by perception, external or internal. The object and characteristics of a necessary idea, on the other hand, are not perceived at all, but are always given as implied by what we perceive. Thus, the qualities represented by the term body are all consciously given by perception. Space, however, is not an object of perception at all, but is consciously given as a reality whose existence is implied by body, which is perceived to exist. The same holds true in all similar cases. We perceive, for example, succession, qualities, and events, and apprehend time, substance, and cause as realities whose existence is implied by facts which we perceive to be real.

3. All the elements which enter into and constitute a general conception, actually exist in every individual of the class which that conception represents. The elements of the conception represented by the term man, for example, actually exist in every individual of the race. So in all other cases. The reality represented by a necessary idea, on the other hand, exists by itself alone, and while it may be related to other realities, it can be compared, but by contrast, with no other. What other reality, for example, is like space or time? So of the terms substance and cause. Each represents a reality which can be compared with nothing else but itself. Necessary ideas can be compared with each other but relatively to our necessary mode of conceiving of their objects, never as realities in themselves.

4. An induction of a large number of individual objects is requisite to develop in the mind a general conception. The perception of a single fact is all that is requisite to develop a necessary idea. A vast number of individual men must have been perceived before the idea represented by the term man could have been originated in the mind. The moment the mind perceived a single body, fact of succession, phenomenon, or event, reason apprehended, not in its abstract, but concrete form, space, time, substance, and cause. The same holds true universally. The perceived cannot be apprehended at all, without the apprehension of the implied.

5. The faculty which gives us necessary ideas is entirely distinct and separate from those which furnish the elements that constitute general conceptions. The faculties which furnish the constituent elements of general conception are two—external and internal perception, or Sense and Consciousness. The faculty which gives us necessary ideas is reason, the faculty of implied knowledge. Through Sense and Consciousness we perceive phenomena, qualities, events; through reason we apprehend Space, Time, Substance, and Cause, realities implied by facts perceived. The distinction, then, between necessary ideas and general notions or conceptions, is wide, fundamental, and palpable, a distinction which true science will not fail to recognize.

Necessary Judgments Intuitively True, and General Judgments, or Propositions.

Equally manifest and fundamental is the distinction between universal and necessary judgments which have intuitive certainty, judgments such, for example, as Body implies space; Succession, time; Phenomena, substance; Events, a cause; and Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another, and general propositions, such as, All men are mortal, and All organized substances are subject to decay and dissolution. Among these distinctions, we notice the following:

1. Universal and necessary intuitive judgments we apprehend as true, with the absolute impossibility of conceiving of their not being true; that is, we not only intuitively know that such judgment is true, but also that it must be true, and by no possibility can be false. This, for example, is the fixed character of all the necessary judgments above adduced. We know absolutely, not only that the judgments, Body implies space; Succession, time; Phenomena, substance; and Events, a cause, are true, but equally that they must be true. In other words, the relation affirmed to exist between the subject and predicate in all such judgments is consciously perceived to be an absolutely necessary one.

General judgments, on the other hand, are apprehended as true, with the conscious possibility of conceiving of their non-truth. The judgment, for example, All men are mortal, we apprehend as true. Yet we can conceive that the facts of the case might be different from what they are. In all such judgments, in other words, the affirmed connection between the subject and predicate is apprehended as a real, but not as a necessary one.

2. In all general judgments, the elements represented by the predicate are contained in the subject as essential qualities and characteristics of the same. When we say, for example, that all men are animals, if all the qualities represented by the term animals did not exist in every man, the proposition before us would not be true. The same holds true of all such judgments.

In all necessary and intuitive judgments, on the other hand, the predicate represents a reality not contained at all in the subject, but sustaining a certain relation to the subject. In the judgment, for example, Body implies space, the predicate represents a reality not contained in, but which sustains a certain relation to, the subject. In other words, body and space are two realities distinct from each other, but which are intuitively apprehended as sustaining necessary relations to each other, and those identical relations affirmed in the judgment to exist between them. The same holds true in all such judgments.

3. Hence we remark, in the next place, that while in general judgments the elements represented by the predicate are contained in the reality represented by the subject, in all necessary intuitive judgments the subject represents a reality which necessarily implies the existence of the reality represented by the predicate in the same judgment. The ground of the validity of a general judgment, as we have seen, is the fact that the predicate represents essential elements contained in the subject. If all the qualities represented by the term animal did not exist in every man, the proposition, All men are animals, would not be true. The ground of the necessary intuitive validity of a necessary judgment, on the other hand, is the fact, not that the subject contains, but that it of necessity implies, the predicate. If body, for example, could exist, and space not be a reality, the judgment or proposition, Body implies space, would not be true.

4. When we reason from a general judgment as a principle in the argument, we gain no new truth whatever. Take as an example the following syllogism: All men are animals. John is a man. Therefore, he is an animal. It is self-evident here that if we did not know at the outset that John is an animal, we should not know that the proposition, All men are animals, is true. The argument, then, gives us no truth not previously known. The same does and must hold true in all cases in which we reason from such judgments or propositions as principles. In all cases, on the other hand, in which we reason from a necessary judgment as the principle in the argument, we gain a new truth. Two objects are before us, of the relations of which, as equal or unequal to one another, we are ignorant; and we are unable to compare them directly the one with the other. We can, however, compare each of them with one and the same object. Having made the comparison, we reason thus: Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another; these objects are each equal to the same thing; therefore, they are equal to one another. Again, Whenever of two objects one agrees, and the other disagrees with the same object, they disagree with each other. Of these two objects, one does and the other does not agree with the same object; therefore, they disagree with each other. Our principle in each of the above arguments is a necessary judgment, a judgment in which the subject implies the predicate, and in each case we reach a truth of which we were before ignorant. The same, from the nature of the case, must hold true in all instances in which we legitimately reason from a self-evident and necessary proposition, as the principle in the argument.

5. We now adduce a distinction of the most fundamental importance in science. We refer to the distinct and opposite law pertaining to the distribution of terms, which obtains in reference to these two classes of judgments. With general judgments, while all universal propositions distribute the subject, all negatives and no affirmatives distribute the predicate. With necessary principles all universals, both negative and affirmative alike, distribute both terms. Conversion of universal affirmative propositions of the former class is always by limitation; as, All men are mortal—some mortal beings are men. Conversion in the case of universal affirmative principles, on the other hand, is in all cases simple; as, Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another—things equal to one another are equal to the same thing. The same holds true of all universal affirmative deductions based upon such principles. The Logics hitherto studied in the schools, with almost no exceptions, rest upon an utterly false basis in the respects under consideration, and tend fundamentally to mislead the student in science.

6. Hence, we remark finally that while necessary judgments may, we do not now say always must, be employed as principles in science, mere general propositions can never be legitimately thus employed. Under the latter, as our principles, we can make no progress in knowledge whatever. Under the former we may be perpetually reaching, and legitimately too, deductions containing forms of new and vital truth. The above considerations sufficiently evince the fundamental distinctions between these two classes of judgments or propositions.

Distinguishing Characteristics of Necessary Principles.

We have, in a former part of this treatise, given the distinguishing characteristics of necessary intuitive judgments. As necessary to the end now in view, we repeat here what was there presented. On what conditions, then, do we intuitively perceive a necessary connection between the subject and predicate in a given judgment or proposition? On the following, and only on these, we answer.

1. When the subject is identical with the predicate, as in the judgment, A is A. Whatever A may be, A must be equal to, and identical with, itself. These are tautological, or identical, judgments, and are of course of little or no use in science.

2. When the predicate represents not an accidental, but an essential characteristic or element of the subject, as in the judgment, All bodies have extension. Body would not be body if it had not this quality. If it exist at all, it must have this quality. All such judgments, therefore, which may be denominated indicative, or rather explicative judgments, must possess intuitively necessary validity.

3. The same must hold equally true in all cases in which we intuitively perceive that the subject does and must imply the predicate. We all know, and must know, for example, that if space does not, body cannot, exist. We all know with equal absoluteness, consequently, that if body does exist, space must exist. We therefore intuitively recognize the absolute and necessary validity of the judgment, Body implies space, the subject in this judgment implying the predicate. In all cases of this kind, as in such judgments as Succession implies time; Phenomena, substance; Events, a cause; and Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another, an intuitively necessary connection exists between the subject and predicate, and the judgment must be valid. Such judgments may be denominated implicative judgments.

4. The only remaining class of intuitively necessary judgments are those in which there intuitively exists, between the subject and predicate, the relation of absolute incompatibility, or contradiction, and the judgment affirms this contradiction. The ideas of existence and of nonexistence are undeniably thus incompatible. Hence the judgment, It is impossible that the same object should, at the same moment, exist and not exist, does and must possess intuitively necessary validity. All such may be denominated incompatible judgments.

Careful reflection will absolutely evince the fact that all self-evident or intuitively necessary judgments do and must belong to one of the four classes above designated; no other relations of intuitively necessary connection between the subject and predicate, in a given judgment, being conceivable, and therefore possible. We have, then, criteria of absolute validity—criteria by which we can, with infallible certainty, determine the real character of every judgment or proposition which is set forth as having self-evident, that is, necessary validity. In every such judgment the subject will and must be identical with the predicate—or the predicate must represent an essential element of the subject—or the subject must imply, or be absolutely incompatible with, the predicate. Any proposition set forth as intuitively or self-evidently true, and not having some one of the above characteristics, is to be repudiated as a lawless assumption. We shall find the above criteria to be of fundamental importance in our future investigations.

Fundamental Error of Kant in respect to Necessary Intuitive Judgments.

'In all judgments,' says Kant, 'wherein the relation of a subject to a predicate is thought (if I only consider the affirmative, as the application to the negative is afterwards easy), this relationship is possible in two ways. Either the predicate B belongs to the subject A, as something which is contained in the conception A (in a covert manner), or B lies completely out of the conception, although it stands in connection with it. In the first case I name the judgment analytical, and in the other synthetical.' Of the former class, he adduces such judgments as 'All bodies are extended.' 'I need not,' he says truly, 'go out beyond the conception to find extension connected with it.' 'It is therefore an analytical judgment.' Among the latter he reckons such judgments as this, 'Everything which happens has its cause.' 'The conception of cause,' he says with equal truth, 'lies quite out of the first conception, and indicates something different from that which happens, and is not, therefore, at all contained in this latter representation.' All such propositions, he affirms, are consequently synthetical. The validity of analytical judgments, he further affirms, is discernible 'by means of the principle of contradiction;' that is, we should deny our own necessary conception of body if we should affirm that all bodies are not extended. This is not true, he adds, of synthetical judgments. No such judgment is discernible, he affirms, 'by means of the principle of contradiction.' 'Although a synthetical proposition may at all times be discerned by means of the principle of contradiction, yet only in this way, inasmuch as another synthetical proposition is presupposed from which it can be deduced, but never of itself.' According to this thinker, all analytical, and no synthetical, judgments have self-evident validity. The latter class of judgments, consequently, can have not an absolute, but only a relative validity, and as all the sciences rest ultimately upon such judgments, said sciences, in all their principles and deductions, are not absolutely, but only relatively true. Such is the universal doctrine of Transcendentalism. Here we meet with errors utterly subversive to all correct ideas of true science, and as utterly contradictory to facts as affirmed by the universal consciousness.

1. The validity of all synthetical judgments of the class now under consideration, in common with all of Kant's analytical judgments, is in fact, and equally so, discernible, and that of themselves 'by means of the principle of contradiction.' To be conscious of the fact that a denial of the proposition, All bodies have extension, is a contradiction, we must reflect upon the ideas represented by the term 'body,' on the one hand, and the term 'extension,' on the other. We then become distinctly conscious of the fact that the denial under consideration absolutely contradicts our essential conceptions both of body and extension, and of the immutable relations which must exist between them. Take now the judgment, Body implies space, one of our author's synthetical judgments. When we reflect upon the idea represented by the term 'body,' on the one hand, and on that represented by the term 'space,' on the other, we become equally and absolutely conscious that it no more denies our fundamental idea of body to affirm that it has not extension, than it does to affirm that it does not imply space. The affirmed relation between the subject and predicate is no more consciously absolute and necessary in the one case than it is in the other. The same holds true of all synthetical judgments of the class now under consideration. Our ideas of body, succession, phenomena, and events, on the one hand, and of space, time, substance, and cause, on the other, would not and could not be what they are if body did not imply space, succession, time, phenomena, substance, and events, a cause. The absolute validity of all primitive synthetical, as well as all analytical judgments, as both are defined by Kant, is in fact and form equally 'discernible' 'by means of the principle of contradiction.' The relation between the subject and predicate is just as consciously necessary in an implied, and also in an incompatible, as it is in an identical judgment. In denying this our author has started the scientific inquirer after truth upon the fatal track of fundamental error; a greater error in science being hardly possible than this now under consideration.

2. Kant has himself, in fact and form, admitted that the validity of every synthetical judgment of the class under consideration is 'of itself' 'discerned by means of the principle of contradiction,' just as that of analytical judgments is thus discerned. Our author, it should be borne in mind, denies absolutely that either time or space exist as realities in themselves, and that out of the mind they have [no] reality at all; but in the mind, as laws of thought, 'the subjective conditions of sensible intuition.' The same he affirms of space. 'We can therefore,' he says, 'only from the point of view as men speak of space, extended beings, etc. If we abandon the subjective condition under which we alone can receive external intuition, that is to say, the way we are affected by objects, the representation of space means nothing.' But does he also admit the necessary connection between the subject and predicate in all synthetical judgments of the class under consideration? Let us listen to his own words. 'Against this theory, which accords to Time empirical reality, but contends against absolute and transcendental, I have heard from perspicacious men so unanimous an objection that I have collected from it, that such naturally presents itself to every reader who is unaccustomed to those considerations. It runs thus: Changes are real (the alteration of our own representations shows this, although we should deny all external phenomena together with their changes). Now these changes are only possible in time, consequently Time is something real. The answer presents no difficulty. I concede the whole argument.' Here, then, he admits, in fact and form, the absolute validity of the synthetical judgment, Change, or Succession, implies time. In the same manner he admits the necessary connection between the subject and predicate in the synthetical judgment, Body implies space, and in all other similar judgments. He has, therefore, affirmed and denied, and that in the same sense, that the validity of such judgments is, 'by itself,' discerned on the principle of contradiction. In other words, the has, and in the same sense, affirmed and denied that synthetical judgments, in common with analytical, as he has himself defined both, have in themselves necessary certainty. Our philosopher, then, contrary to his prior asseverations, does admit the validity of the axioms, Body implies space, and Succession, time. How does be get rid of the deduction that space and time exist as realities in themselves? By denying reality of body, on the one hand, and of change or succession, on the other. 'Nothing generally which is perceived in space is a thing in itself.' Again, 'I have really the representation of Time, and of my determinations in it. It is therefore not to be looked at really as object, but as the mode of representation of myself as object. But if I myself could invisage myself, or if any other being (could invisage) me, without this condition of sensibility, the self-same determinations which we represent to ourselves as changes would then afford us a cognition, in which the representation of time, and consequently of change, would not at all occur.' To be Transcendental philosophers ourselves, and to admit the truth of the Transcendental doctrine, we must then not only deny the reality of space and time, which Kant elsewhere affirms we cannot deny, and also the existence of all realities in space and time, but in opposition to the absolute dictates of our own consciousness, must deny the reality of all changes anywhere, and all successive experiences in ourselves. Rather than take such a leap into 'the palpable obscure' of the absurd and ridiculous, we shall freely consent to disown the cognomen of philosopher, and to admit our utter want of 'the faculty of intellectual intuition,' 'the vernunst,' and 'Intellectuelle Auschauung,' by which we can affirm and deny the same things, deny all change in nature around us, and all successive experiences in ourselves, affirm the absolute impossibility of conceiving Space and Time not to be realities in themselves, and the identical realities which we apprehend them to be, and then affirm that they are not realities in themselves, and are in fact mere 'subjective laws of sensible intuition.' Such, however, is the system in all its forms, the system which we are hereafter to examine.

3. We have not yet presented the greatest error of Kant in his exposition of the character of synthetical judgments. In all such judgments the subject represents an object of perception and the predicate a reality whose existence is implied by the object perceived. We perceive body, changes, or succession, phenomena, qualities, and events, and apprehend space, time, substance, and cause as implied by what is perceived. Now, no proposition can be more self-evidently true than this, that the perceived must have been in the mind before the implied. If space, time, substance, and cause were apprehended before body, succession, quality, and events, then the former would be known by themselves, and not as they now are, as implied by the latter. According to Kant and the Transcendental Philosophy universally, the implied is always known and apprehended before the perceived, and determines the latter. 'The receptivity (capacity) of the subject to be affected by objects,' says Kant, 'necessarily precedes all intuitions of these objects,' and this receptivity, be says, 'is a pure intuition which bears the name of Space.' Precisely similar statements he makes in regard to ideas of change or succession and time. His fundamental doctrine, we repeat, is that in the order of origination in the mind, the ideas of time and space precede those of succession and body, and determine the same. Now here is a fundamental mistake. The apprehension of that which is known and conceived of, but as implied by something else, cannot have been thought of in the mind before the latter was. We know and can think of time, space, substance, and cause, but as realities whose existence is implied by succession, body, quality, and events which we perceive. The perception of the latter, therefore, must have preceded and determined the apprehension of the former. Kant and the Transcendental Philosophy undeniably reverse the order of universal experience, putting the antecedent in the place of the consequent, and the determined in the place of that which determines. Nothing can be more evident, we repeat, than is the fact that that which implies determines the implied, and not the latter the former, and that the former must have been in the mind before the latter.

4. Kant and the Transcendental Philosophy universally, we remark finally, have given a fundamentally false answer to the question, 'How are synthetical judgments à priori possible?' His opposition of their possibility, the only one conceivable as he affirms, is this. The idea of the predicate must have been in the mind before that of subject, and the former must have determined the latter. 'They (Time and Space),' he says, 'are, for instance, both taken together, pure forms of sensible intuition, and thereby make synthetical judgments à priori possible.' On no other condition, he repeatedly assures us, are such judgments possible. Here again is a fundamental error in science. If we have, as we consciously do have, the capacity to perceive body, for example, and then to apprehend space as implied by what we have perceived, then the apprehended relation between the perceived and implied would be an absolutely necessary one, and we should have, as we now do have, the à priori synthetical judgment, Body implies space The same must hold equally in respect to all such judgments. There are two conditions, therefore, on which 'synthetical judgments à priori are possible,' that given by Kant and the Transcendental Philosophy, and that given above, with this difference, that the latter does and the former does not accord with undeniable facts of conscious experience. In whatever light we contemplate the exposition given by Kant and by the Transcendental Philosophy of the doctrine of analytical and synthetical judgments, we are constrained to affirm that exposition to be fundamentally false, and utterly subversive of true science. As that exposition must be true, or Transcendentalism in all its forms must be utterly false, the system itself must 'vanish into naught.' No system can have a basis more utterly insubstantial and visionary. The above exposure will be found to be of fundamental importance in our future criticisms.

Relations of General and Synthetical Judgments to Science.

Kant has rightly affirmed that synthetical judgments à priori lie as principles at the basis of all the sciences. The reason is obvious. Through no other judgments as principles can we obtain deductions which would have logical validity or would not involve the error of petitio principli. What inference, for example, is deducible from a tautological judgment, such a A = A? Nothing can be yielded by such judgments beyond the judgments themselves. Explicative judgments, such as, All bodies are extended, can do no more than develop in the mind distinct apprehensions of the essential qualities of body, and thus prepare the way for scientific deduction. When, also, we reason from general judgments as principles, as, All men are mortal; John is a man, therefore he is mortal, no new truth pertaining to John is developed, nor is our conviction of the fact of his mortality in the remotest degree increased or diminished. When, on the other hand, we reason from a synthetical judgment as principle, we always, as we have before shown, advance our knowledge of truth. We say, for example, Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another. A and B are each equal to C; therefore they are equal to one another. In all such cases we obtain scientific deductions unknown before. Nor can we by any possibility obtain valid scientific deductions on any other conditions. Every deduction must be evincible by an ultimate reference to an à priori synthetical judgment—a judgment in which, by necessary intuition, the subject implies or is incompatible with the predicate. When we carefully examine the axioms and postulates which lie at the basis of any valid science; we find all its principles to be of this exclusive character. No deduction can have greater certainty than the principle on which it ultimately rests. One deduction may rest immediately upon another deduction. Both in common, however, must be evincible by an ultimate reference to synthetical judgments or principles of the character now under consideration. We have, then, our infallible tests or criteria of all valid axioms or principles in science. In all such principles the subject must necessarily imply, or be incompatible with, the predicate. All systems, by whatever names supported, or in whatever form developed—systems, not resting upon these identical judgments as principles—are logical fictions and nothing else.

Facts of Science.

Science in all its forms, as we have seen, consists of principles known to be possessed of universal and necessary validity—of facts known, with equal absoluteness, to be real, and of deductions necessarily arising from such principles and facts. Deductions of this exclusive class, and none others, take legitimate rank as truths of science. The criteria by which we may, with infallible certainty—criteria which we must rigidly employ, if we would attain to true, and not false science—the criteria, we say, by which we may with absolute certainty distinguish valid principles in science from all other judgments, we have already given—to wit, judgments in which the subject and predicate are consciously connected by necessary implication, the subject implying the predicate, or in which the subject and predicate are consciously separated by necessary incompatibility, the subject being incompatible with the predicate, and the judgment affirming this incompatibility, as in the judgment, 'It is impossible for the same object at the same moment to exist and not to exist.' Every system not having for its principles one or the other, or both of these classes of judgments, is, we repeat, a logical fiction. Facts which have legitimate place in science must be the conscious objects of valid knowledge. No one will doubt the absolute validity of this principle. If facts not thus known may be adduced, then science would not be knowledge systematized. To distinguish such facts from all others affirmed to be real, we insist have valid criteria by which we can with perfect certainty distinguish the former from the latter. If we have no such criteria, science is undeniably impossible. The existence of such criteria, together with their immutable characteristics, has already been demonstrated. We will here specify but three of these criteria—to wit, Knowledge consciously direct and immediate; Apprehensions common to all minds, and which in all minds ever remain one and the same, and subject to no change or modification, like our apprehensions of a circle or square; and Apprehensions of the validity of which all minds have an absolutely conscious certainty. Suppose that we have facts which are the objects of knowledge consciously direct and immediate—facts of which all minds are and must be possessed of the same identical apprehensions, apprehensions ever remaining immutably the same, without change or modification, and which are to all minds objects of consciously certain knowledge, 'a certainty which remains proof against all grounds and arguments' for its subversion. We must admit all such facts and none others into our system, and construct it in absolute conformity to said facts, or waste our powers in the construction of systems of 'science falsely so called.' Suppose that we are in the presence of diverse classes of facts, of all of which our knowledge possesses all the evidence of validity under consideration. If we take them all into account, and determine in their light our system of universal Being and its laws, one exclusive system—the Theistic, for example, will necessarily arise as the only true one. If we ignore or deny the reality of one class, and determine our theory in the light of the other, another and opposite system results. If we attempt 'by grounds and arguments' to disprove the reality of either class of facts, or the validity of our knowledge of the same, our efforts must fail utterly, as no forms of knowledge can have greater certainty than those possessed of the above characteristics. In despair of reaching the end desired through the Intelligence, which is strictly impossible in all such cases, we turn to the Will, and 'by an act of' (miscalled) 'scientific Scepticism to which we voluntarily determine ourselves,' we ignore and deny the validity of our knowledge of one of these classes of facts, and base our system upon the other. What have we now? A system, we answer, undeniably based, not upon intellectual, but Will data, and nothing else. Or finally, we in our voluntarily determined Scepticism deny the validity of our knowledge both in its subjective and objective forms, and base our systems, as the Sceptics do, upon 'airy nothing,' and locate it nowhere. In such a case we have a system which, by hypothesis, is no system at all. If we in our voluntarily determined Scepticism ignore or deny the validity of knowledge in its objective or subjective forms, our system must locate itself in the sphere of Materialism or Idealism in some specific form, as the case may be. If we voluntarily determine ourselves to 'a scientific Scepticism' in respect to knowledge in both forms, then we are Sceptics, and construct our system from unknown and unknowable materials, and locate it nowhere and in no time. In all the three cases the Will and not the Intelligence undeniably determines our principles, facts and deductions. It is full time that the world should distinctly understand that it is now admitted and affirmed, not merely by the race, but by philosophers of all schools, that within the sphere of the Intelligence no 'grounds or arguments' can be found to invalidate our knowledge of Matter, Spirit, Time, or Space, and that if we deny the validity of our knowledge of any of these realities, it must be by 'a scientific Scepticism to which we voluntarily determine ourselves,' that is, our denial must be, not an act of the Intelligence, but of the Will. Idealism, not by dicta of the Intelligence, but by a blind fiat of Will, denies the validity of knowledge in its objective, and affirms it in its subjective form. Materialism, in the same manner, denies the validity of knowledge in its subjective, and affirms it in its objective form. These affirmations and denials in both forms are made in respect to forms of knowledge undeniably possessed of the same identical characteristics; in other words, fundamental distinctions are made where no differences exist. Scepticism, in impeaching the validity of our knowledge both of Matter and Spirit, and confining it exclusively to phenomena, affirms absolutely the absurdity that consciously known phenomena imply nothing, that is, that Body does not imply space, nor Succession time, nor Phenomena substance, nor Events a cause; nor that the fact that Things are equal to the same thing implies their equality one to the other.

Immutable Condition on which the Validity of Original Intuition in any Form can be Invalidated.

That we have an intuitive perception of our own spirit as exercising the functions of thought, feeling, and willing, and of matter as an exterior substance possessed of the qualities of extension and form, even philosophers of all schools admit. On what condition can the invalidity of such intuitions be verified? On one condition exclusively, as we have formerly shown. There must be adduced a form of knowledge absolutely incompatible with the validity of such intuitions, a form, of knowledge of the validity of which we are and must be more absolutely certain than we are or can be of the truth of said intuitions. Is it conceivable that such a form of incompatible knowledge can be adduced? Can we be more rationally certain of the truth of any proposition than each individual is and must be of that of the judgments, I think, I feel, I will, and Matter is directly and immediately before me as an exterior substance possessed of the qualities of extension and form? Suppose that on an analysis of our apprehensions of the self and not-self certain inexplicable difficulties and apparent contradictions should be present in such apprehensions. Can we be more certain, or as certain of the validity of our analysis, as we are and must be of the reality of the self and not-self, and of the certainty of our conscious knowledge of the same? If this were the case, such analysis would for ever displace these apprehensions from human regard. We should no more think of the self and not-self as real existences, of the self as thinking, feeling, and willing, and of matter as possessed of extension and form, than we do of the earth as being a vast plain, and not a globe. The undeniable fact that our analysis, when most fully perfected, leaves our apprehensions and convictions in respect to the self and not-self exactly as they were before, demonstrates absolutely the utter invalidity of that analysis in the matter of disproof. The same does and must hold true of all forms of disproof that by any possibility can be adduced.

Criteria of Valid Deduction in Science.

No deduction, however fixed its connection with its premises, can have higher validity than its premises have. The character of all valid premises and facts has been determined. When do premises yield deductions which possess scientific validity? To this question we answer:

1. The principle being valid, there must be ranged under it all the facts bearing upon the case, none being supposed which are not, and none being omitted which are real. The induction of a single fact not real, or the omission of one which is real, would utterly vitiate the whole procedure.

2. The deduction must fully accord with and account for all the facts bearing upon the case. A single fact incompatible with and not fully explicable by this deduction demonstrates its invalidity.

3. All the facts under consideration must not only be compatible with and explicable by this deduction or hypothesis, but must be equally incompatible with and inexplicable by every opposite deduction or hypothesis. Any class of facts equally explicable by and compatible with two or more distinct and opposite hypotheses, not only fails utterly to prove one in opposition to either of the others, but makes no approach whatever towards proof in any direction.

Conditions of Refutation.

An argument is refuted when it is fully evinced that either premise is invalid, and invalid in any of the forms above explained, or that the deduction has no valid connection with said premises. If it should be shown, for example, that the argument is based upon a wrongly assumed principle—upon a false or partial induction of facts, that all the facts are equally compatible with and explicable by some other and opposite deduction or hypothesis, or that the deduction has no necessary connection with the premises; in either case the deduction has not been proven false, but the argument itself has been utterly invalidated. As laws of scientific induction and deduction, the above conditions of refutation are of the highest importance.

Conditions of Disproof.

Refutation is one thing, disproof is quite another. When an argument has been fully refuted, we have simply evinced the fact that a given deduction or hypothesis, which may be true or false, has been illogically inferred. A deduction or hypothesis has been disproved when it has been evinced, not that it has no valid basis in given premises, but that it is in itself false. This end is accomplished on the following conditions—to wit (we quote from the chapter on the Doctrine of Method in The Science of Logic):

' 1. In case it is a universal proposition, proving its contrary to be true. The proposition is then proved to be false in all its extent.

' 2. Proving its contradictory to be true. In this case, if the proposition is a particular one, it is proven false in all its extent; if it is a universal proposition, it is proven false in that particular form.

' 3. By showing it to be self-contradictory. No such proposition can by any possibility be true.

' 4. By proving that its truth is incompatible with some other proposition known to be true.

' Thus, in law, an alibi undeniably established absolutely disproves any crime charged upon an individual, the fact of his being in another place at the time being absolutely incompatible with the truth of the charge referred to.

' Some propositions may be proven false in one form and some in another, and success in such efforts often depends wholly upon a clear discernment of the form demanded in the particular case under discussion, and the direction of the entire argument upon that one point. How often, for example, is utterly useless and hopeless labour expended in an attempt to prove the opposite of a universal proposition, when nothing is required in the circumstances but proof of its contradictory, the latter being of very easy accomplishment and the former equally difficult, if not impossible.'

A proposition, it should be borne in mind, has been proven to be incompatible with known truth when it has been shown to be contradictory to some self-evidently necessary, intuitively perceived, or clearly demonstrated: truth. An individual professes, for example, to have found valid evidence in disproof of the validity of the necessary intuitive judgment, Phenomena imply substance, or Every event has a cause. What does he profess in such a case? He professes to have found some judgment incompatible with one or the other of these—a judgment more certain than one, not only known to be true, but known equally to be necessarily so. We know that they are and must be true. In other words, Kant professes to prove, and requires us to believe that be has found, a deduction resting upon principles and facts more certain than are judgments which, as he admits and all are conscious, must be true.

To us nothing can be more evident than is the fact that objects are really in motion around us, and that changes, at least in our inward experience, are real and successive. Yet, 'by a series of dependent propositions,' none of which can be so obviously true as is the fact of motion and change, Kant and modern scientists have reached and required us to assent to the validity of the deduction that 'in space, considered in itself, there is nothing movable,' and that in time, as it is in itself, there can be no such thing as change or successive events. In other words, Kant and his school profess to find propositions more certain to us than is the conscious fact that we are in a world of motion and change, and that events within and around us are really successive. Do we need to ponder and weigh arguments whose deductions so palpably contradict such palpably conscious facts?

Objections to a Given Proposition or Hypothesis, when Valid.

'Against almost every hypothesis on almost any subject' (we quote again from The Science of Logic) 'not falling within the sphere of absolute demonstration, very plausible objections may be urged.' Hence a very important inquiry arises—to wit, When shall an objection to any given hypothesis be considered as valid, that is, as conclusive against the truth of said hypothesis? All such objections will have the following characteristics:

1. The facts implied in the objection must be real, that is, must be declared as such by really valid evidence.

2. The validity of said facts must be incompatible, and undeniably so, with the truth of that hypothesis. It must not present a mere difficulty, one which we may or may not know how to explain consistently with said hypothesis, but one which undeniably cannot be thus explained. A difficulty, it should be borne in mind, is one thing; a real incompatibility is quite another. Facts difficult or insusceptible of explanation in our present state of knowledge, may be urged against hypotheses undeniably true. An objection to be valid must present a difficulty of this kind—that the fact which it asserts must be unreal, or the hypothesis against which it is urged must be false. Against the hypothesis of the identity of the nervous fluid and electricity, for example, this objection is urged—to wit, that the latter will and the former will not, in fact, pass along the nerve when it is tightly bound with a cord. Here is a fact affirmed which is not merely difficult of explanation in consistency with said hypothesis, but strictly and undeniably incompatible with it. Either the fact asserted is unreal, or the hypothesis must be false. This is the exclusive character of all valid objections against any hypothesis.

Note 1.—Everyone who urges any particular objection against any hypothesis should be required, before an answer is attempted, to prove that the fact he asserts is real, and then that, if it is true, the hypothesis against which it is urged must be false. This is the burden of proof resting upon the objector.

Note 2.—Individuals, in treating of objections, frequently err in two important particulars—in not distinguishing, in the first place, between a fact difficult of explanation, and one incompatible with the hypothesis against which it is urged; and in the next, instead of requiring the objector to prove his facts, and show that they possess the element of incompatibility, they assume the burden of explaining all difficulties, thus practically admitting that unless an hypothesis is totally free from difficulties it cannot be true.

Method of Refuting Objections, or the Forms in which they may be Refuted.

One topic more demands our special attention—to wit, the proper method or forms of refuting objections. An invalid objection may be shown to be such in one or the other of the following forms, or by more or less of them combined.

1. It may be shown that the objection is based upon a fundamental misconception of the subject against which it is urged.

2. It may be shown that the fact presented in the objection is unreal, or wants valid evidence of being real.

3. That the fact, if admitted, presents a mere difficulty, and wholly lacks the element of incompatibility.

4. That precisely the same objections lie against the opposite hypothesis, when one of the two must be true. That objection cannot be valid which would, as in such a case, exist in all its force if the hypothesis against which it is urged were true.

5. That the same, or precisely similar objections lie against hypotheses known and admitted to be true. Butler's 'Analogy' may be referred to as an example of this form of refuting objections.

Inconceivability as a Test of Truth.

In his chapter on Ultimate Scientific Ideas, Mr. Spencer is at great pains to prove that 'inconceivability is not a test of truth.' Yet in other parts of his works this very principle is most confidently and abundantly appealed to as an absolute criterion of truth and error. In one part of his works we are absolutely assured that the fact, that we cannot conceive a judgment to be true on the one hand, or false on the other, is no certain proof that it is true, or that it is false. In other parts of the same work we are assured, with the same absoluteness, that the inconceivable and impossible are identical. To understand this subject, we need to understand clearly the real meaning of this term as employed in science. Let its see if we cannot attain this end.

The Term 'Inconceivable,' as Employed in Science, Defined.

We have in our minds two classes of intuitive judgments which we characterize as empirical and rational, à posteriori and à priori, or contingent and necessary. As to the former class of judgments, such as, I think, I feel, I will, and Matter is before me as possessed of extension and form, we are absolutely conscious of their truth; yet are able to conceive that they are not true. The latter class we conceive to be true, with the absolute consciousness that they must be true, and can by no possibility be false. Of this class are all of Kant's analytical and à priori synthetical judgments, such as, A is A, All bodies are extended, and Body implies space; Succession, or change, implies time, Phenomena imply substance, Events imply a cause, Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another, and It is impossible for the same thing at the same instant to exist and not to exist. Between the subject and predicate in all such judgments, an absolutely necessary connection is intuitively perceived to exist, their opposites being necessarily apprehended as self contradictory and absurd. Hence, we apprehend all such judgments as true, with the absolute impossibility of conceiving them not to be true, that is, of presenting them to the mind as by any possibility being false. This is the real meaning of the term 'inconceivability' as applicable to such cases. To affirm that a judgment is known to be necessarily true, and cannot be false, and to affirm the absolute impossibility of conceiving that it is false, mean the same thing. To affirm, then, that inconceivability, in the only sense applicable to such cases, is not a test of truth, is to affirm that necessary and absolute knowledge is no knowledge at all. To attempt to prove that inconceivability in this sense is not a test of truth, is to affirm that a form of knowledge more certain than necessary and absolute knowledge does exist, and that the former is incompatible with the latter. This is the wonderful discovery which such thinkers as Messrs. Mill, Spencer, and scientists of their school really profess to have made. In other words, they really profess to have found judgments, the connection between the subject and predicate of which must be recognized as more fixed and certain than obtains in judgments the connection between the subject and predicate of which we cannot but know to be a necessary one. If they will designate such judgments, and establish for them a degree of certainty higher than that which is known to be necessary, they will certainly deserve our thanks. Until they have done this, nothing but 'science falsely so called' will intimate that inconceivability, as above defined, is not and must not be an infallible criterion of truth.

The Secondary Meaning of this Term.

There is an idea sometimes represented by the term under consideration, an idea according to which inconceivability is not a test of truth, and nobody regards it as such a test. We know space, for example, to exist, with the absolute knowledge that it must exist, that is, that it cannot but exist. When we, consequently, attempt to represent in thought the idea of space as a non-reality, we find that we have attempted to perform a conscious impossibility. As representing this conscious impossibility, we say that the non-reality of space is inconceivable, and in this sense, inconceivability, as we have shown, is a test of truth. When, on the other hand, we attempt, through the conceptive faculty, to expand our conceptions, so as fully to comprehend infinite space, we find that we have again attempted the impossible. In this secondary sense of the term infinite space is inconceivable. In this sense, also, as representing what is to the Understanding, or conceptive facility, an object of impossible comprehension, inconceivability is not a test of truth, and the inconceivable and impossible are not identical. An object, on the other hand, may be absolutely known to exist, and yet be, as space is in this secondary sense of the term, inconceivable. What is in this secondary sense of the term inconceivable, may be to the mind, not only an object of absolute knowledge, but may be to the Reason, the organ of implied knowledge, an object of consciously clear and distinct apprehension. To the Understanding, whose exclusive function is to conceive and comprehend the finite, infinity, in all its forms, is inconceivable and incomprehensible. To Reason, on the other, as the organ of implied and necessary knowledge, the infinite and perfect are conscious objects of as clear and distinct apprehension as any other. Hence it is, that we have as clear apprehension of the real meaning of the proposition, Space and Duration are infinite, as we do of the judgment, Body and Succession are finite. Hence it is, that an object may be to the conceptive faculty inconceivable, or incomprehensible, and may be to the Reason an object of most distinct apprehension, and of absolute knowledge. In one sense of the term, therefore, inconceivability is, and in another it is not, a test of truth.

Platonic Ideas.

Few topics in the history of Philosophy have occupied more attention than Plato's doctrine of Ideas. One inquiry, the most important of all, remains unmoved by speculators in such history. We refer, not to the question whether Plato regarded his ideas as real existences, or as archetypes in the mind of God, but to the question, what kind or class of realities do these ideas constitute or represent? Many thinkers, such as Coleridge, and individuals of his school, identify these ideas with what are now regarded as necessary instead of contingent phenomena of thought. These ideas are the objects, as Plato and these modern thinkers affirm, of Reason, the organ of 'universal, necessary, and eternal truth,' and therefore, it is now thought, must be of the character above indicated. This is an important mistake. Plato's ideas are not necessary, as opposed to contingent ideas, but general, or generic, as opposed to individual conceptions. All his examples and expositions show this. As examples illustrative of his own doctrine of ideas, he selects the generic, as opposed to the individual bed, or table. The generic bed and table, the generic man, and generic forms universally, as opposed to individual beds, tables, men, and forms, constituted Plato's ideas, and consequently his universal, necessary, and eternal truths. It was with exclusive reference to the doctrine of ideas in this specific and exclusive form that Aristotle joined issue with Plato. The only issue between the Nominalists and Realists in subsequent ages pertained not to necessary, as opposed to contingent ideas, but exclusively to generic, as opposed to individual conceptions. The question in dispute between these schools was not whether time, space, substances, and causes, really exist, but exclusively whether generic as well as individual terms and conceptions represent real existences.

The ancients knew little or nothing of the proper doctrine of necessary, as opposed to contingent ideas, or of the proper distinction between universal and necessary and general judgments. Hence, they knew very little of the nature of real principles, and consequently of the only proper methods in science. Similar remarks are almost equally applicable to modern scientific thought. In all the Logics since the days of Aristotle, with the exception of a very few of quite recent date, no distinction whatever is made between general and universal and necessary judgments, that is, between the formal and real principles in science; and all the rules pertaining to the distribution of terms, and the conversion of propositions evince the truth of these statements.

Take as illustration the following rules, which, with the exceptions referred to, are found in all Logics ancient and modern which contain any such rules at all, namely: 'All negative and no affirmative propositions distribute the predicate.' 'In converting a universal affirmative proposition, its quantity must be changed from the universal to the particular.' Now there is not a single principle or axiom in any science, a principle in respect to which both these rules do not utterly mislead the student. Among all such judgments, all universals, without exception, distribute both the subject and predicate, and conversion is always simple, and always so, not by accident; but from the necessary relations between the subject and predicate. In all deductions in the sciences also, with the single exception wherein the subject represents an inferior, and the predicate a superior conception, as in the judgment, All men are mortal, all universals distribute both terms, and all conversion of such judgments is simple. Thus, for more than two thousand years has Plato's doctrine of Ideas misled and vitiated scientific thought.

The Central Problem which now lies out, for Solution within the Sphere of Scientific Thought.

No deductions can have higher validity than the principle on which said deductions rest. If a shadow of doubt rests upon the principle, the same doubt must pass over and cloud the deduction. The central problem within the sphere of modern scientific thought may be thus stated, viz.: Have we any real scientific principles which can be verified as such, and what are the fundamental characteristics of such principles?—characteris- tics by which they are clearly distinguishable from all other judgments of every kind. Modern unbelief, in the sphere especially of German and Anglo-Saxon thought, has met the problem with an open denial of the existence of such principles, and of the possibility of their recognition, if they do exist. The necessary consequence of an admission of the validity of this denial is the appalling fact that real science, in any form, is an absolute impossibility; and this is the real dogma which modern unbelief is endeavouring to verify. Having arrived at a distinct recognition of the truth that Religion and Science do, in fact, rest upon the same ultimate principles, and must stand or fall together, they have deliberately determined upon sapping the foundations of both. Hence, they are endeavouring to bear away the temple of divine truth with the open cry, Let science die with religion. As we have absolute faith in both, we wait with calm assurance the result of this vain endeavour.

We claim to have absolutely vindicated for science the existence of such principles, and to have revealed and verified the validity of the criteria by which such principles may be with infallible certainty recognised. Such principles must, of course, when understood, present themselves to universal mind, as possessed of self-evident validity, a validity so absolute that the mind must know that they cannot be false. If such principles as these do, in fact, lie at the basis of universal science, scepticism itself must admit that science does repose upon an immovably valid basis. We shall not stop to repeat the criteria which have been so absolutely verified in preceding parts of this Treatise; but shall proceed at once to our criticisms of the specific forms of the Modern Evolution in Philosophy.

Fundamental Defects in the Anglo-Saxon and German Methods of Developing Systems of Science.

The preceding discussions have fully prepared the way for a distinct statement of the leading defects in the Methods of Modern Scientific Thought. We shall take as examples of what obtains elsewhere, the forms and methods of Anglo-Saxon and German thinking in the sphere of science.

Anglo-Saxon Thinking.

Among the Anglo-Saxons, with hardly any exceptions, no proper discrimination has been made between general propositions and principles, or axioms, in science. In all our Logics, very recent ones excepted, the major premise, in every syllogism presented, is a general proposition, as, All men are mortal. In real science this premise is never such a proposition, but always a self-evident principle, as, Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another. Here we have the occasion of the fundamental mistake of Mr. Mill in his Logic, that all inference from premises laid down involves the error of petitio principii. This would be the case, as we have shown in our criticism of the Logic of Aristotle, were the major premises in our scientific syllogisms, what Mr. Mill assumes them to be, general propositions, and not, what they really are, principles, or self-evident judgments. If we say, for example, All men are mortal; John is a man; therefore, he is mortal, the conclusion, as Mr. Mill says, is really begged in the major premise. If we assume as he does that all deductions are based upon such premises, then he is right in his criticism of the syllogism in all its forms. If, on the other hand, we say, Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another; A and B are each equal to C; and, therefore, they are equal to one another, we have a deduction not begged in either premise, but one logically deduced from both together. If we assume, as we must, that all syllogisms, or valid arguments, in all the real sciences, are of this last exclusive character, then Mr. Mills' exposition of the syllogism is at an infinite remove from the truth.

Careful observation and reflection will evince the fact that aside from the Pure Sciences and Natural Philosophy, the error under consideration runs through almost all departments of Anglo-Saxon thought. With the exceptions referred to, principles, as lying at the basis of all forms of science, have no well-defined place in science among our thinkers. Among 'first truths,' as elucidated by our most distinguished philosophers, no characteristics are given but such as are common to contingent and necessary forms of thought; nor were any distinctions presented between general judgments and principles, or between the principles and facts of science.

Hence it is that Anglo-Saxon thought has few of the characteristics of system, and our so-called systems are rather aggregations of topics connected with given subjects than properly systematized wholes, all of whose parts and the place of each part are determined by ultimate principles, and scientifically verified and classified facts. The leading characteristic of such thought is, however, self-contradiction. An Anglo-Saxon thinker will palpably contradict himself in numberless instances in the same treatise, and never suspect his want of self-consistency or the soundness of his logic. The great founder of our philosophy, for example, after affirming that the constituent elements of all ideas in the mind come from two exclusive sources—sensation or external perception, and reflection or consciousness; and after professedly demonstrating the dogma that we have no real knowledge of the facts of the external world, affirms that from these facts we have 'demonstrative evidence of the being of God.' Since that era our wisest theologians and Christian philosophers have repeated this act of self-contradiction. Standing on the outside of this visible, invisible universe, there is first of all a formal admission that we have no real, but only a relative knowledge of any of its facts, then there is an advance into 'the palpable obscure'—into the midst of these admitted unknown and unknowable facts, and from these is deduced a professed demonstration of the doctrine of God. Prior to 1850 an award of some £2,000 for the best, and one of £600 for the second best treatise in proof of the being of God, was offered in Aberdeen. In the treatise which received the first prize, the author lays down, as his major premise, this proposition, 'that our knowledge of the Supreme Being is as valid and not less inadequate than that of an external world.' He then, in fact and form, professedly demonstrates, as his minor premise, the proposition that we have, and can have, no real or valid knowledge of any such world, or of any facts connected with it. 'Matter and spirit,' he affirms, 'are wholly unknown to us as substances.' 'We cannot know,' he says again, 'that any division of conceptions will correspond with the reality of things.' Having thus utterly annihilated his minor premise, and taken from himself utterly the possibility of proving anything whatever upon the subject, he conceives that he has laid down an adamantine rock as the basis of the Theistic argument. The author who received the second prize, after expending all his strength and occupying the most of his treatise in a vindication of 'the design argument,' finally surrenders the argument as invalid, and hands us over for light and consolation to 'the grasp of intuition.' 'In thus abandoning all claim of demonstration,' he says, 'the evidence of the being of God, so far from being weakened, is indeed strengthened. For, in all our knowledge, there is and can be no higher warrant for reality than the grasp of intuition,' affirming, in another connection, that the doctrine of God 'needs and admits of no other proof.' Why attempt, then, to prove the doctrine by an argument occupying more than 300 pages—an argument admitted and affirmed to be invalid? One of the greatest thinkers of this age—an Anglo-Saxon philosopher—after demonstrating, by arguments to which no Sceptic attempts a reply, the absolute validity of 'presentative knowledge,' received through external and internal perception, assures us that human knowledge, in all its forms, has only 'a relative validity.' The same author, after vindicating for Theism a scientifically valid basis, and designating the sources of proof of the being of God, assures us that we have, and can have, no positive knowledge of Him at all, that all our ideas of Him are wholly constituted of 'a bundle of negations,' just as if there can be proof of the validity of 'a bundle of negations.' In our day an individual has been raised to one of the most dignified positions in a great National Church, and that mainly for his high merit in having, as is believed, shown, in a work entitled 'Limits of Religious Thought,' that in the entire sphere of affirmed religious truth there is not, and cannot be, 'a thought' which is not self-contradictory and absurd. 'The conception of the Absolute and Infinite,' says our author, 'from whatever side we view it, appears encompassed with contradictions. There is a contradiction in supposing such an object to exist, whether alone or in conjunction with others, and there is a contradiction in supposing it not to exist. There is a contradiction in conceiving it as one, and there is a contradiction in conceiving it as many. There is a contradiction in conceiving it as personal, and there is a contradiction in conceiving it as impersonal. It cannot without contradiction be represented as active, nor without equal contradiction be represented as inactive. It cannot be conceived as the sum of all existence, nor can it be conceived as a part only of that sum.' Yet he tells us that 'it is our duty to think of God as personal, and it is our duty to believe that He is infinite.' He then makes a formal attempt to verify, on rational grounds, some of the affirmed self-contradictory and absurd doctrines of this self-contradictory and absurd religion. These are a few of 'the deadly wounds' which our Divine religion, in the domain of Anglo-Saxon religious thought, has 'received in the house of her friends.' She may well exclaim, 'Deliver me from my friends, and I will take care of my enemies.'

Let us now, for a moment, turn in another direction. 'It must be admitted,' says Mr. Mill, 'that in every syllogism, considered as an argument to prove the conclusion, there is a petitio principii.' 'The syllogism is not a correct analysis of reasoning or inference.' Look again. 'It [the syllogism] is not the form in which we must reason, but it is the form in which we may reason, and into which it is indispensable to throw our reasoning when there is any doubt of its validity.' If, then, we would demonstrate the validity of an argument, we must put it in a form in which the conclusion presents a palpable example of the vicious sophism of petitio principii. The true process of reasoning, he affirms, is not the syllogistic, that is, reasoning from the general to the particular, but 'from particulars to particulars,' 'from known particular cases to unknown ones.' Yet he says that it is only in cases 'in which there is no suspicion of error that we are permitted to use the true process.' In all doubtful cases we must 'throw our reasoning' into the false, and not into the true form. What Daniels, in science, have formed our Logics! The individual whom his friends designate as the Newton and Bacon of this century, after a professed demonstration of the fact that inconceivability is, in no sphere of thought, a test of truth, bases upon this same inconceivability, as we have shown, an affirmed absolute disproof of the self-existence and eternity of God, on the one hand, and an affirmed demonstration of the self-existence and eternity of matter on the other. So everywhere. In one part of his multitudinous productions, inconceivability is professedly demonstrated to be no test of truth anywhere and in any sense. In the other portions of his works, this same inconceivability is employed as of absolute authority in proof or disproof of any dogma which he desires to set up or knock down. Having professedly demonstrated the fact, as the basis of all his deductions, that all our knowledge is exclusively phenomenal, mere appearance in which no reality appears, and 'that the reality existing behind all appearance is, and ever must be, unknown,' he then, in the general and in the particular, teaches just how and why this unknown and unknowable matter from a nebulous state—a state of which he affirms himself absolutely ignorant—whirls and tumbles and worms itself out of universal chaos into the goodly universe which now exists, and just how and why and by what specific processes this unknown and unknowable dead matter evolved itself into the living forms around us, and took on the processes of thought, feeling, and voluntary activity. Another of these great central lights, after affirming absolutely that 'it is certain that we can have no knowledge of the nature of either matter or spirit,' tells us just how and why one of these unknown and unknowable entities is to push the other out of existence or out of thought. 'As surely,' he says, 'as every future grows out of the past and present, so will the physiology of the future gradually extend the realm of matter and law until it is co-extensive with knowledge, with feeling, and with action.' After affirming 'that we know nothing about the composition of any body as it is,' he affirms absolutely that our thoughts 'are the expression of molecular changes in the matter of life which is the source of our other vital phenomena,' and our souls and bodies, with our capacities for thought, feeling, and action, are nothing but a congeries of living protoplasms which may be evolved from the dead protoplasms of a dead sheep—a process, he tells us, which shall 'transubstantiate sheep into a man.' Another of the central lights of the New Philosophy, Mr. Maudsley, in common with all his illustrious co-thinkers, affirms, first of all, an absolute ignorance of the nature of mind and matter both. 'We know not,' he says, 'and perhaps never shall know, what mind is.' Again, 'In the assertion that mind is altogether a function of matter, there is no more actual irreverence than in asserting that matter is the realization of mind; the one and the other proposition being equally meaningless so far as they postulate a knowledge of anything more than phenomena. Whether extension be visible thought, or thought invisible extension, is a question of a choice of words and not a choice of conceptions.' Where, then, if as here and elsewhere by this author affirmed, that our ignorance is absolute of both substances, is the ground for any deductions or conjectures even in respect to the functions of either? Yet we are gravely told, on the basis of a few experiments with a beheaded frog and brainless pigeon, and others of a kindred character—we are gravely told, we say, just how matter thinks and feels and wills. 'Eminent physiologists,' we are told, 'maintain that the spinal cord is really endowed with sensation and volition.' 'I hold,' says our author, 'emotion to mean the special sensibility of the vesicular neurine to ideas,' while 'the functions of the intelligence, of emotion, and of will,' 'are the highest functions of the nervous system—those to which the hemispherical ganglia minister.' The following is a more full exposition of his doctrine of volition and will. 'As the spinal cord reacts to its impressions in excito-motor action, and as the motory centres react to their impressions in sensori-motor action, so, after the complex interworking and combination of ideas in the hemispherical ganglia, there is, in like manner, a reaction or desire of determination of energy outward, in accordance with the fundamental property of organic structure, to seek what is beneficial and shun what is hurtful to it. It is this property of tissue that gives the impulse which, when guided by intelligence, we call volition, and it is the abstraction from the particular volitions which metaphysicians personify as the Will.' This dogma, that willing implies an agent who wills, is to our scientist a great absurdity. 'Physiologically,' he says, 'we cannot choose but reject the will; volition we know, and will we know, but the will, apart from particular acts of volition or will, we cannot know.' If the reader does not now fully understand how and why this unknown and unknowable entity called matter, thinks and feels and wills, and if he does not perceive with equal distinctness how and why it is that this other unknown and unknowable entity called mind, does not and cannot think, feel or will, at all, we can only say that he has not yet taken the first step in the sunlight of the New Philosophy.

Where, permit us to ask, but in the realm of Anglo-Saxon thought, can we find such palpable contradictions as the above? And these are but a few examples of what often appears in the wide domain of such thinking. The reason is before us, namely, the want of system in consequence of a want of apprehension of the true doctrine of principles in science, and the consequent habit of leaping from mere facts to deduction, instead of interpreting facts in the light of the principles which the former imply.

German Thinkers.

German thinkers, on the other hand, ever since the days of Kant, have recognized the existence of 'synthetical judgments à priori,' and of their relations as principles of science. Hence German thought has, since the period referred to, been peculiarized by its conformity to the idea of system, system in which every subject rises up before us as a logically consistent whole, with a place in it for every part, and with every part in its place. A German thinker, if he errs at all, does so in respect to his principles and facts, and very seldom in respect to the logical connection of his deductions with the former. His system, if wrong at all, is commonly wholly so, because it is based upon false principles. If you examine the parts of the system relative to one another, and to the great whole, here all is logically consistent throughout, with all the parts fastened together with iron bands. If you examine the principles on which such system rests, you will be most likely, perhaps, to find them to be, not real 'synthetical judgments á priori,' but mere lawless assumptions in the light of which the system itself will stand distinctly revealed as nothing but a logical fiction.

The reason for this characteristic of German thought is found in the fundamental error of the German mind, an error originated by Kant, in respect to the nature of 'synthetical judgments à priori.' Take, in illustration, the principle, Body implies space. According to the Transcendental exposition, the predicate space represents no reality whatever, such as we apprehend as necessarily existing, but a simple idea in the mind itself. The subject of this judgment, also—body—represents no reality external to the mind, but a mere mental state, a sensation, made to appear as such object by the idea represented by the term space, the idea existing in the mind prior to perception, and determining its form. As the predicate in this judgment, space, represents no reality in itself, neither does the subject, body. Thus, all meaning such as we attach to it, and all validity as a test of truth, and a principle in real science, drop out of the judgment, Body implies space. The same holds true of all other 'synthetical judgments à priori.' They give form to our thinking, but have no validity for truth, or application to realities as they are in themselves. Through this fundamental misapprehension in respect to the nature and proper sphere of such judgments, and the fixed relations between the subject and predicate in the same, the errors which we have already fully exposed arise. German thinkers make no distinction between valid principles and mere assumptions in science, and quite as habitually construct their systems upon the latter, as upon the former. The Anglo-Saxon makes no discrimination between universal and necessary principles, and general propositions, and hence, being without law, falls into endless contradictions, in the construction of systems of knowledge. The German, while he maintains the strictest logical consistency in the construction of his system, as frequently as otherwise, in consequence of the error designated, gives us logically constructed fictions instead of real systems of science. The Anglo-Saxon, having no fixed principles in the light of which facts are to be interpreted, often, in the presence of facts of a perfectly unindicative character, makes infinite leaps to deductions which he desires to reach. The German, in his fixed habit of giving system to thought, and of interpreting facts in the light of his principles, whatever they may be, arbitrarily cuts short, or stretches his facts, to make them conform to his assumptions. Take a single example of the habit of the German mind, not of determining hypotheses by facts, but of forcing facts into conformity with hypotheses arbitrarily assumed to be true. The question, for example, whether Thales had 'a conception of God as Intelligence,' is a simple question of historic verity, not to be determined at all by 'the chronology of speculation,' but by which such chronology is itself to be determined. Yet German thinkers, and certain Anglo-Saxons after them, determine facts of history by such chronology.' 'We agree with Hegel,' says Mr. Lewes, 'that Thales could have had no conception of God as intelligence, since that is the conception of a more advanced Philosophy.' World-renowned systems based upon nothing but lawless assumptions, systems in the construction of which facts are in forced conformity to said assumptions, are about as common among Germans, as are world-renowned thinkers. The Anglo-Saxon will continue to contradict himself, and repeat his absurd leaps in Logic, and the German will go on rearing up self-consistent systems of science falsely so called,' systems based upon airy nothing;' and in repeating his crucifixions of facts, until the true doctrine of principles and facts in science shall be clearly understood, and all systems shall be held to the severest scrutiny of such principles and facts. We are now prepared to enter into the interior of the Modern Evolution in Philosophy.

CHAPTER I.

BACON TO REID.

SECTION I.

BACON.

That which peculiarizes the modern from all prior evolutions in Philosophy is the wider prevalence in the latter of the Inductive Method. Every human being is by nature an inductive philosopher, and all men, in all the ordinary transactions of life, reason inductively. In all minds in common there exist, at least in their concrete form, the principles of all the sciences—principles under which facts are subsumed, and from said principles and facts thus contemplated, valid deductions are constantly being drawn. Why do children and men of all ages and classes, when in their presence two objects are compared with a common third, and both are found to agree, or one to agree and the other to disagree, with said object, draw the same conclusions from the facts before them? Because that in all such minds the same principles which lie at the basis of all inference in science are equally present in all in the concrete, in some in the abstract and universal form. An individual is on trial for a crime affirmed to have been committed by him, at a specified time and place, and very strong evidence has been adduced to convict him. On the part of the defence indubitable proof is presented that at that very time the accused was in a distant place, a hundred miles, for example, from the spot where the crime was committed. The child, the savage, and all men will unite in the judgment that this individual did not commit that crime, and that for the reason that all judge of the facts in the light of the same principles. In other words, all mankind are in fact and form, in their varied spheres of thought and action, inductive philosophers. Hence we have an explanation of the spectacle which the world is constantly witnessing—the common-sense of the race correcting and repudiating the deductions of false science. Whenever so-called systems of science fall upon those eternal principles which are common to all minds, and which, in fact, lie at the basis of all true science, such systems fall upon the rock of truth, and must be broken there. The advocates of such systems may, in their defence, assail these principles, and may sustain such assaults by very plausible arguments, just as plausible arguments may be adduced to prove that all proof, by argument, is impossible. But when philosophers attempt to prove, and require us to admit, as is now being done by the advocates of the New Philosophy, that such principles as, Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another, and, It is impossible for the same object at the same moment to exist and not to exist, are not valid for truth, we shall, if we reason inductively, conclude that in the brain of such thinkers science has run mad.

Nor has induction ever been wholly absent from the sphere of philosophic thought. All thinkers, in all ages, have reasoned from certain universally admitted facts, and have differed only in their explanation of these facts. There can be no science without á priori principles. In the pure sciences both principles and facts are given á priori. In the mixed sciences the principles are á priori, and the facts given wholly á posteriori. Among the ancients, the metes and bounds between these two classes of sciences, and the exclusive methods proper to each, were either, with very few exceptions, not understood at all, or totally misunderstood. In the Modern Evolution, these metes and bounds, and the true scientific method in each department of science, lie very much in the region, if not of 'the palpable,' yet of the real 'obscure.' Hence it is that from a high sphere of even Anglo-Saxon thought, we have had, within a few years past, our 'Rational Psychology' and 'Rational Cosmology,' systems in which the facts, nature, powers, and relations of matter and spirit, like all principles, facts, and deductions, in the pure sciences, are professedly determined wholly à priori. In the sphere of the New Philosophy, we meet with an open repudiation of implied knowledge in all its forms—knowledge in the forms represented by the terms, space, time, substance, and cause, a consequent repudiation of all proper principles in science, and an attempt to solve the problem of being and its laws by phenomena affirmed to imply nothing, not even principles by which their explanation is possible. This method of explaining phenomena by phenomena, and giving us systems of science based upon no principles whatever, is called, 'in these last days,' the Method of Induction. In the absence of principles, induction proper of facts, and even original classification of phenomena, is impossible. Of what use would it be to bring together an infinite number of facts, if we have no principles to which to refer them? Let the ideas of resemblance and difference, of equality and inequality, drop out of the mind, and not a single step could be taken in the classification of phenomena. Let the principles, Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another, and When one agrees and another disagrees with the same thing, such objects disagree with one another. Let the ideas of space, time, substance, cause, equality and difference, likeness and unlikeness, etc., disappear from the mind, and an infinity of phenomena might pass before us, and we should be none the wiser for what we behold. The objects of none of these ideas are objects of perception external or internal, that is, none of these realities take rank among mere phenomena, but as rational apprehensions whose validity is implied by phenomena which we do perceive. If our knowledge, as the advocates of the New Philosophy affirm, is confined to mere phenomena, we should remain for ever as ignorant as brutes.

Origin of Scientific Principles.

An explanation more distinct than we have yet given, perhaps, may now be presented of the origin of principles in science. Take any such principle we please, and we shall find that the subject represents an object of perception, and the predicate a reality implied by such object. We need only cite, as examples, such principles as the following: Body implies space; Succession implies time; Phenomena imply substance; Events imply a cause; and Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another. We perceive, for example, events; Reason, on occasion of such perception, apprehends a cause; the Judgment then intervenes and affirms the necessary relation between what is perceived and what is implied by the perceived. Thus we obtain the universal and necessary principle, Every event has a cause. The same holds undeniably true in the case of all the principles in all the sciences. Let such principles, both in the concrete and absolute and universal forms, drop out of human thought, and, we repeat, science in no form, not even as classification, would be possible.

Origin of False Systems of Philosophy.

We are now prepared to state definitely how it is that false systems of Philosophy take on their particular characteristics. One class begins with implied knowledge, and through this determine all facts and their characteristics, and from principles and facts thus determined construct their systems. Another class repudiate implied knowledge in all its forms, and construct their systems out of mere phenomena, phenomena considered as implying nothing, neither space, time, substance, nor cause, thus attempting to give to 'airy nothing a local habitation and a name.' A third class, without any recognition of the existence of the two forms of knowledge, or of the two classes of realities under consideration, or of their relations to each other, attempt an explanation of the facts of existence without any principles to guide their deductions. What but false and self-contradictory systems can arise under such circumstances?

Implied knowledge, in none of its forms, while it explains the possibility of realities which may be perceived to exist, determines anything whatever in respect to the question, what realities do, in fact, exist. Take the ideas of space, time, substance, and cause. These render conceivable the reality of body, succession, phenomena, qualities, and events, but determine nothing whatever in respect to the kinds of bodies, changes, phenomena, qualities, and events which shall appear. Suppose we attempt through the former, not to explain, but to determine what is. We may thus have system, system perfectly harmonious in all its parts; but our system will and must be a logical fiction and nothing else.

Suppose, now, that we repudiate implied knowledge in all its forms, and attempt to construct our system from mere phenomena, in accordance with the principles of Pure Idealism on the one hand, and of the New Philosophy on the other. Thought, as we apprehend it, implies, of necessity, a subject who thinks, and an object thought of. We drop out, as unreal, the thinker and the object, and assume as alone real the phenomena thought, and attempt to construct from this nothing something which has neither substance nor attributes, subject nor object, the universe as it is, and is seemingly known to us. We set our thought—which exists nowhere, in no time, from no cause, and for no end—we set this thought to work. The system which shall legitimately take form from such a material must, together with its author, be what a learned German said Hegel and his system were, namely, 'The system is nothing in itself, nor of itself; neither was its author in himself, but beside himself.' Take another case. Murder, as universally understood, implies an act, phenomenon, in which one real moral agent, with malice prepense, takes the life of another real moral agent. Every element in the above statement must be true, or there has been no murder. We drop out the killer and the killed, and bring the phenomenon by itself, as alone knowable and known, before a jury constituted of such thinkers as Messrs. Mill, Spencer, Huxley, Emerson, and their co-philosophers. They are required, the phenomenon having been legally verified, to find a verdict in strict accordance with their Philosophy. What would their verdict be? This: 'The jury find that there has been a real appearance, phenomenon, which goes by the name of murder. But since "the reality existing behind all appearance is, and ever must be, unknown," they find no evidence whatever that any real agent acted or suffered in the case. The jury therefore decide that the phenomenon which appeared several months since, should, if it can be caught, be put to death, but that no agent should be held as worthy of "death or of bonds." This, undeniably, is the only verdict which such thinkers could render, without affirming their entire Philosophy to be a lie. May not the world justly affirm that such 'a Philosophy is nothing in itself nor of itself; neither are its advocates in themselves but beside themselves'? But say these thinkers, 'We do know fact and we do know law.' Not so fast, gentlemen. Law is as invisible as space, time, substance, and cause, and if you confine, as you profess to do, all knowledge to mere phenomena, law, as well as all other forms of implied knowledge, must be dropped from your theory and from your vocabulary. You must take your subjectless and objectless phenomena, and with no principles by which you can rationally classify them, construct your baseless system as best you can.

If, finally, without recognizing the distinction between perceived and implied forms of knowledge, and consequently without scientific principles, we begin to theorize about facts and existences within and around us, we shall find ourselves in the proper sphere of Anglo-Saxon thought, where thinking, for the most part, will be without law; where the impossibility of proof, in any form, by argument will be demonstrated by argument; where the invalidity of the most certain will be proven by the less certain; where admitted contradictions will be demonstrated to be objects of rational faith, and the demonstrated object of our supreme veneration and trust shall be 'a bundle of negations.'

All such contradictions and absurdities will appear and disappear, and reappear, and have rule in the sphere of scientific thought, until the distinction between perceived and implied knowledge is distinctly recognized; until each shall have its proper and distinctly recognized place in science; until, from the relations of these, scientific principles are deduced, and under these principles all facts are classified. When the logical deductions yielded by these principles and facts shall be determined, then, and only then, shall we have truths and systems of real science. Here, and only here, do we or can we have a true idea of scientific induction and deduction, and of Inductive Science. The above remarks are so obviously applicable to the Pure Sciences, that nothing further, in that direction, need be added in this connection.

If Bacon did develop this idea of induction and deduction, then is he the proper father of Inductive Sciences. If he failed to do this, however, much as science is indebted to him in other respects, the high place referred to cannot be properly awarded to him.

What did Bacon really do for Science?

In estimating the real indebtedness of science to Bacon (1561-1626), we must bear in mind that he was contemporary with Kepler and Galileo, that Copernicus had lived and died before he was born, and that Roger Bacon (1214-1297) had assiduously cultivated the science of induction, and announced its essential principles. 'Experience alone,' said Roger Bacon, 'gives accurate knowledge.' 'Experiment proves and verifies the highest propositions which the other sciences can present.' Nor did Sir Francis Bacon, like his contemporaries and predecessors named, and others that might be named, make any practical advancement in any of the sciences. His real claims are based upon the fact that he gave impulse and direction to scientific thought and inquiry, by a formal announcement of the doctrine, which the spirit of that age was prepared to receive, namely, that in the à posteriori sciences, all valid deduction must have one exclusive basis—the induction of facts of observation and experiment. That principle being announced and accepted, a permanent foundation for the proper study of nature was laid. So far, the world owes a debt of enduring gratitude to this great thinker.

End and Aim of Induction according to Bacon.

But what direction did he give to induction? What end did he propose as the goal of observation and experiment? And by what method was this end to be reached? Bacon, we must also bear in mind, held in almost sovereign contempt the pure sciences, Mathematics, for example; and with him, Metaphysics were in not much higher repute. Theology, too, was almost wholly excluded from the sphere of science. What he regarded as the sciences stood in immediate connection with Natural Philosophy. 'Let none expect,' he says, 'any great promotion of the sciences, especially in their effective part, unless Natural Philosophy be drawn out to particular sciences; and again, unless these particular sciences be brought back again to Natural Philosophy' 'This ought to be esteemed the great mother of the sciences; for all the rest, if torn from this root, may perhaps be polished and formed for use, but can receive but little increase.' Here we have a very narrow view of the number, sphere, and criteria of the sciences, and here we note the first essential error of our great philosopher.

Fundamental False Principle announced by Bacon.

We now refer to the principle laid down by Bacon, and which gives character to all his views of science, 'that the activity of the intellect is exercised only upon data primitively furnished by sensation.' In accordance with this principle, he 'esteemed Natural Philosophy the great mother of the sciences,' and made little account of the pure sciences on the one hand, and of Metaphysics on the other. Thus this reputed father of Inductive Science started all induction upon the line of Materialism. No principle was ever more false, in fact, than that above announced. Thought and mental activity have been, in truth, quite as much exercised upon facts of mind as upon those of matter, and the great problems now before the world are, in fact and form, mental problems. Those who follow this principle will ignore and repudiate most of the most absolute facts and forms of knowledge. We have just as much reason to affirm that the activity of the intellect is exercised only upon interior, as upon exterior facts, and should be equally wrong in either case.

The Doctrine of Method as Understood by Bacon.

The Method of Induction as understood by Bacon, together with the end aimed at by this method, is thus set forth by himself: 'As things are at present conducted, a sudden transition is made from sensible objects and particular facts to general propositions which are accounted principles, and around which, as around many fixed poles, disputation and argument continually revolve. From the propositions thus hastily assumed, all things are derived by a process compendious and precipitate, ill-suited to discovery, but wonderfully accommodated to debate.

The way which promises success is the reverse of this. It requires that we should generalize slowly, going from particular things to those that are but one step more general; from these to other of still greater extent, and so on to such as are most general.' These general judgments, or generalized facts, now become axioms, or scientific principles, 'axiomata media,' for the prosecution of future scientific inquiry, in which we reason, not from the particular to the general, but from the general to the particular. 'There are two ways,' he says in another connection, 'of searching after and discovering truth; the one, from sense and particulars, rises directly to the most general axioms, and resting upon these principles, and their unshaken truth, finds out intermediate axioms, and this is the method in use; but the other raises axioms from sense and particulars by a continued and gradual ascent, till at last it arrives at the most general axioms, which is the true way, but hitherto untried.'

The immutable condition of generalization, according to our philosopher, is a prior collection of all the facts to be explained and elucidated. 'The first object,' he says, 'must be to prepare a history of the phenomena to be explained, in all their modifications and varieties. This history is to comprehend not only all such facts as spontaneously offer themselves, but all the experiments instituted for the sake of discovery, or for any of the purposes of the useful arts.' In other words, before the process of generalization can be commenced with any rational hope of success, we must really become omniscient in respect to the matters of fact to be generalized. Such is the doctrine of Method as interpreted by Bacon, and such are the ends and aims of induction, as he expounded the subject. On this doctrine as thus understood, we remark:

General Remarks upon this Doctrine.

1. Principles, or axioms of science, as understood and interpreted by Bacon, are identical with general judgments. There are no axioms but such as are obtained by 'a continued and gradual ascent from sense and particulars, till at last we arrive at the most general axioms.' We claim to have demonstrated that principles or axioms in science, and these general propositions, are totally distinct and separate kinds of judgments; that the former lie at the basis of all the sciences, and the latter are ultimate truths reached by scientific processes conducted in the light of scientific principles or axioms. Without principles or axioms, not a step can be taken rationally even in the process of classification or generalization. According to Bacon, these long and painful processes which are necessary preliminaries to science proper are without law or order, and without any criteria by which we can distinguish the true process from the false.

2. This identification of general judgments with principles or axioms in science, or rather the substitution of the former for the latter, has induced the common mistake in respect to the relations of induction and deduction to each other. In induction, it is said, we reason from the particular to the general; while in deduction, we reason back from the general to the particular. By such a maxim, the pupil is totally misled in regard to both induction and deduction. In the former process, we never reason from the individual to the general, nor in the latter from the general to the individual. Reasoning from the individual to the general is false inference, making the conclusion broader than the premise; reasoning from the general to the individual, as Mr. Mill has shown, involves the vicious error of petitio principii. In every valid scientific process and argument, on the other hand, induction and deduction both have place, and are never separated from each other. Every such process begins with a principle or axiom. Under such principles, facts are induced and arranged: this is induction. From this principle and the facts ranged under it, a conclusion is deduced: this is deduction. Take the following example in illustration of what always does and must obtain in induction and deduction, in their only proper forms. Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another. Here we have our principle. A and B are each equal to C. Here we have our facts induced or ranged under our principle, and this is induction proper. Therefore, A and B are equal to one another. Here we have scientific inference or deduction. Any induction in which facts are not ranged under a principle is a meaningless and lawless procedure. Any deduction in which an inference is not deduced from a principle and facts ranged under it, is either a lawless leap, or a senseless petitio principii in logic or science.

3. This error of identifying principles in science with general judgments, that is, principles which lie at the basis of all scientific induction and deduction, with ultimate truths reached by such processes, has induced in Mr. Mill and other logicians the fundamental error which we have exposed in regard to the syllogism or argument. No thinker who understands the true scientific process, that is, the real nature and relations of scientific induction and deduction, would ever have given utterance to such a fundamental error in science as the following: 'All inference,' says Mr. Mill, 'is from particulars to particulars; general propositions are merely registers of such inferences already made, and short formulas for making more. The major premise of a syllogism consequently is a formula of this description; and the conclusion is not an inference drawn from the formula, but an inference drawn according to the formula; the real logical antecedent or premises being the particular facts from which the general proposition was collected by induction.' Every sentence in the above extract contains a fundamental error in science. No inference in science is 'from particulars to particulars,' but always, as we have shown, from a self-evident, universal, and necessary principle, and facts ranged by induction under such principle; and every scientific inference is not according to, but legitimately drawn from said principle. General propositions are not 'registers of inferences already made,' inferences from particulars to particulars, nor 'short formulas for making more' such lawless inferences, but ultimate truths reached by scientific induction and deduction under and from such self-evident principles. General propositions do have place, as major premises in syllogisms found in such logics as those of Mr. Mill; but never do they have place as such premises in any proper scientific syllogism or argument. Take, in illustration, a single example from Bacon, in which, like other Anglo-Saxon thinkers, he contradicts himself. A given class of facts is before us, facts for the character and occurrence of which an explanation is sought. Two contradictory hypotheses present themselves, one of which must be true, and the other false. In such a case, says Bacon, 'nothing remains to be done but to look out for a fact which can be explained by one of these causes [hypotheses], and not by the other.' This single fact, as Bacon affirms, verifies one hypothesis as true, and the other as false. Here we have 'a general proposition' which is not 'a register of inferences already wade, and a short formula for making more, but which is an ultimate truth deduced immediately from a single fact placed under a self-evident principle, to wit, that of two or more contradictory hypotheses, some one of which must be true, and the other, or others, false, any fact which one does and the other, or others, cannot explain, demonstrates the one to be true and the other, or others, to be false. This ultimate general proposition which has its basis in a primary and self-evident principle, and has been verified by facts placed under such principle, becomes itself a proximate principle, not for the explanation of the fact, or facts, by which it was verified, but of others of the same class which are in themselves explicable on both, or all the hypotheses referred to.

4. Bacon, by his utterly false principle that the activity of the intellect is exercised only upon data primitively furnished by sensation, and by his equally false method of induction and deduction, laid the foundation for the doctrines of Materialism and Atheism, subsequently deduced from his principles. No other doctrines can be legitimately drawn from such principles. Bacon reckons among the causes which have retarded and corrupted the sciences, 'the Idols of the Theatre,' which spring from the ascendency that philosophers and masters acquire over their disciples, and the authority, as first truths, of the axiomatic utterances of great thinkers over the thinking of subsequent generations. The time has arrived for science to free itself from the Idols of Bacon.

5. While Bacon thus laid the foundation for fundamental error, he himself believed in God and religion. In his work on the 'Advancement of Learning,' he thus speaks: 'I hold that this knowledge must, in the end, be bounded by religion, else it will be subject to deceit and delusion.' The comparative worth, in his estimation, of material and mental studies, as a means of attaining to valuable knowledge, human and divine, is thus expressed by him. 'The human mind, if it acts upon matter' (in its researches for truth) 'in contemplating the nature of things, and the works of God, acts' (reasons and judges) 'according to nature' (the reality of things), and is determined thereby; but if it works upon itself, as the spider does' (studies its own nature and operations), 'then it has no end; but produces cobwebs of learning, admirable indeed for the fineness of the thread, but of no substance nor profit.' A sentiment more false and subversive than this has been seldom uttered. 'Know thyself.' Thales evinced far higher wisdom than Bacon.

Principles of Science, how Originated.

If self-evident, and consequently universal and necessary principles, and not general propositions originated by induction, lie at the basis of all science, and consequently of all scientific induction and deduction, how, it may be asked, are these principles obtained? and how can they be distinguished from other forms of thought? These questions we have already repeatedly answered, and we allude to the subject in this connection on account of its bearings upon inquiries which are to follow. The principles which lie at the basis of the sciences exist, as we have shown, not in their abstract and universal, but in their concrete and particular forms, in all minds in common, and all minds in common reason and judge of facts in the light of these principles. Induction and deduction proper are, consequently, common to the race, and in science and common life these processes are carried on in the light of the same self-evident principles. A child, a savage, a common man, and a philosopher, for example, are together in a store where objects are sold by weight. The proprietor lays a pound weight on one side of his scale, and then exactly balances it with fifty different articles in succession. When done up and laid together on the counter, every person present will affirm with the same certainty that each of these masses is of the same weight as every other. If asked for the reason for that judgment, each would reply, 'Because they are, every one of them, equal to that one common measure. The philosopher only, however, could give the answer in its scientific form, namely, Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another. These masses are also equal in weight to that of the same thing: they are, therefore, all of the same weight. The same holds true universally. The principles which lie at the basis of all the sciences are identical with those which, in all minds in common, lie, in the concrete, at the basis of the natural procedures of the universal Intelligence in ordinary judging and reasoning. All men have common faculties of external and internal perception, and consequently have apprehensions of spirit and matter. All men in common have Reason, the organ of implied knowledge, and consequently have common ideas of space, time, substance, cause, equality, difference, etc. All men in common have the faculty of judgment, which, in its primitive procedures, spontaneously affirms the relations existing between facts perceived and realities implied by such facts. There exist, consequently, in all minds in common, the same principles which lie at the basis of all the sciences—principles in the light of which all facts are explained, and all valid deductions in science are made and verified. The only difference between the primitive, or common, and the scientific process of induction and deduction, is that in the former principles are employed in their concrete, and in the latter in their reflective, abstract, and universal forms. Without these principles, at least in their primitive forms, all existing facts might pass distinctly before the mind, and no discriminations would ever be made between them, no classifications would ever be made of them, and no deductions would ever be drawn from them. Without these same principles in their reflective, abstract, and universal forms, not a step can be taken in any of the sciences.

Common Sense defined, together with its Relations to Science.

As we have shown, there exist, in all minds, common faculties of perception external and internal, a common faculty of implied knowledge, and of primitive and deductive judgment, and consequently common apprehensions of matter, spirit, time, space, substance, cause; common ideas of resemblance and difference, equality and inequality, etc., and common principles of induction and deduction. Now these original apprehensions, ideas, and principles, which lie at the basis of all induction, deduction, and reasoning, primitive, common, and scientific, constitute what is denominated the Common Sense of the race. The facts, principles, inductions, and deductions of Common Sense are the same as those of Science. The only difference lies here. In the former process all is in the concrete and unsystematized, and in the latter in the reflective and systematized form. True science purifies, enlarges, and systematizes the inductions and deductions of Common Sense, but never contradicts its original facts, principles, or deductions. No system of so-called science which contradicts any of the real facts, principles, or deductions of Common Sense, will stand the test of time. As Cicero has truly said, 'All original convictions, strictly common to the race, are laws of nature,' and no other laws can legitimately have more absolute authority in the sphere of science than these. Every system which falls upon the original intuitions of Common Sense, falls upon the immovable rock of truth.

Common Error in regard to Investigation and Discovery of Truth, and Reasoning and Proof.

The common idea that in induction we argue from the particular to the general, and that in argument, or proof, we descend from the general to the particular, has led to a very important error in regard to the relations of investigation and discovery of truth, and proof after truth has been discovered. Now the facts and principles, in the light of which truth is discovered, are the identical facts and principles in the light of which discovery can be verified. A stranger enters the store and sees the articles above referred to lying together upon the counter. Desiring to discover and verify for himself the relative weight of these bundles, he lays each one in succession upon the balance, and marks the result. From the fact that they are all, in weight, equal to the same thing, he discovers or infers that they are all of the same weight. Here is investigation, discovery, and proof all together. If he would verify to himself the discovery made, he must, in the light of the principle, Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another, repeat in thought the identical experiment by which the original discovery was made. If he would prove to others the validity of his discovery, he must state to them, or repeat in their presence, the experiment by which his own deduction was reached. This holds true in science universally. The same principles and facts, in the light of which deductive truth is originally discovered, these and these alone present valid proof of the truth discovered.

We would by no means be understood here as denying the validity of the analytical, as well as synthetic, methods of proof. We may, if we choose, in accordance with the latter method, first lay down, in proper order, the premises, and then deduce the conclusion; or, in accordance with the former method, we may first state the conclusion, and then present, in proof of its validity, the premises, which is the common mode of reasoning. Each of these methods, however, is utterly unlike reasoning first, without a principle, from the particular to the general, and then, with the latter as a major premise, reasoning from the general to the particular, both procedures being, as we have shown, alike false.

SECTION II.

HOBBES AND GASSENDI.

Bacon furnished the principle and method in conformity to which Hobbes of England (1588-1679) and Gassendi of France (1592-1655) very soon developed a philosophy of universal being and its laws. As these thinkers agree in all essential particulars, and each stands at the head of a particular school in his own country, both schools being identical in their essential characteristics, we refer to said thinkers and their systems in the same connection. Bacon had announced the principle 'that the activity of the intellect is exercised only upon data primitively furnished by sensation,' and that the object and end of induction is to classify and generalize knowledge thus furnished. Such thinkers as those above designated were not slow in discerning the necessary consequences of such a principle, and of such a method of induction and deduction. Before giving the theory of either of these thinkers, we would call special attention to the following very true and important utterance of our Anglo-Saxon thinker: 'Man has the exclusive privilege of forming general theorems. But this privilege is alloyed by another, that is, by the privilege of absurdity, to which no living creature is subject but man only. And of men, those are of all others most subject to it that profess Philosophy.' The reason why philosophers are thus specially privileged is thus most correctly stated by this same thinker: 'When men have once acquiesced in untrue opinions; and registered them as authenticated records in their minds, it is no less impossible to speak intelligibly to such men than to write legibly upon paper already scribbled over.' One of the most marked features of this affinity of philosophers for the absurd is that those who most clearly apprehend its nature, of all others perhaps, most readily leap into the palpable abyss.

Theory of Hobbes.

We will present the theory of Mr. Hobbes in his own words, he being properly pronounced by Mr. Lewes 'the precursor of Modern Materialism.' 'Concerning the thoughts of man, I will consider them first singly, and afterwards in a train or dependence upon one another. Singly they are every one a representation or appearance of some quality of a body without us, which is commonly called an object—which object worketh on the eyes and ears and other parts of man's body, and by diversity of working, produces diversity of appearances. The original of them all is that which we call Sense, for there is no conception in a man's mind which hath not at first totally, or by parts, been begotten upon the organs of sense. The rest are derived from that original.' Again, 'Because whatsoever we conceive has been perceived first, by sense, either all at once or by parts, a man can have no thought representing anything not subject to sense.'

There is but a single step from Hobbes' theory of knowledge to his doctrine of spirit. As nothing but material forms, bodies, are represented in thought, mind can be therein represented as nothing but a material substance. 'As the object of thought, in all its forms, is body, all science consists in considering the whole relatively to its parts, or the parts relatively to one another.' Knowledge, in its original form, consists in the impressions, images which bodies make upon the physical organization. The continuance and faint recurrence of these images is memory, imagination, and 'all knowledge is remembrance.' What we have to do is not with the psychology of our author, which none now believe, but with his philosophy, which is now being zealously pushed into the sphere of scientific thought.

The Moral and Political System of Hobbes.

In morals, Hobbes has the merit of self-consistency. Bodies he divides into two classes—natural bodies, or, individuals, and political bodies, or communities. As an individual, man is capable of pleasurable and painful sensations, the causes of the former being objects of desire, and of the latter of aversion. Of all objects of desire every individual has a natural right to possess himself, and that by any means in his power. As the desires of individuals are often in conflict, natural right is always with the strongest. Here we have the morality of Materialism, as distinctly and openly expounded, as we have seen, by its teachers in all ages. The whole duty of man, as these teachers expounded it, is fully embodied in the maxim of the robber chieftain:

'He shall get who has the power,

And he shall keep who can.'

As man, as a political body, cannot exist unless natural desire shall be restrained within certain limits, society has the right to force individuals into conformity to wholesome rules and regulations. 'In the social state,' according to our philosopher, as has been correctly stated by another in the Epitome of the History of Philosophy, 'public force is bound by no law. In the primitive state of man, everyone having a right to everything, there is neither justice nor injustice, neither right nor wrong. In the social state, morality is nothing but the public utility, and here again it is to the sovereign public force it belongs to decide what is just or unjust.' An unjust law, according to this thinker, is an impossibility. Public force is bound by no law whatever. The system of Hobbes is all true, or all false throughout; for it is a self-consistent whole, what is not common in the sphere of Anglo-Saxon thought. The absurdity of Epicurus, that material bodies may exercise the functions of Free Will, has never had place in Modern Materialism. The reason is that the advocates of this doctrine in modern times have never attempted, as the Epicureans did, to solve the problem, how can creation, on the hypothesis that matter alone exists, be an event of time—a problem which Materialism must solve, or 'vanish into nought.'

Theory of Gassendi.

In no essential respects did the theory of Gassendi differ from that of his contemporary, Hobbes. The former, in common with the latter, affirmed that the intelligence acts only upon facts furnished by sensation, and that science consists in passing, by a comparison of facts, from singular to general notions. In common with Epicurus, he made two principles, vacuum and atoms, the basis of his physical theory. In respect to morals, he presented nothing worthy of notice. Living under the power of religious intolerance, he saved his head by recognizing God as the original Creator, affirming at the same time that all phenomena are explicable on the atomic theory. Such are the systems which, in these two great countries, England and France, immediately took form from the false principle and method of Bacon. On these systems we have the following important remarks to make:

Remarks upon these Systems.

1. They are both in common, as is true of Materialism in all its forms, based upon a most palpable psychological error—that the constituent elements of all thought, in all its forms, were furnished originally by sensation, and that consequently body is the only object of perception, conception, and thought. We are as absolutely conscious of the presence in our minds of the ideas of space, time, substance, and cause, for example, as we are of those of body or of any material forms, combinations, or changes. We might just as properly affirm that no ideas do exist in the mind but those of space, time, substance, and cause, as make the same affirmation in respect to matter. While Hobbes affirmed that 'whatever we perceive is first conceived by sense,' he affirmed, without thinking of the contradiction, that he had in his mind, in common with everybody else, the idea of infinite space, which no body has seen, touched, nor handled. 'How wonderful is thought!' he exclaims, 'how mighty!—how mysterious! In its lightning speed it traverses all space, and makes the past present.' Yes, even Hobbes had, as we have, the ideas of space and time, which are not material forms, not attributes of matter. In universal thought too, spirit, as distinct and separate from matter, is just as consciously and clearly represented as is matter. It would be no more a denial of conscious facts to affirm that we have no conception of material forms, than it is to affirm that we have no conception of spirit. Between spirit and matter, as represented in thought, there are no common elements whatever, and yet both conceptions are equally present. If an individual should affirm that mind never thinks, feels, nor wills at all, he would not be more palpably wrong than he is, when he affirms that matter and its forms and changes are the only objects of thought. Thought itself, feeling, sensation, emotion, and willing, as objects of thought, have not one of them a single attribute or characteristic of matter. What if a philosopher should tell us of the weight, measure, the inside, the outside, the top and the bottom, this side and that side of thought, feeling, and willing? Should we not justly regard him, as not in himself, but beside himself? We are not now speaking of the validity of thought in any form, but of its elements and forms as it actually exists in the mind. An individual would not be farther from the truth who should seriously affirm that copper constitutes the only circulating medium known on earth, than is the philosopher who assures us that nothing but matter and material forms and changes are represented in human thought.

2. The grounds of the distinction which universal mind has made, and affirms to exist between matter and other realities, and of the conviction that other than material realities do exist, science can never invalidate, but is bound to recognize as valid. All mankind, philosophers included, do, in fact, believe in the reality of matter and of its recognized forms and changes, and in the reality of space, time, substance, and cause, as necessarily implied by the existence of matter, with its forms and changes. If the latter are real, and their reality cannot be disproved, or in fact disbelieved, the former must be real. No form of knowledge can be more certain, and consciously so, than are all these; and the certainty of one of these forms is just as absolute as that of any of the others. As there are, and can be, no forms of knowledge more certain, and consciously so, than are all these, there can be none through which the certainty of these can be invalidated. We may safely challenge the world to present any form of proof to invalidate the argument here presented. In the conscious presence of the phenomena of matter and spirit, universal mind has not only affirmed, and that absolutely, both to be real, but has marked, and knows them, as distinct and separate entities. Of each substance alike universal mind has a perfectly clear, fixed, immutable, and readily defined apprehension—an apprehension which, as we have shown, can no more be changed or modified than can our apprehension of a circle or square. Nor in thought can one of these entities be confounded with the other, any more than can a straight line be mistaken for a triangle. When men deny the distinction between them, they speak of it, recognize it, and really believe in it, just as they did before.

3. The materialistic deduction presents one of the wildest and most absurd leaps in logic known to science. The mind has a perception of an exterior object possessed of extension and form, that is, of body. This perception implies with equal absoluteness three facts—the reality of an exterior object on the one hand—that of the percipient subject, on the other—and that the nature of the subject and object is to be determined by their respective essential phenomena; perception in the subject being always attended with conscious self-recognition as exercising the functions of thought, feeling, and voluntary determination, and as distinct and separate from, and totally unlike, the perceived object. In the presence of such undeniable facts, the Materialist takes into account, not at all the subject, or any of the conscious facts referred to, but simply and exclusively the exterior object, with its properties, changes, and relations, and determines his theory of Being and its laws from this exclusive and palpably partial standpoint. The entire logic of this theory may be thus expressed, and no one can show that it has any broader or more valid basis than this. Matter is an object of sense-perception. Therefore, no other reality exists, and no other object is or can be represented in thought. Hobbes most impressively drew his own image and likeness, together with that of all Materialists of all ages, when he affirmed that of all men; philosophers have the greatest affinity for the absurd. The absurdity of the Materialist is only equalled by that of the Idealist, who, in the presence of the same perception, looks inward upon the percipient, and affirms that he only, as phenomenon, has being. What world renowned systems have no other basis than half-truths? This is the peculiar and exclusive character of 'science falsely so called,' in all the forms which it ever has assumed.

4. But the most absurd and hideous feature of Materialism in all its forms, is what has been rightly denominated 'its infernal morals.' The sum of its morals, as unitedly announced by its most illustrious expounders, may be correctly expressed by the following formulas: In the natural state of man, no one human being has any rights which any other human being is under the least obligation to respect. Nor can civil society enact an unrighteous or oppressive law, or perpetrate any form of wrong upon any subject. Nor does any one nation or community possess any rights which any other nation or community is bound to respect. The only difference between the highway robber, the midnight assassin, and the pirate on the high seas, and individuals and the State, is simply one of relative strength. Whosoever performs any act because it is right in itself and morally binding, or refrains from perpetrating any

act because it is morally wrong, is a fool. Take Materialism in its principles, and no other system of morality can be deduced from them. Take the deductions which the wisest expounders of the system have actually drawn from said principles, and the above is a correct summary of said deductions. The individual who, in the open presence of the consciously known attributes of matter and spirit, and above all, of the conscious facts of the moral and spiritual nature of universal mind, can avow himself a Materialist, must have so long and so immutably 'acquiesced in untrue opinions, and registered them as authenticated records in his mind, that it is no less impossible to speak intelligibly to such a man than it is to write legibly upon paper already scribbled over.'

SECTION III.

JOHN LOCKE.

In the same year, 1632, two individuals were born—one in England, and the other in Holland—individuals whose names occupy conspicuous places in the history of Philosophy. We refer to John Locke and Benedict Spinoza. As the latter stands more intimately connected with the German, than the Anglo-Saxon Evolution, and as our plan is to trace first the latter movement as it stands related to Bacon, we shall omit the consideration of systems specially connected with the former movement, until after our present plan has been completed.

When Locke was a student in the University of Oxford, a company of students assembled by accident in his room. They found themselves perplexed and baffled in their discussions of the problems of their age. In the midst of these discussions, it occurred to the youthful mind of Locke that existing thought and discussion were taking a wrong direction; that the first thing to be done was not to attempt to solve the problem of Being and its laws, but to investigate the faculties of the soul, and thus determine the extent and limits of its capacities, so that we can clearly understand what objects it can and cannot know. It was this mental suggestion that gave being and form to his great work on the Human Understanding, the central aim of which, as stated by himself, was 'to inquire into the original, certainty, and extent of human knowledge.' If, by this inquiry into the nature of the understanding,' he says, 'I can discover the powers thereof, how far they reach, to what things they are in any degree proportionate, and where they fail us, I suppose it may be of use to prevail with the busy mind of man, to be more cautious in meddling with things exceeding its comprehension; to stop when it is at the utmost extent of its tether; and to sit down in a quiet ignorance of those things which, upon examination, are found to be beyond the reach of its capacities. We should not then perhaps be so forward, vaunt of an affectation of a universal knowledge, to raise questions, and perplex ourselves and others with disputes about things to which our understandings are not suited, and of which we cannot frame in our minds any clear and distinct perceptions, or whereof (as it has perhaps too often happened) we have not any notions at all. If we can find out how far the understanding can extend its view, how far it has faculties to attain certainty, and in what cases it can only judge and guess, we may learn to content ourselves with what is attainable by us in this state.' In reading the above and similar statements which abound in the writings of this great author, we feel ourselves in company with a thinker whose thoughts are always worthy of grave consideration, and whom, even while we may differ from him in particulars perfectly fundamental, we must hold in deep esteem. Nor is the importance of mental study over-estimated in the above statements. The great problems of world-thought, the problems of the ages, are all located within the proper sphere of Metaphysics, and must there receive their solution.

The Special Peculiarities of the System of Locke.

The peculiarity which distinguished from all others the system of Locke, that only which requires special investigation in a Critical History of Philosophy is his theory of the origin and constituent elements of human knowledge in all its forms. To understand his doctrine in the particular under consideration, we must bear in mind that at that time it was quite commonly believed by scientific men that two classes of ideas existed in the mind, one derived from experience external and internal, the other innate. Of matter, spirit, and their relations, we have only that form of knowledge which is derived from Sense, and Consciousness, and from Reasoning upon facts derived from observation and experience. Ideas of space, time, substance, cause, God, duty, immutability, retribution, and of universal and necessary principles, we bring into the world with us. 'It is an established opinion among some men,' he says, 'that there are in the understanding certain innate principles, some primary notions, characters, as it were, stamped upon the mind of man, which the soul receives in its very first being and brings into the world with it.' The doctrine of Locke is that the elements of all our ideas, simple and complex, are derived from two exclusive sources, represented by the general term 'experience.' These sources are external and internal perception, or Sense and Consciousness, 'sensation and reflection,' to use the phraseology of our author. 'Our observation,' he says, 'employed about external sensible objects, or about the internal operations of our minds, perceived and reflected on by ourselves, is that which supplies our understanding with all the materials of thinking. These two are the foundations of knowledge, from which all ideas we have, or can naturally have, do spring.' All ideas, he affirms, are simple or complex. The former are directly and immediately derived from original experience; the latter are exclusively constituted from elements furnished by experience. In the reception of simple ideas the mind is passive. In combining these into complex ones, the mind is, in important senses, active. 'As the mind is wholly passive,' he says, 'in the reception of all its simple ideas, so it exerts several acts of its own, whereby out of its simple ideas as the materials and foundations of all the rest, the others are framed. The acts of the mind wherein it exerts its power over its simple ideas, are chiefly these three: 1. Combining several simple ideas into one compound one, and thus all complex ideas are made. 2. The second is bringing two ideas, whether simple or complex, together, setting them by one another, so as to take a view of them at once, without uniting them into one; by which way it gets all its ideas of relations. 3. The third is separating them from all other ideas that accompany them in their real existence; this is called abstraction; and thus all its general ideas are made.' The power which the mind has over simple ideas, or the elements of all our knowledges, our author thus correctly expounds: 'When the understanding is once stored with these simple ideas, it has the power to repeat, compare, and unite them, even to an almost infinite variety; and so can make at pleasure new complex ideas. But it is not in the power of the most exalted wit or enlarged understanding, by any quickness or variety of thought, to invent or frame one new simple idea in the mind, not taken in by the ways mentioned: nor can any force of the understanding destroy those that are there.'

Our author, it should also be borne in mind, uses the term 'sensation,' not in its exclusive modern sense, to represent a mere feeling in the mind, but also to include the act of perception which accompanies this sensitive state, but constitutes no part of it. 'Our senses,' he says, 'conversant about particular sensible objects, do convey into the mind several distinct perceptions of things, according to those various ways wherein these objects do affect them.' 'This great source of most of the ideas we have, depending wholly upon our senses, and derived by them to the understanding, I call sensation.'

General Remarks upon this Theory.

Such is the theory of Locke pertaining to the origin and constituent elements of all ideas, and all forms of knowledge which exist in the mind. All is constituted of what we directly and immediately obtain through external and internal perception. Experience being the watch word of the system, it has hence been denominated Empiricism. In respect to a theory which has, in fact, more than any other assignable cause, given form and shape to Anglo-Saxon thought, and occasioned all its inconsistencies and self-contradictions, we would invite special attention to the following general remarks:

1. The whole theory is based upon a most palpable psychological error. There must undeniably exist in the mind not a few ideas and principles which could not have been derived from experience, and are not constituted of elements furnished by experience. No man, for example, has ever seen space or time, and they are not apprehended as attributes of matter or spirit. Yet we have apprehensions of each of these realities, ideas perfectly simple and uncompounded. Each of these realities is also apprehended as absolutely infinite. All objects of perception, also, are apprehended as contingent. We conceive of them as existing with the conscious possibility of conceiving of them as not existing. The ideas of space and time, on the other hand, are necessary ideas. We conceive of their objects as existing with the conscious impossibility of conceiving of their non-existence. There is not a single element or characteristic of either of these ideas which could, by any possibility, have been the object of perception external or internal, and which, consequently, could have been derived from experience. The same remarks are equally applicable to our ideas of substance and cause, ideas actually existing in the mind. What we perceive is quality, or an event. Substance and cause, to which we refer quality and events, we do not perceive, but apprehend as implied by what we perceive.

There are also principles in the mind which could not have been derived from experience external, nor internal, nor from both combined. This fact Kant has rendered demonstrably evident in the Introduction to his Critique of Pure Reason. The criteria which he gives of such principles are the characteristics of strict conscious universality and necessity. 'If a judgment,' he says, 'is thought in strict universality, that is, so that not an exception is allowed as possible, this is not derivable from experience, but is absolutely valid á priori. Empirical universality is, therefore, only an arbitrary progression of validity from that which is valid in most cases, to that which is so in all, as, for example, in the proposition, "All bodies are heavy." Where, on the other hand, strict universality belongs essentially to a judgment that indicates a particular source of its cognition—a faculty of cognition á priori, necessity and strict universality are, therefore, sure characteristics of a cognition á priori, and belong also inseparably to each other.' No argument can have more absolute demonstrative certainty than this of Kant presented above. Experience can only affirm what is, and what generally obtains, within its own sphere, but can never affirm what does and must obtain in all cases actual and conceivable. If, therefore, we do have in the mind ideas and judgments having the undeniable characteristics of strict universality and necessity, then the elements of all our ideas and knowledges were not given by experience, and we have three faculties of original intuition, instead of two, as affirmed by Locke.

As examples of the principles under consideration, Kant first adduces the axioms of mathematics. All these, as apprehended by the Universal Intelligence, have undeniably the essential characteristics of the strictest universality and necessity. We not only know that they do, but equally that they must, hold true universally, and cannot be properly classed as experiential judgments. As an example of more common recognition, he next cites the principle 'that all change must have a cause.' No truth of psychology is, or can be, more palpably obvious than is the fact that there exist in the mind ideas and judgments which could not have been derived from experience, and that consequently the theory of Locke rests upon a most manifest psychological error.

2. The theory of Locke is based upon a most unauthorized assumption, namely, that if any ideas not derived from experience do exist in the mind, they must be innate, and, that in proving the doctrine of Innate Ideas false, he had demonstrated the validity of his own theory. Here we have most palpably a very wide leap in logic. The doctrine of Innate Ideas may be false, and yet there may be three, instead of two, faculties of original intuition. The question how many such faculties the mind is possessed of, cannot be determined by assumption, but by a careful analysis of our complex conceptions, and a scientific determination of the character of the elements which constitute such conceptions. If we should find that a part of these elements were furnished by external and internal perception, and that another portion could not have been thus derived, then we should infer, not the truth of the doctrine of Innate Ideas, but the existence of a third faculty of original intuition—a faculty which, when the proper conditions are fulfilled, furnishes us with these ideas and elements of complex thought. The unauthorized assumption on which the whole theory of Locke most manifestly rests, needs only to be designated to be most fully appreciated.

3. The method of Locke is most palpably false, and although quite common, is, of all others, most perilous to the interests of true science. What is this method? It is, in short, this. In the presence of a class of facts to be explained and elucidated, before any proper arrangement of them, or analysis of their essential characteristics, he starts off with a given hypothesis, and mutilates, stretches, and hews his facts into conformity to the hypothesis referred to. The immutable condition of a proper use of our intellectual faculties is just what he has stated, to 'discover the powers of the mind, how far they reach, to what things they are in any degree proportionate, and where they fail us.' Equally proper is the first great inquiry which he raises as a means to this end, namely, to 'inquire into the original of those ideas, notions, or whatever else you please to call them, which a man observes and is conscious to himself he has in his mind, and the ways the understanding comes to be furnished with them.' 'Here is wisdom.' How shall the end here proposed be accomplished? But one exclusive method promises success

in such inquiries. We must take our most complex conceptions and judgments, and most carefully analyze the same, determine the elements of which they are constituted, and the mutual relationships of such elements to one another. If such an analysis should clearly verify the fact that no elements exist in any such notions or judgments, however complex they may be, other than were originally furnished by external and internal perception, then the theory of Locke would stand revealed as a demonstrated truth of science. If, on the other hand, we should find a class of elements which obviously could not have been derived from experience, then we must admit and affirm the real existence, not of two, as Locke affirms, but at least of three faculties of original intuition.

If our analysis should verify the existence in the mind of elements of conception not furnished by experience, call these former rational, if you please, the next inquiry which science presents is this—to wit, What are the relations of empirical and rational elements of thought to one another? If in this department of inquiry we should find that rational intuitions have an independent origin in the mind, and that they arise there prior to empirical intuitions, and as laws of thought determine the latter, then we must affirm with Kant and the advocates of the Transcendental Philosophy, that Reason-intuitions represent no realities in themselves, that they exist only in and for the mind, and, as immutable laws of thought, determine all perceptions external and internal and subsequent intellectual operations, and that consequently 'all our intuition is nothing, but the representation of phenomena, that the things which we envisage (behold) are not that in themselves for which we take them; neither are their relationships so constituted as they appear to us, and that if we do away with our subject, or even with the subjective quality of the senses in general, every quality, all relationships of objects in space and time, nay, even Time and Space themselves, would disappear, and cannot exist as phenomena in themselves, but only in us.'

If, on the other hand, our analysis and examination should evince that empirical and rational ideas, as elements of thought, have their fixed and immutable relations to one another, that the former always imply the latter, that the latter are known and can be defined only as implied elements of thought, and that consequently, the former must have preceded in experience, and really determined the latter, then 'all our intuition is not nothing, but the representation of phenomena,' and 'the things which we envisage are that in themselves for which we take them,' and their relationships are so constituted as they appear to us;' and if we should cease to exist, Time and Space would still exist as realities in themselves. Nothing can be more evident, however, than is the fact, that the method of Locks is fundamentally wrong, and perilous to the interests of science.

3. The theory and deductions of Locks have done more than any other cause to impart to Anglo-Saxon thought the characteristics which it visibly possesses before the world, characteristics to which we have frequently referred—to wit, its want of system and self-consistency. Confining, as he really does, all our knowledge to phenomena, openly repudiating the axioms as of little or no use in science, he has, as far as his Philosophy can do it, left for us no principles in the light of which knowledge can be systematized, no principles in the light of which even phenomena can be scientifically classified, compared, or generalized. Everything is left without law or order, excepting through principles which exist in the concrete in all minds in common. What could be rationally expected from such a state of thought, but want of system, and the continued occurrence of contradiction?

We have, in other connections, given examples of palpable contradiction in the sphere of Anglo-Saxon thought. We will now present such a case from Locke himself. Speaking of the question 'whether the idea of space or extension be the same with that of body,' he says: 'It is not necessary to prove the real existence of a vacuum, but the idea of it, which it is plain men have, when they inquire and dispute whether there be a vacuum or no; for if they had not the idea of space without body, they could not make a question about its existence; and if their idea of body did not include in it something more than the bare idea of space, they could have no doubt about the plenitude of the world, and it would be as absurd to inquire whether there were space without body, as whether there were space without space, or body without body, since these were but different names of the same idea.' Here we have reasoning of the soundest character, and here, also, we have an absolute refutation of Locke's whole theory of the origin of ideas. The idea of space as distinct from body is in the mind. This, as Locke has shown, is undeniable. Whence came this idea? Not from reflection, surely; for this, as Locks himself shows us, gives nothing but the phenomena of thought, feeling, and willing, and space is no element of any of these. Nor could this space-idea have been furnished by sensation; for this, as Locke affirms, gives as nothing but body and its attributes. Nor can this space-idea be an element of Locke's complex ideas; for these are constituted exclusively of elements furnished by sensation and reflection. If we have in our minds no ideas or elements of thought but mind and its operations, and body and its attributes, these being all that sensation and reflection, according to Locke's theory, can give us, then space must be identical with body or spirit, or both, or we have an idea in the mind not derived from these sources.

In the above extract, we have this principle affirmed, that inquiry and dispute in respect to the existence of an idea in the mind implies the presence of that idea there. In his attempted elucidation of our idea of infinity, he affirms that we have no positive idea of infinity in any form, no idea of it of which number does not furnish the clearest apprehension, and which is not represented by an indefinite number of finite quantities added to one another. Yet he affirms, that by no such additions can we reach the bounds of the infinite as represented in thought. Now, according to Locke himself, and according to reason also, the agitation of the question whether we have in our minds the idea of infinitude implies the possession of that idea. The fact, that no imaginable number of units, and no imaginable combination of finite quantities, do or can reach the measure of our idea of the infinite, implies that we have an idea of that which nothing finite can measure; that is, we have the idea of real infinitude in our minds. We have, in a former connection, explained the origin of the common error, that we do and can have no real idea of infinity. Ask any person the question, Is Space, Duration, or God, infinite? and he will answer yes, and he is conscious of a distinct apprehension of the meaning of the words he employs. The propositions, Body is finite, and Space is infinite, are each equally intelligible to every mind. Ask any individual to form a conception of infinite space, and, after making the trial, he will probably say, that he cannot do it. If from such trial the inference is drawn, that we have no idea of infinite space, we take a most absurd leap in logic. If we have no idea of infinite space, we could not affirm whether we can or cannot form a conception of it. Suppose we should ask the same individual to form a conception of space itself, and tell us what it is, he would find himself in the same perplexity as before. We should stultify ourselves if we should infer from such trials that we have in our minds no idea of space, as either finite or infinite. The reason of the failure in all such attempts is, that we attempt, through one faculty, to form a conception of a reality which is the exclusive object of another and different faculty. I have in my mind the idea of infinitude, as infinite space or duration. I attempt to expand the faculty of finite apprehension to a comprehension of this reality, and find the attainment, in this form, impossible. What is the only rational inference from such a fact? Not that we have no idea of infinity; for such an assumption contradicts the absolute testimony of consciousness. The only logical inference from such a fact is this. We have, through one faculty—the Reason—a clear and distinct apprehension of a reality of which, through another and different faculty—the Understanding, the faculty of finite apprehension, we can form no adequate conception whatever. The presence not only of scientific principles, but of a most careful analysis of the phenomena, of thought, is requisite to knowledge scientifically systematized, as well as to save philosophers from 'many a blunder and foolish notion.'

4. We have in the case of this great thinker a very striking example of the fatal influence of first assuming some specific hypothesis for the explanation of facts, and then shaping facts into conformity to said hypothesis. This has been the common error of philosophers in all ages, in their attempted solution of the problem of universal Being and its laws. If we begin, for example, with the assumption that but one substance or principle of all things does exist, all questions in respect to real facts of existence are at an end. If as our second step, we assume that Matter, Brahm, the All-One, the Absolute, or simple thought, is that substance, or principle, the question, What realities do exist, is for ever set at rest, however much palpable facts may contradict our hypothesis. 'When men,' as Hobbes says, 'have acquiesced in untrue opinions, and registered them as authenticated records in their mind's, it is no less impossible to speak intelligibly to such men than to write legibly on paper already scribbled over.' The reason is, that when the mind has blindly made its assumption, it has as blindly predetermined the aspect it shall take of all facts which may present themselves. Thus Locke started with the fixed assumption that the constituent elements of all ideas in the mind must have been furnished originally by experience, or external and internal perception. From that moment, the idea of the possibility of any ideas or elements of thought, derived from any other source, dropped out of his mind; and although, in all his subsequent inquiries, ideas and elements of thought, which could by no possibility have been derived from the sources he had designated, appeared, and although he had constant occasion to look upon, analyze, and handle such ideas and elements, he was absolutely blind to the palpable character of what was in open vision before him. He would tell us in so many words that experience, as consciousness, can furnish us with nothing but the phenomena of thought, feeling, and willing, and as sensation, or external perception, can give nothing but body and its qualities, and that the idea of space is, in all its characteristics, totally unlike matter and spirit and their attributes. After affirming all this, he gravely assures us that this idea which he has demonstrated to be utterly unlike anything which experience can furnish us, was, in fact, furnished exclusively by experience. This serious admonition we would give to all inquirers after truth, namely, Whenever any scientist commends to your regard, as a truth of science, any hypothesis pertaining to Being and its laws, first of all set that hypothesis, with all others to which it stands opposed, in the clear light of all the facts to be elucidated, and when you have found that one of these hypotheses will, and none of the others can, explain all these facts, then, and not till then, accept the former as true, and reject all the others as false. If the hypothesis proposed stands revealed to you as thus verified, adopt it; if not, take not such a thinker as your guide in search of truth.

5. Locke, we add once more, through his theory of the Origin of Ideas, his doctrine of external perception, and his definition of truth, while he did nothing whatever for the establishment of what he himself believed to be true—to wit, the doctrines of God, immortality, and of the Christian religion, did lay the foundation for the systems of Materialism, Idealism, and Scepticism, which immediately took form from his teachings. Truth he defined to be the conformity of ideas with realities as they exist in themselves. In external perception, which he affirmed to be the chief source of all our ideas, he held with Plato, that we have no perceptions whatever of realities without us, and borrowed from Plato, to illustrate his doctrine, the image of the dark room in which nothing is visible but shadowy reflections of realities without. Of an external world, therefore, to which a vast majority of our ideas refer, we can have no real knowledge in any form, not even 'a bastard kind of knowledge,' which Plato's ideas did furnish. As all our perceptions are of the shadows of things, and not of the realities themselves, and as we cannot compare the former with the latter, we are left, in respect to the mass of our ideas, simple and complex, without any criteria of truth whatever. Such is the position in which the theory of Locke undeniably leaves us, a position in which no clear path remains for us, a path in which we may advance in conformity to any known laws of scientific induction and deduction, to the doctrines of God, duty, immortality, or of religion in any form. To be sure, he tells us that we have even demonstrative proof of the being of God. In the presentation of this proof, however, he perpetrates an Angle-Saxon act of self-contradiction, first showing that we have not even 'a bastard kind of knowledge' of nature, and then deducing his proof from the facts of nature as if they were validly known. All attempted proof of the doctrine of God, or of any doctrine of religion, from the standpoint of Locke, involves most palpably the absurdity of attempting through the unknown to find the still more profoundly unknown. If we attempt, from the condition in which our philosopher has left us, to solve the problem of Being and its laws, or to determine the relations of our intelligence to that problem, but three roads are open to us.

Systems possibly deducible from the Principles of Locke.

1. Since the mass of our ideas do undeniably, according to this theory, come from sensation, we may assume that all do, and assume with Bacon, that the entire activity of the Intelligence is expended upon materials originally derived from this one source. We may then assume with Hobbes, and Materialists universally, that nothing but matter acting upon a material organization can induce sensation, and consequently originate ideas through sensation. From these assumptions we may draw the obvious and necessary deduction, that as nothing but matter and material forms and attributes can be known to mind, nothing but matter and its forms and laws must be included in our theory of existence. We cannot but know, if we carefully reflect upon the subject, that each of the assumptions on which the above deductions is based involves an infinite leap in logic. Yet Locke leaves us utterly powerless in the dead-lock of Materialism, inasmuch as he leaves us with no facts or arguments for the refutation of the dogmas of this system of fatal error.

2. From the fact affirmed as real by the theory of Locke, that we have no valid, nor even ' a bastard kind' of knowledge of matter, or of its forms or attributes, we may, with Berkeley and the Transcendentalists, deny utterly the existence of an external material universe, and resolve all being into spirit or its operations. Here two paths lie open before us. We may, with Berkeley, assume that God acts directly upon the mind, and thus induces all our sensations and external perceptions, no corresponding objects existing. This theory gives us a personal God, with man as a moral agent. Or we may assume, with Kant and his successors, that sensations, with all accompanying perceptions, are originated by 'the laws of nature.' We thus have a system of Ideal Naturalism, with God as 'a regulative idea,' or the unconscious 'principle of all things.' The theory of Locke leaves us utterly powerless to refute the deductions of Idealism in any form, on the one hand, or to verify the true system, on the other. The Bishop of Worcester, it is said, could never command his temper when arguing with Berkeley. The cause of this fact, the Bishop affirmed to be this, that while he absolutely knew that Berkeley was wrong, he could neither disprove the theory nor refute the arguments of that great thinker. Here is the result of embracing, as the Bishop of Woroester lead done, a theory which proves as equally powerless for the defence of truth as for the refutation of error.

3. From the admitted fact, as affirmed by the theory of Locke, that the main source and mass of all our ideas pertain wholly to shadowy forms instead of real existences as they are in themselves, we may assume with Hume, that as our Intelligence, in a vast majority of instances, is of uncertain validity, it is so in all cases, and thus deny the possibility of an actual knowledge of any reality whatever. This position of absolute and universal Scepticism is utterly impregnable against any assaults which can be made upon it from the standpoint of Locke. What court which would vindicate for itself the show of wisdom or integrity, would allow a witness to give testimony who had been proven to be an habitual liar in a vast majority of his utterances, even when under oath? Not Materialism, as Cousin affirms, nor Idealism, nor any positive system, but universal and blank Scepticism 'is the natural daughter of the system of Locke.' From the standpoint furnished by the theory of this philosopher but one deduction can be logically reached, namely, 'that all our knowledge is exclusively phenomenal,' of delusive appearances, 'and that the reality existing behind all appearance is, and ever must be, unknown.' Of the validity of this deduction from the principles of this theory, the most intelligent theologians who are yet in the meshes of the theory are distinctly aware. They have, consequently, fully assented to the doctrine which Kant has professedly demonstrated, to wit, that all positive systems are unsusceptible of verification by proof. Hence, argue those theologians, as the mind cannot rest satisfied with the Sceptical dogma, it must make its election between a given number of hypotheses, all being strictly equal as far as the matter of proof is concerned; and faith as required of us by our religion consists in assuming the truth of the Theistic and Christian hypothesis, when no rational evidence requires us to believe in this rather than in any of the others. No such faith as this, no form of assent which implies 'a leap in the dark,' is required of us in the Bible. 'If I had not come and spoken unto them, they had not had sin.' 'If I had not done among them the works which none other man did, they had not had sin.' 'But now have they both seen and hated both Me and My Father.' 'Because that which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath showed it unto them. For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse.' Christian faith is not blind assent, but voluntary consent and conformity to truth when made known to the mind. When our Philosophy leaves us equally powerless for the defence of truth and the refutation of error, reason demands that we repudiate that Philosophy.

Different Hypotheses in Respect to the Origin of Necessary Ideas, and of Self-evident, Universal, and Necessary Judgments in the Mind.

That necessary ideas, such as those of time, space, substance, and cause, and universal and necessary judgments, such as, Body implies space, Succession, time; Events, a cause; Qualities, substance; and Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another, do exist in the mind, and that these ideas and judgments were not derived from experience, as Locke affirmed, is now perhaps universally admitted by thinkers of all schools. Aside from the theory of Locke, which may now be considered as exploded, these specific solutions of the problem relatively to the origin and consequent character of these ideas and judgments require, in addition to what has before been said upon the subject, our special attention in this connection. We refer to the theory of Hume, Mill, and the Sceptical School in science—to that of Kant and the Transcendental School—and to that affirmed by the author of this Treatise, and the School of Realism. We will present and consider them in the order designated.

Hypothesis of Hume, Mill, and others of their School.

The hypothesis of Hume, Mill, and others, in respect to the origin of universal and necessary judgments (they say little or nothing of necessary ideas), is this. Under our observation and experience, events follow each other, sometimes in orderly succession, and in others in the relation of immediate and invariable antecedence and consequence. Hence we naturally expect, through the law of association, that such order will obtain in the future. The verification of such expectation induces the belief, at last, that the connection referred to is a necessary one. Hence the origin of the axiom, Every event must have a cause. According to this hypothesis, this and other principles should be held by different individuals, and by the same individuals, at different periods of life, with different degrees of certainty. The child, and savage, put the question, in the presence of any change whatever, What caused it? with a certainty as absolute that said event had some cause as the philosopher does. This relation of universal and necessary connection between the antecedent and consequent exists in respect to judgments about which no individual has had, or can have had, any experience whatever, and exists in a form just as absolute as in the case of judgments in respect to which observation and experience have been most extensive. Take the following as an example of others of a similar character, namely: It is impassible for the same thing, at the same moment, to exist and not to exist. Observation and experience in any form is, in such a case, absolutely out of the question. Yet we know, and cannot but know, as absolutely as in any conceivable case, that such judgment is and must be true, and that universally. An hypothesis which so palpably falsifies the truth in such palpable cases must be held as false universally. This hypothesis rationally accounts for the origin and character of no such judgment whatever.

Hypothesis of Kant, and of the Transcendental School.

The origin of these ideas and judgments, according to Kant and the Transcendental School is in this wise. When the feeling denominated sensation is, from any cause, induced in the mind, Reason, from laws inhering in itself, at once apprehends space, time, substance, cause, etc. These ideas, the first two especially, act upon the sensitive state referred to—the sensation, and thereby produce two results. In the first place, they cause this sensation to appear, not as a phenomenon of the subject which feels, but as a quality of an exterior object having extension, and form, and other qualities—an object existing wholly separate from the mind, and independent of it. Thus are originated our apprehensions of the external material universe. Through these same ideas, in the second place, this same sensation is made to appear, not as a quality of an exterior object having extension and form, but as a phenomenon exclusively of the subject which thinks, feels, and wills, an immaterial subject which has no extension or form. In this manner, all our subjective, or mind apprehensions, are originated. The ideas of space, time, substance, and cause represent no realities whatever, 'We deny to time,' says Kant, 'all claim to absolute reality.' 'We can therefore,' he adds, 'only from our point of view as men, speak of Space, Extended Beings, etc. If we abandon the subjective condition of which we alone can receive external intuition, that is to say, the way we may be affected by objects, the representation of space then means nothing.' 'Time and space,' he says again, 'cannot exist as phenomena in themselves, but only in us.' The ideas of time, space, substance, and cause, and the realities which these ideas represent, are as qualities, according to Kant and Transcendental thinkers, one and identical, and this is just what they expressly teach, affirming that such realities have no existence but as 'representations in the mind.' As these ideas exist prior to all perceptions of objects, and give existence and form to such perceptions and with these to all our apprehensions of realities objective and subjective, it follows, as Kant says, 'that things which we envisage' (behold) 'are not that in themselves for which we take them; neither are their relationships so constituted as they appear to us.' Nothing really exists, as we apprehend them, but the ideas referred to and sensations upon which these ideas act. Such is this Transcendental hypothesis, as presented by its ablest expounders, an hypothesis in respect to which we remark:

(1.) That it rests undeniably, as we have formerly shown, upon a fundamental psychological error. The realities represented by these ideas, those of space and time, for example, are apprehended as the condition of the possibility of body and succession, as implied by the same, and can be represented and defined but as such implied realities. To suppose that mind could have apprehended a reality which it can think of and define but as implied by some other object, before it had any perception or conception of the latter, is a most palpable contradiction and absurdity. If space and time were apprehended before body or succession were perceived or apprehended, then they might be represented in thought and defined with no reference to body or succession. But this, as we have shown elsewhere, is impossible. It is enough to say of this boasted hypothesis that it can by no possibility be true.

2. This Transcendental hypothesis makes Reason, the highest faculty known to this Philosophy, the organ, not of truth or self-consistency, but exclusively of the self-contradictory and absurd. This high faculty, according to this proud Philosophy, this 'intellectuelle Anschauung,' by which, we are told, we 'have an immediate knowledge of the absolute,' in reference to its most fundamental revelations, as 'the vision and faculty divine,' absolutely affirms and denies, of the same object, the same thing, and represents what is affirmed and denied, as at the same time equally true, and not true, of the same reality. This Reason, as these thinkers all affirm, first of all gives space and time as realities wholly exterior to all ideas and substances, and as necessarily existing, whether any other realities do or do not exist. Then this same Reason, as expounded by these same thinkers, affirms with the same absoluteness as before that these same realities exist as no exterior and necessary realities at all, but have being merely as ideas in the mind, that is, as mere contingent phenomena. What 'trick,' to borrow a term from Kant, will this Reason next play upon us?

3. According to this, the basis hypothesis of Transcendentalism, the Intelligence itself, in all its processes, is a self-convicted 'liar from the beginning.' Throughout the wide domain of thought, not an object appears in respect to which the Intelligence, as expounded by this Philosophy, does not absolutely, and in the same sense, affirm and deny the same things. Space and time, as we have seen, are given as realities, and non-realities in themselves; as exclusive exterior and interior existences; and their ideas as necessary and contingent phenomena. Matter is given as an exterior and interior reality, as a real exterior object having actual weight, extension, and form, and as a mere sensation, void wholly of all such qualities, and all objects are 'taken' as being, and not-being, 'that for which we take them.' Mind is, by mind itself, 'taken as being that in itself for which we take it,' and then as 'not being that in itself for which we take it.' In reply, it may be said that these contradictions arise from the different lines on which the Intelligence moves in its natural and scientific processes. In the former process, the Intelligence 'takes things as being that in themselves for which it takes them.' In the latter process, it 'takes the same things as not being that in themselves for which it takes them.' If any person, will, with the philosopher 'put himself into a state of not-knowing,' and then 'philosophize,' he will, in that state of 'scientific Scepticism to which he voluntarily determines himself,' understand this whole matter. We must remember here that the Intelligence can, by no possibility, 'put itself into a state of not-knowing,' or 'determine itself to a scientific Scepticism' in respect to any facts which it has presented to itself as real. This, as admitted by these philosophers, is done, not by the Intelligence, but exclusively by the Will. To philosophize according to such a method, is simply to ignore and repudiate one class of facts which the Intelligence affirms to be real, and then to compel it to construct systems from the class which the will dictates. If this is philosophizing, we have no desire to be classed with the philosophers—philosophers who, when they enter upon the domain of Philosophy, always leave their 'better sense' behind them, 'to laugh and wonder at them' when they return back to their proper selves. No deduction can be verified in science, if this Kantian and Transcendental hypothesis does not stand revealed as a demonstrated error.

The Realistic Hypothesis.

According to the Realistic hypothesis, that maintained by the author of this Treatise, necessary ideas never are, or can be, originated in the mind prior to contingent ones. The former, on the other hand, in the order of origination, always succeed, instead of precede, the latter; and are occasioned by, and sustain to, the latter the fixed relation of implied forms of knowledge. In the axioms, identical and explicative judgments excepted, these two classes of ideas are always conjoined, the subject representing the contingent, and the predicate the necessary form of thought, and the former always implying the latter. The primary faculties of the Intelligence are not merely two, as Locke affirms, but three—Consciousness, the organ of subjective; Sense, the organ of objective; and Reason, the organ of implied knowledge. When facts are perceived through either or both of the faculties first named, Reason apprehends the reality, or realities, implied by the facts referred to. Thus the mind attains to the apprehension of all contingent facts, and to the possession of all necessary ideas, and thus becomes possessed of the entire elements of all its knowledges in all their actual and possible forms. The Judgment now intervenes, and in its primary procedures intuitively affirms the necessary relations between perceived facts and the realities implied by said facts. Thus we obtain the axioms and all forms of original implied judgments, such as, Body implies Space; Succession, time; Phenomena, substance; Events, a cause; Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another.

This hypothesis speaks for itself. No person can distinctly apprehend it and contemplate it in the light of all actual facts of human thought, without being absolutely conscious in himself that it is and must be true. It is undeniably compatible with all the facts under consideration, explains them all, and by them all is affirmed as valid—fundamental particulars in which all other hypotheses totally fail. True science, in all its forms, has its basis in ascertained principles of self-evident, universal, and necessary validity, and all systems not based upon such principles take rank in the sphere of 'science falsely so called.'

Philosophical Systems deduced from the Theory of Locke.

The history of science presents no single production which, from its first publication, excited so much interest, and became the subject of such universal discussion, as 'the Essay on the Human Understanding.' Unbelievers of all schools saw in it what they regarded as the certain means of establishing their own theories, on the one hand, and overthrowing the Christian Religion on the other. Christian thinkers, on the other hand, were divided in opinion in regard to the logical consequences of the principles set forth in the work. Some assaulted those principles as utterly subversive of truth, and others advocated them as laying the foundation for the utter overthrow of error in all its forms. We propose to consider the systems to which the Essay under consideration gave rise, and begin with the—

Systems of Materialism deduced from the Theory of locke.

In England the doctrine of Materialism was not connected with the open avowal of Atheism, as it was particularly in France. English infidels, on the other hand, generally assumed the name of Deists, not denying, in form, the being of God, but openly assailing the claims of the Christian Religion.

Materialism in England.

'It was Locke,' says Lord Shaftesbury, 'that struck at all fundamentals, threw all order and virtue out of the world, and made the very ideas of these (which are the same as those of God) unnatural and without foundation in our minds.' From this unsettled state of thought, Christianity was soon assailed from various quarters. Collins laid out all the strength of his acute mind in establishing the doctrine of Necessity, and that as a means of subverting from its foundations the entire system of Christian Morals and religion. Such thinkers as Dodwell and Priestley, at a later day, boldly avowed the doctrine of Materialism, the latter affirming, in the language of Mr. Morell, that 'thought and sensation are essentially the same thing, that the whole variety of our ideas, however abstract and refined they may become, are nevertheless but modifications of the sensational faculty.' Mandeville, accepting the doctrines of Locke that there are no innate ideas in the mind, based upon the assumption a denial of all moral distinctions.

The author, however, who more fully than others gave form and system to the sensational hypothesis in the direction of Materialism, was David Hartley (1705—1757). At the basis of his theory, Hartley laid down two assumptions—'that ideas of sensation are the elements of which all others are compounded,' and 'that reflection is not a distinct source [of ideas] as Locke makes it.' As we derive from sensation a knowledge of nothing but matter, the principles of our author allow us to assume nothing to be real but this one exclusive substance. As Hartley denied free will, and affirmed matter to be the only object of thought and reflection, thinking and feeling must, according to his theory, consist of certain forms of material activity. This deduction he openly avowed, representing thought and feeling to consist in certain 'vibrations of the nerves in an oscillating nervous ether.' Our author does not affirm that certain states of the brain and nervous system precede thought and feeling, but that thought, feeling, and willing, and 'nervous oscillations in a vibratory ether' are one and identical. All we mean, then, by the words I think, I feel, I will, is that certain vibratory motions have occurred in our nerves and brain. How true is the maxim of Hobbes, that to 'man belongs the exclusive privilege of absurdity,' and 'of men those are of all most subject to it that profess Philosophy.' 'There may be,' said a writer in the Edinburgh Review, 'little shakings in the brain for anything we know, and there may even be shakings of a different kind accompanying every act of thought or perception; but that the shakings themselves are the thoughts or perceptions we are so far from admitting, that we find it impossible to comprehend what can be meant by the assertion.' Equally unmeaning is the assertion of modern scientists, that thoughts and feelings consist in 'certain molecular changes in the matter of life.' Nervous vibrations and molecular changes are one thing, a thought-representation of such vibrations and changes is quite another matter; and the scientist that confounds the two classes of facts, and makes them one and identical, must possess 'the privilege of absurdity' in its most monstrous form.

The absurdity of such an identification, Hartley himself saw and confessed. 'Matter and motion,' he says, 'however subtly divided or reasoned upon, yield nothing but matter and motion still.' The same holds true of 'molecular changes in the matter of life.' 'Divide and reason upon' them as we will, they are nothing but molecular changes still. Let anyone attempt to conceive of such vibrations and molecular changes, 'in a whitish half fluid substance like custard, particles in such a substance' changing their places a little, moving a little up or down, to the right or to the left, round about or zigzag, or in some other course or direction, 'let anyone attempt to conceive of such changes, not as accompanying, but as constituting thought, feeling, and willing, and he will find his mind in a state of dizzy bewilderment, properly represented as the 'antithesis to that in which a man is when he makes a bull.' In other words, he will feel, and rightly too, as if he were standing on his head and making a fool of himself. Hence, while Hartley admitted that his theory of vibrations was destructive of all arguments 'usually brought for the soul's immateriality from the subtlety of the internal senses and of the rational faculty,' he nevertheless desired that 'he might not in any way be interpreted so as to oppose the immateriality of the soul.' So Priestly, the disciple of Hartley, while he stoutly defended the dogma of Materialism, lived and died in the full belief of the immortality of the soul. In our day we have a repetition of the same absurdity. Mr. Huxley, for example, affirms absolutely that thought is nothing but 'the expression of molecular changes in the matter of life,' and as surely as every future grows out of past and present, so will the physiology of the future gradually extend the realm of matter and law until it is co-extensive with knowledge, with feeling, and with action,' and yet affirms as absolutely that he is not a Materialist, and that, as a dogma, Materialism is, of almost all others, most absurd. Those who affirm as truths of science such absurdities, will not long be regarded as central lights in the high sphere of 'knowledge systematized.'

Materialism in France.

The country in which the Materialistic tendency of the theory of Locke had most influence was France. Here individuals who justly rank among the leading thinkers of that age, seized upon the single principle of the Empirical Philosophy, the principle which lies at the basis of Materialism in all ages, and deduced from that principle its entire logical consequences in ontology, religion, and morals. French Materialists seem not to have very distinctly agitated the question whether our knowledge of matter is direct and immediate, or indirect and mediate. The most of them, however, appear to have taken for granted, without explanation or discussion, the doctrine of Locke, that we do know this substance through certain images, or media. The principle in which they all concurred as self-evidently true is the assumption, that all our knowledge is through sensation, and consists of 'sensation transformed,' that nothing but a material cause can originate sensation, that nothing but matter can be to the mind an object of knowledge, and, consequently, that no other substance must be taken into the account in the construction of our system of Being and its laws. As the system and method of all these thinkers are in all essential particulars the same, we shall refer but to a sufficient number of individuals to enable us to present, in distinct and definite forms, said system and method. Here we shall find ourselves within the proper sphere of the 'Sensational School.'

Condillac (1715-1780).

The individual who first gave form and system to the 'Sensational Doctrine,' and thus laid the foundation of the 'Sensational School' in France, was Condillac. 'The chief object' of his great work, 'Traité des Sensations,' as he himself affirms, 'is to show how all our knowledge and all our faculties are derived from the senses; or, to speak more accurately, from sensations.' With great approbation, he cites the maxim attributed to Aristotle: 'Nothing is in the intellect which was not previously in the senses.' 'Immediately after Aristotle,' he says, 'comes Locke; for the other philosophers who have written on this subject are not worthy of mention. This Englishman has certainly thrown great light on the subject, but he left some obscurity. All the faculties of the soul appeared to him to be innate qualities, but he never suspected they might be derived from sensation itself.' 'Locke,' he says again, 'distinguishes two sources of ideas—sense and reflection. It would be more exact to recognize but one; first, because reflection is, in its principle, nothing but sensation itself; secondly, because it is less a source of ideas than a canal through which they flow from sense. This inexactitude, slight as it may seem, has thrown much obscurity over his system. He contents himself with recognizing that the soul perceives, thinks, doubts, believes, reasons, reflects; that we are convinced of the existence of these operations, because we find them in ourselves, and they contribute to the progress of our knowledge; but he did not perceive the necessity of discovering their origin and the principle of their generation—he did not suspect that they might only be acquired habits; he seems to have regarded them as innate, and says only that they may be perfected by exercise.' In the following proposition we have a full and distinct statement of the peculiar doctrine of this philosopher, and of the hypothesis, on the validity or non-validity of which, Materialism itself, in all its forms, must stand or fall. 'Judgment, reflection, the passions—in a word, all the faculties of the mind, are nothing but sensation which transforms itself differently.'

We have now before us the fundamental doctrine of this author, and with him of Materialism universally, 'that all the faculties of the mind are nothing but sensation which transforms itself differently.' The manner in which this transformation is made, we give in the words of Condillac as translated by Mr. Lewes: 'If a multitude of sensations operate at the same time with the same degree of vivacity, or nearly so, man is then only an animal that feels; experience suffices to convince us that then the multitude of impressions takes away all activity from the mind. But let only one sensation subsist, or, without entirely dismissing the others, let us only diminish their force; the mind is at once occupied more particularly with the sensation which preserves its activity, and that sensation becomes attention, without its being necessary for us to suppose anything else in the mind. If a new sensation acquire greater vivacity than the former, it will become in its turn attention. But the greater the force the former had, the deeper the impression made on us, and the longer it is preserved. Experience proves this. Our capacity of sensation is therefore divided into the sensation we have had, and the sensation which we now have; we perceive them both at once, but we perceive them differently: the one seems as past, the other as present. The name of sensation designates the actual impression made upon the senses; and it takes that of memory when it presents itself to us as a sensation which has formerly been felt. Memory, therefore, is only the transformed sensation. When there is double attention there is comparison; for to be attentive to two ideas, or to compare them, is the same thing. But we cannot compare them without perceiving some difference or resemblance between them; to perceive such relations is to judge. The acts of comparing and judging are, then, only attention; it is thus that sensation becomes necessarily attention, comparison, judgment.' As sensation is common to man and the brute, and differs in them only in number and degree, the difference between man and the brute, according to this theory, is rightly stated by its author, namely, 'Men are perfect animals; brutes are imperfect men,' or in the more perfected vocabulary of Darwinianism, Man is a monkey transformed.

The Sensational Hypothesis as stated by Diderot.

Diderot, one of Condillac's celebrated followers, thus expresses his apprehension of this Sensational Hypothesis. We give the statement as translated by Dugald Stewart. 'Every idea must necessarily, when brought into its state of ultimate decomposition, resolve itself into a sensible representation, or picture; and since everything in the understanding has been introduced there by the channel of sensation, whatever proceeds out of the understanding is either chimerical, or must be able, in returning by the same road, to re-establish itself according to its sensible archetype. Hence an important rule in Philosophy, That every expression which cannot find an external and sensible object to which it can thus establish its affinity, is destitute of signification.'

Helvetius (1715-1771), D'Halbach (1723-1778), and

La Mettrie (1709-1751).

Through the individuals named above Materialism was fully developed to its final deductions. Assuming that in the sphere of the intelligence there can be nothing but sensations simple or transformed, Helvetius affirmed that there can be, within the sphere of the Will, no motive for action but bodily pleasure or pain. Animalism is, therefore, the exclusive law of human conduct. That which conduces to pleasurable sensations is right, and that which induces painful ones is wrong. 'Hence,' he says, 'if morality would not be wholly fruitless, it must return to its empirical basis, and venture to adopt the true principle of all acting, viz., sensuous pleasure and pain.'

We give the doctrines of D'Halbach in the language of a French historian, in the 'Epitome of the History of Philosophy:'—Thought is but the faculty of feeling, and sensation corresponds to nothing but sensible things. All idea of spiritual beings is, therefore, destitute of any basis.

The senses discover to us nothing in the universe but matter endowed with certain properties and motions, which is essential to it, since matter is the only existence.

All particular beings are nothing but the different combinations which motion produces in matter.

The moving force is developed in various degrees. Besides the combination designated by the term rude bodies, it produces also another combination which constitutes organized beings, and developing itself still farther, produces effective sensibility, which is only the effect of a certain kind of organization.

All human actions are the necessary result either of the internal motion of the organization, or of external motion by which they are modified.

'The last word of Materialism,' says Schwegler, 'was spoken with reckless audacity by La Mettrie, a cotemporary of Diderot'—to wit, 'Everything spiritual is a delusion, and physical enjoyment is the highest end of man. Faith in the existence of God is just as groundless as it is useless. The world will not be happy till Atheism becomes universally established.' 'In reference to the human soul, there can be no Philosophy but Materialism. All observation and experience of the greatest philosophers and physicians declare this. Soul is nothing but a mere name, which has a rational signification only when we understand by it that part of the body which thinks. This is the brain, which has its muscles of thought, just as the limbs have their muscles of motion. That which gives man his advantage over the brute is: first, the organization of his brain; and second, its capacity for receiving instruction. Otherwise is man a brute like the beasts around him, though in many respects surpassed by them. Immortality is an absurdity. The soul perishes with the body of which it forms a part. With death everything is over.' Hence the motto of French Materialism, 'Death is an eternal sleep.'

That which peculiarizes Modern Materialism.

In the above expositions, the principles and characteristics of the system are so clearly marked, that further expositions are uncalled for. That which, in a special form, distinguishes modern from ancient Materialism, is the fact that the latter had generally an á priori, whilst the former has a psychological basis. Ancient Materialism assumed, first of all, the existence of but one substance, and then leaped to the conclusion that this substance is matter. Modern Materialism, on the other hand, has professedly a psychological basis, the assumption that all ideas in the mind were derived from one exclusive source—sensation, and that knowledge, in its ultimate forms, is nothing but 'sensation transformed.' The ultimate deduction is, that as nothing is to the mind an object of knowledge but matter and material forms, nothing but this substance can, on scientific grounds, be included in our theory of existence. It is undeniable, that between premise and conclusion, in this case, a strictly necessary relation obtains. As science is 'knowledge systematized,' nothing but the validly known can be legitimately included in our systems of Being and its laws.

Another peculiarity of modern Materialism is the fact, that it almost entirely ignores the great problem about which the ancient system concerned itself. We refer to the admitted fact of the organization of the universe as an event occurring in time. As we formerly stated, the ancient system handed down to the modern this problem unsolved, and the latter utterly declines to take the problem up. Yet it lies directly across the path of all deductions in the direction of the system. The common admission, not only of the race, but of philosophers of all schools, as well as the common deduction of all the sciences bearing upon the subject, is the non-eternity of the present order of things. If we postulate the existence of an infinite and perfect personal God, and His will as the law of the universe, then all the facts of this universe are perfectly explicable. As this hypothesis does fully and perfectly explain all the facts, no form or degree, as we have formerly shown, of real proof, positive evidence, or antecedent probability, can be adduced against this hypothesis, and in favour of any other. Any one fact, on the other hand, clearly explicable on this hypothesis, and inexplicable on every other, absolutely verifies the former as true, and all others as false. The problem under consideration does, undeniably, present just such a fact. Matter with its inhering laws being given as the sole existence, matter in a nebulous, or any other unorganized state, and we can no more account, from such data, for the present order of things, than we can for an event without a cause. We might, as we have done in former connections, refer to other facts equally fatal to this system. The most that can be said of the Materialistic hypothesis is this: that it stands before the world as a mere assumption in favour of which no form or degree of real proof, positive evidence, or antecedent probability can be adduced, and against which the most absolute forms of disproof may be adduced.

The characteristic common to Materialism in all ages, and in all its forms, is the total absence of all show of proof or real argument. By ancient and modern Idealism, in its Pantheistic form especially, as we have seen, we are distinctly informed that we must begin with the assumption, 'It is, It is,' that is, with the assumption that but one substance, or principle of all things, does exist, and that that substance is 'the All-One,' or 'the Absolute,' or 'we cannot take the first step in speculative science.' In other words, ancient and modern Idealism does not even attempt to prove itself true, but begins and ends with the broad, and naked, and lawless assumption, that it alone is true, and all other systems false. Standing outside the sphere of Transcendental thought, you must blindly assume, that all within that sphere is true, and all out side of it false, or your entrance is for ever barred. Such, as we have seen, and shall see more fully hereafter, are the express teachings of the great central lights of the system.

The same holds equally with Materialism. Standing with Kanada, Democritus and Epicurus, outside the system, you must, with them, assume as a self-evident axiom that but one substance exists, and that that substance is matter, or you cannot enter their temple and worship at their altar. Standing with Hobbes, Hartley, Priestley, Condillac, and Diderot outside the same system in its modern form, you must, with them, blindly assume that all knowledge is of sensation, and can be nothing else than 'sensation transformed,' and then take, as they did, an infinite leap to the deduction that matter only is real, or you can have 'no part nor lot' with their thinking. You will search in vain throughout all the multitudinous productions of such thinkers for anything in the form of careful psychological analysis, or of corresponding induction from facts of consciously valid knowledge. You will, on the other hand, find the most imperious dogmatisms, and that without number, multitudinous assumptions systematized, facts without number lawlessly assumed, ignored, or denied, as existing exigency demands, and an infinity of affirmed scientific deductions, which are manifestly nothing but infinite leaps in logic. On a careful examination of the productions of these thinkers, you will find this evidence that all are wrong, that no one is satisfied of the validity of the Materialistic argument as presented by any individual but himself. 'I have consulted our philosophers,' says Bassean, than whom none was better able to judge of the facts of the case, 'I have perused their books, I have examined their several opinions, I have found them all proud, positive, and dogmatizing, even in their pretended Scepticism; knowing everything, proving nothing, and ridiculing one another; and this is the only point in which they concur and in which they are right. Daring when they attack, they defend themselves without vigour. If you consider their arguments, they have none but for destruction. If you count their number, each one is reduced to himself; they never unite but to dispute.' 'Each of them knows that his system is not better established than the others; but he supports it because it is his own: there is not one among them who, coming to distinguish truth from falsehood, would not prefer his own error to the truth that is discovered by another.' 'Where is the philosopher who, for his own glory, would not willingly deceive the whole human race?' 'They overturn, destroy, and trample under foot, all that mankind reveres; snatch from the afflicted the only comfort left them in their misery, from the rich and great the only curb that can restrain their passions; tear from the heart all remorse of vice, all hopes of virtue, and still boast themselves the benefactors of mankind. "Truth," say they, "is not hurtful to man." I believe that as well as they; and the same in my opinion is proof that what they teach is not the truth.'

The Doctrine of Idealism, as Developed from the Principles of Locke, by Berkeley (1685-1753).

To do full justice to any thinker we must discriminate between his doctrines and his principles. In doctrine, Locke was a Realist, a Theist, and a Christian. He distinctly avowed a belief in the real existence of Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, and consequently taught the doctrine of God, Duty, Immortality, and Retribution. In respect to matter, for example, he made a distinction between its primary and secondary qualities, and distinctly taught that our ideas of the former do correspond with what really exists in bodies. 'The ideas of primary qualities of bodies,' he says, 'are resemblances of them; and their patterns do really exist in the bodies themselves; but the ideas produced in us by these secondary qualities have no resemblance of them at all.' Nor has any thinker ever more distinctly and positively affirmed the existence of the soul or spirit as distinct from matter. The same remark is equally applicable to his faith in God. 'There is no truth,' he says, 'which a man may more evidently make out to himself than the existence of a God. Again, 'It is as certain that there is a God as that the opposite angles made by the intersection of two straight lines are equal.' Equally distinct and positive are his avowals in respect to all the doctrines above designated. While he avowed all these forms of belief, he also taught principles utterly subversive of such beliefs. He taught, in the first place, that our knowledge of realities is not, in any form, direct and immediate, but exclusively indirect and mediate. 'It is evident,' he says, 'that the mind knows not things immediately, but only by the intervention of ideas it has of them.'

It was quite natural that individuals of the Materialistic tendencies of Hartley, Priestley, Helvetius, and Condillac, should deduce from Locke's doctrine of sensation the dogma of Materialism. It was equally natural that minds of such Idealistic tendencies as Berkeley, in their revulsions especially from the logical consequences of Materialism, should deduce from Locke's doctrine of ideas a system of Christian Idealism. Ideas and their relations, Locke taught, are to us the only possible objects of valid knowledge. Here Berkeley stepped in and affirmed, that as ideas and their relations are the only realities perceived and known to exist, we are bound to infer they alone do exist. If we inquire for the cause or origin of our ideas, two hypotheses present themselves—that they are produced in us by objects from without—or are created by the direct agency of God Himself. As one of these hypotheses must be, and but one can be, true, Berkeley inferred the validity of the latter, as being, of the two, most rational and most fully accordant with conscious facts. Ideas we know to be real. Of matter and its forms we know and can know nothing. Nor can we find anything in matter, as we conceive of it, and we have no knowledge respecting it but through our conceptions, any adaptation to originate ideas. Nor can we conceive of any reality not possessed of ideas, as capacitated to originate them, and establish their relations and laws. We will give the theory of this thinker in his own words. The existence in the mind of ideas of an external world all admit. The intuitive conviction of the race, that of philosophers of all schools included, is that such a world does exist in fact. The only universe which does exist, according to Berkeley and all Idealists, is the ideas themselves. 'I am not for changing things into ideas,' he says, making ideas represent things, he should have said, 'but rather ideas into things; since those immediate objects of perception, which, according to you' (the disciples of Locke) 'are only appearances of things, I take to be the real things themselves.' 'It is indeed,' he adds, in another connection, 'an opinion strongly prevailing amongst men that houses, mountains, rivers, and, in a word, all sensible objects have an existence, natural or real, distinct from their being perceived by the understanding.' 'This,' Mr. Lewes rightly affirms, 'is striking a false key-note. It rouses the reader to oppose a coming paradox.' The reason why a false 'key-note' is struck by such an utterance is, that the said utterance sets distinctly before the mind Idealism as it is. Men do believe that 'houses, mountains, rivers, and, in a word, all sensible objects have an existence, natural or real, distinct from their being perceived by the understanding.' They thus believe because they are absolutely conscious of directly and immediately perceiving, and consequently knowing them thus to exist; and when their real existence is denied, all men intuitively, philosophers as well as others, recognize the denial not as a paradox, but as an absurdity. We have now to do, however, with the doctrines of Berkeley, and not with the question of their validity. That he does identify objects with ideas all admit, and in this identification, as Mr. Lewes rightly remarks, lies 'the kernel of his system.' 'For what are the objects,' asks Berkeley, 'but the things which we perceive by Sense?' 'And what, I pray you,' he adds, 'do we perceive besides our own ideas or sensations?' We have a ready answer to each of these questions, an answer which convicts the questioner of a very palpable psychological blunder. In every act of external perception, we are absolutely conscious of the act, as a phenomenon of the percipient subject—the me; and of the object perceived, as a quality not of the subject, but of an exterior substance, having real extension and form, and consequently existing without and independent of the mind. Hence all men, philosophers included, do and must believe 'that houses, mountains, rivers, in a word, all sensible objects,' do thus exist. 'In our perceptive Consciousness,' says Sir Wm. Hamilton, 'there is revealed, as an ultimate fact, a self, and a not-self, each given as independent—each known only in antithesis to the other. No belief is more intuitive, universal, immediate, or irresistible; no belief, therefore, is more true. If the belief be illusive, self and not-self, subject and object, I and thou, are distinctions without a difference, and Consciousness, so far from being an internal voice of our Creator is shown to be, like Satan, "a liar from the beginning."' This is just what Idealism, in all its forms, makes the Intelligence to be, 'a liar from the beginning.' The system takes position in the centre of the sphere of the Intelligence, and affirms the knowing faculty itself to be a lie.

While Berkeley asserted that we perceive nothing but 'our own ideas or sensations,' he also maintained that we do actually perceive the objects which we are conscious of perceiving. 'That the things I see with my eyes,' he says, 'and touch with my hands, do exist, really exist, I make not the least question. The only thing whose existence I deny is that which philosophers call matter, or corporeal substance. And in doing this there is no damage done to the rest of mankind, who, I dare say, will never miss it.' It is very true that mankind will never miss corporeal substances because philosophers deny their existence. The reason is obvious; they never will and never can credit such denials, and philosophers will as absolutely discredit their own denials as the rest of the race. The real difference, then, as stated by Idealists of all schools, between them and the rest of mankind is this—we do have real perceptions of real objects, and the objects perceived as real do exist. Mankind affirm that these objects, being perceived to be such, are in reality 'houses, mountains, rivers, in a word, sensible forms,' forms distinct from the percipient subject. The Idealist, on the other hand, affirms that these really existing and really perceived objects 'are not that in themselves for which we take them,' but mere 'ideas or sensation' existing nowhere but in the percipient subject. The men, for example, who saw Baalam astride of his beast did really see the object they supposed themselves to see. The objects perceived, however, were not a real man astride a real animal, but a real idea or sensation astride a real idea or sensation. No philosopher can show that we have in the remotest degree caricatured the doctrine of the Idealist, as he avows it; and if he should prove that we have done so, he would prove, not that we have misrepresented a real man—no man, in the express words of his system, being 'that in himself for which we take him'—all that we can be charged with, and all that can be proved against us, according to the system, is a false idea of an idea or sensation, existing nowhere but in our own idea, to which alone we are accountable.

Metaphysical Phantom of Professor Ferrier.

We are now prepared to appreciate the representation of the character of the doctrine of the real existence of a material universe, as set forth by Professor Ferrier of Aberdeen, Scotland. This belief, he assures us, is 'a metaphysical phantom of the brain,' and the world believed in is 'a crotchet-world of philosophers.' In reply, we would say that this belief, instead of being 'a metaphysical phantom of the brain,' must stand or fall with our belief in the existence of the human race. Take away this universe, and with it you annihilate the human race. If this world is 'a metaphysical phantom of the brain,' 'a crotchet-world of philosophers,' so are all apparent vitalized forms upon it. I have, and can have, no other evidence of the existence of any other human being but myself, excepting what is furnished by and through and as existing in 'sensible shows of things' around me. If these 'shows' are nothing but 'ideas or sensations,' in my own mind, what becomes of the minds which seemingly actuate these 'sensible shows of things'? Does a world of rational spirits really inhabit my sensations? Then, let us no longer doubt that myriads of angels can stand together upon the point of a sensation—the point which constitutes the 'sensible show' of the point of a needle. We hold fast our beliefs in a material universe, because we must do so, or relinquish all faith in the actual existence of the human race. For the same reason, we hold that the doctrine of Idealism, which identifies this world with our 'ideas or sensations,' is, and can be, nothing else than 'a metaphysical phantom' and 'crotchet-world' of the brain of a crazy Philosophy.

The Attempt to identify the Doctrine of Idealism with 'the Ordinary Belief of Mankind.'

'Unfortunately for critics,' says Mr. Lewes, 'Berkeley did not contradict the evidence of the senses—did not propound a theory at variance in this point with the ordinary belief of mankind. His peculiarity is that he confined himself exclusively to the evidence of the senses. What the senses informed him of, that, and that only, would he accept. He held fast to the facts of consciousness; he placed himself resolutely in the centre of the instinctive belief of mankind; there he took his stand, leaving to philosophers the region of supposition, inferences, and of occult substances.' 'He [Berkeley] therefore,' says Professor Ferrier, 'sided with the vulgar, who require no distinction between the reality and the appearance of objects, and repudiating the baseless hypothesis of a world existing unknown and unperceived, he resolutely maintained that what are called the sensible shows of things are the very things themselves.' 'What mankind believe that they see,' says Coleridge, 'is the table, and not a shadow between themselves and a real table which is not perceived.' Similar representations are made by Idealists universally. All agree with Berkeley in the assertion 'that the things which I see with my eyes and touch with my hands do exist—really exist, I make not the least question. The only thing whose existence I deny is that which philosophers call Matter, or corporeal substance.' Thus Idealists would have us understand that in the question of external perception, and belief of an external world, they agree with the race, and disagree with philosophers. Permit us right here to ask these Idealists, and that in serious earnestness, the following questions:—Do not the race believe in the real existence of an external material world, and do they not, in this respect, fundamentally differ from you? Do not all mankind regard sensations as exclusively subjective states; and not qualities of external material substances? Do not you regard these same sensations as, not only subjective and sensitive states, but as the only qualities of sensible forms which we do perceive? Do not all mankind intuitively distinguish between their own sensations and 'sensible forms,' or material objects, which they consciously perceive? Do not all mankind regard sensation as a feeling of the mind, and perception—external perception I now refer to especially—as an exclusively intellectual state? In other words, do not all the race intuitively recognize perception as an act of the Intelligence, and sensation as a state of the sensibility? Again, do not all mankind intuitively recognize the object of external perception, not as a Sensation, but as a quality of an exterior object having real extension and form? In other words, is not the act of external perception always attended with the distinct consciousness that while the act of perception is a phenomenon of the me, the object perceived is a not-me? Is not this what every man means when he says, I perceive that man, that ox, that house, that mountain yonder? Do not, then, mankind believe in an exterior, material universe, because they are intuitively conscious of a direct and immediate perception of such reality, as distinct and separate from the perceiving subject? Can any proposition, we ask finally, be more false than the dogma that the Idealistic doctrine of perception, in opposition to the teachings of Realistic philosophers, accords with the ordinary and instinctive belief of mankind'?

The Sceptical Deductions from the Principles of Locke. David Hume (1711-1776).

According to Locke, as we have seen, all our knowledge of 'things without us' is exclusively indirect and mediate through sensation or mental images. We have already contemplated the distinct and opposite deductions of Materialism and Idealism—deductions based upon this assumption—an assumption equally compatible, as we have also seen, with three distinct and mutually incompatible hypotheses—Materialism, Idealism and Realism. A quite common mistake in regard to the teachings of Locke demands special attention in this connection. While he did maintain that our knowledge of matter is indirect and mediate, he did teach that we do have a knowledge, direct and immediate, of the actual operations of mind. While, therefore, his principle of external perception did not allow him to admit that matter is directly and immediately perceived by us as having extension and form, he did hold that we have a direct and immediate consciousness of the validity of the judgments, I think, I feel, and I will. Locke furnished us with no basis for doubt in respect to mind.

Error, however, having, on the principle of Locke, swung round through Materialism and Idealism, finally, as in past ages, landed in universal Scepticism. This consummation was reached by that great thinker, David Hume. Locke had affirmed that our knowledge of external nature, or of matter, is indirect and mediate, and does not, in reality, extend beyond sensation. Hume extended the same principle to mind. The argument of this thinker is thus very concisely and correctly expressed by Mr. Lewes. 'All that we have any experience of is impressions and ideas. The substance of which these are supposed to be impressions is occult—is a mere inference; the substance in which these impressions are supposed to be, is equally occult—is a mere inference. Matter is but a collection of impressions. Mind is but a succession of impressions and ideas.

Thus was Berkeley's dogmatic Idealism converted into Scepticism. Hume, speaking of Berkeley, says, 'Most of the writings of that very ingenious philosopher form the best lessons of Scepticism which are to be found either among the ancient or modern philosophers, Boyle not excepted. He professes, however, in his title page' (and undoubtedly with great truth), 'to have composed his book against the Sceptics, as well as against the Atheists and Freethinkers. But that all his arguments, though otherwise intended, are in reality merely Sceptical, appears from this, that they admit of no answer and produce no conviction.'

In the definition of Scepticism incidentally given in the passage above cited, Hume did not speak at random; but most deliberately announced the system as it is. This thinker, like all men of his school, is to be contemplated from two distinct and opposite standpoints—as a philosopher of a certain sort, and as a man. In the former relation, he held that all our knowledge is of mere subjective 'impressions and ideas,' and that the realities, or substances, to which these 'impressions and ideas' are supposed to pertain as objects and subjects, are and ever must be occult, that is, unknowable and unknown. In the latter relation, that is, in the natural or normal state of his Intelligence, he never did, and never could, for a single moment give credence to the deductions of his own Philosophy. The sceptical argument, from his so-called philosophical standpoint, appeared to 'admit of no answer.' Yet that every argument did, even in his own mind, 'produce no conviction' which could for a moment remain after thought had returned to its normal state. On this subject, Mr. Hume's utterances are most distinct and explicit. Speaking of his own sceptical argument, he says, 'Should it be asked me whether I sincerely assent to this argument which I seem to take such pains to inculcate, and whether I be really one of those sceptics who hold that all is uncertain, and that our judgment is not in any thing possessed of any measure of truth or falsehood, I should reply that this question is entirely superfluous, and that neither I nor any other person was ever sincerely and constantly of that opinion.' (Very truly said, Mr. Hume. You have presented arguments to induce us to believe what you yourself affirm, that neither 'you nor any other person does sincerely and constantly believe,' arguments which, as you anticipate and affirm, will 'produce no conviction' in our minds whenever they are in their natural or normal state.) 'Nature,' Mr. Hume goes on to say, 'by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us to judge as well as to breathe and feel; nor can we any more forbear viewing certain objects in a stronger and fuller light upon account of their customary connection with a present impression, than, we can hinder ourselves from thinking as long as we are awake, or seeing surrounding bodies when we turn our eyes toward them in broad sunshine. Whoever has taken pains to refute the cavils of this total Scepticism has really disputed without an antagonist, and endeavoured by arguments to establish a faculty which nature has antecedently implanted in the mind and rendered unavoidable.' 'Thus the Sceptic,' he adds, 'still continues to reason and believe, even though he asserts that he cannot defend his reason by reason; and by the same rule he must assent to the principle concerning the existence of body, though he cannot pretend by any arguments of Philosophy to maintain its veracity. Nature has not left this to his choice, and has doubtless esteemed it an affair of too great importance to be trusted to our uncertain reasonings and speculations. We may well ask, What causes induce us to believe in body? but 'tis in vain. Whether there be body or not, that is a point which we must take for granted in all our reasonings.'

Mr. Hume now goes on to show, that while the faith of the Universal Intelligence in the validity of its knowledge of realities, which, as he has shown, cannot be shaken by argument, 'is soon destroyed by the slightest Philosophy,' this very all-destructive Philosophy cannot itself be verified by 'a chain of clear and convincing argument, or even by any appearance of argument.' 'Men,' he says, 'are carried by natural instinct and prepossession to repose faith in their senses. When they follow this blind and powerful instinct of nature, they always suppose the very images presented to the senses to be external objects, and never entertain the suspicion that the one are nothing but the representatives of the other. But this universal and primary opinion is soon destroyed by the slightest Philosophy, which teaches us that nothing can ever be present to the mind but an image or perception. So far, then, we are necessitated by reasoning to contradict the primary instincts of Nature, and to embrace a new system with regard to the evidence of our senses. But here Philosophy finds herself extremely embarrassed, when she would obviate the cavils and objections of the Sceptics. She can no longer plead the infallible and irresistible instinct, for that led us to quite a different system, which is acknowledged fallible, and even erroneous; and to justify this pretended philosophical system by a chain of clear and convincing argument, or even by an appearance of argument, exceeds the power of all human capacity.'

Such is the Sceptical Philosophy as the system is presented by its ablest expounder, and the fulness, completeness, and correctness of his presentation none will question. It has been our aim to present the system, not as we may be supposed to have apprehended it, but as apprehended and presented by its authors and advocates. We are now fully prepared to form a just estimate of the real merits of the system. To accomplish this result is the object of the following remarks and suggestions.

The Basis-Principle of the Sceptical Philosophy.

To appreciate correctly and fully the real character of any system, we must, first of all, clearly determine the nature of the principle on which the said system is based. The principle on which the entire system of the Sceptical Philosophy rests has been most clearly and specifically announced by Hume, and his statement fully accords with that announced by all Sceptics from Protagoras to Spencer. The principle is this 'Philosophy' (the Sceptical Philosophy) 'teaches us that nothing can ever be present to the mind but an image or perception.' The reason why all men believe that they perceive, and consequently know, as they are in themselves, external objects, is that 'they always suppose the very images presented to the senses to be the external objects, and never entertain any suspicion that the one are nothing but the representations of the other.' All our knowledge, says the Sceptic, is representative, derived through representative images of objects, and not from any direct aspects of the objects themselves; and as we cannot compare the representative images with the represented objects, we cannot know whether the former do or do not correspond with the latter. 'The reality existing behind all appearance' (representative image), as Mr. Spencer says, 'is and ever must be unknown.' If we grant the principle of this image-representative character of all our knowledge, we must grant the validity of the Sceptical deduction, in its entireness. But what is the real character of this principle? We answer:

1. This principle has not one of the characteristics of a real principle in science. The proposition that 'nothing can ever be present to the mind but an image or perception,' is, undeniably, not a self-evident or necessary truth. If it were such a truth, the validity of any opposite judgment would be absolutely inconceivable. Now it is just as conceivable in itself, that an intelligence may be given which shall know exterior objects as well as subjective states, and for aught that can be determined à priori, the human intelligence may be just such a power. Whether this Intelligence is, or is not, such a power, is not to be assumed as a self-evident truth, but is to be determined as a question of fact, and that by an appeal to consciousness.

2. The validity of this principle can by no possibility be verified as a truth of deduction. If all our knowledge is exclusively representative, we have no consciousness of the fact. We are not conscious, for example, of knowing that we think, feel, and will through an image-representation of ourselves, as exercising these functions. Nor are we conscious of knowing body as having exteriority, extension and form, through any image-representation of body.

3. The basis-dogma of Scepticism, the principle from which the system borrows all its claims to our regard, stands revealed before us, therefore, as nothing but a naked and lawless assumption, a mere opinion not self-evidently true, and which cannot be verified by any show of proof, positive evidence, or even antecedent probability. No assumption ever danced in the brain of a crazy Philosophy, an assumption which has less claims to our regard as a principle, or verified truth of science, than has this basis-dogma of the Sceptical Philosophy, that 'nothing can ever be present to the mind but an image or perception.'

4. This basis principle of Scepticism is utterly false, or the Universal Consciousness is, in the language of Sir William Hamilton, 'a liar from the beginning.' External perception we are distinctly conscious of, not as a sensitive state; but as an exclusively intellectual act. In every such act, two distinct and separate factors are always given, the self as the subject, and a not-self as the object of the perception. The self and the not-self the Intelligence has absolutely distinguished, and separated the one from the other, and by no possibility can the same Intelligence join them together and affirm them to be one and identical.

The Dilemma in which the Sceptical Philosophy is Involved.

'The great embarrassment' in which Mr. Hume has demonstrated that the Sceptical Philosophy is involved, and this by the principle on which that Philosophy is based on the one hand, and by the intuitive convictions of the race, convictions which can be invalidated by no 'chain of clear and convincing argument,' on the other, is thus very clearly and succinctly stated by our philosopher himself. 'Do you follow the instinct and propositions of nature in assenting to the veracity of the senses? But these lead you to believe that the very perception or sensible image is the external object.

'Do you disclaim this principle in order to embrace a more rational opinion, that the perceptions are only representations of something external? You here depart from your natural propensities and more obvious sentiments, and yet are not able to satisfy your reason, which cannot find any convincing argument from experience to prove that the representations are connected with external objects.'

This is truly a sad dilemma, from which no reasoning or argument can emancipate us as long as we admit as the basis and starting-point of Philosophy, the principle that 'nothing can ever be present to the mind but an image or perception,' This undeniable fact should convince every reflecting mind, and will convince all but philosophers who have become immutably habituated to 'the privilege of absurdity,' that 'there must be something rotten,' if not 'in Denmark,' at least, in the principle which involves science and all reasoning and thought in such palpable and inexplicable contradictions.

Hume's Avenue of Escape from the Dilemma under Consideration.

According to the express admission of Hume, and all Sceptics, and Idealists of all schools, the best that can be said of their systems is, that in their construction an unanswerable argument encounters an immovable conviction, and there is left to us the sad alternative of making our election between the two, and thus determining and acting without a reason. The passage opened for us out of this dilemma by Mr. Hume we state in his own words. 'If belief were a simple act of thought, without any peculiar manner of conception, or the addition of force and vivacity, it must infallibly destroy itself, and in every case terminate in a total suspension of judgment. But as experience will sufficiently convince any one that although he finds no error in my argument, yet he still continues to think and reason as usual, he may safely conclude that his reasoning and belief is some sensation or peculiar manner of conception, which 'tis impossible for mere ideas and reflections to destroy.' The reader is familiar with the fable in respect to the Friend, who, not liking to kill his dog with his own hand, induced others to do it, and thus got rid of the animal by giving him a bad name. By a mere change of name, that he may rescue an argument from an otherwise inexplicable difficulty, Mr. Hume proposes to annihilate the force of what he admits and affirms to be an original intuition to which 'Nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us;' and 'which 'tis impossible for mere ideas and reflections to destroy.' Now, if he may lead us out of this dilemma by simply calling this, which he elsewhere calls the 'universal and primary opinion of all men,' 'some sensation or peculiar manner of conception,' we may, with equal propriety, lead ourselves out by calling his and the Sceptical argument 'some sensation or peculiar manner of conception' which false science has, by 'playing tricks upon Reason,' intruded into the sphere of Philosophy.

Mr. Hume's and the Sceptical Contradictions.

Mr. Hume has told us, and the strict universality of the phenomenon absolutely evinces the truth of his statement, that the faculty which originates the intuitions under consideration, and has induced the consequent 'faith in the senses,' was 'implanted in the mind' by 'Nature;' that this intuitive belief in the reality of material forms around us, it is 'impossible for mere ideas and reflections to destroy;' and that to 'justify this pretended philosophical system (which would destroy these primary beliefs) 'by any chain of clear and convincing argument, or even any appearance of argument, exceeds the power of human capacity.' In the same paragraph in which the above truthful utterance is found, we are also assured that 'this universal and primary opinion of all men is soon destroyed by the slightest Philosophy, which teaches that nothing can ever be present to the mind but images or perceptions.' The same thing, then, can and cannot be at the same moment destroyed and not destroyed, and may at the same moment be destroyed and continue absolutely indestructible.

Mr. Lewes's Criticism of Reid's Criticism of Hume.

Mr. Lewes takes great offence at Mr. Reid for his exposition of the absurdity involved in the plan and end aimed at by Mr. Hume in his Treatise on Human Nature, which, as Mr. Reid states is, in reality, an attempt to convince Human Nature that Human Nature does not exist at all. 'Reid,' says Mr. Lewes, 'from whom one might have expected something better, is surprised at Hume's pretending to construct a science of Human Nature,' when the intention of the whole work is to show that there is neither human nature nor science in the world. It may, perhaps, be unreasonable to complain of this conduct in an author who neither believes his own existence nor that of his reader, and therefore could not mean to disappoint him, or laugh at his credulity. Yet I cannot imagine that the author of the Treatise on the Human Nature is so sceptical as to plead this apology. He believed, against his principles, that he should be read, and that he should retain his personal identity till he reaped the honour and reputation justly due to his metaphysical acumen.' He continues further in this strain, dragging in the old error about Pyrrho 'having inconsistently been roused to anger by his cook, who probably had not, roasted his dinner to his mind,' and compares this forgetfulness to Hume's every now and then relapsing into the faith of the vulgar.'

'If this,' continues Mr. Lewes, 'was meant for banter, it was very poor banter; if for argument, it was pitiable. But if such arguments appeared valid to a thinker of Reid's reputation, it is reasonable to suppose that inferior men may also receive them as conclusive.'

In reply, we would say to Mr. Lewes that this argument was unquestionably presented in sober sincerity by Mr. Reid, and that it will be received as conclusive, not only by men inferior and equal to that great thinker, but by all men, in short, who understand the subject. Unless Mr. Hume was not 'in himself, but beside himself,' when he wrote this Treatise, it was his specific intent to convince Human Nature that the idea represented by the words 'Human Nature' is a chimera; that the external world, with all its embodied occupants, has no being outside the self, and exists but as an 'image or perception' of the self; that 'Matter is but a collection of impressions,' and 'mind is but a succession of impressions and ideas.' Assuming the Philosophy of Mr. Hume to be correct, what spectacle does his Treatise on Human Nature present but that of 'a collection of impressions and ideas' attempting to convince 'a collection of impressions and ideas' which has no existence but as 'an image or perception,' dwelling nowhere but in said 'collection of impressions and ideas,' that Human Nature but as such subjective 'image and perception' has no existence at all? This is the identical account which Mr. Lewes has himself presented of this Philosophy. 'Probing deeper,' he says, 'in the direction Berkeley had taken, he (Hume) perceived that not only was Matter a figment, but that Mind was a figment also.' According to this showing, what is the Treatise on Human Nature but a conscious 'figment,' attempting to convince 'a figment' which has no existence but as a subjective 'image or perception' in the former 'figment,' that Human Nature is nothing but 'a figment'? The validity of such expositions of his system, Mr. Hume himself does, in fact, admit. He justifies, as we have shown, his whole course of conduct in originating the works he produced, on the avowed fact that he did not believe his own Philosophy. Speaking of his own Scepticism, he says, 'that neither I nor any other person was ever sincerely and constantly of that opinion.' A strange Philosophy that, which cannot be defended but upon the supposition that said Philosophy is false in fact, and cannot be 'sincerely and constantly' believed, which can be even seemingly verified but by arguments which 'produce no conviction,' and which 'Nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us to judge' of as false. Such is the exact character of the Sceptical Philosophy in all its forms, as admitted and affirmed by its ablest expounders.

Reaction in the Direction of Realism or Common-Sense.

Reid (1710-1796); Beattie (1735-1803); Dugald Stewart (1753-1828); Jouffroy, born 1796.

The doctrines of Materialism, Idealism, and Scepticism, as successively developed from the essential principles of the Philosophy of Locke, seemed, for a time, quite likely to produce throughout Christendom a total eclipse of faith, not only in Christianity, but in religion itself, as far as belief in a personal God was concerned. Under the teachings of Dr. Thomas Reid, born in Glasgow 1710, and in 1763 called to the chair of Moral Philosophy in the University of the city of his birth, an effective reaction against all these systems occurred in the direction of fundamental truth. The teachings of this great thinker were elucidated and enforced by James Beattie, Professor of Moral Philosophy, first in the University of Edinburgh and afterwards in Aberdeen, and by Dugald Stewart, Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. Theodore Jouffroy introduced the doctrines of these authors into France by a translation of the works of Reid and Stewart, and by a very clear exposition and an unanswerable defence of the Doctrine of Common-Sense. We gave an extract from the Essay of this author on this doctrine in our exposition of the teachings of Socrates. As all the authors above named agree in all essential particulars in their philosophical teachings, we shall confine our expositions and criticisms to the one doctrine in which they all agreed and which they so ably defended.

The Doctrine of Realism, or Common-sense, defined and Elucidated.

The doctrine to which we refer received, through Dr. Reid, the desig- nation of the Philosophy of Common-Sense, but is now represented by the term Realism. On a critical examination of the common principle on which the systems of Idealism, Materialism, and Scepticism are based, namely, that all our knowledge, both in its objective and subjective forms, or of one or the other of them, is exclusively indirect and mediate, through 'sensation or perception,' Reid perceived that the argument of each of said systems was unanswerable. On a correspondingly critical examination of the facts of his own consciousness, he found that he was absolutely conscious of the self, mind, and of the not-self, matter, as realities in themselves, and of time and space as objects of absolutely implied and necessary knowledge. He also found that the facts of his own consciousness, as he had interpreted them, did fully accord with the absolute intuitions and necessarily-determined convictions of the Universal Intelligence, and that this perfect accordance was admitted and affirmed by philosophers of all schools. He found, also, that the intuitive and absolute belief of the race in Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, as really existing, and known and knowable realities, is a belief to which all philosophers of all schools affirm that 'nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us,' a belief 'innate and connatural,' and which 'remains proof against all grounds and arguments for its removal,' a belief 'which 'tis impossible for ideas and reflections to destroy,' a belief, finally, to overthrow which, 'by a chain of clear and convincing argument, or even any appearance of argument, exceeds the power of all human capacity.' He found also that, as all philosophers admit, this belief, neither in its objective or subjective form, can by any possibility be ignored, or excluded from the sphere of Philosophy, but by an act of 'Scepticism to which the mind voluntarily determines itself,' that is, not by an act of the Intelligence, but of the Will. His deduction consequently was that sceptical doubt—Idealists, Materialists, and Sceptics being judges, that sceptical doubt, in respect to the validity of our knowledge of Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, can have place in the human mind, not as a dicta of the Intelligence, but exclusively as a sentiment of Will.

On a careful criticism, also, of the common principle on which all these systems rest, he clearly ascertained and demonstrated that principle to be, not a self-evident truth, nor one capable of being verified as true, but a mere lawless assumption which has no more right to a place as a principle in science than the dicta of Chaos and Old Night.

Finally, on a most rigid scrutiny of the assumption of Locke, that all our knowledge is derived exclusively from 'sensation and reflection,' or consciousness, he discovered and absolutely evinced, as existing in the mind, forms of implied and necessary knowledge, which by no possibility could have been derived from experience, and which as absolutely implied the existence of three, instead of two, faculties of primary intuition—to wit, Consciousness, Sense, and Reason. Although Dr. Reid did not give these specific names to these faculties, he did affirm and prove their actual existence.

Dr. Reid most profoundly explored all the doctrines and problems above designated before he propounded his own system—the system originally designated as the 'Philosophy of Common-Sense,' and now as Realism. What is this Philosophy? That is the question to which special attention is now invited.

Realistic Principle and Postulate.

The general principle that lies at the basis of this Philosophy is this, that whatever the Universal Intelligence, in its original, necessary, and intuitive procedures, consciously gives us, as directly and, immediately known to be real, together with all that is necessarily implied by what is thus known, must be, admitted as real, and really knowable and known. Nothing thus given must be excluded from, and nothing not thus given must be included in, our theory of existence. The fundamental postulate of the system is that the Intelligence, relative to some realities, is a faculty of real and really valid knowledge, and that the question, what can we know, can be answered but through another—to wit, what do we know, and what powers of knowledge are implied by the facts of actual knowledge.

Representative and Presentative Forms of Knowledge.

According to the fundamental teachings of this Philosophy, also, real knowledge can exist but in two forms, indirect and mediate, or representative, and direct and immediate, or presentative. We have consequently another fundamental principle of this system—to wit, that knowledge of the former class—knowledge consciously indirect and mediate, together with its necessary logical antecedents and consequents, has merely a relative validity, and that knowledge consciously of the latter class—knowledge consciously direct and immediate or presentative—has, together with all its necessary antecedents and consequents, an absolute validity for the reality and character of its objects. The validity of this principle in both forms is, in fact, admitted even by philosophers of all schools. All admit that knowledge, in its representative and presentative forms, does exist in the mind, and that knowledge in but one or the other of these forms can exist. All admit, also, that knowledge, in each form, has the identical validity above ascribed. The only question at issue between the various schools in Philosophy is the actual extent and limits of representative, on the one hand, and of presentative knowledge on the other. Whatever elements any school introduces into its system, it does so on the exclusive grounds that such elements are the conscious objects of knowledge direct and immediate. Now science demands absolutely and immutably that if the validity of this principle be admitted in any, it must be admitted in all cases to which it legitimately applies.

The Realistic Deduction.

The deduction of Realism from the above principles, and from absolutely conscious facts which come under these principles, is this, that Spirit, Matter, Time, and Space are realities in themselves—realities consciously known as such. That mind is directly, immediately, and absolutely conscious of itself, as actually exercising the functions of thought, feeling, and willing; that matter, as an exterior object possessed of real extension and form, is directly and immediately before the mind as the conscious object of knowledge absolutely presentative; and that time and space are given in the universal consciousness as realities necessary in themselves, and necessarily implied by objects of knowledge consciously direct and immediate, must be admitted, or we must, without a reason, affirm the Intelligence itself, in its most absolute procedures, to be a lie. No individual can affirm mind or matter to be an object of valid knowledge without being bound by his own reason for that affirmation to admit that both are thus known, each being the conscious object of the same identical form of knowledge. No individual can affirm that he knows one of these realities and does not know the other, without involving himself in the most palpable contradiction and absurdity; because he affirms the validity of consciously presentative knowledge in one form, and denies its validity in another equally palpable form. To affirm that we do know phenomena or appearances, and do not know the manifested objects, involves us in the absurdity of affirming that there may be real and really known appearances when nothing appears, and real and really known manifestations when nothing is manifested.

Such is the Philosophy of Common Sense, as, in its germs, set forth by Buffier and Reid, and as developed in its perfected forms by subsequent thinkers, now known as Realism. Our object is not to present the system in its incipient and necessarily imperfect forms, but in the completed form in which it now stands before the world. 'Respecting the interpretation of Sir William Hamilton of Reid's doctrines,' says Mr. Lewes, 'I will only say that he has shown what a subtle mind can read into the Philosophy of Common-Sense; but he has not in the least produced the conviction in me of Reid's having meant what his illustrious interpreter supposed him to have meant.' The leading object, we must bear in mind, of Sir William Hamilton, was not to prove that Reid did himself apprehend fully the form of the building the foundation of which he had laid, and the general plan of which he had laid out, but to develop and perfect the work which that great thinker had so well begun. The term Realism represents the Philosophy of Common-Sense in its present perfected form, the system which now confronts Idealism, Materialism, and Scepticism before the world. It is undeniable that some one of these systems, none others being conceivable, must be true and all the others false. We would now invite very careful attention to certain general reflections and observations which have a fundamental bearing upon the claims of Realism as contrasted with those of each of the systems to which it stands opposed. We remark:

The Claims of Realism, as Contrasted with those of Idealism, Materialism, and Scepticism.

Realism accords, in all its Teachings, with the Absolute Testimony of every Individual Consciousness, and the Intuitive Convictions of the Race.

1. Realism, in its principles, facts, and deductions, absolutely accords with conscious facts, and all self-evident and intuitive judgments and necessary inferences, just as they exist in each individual mind, and as a necessary consequence, as fully accords with the intuitive 'absolute and uncontrollable' convictions of the Universal Intelligence. The strict validity of this statement is not only verified by absolutely conscious facts, but is openly admitted and affirmed, as we have seen, by philosophers of all schools. The deduction is absolute that this system is true, or the Intelligence itself, in its consciously normal procedures, is fundamentally deceptive.

The Doctrines of Realism can by no Possibility be Disproved.

2. The validity of this system can by no possibility be disproved. To do this, as we have shown, some incompatible proposition must be adduced, a proposition of the validity of which we have a greater certainty than we have of the fact of our own existence; of that of material forms around us, and of the reality of time and space. Now everyone is conscious that no such proposition can be adduced. This fact is also openly admitted by philosophers of all schools. When those intuitive convictions to which 'Nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity has determined us,' convictions of the actual existence of Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, and of the absolute validity of our knowledge of the same—when these convictions are assailed by arguments which appear unanswerable, even such arguments, as all philosophers admit, 'produce no conviction.' Why do such arguments produce no conviction in any mind? But one answer can be given. They ought not to produce conviction, for the reason that we cannot be so certain of the validity of any argument on such a subject as we are and must be of the absolutely conscious fact of our own existence, of that of material forms, which are to us the conscious objects of knowledge consciously direct and immediate, and of the reality of time and space. Knowledge 'which lays claim to immediate certainty,' as this undeniably does in all its forms, and which 'remains proof against all grounds and arguments' adduced for its removal, thus remains, because it is possessed of higher conscious certainty than is possessed by any 'grounds and arguments' which can be adduced for its removal. How can the Realistic deduction or system be invalidated, when, as all philosophers admit, a doubt of its validity can have place in the mind but by 'an act of (scientific?) Scepticism, to which the mind voluntarily determines itself?'

This Doctrine Verified by the Highest Conceivable Forms of Proof.

3. The validity of the doctrine of Realism, we remark, in the next place, is verified by the highest forms of proof of which we can possibly form a conception. All its expositions in regard to the nature and character of our knowledge of Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, absolutely accord with the absolute affirmations of every individual consciousness, and of the absolute intuitive convictions of the race. When we affirm, for example, that we are absolutely conscious of the self, mind, as exercising the functions of thought, feeling, and willing, and of the not-self, matter, or material objects, as directly and immediately before us, as having real exteriority, extension and form, that is, as the objects of knowledge consciously direct and immediate, we simply interpret facts just as they are absolutely attested by every individual consciousness, and the intuitive convictions of the race. So palpable and undeniable is this absolute accordance, that philosophers of all schools are constrained to admit and affirm that this absolute and universal belief in the real existence of Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, and of the validity of our knowledge of the same, is a belief or state of universal consciousness to which 'Nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us.' So absolute is this belief, as all philosophers, also, of all schools admit and affirm, 'laying claim as it does to immediate certainty,' that it 'cannot be removed by grounds or arguments.' Arguments, on the other hand, adduced to remove and displace it, even when they appear unanswerable, 'produce no conviction.' When 'by an act of' (so-called) 'scientific Scepticism to which we voluntarily determine ourselves,' we 'compel ourselves to treat this knowledge as a prejudice innate indeed and connatural, yet as nothing but a prejudice,' this same belief remains even in the consciousness of the philosopher, after all his attempt at intellectual abnegation, just as 'absolute and uncontrollable' as before. By all his self-determined Scepticism, he has not pushed this intuitive conviction, this conscious knowledge of facts and realities, one hair's-breadth from its immovable foundations. Nor can our apprehensions of the essential characteristics of any one of these realities be, in the remotest degree, changed or modified, any more, as we have formerly shown, than can our ideas of a circle or a square. Reason about them as we will, make what assumptions about them we can, and compel ourselves as often and as much as we choose to treat our belief in them 'as nothing but a prejudice,' still Mind, Matter, Time, and Space, are to us the same identical realities they were before. Nor, in thought, we remark finally, can we by any possibility confound any one of these realities with any other. We can no more think of mind as matter, or matter as spirit, than we can of space as time, or a circle as a square. Nor can we designate a single quality in any one of them, which, in the remotest degree, resembles any quality possessed by any other. All men know Mind, Matter, Time, and Space, as realities totally distinct, the one from every one of the others; and reason about them as we will, they will be present to each individual mind as the same distinct and separate realities they were before. Affirming matter to be spirit, or spirit matter, and compelling ourselves, in the construction of systems, to treat them as one and the same entity, does not and cannot render them such in thought. Such are the undeniable facts of the case before us. Can we conceive of forms of knowledge having characteristics of more absolute validity than those above designated?

Why are the Claims of Realism Impeached?

4. We have, finally, a word to say in regard to the motives which really determine all scientific movements in the opposite direction of Realism. There is not a philosopher on earth, and there never has been one, who is not absolutely convinced that if the doctrine of Realism in respect to Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, be admitted as valid, that with this admission, the doctrines of an infinite and perfect personal God, of duty, immortality, and retribution, stand revealed as intuitive or demonstrated verities. All are now equally aware, that the admission of the validity of either of the opposite systems throws all these doctrines into a deep and dark eclipse. All are aware, also, that a denial of these doctrines must be based exclusively upon an impeachment of the validity of our knowledge of Matter or Spirit, or of both together. Nor does anyone profess to find a basis for such impeachment within the proper sphere of the Intelligence. Such impeachment, on the other hand, as these philosophers admit, must be based wholly upon a so-called 'scientific Scepticism to which the mind voluntarily determines itself.' In other words, such impeachment is, and cannot but be, exclusively a matter, not of the Intelligence, but of the Will. What is the motive for this exclusively will-begotten and will-determined Scepticism? This same Scepticism has equal validity against nature, and all individual, domestic, social, and civil relations, that it has in respect to religion. We can have no excuse for treating visible nature as a reality, and religion as an illusion. Now, these men are very earnest in urging us to treat as valid the teachings of Common Sense, in the former sphere, and implicitly to follow their Philosophy, or self-determined will-doubts, in the entire sphere of morality and religion. All 'works of Divinity and School-Philosophy' must, without examination, be committed to the flames, while all material and sensitive 'figments' are to be handled very lovingly, and believed in most sincerely. 'Permit me,' exclaims Mr. Huxley, 'to enforce this most wise advice.' In other words, these men would have us obey implicitly those 'innate and connatural' convictions, to which 'Nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us,' in all departments of thought and activity, until we find ourselves standing upon the borders of the sphere of religious thought and action, where we are about 'to behold the face of infinity unveiled.' Here we must instantly stop, and planting ourselves immovably upon our will-doubts, the 'scientific Scepticism to which we have voluntarily determined ourselves,' abruptly, and without thought or inquiry, turn our faces worldward again. Now, when men philosophize nowhere but in the sphere of religious doubt and denial, we infer that they philosophize for no other real motive. They violently push Religion out of the sphere of scientific thought and inquiry, because she is to them an unwelcome intrusion. They philosophize under no other real motive, but to eclipse from the world the face of God. A godless Philosophy can have no other origin but the sentiment of a godless Will. We challenge any philosopher to explain the facts of the case upon any other hypothesis.

CHAPTER II.

THE GERMAN EVOLUTION IN PHILOSOPHY.

For a long period, Germany claimed for itself the high honour of being the home of Philosophy, and this honour Christendom, with few exceptions, yielded to her. German thought finally culminated in four grand systems, which stand out before the world as complete and perfect of their kind. With these systems, scientific thought is now almost exclusively concerned, no thinkers regarding any preceding systems as true. We shall, therefore, very cursorily notice the productions of those great leaders of philosophic thought, who did much to prepare the way for the German Evolution in its perfected forms, and in doing this shall merely or mainly refer to essential principles developed by these thinkers which gave character and form to the Evolution. We refer to Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibnitz, and shall refer to their works under their names as above designated.

I. Descartes (1596-1650).

Descartes was of French descent. He stands, however, in more intimate relation with the development of German than of French thought. Though born nearly half a century later than Bacon, the Method of Descartes was almost exclusively à priori. He is most distinctly remembered on account of the maxim which, as a principle, he laid at the basis of his system, namely, Cogito ergo sum. Science, he maintained, must have for its point of departure some one truth at least about which there can be no dispute. Where shall this truth be found? The controlling motive which determined him to devote the powers of his great mind to philosophical inquiry was a most honourable and Christian one. 'I have always thought,' he said, 'that the two questions, of the existence of God and the nature of the soul, were the chief of those which ought to be demonstrated rather by Philosophy than by Theology; for although it is sufficient for us, the faithful, to believe in God, and that the soul does not perish with the body, it certainly does not seem possible to persuade infidels to any religion, nor hardly to any moral virtue, unless we first prove to them these two things by natural reason.'

Here the question returns upon us, to wit, Where shall we find our basis for demonstrating these or any other truths? Not in the thinking of the world around, nor in that of past ages; for here all is 'confusion worse confounded.' Nothing, not even the deductions of the pure sciences, had been universally accepted as true. Nor could he find the truth referred to in his own previous apprehensions and reasonings; for here the same uncertainty prevailed as everywhere else. 'It is not today, for the first time,' he says, 'that I have perceived in myself that from my earliest years I have received a great many false opinions as true, and that what I have built upon principles so badly ascertained can be only very doubtful and uncertain. And, accordingly, I have decidedly judged that I must seriously undertake some time in my life to rid myself of all the opinions I had before taken upon trust, and begin altogether anew from the foundation, if I would establish anything firm and constant in science.' 'By an act of scientific Scepticism to which he voluntarily determined himself,' he posited all existing thinking as uncertain. What, then, does really and undeniably exist? The fact of doubt. That is real, whatever else may be uncertain. But to doubt is to think. No one can deny this, and thinking implies a thinker. So far all is certain, indisputable. I think, therefore, I exist. Something, consequently, the being that thinks, does exist. Here we have found a rock of known truth which cannot be moved. Such is the affirmed rock of truth on which this great thinker proceeded to erect his system of knowledge. Let us stop here and give the subject a very careful examination.

The Method of Descartes.

1. We remark, then, in the first place, that in his principle of universal doubt, Descartes has announced a method in Philosophy, a method to which Idealism, in all previous ages had in fact, and in all subsequent periods has in form, adopted. Idealists of all Oriental, Grecian, Christian, and Mediaeval Schools, whenever they began to philosophize, did, in fact and form, as we have seen, renounce all their previous thinking and beliefs, as uncertain and illusory, and in a state of self-determined nescience, expected, through Reason, ecstasy, or intellectual intuition, to receive a direct and immediate revelation of absolute truth. The Modern Idealist avowedly 'puts himself into a state of not-knowing,' and 'assumes all his previous knowledge to be uncertain,' 'when he begins to philosophize,' We have here, then, the fixed method of these important schools in Philosophy, and should carefully inquire into its validity. The motive of Descartes in 'his voluntary doubt, his self-determined indetermination,' as Coleridge calls it, was thereby to find the truth. 'I do not in this,' says Descartes, 'imitate Sceptics, who doubt that they may doubt, and seek nothing but incertitude itself. For my total aim in this is to find what is certain.' The same motive is professed by all who adopt this method. It is assumed by such thinkers, that if they do 'put themselves into a state of not-knowing,' and 'assume all their previous knowledge to be uncertain,' and do this for the single purpose of finding absolute truth and certitude, they will surely find what they seek. Is it self-evidently certain that this is the certain, and as is affirmed, the only certain method of finding absolute certitude? Looked at from the à priori standpoint, it seems, of all conceivable methods, the most uncertain and absurd. It seems like violently putting out our eyes for the purpose of clear vision, and putting ourselves 'upon airy nothing' as our standpoint for moving the world. If our Intelligence thus far has given us nothing certain, why trust it for the future? If we refer to experience, then, this method stands revealed as, of all others, the most certain to lead into 'the palpable obscure' of absolute incertitude. The reason is obvious. The forms of affirmed absolute truth obtained through this method are just as contradictory as the responses of Chaos and Old Night. Descartes himself has furnished another example of the utter incertitude of this method; for nobody now believes that he thereby made anything whatever certain. The experience of ages has absolutely demonstrated the utter unreliability and absurdity of the fixed method of Idealism in all its stages of existence. Besides, 'this voluntary doubt, this self-determined indetermination,' is an assumption which is utterly groundless. While uncertainty and error do exist, real certainty and truth are, also, equally real. This is not only affirmed by the universal consciousness, but is equally evinced by the open confession of all doubters, namely, that universal doubt cannot exist as a dicta of the Intelligence, but always has being as an exclusive sentiment of Will, a 'voluntary doubt, a self-determined indetermination.' The only proper method is to advance into the centre of the sphere of certainty and uncertainty, and of truth and error, and by the application of valid criteria, distinguish the former from the latter. "Then, and then only, shall we have real science.

This Principle renders Certitude, in any Form, Impossible of Attainment.

2. This principle of voluntarily determined universal doubt, if sanctioned, subverts utterly the foundations of valid knowledge, and renders science, in any form, impossible. The right to assume all existing forms of knowledge to be uncertain implies, of course, the right to make the same assumption in respect to any part of such knowledge we may deem necessary to future certainty. If we may assume universal doubt as valid in respect to the result of all past and present inquiries, we may, with good reason, assume that the results of all future inquiries will be as uncertain as those of the present and past, and thus deny the possibility of knowledge and science on any conditions conceivable or possible. If we may begin to philosophize by ignoring all present and past forms of knowledge, we may, at any stage of subsequent inquiry, stop, and by an act of 'self-determined indetermination,' affirm that thus far all is doubtful. In regard to the facts which shall then lie before us, we may, by 'voluntary doubt,' repudiate any part of said facts we choose, and construct our system from what remains. When we have done this, we may then, by a 'self-determined indetermination,' assume that system to be of doubtful validity. The only position really left us is the old principle of Pyrrho—to wit, 'I don't know that I don't know anything.' In other words, I not only doubt the validity of knowledge, but that of doubt also.

This Principle of no Logical Consequence.

3. We remark, in the next place, that Descartes, and all who adopt his method, are utterly mistaken in regard to the value of the position he supposes himself to have gained by his principle, 'I think, therefore, I exist.' To doubt, he says, is to think, and the fact of thinking implies the real existence of its subject. The words, I think, however, as employed by Descartes, do not imply thinking in general, but thinking of one exclusive kind—to wit, doubting, this being all that is given in the premises. The principle, Cogito, ergo sum, as Descartes employs the words, means nothing more than this: I doubt, therefore, I exist. The individual thus revealed as existing, is a doubter, and nothing else, and the capacity revealed is a capacity to doubt, and nothing more. No basis is given for the hope of certitude in any form but one, the certainty of not finding anything certain.

The Deduction from the Principle invalid.

4. The inference which Descartes has deduced from the fact of doubt—to wit, I, therefore, exist—he is bound by his own principle to assume as of uncertain validity. His avowed object was to find a position which no one does or can doubt. This he professedly found in the argument, 'Cogito, ergo sum.' The validity of this argument has, in fact, been doubted and denied, by whole schools in Philosophy, ever since the commencement of historic philosophical thought, and is now as absolutely and universally denied by Sceptics, Ideal-Dualists, and Pure Idealists. All philosophers of all schools admit the reality of thought, while multitudes, in all ages, have denied the validity of the principle, Thought implies a thinker. The reasons, therefore, for which Descartes assumed all his previous knowledge to be uncertain, should have induced him to assume that his argument, I think, therefore, I exist, is of doubtful validity. He had failed to find a form of certitude which could not be doubted.

The Use which Descartes makes of the Principle, Cogito, ergo sum, as a Universal Criterion of Truth.

Having found one judgment of the validity of which there can be no doubt, Descartes seeks and professedly finds in said truth, an infallible criterion of truth universally. What are the characteristics of the judgment, I think, therefore, I exist? They are two—absolute distinctness of apprehension, and absolute conscious knowledge of the fact of personal existence as true. Hence the criterion, namely, whatever we as distinctly and clearly apprehend and perceive to be true, as we do the fact of our own personal existence, must be true. 'Quidque tam cleré ac distincté percipitur quam istud.' His meaning is not, as Mr. Lewes states, this, that 'all clear ideas are true,' but this, ' whatever is as clearly and distinctly perceived, quam istud' (as the fact of our own existence, this being the specific fact referred to), 'is true.' To conceive and perceive, clearly and distinctly, are two distinct and separate states of mind. Here we do have an infallible criterion of truth. Descartes came at this criterion very awkwardly, it being just as undeniable that we feel and will and therefore exist, as it is, that we doubt, or think, and therefore exist. We lay this down, as an infallible criterion of truth, that whatever is as clearly and distinctly apprehended and known as real, as is the fact of our own existence, as exercising the functions of thought, feeling, and willing, is, and must be, true. This is undeniably manifest from the conscious fact that no higher and more absolute forms of certitude can even be conceived to exist than we have here, and that consequently such knowledge can, by no possibility, be invalidated and displaced by any other forms possessed of greater certitude.

In his position, also, that two finite substances do exist, mind and matter, the former as exercising the functions of thought, and the latter as possessed of real extension and form, he has announced a doctrine intuitively true on the one hand, and which by no possibility can be invalidated on the other. The reason is obvious and undeniable. Of the existence of these two substances as possessed of these two distinct and separate characteristics, we have a conscious perception and equally clear and distinct. Nothing can be, to universal mind, more certain, and consequently, by no other forms of certitude can our knowledge of these substances be invalidated. Descartes is equally right, also, in his position, that as mind and body have nothing in common, they must be regarded as distinct and separate substances. Equally clear and distinct, as necessary in themselves, and as implied by facts perceived, is our knowledge of time and space.

Had this great thinker proceeded to deduce from the attributes and relations of these two substances, 'the things that are made,' the doctrines of God, Duty, Immortality, and Retribution, he would have established truth upon immovable foundations. The validity of our knowledge of Spirit, Matter, Time, and Space, as we have abundantly and absolutely demonstrated, cannot be disproved, and such validity being admitted, none can doubt the consequent absolute verity of the doctrines under consideration. His method of philosophizing, however, led him to a different, and consequently invalid form of argumentation in respect to these themes. As the invalidity of the argument which he did pursue is now universally admitted, its statement and refutation do not fall in with the fixed plan of this Treatise. We cannot argue from the mere existence and character of an idea, its object not being directly perceived as real, or apprehended as necessarily existing in time and space, to the validity or invalidity of that idea. The conscious fact, however, that the Universal Intelligence in its normal procedures, and by laws of perception, apprehension, and deduction, to which 'Nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us,' does apprehend as absolute verities, Matter, Spirit, Time, Space, God, and Immortality, does imply the validity of these doctrines, or that of the deduction, as we have before said, that the Author of nature who must be God, or a law of nature, intentionally, or necessarily determines us to error instead of truth. His doctrine of Pre-established Harmony is based upon a mere assumption, which is also self-contradictory and absurd. As mind and body have nothing in common, neither can, he argues, in the remotest degree be affected by the other. Mind is in the body, but not of it. How, then, do the actions of the latter correspond with the states of the former? The body, he affirmed, is a divinely constituted automaton, and so constituted that its activity necessarily corresponds with mental states, though not influenced and determined by them. How did he know that two substances, as distinct in their nature as matter and spirit, may not mutually affect each other? That they cannot is not a self-evident truth, nor one capable of verification by proof. On the other hand, we have the same evidence, that they do affect each other, that we have of the validity of the principle of attraction. God, as a spirit, as Descartes affirms, does exercise absolute control over matter. Why, then, may not finite spirit control the same substance, and be affected by it in some degree? When will philosophers understand that à priori nothing whatever can be determined about the existence, nature, or relations of substances? Here we have but one exclusive principle to guide us—to wit, Whatever is directly and immediately manifested to the Intelligence as real, together with whatever is intuitively or deductively implied by the manifested reality, must be admitted as actual, and nothing not thus revealed must be thus admitted.

Benedict Spinoza (1632-1677).

If the development of a system of which all philosophers speak, which very few understand at all, which none can fully comprehend, and which, as far as known, is held in general reprobation—if such facts as these constitute an individual a great thinker, Benedict Spinoza has attained to this high eminence. Born and educated a Jew, and excommunicated from his native church because he had apostatized from its faith, he devoted his great powers to the extirpation of religion in all its forms, and with religion the utter subversion of fundamental morality. His moral teachings none seem to have misapprehended, and in the statement of them all histories of Philosophy agree. Where full and exact statements have been made by others, our object being to give facts as they are, we choose to cite from them, rather than appear to be original when originality is impossible. We therefore give from the 'Epitome of the History of Philosophy' the following very clear and succinct statement of the moral teachings of this philosopher.

Moral Teachings of Spinoza.

'In morals he radically destroyed the notions of right and wrong, as incompatible with a system where everything is identical, where everything that happens is the necessary result of the energy of the sole substance.

In politics he maintained, also, very consistently, that everything which is commonly designated by the name of rights is reduced to the notion of force. It followed, indeed, from his moral doctrine, that justice relatively to each being can be conceived only as the measure of his power, since, in order to conceive it under any other notion, we must return to the ideas of an obligatory Divine law and of free-will—two things evidently excluded by his fundamental principle.

'Spinoza thus reached, as the last consequence of his principles, the same monstrous maxims to which Hobbes had arrived by an opposite route. The English philosopher set out from the diversity of human individuals as naturally hostile; the Dutch Jew started from their absolute identity. The one excluded from the social theory the notion of the infinite element, the principle of moral obligation; the other excluded the notion of finite beings, subjects of these obligations; and both constructed the politics of force, which transformed itself in the system of Hobbes into pure despotism, in the system of Spinoza into pure anarchy.' Principles which necessarily yield such monstrous deductions as these must be as false, as said deductions are monstrous. Yet the Scepticism and the Materialism of our age regard the teachers of such principles and deductions as the benefactors of the rate. 'Spinoza,' says Mr. Lewes, 'stands out from the dim past like a tall beacon, whose shadow is thrown athwart the sea, and whose light will serve to warn the wanderers from the shoals and rocks on which hundreds of their brethren have perished.'

Spinoza's Doctrine of Being.

We now go back, from the moral deductions of our philosopher, to the principles from which said deductions were drawn. Descartes, as we have seen, affirmed the existence of two substances—matter and spirit. Here Spinoza took direct and open issue with his predecessor. Beneath all phenomena, says the former, there is substance, which alone is real. By a series of definitions and deductions, the validity of which no thinkers now admit, he deduced the dogma of the real existence of one sole substance, which he calls God. God to him, consequently, was the sole and exclusive reality; not God, in the Christian, or Theistic sense, as Spinoza himself affirms, but God as 'the one reality.' If we ask who, or what this 'one reality' is, whether it is material or spiritual, here we find ourselves in the 'palpable obscure of his system.' As far as he held any positive views upon the subject, we think that he agreed more nearly than with other philosophers, with Anaximander, who seems to have taught the doctrine of a kind of infinite ether, as the principle and cause of all things. God is substance, the one reality, and as such is infinite and absolute. So far the teachings of Spinoza are positive. 'There cannot,' he says, 'be many substances, but only one substance.' 'By God,' he says, 'I understand the Being absolutely infinite, i.e., the Substance consisting of infinite Attributes, each of which expresses an infinite and eternal essence.' The meaning of the words 'absolutely infinite,' he thus explains. 'I say absolutely infinite, but not infinite suo genere; for to whatever is infinite only suo genere, we can deny infinite attributes; but that which is absolutely infinite includes in its essence everything which implies essence, and involves no negation.' To understand this explanation, we would remark, that if we should affirm God to be infinite as spirit, we could deny of Him infinity in all its forms not applicable to spirit. This is 'infinite suo genere,' according to Spinoza. If, on the other hand, we say that God is 'absolutely infinite,' we include in our definition 'everything which implies essence,' that is, all substances that really exist, and no real attribute of any existing essence can be denied of Him. To explain the system of Spinoza is all that is required at this point, as the doctrine of Pantheism will be fully discussed when we come to consider the doctrine of Schelling.

LEIBNITZ.

His System Stated.

The system developed by Leibnitz presents us with another illustration of the tendency of error to develop itself from opposite extremes. Idealism always develops Materialism, and these, in their combined influence, give rise to Scepticism. So Spinoza stands at the ultimate of one extreme; and Leibnitz at that of the opposite one. The conception of substance lay at the basis of the system of each—the doctrine of one sole indeterminate substance, constituting the peculiarity of the system of the former—and that of an infinite number of distinct and dependent entities, Monads, constituting the ground characteristic of the system of the latter. From the à priori standpoint from which each determined his system, one has just as valid claims as the other, and neither, like all other systems developed from the same standpoint, rests upon any scientific basis, each and all such systems being the exclusive creation of the Imagination under the guidance of the logical faculty. Spinoza, for example, imagined a universe constituted wholly of indeterminate substance self-developed, and through the logical faculty gave system to what his Imagination had originated. Leibnitz imagined a universe constituted of distinct and separate individual existences, Monads, and through the Judgment, systematized the materials which the Imagination had furnished him. This is true, as we have before shown, of all systems originated from the same standpoint. The Will, first of all, elects the materials which shall be put into, and excluded from, the building; the Imagination then gives it its general form, and the Judgment finally perfects and systematizes the arrangement of all the parts. In the construction of the system of Spinoza, for example, the Will, first of all, excluded from it all individual essences, the multiple, and gave, as the exclusive material for the building, one indeterminate, but infinite substance. The Imagination then imparted to the structure its general form, that is, conceived what a universe must be, a universe constructed from such a material. The Judgment, finally, gave to the system a logically consistent development. The Will, in the case of Leibnitz, repudiated the doctrine of the 'All-One,' and elected, as the material for his system, an infinity of Monads. How the building then took form and logical completeness, has been sufficiently indicated. Here we have the identical method by which every system of Idealism, Materialism, and Scepticism that ever took form in human thought was originated.

As an illustration and example of the validity of these statements, permit us to direct special attention to the world-renowned Monadic System under consideration. What is the character of the Monads of which this system is constituted? We select here the very concise and accurate description of them given by Schwegler. 'The Monads of Leibuitz are similar to atoms in their general features. Like these, they are corpuscular units, independent of every external influence, and in destructible by any external cause. But notwithstanding this similarity, there is an important and characteristic difference between the two. First, the atoms are not distinguished from each other, they are qualitatively alike; but each one of the monads is different in quality from every other, every one is a peculiar world for itself, every one is different from every other. According to Leibnitz, there are no two things in the world which are exactly alike. Secondly, atoms can be considered as extended and divisible, but monads are metaphysical points, and actually indivisible. Here, lest we stumble at this proposition (for an aggregate of unextended monads can never give an extended world), we must take into consideration Leibnitz's view of space, which, according to him, is not something real, but only confused, subjective representation. Thirdly, the monad is a representative being. With Atomists such a determination would amount to nothing, but with Leibnitz it has a very important part to play. According to him, in every monad every other is reflected; every monad is a living mirror of the universe, and ideally contains the whole in itself as a germ. In thus mirroring the world, however, the monad is not passive, but spontaneously self-active; it does not receive the images which it mirrors, but produces them spontaneously itself, as the soul does a dream. In every monad, therefore, the All-seeing and All-knowing One might read everything, even the future, since this is potentially contained in the present. Every monad is a kind of God. (Parvus in suo genere Deus.)'

How shall we account for the origin and representation of such a system in human thought? Logically no such account can be given, there not being a single fact known to man which, in the remotest degree, indicates the existence of such a monad, much less that the present universe is constituted exclusively of such monads. What fact of matter or spirit known to mind indicates that this universe is, in reality, wholly constituted of an infinite number of 'metaphysical points,' each of which, in its spontaneous self-activity, mirrors in itself the universe with all events past, present, and future, an infinite number of such monads, each of which, as such a mirror, is 'a kind of God?' There is but one intellectual faculty which can, by any possibility, originate such a conception, and that is, undeniably, the Imagination. His individual monads, his universe of monads, and his God-monad, are, everyone of them, a mere creation of a scientifically disordered Imagination. Had Leibnitz presented his system as a real creation of the Imagination he would justly have rank with Milton. But when he seriously tells us that 'space is not something real, but only confused, subjective representation,' and that his little divinity-monads are real existences, then we say, with truth, that his system is the exclusive creation of the Imagination utterly bewildered by a crazy science. Yet this system has just as solid a basis, is just as logically self-consistent, and has, upon scientific grounds, just as valid claims to our regard, as any other that ever has been or ever can he originated from the à priori stand point. Why, for example, did Kapila and Kant give us two unknown and unknowable entities? Why did Kanada, Democritus, Epicurus, Hobbes, and Coudillac, give us an infinite number of heterogeneous, or homogeneous, material atoms? Why did Vayasa, Zeno, Plotinus, Giordano Bruno, and Schelling, give us Brahm, the All-One, or the Absolute? Why did Gautama Buddha, Pythagoras, and Hegel, give us pure thought? And why did the Subjective Idealists of the Buddha Schools, and Fichte in modern times, give us 'the me?' And why did Spinoza give 'one indeterminate substance,' as the sole substance and principle of all things? For the same reason, we answer, that Leibnitz gives us an infinite number of little divinity-monads as constituting the universe. Each system was originated through the same method, took form through the action of the same faculties, and has, upon scientific grounds, the same identical claims, that is, no claims at all to our regard. We should suppose that the scientific world is and must be now at length fully prepared to suffer this à priori method, which, as the experience of thousands of years has demonstrated, can do no more than give being to a specific number of specific, but utterly incompatible and contradictory systems, each having absolutely equal claims with every other, and all in common no scientific basis at all—that this old method, which, by thus giving being to mutually conflicting and destructive systems, finally leaves the race in the icy embrace of a Godless, soulless, and morally death-inducing Scepticism— we should suppose, we say, that a method in Philosophy which can do no more than repeat such destructive contradictions and abortions, might now be permitted to sleep its 'eternal sleep' in the tomb of the dead systems which it has originated. As the system of Leibnitz has now no advocates, no further notice of it is required.

The Influence of Leibnitz in the Sphere of World-thought.

While Leibnitz originated a system which no school accepted as true, he had very great influence, through certain special doctrines which he set forth, in giving direction and form to subsequent German thought, doctrines which were accepted as principles in Philosophy. We refer to the important and valid distinction which he clearly set forth between contingent and necessary forms of thought, to his doctrine that space, and with it, time, is 'not something real, but only a confused, subjective representation,' and that each monad, through its' 'spontaneous self-activity,' mirrors forth to itself the universe. It was thus that such thinkers as Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibnitz furnished the principles on which are based the perfected systems developed by Kant, Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel, systems which we are next to consider.

CHAPTER III.

KANT TO HEGEL.—SYSTEMS OF IDEALISM PERFECTED THROUGH GERMAN THOUGHT.

SECTION I.

GENERAL STATEMENTS PERTAINING TO THESE SYSTEMS.

Four individuals of German birth and education stand before the world as representatives of the four systems, in one of which Idealism, when perfectly developed, must take rank, viz., Ideal Dualism, Subjective Idealism, Pantheism, and Pure Idealism. Kant represents the system in the first, Fichte in the second, Schelling in the third, and Hegel in the fourth form designated. No thinker has since attempted to improve or modify, in any essential particular, any one of these systems as perfected by these great master minds. To abolish the form of the system, as developed by either of these thinkers, is a final annihilation of the system in that one form. To subvert the system in the four forms developed by these men, is 'a final dissolution of Idealism itself, leaving to it no hope of a future resurrection, unless it be in some country distant from Germany.'

One fact which is very peculiar, and as real as it is peculiar, here demands special attention. As soon as the systems, in these perfected forms, were presented, and the wonder of the first presentation had passed away, all interest in the system died out even among German scholars, and that before the great perfecters of the same had, all of them, passed to 'the undiscovered country.' Schelling lived to see the lecture-rooms, once so crowded, in the German Universities—lecture-rooms in which the various systems of Transcendentalism are expounded, almost utterly deserted of students. Idealism in its highest forms, as developed by its most illustrious representatives, is not like the creations of the great masters of art—living forms which command the increasing admiration of future generations, but a dead monstrosity which even scholars leave to be dissolved and pass away through its own inherent principles of decay and dissolution. Kant, Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel left no successors, but commentators on the systems which their famous predecessors had originated, and these commentators now read their dull lectures to students who are in other rooms listening to other readers. If anyone supposes that there is anything of permanent interest, to say nothing of truth or utility in these systems, palpable facts evince that they are mistaken.

One fact which gave the system, as developed by those great thinkers, a temporary influence, was the general impression that Idealism had never before been developed in the forms perfected by these philosophers. Here the world finds itself as much mistaken as it had been in respect to the intrinsic character of the system. The system, in none of its forms, methods, principles, or formulas, presents anything new. All, as we have seen, are as old as Vayasa, Kapila, and Gautama Buddha.

Points of Agreement and Disagreement between the Expounders of the System in its Various Forms.

In contemplating Idealism in the diverse forms under consideration, we must bear in mind that in certain essential particulars Idealists of all schools fully agree, and that in particulars equally essential they fundamentally disagree. All agree perfectly, for example, that the external universe, as we apprehended it, has no real existence, and that neither Matter nor Spirit, Time nor Space, is such a reality as we apprehended it to be. The formula of Kant upon this subject, has been universally accepted as the necessary deduction of the system in all its forms, viz., 'We have therefore intended to say that all our intuition is nothing but the representation of phenomenon, that the things which envisage (behold) are not that in themselves for which we take them; neither are their relationships so constituted as they appear to us, and that if we do away with our Subject, or even only the subjective quality of our senses in general, every quality, all relationships of objects in space and time, nay, even Time and Space themselves, would disappear, and cannot exist as phenomena in themselves, but only in us.' All agree consequently that there is an irreconcilable and necessary antagonism between the spontaneous, natural, necessary, and normal, on the one hand, and what they call the scientific procedures of the Universal Intelligence, on the other. According to the former, to which 'Nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity has determined us, to "judge as well as to breathe and to feel" we apprehend Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space to be realities in themselves, and the identical realities for which we take them.' By the latter process, 'to which we voluntarily determine ourselves,' we affirm these same objects to be 'not that in themselves for which we take them;' and that not only the universe of matter and spirit, but even time and space, have 'no existence as realities in themselves,' but merely as 'subjective representations,' phenomena in what we call ourselves. On all these subjects, Idealists of all schools are perfectly explicit and identical in their statements. Indeed, if all these statements are not strictly true, Idealism, in all its forms, must be false. All these schools, also, fully agree in the doctrine that the ideas of time and space are developed in the mind prior to all perception, external or internal, that through these ideas the same identical thing, sensation, is made to appear, in external perception, as the exclusive quality of an external material substance existing distinct from, and independent of, the mind, and then, in internal perception, as an equally exclusive quality of the mind. 'Space and Time,' says Kant, 'are the pure forms of them' (our perceptions external and internal), 'Sensation the matter. Those' (forms of Space and Time) 'we alone cognize à priori, that is, before all real perception.' In two fundamental particulars these reason-ideas, Time and Space, cause the same identical object, sensation, to be directly and immediately perceived, not as it is, but as it is not in itself. They cause it, first of all, to be consciously perceived as the exclusive quality of a not-me, which does not exist at all, and then as an equally exclusive quality of 'the me,' which 'is not that in itself for which we take it.' Reason, then, according to the universal teachings of Idealism—Reason, which the system gives as 'the organ of necessary and eternal truth,' 'the vision and faculty divine,' this Reason itself is undeniably, or the system is untrue, 'like Satan, a liar from the beginning,' causing as it does, and that through two of its most fundamental ideas, Time and Space, the same object, sensation, to be perceived in two absolute forms, and in both as it is not, and not as it is. All the schools of Idealism, also, fully agree in constructing their systems from Will-data. Each school, when 'it begins to philosophize, puts itself into a state of not-knowing,' and then, 'by an act of absolute and scientific Scepticism to which the mind voluntarily determines itself,' ignores and repudiates all forms of knowledge but those from which its own peculiar system is to be constructed. We might state other particulars in which these schools fully agree, but these are sufficient for our purpose.

While all these schools agree in the dogma that sensation constitutes the matter of all our perceptions, they disagree in regard to the originating cause of the sensation, and this disagreement gives character to the special forms which the system assumes. Kant refers the sensation to an unknown and exterior cause, and this fact gives his system its dualistic form. Fichte refers the same phenomenon, the sensation, to the spontaneous and unconscious actings of inhering principles of the mind itself as its cause, and this hypothesis gives to his system the character of Subjective Idealism. Schelling refers the same fact to principles thus acting in the Infinite and Absolute, and hence, Pantheism. Hegel, on the other hand, affirms sensation to be a form of thought, and accounts for its existence by reference to the actings of unconscious principles in pure thought. As a consequence we have, with him, Pure Idealism. While all these schools, also, agree in their method, they disagree in their fundamental assumptions and in the materials which each selects for the construction of its own special system.

Promises and Professions with which these Forms of Idealism were Introduced to the World.

No intelligent thinker now doubts that Idealism, in all its forms, is in its essential principles and deductions utterly subversive, not only of religion, but equally so of morality. If there is no external universe, as the system affirms, there is, revealed to the individual, no realm of moral agents of whom he is one, and to whom he does, or can, sustain any known natural or moral relations of any kind. These are the identical deductions which the ablest Idealists have actually drawn from their own system. Yet Idealism, in all its forms, was introduced into the realm of modern thought with absolute assurance that evangelical religion and essential morality would find in these systems their proper home, and are here revealed as resting upon eternal foundations. Reason which, as we have shown, stands revealed in all the principles and deductions of the system, as a graceless liar and deceiver, was represented as the organ of religion and morality in the mind, as 'the vision and faculty divine,' as sustaining the same relations to necessary and eternal truth that Sense and Consciousness do to contingent phenomena. 'Only by means of this critique,' says Kant, 'can the roots themselves be cut off from Materialism, Fatalism, Atheism, Freethinking Unbelief, Fanaticism, and Superstition, which may be universally hurtful—finally, also, from Idealism and Scepticism, which are more dangerous to the schools, but hardly can pass over to the public.' We all know with what assurances of new health and life and immortal vigour, to religion and morality, this system was introduced into the sphere of Anglo-Saxon thought by Coleridge and his associates. Yet in no form in which the system is presented, do we find a personal God, or any personality possessed of any form of intelligence higher than that possessed by man. From no form or development, principle or deduction of the system does a ray of light fall upon the questions pertaining to the soul, to God, immortality, or duty, but 'darkness all and ever during night' encircles all these subjects. When the system, in its varied forms, principles, and deductions was fully understood by the students in the German Universities, the natural, consistent, and avowed sentiment deduced was, that inasmuch as they were, by their Philosophy, released from all duty to God or man, and from all concern for what awaits them in a future state, 'nothing remained for them but a merry life.' Here we have the system as it is.

What we Propose to Prove in Regard to all these Systems.

In former parts of this Treatise we have affirmed, and, as we judge, proved, that Idealism, in none of its forms, has any scientific basis whatever; that, in fact and form, it has no other basis than mere lawless assumption; that the material of the building, in all its forms, is wholly constituted of will-data, and that all its principles and leading facts are begged, just as the exigencies of the system demand. We shall now proceed to verify all these statements by a critical examination of each system in the order indicated—the order in which the different systems took form in German thought.

SECTION II.

IDEAL DUALISM.—IMMANUEL KANT (1724-1804).

Postulate common to all these Systems.

The postulate common to all these systems is this, that something is real, and that truth, in some form, is, to the Intelligence, an object of valid knowledge. Something is, and something is known as it is. No one does or can doubt these statements, and no one professes to doubt them. The only question debatable or debated, in the sphere of scientific thought, is not the fact, but the extent and limits of valid knowledge. Nor does anyone doubt that knowledge implies the existence of a faculty of knowledge, on the one hand, and objects so correlated to said faculty on the other, that when the proper conditions are fulfilled, real knowledge of said objects necessarily arises. That the Intelligence is a faculty of valid knowledge all admit. The only question in difference pertains to its proper objects. All agree that the Universal Intelligence has apprehended Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space as realities in themselves, and as objects knowable and known, and that they are thus apprehended, because 'Nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined' the Intelligence thus to apprehend these realities. Realism affirms that we thus apprehend these realities because the Intelligence is to them a faculty, and they are to it objects of valid knowledge, and that to deny this is equivalent to the dogma that no faculty, or objects of valid knowledge, do exist. The reasons are obvious and absolute. A denial of the validity of our knowledge of any one of these realities must be for reasons which do and must require us to deny the validity of our knowledge of any other reality, or of any truth whatever. Here (we say nothing now of the dogmas of Materialism and Scepticism, Idealism joins issue with Realism, and affirms that this universe, which is consciously perceived as an eternal and independent reality, has no existence out of the mind, but is wholly constituted of subjective states, sensations, made to appear as such exterior objects by laws inhering in the Intelligence. This vast and goodly universe which we behold, and in which we seem to dwell, and to dwell with a vast realm of Intelligences like ourselves, is nothing but 'sensation transformed' and made objective by the Intelligence. We do not know objects as they are, but, out of our own sensations, make these objects for ourselves, and by virtue of laws inhering and acting potentially in the Intelligence, make these subjective states realities external to ourselves. 'Hitherto,' says Kant, it has been assumed that all our knowledge must regulate itself according to the objects; but all attempts to make anything out of them à priori, through notions whereby our knowledge might be enlarged, proved, under this supposition, abortive. Let us, then, try for once whether we do not succeed better with the problems of metaphysics, by assuming that the objects must regulate themselves according to our knowledge, a mode of viewing the subject which accords so much better with the desired possibility of a knowledge of them à priori, which must decide something concerning objects before they are given us.' Here, then, we have the two hypotheses—Realism and Idealism—set with perfect distinctness before our minds. Either Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, that is, the universe which we apprehend, with time and space in which this universe is apprehended as existing and acting, are realities, and as such are known to mind as they are, and thus known because the Intelligence is to them a faculty, and they are to it objects of valid knowledge; or Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space have no existence out of ourselves, and would cease to be if we should cease to think, or our sensations should disappear. 'If we do away with our Subject,' says Kant, 'or even only the subjective quality of our senses in general, every quality, all relationships of objects in space and time, nay, even Time and Space themselves, would disappear, and cannot exist as phenomena in themselves, but only in us.' On these hypotheses, as thus confronted with each other, we have, in this connection, the following remarks to make.

General Remarks upon the Two Systems, Realism and Idealism.

1. We notice in the statement of Kant an important historical error. 'Hitherto,' he says, 'it has been assumed that all our knowledge must regulate itself according to the objects.' The opposite doctrine, that is, his own, had been distinctly taught ever since the dawn of Idealism in the Oriental world. The same was true of Idealism, as represented in the Grecian evolution, and in that of all succeeding ages. Plotinus, more than fifteen hundred years prior to Kant, thus announced the Kantian formula. 'With me the act of contemplation makes the thing contemplated, as the geometricians contemplating describe the lines correspondent. But I am not describing lines, but simply contemplating; the representative forms of things rise up into existence.' In nothing but mere details is there anything original in modern Idealism in any of its forms.

2. While the doctrine of Realism accords with the original and necessary intuitions of the Universal Intelligence, and with the fundamental facts as absolutely affirmed by every individual consciousness, this formula of Idealism is not self-evidently true, nor can it by any possibility be verified by proof. It is certainly not a self-evident truth, that 'the act of contemplation makes the thing contemplated,' that the act of perceiving a mountain, or granite boulder, for example, creates the mountain, or boulder, and creates them out of sensation.

Nor can this dogma be verified by proof. The earth, or ocean, is before us. How can any man in his senses imagine even that he can prove to himself that neither of these objects existed before he beheld them, and that as beheld, he himself created them from elements extracted from or perceived in his own sensations? Can he adduce an argument to prove this fact, an argument of the validity of which he is and must be more certain than he is and must be of the reality of the objects before him?

The gross sophistry and invalidity of all the arguments ever employed to verify this dogma are demonstrably manifest in this undeniable fact, that such arguments produce no conviction whatever, even in the minds of those who employ them. One of these philosophers comes before his class. His avowed object is to prove that 'contemplation creates the object contemplated,' and that in perception we perceive nothing but our own sensations. Do his arguments induce in his own mind even the momentary suspicion that a real audience is not before him, and that he is addressing and arguing with, and anxiously striving to convince, nothing but a number of his own sensations, which he has inwardly manufactured into a corresponding number of human beings? What, then, are these arguments but real conscious sophistries, 'tricks played upon reason,' senseless tricks, because void of all power to deceive? Would Kant ever have produced his 'Critique of Pure Reason' had he really believed his own theory? If there is no external universe, the idea of the human race is a chimera, 'a chimera dire.' When the Idealist denies the fact 'that there are things without us,' the term 'us' represents not only 'the me,' but a multitudinous realm of actually existing rational beings all exterior to 'the me.' Nor does he, for a moment, even while arguing the truth of his doctrine, doubt the actual and ab extra existence of this realm of rationals. Nor does he doubt that in all essential particulars he knows these beings as they are. Equally certain is he all the while that this realm of rational beings are, in common with himself, actual inhabitants of a real universe exterior to them all. No individual does or can find within or without himself the least ground for a consciously valid doubt on all these subjects. Where, then, is the value of his arguments? Arguments which do, in fact, produce no real conviction in the minds of those who employ them, must be sophistical, and should be so regarded, even though we should be unable to detect 'the trick played upon reason.'

3. There is nothing of which we are or can be more distinctly conscious than we are of the fact that our knowledge is, in all cases, determined by its proper objects, instead of the objects being originated and made real to the mind by the act of knowing. We apprehend ourselves, as capacitated to think, to feel, and will, because we are distinctly conscious of ourselves as actually exercising these functions. The same holds equally in regard to things without us. In respect to their primary qualities we consciously conceive them, as we consciously perceive them. The secondary qualities, as Sir William Hamilton has truly stated, we neither 'conceive nor perceive,' but apprehend as the unknown causes of conscious states of our Sensibility, sensations. In other respects our knowledge is consciously determined by its proper objects, and does and must consciously 'regulate itself according to the objects.' We can as readily doubt our own existence as really doubt the validity of the above statements.

4. As admitted by Idealists of all schools, a doubt of the fact that our knowledge does and must 'regulate itself according to its objects,' has being in the mind, not as a dictum of the Intelligence, but exclusively as a sentiment of Will. This doubt, as, in fact and form, stated by these philosophers, is a state to which 'the mind voluntarily determines itself,' 'a self-determined indetermination.' We may, as Coleridge states, 'compel ourselves to treat as nothing but a prejudice,' the conviction 'that there exist things without us,' but can never compel the Intelligence thus to regard them.

5. The reason given by Kant for adopting his hypothesis is obviously of no conceivable validity. We state the reason in his own words. 'Hitherto it has been assumed that all our knowledge must regulate itself according to its objects; but all attempts to make anything out of them à priori, through notions whereby our knowledge might be enlarged, proved, under this supposition, abortive.' The argument is simply this: On an hypothesis consciously true, philosophers had endeavoured, without success, to determine what could be made out of such objects à priori, that is made out 'through notions whereby our knowledge might be enlarged.' This certainly is a very grave problem, one which may, or may not, be capable of solution. The fact that, up to the time of Kant, it had not been solved, was no proof whatever that some future philosopher would not solve it. Suppose we grant the impossibility of its solution. What reason have we here for denying facts of the reality of which, and of the validity of our knowledge of which, we are absolutely conscious? Granting this, say Kant and the Transcendental philosophers, we 'can know nothing of these objects à priori.' We can have no à priori 'notions of them, whereby our knowledge might be enlarged.' Very well, we reply. Let us be content with our à priori, and necessary nescience, and concern ourselves with what we can and do know, and not 'compel ourselves' for the sake of entertaining certain à priori notions, to 'treat as a prejudice' forms of knowledge of whose validity we are absolutely conscious.

Had our philosopher, on the other hand, instead of taking this sudden leap in the dark, and that for no valid reason whatever, carefully studied the relations between the elements and forms of our à priori and à posteriori knowledge, he would have discovered, that while the common theory of knowledge is admitted to be valid, we can have the same degree of à priori knowledge of objects, and the same à priori 'notions whereby our knowledge may be enlarged' that we can have on his theory. According to his theory, knowledge à priori precedes in experience, and determines knowledge is à posteriori. The former, consequently, explains the latter, and the end desired by Idealism is attained. Let us suppose this order to be reversed, that the latter is originated first, and implies the former. In this case, knowledge à priori would, undeniably, be just as explicative of knowledge à posteriori, as on the Ideal theory. We have, also, Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, given as realities in themselves, just as given in the Universal Intelligence, instead of mere illusory subjective representations, as given nowhere but in the brain of a crazy Philosophy. We first perceive body, succession, events, and qualities, and then apprehend space, time, cause, and substance, as implied by facts perceived. In our perceptions, we have knowledge à posteriori, and in our implied apprehensions we have knowledge à priori. In this case, none can deny that knowledge in the latter form is just as explicative and expansive of knowledge in the former, as it would be on the Idealistic theory. Nothing can be more inconclusive than is this argument of Kant, the only argument by which his hypothesis has or can have the remotest appearance of validity.

6. Our final remark is, that it now becomes absolutely evident that Idealism has no scientific basis whatever, no foundation at all, but a mere lawless assumption. The statement of Kant himself implies this. 'Let us, then, try for once,' he says, 'whether we do not succeed better with the problem of metaphysics, by assuming that the objects must regulate themselves according to our knowledge.' Now commences, not an intellectual, but will-compulsory process, a process in which by successive assumptions 'to which the mind voluntarily determines itself,' facts of absolutely conscious knowledge are ignored, treated as a prejudice, or accepted just as the exigencies of the predetermined system demand. This statement will be fully verified in all our future criticisms. We might, if we should choose, stop here, and validly claim that Idealism, in all its forms, has no scientific basis, and must be located in the sphere of false science, we having demonstrated that the system has no other foundation than lawless assumption, which is contradicted by the necessary intuitions of the Universal Intelligence. The importance of the subject, however, requires that the system, in all its principles and forms, should receive a rigid examination.

The Real Object of Perception according to Kant and Idealism universally.

All systems concur in this conscious fact, that in perception some object is actually perceived. The only question at issue pertains to the inquiry, What is this object? According to Realism, the object perceived is the real self in the exercise of the functions of thought, feeling, and willing, and the not-self, as an exterior object really possessed of the qualities of extension and form. To this statement Kant and all Idealists demur, affirming that the real object perceived is neither the self nor the not-self, but a mere subjective state, a sensation. Sensation, in the system of Pure Idealism, is given as a form of thought called by that name. In all the forms of Idealism, sensation is given as 'the matter' of all our perceptions, that is, as the real object perceived. Why has this specific and special state been fixed upon as the exclusive object of all our perceptions? We are no more conscious of it as such object, than we are of any other state. Nor is sensation in itself any more like what we consciously behold, than any other state—an act of will, an emotion, a desire, or some special form of thought. Sensation, as we are conscious of it, is no more like a granite rock, or a mountain, for example, than is an act of will, or the idea of space. Why, then, has sensation been selected as the exclusive object of all our conscious perceptions? No reason can be assigned for such a selection, but an arbitrary act of will, a lawless assumption. Space is undeniably as much like a granite boulder as is sensation, and the idea of space as really exists in the mind, as the sensation. Why are we not told that the idea, instead of the sensitive state, is the real object of perception? No philosopher can give an intelligent answer to any such question. In this respect, Ancient Idealism manifested higher wisdom than modern. The former simply affirmed that 'contemplation creates the thing contemplated,' but entered into no specifications. In attempting to specify the what and the why, Modern Idealism has fully exposed its native lawlessness.

The Originating Cause of Sensation, according to Kant and other Idealists.

'That all Cognition,' says Kant, 'begins with Experience there can be no doubt; for how should the faculty of cognition be awakened into exercise, if this did not occur through objects which affect our senses, and partly of themselves produce representations, and partly bring the understanding capacity into action to compare these, to connect, and to separate them; and in this way to work up the rude matter of sensible impressions into a cognition of objects, which is termed experience. In respect to time, therefore, no cognition can precede in us experience, and with this all commence.' There is enough in this single sentence, the first sentence in his famous 'Critique of Pure Reason,' to explain and refute his whole system. In his subsequent teachings, we are instructed to regard all à priori ideas and principles and necessary ideas, and 'synthetical judgments à priori,' that is, the axioms in science, as having no validity, as tests of what is true or false in itself, but merely relatively to our experience-cognitions. This also is fundamental to his system. Time, space, substance, and cause, we are assured, are not 'that in themselves for which we take them,' and the ideas we have of them have no validity for realities in themselves, and exist in us merely as laws of sensible intuition which have no real, but only a relative validity. The same, we are also taught, holds equally true of all reason judgments, the principles or axioms in science. In the sentence before us, however, we have a real fact given, the commencement of cognition, together with the absolute affirmation that this fact must have a cause. 'That all our Cognition begins with Experience there can be no doubt; for how otherwise should the faculty of cognition be awakened into exercise, if this did not occur through objects which affect our senses?' In this case, therefore, the principle of causality has absolute validity for truth, and if so here, why not relatively to all events? Further, if the principle, Every event must have a cause, is valid for truth, for realities in themselves, all the axioms must have the same validity; this and all others having, undeniably, the same identical, fundamental characteristics. The entire Transcendental doctrine of Kant and other Idealists relatively to à priori ideas and principles as a necessary consequence falls to the ground, and in its fall carries with it Idealism itself. There is no escaping this conclusion.

Our present concern is, however, the real doctrine or Cosmology of Kant, as indicated and presented in this sentence. Sensation is the fact with which, as he everywhere teaches, cognition begins, and this fact implies the existence and action of exterior 'objects which affect our senses,' that is, produce sensation. Here we have his doctrine of Noumena, the doctrine which affirms as the sum and principle of all things the existence of two unknown and unknowable entities, the subject which cognizes through sensation, and the exterior cause which produces the sensation, and thus 'awakens the cognition-faculty into exercise.' The question which here presents itself is this. Why did Kant assign to sensation an unknown cause, and that an exterior one? Why did he not, with Berkeley, attribute sensation as a fact to the agency of God as its cause, and thus give us for the event a known cause? Why, on the other hand, did he not, with Fichte, refer the same fact to causes acting potentially and prior to consciousness in the subject itself? Each of these causes as adequately accounts for the fact before us as that assigned by Kant, and is quite as probably the real cause. The most that can be said of Kant's doctrine of Noumena is that it is a mere guess in the dark. For sensation he must find a cause, and blindly assigns. as that cause, the first object which presented itself to his mind. In this manner his entire system is constructed from beginning to end.

The Law of Perception, according to Kant and Idealism universally.

That objects of Sense-perception, we say nothing now of perception in its subjective forms, do appear to mind, and are consciously perceived as real external objects having actual extension and form, is the common doctrine of all schools in science. Yet the only object really perceived, according to Kant and Idealism universally, is not any exterior object at all, but a mere subjective state, a sensation. How is this exclusively subjective state, a feeling, as all admit, having neither extension nor form, made to appear, in perception, as a consciously and exclusively external object, having these specific qualities? To this question, Kant and Idealists universally give this specific answer, and they give none other. Sensation is made to appear to the mind, as such objects, by means of the ideas of time and space existing in the mind prior to perception. We need not repeat citations here to show that this is the identical doctrine of Idealism on this subject, as none will deny or wish to deny the validity of our statement.

The question which here arises is this. Why were these ideas assigned as the determining cause and law of external perception? An individual who assigns a specific cause for specific effects must, to say the least, assign a cause obviously adequate and adapted to produce said effects. Else, he insults our intelligence. Now, in the name of reason, we may ask, Where is there in these ideas any adaptation, or adequacy, to act as such a cause? Where is there in them the remotest appearance of adequacy and adaptation to cause a merely subjective feeling, utterly void in itself of all the qualities of conscious or unconscious exteriority, extension, and form, to be perceived by the mind as an exclusively external object possessed of such qualities? We are not conscious of these ideas as producing any such effects; nor can we discover in them any adaptation to produce such effects. Time and space, as apprehended by the Universal Intelligence, and as expounded by all Idealists, are infinite quantities, and are necessary realities exterior to all substances and independent of them. How can the idea of two necessary, external, and infinite objects cause an exclusively subjective feeling, void of all-extension, to be consciously perceived as an exclusively external object, having any extension at all, and especially finite extension? How can such ideas cause different sensations, all absolutely equal, as far as the attribute of extension is concerned, to be directly and immediately perceived, as having this quality in different degrees? This Transcendental hypothesis has nothing whatever to commend it to our regard but its intrinsic absurdity, and presents us with another example of a blind guess in the dark. We will now proceed to demonstrate the fact that these ideas could not have acted the part assigned to them in perception, because they were originated in experience after perception, and could not have preceded it as pre-determining causes.

The Origin of à Priori or Necessary Ideas and Principles, according to Kant and Idealism.

Hypothesis stated.

The hypothesis of Kant and all Idealists on this subject is very simple, and may, in few words, be so presented that all can readily apprehend it. Some unknown cause acts upon the unknown subject, and thereby induces a sensation. On occasion of the existence of this subjective state, and prior to all perception of any kind, the ideas of time, space, substance, and cause, are awakened in the mind. These ideas cause this sensation to appear to the mind as an external object having, among other qualities, real extension and form. Thus we get the external universe. These same ideas also operating upon this same sensation cause the subject of it to appear to itself as the 'I,' the 'me,' a real subject exercising the functions of thought, feeling, and willing. Thus, through these ideas acting upon this merely subjective state, sensation, we have all our perceptions external and internal, and all our conceptions of the 'me' and the 'not-me,' that is, of the universe.

Further, as these ideas spring up spontaneously in the mind, they represent nothing real, and their objects have no existence but as mere 'mental representations.' As these ideas also, acting upon sensation, determine the forms in which it shall appear to the mind, all our perceptions and conceptions, objective and subjective, have and can have no validity for realities as they are in themselves. 'The things which we envisage' (behold) 'are not that in themselves for which we take them, neither are their relations so constituted as they appear to us.' 'We know nothing but our manner of perceiving them, which is peculiar to us, and need not belong to every being, although to every man.' Here, aside from the palpable absurdity of assigning to these ideas the delusive functions ascribed to them, other errors of fundamental importance present themselves, errors among which we specify the following:—

Errors Involved in the above Hypothesis.

1. The first error that we notice is a psychological one of fundamental importance. The ideas of time, space, substance, and cause, as Cousin, in his 'Review of Locke,' has fully demonstrated, are in the mind, not as the chronological antecedents, but consequents, of perception. We necessarily apprehend space, time, substance, and cause, as realities whose existence is necessarily implied by body, succession, phenomena, and events, which we consciously perceive, and we conceive of the former but as thus implied. There can be no absurdity more palpable than this, that when an object can be apprehended and defined but with fixed reference to and as implied by another object, the idea of the former was in the mind prior to that of the latter. This error has been most fully exposed in other connections, with this undeniable deduction, that Idealism can by no possibility be true, because it must fall to pieces on this fatal blunder in psychology. To make ideas which could not have been in the mind until after perception, the pre-exitsing cause of perception, is to affirm that a cause acted before it existed at all.

2. This hypothesis of Kant makes the existence, in the mind, of these ideas an event without a cause. A mere sensation is given. But before its recognition in external or internal perception, with nothing present as an object of thought or perception, an apprehension of four non-existing realities arises in the mind, of space, time, substance, and cause. If we have not here an event without a cause, we would be thankful to any philosopher who will give us a definition of such an event—a definition which will not include that under consideration.

3. The exposition given by Kant himself, of the ideas of time and space particularly, are undeniably self-contradictory. He first gives them as necessary and infinite realities which must exist, whether anything else exists or not, and then, as we have shown, as mere contingent facts which have existence but in thought, and would cease to be 'if we should do away with our subject, or even the subjective quality of the senses in general.' 'We can never make to ourselves,' he says, 'a representation of this, that there is no space, although we may very readily think that no objects therein are to be met with.' Precisely similar statements he makes, and truly so, in respect to time. 'Time is a necessary representation.'—'We cannot, in respect of phenomena in general, annihilate time itself, although, indeed, we may take away from time phenomena.' He then adds, in the same connection, 'We can, therefore, only from our point of view as men speak of Space, extended Beings, etc. If we abandon the subjective condition under which we alone can receive external intuition, that is to say, the way we may be affected by objects, the representation of space means nothing.'—'On the other hand, we deny to time all claim to absolute reality.' Here we are gravely assured that the same things, and absolute opposites, are at the same time true, and not true, of the same objects. Here we have, also, a palpable example of the action of the Intelligence and Will in the construction of the varied systems of Idealism. To the Intelligence, space and time can be represented as nothing but infinite and necessarily existing realities. In the construction of his system, however, the Idealist, by an 'act of absolute scientific Scepticism to which he voluntarily determines himself,' 'compels himself to treat' this form of absolute and necessary knowledge 'as nothing but a prejudice, innate, indeed, and connatural, yet nothing but a prejudice,' On one condition only, we must bear in mind, can we be Transcendental philosophers—to wit, that we consent to compel ourselves to affirm absolute opposites of the same objects, and to treat, not only contingent, but even necessary forms of thought 'as nothing but a prejudice.'

4. The palpable absurdities necessarily involved in this hypothesis, present the last of its characteristics to which we would direct attention. If time and space are not realities in themselves, but are only 'mental representations' in ourselves, then there can by no possibility be any such thing as extended and movable objects, or any real changes in the experience of any being. This necessary deduction from the essential principles of their system is openly admitted, and affirmed as true, by Kant and Idealists of all schools. 'In space,' says Kant, 'considered in itself, there is nothing movable.' 'If I myself could envisage myself, or if any other being (could envisage) me without this condition of sensibility, the self-same determinations which we represent to ourselves as changes would then afford us a cognition in which the representation of time, and consequently also of change, would not at all occur.' If anyone will 'compel himself to treat himself'—he cannot think himself—as never having had any really successive changes in his inward or outward experience, he must, 'when be begins to philosophize, put himself so far 'into a state of not-knowing,' as no longer to 'be in himself, but beside himself.'

Kant's Doctrine of Analytical and Synthetical Judgments.

Upon the validity of his distinction between analytical and synthetical judgments, and upon that of his special exposition of the same, Kant bases the entire claims of his system.

Kant's Definition of these Judgments.

We will give our philosopher's definition of these judgments in his own words. 'In all judgments,' he says, 'wherein the relationship of a subject to a predicate is thought (if I only consider the affirmative, as the application to the negative is afterwards easy), this relationship is possible in two ways. Either the predicate B belongs to the subject B, as something which is contained in the conception A (in a covert manner), or B lies completely out of the conception A, although it stands in connection with it. In the first case I name the judgment analytical, in the other synthetical.'

He then goes on to show, and that most conclusively, that there do exist in the mind many judgments of this second class—judgments which possess universal and necessary self-evident validity. Such judgments he denominates 'synthetical judgments à priori.' So far, with immaterial exceptions, we fully agree with this great thinker. With him we fully agree, also, that all the axioms in all the sciences are of this character.

The Fundamental Problem in Philosophy according to Kant.

Having defined judgments of this class, and having demonstrated the existence of such judgments in the mind, he then presents this as the fundamental problem in science—to wit, 'How are Synthetical Judgments à priori possible?'—'Upon the solution of this problem,' he adds, 'or upon a satisfactory proof that the possibility which it longs to know explained, cannot at all, in fact, take place, depends now whether Metaphysic falls or stands.' Again he says, 'All metaphysicians consequently are solemnly and legally suspended from their occupations till they shall have answered in a satisfactory manner the question, How are synthetic cognitions à priori possible? For in the answer to it, the only credential which they must show when they have anything to bring us in the name of pure reason consists; if, however, they do not possess it, they can expect nothing else than to be, without farther inquiry, dismissed by reasonable people who have already been so often deceived.' So far we are at one with Kant, and we have here his express authority for affirming that if he has failed to solve this problem, and especially, if he has given a totally false solution of it, 'reasonable people' are bound, 'with out further inquiry,' to repudiate his system. We also admit that if we fail to give what 'reasonable people' are bound to accept as the true solution, our system should be dismissed in a similar manner. To impress the reader with the fact that we do not over-estimate the importance of this problem in itself, nor its importance in Kant's estimation, we again cite his words. 'It may be said that the whole Transcendental Philosophy, which necessarily precedes all Metaphysics, is nothing but the complete solution of the problem here propounded.' Let us now compare the two solutions under consideration.

Kant's, as Contrasted with the True Solution of this Problem.

In critically noticing these synthetical judgments à priori of Kant, the axioms in all the sciences, such as, Body implies space, Succession implies time, Events imply a cause, Phenomena imply substance, and Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another, two fundamental facts will be observed, namely, that in such judgments the subject represents a fact of perception—a contingent idea, as those of body, succession, quality, and events, and that the predicate represents a reality necessarily implied by the fact perceived, or a necessary idea, as those of space, time, cause, and substance; and that, in all cases, consequently, the subject implies the predicate, that is, the reality represented by the subject cannot be conceived of as possibly existing without supposing the existence of the reality represented by the predicate. If, for example, body does exist, space must exist, the existence of the former being conceivable but upon the condition that the latter does exist. The same holds true in all other cases. This, then, is the fixed and immutable relation existing between the subject and predicate in all 'synthetical judgments à priori,' that is, in the axioms in all the sciences—to wit, the subject, in the sense explained, implies the predicate. On no other conditions, as we have shown elsewhere, can such judgments possess self-evident, universal and necessary validity. Such judgments, as Kant affirms, do exist in the mind, and do lie at the basis of all the sciences. How shall we account for their existence and peculiar characteristics? This is the problem upon the solution of which, as he affirms and as all must admit, the Transcendental Philosophy must stand or fall. The same, we admit, holds true of Realism. The system which fails, and necessarily fails, to solve this problem, or presents a false solution, and can present no other, must be false. The system, on the other hand, which presents the real and valid solution must be true.

Kant's Solution.

What is the solution, and the only solution, presented by Kant and the Transcendental Philosophy? It is this. On occasion of the mere existence of sensation prior to all perception external or internal, and to 'all real impressions, by which we are affected by objects,' and in the total absence of all realities to which these, or any other ideas, are applicable, there spontaneously arise in the mind, through the action of Reason, the ideas of space, time, substance, and cause; and these ideas thus originated, acting upon the sensation, cause it to appear in external perception, as an exterior object having real extension and form, and other material qualities. As these ideas thus causelessly arise in the mind, they do and can represent nothing real in itself, and must be regarded as nothing but 'mental representations.' As these ideas determine our perceptions, and thus originate their objects, 'the things which we envisage' (perceive) 'are not (and cannot be), that in themselves for which we take them, neither are their relationships so constituted as they appear to us.' Yet there would be a universal and necessary connection perceived to exist between these ideas, as causes, and their determined ideal objects, as effects. Hence, our 'synthetical judgments à priori,' such as, Body implies space, Succession implies time, Phenomena imply substance, Events imply a cause, Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another, etc. 'The problem,' says Kant, 'is therefore solved.' 'We readily apprehend,' he affirms, 'not only how these judgments are originated in the Intelligence, but also why they are applicable to, and explicative of, all facts of experience.' In answer to the question, 'How can an intuition of the object precede the object?' he says: 'Were intuition of such a nature as to represent things as they are in themselves, no intuition à priori would have place; it (intuition) were always empirical.'—'It therefore is only possible in one way for my intuition to precede the reality of the object, and to have place as cognition à priori.'—'Were Time, therefore (and thus also Space), not a mere form of your intuition, which contains conditions à priori, under which alone things can be external objects for you, which, without these subjective conditions, are nothing in themselves, you could not decide anything at all à priori with respect to external objects synthetically.' The argument of Kant is this: We can account for the existence in thought of 'synthetical judgments à priori,' and for their known relations to facts of experience, but upon one hypothesis, that which he and Transcendental philosophers have proposed. Therefore, that Philosophy is true, and all other systems false. On this solution of the problem under consideration, we remark, in general, that should another solution, equally explicable of all the facts of the case, be presented, all logical consequence would be taken from this Transcendental solution, though neither of them could be proved true, we, in such case, being left in the embrace of Scepticism. If, on the other hand, this Transcendental solution shall be proved false, and the opposite one true, then Transcendentalism itself stands revealed as a system of fundamental error, and that opposite system as true. On this Kantian and Transcendental solution, we remark specifically:

1. It rests, as we have already demonstrated, upon a fundamental psychological error. The ideas of time, space, substance, and cause, do not, in fact, precede but succeed experience, that is, 'external and internal perception.' We first perceive body, succession, phenomena, and events, and then apprehend space, time, substance, and cause, as implied by what we perceive. The opposite doctrine, the Transcendental, is absolutely self-contradictory and absurd. None will affirm that we have, or can have, a conception of body, succession, phenomena, and events, before we actually perceive them. Much less can we apprehend them in their general, before we have perceived them in their individual forms. The term 'events,' for example, represents a general conception deduced from the particular events which we have perceived. Now, the term 'cause' is utterly meaningless, undefinable, and of impossible existence in the mind without the apprehension of an event. The latter idea, therefore, must have been in the mind prior to the former. The same holds true of the idea of substance. We can conceive and define it, but as that to which phenomena or qualities are referred, and in which they inhere. If we first conceived of substance, that which stands under, and makes real phenomena, or qualities, and afterwards apprehended the latter, there would and could be, as now, no necessary connection between them, and the latter would not imply the former. The same holds especially true of the ideas of space and time. These realities are apprehended, and can be defined but as the places of body and succession, and as the immutable condition of their existence and occurrence. How can that which can by no possibility be conceived or defined, but as sustaining fixed relations to some other reality, be apprehended before such reality is perceived or thought of at all? There can be no more absurd and self-contradictory idea in Philosophy than is involved in the dogma, that necessary ideas were originated in thought before contingent ones, that the idea of cause, for example, could exist in the mind prior to, and independent of, that of an event, the idea of a maker, in the total absence of all conception of anything made, or to be made.

2. This Kantian and Transcendental solution of this problem does, in fact and form, involve the absurdity of an event without a cause. When a cause is assigned for a given event, a cause palpably unadapted and inadequate to produce any such event, we have, in reality, the absurdity of an event without a cause. Let us now carefully contemplate the case before us. We have given the fact of sensation. On occasion of its mere existence, prior to its recognition in consciousness, and to any perception external or internal, relatively to it, there springs up spontaneously in the mind the ideas of space, time, substance, and cause. There is most obviously, nothing whatever in the sensation, nor in its relations to the Intelligence, the latter not having been affected at all, to originate these ideas, any more than there is in empty space to originate real substance. To affirm that this sensation, in the relations assigned to it, induced these ideas, is, in fact and form, to affirm an event without a cause, we being absolutely assured that the Intelligence was affected, and called into action, when by hypothesis nothing whatever had affected it. Were we told that the mind first becomes conscious of the sensation, and then afterwards apprehends the realities under consideration, here would be something rational. These ideas, however, could not in this case act upon the sensation, and make it appear as an external object. Before this action, the fleeting and momentary phenomenon would disappear. Why did not these philosophers tell us that prior to sensation the Intelligence spontaneously, and when affected by no cause, acted, and thus originated these ideas, that they then originated the sensation, and finally caused this same phenomenon to appear, in external and internal perception, as 'the not-me,' and 'the me'? They would then, to be sure, have affirmed an event without a cause, but would have been self-consistent in their absurdity.

3. The necessary deduction from the above considerations and arguments, which we are bold to affirm none will even attempt to invalidate—the deduction is absolute—that this Kantian Transcendental solution is an utter and hopeless failure, and that with it Idealism itself must fall. This problem has not been, and cannot be, solved within the sphere of this system. There is no escaping this deduction. 'Reasonable people, who have been so often deceived,' will, therefore, 'dismiss' the advocates of the system, 'without further inquiry.' This they will do, if they shall follow the wise advice of the 'venerable sage of Konigsberg,' who has visibly failed in his fundamental argument. The true solution now claims attention.

The True Solution of this Problem.

Let us now suppose that with the total absence of all necessary ideas, the mind, the proper conditions having been fulfilled, has a direct and immediate perception of body, change, phenomena, or qualities, and of events, and that on occasion of such conscious perceptions, Reason apprehends, as necessarily implied by what is perceived, space, time, substance, and cause. We should then obtain all 'the synthetical judgments à priori' known to science, judgments such as, Body implies space, Succession implies time, Phenomena imply substance, Events imply a cause, Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another, and all other axiomatic judgments.' We should have all these, also, in the identical forms in which they actually exist in the Universal Intelligence. Necessary ideas, and 'synthetical judgments à priori,' and all deductions in the pure sciences, would be just as applicable to all facts and forms of contingent knowledge, as on the Kantian hypothesis. Nothing in or resulting from implied knowledge can be incompatible with that by which the former is implied. All that pertains to the implied must, on the other hand, be applicable to, and explicative of, that by which the former is implied. In all the sciences facts are explained by principles which said facts imply. Nothing, therefore, can be said in favour of the Kantian solution which does not hold equally in respect to this.

We have, then, undeniably another solution than that given by Kant and the Transcendental Philosophy, of the problem, 'How are synthetical judgments à priori possible?' a solution, to say the least, as possible in itself, as compatible with all the facts of the case, and as explicative of the same, as is that given by Idealism. This palpable fact as undeniably takes from Transcendentalism all possible and conceivable claims to our regard as the true system. Unless it can be demonstrated that necessary ideas, such as those of time, space, substance, and cause, do precede and determine our perceptions, and that the existence in the mind of 'synthetical judgments à priori' are explicable' but upon that one exclusive hypothesis, then, as the profoundest Idealists affirm, and as all must admit, their system falls to pieces, and 'all reasonable people, who have been so often deceived,' should, 'without further consideration,' dismiss the system from their regard. Now we have before us, undeniably, we repeat, another solution of this problem, a solution, to say the least, just as practicable, just as compatible with all the facts of the case, and just as explicative of the same as is the one presented by Idealism. This system, therefore, falls to pieces, and drops from all claims to our regard, and that on its own fundamental principles.

The fundamental difference between the two solutions, however, yet remains to be stated. The Transcendental solution stands revealed before us as a demonstrated error. It cannot be true. That Philosophy, therefore, must take rank in the sphere of 'science falsely so called.' The Realistic solution, on the other hand, must be true, because it perfectly accords with all the facts of the universal consciousness, and is necessarily implied by said facts. The undeniable relations between the subject and predicate in every 'synthetical judgment à priori,' that is, in all axiomatic judgment, or principles in science, can be explained but upon one exclusive hypothesis, an hypothesis which absolutely accords with conscious facts—to wit, that contingent ideas are, in all cases, the chronological antecedents of their correlative necessary ones, and that the former always imply the latter. As the former, consequently, must be held as valid for the reality and character of their objects, so must the latter. 'The things which we envisage (directly and immediately perceive) are, therefore, that for which we take them, and their relationships are so constituted as they appear unto us,' and time and space, substance and cause, are realities in themselves, and such realities as we necessarily apprehend them to be. We must be false to all conscious facts, and to all which such facts imply, or admit the absolute validity of these deductions. Perception, we must bear in mind, does not succeed, but precede, necessary ideas in the mind. This we have rendered demonstrably evident, our solution of the problem under consideration, therefore, must be true, and Realism is verified upon strictly scientific grounds.

An Example of Fundamental Error, together with the Manner in which it and Similar Errors are Insinuated into the Sphere of Science.

The second sentence in the 'Critique of Pure Reason' contains a fundamental error—an error so stated, however, that its apparent harmlessness insures for it a ready admission into all but carefully reflective minds. 'Although all our cognition begins with experience, still, on that account, all does not precisely spring out of experience. For it may easily happen that even our empirical cognition may be a compound of that which we have received through our impressions, and of that which our proper Cognition-faculty (merely called into action by sensible impressions) supplies from itself.' Among the ideas thus furnished—ideas which consequently have no validity for the realities which they represent—are, he afterwards tells us, such as these, those of Space, Time, Substance, Cause, God, Liberty, and Immortality. In respect to the realities represented by these ideas, if any such realities do exist, 'facts of Experience,' he tells us, 'can afford neither guide nor correction.' All proof of the being of a personal God is thus, as he afterwards shows, taken away, and the term God is made to represent nothing but 'a law of nature.' We may say that God does this and that, 'if we mean nothing more than that the laws of nature do it,' Thus the face of God is totally eclipsed from the world. By a precisely similar method does Mr. Thompson, in his miscalled 'Christian Theism'—a work which has no other bearing but the verification of Scepticism in its darkest forms—conducts to this deduction in regard to Theism. 'We speak,' he says, 'of a certain relation to ourselves when we say of matter that it is hard. We do the same thing when we say of God that He is good.' By what process is the face of God thus utterly veiled from our minds? In the early portion of his work, he affirms that a portion of our knowledge of nature is, to say the least, furnished, not through facts apprehended, but through the mind itself, according to the method of spontaneous apprehension above presented. 'May not this faculty,' he then adds, 'be the origin of the whole? May not all the laws and appearances of nature be evolved from a spontaneous action of the soul according to the laws of its being? May not life be a self-consistent dream? It is a supposable theory of existence, and one not to be refuted by arguments, nor quite evaded on any theory of perception.' Where is the error here? In the false assumption that some portion of our knowledge, to say the least, is 'evolved from a spontaneous action of the soul.' As a matter of fact, not a single element of thought has been thus evolved. Analyze any conception, or form of thought existing in the mind, and you will find but two classes of elements in them, those furnished by perception external or internal, and those implied, and necessarily so, by facts perceived. Conception, in none of its forms, takes any elements from perception, but those consciously taken from the objects perceived, and Reason furnishes no elements but those which are consciously implied by consciously perceived facts. Outside of the elements thus evolved, no forms of thought can be found. This holds absolutely true of perception in its indirect forms, that is, perception through sensation. What is here given? In consciousness the sensation is given as it is in itself, and nothing more nor less is given. Through Reason a cause not known, but real and adequate, is given for the sensation. And the sensation itself and the reality of the unknown cause are all that is given. In connection with perception, in its direct and immediate forms, conception takes in nothing whatever not consciously taken from the object, and not furnished by Reason, as consciously implied by facts consciously perceived. There is not an element of thought in the mind which was not received through one or the other of these sources. Through facts consciously perceived, through Reason-ideas consciously implied by such facts, we obtain all our apprehensions of Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, and outside of apprehensions thus evolved, no elements of thought do, or can, have place in the mind.

Kant's 'Antinomies of Pure Reason.'

The last hope of Idealism lies in what are called the 'Antinomies of Pure Reason.' Our apprehensions of Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space can by no possibility be valid, it is argued, because said apprehensions are, all of them without exception, self-contradictory. Having, in former connections, sufficiently indicated the nature of the fallacies everywhere involved in these Antinomies, we might very properly omit any further discussion of them. On account of their fundamental bearings, however, upon our leading inquiries, we shall give some special attention to the subject in this connection. The question before us, then, is this. Are our ideas of Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, each of them in itself undeniably self-contradictory—so contradictory that we are bound to regard them as absurd, and therefore of impossible validity? Idealism assumes that they are, and bases its own claims upon the validity of that assumption. Here the issue is joined by an absolute denial of the validity of this assumption. On what conditions can the existence of such contradictions be verified? On the following, we answer.

Conditions on which the Existence of such Antinomies can be Verified.

1. The ideas of these realities, as presented in the argument, must be strictly identical with those existing in universal thought. It is quite common and easy to give a definition to an idea—a definition which renders it self-contradictory when nothing of the kind really exists in the idea when rightly defined. In the case before us, philosophers must be held to the strictest account.

2. The argument must induce a higher and more absolute degree of certainty of its own validity than we actually possess of the fact of our own existence as exercising the functions of thought, feeling, and willing, of that of matter as an external object possessed of extension and form, that is, of the material universe immediately before and around us, and of the reality of time and space. If the argument fails to induce this higher and more absolute conscious certainty, we dementate ourselves if we admit, for a moment, its validity. We may not be able to detect the fallacy, but we may, on its failure in the respect designated, absolutely know that it exists.

3. The argument, we remark again, must induce that form of certainty which utterly and permanently displaces the ideas under consideration, and renders them ever after, in the mind's regard, conscious absurdities. When an idea has been really shown to be intrinsically self-contradictory and absurd, that idea at once drops out of human regard. The philosopher affirms our ideas of matter, spirit, time, and space to be in themselves self-contradictory and absurd, and presents his argument to verify that proposition. The argument appears sound and valid. Yet the ideas and convictions do consciously occupy, and necessarily so, the same place in thought and regard that they occupied before. What is the inference which Reason deduces from such facts? That the philosopher is, in truth, acting the part of the sophister—a juggler in science, who, in the language of Kant, 'is playing tricks upon reason.' 'All reasonable people who have been so often deceived, will, without further inquiry, dismiss such a reasoner, and 'leave him alone in his glory.'

4. If the argument has the same identical force against the doctrine that anything whatever is real, and that anything can be known, and especially if it proves anything, it does that all proof by argument is impossible, then we are bound to repudiate it as a self-revealed form of sophistry and absurdity. It is the common doctrine of all systems—a doctrine which must be admitted or nothing can be known—it is the common doctrine of all systems, we say, that phenomena, appearances, are real, and are known as they are in themselves. Suppose that on examination it shall appear that every one of these Antinomies has the same identical place in our conceptions of phenomena that it has in our ideas of matter, spirit, time, and space. If we are 'reasonable people,' we shall infer that these Antinomies are themselves the Grossest absurdities, senseless 'tricks played upon reason.'

These Antinomies of impossible Validity.

The kind of contradictions which our philosopher finds, as he supposes, in these ideas is very special and peculiar. It is not this, that in them, as in all other cases of the same kind, the same thing is affirmed and denied in each of these ideas. This, on the other hand, is the form of contradiction. Take any one of our world-conceptions, and on analysis it will be found that if you admit its validity, two distinct and contradictory propositions may be deduced from it, and that with demonstrative certainty. As these two contradictory judgments cannot both be true, the idea which equally and absolutely verifies them both must itself be void of validity. Hence, 'the things which we envisage are not that in themselves for which we take them.' If what is here affirmed of these ideas is true, the Transcendental deduction in respect to them must be valid. What are the facts of the case?

In reply, we would remark in general, that we have this absolute proof of the utterly sophistical character of the entire argument by which these Antinomies are professedly verified, that in no mind, not even in that of the reasoner who employs it, does this argument produce conviction. When we have most carefully studied these Antinomies and as carefully weighed the argument by which they are professedly verified, our real apprehensions and convictions in regard to Mind and Matter, Time and Space, remain just what and as they were before. Doubt on this subject can have place in the mind but by an act of will, a 'Scepticism to which we voluntarily determine ourselves.' His own argument never for a moment induced in the mind of Kant himself a doubt of his own personal existence, or of the reality of the visible universe around him, a universe verily inhabited by a vast realm of rational beings like himself. This Kant and all other philosophers fully admit. 'It inheres in Reason,' he tells us, to believe in the absolute validity of our world-conceptions. That belief, we are assured, 'remains proof against all grounds and arguments.' The reason is obvious, and has been correctly stated by Mr. Herbert Spencer. An attempt is made to invalidate original intuitions by a series of dependent propositions, not one of which possesses greater certainty than the single proposition to be disproved.'

Another fundamental reason why these arguments fail to induce conviction is this. When we most carefully reflect upon each of the ideas under consideration, those of Spirit, Matter, Time, and Space, we are conscious of no appearance of self-contradiction in anyone of them, nor of any appearance of incompatibility between anyone and any other of them. The attempt to prove the existence of such contradiction in any one of them, or of the relation of incompatibility between them, intuitively impresses the mind as an attempt to realize the palpably absurd, like an attempt to prove to us the existence of a dark cloud between us and the noon-day sun, when not a solitary cloud is visible above the horizon. We look at the argument. It seems unanswerable. We turn back to the idea, and all appearance of the professedly demonstrated contradiction disappears. 'Reasonable people' hence conclude that they have been perplexed and puzzled by a very ingenious 'trick played upon Reason.'

When we carefully analyze these ideas just as they exist in thought, we become absolutely conscious of the total absence of all appearance even of contradiction in them. Our ideas of space and time are, each of them, absolutely simple ideas. This all admit. Now the perfectly simple cannot contradict itself, and it is a contradiction to suppose it can. Nor can the absolutely simple give rise to contradictory deductions, or be incompatible with any other reality.

Matter is thought as a substance existing in space, and occupying space. There is, undeniably, nothing here self-contradictory, or incompatible with the idea of space. Body is thought as a compound constituted, not of compounded, but of absolutely simple parts. Here is the palpable absence of all, even seeming, contradiction. The compound necessarily implies the simple, and the implied and that which it implies cannot be incompatible with one another. In our idea of matter, then, as the reality actually thought by the mind, all seeming proof to the contrary notwithstanding, there can be by no possibility anything self-contradictory.

Mind is apprehended as distinct from, and unlike, but not as incompatible with, matter. The idea that one exists does not render, even antecedently probable, the non-existence of the other, and the idea that both exist together is just as possible and probable in itself as that either exists alone. Nor is there anything in our ideas of either of these substances, or in those of both together, even apparently contradictory to our ideas of time and space. Consider now the judgments, I think, I feel, I will. Is there any thing self-contradictory here? Does our idea of the I contradict any of its attributes? Are these attributes incompatible with one another? We do and cannot but know, that there is here the utter absence of all contradiction, even in appearance. Hence, when an argument seemingly evinces the presence of such contradiction, that argument does and must fall to pieces upon such absolutely conscious facts.

The absurdity of the attempt to prove the invalidity of our knowledge of Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, by argument, fully evinces how deeply schooled certain philosophers are 'in the privilege of absurdity.' Take, as an example, Kant's statement of the utter impossibility of believing in the non-reality of space. 'Take away from your Experience—conceptious of body—everything which is empirical therein—still the Space remains which it (the body), that has now disappeared, occupied, and this you cannot leave out.' In other words, it is absolutely impossible for us not to know, or even not to conceive, that Space is real, and is what we apprehend it to be. Yet, by an argument, 'a series of dependent propositions,' he professes to prove that Space, as we apprehend it, does not exist at all. In other words, by an imagined irresistible, he imagines himself to have removed, and annihilated, an affirmed immovable and indestructible. So much for our necessary ideas. Let us now contemplate his own estimate of the power of his arguments to invalidate our world-conceptions. 'Transcendental Dialectic,' he says, 'will thereupon satisfy itself with exposing the appearance of Transcendental judgments, and at the same time preventing from deception; but that (like logical appearance) it should, in fact, disappear and cease to be appearance, this Transcendental Dialectic can never effect. For we have to do with a natural and unavoidable illusion, which itself reposes upon subjective principles, and substitutes them for objective, whilst logical dialectic has in the solution of false conclusiveness only to do with an error, in the following up of principles, or with an artful appearance in the imitation of the same. There is therefore a natural and unavoidable dialectic of pure reason, not one in which, for instance, a blockhead, from want of knowledge, involves himself, or which a sophister has artfully imagined, in order to torment reasonable people, but which irresistibly adheres to reason, and even when we have discovered its delusion still will not cease to play tricks upon reason, and to push it continually into momentary errors which always require to be obviated.' Yes, the immovable, the me and the not-me, the self-conscious I, and the world occupied by a vast realm of Intelligences like the self-conscious I—this immovable, when assailed by Kant's and the Transcendental imagined irresistible, appears, when the cloud of sophistical argument disappears, as it must—this immovable appears standing and reposing just where and as it was before, and all the Antinomies must be recalled, and gone over again, before this immovable can again be, for an instant, even seemingly moved. Such is the absurdity of imagining that absolute intuitive knowledge can be invalidated by 'a series of dependent propositions.' The philosopher who conceives that he can invent or adduce an argument of the validity of which we are and must be more certain, than we are and must be of the absolutely conscious certainty of our knowledge of Spirit, Matter, Time, and Space, must have become so disciplined in the privilege of the absurd, that it has become to him 'a natural and unavoidable illusion.' Let us now advance to a special consideration of the intrinsic character of these Antinomies. On this subject we remark:

Special Criticisms of these Antinomies.

I. Some of them are based upon false definitions of our world-conceptions.

We will select as an example of this class his second 'Contradiction of Transcendental Ideas,' and will first consider what he denominates the Thesis. It reads thus:

'Every compound substance in the world consists of simple parts, and there exists everywhere nothing but the simple, or that which is compounded of it.'

His proof of this proposition reads thus: 'For if we admit that compound substances do not consist of simple parts, then if all composition were done away with in thought, no compound part (and as there are no simple parts), none simple, and therefore, nothing at all would remain over; consequently no substances have been given.'

Here the idea of the compound body is identical with the same idea as it actually exists in the mind, and the proof is, consequently, strictly demonstrative. Let us now contemplate the Antithesis, which reads thus:

'No compound thing in the world consists of simple parts, and there exists nothing anywhere simple.' His proof of this proposition reads thus:

'Let it be supposed a compound thing (as substance) consists of simple

parts. Since all external relationships, consequently, also, all composition of substances, is possible only in space, so the compound must consist of as many parts, as just the space also consists of many parts, which that occupies. Now space consists not of simple parts, but of spaces. Consequently, each part of the compound must occupy a space. But the absolutely first parts of every compound are simple. Therefore, the simple occupies a space. Now, as every real which occupies a space comprises within itself a diversity of parts existing externally to each other, consequently is compounded, and, in fact, as a real compound, not from accidents (for these cannot be external to one another without substance), consequently from substances, the simple would thus be a substantial compound, which contradicts itself.' We have here more errors than we shall be able to enumerate, and will specify only the following:

1. No compound thing is of itself a substance, as Kant here makes 'the compound thing.' Substance is in itself simple, and incapable of division. Every compound is a congeries of substances, and is constituted of as many real substances as it has simple parts. The term 'matter' represents not one single substance, but many particles of material substances represented by a common name.

2. It is by no means self-evident, and is equally unsusceptible of proof, that every reality which occupies a space, must be what Kant makes it, a real compound. If this were so, the existence of matter would be inconceivable and impossible; for this substance, if it exist at all, must occupy a space. Kant does not know, and nobody else can know, that there may not be an absolutely simple, or a real substance, which does occupy a space.

3. In the Thesis the term simple represents, as it should, an idea of Reason—a form of implied knowledge. In the Antithesis, on the other hand, the same term represents, not a Reason-idea, but an Understanding- conception. In the first sense, the term represents a real simple; in the second it does and must, from the law of this secondary and conceptive faculty, represent a real compound. The compound necessarily implies the simple which Reason apprehends, as thus implied. If you attempt, through the conceptive faculty, to form a conception of this simple, you will of necessity combine into the conception many simples, and thus apprehend a compound. Here lies the fallacy in the argument of Kant to prove our world-conceptions and ideas to be self-contradictory. In his Thesis he employs a term in one specific sense, and in his Antithesis in another and different sense; and thus induces the appearance of contradiction where none, in reality, exists. Take any Reason-idea or form of implied knowledge we please, and attempt, through the Understanding, a secondary and the conceptive faculty, to form a conception of the reality represented by this idea, and we shall find that we have attempted the impossible, or shall form a conception incompatible with the idea. We shall hence conclude, either that the reality is inconceivable and beyond human apprehension, which is true only of this secondary or conceptive faculty; or we shall form a conception contradictory to the idea, and shall consequently, as Kant has done in the case before us, erroneously conclude that the idea itself is self-contradictory. Multitudinous errors of the most dangerous character are thus introduced into the sphere of science. The fallacy of most of the Antinomies becomes palpable at once when the simple touchstone before us is applied to the case. In most cases it will be found that the same term is employed, in the one case, to represent a Reason-idea, and in the other an Understanding-conception, and hence, unintentionally perhaps, ' a trick is played upon Reason.'

II. In other cases we find, not only the error above designated, but arguments either manifestly fallacious, or of no logical consequence. We present, as an example of this class, his 'First Contradiction of Transcendental Ideas.' The Thesis reads thus:

'The world has a beginning in time, and is also enclosed in limits as to space.' His proof of this proposition, in its two forms, is thus presented.

'For if we admit that the world has no commencement as to time, an eternity then has elapsed up to each given point of time, and consequently an infinite series of states of things following upon one another in the world, has passed away. But now the infinity of a series consists in this very thing, that it can never be completed by a successive synthesis. Consequently an infinite elapsed cosmological series is impossible.'

In respect of the second point, if we again admit the contrary, the world will thus be an infinite given whole of contemporaneously existing things. Now we cannot think the magnitude of a quantum which is not given within certain limits of every intuition.'

'An infinite aggregate of real things cannot be looked upon as a given whole, and therefore not as given contemporaneously. Thus the world is not, in respect to its extension in space, infinite.'

We have here, in the first place, an attempt to prove, by a totally fallacious argument, a great truth—the non-eternity of the present order of things. The question whether the world has or has not a beginning, is a mere question of fact—a question to be determined, in no sense or form, à priori, but exclusively à posteriori. The doctrine of an infinite series has long since been exploded as having nothing to do with the cosmological argument. The doctrine of the non-eternity of the world is neither proved nor disproved in the argument before us. Nor can we determine à priori whether the world is limited or unlimited in extent. The argument of Kant, in respect of both points, is utterly fallacious, because inapplicable to the subject.

In the use of the term think, we have another example of the error above elucidated. In one sense we can, and in another we cannot, think a quantum which is infinite. To Reason, the organ of implied knowledge, the idea of infinity is just as plain as any other. Through this faculty an infinite quantum is thinkable. But when we attempt to conceive the Infinite, in any form, through the Understanding, the faculty of finite conception, then the Infinite, in any form, is unthinkable. In his Thesis and Antithesis, in the case before us, Kant employs the word think, first in the latter, and then in the former sense, and thus again presents the appearance of a contradiction where none, in reality, exists. This Antithesis reads thus:

'The world has no beginning and no limits in space, but is, as well in respect of time as of space, infinite.' In proof of this proposition, we have the following argument.

'Let it then be supposed that it has a beginning. As the beginning is an existence, which a time preceded wherein the thing is not—a time must thus have gone before wherein the world was not, that is, a void time. But now in a void time no origin of anything is possible, because no part of such a time has in itself, prior to another, any distinctive condition of existence rather than non-existence, whether we admit that the condition of this existence arises of itself or through another cause. Several series of things can, therefore, begin in the world, but the world itself can have no beginning, and therefore is, in respect of elapsed time, infinite. As to what concerns the second point, let us first take the contrary, that is to say that the world, in respect of space, is finite and limited; it finds itself, in this way, in a void space which is not limited. There would, therefore, be met with, not only a relationship of things in space, but also of things to space. Now as the world is an absolute whole, without of which no object of intuition, and consequently no correlative of the world is found wherewith the same stands in relationship—the relationship of the world to void space would thus be a relationship thereof to no object. But such a relationship, and, therefore, the limitation of the world by void space, is nothing; consequently the world, in respect of space, is not at all limited, that is to say, in regard to extension, is infinite.'

This argument, to prove that the world has no beginning, is based upon the assumption that none but necessary forms of causation do exist. If the ultimate cause of the world is a necessary one, it must have acted from eternity, and the world, as Aristotle asserts, must have had no beginning. But if this cause, as Plato affirms, is a free and not a necessary one, then the creation of the world may have been an event of time. The argument of Kant here rests upon nothing but a lawless assumption.

The best that can be truly said of his argument to prove the infinity of the world is, that it is, in reality, an insult to our Intelligence. In his Thesis, as we have seen, he represents the infinity of the world as absolutely unthinkable. Here, in his Antithesis, he represents this same thing as perfectly and readily thinkable, and thus contradicts himself.

Then the deduction that the world must be infinite, or there would be, outside of it, an infinity of void space, to which as such the world would be related, is simply ridiculous. A Dutchman, when addressed with a similar argument, rightly replied: 'Veel, vot of it?' The argument of our philosopher, under his first Antinomy, is undeniably a total failure.

III. In two other affirmed Antinomies, the only additional ones adduced by Kant in addition to the errors above indicated, we have exclusively an à priori argument, where the argument à posteriori has as exclusive place. His Thesis under his third affirmed Contradiction of Transcendental Ideas is given in this form:

'Causality according to the laws of nature is not the only one from which all the phenomena of the world can be derived. There is, besides, a causality through liberty necessary to be admitted for the explanation of the same.'

The argument in proof of this proposition is a simple repetition of that adduced under No. I., the absurdity of the doctrine of an infinite series of successive events, a doctrine which must hold true, if there is the action of no free cause in nature. 'Consequently,' he says, 'the proposition—as if all causality were only possible according to the laws of nature—contradicts itself in its unlimited generality, and this causality can, therefore, not be admitted as the only one.'

No advocate of the doctrine of necessity would for a moment admit the validity of this, or any such argument, and the advocate of the opposite doctrine will utterly repudiate it, if he has any respect for such doctrine, or for the real argument on which it rests. The proposition before us, whether true or false in itself, has not in the argument of Kant even the appearance of being a verified truth, much less what he professes to have rendered it, a demonstrated truth. Whether there is or is not a free cause acting in nature is a question of fact, and not of à priori determination. We might as properly attempt to demonstrate à priori the age of the world, as thus to determine whether man, or God, is a free or a necessary agent.

The same remarks are equally applicable to the Antithesis under this affirmed contradiction. The proposition is expressed in the following words: 'There is no liberty, but everything in the world occurs only according to the laws of nature.' The following is the affirmed proof of this proposition:

Granted that there is Liberty in a Transcendental sense, as a particular kind of causality, according to which the events of the world might happen, that is to say, a faculty of beginning absolutely a state, consequently also a series of consequences thereof—not only will a series thus begin absolutely by means of this spontaneity itself for the production of the series, that is, causality—so that nothing precedes whereby this occurred action is determined according to constant laws—but every commencement of acting presupposes a state of the yet not-acting cause, and a dynamical first beginning of the action; a state which has no dependence at all of causality upon the preceding one of the self-same cause—that is, it does not in any way follow from it. Transcendental liberty is, therefore, opposed to the causal law, and such a conjunction of the successive states of effective causes, according to which no unity of experience is possible, and which therefore is not met with in any experience, is consequently a mere ideal thing.'

It is perfectly evident and undeniable that the term 'liberty' is employed in the Thesis in accordance with its general acceptation, and in the Antithesis in the Transcendental sense, a sense peculiar to Kant, and of which it is difficult, if not impossible, to obtain any definite meaning. Granting, which we do not, the validity of his 'Proofs' in both forms, no real contradiction is proved. What may be true of liberty in the common, may be necessarily untrue of it in the uncommon, or Transcendental sense. His argument, therefore, under his 'Third Contradiction of Transcendental Ideas,' is an utter failure, and that for two reasons—the fact that the argument in proof of his Thesis is undeniably fallacious; and that, granting the validity of his proofs both of his Thesis and Antithesis, we have nothing more nor less than this, that what is true of liberty in one sense of the term is untrue of it in another and different sense.

When Kant affirms in his Antithesis here, that the doctrine of 'Liberty in a Transcendental sense' implies 'a faculty of beginning a state, consequently also a series of consequences thereof,' and so beginning the same, that the series shall not 'be determined according to constant laws,' he has fully evinced the fact, that his doctrine of Transcendental liberty is either false, or opposed to the idea of liberty according to its common acceptation. Granting that all events in nature occur, 'according to constant laws,' this fact is equally compatible with the idea that the First Cause is a free or necessary one. This order of events may thus arise, because God willed it, when He might have willed otherwise, or because He willed it, with the impossibility of willing differently. Nothing can be more evident than is the fact that the argument in proof of this third Antinomy is an utter failure.

His Thesis under his fourth and last Antinomy is the following: 'Something belongs to the sensible world which either as its past, or its present cause, is an absolutely necessary being.'

The argument in proof of this proposition is based upon the assumption, undeniably true unless we assume the Universal Intelligence to be a lie, that 'the sensible world, the whole of all phenomena, contains at the same time a series of changes,' and 'every change is subject to its condition,' that is, has a cause; and that 'every conditioned that is given in respect to its existence, presupposes a complete series of conditions up to the absolutely unconditioned, which alone is absolutely necessary,' that is, eternally exists. The argument is but one form of stating the self-evident and necessary principle, that the Conditioned implies the Unconditioned; and Granting the fact that changes are real, which Transcendentalism most absurdly denies, the argument has demonstrative validity.

Let us now consider the Antithesis under this affirmed Antinomy. This proposition reads thus: 'There exists nowhere any absolutely necessary being, neither in the world nor out of the world, as its cause.'

The reader will bear in mind here, that if this proposition is verified by the affirmed 'Proof' which follows, then the facts or phenomena of nature are as they are for no reason or cause whatever. The cause of these phenomena must, if they exist at all, exist in the 'sensible world,' as an inhering law of the same, or must exist 'out of the world.' To prove this Antithesis, therefore, is to disprove, not only the being of God, but equally the existence of any laws, or causes, in nature. Nothing in nature, or in the world of phenomena, is determined or determinable; nothing is to be explained, because nothing is explicable. Has our philosopher really proved this proposition? Let us see.

'Let it be supposed,' he says, 'that the world itself is, or in it there is a necessary being; there would then be in the series of its changes either a beginning which was unconditionally necessary, consequently, without cause, which is opposed to the dynamical laws of the determination of all phenomena in time; or the series itself would be without any beginning, and although contingent and conditional in all its parts, yet in the whole, absolutely necessary and unconditioned, which contradicts itself, since the existence of a multitude cannot be necessary, if no single part of the same possess necessary existence in itself.'

The fallacy of this argument, which is against the doctrine that the Unconditioned can be an inhering law of nature, is perfectly obvious. His argument, as far as it relates to the idea of a series induced by such a law, a series commencing in time, has validity, and implies the existence of an Unconditioned Cause of some kind. It is in the argument pertaining to the idea of a series which has no beginning, that the fallacy referred to lies. The series is one thing, and the cause which produced it, whether it be a law of nature, or an agent from without, is quite another. The cause may be unconditioned, and the resultant series, in whole, and in all its parts, may be conditioned. Kant identifies this cause with its resultant series of changes. If the series had no beginning, he argues, it would be, 'although contingent and conditioned in all its parts, yet in the whole, absolutely necessary and unconditioned.' Never was there an argument more fallacious. The Unconditioned is, by hypothesis, neither the whole, nor any part of the series, nor does it imply that the whole, or any of its parts, is unconditioned. This holds equally, whether the series had or had not a beginning.

Equally manifest is the fallaciousness of the argument that the Unconditioned cannot be a cause out of the sensible world. 'Let it be supposed,' he says, 'on the other hand, that there is an absolutely necessary cause of the world out of the world; then this cause is the highest member of the series of causes of changes in the world, and first commences the existence of the last and their series. But still, then, it must begin to act, and its causality would belong to time, but precisely on such account to the complex of phenomena, that is, to the world, which contradicts the supposition. Consequently, neither in the world nor out of the world (but with it causal conjunction), is there an absolute necessary being.'

In reply, we would say, that if the series of changes has no beginning, the same would hold true of the action of the cause which produced the series; and the cause did not, as Kant falsely affirms, 'begin to act.' It is only on the hypothesis that the series had a beginning, that the act of the Unconditioned producing the series must have been put forth in time. Nor is the act producing the series, whether the latter had or had not a beginning, nor the subject of this act, to be confounded with the series, or to be regarded as a member of the same. The cause, in its act, and in itself, is one thing; the resultant changes, or series, is quite another. The Unconditioned, considered as 'a cause of the world,' is not 'a member in a series of causes,' but a cause sui generis. All secondary causes exist as members of the series from which the Unconditioned remains eternally distinct. The contradiction, therefore, which Kant professedly finds in this connection, has no existence but in his bewildered apprehensions of the sensible world, its series of changes, and the Unconditioned Cause of the same.

General Remark upon these Antinomies.

We here conclude our criticism of these celebrated Antinomies. We reserve, until we come to consider the same class of phenomena as presented by Mr. Herbert Spencer, one of their leading characteristics. We refer to the fact that these Antinomies have the same validity against forms of knowledge which Kant and all Idealists and Sceptics, even, admit and affirm to be absolutely valid—our knowledge of phenomena. We do not and cannot know Matter, Spirit, Time, or Space, or any reality, as it exists in itself, but we can and do know phenomena. This is the common and absolute doctrine of all these schools. Now the Antinomies, as we shall show, have the same validity against our knowledge of phenomena as against our knowledge of the realities themselves. That the arguments by which these Antinomies are professedly verified, should have obtained, and so long held, so high a place in the sphere of scientific thought, and that on their apprehended validity, men, schooled in science, should admit as doubtful their own personal existence and that of the world and of the human race around them, to say nothing of the doctrine of God, duty, and immortality, most palpably evinces how imperfectly schooled scientific men are in the Logic of reasoning, and how deeply schooled they are 'in the privilege of absurdity.'

Conclusion of our Criticism of Kant and of Ideal Dualism.

We have followed this great thinker in his great experiment in science —an experiment in which he has 'tried, whether we do not succeed better in the problems of metaphysics when we admit that objects must' (not determine our cognitions, but) 'regulate themselves according to our cognition.' We have carefully, we may add, followed this thinker in every important path in which he imagines himself to have discovered the track of truth. Everywhere we have found his experiment to be an utter failure. The only deduction left us is that the method of this philosopher, and of the schools which he founded, is totally false, and that the systems produced through it cannot be true. It remains now to consider Idealism in its other fundamental forms.

SECTION III.

SUBJECTIVE IDEALISM.—JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE. (1762-1815.)

Common Doctrine of Idealism in all its Forms, and the Logical Consequences of that Doctrine.

The common doctrine of Idealism is that the object of external perception is an exclusively mental state represented by the term sensation. To account for the existence of this state, Kant posited two unknown and unknowable entities—the unknown subject which experiences, and an unknown and unknowable external object which causes the sensation. Here Fichte finally joined issue with his former teacher. Science, argued the former, is knowledge systematized, and the system must be wholly constructed from what is absolutely known. Now nothing is, or can be, absolutely known but subjective states. To introduce as real the admitted unknown into our system, is to construct that system out of we know not what. Hence Fichte denied, or took away, the external object.' For the identical reason for which he took away this object, Hegel, with absolute logical consistency, took away the subject, and affirmed pure thought to be the alone real. In Hegel, or Pure Idealism, Idealism itself reaches its necessary logical consummation. The common doctrine of the system, in all its forms, is that in the Intelligence all objects and mental states exist as exclusive thought-representations, and these representations are all that is absolutely known to be real. Science, or knowledge systematized, will consequently be wholly constituted of these representations, and nothing else will be accepted as real. There is an absolutely necessary connection between this common principle and this final deduction. The error, if it exist and is discoverable, must be found in this common principle. The question upon the correct solution of which Idealism, in all its forms, must stand or fall, is simply and exclusively this: are we, in fact, absolutely conscious of nothing but mere thought-representations? Are these representations the exclusive objects of absolutely conscious knowledge? If this doctrine is true, then we must be equally conscious of all sensations and other so-called sensitive states, such as emotions and desires, of all acts of will, and of the subject which thinks, as well as of external objects, but as mere thought-representations. We must be conscious, not of the I, the subject which thinks and feels and wills, nor of feeling and willing, nor of any external object; but exclusively, we repeat, of mere thought- representations of such realities and facts. Is this a correct representation of facts just as we are conscious of them? Are we not just as absolutely conscious of the I as thinking, as we are of the thought itself? Are we not just as conscious of feeling and willing as of thinking? Are we not conscious of sensation as an exclusively sensitive state, and of external perception as an equally exclusive intellectual state? Are we not, we ask finally, just as absolutely conscious of a direct and immediate knowledge of the external object as possessed, for example, of real exteriority, extension, and form, as we are of thus knowing the sensation? Consciousness, as Sir William Hamilton affirms, 'is a liar from the beginning,' or all these questions must be answered in the affirmative. We are, in all intellectual states, as absolutely conscious of the self as thinking, as we are of the phenomena of thought. We are as absolutely conscious of feeling and willing as we are of thinking, and might as properly resolve thought into feeling or willing, as the last two into thought-representation. Idealism, in none of its forms, has any other foundation than a partial induction of facts 'to which the mind voluntarily determines itself.' What we desire to set distinctly before the mind here is the fact that we cannot take a single step with Kant or Fichte, with Schelling or Hegel, without palpable self-contradiction. We are now prepared to consider the fundamental doctrine or principle of Fichte as 'the great expounder of modern Subjective Idealism.

Fichte's Basis Principle of all True Science.

As science is knowledge systematized, Fichte affirmed that in order to have real science we must, first of all, find 'the absolute and unconditional principle of all human knowledge.' What is this principle? That of 'absolute identity, to wit, A = A,' was his reply. This principle, announced in another form, has been thus expressed: The immutable condition of knowledge is 'a synthesis of being and knowing,' that is, the subject and object of knowledge must be one and identical, and thus come under the principle, A = A. If what is really meant by this principle is, that in all really scientific procedures every step shall be as certain as the principle of identity under consideration, we should have a valid criterion for scientific deduction. This, however, is not what is meant by the principle. It is this. To have real science, the whole system must be nothing but this one principle repeated in different forms. Here, as we will now proceed to show, we have a fundamentally false idea of science, and the announcement of an equally false method in science. This we affirm from the following considerations:—

Critical Remarks upon this Principle.

1. This principle is of no logical or scientific consequence whatever, and no valid deductions of any importance can be deduced from it. In the proposition, A = A, A is not given as existing, or as not existing, or as possessed of any conceivable or definable attributes. The same holds of the corresponding judgments, Not A = not A, and it does not = Not A. Nor does there follow from any or all of these judgments together, nor would there follow from an infinite number of such judgments, what Fichte says does follow, that A is determined or limited by, or determines or limits, Not A. Things known to exist do not determine or limit one another. Space neither determines nor limits time, nor time space. The same holds equally and absolutely true in numberless other cases. Much less, then, can we affirm that any one unknown thing does, or does not determine or limit another unknown object. By no possibility can any science be founded upon mere identical principles.

2. All the valid sciences do, in fact and form, rest, not upon identical judgments, but upon synthetical judgments à priori, that is, upon self-evident judgments in which the subject represents one reality, and the predicate another, the former implying the latter, as, Body implies space, Events imply a cause, and Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another. The axioms and postulates in all the sciences are of this exclusive character, and without such principles science, in any form, is impossible.

3. Fichte, in developing his own system, just as far as he reasons logically at all, proceeds not upon his own principle of identity, but exclusively upon synthetical judgments of the class under consideration. All will admit, he argues, that the proposition A = A, is absolutely true, and in affirming this, we ascribe to the mind a faculty of knowing absolute truth. On what grounds, we ask, do we ascribe this? Not merely on the ground that the thought-representation of such truth, and the faculty which represents it, are one and identical, but that the former implies the latter. So it is upon the principle, not of Identity but of Implied knowledge, that he arrives at the fact of the existence of the mind. In affirming A = A, I pass a judgment, he argues, and in doing so, I affirm myself, as I think. Here again the reality of the ego is affirmed, not on the principle, that the thought and the I who thinks are identical, but that the former implies the latter. The being of the ego is given in positing the ego as the subject of the thought-representation, A = A.

Having verified the existence of 'the me,' not through his own principle, but through another and different one, a principle which leads to a system the opposite of his own, Fichte, in the same manner, accounts for the origin of the mind's activity as a knowing faculty. The object of perception external and internal is, according to Idealism, as we have seen, sensation considered as an idea, or sensitive state. On what hypothesis does he account for the origin of this state? Knowledge, as we are conscious of it, argues our philosopher, is consciously subject to constraint on the one hand, and to limitations on the other. We did not ourselves voluntarily originate this knowledge. We are consciously necessitated to feel and to think as we do, and to know what we know. Our knowledge, also, is subject to conscious limitations. How shall we account for these facts? We must suppose the mind to be, in its own nature, spontaneously active, and that this activity is subject to certain 'inexplicable and absolute limitations.' Prior to all conscious states, there is a form of unconscious spontaneous activity which is restrained and resisted by the principle of limitation referred to. The action and reaction of these two principles in unconscious counter agency induces the mental state called sensation. This state is intuitively perceived in the consciousness as a phenomenon of the subject, 'the me,' 'the ego,' on the one hand, and a quality of 'the not-me,' or 'non-ego,' on the other. Thus we obtain all our original perceptions external and internal, and all forms of thought existing in our experience. The fact of this original and unconscious mental action and reaction by which sensation and all subsequent mental action are occasioned, is not given as identical with any conscious state, but as the cause of the same, and as implied by it. Thus, every step which our philosopher has taken in the construction of his system, is in open violation of the principle which, in fact and form, he laid down as the sole basis of his system. He begins with an A, for example, and promises to find no deductions which shall not each be another A, identical with the first. Instead of this, he begins with an A, that is, with facts real or assumed, and then finds, not an A, but a B, which is, in fact and form, given, not as identical with, but implied by A. No step can be taken in science in any direction, upon Fichte's fundamental principle, A = A. Every true science in all its procedures advances on the assumed authority, not of identical, but synthetical judgments à priori. We shall perceive soon that this principle undeniably gives us a system the opposite of Idealism in any and all of its forms.

Fundamental Assumptions which, as Principles, Lie at the Basis of Subjective Idealism.

Two assumptions of a special character peculiarize Subjective Idealism—that which pertains to the origin of sensation, and that of identity as announced in this form, that the condition of valid knowledge, in any form, is 'a synthesis of being and knowing,' that is, that the subject and object of knowledge must be one and identical, and thus come under the principle A =A.

The first has all the characteristics of a mere lawless assumption, and nothing more. It is by no means self-evident that the spontaneous action of the two unknown and inexplicable principles under consideration would induce the specific state called sensation. The known cannot be thus deduced from the unknown. Then there are other hypotheses on which the existence of this state can be as adequately accounted for as upon this. The common hypothesis, which refers the sensation as an effect to the action upon our sensitivity of a known exterior cause, matter, as fully and adequately accounts for said effect as the hypothesis of Subjective Idealism. The same may be said of the two opposite hypotheses—those of Kant and Berkeley. The most that can be said of this hypothesis of Fichte's is, that it is a mere unverified and indemonstrable assumption—an assumption which has, and can have, no higher claims to our regard than many others which may be adduced, and which is by no means as reasonable as the common hypothesis.

Precisely similar remarks are equally applicable to this second assumption. There is but one conceivable condition of real knowledge which does and must have universal and necessary validity—the existence of a faculty and a correlative object of knowledge, and these in such relations that real knowledge necessarily arises in consequence of this correlation. What said faculty, objects, and relations shall be in any specific case, can no more be determined à priori than can the real distance between New York and Nankin be thus determined. The question what can we know, as we have shown in other connections, can be correctly answered but through another—to wit, What do we consciously know, and what is implied by the conscious facts of real knowledge? For aught that we can thus determine, valid knowledge can exist but in reference to objects external to the mind. Or such knowledge may be conditioned on a synthesis or identity of being and knowing, or may be possible and actual in all the forms designated. The doctrine that the condition of valid knowledge is 'a synthesis of being and knowing,' not only stands revealed as a mere assumption, but is palpably contradicted by absolutely conscious facts. If we are conscious of anything, we are absolutely conscious of actual knowledge both in its subjective and objective forms. Subjective Idealism not only rests upon a mere assumption, but upon one consciously false.

Fichte's Criterion of Absolute Knowledge.

The proposition A = A, he affirms, is an absolute truth, and must be regarded as such. The definite reason which he assigns is, that all men do and must, as soon as they apprehend it, thus regard this judgment, and this fact of universal and necessary recognition implies the existence in the mind of a capacity to know absolute truth. Our philosopher is, thus far, undeniably correct, and here we have an infallible criterion of valid knowledge, to wit, that whatever the Universal Intelligence, from the laws of its constitution, does and must directly, immediately, and absolutely perceive to be real, must be real, and must be 'that in itself for which we take it.' In other words, whatever the mind has as absolute a conscious knowledge of, as it has of absolute truth, must be accepted as true. To deny this is strictly equivalent to the affirmation that absolute conscious knowledge is no knowledge at all, that is, that A is not A.

Let us now, in the light of these statements, the validity of which none will deny, contemplate the following universal and absolutely conscious facts. In every act of external perception two factors are always given, and given with the same absolute distinctness and certainty, the self as the subject, and a distinct and separate not-self as the object, of the perception. The reality of each of these is affirmed with the same absoluteness, and neither is ever confounded with the other. Nor are the attributes of either, in any respect, like those of the other. Nor is the mind less certain of the reality and essential character of either of these objects than it is of the validity of the judgment A=A. Conscious certainty is as invincible against all attempts to 'remove it by grounds and arguments,' in the former case as in the latter. Within the sphere of the Intelligence not a solitary element of doubt does or can exist in the one case any more than in the other. In the service of false science we may 'compel ourselves to treat this knowledge,' and in one form just as easily as in the other, 'as nothing but a prejudice.' By no form of reasoning, or argument, or will-compulsion, however, can the Intelligence be induced to reverse its original intuitive judgment, that the self and not-self, the perceiving subject and the perceived object, exist, as real, really known, and distinct and separate, entities, any more than it can be induced to reverse the judgment A = A. Certainty is just as absolute in one case as in the other. Upon this immovable rock, the necessarily and absolutely intuitive knowledge of the Universal Intelligence, Idealism in all its forms, and with it Materialism, on the one hand, and Scepticism on the other, must fall to pieces. The perceiving subject and the perceived object are realities in themselves, knowable and known as such; realities distinct and separate from each other, or knowledge is not knowledge, the doctrine of Absolute Truth is a chimera, and 'Consciousness,' in the language of Sir William Hamilton, 'is a liar from the beginning.' Every conceivable criterion of truth, as we have before shown, conducts us to the same conclusion.

The Necessary Moral and Religious Deductions of Subjective Idealism.

The avowed sentiments of an author are one thing, the necessary deductions from his system are quite another. It is not with the moral and religious teaching of Fichte that we have now to do, but with the moral and religious doctrines and principles which necessarily result from his system—doctrines and principles which its ablest advocates have deduced from the same. The following paragraph from his writings sets distinctly before us that system as it is, and fully evinces the fact that we have correctly expounded the same. 'Try your utmost,' he says, 'to conceive an object as anything more than a synthesis of perceptions. You cannot. You may infer, indeed, that a substratum for all phenomena exists, although unknown and unknowable. But on what is your inference grounded? On the impossibility of conceiving the existence of qualities, extension, colour, etc., apart from some substance of which they are qualities. This impossibility is a figment. The qualities have no need of an objective substratum, because they have a subjective substratum; they are the modifications of a sensitive subject, and the synthesis of these modifications is the only substratum of which they stand in need. This may be proved in another way. The qualities of objects, it is universally admitted, are but modifications of the subject; these qualities are attributed to external objects; they are dependent upon the subject for their existence; and yet, to account for their existence, it is asserted that some unknown external something must exist as a substance in which they must inhere. Now it is apparent that, inasmuch as these qualities are subjective and dependent upon the subject for their existence, there can be no necessity for an object in which they must inhere.'

There are more errors in this paragraph than we need now to specify, as they have been already exposed. When our author affirms that 'it is universally admitted' that 'the qualities of objects are but modifications of the subject,' he has affirmed the opposite of what is universally true. In universal mind, qualities are consciously perceived as subjective and objective, and the two classes, but in the deductions of false science, are never confounded with one another. Qualities consciously subjective imply the reality of the subject. Qualities consciously objective imply equally the reality of the object. As the qualities are universally and absolutely given, the one class as interior and the other as exterior, they imply the reality of the perceiving subject, and of the perceived external object. To confound the perceived object with the perceiving subject, and to make the former dependent for its existence upon the latter, while each is given as distinct and separate from, and independent of the other, is one of the most palpable and absurd assumptions conceivable.

Our present concern, however, is with the necessary moral and religious consequences of this system. Its fundamental assumption, as we have seen, is that but one substance, or principle of all things, does exist, and that that substance is the self. The universe which we behold as real, and all the realities therein, are nothing but 'modifications of a sensitive subject,' and depend upon this subject, the self-conscious me, for their existence. If this system is true, I have no evidence whatever, but am bound to hold the contrary, that any rational being but myself exists. God is but an ideal Creator of an ideal universe, and owes His existence to the me in the same sense that the universe does. When the learned advocates and expounders of the system, in the German Universities, were accustomed to address their pupils to this effect: 'Having completed our generation of the universe, to-morrow, gentleman, we will generate God,' they said nothing irreverent or untrue their system being admitted. Admitting the system to be true, no deduction can have more absolute validity than this, that, self aside, we owe no real obligations to humanity, on the one hand, or to God on the other. Humanity, as it really exists—and our duties grow out of what we know to be real—humanity, we say, has no more susceptibility of good or ill, pleasure or pain, than the granite boulders which seemingly lie around us. To worship a God whom we have generated, is to 'make ourselves fools.' As Number One alone exists, all our care should be given to Number One, the self. Such are the necessary deductions of the systems, and such are the deductions actually drawn from it by its ablest advocates and expounders.

SECTION IV.

PANTHEISM PROPER. FREIDRICH WILHELM JOSEPH SCHELLING, BORN 1775 AND DIED 1854.

Pantheism Defined.

Schelling was the early and devoted disciple of Fichte, as the latter was of Kant. Each separated from his original teacher and guide on questions mutually deemed of fundamental importance. Kant, to account for the fact of sensation, postulated an unknown reality exterior to the Ego. Fichte found the cause of this fact in certain spontaneous and unconscious activities in the Ego itself, and thus deduced Nature exclusively from the Ego. On the assumption common to all forms of Idealism, Ideal Dualism excepted, that but one substance or principle of all things does exist, the finite Ego, in the system of Subjective Idealism, becomes the sole reality. For this subjective and finite Ego, Schelling substituted an objective and infinite Ego, which he called the Absolute. The real doctrines of the teacher and pupil are very clearly and succinctly stated by Mr. Lewes in the following paragraph. 'In what, then, does Schelling differ from Fichte, since both assert that the product (Object) is but the arrested activity of the Ego? In this: the Ego, in Fichte's system, is a finite Ego—it is the human soul. The Ego, in Schelling's system, is the Absolute, the Infinite, the All, which Spinoza calls substance; and this Absolute manifests itself in two forms—in the form of the Ego and in the form of the Non-Ego, as Nature and as Mind.' In the language of Schelling, 'Nature is Spirit visible; Spirit is invisible Nature; the absolute Ideal is at the same time the absolute Real.' In the system of Fichte, all individual varieties are but varieties of the one finite Ego. In the system of Schelling, 'the individual varieties are but varieties of the eternal One.' In both systems, nature and mind, matter and spirit, the Ego and the Non-Ego are one and identical. In the system of Fichte, Nature, or the Non-Ego, is but a manifestation of the Ego—the latter developing, from itself, the former. In the system of Schelling, both Nature and Mind, Matter and Spirit, the finite Ego and the Non-Ego, are but manifestations of the Absolute, and are identical with it. If we employ the term Nature to represent 'Spirit visible' and 'invisible Nature,' then Nature and the Absolute are one and identical, and the former equals the latter.

Theism and Pantheism Contrasted.

According to Theism proper, God is a free self-conscious Personality—a spirit possessed of all perfections possible to mind, and each perfection strictly infinite. This personal Deity is from 'everlasting to everlasting,' and sustains to all conditioned forms of being the relation of unconditioned cause. The organization of the Universe, with the order of events in it, is as it is, because he willed it, and would be different from what it is had he so willed. As 'we are the offspring of God,' and since God, as manifested to us, possesses every possible perfection which can demand the supreme homage and esteem of rational natures, our first and supreme duty is to render to God such homage and regard. As all rationals are the common offspring of a common Divine parentage, another principle binds us with equal absoluteness, viz., that we 'love our neighbour as we do ourselves.'

Pantheism, on the other hand, denies of the Absolute all personal attributes, and presents it as a necessary activity which can but develop itself, and must develop itself in the existing forms of 'visible Spirit' and 'invisible Nature,' and in no other. This Absolute becomes conscious of its own existence, nature, and activity but in the consciousness of man. In the Absolute, intelligence in no higher forms than exist in man exists at all. As 'visible Spirit' and 'invisible Nature,' with all their forms of activity, are but 'varieties of the eternal One,' the order of events in the Universe can be but as it is, and 'nought is but God.' As God, if worshipped at all, should be worshipped in the highest form in which He is manifested to us, and as man is the highest 'variety of the eternal One,' God, as man, is, according to this system, the only proper object of worship; and those two Pantheists who graduated from one of our eastern American Colleges, and who always made each other the express object of Divine worship when they met, thus saluting each other as 'Good morning, God,' and 'How do you do, Jehovah?' acted most rationally, and rendered the only form of Divine worship which the system legitimatizes. Nor, according to the necessary and immutable principles of the system, can there be any such thing as moral wrong or essential evil in the Universe, unless the Absolute is a sinner, man and all his activities being nothing but necessary 'varieties of the eternal One.' 'Vice and crime,' on the other hand, 'must be normal states of human nature.' We give the moral deductions of the system, not only as they are, but as specifically stated by its advocates and expounders. 'Holding as they do,' says one of these authors, 'but one essence of all things, which essence is God, Pantheism must deny the existence of essential evil. All evil is negative—it is imperfection, non-growth. It is not essential, but modal. Of course there can be no such thing as hereditary sin—a tendency positively sinful in the soul. Sin is not wilful transgression of righteous moral law, but the difficulty and obstruction which the Infinite meets with in entering into the finite.' Not a very worshipful form of being can 'the eternal One' of Pantheism be—a form of being which necessarily involves itself in conditions in which it cannot grow, but must manifest itself as cannibalism; lying, fraud, robbery, and murder, and finds unconquerable 'difficulty and obstruction' in its attempts to enter into its own varieties—the finite. Such, however, is Pantheism at its best estate. As Pantheism and Atheism, both in common, identify God with nature, one may as properly be called Atheism as the other, and both stand together at an equal remove from the doctrine of a personal God, who can be the only proper object of rational worship.

Bearing of Pantheism upon the Idea of the Existence of the Human Race.

Nor should the bearing of Idealism, in its fundamental principles and necessary deductions upon the existence of humanity in general, be overlooked in this connection. The world of perception, that is, the actually perceived universe, has, according to the immutable teachings of the system in all its forms, no existence at all, but as an exclusively subjective thought-representation. Outside of this representation, nothing, as far as this universe is concerned, is real. With this universe, all its inhabitants, rational and irrational, disappear, and can have no being but as elements of this thought-representation. If the Absolute has developed itself in other consciousnesses than my own, of the fact I can have no evidence whatever. With the Universe of perception, all rationals and irrationals ever manifested in any form to 'the me,' have for ever disappeared, being swallowed up and lost in this subjective thought- represensation in which, and as elements of which, exclusively, we repeat, such creatures are real.

It has been our fixed and sincere aim, in the above statements, to present the system under consideration as it is in itself. If anything has been misstated, we would be thankful to be convinced of the error. On the claims of the system to our regard, we present the following fundamental suggestions.

GENERAL REMARKS UPON THE SYSTEM.

I. All Rationals must intuitively and necessarily Recognize the System as Absolute Error.

No individual who is in his right mind can apprehend the system as it is and not be as absolutely certain that it is false, as he is and must be that he exists and thinks at all. We can by no possibility recognize ourselves as existing and thinking, without, with equal distinctness, recognizing ourselves as existing and thinking as inhabitants of a world external to ourselves—a world peopled by a realm of rationals like, and irrationals unlike ourselves. We can no more think of this visible universe, with all its peoples, as having no existence but as a thought-representation in ourselves, and as elements of such representation, than we can think of ourselves as, at the same moment, existing and not existing. We must bear in mind that if the visible universe is unreal, except as a thought-representation within the sphere of consciousness, the same does and must hold equally true of the human race, which are known to us, and representable in thought but as inhabitants of this visible universe. Now no man does or for a moment can doubt the existence of the human race. Hence he cannot, for a moment, really believe the doctrine of Pantheists. Every one, on the other hand, does and must know in himself that the system is false. To say that it is true, and to compel ourselves to treat it as true, is one thing; to think it as true, to banish from the Intelligence the consciousness that it is and must be false, is quite another. When Schelling, for example, was, in his lectures, endeavouring to prove that 'the great globe itself, with all that it inherits,' had no existence out of himself, did he, for a moment, doubt that he was in a real lecture-room, and was there addressing a real class of rational beings, like, but distinct from and in the exterior presence of, himself? We know that he did not. We know, therefore, that he never did, whatever he said to the contrary, really think his own system true. That system is false, or knowledge is not knowledge.

II. Pantheism cannot be Verified on Scientific Grounds.

Nor can this system by any possibility be verified on scientific grounds. The reason is obvious and undeniable. There is not a single fact known to mind, or represented in thought, a fact of external or internal perception, which, in the remotest degree, indicates the existence of but one substance or principle of all things. Every fact known to mind, on the other hand, as absolutely indicates the truth of the opposite system. Matter, as perceived and represented in thought, exists but as an organized aggregate of individual particles, or atoms; and mind is perceived and represented in universal thought, as an associated realm of Monads, or individuals. To advance into the centre of this universe of distinct individualism, and affirm that but one substance or principle of all things does exist, is not to interpret, but with brazen-faced impudence to insult the Intelligence, is not to systematize, but to confound and annihilate knowledge. Nor has any philosopher, since the world began, even attempted to verify this system by a process of induction and deduction. The method of Idealism, in all its forms, on the other hand, is exclusively á priori. Within the sphere of conscious facts, the only sphere in which any doctrine of existence can be verified, no philosopher professes to find a basis for this system. In other words, the system has no scientific basis at all, and cannot be verified on scientific grounds.

III. Pantheism Falls to Pieces on every Principle recognized as such by Idealism in any of its Forms.

If we assume as valid any principle postulated as a principle in science, by Idealism in any of its forms, Pantheism, in the light of that principle, stands revealed as a system of error. On the principles peculiar to Ideal Dualism, all know that Pantheism cannot be true, these principles peculiarizing the former system from Idealism in all other forms. The principles assumed as valid by and common to Idealism in all the forms last referred to, are three—that but one substance or principle of all things does exist—that the condition of valid knowledge, in any form, is a synthesis of being and knowing—or an identity of being and knowing. As Pantheism cannot be verified by the induction of conscious facts; as it must be false, if the principles peculiar to Ideal Dualism are true; and as it can be demonstrated that it is, as a system, utterly incompatible with the principles above designated—then it can by no possibility be anything else than a system of false science.

If, now, we bring the system to the rigid test of the principle first designated, the principle that but one substance or principle of all things does exist, we shall find ourselves absolutely bound by logical consistency and fidelity to adopt the hypothesis of Subjective Idealism, and repudiate that of Pantheism. While we have no consciousness whatever of the reality of the Absolute, we do and cannot but have a direct, immediate, and absolute consciousness of the real existence of the individual and finite self. If but one substance does exist, there is no escaping the deduction that, not the exterior and unknown Absolute, but the absolutely known Me, is that substance. There is no escaping this deduction, but by repudiating the known as unreal, and assuming the unknown as the alone real, than which no deduction can be more obviously absurd.

The same holds equally when we test the system by the second principle, which affirms that the condition of valid knowledge is a synthesis of being and knowing. We are absolutely conscious of the fact of knowledge, and of the finite self as the subject of the same. In no other form is the synthesis under consideration actual, or conceivably possible; and as but one substance, according to the system does exist, and the finite self is given in the universal consciousness as real, this self must be that substance, or Idealism cannot be true. So obvious is the incompatibility between Pantheism and this principle, that the former has never been deduced from the latter. Schelling himself abandoned this principle, and based his doctrine entirely upon the third stated—to wit, that the condition of valid knowledge is an identity of being and knowing.

On this principle, also, as upon the two former ones, the system suffers a fatal shipwreck. If the assumption, that the condition of valid knowledge is that the subject of knowledge, and knowledge itself, must be one and identical, then ideas alone are real, and neither the finite Ego, nor an infinite and absolute Ego, exist at all. The idea of substance, on the other hand, is a chimera, and Pure Idealism and not Pantheism must be true. No deduction can have more demonstrative validity than this. Our investigations thus far conduct us to this one absolute deduction, namely, that, tested by the absolute intuitions of the Universal Intelligence, by all conscious facts of external and internal perception, by all our immutable conceptions of matter and spirit, and by all the special and common principles of Idealism in all its forms, Pantheism stands revealed as a system of undeniably fundamental error. Instead of having any claims to our regard as knowledge systematized, what every system of true science must be, it stands distinctly and undeniably revealed as one of the wildest dreams of false science. Before the validity of this statement is denied, let the above exposition of this system, and especially the above arguments against it, be refuted.

IV. Evidence actually Relied upon to Prove this System.—Its Source and Origin Explained.

Pantheists of all schools, Schelling included, have, in fact and form, abandoned all pretensions that their doctrine can be verified by any form of intuition common to the race, or by any process of induction and deduction. All proof in every such form is not only abandoned, but another and totally different kind is substituted, a kind furnished, not by Reason, that being common to all men, but by a special faculty of super-sensuous intuition, a faculty not possessed at all, but by philosophers of this one school, and denominated, 'Intellectual Intuition,' 'Intellectuelle Anschauung.' This faculty, according to Plato, 'is possessed only by the gods and a very small portion of mankind.' 'The gods,' by universal assent, have been long since 'ruled out of court,' and this 'vision and faculty divine' is affirmed to be possessed but by the favoured few of the single class referred to. The idea of the existence of such a faculty as the exclusive privilege and possession of this small class, a faculty denominated by Plato Reason, and by Plotinus Ecstasy, did not originate with Schelling, but has been distinctly avowed by Pantheists in all ages since the organization of the Vedanta School in India. This faculty, being totally wanting among the rare generally, and even among the vast majority of educated minds, Schelling claims it, as the glory of his system, that it can be understood, not by the classes referred to, but exclusively by the few in whom the 'Intellectuelle Anschauung is inborn.' We need not repeat here citations to the same effect, citations formerly made from Coleridge and others.

This peculiar and special faculty, which is 'a kind of higher and spiritual sense,' 'through which we feel the presence of the Infinite within and around us,' the faculty which 'affords a species of knowledge, which does not involve the relation of subject and object, but enables us to gaze at once by the eye of the mind upon the eternal principle itself from which both proceed, and in which thought and existence are absolutely identical'—this special faculty, we say, which is inborn only in the membership of this highest of all the high schools in science, does not act at all through the faculties common to men, nor by any process of induction and deduction. All things, on the other hand, are a direct and immediate beholding. Originally the self-existent One,' is 'the only absolute reality' existent, 'all else being nothing but the developing of this one original and eternal being.' Through the 'Intellectuelle Anschauung,' the philosopher rises to a direct and open vision of the Absolute, as 'the sole ground and realistic basis of all things,' and thus beholds, not only the Absolute as it exists in itself, but all 'the potencies' which have being in the Absolute, and how these potencies operate in producing the varied ideal creatures denominated Nature—just how, in short, 'from the absolute subject, or natura naturans, is derived the absolute object, or natura naturata.' 'Unless we can disentangle ourselves,' says Schelling, 'from our unreflective habits of thinking, unless we can look through the veil of surrounding phenomena, unless by this spiritual vision we can realize the presence of the Infinite as the only real and eternal existence, we have not the capacity to take the very first step into the region of the speculative philosophy.'

The reader will now fully understand the character of the philosophic teachings of such thinkers as Schelling. They never reason at all. They never present principles and facts, and then draw from the same their deductions. They simply report to us their visions of the Absolute, visions real or imaginary. They affirm the existence in the Absolute of three movements, which they call 'potencies'—the potency of reflection, in which 'the Absolute produces finite reflections of itself, and thus sees itself objectified in the productions of the material world—the potency of subsumption, or 'the regress of the finite into the Infinite,' the movement in which 'nature makes itself absolute, and assumes the forms of the eternal'—and the potency in which the two movements are combined, and realize 'the reunion of subject and object in the divine reason,' a union in which God is openly beheld, 'not in his original or potential, but in his unfolded and realized existence of forming the whole universe of Mind and Being.' If asked for a reason for such teachings, our philosophers, as Mr. Lewes says, will remain silent for a few moments, smile complacently, and then go on to detail their visions through the Intellectuelle Anschauung. The reason is, that they have no reasons whatever to offer. They can only tell us what they have or what they imagine themselves, through direct and immediate intuition to have, seen and heard. It is perfectly evident that we, the mass of minds, educated and uneducated, in whom 'this Intellectuelle Anschauung is unborn,' and who, consequently, in the language of Coleridge, must have our dwelling places on this, 'the Cis-Alpine region of Philosophy'—it is absolutely evident, we say, that we, if we would possess ourselves of these treasures of absolute and eternal truth, must receive with absolute faith the reported visions of these self-affirmed divine seers. As they verify nothing by miracle, and prove nothing by argument, but this alternative is left us—to repudiate their teachings entirely, and trust the faculties we consciously possess, or to receive and trust, as eternal verities, these reported visions of the Absolute. Before we surrender our faith to the absolute keeping of these men, we having left 'the gods' out in the cold, the following considerations should be most carefully weighed.

1. We must bear distinctly in mind that, in different philosophers, in whom, if anybody, this faculty is most fully inborn, this Intellectual Intuition gives with the same absoluteness totally contradictory and incompatible vision of the Absolute, of his potencies and modes of operation. Take Plato and Schelling as examples. Both professedly possessed this special faculty, and both give us the revelations of absolute truth which they honestly believed themselves to have received through the beholdings of this 'vision and faculty divine.' Nor will any candid thinker affirm that Schelling did and Plato did not possess this faculty, and that in the latter it was not, to say the least, as fully developed, as in the former. What are the revelations of this identical faculty, if it existed in either of them, given through these two men? In Plato, 'in an intuitive manner,' and with a certainty greater than that which characterizes the pure and absolute sciences, this faculty affirmed the being of a personal God, the reality of matter and finite spirit, and of time and space, together with the doctrine of Immortality and Retribution. In Schelling, this identical faculty absolutely denied all these, and affirmed the self-existent One to be the only absolute reality, to be 'the sole ground and realistic basis of all things.' If we admit the validity of the absolute revelations of this faculty through Plato, we must deny all its equally absolute revelations through Schelling, and this, when the evidence on both sides is absolutely equal. We must utterly repudiate the validity of the faculty in both, or believe without a reason. So in all other cases.

2. As we have no means, by visions of our own, to test the validity of these reported revelations, we should dementate ourselves, and involve ourselves in the greatest conceivable folly and presumption, if we should repudiate Plato on the one hand, and surrender our faith to the absolute and unquestioned keeping of Schelling, on the other, that is, embrace the doctrine of Pantheism, unless we have more absolute evidence of the infallibility of Schelling and his co-seers, than we have of our own personal existence, and that of the universe, and of the human race around us. We cannot, as we have seen, arrive at this doctrine as a truth of intuition, or by any process of induction and deduction. Nor are we possessed of 'the Intellectuelle Anschauung.' We must, then, repudiate Pantheism, or deny intellectual intuition as it affirms absolute truth through Plato and his school, on the one hand, denying also all truth as revealed to us through our own faculties of intuition and induction and deduction on the other, and affirm as absolutely infallible this same 'Intellectuelle Anschauung,' as it exists and acts in Schelling and his school. Men who utterly discredit Plato, and Christ, and the necessary intuitions and judgments of their own faculties, yet repose absolute trust in the unverified revelations of Vayasa, Pythagoras, Zeno, Plotinus, and Schelling, regard themselves as the high representatives of Science, Philosophy, and Mental Independence. It is some consolation to reflect that no class of beings but men 'enjoy the privilege of absurdity.'

3. The absurdity of these reported revelations obtained through this 'Intellectuelle Anschauung,' is too palpable and monstrous to command for a moment the belief of reflective minds. What are these revelations? By direct and immediate 'spiritual vision' these men profess to look quite through 'all of surrounding phenomena,' and to 'behold with open face' 'the self-existent One,' not only as 'filling the universe of space,' but as 'the only real and eternal existence.' Here is, in reality, a direct and open profession of absolute omniscience on the part of these self-styled and self-inaugurated seers. How else can they behold this 'self-existent One' as actually filling infinite space? No being but one absolutely infinite can have any such vision as this. Who but a being possessed of absolute omniscience can know, or without infinite presumption affirm, that nowhere in infinite space, any being or object but this 'self-existent One' does exist? 'No man knoweth the things of man, but the spirit of man that is in him.' But here are self-asserted seers, who profess by direct and open beholding to know not only 'the things of God,' but all the potencies, and the exact manner of the workings and movements of all the potencies, in the infinite and eternal mind. We must regard these seers as absolutely omniscient, or regard their reported visions of the Absolute as the wildest conceivable dreams of a bewildered and crazy Philosophy.

If we grant the existence of 'this self-existent One' of Pantheism, and that the potencies existing in him, and the manner of their operation, are correctly reported by these men, what sort of being must he be? In the first place, he must be strictly and absolutely finite in himself, or he could not be thus comprehended by finite minds. Then, was there ever so absurdly-acting an object represented in thought? Originally void of all intelligence, it is ever striving after self-knowledge. Ever existing as the eternal One, and utterly ignorant of the idea of self-development, it is ever striving to develop itself. In its first effort to find itself, it sees itself in self-generated ideal material forms wholly unlike itself. Having thus in the first movement got out of itself and into the finite, it now in the second attempt, 'the potency of subsumption,' makes an endeavour to 'return into the infinite,' that is, to see itself as infinite. In the last eudeavour, 'through the Potens der Vernunft,' that of intellectual intuition, in the consciousness of these seers, all distinction between subject and object, the finite and infinite, disappears, and we have 'the self-existent One,' as 'natura naturata.' Now if such a thing does thus exist and act somewhere in infinite space, and if certain seers are privileged to behold it, we make no objection, provided they do not impose this crazy thing upon us, as being our actual selves, and the world, and the races in it which we behold around us, and especially as the God whom we now worship and approach in prayer, as 'Our Father which art in Heaven.'

There is no standpoint from which this doctrine of Pantheism can be presented, no standpoint from which it does not, when apprehended as it is, appear as a blended mass of crude absurdities. There is not an element in it, nor a characteristic of it, which does not commend it to our deepest reprobation. Nor can there be vindicated for it the remotest claim upon our regard, even as a possible truth.

SECTION V.

PURE IDEALISM.—GEORGE WILHELM FREIDRICH HEGEL (1777—1831.)

Sehelling and Hegel.

'The great want of Schelling's Philosophy,' says Schwegler, 'was its inability to furnish a suitable form for philosophic content. Schelling went through the list of all methods, and at last abandoned all. But this absence of method into which he ultimately sank, contradicted the very principle of his philosophizing. If thought and being are identical, yet form and content cannot be indifferent in respect to each other. On the standpoint of absolute knowledge, there must be found for the absolute content an absolute form, which shall be identical with the content. This is the position assumed by Hegel. Hegel has fused the content of Schelling's Philosophy by means of the absolute method.'

Ancient and Modern Idealism.

Here we have an explanation of the real difference between the method of philosophizing among ancient and modern Idealists, and the consequent advantage which the former had over the latter. Assuming to themselves, 'with the Gods and a very small portion of mankind,' the exclusive possession of the faculty of direct and immediate insight into 'being in se,' the ancient Idealists simply announced their visions as forms of absolute truth, and this without explaining the mode or the quo modo of anything. After the announcement of the formula, 'Brahma alone exists; everything else is illusive,' the Yogee of the Vedanta School affixed the fewest possible explanations of the quo modo of the origin of illusory forms from Brahm, while the few explanations actually given were at an infinite remove from facts of consciousness. Similar remarks are applicable to ancient Idealists of all schools. By thus placing their systems at an infinite remove from conscious facts, and giving us as few specific explanations as possible, those systems presented few assailable points where they could be successfully attacked.

Modern Idealists, on the other hand, after setting forth their principles and systems, descend to details, and explain to us the quo modo of the operations of their affirmed potencies, telling us just how the absolute subjective becomes, in perception, the absolute objective, and how the seemingly real arises from the actual ideal. By means of these details and specific expositions, their systems are brought within the purview of conscious facts, and are thus rendered too monstrously absurd to command belief. Kant, for example, after announcing the formula that 'objects must regulate themselves according to our cognition,' attempts to give us, in specific detail, the quo modo by which mere subjective states, sensations, are made to appear, in external perception, as the exclusive qualities of exterior material substances, with all the deductions necessarily arising from such expositions. His system is thus at so many points brought into direct and palpable contradiction with absolutely conscious facts, that we are necessitated at length to affirm and to know that it cannot be true. When he tells us, for example, that the ideas of time and space existing in the mind prior to perception, and each pertaining to its object as absolutely infinite, make the sensation—an exclusively subjective state—a state utterly void of extension and form, appear in conscious perception as a quality of an exclusively exterior object, an object having specific and finite extension and form, the whole exposition becomes too monstrously absurd not to be repudiated. When he still further represents time and space as necessary and absolute existences, each strictly infinite, and then affirms that these same necessary forms of existence do not exist at all out of and independent of ourselves, but are only ideal representations in ourselves, we know, and cannot but know, absolutely, that such self-contradictory presentations "must be absurd and false. When he distinguishes phenomena as representing realities as they appear unto us, and noumena as representing the same realities as they really exist in themselves, and then affirms that we necessarily conceive of phenomena as occurring in time and space, and noumena as having no relation to time or space, such palpable contradictions to absolutely conscious facts appear that we cannot but know our selves as confronted with fundamental error. If we know anything, we know absolutely that all realities must have the same relations to time and space that their phenomena do. When he further affirms, as necessary deductions from the principles of his system, that there can be no such thing in time as real successive experiences, or changes in or out of ourselves, and no extended and moving bodies in space, the error becomes too consciously palpable not to be absolutely known to be such. When, finally, we become absolutely aware that all these and other equally palpable contradictions to absolutely conscious facts must be true, or the system itself false, the validity of the system no longer remains a matter of doubt or a question of verity. On the other hand, we know absolutely that it must be false.

So when Fichte affirms that a system of absolute truth must be constructed throughout in strict conformity to the principle of absolute identity, viz., A = A, and then refers the most essential element of his system, sensation, as its cause, to certain spontaneous and unconscious activities of the mind, activities of which, as he admits, we can know nothing, the fact becomes so consciously palpable that his system is undeniably self-contradictory, and rests upon 'airy nothing,' that we cannot but know it to be false.

So when Schelling, in his successive endeavours to expound and verify his system, 'goes through the list of all methods, and at last abandons all,' when, as a last resort, he sets up the absurd claim of the possession of 'a vision and faculty divine,' a faculty utterly unborn in all rationals but the Gods and a very small portion of mankind; and above all, when the palpable monstrosities of the revelations of his 'Intellectuelle Auschauung' are set out in distinct visibility before the mind, we then become absolutely conscious that further credulity in us ceases to be a virtue. We repudiate his whole system as known error.

Had Hegel also imitated the wisdom of Gautama Buddha, Pythagoras, and other ancient Pure Idealists, by simply announcing, as a principle in science, the formula that 'being and knowing must be one and identical,' and then presented the necessary deduction that thought only is real, his system would not be as assailable as it now is. But when he attempts, as he does, to explain the whole process by which pure thought, as the sole existence, thought existing by itself, without subject or object, thought existing nowhere and in no time, develops itself by rendering real to itself Matter, Spirit, Time, Space, God, Duty, and Immortality, in such details, he sets out the absurdity of his system in so many palpable and undeniable aspects, that we become necessarily conscious of the strict verity of the statement formerly cited of a learned German author, that 'the system of Hegel is nothing in itself nor of itself; neither was its author in himself, but beside himself.' The above statements will be fully verified in the following exposition of and criticisms upon this last development and final outcome of Idealism.

The System Defined.

The system of Hegel, or Pure Idealism, may be presented in few words. As a system, it has its exclusive basis upon and derives all its claims from one single formula, assumed to possess self-evident and absolute validity, namely, 'Being and knowing must be one and identical,' that is, there must be an absolute identity between knowledge and its object. The necessary deduction from this formula, its validity being admitted, is that pure thought without real subject or object, and that only, is real. 'Everything else is illusion.' 'The result of Philosophy,' says Hegel, as cited by Schwegler, 'is the thought which is by itself, and which comprehends in itself the universe, and changes it into an intelligent world. To raise all being to being in the consciousness, to knowledge, is the problem and the goal of philosophizing, and this goal is reached when the mind has become able to beget the whole objective world from itself.'

In the three forms of Idealism hitherto considered, the term 'substance' represents a reality in itself, and the validity of the principle, Phenomena imply substance, is affirmed. Ideal Dualism recognizes the actual existence of two real entities, though unknown. With Fichte the Me, and with Schelling the Absolute, are also realities. With Hegel, the doctrine of substance totally disappears, and thought stands before us as the alone real. As any one thought is, with Hegel, just as real as any other, so, in his regard, is each thought just as true as any other. According to the immutable principles of his system, error in its development is an absolute impossibility; for whatever he thinks the process to be, that it must be in itself. For the same reason, whatever we think to be real is real, the thought and its object being one and identical. It is upon this principle that Hegel affirms the actual existence of nothing. We think of something, on the one hand, and of nothing, on the other. As thought and its object are the same, nothing is just as real as something. If we reflect upon the ideas represented by the terms 'something' and 'nothing,' we find them related to each other as contradictories, or contraries, and contraries are commonly supposed to exclude each other reciprocally: Existence, for example, excludes Non-Existence. This Hegel denied. 'Everything,' we quote now from Mr. Lewes, 'is contradictory in itself: contradiction forms its essence: its identity consists in being the union of two contraries. Thus Being (Seyn) considered absolutely—considered as unconditioned—that is to say, as Being in the abstract, apart from any individual thing, is the same as Nothing. Existence is, therefore, identical with its negation. But to conclude that there is not Existence would be false; for abstract Nothing (Nichts) is at the same time abstract Being. We must, therefore, unite these two contraries, and in so doing, we arrive at a middle term—the realization of the two in one, and this is unconditioned existence—it is the world.' We may now understand clearly the meaning of Hegel's famous maxim, 'Being and Non-Being are the same.' 'Non-Being,' he says, 'the Nothing exists—because it is a Thought.' 'It is not, however,' he adds, 'merely a Thought, but it is the same Thought as that of a pure Being (Seyn), viz., an entirely unconditioned Thought.'

If, therefore, we ask the question, What is it that gives being to the world of perception, Hegel's answer is ready. It is this. The idea of two contraries arises before the mind, as Being and Non-Being, Something and Nothing. As these contraries are identified in thought, a form of individual existence becomes palpable in external perception, the idea of 'the identity of contraries being the condition of all existence.' In illustration of this idea of existence, Hegel takes the case of the two poles of the magnet. These are opposites, or contraries. What one attracts the other repels. At the centre, however, all force of attraction and repulsion disappear. The reason is, that here these two contraries become one and identical. So the perpetual recurrence in thought of the imcompatibility and identity of contraries makes the whole world of perception rise up before the mind.

If we ask, as the second question, What is true, Hegel's principle and method furnish us here also an equally ready answer. If the Object and Subject, that is, Thought and its Object, are one and identical, then whatever is true of Thought must be true of its Objects. As Mind and Matter, Ideas and Objects, are identical, what is real in the former must exist in the latter. This is the doctrine openly avowed by Hegel, and this, with his explanation of 'the condition of all existence,' constitutes the peculiarity of his method, for the development of which he has been awarded by his school such immortal honour. An idea, a pure thought, exists. Its inherent activity tends to develop what is in it. In doing so, a diremption occurs by which the idea is separated into two parts—a positive and a negative which mutually exclude each other, as Being and Non-Being. The positing of the first is called Thesis, and that of the second, Antithesis. By a further process, this negation, or diremption, is itself negatived, and the two contraries become one and identical. This is Synthesis. The original idea, however, is not now what it was before, but exists in a developed form, and by this synthesis the world of visible nature rises before us. By a still further process, a diremption occurs, and the idea of the object perceived and the perceiving subject, are present to Thought as contraries which, as in the case above stated, mutually exclude each other. As a last negation of this final negation, an all-comprehending synthesis occurs, in which Matter, Spirit, Time, and Space, become one and identical, and Thought stands revealed to itself 'as the reality of Things.' This last process, or synthesis, is science, and this all-comprehending idea, in which Thought becomes distinctly conscious of itself as the sole reality, is God. Such is the system. What shall we think of it? In considering this question, let us first notice certain of

Its General Characteristics.

In contemplating this system, we freely grant to it one high merit, that of self-consistency. Of all thinkers, Hegel was one of the most logical. Each principle he apprehended, not only as it is in itself, but in its remotest consequences, and so constructed his system, that there is no appearance of contradiction between its basis principles and intermediate and final deductions. Wisely repudiating the self-arrogant pretensions of an exclusive possession of a special faculty of scientific insight, he claimed for himself no faculty which is not common to the race, and based his system upon, and developed it in strict accordance with, real or assumed, scientific principles.

Pure Idealism has the high merit of self-consistency in another form. It is, as a system, a necessary deduction from the fundamental principles of Idealism in all its prior forms. If, as Ideal Dualism affirms, 'objects must regulate themselves according to cognition,' the latter giving being and form to the former, and if time and space are nothing but thought-representations, it is absurd to represent noumena, realities in themselves, as anything else than such representations. If the Not-me, with time and space, is, as Subjective Idealism affirms, nothing but a thought-representation, why should we not affirm the same thing of the Me? If the condition of valid knowledge is 'a synthesis of Being and Knowing,' why not identify the former with the latter, instead of referring the latter to the former? If, as Pantheism teaches, 'Being and Knowing are one and identical,' then it is infinitely absurd, and absolutely self-contradictory, not to affirm Being to be nothing but a thought-representation, and ideas to be the only reality. When we have taken the first step within the sphere of Idealism, we cannot, without palpable logical infidelity, stop short of the ultimate deductions of Pure Idealism. If, then, we accept this system as true, we must repudiate Idealism in all other forms, and with these all other philosophical systems, as utterly false. If, on the other hand, we reject this system, we must, with it, repudiate Idealism universally, and search for truth in some other sphere of thought and inquiry. Pure Idealism is, as its advocates truly affirm, not a Philosophy, a system which may take rank among other systems, but the Philosophy; or it is a system of total error.

While this system stands distinctly revealed as the irreconcilable antagonist of all others, it is palpably self-contradictory, we remark right here, and that in the light of its fundamental principles and method, to affirm it to be true, and any other system to be false. As Thought and Reality, according to this system, are one and identical, one Thought-Representation is, and must be, just as real, and, consequently, just as true, as any other. To vindicate for any system the most veritable claims for our regards, it needs only to be clearly developed and presented as a Thought-Representation. This representation, as the contrary of every other, and necessarily excluding, and excluded by, every other, as Something and Nothing, is, as a Thought-Representation, the only sense and form in which anything is real or true, just as real, and, consequently, just as true as any other, and no system can be anything else than a form of absolute truth. We are aware that we are here trespassing upon a question of future discussion, the question pertaining to the truth of this system. As this aspect of the subject forces itself upon us in this connection, we present this formula for the serious reflection of the reader, If this system is true, every other, not identical with it, must be false; and if this system is true, every other must be, in all its principles, elements, and deductions, a form of absolute truth. Truly and properly defined, defined just as its ablest advocates expound the system, Pure Idealism is the universal synthesis of all absolute contraries and contradictions. Can a system which absolutely involves such palpable absolute incompatibilities and contradictions as these, be anything else than 'science falsely so-called'? Yet, what has been said of this system, holds with equal absoluteness of Idealism in all its forms. The common doctrine of the system, in all its forms, is, that Cognition, Ideas in the mind, determine Objects, that is, give existence and form to these objects, whether they be objective or subjective. As time and space, and all other objects of thought, have no existence but as Thought-Representations, one such Representation must be just as real, and, consequently, just as true as any other. No form of Idealism, therefore, can be true, unless all other forms of the same general system, and all other systems, must be absolutely false, on the one hand, and the exclusive embodiments of absolute truth, on the other.

In determining the question whether the system is true, two distinct and separate methods, each perfectly valid, may be pursued. We may enter into a direct examination of the character of the principles and method of the system, and thus evince its error or its truth. Or, under the principle that the greater certitude must never be supplanted in our regard for the less, we may compare the conscious certitude which the presentation of this system, in its principles, method, and deductions, induces in our minds of its truth, with that which does and must exist in regard to the validity of our essential apprehension of the reality of Spirit, Matter, Time, and Space. We may put to ourselves, for example, such questions as these: Am I as consciously certain that this system is true as I am that I actually exist as a self-conscious personality exercising the functions of thought, feeling and willing, that an external universe occupied by realms of rational and irrational existences is actually before me, and really external to me, and that time and space are realities necessary in themselves, and necessarily implied by actually conscious facts? Am I as certain that Being and Knowing are one and identical, and consequently, that nothing is real but pure Thought without Subject or Object, as I am that Thought implies a Thinker, Phenomena Substance, Events a Cause, and that Something is more real than Nothing? Am I as certain that Thought may exist as the sole reality as I am and must be that wherever and whenever Thought is, there must have been some being then and there present who put forth that thought? A gentleman, after graduating in one of our American colleges, and finishing his theological education, spent several years in a German University, where he embraced this doctrine of Pure Idealism. On his return to his native country, he gave up the ministry and all his previously cherished ideas of religion and immortality. 'Mr. Finney,' said this man at one time, 'I wish I could believe what you preach. I wish I could believe what I once did. But I cannot. I doubt the reality of all things of which you speak. I regard nothing which you call substance as real.' 'Do you really think as you speak?' replied President Finney. 'I do,' was the response. 'The thought, then, to which you refer is real?' 'It is.' 'Tell me, now, what you really believe. Is there, or is there not, actually present, a real person who thus thinks?' 'I have not thought of that before,' was the reply. 'I admit that I cannot conceive it possible that there should be anywhere, and at any time, a thought which no real person thinks.' Here we have an infallible criterion of truth. Unless we are and must be more absolutely certain that Thought does exist as the only reality than we are that thought implies a real subject who thinks, we dementate ourselves if, for a moment, we harbour the idea that this system can be true. We are now fully prepared to enter directly upon the question of the validity of this system.

Specific Criticism on this System.

I. It has no Scientific Basis.

Let us now, first of all, direct special attention to the principle on which the whole system is based, and from which it derives all its claims to our regard, the assumption that Being and Knowing are and must be one and identical; in other words, that thought does not represent, but is absolutely identical with, its object. Grant the validity of this formula, and all the deductions of Pure Idealism follow of necessity, and the system must be true. Take away this principle, and the system has, undeniably, no basis whatever, and stands distinctly revealed as a monstrous development of false science. Although, in our general introduction, we said all that is really needful in respect to this formula, yet, on account of its fundamental bearings upon our present inquiries, we here renew the discussion. What, then, are the essential characteristics of this formula this basis principle of Pure Idealism? We answer:—

1. It has no claim whatever to the place it occupies in this system, that of a first truth, axiom, or principle in science. It is neither a self-evident nor a necessary truth. The best we can say of it is, on the other hand, that it is a mere problematical judgment which may, or may not, be true. Is it not just as conceivable that every Thought has a real Thinker for its subject, as it is that it exists alone? Is it a self-evident and necessary truth that nothing is real but Thought? When we carefully examine the subject and predicate of this judgment, we cannot fail to discern that no necessary connection exists between them, that neither is identical with, or implies the other. Nothing is or can be more evident than this, that this formula or judgment is not possessed of a single characteristic or element of a valid principle in science.

2. Nor can it by any possibility be verified by valid proof, or any form or degree of positive evidence. From whence can such proof or evidence be deduced? How can any individual prove to himself that he himself does not actually exist, and exist not as a mere thought-representation, but as an actually real, personal thinker? What thought has ranged through infinite space and found that real substances do not somewhere exist? So evident is the fact, that this formula is incapable of proof, that proof of its validity has never been attempted even by those who construct their systems upon it. All, in fact, do admit that if it has not an absolute claim to our regard, as a self-evident and necessary truth, it is to be repudiated as a mere lawless assumption.

3. Equally void of all claims to our regard is this formula, on the score of antecedent probability. It is, undeniably, as probable in itself, that thought never exists without a thinker, as that it exists alone, without subject or object, as the sole reality. It is as undeniably probable that substances exist, as that phenomena do; that a thinker exists, as that thought does, and that thoughts are, as that they are not, thought by somebody. In whatever light this formula is contemplated, it stands revealed as a mere lawless assumption, having no self-evident, verified, or probable validity, and consequently, no more right to a place as a principle in science than Satan has to rule in heaven.

4. This formula, we remark finally, is just as undeniably false as the axioms in science are undeniably true. Unless, for example, the principles, Body implies space, Succession implies time, Phenomena imply substance, Events imply a cause, and It is impossible for the same thing, at the same moment, to exist and not to exist, are false, this assumption cannot be true. If phenomena imply substance, and Events a cause, Thought does and must imply a thinker. While the proposition, Being and Knowing are one and identical, stands distinctly revealed as a mere assumption, the opposite formula, Thought implies a thinker, has all the characteristics of a self-evident and necessary principle in science. While no necessary connection can be discerned between the subject and predicate in the former case, this identical relation does undeniably obtain in the latter. We can no more conceive of thought without a thinker, than we can of the annihilation of space, of phenomena without substance, of an event without a cause, or that things equal to the same thing are not equal to one another. We arrive, then, at this absolute deduction, that Pure Idealism must be false, or that not one of the axioms in any of the sciences can be true.

II. It is Absolutely Impossible in Thought to Represent this System as True.

It is absolutely impossible for thought to represent to itself this system as true, that is, for any thinker to even represent to himself the system as it is. To express a judgment in words is one thing; to make a consciously real representation of that judgment—a representation especially of it as true, is quite another. I may affirm, in words, that events do occur without causes; but I can never represent, in thought, any such judgment. I may affirm, but can never think, that space is not a reality in itself. I may affirm space to be, but can never think space as being, in itself, a mere Thought-Representation. When I affirm space to be, in itself, such a representation, the term space, in this proposition, does not represent at all the real idea which I actually have of space, but something else which is not space. I may say, in words, that thought exists when no individual being is thinking. Such words, however, convey no meaning which I can, by any possibility, represent to myself, much less represent as true. When, therefore, one says that Thought may, and does, exist when nobody is thinking, the term thought does not represent our idea of thought as it is, or the judgment must be recognized as self-evidently false.

Let us now apply these undeniably valid principles to the necessary principles and deductions of Pure Idealism. The proposition which we lay down is this, that these principles and deductions are utterly incapable of being represented in thought, but as unthinkable chimeras and absurdities. Take, as examples of the fundamental teachings of the system, the doctrine which must be true or the system false, that Nothing is just as real as Something; in other words, that the Unreal is just as real as the Real. Let any one attempt to represent in thought the real meaning of the proposition, The Unreal is just as real as the Real, and he will find that he has attempted an utter impossibility. Nor is he at a loss for the reason. The words, Something and Nothing, the Real and the Unreal, represent absolute contradictions, which must mutually exclude one another, and cannot be thought belonging to the same identical class of realities.

Take, now, another fundamental doctrine of the system. We give it in the words of the author. 'Being considered absolutely—considered as the unconditioned—that is to say, as Being in the abstract, apart from any individual thing, is the same as Nothing.' The term Being in most abstract form, and as defined by all standard Lexicography, represents all real existences of every kind. The term Nothing, on the other hand, in a similar form, represents no really existing thing whatever. What does a philosopher mean when he affirms that, in the most abstract forms, the two terms are identical in meaning, and represent the same objects? Let any one attempt to represent in thought, Being and Nothing, or the Real and the Unreal, as being identically one and the same. He will find, as before, and for the same absolutely conscious reason, that he has attempted the impossible.

Take one other equally fundamental doctrine of the system, viz, that 'the condition of all existence is the identity of contraries,' contraries which, as irreconcilable contradictories, mutually exclude each other. Can