Know the Truth: A Critique on the Hamiltonian Theory of Limitation / Including Some Strictures Upon the Theories of Rev. Henry L. Mansel and Mr. Herbert Spencer

by Jesse Henry Jones

"THE RELATIVITY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE."

In the opening of this chapter, Mr. Spencer states the result, which, in his opinion, philosophy has attained as follows: "All possible conceptions have been one by one tried and found wanting; and so the entire field of speculation has been gradually exhausted without positive result; the only result arrived at being the negative one above stated—that the reality existing behind all appearances is, and must ever be, unknown." He then sets down a considerable list of names of philosophers, who are claimed by Sir William Hamilton as supporters of that position. Such a parade of names may be grateful to the feelings of the Limitists, but it is no support to their cause. The questions at issue are of such a nature that no array of dignities, of learning, of profound opinions, can have a feather's weight in the decision. For instance, take Problem XLVII, of the first book of Euclid. What weight have human opinion with reference to its validity? Though a thousand mathematicians should deny its truth, it would be just as convincing as now; and when a thousand mathematicians assert its truth, they add no item to the vividness of the conviction. The school-boy, who never heard of one of them, when he first reads it, knows it must be so, and that this is an inevitable necessity, beyond the possibility of any power or will to change. On principles simple, fixed, and final, just like those of mathematics, seen by the same Eye and known with the same intellectual certainty, and by logical processes just as pure, conclusive, demonstrative as those of geometry, and by such alone, can the questions now before us be settled. But though names and opinions have no weight in the final decision, though a demonstration is demanded and must be given, still it is interesting to note the absence of two names, representatives of a class, which must ever awaken, among the devout and pure-hearted, attention and love, and whose teachings, however unnoticed by Mr. Spencer, are a leaven working in the minds and hearts of men, which develop with continually increasing distinctness the solemn and sublime truth, that the human mind is capable of absolute knowledge. Plato, with serious, yea, sad countenance, the butt of jeer and scoff from the wits and comedians of his day, went about teaching those who hung upon his lips, that in every human soul were Ideas which God had implanted, and which were final truth. And Jesus Christ, with a countenance more beautifully serious, more sweetly sad, said to those Jews which believed on him, "If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; and ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." It may seem to men who grope about in the dismal cavern of the animal nature—the Sense and Understanding—wise to refuse the light, and reject the truths of the Pure Reason and the God-man, and to call the motley conglomeration of facts which they gather, but cannot explain, philosophy; but no soul which craves "the Higher Life" will, can be satisfied with such attainments. It yearns for, it cries after, yea, with ceaseless iteration it urges its supplication for the highest truth; and it shall attain to it, because God, in giving the tongue to cry, gave also the Eye to see. The Spiritual person in man, made in the very image of God, can never be satisfied till, stripped of the weight of the animal nature, it sees with its own Eye the Pure Reason, God as the Highest Truth. And to bring it by culture, by every possible manifestation of his wondrous nature, up to this high Mount of Vision, is one object of God in his system of the Universe.

The teaching of the Word—that august personage, "who came forth from God, and went to God," has been alluded to above. It deserves more than an allusion, more than any notice which can be given it here. It is astonishing, though perhaps not wholly unaccountable, that the writings of the apostles John and Paul have received so little attention from the metaphysicians of the world, as declarations of metaphysical truths. Even the most devout students of them do not seem to have appreciated their inestimable value in this regard. The reason for this undoubtedly is, that their transcendent importance as declarations of religious truth has shone with such dazzling effulgence upon the eyes of those who have loved them, that the lesser, but harmoniously combining beams of a true spiritual philosophy have been unnoticed in the glory of the nobler light. It will not, therefore, we trust, be deemed irreverent to say that, laying aside all questions of the Divinity of Christ, or of the inspiration of the Bible, and considering the writings of John and Paul merely as human productions, written at some time nobody knows when, and by some men nobody knows who, they are the most wonderful revelations, the profoundest metaphysical treatises the world has ever seen. In them the highest truths, those most difficult of attainment by processes of reflection, are stated in simple, clear language, and they answer exactly to the teachings of the Reason. Upon this, President Hopkins says: "The identity which we found in the last lecture between the teaching of the constitution of man and the law of God, was not sought. The result was reached because the analysis would go there. I was myself surprised at the exactness of the coincidence." Nor is this coincidence to be observed simply in the statement of the moral law. In all questions pertaining to man's nature and state, the two will be found in exact accord. No law is affirmed by either, but is accorded to by the other. In fine, whoever wrote the Book must have had an accurate and exhaustive knowledge of Man, about whom he wrote. Without any reference then to their religious bearings, but simply as expositions of metaphysical truths, the writings of the two authors named deserve our most careful attention. What we seek for are laws, final, fixed laws, which are seen by a direct intuition to be such; and these writings are of great value, because they cultivate and assist the Reason in its search for these highest Truths.

One need have no hesitation, then, in rejecting the authority of Mr. Spencer's names, aye, even if they were a thousand more. We seek for, and can obtain, that which he cannot give us—a demonstration; which he cannot give us because he denies the very existence of that faculty by which alone a demonstration is possible. As his empiricism is worthless, so is his rationality. No "deduction" from any "product of thought, or process of thought," is in any way applicable to the question in hand. Intuitions are the mental actions needed. Light is neither product nor process. We pass over, then, his whole illustration of the partridge. It proves nothing. He leads us through an interminable series of questions to no goal; and says there is none. He gives the soul a stone, when it cries for bread. One sentence of his is doubtless true. "Manifestly, as the most general cognition at which we arrive cannot be reduced to a more general one, it cannot be understood." Of course not. When the Understanding has attained to the last generalization by these very terms, it cannot go any farther. But by no means does his conclusion follow, that "Of necessity, therefore, explanation must eventually bring us down to the inexplicable. The deepest truth which we can get at must be unaccountable. Comprehension must become something other than comprehension, before the ultimate fact can be comprehended." How shall we account for the last generalization, and show this conclusion to be false? Thus. Hitherto there have been, properly speaking, no comprehensions, only perceptions in the Sense and connections in the Understanding. "The sense distinguishes quality and conjoins quantity; the understanding connects phenomena; the reason comprehends the whole operation of both." The Reason, then, overseeing the operations of the lower faculties, and possessing within itself the a priori laws in accordance with which they are, sees directly and immediately why they are, and thus comprehends and accounts for them. It sees that there is an end to every process of generalization; and it then sees, what the Understanding could never guess, that after—in the order of our procedure—the last generalization there is an eternal truth, in accordance with which process and conclusion were and must be. There remains, then, no inexplicable, for the final truth is seen and known in its very self.

The passages quoted at this point from Hamilton and Mansel have been heretofore examined, and need no further notice. We will pass on then to his subsequent reflections upon them. It is worthy of remark, as a general criticism upon these comments, that there is scarcely one, if there is a single expression in the remainder of this chapter, which does not refer to the animal nature and its functions. The illustrations are from the material world, and the terms and expressions are suited thereto. With reference to objects in the Sense, and connections in the Understanding, the "fundamental condition of thought," which Mr. Spencer supplies, is unquestionably valuable. There is "likeness" as well as "relation, plurality, and difference." But observe that both these laws alike are pertinent only to the Sense and Understanding, that they belong to things in nature, and consequently have no pertinence to the questions now before us. We are discussing ideas, not things; and those are simple, and can only be seen, while these are complex, and may be perceived, distinguished, and conceived. If any one shall doubt that Mr. Spencer is wholly occupied with things in nature, it would seem that after having read p. 80, he could doubt no longer. "Animals," "species or genus," "mammals, birds, reptiles, or fishes," are objects by which he illustrates his subject. And one is forced to exclaim, "How can he speak of such things when they have nothing to do with the matter in hand? What have God and infinity and absoluteness to do with 'mammals, birds, reptiles, or fishes'? If we can know only these, why speak of those?" It would seem that the instant they are thus set together and contrasted, the soul must cry out with an irrepressible cry, "It is by an utterly different faculty, and in entirely other modes, that I dwell upon God and the questions concerning him. These modes of the animal nature, by which I know 'mammals,' are different in kind from those of the spiritual person, by which I know God and the eternal truth." And when this distinction becomes clearly appreciated and fixed in one's mind, and the query arises, how could a man so confound the two, and make utter confusion of the subject, as the Limitists have done, he can hardly refrain from quoting Romans I. 20 et seq. against them.

Let us observe now Mr. Spencer's corollary. "A cognition of the Real as distinguished from the Phenomenal must, if it exists, conform to this law of cognition in general. The First Cause, the Infinite, the Absolute, to be known at all, must be classed. To be positively thought of, it must be thought of as such or such—as of this or that kind." To begin with the law which is here asserted, is not a "general" law, and so does not lie upon all cognition. It is only a special law, and lies only upon a particular kind of cognition. This has been already abundantly shown; yet we reproduce one line of proof. No mathematical law comes under his law of cognition; neither can he, nor any other Limitist, make it appear that it does so come. His law is law only for things in nature, and not for principles. Since then all ideas are known in themselves—are self-evident, and since God, infinity, and absoluteness are ideas, they are known in themselves, and need not be classed. So his corollary falls to the ground. Can we have any "sensible experience" of God? Most certainly not. Yet we can have just as much a sensible experience of him as of any other person—of parent, wife, or child. Did you ever see a person—a soul? No. Can you see—"have sensible experience of"—a soul? No. What is it, then, that we have such experience of? Plainly the body—that material frame through which the soul manifests itself. The Universe is that material system through which God manifests himself to those spiritual persons whom he has made; and that manifestation is the same in kind as that of a created soul through the body which is given it. It follows then,—and not only from this, but it may be shown by further illustration,—that every other person is just as really inscrutable to us as God is; and further, that, if we can study and comprehend the soul of our wife or child, we can with equal certainty study, and to some extent comprehend, the soul of God. Or, in other words, if man is only an animal nature, having a Sense and Understanding, all personality is an insoluble mystery; all spiritual persons are alike utterly inscrutable. And this is so, because, upon the hypothesis taken, man is destitute of any faculty which can catch a glimpse of such object. A Sense and Understanding can no more see, or in any possible manner take cognizance of, a spiritual person than a man born blind can see the sun. Again, we say he is destitute of the faculty. Will Mr. Spencer deny the fact of the idea of personality? Will he assert that man has no such notion? Let him once admit that he has, and in that admission is involved the admission of the reality of that faculty by which we know God, for the faculty which cognizes personality, and cognizes God, is one and the same.

Although we do not like certain of Mr. Spencer's terms, yet, to please him, we will use them. Some conclusions, then, may be expressed thus: God as the Deity cannot be "classed"; he is unique. This is involved in the very terms by which we designate him. Yet we cognize him, but this is by an immediate intuition, in which we know him as he is in himself. "We shall see him as he is," says the apostle; and some foretastes of that transcendent revelation are vouchsafed us here on earth. But the infinite Person, as person, must be "assimilated" with other persons. Yet his infinity and absoluteness, as such, cannot be "grouped." And yet again, as qualities, they can be "grouped" with other qualities. Unquestionably between the Creator, as such, and the created, as such, "there must be a distinction transcending any of the distinctions existing between different divisions of the created." God as self-existent differs in kind from man as dependent, and this difference continues irrevocable; while that same God and that same man are alike in kind as persons. This is true, because all spiritual persons are composite beings; and while the essential elements of a spiritual person are common to created persons and the uncreated Person, there are other characteristics, not essential to personality, which belong some to the created, and some to the uncreated, and differentiate them. Or, in other words, God as person, and man as person, are alike. Yet they are diverse in kind, and so diverse in kind that it is out of the range of possibility for that diversity to be removed. How can this be explained? Evidently thus. There are qualities transfusing the personality which cannot be interchangeable, and which constitute the diversity. Personality is form of being. Qualities transfuse the form. Absoluteness and infinity are qualities which belong to one Person, and are such that they thereby exclude the possibility of their belonging to any other person; and so they constitute that one to whom they belong, unique and supreme. Dependence and partiality are also qualities of a spiritual person, but are qualities of the created spiritual person, and are such as must always subordinate that person to the other. In each instance it is, "in the nature of things," impossible for either to pass over and become the other. Each is what he is by the terms of his being, and must stay so.

But from all this it by no means follows that the dependent spiritual person can have no knowledge of the independent spiritual Person. On the other hand, it is the high glory of the independent spiritual Person, that he can create another being "in his own image," to whom he can communicate a knowledge of himself. "Like as a father pitieth his children, so Jehovah pitieth them that fear him." Out of the fact of his Father-hood and our childhood, comes that solemn, and, to the loving soul, joyful fact, that he teaches us the highest knowledge just as really as our earthly parents teach us earthly knowledge. This he could not do if we had not the capacity to receive the knowledge; and we could not have had the capacity, except he had been able, in "the nature of things," and willing to bestow it upon us. While, then, God as "the Unconditioned cannot be classed," and so as unconditioned we do not know him "as of such or such kind," after the manner of the Understanding, yet we may, do, "see him as he is," do know that he is, and is unconditioned, through the insight of the Reason, the eye of the spiritual person, and what it is to be unconditioned.

We now reach a passage which has filled us with unqualified amazement. As much as we had familiarized ourselves with the materialistic teachings of the Limitists, we confess that we were utterly unprepared to meet, even in Mr. Spencer's writings, a theory of man so ineffably degrading, and uttered with so calm and naïve an unconsciousness of the degradation it involved, as the following. Although for want of room his illustrations are omitted, it is believed that the following extracts give a fair and ample presentation of his doctrine.

"All vital actions, considered not separately but in their ensemble, have for their final purpose the balancing of certain outer processes by certain inner processes.

"There are unceasing external forces, tending to bring the matter of which organic bodies consist, into that state of stable equilibrium displayed by inorganic bodies; there are internal forces by which this tendency is constantly antagonized; and the perpetual changes which constitute Life may be regarded as incidental to the maintenance of the antagonism....

"When we contemplate the lower kinds of life, we see that the correspondences thus maintained are direct and simple; as in a plant, the vitality of which mainly consists in osmotic and chemical actions responding to the coexistence of light, heat, water, and carbonic acid around it. But in animals, and especially in the higher orders of them, the correspondences become extremely complex. Materials for growth and repair not being, like those which plants require, everywhere present, but being widely dispersed and under special forms, have to be formed, to be secured, and to be reduced to a fit state for assimilation....

"What is that process by which food when swallowed is reduced to a fit form for assimilation, but a set of mechanical and chemical actions responding to the mechanical and chemical actions which distinguish the food? Whence it becomes manifest, that, while Life in its simplest form is the correspondence of certain inner physico-chemical actions with certain outer physico-chemical actions, each advance to a higher form of Life consists in a better preservation of this primary correspondence by the establishment of other correspondences. Divesting this conception of all superfluities, and reducing it to its most abstract shape, we see that Life is definable as the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations. And when we so define it, we discover that the physical and the psychial life are equally comprehended by the definition. We perceive that this, which we call intelligence, shows itself when the external relations to which the internal ones are adjusted begin to be numerous, complex, and remote in time and space; that every advance in Intelligence essentially consists in the establishment of more varied, more complete, and more involved adjustments; and that even the highest achievements of science are resolvable into mental relations of coexistence and sequence, so coördinated as exactly to tally with certain relations of coexistence and sequence that occur externally....

"And lastly let it be noted that what we call truth, guiding us to successful action and the consequent maintenance of life, is simply the accurate correspondence of subjective to objective relations; while error, leading to failure and therefore towards death, is the absence of such accurate correspondence.

"If, then, Life in all its manifestations, inclusive of Intelligence in its highest forms, consists in the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations, the necessarily relative character of our knowledge becomes obvious. The simplest cognition being the establishment of some connection between subjective states, answering to some connection between objective agencies; and each successively more complex cognition being the establishment of some more involved connection of such states, answering to some more involved connection of such agencies; it is clear that the process, no matter how far it be carried, can never bring within the reach of Intelligence either the states themselves or the agencies themselves."

Or, to condense Mr. Spencer's whole teaching into a few plain every-day words, Man is an animal, and only an animal, differing nowhat from the dog and chimpanzee, except in the fact that his life "consists in the establishment of more varied, more complete, and more involved adjustments," than the life of said dog and chimpanzee. Mark particularly the sententious diction of this newly arisen sage. Forget not one syllable of the profound and most important knowledge he would impart. "Life in all its manifestations, inclusive of Intelligence in its highest forms, consists in the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations." See, there is not a limit, not a qualification to the assertion! Now turn back a page or two, reader, if thou hast this wonderful philosophy by thee, and gazing, as into a cage in a menagerie, see the being its author would teach thee that thou art. From the highest to the lowest forms, life is one. In its lower forms, life is a set of "direct and simple" "correspondences." "But in animals, and especially in the higher orders of them," and, of course, most especially in the human animal as the highest order, "the correspondences become extremely complex." As much as to say, reader, you are not exactly a plant, nor are you yet of quite so low a type as the chimpanzee aforesaid; but the difference is no serious matter. You do not differ half as much from the chimpanzee as the chimpanzee does from the forest he roves in. All the difference there is between you and him is, that the machinery by which "the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations" is carried on, is more "complex" in you than in the chimpanzee. He roams the forest, inhabits some cave or hollow tree, and lives on the food which nature spontaneously offers to his hairy hand. You cut down the forest, construct a house, and live on the food which some degree of skill has prepared. He constructs no clothing, nor any covering to shield him from the inclemency of the weather, but is satisfied with tawny, shaggy covering, which nature has provided. You on the contrary are destitute of such a covering, and rob the sheep, and kill the silk-worm, to supply the lack. But in all this there is no difference in kind. The mechanism by which life is sustained in you is more "complex," it is true, than that by which life is sustained in him; there arise, therefore, larger needs, and the corresponding "intelligence" to supply those needs. But sweet thought, cheering thought, oh how it supports the soul! Your life in its highest form is only this animal life,—is only the constructive force by which that "extremely complex" machinery carries on "the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations." All other notions of life are "superfluities."

Reader, in view of the teaching of this new and widely heralded sage, how many "superfluities" must you and I strip off from our "conception" of life! And with what bitter disappointment and deep sadness should we take up our lamentation for man, and say: How art thou fallen, oh man! thou noblest denizen of earth; yea, how art thou cast down to the ground. But a little ago we believed thee a spiritual being; that thou hadst a nature too noble to rot with the beasts among the clods; that thou wast made fit to live with angels and thy Creator, God. But a little ago we believed thee possessed of a psychical life—a soul; that thou wouldst live forever beyond the stars; and that this soul's life was wholly occupied in the consideration of "heavenly and divine things." A little ago we believed in holiness, and that thou, consecrating thyself to pure and loving employments, shouldst become purer and more beautiful, nobler and more lovely, until perfect love should cast out all fear, and thou shouldst then see God face to face, and rejoice in the sunlight of his smiling countenance. But all this is changed now. Our belief has been found to be a cheat, a bitter mockery to the soul. We have sat at the feet of the English sage, and learned how dismally different is our destiny. Painful is it, oh reader, to listen; and the words of our teacher sweep like a sirocco over the heart; yet we cannot choose but hear.

"The pyschical life"—the life of the soul, "the immortal spark of fire,"—and the physical life "are equally definable as the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations." We had supposed that intelligence in its highest forms was wholly occupied with the contemplation of God and his laws, and the great end of being, and all those tremendous questions which we had thought fitted to occupy the activities of a spiritual person. We are undeceived now. We find we have shot towards the pole opposite to the truth. Now "we perceive that this which we call Intelligence shows itself when the external relations to which the internal ones are adjusted begin to be numerous, complex, and remote in time or space; that every advance in Intelligence essentially consists in the establishment of more varied, more complete, and more involved adjustments; and that even the highest achievements of science are resolvable into mental relations of coexistence and sequence, so coördinated as exactly to tally with certain relations of coexistence and sequence that occur externally." In such relations consists the life of the "caterpillar." In such relations, only a little "more complex," consists the life of "the sparrow." Such relations only does "the fowler" observe; such only does "the chemist" know. This is the path by which we are led to the last, the highest "truth" which man can attain. Thus do we learn "that what we call truth, guiding us to successful action, and the consequent maintenance of life, is simply the accurate correspondence of subjective to objective relations; while error, leading to failure and therefore towards death, is the absence of such accurate correspondence." What a noble life, oh, reader, what an exalted destiny thine is here declared to be! The largest effort of thine intelligence, "the highest achievement of science," yea, the total object of the life of thy soul,—thy "psychial" life,—is to attain such exceeding skill in the construction of a shelter, in the fitting of apparel, in the preparation of food, in a word, in securing "the accurate correspondence of subjective to objective relations," and thus in attaining the "truth" which shall guide "us to successful action and the consequent maintenance of life," that we shall secure forever our animal existence on earth. Study patiently thy lesson, oh human animal! Con it o'er and o'er. Who knows but thou mayest yet attain to this acme of the perfection of thy nature, though it be far below what thou hadst once fondly expected,—mayest attain a perfect knowledge of the "truth," and a perfect skill in the application of that truth, i. e. in "the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations"; and so be guided "to successful action, and the consequent maintenance of life," whereby thou shalt elude forever that merciless hunter who pursues thee,—the grim man-stalker, the skeleton Death. But when bending all thy energies, yea, all the powers of thy soul, to this task, thou mayest recur at some unfortunate moment to the dreams and aspirations which have hitherto lain like golden sunlight on thy pathway. Let no vain regret for what seemed thy nobler destiny ever sadden thy day, or deepen the darkness of thy night. True, thou didst deem thyself capable of something higher than "the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations"; didst often occupy thyself with contemplating those "things which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard"; didst deem thyself a son of God, and "a joint-heir with Jesus Christ," "of things incorruptible and undefiled, and which fade not away, eternal in the heavens"; didst sometimes seem to see, with faith's triumphant gaze, those glorious scenes which thou wouldst traverse when in the spirit-land thou shouldst lead a pure spiritual life with other spirits, where all earthliness had been stripped off, all tears had been wiped away, and perfect holiness was thine through all eternity. But all these visions were only dreams; they wholly deluded thee. We have learned from the lips of this latest English sage that thy god is thy belly, and that thou must mind earthly things, so as to keep up "the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations." Such being thy lot, and to fulfil such a lot being "the highest achievement of science," permit not thyself to be disturbed by those old-fashioned and sometimes troublesome notions that "truth" and those "achievements" pertained to a spiritual person in spiritual relations to God as the moral Governor of the Universe; that man was bound to know the truth and obey it; that his "errors" were violations of perfect law,—the truth he knew,—were crimes against Him who is "of too pure eyes to behold iniquity, and cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance"; that for these crimes there impended a just penalty—an appalling punishment; and that the only real "failure" was the failure to repent of and forsake the crimes, and thus escape the penalty. Far other is the fact, as thou wilt learn from this wise man's book. As he teaches us, the only "error" we can make, is, to miss in maintaining perfectly "the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations,"—is to eat too much roast beef and plum-pudding at dinner, or to wear too scanty or too thick clothing, or to expose one's self imprudently in a storm, or by some other carelessness which may produce "the absence of such accurate correspondence" as shall secure unending life, and so lead to his only "failure"—the advance "towards death." When, then, oh reader! by some unfortunate mischance, some "error" into which thine ignorance hath led thee, thou hast rendered thy "failure" inevitable, and art surely descending "towards death," hesitate not to sing with heedless hilarity the old Epicurean song, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die."

Sing and be gay
The livelong day,
Thinking no whit of to-morrow.
Enjoy while you may
All pleasure and play,
For after death is no sorrow.

Thou hast committed thine only "error" in not maintaining "the accurate correspondence"; thou hast fallen upon thine only "failure," the inevitable advance "towards death." Than death no greater evil can befall thee, and that is already sure. Then let "dance and song," and "women and wine," bestow some snatches of pleasure upon thy fleeting days.

Delightful philosophy, is it not, reader? Poor unfortunate man, and especially poor, befooled, cheated, hopeless Christian man, who has these many years cherished those vain, deceitful dreams of which we spoke a little ago! To be brought down from such lofty aspirations; to be made to know that he is only an animal; that "Life in all its manifestations, inclusive of Intelligence in its highest forms, consists in the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations." Do you not join with me in pitying him?

And such is the philosophy which is heralded to us from over the sea as the newly found and wonderful truth, which is to satisfy the hungering soul of man and still its persistent cry for bread. And this is the teacher, mocking that painful cry with such chaff, whom newspaper after newspaper, and periodical after periodical on this side the water, even to those we love best and cherish most, have pronounced one of the profoundest essayists of the day. Perhaps he can give us some sage remarks upon "laughter," as it is observed in the human animal, and on that point compare therewith other animals. But, speaking in all sincerity after the manner of the Book of Common Prayer, we can but say, "From all such philosophers and philosophies, good Lord deliver us."

Few, perhaps none of our readers, will desire to see a denial in terms of such a theory. When a man, aspiring to be a philosopher, advances the doctrine that not only is "Life in its simplest form"—the animal life—"the correspondence of certain inner physico-chemical actions with certain outer physico-chemical actions," but that "each advance to a higher form of Life consists in a better preservation of this primary correspondence"; and when, proceeding further, and to be explicit, he asserts that not only "the physical," but also "the psychical life are equally" but "the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations"; and when, still further to insult man, and to utter his insult in the most positive, extreme, and unmistakable terms, he asserts "that even the highest achievements of science are resolvable into mental relations of coexistence and sequence, so coördinated as exactly to tally with certain relations of coexistence and sequence that occur externally,"—that is, that the highest science is the attainment of a perfect cuisine; in a word, when a human being in this nineteenth century offers to his fellows as the loftiest attainment of philosophy the tenet that the highest form of life cognizable by man is an animal life, and that man can have no other knowledge of himself than as an animal, of a little higher grade, it is true, than other animals, but not different in kind, then the healthy soul, when such a doctrine is presented to it, will reject it as instantaneously as a healthy stomach rejects a roll of tobacco.

With what a sense of relief does one turn from a system of philosophy which, when stripped of its garb of well-chosen words and large sounding, plausible phrases, appears in such vile shape and hideous proportions, to the teachings of that pure and noble instructor of our youth, that man who, by his gentle, benignant mien, so beautifully illustrates the spirit and life of the Apostle John,—Rev. Mark Hopkins, D. D., President of Williams College. No one who has read his "Lectures on Moral Science," and no lover of truth should fail to do so, will desire an apology for inserting the following extract, wherein is presented a theory upon which the soul of man can rest, as at home the soldier rests, who has just been released from the Libby or Salisbury charnel-house.

"And here, again, we have three great forces with their products. These are the vegetable, the animal, and the rational life.

"Of these, vegetable life is the lowest. Its products are as strictly conditional for animal life as chemical affinity is for vegetable, for the animal is nourished by nothing that has not been previously elaborated by the vegetable. 'The profit of the earth is for all; the king himself is served by the field.'

"Again, we have the animal and sensitive life, capable of enjoyment and suffering, and having the instincts necessary to its preservation. This, as man is now constituted, is conditional for his rational life. The rational has its roots in that, and manifests itself only through the organization which that builds up.

"We have, then, finally and highest of all, this rational and moral life, by which man is made in the image of God. In man, as thus constituted, we first find a being who is capable of choosing his own end, or, rather, of choosing or rejecting the end indicated by his whole nature. This is moral freedom, and in this is the precise point of transition from all that is below to that which is highest. For everything below man the end is necessitated. Whatever choice there may be in the agency of animals of means for the attainment of their end,—and they have one somewhat wide,—they have none in respect to the end itself. This, for our purpose, and for all purposes, is the characteristic distinction, so long sought, between man and the brute. Man determines his own end; the end of the brute is necessitated. Up to man everything is driven to its end by a force working from without or from behind; but for him the pillar of cloud and of fire puts itself in front, and he follows it or not, as he chooses.

"In the above cases it will be seen that the process is one of the addition of new forces, with a constant limitation of the field within which the forces act.... It is to be noticed, however, that while the field of each added and superior force is narrowed, yet nothing is dropped. Each lower force shoots through, and combines itself with all that is higher. Because he is rational, man is not the less subject to gravitation and cohesion and chemical affinity. He has also the organic life that belongs to the animal. In him none of these are dropped; but the rational life is united with and superinduced upon all these, so that man is not only a microcosm, but is the natural head and ruler of the world. He partakes of all that is below him, and becomes man by the addition of something higher.... Here, then, is our model and law. Have we a lower sensitive and animal nature? Let that nature be cherished and expanded by all its innocent and legitimate enjoyments, for it is an end. But—and here we find the limit—let it be cherished only as subservient to the higher intellectual life, for it is also a means." The italics are ours.

Satisfactory, true, and self-sustained as is this theory,—and it is one which like a granite Gothic spire lifts itself high and calm into the atmosphere, standing firm and immovable in its own clear and self-evident truth, unshaken by a thousand assaulting materialistic storms,—we would buttress it with the utterances of other of the earth's noble ones; and this we do not because it is in any degree needful, but because our mind loves to linger round the theme, and to gather the concurrent thought of various rarely endowed minds upon this subject. Exactly in point is the following—one of many passages which might be selected from the works of that profoundest of English metaphysicians and theologians, S. T. Coleridge:—

"And here let me observe that the difficulty and delicacy of this investigation are greatly increased by our not considering the understanding (even our own) in itself, and as it would be were it not accompanied with and modified by the coöperation of the will, the moral feeling, and that faculty, perhaps best distinguished by the name of Reason, of determining that which is universal and necessary, of fixing laws and principles whether speculative or practical, and of contemplating a final purpose or end. This intelligent will—having a self-conscious purpose, under the guidance and light of the reason, by which its acts are made to bear as a whole upon some end in and for itself, and to which the understanding is subservient as an organ or the faculty of selecting and appropriating the means—seems best to account for that progressiveness of the human race, which so evidently marks an insurmountable distinction and impassable barrier between man and the inferior animals, but which would be inexplicable, were there no other difference than in the degree of their intellectual faculties."—Works, Vol. I. p. 371. The italics are ours.

The attention of the reader may with profit be also directed to the words of another metaphysician, who has been much longer known, and has enjoyed a wider fame than either of those just mentioned; and whose teachings, however little weight they may seem to have with Mr. Spencer, have been these many years, and still are received and studied with profound respect and loving carefulness by multitudes of persons. We refer to the apostle Paul, "There is, therefore, now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the spirit." That is, who do not walk after the law of the animal nature, but who do walk after the law of the spiritual person, for it is of this great psychological distinction that the apostle so fully and continually speaks. "For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the spirit, the things of the spirit. For the minding of the flesh is death, but the minding of the spirit is life and peace; because the minding of the flesh as enmity against God, for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be." Romans VIII. 1, 5, 6, 7. This I say, then, "Walk in the spirit and fulfil not the lust of the flesh. For the flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other."—Galatians V. 16, 17.

Upon these passages it should be remarked, by way of explanation, that our translators in writing the word spirit with a capital, and thus intimating that it is the Holy Spirit of God which is meant, have led their readers astray. The apostle's repeated use of that term, in contrasting the flesh with the spirit, appears decisive of the fact that he is contrasting, in all such passages, the animal nature with the spiritual person. But if any one is startled by this position and thinks to reject it, let him bear in mind that the law of the spiritual person in man and of the Holy Spirit of God is identical.

The reader will hardly desire from us what his own mind will have already accomplished—the construction in our own terms, and the contrasting of the system above embodied with that presented by Mr. Spencer. The human being, Man, is a twofold being, "flesh" and "spirit," an animal nature and a spiritual person. In the animal nature are the Sense and the Understanding. In the spiritual person are the Reason, the spiritual Sensibilities, and the Will. The animal nature is common to man and the brutes. The spiritual person is common to man and God. It is manifest, then, that there is "an insurmountable distinction and impassable barrier" not only "between man and the inferior animals," but between man as spiritual person, and man as animal nature, and that this is a greater distinction than any other in the Universe, except that which exists between the Creator and the created. What relation, then, do these so widely diverse natures bear to each other? Evidently that which President Hopkins has assigned. "Because he is rational, man is not the less subject to gravitation and cohesion and chemical affinity. He has also the organic life that belongs to the plant, and the sensitive and instinctive life that belongs to the animal." Thus far his life "is the correspondence of certain inner physico-chemical actions with certain outer physico-chemical actions,"—undoubtedly "consists in the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations"; and being the highest order of animal, his life "consists in the establishment of more varied, more complete, and more involved adjustments" than that of any other animal. What, then, is this life for? "This, as man is now constituted, is conditional for his rational life." "The rational life is united with and superinduced upon all these." As God made man, and in the natural order, the "flesh," the animal life, is wholly subordinate to the "spirit," the spiritual life. And the spirit, or spiritual person of which Paul writes so much,—does this also, this "Intelligence in its highest form," consist "in the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations"? Are the words of the apostle a cheat, a lie, when he says, "For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die; but if ye through the spirit"—i. e. by living with the help of the Holy Spirit, in accordance with the law of the spiritual person—"do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live?" And are Mr. Spencer's words, in which he teaches exactly the opposite doctrine, true? wherein he says: "And lastly let it be noted that what we call truth," &c., (see ante, p. 168,) wherein he teaches that "if ye live after the flesh," if you are guided by "truth," if you are able perfectly to maintain "the accurate correspondence of subjective to objective relations," "ye shall not surely die," you will attain to what is successful action, the preservation of "life," of "the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations," of the animal life, and thus your bodies will live forever—the highest good for man; but if you "mortify the deeds of the body," if you pay little heed to "the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations," you will meet with "error, leading to failure and therefore towards death,"—the death of the body, the highest evil which can befall man,—and so "ye shall" not "live." Proceeding in the direction already taken, we find that in his normal condition the spiritual person would not be chiefly, much less exclusively, occupied with attending to "the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations," but would only regard these in so far as is necessary to preserve the body as the ground through which, in accordance with the present dispensation of God's providence, that person may exert himself and employ his energies upon those objects which belong to his peculiar sphere, even the laws and duties of spiritual beings. The person would indeed employ his superior faculties to assist the lower nature in the preservation of its animal life, but this only as a means. God has ordained that through this means that person shall develop and manifest himself; yet the life, continuance in being, of the soul, is in no way dependent on this means. Strip away the whole animal nature, take from man his body, his Sense and Understanding, leave him—as he would then be—with no possible medium of communication with the Universe, and he, the I am, the spiritual person, would remain intact, as active as ever. He would have lost none of his capacity to see laws and appreciate their force; he would feel the bindingness of obligation just as before; and finally, he would be just as able as in the earlier state to make a choice of an ultimate end, though he would be unable to make a single motion towards putting that choice into effect. The spiritual person, then, being such that he has in himself no element of decomposition, has no need, for the preservation of his own existence, to be continually occupied with efforts to maintain "the accurate correspondence of subjective to objective relations." Yet activity is his law, and, moreover, an activity having objects which accord with this his indestructible nature. With what then will such a being naturally occupy himself? There is for him no danger of decay. He possesses within himself the laws and ideals of his action. As such, and created, he is near of kin to that august Being in whoso image he was created. His laws are the created person's laws. The end of the Creator should be that also of the created. But God is infinite, while the soul starts a babe, an undeveloped germ, and must begin to learn at the alphabet of knowledge. What nobler, what more sublime and satisfactory occupation could this being, endowed with the faculties of a God, find, than to employ all his power in the contemplation of the eternal laws of the Universe, i. e. to the acquisition of an intimate acquaintance with himself and God; and to bend all his energies to the realization by his own efforts of that part in the Universe which God had assigned him, i. e., to accord his will entirely with God's will. This course of life, a spiritual person standing in his normal relation to an animal nature, would pursue as spontaneously as if it were the law of his being. But this which we have portrayed is not the course which human beings do pursue. By no means. One great evil, at least, that "the Fall" brought upon the race of man, is, that human beings are born into the world with the spiritual person all submerged by the animal nature; or, to use Paul's figure, the spirit is enslaved by the flesh; and such is the extent of this that many, perhaps most, men are born and grow up and die, and never know that they have any souls; and finally there arise, as there have arisen through all the ages, just such philosophers as Sir William Hamilton and Mr. Spencer, who in substance deny that men are spiritual persons at all, who say that the highest knowledge is a generalization in the Understanding, a form of a knowledge common to man and the brutes, and that "the highest achievements of science are resolvable into mental relations of coexistence and sequence, so coördinated as exactly to tally with certain relations of coexistence and sequence that occur externally." It is this evil, organic in man, that Paul portrays so vividly; and it is against men who teach such doctrines that he thunders his maledictions.

We have spoken above of the spiritual person as diverse from, superior to, and superinduced upon, the animal nature. This is his position in the logical order. We have also spoken of him as submerged under the animal nature, as enslaved to the flesh. By such figures do we strive to express the awfully degraded condition in which every human being is born into the world. And mark, this is simply a natural degradation. Let us then, as philosophers, carry our examination one step farther and ask: In this state of things what would be the fitting occupation of the spiritual person. Is it that "continuous adjustment"? He turns from it with loathing. Already he has served the "flesh" a long and grievous bondage. Manifestly, then, he should struggle with all his might to regain his normal condition to become naturally good as well as morally good,—he should fill his soul with thoughts of God, and then he should make every rational exertion to induce others to follow in his footsteps.

We attain, then, a far different result from Mr. Spencer. "The highest achievements of science" for us, our "truth," guiding us "to successful action," is that pure a priori truth, the eternal law of God which is written in us, and given to us for our guidance to what is truly "successful action,"—the accordance of our wills with the will of God.

What we now reach, and what yet remains to be considered of this chapter, is that passage in which Mr. Spencer enounces, as he believes, a new principle of philosophy, a principle which will symmetrize and complete the Hamiltonian system, and thus establish it as the true and final science for mankind. Since we do not view this principle in the same light with Mr. Spencer, and especially since it is our intention to turn it upon what he has heretofore written, and demolish that with it, there might arise a feeling in many minds that the whole passage should be quoted, that there might be no doubt as to his meaning. This we should willingly do, did our space permit. Yet it seems not in the least necessary. That part of the passage which contains the gist of the subject, followed by a candid epitome of his arguments and illustrations, would appear to be ample for a fair and sufficiently full presentation of his theory, and for a basis upon which we might safely build our criticism. These then will be given.

"There still remains the final question—What must we say concerning that which transcends knowledge? Are we to rest wholly in the consciousness of phenomena? Is the result of inquiry to exclude utterly from our minds everything but the relative; or must we also believe in something beyond the relative?

"The answer of pure logic is held to be, that by the limits of our intelligence we are rigorously confined within the relative; and that anything transcending the relative can be thought of only as a pure negation, or as a non-existence. 'The absolute is conceived merely by a negation of conceivability,' writes Sir William Hamilton. 'The Absolute and the Infinite,' says Mr. Mansel, 'are thus, like the Inconceivable and the Imperceptible, names indicating, not an object of thought or of consciousness at all, but the mere absence of the conditions under which consciousness is possible.' From each of which extracts may be deduced the conclusion, that, since reason cannot warrant us in affirming the positive existence of what is cognizable only as a negation, we cannot rationally affirm the positive existence of anything beyond phenomena.

"Unavoidable as this conclusion seems, it involves, I think, a grave error. If the premiss be granted, the inference must doubtless be admitted; but the premiss, in the form presented by Sir William Hamilton and Mr. Mansel, is not strictly true. Though, in the foregoing pages, the arguments used by these writers to show that the Absolute is unknowable, have been approvingly quoted; and though these arguments have been enforced by others equally thoroughgoing, yet there remains to be stated a qualification, which saves us from that scepticism otherwise necessitated. It is not to be denied that so long as we confine ourselves to the purely logical aspect of the question, the propositions quoted above must be accepted in their entirety; but when we contemplate its more general, or psychological aspect, we find that these propositions are imperfect statements of the truth; omitting, or rather excluding, as they do, an all-important fact. To speak specifically:—Besides that definite consciousness of which Logic formulates the laws, there is also an indefinite consciousness which cannot be formulated. Besides complete thoughts, and besides the thoughts which, though incomplete, admit of completion, there are thoughts which it is impossible to complete, and yet which are still real, in the sense that they are normal affections of the intellect.

"Observe in the first place, that every one of the arguments by which the relativity of our knowledge is demonstrated, distinctly postulates the positive existence of something beyond the relative. To say that we cannot know the Absolute, is, by implication, to affirm that there is an Absolute. In the very denial of our power to learn what the Absolute is, there lies hidden the assumption that it is; and the making of this assumption proves that the Absolute has been present to the mind, not as a nothing but as a something. Similarly with every step in the reasoning by which this doctrine is upheld. The Noumenon, everywhere named as the antithesis of the Phenomenon, is throughout necessarily thought of as an actuality. It is rigorously impossible to conceive that our knowledge is a knowledge of Appearances only, without at the same time conceiving a Reality of which they are appearances; for appearance without reality is unthinkable." After carrying on this train of argument a little further, he reaches this just and decisive result. "Clearly, then, the very demonstration that a definite consciousness of the Absolute is impossible to us, unavoidably presupposes an indefinite consciousness of it." Carrying the argument further, he says: "Perhaps the best way of showing that, by the necessary conditions of thought, we are obliged to form a positive though vague consciousness of this which transcends distinct consciousness, is to analyze our conception of the antithesis between Relative and Absolute." He follows the presentation of certain "antinomies of thought" with an extract from Sir William Hamilton's words, in which the logician enounces his doctrine that in "correlatives" "the positive alone is real, the negative is only an abstraction of the other"; or, in other words, the one gives a substance of some kind in the mind, the other gives simply nothingness, void, absolute negation. Criticizing this, Mr. Spencer is unquestionably right in saying: "Now the assertion that of such contradictories 'the negative is only an abstraction of the other'—'is nothing else than its negation'—is not true. In such correlatives as Equal and Unequal, it is obvious enough that the negative concept contains something besides the negation of the positive one; for the things of which equality is denied are not abolished from consciousness by the denial. And the fact overlooked by Sir William Hamilton is, that the like holds, even with those correlatives of which the negative is inconceivable, in the strict sense of the word." Proceeding with his argument, he establishes, by ample illustration, the fact that a "something constitutes our consciousness of the Non-relative or Absolute." He afterwards shows plainly by quotations, "that both Sir William Hamilton and Mr. Mansel do," in certain places, "distinctly imply that our consciousness of the Absolute, indefinite though it is, is positive not negative." Further on he argues thus: "Though Philosophy condemns successively each attempted conception of the Absolute; though it proves to us that the Absolute is not this, nor that, nor that; though in obedience to it we negative, one after another, each idea as it arises; yet as we cannot expel the entire contents of consciousness, there ever remains behind an element which passes into new shapes. The continual negation of each particular form and limit simply results in the more or less complete abstraction of all forms and limits, and so ends in an indefinite consciousness of the unformed and unlimited." Thus he brings us to "the ultimate difficulty—How can there possibly be constituted a consciousness of the unformed and unlimited, when, by its very nature, consciousness is possible only under forms and limits?" This he accounts for by by hypostatizing a "raw material" in consciousness which is, must be, present. He presents his conclusion as follows: "By its very nature, therefore, this ultimate mental element is at once necessarily indefinite and necessarily indestructible. Our consciousness of the unconditioned being literally the unconditioned consciousness, or raw material of thought, to which in thinking we give definite forms, it follows that an ever-present sense of real existence is the very basis of our intelligence." ...

"To sum up this somewhat too elaborate argument:—We have seen how, in the very assertion that all our knowledge, properly so called, is Relative, there is involved the assertion that there exists a Non-relative. We have seen how, in each step of the argument by which this doctrine is established, the same assumption is made. We have seen how, from the very necessity of thinking in relations, it follows that the Relative itself is inconceivable, except as related to a real Non-relative. We have seen that, unless a real Non-relative or Absolute be postulated, the Relative itself becomes absolute, and so brings the argument to a contradiction. And on contemplating the process of thought, we have equally seen how impossible it is to get rid of the consciousness of an actuality lying behind appearances; and how, from this impossibility, results our indestructible belief in that actuality."

The approval which has been accorded to certain of the arguments adduced by Mr. Spencer in favor of his especial point, that the Absolute is a positive somewhat in consciousness, and to that point as established, must not be supposed to apply also to that hypothesis of "indefinite consciousness" by which he attempts to reconcile this position with his former teachings. On the contrary, it will be our purpose hereafter to show that this hypothesis is a complete fallacy.

As against the positions taken by Sir William Hamilton and Mr. Mansel, Mr. Spencer's argument may unquestionably be deemed decisive. Admitting the logical accuracy of their reasoning, he very justly turns from the logical to the psychological aspect of the subject, takes exception to their premiss, shows conclusively that it is fallacious, and gives an approximate, though unfortunately a very partial and defective presentation of the truth. Indeed, the main issue which must now be made with him is whether the position he has here taken, and which he puts forth as that peculiar element in his philosophical system, that new truth, which shall harmonize Hamiltonian Limitism with the facts of human nature, is not, when carried to its logical results, in diametrical and irreconcilable antagonism to that whole system, and all that he has before written, and so does not annihilate them. It will be our present endeavor to show that such is the result.

Perhaps we cannot better examine Mr. Spencer's theory than, first, to take up what we believe to be the element of truth in it, and carry out this to its logical results; and afterwards to present what seem to be the elements of error, and show them to be such.

1. "We are obliged to form a positive though vague consciousness of" "the Absolute." Without criticizing his use here of consciousness as if it were a faculty of knowledge, and remembering that we cannot have a consciousness of anything without having a knowledge commensurate with that consciousness, we will see that Mr. Spencer's assertion is tantamount to saying, We have a positive knowledge that the Absolute is. It does not seem that he himself can disallow this. Grant this, and our whole system follows, as does also the fallacy of his own. Our argument will proceed thus. Logic is the science of the pure laws of thought, and is mathematically accurate, and is absolute. Being such, it is law for all intellect, for God as well as man. But three positions can be taken. Either it is true for the Deity, or else it is false for him, or else it has no reference to him. In the last instance God is Chaos; in the second he and man are in organic contradiction, and he created man so; the first is the one now advocated. The second and third hypotheses refute themselves in the statement of them. Nothing remains but the position taken that the laws of Logic lie equally on God and man. One of those laws is, that, if any assertion is true, all that is logically involved in it is true; in other words, all truth is in absolute and perfect harmony. This is fundamental to the possibility of Logic. Now apply this law to the psychological premiss of Mr. Spencer, that we have a positive knowledge that the Absolute is. A better form of expression would be, The absolute Being is. It follows then that he is in a mode, has a formal being. But three hypotheses are possible. He is in no mode, he is in one mode; he is in all modes. If he is in no mode, there is no form, no order, no law for his being; which is to say, he is Chaos. Chaos is not God, for Chaos cannot organize an orderly being, and men are orderly beings, and were created. If he is in all modes, he is in a state of utter contradiction. God "is all in every part." He is then all infinite, and all finite. Infinity and finiteness are contradictory and mutually exclusive qualities. God is wholly possessed of contradictory and mutually exclusive qualities, which is more than unthinkable—it is absurd. He is, must be, then, in one mode. Let us pause here for a moment and observe that we have clearly established, from Mr. Spencer's own premiss, the fact that God is limited. He must be in one mode to the exclusion of all other modes. He is limited then by the necessity to be what he is; and if he could become what he is not, he would not have been absolute. Since he is absolute, he is, to the exclusion of the possibility of any other independent Being. Other beings are, and must therefore be, dependent on and subordinate to him. Since he is superior to all other beings he must be in the highest possible mode of being. Personality is the highest possible mode of being. This will appear from the following considerations. A person, possesses the reason and law of his action, and the capacity to act, within himself, and is thus a final cause. No higher form of being than this can be needed, and so by the law of parsimony a hypothesis of any other must be excluded. God is then a person.

We have now brought the argument to that point where its connection with the system advocated in this treatise is manifest. If the links are well wrought, and the chain complete, not only is this system firmly grounded upon Mr. Spencer's premiss, but, as was intimated on an early page, he has in this his special point given partial utterance to what, once established, involves the fallacy not only of all he has written before, but as well of the whole Limitist Philosophy. It remains now to remark upon the errors in his form of expressing the truth.

2. Mr. Spencer's error is twofold. He treats of consciousness as a faculty of knowledge. He speaks of a "vague," an "indefinite consciousness." Let us examine these in their order.

a. He treats of consciousness as a faculty of knowledge. In this he uses the term in the inexact, careless, popular manner, rather than with due precision. As has been observed on a former page, consciousness is the light in which the person sees his faculties act. Thus some feeling is affected. This feeling is cognized by the intellectual faculty, and of this the person is conscious. Hence it is an elliptical expression to say "I am conscious of the feeling." The full form being "I am conscious that I know the feeling." Thus is it with all man's activities. Applying this to the case in hand, it appears, not that we are conscious of the Absolute, but that we are conscious that the proper intellectual faculty, the Pure Reason, presents what absoluteness is, and that the absolute Person is, and through this presentation—intuition—the spiritual person knows these facts. We repeat, then, our position: consciousness is the indivisible unity, the light in which the person sees all his faculties and capacities act; and so is to be considered as different in kind from them all as the peculiar and unique endowment of a spiritual person.

b. Mr. Spencer speaks of a "vague," an "indefinite consciousness." The expression "vague consciousness" being a popular and very common one, deserves a careful examination, and this we hope to give it, keeping in mind meantime the position already attained.

The phrase is used in some such connection as this, "I have a vague or undefined consciousness of impending evil." Let us analyze this experience. In doing so it will be observed that the consciousness, or rather the seeing by the person in the light of consciousness, is positive, clear, and definite, and is the apprehension of a feeling. Again, the feeling is positive and distinct; it is a feeling of dread, of threatening danger. What, then, is vague—is undefined? This. That cause which produces the feeling lies without the reach of the cognitive faculties, and of course cannot be known; because what produces the feeling is unknown, the intellectual apprehension experiences a sense of vagueness; and this it instinctively carries over and applies to the feeling. Yet really the sense of vagueness arises from an ignorance of the cause of the feeling. Strictly speaking, then, it is not consciousness that is vague; and so Mr. Spencer's "indefinite consciousness, which cannot be formulated," has no foundation in fact. But this may be shown by another line of thought. Consciousness is commensurate with knowledge, i. e., man can have no knowledge except he is conscious of that knowledge; neither can he have any consciousness except he knows that the consciousness is, and what the consciousness is, i. e., what he is conscious of. Now all knowledge is definite; it is only ignorance that is indefinite. When we say that our knowledge of an object is indefinite, we mean that we partly know its characteristics, and are partly ignorant of them. Thus then also the result above stated follows; and what Mr. Spencer calls "indefinite consciousness" is a "definite consciousness" that we partly know, and are partly ignorant of the object under consideration.

In the last paragraph but one, of the chapter now under consideration, Mr. Spencer makes a most extraordinary assertion respecting consciousness, which, when examined in the light of the positions we have advocated, affords another decisive evidence of the fallacy of his theory. We quote it again, that the reader may not miss of giving it full attention. "By its very nature, therefore, this ultimate mental element is at once necessarily indefinite and necessarily indestructible. Our consciousness of the unconditioned being literally the unconditioned consciousness, or raw material of thought, to which in thinking we give definite forms, it follows that an ever-present sense of real existence is the very basis of our intelligence." Upon reading this passage, the question spontaneously arises, What does the writer mean? and it is a question which is not so easily answered. More than one interpretation may be assigned, as will appear upon examination. A problem is given. To find what the "raw material of thought" is. Since man has thoughts, there must be in him the "raw material of thought"—the crude thought-ore which he smelts down in the blast-furnace of the Understanding, giving forth in its stead the refined metal—exact thought. We must then proceed to attain our answer by analyzing man's natural organization.

Since man is a complex, constituted being, there is necessarily a logical order to the parts which are combined in the complexity. He may be considered as a substance in which a constitution inheres, i. e., which is organized according to a set of fixed laws, and that set of laws may be stated in their logical order. It is sufficient, however, for our purpose to consider him as an organized substance, the organization being such that he is a person—a selfhood, self-active and capable of self-examination. The raw material of all the activities of such a person is this organized substance. Take away the substance, and there remains only the set of laws as abstract ideas. Again, take away the set of laws, and the substance is simple, unorganized substance. In the combining of the two the person becomes. These, then, are all there is of the person, and therefore in these must the raw material be. From this position it follows directly that any capacity or faculty, or, in general, every activity of the person, is the substance acting in accordance with the law which determines that form of the activity. To explain the term, form of activity. There is a set of laws. Each law, by itself, is a simple law, and is incapable of organizing a substance into a being. But when these laws are considered, as they naturally stand in the Divine Reason, in relation to each other, it is seen that this, their standing together, constitutes ideals, or forms of being and activity. To illustrate from an earthly object. The law of gravitation alone could not organize a Universe; neither could the law of cohesion, nor of centripetal, nor centrifugal force, nor any other one law. All these laws must be acting together,—or rather all these laws must stand together in perfect harmony, according to their own nature, thus constituting an ideal form, in accordance with which God may create this Universe. For an illustration of our topic in its highest form, the reader is referred to those pages of Dr. Hickok's "Rational Psychology," where he analyzes personality into its elements of Spontaneity, Autonomy, and Liberty. From that examination it is sufficiently evident that either of these alone cannot organize a person, but that all three must be present in order to constitute such a being. There are, then, various forms of activity in the person, as Reason, Sensibility, and Will, in each of which the organized substance acts in a mode or form, and this form is determined by the set of organizing laws. Consciousness also is such a form. The "raw material of thought," then, must be this substance considered under the peculiar form of activity which we call consciousness, but before the substance thus formulated has been awakened into activity by those circumstances which are naturally suited to it, for bringing it into action. Now, by the very terms of the statement it is evident that the substance thus organized in this form, or, to use the common term, consciousness considered apart from and prior to its activity, can never be known by experience, i. e., we can never be conscious of an unconscious state. "Unconditioned consciousness" is consciousness considered as quiescent because in it have been awakened no "definite forms"—no "thinking." "In the nature of things," then, it is impossible to be conscious of an "unconditioned consciousness." Yet Mr. Spencer says that "our consciousness of the unconditioned," which he has already asserted and proved, is a "positive," and therefore an active state; is identical with, is "literally the unconditioned consciousness," or consciousness in its quiescent state, considered before it had been awakened into activity, which is far more absurd than what was just above shown to be a contradiction.

To escape such a result, a less objectionable interpretation may be given to the dictum in hand. It may be said that it looks upon consciousness only as an activity, and in the logical order after its action has begun. We are, then, conscious, and in this is positive action, but no definite object is present which gives a form in consciousness, and so consciousness returns upon itself. We are conscious that we are conscious, which is an awkward way of saying that we are self-conscious, or, more concisely yet, that we are conscious; for accurately this is all, and this is the same as to say that the subject and object are identical in this act. The conclusion from this hypothesis is one which we judge Mr. Spencer will be very loath to accept, and yet it seems logically to follow. Indeed, in a sentence we are about to quote, he seems to make a most marked distinction between self-consciousness and this "consciousness of the unconditioned," which he calls its "obverse."

But whatever Mr. Spencer's notion of the "raw material of thought" is, what more especially claims our attention and is most strange, is his application of that notion. To present this more clearly, we will quote further from the passage already under examination. "As we can in successive mental acts get rid of all particular conditions, and replace them by others, but cannot get rid of that undifferentiated substance of consciousness, which is conditioned anew in every thought, there ever remains with us a sense of that which exists persistently and independently of conditions. At the same time that by the laws of thought we are rigorously prevented from forming a conception of absolute existence, we are by the laws of thought equally prevented from ridding ourselves of the consciousness of absolute existence: this consciousness being, as we here see, the obverse of our self-consciousness." Now, by comparing this extract with the other, which it immediately follows, it seems plain that Mr. Spencer uses as synonymous the phrases "consciousness of the unconditioned," "unconditioned consciousness," "raw material of thought," "undifferentiated substance of consciousness," and "consciousness of absolute existence." Let us note, now, certain conclusions, which seem to follow from this use of language. We are conscious "of absolute existence." No person can be conscious except he is conscious of some state or condition of his being. Absolute existence is, therefore, a state or condition of our being. Also this "consciousness of absolute existence"—as it seems our absolute existence—is the "raw material of thought." But, again, as was shown above, this "raw material," this "undifferentiated substance of consciousness," if it is anything, is consciousness considered as capacity, and in the logical order before it becomes, or is, active; and it further appeared that of this quiescent state we could have no knowledge by experience. But since the above phrases are synonymous, it follows that "consciousness of absolute existence" is the "undifferentiated substance of consciousness," is a consciousness of which we can have no knowledge by experience, is a consciousness of which we can have no consciousness. Is this philosophy?

It would be but fair to suppose that there is some fact which Mr. Spencer has endeavored to express in the language we are criticizing. There is such a fact, a statement of which will complete this criticism. Unquestionably, in self-examination, a man may abstract all "successive mental acts," may consider himself as he is, in the logical order before he has experiences. In this he will find "that an ever-present sense of real existence is the very basis of our intelligence"; or, in other words, that it is an organic law of our being that there cannot be an experience without a being to entertain the experience; and hence that it is impossible for a man to think or act, except on the assumption that he is. But all this has nothing to do with a "consciousness of the unconditioned," or of "absolute existence"; for our existence is not absolute, and it is our existence of which we are conscious. The reality and abidingness of our existence is ground for our experience, nothing more. Even if it were possible for us to have a consciousness of our state before any experience, or to actually now abstract all experience, and be conscious of our consciousness unmodified by any object, i. e. to be conscious of unconsciousness, this would not be a "consciousness of absolute existence." We could find no more in it, and deduce no more from it, than that our existence was involved in our experience. Such a consciousness would indeed appear "unconditioned" by the coming into it of any activity, which would give a form in it; but this would give us no notion of true unconditionedness—true "absolute existence." This consciousness, though undisturbed by any experience, would yet be conditioned, would have been created, and be dependent upon God for continuance in existence, and for a chance to come into circumstances, where it could be modified by experiences, and so could grow. While, then, Mr. Spencer's theory gives us the fact of the notion of the necessity of our existence to our experience, it in no way accounts for the fact of our consciousness of the unconditioned, be that what it may.

But to return from this considerable digression to the result which was attained a few pages back, viz: that what Mr. Spencer calls "indefinite consciousness" is a "definite consciousness" that we partly know, and are partly ignorant of the object under consideration. Let this conclusion be applied to the topic which immediately concerns us,—the character of God.

But three suppositions are possible. Either we know nothing of God, not even that he is; or we have a partial knowledge of him, we know that he is, and all which we can logically deduce from this; or we know him exhaustively. The latter, no one pretends, and therefore it needs no notice. The first, even if our own arguments are not deemed satisfactory, has been thoroughly refuted by Mr. Spencer, and so is to be set aside. Only the second remains. Respecting this, his position is that we know that God is and no more. Admit this for a moment. We are conscious then of a positive, certain, inalienable knowledge that God is; but that with reference to any and all questions which may arise concerning him we are in total ignorance. Here, again, it is apparent that it is not our consciousness or knowledge that is vague; it is our ignorance.

We might suggest the question—of what use can it be to man to know that God is, and be utterly and necessarily, yea, organically ignorant of what he is? Let the reader answer the question to his own mind. It is required to show how the theory advocated in this book will appear in the light of the second hypothesis above stated.

Man knows that God is, and what God is so far as he can logically deduce it from this premiss; but, in so far as God is such, that he cannot be thus known, except wherein he makes a direct revelation to us, he must be forever inscrutable. To illustrate. If the fact that God is, be admitted, it logically follows that he must be self-existent. Self-existence is a positive idea in the Reason, and so here is a second element of knowledge respecting the Deity. Thus we may go on through all that it is possible to deduce, and the system thus wrought will be The Science of Natural Theology, a science as pure and sure as pure equations. Its results will be what God must be. Looking into the Universe we will find what must be corresponding with what is, and our knowledge will be complete. Again, in many regards God may be utterly inscrutable to us, since he may possess characteristics which we cannot attain by logical deductions. For instance, let it be granted that the doctrine of the Trinity is true—that there are three persons in one Godhead. This would be a fact which man could never attain, could never make the faintest guess at. He might, unaided, attain to the belief that God would forgive; he might, with the profound and sad-eyed man of Greece, become convinced that some god must come from heaven to lead men to the truth; but the notion of the Trinity could never come to him, except God himself with carefulness revealed it. Respecting those matters of which we cannot know except by revelation, this only can be demanded; and this by inherent endowment man has a right to demand; viz: that what is revealed shall not contradict the law already "written in the heart." Yet, once more, there are certain characteristics of God that must forever be utterly inscrutable to every created being, and this, because such is their nature and relation to the Deity, that one cannot be endowed with a faculty capable of attaining the knowledge in question. Such for instance are the questions, How is God self-existent, how could he be eternal, how exercise his power, and the like? These are questions respecting which no possible reason can arise why we should know them, except the gratification of curiosity, which in reality is no reason at all, and therefore the inability in question is no detriment to man.

By the discussion which may now be brought to a close, two positions seem to be established. 1. That we have, as Mr. Spencer affirms, a positive consciousness that the absolute Being is, and that this and all which we can logically deduce from this are objects of knowledge to us; in other words, that the system advocated in this volume directly follows from that premiss. 2. That any doctrine of "indefinite consciousness" is erroneous, that the vagueness is not in consciousness, but in our knowledge; and further, that the hypothesis of a consciousness of the "raw material of thought" is absurd.

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