"God manifest in the flesh," if one chooses, phenomenal personality was absorbed in the absolute, his individual will was lost in the Divine, the absolute will. The Divine, the God in man, was conspicuous in Jesus above the human. In proportion as our will, our lower, phenomenal personality, becomes lost in our higher, our absolute personality, we approach God, become one with him, pass from the phenomenal to real being, from death to life, from the mortal to the immortal, from the corruptible to the incorruptible,— from earth to Heaven. We cannot proceed; but, if we do not deceive ourselves, we have indicated here a train of thought which may lead to grand results, and throw a new, a clear, and a strong light on some of the darkest passages in our religion. V. Man's intellectual life begins with the spontaneous reason. We believe, we confide before we reflect. In the infancy of the individual and of the race, God himself, as a tender father, is the guide and teacher. The child a little advanced, wishes to go alone, to be guided by his own light, to follow his own will, and rely on his own strength. A dangerous wish! but one which must be gratified, if the child is ever to become a man. After a while man finds he has believed, and he desires to know why he has believed, to account to himself for the phenomena he discovers. There is now a new element developed within him, the reflective reason; and henceforth, instead of confiding, he must reflect, and instead of faith he must have philosophy. No more repose, no more careless glee of the child; active life begins: its cares, its burdens, its duties must be met and borne and performed. The father gives the child his blessing, his counsel, and sends him, at his request, forth into the world to seek his fortune as best he may. Philosophy begins, the day that man begins to reflect; it is the creation of reflection, and, since reflection is our act, it is our creation. It is to humanity, what nature and humanity are to God. As there can be nothing in nature and humanity which is not in God, so there can be nothing in philosophy which is not in humanity. He who comprehends humanity, comprehends not only true philosophy, but all systems of philosophy which have heretofore obtained, or which can obtain hereafter. He who comprehends all the systems of philosophy which have been, comprehends humanity as far as it is now developed. The study of human nature then, throws VOL. XXI. - 3D S. VOL. III. NO. I. - 8 light on the history of philosophy, and the study of the history of philosophy in return, throws light on human nature. Since all the systems of philosophy which have been, embrace the entire developement of humanity in the past, it follows that he who should comprehend those systems, would comprehend thus far the whole history of our race. History in general, as throwing light on humanity, the history of philosophy in particular, as enlightening all other branches of history, and as the practical, the experimental test of a philosophy, should be ranked among the very highest objects of human study. There can be nothing in philosophy which is not in humanity. There is nothing in humanity but intelligence. Philosophy then is a developement of intelligence. But it is a developement only of the human intelligence, which is itself only a fragment of the absolute Intelligence. It cannot, therefore, embrace intelligence in itself. The human intelligence being itself defective, incomplete, the most perfect developement of it, can be only an imperfect development of truth. To be incomplete, imperfect, consequently more or less erroneous in its creations, is the inevitable lot of humanity. No system of philosophy, then, can be obtained, however clear and far-reaching its vision, that will take in the whole horizon of truth. The most perfect system attainable must always be incomplete, leaving out vast, undefined regions of the true. But as all philosophy is a developement, more or less complete, of intelligence; and, as intelligence in all its degrees is true, an absolutely false philosophy is impossible. Although there can be nothing in philosophy which is not in humanity, there may be much in humanity which is not in philosophy. A philosophy which does not embrace the whole of human nature is false, not only in relation to the Absolute, but in relation to man, and false because it is defective, and in its defectiveness. All that is in our past history is but a developement of human nature, and, in that it is a developement of human nature, it is true. All systems, all creeds, all events, in that they have been, are true, true as far as they go, though by no means the whole truth. It is necessary then to accept them all. Now, if our philosophy exclude any portion of them, if it cannot find in each an element of truth, if it do not explain them all, and find itself in all, it is itself defective, and, in that it is defective, false. In this way history becomes a test of a philosophy. A philosophy which accepts the entire history of humanity, and which finds in itself precisely the same number of elements as in that history, excluding nothing, owning and enlightening all, may be pronounced the true philosophy, that which exactly represents the developement of humanity. No philosophy does this, except that which finds in each system, creed, event, an element of the True, which it extracts and brings together into one vast, harmonious whole. This philosophy is ECLECTICISM. Every sound philosopher, then, must be an Eclectic. Three ideas constitute the human as the Divine intelligence; the idea of the infinite, the idea of the finite, and the idea of their relation. These three ideas must be found in every philosophy, but they may be found in different degrees of developement; sometimes one and sometimes another may be predominant. The predominance of one or another makes the different epochs of humanity, and of philosophy. The number of these ideas determine the number of philosophical systems which are possible. These ideas are represented in the consciousness by three great faculties, the reason, activity, sensibility. The reason represents the infinite, the sensibility the finite, the activity the relation of the two. Attention, reflection, may be directed exclusively to the facts of the sensibility; it will then overlook, or see but in the back-ground, the facts of the reason and the activity, and refer all the mental phenomena to sensation. Hence SENSUALISM, which is true in relation to the facts of the sensibility, the only ones it analyzes; but it is not true of a larger number which are as really in the consciousness as those derived from sensation. We may direct our attention exclusively to reflection, the reflective reason, which represents the activity in the world of philosophy, and which is purely personal. Plunged into ourselves, we there overlook the facts of the spontaneous reason and of the sensibility, and refer to ourselves, to the energy of our own thoughts, all the phenomena which we observe. Hence IDEALISM, which, being unable to come out of the consciousness, denies an external world, in like manner as sensualism denies the existence of whatever is not observable by the senses. A sober-minded man may be disgusted by the contentions of these two schools, and led to question, not only the truth of both, but the truth of the reason itself; that is, the possibility of knowing at all. Hence SKEPTICISM, which is sometimes needed to check the rage of dogmatism, to bring back system-makers to common sense, and to compel them to examine anew their means of construction, their premises, and the logic by which they have attained their conclusions. In fine, disgusted with the perpetual wranglings of sensualism and idealism, wearied with the endless doubt and perplexity of skepticism, unable to resist the cravings of the soul to believe, we take refuge in a primitive fact, hitherto overlooked, and, rejecting reflection, repose on the spontaneous reason. Hence MYSTICISM, a philosophy which is founded on a real element of our nature, and consequently true, but, taken exclusively, like all the others becomes the occasion of more or less error. Each of these schools has a truth, and embraces and explains a certain number of the phenomena of our nature; but neither embraces and explains them all. Transport now either of these schools into history, and it will do what it does in psychology; it will mutilate history, as it has mutilated consciousness. It will either give no account of the facts which do not suit its purpose, or it will pervert them, give a false account of them. It will at once declare war against three fourths of history. Now in this fact, each proves itself inadequate to the explanation of the history of philosophy. Each then, is false as a whole, though it may be true as a part. These four schools embrace all the phenomena of consciousness, the whole of humanity; consequently embrace the whole history of humanity. A philosophy then, which embraces and explains the principles of these four schools is proved by history to be the true philosophy. Thus history and psychology reciprocally prove each other. By psychology we determine the number of elements which there can be in history, and by history the number there can be in psychology. When the number is the same in both cases, we may be sure that we are right. Erudition and criticism on the one hand, and profound psychological analysis on the other, are the instruments of a sound philosophy. The four schools designated are found in all the philosophical epochs of the human race. They have all appeared on the stage of modern philosophy; each has played its part, accomplished its mission, and exhausted itself. Neither school has any longer any thing to do. All it can do as an exclusive school has been done, and is now known. What then remains for philosophy? Either to take shelter under the ægis of authority, cease to be, or become an eclectic. The first is impossible. With Des Cartes it broke away from the ecclesiastical authority which ruled in the middle ages, declared itself independent, and its subjection is henceforth impossible. To say that it will cease to be, that the human race will no longer seek to render an account to itself of what it is, believes, and does, is to declare one's self ignorant of the wants of the human soul, that intelligence will cease to develope itself, that thought is dead, the human race extinct. Nothing, then, but the last remains as possible. Eclecticism is then the philosophy of our age. We must be eclectics, excluding no element of humanity, but accepting and melting all into one vast system, which will be a true representative of humanity so far as it as yet developed. We must take broad and liberal views, expect truth and find it in all schools, in all creeds, in all ages, and in all countries. The great mission of our age is to unite the infinite and the finite. Union, harmony, whence proceed peace and love, are the points to be aimed at. We of the nineteenth century appear in the world as mediators. In philosophy, theology, government, art, industry, we are to conciliate hostile feelings, and harmonize conflicting principles and interests. We must bind together the past and the future, reconcile progress and immobility, by preserving what is good and studying to advance, that is, by meliorating instead of destroying; enable philosophy and theology to walk together in peace and love, by yielding to theology the authority of the spontaneous reason, inspiration, and vindicating for philosophy the absolute freedom of reflection. Such is a very imperfect outline of M. Cousin's philosophy. As he has nowhere, to our knowledge, published a systematic developement of his entire system, it is very possible that we have not correctly seized it in all its parts, and consequently may have in some instances misconceived it in relation to the points on which we have touched. We can only say, that our respect for M. Cousin himself, and our general approbation of his philosophy, if not our love of truth, must have preserved us from all voluntary misconceptions. It was our intention to notice some objections to his system; but we have exceeded all reasonable limits already, and must therefore refer the reader to the Preface to the second edition of the |