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corresponded neither with the fatherly purposes of the king, nor the wishes of the people. The blame of this could be ascribed neither to one nor the other, but to the mingled action of various circumstances and influences. Our friend had little hope, even if he reached a higher station, of gaining a more self-dependent and free power of acting, for he saw that his superiors were as much limited and restrained as himself; yet he resigned himself with patience to his circumstances, and was industrious and attentive.
The metropolis where he lived afforded Theodore excellent helps in art and science for intellectual excitement and culture. The government had extended and improved the scientific institutions of the city with the design of giving more activity to the national mind, and arming it with inward strength against the dangers threatening from without. It had called to their University, hitherto neglected, many new professors of reputation and character. Theodore at first attended some lectures on subjects connected with his present occupation, but he soon found himself unable to resist the wish of hearing a celebrated professor of philosophy whose lectures were very popular. The system of this philosopher appeared to stand between those of Kant and Schelling, and to unite the two. He made a distinction between the understanding and the reason; he called the former a lower and mediate intellectual consciousness by which we perceive the world, as it exists in time and space, and comprehended under the laws of Nature. By Reason he understood our intuitive and immediate knowledge, and the whole life of the mind in all its activity, and pointed out Faith as its origin and centre. He shewed that the knowing faculty was only one side of the human soul; that with it was connected feeling and the power of action; and that the complete life of the soul consisted only in the union of the three faculties. We stand connected with the world by knowledge, by feeling, and by action. By knowledge alone, we can fully comprehend neither the world nor human life-Feeling and love give to every thing its living significance and action completes and ratifies the certainty of our knowledge and our feeling.
It seemed to our friend as if these views brought the scattered fragments of his old opinions into the harmony of a well connected whole. The chasm which had existed between the doctrine of Kant and Schelling, was now filled up. He could only dimly conjecture as yet, the connexion of the whole system, but he had found therein a polar star in his darkness, which he joyfully followed.
Especially did the distinction between reason and understanding appear to our friend of the highest importance
. Although he had given up the profession of a preacher, he wa always contending with his religious doubts, and seeking in reconcile his reason with faith in a divine revelation. This distinction appeared to open a way to this end. The teacher ascribed a faith to reason itself, which he also named a revelation. Hence Theodore took the thought that perhaps only the understanding, as the lower faculty of mediate knowledge stood in opposition to a faith in revelation-but not the reason, the higher faculty of immediate knowledge. He has tened to ask further light on this point from his teacher, who was pleased at finding so warm an interest for high spiritual inquiries in a young man engaged in business, and who willingly entered into conversation with him on this subject. “Do you really think,” he asked with a searching look, that you can appease in this way, the controversy between the Rationalists and the believers in Revelation?"
Theodore answered with some uncertainty, “At least I think I have found a point of union between them, since the one party, like the other, must recognize something divine in Christianity. But, to be sure, this does not wholly put an end to the difference, since, notwithstanding this admission, the one party make reason the judge in matters of faith, which the other will not allow."
“In fact we have not yet reached the point where the dispute hangs. The Heathen and the Mahommedans could adduce for their own faith that divine truth dwelling in the reason; but we Christians believe that we possess the only true Revelation."
Theodore referred to the opinion of Clement and other old fathers of the church, who had also admitted a revelation of the Divine Reason or Logos in the heathen religions. He argued, that as enlightened Christians, we ought to recognize even in the most degraded national superstitions a ray of the divine light.
“I do not object to that, answered the teacher, “but the Christian faith in the manifest Son of God, and the fulfilment of all divine revelations through him, rests on something quite different."
“Well, we see in Christianity the most perfect revelation, because the reason has been fully manifested in it."
“But how do you know this, and what proof have you of it!"
“I know it with my reason, and the proof is, that my reason is wholly satisfied by the truth of Christianity."
“But what if this satisfaction was not felt-if the misled reason made demands of Christianity which it cannot satisfy. It is true, that the reason in its original purity, cannot be misled, but the understanding, which investigates and reflects, may. What do you think then of the connexion of the understanding to revelation?"
Theodore was about replying, when the conversation was broken off by the entrance of a stranger. The professor urged our friend to repeat his visit soon. He went away unwillingly, since the last question had taken away from him the conclusion he had just arrived at. He thought about it long, but could get no clear view of the matter. Busied with these thoughts, he went to find Teresa, whom he had promised to accompany this evening to the theatre.
CHAPTER 7. Teresa received her lover with her usual cheerfulness. You certainly come, said she, directly from your books, and it must have been one of the darkest of all that you have been studying-hence those clouds? With her fair hand she smoothed his forehead, and he took it and pressed it tenderly to his lips.
You are partly right, said he. I have just had a conversation with Professor A. whose lectures, as you know, I attend; and the subject of which we spoke, yet occupies my thoughts.
Do not let my father hear that, said Teresa, for he is already dissatisfied at your attending these lectures, which, as he thinks, draw you away too much from the actual world into the ideal. I have no objection to your dreams, as my father calls them, unless they should make you forget me. How is that? Can you think of me while you are pursuing your philosophical game?
Dear Teresa, said Theodore, how can any thing in me be separated from that love which fills my heart? The Truth which I seek shall illumine and purify the life which is devoted to you, and beautified by your love. I shall become by it more worthy of you. Good, said she. I love you for this enthusiasm; and this dark, earnest look with the melancholy lines around the eyes attracted me from the first. But now you must lay aside that solemnity, for people will think we have had a quarrel, if you stand so gloomily by my side. Come, I will sing you a cheerful song.
And so she sang, with all her peculiar grace, the following little song from Goethe.
I think of thee—when the sun's brightness streams
From the far ocean;
With quiet motion.
The dust draws nigh;
Pass slowly by.
The rustling rill;
When all is still.
To me you're near-
O were you here! Theodore was delighted. She took his arm, and they went to the theatre.
That evening was played, Schiller's “Maid of Orleans." The actress who took the part of Joan of Arc, expressed well how she was moved and inspired by a higher Power, to which she humbly yielded herself. The moment, in the last act, when her chains fall from her, was very exciting. Theodore had been wholly carried away by the representation, and he sat silent by the side of his beloved. He felt for the first time that he could not share with her the feelings of his heart; a kind of repulsion kept him back. Teresa was very animated in her remarks on the performance, and praised the acting of Joanna, but she did not touch the point which appeared to Theodore so important. She laughed at him for being to-day so monosyllabic and thoughtful—by which she made him yet more silent.
After the play, a party collected in the house of Landeck, which was composed of a variety of characters. The conversation fell on the way in which Joan was acted. Many praised the scenery and the truth of costume and decoration. A young preacher, who passed for a thinking and enlightened man, doubted altogether whether Joan could be played with nature and truth, since the whole character was fictitious. Schiller had committed a great mistake in choosing for a tragic heroine an impostor, as Joan unquestionably was; Shakspeare had more justly represented her as a witch; and Schiller had metamorphosed her thus, simply from his taste for the reviving superstition in wonders and portents.
Teresa, said the old Landeck, you said a very true word. It vexes me to see such follies brought upon the stage in our enlightened times. Is it not absurd that a half-crazy girl, who dreams visions about the Virgin Mary, should prophesy before the king and the arch-bishop, be recognized by them as a divinely commissioned being, and perform deeds beyond the might of heroes.
Suppose it is not true, dear father, said Teresa, it is still so beautiful! We cannot belp feeling with this enthusiast or impostor. The poet has given her so tender a heart, and her fate is so touching, that she wins our entire interest.
But why should it not be true?” said an old lady, who was thought to be in connexion with the Hernnhuters. “Similar things are spoken of in the Bible. The Spirit of God falls
upon prophets and heroes, and they prophesy and perform extraordinary things."
Pardon me, dear madam,” answered the preacher, “if I dispute the force of this analogy. We must consider the maid of Arc an impostor, since we do not, like the Catholics, worship the Virgin Mary as a saint or goddess, but consider doing this an idolatrous superstition. Much too might be said, if it would not carry us too far, concerning the prophets of the Old Testament, by which the credibility of Schiller's prophetess would gain nothing."
Theodore had hitherto listened in silence to this dispute, and was at first uncertain which view of the matter to take. Full of the thought which he had just received, (of the possibility of a divine revelation, the sight of Joan, with her religious enthusiasm, caused him to believe that what the Bible declared of the pouring out of the Spirit, contained more truth than he had till now believed. The harsh, cold judgment of the preacher, for whom he felt no high esteem, offended him; and he thought that the man, on accouní of his office, ought to have spoken differently, although he did not deny that the faith in the virgin was a superstitious one. It often happens, that an opinion we have entertained ourselves, becomes suspected or odious, in the mouth of another, with whom we have no sympathy in other things. So happened it now with our friend. In a moment, as by a stroke of lightning, all his views were altered; he entered into the conversation, and said with animation
“Though we Protestants must consider the worship of the virgin a superstition; yet, like every other, it contains a certain truth in it, and includes in it faith, though a faith mixed with error. When the maid believed herself to receive revela