covering. To this end Jacobi has contributed the earliest and best assistance, by showing that sensation testifies not more positively of the so-called secondary qualities of bodies than of their objective actuality, as will be more fully shown in the proper connection.

But Fichte contributed toward the correction of Kant's error in a way similar to that in which Berkeley had exposed the weakness of Locke. Fichte inquired whether it was true that an actual objective world caused the subjective phenomena, as Kant evidently assumed. In his investigation of this problem he found in his consciousness the sensations, and from these inferred the objective, not in the relation of cause, but as the effect or product of the active mind. He accordingly gave a confident negative to his own query, and adopted the full consequence of the error in the.central doctrine of his philosophy -that "all cognition is a self-activity which perceives only its own self-activity."

When Schelling replied to Fichte's reasoning, that we might with equal propriety reverse his process, and suppose the subjective to result from the objective, then the claims of both to priority were recognized as equal; and both Fichte, in his latter days, and Schelling, admitted that an absolute existence underlies all phenomena.

A very important further modification of the philosophy of knowledge was achieved by Hegel, and still attracts great attention. He united the subjective and the objective into such a union that the latter was implied in the former. The phenomena which we perceive were regarded as having the same character objectively as subjectively. "The ground of their being," said Hegel, ❝is not an unknown essence immediately behind the phenomena, but the absolute idea." Thus constituted, absolute idealism makes a radical contrast with the subjective idealism of Fichte.

This system of Hegel, first offered for publication in Jena during the bombardment of that city by Napoleon, is a little later in its origin than the faith-philosophy of Jacobi; nevertheless, Jacobi is, in a certain sense, the representative of an elementary form of the latest philosophic thought. What the philosophy of the future is to be, no man can confidently tell; but it may not be too bold to predict that what Jacobi felt, but

dared not say he knew, will yet find many to recognize its philosophical validity.

The chief claim of Jacobi to recognition among philosophers rests upon his doctrine that we have a direct intuitive knowledge of the suprasensible-that we see it with the "reason" as truly as we see physical objects with the eye. This doctrine has usually been regarded as enthusiastic, and its author sometimes set down among the Mystics of Germany. The degree of reproach implied in the terms enthusiastic and mystic varies with the persons who use them. When enthusiasm is charged as equivalent to fanaticism, and mysticism as implying obscurity and error, they simply beg the question at issue. A legitimate enthusiasm is what Jacobi claimed; and if we translate the Greek elements of the word (ev Oɛós) as "God within," the meaning is rescued from all implication of error. Fanaticism

is as far from the best sense of enthusiasm as rage from anger— to borrow a simile from Voltaire.

The quest of philosophy has ever been, before all else, for the efficient cause of nature. This cause does not appear in the nebular hypothesis, or in the atomic theory; for science cannot account for the first movements of either. Locke did not find it, for he had no secure hold upon any thing objective. Kant did not find it in the pure reason, for pure reason could know nothing of any thing in itself. Jacobi found a first cause, he was sure, but only in his heart-there was not quite room enough for it in his head. He claimed that this, together with some other knowledge, is impressed upon the soul without the intervention, in any way, of physical organs. The philosophy of Locke does not willingly admit any impressions upon the tabula rasa of the mind apart from the products of sensation and their combinations. Jacobi's claims must, accordingly, be positively refused, or some of the principles abandoned which have been maintained, or tacitly admitted, by a multitude of philosophers. The tabula-rasa simile has been convicted of fault in the implication that the mind is a cold and dead slate, that simply holds, without addition or change, whatever is committed to it. If this were so, there would be for us no external world-all primary qualities of matter would be forever shut out of the mind, for no sensation ever resembled any one of them. Secondary qualities are purely subjective. They not

only do not resemble in the least their immediate physical causes, but even these do not reside in the bodies to which we refer the qualities as by instinct, while the inferred concause, which is in the body, is beyond the reach of our investigation. It must be, then, that we are indebted to certain original energies of the mind for all that we know of the external world, even after sensation has revealed all that in the nature of the case is possible.

Kant insists upon the testimony of sensation as essential to the validity of mental products. Jacobi insists that he sees a light, which to the physical eye is invisible. Is he mistaken? or is Kant's requirement unessential?

A sensation is a feeling awakened in the mind through the medium of an organ of sense. This sensation becomes a perception when referred to the external object which occasioned it; thus do we acquire all our knowledge of the outward world. What, then, are the essential elements in the formation of any perception? Before all, something must be impressed upon the consciousness. Sensations depend solely upon the nerves to convey them to the conscious subject. Any interruption of their career toward the brain puts an end to them, or rather, there being no sensation in the consciousness, none exists anywhere. If, therefore, sensation is essential to perception, then nerves are likewise essential. But nerves are only the menial organ which serves mysteriously to convey impressions to the mind, without, in ordinary perceptions, revealing themselves to the consciousness. Some perceptions, moreover, such as the perception of relations, are generally recognized as being independent of all sensation. So, too, causation, time, and identity, must be perceived, if at all, without the help of any mechanism, since in their nature they are impalpable. No particular character in the object, therefore, can be pronounced essential to mental perception; immaterial principles are perceived as clearly as granite hills.

It thus appears that the practical objective conditions which now limit perception may be purely casual. Only two elements remain which can be shown to be essential in the perception of all things objective. These are feeling and reflec tion; feeling, because it is the condition of both sensation and consciousness, and whatever is not felt in either of these ways

cannot in any manner make itself known; and reflection, because feeling is not thought, and no knowledge can result from feeling simply as feeling, any more than we can become cognizant of a present physical object without looking upon it to discover its qualities. Reflection interprets feeling into terms of thought. This is done spontaneously, to be sure, and seems to attend rather than follow the feeling-what obviously follows being inference rather than intuition.

Both these essential conditions being met, the source or cause of the feeling does not affect the validity of the consequent perception. The feeling itself is sufficient evidence of the actuality of its cause; its nature is a distinct problem. "Whoever says he knows," observes Jacobi, "we properly ask him whence he knows. He must then depend at last upon one of these two things, either upon sensation or upon soulfeeling." All knowledge resting on the latter Jacobi denominated "faith," and he doubtless enjoyed the same assurance of his "faith" as of his material possessions. Yet it was Jacobi who cast upon this assurance the reproach of being unphilosophical. That reproach commends the modesty of the philosopher more than his logical powers. It must be set down as his weakness that he dared not maintain as legitimate the firmest convictions of his soul, simply because the method by which he reached them was not philosophically orthodox in his day.

The best use of philosophy is, doubtless, to regulate human conduct; and that which is unphilosophical should accordingly be abandoned. Why not, then, abandon every thing which is given us by the intuition of reason and from no better source? Why not give up the notion of an external world? Simply because the universal conviction of the race makes it impossible. Men do not wait for the formal decisions of philosophers upon questions which find uniform answers in their own clearest intuitions. No contradiction of this decision would command their respect. Again, why not abandon the notion of a First Cause presiding over the universe, and governing it according to the intelligent determinations of an unrestrained volition? The answer is to the same effect as the former, Because all races and tribes under the sun hold some faith in a god to whom they are responsible and expect to give account. The argu

ment from common consent must not be despised. Philosophy cannot ignore it without itself being rejected. It rests upon intuitions which are universal and necessary, and which no authority is competent to gainsay.

Jacobi allows a logical validity to the pantheism of Spinoza, but it affords no satisfaction to the desires of his soul. His spirit rejects pantheism, while his reason accepts the demonstration on which it rests. His spirit, on the other hand, clings to the "faith," which his understanding cannot approve. Fully conscious of this paradox, Jacobi declared, "There is light in my heart, but when I attempt to bring it into my understanding, it goes out." What loyalty to the conclusions of a syllogism built upon false premises and doing violence to the strongest and purest intuitions of the soul! A weaker "faith" would have surrendered to so strong a conviction of the demands of the understanding. A stronger logical faculty would have scorned the ambiguous position which Jacobi under protest occupied. It may not be evident which was the weaker, his "faith" or his reason, but his preference between the horns of his dilemma was unmistakable and strong. The sphere of the simple understanding he plainly calls inferior, since it sadly disappoints the highest aspirations of which we are capable. These are satisfied in the intuitions of the divine, in which Jacobi realizes the highest of all possible objective revelations. To rescue these intuitions from the fatal monism of Spinoza Jacobi deliberately sacrificed his philosophy, such as it was, in favor of his faith. From that moment he formed a marked contrast with Spinoza. The latter knew no personal God; Jacobi ever felt his presence and heard his voice. Spinoza knew no causes except as immanent in matter and necessary; Jacobi recognized a Final Cause, and was conscious of his own freedom, and of his own accountability. Spinoza consequently enjoys a passionless repose, fearing nothing and hoping nothing, and witnessing the dissolution of his body with a stolid resignation, regarding his decay as another proof of his brotherhood with the clod. Jacobi, however, quick with the pulsations of an endless life, stretching eagerly forward to catch glimpses of the dawning of the bright to-morrow of his soul's desire, is by no means satisfied with the realizations of this life, but is more than satisfied with its hopes.