{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_45823/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_45823","id":"gutenberg_45823","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45823","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Rationalism"],"text":"ESSAYS IN RATIONALISM\n\n                                   BY\n                         CHARLES ROBERT NEWMAN\n                     (Brother of Cardinal Newman.)\n\n                              WITH PREFACE\n                                   BY\n                         GEORGE JACOB HOLYOAKE.\n\n                                  AND\n\n                          BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH\n                                   BY\n                             J. M. WHEELER.\n\n\n\n                                LONDON:\n                    PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY,\n                      28 Stonecutter Street, E.C.\n                                  1891\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                LONDON:\n                 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY G. W. FOOTE,\n                      28 STONECUTTER STREET, E.C.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nESSAYS IN RATIONALISM.\n\n\nPUBLISHER'S NOTE.\n\n\nWhether this little volume will find sufficient patrons to defray\nthe cost of its production is at least doubtful. The writer whose\nessays it contains lived in obscurity and will never be popular. But\nhe possessed a fine intellect, however frustrated by circumstances;\nhe belonged to an illustrious family; and it is well to let the public\nhave access to the opinions of a brother of Cardinal Newman and of\nProfessor Newman, a brother who took his own course, as they did,\nand thought out for himself an independent philosophy.\n\nAll Charles Robert Newman's writings that are known to have been\nprinted, appeared in the Reasoner, edited by Mr. George Jacob Holyoake,\nat various dates during 1860-61. With trifling exceptions they are\nall reprinted in this collection.\n\nMr. Holyoake has kindly supplied a brief account of the atheistic\nNewman, and Mr. J. M. Wheeler has gathered all the information that\nis obtainable as to his life and personality.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.\n\n\nOf Charles Robert Newman, until the death of his brother, the Cardinal,\nalmost nothing was known. Some reminiscences of him by Mr. Thomas\nPurnell and Precentor Edmund Venables appeared in the Athen\u0102\u00a6um at\nthe time of his death in 1884, and these remain the chief sources\nof information concerning him. Mr. G. J. Holyoake also, in his paper\nThe Present Day, wrote: \"If the public come to know more of Charles\nR. Newman, it will be seen that all the brothers, John Henry, Francis\nWilliam, and Charles R. Newman, were men of unusual distinction of\ncharacter, and that while each held diverse views, all had the family\nqualities of perspicacity, candor and conscience.\" But these notes\nattracted little attention. Most people were under the impression\nthere were only two brothers, who had long figured in the public eye\nas types of the opposite courses of modern thought towards Romanism\nand Rationalism. Yet the real type of antagonism to Rome was to be\nfound in Charles Robert, who is dismissed by the Rev. Thomas Mozley\nwith the words: \"There was also another brother, not without his\nshare in the heritage of natural gifts.\"\n\nIn a notable passage on change of religion, in his Essay in Aid of\na Grammar of Assent, chap. vii., Cardinal Newman seems to allude\nto the career of himself and his brothers. He says: \"Thus of three\nProtestants, one becomes a Catholic, a second a Unitarian, and a\nthird an unbeliever: how is this? The first becomes a Catholic,\nbecause he assented, as a Protestant, to the doctrine of our Lord's\ndivinity, with a real assent and a genuine conviction, and because\nthis certitude, taking possession of his mind, led him on to welcome\nthe Catholic doctrines of the Real Presence and of the Theotocos,\ntill his Protestantism fell off from him, and he submitted himself\nto the Church. The second became a Unitarian, because, proceeding\non the principle that Scripture was the rule of faith, and that a\nman's private judgment was its rule of interpretation, and finding\nthat the doctrine of the Nicene and Athanasian Creeds did not follow\nby logical necessity from the text of Scripture, he said to himself,\n'The word of God has been made of none effect by the traditions of\nmen,' and therefore nothing was left for him but to profess what he\nconsidered primitive Christianity and to become a Humanitarian. The\nthird gradually subsided into infidelity, because he started with\nthe Protestant dogma, cherished in the depths of his nature, that a\npriesthood was a corruption of the simplicity of the Gospel. First,\nthen, he would protest against the sacrifice of the Mass; next he gave\nup baptismal regeneration and the sacramental principle; then he asked\nhimself whether dogmas were not a restraint on Christian liberty as\nwell as Sacraments; then came the question, What after all was the\nuse of teachers of religion? Why should any one stand between him and\nhis Maker? After a time it struck him that this obvious question had\nto be answered by the Apostles, as well as by the Anglican clergy;\nso he came to the conclusion that the true and only revelation of God\nto man is that which is written on the heart. This did for a time,\nand he remained a Deist. But then it occurred to him, that this inward\nmoral law was there within the breast, whether there was a God or not,\nand that it was a roundabout way of enforcing that law, to say that it\ncame from God and simply unnecessary, considering it carried with it\nits own sacred and sovereign authority, as our feelings instinctively\ntestified, and when he turned to look at the physical world around\nhim, he really did not see what scientific proof there was of the\nBeing of God at all, and it seemed to him as if all things would\ngo quite as well as at present without that hypothesis as with it;\nso he dropped it, and became a purus putus Atheist.\"\n\nI have transcribed this lengthy, but remarkable passage, not because\nI think it correctly describes the process of thought in his two\nbrothers, but rather as an illustration that his own imaginative\nsynthesis of their position derives its life and force from the fact\nthat he had before him concrete instances in the person of his own\nnearest relatives.\n\nCharles Robert Newman, younger brother of the Cardinal and elder\nbrother of the Professor, was born on June 16, 1802, being one year and\nfour months the junior of the former, and three years the senior of the\nlatter. [1] Their father, a London man, and friend of Capel the eminent\nstockbroker, from having been clerk in a bank, became a partner,\nthough he afterwards failed at a time of great commercial depression,\nboth in this business and as a brewer. He was a Freemason, a musician,\nand had schemes of social improvement by reclaiming waste land and\nplanting with trees. In religion his views appear to have been of a\nbroad cast approximating to those of Benjamin Franklin. The mother,\nwhose maiden name was Jemima Fourdrinier, was of Hugenot family, and\nof religious cast of mind. There were six children, equally divided\nas to sex. Harriet, the eldest girl, married the Rev. Thomas Mozley;\nJemima, the second, married Mr. John Mozley; while Mary, the youngest,\ndied unmarried.\n\nCharles Robert was educated at the same school as his two brothers,\nJohn Henry and Francis William, that of Dr. George Nicholas at Ealing,\nMiddlesex.\n\nOf the influences which moulded his mind we can only speak from what\nis known of his brothers. John Henry has told how, in youth, he read\nPaine's tracts against the Old Testament--we presume he means the\nAge of Reason--and also boasted of reading Hume, though, as he says,\nthis was possibly but by way of brag.\n\nEvidently, though the family was brought up in the habit of Bible\nreading, there was considerable freedom allowed as to the direction of\ntheir studies. While the father lived family prayer was unknown, nor\nwas there any inculcation of dogma. \"We read,\" says Francis William,\n\"the Psalms appointed by the church every day, and went to the parish\nchurch on Sunday.\"\n\nFrancis William Newman, in his \"Contributions, Chiefly to the Early\nHistory of Cardinal Newman,\" says: \"In opening life, my brother\nC. R. N. became a convert to Robert Owen, the philanthropic Socialist,\nwho was then an Atheist. [2] But soon breaking loose from him,\nCharles tried to originate a 'New Moral World' of his own, which\nseemed to others absurd and immoral, as well as very unamiable. He\ndisowned us all, on my father's death, as 'too religious for him.' To\nkeep a friend, or to act under a superior, seemed alike impossible\nto him. His brother (the late Cardinal) humbled himself to beg a\nclerkship for him in the Bank of England; but Charles thought it\n'his duty' to write to the Directors letters of advice, so they could\nnot keep him. Nor could he keep any place long. He said he ought to\ntake a literary degree at Bonn: his two brothers managed it for him,\nbut he came away without seeking the degree. His brother-in-law,\nthe Rev. Thomas Mozley, then took him up very liberally; but after\nmy sister Harriet's death, J. H. N. and I bore his expenses to his\ndying day. His meanness seemed to me like that of an old cynic;\nyet his moderation was exemplary, and at last he undoubtedly won the\nrespect of the mother and daughter who waited on him.\"\n\nIn this, which is nearly all he has to say of this elder brother,\nit appears to me Professor Newman has either said too little or\ntoo much. The title of his work did not necessitate any reference\nto Charles Robert; but having said so much he should at least have\nexplained further. For instance, in reference to the visit to Bonn,\nit was exceedingly natural in the second brother seeking to take a\ndegree, since both his senior and junior had a college education. That\nhe did not share in this advantage may have well tended to sour\nhis life. Mr. Meynell explains why he returned without seeking the\ndegree. He says: \"But he came away without even offering himself for\nexamination, a step he explained by saying that the judges would not\ngrant him a degree because he had given offence by his treatment of\nfaith and morals [it is a Catholic who writes] in an essay which they\ncall teterrima.\" Charles may have acted with extreme imprudence, both\nin regard to the bank directors and the Bonn examiners; but we should\nneed to know the cases before we can determine whether he was actuated\nby wilful waywardness or by adherence to a higher than common standard\nof conduct. Each of the brothers had evidently exquisite sensitiveness\nof conscience, though, as proved by the Professor's last book--that\nunique criticism of a brother who died at ninety by another aged\neighty-five--they could not always enter into sympathy with each other.\n\nOf this we may be quite sure. The life of one who had thought himself\ninto Atheism, yet contemplated becoming a tutor, must have been a most\nuncomfortable one. The treatment he was likely to receive could not\nbe calculated to evoke his better qualities. Finding everywhere his\nAtheism a bar to his advancement, whose is the fault if it resulted\nin a character of petulance and cynicism, and in--what it evidently\ndid result in--a largely wasted life?\n\nThe Rev. Edward Venables, Precentor of Lincoln, speaks of him as having\nbeen, between 1834 and 1844, usher in a large school for farmers' sons,\nkept by a Mr. Allfree at Windmill Hill, in the parish of Herstmonceaux,\nSussex, where Julius Charles Hare, Archdeacon of Lewes, was rector,\nand John Sterling for a short while curate. Mr. Venables says Newman\n\"interested Archdeacon Hare very much, and I have often heard him\nspeak of the long conversations he had had with him on literary\nand philosophical subjects, and of the remarkable mental power he\ndisplayed. At that time the future Cardinal's brother had entirely\ndiscarded the Christian faith, and declared himself an unbeliever\nin revelation.\" There can be no doubt the tribute from Hare, a man\nof very superior culture, was deserved, though the archdeacon also\nexpressed the opinion \"there was a screw loose somewhere.\"\n\nThe task of teaching the Sussex rustics was, as Precentor Venables\nremarks, intolerably irksome to a man of Newman's high intellectual\npower. It was like chopping logs with a fine-edged razor. His\nrelations with his principal became strained, and a tussle between\nthe usher and his class led to his dismissal. At this time he\nwas miserably poor. Precentor Venables says: \"To Hare he lamented\nthe narrow-mindedness of his brothers John and Francis, who, as he\nasserted, had entirely cast him off, and left him to fight his way in\nthe world unaided, because of his professed infidelity, in which the\nyounger of the two, then an ardent Evangelical, was before very long\nto follow him.\" No reproach whatever is due to the younger brother on\nthis account, and the elder is probably as little blameworthy. John\nHenry could not be expected to recommend as tutor one whose views\nupon faith and morals he considered unsound. Francis William had\ngone to Bagdad with the object of assisting in a Christian mission,\nand intercourse with Mohammedans and other studies were but gradually\nloosening his orthodoxy. After his return, and when his works and\nprofessorship at London University assured his position, he put himself\ninto regular monthly communication with his brother. In the meantime\nhe had been assisted by his sister Harriet's husband. But the iron had\nalready entered his soul; he was an Atheist and an outcast. Forced to\nreceive the bounty of relatives who deplored his opinions, he seems to\nhave resented their kindness as an attempt to bribe his intellectual\nconscience. The world rang with the fame--as theologian, historian,\npoet, and preacher--of the elder, whose creed he had outgrown and\ndespised; while his convictions, to the full as honest, everywhere\nstood in his way, and were contemned as an offence against faith and\nmorals. He had no contact with minds congenial to his own, and doomed\nhimself to the life of a recluse.\n\nEach of the brothers was of a retiring, meditative disposition. Reading\nthe Apologia Pro Vita Sua of the eldest, one may see how this\ncontributed towards his seeking a refuge in the Catholic Church. The\nsame disposition of mind may be traced in the Phases of Faith of\nthe youngest, equally impelling him from the evangelicalism of his\nsurroundings and leading to the rejection of historic Christianity,\nand finally to the surrender of all belief in revelation. In Charles\nRobert Newman the same qualities were seen to excess, removing him\nfrom contact with his fellows to the life of a solitary thinker in\na quiet Welsh watering-place. From about 1853, he had a room in a\nsmall cottage on the Marsh road, Tenby.\n\nMr. Thomas Purnell, who says he had for years \"the inestimable\nprivilege of enjoying his close intimacy,\" remarks, \"never before\nor since have I met a man endowed with as rare an intellectual\nequipment.\" Mr. Purnell thus describes his own first visit to the\nrecluse: \"He stood at the top of the topmost stair. I cannot imagine a\nmore distinguished head and face. There was a touch of Mephistopheles\nin him. There was also a touch of Jupiter Olympius. Although dressed\nin ill-fitting clothes, and with a sort of blanket over his shoulders,\nhe appeared to me to be the ideal of courtly grace. He bowed me without\na word into his apartments. This was in the roof of the building,\nand the only light came from a window which opened with a notched iron\nbar. The room was as meagrely furnished as Goethe's study in Weimar. A\nbed, a chest of drawers, a table and two or three chairs, with a few\nbooks, constituted the whole goods and chattels.\" Mr. Purnell says\n\"his health, means and inclination made him averse to society. The\nrector called on him, but was not admitted; visitors to the town who\nhad known his brothers would send in their cards, but they received no\nresponse; local medical men, when they heard he was ill, volunteered\ntheir services, but they were declined with courteous thanks conveyed\nby letter.\"\n\nIt appears he but seldom left his house, and when he went out he did\nnot often enter the town, but took his exercise in the road which\nled into the country. Dressed in a pea-jacket, with a shawl or a rug\nthrown across his shoulders, and with a sou'-wester over his head, he\nmarched erect, looking neither to left nor right. He wore shoes, and,\nas his trousers were short, displayed an interval of white socks. The\nlads and lasses were apt to regard such a figure with derision.\n\nIt was through Mr. Purnell that he communicated the papers here\nreprinted to the Reasoner. Although but of the character of fragments,\nthey bespeak an original mind. The secret of the Cardinal's great\ninfluence and strength was that what he spoke and wrote came not\nfrom books, but forthright out of his own head and heart. The topics\nwith which his brother deals were those only needing the mind,\nand his treatment shows they were viewed in the dry light of an\noriginal intellect. The Reasoner ceased soon after the appearance\nof these papers, and thus closed the one opening for his literary\nactivity. Francis William Newman was, at least till the present year,\nunaware that his arguments for Theism were challenged by his own\nbrother under the signature of \"A Recluse.\" He informs me that he\nhad never heard that anyone would publish anything from his pen, and\nthat he heard that at his death, in March, 1884, he left a box full\nof manuscripts, which were destroyed as useless. Whether this was done\nby order of his relatives, whether the landlady decided the question,\nor whether the vicar or neighbors were called in, will perhaps remain\nas unknown as the worth of the manuscripts. The following specimens\nare all by which the latter question can be judged.\n\nMr. Meynell says that two years before he died he had a short visit\nfrom his eldest brother. It must have been a strange meeting, and\none worthy the brush of a great artist. Surely in all England there\nwere not two men of eighty whose thoughts were so divergent or two\nbrothers whose lives were so diversified. The one a saintly cardinal,\ncalled by the Pope the Light of England, who, by his rare urbanity,\nhad gained the respect of all, replete with all that should accompany\nold age--as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends: the other,\nfallen, too, into the sere and yellow leaf, and without them all--poor,\nsolitary, unknown and despised, a scorn and wonderment to his nearest\nneighbors. And all from following his own thought that had made him\na purus putus Atheist.\n\n\n    J. M. Wheeler.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHARACTER OF CHARLES NEWMAN.\n\n\nThere is little to say and less need to add anything to what\nMr. Wheeler writes, whose industry and discernment collect together all\nthe accessible facts of his subject. My knowledge of Charles Robert\nNewman is confined to his correspondence, which, with my present\nengagements, I could not refer to and examine without delaying the\nprinter longer than would be convenient to you, as Mr. Wheeler's\narticle is in type. The impression Mr. C. R. Newman conveyed to me by\nhis letters is, I judge, sufficient for the purpose in hand. Charles\nNewman had an intermittent mind. He would write with great force\nand clearness, and in another letter, which was confused in parts,\nhe would frankly say that his mind was leaving him, as was its wont\nas I understood him, and after a few months less or more, it would\nreturn to him, when he would write again. In this manly frankness\nand strong self-consciousness he resembled his two eminent brothers\nFrancis and John. I trusted to his friend Mr. Purnell, who was the\nmedium in communicating with me, to send me further letters when\nMr. Charles was able or disposed to write them. I expected to hear\nfrom him again. Much occupied with debates and otherwise at the time,\nI neglected writing further to him myself. Afterwards thinking his\ndisablement might have grown upon him with years, disinclined me\nfrom asking him to resume his letters. Mr. Wheeler seems ignorant of\nCharles Newman's mental peculiarity, and does not recognise what may\nbe generous delicacy on the part of his brothers in not referring to\nit. To do so would have subjected them to the imputation, very frequent\nformerly, of imputing difference of opinion to want of saneness. Even\nso liberal a preacher as W. J. Fox accounted, in 1841, for my disbelief\nin Theism by conjecturing the existence of some mental deficiency. No\ndoubt many persons with whom Charles Newman had dealings in offices\nhe held, would regard his Atheism--which it was contrary to his nature\nto conceal--as a personal disqualification. He avowed his opinions as\nnaturally and as boldly as Professor Newman and the Cardinal avowed\ntheirs. It is not conceivable that Cardinal Newman ever intermitted\nhis aid--or Professor Newman either--on this account. They were both\nincapable of personal intolerance. They might deplore that their\nbrother Charles's opinions were so alien, so contrary to theirs;\nbut this they would never make matter of reproach. It was doubtless\na great trial to them that their brother, having fine powers like\ntheir own, making no persistent effort for his own maintenance,\nalthough he knew it must render independence impossible. Possibly\nthe solitariness which he chose caused his tendency to unusualness\nof conduct, not to say eccentricity, to grow upon him--which they\ncould not control or mitigate without an interference, which might\nsubject them to resentment and reproach. Charles no doubt inherited\nhis father's sympathy for social improvement, which led to his sharing\nRobert Owen's sociologic views. But he did not acquire his Atheism\nfrom Robert Owen--as Professor Newman has said--for Robert Owen was\nnot an Atheist--always believing in some Great Power.\n\nProfessor Newman has told me that in any further edition of his\nlittle book upon his brother, the Cardinal, he will, on my authority,\ncorrect his description of Robert Owen as an Atheist. Charles owed\nhis Atheism to himself, as his brothers owed their opinions to their\nown conclusions and reflections. Charles not taking a degree was less\nlikely to be owing to means not being furnished to him than to his\nintermittent indecision of mind and his strong discernment, which\nproduced satisfaction with the world, with others, and with himself.\n\n\n    George Jacob Holyoake.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTWO PRINCIPLES OF ORDER.\n\n\nIn my proof of the invalidity of that argument--it being indeed what\nis called \"the Argument from Design\"--I point out that our experience\nsimultaneously informs us of two modes of producing order, otherwise\ncalled arrangement, relation of parts to each other and to the whole\ndirection of means towards some recognisable end; or, to describe\nthe phenomenon in the most summary, as well as the most practical,\nway--two modes of producing effects identical with those that proceed\nfrom design. I explain that, of these two principles of order, the one\nis Design itself, a modus operandi of intelligence (such as we find\nit here below, of which the human mind affords the best examples),\nwhile the other is something to which no name has been assigned,\nand which, consequently, we can only shortly describe by saying that\nit is not design. It becomes necessary, therefore, to give a farther\nperiphrastic account of it as follows:--\n\nThis nameless principle of order, considered as a vague popular\nsurmise, is as familiar to our experience as design. We all\nsee, for instance, that water has a tendency to form a perfectly\nlevel and horizontal surface, that heavy bodies fall to the earth\nperpendicularly, that the plummet performs a straight line in just\nthe same direction, that dew-drops and soap-bubbles assume a globular\nshape, that crystallisation observes similar artist-like rules,\nand so on. We are accustomed to say, \"It is the nature of things,\"\nand we ground our daily actions on a confidence in this regularity of\nproceeding, without generally attempting to explain it. Science comes\nto our help, and shows us that this orderly action of things around\nus may be traced to, and is the necessary result of, the operation of\ncertain powers or properties inherent in these natural things. Grant\nthat the property called gravitation belongs to moving bodies,\nand an innumerable quantity of orderly phenomena may be predicated\nas springing of their own accord by inevitable consequence from\nthis datum; which same phenomena, moreover, intelligence is able\ncoincidently to reproduce in its own special mental way.\n\nHere, then, is a principle of order, less popularly appreciated,\nbut not less certainly evidenced and known, than design. It is, no\ndoubt, a principle infinitely inferior in dignity, for it is blind\nand unintelligent, while design sees and understands, but this is\nnot the question. The question, superseded by an answer derived from\nhuman experience, is to this effect--that nature and natural things\nare, with no less propriety, assignable as the doers of a certain\nnon-designing kind of order, than man is assignable as the doer of\nthe designing kind; that we just as truly perceive that nature,\nin the exercise of certain powers that we find to be inherent in\nher, produces order in a dew-drop or in a crystal, as that man, in\nthe exercise of certain powers that we find to be inherent in him,\nproduces order in a poem or in a cathedral, and that, consequently,\nthe argument from design, based as it is on the assertion that our\nexperience assures us of only one principle of order, is invalid.\n\nMr. F. W. Newman's argument is one of this erroneous class. He points\nto \"Animal Instincts\" as an effect, which, owing to our knowing of\nno other agency by which it could have been produced, can alone\nbe accounted for by reference to a designer, and consequently as\nmanifesting the objective existence of that designer, who could only be\nthe theistic God. The question that Mr. F. Newman's adduced instance\nrequired him to consider was, whether the non-designing principle of\norder, which, we are aware, is in many cases able to produce the same\neffects as the other, could have been thus operative here, and he had\ngot to prove that it could not have been so, that there was something\nin the nature of the case that forced us exclusively to have recourse\nto the intelligent principle of order, and resisted any solution from\nthe other principle. The result of a proof so conducted would have\nbeen, that Mr. F. Newman was entitled to conclude that (granting our\nearthly experience was a sufficient test of the matter) Design must\nhave been the sole worker of the debated phenomenon. He would then\nhave established his theistic argument. Instead of doing this, he\nsimplifies his proceeding by being incognisant of a notorious fact,\nand ignoring the non-designing principle altogether.\n\n1. The fact is, that there is not one way only of producing the\nphenomena of design (I am here using an ordinary elliptical mode\nof speaking, since literal metaphysical correctness is sometimes\ncumbrous)--but there are two ways: one, the mind of a designer, and\nthe other (whatever may be its nature, which the present question\ndoes not call upon me to define) not the mind of a designer.\n\n2. The shortest way of proving this theorem, is to state that there\nare two ways of your obtaining a facsimile of your own person. One\nis to have your portrait taken, and the other is to stand before\na looking-glass, and that of these two ways the former is that of\ndesign, and the latter confessedly not design, being the well-known\nnecessary effect of certain so-called second causes, whose operation\nin this instance is familiar to modern science.\n\n3. Consequently, S. D. Collet is incorrect in the principle which\nshe makes the foundation of her argument at p. 27, where it is said,\n\"What the Theist maintains is this, that when we see the exercise of\nForce in the direction of a purpose, we, by an inevitable inference,\nattribute the phenomenon to some conscious agent.\"\n\n4. Force is seen to be exercised in the direction of a purpose--the\npurpose being that of producing similitude--with equal evidence in\nthe two cases just compared; for though the force exercised in said\ndirection is less in the case of the painter than it is in that of the\nlooking-glass (for the resemblance produced by the former is in less\ndegree a resemblance than that produced by the latter), the evidence\ncannot be said to be less, since it is no less able to convince. We\nare as perfectly sure that the painter could not have produced that\nlesser similitude of a man, and a particular man, by chance (the\nalternative of this supposition, according to our experience, being\nthat he must have used design) as we are that the looking-glass could\nnot have produced that greater similitude of a man, and a particular\nman, by chance (the alternative of this supposition, according to\nour experience, being that it must have used certain so-called laws\nof nature); this collective experience of ours, equally assuring us\non the one hand, that the only way of the painter's achieving these\neffects is by design, and on the other, that the only way of the\nlooking-glass's doing so, is by the natural agencies referred to.\n\n5. The human experience on which the decision of this question must\nbe founded--though not at the present era essentially different--may\nyet be said to be considerably so from what it was in certain former\nperiods. In no times could mankind think and observe without becoming\naware of these two principles of order--whether you call them facts\nor inferences--as a portion of their familiar experience. And so far\nas they might have compared them, they must have abundantly seen that\nthe natural one is more powerful than the artificial one, and that the\nstraight line or the circle must seek its perfection much rather from\nthe plummet or the revolving radius, than from the pencil of Apelles.\n\n6. Thus the essential point of the existence of the two principles\nhas always been known, but the idea of their respective spheres and\nlimits, of the efficient prevalence of each within our experience, has\nfluctuated in society. Art and handicraft are, of course, peculiarly\ncompetent to appreciate the artificial principle of order, while\nphysical science is especially conversant with the natural one. As the\nancients were equal to the moderns in the former pursuits, but vastly\ninferior to them in the latter, they must so far have had a tendency to\nthink more of the designing principle, and less of the other principle\nthan we do. But it must be remembered, that one or other of these two\nprinciples, or at least the arbitrament between them, is the animating\nbasis of all religion, and of all religious sects and persuasions;\nand further, that of these two principles, the religion founded on\nthe artificial one, which is the one traditionally derived to us,\nis liable to be, and is wont to be, a far more powerful religion\n(because it deals far more intensely in personification, having\nreference singly to some supposed artist) than either the religion\nthat is constituted by the natural principle, or that which results\nfrom a mixture of the two principles. And indeed, I will incidentally\nsay that this last kind of religion seems to me to have much analogy\non its side, and that the old idea of \"the two principles\" might,\non several grounds besides the present one, and in several respects,\nperhaps, be found to shadow forth a certain amount of most important\ntruth and applicability.\n\n7. To return. By considering the state of religion and of religious\nbelief in the times of Socrates and Cicero, in connection with\nthe state of art, handicraft, and science, in the same time, and\ncoincidently taking care not to forget that religious sentiment\n(that at least of the kind which had in their era already been,\nand much more since has been, communicated from the east to the\nwest) is an incomparably more vigorous impeller of opinion, than\nreason and argument; we shall have some of the principal data, and\nin a main matter shall be prepared to use them judiciously in any\ninquiry we might make, why it was that Socrates and Cicero, having\ntheir attention arrested by the artificial principle of order and\narrangement, seemed absolutely to forget the existence of the natural\none, and why in consequence it was, that the latter wrote to this\neffect: \"He who can look up to the heavenly vault, and doubt the\nexistence of a one personal God, the designer and governor of all\nthings, is equivalent to a madman\"; and why, further, we, spite of\nour vast physical science, are prone to the same fallacy.\n\n8. Having thus proved that the argument of the Theist generally,\nas well as the particular one advanced by S. D. C. at p. 27, is, by\nbeing based on the erroneous statement that there is only one means\nknown to human experience, of producing phenomena identical with those\nthat are the product of design, and that this one is design itself;\nthere being, on the contrary, two such means, one of which is not\ndesign; having, I say, proved that your argument, by being so based,\nis invalid, I find I must fully agree with you, that there is evidence\nof \"an unmistakable cosmical unity.\"\n\n9. The true inquiry, therefore, is, which of those two principles\nof order is, in the agency inquired into, the agent under these\ncircumstances, and whether both, and how far, under our ignorance of\nwhat may be (a most important point that is carefully to be considered)\nwe are entitled to affirm as indubitable, to denounce as contradictory,\nto advance as probable, to conjecture, to surmise, or to speculate\non this question.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE TRUTH OF FIRST PRINCIPLES.\n\n\n1. You ask \"my idea on the impossibility of proving the truth of\nFirst Principles?\"\n\nBy \"truth\" you mean the ascertained existence of any idea or thing,\nand the ascertained consistency of any statement with some such idea\nor thing.\n\nBy \"principles\" you mean not simply cardinal propositions, but cardinal\npropositions that we have ascertained to be true.\n\nBy \"first principles\" you mean the indubitably true but unprovable\nelementary principles of all our knowledge. You mean that these\nprinciples are the ground whereon we build in our reasonings; all that\nwe build upon them must, in consequence of being so built, admit of\nbeing \"proved\" whether we have built rightly--that is, admit of being\nsubjected to the test whether the reasoning is correct; but these\n\"first principles\" are confessedly exempted from this test, and yet\nare received as true, no less than the others that have sustained this\nordeal. You ask the meaning of this privilege, whether it is right;\nand, if so, to what propriety or necessity of the case it is due?\n\n2. You ask, \"How is truth ascertained to be truth?\" or, in other words,\n\"What is the criterion of truth?\"\n\nWith respect to the first query--In accordance with the definition I\nhave above given of truth, it would seem that it must have two sources,\nexperience and reason, experience who notifies the existence of\ncertain ideas or things, and reason, who forms propositions suggested\nby them. Experience, therefore, acts the simple part of supplying\nall the materials of truth; while reason, besides his acknowledged\noffice of judge of all truth, exercises the quite different function\nof being himself the purveyor of a portion of it.\n\nSo indubitable is it that truth can have these two sources only,\nthat even fanaticism would be found confessing the principle; while\nit appeals to the experience of those who agree with it, as well as\nprofesses to be reasonable.\n\nFirst principles must, accordingly, be of two kinds. Of those that\nare based upon experience, I will give the following instances:--I\nhear the chirping of a bird, and I see an inkstand before me. That\nI have the sensation of hearing and seeing in these two cases, are\nfacts of which it is impossible I can doubt. Reason perceives that\nthese are primary facts or first principles, neither admitting nor\nrequiring any proof, testified by consciousness, and self-evidently\nverified on that testimony.\n\nBy reason, of course is meant the reason of all mankind--that is,\nof all who are presumably competent to judge on the subject. So that\nany just or reasonable confidence in the verdict of my own reason--in\nthis or in any other matter, presupposes a due comparison of my own\nreason with that of others, nay, in some cases, a consideration of\nthe supposably more enlightened reason of future times.\n\nI discriminate first principles from derived ones thus:--\"I see the\nsun,\" is a first principle to me; \"you see it,\" is a first principle to\nyou; by comparing these two ideas, each attains the derived principle\nthat the other sees what he does, and the further derived principle\nthat the sun is an existence independent of both. His own existence\nis, indeed, to every one the first principle, by means of which he\ninfers the existence of other things and beings.\n\nIn coming now to the other kind of first principles, consisting of\npropositions formed by reason, we perceive that these show symptoms\nof still further difference from the above, than that which results\nfrom the difference of their source, of difference that affects their\nphilosophical character, and their technical right to the name under\nwhich they present themselves to us. In short, the primary philosophy\nhas not yet settled their title.\n\nThey are perceived by us to be true by an act of reason called\nintuition. Not similarly, however, does our reason inform us that they\nreally are first principles, and our science is hitherto unequal to\nthis inquiry.\n\nTake, for instance, the following celebrated thesis, so often cited\nas the most fundamental of all the propositions of reason, insomuch\nas to be tacitly implied in all our reasonings; which yet we are\nnot sure is a first principle, all that can be said in favor of its\npretensions being that we can find no one who is able to reduce it\nto more primary elements:--\n\nIt is impossible for a thing at the same time to be and not to be.\n\nAny one agreeing, as every one must, that this is true, might\nstill justly put the query, Why is it impossible? thereby calling\nits assertion in question, demanding its credentials of proof,\nseeking some ground for its truth other than its own testimony, and\nhypothesising some other proposition more fundamental than it of which\nit would be a derivative, and by all and each of these proceedings,\nrejecting its claim to be a first principle.\n\nIts resisting our analysis is a good subjective ground for our ranking\nthis and other similar propositions among our first principles. But\nthey could only have the true claim by its being made clear that\nthe inability results from the nature of the case, and not from our\nown incompetency.\n\nThis test is borne by the former description of first principles; we\nare able to see that the instances I adduced, such as the statements,\n\"I see the sun,\" \"I see an inkstand,\" \"I hear a bird,\" \"I am conscious\nthat I exist,\" evade our power of ordinary proving, because they do\nnot admit of such proof.\n\nWhen we perceive that no one can answer this query, we are prompted to\nanother. Why cannot we answer it? whence our inability? what prevents\nus? But here also we find ourselves completely in the dark, which is\nsomewhat strange, considering that in every human pursuit, whether of\nscience or any other, when we wish to do a thing and cannot do it, we\nare generally able to specify some particular, either of self-defect\nor outward impediment that is supposed to be in fault. But I imagine,\nif the reader were to experiment on the specimen I have given, he\nwould not only find himself to fail in solving the problem, Why is\nit that a thing cannot at once be and not be? but would not have a\nword to advance in the way of accounting for his failure.\n\nThese remarks apply to all other propositions of the sort. Euclid's\naxioms, which undoubtedly aim to be as elementary as possible, and\ntherefore may be said to aim to be first principles, are confessedly,\nunder this aspect, unsatisfactory to the learned. \"Things that are\nequal to the same are equal to each other.\" Every one is inclined\nto ask, Why? \"A straight line is the shortest distance between two\npoints.\" Again, Why?\n\nThe sum of the above strictures on this kind of so-called first\nprinciples, is--1. That they have not made good their title,\nand therefore are not to be accredited with it. 2. That there\nis a decided presumption against that title from the doubt and\ndissatisfaction with which it is met, where want of candor and\nintelligence cannot be imputed, especially when it is considered that\nthe other, the sensuous experimental kind of first principles, have\nso frank an acceptance. 3. It seems to be absolutely provable, and I\nsuppose I have above incidentally proved it, that they are not first\nprinciples. 4. The task is set to metaphysics of supplying the most\nsatisfactory proof of all by bringing to light such propositions as\nwould be perceived to underlie these so-called first principles, and to\nbe the real first principles to which the others would give precedence.\n\nAs regards their name, it being so much in point, excuses the old\nremark that the elements of our knowledge stand in a reversed order\nin respect to this knowledge to what they assume in our process of\nacquiring it. A first principle, therefore, means also a last one;\nit is the last in whatsoever endeavors to descend to the bottom or\nto penetrate to the source of our knowledge, but it becomes the first\nwhen we trace it from this source through its derivative ideas.\n\nThe investigating act should not be confounded with the prospecting\none. The sensible horizon of subjective vision can, by no mediation,\nbe exalted into the real horizon of truth, wherein the genuine first\nprinciples that bound human capability are exclusively to be found.\n\nIt may be asked, apart from the inquiry what first principles there\nare, Is there a necessity that some first principles should be? So it\nseems from the data of the case. It is patent to common observation\nthat the mind of man is recipient of ideas from the things that\nsurround it. The contact of its apprehending faculty with the things it\napprehends, must, it would seem, constitute first principles. After it\nhas got them it might conceivably elicit from them derived principles,\nbut the original ones cannot be thus derived, since there are none\nearlier from which to derive them.\n\nAgain, it is to be inquired, Does the mind, in receiving its ideas,\npossess and exercise in reference to the things on which it operates,\na copying faculty or a transforming faculty? Does it import them simply\nin their native character, in the way a mirror does the object it\nreflects, or does it manufacture, cook, and assimilate them, so as\nto change them into something partaking of its own?\n\nAnd, if it changes them, what is the extent of the change? Does it\ngo so far only as the semi-idealism of Locke, or extend into the\nabsolute idealism of the German school?\n\nBecause these questions have been wont to puzzle either the learned,\nor the public, or both, it does not follow that they are difficult. I\nsuppose them to admit of decided answers before a supposed competent\naudience.\n\nAs I am unprovided with proof, although I suppose it is to be provable,\nthat first principles of reason must needs be, I must speculate for\na moment on the possibility of a proposition of the form of \"two and\ntwo make four,\" being derived from one of the form of \"I scent the\nrose,\" for this seems to be the alternative of there being no first\nprinciples of reason. Evidently I must confess to having no grounds\nfor pronouncing such a derivation impossible, though I must grant\nit to be paradoxical. Our mal-cultivation of non-material science,\nand the imperfection of our metaphysics, is probably the only cause\nof the strange predicament.\n\nNo doubt M. Cousin, and several other eminent teachers of youth,\nto whose office it belongs to expound received metaphysics, have\ncomprised First Principles in their course of philosophy; but as I\nhave barely met with any of their writings, I must confess such an\nignorance of them, as not even to know how far I am either adopting,\nor evading their phraseology, in discussing the same subjects. Mine,\nhowever, cannot be wrong, since the term \"first principles,\" that I\nhave chosen, is one of familiar popular use; so that were this mode\nof speech, as indeed it is, peculiarly liable to ambiguity, it would,\nfor that very reason, be preferable to any other, till such time as\nthat ambiguity should have been explained, and the wrong thinking, of\nwhich it might have been the source, exposed and obviated. Not till\nthis had been done would it be time to inquire whether the current\nmetaphysics had invented any intrinsically better ways of speaking\non these topics, for though the veriest tyro in such investigations\nwould be justified in objecting to some of its technicalities,\nsuch as the invention of the word free-will, for instance, for the\nsame reason that a beginner in zoology might object, were such an\nattempt ever made, to the introduction of the word sphynx or griffin\ninto that branch of inquiry, there can be no doubt that other of its\nspeculations are more happily conceived. Hence I suppose it would be\na decided mistake to imagine, for example, that no trouve whatever is\nto be elicited from the obscurities of Kant, but on the other hand,\none must as much take care to entertain sober conjectures of the\npossible value of such unsunned treasures, as to keep in mind that\nquackery may be not unqualified with some merit, and I might surmise\nthat it was perhaps in virtue of his fabulous expectations in this\ndirection, that Coleridge could not execute his long-meditated plan of\nelucidating that writer; or rather, perhaps--to speak more curtly--a\nspirit more differing from that which compounded the amalgam, was\nnecessary to resolve and detect it.\n\nAccording to this estimate of the value of our achieved studies, it\nwould be expectable, in regard to my present topic, that almost all\nthe materials for right conclusions on it must be extant somewhere or\nother in our books, no great amount of ability being required to turn\nthem to proper account: an easily suppliable desideratum being thus\nleft unsupplied, the public indifference manifested thereby would seem\nto bear the ascription of our unsatisfactory metaphysics to the fault,\nhowever apportioned between the many and the few, not of the intellect,\nbut of the reason.\n\nIndeed, it is held as a pretty general rule, that where there is want\nof reform, there is want of reason; and Bacon, by implication, thought\nthe rule here applicable, when, in defending his \"new philosophy\"\nfrom the charge of arrogance, he apologised by saying that a \"cripple\nin the right road would make better progress than a racehorse in the\nwrong.\" That is, he claimed for himself, as he was bound logically to\ndo, the plain good sense of directing his supposably humble faculties\nwith an obvious regard to the end he proposed and professed, and he was\nready to concede to his competitors all kinds of superiority but this.\n\nThe same simplicity characterises the reforming animus of the other\ngreat patriarch of \"the new philosophy,\" in its sister branch. The\nstill debated point between the school of Locke and the old philosophy\nwas, and is, of such a form as may be figured by the following\nhypothetical, and it may be, well-founded statement. Locke seems to\nhave battled mainly for the principle that ideas that every one allows\nto be inferences, should be acknowledged by philosophy to be such,\nwhile the adherents of the old ideas maintained, in opposition to\nhim, that ideas that every one allows to be inferences, should not\nbe acknowledged by philosophy to be such. Or, in other words, Locke\naimed to realise a certain first principle of reason, which I shall\nhave hereafter to consider, which stands thus:--\"That which it is,\"\nwhile his opponents withstood this innovating pretension, finding\nit fatal to their doctrine. If the reader is somewhat startled at\nthe statement I have just made, I will remind him that it amounts\nto nothing more than saying that in the contest between the new and\nthe old philosophy, reason is entirely and absolutely on the side of\nthe former, an assertion which, of course, I must both think admits\nof being substantiated, and must take myself, in some degree, to be\nable to aid in its being so.\n\nThe existing quarrel between the two philosophies might, perhaps,\nbe personified through the medium of a principal champion on each\nside. For the new ideas I could only choose Locke, since he is admitted\nto have had no equally eminent successor; for the old I would choose\nM. Cousin, both on account of his superior merit and popularity, and\nalso of his having made Locke the subject of some elaborate strictures\nthat I happen to have read. On these, when they come again to hand,\nI should perhaps have something to remark; meanwhile I must content\nmyself with addressing myself to one of them in the following manner:--\n\nIn antiquity and the middle ages, the schoolmaster and the\nphilosopher were one and the same individual. The new philosophy\nwas the first to separate these two departments; perceiving that the\ncommunication of truth is a distinct office from its investigation,\nand that that difference of office in each case necessitates a\ncorresponding difference in the public, that is the proper object of\nits exercise. Since, moreover, society may be discriminated into two\nsorts of mind, admitting of being pictured as the childish and the\nadults, it is evident that the instructor must find his audience\nmore especially in the former, while the investigator of truth\nmust appeal exclusively to the latter. This he must needs do, to\nwhichever of the sciences he ministers; and not only so, but he must\nmore particularly address himself to a small and select portion of\nthis itself selecter class, constitute them the witnesses and judges\nof his proceedings, and perceive that both his success in philosophy\nand the acknowledgment of it can only be founded first and foremost on\ntheir approbation. As even in jockeyism and prize-fighting, there are\n\"the knowing ones,\" similar referees are, by the nature of things,\nrequired for the flourishing estate of any science; and evidently in\nproportion as they might be incompetent to such an office, false or\nimperfect science must be the result.\n\nLocke, acting on this instinctive view, communicated to the\npublic certain observations he had made in mental philosophy, and\nentitled his work, An Essay on the Human Understanding. He properly\ncalled it an essay, because a person who simply aims to investigate\ntruth, undertakes to do his best in the way of trial, endeavor, and\nexperiment, in such sort as to make the word essay appropriate to what\nhe does. The word moreover implies that the thing done, though it is\nthe writer's best, is liable to be incomplete, comparatively imperfect,\nand, indeed, in the more difficult questions of philosophy, as well as\nin the less advanced stages of philosophising, is sure to be so. Locke\naccordingly, having had his attention struck with certain phenomena of\nthe human mind, told the public just what he had observed, and nothing\nelse. Among the observations that he thus imparted, was the process\nthrough which the mind seems to go in arriving at the sum of its ideas,\nand especially the points from which it seems to start in this process.\n\nM. Cousin, having apparently no conception of a way of acting so\nproper to legitimate inquiry, and having himself written a Course\nof Philosophy, evidently thinks Locke ought to have done the same;\nfor he says that Locke is erroneous in the method of his philosophy,\nthat he begins at the wrong end, that instead of having told us as he\nhas how the ideas arise in the mind, he ought to have told us what\nthe ideas are, instead of describing their origin to have described\ntheir actuality, to have given a list of the faculties of the mind,\nand so on. Which is just the same thing as saying that a traveller\nwho publishes his explorations in America, ought instead to have gone\nto China.\n\nI shall have to make some objections to Locke, but they will be of\na nature exactly contrary to those of which he is usually made the\nsubject. Instead of accusing his principles I shall have to impute\nto him the not sufficiently carrying them out; a fault due to his\nposition as an early reformer, and perfectly consistent with his high\ncharacter as such.\n\nI have the more reason to note this distinction between M. Cousin's\ndepartment and the function exercised by Locke, because I am forced\nmyself to take the benefit of it. Want of erudition would form very\nvulnerable points, were I to be judged by the former standard. In\nthe little I have yet put forth on the subject of First Principles,\nI already find two or three errors of that sort, which a greater amount\nof reading would no doubt have enabled me to escape. My present letter\nmay close with some correction of one of these.\n\nPreliminary, I will venture to call \"That which is is,\" a first\nprinciple of reason, and \"Two and two make four,\" one of its\nderivatives, leaving this topic for future explanation, and then\nproceed thus:--When in my last letter I represented first principles\nas bounding the horizon of human knowledge, I left it to be inferred\nthat both the kinds of \"first principles\" I had mentioned were thus\ndescribable in common. I find, however, that this metaphysical\ncharacter belongs exclusively to first principles of sensuous\nexperience, and no more belongs to first principles of reason than to\nfirst principles of grammar, or to first principles of rhetoric. That\nis, first principles of reason are merely the result of one of those\nanalytical inquiries in which we arrive at something absolutely simple,\nand must there stop, just as in the science of numbers we may thus\narrive at unity.\n\n\n\nHaving long ago defined First Principles of sensuous experience,\nI find there is a difficulty attached to the other kind of first\nprinciples derived from the various use of the word reason--which\nI will say betrayed me into a wrong inference in the concluding\nparagraph of my last letter.\n\nLocke, in the 17th chapter of his fourth book, confesses that this\nword, in the proper use of the English language, is liable to bear\nseveral senses. Due discrimination in such a case, and a cautious\navoidance of the dangers to which philosophy is exposed, and has\nso amply incurred, from this kind of source might, above all, have\nbeen, expected from Locke, since he was the first who inculcated it,\nand is generally remarkable for the observance of his own precepts\nin this matter. Hence the charge I have now got to bring against him\nis a little surprising.\n\nIndeed, it might be asserted that his position and circumstances do\nnot seem very readily to bear the entire responsibility of some of his\nproceedings. Perhaps he might be characterised as a writer of somewhat\nhumorous idiosyncracy in respect to tendency to fixed ideas. His\nlapses, indeed, are not many, but they are highly significant, as\nI shall have occasion in more than one instance to show, and among\nthese must evidently be reckoned that I am now going to notice, since\nit imports the wrong definition of a word of such cardinal meaning.\n\nIn defining the word reason, in its proper and specific sense\nwherein it is used to denote a certain well-known quality of the\nhuman mind--that is, as approvedly ascertained and appreciated under\nthis name, as are certain weights and measures under those of pound,\ngallon, or mile, he assigns a meaning to it that comes short of the\nproportions thus justly prefigured as belonging to it. He confounds\nreason with reasoning--that is, he emerges the entire faculty or modus\noperandi, to which we give the name of reason, in that partial exercise\nof its function to which we give the name of reasoning. He says that,\nin matters of certainty, such as the proof of any of Euclid's theorems,\nthe acts by which the mind ascertains the fit coherence of the several\nlinks in the chain of reasoning are acts of reason. Granted.\n\nAlso, that in weighing probabilities, a similar coherence is similarly\nverified by reason. Granted--with liberty of comment that these arts\nof reason, in either of the two cases have, by the approved practice\nof language, received the name of reasoning.\n\nBut he further signifies--that is, he does not expressly affirm, but,\nwith equivalent certification, he implicitly asserts, and inferentially\nstates that, in examining such a proposition as the following:--\"What\nis, is\" (an examination to which confessedly no reasoning is attached),\nthe act by which the mind assents to the truth of this statement\nis not to be described as an act of reason. He adopts a different\nphraseology, and calls it intuition.\n\nObserve, my objection is not that he invests the idea with this new\nname, but that he disparages its old one. I do not object to your\ncalling a spade a shovel, under a certain view of its use, but it\nremains still necessary that you should admit that a spade is, in\nthe full sense of the word, a spade.\n\nIndeed, I will incidentally remark that I suspect the word \"intuition\"\nhas been a very good addition to our vocabulary, and I suppose\nits proper import might be represented as follows:--Reason has two\nmodes of his exercise, the one is called reasoning, and the other\nintuition. Intuition is the decision of reason on one single point;\nreasoning--a word proper to demonstrative truth--seems to be nothing\nmore than intuition looking not merely at one point, but at several\npoints successively. So that intuition and reasoning would constitute\nthe self-same function of reason, and the difference in their meanings\nwould be solely owing to the difference in the circumstances under\nwhich that function is exercised.\n\nObserve, that I am here only venturing to speculate, and am now\nreturning from that digression.\n\nWhether or not Locke is herein psychologically consistent with\nhimself; whether, indeed, his real theory is not that which I have\njust conjecturally intimated, is another question, which I shall\ndefer to a future occasion; but whether or not he herein opposes the\nordinary, prevailing, and inveterate use of language, which is what\nI am charging him with doing, and whether or not he has justifiable\nground for this innovation which I am denying that he has, are points\nthat must be tried by the ordeal of these three considerations. How\nare we accustomed to speak? How are we accustomed to write? and what\nsort of a call for changing our customs in either of these particulars\nis that which constitutes a genuine call to do so?\n\nIn regard to the first of these tests, the literature of all sects\nand parties has been accustomed to assert that, both in matters of\nscience and of worldly business, reason is the judge of all truth\nwhatever, without exception.\n\nLocke, on the other hand, informs us that reason is the judge of\ndemonstrative truth, of logical truth, of casuistical truth, and of\nlawyers' truth, and of these kinds of truth alone, but is not the\njudge of intuitive or self-evident truth. Our writers would tell us\nthat to deny \"what is, is\" to be a true statement, would be an offence\nagainst reason; but we learn from Locke that reason has no cognisance\nin this matter, but intuition only has, and consequently that the\nwrong committed would not be against reason, but against intuition.\n\nOur current speech accords with our literature in this view\nof the meaning of the word reason; whose efficiency, moreover,\nit endeavors to amplify, by surrounding it with satellites of\nadjectives formed from it, the principal of which are \"reasonable\" and\n\"unreasonable.\" Provided with this vocabulary, we pronounce it to be\nunreasonable to deny any truth whatever that can be well and clearly\nascertained; and so far are we from reserving these adjectives for\nthe occasion of demonstrative truth, and holding them inapplicable\nwhere self-evident or intuitive truth comes on the carpet, that we\naccount it, if possible, still more unreasonable to deny the latter\nthan the former.\n\nBut if the nomenclature adopted by Locke be the right one, there ought\nto be a change in these current modes of speaking and writing. One who\nshould reject the proofs of Euclid, would be unreasonable; one who\nshould maintain that Thurtel or Greenacre were innocent of murder,\nwould be unreasonable; but, one who should deny the truth of any\nself-evident proposition, would not be unreasonable; for to say this,\nwould be to say that reason has cognisance of such propositions,\nwhereas, according to him, it is expressly not reason, but intuition\nthat takes this office. The words \"intuitional\" and \"unintuitional,\"\nmust be invented to supply the obvious need which the apparent gap\ndiscovers; there seems no other way of supplying it.\n\nLest I should be suspected of somewhat making up a case; of having,\nperhaps, represented not so much what Locke really means, as what he\nseems to mean, I will remind the reader that Locke is undertaking the\nformal definition of a word, and that on such a critical occasion,\nit is proper to give him credit for not meaning otherwise than he\nseems to mean.\n\nThe passage which is my text, will be found in the earlier part of\nthe seventeenth chapter of the fourth book. Indeed, I could at once\nprove my indictment by citing a few words from it, accompanied by a\ncomment of my own, had I any right to impose on the reader a belief\nin the discriminating fairness and matter-of-fact accuracy, both of\nmy extracts and my comment.\n\nI will, however, venture on such a step; I will suppose myself\ncommenting on this passage, and proceed thus: Locke, it will be seen\nin this, his foremost and professed definition of the word reason,\ncontrasts it with \"sense and intuition.\"\n\nWhether he holds these to be identical with what he calls \"the\noutward and the inward sense,\" is not quite clear. That, however,\nis not the question.\n\nHe says, that these two faculties \"reach but a very little way\";\nfor that \"the greatest part of our knowledge depends upon deductions\nand intermediate ideas.\" Now, reason, he says, may be defined to be\nthat faculty, whose specific office it is \"to find out and apply\"\nthose intermediate ideas and deductions by which we obtain knowledge\nthat consists of two kinds, one that which exalts us into \"certainty,\"\nthe other that which, though less generous diet for the mind, we have\nconstantly good ground for gladly acquiescing in, and which we call\n\"probability.\" So that, says Locke, if you ask, \"What room is there\nfor the exercise of any other faculty but outward sense and inward\nperception?\" I can abundantly reply, \"Very much.\" I have shown you\nthat without this \"demonstrative\" faculty, our knowledge would be\nbut a skeleton; it would, indeed, not be properly speaking knowledge,\nbut mere rudiments of knowledge.\n\nSuch is my interpretation of Locke's definition of reason, in the\nproper and specific sense of this word. If it is strictly correct,\nas I believe the intelligent reader will find by reference, then it\nis Locke confounds reason with reasoning, mistakes a part for the\nwhole, and the whole for a part, and acts similarly--to borrow his\nown way of illustration--to the representing a gallon to be a quart,\nor a half-sovereign to be a sovereign.\n\nIt is to be observed, too, that it is entirely in behalf of the more\nshowy kind of knowledge, that the mistake is made. The respected name\nof reason is given exclusively to logic and demonstrating. Good sense,\ngood feeling, just instinct, if they stand alone, have no claim to\nit; they are put on an inferior footing; true, they are intuition;\nbut what then? they are not reason.\n\nNow, the century introduced by Locke is accused by the present,\nand it is generally admitted, with some degree of justice, of having\n\"materialistic\" tendencies. We may see, then, how Locke's doctrine,\nas just described, founded though it is only on nomenclature, hinging\nmerely on definition, incurring whatever wrongness it implicates from\nno other lapse than that of confounding a word with its derivative,\ndoing nothing, in short, but annul the difference of meaning between\nthe two words, reason and reasoning; we may see how this apparently\nharmless experiment might tend to supplying these materialistic\ntendencies with a ground, a rationale, a principle, and thus to exalt\ntheir authority, and how, indeed! it just smacks of their spirit.\n\nIt may be seen, too, how, from a few slips, such as this on the\npart of the champion of the \"new philosophy,\" competing schools of\nthe present age might be able to make up a case, specious enough to\ngain the acquiescence of a portion of the public against both--with\nhow great futility, I believe, would appear, if the accusations were\nweighed by a competent tribunal.\n\nAnd, finally, it might be expected, that the undue exaltation of\nthe demonstrative department of reason, should issue in a reaction\ninto a contrary extreme, and that some Mr. Carlyle might be found to\ninveigh against \"logic,\" to sneer at \"analysis,\" to denounce \"cause\nand effect philosophy\" and to praise \"mysticism.\"\n\nI have already assumed that the third test that I promised, goes\nagainst Locke, and requires no examination, simply because he has not\nadvanced it in his behalf. He has assigned no ground for changing\nthe meaning of the word reason, and it is presumable that none is\nassignable.\n\n\n\nThe question, What is the Criterion of Truth?--that is, What are the\nproper means of distinguishing whether anything that is asserted to be\ntrue is so or not? claims immediate notice, because such a criterion\nexists, and the new philosophy necessarily appeals to it when it comes\nbefore the public, while it has shown with what effect it can do so,\nin the case of those of its branches--namely, the purely material\nand the mathematical, that flourish in society.\n\nPremising that it is a way of certifying truth that has been\nimmemorially used by mankind in their daily affairs, and which they\nhave always, to some extent, instinctively transferred to their\njudgments in philosophy, and that it is the only possible general\nand summary criterion of truth, I may describe it as consisting in\nthe unanimous assent to some idea or assertion of all who are thought\ncompetent to pronounce concerning it.\n\nViewed in connection with the thing it verifies, and the parties who\nuse it, the criterion may be thus represented: Any idea, assertion,\nor opinion, must, by any inquirer, be found true, when he perceives\nit to be such as would be unanimously assented to by all presumably\ncompetent judges of the kind of truth to which it refers.\n\nSo that those who use this criterion, and are convinced of the truth of\nanything through its medium--a proceeding which I have represented as\ncommon and habitual to mankind--in thereby pronouncing certain supposed\npersons to be judges of truth in the said matter, claim themselves\nto be also judges of it in the matter of so pronouncing. The acts\nof judgment they thus tacitly challenge to themselves may be said to\nbe to the following effect:--1. They assign the qualifications that\nconstitute competency for a certain function. 2. They decide that there\nare persons in the community answering to this character. 3. They\nopine that the view such persons take or would take, imports an\nassertion of the truth of the idea in question. 4. They accredit\nthat view with being strictly one, supposing that all qualified to\narbitrate would acquiesce and agree in the same. 5. They attribute\nto themselves a similar unanimity. 6. They assume the sufficiency of\ntheir own judgment to make all the above conclusions.\n\nThese assumptions on their part, so complicated in description, are\nsimple enough in performance. It is plain that mankind--more properly\nhere to be called the public--simply attach themselves to some opinion\nwhich they find current in society; while, however, the assumptions\nI have just described are, in their full measure, but a necessary\nconsequence of their so doing, doubtless their so doing must itself\nhave been dictated by some kind of anticipation of them, but this may,\nto any degree, have been vague, undetermined, partial, and imperfect.\n\nThe rationale of this double bench of judges is thus explained. In\nreference to almost every kind of truth there is always a certain\nportion of the community better able to judge than the rest. Hence\nit becomes clearly the part of the latter, if they wish to be\nrightly informed, to defer to the opinion of those confessedly\nbetter judges--confessed to be such from the general opinion to that\neffect. Thus a second set of judges perforce, in addition to those that\nwere originally conceived by choice, is implicated in this transaction.\n\nFor the primary sort I must seek a name from the French language,\nwhich calls them \"experts,\" the English supplying, I believe, none,\nexcept a very vernacular one, the \"knowing ones\"; the others have\nalready got a well-known name--the public.\n\nThe public, in deciding on the occasions in question, what are the\nqualifications that constitute \"experts\" may be said to choose them,\nthereby, however, choosing persons in idea, and not bodily. The\nrelation of the public to these conceptions of theirs is the same\nas that of the constituencies to the members of Parliament, in the\npoint of one being the choosers and the others the chosen, with a\ncommon object in view.\n\nI suppose, to stop the current of my discourse, and adjourn its topic,\nfor the sake of at once bringing the general principle discussed to\nthe test of exemplification, would have its want of logical harmony\nexcused by its being desiderated by the reader.\n\nI had undertaken to prove that this principle--which, for distinction's\nsake, I will call the unanimity principle--is the proper and only\ncriterion of scientific truth to the great non-scientific world,\nand consequently that modern philosophy necessarily appeals to it\nwhen it comes before the public. What I had thus taken upon myself\nto do, obviously was--first, to display and explicate the principle\nby definition, and this I had already done; and next--to describe\nit theoretically by showing its manner of existing, and this I was\nengaged in doing. Leaving this inquiry in the midst, I am now going to\ndeviate into the practical phase of its description, by showing, not\nhow it is, but how it acts. This seems necessary for the satisfaction\nof the reader, as being the only way of securing him from any, even\nwere it but temporary, misapprehension as to the working value of\nthe principle for which his attention is demanded. I therefore select\nthe six following examples, the two first homely, and the four last\nphilosophical, of its ordinary use by the public.\n\nThey will be at once seen to justify my assertion of its having for\nits main characteristics the two facts--first, that mankind habitually\nuse it, and have always done so; and next, that propositions thus\nwarranted are universally accepted as established truth, and that no\none thinks of calling them in question.\n\n1. Thus no one doubts, when coming to the intersection of two roads,\nhe sees a sign-post, on one of whose pointers is written \"To London,\"\nand on the other \"To Windsor,\" no one hesitates to believe that the\ninformation thus conveyed to him is true; because he is aware that\nthose who give it are competent to do so, and that none similarly\ncompetent will gainsay it.\n\n2. Again, no one doubts that the sun rises and sets once in\nevery twenty-four hours; no one doubts that he so rose and set\nyesterday. Every one is ready to affirm the certainty of these two\nfacts, but very few can do so, in any great degree, from their\nown experience; but they help the lack of this by that of their\nneighbors. Neither is it necessary that they should have any near,\nnor even the most remote, idea of the personality of those on whose\ntestimony they thus implicitly rely; it suffices they are sure,\nwhoever they may be, they have the right qualifications for testifying\nin the way they do, and that no one so qualified can contradict their\nevidence, or dream of doing so.\n\nThe above are examples of the criterion of truth, applied to the ideas\nand proceedings of ordinary life. It will be seen therefrom, first\nthat mankind have in all ages been educated in an acceptance of its\nprinciple, according to my definition of it, the principle, namely, of\nan indubitable certainty of truth, resulting from the unanimous assent\nto some idea of all who are thought by self and neighbors competent\nto pronounce thereon; possibly too they may be said to have been\neducated in some imperfect theoretical appreciation of this principle.\n\nIt will secondly be seen therefrom, that the two kinds of unanimity\nwhich I have predicated as essential to the proper use and results of\nthis criterion, an unanimity, namely, on the part of the supposed good\njudges of certain descriptions of truth, who may be called the adepts\nor knowing ones imagined by the public; and again an unanimity on the\npart of the public itself in interpreting and adopting their opinion;\nit will be seen, I say, that this double unanimity is perfectly\nattainable, nay, perfectly attained, and that too so extensively,\nas to constitute a common and familiar occurrence on all manner of\noccasions of daily life.\n\nI will now give instances of their similar use of it in directing\ntheir judgments on philosophical questions.\n\n3. Very few of the public are able to examine the proof of any of\nthe theorems of Euclid, yet there is none of them who would think of\nseriously doubting the truth of anything contained in that book, the\nground of their confidence being solely their knowledge of the fact,\nthat the learned in these matters have unanimously so decided.\n\nEvery one, again, believes in certain facts that are asserted by\nnavigators, explorers, and geographers, respecting the existence,\nposition, and products of various countries of the globe. Every one,\nfurther, believes in certain deductions derived from these facts by\nnaturalists, geologists, astronomers, and so forth. The belief is\nowing to the unanimous testimony of all these confessedly competent\nauthorities; but whenever they are seen to differ among themselves, the\npublic withholds its entire belief, and either doubts or disbelieves\nthe things asserted. Thus the public is at this day doubtful and\ndivided whether there is such a creature as the sea-serpent. Similarly\nthe public is dubious--for it must needs be so if any section of it is\nso--whether a certain explorer who was authoritatively sent out about a\ndozen years ago conjointly by the French Government and Institute, was,\nin any degree, justified in bringing home the account he did of there\nbeing a tribe of men in the interior of Africa having tails, whether\nthis unexpected information is, in any important particular, true.\n\nThe two last examples have been furnished by material science. I will\nnow draw one from the other department, with the view of indicating\nthat in non-material science also, numerous propositions circulate\namong the public that are franked by the same principle to pass as\nundoubted truth. Such is the maxim of heathen philosophy, recorded\nby Cicero in his \"Officiis\": \"Do not to another what you would not\nhe should do to you\"; or the same maxim, in its modified form, as\ngiven in the New Testament, with the characteristic omission of the\nnegative. The truth of this moral maxim is universally admitted,\nbecause it is supposed that no person of presumable moral judgment\nhas ever been known to call it in question.\n\nIt would seem, then, that this criterion of truth is--what confessedly,\nor from easy proof, it is predicable that no other criterion of\ntruth is--a general criterion of truth. I will, however, restrict\nthis pretension to the statement--to be hereafter more largely\nexplained--that it is a general criterion of truth to the public\nas such, to the public considered as a public; for, indeed, it is\nnot properly usable at all by anyone except in the character of a\nmember of the public. This means that it is a general criterion of\ntruth in the following way: it is applicable to the verification of\nall truth, so far as it admits of being verified before the public,\nand made the common property of the community.\n\n6. For even where at first sight you might think it most out of place,\nI mean in relation to that kind of truth whose primary evidence is\nthe consciousness of the individual, so that the competent witness\nof truth is necessarily but one person, there is oneness of opinion,\nthere is unanimity, and the testimony of the one competent witness\nis not contradicted or doubted by that of any other presumably\ncompetent. When, for instance, I am conscious of the sensation\nof seeing an inkstand before me, no one seeing reason to doubt my\nassertion to that effect, all presumably competent testimony on the\nsubject must needs be concentrated in myself; and the fact of my\nseeing an inkstand, though for my own conviction verified in a way\nindependent of any such argument, is, for the conviction of others,\nonly pronounceable as true, because all presumably competent authority\nis of one mind in alleging its truth.\n\nIn thus far exemplifying the use of this principle, I have exhibited\nit in the exercise of its primary office only, which, however, is\nnot that which, on behalf of philosophy, I am here demanding from\nit. I have shown it, namely, as used by the public to establish truth\npositively, and not in the way wherein it may be used to distinguish\ntruth comparatively.\n\nBut it is solely in this latter office that it becomes a criterion of\ntruth, an arbiter between the true and the false, an indicator of both,\nand more especially of what has the character of ascertained truth,\nand what has not; and this, it will be remembered, was the office I\nsought from it, and constituted the ultimate purpose of my taking up\nthe consideration of the subject.\n\nHaving with as much brevity as just suffices for that purpose,\nexplained the nature of the principle in question, and its use by\nsociety at large, it now only remains that I should explain that\npurpose itself, by theory and example.\n\nWhat I am doing in tracing the unanimity principle from its first\ninstinctive use by the public to its secondary and meditated one\nby philosophy, is a purely critical act, comparable to that of\nthe rhetorician who appreciates the character of certain modes of\nthinking which have long since been practised by mankind, and shows\nwhat therein is approvable--all the rest being liable to censure.\n\nIt was the universal conviction of European Christendom, during\nmany centuries, that the Church, which was popularly supposed to be\nrepresented by the Pope, enjoyed peculiarly a divine guidance which\nmade it an infallible judge of truth. This idea was thought to be\nwarranted by the unanimous assent of all right-minded persons, and the\ndenial of it to be the mark of a reprobate spirit, as well as contrary\nto common sense. We now know the entire futility of this assumption,\nand that the heretics were not inferior to the orthodox in the power\nof judging such subjects. Hence in discussing the unanimity principle\nthe question presents itself, How came the public thus wrongly to\napply it? What error did they commit in so doing? When the revival\nof learning and the consequent rise of Protestantism had exposed\nthe error in that form of it, it was still continued under the new\nsocial regimes; so that even Locke, the boldest advocate of the\nrights of man that was tolerated even in his time, stigmatised the\ndissentients from certain Protestant tenets in the same unjust way\nthat Popery had done to the dissentients from certain Popish ones;\nspeaking of them in two or three places of his essay as persons at\nonce notoriously disreputable in character and weak in intellect;\nconsistently with which estimate he came to the conclusion that the\nreigning theology was established truth, as being accredited by all\nthose whose opinion was worth taking account of.\n\nLater times have again manifested the futility of the assumption\nagainst the new race of dissentients. No one will say that Goethe\nand Neibuhr (to mention only two) must count for nothing on questions\nwherein they were as likely to be well informed as their opponents. So\nthat Locke's side, instead of being warranted by the decisive verdict\nhe imagines, is but one of two suitors in an undetermined cause,\nneither having yet attracted the votes of the whole jury, and neither\nconsequently yet occupying the position of ascertained truth. Giving\neveryone a fair hearing is that trial and test of competency which\nyields the only means of learning who said competent judges are.\n\nA little consideration, even in Locke's time of less advanced thought,\nmight have informed an intelligent mind, if free from prejudice,\nthat mere prohibitory laws must be of themselves less adverse to the\nfree expression of people's sentiments than that averted state of the\npublic mind of which they are one of the symptoms. Both from theory and\nexperience we may collect that very much the same laws of supply and\ndemand obtain in matters of opinion as in those of food and raiment;\nthe tongue and the pen, and the previous thought by which these are\ninstructed, must evidently hold back from offering to the public,\nnay, in a great measure from suggesting to the agent himself, any such\nideas as they know the public will not, and must confine themselves to\nputting forth such only as they suppose it will understand, appreciate,\nand regard.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE RIGHTS OF REASON.\n\n\nTo the two queries you put to me, \"What are first principles?\" and\n\"What is the criterion of truth?\" I find it suitable to append some\npreliminary remarks on \"The Rights of Reason.\"\n\nThe solution you expect is, I presume, a reasonable one. You do not\nwish me to take into account any opinions that cannot bear the test\nof reason.\n\nYour queries derive their greatest pertinency from the state of\nnon-material philosophy; and, possibly, might have been, in some\nmeasure, prompted by this consideration. That double-minded way of\ninquiring into truth, which only in part reasons, while it in part\ndogmatises, imagines, and assumes, is, it is obvious, in morals,\nmetaphysics, and religion, one of our inheritances from former\ntimes. The battle has been won in the material department, but is\nstill undecided on the other wing.\n\nWhat, then, is Reason, and what are its Rights?\n\nEvery human inquiry that asks, What is right, proper, or\ncorrect? necessarily, in doing so, asks, What is it reasonable\nto think, believe, or do? in the points inquired into. The\nfaculty--whatever may be its nature--whereby we find ourselves\nable, under certain circumstances, to answer this question, we call\nreason. The rights of reason may be said to consist in the concession\nto it of a certain absolute power in the decision of truth, divisible\nunder two heads thus--a power of deciding what are the questions\nwhereon it is able to decide, and a power of deciding those questions.\n\nOne of the many ways of disparaging the rights of reason is--openly\nor covertly to doubt or deny that morals, metaphysics, and religion,\nare--in the full sense of the word--sciences. This is to withdraw\nthem from the empire of reason, and to hand them over to some rival\npretender.\n\nNo science can flourish while it is understood that its discussion\nmust be made palatable to the public. In any supposable code of the\nrights of reason, one primary article would limit and define the\nfunctions of the public in the investigation of truth--a topic which,\ntogether with the kindred inquiry, Who are the public? is suggested\nby your second query.\n\nMankind have naturally a degree of antipathy for reason. They have\nfound Reason, in the work he affects, dull, in the help he furnishes,\ndeficient, in the truth he unveils, ugly, in the rule he arrogates,\nimperious. Barbarism, in all its stages, may be said to be founded,\nnot merely on ignorance, but on a state of the inclinations that\nrevolts from reason.\n\nTwo competitors have always disputed the rights of reason; authority\nor precedent, and faith or conscience. Conscience, early or late, must\nreceive almost all his light from authority; and, therefore, in respect\nto opinion, may generally be called the creature of authority. Yet, in\na moral aspect, authority is confessedly of no account, and conscience\nhas a sole jurisdiction. A large portion of mankind have, in our times,\noutgrown the error of resting their sense of duty on the mere dictate\nof other men. The only legitimate directors of human conduct are now\ngenerally admitted to be conscience and reason; the conscience must be\nexclusively one's own, but the reason need not entirely--and, indeed,\ncannot in any great proportion--be one's own, but may be partly that\nof one's neighbor.\n\nThe question of the division of power between these two potentates,\nthough not yet understood by the public, does not seem to be more\ncomplicated than that analogous one just alluded to, and of which\nthey evidently understand the gist.\n\nFor authority, as above intimated, though the venerable instructor of\nconscience, is yet morally subjected to him; and, not dissimilarly,\nhave conscience and reason reciprocal claims of precedence on each\nother. Reason is the judge, but he is bound, under conscience, to give\na sufficient and attentive hearing to any pleadings that conscience\nmay have to offer, and conscience is the pleader, but he is bound,\nunder reason, to conform to whatever verdicts reason declares himself\ncompetent to render.\n\nIf history in this particular can be considered as having disclosed\na necessary sequence, civilisation progresses in the following\norder:--The general mind, in becoming acquainted with its own powers,\nfirst learns an evolution of conscience (and this can only take place\nthrough the medium of religion), and last learns to appreciate reason\n(and this can only happen through the medium of science). While the\nprerogatives of conscience were insufficiently known, authority usurped\nthem, and while the prerogatives of reason are insufficiently known,\nauthority and conscience conjointly usurp them.\n\nThe word conscience I here use in its proper sense, wherein it means\neither an individual conscience, or the united consciences of more\nthan one supposed to be in accord together, so as to make the acts\nresulting from this accord constitute single acts of conscience. But\nthe word has taken an improper enlargement of meaning in being often\nused to signify one conscience claiming something in contravention\nof another conscience. These two, so different meanings of the word\nconscience, are seldom duly discriminated by those who use them.\n\nTo the rights of reason belongs a certain degree of power, both in\nregulating the individual conscience, and in solving the differences\nbetween opposing ones. Under what conditions, and how far, reason\ncan exercise this office, and what rule he is to follow in so doing,\nwould be an inquiry suggested by my answer to your second query.\n\nHaving above mentioned religion and science as the two prime ministers\nrespectively of conscience and reason, I will pursue the subject a\nlittle further.\n\nReligion has aimed to have a moral animus by means of a free\nconscience. Religion has not yet immediately aimed at moral conduct;\nbut, indeed, has been wont, by the mouth of her most strenuous\nministers, to assume that the aim at this is already included in that\nother aim. But a moral animus is but one ingredient in moral conduct,\ninvolving the intent only to act morally, without having of itself\nthe least power to realise that intent. Knowledge,--that is, science,\nexclusively keeps the keys of this power. Such knowledge religion\nhas not yet made one of her aims and ends either directly, or by\nany coalition with those who have so aimed. Accordingly religion\ncannot be said hitherto to have been an advocate of the rights of\nreason. Whatever good things she may have achieved in this cause have\nbeen incidental to her advocacy of the Rights of Conscience. Here\nreason was her weapon (sharpened for this use, and so far valued and\ntreasured), against authority. Her tendency meanwhile, is to impel\nconscience to infringe on the rights of reason.\n\nScience alone has hitherto been the immediate champion of these\nrights. But it seems he cannot expect to make that advocacy complete\nand effectual till he allies himself with religion. This alliance,\nsince it is persuaded by reason, and not by passion, can have science\nalone for its real mover.\n\nThe Rights of Reason may at present be said to be in such a germ of\ntheir acknowledgment as were the rights of conscience three centuries\nago. Mankind have not hitherto come to acquiesce in the idea of\nthat parsimony of guidance vouchsafed to man, which is found to be\nthe result of claiming for reason the power of calling all human\nthoughts before his tribunal, and seeing whether he has anything\nto object to them. Their idea has been that not only suggesting\ninspiration--(which it does not seem necessary that the advocate of\nthe rights of reason should deny)--but guiding inspiration is given,\ngiven too to some rather than to others, and given in such a quality,\nas to dispense with the supervision of reason. A generation successive\nto many among whom this doctrine has been taught and believed, will not\nbe prone to any decided rejection of it. Pride of species inclining\nto exaggerated human pretensions above other earthly creatures, and\nparty pride inclining to exalt self and an associated confraternity\ninto a superiority over the rest of mankind, and supplied with a\ntraditional store of modes of thought and practice adapted to such\nexclusive pretensions, and other native tendencies of the human mind,\npersuade in the same direction.\n\nI have thought it suitable to premise this short sketch of the Rights\nof Reason, and the opponents of them, to an endeavor to answer your\nqueries in a thoroughly reasonable way, a way which cannot be said to\nbe the more fashionable one in the treatment of metaphysical questions.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\n[1] Wilfrid Meynell, in his John Henry Newman, erroneously speaks of\nCharles Robert as the \"youngest son.\"\n\n[2] This is a mistake. Owen in 1817 renounced the religions of the\nworld, and proclaimed that man's character was formed for him not by\nhim. But he was not an Atheist.","title":"Essays in Rationalism","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":15329}