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ings of their age and country; but these and this permission is by no means the are never great men; these are not the least of his favors to usward. We founders of states and empires, nor are envy not the heart that can look, for inthey founders of systems which the slance, on Ireland, trampled on as she world accepts. Every truly great man has been for seven hundred years by the is in the world without being of the iron heel of the conqueror, and not utworld. The world knows him not. ter the deep and blasting curse on the He moves about a strange and account- oppressor, and in the name of God and able figure; men stare at him, and humanity demand for her warm-heartwonder what he means; or they drive ed sons their native right to nationality him into exile, force him to drink the and independence. In this world dehemlock, or crucify him between two feat is full as often owing to the crimes thieves. Witness Moses, Pythagoras, of the conqueror as to the vices of the Socrates, Plato, Descartes, even Locke. defeated. Witness unhappy Poland. All men whom the world has finally But enough. We have not made agreed to call great, who have done these strictures on M. Cousin's theory aught for what was to them the future, of history, for the purpose of joining our were to a greater or less extent disowned voice to swell the clamor already raised by their age, misconceived, or perse- against him both at home and abroad. cuted by it; and it was only by tri. We have defended and will defend him umphing over opposition, overcoming against all opposition, come it from obstacles, that they finally attained to what quarter it may, as one in whose the rank they hold.

writings the friends of philosophy will We solemnly, protest against this always see enough to command their historical optimisin which Cousin la- gratitude and their admiration. They bors to establish. We cannot, we who sneer at him as superficial, as a will not believe that success is always mere “hasher up" of other men's the test of merit, and that the party that thoughts, betray only their own igtriumphs is always the party of hu- norance either of his labors or of phimanity. In our folly we have so ex- losophy itself. The writer of these claimed time and again, and yet how of- strictures assuredly has reason to be ten have we seen virtue borne down by grateful to him; for to him he is intriumphant vice, cunning circumventing debted for nearly all that there may be honesty, and the righteous cause cut off in his own philosophical writings worth by the prosperity of the wicked. Grant retaining. M. Cousin has not fallen that humanity triumphed at Marathon into a single error for which we cannot and Salamis; did it triumph at Hastings find in some one or other of his writand Rosebeck, Aboukir and Waterloo ? ings a corrective; and we rarely, if Are there no calamities in history ? ever, have any occasion to find fault Nothing tragic? May we never weep with him when he speaks out from his over the departed ? never feel for Zé. own mind, and not from his masters. nobia in the triumphal train of Aure. He has been betrayed into most of his lian? Must we always desert the errors by his deference to others. Left cause as soon as fortune forsakes it, and to himself, to the workings of his own bind ourselves to the cause which is in noble mind and generous sympathies, the ascendant, and hurrah in the crowd he would have given us a philosophy that throw up their caps in honor of worthy of all acceptation. He wants the conqueror? Perish the thought! confidence in himself, and is too easily Loyalty to the legitimate sovereign, dazzled, and for a time misled by the when fallen, in exile or in chains, as brilliant theories of others. He comwell as when séated on his throne in menced his philosophical career as the full prosperity; to the cause of the disciple of the Scottish school as erwronged and down-trodden, when all pounded by M. Royer H. Collard, a great are dumb before it; to the right when man, no doubt, but who knew of phiall have deserted it, preferring affliction losophy little more than to protest with the people of God to the pleasures against the sensualism of the old French of sin for a season, is, thank God! a philosophy of the school of Condillac. virtue, and the noblest virtue, which But the Scottish school of Reid and we human beings are blessed with the Stewart, admirable as it certainly was privilege of exhibiting. God permits, for its good intentions and its valuable as well as commands us to aspire to psychological observations, could not this generous and disinterested virtue, long satisfy such a mind as M. Cousin's

and in the second year of his instruc- ley's translation of the Banquet, but tion, as professor of philosophy in the which after all by no means compares Normal School, he passed to the Ger- with Cousin's. As to M. Cousin's me. man school of Kant. Shall we blame taphysical ability, we point to his rehim for pausing a while on the rigid old duction of the categories of Kant to the German; nay, for being for a while sub- two categories of substance and cause, jugated by the master mind that had demonstrating that it is only in the held all Germany under the iron rule category of cause that we seize the of the invincible categories ? And yet, category of substance; and to his anahis Course of Philosophy for 1818, lysis of the fact of consciousness, showmade when he was only wenty-six years ing that thought is an intellectual pheof age, shows that he, if still in some nomenon, with three inseparable and degree a disciple of Kant, is by no imperishable elements; namely, submeans his slave, but a free disciple; ject, object, and form; two great facts nay, that he has detected and exposed which contain in themselves all the the fundamental vice of the Kantian positive progress, even according to the categories; and we doubt, if in the admission of Leroux, a competent whole range of philosophical literature, judge, that philosophy has made since a more remarkable work for depth, the time of Descartes, and which we clearness and truth, prepared by so have adopted, in our Chapters on Synyoung a man, can be found, as this thetic Philosophy, as the basis of our Course for 1818. Fichte, Schelling, own system. As yet, so far as at Hegel, each in turn, as well as Proclus preseni informed, we do think M. and Descartes, have had their influence, Cousin bas derived from these original which has been more or less unhappy; discoveries of liis all the advantages but none of them, nor all of them io- they really contain. We have found gether, have been able to retain him; them, since we arrived at the same and as he gradually recovers his inde- results by an independent process of our pendence, we see him approaching own-for till we had so done we had nearer and nearer to a system which no conception of their profound signifishall be free from all the objections cance-fruitful in the greatest and richwhich have been urged against his past est results. But it is not too late for labors. He is now in the very prime him to make his own original discoveof life, being only in the fifty-first year ries-not the labors of others--the baof his age, younger, we believe, ihan sis of his own system ; and when he was Kant when he published his Critik does so, he will give us a philosophy der reinen Vernunst, and therefore to rank with the philosophies of the altogether too young to be judged as a greatest masters of this or any other man who has finished his labors.

age. M. Cousin as a writer is confessedly We have felt, in criticising as we one of the ablest masters of his lan- have done some portions of M. Cousin's guage; as a scholar, nobody questions past labors, that these statements were his eminent ability and aitainments. due to him; nay, they were due to us, Even Lerminier and Leroux, his two that we might not seem to deny the bitterest and most formidable enemies, merits of the master without whose concede him erudition of the highest labors we should never have presumed order, as his comments on Plato, Aris- to aspire to a place, however humble, totle, his edition of Proclus, his History among the cultivators of philosophy. of ancient philosophy, and his more The fundamental errors of Cousin's recent work on Abelard and the middle teachings thus far, belong not to bim, ages, abundantly evince. His transla- but to modern philosophy itself. These tion of Plato is a monument to his errors are two; one lying at the bottom learning and ability, of which his coun- of the Empirical school, and the other trymen may well be proud. We have at the bottom of the Rationalistic nothing to begin to compare with it in school ;-the first of the Baconian, the English. As for understanding Plato, second of the Cariesian. Cartesianism the mere English reader might as well starts with a fundamental error, namestudy him in the original Greek as in ly, the sufficiency of pure reason as Mr. Taylor's un-English translation. manifested in the individual conscious. The only portion of Plato tolerably ness. We will not say that the CarteEnglished, that we have seen, is Shel- sians never borrow anything from em

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piricism; that is, make no use of facts psychology, in his method of philosolearned only from experience; but the pbizing, the basis of ontology, when sufficiency of the individual reason is ihe very assumption of the possibili y the principle of the school. Thought of psychology without ontology, that is regarded as a purely intellectual act; is, of a science of phenomena without and hence the formula of the school, any subject or being manifesting itself cogito, ergo sum, I think, therefore I in them, is a plain and positive denial am. All, according to this principle, of the possibility of our ever going out is found in the reason, and is capable of the phenomenon at all. of being demonstrated à priori. This And yet M. Cousin has solved the is the fatal vice of the whole conti- problem, and as it seems to us without nenial philosophy, as represented by knowing it. The solution, however, is Cartesianism in France, Wolfism and not as Kant supposed in making all Hegelianism in Germany,against which knowledge begin in sensible experithe Critik of pure Reason may be con ence, and in contending that the subsidered a virtual but indistinci protest. ject, or mind, out of jis own funds,

The Baconian school proceeds on an on occasion of the sensible experience, error of an opposite kind. It assumes, furnishes an à priori element, which very properly, that all knowledge be- was not in the sensible fact itself; nor gins with experience, but recognizes in in contending that we have two faculthe fact of knowledge no à priori ele- ties of knowing, as does Jouffroy, one ment. Hence, after passing through for knowing the external, and the other the sensualism of Hobbes, pausing for knowing the internal; nor by distina while with the good sense of Locke, guishing both the logical order and the it terminates in the materialism of the chronological order, as Cousin himself old French school. Against the dog. does in his examination of Locke, al. matism of the Baconian school, Hume though that distinction is very real; may be considered as protesting in like but all siinply in what he himself has manner as Kant has against that of so often demonstrated, and so earnestly the Pure Reason; and it is worthy of insists on, and which is really the basis pole, that Kant and Hume, so far from of what he calls ontology, namely, the being opposed one to the other, do vir- fact that WE NEVER SEIZE THE CATEGORY tually occupy the same ground. The OF BEING, OR SUBSTANCE, SAVE IN THE Practical Reason of the one, is nothing CATEGORY OF CAUSE; that is, the subbut the Common Sense of the other. ject in the phenomenon, the actor in Both deny the impossibility of demon- the act. The Rationalist assumes that strating exiernal reality from the point we can seize being in itself; the Em. of view of the pure Reason; the one piricist, that we seize in the phenomeresting it on the irresistibility of the non only the phenomenal; the Synthe"categories" of reason, which is purely sist, which Cousin should be, and is subjective, and therefore no authority when he is himself, asseris that in the out of the subject itself; and the other, act we seize the actor, and have the on a “belief” of which we can never power to perceive the spiritual in the get rid, but for which we have and can material, as we have stated in a forehave no scientific basis.

going part of the present essay. No man has seen more clearly than We here leave the Rationalistic M. Cousin these two fundamental er- theory of the History of Humanity. rors, and no man has sought more ear. We did iniend, on commencing this nestly to escape them both : but in all essay, to follow with an examination his dogmatic teachings which we have of ihe Providential Theory, or the seen, they both are reproduced. The view of history which explains its first named we find everywhere in his facts by the constant intervention of theorizing on history ; ihe second, in Providence,-the Religious Theory his separation of psychology from on. properly so called,-under which head tology; as if the human me, or soul, we proposed to bring out what we hold of which psychology investigates the to be the true view. But we have dephenomena, did not represent being, tained our readers so long on the theoand as if we could assume the existence ries already discussed, that we musi, of the soul, study and classify its phe. however reluctantly, leave what furnomena, without entering into the re- ther we have to add, and for which we gion of ontology, which is the Science have thus far only been preparing the of Being. This error led him to make way, to a future occasion.

THE HUMAN SACRIFICE.

BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.

(Some of the leading sectarian papers have lately published the letter of a clergyman, giving an account of his attendance upon a criminal, (who had committed murder during a fit of intoxication), at the time of his execution, in Western New York. The writer describes the agony of the wretched being-his abortive attempts at prayer-his appeal for life--his horror of a violent death; and, after deciaring his belief that the poor victim died without hope of salvation, concludes with a warm eulogy upon the Gallows, being more than ever convinced of its utility by the awful dread and horror which it inspired.]

I.

Far from his close and noisome cell,

By grassy lane and sunny stream,
Blown clover field and strawberry dell,
And green and meadow freshness, fell

The footsteps of his dream.
Again from careless feet the dew

Of summer's misty inorn he shook ;
Again with merry heart he threw

His light line in the rippling brook.
Back crowded all his school-day joys-

He urged the ball and quoit again,
And heard the shout of laughing boys

Come ringing down the walnut glen.
Again he felt the western breeze,

Its scent of flowers and crisping hay;
And down again through wind-stirred irees

He saw the quivering sunlight play.
An angel in Home's vine-hung door,
He saw his sister smile once more;
Once more the truant's brown-locked head
Upon his mother's knee was laid,
And sweetly lulled to slumber there,
With evening's holy hymn and prayer !

IT.

He woke. At once on heart and brain
The present Terror rushed again-
Clanked on his limbs the felon's chain !
He woke, to hear the church-tower tell
Time's footfall on the conscious bell,
And, shuddering, feel that clanging din
His life's LAST hour had ushered in;
To see within his prison-yard,
Through the small window iron-barred,
The Gallows' shadow rising dim
Between the sunrise heaven and him,
A horror in God's blessed air-

A blackness in His morning light-
Like some soul devil-altar there

Built up hy demon-hands at night.
And, maddened by that evil sight,

Dark, horrible, confused, and strange,
A chaos of wild weltering change,
All power of check and guidance gone,
Dizzy and blind, bis mind swept on.
In vain he strove to breathe a prayer,

In vain he turned the holy Book,
He only heard the Gallows-stair

Creak as the wind its timbers shook. No dream for him of sin forgiven

While still that baleful spectre stood,

With its hoarse murmur, “ Blood for Blood !" Between him and the pitying Heaven!

III.
Low on his dungeon floor he knelt,

And smote his breast, and on his chain
Whose demon clasp he always felt,

His hot tears fell like rain;
And near him, with the cold, calm look

And tone of one whose formal part,

Unwarmed, unsoftened of the heart,
Is measured out by rule and book,
With placid lip and tranquil blood,
The Hangman's ghostly ally stood,
Blessing with solemn text and word
The Gallows-drop and strangling cord;
Lending the sacred Gospel's awe
And sanction to the crime of Law.

IV.
He saw the victim's tortured brow-

The sweat of anguish starting there-
The record of a nameless woe

In the dim eye's imploring stare,

Seen hideous through the long, damp hair-
Fingers of ghastly skin and bone
Working and writhing on the stone;
And heard, by mortal terror wrung
From heaving breast and stiffened tongue,

The choking sob and low hoarse prayer;
As o'er his half-crazed fancy came
A vision of th' eternal flame-
Its smoking cloud of agonies-
Its demon-worm that never dies--
The everlasting rise and fall
Of fire-waves round the infernal wall;
While high above that dark red flood,
Black, giant-like, the Gallows stood :
Two busy fiends attending there;
One with cold mocking rite and prayer,
The other, with impatient grasp,
Tightening the death-rope's strangling clasp!

V.

The unfelt rite at length was done

The prayer unheard at length was said — An hour had passed :—the noon-day sun

Smote on the features of the dead!

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