to so many acts of selfishness and of injustice towards others, are all the results of necessary judgments, over which he has no control. Avarice, covetousness and idolatry, are no longer sinful. Jealousy, hatred, malignity and wrath, may be troublesome occupants of some unfortunate bosom, but if their fury can only be restrained within the precincts of their own Eolian caverns, they can never be chargeable with moral blame. They are all sensations or judgments, under the rigid dominion of necessity. Pity, compassion, charity, benevolence, which have so often gladdened the pallid countenance of indigence and poverty, are not in themselves moral virtues. They impart not to their possessor any moral character. Indeed, if morality attaches itself only to volitions, it would be impossible for man to possess what may properly be called a moral character, or a moral nature. His nature, that is to say, his intellect, his affections, or his heart, cannot be depraved, or morally contaminated. As morality begins with volition, it must end with volition. Volition, however vicious, can proceed from no vicious trait of character, and can leave upon the character no moral stain. The admonition of the wise man is then no longer needful, "Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life." According to the above system, the will is not influenced by our previous moral habits, nor by any of our previous judgments. Let our judgments and our preferences be as they may, our will may be this or that. One necessary consequence of this system is, that virtue and vice are impossible, a consequence which our author would, of course, deny; but let us look at his theory. He finds, indeed, a place for the influence of motives; but what place? He confines this influence exclusively to the operations of intelligence, never allowing it to extend to the will. Motives never influence our volitions; they influence our judgments and our preferences, but these have no moral character; and even these cannot influence our volitions. Volition is uncontrolled, either by preference, judgment, motive, or any thing else. Now, separate volition from the influence of all motive, and what becomes of its moral character? What virtue or vice can be attached to a volition, which is prompted by no motive whatever, whether good or bad? But if this system be wrong, where bes the error?

where does it begin? It is no error, surely, to attach the characteristic of moral responsibility to our volitions or intentions. In this all systems of moral philosophy agree. But, in attaching a moral quality to volitions, they generally include also the motive which determines the volition. An executioner intends or wills to destroy human life, because he is required to do so by law. Another man wills the same act from motives of revenge. Both perform the same deed; the latter only is culpable. But it is an error to confine moral responsibility either to volitions or motives. Otherwise, a brute is as susceptible of moral guilt, as man. A brute may take away human life, and may do it from motives of revenge. But why, in this case, do we attach the idea of guilt to the act of man, and not to the act of the brute? Evidently, it is because man is endowed with reason; and is responsible for the exercise of his reason. In short, because man is an intelligent being, he is responsible for his judgments, his preferences, and often even for his sensations. Who does not know, that an impure imagination may induce sensations which tend to vitiate the character? Who will deny, that, if we neglect to discipline our minds, and to enlighten our reason, we shall often form wrong judgments and preferences, and thereby be impelled to wrong volitions and actions; whereas, a cultivated character might have led us to judge rightly, and act rightly. Aside from these considerations, every system of moral philosophy must be defective, which does not hold man guilty, in a degree, even for his ignorance, and for acts of forgetfulness and neglect. A parent may forget or neglect the moral culture of his children; but who will say that he is not, in some degree, responsible for their consequent moral ruin? The sin of Eli was, that "his sons made themselves vile, and he restrained them not." Saul persecuted the Christians through ignorance; and, though his motive was good, he was still guilty. A man may indulge in nervous and peevish sensations, until he becomes as churlish and irritable as Nabal; who was such a son of Belial that no one dared speak to him. Can such an individual be blameless? The moral system of the New Testament, while it indeed holds man accountable for his volitions, holds him equally accountable for his preferences and his judgments. Our Saviour's language to the Jews

is, "Ye will not come to me, that ye might have life;" here, guilt is charged upon the will. Guilt is also charged upon the preference, where it is said, "This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light." The scoffers, also, alluded to by Peter, are implicated in guilt, when they are represented as expressing the impious conclusion of a perverted judgment, by the interrogation, "Where is the sign of his coming?" We admit that the sacred Scriptures do not recognise expressly the metaphysical distinctions we have alluded to; but who can deny that they here charge upon man the guilt of sinful volitions, sinful preferences, and sinful judgments? We conclude this paragraph by remarking, that the whole error of Cousin, in relation to this subject, proceeds from a vain attempt to transfer the same necessity to all our judgments and preferences, which is necessarily attached to our perception of first and necessary truths.

Having arrived thus far, he is prepared more fully to answer the question with regard to the origin of our knowledge. He, at last, comes to the same conclusion with Reid and Stewart, that though we have many ideas which cannot be traced, either to sensation or reflection, yet we have no innate ideas. What others have called innate ideas, Reid and Stewart have called first truths, the necessary conceptions of the intellect, &c. Cousin calls them the spontaneous developments of reason, or of the intelligence, and regards the external world as furnishing only the occasion, by which these ideas are necessarily evolved.

We now hasten to a brief statement of the manner in which Cousin disposes of the question with regard to the validity of our knowledge. Here, he enters within the precincts of Ontology, the science of real being. He is now to attempt that grand problem, so perplexing to philosophy, and hitherto unsolved,-to settle the inquiry, how we can know that the things which we see, and hear, and feel, actually exist,-how we are to pass from a world of phenomena, of qualities, of appearances, to a world of substances, of real essences, from the finite to the infinite, from the relative to the absolute. Between these two worlds, he would have us believe there is a "great gulf fixed," more dark than the caverns of Scylla, more

to be dreaded than the vortex of Charybdis. Here, in attempting to force a passage, system after system has found its ruin. Thus far Aristotle came, but dared to proceed no farther. Here Des Cartes, also, paused, and, rather than attempt the dark profound, was willing to rest the existence of a world of reality upon his faith in God. Kant was more adventurous, but his oblivion was the reward of his temerity. But that splendid system of philosophy, which is to attract the admiration of all Europe, was not to be baffled by this difficulty. Cousin would, therefore, have us work ourselves up to the highest possible emotions of sublimity, while he unfolds his stupendous scheme for crossing this vast abyss. But what is his scheme? As he has now a work before him worthy of a god, a god is accordingly introduced to perform it. In this, we suppose he is sustained by the advice of the poet:

"Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus

Inciderit."

To effect the purpose in hand, human reason is deified; its robes of humanity are taken off, and it is solemnly invested with all the attributes of divinity. The doctrine proposed to us is, that our reason does not belong to us, it is no part of our personality; nothing is personal but our volition; and "nothing is less personal or less individual than reason." Reason is the divine in the human; it is God dwelling in humanity,-dwelling alike in every individual of the human race. When our senses, therefore, supply us with a knowledge of the qualities of matter, this furnishes the occasion upon which reason reveals to us that there is an unseen substance in which

these qualities inhere. When the senses give us a knowledge of the finite and the relative, reason is always. present to reveal to us instantly a knowledge of the infinite and the absolute. Hence we are authorized to believe in the existence of real substances, and of an infinite, absolute Being, even with more confidence than we believe in the testimony of our senses; because, for the existence of these, we have the immediate testimony of the Deity. himself. Thus, having invested reason with supreme and unlimited authority, and having freed it from all the fallibility and weakness incident to human nature, our author has laid the foundation of a system of Transcen

dentalism, by the aid of which he can easily arrive at the utmost boundary of all possible knowledge. Even the essence itself of the great Supreme can hide no secret from the disciple of such a system. We are told, that the divine essence, when searched to the bottom, is found to "consist only of creative power." The language of Inspiration is, Canst thou by searching find out God? canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection?" And the Christian, in his highest aspirations, can only indulge the hope, that when he shall enter the pure abodes of the redeemed, he shall then know even as he is known. But the system, of which we are now treating, would teach us that the Almighty can be perfectly comprehended, even in our present state. And it actually professes, not only to give us a complete analysis of the character and essence of God, but to demonstrate, that there is nothing further knowable or possible, beyond this analysis. This statement the following remarks will amply justify :

"We shall not deny the charge of wishing to penetrate into the depths of the divine essence, which common opinion declares to be incomprehensible. There are those, who would have it incomprehensible. There are men, reasonable beings, whose vocation it is to comprehend, and who believe in the existence of God, but who will believe in it only under the express condition, that this existence is incomprehensible. What does this mean? Do they assert that his existence is absolutely incomprehensible? But that which is absolutely incomprehensible can have no relations which connect it with our intelligence, nor can it be in any wise admitted by us. A God who is absolutely incomprehensible, is a God who, in regard to us, does not exist. Will it be said, that God is not altogether incomprehensible, that he is somewhat incomprehensible? Be it so; but let the measure of this be determined; and then I will maintain, that it is precisely the measure of the comprehensibility of God, which will be the measure of human faith. So little is God incomprehensible, that his nature is constituted by ideas,— by those ideas whose nature it is to be intelligible."

If we wish to know what analysis he has given of the Deity, we have only to recur to his analysis of reason. In that was found three elements, constituting a triplicity in unity. Triplicity and unity are all found in man, and are all that is necessary to constitute a God. The elements of reason were defined to be the idea of the finite, of the infinite, and the relation of necessity connecting them. The same elements are found in God, and to