Lecture Xv.

OF THE TRUE IDEA OF A THEOCRACY; OF THE MIGHT OF SCIENCE, AND OF THE FINAL RESTORATION AND PERFECTION OF THE HUMAN CONSCIOUSNESS.

The idea which the adverse party, or opposition, in the political domain, and in the scientific theory of politics, usually form of a theocracy, is for the most part incorrect. By the adverse party I mean all those who either openly assail, or privately call in question, the religious foundation, the higher sanction, and the divine authority of the state; in short, those in general who are hostile to the religious sentiment. The latter apply the idea of theocracy and employ the term to signify the rule of the spiritual power, such as the Egyptian priesthood may, perhaps, or, at least, such as they suppose them to have possessed--or a polity where the supreme temporal authority works in unison with the sacerdotal class.

And even by the defenders of the good cause--by men of higher and better principles, the idea is frequently taken in too inaccurate and indefinite, not to say incorrect, a sense. They seem to understand by it nothing more than the divine authority of the state and of the Church, and their mutual support and dependence, and their co-operation. But nothing can be more erroneous than such a notion. For the kingly dignity, no less than the priestly, as respects the divine authority, which is inherent in both, is not immediate, but vicarious and representative.

When, however, we turn to its original source--to the historical basis, i.e., to Christian revelation, and derive therefrom the true idea of a theocracy, we shall find it to be very different from the assumption which each of these parties tacitly advances as self-evident. The idea of a theocracy can only be properly determined from the instance of the Jews. The history of that nation will not only enable us fully to develop it as an actual form of polity, having an historical origin and existence, but also in the clearest and readiest way to illustrate it. Now the passage from revolution, civil war, and anarchy, to absolute despotism, in its genetic progress, can be most clearly and most profitably traced in Roman history. The true nature, moreover, of the dynamical polity can be learned from the historically originated and historically preserved exemplification of it in England, far better than from any theory, or from any scheme of a constitution propounded for the occasion of some state experiment, for all such experiments require the lasting test of a few generations, or at least of half a century before any decided opinion can be passed on their success and historical permanency. And just in the same way the peculiar character and essence of a theocracy can be deduced from no source so clearly or so fully as from the Jewish history. Or, rather, the true idea of it can be acquired from no other channel, since among this people only has a theocracy ever existed as a real form of national polity. And here it continued in force for nearly four hundred years.

However poor may be the part which the people of Israel played in the great drama of the world’s history, in comparison with that of the great conquering nations, the Persians, Greeks, and Romans, still the prophetic people (whose importance must be sought only in this designation, or, in other words, their continual relation to the future), possesses, even in their peculiar code of laws and form of government, a remarkable interest for the historian. For in the true historical estimate of things mere extent of power can not pass for the exclusive standard of greatness and importance. And this has been already the judgment of many writers of history, who, as far as regards this particular subject, and the general question of religion, must undoubtedly be pronounced free from either prepossession or prejudice. The way, too, in which this ancient people have survived the destruction of their national government, and for nearly two thousand years since have uniformly remained separate from all other nations, has been more than once confessed to be a very striking phenomenon, unparalleled in the history of the world.

Moses, from whom that theocracy first emanated, or, rather, with whom it commenced, was not himself the High Priest. His brother Aaron enjoyed that dignity. He neither wished nor had a title to hold it. He had no hereditary claim to it, neither was he elected to it by the people. And yet he stood in no man’s place, nor did he forcibly dispossess any one of his right. And so even, if for a while we dismiss the theological view entirely from our regard, and, forgetting it for a moment, judge of the matter by the strictest juristic notions, we can not call him a usurper, even in that sense of the term which comprises the demagogue’s character. At an earlier period of his life, he appeared likely to become a mere liberator in the usual sense of the word. In this character, however, he does not appear unjust, even though he allowed himself to be hurried into an act of violence against a petty tyrant among the oppressors of his countrymen. And at a later period, when he had received his call, we can not in his conduct toward the Egyptians discover any trace of injustice, even judging him by the strictest legal notions. Now, the authority which Moses exercised over his own people, while he led them through the wilderness, rested on the immediate exercise of the divine powers which were lent to him from above, and which were immediately acknowledged as such, and nowhere met with any considerable resistance. And, accordingly, properly speaking, no question was ever raised against a right which was based entirely on those imparted powers, although they were totally devoid of any formal or distinct act of legal sanction. The office he held was prophetical. But by this term I do not mean merely according to its later and more obvious meaning, the function of warning or promising, of teaching or predicting, but all this, and something more--a higher and divine power, which vividly and persuadingly displayed itself in life and deeds. Looking at it in a general light, and as applied to a case which, at least, we can think of as not impossible, of the Almighty having sent, or purposing to send, a second Moses to some other people, then the circumstance we lately mentioned, that this Moses forcibly dispossessed no one of his rights, and had made no unrighteous revolution, must be taken into consideration, even if it might not simply by itself serve as the characteristic or distinctive test of the genuineness of the vocation in question.

For a power emanating from God, and truly divine, would never violate or forcibly subvert any established right, whether essentially sacred or hallowed only by prescription. It will respect the least privilege of equals and inferiors no less than the greatest prerogative of superiors. I have introduced these remarks in order to determine more precisely the right point of view for an historical comparison of Moses with every other character that sets himself before the world in the same light, whether the parallel be made with Mohammed, or that still earlier Indian Mohammed who is usually called Buddha, although this is only an honorary epithet, and not the name of any historical person in particular. And the same standard will hold good for our judging of any other reformer of the world who makes religion the instrument of his ambition, to whatever age he may belong, or any modern Mohammed, in whatever part of the world he may arise.

As regards the religion itself, or the matter of the pretended revelation, there is another characteristic mark by which we may distinguish a genuine from a spurious mission from God. Although it is both external and negative, still, as being historical, it deserves to be here adduced. It is this: a genuine revelation is, in the doctrine which it promulgates, at the same time both old and new. It is new in regard to its novel application to life and in its fulfillments, and also to its animating force and spiritual awakening; but old in so far as invariably referring to an earlier revelation and to a still older source of light, it remounts up to the pure fountain of eternal truth. And such is, throughout, the case even with the Mosaic revelation. It continually leads the inquirer back to some higher and remoter source--some deeper spring of everlasting light. And on the same principle it also has been acknowledged as such by the Christian or divine philosophy of the Spirit, and Moses has been recognized and honored from all time as its founder. In the domain of religion, to be absolutely new is equivalent with being false or groundless, namely, totally detached from the old and everlasting foundations, without connection therewith, and, consequently, isolated and arbitrary.

In reference to, and as contrasted with, the above characteristics of genuine revelation, there is for the most part in systems of imposture as little really new as actually old. This is especially the case with the doctrine and Koran of Mohammed, however much it may have been lauded for its poetry, or on account of the rhetorical art and vigor which it displays. Its subject-matter and doctrines are not really new, since they are but recasts of Jewish and Christian ideas, which it has freely borrowed, mixing them together and adapting them to an obvious end and design; and yet not old, since it does not go back far enough or deep enough, and never remounts to the first beginning of nature and of man, far less to the threefold fountain of divine life.

Now, with respect to Moses: an historical judge of the ordinary kind, who could not enter into the religious view of his character and office, might say, “This is quite a strange world to us, a very remote period; much is there in this history difficult to explain and extremely obscure. This much, however, seems to follow from the whole history: the man possessed extraordinary mental powers for his times, and an equally uncommon strength of character; no wonder, then, if he bore down all obstacles, and by the force of genius carried every thing before him.” Such an estimate, however, reduces every thing to the force of genius in an heroic character, instead of a higher and immediate operation of divine power and the prophetic office founded thereon. Superficially judging this false view, eluding, or, rather, perverting, the divine illumination, admits of an application, though delusive and specious enough, to Moses, on account of those ample powers of genius which, no doubt, he possessed, or even on account of the sublimity of his style, which the very heathens could appreciate and admire. Still, it is in no way applicable to that line of men, for the most part of the very simplest character, who succeeded him, and during the period of the theocracy down to the time of the kings, held what was immediately a divine or prophetic rule. It was not by any hereditary title or formal choice that they ruled; neither were they priests any more than Moses. Called immediately by God to the dignity of judge, they suddenly stood before the people, to be instantly and without opposition acknowledged, and thereupon their mission and authority were at once established, without any external sanction or solemnities, or any form of legal recognition.

The general condition of the Jewish people under the Judges was that of a noble and not uncivilized nomadic race. We must not confound this description, however, with the so-called natural state of a wild and barbarous people, but rather think of it as resembling that of the Arabians generally before the time of Mohammed, or of a few tribes still subsisting in the most retired parts of Arabia, where, under their most distinguished leaders, as shepherd princes they lead a roving life of hereditary freedom. Similar, or at least not very different, was the mode of life and state of society that prevailed among the Hebrews in the interregnums which occur in this long period of the Judges. Toward the close of this period, judges first arise who are invested with the priestly as well as the judicial dignity. These form, accordingly, the transition to the regal government and the epoch of the kings. For when the people at last demanded a king to rule over them, like the neighboring Gentiles, every sanction that could exalt, and every sacerdotal inauguration that could be thought of, was conferred upon the appointed tribe and the kingly house. But at the same time the priestly dignity was guarded strictly and jealously from encroachment, and the temporal power was rigorously kept free from all union and confusion with the sacerdotal authority. But that wild and tumultuous demand of the people, or, I should say, of public opinion, which at that time was in favor of a monarch with the same pomp and splendor as the Gentile sovereigns displayed, as in more modern times it directs itself to the no less heathenish attraction of liberty, was imputed to them and depicted as a grievous fall and religious infidelity. For in the previous times of the direct theocracy, Jehovah Himself had been their true but invisible king, while, as is expressly asserted, the judges and leaders were only His embassadors or plenipotentiaries. Under the first kings we may discern, in the historical description of the sacred books, many traces of that higher power, and its immediate exercise and effects. Subsequently, however, it totally disappears; and after the division of the two kingdoms, the contrast in the personal powers and character of the later sovereigns, and the consequent fortunes of the people, so accordant with the political history of other Asiatic countries, becomes most decided.

The preceding remarks will, I hope, be sufficient to throw out, in perfect distinctness, the true idea of a theocracy, such as it has been historically developed. For inasmuch as in the present age, and amid the party disputes which mark it, this idea has been employed in so many various acceptations, and mostly in a false or partial sense, I thought it expedient, in the present place, not to omit to sift the question to the utmost. Now, in a very remarkable manner, a single element, from the earlier and original theocracy of the olden time, still survived among the Jews in the period of the monarchy. It formed no longer indeed the supreme power of the state, for this was held by the kings, but constituted formally and avowedly an antagonism to them, as a well-defined opposition, which, so long as it confined itself within its due limits, was altogether righteous and justifiable, and which we may justly designate as legitimate and divine. In this light we must view the position of the later prophets, who, without, however, being invested with any special political dignity or power, dared to raise, before a vicious government--or, since in those simple days of old every thing was more or less personal--before a wicked king who had forgotten his high vocation, the voice of warning or denunciation. This peculiar form of a political opposition, and, as such, recognized to be legitimate and allowable, this remnant of the once exclusive theocracy and a complete supremacy of the prophets, which still survived in the time of the kings, forms a phenomenon as highly remarkable as it is singular in its kind. And those who have no admiration but for opposition, might, perhaps, if they could disentangle themselves from the forms of their own days, or the notions imbibed at school, find here an object altogether worthy of their praise. They might probably find the duties of an uncompromising and yet justifiable and lawful opposition to the state discharged by an Elijah with equal, if not greater intelligence, strength of mind, and energy of character, as well as sense of justice, as by the Ephori in Sparta, or a Demosthenes in Athens during the Macedonian ascendency, or by the most virtuous of the censors, and the most upright of the tribunes of the people in old Rome; or even by the parliament of England. It was only in the last period of the total decline of the Israelitish nation, and shortly before and during the first days of the Roman dominion, that the regal dignity and the office of High Priest were united in one family (for even here they were not invariably associated in the same person), in such a manner as to correspond with the notion that is at present usually understood by the term theocracy.

Far otherwise, however, was it, in this respect, with the Christian world. The first apostolical preachers of the new doctrine of grace and founders of an era which was truly, and in a divine sense, new, undoubtedly did not possess less of that immediate miraculous power than even a Moses or an Elijah. But the only use they made of it was to promote the diffusion and to set forth the glory of religion. Once only did the first of the Apostles, for the sake of preserving the hierarchical authority, and the purity of the community which professed to give up itself and all that it had to God, make a retributive use of the divine authority committed to him. He who for the love of money was false to the cause of God and of truth, was struck dead by the avenging glance of him who in will was united with God as the everlasting Judge. Never did the Apostles employ their power against the state, or avail themselves of it in opposition to its decrees. And yet the despotic measures of the Roman Government toward the degraded nation it had brought, by force of arms, under its oppressive yoke, might seem, at least, to justify such an interference with its unlawful usurpation. Not even in self-defense, or to escape from afflictions or bonds, did they once employ the theocratic powers committed to them.

The idea of a theocracy which is entertained in the present day is so loose and shifting, and its application generally so erroneous, that it is necessary to show, at length, how little the common views of it are founded on truth. There exists no foundation for them in the view or theory of a Christian state in its first and simple origin. And as little is it the case with the succeeding epochs of Christianity. Such extraordinary powers, as were manifested from time to time and intrusted to particular individuals, have ever been employed for the diffusion of the faith, its internal development, or to glorify it before unbelievers, or for a new confirmation of old truths, but never for the purpose of founding a temporal power or political influence.

The true theocracy, however, such as it has actually manifested itself, does not depend on any particular theory, but, as an immediate power and authority from God, is regulated by the divine will alone. It would, therefore, be precipitate, if judging of it, à priori, by any arbitrary principle, we should unconditionally pronounce its recurrence to be impossible. Generally, the wonder of a theocracy must be judged of historically in the light in which its own history exhibits it. A mere theory can lead us to no stable determination regarding it. The following seems its relation to the natural history of man, or, even, we may say, to the usual course of external nature. Viewed generally, and in its principle, whatever is, comes from God, as its first cause. The permission of evil, however, whether in the realm of nature or of humanity, when, after their first divine impulse, they are left for a time to pursue their own course of internal development, is clearly something of another and peculiar kind. Peculiar, too, are the higher authorities which exist in the latter, and which are ultimately founded on a divine law and right, and somewhat different is the case with their immediate divine operation and miraculous agency. As, therefore, the course of the world, on the whole, is natural, and whatever transcends it as a singular or rare exception, does but interrupt the regularity of the ordinary laws of nature; so, too, the course of universal history, in ordinary times, is agreeable to man’s nature, as regulated and modified simply by historical circumstances. At most a few theocratical junctures, a few eminent moments of a more divine working and development of power, may be noticed at distant intervals. And these grand and pregnant epochs, in which all the existing relations of the world assume a new and unexpected form, are generally, in the first moment of its triumphant result, or scarcely-hoped-for emancipation, rightly and thankfully regarded and acknowledged as interventions of a higher and a divine agency; though, alas, the enthusiasm of man’s gratitude to God, even when it does take a passing hold on man’s heart, is wont to evaporate, even more rapidly than any other of his ardent feelings.

Our own age has afforded a very remarkable instance of this kind. To this it is sufficient to allude, without entering into any further disquisition concerning it. But it is not only in such wonderful changes for good or happy deliverances from the power of evil that these remarkable divine moments or theocratic junctures announce themselves in the history of the world. We may even recognize them in every commencement of a truly new era in history, which, in the favorable crisis, is suddenly and triumphantly effected by a some higher impulse and divinely-imparted power. Many instances of the kind might easily be adduced if this were the proper place for it, or time allowed. The first triumph of the Cross and Christianity that was public and extended to the whole world, under Constantine the Great, belongs to this class. As a second instance, I would mention that beginning of the Christian Empire in the West under Charlemagne, which was afterward to receive so happy a development. Superficial inquirers, who judge by the mental external coloring, are in danger of confounding these creative beginnings--these turning-points of a higher intervention--with the ordinary event of a revolution, or the rapid and decisive step of energetic usurpation. But to the eye of patient observation and deep penetration they are distinguished from the latter by their profound historical causes and their attendant circumstances, and by a peculiar stamp of purity and grandeur. In short, in their essence they are entirely different.

These observations must have made it evident in what sense I spoke of a theocracy of science. The power of truth in that good science which is directed toward God, is in its influence of a lofty and even divine nature. But it is this simply, in its immediate energy of operation, without depending on any external sanction, or even form thereof. In the same way error also, in its evil effects, is most unquestionably, and in the fullest sense of the term, a power; and that not merely in a sensuous and materialistic, or relatively to the mind in a purely negative sense, but a demoniacal power of evil with a most embarrassing and perverting influence, such as it has been often and in our own times most undeniably exercised. The great degree in which science actually manifests itself as a power is not apparent so long as we limit our consideration to the history of the human intellect in our own circle of observation and the ordinary sphere of European civilization.

Among the Greeks, for example, rhetoric became the mere slave of an extremely corrupt government, and followed it in all its disorders. Poetry, indeed, was the handmaid of the heathen worship and its religious legends; but still, as being an art and the sport of fantasy, it moved with a considerable degree of freedom. Accordingly, in the best and purest and greatest of the poets of antiquity, a profound and significant symbolism of life lies under, and occasionally appears on, the surface of their works, which, as considered from a right point of view and in a liberal spirit, is neither totally repugnant nor directly opposed to a higher, or even the highest, i.e., Christian truth. But still such notes of a divinely-inspired feeling, which in the inspiration attains to a clearer perception of the divine nature, is very far from amounting to the power of an idea, and its actually and determining influence on life. The philosophy and science of the Greeks, from its beginning to its close, stood in decided opposition both to the popular religion and to the state. Accordingly, they either exercised no influence at all on life, or, at least, no uncontested one. At any rate, their effects were very trivial. All that can be justly said of the subject of Grecian science or the ideas of the Greeks applies, with a slight modification and in a less general sense, to those of the Romans.

The remarks we made above on ancient art and poetry hold good, though in a somewhat different application, of the romantic portion of the middle ages, its legends, namely, and poetic fictions. However important the nobler aim which fancy here pursued to influence morals and life, still the idea of the power of science can scarcely come in here. As for science itself, the medieval mind was divided in its pursuit of it. On one hand there prevailed a strong desire after what was forbidden--or at least was supposed to be forbidden--the old heathen philosophy; on the other, as soon as it appeared impossible to get rid of it altogether, an anxious endeavor to come to an equitable compromise with it, or at least to make a rationally Christian application of it, and especially of Aristotle, who, in the judgment of those days, ruled as supreme monarch over all the sciences. Under these circumstances, and confined by these chains of authority, it was impossible for Christian science to put forth its full power and might, or to exercise any material influence on the age or on life. On the contrary, agreeably with the very principle of the Christian life, the latter shows itself only in writers like St. Bernard, who did not belong to the schoolmen. For in the genuine scholastic philosophy, as having its origin in a perfectly heathen dialectic, neither the method nor the forms of thought could be purely Christian.

How great the power of science has shown itself within the last century, and especially in our own age, is a frequent topic of remark. And at the same time the fact has not been overlooked, that this power has gradually assumed a more pernicious direction, or at least has become involved in a great and violent struggle, which as yet is undecided, between a destructive tendency of mind and the power of goodness and truth exerting itself in an effort of restoration. And it is, perhaps, only to the latter, in its conflict with the evil principle of unbelief and the denial of all that is divine, that the idea of a theocracy of science and such a higher power of truth is really applicable. For this alone seems likely to secure to it the victory in this contest, which, so far as numbers are concerned, is most unequal.

If, now, we turn our looks to a more distant point, and take into consideration the older Asiatic nations, though chiefly and in generally with respect to the religious aspect of their science and scientific monuments, here, more than elsewhere, we shall meet with much that corresponds with this idea, and has on its front a strong theocratical impress and signature. It will, therefore, pre-eminently serve to elucidate this idea. The whole edifice of scientific thought among the Hindoos, though in its form of sacred laws, systems, and authentic commentaries thereon--of history, legends and poetry, it is not less rich and diversified than the literature and philosophy of the Greeks, forms, nevertheless, a whole where every part is of one piece and one mold. In all its manifold forms, it rests and is supported on the same foundation, which is regarded and venerated as divine. And therein lies the secret of its incalculable power, to which it owes its unshaken stability through so many tens of centuries, as well as its great influence on the whole of Indian life, which has derived from it its unchanging form and duration, so that we might almost say, Here has science, or at least this elevated system of thought, become the animating principle of life and a second nature.

To the many and great errors which are mixed up with the Indian system of faith and thought, I am not disposed to ascribe this indestructible principle of vitality and permanent influence on life. At least, if something must be ascribed to this source, a vast deal more must be assigned to the influence of the truth that is also contained in it, and which, though variously adulterated and falsified, still, in its leading features, has been distinctly preserved from the sacred traditions of primeval times and the first progenitors of the nation. And yet even here, in this edifice, otherwise so uniform, many a book and many a system has been introduced from the opposition, even though the latter exerted its antagonistic principle far more weakly and far less pertinaciously here than among the Greeks, or on any other domain of the European mind. For it was chiefly in the southeastern peninsula that the founder of that purely intellectual and ideal, but yet demoniacal and therefore truly anti-Christian sect of philosophy and religion, who lived about as many centuries before the Christian epoch as Mohammed after it, and whose followers, numbering nearly a third of the whole population of the world, spread over the southeast of Asia, and Tartary, and China, found adherents in India. Still the old and proper India did not remain totally free from the pernicious tenets of Buddhism, which, of all religious or philosophical sects and errors, is the most fatal and destructive that ever has been or ever will be.

Let us now glance at the sacred writings of the Jews, though not, indeed, in so far as they are to be regarded as the divine law of faith for that nation, and for all others who should come in the future and latter times of Christianity (a law, we must observe, which is expressed in a language so thoroughly individual, and in so national a spirit, that it often becomes thereby highly obscure and difficult to understand), nor, indeed, generally in a theological light. For otherwise the example we have chosen for the illustration of the theocracy of science would be identical with the matter it was intended to illustrate. We must here consider it simply as the written record of the origin and descent of the nation, both in its legal and historical existence, combining therewith its distant promises and expectations of the future--in short, as the history, poetry, literature, political institutions and hopes of this singular people. Viewing it, then, in this light, merely in its human, national, and historical aspect, its firm and lasting impression on the Jewish mind, and its indestructible effects, which survive all the changes of time, form a most remarkable phenomenon. For by means of it this ancient people, so miraculously scattered among all the nations of the world, is to this day--three-and-thirty centuries from the original composition of its first sacred books--still one, amid all its dispersion, and, we might almost add, even in spite of its half unbelief in itself.

In modern history, which commences with the second epoch of revelation, the four holy Gospels, with various didactic epistles, and the great prophetic book at the close of all, forms the deep focus of illumination, to which, however, I do not now immediately refer, lest, as I observed in a former case, the illustration and the illustrated matter should prove identical. Out of this first germ of light, as it was carried forward in a living transmission through the first five or six centuries, was gradually raised an edifice of Christian science and thought. A new literature was formed in every branch of doctrine or history, of eloquence or controversy, which, composed in the two highly-cultivated languages of classical antiquity, has exercised the greatest possible influence not only on the succeeding generation, but on all subsequent times. Occasionally, no doubt, and especially in the earlier centuries, a deviation from, or, rather, opposition to, the prevailing system, whether as private opinion or positive error, intruded itself into the midst. Still, notwithstanding these little discords, scarce perceptible in the entire mass, the whole forms, as a system of thought, an intellectual power whose effects have been so great that its authors, or, rather, its spokesmen, have with perfect justice been styled the Fathers or the earthly creators and founders of the Church, i.e., of this new era and of the truth which is transmitted in it, without change, indeed, but with a stream which widens as it flows.

I have chosen all these examples from well-known matters, in order to direct your attention to the fact that the idea we have advanced of a theocracy of science, or a divine power of truth therein, does not depend for its final triumph and the total extinction of error on any individual force of genius, however great, but on a common and joint operation of a system of forces--on a vast and comprehensive edifice of thought, various indeed in its composition and mental character and form of expression, but still perfectly harmonizing as a whole. One thing, however, is indispensable--a divine tendency must predominate in it. The foundation on which it rests and is supported must be divine. The one ray of light, even though in itself it be ever so pure and bright, and truly deserve to be termed divine--one stroke of the sword, though ever so sharply and keenly struck--the one confining limit, though set up and maintained by ever so comprehensive an intelligence (which term I use to convey something more than mere prudence)--all these will avail nothing against this new flood of error and infidelity, and of Godless ideas--thoughts, that is, which are entirely without God, and making no reference to Him, proceed from impious and demoniacal delusion. Against the inroad of atheism, which is threatening life on all sides, the divine might or theocracy of true science can alone furnish a defense. It can only raise a new ark to save the age from perishing in the flood of spiritual wickedness. But with this view the most essential point is the building of a consistent and compact whole, while those who wish to co-operate in the good work must, like the builder of the ancient ark, have their regards turned chiefly to the future, looking far beyond the present, and its minute and frequently most trifling controversies.

This true theocracy of science, resting on a divine tendency in man, which, though it is inborn, is seldom found pure, and still more rarely retains its purity to the end, must look to the state to secure its external stability and unimpeded action. To this end it is necessary, however, that the state should understand and recognize its own divine foundation, and look to that heavenly grace and strength which religion alone vouchsafes to it as the true source of its vitality and permanence. Individuals can at most do nothing more than co-operate in bringing about this desirable consummation. They must not attempt to go beyond the true relation of this co-operative character. The moving power must come from above; it must proceed from the fountain of all goodness and all truth.

Philosophically viewed, indeed, science and its divine tendency rests on the good and genuine aspirations of the human consciousness. And it is only by the restoration of man’s mind to the perfection in which it originally came from the Creator’s hands that science can attain to its perfect state. Now that the consciousness in its present state is imperfect--or, rather, that as compared with its condition when, in the first fresh energy of life and in full and unimpeded action, it came immediately from the Creator, it is no longer uncorrupt, unconfused, or unimpaired, as it was almost our opening remark, so it has been kept in view throughout the present series of Lectures. The most natural conclusion of our labors, therefore, is to consider the possibility of restoring it to its original divine perfection, as being the only method which can secure to science a stable foundation and enable its Godward tendency to attain its proper end.

In a cold, dead, and abstract understanding--in a passionately blind and absolute will--in a reason which loses itself in dialectical disputes or amuses itself with dynamical theories, and, consequently, never reaches its true object--in a fancy which is ever longing after and pursuing its own imaginations, living on and lost in a dreamy and imaginary world of its own--in these severally faulty forms of the human consciousness, as corrupted by the influence of sin, and the consequences of the Fall (even though the objects of this vitiated thought and will may, in themselves, appear perfectly innocent, indifferent, unselfish, and even intellectual), lies the original fountain of all perverted and deadly thinking. The soul, in the center of this fourfold source of false cogitation and false volition, is torn and distracted many ways, impeded, and, as it were, crippled and deadened. But still it remains eternal and immortal. Accordingly, the soul must be the point from which the restoration and reawakening of life must proceed. But this restoration of the human consciousness to perfection is to be called divine, on this account, because it can only be reached by the soul attaching itself exclusively to what we formerly called the second new and divine starting-point of human existence. For the more that the soul, created for immortality and loving, and in love embracing that which is in itself immortal, adopts this great and new word for man, this second beginning in God, and is impregnated with it, in the same degree do reason and fancy cease to be at issue with each other and to be independent, isolated, and clashing faculties; and, finally, they become altogether merged in the one thinking and loving soul. Then, too, does the soul cease to be dead, cold, and abstract, and becomes, instead, a living and wakeful spirit, i.e., one which in its new life works freely and energetically. And the will, too, is no longer blind, no longer passionately absolute; but, restored to sight, becomes one with the internal sense, as the third member of the human consciousness. And by this union the will is, as it were, fully armed and equipped. For the external sense, which hitherto has been thoroughly passive, as soon as the will is restored to sight, assumes by its means an active and living operation; and the inner moral sense, which before was merely subjective, acquires a power of external discernment.

This is the end of perfection. And it is only on this road of a divine restoration of the human consciousness, according to its established law of progress, that the divine tendency of science can attain to perfection. With the attainment of this end an entirely new era will commence. But the intricacy of the problem which our own age has to solve arises simply from this circumstance, that a truly new era and a false one are engaged in mortal conflict. The former can only spring up and flourish when the latter decays and is got rid of. To this end the present false spirit of the age, which is but a perversion of the true cosmopolitan spirit, must die the death. And this must be brought to pass by the sword of the Word or of eternal truth, which pierces even to the joints and marrow, and divides asunder soul and spirit. For the immortal, God-created, and God-devoted soul requires to be separated and detached from the so-called spirit of the age, which is mixed up and compounded of so many dim, false, imperfect, and evil spirits. And the spirit of the age must itself be entirely converted and be brought to a knowledge and open confession of its error, and when once whatever in it is totally dead has been adjudged to eternal death, it will itself be renovated and purified in the fiery floods of the truly new times.

In this divine restoration, however, of the human consciousness, or theocracy, man’s part must be wholly passive. It is enough if he does not hinder or retard it; for in a certain sense he can at least co-operate in bringing it to pass. Even that final consummation toward which that true new era, which as yet is entirely hidden and, as it were, choked by the false, longs and yearns--that peace of God, of which the highest and best religious peace is but a foreboding symbol, and, as it were, the first weak grade, or step, can not be brought about by human art and power. It is not by any diplomatic courtesy, which in this case would be highly culpable--not by any amalgamation, which in the present sphere is contradictory to every notion of right, that that peace can be brought about, in which, according to no vain or unmeaning promise, there is to be one fold and one Shepherd. Its accomplishment must be reserved entirely to Him who, from all eternity has been, and still is, the good Shepherd of all His creatures.

Here, then, at this point, having, by means of the idea of a restoration of the human consciousness to its original divine perfection, arrived at a close, I will pause a few moments to take once more a rapid survey of, and to throw a clearer light on, my past labors. And herein I shall purposely refer to the division of philosophy, and the designations of its several parts usually given in the schools. The first five Lectures treated of the human soul in the wide extent of its original relation, not only to life but also to nature and to God, and formed consequently of psychology, though in a wider sense than the science which is usually occupied with this subject. The three next, as discussing the divine order of things, contained a species of natural theology, though treated of in a perfectly living method and relation, and entering historically into individual, no less than universal, life. Of the last seven Lectures the first three were devoted to the investigation of truth. We here examined its fundamental principle of the unity of the highest science and divine faith, the discrimination of truth in the struggle between faith and skepticism, and the final conclusion in the unity of this higher science and faith with the true life and its influence therein. This higher logic, in so far as it considers the true essence of things, might even be designated an ontology. And, indeed, since it derives every thing from a divine principle, it might not inaptly be called an applied or mixed theology, in the same sense as this designation is employed in the mathematical sciences, viz., as the first part of such an applied theology. In this sense the second part thereof would be formed by the metaphysics of life, as the science of that which is above nature, whose province it is to indicate all higher and supernatural principles in the whole sphere of existence and the actual world, so far as it is given to man to know them. Employing the old phraseology and division of the schools, we might term this a cosmology, in a moral and intellectual sense, and with a regard to what human philosophy can attain to. The symbolical energy of the divine communication in religion, the divine foundation of the state, the Godward tendency of science, and the restoration of the consciousness by God, form, as it were, the four poles or summits of all these principles, which transcend and overpass the merely natural.

Concerning the accomplishment of perfection in man’s divinely-restored consciousness, and also in the whole of existence, or in nature itself, a few words yet remain to be added. And thus this last section, considered as a cosmology, is based on a divine principle, so far as this is attainable by man.

Now, the first consequence of the perfection of the human consciousness, as accomplished by God, will be the restoration of the divine image and likeness in man. The soul, now purified and made complete again, becomes once more spiritually fruitful, and in this internal productiveness, which even the pure spirits do not possess, is rendered similar, though at an infinite distance and in a very secondary sense, to the Creator in His productive energy. The livingly operative spirit in the creature is like to that in the being who is increate and from all eternity, while the livingly active sense, as the third member or element in the perfected consciousness, is similar and correspondent to the divine operating word. And lastly, in this livingly quickened and completely restored consciousness, man reassumes his original true and distinct relation to nature. By the soul, first of all, he is reunited to God; in his spirit, now restored to true life, he enters into a living and clear communion with all other kindred spirits; and by his will, now clearly seeing and working in God, he assumes once more his original relation to nature as her first-born son and her legitimate lord.

But nature, as the creature that groaneth and travaileth in pain together, waiteth in earnest expectation for its perfection and restoration. And this is the only view of it that is either founded in truth or really Christian. And in this idea of creation groaning and travailing in pain lies a fullness of prophetic intimations for nature. While she seems on the whole to be deeply slumbering, this alone excites a hope of a great and general awakening; whereas it is scarcely a generation and a half, or two at most, since physical science first began to awaken out of the grave of its own dead notions, when in nature itself, no less than in the science of it, all seemed sunk in death.

We need not, therefore, be surprised if this Christian view of nature and a dynamical physiology evince so little of agreement. For the latter invariably regards the system of nature as something absolute and as perfect and complete in itself; but this it evidently is not. And indeed many an eloquent theological essay on the proofs of design in nature and on its indications of the goodness of the Creator, sets out on a similarly defective hypothesis, that nature, in its present condition, is exactly the same as God originally created it. But this is directly contradicted by the promise so expressly and distinctly made to the last times, of “new heavens and a new earth.” For this not merely implies, but rather asserts, that nature stands in need of a grand renovation, which it transcends the ordinary course of its proper powers of development to accomplish, and which, consequently, is only conceivable as brought about by the immediate operation of divine power, or of a celestial theocracy for this purpose, in the time of the universal regeneration.

We are far more ready and disposed to assign to the powers of evil a greater influence and a wider field of operation in the world of man than in the system of nature. But it is, perhaps, more conformable to truth to see in the present condition of the latter a state of truce with the evil and destructive powers which formerly raged more fiercely--an interval during which the conflict is confined within certain limits, rather than as a complete and perfect peace. Its external influences, as they affect man, must not be taken for the standard in this case; for they may be merely accidental; just as the ordinary inundations belong to the economy of the balance of the elementary forces of nature, and as the storms and tempests, which occasionally are fearfully destructive, are, nevertheless, it is clear, a process necessary for the purification and salubrity of the atmosphere. But, on the other hand, many facts of medical experience and peculiar phenomena of disease, or even births of faulty or defective organization--as well as the lothsome generation of insects in the atmosphere or on the surface of the earth, and many diseased states in both--when viewed simply and elementarily, and apart from the usual principle of epidemic contagion, appear to point rather to some intrinsical evil and originally wild demoniacal character in the sphere of nature, even though they only occur as exceptions to these general laws. How deadly even sidereal influences may prove is at least established by the fact of lunacy. In those fields of celestial light, too, and those brilliant hosts of heaven, which, as nature’s more retiring and lovelier charms, become visible only by night, and display themselves to the calm and tranquil soul, all is not in such perfect unison and harmony as the first impression would lead us to suppose. A note of discord arises from the irregular orbits of those eccentrically revolving stars, which, though rare in their appearance, seem to be pretty numerous--exercising either a watery or an arid influence on the terrestrial atmosphere, and whose paths astronomy has indeed calculated, though her calculations have not always been verified. All our knowledge, too, and recorded observations of the rest of nature, i.e., in this sense of the earth itself, does not go beyond the surface--consequently to only one portion of it; and yet perhaps that internal part, which is hidden from us, is the very one that is most deeply significant, and more nearly akin to the eternal. Nature, in her interior and reality, may perhaps possess little resemblance to what we see of her externally. At every step we stumble on some new proof of our ignorance, and much also that gives an intimation of a new and unknown world.

Nature in general may, for us, be compared to a towering pyramid of hieroglyphics heaped together at random, from which, with our utmost pains, we can scarcely succeed in bringing together and deciphering two or three at most, while we have not the key for interpreting the meaning and order of the whole; for we must not, as under a very erroneous idea is often done, seek this in nature itself, but entirely in its divine principle; for in this must all that is unintelligible find its solution. Now, in that one part of nature which we are best acquainted with, its surface--after that law of sexual distinction which reigns not only in the animal but also in the vegetable world, and which, moreover, in a certain sense prevails in the very atmosphere and its elementary organs of life--no other law of nature is so universal as that of death. But if it be true that through that spirit and power of evil who first revolted from God, death came into the world, and also into nature, then must the earthly and now natural death have proceeded from the author of eternal death.

Very questionable, in this case, would it appear to be, whether the first and original creations of nature were other than immortal. If He whose essence is omnipotence thinks hieroglyphics, then are they living creatures; and can we, judging of Him in Himself, and His proper nature, suppose that He would conceive of or create aught else than what is eternal and immortal? The old curse still hangs over nature, wherein the first author and inventor of death has contrived to root himself so deeply. And that malediction was not removed by the first man; on the contrary, it was deepened and confirmed by him. And even at the divine renewal of the human race, the same anathema was again pronounced upon the natural tree of an earthly life, condemning it to wither still more and more under the baneful dominion of death. The victory over death is only to be gained together with the perfection of man. And then shall follow a theocracy and divine renovation of nature, under which all that is therein shall again become immortal. A perfect harmony shall thereby be restored to the whole of creation.

END OF PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE.

PHILOSOPHY OF LANGUAGE.

PREFACE OF THE GERMAN EDITOR.

In these pages we give to the world the philosophical Lectures which the late F. V. Schlegel delivered last winter, at Dresden, to a numerous and distinguished auditory--the last monument of his life and mind. To many of his personal hearers they will probably be welcome, as enabling them, in the perusal of what their own ears so lately heard, to realize more distinctly the matter of the Lectures, and the whole person of the eminent individual who was so unexpectedly taken away from among them. But to a still larger circle of the friends and admirers of Schlegel, this publication will, no doubt, be acceptable, especially since, under a pervading reference to language, it throws much light and more fully carries out the views advanced by Schlegel in the Lectures delivered two years before, at Vienna, on the Philosophy of Life. In this rich and important fragment, Schlegel’s whole idea of philosophy stands out far more clear and distinct, though, for its complete elucidation and exposition, it was his intention, had he been spared, to add at least one more series of Lectures to the three already given to the world.

The present publication is eminently calculated to show what in these three connected series of Lectures it was the author’s first object, both as a thinker and teacher, to accomplish, viz., to convey the living words of his inmost mind, rich with the fruits of many years’ study and research, to all who possessed a sensibility or disposition likely to be roused and animated thereby to pursue or promote some kindred inquiry or object. It would, therefore, be a proof of grave misconception to make such requisitions on these Lectures as are incompatible with this end and with the character which they most covet, of being, in the higher sense of the term, a living discourse; for, to satisfy such demands was neither the design or wish of the author. It was not his purpose either to take some single abstract notion, and by detailed elucidation to make it clear and obvious, nor to set up some rigorously limited system of notions, with its definitions and arbitrary terminology, whose great merit should be made to consist in such regularity of plan and faithful execution, as should every where command the notice and the wonder of the reader. In short, it was not his object, in some partial speculation of the reason, exclusively to set forth a long series of abstract propositions as a model and precedent for such essays. Those, however, who, to use Schlegel’s own words, look upon these Lectures as a series of questions to which their own hearts, silently, indeed, give a concurrent answer, or find therein the satisfactory solution to many difficulties suggested by their own reflections on the life and mind of man, will not be able to get rid of a just and righteous sorrow, to think that the voice from which they still looked for many such questionings, and much similar instruction, is suddenly silenced, and that none remains who, as inheriting the spirit of the departed, or as his favorite and intelligent scholar, is able to supply what is still wanting.

With this heavy feeling of sorrow, it seems perhaps inconsistent to express a passing regret that the author has not been permitted himself to superintend this edition of his Lectures, and to make those corrections which here and there might have appeared to him desirable. A few passages, noticed thus (†) in the text, were marked by Schlegel himself, either for emendation or enlargement, and the loss of these corrections we can not but miss and regret.