psychology and physics. The Baconian method takes a number of things for granted. It requires phenomena to be observed and their natural order to be ascertained, and deduces from them the law, as it is called, or principle under which they are comprehended, of which they are developments and exemplifications. The assemblage of principles or laws thus deduced from experience in reference to any single subject, and combined according to the natural order of our thoughts, constitutes the science of that subject. The phenomena of the heavenly bodies, so observed and reasoned upon, give us Astronomy; the facts of our internal experience, in like manner, give us Psychology. But in these cases we assume the capacity to observe and to reflect; we take for granted the credibility of the senses and of consciousness. If not, how know we that we are reasoning upon facts? We assume, also, that our memory and our cognitive power may be trusted; else what confidence can we repose in our reasonings upon facts? Now the philosophy to which we have referred, proposes to inquire into the validity of the judgments thus assumed in our productive methods. Under one name or another, this philosophy has clearly a field to itself, and in the progress of human thinking, an important if not essential part to perform. Without much propriety it received the name of the "Critical Philosophy," from the title of Kant's "Critique of pure reason," in which the author proposed to determine the primary laws of belief. It has also received the appellation of "Transcendental Metaphysics," because it relates to truths which lie beyond the range of experience, which indeed experience pre-supposes, without the recognition of which experience would not be possible.

It has been denominated" Spiritual Philosophy," because it has for its object to develop and vindicate ideas, which originate in the soul itself, and constitute a part of its primordial and essential feelings or intuitions, without which impressions upon us from without would not be appreciable or even possible.

It has, also, and more generally of late, and especially

among the Scottish philosophers, been known as the "Philosophy of Common Sense," so called first by Reid, because the principles of this philosophy appeal for their vindication to the common original convictions of all minds.

It has received the appellation of " Fundamental Philosophy," also, because its object is to discover and justify the laws or principles of belief that lie at the bottom of all reasoning and all knowledge.

The object of this branch of the transcendental philosophy, as already said, is to discover and substantiate those primary laws of action which the human mind observes in its intellectual and practical judgments; to exhibit some of the essential elements of the reason, the forms under which it cognizes all truth, and without which it would be incapable of knowledge would be no longer mind.

These original ideas, or forms of thought, or conditions of knowledge, are found of course in all minds, and need only to be brought into the light of a cultivated, reflective consciousness, in order to be recognized. The mode of verifying them is precisely that in which all ideas are verified, viz.: by an appeal to the mind itself, the consciousness, the experience of thinking men. It supposes that any account of the ideas to which it directs our attention would be unphilosophical; for no account can be given of them without taking them for granted. An argument, an explanation, supposes the existence and identity of the mind that makes it and the mind that demands it. To give a reason for a thing implies the idea of a reason, the notion of cause, the idea of sequence, of law. It is absurd, therefore, to argue for the existence of such ideas, every possible argument necessarily pre-supposing them. Such ideas exist, or they do not exist, in the consciousness; and the mind may be made by patient efforts, to recognize them there, or their existence can never be known. Their existence is the proper and only condition of our knowledge of them.

To what else can appeal be made for the vindication of knowledge, upon any theory of its nature or origin? How else establish and justify any sequence in any argument, any

belief, any simple idea, any sentiment, any principle of right or of beauty? To what is appeal to be made in disproving or bringing into doubt one of these original ideas, or in asserting even the fact that the existence of such ideas has been brought into controversy ?

All languages exhibit words signifying knowledge, certainty. Whence comes this idea of knowledge? To deny the possibility of knowledge implies an idea of the thing denied. If we have the idea of knowledge, what is it? Can it be anything less clear than that which is seen in its own light, without aid from anything more clear? Is it not absurd to suppose a thing to be proved by anything less clear than that which it proves?

Knowledge, we have just said, cannot be denied without implying an idea of what it is to know. What then would be knowledge, if it were possible? Anything different from what we already have? Could it be anything more than conscious seeing, immediate, direct, distinct intuition? If such a thing'may be, and if what we now call knowledge has all the marks which any supposable knowledge can be conceived to have, what more have we reason to demand?

The higher, the fundamental philosophy, it is clear, does not attempt to contradict or to supersede the Baconian or the Aristotelean logic; it consists entirely with the methods of reasoning employed in the sciences; indeed, its grand aim is, instead of destroying, to justify these methods, and to place their results in the mental and the material worlds, beyond the reach of scepticism or cavil, by showing that nothing is assumed in our induction or deduction which has not the sanction of our mental constitution, and therefore of Him who so mysteriously and wonderfully organized our physical and spiritual being.

What then, according to this philosophy, may I be said to know? Why, undoubtedly, in the first place, all that is proved, demonstrated; and secondly, all that I see clearly without proof, directly, intuitively. There is no third way

That which is proved

of knowing, possible or conceivable. depends upon something else which is not proved; no argu

ment can commence without an assumption; it may be a definition as in Mathematics, or a fact as in Chemistry, or a proposition dependent on a foregoing demonstration. Ultimately, all reasoned truths will be found to rest upon truths which are not reasoned, not obtained by any induction, truths seen in their own light, not capable of proof for the very reason that they need no proof; so plain that nothing plainer can be found to illustrate them. What is proved then, at last, is traced to what is seen directly, without the aid of proof. If it were not so, inasmuch as every argument is substantially an inference of something not known from something known, the series of arguments must be infinite. And besides, in all demonstration, every step involves an intuition; each successive step is indeed an intuition. In the first Theorem of Euclid, the idea of a point, a line, a circle, an angle, a triangle, is intuitive; and the perceptions of equality and coincidence, which constitute the several stages of the argument and the conclusion itself, are each and all direct judgments of the intellect. And therefore the whole demonstration is but a series of intuitions or direct judg ments; and every mathematical demonstration is resolved at last into propositions not proved and not admitting of proof -self-evident, intuitive propositions.

The same is true of moral reasoning of all reasoning. The premises, whether matters of fact or primary judgments of the reason, and the successive conceptions on to the final proposition, are all immediate, direct cognitions, original acts of knowledge. Thus, in Paley's Argument for the Divine Benevolence, the first proposition is a primary judg ment of the reason; "when God created the human species, either He wished their happiness, or He wished their misery, or He was indifferent about both." In this proposition (to say nothing of the ideas attached to each word, as "God," "created," etc.) in the general proposition, we have expressed an original immediate judgment; the truth of the alternative presented is seen directly, not by any induction, not by means of any intermediate idea; he who does not assent to it cannot be induced to do so by argument; it is as much an

intuitive perception as that of coincidence or equality in the demonstration of the first Theorem in Euclid. Of the same nature is the second proposition in Mr. Paley's Argument: "If He had wished our misery, He might have made sure of His purpose by forming our senses to be so many sores and pains to us," etc. Again: "If He had been indifferent about our happiness or misery, we must impute to our good fortune both the capacity of our senses to receive pleasure and the supply of external objects fitted to produce it." But either of these, and especially both of them, being too much to be attributed to accident, nothing remains but the first supposition, that God wished our happiness. The propositions implied in this part of the argument, viz.: that such adaptations cannot be the work of accident, and that therefore God wished our happiness, are expressions of immediate, intuitive judgments. And so of every proposition in the following form of the argument: "Contrivance proves design; the predominant tendency of the contrivance indicates the disposition of the designer. The world abounds with contrivances, and all the contrivances which we are acquainted with, are directed to beneficial purposes. We conclude therefore that God wills and wishes the happiness of His creatures." The first two of these propositions are primitive judgments of the reason; the two following, judgments of the reason upon the intuitions of sense or the testimony of others; the conclusion, the final sequence, a simple judgment of the reason. Arguments are, then, all resolvable into primary intuitions, either of sense or of reason.

In searching for the elements or original ideas of the human mind, we may thenceforth assume them to be contained in the intuitions of which we are made capable by our intellectual constitution; in being capable of which our intellectual constitution consists; to fit us for which was to create us rational beings; for evidently if we could know nothing directly, we could know nothing at all, all knowledge acquired by demonstration depending ultimately, as we have just seen, upon immediate, intuitive judgments.

What then are these original, intuitive ideas? Why,