ject and subject, objective ideas and subjective ideas, cannot be appreciated by the metaphysical philosophy, severed as this is from the sciences. These last start from the external world and from objects: the notions thus acquired rectify the mind's spontaneous conceptions, and indeed the consistency which the sciences have attained, is owing to this continual re-action between observation and hypothesis. Accordingly, the interval which separates metaphysics from science, has been growing perpetually wider; and it is here that a philosophy should interpose, equally embracing man and the world, ever subordinating the subjective to the objective, taking away from the former its absolute character, and from the latter that incoherence which results from its isolation. It is from this combination of the subjective and objective points of view, that we obtain the general and the positive; that is, a union of those qualities which separately characterise metaphysics and the sciences. Now, this combination at once arises spontaneously, when all the notions gathered by the sciences, are brought back again to man, in view of correcting, by a confrontation with reality, the absolute, unlimited, indemonstrable character appertaining to purely subjective conceptions.

This method, the inverse of that originally pursued, has not been always possible; for, as I remarked above, it was at first indispensable that man, by an instinctive and necessary hypothesis, should create all things after his own image; should impose his own conceptions upon the external world, until experience, by a slow reaction, should finally bring back the world to his conceptions. This mental revolution, which began centuries ago, with the earliest mathematical labors, and has advanced with the successive creation of the sciences, is at length approaching its ultimate term, Here, also, we may perceive the filiation of human opinions, and the connexion of the present with the past. When the Earth is placed in its true position among the planets; Man in his proper rank in the scale of living beings, and Society under the influence of that movement which appertains to it, absolute notions, theological or metaphysical, lose their necessary aliment; and, with minds of a positive character, all confidence in such conceptions continually declines.

Accordingly, the objection is often urged by intelligent thinkers, that for the past two thousand years the metaphysical philosophy has incessantly agitated the same questions, without ever arriving at any permanent solution. And why is this? It is precisely because that, from its very nature, nothing in this philosophy can be ever regarded as definitively acquired; that nothing is constant, in this succession of theories, but the never-ending endeavor to master difficulties necessarily insoluble. To cite only the principal systems, antiquity witnessed the struggles of the Academics, the Peripatetics, the Epicureaus, the Stoics, the Skeptics; and when men's interests in these great conceptions, which long engrossed the highest intelligences, had declined, Neoplatonism, in its turn, acquired a momentary ascendant. But the antique philosophy necessarily perished with the contemporaneous form of society, and accordingly Neoplatonism disappeared simultaneously with the definitive installation of Christianity. Then came a Christian Metaphysics: the problems debated by the philosophers of antiquity have been resumed by those of modern times; analogous questions were discussed in the middle ages, under the names of nominalism, realism, and conceptualism. Finally appeared the doctrines of Descartes, of Spinosa, of Locke and Condillac, the critique of Kant, and, in our own day, the speculations of Fichte, Schelling and Hegel. All these leading systems, to say nothing of their numerous partial modifications, have been mutually at war upon their

fundamental principles. They have exhibited the spectacle, not of an edifice progressively completed, but of new structures continually reared on the ruins of the old. At the present time, manifest symptoms indicate that the great theories of Condillac in France, and of Hegel and Schelling in Germany, are already exhausted, and are soon to make room for new systems.

History, then, with an evidence decisive by its prolongation, reveals the essential instability of metaphysical doctrines. In fact, absolute notions are inevitably fluctuating; are incapable of engendering durable convictions, and are always mutually antagonistic. At each great metaphysical epoch, there is made a tabula rasa; other minds resume the controversies upon new data, and the whole previous labor is lost, except as contributing to the education and exercise of human reason. The history of the world, says Schiller, is the judgment of the world; and the multitudinous variations perpetuated for more than twenty centuries constitute the emphatic judgment of metaphysics.

The sciences, resting as they do on other grounds, exhibit a widely different spectacle,—an unbroken continuity of labors; and, as a single glance will show, a perpetual growth and ascension. Whilst in metaphysics, the very basis is, with each new theory, overthrown and reconstructed, in the sciences, on the contrary, acquisitions once made are never afterward lost, and the edifice is reared with confidence on this solid foundation. Nothing is more instructive than the historical contrast between the two philosophies; a contrast that now, after a long lapse of ages, may be deemed characteristic and fundamental. Time permits its teachings to flow gradually forth, as a succession of small rivulets which scarcely furrow the surface, but which at length form by their union an irresistible current.

There is this striking diversity between metaphysics and positive science, that in the first, all controversies are relative to principles, in the other, merely to consequences; in the former, to those primary notions which were debated in the most ancient schools of philosophy, in the latter, to newly-observed facts, and the inductions flowing from them. Again, the sciences have a character fixed and determinate, like the objects they consider; they vary no more than the laws of nature vary; and these laws being always and everywhere the same, there results a series of notions independent of places and times. An astronomical truth discovered in Greece, has neither date nor country, and is now just as valuable as it was two thousand years ago. Metaphysics, on the contrary, resting as it does on a priori principles, on absolute notions drawn directly from the human mind, necessarily varies with the character of that mind, reflecting the opinions of successive civilizations, and being Greek or Oriental, Christian or Pagan. Metaphysical systems are connected less by intrinsic and natural relations, than by extrinsic circumstances. The pagan philosophy perished on the advent of Christianity, whilst the pagan geometry and astronomy suffered no such interruption. The reason is, that the office of metaphysics is essentially critical, and therefore always relative to data not exclusively appertaining to it; in a word, to theological principles. As the objects of its speculations are identical with those of theology, but as, moreover, it considers them in a different manner, a relation is established between the two, which inevitably determines the character of the former. Accordingly, it has waged perpetual controversy with religious powers, the conditions of the existence of which it has continually assailed. It was thus that, by a long elaboration, the pagan metaphysics gradually undermined the mental basis

of polytheism, and paved the way for the advent of monotheism in the Græco-Roman world. It was thus, too, that the Christian metaphysics, so fruitful a source of heresies, at length gave birth to Protestantism, caused the disorganization of the Catholic establishment, and finally introduced those revolutionary phases which modern times have witnessed. The right to treat in an independent manner those questions which theology resolves, has never been conceded by religious powers; and, on the other hand, the right to restrict within certain limits all discussion of the absolute notions common to religion and metaphysics, has never been accorded by the latter. Hence the social office of metaphysics and theology. In the history of the most advanced communities, neither of these two powers has ever achieved any decisive victory over the other: they have divided the common domain by lines continually varying between faith and reason. The metaphysical philosophy has been always either an auxiliary or an adversary: a dangerous auxiliary, because of its independence; a formidable adversary, because of the freedom it accords to every understanding. This alternation must necessarily be perpetuated until the decisive advent of positive notions, which always supplant and nullify both theological and metaphysical explications.

Such, in the history of the development of humanity, has been the purely correlative and critical office of metaphysics; long enabling it to satisfy one of those logical wants which are imperious in our intellectual system, inasmuch as we always seek some general means of coordinating our conceptions, some principle which shall embrace them, some comprehensive notions which shall constitute a theory and a guide. The metaphysical philosophy is an intermediary, (the human mind always requires intermediaries,) between religion, which its discussions undermine, and positive conceptions, of which these very discussions prepare the advent. By an accordance manifested in history, the speculative generalities that have been received in past ages were then not merely necessary, but were likewise sufficient, as being in harmony with the amount of real knowledge possessed, and with the existing mental condition of humanity. Gradually, however, they have ceased to be sufficient. The vacant compartments of science have been filled; the discoveries accessible to our intelligence have been attained, and the line has been drawn between the vain quest of absolute principles and the investigation of relative truthsthe only real object of our speculations. Time has accomplished this two-fold result; exhibiting on the one hand the futility of the labors of the metaphysical Sisyphus, and on the other the constant and continued progress of positive notions. At this point, and this we have finally reached, the concurrence between the sciences and philosophy is manifest; the sciences are becoming transformed into philosophy, or, if the phrase be preferred, philosophy is absorbing the sciences.

"This Ballad, though

* In a note which conveyed this Ballad to the editor, the author says: it may seem a new version of the old story, is, nevertheless, founded on a tradition of our land now almost forgotten. In an Orderly-book, still extant, of the Army of the Revolution, while encamped near the place the scene of the Ballad lies, the name of Albert Merle is mentioned in terms of praise; and an old woman pointed out to me, many years ago, a grave with that name rudely carved on the head stone. These facts give much credence to the tale. I have chosen with some hesitation the present phrase to tell the story. In this age of mock sentimental rhymes, and sweet, unmeaning verse, ballads are very unfashionable-unless, indeed, they are very old: few read them, and fewer still appreciate their nicest and rarest qualities. Directness of narration; simplicity of thought, in a style natural and innovate, are the chief merits of a ballad. Now-a-days, they are too often regarded as "see-saw-Margery-Daw" sort of things, only fit for the nursery. Let children-of-a-larger growth, who deride them, forget but for a moment their too much sophisticated notions, then, our word on't, they will not idly condemn a style of verse that once delighted and instructed nations."

It was at one of his most Christian Majesty's, Louis XV.'s, little suppers at Trianon: "A charming day for the chase--was it not, madam ?" said the Duc de Nivernois to Madame de Pompadour. "Ah! yes; but warm, quite warm, and very fatiguing," replied the lady, with vivacity. "After all," she continued, playing negligently with a superb fan, set with jewels, "this war, either upon hearts or men, is not half the exciting thing it was before the invention of gunpowder. There was some display then for grace and dexterity, in the management of their steeds, hurling the lance, and wielding their good broad-swords; now, men are shot down like so many pigeons." "There was certainly a vast deal of romance, as well as nonsense, in those old feudal times," said the Count de Logéres, a privileged wit and courtier: "the chivalrous devotion to one lady-love, and abjuring all ties of home and kindred for the war of the Holy Cross. Very barbarous days; three-quarters of them rough old wretches-no doubt of it. Yet, there is something god-like in this sort of self-sacrifice. The world has grown cold and selfish; life is a very matter-of-fact, stupid thing now-adays." Is Saul, also, among the prophets?" replied Madame de Pompadour, laughingly. "But this gunpowder: can any one tell me of what it is composed?" The Count de Logéres turned away; what was a courtier and wit to know about gunpowder ? "An equal infusion of sulphur, saltpetre, and charcoal, I imagine, madame," said the Duc de Nivernois, with a bow. "Nay, by your leave, by no means equal,"* interrupted the Duc de la Valliére; "there must be but one part of sulphur, one of charcoal, with five parts of saltpetre, well-filtered, well-evaporated, well-crystallized." "Strange, when so much mischief is done with it, we should know so little about it," said the Duc de Nivernois. "Is it not so with almost everything