To adduce another instance of the intimate connexion that subsists between the various branches, to which our mental activity is directed, and speculative philosophy, I would point out that of the fine arts. Here, as in most other subjects, there is a practical, and a theoretical side, the former of which, although it may be successfully pursued by itself, is nevertheless based upon the latter. Poetry may be loved, and may be created by the impulse of an enthusiastic soul, and the exertion of a lively imagination, without any reflection upon the sources from which the poetic fire is kindled; but the enquiry will still force itself upon us in due time— What is enthusiasm, and what is the nature of creative imagination, and what is the ground upon which the pleasure we derive from all such sources depends? The answer to this, it is evident, will lead us into abundant metaphysical enquiries long before we have probed the subject to its complete elucidation. Painting, again, may be cultivated simply by attention to practical rules, especially when there is a natural aptitude for it; but then all the pleasure we derive from it arises from our susceptibility of the emotion of beauty. We ask, therefore, What is Beauty? How is it excited? In what does it consist? Is the highest beauty

real, and has it ever been actually embodied in nature? or is it ideal, and only imaged in the mind? Must the painter strive to copy exactly what exists, or has he to seek a perfection which

is only floating within his own mind, and which he must be perpetually endeavouring to transfer from the inner chamber of imagery to the canvass before him? The decision of this point, one way or the other, will give rise to completely different schools of painting. The advocate of the beaureal would never become another Raphael, nor would the advocate of the beau-ideal ever form a second Vandyk.

If it be asked, why we should employ our minds in theorizing on these different subjects, when the practical application of them can be made without any knowledge whatever of their theory, we answer, because man is formed with a desire to know, as well as to do and feel, because the love of knowledge is an impulse quite as strong as those other impulses which lead more directly to action, and because we

no more be happy without satisfying the former, when it once takes possession of our mind, than we can without satisfying the latter.

If from the fine arts we descend into the pursuits and toils of practical life, here, too, we soon find that we are conducted step by step, as we proceed backward towards first principles, into the region of metaphysics. Our practical life consists, for the most part, in the performance of duties. But what is a duty? What claim has it over our conscience, and on what is grounded its obligation? I have duties to perform towards my country. Is patriotism, then, an emotion implanted by nature,

and if so, to what extent should I compromise my own natural rights in favour of the community at large? The whole question of the rights of nature, to which we are thus brought, leads us, as we before remarked, into one of the most fruitful of all discussions on man's constitution and position in the present world. I have other duties, moreover, to perform in social life, and again others which relate simply to my own moral being. But in such cases, what is the ground, and what the rule of morality? To elucidate these questions, we must take the torch of philosophy to our aid, and only when we have traced back the whole theory of our practical life to its philosophical principles, do we find a basis upon which we can rest with any mental satisfaction.

These few instances, perhaps, may be sufficient to elucidate the fact, that all generalization, whatever be the subject to which it is applied, tends to lead us into philosophical researches, so soon as ever it begins to touch upon first principles. Other arts and sciences aim at particular objects, accomplish particular purposes, and carry on their investigations only to a particular extent. This being accomplished, the end of each is satisfied. Philosophy, on the contrary, seeks the completion of our knowledge; it lays bare the hidden foundations upon which all other sciences rest, and weighs the validity of the axioms which they tacitly assume.

No sooner do we view these dif

ferent branches of human knowledge with the eye of the speculative philosopher, than we begin at once to see that the courses of them all are convergent, tending perpetually to one point. Many of the minor channels, after being followed backward for a certain distance, merge into the course of some wider stream. As we go still further back the channels become fewer, though, at the same time, wider and deeper; but still some few remain distinct from each other, and ever exhibit a cloud of darkness enveloping their source, until the philosophic spirit dares to enter the cloud, and trace their course up to the very point where they all unite. On this account, no doubt, philosophy may sometimes incur the charge of vagueness and indistinctness in its operations and results; but instead of joining in this complaint we should rather admire the courage and intelligence, that dares to penetrate into what was before a region of cloud and darkness, that succeeds in gaining new glimpses of an unknown land, and that struggles on against almost insuperable difficulties, even at the risk of here and there losing the road to its great results. Far should we be from regarding it as presumptuous to enter these sacred limits, or because philosophy is sometimes bewildered in the mazes it attempts to track, denounce its whole attempt as vain and fruitless.

Let us now sum up the results of the foregoing considerations in a few words. Man possesses

intellectual powers, the object and constant tendency of which is the acquisition of knowledge. The advancement of knowledge is measured by the power of accurate generalization, and all generalization, when sufficiently extensive, brings us to the investigation of first principles, that is, to the region of speculative philosophy. Hence we conclude that the rise of philosophy is inevitable, being necessitated by the very nature of human knowledge, and the innate tendency we possess to acquire it.

From this point of view we can now gain a clearer insight into the true idea and real office of philosophy properly so called. Striving as it does to unite all the various objects of mental pursuit, to complete in form the pyramid of human knowledge, to bring even the very foundations to view, it may be regarded as the science of sciences, as that which shews the connexion and the basis of all the rest. The intellectual philosophy, accordingly, of any age may be regarded as the last word which the reason of that age pronounces, inasmuch as its laws, politics, arts, literature, and to a certain extent its peculiar views of religion also, are but the reflex of the philosophy which is then supreme. Or perhaps it might be more accurate were we to say, that the intellectual spirit of any epoch, that which manifests itself in the various channels of literary and practical life, finds in philosophy its highest expression, and shews there most clearly