2. That it assigns a more adequate cause to account for the given effects.

The whole nature of mental phenomena is such, that it does far less violence to our reason to suppose that a spiritual principle is in operation within us, than to rest satisfied with the notion, that the matter itself, of which the brain is composed, can think, or feel, or of itself produce physical exertion. Where there must be an hypothesis of some kind, it is by far better to accept that, which appears most adequate, especially if, instead of straining and wrenching our fundamental notions of material properties, it offers a plain and simple solution of the facts which come before us.

The properties of matter in all its varied forms are extension and resistance; on the other hand, as far as experience goes, there is in it a total negation of thought and consciousness; and this being the case, it is only by stripping it of all which we have before known it to possess, and adding that which was never before regarded as one of its properties, that we can come to the conclusion, that matter or any combination of matter either thinks or feels.

3. The idea of the spirituality of mind better comports with the notions which mankind have ever entertained of its immortality. We would by no means represent the properties of spirituality and immortality as being so closely connected, that the one necessarily implies the other. There is nothing absurd in the notion of a material existence being eternal, or a spiritual one being perishable,

if such be the will of the Creator; nevertheless, if there be any grounds, on which to look forward to a future life, it is unquestionable that the idea of a spiritual mind better comports with such a prospect, than that of a mind which results from material organisation; and on this ground, the whole of the separate evidence for the immortality of the soul goes to strengthen the evidence for its spirituality. Putting, then, all these remarks together, we deny that there is any superior clearness in the materialist hypothesis; that it gets rid of a single difficulty; that it has peculiarly the suffrages of common sense; or that it is successful in explaining the phenomena for which we have to account. On the contrary, we affirm that the spiritual hypothesis is equally comprehensible; that it is in much better keeping with the unity of our thoughts, feelings, and volitions; that it assigns a far more adequate cause to produce the given effects; and, lastly, that it comports better with the dignity and immortality of human nature. Setting, therefore, both hypotheses before us, and estimating their relative probabilities, we have no hesitation in rejecting materialism, and still holding to that spirituality which we may term the common belief of mankind.

We have conducted the above argumentation on the principle of Jouffroy (Pref. to Stewart,) simply from the stand-point of the understanding, supposing the ordinary conception of matter and mind to be valid really as well as phenomenally. To us, however, it appears evident, that the whole tendency of

philosophy, from the time of Leibnitz, has been to bring us nearer and nearer to a purely dynamical theory of the whole universe. The idea of matter is the most dark, indefinite, unmeaning of all ideas, except we consider it in connexion with certain of its attributes, i. e., as ever exerting certain powers. By the mechanist, matter is measured and reasoned upon simply in the light of a power; the chemist in the last analysis sees only centres of forces; the philosopher knows the me and the not-me, simply under the law of a mutual action and reaction; and even in natural theology, the only truly conceivable notion we can form of the act of creation, is that of the Divine power and thought going forth to the production of form in the wondrous processes of nature and mind. That the phenomena we term material must ever exist is self-evident; that they indicate a substratum is equally certain; but that the real philosophic analysis of this substratum will bring us to no other result than that of an action and reaction of forces, appears to me to amount almost to a demonstration. The universe in this light appears far more simple, more harmonious, more beautiful. Instead of a dualism encumbered with metaphysical paradox, we have an homogeneous creation, together with the activities of which it is composed, rising in perfect gradation from the lowest forms of matter, through all the regions of organic life, to the highest development of mind itself.

On these principles, power acting unconsciously and blindly, is matter-power raised to intelli

gence and volition is spirit. The substratum of both is identical, but there exists in their most inward nature determinations which result in phenomenal differences-differences which will ever be marked and distinguished by the language of Dualism; because ordinary language is always based upon phenomena, and not upon a refined metaphysical analysis.

"The materialists and the spiritualists," says M. Tissot, "ought in general to probe more deeply than they have done the notion of matter; they would then have been forced on either side into their last intrenchments; would have discovered the point of intersection of material and physical phenomena; and consequently the point of view under which matter and spirit resemble each other and are identical, as well as that in which they are distinguished. It is only on this condition that agreement is possible; without this, men will dispute eternally, every body being right and every body being wrong at the same time. Every one will be wrong in this sense, that he will ignore on the other side the facts which he ought to accept without restriction, and of which it would be necessary also to admit the consequences. Every one would be right in this other sense, that having laid down the exclusive point of view by which he reasons, he will come to reject necessarily every other hypothesis.'

1 Anthropologie, vol. ii. p. 356.

SECT. II.-Modern Sensationalism in France.

In the brief sketch we gave of the of the progress of sensationalism in France during the eighteenth century, we traced the development, and the various transformations of the philosophy of Locke through a succession of writers, who, while they popularised and adorned the school to which they belonged, by a clearness and a brilliancy of style which has been seldom equalled, and perhaps never excelled, yet shrank not from asserting and maintaining the most startling conclusions of materialism. All the mental operations were reduced by them simply to various forms of sensation; morals became a mere balancing of self-interest; the mind was regarded as the result of organisation alone, to which it was absurd to ascribe the idea of immortality; while the name of God was made synonymous with nature, or altogether disowned. These principles we followed in their course up to the period of the Revolution, which for a time absorbed the attention of every mind, bore along even the calmest thinkers with it in its fury, and allowed them no leisure, and perhaps no disposition, to reflect upon the more abstruse subjects of philosophy. No sooner, however, did the excitement of that stupendous event begin to abate, than the purely philosophical element, which had for a time been lost in the political confusion, began to re-appear, and to excite a portion, though at first by no means a considerable portion, of public attention.