state is to advance in culture, if this is just its office, this culture must be in conformity with the laws of Spirit. Law, considered as freedom determining itself, is the objectivity of spirit: hence that alone is true volition, the will in the truth of it, which obeys law, for it then obeys only itself; it is then with itself and free; this is the freedom in the State for which the citizen is active, and which fills his soul. In that the State, the fatherland constitutes a community of existence, in that the subjective will of man becomes subject to the laws, the opposition between freedom and necessity vanishes. The rational, that which we have recognised as law, is necessary; and we are free when we follow what is rational; the objective and subjective will are thus reconciled. The ethics of the State are not to be regarded as the same thing with mere morality, are not the mere result of reflection, are not dependent upon private convictions alone; this is the system of morals familiar to the modern world, while the true and ancient system was based in this, that each man stood to his duty. A citizen of Athens did as it were by instinct what belonged to him to do; but if I reflect upon the object of my actions, I must then have the consciousness that my own will is first to come in as an essential element. But the true ethics consists in duty, in conformity with right, with law which has a real, substantial existence; it has been justly called the second nature, for the first nature of man is his primitive, animal existence.

RELIGION, ART, PHILOSOPHY.

All spiritual action has for its aim and result the production of the consciousness of the union of the objective and the subjective; in this is freedom. This union appears to be produced by the thinking subject, and to go out from it. Religion stands at the head of the forms of this union. Here the existing spirit, the spirit belonging to this world, becomes conscious of the Absolute Spirit; and in this consciousness of a being existing in and for itself, the will of man renounces its particular for private interests: in devotion, he puts this aside, for here he can have nothing to do with what is merely personal to himself. If he is truly penetrated with devotion, he knows that his particular interests are subordinate. This concentration of soul shows itself as feeling, but it also passes over into reflection; the cultus, meaning by this all forms of outward worship, is a manifestation of such reflection; the only destination and significancy of these externals is to produce that internal union, to lead the spirit thereto. By sacrifices, man expresses his willingness to give up his own possessions, his own will, his own particular feelings. Thus Religion is the first form of the union of the objective and subjective. second shape it takes is Art: this comes more directly into the world of sense than religion; in its worthiest bearing its object is to exhibit, not, indeed, God as spirit, but the different visi

The

ble representations which the different religions give of God; and, then, what is divine and spi.. ritual in general. Art is intended to make what is divine more clear; it presents it to the imagination and contemplation in visible shapes. Truth, finally, appears not only in the form of feeling and of mental images of things, as in religion; not only in visible shapes, as in art; but it is also elaborated by the thinking spirit. Thus we attain the third mode of the union of the objective and subjective, and that is philosophy. This is the highest, freest, and purest shape which it assumes.

THE UNINTELLIGIBILITY OF PHILOSOPHY.

The difficulty here lies partly in the want of ability, in itself only a want of habit, to think abstractly, that is, to hold unmixed thoughts fast, and to move freely in them. In our ordinary consciousness, thoughts are overlaid and united with current materials from the world of sense and of spirit; and in our after-thoughts, reflections and reasonings, we mix up feelings, and mental images of visible objects, with the thoughts themselves: in every sentence where we speak only of what belongs to the world of sense, e. g. this leaf is green, the categories of being and singleness are involved. It is another thing to make the unmixed thoughts themselves the object of speculation. The other part of the unintelligibility arises from the impatient desire of having what exists in the consciousness, as a thought or idea, also before the mind, in the shape of some distinct image. It is a common saying, we do not know what we are to think about an idea which has been apprehended; with an idea there is nothing to be thought but the idea itself. The sense, however, of that expression is, that there is a longing for some already known and current notion: when these notions are taken away, it is, to the consciousness, as though the very ground were removed, upon which there was once a firm and homelike standing-place. When one is transferred into the pure region of ideas, he knows not where in the world he is. Hence, those writers, preachers and authors are found most intelligible, who tell their readers or hearers things which they already know by heart, which are current with them, and understood of themselves.

There is a pretension, the opposite of this. Philosophy lays claim to thinking, as the peculiar form in which it works; and every man is by nature a thinking being. This science is, now, often disdainfully treated by persons who have never troubled themselves with studying it, and who imagine that they understand, ab ovo, all about philosophy and its conjunctures, and are able to philosophize, and judge about philosophy, just as they walk and talk with their common education; and especially on the ground of their religious feelings. It is granted that one must have studied the other sciences, in order to understand them; and that one is justified in passing judgment upon them only

when they are understood. It is granted that, in order to make a shoe perfectly, one must have learned and practised the art; although every man has the measure in his own foot, and has hands, and, with these, natural adaptedness to the whole business. Only in philosophizing, such like study, learning and pains are not requisite. This convenient opinion has got confirmation in the latest times, by means of the theory of immediate knowledge,—of knowledge by intuitive wisdom.

EMPIRICISM AND PHILOSOPHY.

The principle of Experience contains one infinitely important element, that in order to receive and hold anything to be true, man must himself be with it, have a knowledge of it as connected with himself; to speak more definitely, that he must find such an external object united, and in unison with, the certainty of himself. He must himself be there with it, either by means of his external senses or his internal spirit, his essential self-consciousness. This principle is the same as what now-a-days is called faith, direct knowledge, the revelation in the external world, and especially in one's own self. We call those sciences which have been named philosophy, empirical sciences, on account of the point of departure which they take. But the essential thing which they aim at and produce is a knowledge of laws, of general principles, a theory-the thoughts that are contained in what is present around us. Thus the system of Newton is called Natural Philosophy; while, again, Hugo Grotius, combining together the historical relations of different nations to one another, and reasoning after the common fashion upon these data, arrived at some general principles, a theory which may be called the Philosophy of the Law of Nations. The word philosophy still retains this meaning universally in England. Newton has the credit of being the greatest of philosophers; even down in the price-currents of the fabricators of instruments we find it; those instruments which are not brought under some special rubric (as magnetic and electric apparatus), the thermometers, barometers, and such like, are called philosophical instruments; although one would think that Thought alone, and not a composition of iron, wood, &c., was the instrument of philosophy. So, too, the science of Political Economy, for which we are indebted to these latest times, is called by them philosophy; while we Germans name it rational Economy of the State. In the mouths of English statesmen the expres

*The Journal published by Thomson has the title, "Annals of Philosophy, or Magazine for Chemistry, Mineralogy, Mechanics, Natural History, Agriculture, and the Arts." One can from this see for himself what the ma

terials are which are here called philosophical. Among the advertisements of new books in an English paper, I lately found the following: "The Art of Preserving the Hair, on Philosophical Principles, neatly printed in post, Evo., price 78." By philosophical principles are here probably meant chemical, physiological, and such like.

sion, philosophical principles, is frequently used with reference to the general principles of State policy, even in public addresses. In a session of Parliament on the 2d of February, 1825, Brougham, by occasion of an Address in reply to the Speech from the Throne, spoke of "those philosophical principles of free trade, worthy of a statesman-for without doubt they are philosophical-on the adoption of which His Majesty has this day congratulated Parliament." And not only this member of the opposition, but the Secretary of State, Canning, in reply to a toast given him at the annual dinner of the Company of Ship-owners, where Lord Liverpool, the Prime Minister, presided, also said: "A period has lately begun in which ministers have it in their power to apply the correct maxims of a deep philosophy to our national government." However different the English Philosophy may be from the German, when the very name is elsewhere a by-word and reproach, or used as some hateful thing, it is an occasion of rejoicing to see it honored in the mouths of English

statesmen.

It is an old maxim, falsely ascribed to Aristotle in the sense that it expresses the standpoint of his philosophy: nihil est in intellectu, quod non fuerit in sensu :—there is nothing in thought which was not first in sense, in experience. It is only a misunderstanding when it is said, that the speculative philosophy will not grant this principle. But, on the other hand, it also maintains: nihil est in sensu, quod non fuerit in intellectu,-first, in the very general sense, that the mind (vous) or, with deeper significance of definition, the spirit, is the cause of the world; and, secondly, in the more special sense, that our feelings in respect to justice, morals and religion, are feelings, and so experiences, in respect to matters which have their root and seat in thought.

WHO THINKS ABSTRACTLY?

FROM HEGEL'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS.

THINKS? Abstractly? - -"Sauve qui peut!" "Save himself who can!" I hear a traitor exclaim, who, bribed by the enemy, would decry this essay, as one that treats of Metaphysics. For metaphysics' and 'abstract,' and, I had almost said, to think,' are words from whichas from one infected with the plague-every man is more or less disposed to run away.

I do not however intend here anything so atrocious as an explanation of what is meant by 'thinking' and by ‘abstract.' I am frightened enough myself when any one begins to explain; for, at a pinch, I understand everything myself. Besides, any explanation of the words, 'to think' and 'abstract,' would be quite superfluous. For it is even because the polite world

knows so well what is meant by 'abstract,' that it shuns the abstract. As no one craves what he does not know, so no one can hate what he does not know. Neither is it intended, by cunning stratagem, to attempt to reconcile the polite world to the abstract, as if, e. g. under the cover of a light conversation, 'thinking' and the abstract' should be tricked out, until, at last, without being recognised, and without awakening any abhorrence, they had crept into good company, and even been imperceptibly drawn in by said company, or, as they say in Suabia, "gezäunselt" in,—and then the author of the plot should come forward and uncover this otherwise strange guest, 'the abstract,' whom the whole company had been acknowledging and treating as a good friend, under a different name. These scenes of recognition, by which it is designed to instruct the world against its will, have this unpardonable fault-they mortify while they instruct; and they discover in the machinist the wish to acquire a little reputation by his arts. That mortification and this vanity neutralize the intended effect, and dissipate again the instruction purchased at such a price.

Besides, the stratagem, in this instance, if any such had been designed, is already defeated; inasmuch as its successful execution requires that the word of the enigma should not be pronounced at the outset. But that has been done in the present case, in the caption. If my essay had contemplated a ruse like that which has been described, these words, 'think' and 'abstract,' ought not to have made their appearance in the commencement; but, like the minister of state in the play, they should wear an over-coat through the whole piece, and then in the last scene unbutton it, and let the star* of wisdom beam forth. But the unbuttoning of the metaphysical over-coat would not have so good an effect as the unbuttoning of the ministerial. It would only reveal a couple of words; and the best of the joke was to consist in showing that the company had long been in possession of the thing. So they would gain, in the end, nothing but the name; whereas the ministerial star indicates something more real, to wit, a purse with money in it.

It is presumed in good company-and that is the kind of company we are now in-that every one present knows what 'thinking' is, what 'abstract' is. We have only to inquire who it is that thinks abstractly. The design is not, as I have already remarked, to reconcile the com. pany to these things, to expect of them that they should employ themselves with anything difficult, to speak to their consciences for heedlessly neglecting what is so worthy and befitting a rational being. The object is rather to reconcile the polite world with itself, in case it should feel

not exactly conscientious scruples on ac

* In allusion to the star worn on the breast by certain dignitaries. Trans.

count of said neglect- but yet inwardly, at least, a certain respect for abstract thinking, as for something exalted, and should turn from it not because it is too mean, but because it is too high, not because it is too common, but because it is too distinguished; or, contrariwise, because it seems to be an espèce, something out of the way, something whereby one is, not distinguished in general society as by new finery, but rather excluded from it, or made ridiculous in it, as by a poor dress, or by a rich one, where the setting of the diamonds is old-fashioned, or where the embroidery, though never so costly, has long since come to be "Chinese."

Who thinks abstractly? The uncultivated man, not the cultivated. People who belong to good society do not think abstractly, because it is too easy, because it is too low-low, not according to outward condition; they abstain from it, not out of empty hauteur, which affects to look with contempt on what is above its capacity, but on account of the intrinsic littleness of the thing.

The prepossession and respect for abstract thinking is so great, that refined noses will begin to scent and anticipate satire or irony here. But as my readers are readers of the Morgenblatt, they know that a price is paid for satire; and they must suppose that I would rather earn that price, and concur to obtain it, than give forth my matters in this way, without remuneration.

I need but adduce, in defence of my proposition, certain examples, which, as every one will allow, imply it. We will suppose, then, a murderer is led to the place of execution. To the common people he is nothing more than a murderer. Ladies, perhaps, will remark that he is a powerful, handsome, interesting man. But the people before mentioned, think that remark shocking. "What! a murderer handsome? How can any one be so evil-minded as to think a murderer handsome? It is to be feared you are not much better than murderers yourselves." "This is the corruption of morals which reigns among the higher classes," adds, perhaps, a priest, who knows the reason of things and the hearts of men.

One who understands human nature, investigates the course which the education of this murderer has taken; he finds in his history, in his bringing-up, bad domestic relations between his father and his mother; finds a monstrous severity exercised towards him on the occasion of some light offence, -a severity which has embittered his feelings in relation to the civil order; finds a first reaction against this order, which caused his expulsion from it, and made it impossible for him, thenceforward, to maintain himself otherwise than by crime. There may be some who, when they hear this account of the matter, will say: that man wishes to apologize for this murderer! I remember to have heard, in my youth, a burgomaster complain that writers of books were going too far, were endeavoring to extirpate Christianity and

Quite otherwise did a refined, sentimental Leipzig world. They bestrewed and bewreathed the wheel, and the criminal who was bound upon it, with flower-garlands. But this, again, is an abstraction of an opposite kind. Christians may well practise rosicrucianism, or rather cruciroseism, and wreathe the cross with roses. The cross is a long-since hallowed gibbet and wheel. It has lost its one-sided signification as an instrument of degrading punishment, and gives, on the contrary, the idea of the highest sorrow and the uttermost rejection, combined with extreme rapture and divine honor. The Leipzig cross, on the other hand, wreathed with violets and roses, represents an atonement in the manner of Kotzebue, a kind of maudlin agreement between sentiment and vice.

It was after a very different fashion that I once heard a vulgar old crone-a spital woman -slay the abstraction of a murderer, and raise him again to honor. The severed head was placed upon the scaffold, and the sun was shining. "How beautifully," said she, "God's sun of grace illumines Binder's head!" People say to a wight against whom they are incensed, แ You are not worthy that the sun should shine upon you!" That woman saw that the murderer's head was shone upon by the sun, and consequently was still worthy of the sun's light. She raised him from the punishment of the scaffold into the sun-grace of God. She did not bring about the atonement with violets and sentimental vanity; but she saw him received with grace into a higher sun.

Didn't your

"Old woman! your eggs are rotten!" says the female purchaser to the huckster-woman. "What!" replies the latter; "my eggs rotten! Belike, you are rotten yourself. Do you say that of my eggs? You? Didn't the lice eat up your father on the public road? mother run off with the French? Didn't your grandmother die in the Spital? Go! get you a whole smock, to go with your gauze neckerchief! Everybody knows where that neckerchief, and where all your caps come from. If there were no officers, many a girl would not

be so prinked up now-a-days. And if mistresses would look more to their housekeeping, there's many a one would sit in the stocks. Go! patch the holes in your stockings!" In short, she does not leave her a whole thread. She thinks abstractly, and concludes her, together with neckerchief, caps, smock, &c., with fingers and other parts, also with her father and all her relations, under the single crime of having charged her (the huckster) with rotten eggs. Everything about her is colored through and through with these rotten eggs; whereas, on the contrary, those officers, of whom the hucksterwoman spoke,-if (what is very doubtful) there is anything in the story,-must have seen something very different.

To come from the maid to servants:-a servant fares nowhere so badly as with men of inferior rank and small income. The higher the rank of the master, the better the condition of the servant. Here, again, the common man thinks more abstractly. He is haughty towards his servant, relates to him as to a servant only. To this one predicate he holds fast. A servant fares best with Frenchmen. The man of rauk is familiar with his servant. The Frenchman

is "hail! fellow, well met!" with him. When they are alone, the servant leads the conversation. See Diderot's Jacques et son maitre. The master does nothing but take snuff and look at his watch; and, for the rest, lets the servant have his way. The man of rank knows that the servant is not merely a servant, that he is acquainted with the news of the city, knows the girls, and has good projects in his head. He asks him about these things, and the servant may say what he knows on the subjects on which the master questions him. With a French master, the servant may not only do this, but may also bring his own matter on the tapis, and have and maintain his own opinion. And if the master wants anything, he is not to command, but he must first reason his own opinion into the servant, and then give him a good word, in order that his own opinion may retain the ascendancy.

In military life, the same distinction is found. In Austria, the soldier can be flogged; conse. quently, he is a vile fellow; for one who has a passive right to be flogged, is a vile fellow. And so the common soldier passes with the officer for this abstraction, a floggable subject, one with whom a gentleman who has a uniform and Port d'épée must have intercourse. And that is to give one's self to the Devil.

ZSCHOKKE has become known to the American Public, within a few years past, by translations of several of his tales. But Zschokke is something more than a mere story-teller. He is known in Germany as an historical writer, and all his works discover the moral philosopher, well versed in human nature and human affairs, and one who has pondered deeply the social and individual destination of man.

He was born, according to Wolff's Encyclopædia of German Literature, at Magdeburg, March 22d, 1771, received a classical education in his native city, and studied at Frankfort on the Oder, where he afterwards took up his residence, and in 1793 was made Professor of Philosophy. He soon resigned this office, and moved to Graubündten, (Grisons,) where he undertook the management of a seminary of education. At the time of the French invasion he acted as mediator, devoting himself exclusively to the good of the country which he had adopted as a second father-land. He was made Government's Commissary for seve

| ral Cantons, and officiated for some time as Lieutenant Governor at Basel. He then retired to Castle Biberstein in Aargau, but was soon summoned anew into public life, and made Superintendent of the Mining and Forest departments. In 1815, he was made member of the general Council of the Cantons. In 1829, he resigned all his public offices, and since that time has devoted himself exclusively to literary pursuits, living and laboring, as author by profession, at Aarau.

Zschokke has tried his hand at almost every species of literary production, and has been successful in all. He excels as narrator, combining artistic judgment with exuberant fancy, great power of characterization, a lively manner, and a style admirably suited to his material; natural, but at the same time dignified and correct. But his influence has been greatest as historian and popular teacher, skilled to comprehend and penetrate the spirit of the time, and indefatigable in developing and diffusing sound views of men and things.

LEAVES FROM THE JOURNAL OF A

POOR VICAR IN WILTSHIRE.*

Dec. 15, 1764.- RECEIVED to-day from Dr. Snarl, £10 sterling, being my half-year's salary. The receipt even of this hardly-earned sum was attended with many uncomfortable cir

cumstances.

Not until I had waited an hour and a half in the cold ante-room was I admitted to the presence of his Reverence. He was seated in an easy-chair at his writing-desk. My money was lying by him, ready counted. My low bow he returned with a lofty side-nod, while he slightly pushed back his beautiful black silk cap, and immediately drew it on again. Really he is a man of much dignity. I can never approach

*From "The Gift," 1844, Philadelphia, Carey & Hart. Translated by Rev. W. H. Furness. The translator ven. tures the conjecture that the original fragment from which Zschokke took the idea of this journal, and which appeared in the British Magazine (1766), was written by Goldsmith. It may be, as the German writer suggests, the germ of the " Vicar of Wakefield," which appeared first in 1772.

him without awe. I do not believe I should enter the king's presence with less composure.

He did not urge me to be seated, although he well knew that I had this very morning walked eleven miles in the bad weather, and that the hour and a half's standing in the ante-room had not much helped to rest my wearied limbs. He pointed me to the money.

My heart beat violently when I attempted to introduce the subject which I had so long thought over, of a little increase of my salary. I shall never be able to conquer my timidity, even in the most righteous cause. Twice, with an agony as if I were about to commit a crime, I endeavored to break ground. Memory, words, and voice failed me. The sweat started in great drops on my forehead.

"What do you wish?" said the Doctor, very politely.

"I am everything is so dear-scarcely able to get along in these hard times, with this small salary."

"Small salary, Mr. Vicar! How can you think so? I can at any time procure another vicar for £15 sterling a year."