OF THE DIVISION OF RANKS, AND OF THE RECIPROCAL RELATIONS OF STATES
ACCORDING TO THE CHRISTIAN IDEA.--OF SCIENCE AS A POWER; OF ITS
CONSTITUTION, AND OF THE RIGHT REGULATION OF IT.
Whenever philosophy, setting up any conceit of its own as a principle,
intrudes either into the domain of religion or of politics, such an
intrusion is, in every case, an aggression. And if the aggressive idea,
once formed and entertained, is, nevertheless, externally and in
appearance held in check and restrained--if, from ulterior
considerations and for the sake of some remote object, science
accommodates itself to the established system of law or religion--then
is the case only so much the worse. The deep and pervading hostility of
sentiment is but concealed beneath the external servility of language,
and the rankling wound has but skinned over the surface. The influence
of evil is far from being checked and destroyed; or, to say the least,
that of good is nipped in the bud, not being allowed fully to expand
itself. And at the same time the dignity of science, which can only be
maintained by its independence, is fatally and irretrievably endangered.
Under this conviction, I strongly protested, at the very opening of
these Lectures, against all such intermeddling of philosophy with
matters foreign to it; and I trust that, for my part, I have hitherto
duly observed the spirit of that protest. But now, the end which
philosophy strives to attain to is a right estimate and full
understanding of its own nature, and that of man, both in the internal
properties of his mind and in his external existence relatively to God
and nature, and also to the world and society. In pursuit of this
object, having once found and acknowledged the center of the inner life,
such as it is given to us, and setting out therefrom, philosophy can and
may, with perfect propriety, submit to investigation the highest ideas
of life, and judge them after its own method, and from its own peculiar
position. But still it will do this in the hope rather of explaining
what actually exists, than of establishing any self-devised ideal of
its own, or of setting up impracticable laws for a merely conceivable
state of things under the most arbitrary assumptions--for a wholly
visionary world.
Consistently, then, with this notion of philosophy, and under this
limitation, I have not, I think, deviated in the latter Lectures from
the law I originally laid down. Inasmuch, however, as the exposition of
a philosophy of life must necessarily be _vivid_, and consequently
requires to be interspersed with historical views and examples, I must
request you, looking principally to the ideas which form the essential
foundation of these discourses, to judge the latter by the pervading
tenor and connection of the thoughts rather than by the several
allusions and instances which I have introduced for the mere purpose of
illustration. All that is merely personal in the interpretation passed
upon those events will, I trust, be looked upon as the private opinions,
indeed, but still the unprejudiced conclusions, of an individual.
In the course of these Lectures I attempted, first of all, to establish
a firm foundation for the human soul, considered both in its own proper
nature and with regard to its most essential relations in life to nature
and to God. In the next place, by investigating the order of the divine
dispensations in nature, and in the realms of truth and history, it was
my endeavor to obtain for it a wider and more solid basis. Lastly, I
occupied myself with tracing the course which the Spirit of Eternal
Truth pursues in science and in life, and the shapes which in its
progress toward perfection it successively assumes. Accordingly, I have
pointed out to you, first of all, how this Spirit of Eternal Truth is
ever one and the same in the highest science and in divine faith; then,
how victoriously it comes forth out of the conflict between faith and
infidelity; and, in conclusion, I showed you that, far from being
confined to the narrow region of science, it may and rightly ought to
enter with an earnest influence into life itself. How the latter duty is
actually fulfilled we endeavored to show, by considering the symbolical
signification of life, and, as derived therefrom, its higher sanction
and divine foundation, especially in public life and the state. And
herein the idea of a universal Christian and truly historical justice
found a closer application and wider development. And this formed the
subject of our last disquisition.
I there sought to elucidate this idea solely and entirely from history.
For this purpose I endeavored, by means of historical instances, to set
in a clear, discriminating light the opposite and divergent notions of
an absolute and of a dynamical or limited monarchy, so far at least as
regards the essential features and characteristic constitution of each.
As instances of the former, I pointed to the old Roman world and the
empire of the caliphs, while the latter was elucidated by the English
constitution, in which, as yet, it has attained to its highest and most
perfect development. This is, no doubt, a master-piece of political
wisdom, wherein an intractable spirit of opposition being adopted, as it
were, into the very constitution, is thereby rendered legitimate and its
evil tendency is held in check. Still the principle of it can not
rightly be viewed in any other light than the wise procedure of the
physician who, in the case of an inevitable epidemic, resolves to
inoculate the disease in order to be able to control it the better, and
by watching more closely its crisis, to regulate its course and issue.
In its true historical place, therefore, this constitution finds its
satisfactory explanation and justification; or, rather, deserves our
highest praise, the fullest acknowledgment of its merits, and even our
admiration. But inasmuch as every feature of it is thoroughly historical
and national, and since the slightest local diversity in the character
of a people or nation might with different relations and circumstances
give rise to wants and difficulties little expected or dreamed of, we
must be cautious how we seek to introduce it elsewhere. In the arts it
is ever a sorry business to imitate great works of original genius. By
such a course little but _manner_ is multiplied. So it is rarely a
felicitous idea to suppose that a constitution, though copied from ever
so lauded a model, must be suited to all nations alike, and must prove a
universal and unfailing source of political felicity--a tree of liberty,
which we may transplant at pleasure, or, as it were, a constitutional
bill of exchange, which, once endorsed we may put in circulation.
But if the true Gordian knot in that master-piece of polity, the English
constitution, remains still an unsolved problem, since that war of
religious opinion, which seems at every moment to be threatening an
outbreak, is as yet, with consummate skill and prudence, kept under and
restrained within its recognized limits, we may see in this fact a
further confirmation and justification of the encomiums we recently
passed upon the religious peace which has become for us in Germany as
it were a second nature, and which, in the place of such a constitution,
is to us the guaranty of mental freedom and the pledge of a higher unity
than one simply political. It is not a mere dead letter, but it is a
living power enshrined in the minds of men. And if occasionally some
rash expression in a great and influential writer, or any grievous act
on the part of a powerful and leading political character, may seem to
menace violence to this religious peace, the general feeling soon
pronounces itself against such indiscretion, and the single note of
discord is quickly brought in unison with the general harmony, or else
dies away without producing any deep or widely-prejudicial consequences.
Not, indeed, that the existing differences in religious opinion are a
thing desirable--we mean any thing but that by our encomiums on the
religious peace. What we really mean is, that in the present state of
things such a peace is of the very highest value, and one whose great
blessing can only be appreciated fully by those who enjoy it. And
nothing but a comparison with other civilized nations in this respect
can enable us to understand and to form a full estimate of its value.
And if every ordinary treaty of peace between states, whenever it is
settled on true and lasting foundations and sincerity of purpose, has an
influence on the inward development of mind or spirit in the course of
history, and affords, as it were, a calm presage of a higher and a more
universal peace of God, how can we look upon this peculiar and internal
peace between men’s minds in any other light than as a token of a richer
and fuller future, and as a symbol of ultimate perfection and unity?
In our notice of the schism in the faith we made allusion to the
possibility of a collision between the two highest and most sacred
powers, the civil and the spiritual, according to the distinction
involved in the very idea of the Christian life. In order, therefore, to
avoid every possible misconception, it seems to be necessary, or, at
least, not a superfluous task, to add one brief remark on the extreme
case when, in such an unfortunate collision, right and justice are
openly violated and set at defiance. If the civil power be the party
attacked and unduly interfered with in its legitimate province, it has a
perfect right to defend itself, as, indeed, in our days, it is quite
able and knows well how to do. The only thing that apparently remains to
be desired is, that in the exercise of this right it should observe, as
indeed becomes the stronger side, the greatest moderation. But if, on
the contrary, the aggression proceeds from this side, and the spiritual
power is attacked, then it ought to bear in mind that its legitimate
opposition to the civil power ought to assume a material character. Its
resistance must never be public and open violence, nor, either directly
or indirectly, by means of what we may call _machinations_, for such a
proceeding would undermine the sacred foundations of public confidence,
and shake the whole edifice of moral order and society. In the case of
such an aggression, religion would deprive herself of her duly-acquired
position in the state. But this, so long as the latter remains
Christian, religion itself never can and never will do, as neither will
those whose duty it is to guide and to minister it in a truly reverent
and pious spirit.
The only opposition, therefore, that the spiritual power can rightly and
justly make to the aggression of the state must be of a passive nature.
It is not necessary to lay down any elaborate and rigorous distinctions
for such an emergency; for such definitions rarely meet the complicated
variety and special character of every possible or even every actual
case. A few historical examples, which readily present themselves, will
serve briefly and perspicuously to illustrate the view of duty which we
wish to enforce. In the unfortunate case of a great and public collision
between the Church and the State, the model of a just and legitimate
resistance on the part of the spiritual power has been furnished by the
conduct of that venerable old man,[60] whom half of Europe regarded as
invested with the highest priestly and apostolical dignity. With calm
fortitude, even in bonds, he refused to yield to the military despot,
and won the personal esteem and admiration likewise of that other half
of Europe which denied his spiritual authority. Or, to take an example
from a more limited sphere, and of a more personal nature, we may appeal
to the history of the patron saint of Bohemia, which, at least, can not
be classed among the legends, and which, in any case, will afford a
beautiful and simple example of a noble, perfectly-allowable resistance
of a spiritual party against the injustice of the political head of the
nation. By such passive resistance, and by such alone, did Christianity,
in the earliest centuries, though so unattractive and so lowly at its
first commencement, gradually attain a secure external foundation, and
become the religion of the whole civilized world. A public outbreak, and
even a secret feeling of discontent between the spiritual and the
temporal power, between Church and State, is, at all times, and in every
case, a great evil, threatening and bringing danger and ruin on both.
For the state, as being ultimately founded on a religious basis,
undermines its own foundation by assuming a hostile attitude toward
religion. No financial difficulties, or any such partial calamities,
will ever ruin a people so long as any moral energy still exists in the
whole body, and it is consequently sound at the core. Political
skepticism, which is the immediate and necessary consequence of
infidelity in religion, is the true cause and origin of the decay of
nations. These two vital principles of human society, therefore--these
two powers, however essentially and necessarily distinct--must work
together in perfect peace and unity. For the one can only flourish where
the soil has been rendered morally fertile by the other, while the
latter can not exercise its full influence except under the sanction of
the political power. If religion were at unity in itself, and totally
free from party and controversy, and the state, as the public life, were
in perfect harmony with it, and thoroughly pervaded by its life-giving
spirit, humanity would, by such a consummation, have made a great step
in advance toward that divine peace for which every human pacification,
however imperfect, is the expression of a profound and imperishable
longing--of a pursuit which, though ever attaining, is still never
wholly abandoned.
However, the alienation and separation of the civil and spiritual powers
seems to belong peculiarly and essentially to, or, rather, to be a
necessary law of, the present condition of humanity, still involved in
struggle with evil, and not yet having attained to the end of its
endeavors. It is much older than men think. It must have existed in the
first ages of the world, and in the earliest stage of the Gentile
religion. For among the Hindoos, who, as they are the most ancient
people that we are acquainted with, are also the most authentic monument
that remains of the primeval condition of the human race, we find this
separation formally and definitely established. It there forms an
insurmountable barrier between the regal and the sacerdotal dignity. On
this point it would not be advisable to direct our attention exclusively
or even principally to the condition of the priestly class among the
Greeks and Romans, since, in the later epochs of these nations,
Gentilism had greatly degenerated, and in the more civilized days of
these people had lost all its essential forms, and its true spirit had
disappeared. But, with that still more ancient people of the Hindoos,
the same unchanged law still exists in these days as in the very
earliest times. A Brahmin who should attempt to ascend the throne or
usurp its powers, or a rajah who should wish to be as a Brahmin, or to
suppress and annihilate the Brahminical caste, would be universally
regarded as an abomination. The attempt, on either side, would appear an
offense against human nature and divine laws. For a mixture or confusion
of castes signifies to the Hindoos the very abomination of anarchy; and
by this term, in one characteristic word of their language, they
designate all revolutionary times, even though, we must observe, such
periods among the Hindoos were never more than brief and transitory, the
waves of anarchy breaking harmlessly against the everlasting rocks of
this ancient and solidly-compact system.
Besides the many other traces of family affinity between the Indian and
Teutonic races, another is furnished by the Germanic constitution, which
forms the political basis of most European kingdoms. In India the noble
class who most especially are bound to military service forms also the
caste of the lords of the soil; and from their latter character they
also derive their name as a class.[61] Some of the most general and most
ancient features of the feudal system have likewise been discovered
among them, though not, indeed, its more artificial and complicated
system, to which feudalism was in later times developed among European
nations. To this landed nobility belong the nabobs and even the rajahs.
For it was left open to the fluctuating fortunes of different families
to rise or to fall from the summit of political dignity. Between the
several grades of honor accessible to a particular caste no
insurmountable barrier was raised; all were open to all the members of
the same rank or caste.
The democratical writers of a recent era, in obedience to a sentiment
natural enough to their false system, have expressed a deep horror and
strong aversion to this institution of castes among the Hindoos,
stamping it on every occasion with the strongest marks of reprobation.
Viewing it, however, in an historical light, I for my part am disposed
to think that it is to this ancient and hereditary institution, however
much of imperfection it undoubtedly involves, that this great and
populous country owes that firm stability of its laws and customs, and
that indestructible prosperity which the various conquests it has
undergone both in ancient and modern times have been unable to shake or
to undermine. No doubt the Indian gradation of ranks wants the stamp of
perfection and mildness which belongs to Christian politics. And in this
respect the comparison is especially instructive. It serves to draw
attention to, and strongly illustrates the fact, that a Christian
division of ranks is, in some points, different in its principle, and
the very opposite to the correspondent state of things in the old world,
as yet unrefined and purified by this divine element. For, first of all,
according to the Christian idea, the spiritual class can not depend upon
birth; it must possess a higher and peculiar vocation. This order,
consequently, can not recruit itself merely by birth, but must derive
its members from the other classes which are hereditary. But in
consequence of this principle, the partition-wall, otherwise impassable
and absolute, between the other ranks, which, taken on the whole, are
hereditary, is so far removed, that exceptional cases occur when these
barriers are opened to merit or other important considerations. It is a
self-evident fact, requiring no elaborate argument for its proof, that
the Christian sentiment, or, as we have here expressed it, that
principle of equity so universally and essentially interwoven with the
Christian idea of justice, demands that every alleviation of their
toilsome and oppressive lot should be afforded to the industrious
classes. To those on whom the accident of birth, as the world speaks,
or, as we should prefer to say, a higher and a divine Providence, has
laid all the hardships of life, it is but just that every privilege
should be conceded that does not militate against the general welfare,
or the private rights of individuals. And in the same spirit, every
political constitution that is organically arranged and founded on a
Christian, and, consequently, modified separation of ranks, will
attentively observe and engraft into its old constitutional stock every
new historical shoot. A great and instructive example of the kind is at
hand. In the Teutonic constitutions of the middle ages, and especially
in the Germanic Empire, cities and trades, which at an earlier period
had formed a very immaterial and comparatively insignificant element in
the whole--in short, the growing burgher classes were, at their very
first appearance, understood humanly and politically--received a great
organic development, and taken into a living combination with the old.
In all probability our own deeply-agitated times, which assuredly
deserve not to be called unfruitful, even though, together with the good
fruit, they may also produce many a false blossom, give birth to much
that is new indeed, but which is, nevertheless, or at least may
eventually become, historical. The phenomena of the present, therefore,
demand our most careful consideration, lest any negligence in this case
should inevitably involve us in disaster, and bring on us a natural
historical retribution. An exclusive and narrow aristocracy, or, if we
must say so, one senselessly insisting on its privileges, such as in the
earlier part of the last century was probably to be met with in a few
countries, is, to the true friend of the ancient order of things, the
most painful phenomenon. It is its own greatest enemy--since, by an
historical law of antagonism and reaction, one extreme inevitably calls
forth the other sooner or later. Hereditary monarchy, as it is the
oldest form of polity in history, so, if it is maintained in the mild
and moderate spirit of the Christian state, is likely to survive all
others, and to be the last in force among the human race; for a state
which is founded and established on the Christian principle of an
equitable distinction and division of ranks, must, in every calm and
unprejudiced judgment, deserve the preference over the artificial
constitution of a dynamical balance of powers; for the necessary
equipoise is liable to be disturbed by the restless agitation to which
the latter form of polity is exposed. And it is only, therefore, in
comparison with an absolute despotism that the dynamical theory can
appear desirable and win so many adherents, while the former, on the
other hand, as the only remedy for popular anarchy, if administered with
talent and energy, becomes not only tolerable, but acquires even an
historical justification.
Each of these two extremes, the absolute and the dynamical, admit,
however, of a wider application than merely to single states and their
different forms, according to the fluctuation of the times between
prosperity and adversity. For the entire system of Christian states
throughout the civilized world may in their mutual relations and
confederations depend principally on the absolute preponderance of some
leading power which holds the others in subjection or rules them. But
this is an authority which all are ready to throw off, and is never
willingly acknowledged or submitted to. Or, perhaps, the whole political
world may, on the dynamical theory, be based on the balance of power,
each state being held in check by the rest. This was the reigning system
of the eighteenth century, and at its first foundation was admired as
the perfection of a wise policy. In experience, however, it has proved
inadequate and practically untenable. The only case where it seems to
admit of application is that of a division embracing the whole globe,
but based on geographical relations; but even in such a case it could
only serve to check mutual injury, and not to promote any salutary end.
In the middle ages, as soon as the German Empire, having fallen from its
original purity, had become totally false to its Christian principle, it
found, according to the spirit of the times, a salutary check and
counterpoise in the Church. And that iron character of the Ghibellines,
which was exhibited no less strikingly in individuals and morals than in
politics and counsels of state, affords the best justification for this
antagonism, as well as for the opposite great party of the Guelphs, with
their milder bearing and sentiments.
But now that this ancient division and conflict of the spiritual and the
temporal powers is in these enlightened times a bygone thing, and in the
older sense is extinct forever--since it seems mankind can not do
without antagonism of some kind, we have, instead of it, an elementary
one between land and water. A political schism variously manifests
itself between the ocean and the continent. In fact, that great Island
Kingdom which traverses and rules the ocean, and by founding colonies
and settlements wherever it listeth or thinketh profitable, puts forth,
as it were, the feelers of universal dominion, is properly an empire of
the sea. For in contradistinction from a kingdom we may call every
monarchy an empire which comprises in itself several other peoples and
nations of divers races and political constitutions. In such a sense we
have contrasted this maritime empire with the Continent. But although
experience has shown the possibility of such a division of the whole
world and political alienation of the two elements of land and water
throughout the globe, it has also established a conviction that though
these two divisions might do incalculable injury and mischief to each
other, no permanent or decided supremacy of either would follow,
inasmuch as a medium for maintaining the dependence of either is
wanting. And as it is only in some urgent need of the times to find some
counterpoise to absolute power, or an apprehension of it, that a
dynamical state or the tendency to it finds its justification, so it was
only during the transient reign of a despotic lust of conquest, and as a
check to it, that this maritime power could have risen so high as it has
in the opinion of the Continental states.
Since then, however, the great powers of Europe have had a different
interest to pursue, and their political counsels have been directed to
the preservation of peace rather than to selfish aggrandizement. For
they have all had to contend with a common enemy in the restless spirit
of the age, which is yet very far from being conquered and subdued. If,
then, an absolute preponderance of a single state is hateful to all, and
a dynamical balance of power in the general state-system is either
inadequate for such an end, or else does not admit of application, is it
not at least conceivable that a higher principle of Christian justice
might be substituted for these which are equally defective? Might not a
common point of moral unity be found and established for the European
states? Must this sublime idea ever be nothing more than the noble
enthusiasm of a magnanimous character? And is it to be regarded as
impossible merely because it is imbedded in difficulties? But is not all
that is great also difficult? Still, inasmuch as this exalted political
unity must have a purely spiritual basis in the sentiments of men, a
precipitate or violent attempt to bring it about must inevitably
miscarry. It would not only militate against, but also corrupt the
original purity of the very idea. It must be universally recognized
before it can, in the contest with the evil principle of the day, become
a salutary power of good, or furnish for the political relations a
general basis of Christian justice. The one extreme of political Europe,
with its absolute polity, which moreover has fallen very low from its
former preponderance, seems excluded by the very nature of things from
the idea of such a unity. But if it be true that it is gradually
becoming more and more European, a character in which, until very
lately, it has rarely been regarded, then a modified kind of subordinate
connection with such a general principle of association among European
states, does not seem necessarily inadmissible or inconsistent. The
other extreme of Europe, with its dynamical constitution, had, in an
opposition, moderate indeed in form and conditionally, more than half
renounced this idea. In the opinion, however, of many competent judges,
this renunciation is much more decided, and must exercise a great and
unfavorable effect on the harmony of the whole. The moral want of our
age, judged by this or some similar idea, is the necessity which was so
keenly felt upon its deliverance from the general yoke of a military
aggression, of a moral and intrinsic regeneration of Europe. And this
unity is not to be derived from and set up merely in science, but must
be felt as a living energy in life itself. But how is such an inner
restoration to be brought about and effected in Christian states, but by
a complete renewal and invigoration of their religious foundation? And
inasmuch as this want actually exists and is felt, the problem which is
to supply it must be regarded as an historical one; and consequently the
historical development of the times--abstracted from the accidental form
of the first essays at its solution--will sooner or later carry us to
all that is most essential in the idea.
Formerly, in the medieval times, the German Empire claimed to be this
Christian center of unity for the states of Europe--although, in truth,
it was far from embracing the whole system of European states. Latterly,
in the new political theory, the mutual relation of nations has become
gradually republican. And this new form has consequently been
accompanied with imperfections and difficulties and almost inextricable
perplexities. Is it, then, probable that in the commencing or
recently-commenced era of history, a firm, compact, but vast corporation
of states, founded on a principle of Christian justice, can be
substituted for and gradually evolved out of the two previous ones,
which are now found wholly inadequate for the ends they were designed to
meet? As a mere historical probability we may well allow this idea to
stand.
Totally different from those idle speculations of an endless peace,
which, for the sake of mere intellectual amusement and discussion,
philosophy was used to advance in the schools, is this thoroughly-practical
thought of a confederation of states based on the principle of
Christian justice and vitally connected with religion as the most
general center of humanity. And the latter must be regarded as the
essential condition of its internal consistency and permanence.
At least we may safely advance the following as the result of a
philosophical consideration of history. An exalted and universal
religious peace of this kind, and proceeding from such a principle, in
which, by a peaceful approximation, not only the two parties in the
faith should be reconciled and finally united, but also the spiritual
and the secular powers, the Church and the State, should be allied
together in the profoundest harmony, is, properly speaking, the very
thing which mankind most stands in need of. But this desirable result
never can and never will be attained until all shall be united in
pervading harmony with religion and with life, especially with public
life or the state, so that all these three principles or fundamental
elements of human existence may work together with one aim and purpose.
Such a state of profound internal peace would be something more than
a simple political peace, with its transient blessings. It would be a
sacred peace of God and the higher spirits, or at least the precursor
and the best initiation thereto. This, however, is not to be effected
by diplomatic skill no more than by scientific hypotheses. It can only
be brought about by the immediate operation of God, and by that divine
energy which from the beginning has sustained and still sustains the
system of the universe. Philosophy, accordingly, must content itself
with pointing to this end and this sustaining power, and also with
calling attention to all the traces historically furnished which tend
in the same direction. And since the great conflict of the age draws
all powers into its vortex more violently than ever, it may be allowed
to be sufficient for us to have hazarded a glance toward this glorious
consummation; and we now will turn our attention to the development
of intellect and intellectual powers as at present involved in the
as yet undecided conflict. Thus much at least must be clear, that if
science, religion, and the state, and the several powers, parties, and
influences belonging to each of these domains, is, as hitherto, to
pursue each its own way in opposition to the rest, then will all hasten
again with rapid strides into a state of chaotic confusion. It may,
therefore, well be permitted us to endeavor to hold up before men, in
as strong a light as possible, this better hope, and to furnish them
with every possible confirmation of it both from science and history.
If our age be as yet far from healthy--if it be still in a sickly state,
if the first fearful crisis has not totally expelled the diseased
matter--if, on the contrary, the general European body in many of its
members is still infected with the virus which has penetrated into the
inmost and secret marrow of life--if the source of the malady lie in
false ideas, or the total absence of right ones, or, in other words, in
philosophical error, which has spread in indefinite vagueness and
endless hair-splitting over the whole of public and private life, and in
a skepticism no less political than religious--then, since the external
refutation rarely avails any thing, our first object must be
intrinsically to conquer and to banish this error by truth, and the
spirit of truth in that higher science which is genuine and lawful and
directs itself to divine things.
The restless anarchical spirit of the times, or the perverted absolute
spirit--for they are essentially one and the same, is yet a spirit--it
may be a superficial, shallow, sensual, and negative one, but still a
spirit, and therefore can not be overcome by any mere negation, but on
the contrary only struggles against it with renewed bitterness and
consequently more vigorous resistance. As opposed to the divine spirit
of truth, however, it appears an unsubstantial nullity, and soon
vanishes into its own vanity.
A direct controversy with error entails one disadvantage. By such a
course the latter is unduly acknowledged for a positive power of evil.
But in reality it only becomes so conditionally, through the atomistic
splitting and diffusion of false ideas, and by the mass of its
followers, when once every thing is resolved into elementary
decomposition. Moreover, one extreme of exaggeration, whenever in
controversy we enter into it and get involved in it, easily introduces
its opposite, which then again is on its side carried too far--or which
even, though strictly and literally it be right enough, is yet asserted
with too little of limitation, and applied with unsalutary rigor. It is,
therefore, a lamentable mistake if men of great and deserving talents,
who from a scientific point of view have devoted themselves to the great
task of morally regenerating the age, have adopted a too decidedly
polemical tendency. For it is partly through exclusively following such
a course that their influence for good has been so narrow and limited,
and has not met with a more general and more unqualified success.
If men would only, first and before all things, endeavor to set forth
with all possible vividness the intrinsic unity which subsists between
higher science with a divine faith, and develop it for its own sake,
without passion or interest, the further results on life of applied
truth would follow spontaneously. From this simple and pure source they
would continue to flow in ample and widening streams over the whole
domain and all its relations. God is truth, and simply on this account
the spirit of truth in a good and true science must even be divine. Its
proper aim is, accordingly, directed to the divine; and on this account
there can not be such a thing as an indifferent science. For every
science which is not directed to the divine is shallow, superficial,
sensuously negative, and idly rationalizing. On this account it is
false, and must consequently prove, in its external effects, nothing
less than evil, injurious, and destructive.
It is in regard to all this that I have classed science, together with
religion and a Christianly-regulated state, as the third power of good.
Although merely intellectual [_geistige_,] it is of great moment in the
conflict which all have to wage against the destructive principles which
so fearfully menace our age. The power of science, it is true, can only
produce an effect in an intellectual sphere, but this intellectual
sphere is of itself of great influence on every other circle of human
operation. Religion has for its immediate object the soul and its
salvation, or its union with God; and this is its peculiar region; but
still it comes in various ways in contact with the higher science, and
penetrates deeply into actual and also into public life. But it is the
state, as the organic form of the latter, by which the divine as law,
and as a higher idea of justice, modified and completed with that of
clemency and equity, is first introduced into reality of actual and
corporeal existence, and this historical and sensible world. But the
state itself has no other than a religious foundation. It is built upon
religion, but also requires the support of science.
By the visible relation, and that parallel similitude which
spontaneously suggests itself between these three great moral powers in
public life--philosophy, religion, and government--and that original
triple principle of the human consciousness, as consisting of body,
soul, and spirit, as the simple but fundamental idea of Christian
philosophy (however the latter may insist on this basis in confirmation
of its utility in living application), we do not for one moment mean to
maintain, or propose, a total separation or estrangement of these three
spheres. This would be quite unnatural. For in a political, as well as
in a psychological sense, these three primary principles must co-operate
and be intimately blended together to produce a complete and perfect
result in the sphere of any one individually.
If, as we are perfectly justified, we have been considering science, at
least that which is true and divine, as a power of a higher kind, we
must still remember that it is not so in the same way as religion or
government. The latter rests on a divine foundation of eternal justice;
and therein lies the source of its vital efficacy. Religion is the
legitimate form of a living dispensation of the divine strength and
grace. True science is the mind’s lofty pursuit, in a Godward direction,
of perfect knowledge; and this direction forms the characteristic
distinction between it and false science. In the state, in like manner,
its loftiest character lies in the sacred foundation of justice. It is,
therefore, a very wrongful and a most pernicious error to look for the
inmost essence of the state, or the true source of political prosperity,
in any external form or formula. For this external form is in many cases
nothing but the shape in which the national mind displays itself--the
theater which it erects for its political manifestations. But, in
another point of view, also, the form of the state is subordinate to the
essence and its foundation of right. In the legitimate state, an
hereditary monarchy, _i.e._, the act of crowning, is, no doubt, a very
beautiful, highly significant, and, indeed, an essential sacred right.
But, with the exception of certain special cases and positive
institutions in some existing constitutions, the monarch’s right is not
dependent thereon, but even before the anointing he is truly and fully a
sovereign. Far different is the case, however, where the political
authority is only delegated and vicarious, as with an ambassador or a
plenipotentiary deputed to negotiate a peace, or other treaty. For in
such cases there is no authority but what is derived solely and entirely
from the delegating source, and on the legal act by which the right or
power was delegated. Without this, it is absolutely null and void. This
remark extends to every case and every sphere of legitimate transference
of a higher authority, even though the latter be of a divine origin. And
it is simply on this account that in religion, as the proper sphere for
the dispensing of divine strength and grace, the form is so highly
important and so thoroughly essential--even as much so as the matter
itself--or the imparted light of the spirit, and properly is inseparable
from it.
The position of science is quite different. For this rests on what is
thoroughly human and inborn in man--the passion of longing; which,
however, if it be maintained in its purity and perseveringly carried
out, may, without doubt, pass over into a divine pursuit. Even the form
of communication in science is human throughout, since it employs
language as the intellectual medium for setting forth the truth. If,
then, in this higher tendency, the full center of living and divine
truth be attained, according to man’s utmost powers and ability, then,
even here, a higher and divine power may, undoubtedly, intervene and
co-operate therewith. But still, for such a case, no strictly-defined
form, or external sanction and consecration, exists, and from the very
essence of the thing, it is not to be looked for. That which is divine
in science must, from its nature, move freely, and be devoid of all such
forms. As a higher power, it must operate immediately, and must seek to
establish its own law for itself, intermediate between religion and the
state, or even in each of them alike, though still in a peculiar way of
its own. Wherever it is genuine and unadulterated, then it will in no
case come into collision with the actual laws either of one or of the
other, even because truth is one and every where the same. But if
science, in its external form, and in its social and political
existence, should become entirely blended with religion and the
spiritual class, being confined and restricted thereto, as was the case
with the institution of castes among the Hindoos, which we have already
noticed, and with the Egyptian priesthood, then we must fain admit that
freedom, which the scientific spirit requires for its growth and
development in the sphere assigned to it, would be too closely limited
and checked by narrow and partial considerations. But if, on the other
hand, it be possible for a false science to arrogate that spiritual and
divine right of free action, which, unquestionably, is in a certain
sense the prerogative of heavenly truth in its invisible kingdom, which
the latter can neither misemploy, nor ever impede in its course, then
such a supposition would account for the prevalence of error. It would
also, at the same time, serve to illustrate the mode by which such a
prejudice as the arrogated right of an unrestricted freedom of thought,
or, rather, of the free and unchecked communication thereof, could ever
have struck so deep a root in the human mind. But this is a claim which
we can in no way recognize, or allow, as really founded in right and
justice. Since, wherever, as is the case in this sphere of purely
intellectual operation, all is immediate and without a definite form of
external sanction, there any thing like right must at most be indefinite
and individual.
It forms, perhaps, one of the most important problems or questions of
our day, whether the entire sphere of science, the whole republic of
letters--not only the mere elementary instruction of the schools, but
the whole domain of education in general, embracing under the latter
description literature and the fine arts--might not, in obedience to the
requisitions of the age, be brought into a more organized and
well-regulated form. For if this were possible, it might be made to
approximate more closely to the other great spheres of public life in
religion and the state, and confined within its proper limits, according
to some greater and more comprehensive ideas than those current among
us, or than those which have come down to us from antiquity, which are
either defective in themselves, or else are no longer adapted to
existing circumstances. Those which the present age has advanced, are,
for the most part, crude and ill-digested, and scarcely ever
consistently carried out. But, after having reflected for many a long
year on this question, so deeply interesting to myself, I have arrived
at the conviction that, for the present at least, a radical change in
this department would be premature and scarcely desirable, as promising
to afford no very advantageous results. Every thing in this sphere is
too isolated; whatever is good, and especially what is best, is too
individual and too formless to allow of its being as yet, without great
difficulty, reduced in all parts and in every point to a firm rule and
definite shape. In all probability, by attempting unseasonably to
introduce organic order and law, we should cramp rather than assist and
develop the good. In the present chaotic state of science, it is only
the vicious and profane that possesses a systematic coherence. All
detrimental and dangerous, as well as futile and indifferent ideas,
mixed with a few good and useful ones, are atomistically diffused and
spread in every possible shape and quarter. And if against this
boundless dissemination of evil thoughts--this elementary decomposition
and chemical analysis of the human mind, and the whole body of human
thoughts, a negative barrier be set up as a preventive measure of
defense, and as a temporary substitute for a better and higher state of
things, murmurs and reproaches immediately rise from all sides. But,
taken on the whole, and in so far as principle is involved, these
remonstrances are neither just nor well founded. For in almost every
state where, owing to peculiar circumstances, such precautionary
measures have not been taken, the most dangerous disorders and jarring
discords have affected the whole of public life, as the inevitable
consequences of its absence.
But let us turn our eyes from the insignificant controversies, with its
host of ephemeral publications, the interest of which seems little
likely to outlive even that of a daily journal, and let us look to the
greater and more historical phenomena amid them, which, in all
probability, will mark an epoch in the development of mind. From these
it is distinctly apparent that science is a real and actual power. In
proof of this fact, we need only appeal to the great talents and
abilities which, not only in recent years, but also throughout the last
century, have exercised in the domain of science what, without
exaggeration, we may well term a world-embracing influence. Only we must
admit that in this period they have taken more or less a destructive
tendency, and one that threatened in this scientific burrowing to
undermine the foundations of everlasting truth. But if we will take a
still wider survey, so as to embrace all the several periods of the
world’s history, and the course of the human mind therein, then,
undoubtedly, we may discern the higher might of divine truth,
manifesting itself as an influence for good, as a pure and genuine
spiritual theocracy of science, to whose domain above all others the
idea of an immediate and higher supremacy of mind and divine power is
peculiarly applicable.