'FIERCE WARRES AND FAITHFUL LOVES'
'If Ferrier's life should be written hereafter,' said one, who knew and
valued him, just after his death,[7] 'let his biographer take for its
motto these five words from the _Faery Queen_ which the biographer of
the Napiers has so happily chosen.' Ferrier's life was not, what it
perhaps seems, looking back on its comparatively uneventful course,
consistently calm and placid,--a life such as is commonly supposed to
befit those who soar into lofty speculative heights, and find the
'difficult air' in which they dwell suited to their contemplative
temperaments. Ferrier was intrepid and daring in his reasoning; a sort
of free lance, Dr. Skelton says he was considered in orthodox
philosophical circles; a High Tory in politics, yet one who did not
hesitate to probe to the bottom the questions which came before him,
even though the task meant changing the whole attitude of mind from
which he started. And once sure of his point, Ferrier never hesitated
openly to declare it. What he hated most of all was 'laborious dulness
and consecrated feebleness'; commonplace orthodoxy was repugnant to him
in the extreme, and possibly few things gave him more sincere pleasure
than violently to combat it. The fighting instinct is proper to most
men who have 'stuff' in them, and Ferrier in spite of his slight and
delicately made frame was manly to the core. But, as the same writer
says, 'though combative over his books and theories, his nature was
singularly pure, affectionate, and tolerant. He loved his friends even
better than he hated his foes. His prejudices were invincible; but,
apart from his prejudices, his mind was open and receptive--prepared to
welcome truth from whatever quarter it came.' Such a keen, eager nature
was sure to be in the fray if battle had to be fought, and we think
none the worse of him for that. Battles of intellect are not less keen
than battles of physical strength, and much more daring and subtlety
may be called into play in the fighting of them; and Ferrier, refined,
sensitive, fastidious, as he was, had his battles to fight, and fought
them with an eagerness and zeal almost too great for the object he had
in view.
[7] The late Sir John Skelton, K.C.B.
After his marriage in 1837, Ferrier devoted his attention almost
entirely to the philosophy he loved so well. He did not succeed--did
not perhaps try to succeed--at the Bar, to which he had been called.
Many qualities are required by a successful advocate besides the subtle
mind and acute reasoning powers which Ferrier undoubtedly possessed:
possibly--we might almost say probably--these could have been
cultivated had he made the effort. He had, to begin with, a fair junior
counsel's practice, owing to his family connections, and this might
have been easily developed; his ambition, however, did not soar in the
direction of the law courts, and he did not give that whole-hearted
devotion to the subject which is requisite if success is to follow the
efforts of the novice. But if he was not attracted by the work at the
Parliament House, he was attracted elsewhere; and to his first
mistress, Philosophy, none could be more faithful. In other lines, it
is true, he read much and deeply: literature in its widest sense
attracted him as it would attract any educated man. Poetry, above all,
he loved, in spite of the tale sometimes told against him, that he
gravely proposed turning _In Memoriam_ into prose in order to ascertain
logically 'whether its merits were sustained by reason as well as by
rhyme'--a proposition which is said greatly to have entertained its
author, when related to him by a mutual friend. Works of imagination he
delighted in--all spheres of literature appealed to him; he had the
sense of form which is denied to many of his craft; he wrote in a style
at once brilliant and clear, and carelessness on this score in some of
the writings of his countrymen irritated him, as those sensitive to
such things are irritated. He has often been spoken of as a living
protest against the materialism of the age, working away in the quiet,
regardless of the busy throng, without its ambitions and its cares.
Sometimes, of course, he temporarily deserted the work he loved the
best for regions less remote; sometimes he consented to lecture on
purely literary topics, and often he wrote biographies for a
dictionary, or articles or reviews for _Blackwood's Edinburgh
Magazine_. As it was to this serial that Ferrier made his most
important contributions, both philosophic and literary, for the next
fifteen years, and as it was in its pages that the development of his
system may be traced, a few words about its history may not be out of
place, although it is a history with which we have every reason to be
familiar now.
About 1816 the _Edinburgh Review_ reigned supreme in literature. What
was most strange, however, was that the Conservative party, so strong
in politics, had no literary organ of their own--and this at a time
when the line of demarcation between the rival sides in politics was so
fixed that no virtue could be recognised in an opponent or in an
opponent's views, even though they were held regarding matters quite
remote from politics. The Whig party, though in a minority politically
and socially, represented a minority of tremendous power, and possessed
latent capabilities which soon broke forth into action. At this time,
for instance, they had literary ability of a singularly marked
description; they were not bound down by traditions as were their
opponents, and were consequently much more free to strike out lines of
their own, always of course under the guidance of that past-master in
criticism, Francis Jeffrey. Although his words were received as
oracular by his friends, this dictatorship in matters of literary taste
was naturally extremely distasteful to those who differed from him,
especially as the influence it exerted was not a local or national
influence alone, but one which affected the opinion of the whole United
Kingdom. For a time, no doubt, the party was so strong that the matter
was not taken as serious, but it soon became evident that a strenuous
effort must be made if affairs were to be placed on a better footing,
and if a protest were to be raised against the cynical criticism in
which the Reviewers indulged. Consequently, in April 1817, a literary
periodical called the _Edinburgh Monthly Magazine_ was started by two
gentlemen of some experience in literary matters, with the assistance
of Mr. William Blackwood, an enterprising Edinburgh publisher, whose
reputation had grown of recent years to considerable dimensions. This
magazine was not a great success: the editors and publisher did not
agree, and finally Mr. Blackwood purchased the formers' share in it,
took over the magazine himself, and, to make matters clear, gave it his
name; thus in October of the same year the first number of _Blackwood's
Edinburgh Magazine_ appeared. From a quiet and unobtrusive 'Miscellany'
the magazine developed into a strongly partisan periodical, with a
brilliant array of young contributors, determined to oppose the
_Edinburgh Review_ régime with all its might, and not afraid to speak
its mind respecting the literary gods of the day. Every month some one
came under the lash; Coleridge, Leigh Hunt, and many others were dealt
with in terms unmeasured in their severity, and in the very first
number appeared the famous 'Chaldee Manuscript' which made the hair of
Edinburgh society stand on end with horror. In spite of the immoderate
expression of its opinions, the magazine flourished--it was fresh and
novel, and much genius was enlisted in writing for its pages. The
editor's identity was always matter for conjecture; but though the
contributors included a number of distinguished men, such as Mackenzie,
De Quincey, Hogg, Fraser Tytler, and Jameson, there were two names
which were always associated with the periodical--those of John Gibson
Lockhart and Ferrier's uncle and father-in-law, John Wilson. The latter
in particular was often held to be the real editor whom everyone was so
anxious to discover, but this belief has been emphatically denied.
Although the management might appear to be in the control of a
triumvirate, Blackwood himself kept the supreme power in his hands,
whatever he might at times find it politic to lead outsiders to infer.
When Ferrier began to write for it in 1838, _Blackwood's Magazine_ was
not of course the same fiery publication of twenty years before; nor
were Ferrier's articles for the most part of a nature such as to appeal
strongly to an excitable and partisan public. Things had changed much
since 1817: the Reform Bill had passed; the politics of the country
were very different; the Toryism of Ferrier and his friends was quite
unlike the Toryism of the early part of the century: it more resembled
the Conservatism or Traditionalism of a yet later date, which objected
to violent changes only owing to their violence, and by no means to
reform, if gradually carried out. This policy was reflected in _Maga's_
pages, to which Ferrier would naturally turn when he wished to reach
the public ear, both from family association and hereditary politics.
His first contribution was certainly not light in character; nor did it
resemble the 'bright, racy' articles which are supposed to be the
requisite for modern serial publications. The subject was 'An
Introduction to the Philosophy of Consciousness,' and it consisted of a
series of papers contributed during two successive years (1838 and
1839), which really embodied the result of the work in which Ferrier
had during the past few years been engaged, and signified a complete
divergence from the accepted manner of regarding consciousness, and a
protest against the 'faith-philosophy' which it became Ferrier's
special mission to combat. Perhaps it is only in Scotland that a public
could be found sufficiently interested in speculative questions to make
them the subject of interest to a fairly wide and general circle, such
as would be likely to peruse the pages of a monthly magazine like
Blackwood's. But of this interesting contribution to metaphysical
speculation, in which Ferrier commenced his philosophical career by
grappling with the deepest and most fundamental questions in a manner,
as Hamilton acknowledges, hitherto unattempted in the humbler
speculations of this country, we shall speak later on, as also of his
further contributions to the magazine.
In the year 1821, Sir William Hamilton had been a candidate for the
Chair of Moral Philosophy along with John Wilson, Ferrier's future
father-in-law. In spite of Wilson's literary gifts, there is probably
no question that of the two his opponent was best qualified to teach
the subject, owing to the greatness of his philosophical attainments
and the profundity of his learning. But in the temper of the time the
merits of the candidates could not be calmly weighed by the Town
Council, the electing body; and Hamilton was a Whig, and a Whig
contributor to that atheistical and Jacobin _Edinburgh Review_, and was
therefore on no account to be elected. The disappointment to Hamilton
was great; but it was slightly salved by his subsequent election--to
their credit be it said, for Whig principles were far from popular
among them--by the Faculty of Advocates to a chair rendered vacant in
1821 by the resignation of Professor Fraser Tytler--the Chair of Civil
History. In 1836, however, Sir William's merits at length received
their reward, and he became the Professor of Logic and Metaphysics.
When Ferrier probably felt the need of some more lucrative form of
employment, he applied for the Chair of History once occupied by
Hamilton, and rendered vacant by the resignation of Professor Skene; he
obtained the appointment in 1842, and held it for four years
subsequently. Large remuneration it certainly did not bring with it,
but the duties were comparatively and correspondingly light.[8] Indeed,
as attendance was not required of students studying for the degrees in
Arts, or for any of the professions, the difficulty was to form a
regular class at all. The salary paid to Sir William was £100 a year,
and even this small sum was apparently only to be obtained with
difficulty. The main advantage of holding the chair at all was the
prospect it held out of succeeding later on to some more important
office. Of Ferrier's class-work at this time we know but little. The
reading requisite for the post was likely to prove useful in later
days, and could not have been uncongenial; but probably in a class
sometimes formed--if tradition speak aright--of one solitary student,
the work of preparation would not be taken very seriously. Anyhow,
there was plenty of time left to pursue his philosophic studies; and in
1844-45, when Sir William Hamilton came so near to death, Ferrier acted
as his substitute, and carried on his classes with zeal and with
success--a success which was warmly acknowledged by the Professor. Of
course, though he conducted the examinations and other class-work,
Ferrier merely read the lectures written by Hamilton; else there might,
one would fancy, be found to be a lack of continuity between the
deliverances of the two staunch friends but uncompromising opponents.
Any differences of opinion made, however, no difference in their
friendship. The distress of Ferrier on his friend's sudden paralytic
seizure has already been described; to his affectionate nature it was
no small thing that one for whom he had so deep a regard came so very
near death's door. Every Sunday while in Edinburgh, he spent the
afternoon in walking with his friend and in talking of the subjects
which most interested both.
[8] There was a movement amongst the students to secure the
chair for Thomas Carlyle, then coming into fame amongst
them; but Ferrier was chosen by the patrons, the Faculty of
Advocates.
Of these early days Professor Fraser writes:--'My personal intercourse
with Ferrier was very infrequent, but very delightful when it did
occur. He was surely the most picturesque figure among the Scottish
philosophers--easy, graceful, humorous, eminently subtle, and with a
fine literary faculty--qualities not conspicuous in most of them. When
I was a private member of Sir W. Hamilton's advanced class in
metaphysics in 1838-39, and for some years after, I was often at Sir
William's house, and Ferrier was sometimes of the party on these
occasions. I remember his kindly familiarity with us students, the
interest and sympathy with which he entered into metaphysical
discussion, his help and co-operation in a metaphysical society which
we were endeavouring to organise. His essays on the Philosophy of
Consciousness were then being issued in _Blackwood_, and were felt to
open questions strange at a time when speculation was almost dead in
Scotland--Reid at a discount, Brown found empty, and Hamilton, with
Kant, only struggling into ascendency.
'In these days, if I remember right, Ferrier lived in Carlton Street,
Stockbridge--an advocate whose interest was all in letters and
philosophy, a student of simple habits, fond of German, not a
conspicuous talker, of easy polished manners and fond of a joke, with a
scientific interest in all sorts of facts and their meanings, and
perhaps a disposition to paradox. I remember the interest he took in
phenomena of "mesmeric sleep," as it was called. An eminent student was
sometimes induced for experiment to submit himself to mesmeric
influence at these now far-off evening gatherings at Sir William's. To
Ferrier the phenomena suggested curious speculation, but I think
without scientific result.' The subject was one on which Ferrier
afterwards wrote in _Blackwood_, and it was a subject which always had
the deepest interest for him. It, however, as he believed, cost him the
friendship of Professor Cairns, a frequent subject at these informal
séances, and one whom Ferrier rashly twitted for what he evidently
regarded as a weakness, his easily accomplished subjection to the
application of mesmeric power.
In 1845 the Chair of Moral Philosophy in the University of St. Andrews,
then occupied by Dr. Cook, and once held by Dr. Chalmers, became vacant
by the former's death, and Ferrier entered as a candidate. Highly
recommended as he was by Hamilton and others, Ferrier was the
successful applicant, and St. Andrews became his home for nineteen
years thereafter, or until his death in 1864.
Such is a bald statement of the facts of what would seem a singularly
uneventful life. Life divided between the study, library, and
classroom, there was little room for incident outside the ordinary
incidents of domestic and academic routine. Yet Ferrier never sank into
the conventionality which life in a small University town might induce.
His interests were always fresh; he was constantly engaged in writing
and rewriting his lectures, which, unlike some of his calling, he was
not content to read and re-read from year to year unaltered. His
thoughts were constantly on his subject and on his students, planning
how best to communicate to them the knowledge that he was endeavouring
to convey--a life which came as near the ideal of philosophic devotion
as is perhaps possible in this nineteenth century of turmoil and
unrest. Still, gentleman and man of culture as he was, Ferrier had a
fighting side as well, and that side was once or twice aroused in all
the vehemence of its native strength.
Twice Ferrier made application for a philosophical chair in the town of
his birth and boyhood. In 1852, when his father-in-law, John Wilson,
retired, he became a candidate for the professorship of Moral
Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh; and then again, in 1856, he
offered himself as a successor to Sir William Hamilton as Professor of
Logic and Metaphysics. On neither occasion was he successful, and on
both occasions he suffered much from calumnious statements respecting
his 'German' and unorthodox views--a kind of calumny which is more than
likely to arise and carry weight when the judges are men of honourable
character but of little education, men to whom a shibboleth is
everything and real progress in learning nothing. On the first occasion
there were several candidates who submitted their applications, but on
Professor M'Cosh's retiring from the combat, the two who were 'in the
running' were Professor Ferrier of St. Andrews and Professor Macdougall
of the Free Church College in Edinburgh. It is curious, as instancing
the strange change which had come over the politics of Scotland since
the Reform Act had passed, that the very influences that told in favour
of John Wilson in applying for a professorship in 1821 should thirty
years later tell as strongly against his son-in-law. In 1852, nine
years after the Disruption, so greatly had matters altered, that the
Free Church liberal party carried all before it in the Corporation. And
although the liberal journals of the earlier date were never tired of
maintaining liberty of thought and action, yet when circumstances
changed, the liberty appeared in a somewhat different light; and the
qualification of being a Whig was added to a considerable number of
appointments both in the Church and in the State. Professor Macdougall,
Ferrier's opponent, had held his professorship in the Free Church
College, lately established for the teaching of theology and
preparation of candidates for the ministry. On the establishment of the
College, the subject of Moral Philosophy was considered to be one which
should be taught elsewhere than in an 'Erastian' University, and
accordingly it was thought necessary to institute the chair occupied by
Professor Macdougall. In the first instance the class was eminently
successful in point of numbers, and the corresponding class in the
University proportionately suffered; but as time went on the attendance
in the Free Church class dwindled, and it was considered that this
chair need not be continued, but that students might be permitted to
attend at the University. When Professor Macdougall now offered himself
as candidate for the University chair, there was of course an immediate
outcry of a 'job.' Rightly or wrongly it was said, 'Let the Free Church
have a Professor of her own body and opinions if she will, but why
force him upon the Established Church as well; are her country and
ministers to be indoctrinated with Voluntary principles?' There might
not have been much force in the argument had the status of the two
candidates been the same, but it was evident to all unprejudiced
observers that this was far from being the case. And it could hardly be
pleaded in justification of the Council's action that they formed their
judgment upon the testimonials laid before them; for Ferrier's far
exceeded his rival's in weight, if not in strength of expression, and
included in their number communications from such men as Sir William
Hamilton, De Quincey, Bulwer, Alison, and Lockhart--men the most
distinguished of the age. De Quincey's opinion of Ferrier is worth
quoting. He says that he regards him as 'the metaphysician of greatest
promise among his contemporaries either in England or in Scotland,' and
the testimonial which at this time he accorded Ferrier is as remarkable
a document as is often produced on such occasions, when commonplace
would usually appear to be the object aimed at. It is several pages in
length, and goes fully into the question not only of what Ferrier was,
but also of what a candidate ought to be. De Quincey speaks warmly of
Ferrier's services in respect of the English rendering of _Faust_
before alluded to, and points out the benefit there is in having had an
education which has run along two separate paths--paths differing from
one another in nature, doubtless, but integrating likewise--the one
being that resulting from his intercourse with Wilson and his literary
coterie, the other that of the course of study he had pursued on German
lines. He sums up Ferrier's philosophic qualities by saying, 'Out of
Germany, and comparing him with the men of his own generation, such at
least as I had any means of estimating, Mr. Ferrier was the only man
who exhibited much of true metaphysical subtlety, as contrasted with
mere dialectical acuteness.' For this testimonial, we may incidentally
mention, Ferrier writes a most interesting letter of thanks, which is
published in his _Remains_. As a return for the kindness done him, he
'sets forth a slight chart of the speculative latitudes' he had
reached, and which he 'expects to navigate without being
wrecked'--really an admirably clear epitome in so short a space of the
argument of the _Institutes_.
But to come back to the contest: in spite of testimonials, the fact
remained that Ferrier had studied German philosophy, and might have
imbibed some German infidelity, while his opponent made no professions
of being acquainted either with the German philosophy or language,
besides having the advantage of being a Liberal and Free Churchman; and
he was consequently appointed to the chair. Of course, there was an
outcry. The election was put forward as an argument against the
abolition of Tests, though in this case Ferrier, as an Episcopalian,
might be said to be a Dissenter equally with his opponent. It was
argued that the election should be set aside unless the necessary
subscription were made before the Presbytery of the bounds. For a
century back such tests had not been exacted as far as the Moral
Philosophy chair was concerned, nor would they probably have been so
had Ferrier himself been nominated. But though the Presbytery concerned
was in this case prepared to go all lengths, it appeared that it was
not in its members that the initiative was vested, the practice being
to take the oath before the Lord Provost or other authorised
magistrate. Consequently, indignant at discovering their impotence, the
members of the body retaliated by declaring that they would divert past
the new Professor's class the students who should afterwards come
within their jurisdiction, and thus, by their foolish action, they
probably did their best to bring about the result they deprecated so
much--the abolition of Tests in their entirety.
Ecclesiastical feeling ran high at the time, and things were said and
done on both sides which were far from being wise or prudent. But the
effect on a sensitive nature like Ferrier's is easy to imagine. This
was the first blow he had met with, and being the first he did not take
it quite so seriously to heart. But when it was followed years later by
yet another repulse, signifying to his view an attitude of mind in
orthodox Scotland opposed to any liberty of thought amongst its
teachers, Ferrier felt the day for silence was ended, and, wisely or
unwisely, he published a hot defence of his position in a pamphlet
entitled _Scottish Philosophy, the Old and the New_. On this occasion
the question had risen above the mere discussion of Church and Tests;
the whole future of philosophy in Scotland was, he believed, at stake;
it was time, he felt, that someone should speak out his mind, and who
more suitable than the leader of the modern movement and the one, as he
considered it, who had suffered most by his opinions?
Without having lived through the time or seen something of its effects,
it would be difficult to realise how narrow were the bounds allowed to
speculative thought some forty years ago in Scotland. Since the old
days of Moderatism and apathy there had, indeed, been a great revival
of interest in such matters as concerned Belief. Men's convictions were
intense and sincere; and what had once been a subject of convention and
common usage, had now become the one important topic of their lives. So
far the change was all for the good; it promoted many important
virtues; it made men serious about serious things; it made them realise
their responsibilities as human beings. But as those who lived through
it, or saw the results it brought about, must also know, it had another
side. A certain spiritual self-assurance sprang into existence, which,
though it was bred of intense reality of conviction, brought with it
consequences of a specially trying kind to those who did not altogether
share in it. As so often happens when a new light dawns, men thought
that to them at length _all_ truth had been revealed, and acted in
accordance with this belief. They formulated their systems--hide-bound
almost as before--and decided in their minds that in them they had the
standards for judging of their fellows. But Truth is a strange
will-o'-the-wisp after all,--when we think we have reached her, she has
eluded our grasp,--and so when those rose up who said the end of the
matter was not yet, a storm of indignation fell upon their heads. This
is what happened with Ferrier and the orthodox Edinburgh world. There
might, it was said by the latter, be men lax enough to listen to
reasonings such as his, and even to agree with them, but for those who
_knew_ the truth as it was in its reality, such pandering to
latitudinarian doctrines was unpardonable. And as at this time the Town
Council of Edinburgh was seriously inclined (some of the members, in
the second instance, were the same as those who had adjudicated in the
former contest), Ferrier's fate was, he considered, sealed before the
question really came before them. Whether the matter was quite as
serious as Ferrier thought, it is perhaps unnecessary to say. At
anyrate, there was a considerable element of truth in the view he took
of it, and he was justified in much--if not in all--of what he said in
his defence. The _Institutes_, first published in 1854, had just
reached a second edition, so that his views were fairly before the
world. What caused the tremendous outburst of opposition we must take
another chapter to consider; and then we must try to trace the course
of Ferrier's development from the time at which he first began to write
on philosophic subjects, and when he openly broke with the Scottish
School of Philosophy.