CONTRIBUTIONS OF LITERATURE AND PHILOSOPHY.
The views of Semler, possessing great power of fascination, soon gained
popular strength. As a result, the strictly literary tastes of the
people took a theological turn and the Bible became the theme of every
aspirant to authorship. As no system had yet been advanced by the
Rationalists, there was wide range for doctrinal and exegetical
discussion. The devoted Pietists, who were now in the background, looked
on in amazement as they trembled for the pillars of faith. They knew not
what to do. Many of their number had proved themselves fanatics and
brought odium upon the revered names of Spener and Francke. Their
enemies were traveling in foreign lands, ransacking the libraries of
other tongues to bring home the poisonous seeds of doubt. At home, the
University was the training school of ungoverned criticism. History,
science, literature, and philology were only prized according to the
measure of strength they possessed to combat the great claims of the
orthodox church. Besides, the Rationalists seemed to be impartial
inquirers. They set themselves to understand the Scriptural lands and
languages, while their progress in recent Biblical literature gained for
them the respect of many who, though less learned, were more
evangelical. The masses have always paid homage to learning, and in this
case, it was the attainments of the Illuminists which gave them a
standing denied to the friends of the Bible.
The times were all astir with the evidences of mental progression. There
was now a resurrection of European activity. Look whither you will,
there was nowhere either the spirit of sleep or of sloth. The science of
government, the beauties of æsthetic culture, the discoveries of the
material world, and the long-sealed mysteries of philology, were each
the centre of a host of admirers and votaries. As in the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries Europe arose from the torpidity of the Middle Ages,
so did the eighteenth century witness a new revival from the darkness
and sluggishness of Continental Protestantism. There appeared to be a
universal repudiation of old methods, and a new civilization was now the
aim of every class of literary adventurers. Semler had struck the
key-note of human pride. He had so flattered his race by saying that the
Bible was not so sacred as to be exempt from criticism, that his
contemporaries would not willingly let his words fall to the ground. The
temptation was too strong to be resisted, and soon the Scriptures became
a carcass around which the vultures of Germany gathered to satisfy the
cravings of their wanton hunger. We do not say that the destructionists
desired to injure the faith of the people, or to cast odium upon the
pages that Luther and Melanchthon had unfolded to the German heart. But
believing as they did that the popular respect for the Bible was sheer
Bibliolatry, and that therefore the dignity of reason was compromised,
they bestirred themselves to show every weak point in the faith of the
church. They hastened to expose the defects of the Scriptures with as
much frankness as they would brand a sentence in Cicero or Seneca to be
the interpolation of an impostor.
In no nation has theology, as a science, absorbed more literary talent
and labor than in Germany. In America and Great Britain the theologian
is the patron of his own department of thought. But in Germany, poets,
romancists, and scientific men write almost as many works connected with
religious questions as on topics within their own chosen vocation. The
Teuton considers himself a born theologian. So it was after the
announcement of the destructive theories of Semler. All classes of
thinkers invited themselves to discuss the Scriptures and their claims
with as much freedom as if God had told them it was the true aim of
their life.
What was the consequence? Semler, having left so much room for doubt,
and having rather indicated a direction than supplied a plan, a great
number of men adopted the accommodation-theory and each one built his
own edifice upon it. But the conclusions arrived at by them were very
unlike, and generally incongruous. And such a result was very natural;
for, all claiming the unrestricted use of reason, the issue of their
thinking was the work of the individual mind. No two intellects are
perfectly similar. Set a number of men to write upon a given subject and
they will employ a different style, give expression to diverse thoughts,
and perhaps reach antipodal conclusions. So when these writers against
inspiration plied the pen, and burdened the press with their prolix
effusions, there was no harmony in their thoughts. In one opinion they
were firmly united, _that the Bible is a human book_. But how much of it
was authentic; what was history and what myth; what poetry and what
incident; these and a thousand kindred points divided the Rationalists
into almost as many classes as there were individuals.
There were two principal tendencies which gave a permanence and
efficiency to Rationalism quite beyond the expectation of its most
sanguine friends and admirers. One was _literary_, and inaugurated by
Lessing; the other purely _philosophical_, and conducted by Kant.
The literary despotism at Berlin was one of the most remarkable in the
annals of periodical literature. We refer to the _Universal German
Library_, under the control of Nicolai. Its avowed aim was to laud every
Rationalistic book to the skies, but to reproach every evangelical
publication as unworthy the support, or even the notice, of rational
beings. Its appliances for gaining knowledge were extensive, and it
commanded a survey of the literature of England, Holland, France, and
Italy. Whatever appeared in these lands received its immediate
attention, and was reproached or magnified according to its relations to
the skeptical creed of Nicolai and his co-laborers. Commencing in 1765,
it ran a career of power and prosperity such as but few serials have
ever enjoyed. It terminated its existence in 1792, having inflicted
incalculable evil upon the popular estimate of the vital doctrines of
Christianity. Being the great organ of the Rationalists, it sat in
judgment upon the sublime truths of our holy faith. With all the rage of
an infuriated lion it pounced upon every literary production or
practical movement that had a tendency to restore the old landmarks. Its
influence was felt throughout Germany and the Continent. Every
university and gymnasium listened to it as an oracle, while its power
was felt even in the pot-houses and humblest cottages. Berlin was
completely under its sway, and _Berliner_ was a synonym of
_Rationalist_. Oetinger wrote a curious passage in a volume of sermons,
published in 1777, in which he descants _On those things of which the
people of Berlin know nothing_: "They know nothing of the Lord of glory;
they are sick of these shallow-pated Liebnitzians; they wish to know
nothing of the promises of God; they have nothing to do with the
salutations of the seven spirits; they form a mechanical divinity after
their own notion. The Berliners know nothing of man so far as he is a
subject of divine grace; nothing of angels or devils, nothing of what
sin is, nothing of eating and drinking the flesh and blood of Christ,
and still less of the communion of saints, and that the spirit can be
communicated by the laying on of hands. They know nothing of the truth
that baptism and the Lord's Supper are agents for a spiritual union with
Christ; they know nothing of heaven and hell; nothing of the interval
before the resurrection. Neither do they wish to know anything save what
may harmonize with their own depraved views. But the time will come when
Jesus will show them how they should have confessed him before the
world." This was Berlin, and Berlin was Germany.
The position of Rationalism during the last quarter of the eighteenth
century was surrounded with circumstances of the most conflicting
nature. Had it been advocated by a few more such ribald characters as
Bahrdt its career would soon have been terminated from the mere want of
respectability. But had it assumed a more serious phase and become the
protegé of such pious men as Semler was at heart, there would have been
no limit to the damage it might inflict upon the cause of Protestantism.
And there were indications favorable to either result. However, by some
plan of fiendish malice, skepticism received all the support it could
ask from the learned, the powerful, and the ambitious. Here and there
around the horizon could be seen some rising literary star that, for the
hour, excited universal attention. His labor was to impugn the contents
of the Scriptures and insinuate against the moral purity of the writers
themselves. Another candidate for theological glory appeared, and
reproached the style of the inspired record. A third came vauntingly
forward with his geographical discoveries and scientific data, and
reared the accommodation-theory so many more stories higher than Semler
had left it that it almost threatened to fall of its own weight. Strange
that the poetic Muse should lend her inspiration to such unholy
purposes; but in the poetry of that day there was but little of the
Christian element, and he need not be greatly skilled in classic verse
who concludes that the loftiest poetry of Rationalism was as thoroughly
heathen as the dramas of Euripides or Plautus.
Immediately before the appearance of the _Wolfenbüttel Fragments_ by
Lessing, there was the significant lull before the storm. A single
editorial in some religious periodical might decide the fate of
Rationalism. In a few years more it might lie outside the lecture-halls
and renowned churches as thoroughly discarded as a cast-off garment. Or
it might rise to new power and bend all opposition before it. Every one
seemed to be waiting to see what would come next. Would it be the hoarse
thunder and the glare of lightning; or would the clouds be rent and the
clear sky be seen through the widening rifts?
Lessing touched a chord which vibrated throughout the land. While in
charge of the celebrated Library at Wolfenbüttel he met with a
manuscript production of Reimarus, bearing the title of _Vindication of
the Rational Worshipers of God_. It can still be found in the Town
Library of Hamburg. Between 1774 and 1778, Lessing issued seven
_Fragments_ from this work; and the result was, that Germany was
electrified by the boldness and importance of the views there advanced.
They cannot be considered the private opinions of Lessing, for in many
places he appends notes stating his opposition to them. But he heartily
approved the substance of the work, though his object in the publication
of the _Fragments_ was more to feel the public pulse than to instill
theological doctrines into the minds of the people. Reimarus had been a
doubter like many others of his countrymen. He committed his mental
phases to paper, though he thought that it was not yet time to issue
them for public notice. The _Fragments_ published by Lessing contain the
gist of his entire work, and contributed far more to the growth of
skepticism than a larger production would probably have done. The
historical evidences of Christianity and of the doctrine of inspiration,
according to the _Fragments_, are clad in such a garb of superstition
that they do not merit the credence of sensible men. The confessions
framed at different periods of the history of the church have savored
far more of human weakness than of divine knowledge. They bear but
slight traces of Biblical truth. The Trinity is incomprehensible, and
the heart should not feel bound to lean upon what Reason cannot fathom.
Nearly all the Old Testament history is a string of legends and myths
which an advanced age should indignantly reject. Christ never really
intended to establish a permanent religion; the work of his apostles was
something unanticipated by himself. His design was to restore Judaism
to its former state, throw off the Roman yoke, and declare himself king.
His public entry into Jerusalem was designed to be his installation as a
temporal king; but he failed in his dependence upon popular support,
and, instead of attaining a throne, he died on the cross. Belief in
Scriptural records is perfectly natural to the Christian, for he has
imbibed it from education and training. Reason is forestalled in the
ordinary education of children; they are baptized before they are old
enough to exercise their own reasoning faculties. Faith in Scripture
testimony is really of no greater value than the belief of the
Mohammedan or Jew in their oracles, unless Reason be permitted to occupy
the seat of judgment.
We have said that the excitement raised by the publication of the
_Fragments_ was intense. There was in them more calmness of expression,
and more apparent effort for truthful conclusions than many of the
previously published works of the Rationalists had indicated. By and by,
there sprang up a decided opposition to the work of Lessing; and from
all quarters of the German church there came earnest and vigorous
replies. It was surprising that there remained so much tenacity for the
old faith. Lessing received the censure of many of the best and wisest
men of his time; his publication of the _Fragments_ was claimed to be a
curse to the cause of truth. But he had accomplished what he wished,
while his success was far beyond his expectation. He found that a large
portion of his countrymen were not willing to cast loose from the old
moorings of the Protestant teachings, and that, whatever the previous
indications were, there was yet a deep undercurrent of attachment to the
time-honored confessions of the church.
The movement employed by Lessing to find out what the people really
believed is one of the shrewdest literary tricks on record. Without
committing himself to what he issued, and watching carefully the effect
of the _Fragments_, he began to publish his own views with no little
assurance that he would prove successful. He learned that the Wolffian
philosophy was becoming effete, and so he raised the cry, loud and
clear, against its longer existence. He violently opposed the
obliteration of all dependence upon the historical proofs of
Christianity, and claimed that, in the matter of religion, the heart has
a work not less than the reason. His principle was: overthrow this
historical basis, and you endanger the whole edifice. He inflicted great
injury upon the inflated, pompous Popular Philosophy, for he exposed its
emptiness as but few were able to do. He opposed, with all the force of
his rare satirical and logical power, the attempt of the Rationalists to
substitute the intuitions of Reason for the dictates of the heart and
for the promptings of faith. "What else," he asks, "is this modern
theology when compared with orthodoxy, than filthy water with clear
water? With orthodoxy we had, thanks to God, pretty much settled;
between it and philosophy a barrier had been erected, behind which each
of these could walk in its own way without molesting the other. But what
is it that they are now doing? They pull down this barrier, and, under
the pretext of making us _rational Christians_, they make us most
_irrational philosophers_. In this we agree that our old religious
system is false, but I should not like to say with you [he is writing to
his brother] that it is a patch-work, got up by jugglers and
semi-philosophers. I do not know of anything in the world in which human
ingenuity had more shown and exercised itself than in it. A patch-work
by jugglers and semi-philosophers is that religious system which they
would put in the place of the old one, and, in doing so, would pretend
to more rational philosophy than the old one claims."
It was difficult to tell what Lessing believed. His publication of the
views of a doubter was of itself a proof that he agreed, to some extent
at least, with them. This we must grant as a concession to his honesty
and common sense. And when assailed by Götze and others for thus
attacking the faith of the church, he replied that, even if the
Fragmentists were right, Christianity was not thereby endangered.[31] He
rejected the letter, but reserved the spirit of the Scriptures. With
him, the letter is not the spirit and the Bible is not religion.
Consequently, objections against the letter, as well as against the
Bible, are not precisely objections against the spirit and religion. For
the Bible evidently contains more than belongs to religion, and it is a
mere supposition, that, in this additional matter which it contains, it
must be equally infallible. Moreover, religion existed before there was
a Bible. Christianity existed before evangelists and apostles had
written. However much, therefore, may depend upon those Scriptures, it
is not possible that the whole truth of the Christian religion should
depend upon them. Since there existed a period in which it was so far
spread, in which it had already taken hold of so many souls, and in
which, nevertheless, not one letter was written of that which has come
down to us, it must be possible also that everything which evangelists
and prophets have written might be lost again, and yet the religion
taught by them, stand. The Christian religion is not true because
Evangelists and apostles taught it; _but they taught it because it was
true_. It is from their internal truth that all written documents must
be explained, and all these written documents cannot give it internal
truth when it has none. The Christian religion is distinguished from the
religion of Christ; the latter, being a life immediately implanted and
maintained in our heart, manifests itself in love, and can neither stand
nor fall with the Gospel. The truths of religion have nothing to do with
the facts of history.
With such opinions as these, expressed in great clearness and
conciseness, who can fail to perceive that their tendency was to
overthrow the traditional faith of the church in large portions of the
Bible? Who is to be the judge of what is to be retained and what
rejected? Indeed, if Lessing be right, the entire Scripture record might
be abolished without doing violence to religion. The effect of his
writings was decidedly skeptical. His view of Christianity was merely
æsthetical, and only so far as the Bible was an agent of popular
elevation, did he seem to consider it valuable. He did not dispute the
facts of Scripture history because of the various accounts given of them
by the inspired writers. Variety of testimony was no ground for the
total overthrow of the thing testified. He retained the history of the
resurrection in spite of the different versions of it. "Who," he asks,
"has ever ventured to draw the same inference in profane history? If
Livy, Polybius, Dionysius, and Tacitus relate the very same event, it
may be the very same battle, the very same siege, each one differing so
much in the details that those of the one completely give the lie to
those of the other, has any one, for that reason, ever denied the event
itself in which they agree?"
We may examine the entire circle of Lessing's literary productions, and
we shall see, scattered here and there through them, sentiments which,
taken singly, would have a very beneficial effect upon the popular faith
in inspiration and the historical testimony of the Scriptures. But,
unhappily, these were overshadowed by others of a conflicting nature,
and though he did not array himself as a champion of Rationalism, he
proved himself one of the strongest promoters of its reign. He
considered his age torpid and sluggish. It was his desire to awaken it.
And he did succeed in giving to the chaotic times in which he lived that
literary direction which we now look back upon as the starting-point of
recent German literature. The chief evil that he inflicted was due to
the position in which he placed himself as the combatant of the avowed
friends of inspiration. He was honest in his love of truth, but he loved
the search for it more than the attainment. The key to his whole life
may be found in his own words: "If God should hold in his right hand all
truth, and in his left the ever-active impulse and love of search after
truth, although accompanied with the condition that I should ever err,
and should say, 'Choose!' I would choose the left with humility, and
say, 'Give, Father! Pure truth belongs to thee alone!'"
The revolution which Lessing wrought in literature was only equaled by
that achieved by Kant in the domain of philosophy.
It has been one of the historical features of German theology that it
has ever affiliated with philosophy. The mathematical method of Wolf has
been a severe blow to orthodoxy, and it was but partially counteracted
by the work of Pietism. But the influence of that copyist of Leibnitz is
only of a piece with the impression made upon theology and faith by
every respectable innovation in philosophy. But Kant threw all others in
the shade. He was the agent of a change in philosophical thinking, which
was destined not only to reform the old systems of Germany, but to wield
a universal power over modern thought. He had looked to England for his
masters, and succeeded in gaining a thorough acquaintance with the grave
skepticism of Hume and kindred minds. He shut himself up in his native
Königsberg, and, in all his life, never traveled more than thirty miles
therefrom. He had the memory of a pious Christian mother ever present to
him, and no one can conjecture the probable influence that her example
exerted upon his mental processes. The astute philosopher wrote of her
with the deepest feeling of his nature when he said, "My mother was an
amiable, sensitive, pious, and devoted woman, who taught her children
the fear of God by her godly teachings and spotless life. She often led
me outside the city, and showed me the works of God; she pointed me with
devout feelings to the omnipotence, wisdom, and goodness of God; and
inspired my heart with a deep reverence for the Creator of all things. I
shall never forget my mother, for it was she who planted and
strengthened my first germ of goodness; she opened my heart to the
impressions of nature; she awakened and advanced my conceptions; and it
has been her instructions that have exerted a permanent and wholesome
influence upon my life."
First an undergraduate and afterward a professor in the University of
Königsberg, Kant quietly matured his principles, and was in no haste to
communicate them to the world. He delivered his philosophy to his
students in the form of lectures, and was extremely careful not to
publish it until he was sure that his mind had arrived at its final
conclusions. A student named Hippel, who had enjoyed his intimacy, was
the first to give publicity to his opinions. He employed the medium of a
novel. He forestalled their real author, and Kant was compelled to
explain the matter openly as a breach of faith. Gradually the
lecture-hall at Königsberg became full of hearers, who, in a little
time, could gain admittance only with difficulty. The professor of
philosophy was a magnet that drew to that bleak northern city students
from all parts of the Continent. Finally the opportune moment arrived.
Having written, rewritten, altered, and abridged until he looked upon
his work as beyond his power of improvement, he now deemed his
convictions permanently formed. So the _Critique of Pure Reason_ entered
upon its career of victory. The literary and thinking world had learned
but a little of it in Hippel's book; and now there seemed to be no
inclination to probe the concise language of the master's work, for the
task appeared greater than the fruits would justify. This hesitancy was
a glaring testimony to the loose thinking and careless literary habits
of those days. But the haste with which Kant prosecuted the authorship
of his work, apart from the thoughts employed in its elaboration into a
system, furnishes some ground of apology for the failure of the public
to fathom it. "I wrote," he says in a letter to Moses Mendelssohn, "this
product of at least twelve years of diligent reflection within a period
of from four to five months, paying indeed the greatest attention to the
contents, but unable, borne away, as it were, upon the wings of thought,
to bestow that care upon the style which might have promoted a readier
insight into my meaning on the part of the reader."
Several years now pass by, and the great work is still neglected.
Perhaps it is false, or mayhap it is ill-timed. Finally Schulze hits
upon the difficulty when he conjectures that, if men only knew what was
in the book they would not only read it, but be ravished with its
contents. Thereupon he issues his _Elucidations of Kant's Critique of
Pure Reason_. Now people begin to open their eyes. The work of Schulze
is read by everybody, and in turn it serves as an introduction to the
work of Kant. Soon the universities and reading circles demand it, and
the whole land is suddenly transformed into a race of philosophers. The
popularity of the work is boundless. It is written in a style adapted
only to systematic thinkers; but no matter, it becomes a fashion to read
it. It is the topic in stagecoaches and drawing rooms. Failure to have
perused Kant's book is a mark of ignorance which receives rebuke on
every hand. In self-defense every one feels bound to read it, if the
continued respect of friends can reasonably be expected. The work itself
is interlarded with new terminology and pruned expressions that betray
the constant impress of the author's mind. So, in a short time, writers
on the various sciences employ these very terms as at once the best
vehicle for the conveyance of their thoughts and for accession to
popularity. It has its opponents in Hamann, Jacobi, Reimarus, Tiedemann,
and others; yet he is a bold spirit who dares to attack this object of
universal favor. But the opposition is insufficient, and the _Critique
of Pure Reason_ is too strong for these hastily-conceived rejoinders.
Every department of inquiry is powerfully affected by it. Religion,
logic, metaphysics, law, psychology, æsthetics, and education are alike
molded by its plastic touch. Holland and all the north of Europe are
vocal with its praises.
And now we may ask, why such favor shown toward this new apparition? Let
us delay a moment and examine the hard-wrought thoughts of this
bachelor-son of an obscure saddler. Kant had been profoundly disgusted
with the want of harmony in philosophical speculations. The
disagreements that he saw in his own time were but the continuation of
what, he had learned from history, was the fact in the days of the
heathen sages. Following close upon the footsteps of Hume, he asked:
"How far can human reason go? Where is its limit?" His _Critique_ was
the answer. He showed that, if the loose methods of thought were to be
continued, philosophy, instead of being the hand-maid of religion, would
be unworthy the attention of the most unlettered man. Hence he would
recall reason from its lofty flights, and direct its attention solely to
self-consciousness. Only by studying the powers of the mind as a datum,
he held, can any positive results be gained. Using his own illustration
of his work, he would do for philosophy what Copernicus had done for
astronomy--reverse metaphysics by referring classes of ideas to inner,
which before had been referred to outer, causes. He granted that, for
some things, man's reason is sufficient. The existence of God, the
doctrine of original sin, and the soul's immortality need no Scripture
to reveal them. They are intuitive subjects of knowledge. But these
truths are extremely limited; man needs what nature has not given him.
Kant's distinction between practical and speculative reason was in favor
of the former, since its aim was wisdom. But speculative reason is often
exerted for its own gratification. Hence its results are frequently
useless and ephemeral. His grand conclusion is, that no object can be
known to us except in proportion as it is apprehended by our
perceptions, and definable by our faculties of cognition; consequently
we know nothing, _per se_, but only by appearances. Our knowledge of
real objects is limited by experience.
With regard to the general character of the critical system of Kant, an
acute author says: "It confined itself to a contemplation of the
phenomena of consciousness, and attempted to ascertain by analysis, not
of our conceptions but of the faculties of the soul, certain invariable
and necessary principles of knowledge; proceeding to define their usage,
and to form an estimate of them collectively with reference to their
_formal_ character; in which investigation the distinctions and
definitions of those faculties adopted by the school of Wolf were
presumed to be valid. It exalted the human mind by making it the centre
of its system; but at the same time confined and restricted it by means
of the consequences deduced. It discouraged also the spirit of dogmatic
speculation, and the ambition of demonstrating all things by means of
mere intellectual ideas, making the faculties of acquiring knowledge the
measure of things capable of being known, and assigning the preeminence
to practical Reason rather than to speculation, in virtue of its
end--wisdom; which is the highest that reason can aspire to, because to
act virtuously is a universal and unlimited, but to acquire knowledge
only a conditional, duty. It had the effect of mitigating the dogmatical
and speculative tendencies of the mind, and the extravagant attempt to
prove everything by means of conceptions of the understanding. It
proscribed mysticism and circumscribed the provinces of science and
belief. It taught men to discriminate and appreciate the grounds, the
tendency, the defects, and partial views, as well as the excellencies of
other systems; at the same time that it embodied a lively principle for
awakening and strengthening the interest attaching to genuine
philosophical research. It afforded to philosophy a firm and steady
centre of action in the unchangeable nature of the human mind. In
general it may be observed that the theory of Kant _constructed_ little;
and rather tended to destroy the structures of an empty dogmatism of the
understanding and prepare, by means of self-knowledge, the way for a
better state of philosophical science; seeking in reason itself the
principles on which to distinguish the several parts of the
philosophy."[32]
Kant had but little to say concerning the positive truths of
Christianity. He respected the character of Christ, and spoke reverently
of the church and her doctrines. Morality, with him, was developed into
religion, not religion into morality. The so-called revelation was only
the mythical copy of the moral law already implanted in our nature. He
believed in a universal religion. Everything peculiar and won by
struggle should be given up; all strife of opinions should cease at
once. Kant designed, in the main, to curb the illicit exercise of
Reason, but his failure to indorse the great doctrines of our faith,
because revealed, threw him on the side of the Rationalists. His
adoption of God's existence, the soul's immortality, human freedom, and
original sin, was not due to his belief in these doctrines as revealed,
but as intuitive. He gradually became a devotee to his own method of
thinking, and it was his aim not to teach _what_ but _how_ to think. He
often told his students that he had no intention or desire to teach them
philosophy, but how to philosophize. It was through Kant that the terms
_Rationalist_,--one who declares natural religion alone to be morally
necessary, though he may admit revelation,--_Naturalist_--one who denies
the reality of a supernatural divine revelation,--and
_Supernaturalist_--one who considers the belief in revelation a
necessary element in religion, came into use, and Rationalism and
Supernaturalism became the principal division of theological
schools.[33]
As Descartes had broken up the scholastic philosophy by considering man
apart from his experience, so Kant now gave the death-blow to the
philosophy of Protestant Germany by looking at the mind apart from its
speculations. "The moral effect of his philosophy," says Mr. Farrar,
"was to expel the French Materialism and Illuminism, and to give depth
to the moral perceptions; its religious effect was to strengthen the
appeal to reason and the moral judgment as the test of religious truth;
to render miraculous communication of moral instruction useless, if not
absurd; and to reäwaken the attempt which had been laid aside since the
Wolffian philosophy of endeavoring to find a philosophy of
religion."[34]
Among the antagonists of Kant, Jacobi was perhaps the most powerful. He
was not content that, in these metaphysical speculations, reason should
reign supreme. His belief was that feeling was of as much importance as
the deductions of the intellect. He mastered the various systems of
philosophy and rejected them, Kant's among the rest, as unfit for the
acceptance and pursuit of responsible beings. The two principles which
furnish the key to his views were that religion lies in the feeling, and
that this feeling, which exists in every man's heart, is not reflected,
but original. His dissatisfaction with all systems induced him to term
himself the _Unphilosophical_, and it was with utter disgust that he was
led to declare the foundation of all speculative philosophy to be only a
great cavity, in which we look in vain, as down into an awful abyss.
With him, as with Coleridge, Faith begins where Reason ends.
The two bright stars after Kant were Fichte and Schelling. The former
commenced with the system of the great Königsberg teacher, and developed
it on the negative side, contending that the whole material world has no
existence apart from ourselves, and that it only appears to us in
conformity with certain laws of our mind. He aimed to found a system
which might illustrate, by a single principle, the material and formal
properties of all science; establish the unity of plan which the
critical system had failed to maintain; and solve that most difficult of
all problems regarding the connection between our conceptions and their
objects. His views of God are the most glaring defect of his system. He
contended that we cannot attribute to the Deity intelligence or
personality without making him a finite being like ourselves; that it is
a species of profanation to conceive of him as a separate essence, since
such a conception implies the existence of a sensible being limited by
space and time; that we cannot impute to him even existence without
compounding him with sensible natures; that no satisfactory explanation
has yet been given of the manner in which the creation of the world
could be effected by God; that the idea and expectation of happiness is
a delusion; and that, when we form our notions of the Deity in
accordance with such imaginations, we only worship the idol of our own
passions,--the prince of this world.[35]
Schelling was a man of ardent, sanguine temperament, and it was his
natural proclivities that gave rise to his system of philosophy. He
attributes a real existence to the material as well as to the immaterial
world, but permits it a different mode of existence. He makes history a
necessity. This natural philosophy conveys to us no knowledge of God,
and the little it does reveal appears opposed to religion. What God
performs takes place because it _must be_. Schelling created two
opposite and parallel philosophic sciences, the transcendental
philosophy and the philosophy of Nature. He was a pantheist in
identifying the Deity with nature, and in making Him subject to laws. He
clothed his ideas in the beautiful fancies of his own vivid imagination,
and in him we find the poet, not giving forth verses from his lyre, but
delivering philosophical oracles.
What Schleiermacher was to theology Hegel became to philosophy. He was
the turning-point from doubt and fruitless theories to a more positive
and settled system of thinking. He was, when young, a decided
Rationalist; and his _Life of Christ_, though yet unpublished, is said
by one who has seen it to be a representation of the Messiah as a divine
man, in whom all is pure and sublime, and who made himself remarkable
chiefly by his triumphs over vice, falsehood, hatred and the servile
spirit of his age. He endeavored to explain the reason for Christianity
in the world. He longed for a positive religion. His philosophy is
reducible to a philosophy of nature, which has quite a different meaning
from that of Schelling, for, with Hegel, it is only the expression of
the passage to another being; and to the philosophy of the mind, which
considers thought reflecting itself on itself, and showing itself by the
mind in the sciences of law and morality, in the state, history,
religion, and the arts. The religion which is deduced from this system
may be said to consist of the objective existence of the infinite mind
in the finite, for mind is only for mind; consequently God exists only
in being thought of and in thinking. In the philosophy of nature
intelligence and God are lost in objective nature. Hegel allows them a
distinct and separate existence, but refers them to a common principle
which, according to him, is the absolute idea, or God. In this case,
objective nature is only the absolute idea going out of itself,
individualizing itself, and giving itself limits, though it is infinite.
Thus the intelligence of all men, and external nature, are only
manifestations of the _absolute idea_. It is a mournful tribute that M.
Saintes pays to his memory when he says, as the sum of his labors, that
"he perverted all the Christian opinions which he attempted to restore."
As little flattering is M. Quinet's testimony, that "he saw in
Christianity no more than an idea, the religious worth of which is
independent of the testimonies of history."
This was indeed a race of thinkers who have been equaled in strength in
but few periods of history. Coming in regular succession, their systems
sprang from Kant's philosophy, and constituted the growth of his
wonderful achievement. They tended to withdraw the flippant spirit of
criticism to a more serious and modest path of inquiry, and to make men
look more at their own weakness than at their greatness. But what a mass
of subtleties do we have to pass through to get at the substance of
their speculations! There is something so unsatisfactory in the study of
them, that we find relief only in the knowledge that the Bible contains
the true basis of all sound thinking on the great themes connected with
the well-being and destiny of man. The plainest statements of the word
of God are more valuable than all these vaporings about the non-_Ego_,
the _Ideal_, and _Self-hood_. Simplicity is bliss.
"Yon cottager who weaves at her own door
Pillow and bobbins, all her little store,
Content though mean, and cheerful if not gay,
Shuffling her threads about the live-long day,
Just earns a scanty pittance, and at night
Lies down secure, her heart and pocket light;
She for her humble sphere by nature fit,
Has little understanding and no wit;
Receives no praise, but though her lot be such,
Toilsome and indigent, she renders much;
Just knows and knows no more, her Bible true;
And in that charter reads with sparkling eyes
Her title to a treasure in the skies."
But yet we grant to these men the meed of having meant well, and of
reforming the philosophy and literature of their times. The immediate
effect of their views was decidedly in favor of Rationalism, because
they almost uniformly deny the absolute authority of the Scriptures.
They grant too much to reason. While Kant would drive the truant mind
back to self-contemplation, he terminates by giving to reason a value
and dignity so great that it becomes entitled to decide upon matters of
faith. Their theories, spun out at such length and concluding in so
little satisfaction, make us rejoice that we have not to depend upon
philosophy for guidance in matters of either the intellect or heart.
They thought independently of the Bible, and here lies the ground of all
failure to obtain positive results in metaphysics. The Scriptures
furnish everything noble and real, and when philosophy aims to supply a
substitute for them it always labors in vain.
We wonder at the tropic luxuriance of Schelling's thoughts, but we are
soon convinced of their little practical purpose when we recall the
fact that he considered the revelation of the gospel as no more than one
of the accidents of the eternal revelation of God in nature and in
history. If Schelling and all these strong minds had commenced their
investigations with the word of God as their basis, there is no telling
how far they might have ministered to an immediate and thorough revival
of faith. But failing to do this, their work has been more doubtful and
tardy. It is a very plain fact that the church cannot look to any other
than to a Christian philosophy for the conservation or regeneration of
her torpid powers. Never has she been thoroughly benefited by the
immediate agency of any other system.
There is one way, however, in which speculative philosophy has
indirectly proved the aid of religion. It has strengthened and quickened
the mental action of the people, and they have through its agency, been
able to look with clearer ken upon the truths of Scripture. However,
after it has reached the goal of its task, we see so little that is
truly valuable and worth preserving, that we are compelled to fall back
upon the Christian revelation as our only chart on the troubled sea of
metaphysical discussion. When we look at the field opened for thought in
the word of God we find it ample and safe. It would be well for every
young mind about entering upon the uncertain mazes of philosophical
speculation, to ponder deeply over these golden words from Isaac
Taylor's _Saturday Evening_: "That portion of Heavenly Wisdom which,
under such circumstances, survives and is cherished, will be just the
first articles of belief,--the Saving Rudiments of Spiritual Life. Of
these the Head of the church himself takes care lest faith should
utterly disappear from the earth. But beside the inestimable jewel of
elementary knowledge--the price of which can never be told--does there
not rest within the folds of the Inspired Book an inexhaustible store,
which the industry of man, piously directed, ought to elicit; but which
if men neglect it, the Lord will not force upon their notice? It is this
hidden treasure which should animate the ambition of vigorous and devout
minds. From such at second hand, the body of the faithful are to receive
it, if at all; and if not so obtained for them, and dealt out by their
teachers, nothing will be more meager, unfixed, almost infantile, than
the faith of Christians."
FOOTNOTES:
[31] Kahnis: _History of German Protestantism_, pp. 145-165.
[32] Tennemann, _Manual of History of Philosophy_, pp. 407-408.
[33] Appleton's _Am. Cyclopædia_--Article _German Theology_.
[34] _Critical History of Free Thought_, p. 280.
[35] Tennemann, _Manual of History of Philosophy_, pp. 429-430.