definitely what measure of marks is assigned to different parts of the examination. A man might then deliberately neglect that part in which he felt he was not likely to be successful, in order to devote less divided attention to that in which he felt stronger. Surely it would rather tend to increase than diminish that thoroughness of work which all agree in advocating.

Mr. Mayor, Fellow of St. John's College, is inclined on the whole to support. Mr. Vansittart's scheme. He wishes, with him, to remove history and political antiquities, as independent branches of study, to a History Tripos, requiring in the Classical Tripos merely answers to questions naturally arising from the passages set, saying most truly that the History paper has had an effect the very contrary to that which many of us hoped from it. With Mr. Van

ἄριστον

sittart, Mr. Mayor is disposed to increase the number of triposes. This may be well; but is it possible? If the number of triposes is to be so increased, where shall we find examiners? In this matter we must be content to take, not what is anλws apiσTov but what is aptorov nuv. The following suggestion deserves consideration:-"Law and medicine also admit a permanent traditional element, by which they link on to classics. The mathematical tripos has Euclid: if it could make room for the scholarlike study of other standard works in ancient mathematics, it too might help our tripos and be helped by it."

Mr. Mozley, Fellow of King's College, desires to largely increase the scope of the Classical Tripos examination. He names eighteen modern writers, and asks, with some contempt, how many men there are who have taken honours at Cambridge, who have a tolerable acquaintance with even half of these? We sincerely hope, very few. Considering the imperfect abilities and opportunities of most men, it would be far wiser for a man to try to be "hominem unius libri," than to be galloping wildly over the literature of four or five tongues. Many of us, too, are but hewers of wood and drawers of water to our generation, neither nursed by charity nor favoured by fortune, and must try to earn our bread by help of the little we learned in early days, content with turning to the best account we may our scanty leisure and few opportunities of keeping up our humble scraps of knowledge. We do not apprehend, however, that Mr. Mozley's views will find much favour. If there is one thing that is clearly understood in the University of Cambridge, it is the truth and value of Buttmann's favourite maxim, "Multum non multa," and we entertain no fear of multifarious reading meeting with encouragement there.

Sed manum de tabula. Our limits warn us to close. We do not think we have omitted to notice any of the papers hitherto pub

lished, and if any of the writers feel we have done them imperfect justice, we must plead in reply that we have done the best our space permitted. One hope we venture to express in conclusion, that whatever changes be introduced, nothing will be done to lessen the esteem in which the University at present holds that sound grammatical knowledge which is the special glory of Cambridge, and which was never more valuable than in the present days of doubt and controversy. Every day we live seems to illustrate more brightly the truth of the saying attributed to Scaliger, "Theology is grammar.” One thing more, too, it is due to the writers of the papers before us to point out-the fairness and courteous consideration for other men's views with which the discussion is conducted. They are all animated by the spirit which one of them justly claims for himself in criticising Messrs. Clark and Burn's proposals:

"I am not influenced by any love of mere contradiction and opposition, or desire of displaying my own superior sagacity, or indeed by any other motive than that of consulting what I sincerely believe, according to the best of my judgment, γνώμη τη δικαιοτάτῃ, to be the true interests of the University, and of that portion of the young men committed to her charge to whom she undertakes to impart classical instruction."

All who know what Cambridge is will be prepared to expect this. But there are those elsewhere who seem to give the University credit for neither wisdom nor moderation, and would fain tinker up by legislation from without, those faults and deficiencies which they assume she is too blind to see or too stupid to amend. It would be well if such a discussion as the present might convince these gentlemen that she is able to see faults in her system, and amend them in a proper spirit, and at a fit season. No doubt she has the measure of imperfections incident to all human institutions, and will continue to have them, in spite of all the wisest heads can devise or the boldest hands execute. But she has done good service to this country in her time, and, if let alone, will live, we trust, to do much

more.

THOMAS MARKBY

The Battle of the Two Philosophies. By an INQUIRER. London. 1866. The Philosophy of the Unconditioned. By ALEXANDER ROBERTSON. London. 1866.

MALL books on great subjects belong to that class of literature which

men, gods, and columns do not permit to be middling. They are usually either very good or very bad. "Si paulum a summo decessit, vergit ad imum." In the hands of a master, nothing is more valuable than a brief exposition of a difficult argument, omitting all superfluities, and concentrating the reader's attention on essentials. In the hands of a bungler, the straightforward style of a small book is sure to expose the defects which a little circumlocution might have partially concealed. As a fallacy is most easily detected when reduced to a bare syllogism, so the emptiness of a pretender to philosophy is never so conspicuous as when he attempts to be concise.

The two little books which we have named at the head of this article furnish a striking instance of these two extremes. The anonymous author of "The Battle of the Two Philosophies" is a man who thoroughly understands what he is about-a diligent student of Sir William Hamilton's writings, and apparently, also, a personal pupil of the late Professor. The "Inquirer" has evidently so far profited by his master's teaching as to be able thoroughly to grasp his meaning, and to give the essence of his speculations in a concise and lucid form; while his personal relations to the deceased philosopher give an additional interest to his little work, by enabling him to add the zeal of an attached friend to the sympathy of an intelligent and liberal critic. It is probably to the friendly element in the composition of the book that we owe the following acute remarks on the comparative popularity of the two rival philosophers :

"Sir William Hamilton always declared he neither would nor could teach any who would not think for themselves. And most thoroughly has he kept his word. Whoever becomes his scholar is put into an intellectual gymnasium, and forced to face every

problem, define every term, and analyse every fact for himself. Still, in his works, fragmentary as most of them are, the now silent master seems to say to us all, as he was wont to say in his lecture-room, Think, and I will help you to learn; refuse to think, and I have taken very good care you shall learn nothing here.' How could such a teacher be popular in an age so eager to learn, so abhorrent of the labour of thought, as the present? Now Mr. Mill's writings not only instruct us, they think for us. His readers float down towards his goal on the stream of his lucid style, admiring the skill of his reasoning, instructed by the information he gives, rejoicing in the new and fertile fields of thought which every fresh turn brings into their view, and interested in watching the process of mind laid open to them; but never once compelled to take to the oars or to think for themselves. How can a teacher so agreeable, as well as talented, but be popular!"-(Pp. 3, 4.)

On the charge of "inconsistency," Mr. Mill's favourite and enormously exaggerated accusation against Sir W. Hamilton, our author neatly remarks,

"It would not be difficult to show, both from history and reason, that all sound philosophy, whilst thus incomplete, must be liable to the objection of inconsistency. The Greek philosophers before Socrates were mostly quite consistent, each with his own scheme; and their systems have long perished. Plato was abundantly inconsistent with himself, and lives. We cannot harmonize our conclusions together, until we have them all complete; and we cannot tell what conclusion each separate set of facts will lead us to, until those facts have been ascertained, analysed, and classed. Till this has been done, what we want is not the united testimony of all, but the independent testimony of each."-(Pp. 7, 8.)

We pass over some severe but not unjust remarks on Mr. Mill's animus towards his deceased antagonist; on his disposition, illogical as well as ungenerous, to trace every supposed error to "some personal deficiency, some mental incapacity, in Sir W. Hamilton himself;" and on the "refinement of ungracefulness" which characterizes his concluding summary of the merits of his foe. The remarks of our author are well worth reading; but we must pass on to the more strictly philosophical portion of his argument.

The "Inquirer" proceeds to examine Mr. Mill's attack on Sir W. Hamilton's philosophy with reference to three principal subjects:-1. The Philosophy of the Conditioned, involving the relativity of human knowledge; 2. The doctrine of Free-will, which Mr. Mill regards as the central idea of Hamilton's system, and the determining cause of most of his opinions; and, 3. The doctrine that mind and matter, an ego and nm-ego, are original data of consciousness-these being questions of principal importance, and affording ample grounds for testing and comparing the ability of the two metaphysicians.

In examining Mr. Mill's criticism of the "Philosophy of the Conditioned," our author calls attention to that confusion between infinite and ind finite which has been pointed out in a former article in this Review, as vitiating the whole of Mr. Mill's argument. Mr. Mill denies that the conception of infinite space is negative, because "instead of thinking away every character of the finite, we think away only the idea of an end or boundary." On this our author remarks,

"What other character belongs to the finite, except this very one of being ended, of having bounds, he does not tell us. But when I assert of any given space, It is finite, what other character do I affirm of it than this, that it has an end? And when I affirm, Space is infinite, what more do I affirm than this, It has no end? Indeed, Mr. Mill admits this is true of the Infinite, that senseless abstraction,' but denies it is true of infinite space. 'In trying to form a conception of that, we do not think away its positive character; we leave it the character of space, of its three dimensions, and their geometrical properties. We leave it also a character which belongs to it as infinite-that of being greater than any other space.' Surely this last is a delusive expression. Infinite space so includes all space, that it leaves us no other space with which to compare it; else we could add that other space to it, and make it bigger still. Do we then assert that infinite space is not greater than its part? No, we deny we can think of it as a whole; if we could, we must say it is a whole infinitely greater than all its finite parts put VOL. II. 2 Q

together, which is inconceivable. In truth, when we strive to think of infinite space, the nearest approach we can make to it is this notion of an indefinite space, which Mr. Mill has substituted for it. But these two conceptions are not only verbally, they are really wholly distinct. An indefinite space is a space of the extent of which we think vaguely, without knowing or without thinking where its boundaries are. Infinite space

has certainly, and quite distinctly, no boundaries anywhere."-(Pp. 15—20.)

To Mr. Mill's assertion, that the goodness of God is absolute but not infinite, because "there are not infinite degrees of right;" because “downwards there are as many gradations as we choose to distinguish, but upwards there is an ideal limit," our author replies,

"It would be difficult to realise the dreariness of the universe, if indeed goodness at the best be finite, whilst evil is infinite. If, gifted with a life that is to last for ever, and a nature that finds happiness only in progress upwards, our progress in goodness and knowledge must cease, but our progress in evil may be eternal; happiness at the best comes to an end, but misery may increase for ever. What hope or help were then left to us, if even in heaven we must find a finite God and an infinite Satan ?”—(Pp. 24-5.)

In considering the doctrine of Free-will, our author points out, with great acuteness, the error of Mr. Mill's assumption, that it is impossible to act in opposition to the strongest present desire or aversion. He says,—

.

"This is not a complete account of what I am conscious of in volition, and it introduces into consciousness an element which is not given in it. Balancing one motive against another is not willing, but judging. What I am chiefly conscious of in volition is an effort. Beforehand, I know from past experience that however strong my desire is, I can resist it; but that no reasons, however true, no motives, however forcible, which I can urge on myself, will make me resist it, unless I make an effort sufficiently strong. If then I do resist it, I am at that moment conscious of making an effort, and exerting some force that seems to me peculiarly my own; which, it appears to me, no power whatever can make me exert, or prevent me from exerting, without my own consent. Now it is this effort for which Mr. Mill, in his analysis of volition, leaves no room at all. If my volition is necessarily, or in fact, wholly determined by the strongest present desire, it will be decided without any effort: if these desires are equally balanced, they mutually destroy each other, and then no effort is possible; if one is ever so little stronger than the other, no effort is necessary. When the greater weight goes down, and the lesser up-it is Mr. Mill's own illustration-no effort is needed on the part of the scales, and any such effort would be that factor in the result which Mr. Mill is bound to exclude. Now it may be right to follow reason with Mr. Mill, rather than so unreasonable a consciousness with Sir W. Hamilton; but to tell me I am not conscious of that exertion of force, of which I am as conscious as I am of my own existence, is neither philosophical nor useful."— (Pp. 42-4.)

On the third great question-that of the testimony of consciousness to the existence of an ego and a non-ego, the "Inquirer" thus neatly sums up the contrast between the theories of the two philosophers :

"Sir W. Hamilton thought that consciousness, even of the simplest sensation, is the consciousness that 'I' feel it-that I exist in the present state. Whilst Mr. Mill, admitting that consciousness is the recognition by the mind of its own acts and affections, denies that the recognition of the act involves the recognition of the actor, and maintains that the knowledge that 'I' feel this affection is acquired subsequently through experience."— (P. 58.)

Our limits will not permit us to follow the author through his able refutation of the latter theory; but we cannot resist one more extract, expressing his protest against the fundamental fallacy of Mr. Mill's psychology,—the appeal to the uneducated consciousness of infants :

"It is wholly contrary to all analogy, and therefore to all prima facie probability, that consciousness alone, of all our natural properties, needs no development, no education. We know that our senses require education, ere we can obtain from them their genuine testimony: why are we to assume that, in the case of consciousness, this is only to be had when it is in that half-awakened, vague, indistinct state in which it exists in the infant, and that in its full energy it is necessarily deceptive? And on what ground is it assumed it is pure and unmixed in the infant? How do we know that consciousness is even then