'IF Ferrier's life should be written hereafter,' said
one, who knew and valued him, just after his death,' '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.
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 182 I, 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.' 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.
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 seances, 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, Buiwer, 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 'rests, 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 lie 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 iV'zv. 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. Alen'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.
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