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ability or will to discern and acknowledge his quality and claims; it is not from any want of reverence for the saint or delight in the man. Precious to me, as to any, that great memory. I admire the mighty energy which bore the earthly accidents and name of Augustine. I honor the laborious and unwearied devotion to Christ and the Church which knew no pause and asked no reward but the rest that remaineth for the people of God. I revere the steadfast virtue which, by grace abounding, could trample at once on lusts long indulged, and walk unswerving, in the teeth of such passions,. the elected path of ascetic abnegation. To me, as to all Christendom forevermore, the name of Augustine stands for a spiritual fact of holiest import. Had nothing survived of him but the story of his life, that alone would be a heritage of price to the world. The real import of the man, stripped of all accidents, lies in his conversion. A conversion more satisfactory and complete, with such antecedents, on such a level of intellectual life, the annals of religion do not record. Here is a man who was dead and lived again; who, past the bloom and pliancy of life, but still in the heat of its passions and fiercest carnal demands, having lived for thirty years to the flesh, a selfish voluptuary, — on a day, in an hour, turned right about in the path he was treading; and ever after, with

his back to the world and his face toward God, for forty long years, made every day of his life the round of a ladder by which he climbed into glory.

The life which contains that fact, is it not a benediction to all generations? The Church which inscribes that life on her annals, shall she not record it with the prefix of saint? But what then? Because of the saint shall we not see the limitations of the man? Or worse, because of the limitations of the man shall we refuse to acknowledge the saint? A saint he was, if ever mortal deserved that name; but, for all that, a very imperfect man. Humanity is more than any saint, than all saints. It includes them all, it transcends them all. Humanity's calendar is never full; and the holiest in it serve us best when they point to something higher than themselves.


[From the Atlantic Monthly, June, 1858.]

'I "HE philosophic import of this illustrious name, after suffering temporary eclipse from the Critical Philosophy, with its swift succession of transcendental dynasties, has within the last half century emerged into clear and respectful recognition, if not into broad and effulgent repute. In divers quarters the attention of scholars has reverted to the splendid optimist whose adventurous intellect left nothing unexplored, and almost nothing unexplained.

Voltaire pronounced him "le savant le plus universel de l'Europe;" but characterized his metaphysical labors with the somewhat equivocal compliment of "metaphysicien assez delié pour vouloir reconcilier la theologie avec la metaphysique."1

Germany, with all her wealth of erudite celebrities, has produced no other who fulfils so completely the type of the Gelehrte, — a type which differs from that of the savant and from that of the scholar, but includes them both. Feuerbach calls him " the personified thirst for Knowledge; " Frederic the Great pronounced him an "Academy of Sciences;" and Fontenelle said of him that "he saw the end of things, or that they had no end." It was an age of intellectual adventure into which Leibniz was born, — fit sequel and heir to the age of maritime adventure which preceded it. We please ourselves with fancied analogies between the two epochs and the nature of their discoveries. In the latter movement, as in the former, Italy took the lead. The martyr Giordano Bruno was the brave Columbus of modern thought, — the first who broke loose from the trammels of mediaeval ecclesiastical tradition, and reported a new world beyond the watery waste of scholasticism. Campanella may represent the Vespucci of the new enterprise; Lord Bacon its Sebastian Cabot, — the "Xovum Organum" being the Newfoundland of modern experimental science. Descartes was the Cortes, or shall we rather say the Ponce de Leon, of scientific discovery, who, failing to find what he sought, — the Principle of Life (the Fountain of Eternal Youth), — yet found enough to render his name immortal and to make mankind his debtor. Spinoza is the spiritual Magalhaens, who, emerging from the straits of Judaism, beheld

1 "On sait que Voltaire n'aimait pas Leibniz. J'imagine que c'est le chre'tien qu'il detestait en lui."—Ch. Waddington.

"Another ocean's breast immense, unknown."

Of modern thinkers he was

"the first
That ever burst
Into that silent sea."

He discovered the Pacific of philosophy, — that theory of the sole Divine Substance, the All-One, which Goethe in early life found so pacifying to his troubled spirit, and which, vague and barren as it proves on nearer acquaintance, induces at first, above all other systems, a sense of repose in illimitable vastness and immutable necessity.

But the Vasco de Gama of his day was Leibniz. His triumphant optimism rounded the Cape of theological Good Hope. He gave the chief impulse to modern intellectual commerce. Full freighted, as he was, with Western thought, he revived the forgotten interest in the Old and Eastern World, and brought the ends of the earth together. Circumnavigator of the realms of mind, wherever he touched he appeared as discoverer, as conqueror, as lawgiver. In mathematics he discovered or invented the Differential Calculus, — the logic of transcendental analysis, the infallible method of astronomy, without which it could never have compassed the large conclusions of the "Mecanique Celeste." In his "Protogaea," published in 1693, he laid the foundation of the science of Geology. From his observations as Superintendent of the

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