though it were an absolute reality; but now he suggests the contrary idea, that it is only an appearance, or, as represented by the Hindoo sages, only a series of shows and deceptions, through which the Supreme Mind alternately reveals or conceals himself.

REALITY OR UNREALITY OF NATURE.

"A noble doubt perpetually suggests itself whether this end of discipline be not the final cause of the universe, and whether Nature outwardly exists. It is a sufficient account of that appearance which we call the world that God will teach a human mind, and so makes it the receiver of a certain number of congruent sensations, which we call sun and moon, man and woman, house and trade. In my utter impotence to test the authenticity of the report of my senses-to know whether the impressions they make upon me correspond with outlying objects-what difference does it make whether Orion is up there in heaven or some god paints the image in the firmament of the soul? The relations of parts and the end of the whole remaining the same, what is the difference whether land and sea interact and worlds revolve and intermingle without number or end-deep yawning under deep and galaxy balancing galaxy throughout absolute space--or whether, without relations of time and space, the same appearances are inscribed in the constant faith of man?"

In the last number but one of "The Dial,” then edited by Mr. Emerson, is a paper on "The Preaching of Buddha," preceded by an extract

from Eugene Bournouf's account of the purport of the doctrines of Buddha. These teachings carry the theory of ideality to the very utmost point conceivable by man. "This teaching,' says Bournouf, "is that the visible world is in a perpetual change; that death proceeds to life, and life to death; that man, like all the living beings who surround him, revolves in the eternally round of transmigration; that he passes successively through all forms of life, from the most elementary up to the most perfect; that the place which he occupies in the vast scale of living beings depends on the merits of the actions which he performs in this world; that the rewards of heaven and the pains of hell, like all which this world contains, have only a limited duration; that time exhausts the merit of virtuous actions, and effaces the evil of bad actions; and that the fatal law of change brings back to earth both the god and the devil, to put both again on trial, and cause them to run a new course of transmigration. The hope which Buddha came to bring to men was the possibility of escaping from the law of transmigration by entering what he calls enfranchisement': that is to say, according to one of the oldest schools, the annihilation of the thinking principle as well as of the material principle. This annihilation is not entire until death; but he who was destined to attain to it possessed during his life an unlimited science, which gave him

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the pure view of the world as it is." And one of the earliest disciples of Buddha said, in phrase almost Emersonian: “Annihilation results from the comprehension of the equality of all laws; there is only one, and not two or three. Know that what is clearness is obscurity; know also that what is obscurity is clearness. What I have said is the supreme truth; may my auditors arrive at complete annihilation!”.

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Emerson goes in a quite different direction. He assumes the actual unending existence of the me. Buddhism practically denies it, while nominally affirming it, for in no sense which we are capable of apprehending can that which was once a reptile, and may become so again, be identical with the me which is now a man. It lacks the essential quality of continuous self-consciousness; and, moreover, absolute annihilation is the end to be striven for by all, and to be attained by those who are found worthy of it. Buddhism affirms the actual existence of the world without us; Emerson more than half doubts it. But, after all, he regards the question whether Nature be an absolute reality or merely an appearance to be of little consequence. Indeed, he seems rather to incline to the latter view, although either is satisfactory enough to him. He says:

SUBJECTIVE IDEALISM.

"Whether Nature enjoys a substantial existence without, or is only in the apocalypse of the mind, it is alike

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useful and alike venerable to me. Be it what it may, is ideal to me so long as I can not try the accuracy of my senses. But, while we acquiesce entirely in the permanence of natural laws, the question of the absolute existence of Nature remains still open. It is the uniform effect of culture on the human mind not to shake our faith in the stability of particular phenomena, as of heat, water, azote, but to lead us to regard Nature as a phenomenon, not a substance; to attribute necessary existence to spirit; to esteem Nature as an accident and an effect.'

He goes on to frame a defense of this ideal theory, as propounded by him:

DEFENSE OF IDEALISM.

"The frivolous make themselves merry with this ideal theory, as if its consequences were burlesque, as if it affected the stability of Nature. It surely does not. God never jests with us, and will not compromise the end of Nature by permitting any inconsequence in its procession. Any distrust of the permanence of laws would paralyze the faculties of man. Their permanence is sacredly respected, and his faith therein is perfect. The wheels and springs of man are all set to the hypothesis of the permanence of Nature. We are not built like a ship, to be tossed, but like a house, to stand. It is a natural consequence of this structure that, so long as the active powers predominate over the reflective, we resist with indignation any hint that Nature is more shortlived or mutable than spirit. The broker, the wheelwright, the carpenter, the tollman, are much displeased at the intimation. To the senses and the unrenewed

understanding belongs, indeed, a sort of instinctive belief in the absolute existence of Nature. In their view, man and Nature are indissolubly joined. Things are ultimate, and they never look beyond their sphere. The presence of reason mars this faith. The first effort of thought tends to relax this despotism of the senses, which bends us to Nature as if we were a part of it, and shows us Nature aloof and, as it were, afloat. Until this higher agency intervenes, the animal eye sees with wonderful accuracy sharp outlines and colored surfaces. When the eye of reason opens, to outline and surface are at once added grace and expression. These proceed from imagination and reflection, and abate somewhat of the angular distinctness of objects. If the reason be stimulated to more earnest vision, outlines and surfaces become transparent and are no longer seen; causes and spirits are seen through them. The best moments of life are those delicious awakenings of the higher powers, and the reverential withdrawing of Nature before its God."

From this ideal point of view Emerson goes on to enumerate some special views as to the effects of culture upon the human mind. Even in the lower grades of culture, "Nature is made to conspire with spirit to emancipate us. Certain mechanical changes, a small alteration in our local position, apprise us of a dualism. We are strangely affected by seeing the shore from a moving ship, from a balloon, or through the tints of an unusual sky. The least change in our point of view gives the whole world a pictorial air. A