"I am, furthermore, well convinced that this life is not the land of enjoyment, but of labor and toil, and that every joy is granted to us but to strengthen us for further exertion; that the management of our own fate is by no means required of us, but only selfculture. I trouble myself, therefore, not at all concerning the things that are without; I endeavor not to appear, but to be. And to this, perhaps, I owe the deep tranquillity I enjoy. My external position, however, is well enough suited to such a frame of mind: I am no man's master, and no man's slave. As to prospects, I have none at all, for the constitution of the Church here does not suit me, nor, to say the truth, that of the people either. As long as I can maintain my present independence, I shall certainly do so.”

Fichte's enthusiasm for Kant induced him to pay a visit to the eminent philosopher at Königsberg. Instead of a letter of introduction, he presented Kant with a work written in eight days, called “A Critique of every possible Revelation." Kant immediately recognized the merits of the production, and became his friend. He was too poor to assist him in a material point of view -and Fichte sorely needed assistance-but he promised to obtain him a publisher for his "Critique," and otherwise treated him. hospitably and kindly.

In due time the "Critique" made its appearance. There was no name on the title-page, and every one said it was the production of Kant. When it became known that Fichte was the author, he was at once placed in the highest ranks of philosophy. The celebrity he acquired was the means of procuring him the chair of philosophy at Jena (1793), the leading university of Germany.

Fichte now fondly believed that his wanderings and his privations were at an end, and that henceforth he could devote himself to philosophy without interruption from the external world. He was mistaken. Even at Jena he found himself soon opposing and opposed. His endeavors to instill a higher moral feeling into the students, his anxiety for their better culture, were misunderstood. A cry of Atheism was raised against the professor -an unjust cry, but not without its effects. The government required some kind of explanation from the philosopher. He refused to give it, tendered his resignation, and recommenced his wanderings. He found an asylum in Prussia, where he occupied the chair at Erlangen, and afterward at Berlin. From his career

in the latter place the following incident is related by one of his biographers (Mr. Lewes) :

"It is 1813. The students are assembled in crowds to hear their favorite professor, who is to lecture that day upon dutyon that duty whose ideal grandeur his impassioned eloquence has revealed to them. Fichte arrives, calm and modest. He lectures with his usual dignified calmness, rising into fiery bursts of eloquence, but governed by the same marvelous rigor of logic as before. He leads them from the topic to the present state of affairs. On them he grows still more animated, the rolling of drums without frequently drowning his voice, and giving him fresh spirit. He points to the bleeding wounds of his country; he warms with hatred against oppressors; and enforces it as the duty of every one to lend his single arm to save his country. "This course of lectures,' he exclaims, will be suspended till the end of the campaign. We will resume them in a free country, or die in the attempt to recover her freedom.' Loud shouts respondent ring through the hall; clapping of hands and stamping of feet make answer to the rolling drums without; every German heart there present is moved as at the sound of a trumpet. Fichte descends, passes through the crowd, and places himself in the ranks of a corps of volunteers then departing for the army. It is the commencement of the memorable campaign of 1813.”

6

Throughout this struggle for liberty Fichte took an active part, and was nobly assisted by his wife. The hospitals of the city were filled with the sick and the wounded; they became at length unequal to the demands made upon them, and the authorities, through the public journals, called on the inhabitants to come to their assistance with money, and with women to take charge of the sick. Fichte's wife was one of the earliest to volunteer in

the good cause. She devoted her days to the distribution of clothes, food, and medicine, and to pious cares around the beds of the unknown sick and dying; and after she returned late on a winter's evening to her home, often again went out to collect contributions from her friends and acquaintances.

For five months she devoted herself in this noble way to the service of the helpless and wretched. In January, 1814, from want of sleep or other causes, alarming symptoms began to manifest themselves, and soon after she was attacked with a dangerous nervous fever. It soon attained such a height as to leave

scarce a hope of recovery; and on the very day when she was in the greatest peril, Fichte, who had been engaged in close and anxious attendance upon her during her illness, was compelled to leave her, to deliver the first of a course of philosophical lectures, which he had now recommenced. With wonderful self-command, he continued to speak for two hours on the most abstract subjects, scarcely hoping to find, on his return, his beloved companion still alive. This was, however, the crisis of her illness, and those who witnessed the transports of joy and gratitude with which he hailed the symptoms of recovery were able to estimate the power of self-control he had exercised. It was probably at that moment that, innocently and unconsciously, she communicated to him the fatal infection. On the following day the commencement of a serious indisposition was evident, but Fichte could not be induced to relax any of his customary exertions. The continued sleeplessness, however, soon produced its usual effect on his mental faculties, and in the course of fourteen days the attack terminated fatally.

Thus passed away the amiable spirit of one of the great thinkers of the age-a man who shed on the country of his birth not only intellectual splendor, but rays of moral worth that will burn and glow on the nation's brow when much that is purely philosophical shall be forgotten.

"So robust an intellect," says Mr. Thomas Carlyle, in one of his tempestuous bursts of enthusiasm, "a soul so calm, so lofty, massive, and immovable, has not mingled in philosophical discussion since the time of Luther; for the man rises before us, amid contradiction and debate, like a granite mountain amid clouds and winds. Ridicule of the best that could be commanded has been already tried against him, but it could not avail. What was the wit of a thousand wits to him. The cry of a thousand choughs assaulting that old cliff of granite. Seen from the summit, these, as they winged the midway air, showed scarce so gross as beetles, and their cry was seldom even audible. Fichte's opinions may be true or false, but his character as a thinker can be slightly valued only by those who know it ill; and as a man approved by action and suffering in his life and in his death, he ranks with a class of men who were common only in better ages than ours.

DAVID RITTENHOUSE.

DAVID RITTENHOUSE, whose scientific eminence characterized a period of our history when such eminence was uncommon in the most advanced circles of the world, was born at Germantown, Pennsylvania, on the 8th of April, 1732. His parents were of Dutch descent, and emigrated to the New World at an early period of its history. Concerning David's education and youth we have no satisfactory information. It has been supposed that he received some tuition from a humble relative, a joiner by trade, who lived in the house of Rittenhouse, and died there. This relative appears to have been a superior man, for among his papers were discovered some elementary treatises on mathematics and astronomy, and numerous manuscripts containing calculations and investigations. When he died David was in his twelfth year, and the books and papers were treasures to him, which, even then, he appreciated. The barns and fences about the farm, and even the implements of industry, were covered with diagrams and figures by the young mathematician.

When David was nineteen years of age (1751), he made the

acquaintance of the Rev. Thomas Barton, a well-informed clergyman of the Episcopal Church. This gentleman was astonished at the intelligence and natural aptitude of young Rittenhouse, and, being but a few years older, a strong intimacy sprung up between them, cemented subsequently by the marriage of Mr. Barton to a sister of David's. Under the auspices of this gentleman, Rittenhouse obtained a satisfactory knowledge of the Latin language, and a rudimental acquaintance with the Greek. In addition to these valuable acquirements, Mr. Barton assisted David in his mathematical studies, and added to his knowledge by judicious loans of books.

Rittenhouse had no inclination toward agriculture, and chose the profession of clock-maker, as more in accordance with his tastes and predilections. His first store was erected on his father's farm (1751), where he turned out some unusually good work, and made some important improvements in the rude timepieces of that day. For seven years he devoted himself to the philosophical pursuit of this business, but was compelled for a time to abandon it on account of ill health. A short period of relaxation restored him, but the intense and unremitting attention he paid to every thing laid the foundation of a complaint which compelled him later in life to abandon the business to which he had so enthusiastically devoted himself. He became noted for the excellence of his workmanship, and the philosophical accuracy with which he examined and perfected his instruments and pieces. He made many acquaintances, and some friends; among the latter were Dr. Smith, provost of the College of Philadelphia, and John Lukens, surveyor general of the province. The unusual capacity of Rittenhouse's mind became known to them, and on the first opportunity they availed themselves of his high philosophical and astronomical attainments. The boundary-lines of Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Maryland were at that time subjects of much discussion and litigation. They existed merely on paper, and had never been determined by actual survey. The governor of the province of Pennsylvania was therefore directed to seek out a competent person to trace the lines on the ground, and thus settle all causes of complaint and dispute. For this important and extremely difficult task Mr. Rittenhouse was selected (1763), and he performed it so much to the satisfaction of his employers, that he was proffered and received more than the stipulated compensa