Of Kant we must remember that he has the defects of his qualities. He prides himself on his distinctions of sense and intellect, of imagination and understanding, of understanding and reason; and with justice: but his distinctions are sometimes so decisive that it is hard work both for him and for his reader to reconstitute their unity. He is fond of utilising old classifications to embody his new doctrine: and occasionally the result is like what we have been taught to expect from pouring new wine into old bottles. He draws hard and fast lines, and then has to create, as it seems, supplementary links of connexion, which, if they operate, can only do so because they are the very unity he began by ignoring. One gets perfectly lost in the multitude of syntheses, in the labyrinth of categories, schemata, and principles, of paralogisms, antinomies, and ideals of pure reason. One part of this formalism _may_ be set down to the pedantry and pipeclay of the age of the Great Frederick--pedantry, from which, as we console ourselves, our modern souls are freed. But it arises rather from the necessity of pursuing the battle between truth and error through every complicated passage in that great fortress which ages of scholasticism had--on various plans--gradually constructed. Kant is always a little of the martinet and the schoolmaster; but it is because he knows that true liberty cannot be secured without forms and must capture the old before it can plant the new. The forms as they stand in his grouping may often appear stiff and lifeless: but a more careful study, more sympathetically intent, will find that there is latent life and undisplayed connexion in the terms. Unfortunately the classified cut-and-dried specimens are more welcome to the collector, and can more easily be put in evidence in the examination-room.