\iH\V. ov

V\BR^RY

THE JOURNAL

OF

SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.

Vol. VI.

EDITED BY WM. T. HAERIS

-•-•-♦^-♦-<

H<«^, i

ST. LOUIS, MO.:
THE R. P. STUDLEY COMPANY, PRINTERS, CORNER MAIN & OLIVE STS

18 72.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by

WILLIAM T. HARRIS,
In tlie Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

. . ■ '^

CONTENTS

Anti-Materialism G. S. Hall. 216

Correspondence — Dr. Rosenkranz and Dr. HoflFmanu ; Dr.

Michelet and Dr. Hartmann; Dr. Stirlino; and Dr. Vera;

Philosophy iu Europe Edito?: 175

Difference between the Dialectic and Synthetic Methods A. E. Kroeger. 184

Do the Correlationists Believe in Self-Movement? Editor. 289

Fichte's Facts of Consciousness (translation) A. E. Kroeger. 42, 120, 332

Hartmann on the Dialectic Method (translation) Louis F. Soldan. 159

Hegel's Philosophy of Art — Chivalry (translation) Sue A. Longxuell. 125, 252

Interpretation of Kant's Critic of Pure Reason Simon S. Laurie. 222

Is Positive Science Nominalism or Realism? Editor. 193

Lotze on the Ideal and Real (translation) Max Eberhardt. 4

Metaphysical Calculus... .Editor. 1

Parmenides of Plato S. H. Emery, Jr. 279

Pedaofoofics as a System, by Roseukranz (translation) Aima C. Brackett. 290

Philosophy of Law J. H. Stirling. 313

Rosenkranz on Hegel's Phenoraenoloo^y (translation) G. S. Hall. 53

*

Rosenkranz on Heo-el's Logic (tran^slation) G. S. Hall. 97

Rosenkranz on Heo-el's Philosophy of Right (translation). .G?. S. Hall. 258

Rosenkranz on Hegel's Philosophj^^of History (trans.) G. S. Hall. 340

Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice D. J. Snider. 130, 361

Shakespeare's Tragedy of Julius Caesar D. J. Snider. 234

System of Empirical Certitude John C. Thompson.142

Theories of Mental Genesis John Weiss. 197

Trendelenburg on Hegel's System (translation) Thomas Davidson. 82, 163, 360

BOOK NOTICES.

By the Editor— Vem'sWritincr^. 94; Jovvett's Plato. 187; Werther's Works, 190;
Barzellotti. La Morale nella Filosofia Positiva, 191 ; Ulrici, Compendium der
Logik, 192; Porter, Science of Nature vs. Science of Man. 284; Alcott, Concord
Daj^s, 376; Hickok. Creator and Creation, 383.

By A. E. Kroeger— DtiWf^ Works. 93.

By Thomas Davidson — Uebervveg's History of Philosophj', 96.

By Anna C. Brackett— Channmg''s Wanderer. 95; Bartol's Radical Problems, 287.

f .-

THE JOUR'^AL

If

O F

SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.

Vol. VI. January, 1872. No. 1.

THE METAPHYSICAL CALCULUS.

In the province of raatliematics, tliouglit is engaged in as-
certaining and delining quantitative functions, and in trans-
forming these into equivalents. When it has found the
numerical equivalent of a given function, its goal is reached.
To use the words of another'^: "Speculative [pure] mathe-
matics is the science of the functional laws by which to con-
vert figure and force into number. Its first division creates
functions by establishing the laws of derivation — Geometry
and Mechanics ; — the second division computes the functions
either in form or value — Algebra or Calculus, and Arith-
metic."

There is a certain analogy between mathematics and meta-
'physics in objects and methods.

In general, the problem in metaphysics is to find the equiv-
alent forms of Mind and Matter, — to find the equivalent of
each in terms of the other. And this involves, as in mathe-
matics, preliminary sciences, wherein " functions are created
by establishing the laws of derivation." In other words, each
province — Mind and Matter — must first be reduced to its ele-
mental functions, its simplest terms found, and its entire em-
pire reduced to corresponding equivalents in those simplest
terms. Then comes the necessity of a bridge — the discovery
of an equivalence between the terms of Mind and Matter —

« Jour. Spec. Phil., vol. v., p. 178.
Vol. vi.— 1

2 The Metaphysical Calculu,s.

and over this bridge the investigator carries his science to
its completion.

If one is skeptical as to tlie existence of such a bridge, he
has only to retlect a moment to perceive that the two great
classes of thinkers really assume its existence in all their
investigations. If he reflects still further, he is likely to find
that even his own skeptical stand-point presupposes such a
bridge.

The materialist assumes that all i)henomena have their
material equivalents, and that Matter and Force is the sub-
stantial mode of existence, while Mind is one of its many
phases. Hence to him all mental phenomena have equiva-
lent terms of matter and force, and the object of his philoso-
phy is to ascertain and fix these terms and their relations.
He asks : what is the physical equivalent of thought and feel-
ing ? What movement of the brain, what change of texture
or consumption of tissue is concomitant with thought, feeling,
or volition ? This leads him to inquire into the structure and
function of nerves and brain, and the relations of dijfferent
qualities and quantities of food and drink to the modifica-
tions of intellectual products. His psychology seeks the
laws of derivation of the complex from the simple, and ex-
plains all thought as modified sensation. ''Thought is a
secretion of the brain just as bile is a secretion of the liver."
In this mode of scientific procedure matter is assumed as the
substantial and as the most knowable; systematic knowl-
edge will result from ascertaining the physical composition
and laws of phenomena in general.

The idealist — using a somewhat inadequate expression as
a name for the opposite class of thinkers — assumes that all
phenomena have their mental equivalents, that Mind or
Thinking Being is the substantial, and that the material
world is only one of its processes. Matter is the phenomenon
or appearance of Sj^irit. " The Ego is the actual substance
or Being, and at the same time it is subject or free activity.
It is that whose being or essence consists in the act of posit-
ing itself, i. e. of creating or producing itself. Before I be-
came self-conscious, I did not exist as Ego. The Ego is its
ov^n object. In the act of thinking itself, it is the active sub-
ject and the product of its act. Its being is Freedom, Exist-

The Metaphysical Calculus. 3

ence for itself; it is absolute subject. The determinations of
objects are determinations of the Ego. All true being is
knowing. The basis of the universe is not unspiritual — the
antithesis of si3irit — whose connection with sj^irit can never
be comprehended — but sj)irit itself. No death, no lifeless
matter, but everywhere life, spirit, intelligence, a realm of
spirits throughout its entire extent. Again, all actual Know-
ing is Being; it posits absolute reality and objectivity ; or
the Ego is substance and the content of all reality." In this
statement of Fichte we have the general outcome of the G» i
man philosophic movement since Kant. Kant's problem was
j)recisely to ascertain the mental equivalent in the act of cog-
nition. The result of his labors, supplemented by those of
his successors, is a complete reduction and formulation of the
mental factors in the various realms of Knowing. What ac-
tivity of the mind is involved in thinking the idea of Space,
and how its idea differs from that of Time, Motion, Matter, or
how these differ from one another and from any other ideas,
all this sort of information is given us with the utmost pains-
taking and minuteness ; the results being stated in terms of
mental activity : this idea is dehned thus and so, i. e. its think-
ing requires such and so much consciousness of the entire cir-
cular movement of thought. The idea of Space, for example,
is a consciousness of that part of the activity of thinking
wherein the separation or distinction of the Ego from itself is
involved. Any arc of the entire circular activity of thinking
may be made the object of consciousness, and, according to
its extent and completeness, the depth and generality of the
idea, which is the object contemplated, varies. Thus the idea
of Time is a consciousness of the opposite phase involved in
the activity which thinks space. That activity is common to
thought and to Being, and that all objectivity, no matter how
intuited, perceived, or conceived, involves movement of some
sort, and that its thinking is accomplished through an inter-
nal constructive movement of thought — this seems to be the
basis of the great reactionary system of Trendelenburg which
brings the ancient Greek and the modern German systems of
Philosophy close together.

Again, if one were to discard both views and attempt to
take a skeptical position denying the possibility of a bridge

4 Lotze on Tdealism and Realism.

tVuni iiiiiul to nuitter, it is certain that lie would not defend
liimself suooessfully. The materialist takes his stand on
sensuous pereeption and posits as substantial, certain meta-
physical entities such as matter, force, and the like, naively
supposing that they are realities cognized by him through
his senses. The idealist takes his stand on self-consciousness,
and from the universal and nivessary principles found there
he constructs his science. The skeptic, if he employ a proce-
dure at all, must assume logical principles borrowed from
the materialist or from the idealist. If he stands on the anti-
nomy of the two systems like Kant, he will like Kant furnish
a basis for the strict conclusions of a Fichte quoted above.
To say there is no bridge from mind to matter is to deny the
possibility of knowing that there is such a thing as matter,
for the assertion sets out from mind.

The utilitarian will be most astonished when he examines
the manifold applications that the German scientific explor-
ers have made with this idealistic method of ascertaining the
mental equivalent of cognitions. In fixing with absolute pre-
cision the exact content of the various writings of Aristotle,
in settling the numerous ethnological questions that arise in
connection with philological researches in the higher sciences,
social, political, and theological, they have the mastery of a
method that gives them the vantage ground; they can solve
the antinomies by pure thought; those who cannot, must work
out the solutions with expenditure of life itself. Thought
alone makes life valuable, and has power to protect and pre-
serve it.

IDEALISM AND REALISM IN THEIR RELATION TO
THE THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE.

From Herman Lotze's " Mikrokosmus."
By Max. Ebekiiakdt.

Philosophy is a mother who is served with ingratitude at
the hands of her children. At one time she was all in all to
them; Mathematics and Astronomy, Physics and Physiol-
ogy, no less than Ethics and Politics, sprang into existence

Lotze on Idealis'in and Realism. 5

from her maternal fold. But soon her daughters had esta-
blished their own affluent homes, and each one the sooner in
proportion to the rapid progress made under her maternal
influences, conscious of what she now had wrought \)j dint
of her own labor, they withdrew from the control of Philoso-
phy, who, not being able to follow them into the minutia3 of
their new departments of life, became troublesome by her
monotonous recurrence to impertinent counsels. And thus,
after all of her offspring had branched off from the common
stock, Philosophy shared the dubious lot of retaining the
insoluble part of all problems as her undisputed province.
Placed upon this reserve, she has still maintained her vital-
ity, ever pondering over the old hidden enigmas, and ever
sought in lonely quietude by those who founded their hopes
upon the unity of human knowledge.

The connection of phenomena had been thoroughly investi-
gated by the empirical sciences ; they showed how many and
how multiform the links are that form the series of actions
uniting a cause with its ultimate effect ; but what it is which
connects two coexistent links of the series, eluded their grasp ;
they neither said what the things were in themselves, nor in
what that interaction of things consisted by means of which the
state of one might produce a change in the state of the other.
The religious and moral life of man, as regards itself, has de-
veloped the belief in that which is of absolute value, in what
should be, as enjoined by an imperative duty, and which, if
Reality is to have any meaning whatever, must be the most
real of all ; but the world of forms and facts, wherein alone
it would realize itself, lay before it, a strange domain, being
neither a creation of its own, nor even, as it seemed, reconci-
lable with it. This state of things prompted the agitation of
the two questions again and again as to the peculiar nature
of Being, whose appearance to us we observe, and as to the
relation which this world of existing reality sustains to the
Avorld of values that should be. And, ere the lirst two were
answered, arose the third, as to the capacity for truth j)os-
sessed by our cognition in general ; and as to its relation,
there, to the existing reality — here, to that which ought to be
in it and through it.

Certitude in our thoughts is attainable by reducing them

C Lotze on Idealism and liealism.

to the cei'taint}" of others previously demonstrated, or to the
evidence of immediate or intuitive truths, neither in need of,
nor susceptible of, demonstration.

The conlidence we liave, parti}' in the laws of Thought
which etlect that reduction or generalization, partly in the
simple and direct cognitions to which these laws lead us,
may be saved from prejudices whose power of persuasion is
but fortuitous, by repeatedly and closely examining the ob-
ject of our research; whilst it could no longer be preserved
by any sort of demonstration from a doubt which would turn
into a possible error, and shake our confidence even in that
which we always find to be a necessity of thought. A skep-
ticism, however, that did not show the error of certain preju-
dices from particular contradictions liable to be pointed out,
and the possibility of correcting them, but were only desirous
of repeating, without provocation, the idle question, whether
all things, in the end, might not be entirely different from the
manner in which we of necessity must think them, would, to-
getlier with Certitude, destroy all the value which we attach
to reality. That this, however, shall not be — that the world
cannot be an incongruity without meaning — this conviction
of a moral faith is the last ground upon which we base our
trust in the capacity for truth possessed by our cognition,
and in the possibility of any knowledge whatever. But the
extent of knowledge is not determined, as yet, by this con-
viction.

Only of our own being have we any immediate conscious-
ness ; in regard to an external world, all our knowledge is
based upon representations which are but changeful states
of our own selves. What certainty have we, then, that this
image of an external world is not a dream evolved by our
nature i The cautious man asks this, while the imprudent
one asserts it ; he forgets that it must, indeed, be so in both
cases, whether things be external to us or not ; even an actual
world outside of us could be represented by us only in im-
ages composed of affections of our being. The subjective
nature of our presentative faculty does not, therefore, decide
upon the existence or non-existence of the world that it be-
lieves to be representing to itself. The attempt, however, to
conceive the world's image simply as the native product of

Lotze on Idealism and Realism. 7

the mind was generally early repudiated by the even tenor
of science ; it was always found essential, to this end, to
assume within us just as may impulses foreign to the nature
of our mind, and not deducible from it, as the ordinary view
imagined us to receive from without. Reserving for future
discussion what is of importance in these contemplations, we
follow for the present the conviction to which Philosophy
has ever returned, that our representative faculty springs
from the reciprocation with a world independent of us.

If this be the case, however, could the act of representation
be more than the effect of things — could it be their corre-
sponding copy ? and could truth, for the recognition of which
we possess a capacity, consist in the agreement of Thought
with Being ? We speak of the image of an object when an}^
combination of other agencies produces the same impression
upon our perception which the object itself would have
caused ; from the similitude of its effects upon us, therefore,
do we recognize one thing to be the image of another. Can
this very effect, which both produce within us, ever be iden-
tical with them in such a degree, that in the observing gaze
of a stranger our cognitions would be accepted as an image
of the object ? Wherever there is reciprocation — and cogni-
tion is but the particular instance of such an effect between
the objects and the percipient mind — there the nature of the
one element never turns into the other, remaining identical
with itself and unchanged; but every hrst element serves
only as an encouragement for every second one to realize
from among the many states of which its own nature is sus-
ceptible, a certain particular one — that one, namely, which,
according to a general law of this nature, is an adequate re-
sponse to the quality and quantity of the stimulus to which
it was subjected. Hence, there is a correspondence between
the external causes acting upon us, and certain images with-
in us, which loe produce, a correspondence between a change
of those causes and a variation of these, our internal or men-
tal states. But no particular representation is a likeness of
the cause whose product it is, and even the relations between
these unknown elements which we imagine we recognize, are
not, in the lirst place, the \%yj relations existing between
them abstractly ; they are the forms in which we perceive .

8 Lotze on Idealism and RealUm.

them. And this state we do not consider a human imperfec-
tion ; we rather conceive it as inherent in the nature of every
knowledge depending upon reciprocation with its object. All
beings who are subject to this condition suffer the like conse-
.quence : they never behold tilings, as they are in themselves,
when no one sees them, but only as they appear when they
are seen.

Limited in this manner to phenomena, knowledge is still
not devoid of all relation to the Existent itself. For we must
not complain of its delusiveness as though a mere semblance
were presented, while the essence which gives birth to this
semblance were beyond our ken, absolutely avoiding all com-
parison with the former, and questionable even in its very
existence. We cannot consider the fundamental forms of
cognition as mere forms of human perception, into which the
objects, in themselves entirely differently constituted, drop,
without admitting that, in order to drop into these forms, the
objects must, of course, conform to them in the same manner
as anything must fit the mesh of the net by which it is to be
caught. Or, not using any figure of speech, every phenome-
non, in order to ajDpear at all, presupposes an essential being
whose internal relations furnish the principles determining
the form of its appearance. From an analysis of the forms
of our intuition in whicli perception directly seizes its ob-
jects, the conviction may be secured that these forms with
which we are so familiar are not applicable to the objects
themselves ; but still we must seek in the nature of things
and their true mutual relations the conditions which permit
us to perceive them in those forms. It may thus be doubtful
whether space and time, as such, may not consist in the act
of representation merely, which comprehends the multifari-
ous ; but it cannot be doubtful that then the Existent need
not be subject of itself to an order devoid of time and space,
which, while acting upon us, is converted into the forms of
coordination and sequence. The sensation which presents
any object to us, or calls forth any act, is certainly not iden-
tical with its cause ; but it is equally certain that we consider
two objects or acts as identical, alike, or different, if their im-
pressions upon us be identical, alike, or different; and the
degrees of their affinity we estimate according as the differ-

Lotze on Idealmn and> Realism. 9

ences are greater or less in their impressions. We thus inev-
itably conceive that which apparently exists and transpires,
presented by perception simply in the form of the Phenome-
nal, as being in perfect correspondence with that which truly
exists in the things themselves or transpires between them,
and which, for that reason, is by no means devoid of trutli
and a due conformity to Law. To renounce these premises
would not add to our certitude, but would simply produce a
fruitless, self-contradictory affliction of thought.

Although Semblance tlius points to Being, yet it points to
mere formal relations of the Existent and their changes ; the
essence of things which subsist and move in these relations
remains inscrutable. And for the very reason that the na-
ture of things remains unknown, the actions taking place
among them cannot be comprehended from their nature ;
only the semblance, the result of experience can teach us to
surmise what in truth is taking place. In this manner phi-
losophical research follows the same course which, as we
have seen, the natural sciences have taken; it commences
with the separate phenomena, mysterious and contradictory,
presented by experience, and guided by the general laws of
Thought, it endeavors to arrive at the form of what in truth
exists and transpires, which must serve as its efficient cause
to explain what is strange and contradictory in the material
furnished by our perceptions. There may be many a glori-
ous success even within this limited scope of its problem
attending this spirit of Realism, which is content in reducing
given data of Semblance to data of Being which we must of
necessity assume ; not only that it may succeed in ej.ucidat-
ing the causal nexus in a certain analogous series of pheno-
mena, but the comparison of the knowledge obtained may
also afford a prospective glance at that which, as the true
Reality, lies at the foundation of the whole phenomenal
world. Yet even this final result will not, in the main, re-
move the character of a mere matter of fact by virtue of this
principle, and thus it will ever give rise to the ojDposition of
that idealistic disposition of the human soul which does not
recognize true Being in facts that exist merely because they
exist, or must of necessity be assumed because something
else exists, but gives countenance to such a fact only as the

10 Lotze on Tdcalism and Realism.

t'cu'm of tiui' Ijt'iiig, which, through the dignity of Thought
that it represents, proves its mission, its right, its potency, to
pUice itself at the summit of Reality as the ultimate datum,
as the highest formative principle.

With the bold assertion that Thought and Being are iden-
tical. Idealism confronts the profession of Realism that the
nature of things is unknowable. Although Idealism has
sometimes ventured to assert this, it does not necessarily fol-
low that it will ever be possible for human cognition to pene-
trate by the activity of thought the quiddity of all things and
to reproduce them in thoughts ; the limits which the linitude
of our nature imposes upon this extension of our actual in- ■
sight into the essence of things are too obvious. But, to a
power of cognition free from these limits, things would no
longer be impenetrable; they would not be as much beyond
all comprehension as, for instance, light is beyond the faculty
of hearing, sound beyond the faculty of sight ; as actualized
thoughts rather would they be recognized by the cognitive
faculty of man, the latter recognizing itself in them. Thus,
though not exactly taken as an assertion with regard to the
relation of our knowledge to its object, but rather as a con-
viction with reference to the nature of being-in-itself, this
proj)osition imperceptibly imparts a different meaning to
Being, or the nature of things, from that given to it by cur-
rent opinion. For, that content by which one thing is distin-
guished from another, the natural consciousness believes to
have within its immediate reach, partly in sensation, partly
in representations which primarily attach to sensations and
embrace their elements. The more mysterious does it seem,
that this content has the virtue of presenting itself to the
mind as something existent, self-subsistent, tangible, in gen-
eral, as a thing ; whoever would discover the hidden source
of extension, fulness, hardness, elasticity, or whatever per-
tains to objectivity, would, as man would naturally suppose,
iiave found the true j^eculiar nature of the thing, — not that by
which one is distinguished from the other, but that in which
they all are alike, the nature of their being, the Reality.
Can, then. Idealism claim the ability to solve this i)roblem ?
Certainly to no greater extent than that to which Realism
has also professed to solve it; what it is that causes things

Lotze on Idealism and Realism. 11

to he, and why it is that they are related to one another ; how-
it is finally brought about that something follows from these
relations ; in what manner an event, a state of becoming and
acting, are possible : all this remains as impenetrable a mys-
tery to Idealism as it does to its opponent. Admitting, for a
moment, everything we may concede, although this theory
may not know how all this is brought about, it may still suc-
ceed in proving a connection, according to which, supposing
this very Being to exist in a manner inconceivable, there must
also be, in a manner alike inconceivable, that very state of
becoming and acting, and no other ; even then, however,
Idealism would have fathomed but the meaning and the ra-
tional connection of particular determinations, which we
before comprehended as a totality under the name of Being ;
wholly unknown would it be still how this inner connection
of reality can be. And this it was that the proposition, pre-
sented in a bold and striking manner, promised to fulfil when
it declared Being identical with Thought; we were led to
imagine that the very element through which Being as Being-
was first distinguished, in a manner ^Drecluding all agreement,
from Thinking or the state of being thought, might finally
represent itself to be an impercej)tible difterence, and this
Being be wholly dissolved in thoughts. Now it appears that
Idealism, too, in regard to the two ideas by dint of whose
fusion we think the Existent, that of the What and that of
its Being, leaves this very Being equally unexplained.

But, however injudicious it was to speak in that proposi-
tion of Being, it was just as inexpedient, on the other hand,
to mention Thought as that which is to be identical with it ;
as long, at least, as this name is to distinguish with a fixed
meaning a particular act of. the mind from others. And this
seems to be the meaning ; for to sensuous perception Ideal-
ism also does not concede that it seizes the truth of things ; it
abandons both, and reserves to Thought, as a higher and
peculiar activity, the privilege of detecting, behind the decep-
tive wrappings in which the world of perception crowds upon
us, the true Being. But this hope is based upon a widely
difi'used error. That for which language has coined a name,
we are generally very prone to consider a product of Thought,
although its aid in determining the subj ect that a name serves

I'J Lotze on Idealism and Realism.

to denote is often very insignificant, and I'reqnently wholly
valueless. As far as sensnons inii)ressions are concerned, we
are, of conrse, readily convinced that no art applied in logical
operations cau snpply to the blind or deaf the want of per-
ception with regard to color orsonnd: that, therefore; blue
and sweet are no conceptions thonght by us, but impressions
we experience, that their names are but signs of speech which
remind us of a content, in which thought shares at most but
to the extent that it points out its dependent character by
virtue of the adjective form it imparts to it. But in the more
general conceptions which are everj'where entwined with our
perceptions, investing them with form and import in the ideas
of Being, of Becoming, of Activity, and of any relation point-
ing from one element to another, we believe the more posi-
tively that we find true products of Thought, and of that alone.
And still the import of Being is not capable, by the activity
of Thought, of being rendered .intelligil)le to him who does
not intuitively know what is meant thereby ; only by way of
analysis can Thought, in removing all irrelevant conceptions
which are not intended, teach us how to trace the meaning
oi the word that is apprehended only by direct intuition.
Nobody will discover a definition with regard to Becoming
which does not embrace under another name its most essen-
tial characteristics — the conception of a transition from one
event to another, or of the act of transpiring in general.

Thought can aid in defining this conception only by elu-
cidating both the jjoints between which that mysterious tran-
sition takes place, between those which are namable only,
but not capable of being further analyzed in thought. And
equally be}ond the reacli of all logical operations is the con-
cept of Activity. We can easily believe that we may yet re-
duce it to the more abstract one of the Conditioning, although
it then would be questionable whether the reverse would not
be more correct; but would it then be possible to determine
by a further analysis of thought what the idea of the Condi-
tioning actually signifies ? Apparently, perhaps — in reality,
certainlv not — under this or that name Thought will after all
be but capable of merely designating the ideas of an essen-
tial connection of different events, without, however, being-
able to generate it by dint of its own activity.

Lotze on Idealism and Realism. 13

And here tlie objection nia}^ be urged that 1 unnecessarily
dwell upon that which is self-evident ; it may be said that
Thought as a relative and synthetic activity would, of course,
be compelled to presuppose the elements to be put in relation
and synthesis, as having been furnished from some other
source. I really aim at nothing else than to render this con-
viction very apparent for the moment, and to deduce its conse-
quences. For, after some consideration, we are soon convinced
that those elements secm-ed by Thought in this manner, as
having originated elsewhere, contain nothing else than the
sum total of those cognitions of true Being and Eventuation
which formerly were predicated of it as its inherent proper-
ties. In all cases, Thought is but an introactive agency that
places the primitive intuitions of the internal and external
perceptions in reciprocal relations, these being predetermined
by fundamental ideas and laws the origin of which we can-
not trace ; logical forms proper, peculiar to itself, it develops
only in the attempt at applying this truth which we find
within us, to the diverse variet}^ of perceptions, and the con-
sequences drawn from them. Hence, there is nothing less
justiliable than the assertion that Thought, as it is, is iden-
tical with Being, and capable of absorbing it without anv
residue ; in all instances there rather remain unabsorbed, in
its ideal How, the particular traces which mark the special
features of the great Entity we have distinguished b}^ the
name of Being. With more truth we should have said : JBeine-
perceives itself; we — inasmuch as we are^ — know, feel, per-
ceive, or experience rightly that which is said to be ; being-
active, we know full well what we mean, though without the
power of expressing it, when not only speaking of a periodi-
city of phenomena but of a state in which the one is con-
ditioned by the other. And, in this sense, all the world has
always known what Being or Reality denotes, for every one
has inwardly experienced the meaning of these words; having,
however, found it difficult or impossible to express, by dint
of logical categories, what he has so vividly experienced.
Philosophy has been equally unsuccessful in supplying this
deficiency ; it has invariably given us onh' names for the ex-
periences of life; and living and moving in names, it sometimes
has experienced less vividly that which has presented itself

14 Lot:re on Idealism and Beallsm.

as tlie object of its efforts. Consequent upon such considera-
tions it will in the spirit of Idealism be insisted upon, that
this point should now at K'nu'th be dropped; it is admitted,
that we do not know how things can exist and act, but their
essence does not consist in their actuality, but rather in what
they are and act. Is. tiien, this content of things more sus-
ceptible of thought than the manner in which we have souglit
to determine it ( Whatever Thought may be, it is an activity
of the mind : and if it be not this, it is at all events a variable
series of states which the mind experiences. Now, how can
a succession of states depict and reproduce anything else than
their like again i — can it apprehend the essence which is sub-
ject to these states^ It Avill only then be possible when we
a\Id another to our former assumptions, and no longer con-
sider what things are, but what they experience, as their very
essence and their true being which Philosophy is in quest of.
Thus Idealism, by a course whose particular stages we can-
not liere point out, would admit that it, at all events, neither
knew liow things were, nor what they were ; but certainly
what they signify. And this, their true being, is also know-
able. What everything is in itself, that very nature of it by
which it is at all, and is enabled to vindicate itself effectually
and to be something different from others, this may forever
remain an impenetrable mystery to Thought. But in the
forms of their destinies, their changes, their evolution, their
activity, and tlieir participation in the grand, connecting
scheme of Reality, — in all these respects things are, it is said,
apj)rehensible by Thought, and comparable with one another ;
the essential import of every one of them, so far as it consists
in this, is of itself exhaustible in thought, no matter whether
we human beings can find this thought or not. Thus Ideal-
ism, like Realism, is confinlbd to a cognition of that which
transpires in and between things remaining unknown ; but
in the import which this fact presents, it imagines that it
possesses all essential truth ; things do but exist for the pur-
pose of realizing this fact.

A similar conviction has always been entertained and ex-
pressed in other forms by Faith, inasmuch as it has held the
woild to be of divine creation. It thereby denies as emphati-
cally as philosophical Idealism that there is resident in things

Lotzt on Idealism and Realism. 15

any being, or part of their being, which they are invested with
by means of themselves. All they are, they are by the will
and intent of God ; their most peculiar being consists in that
Avhich God has meant or intended with them, in their signiii-
cance as to the unity of the great scheme of Life. To fathom
this scheme is not what Faith claims, but its idea of God is
full of different rays beaming upon one another, as it were,
which cast their illumining lights also upon the world cre-
ated below. The idea of an immutable and just God harmo-
nizes with the rigorous laws of the i^henomenal world ; the
intinite fulness of His beatihc Being conforms to the beauty
of the latter — His sanctity with the order of events in tlie
world of morality. To trace back to these creative attributes
of God all particular incidents of Reality, was neither at-
tempted, nor was it considered possible ; it was sufficient to
believe, despite the contradiction of numerous- perceptions,
in the verity of these attributes in general, and to derive
anew in particular instances, from a selection of preferred
phenomena, the vivid feeling of their efficiency prevailing
throughout the universe.

In two respects philosophical Idealism sought to transcend
this belief. It tirst took exception to the loose nianner in
which Religion spoke of a personal God, in which it permit-
ted Him to evoke things from naught into reality, and to place
Himself in a state of reciprocation with these realized nulli-
ties; the metaphysical import of all these proceedings was
to be discovered and raised into the light of comprehension.

None of these efforts, upon the purport of which the con-
clusion of our considerations invites us to enter more fully,
have been successful ; whilst criticising all ideas which Faith
had anthropomorphosed of the relation of God to the world,
they have left remaining in forms of speech generally artiti-
cially obscured, as a final outcorning, the assertion merely,
that a single highest Idea permeates all phenomena of the
actual world with its formative and authoritative principles,
without explaining how. And for the ver}^ reason that Ideal-
ism could at most but seize upon the import of the world
and not furnish the proof of its reality, everything that
pointed to this enigma was eliminated from its consideration.
There was no longer any mention of God, for this name sig-

16 Lotze on. Idealisim and Realisiri.

nitres nauglii uitliout the predicates of actual power and
etiiciency ; there could only be mention of the Idea whose
content, whether in this or that manner alike incomprehen-
sible, actually constituted the very being and import of the
world. But for that very reason the liope was entertained of
being able to express fully and systematically the whole
tenor of this Idea in thoughts, and by this second etfort
greatly to surpass Faith, which knew but in general terms
the intent of God — this remaining, in its particulars, in-
scrutable. This promise, likewise, could be realized only
by abstracting from the nature of the subject what remained
inconceivable to Thought. For, as a matter of course, the
living forces which Faith had contemplated as resident in
God, presented themselves to Thought in a manner just as
inconceivable as the sensuous impressions furnished by per-
ception. For them, too, we invent names; their content we
merely experience, and do not seize by means of Thought.
What is good or bad remains just as inconceivable as what
is blue or sweet ; only after an immediate feeling has taught
us the presence of merit and demerit in the world, and
the difficulty of distinguishing them. Thought may develop
from out of that which we thus experience, certain criteria
which afterwards assist us in subordinating anything par-
ticular in the one or the other of those two general intui-
tions. Is it possible to lind in concepts the peculiar vivifying
nerve of Justice ? We may talk much of a balance of pow-
ers, of a conformity among a(;tive and passive states, of weal
or woe falling back upon him who has caused them ; but
what process of Thought explains the interest we exhibit in
these phenomena only when they signify that which we call
a Retribution ^ Love and Imtred, are they thinkable ? can
their quiddity be exhausted in concepts? In whatever pro-
cess of transforming duality into unity, or in whatever mode
of separating what might be one, we should be desirous of
perceiving their signihcance : we shall forever announce but
an enigma. For the enigma is the j)ointing out of criteria,
from which the full, living content to which they belong does
not spontaneously How, but must be devined, as it does not
lie in them. Now, this whole, living content which Faith
apprehended in the personal being of God, Philosophy not

Lotze on Idealism and Realism. 17

only expected to reproduce in Thought ; it imagined that it
conferred upon Him, who is more than all that may be called
Idea, an honorable distinction by raising Him from the ob-
scurity of that which is experienced and felt with all the
energies of heart and soul to the dignity of a concept as an
object of pure Thought.

Nature and Humanity are alike subject to this treatment,
which reduces the true import of all things and events to the
formal manner of their appearance, and which looks upon
things and events themselves merely as being designed for
the realization of these forms. The creatures of nature exist,
according to this view, in order to take rank in a system
of classification, and to secure to the logical categories of the
General, Particular, and Individual, an abundance of pheno-
mena ; their living actions and their reciprocation take place
in order to celebrate the mysteries of the Differential, the
Opposite, of Polarity, and Unity. — to perform a rhythm in
whose oscillations xlffirmation. Negation, and mutual Limita-
tion, succeed one another. Man, engaged in the contempla-
tion of the Spiritual world, would at one time, under the
influence of Realism, view Thought and all spiritual life sim-
ply as the highest forms in which those mysterious powers,
Affirmation, Negation, Contrariety and its extinction, would
become manifest ; and at another time, more given to Ideal-
ism, he would consider Thought to be the true being and
object of all things, looking upon those forms wherein that
which merely exists and transpires is presented to him as
the faint prelude to the more potent theme of thought. But
he went not beyond the attempt at recognizing Thought as
the most essential attribute of mind — as the acme of Tliought,
the thinking of Thought, the pure self-reflection of the logical
activity of the mind. Existence and the dignity of the moral
world were, of course, not forgotten ; but the Imperative in
the moral nature of man had also to submit to this proce-
dure by which everything was reduced to formal relations ;
it seemed as if it ought to be only to the extent it repeated,
in the forms of its realization, those esteemed relations which
stood for the true nature of Being.

Right here, in pointing out these errors, we drop this sub-
ject. Tacitly passing by much that is considered great and

Vol. vi.— 2

18 The Trinity and the Double Procession.

momentous l\v the disciples of this seliool, tliis brief sketch
shows a spiiil of partiality in merely ])oiiitiiig out what was
apt to serve as an introduction to the object we had in view
in these disquisitions. Philosophy is at present neither ex-
clusively controlled by the false Idealism we have been last
opposiuii", nor is it possible to avoid the mistake into which
it has fallen ; but we do not deem it proper as yet to set forth
the conviction we desire to hold as our ultimatum. Only, as
a preliminary enunciation we m.i\.j say : The Essential of
things does not consist in thoughts, and Thought is ijot capa-
ble of apprehending it ; but the whole Mind may nevertheless
expei'ience, in other forms of its activity and its atlections,
the necessary import of all Being and activity, and then
Thought serves as a means of placing what was exj)erienced
in that connection which its nature requires, and in experien-
cing it more intensely as the mind succeeds in controlling
that connection. Very old errors they are which oppose this
insight.

It was long before the vivid imagination of man recognized
in Thought the rein which secures to its course steadiness,
certainty, and truth; it may take just as long before it will
be known that the rein cannot generate the motion it is to
control. The shadow of Antiquity, its mischievous over-esti-
mation of the Logos ^ hangs still over us, and does not per-
mit us to perceive either in the Real or the Ideal that by
dint of which both are more than all Reason.

THE TRINITY AND THE DOUBLE PROCESSION.

By Fkancis A. Hknky.

If it be admitted that truths concerning what we call the
Infinite, the Absolute, and the Divine, supply a key to the
comprehension of this mysterious universe in which, we know
not how, we find ourselves, supply an explanation of this life
which each of us is somehow living without memory of its
beginning or foresight of its end, then it follows that the sci-
ence which treats of these truths has a right to its old name
of scientia scientiarum, and may fairly be considered the

The Trinity and the Double Procefision. 19

most important study which can occupy mankind. But now-
adays very few will make this admission or accept this
consequence. Men's intellects are ruled by a philosophy of
relativity and nescience which denies the reality or cogniza-
bility of the Infinite and Absolute, and by a physical sciencer
which declares all supra-mundane concerns to be "essentially
questions of lunar iDolitics," and conceives that it only "shows
a proj>er regard for the economy of time" when it " declines
to trouble itself about them at all." These are dark days cer-
tainly for Speculative Theology, and embittered too by that
memory of happier things which is the crown of sorrows.
For time was when she herself sat upon the throne of intel-
lectual despotism, and Physical Science hid its face, and
worked in holes and corners, and Free Thought was brought
to the scaffold and the stake. But if wdiile Theology wan-
ders unregarded and uncared for now, she is brought to see
that her own tyranny over men provoked their rebellion and
explains their contempt, adversity will not be without its
uses ; and when she acknowledges that perfect liberty is due
to thought, and perfect charity to error, she may regain, for
she will then deserve, her old ascendancy. Meantime who-
ever writes upon theological subjects must content himself
with the tit audience though few, and to such an audience it
may not be uninteresting to consider briefly the fundamental
question of all Theology, namely, the essential constitntion
of the Divine existence.

This is expressed in the Christian religion by the doctrine
of the Trinity, a doctrine which is taught from Scripture as a
mystery, and which is not explained because not understood
philosophically nor sought to be so understood. The doc-
trine as contained in the Catholic formularies is briefly this :
The one God is three Persons ; the three Persons are co-eter-
nal and in every respect co-equal, so that each Person is in
the full sense God, and yet there are not three Gods, but one
God ; God is one and singular, yet that Singular is not one
Person but three Persons. Thus expressed the doctrine is
the closest contradiction, for the gist of every statement of it
is that there is a unity of One and Three taken in the same
sense. The unity and the plurality are the same thing, in
the same respect, and from the same point of view. It is true

20 7Vie lyinity and the Double Procession. '

dirteieiit terms are used for each ; the unity is said to be of
Substance and the triplicity of Persons, but these terms are
only for convenience in speaking now of the unit}^ and now
of the plurality. Without sncli distinct terms ordinary men
could hardly frame any conception of the doctrine even as a
contradiction, but it should be remembered that they are
terms of economy and do not inhere in the object. When
ifoi) is said to be one in Substance and three in Person, it
■Cannot be meant that He is one in a different respect from
that in which He is three, as if the unity and the plurality
lay side by side and the mind could go from one to the other,
because, in the hrst place, the terms are equivalent in mean-
ing. Personality is Substance, and Substance can be nothing-
else than Personality. Again, the moment the plurality is
isolated from the unity, the Persons present themselves as
individually independent: Godhead is rather their attribute
than their substance, and the result is Tritheism, not the
Christian Trinity. Furthermore, if God is One in one respect
and Three in another respect, there is no longer any difficul-
ty, it is true, but there is also no new or important truth. All
that is deep and distinctive in the doctrine vanishes along
with the incomprehensibility ; there is no longer any mys-
tery, and the Trinitarian controversy appears inexi)Ucable
madness. Sameness /;/ one respect is not identity but only
similarity, and dillerence in one respect is only dissimilarity,
not essential difference. If this were all it means, the doc-
trine might be predicated of eveiything in the universe, for
we know that everything is tlie same as another thing in
some respect and different from it in others, but no thing in
the universe is the same as another in one respect and also
different from it in the same resptect, and Just this is what
Christianity means by the Trinity, although it does not
profess to understand it. The doctrine is expressed as a
contradiction because what is contradictory is here what is
essential, and the difficulty cannot be removed for the under-
standing without maiming or perverting the idea. The unity
is in and through the plurality, and the pluralit}^, as such, is
unity.

Now if it be objected to the doctrine that thus stated it is
incomprehensible and inconceivable, the common answer is

The Trinity and the Doiible Procession. 21

that although it cannot be understood it is to be believed; that
it is properly not contrary to reason but above and beyond
reason, and so matter for faith. The answer is not satisfac-
tory. For, in the first place, it is not possible to believe in an
unintelligibility, if by belief is to be understood any mental
activity. Faith in an unintelligible is purely a negative
attitude of mind, for it is necessarily nothing more than sus-
pension of thought ; it is simply the non-holding of an opin-
ion to the contrary of the unintelligible proposition ; no man
can go further than this with his faith, let him try as he will.
In the second place, the distinction between contrary to and
above reason is a sophism as here used. If the doctrine of
the Trinity be fairly presented, it is directly contrary to rea-
son as that term is commonly used. The true answer is that
its being inconceivable and incomprehensible is no objection
to the doctrine of the Trinity, because conceivability and com-
prehensibility are no criteria of any concrete truth. Take the
notion of infinite space ; it is equally impossible to conceive
of it as limited — for then it is not infinite — and as illimita-
ble, for conception can only represent the bounded. In like
manner it is impossible to comprehend logically the com-
monest facts of experience. For instance, all forms of motion
embody a contradiction logically insoluble. A body cannot
move where it is not, for it must be there first ; and it cannot
move where it is, for it is there and not elsewhere : therefore
it cannot move at all. Thus it is no new or alarming circum-
stance if a truth cannot be conceived or comprehended, for
there is a certain subject-matter which from its very nature is
inconceivable and incomprehensible. Tlie fact is, one must
know how to suit his instruments to the work to be done, and
not conclude a task to be impossible because some instra-
ments are foun'd inadequate. One must know the different
powers and the difi'erent uses of sensuous representation, lo-
gical reasoning, and pure thinking. Logical reasoning is the
activity of the abstract, and abstraction-making understand-
ing. It holds fast to certain half principles which state only
one phase of the totality of an object — such as the i)rinciples
of Identity, of Contradiction and the Excluded Middle, which
it calls "laws of thought" — by which it judges and deter-
mines of everything. Very useful within its proper sphere, it

2'i The I'ruiity and iJie Double Procession.

becomes disori;-;iiuzing and obstnictive when it carries itself
outside that sphere. For it linds the actual world, the eter-
nal system of thinirs, existing somehow illogically. This
persistent contradiction of logic by actujiUty would puzzle it
into silence if it were not so sure that it is right, and so satis-
iied with its lucid demonstration of how everythini:: must be
that it ignores or denies the fact of its existence otherwise.
Driven helplessly round and round the circle of its own cate-
gories, Understanding cannot lind the return from the abstract
to the concrete and actual, but dwells forever in a shadow-
world of its own creation. A great deal is said by religious
people about the danger of" abstract speculation uj)on revealed
truth, but the danger consists entirely in the inquirer's igno-
rant or unconscious use of abstract categories for universal
principles. " Common sense"" places implicit faith in such
categories and uses them without distrust — hen(;e that what
is one should be also thre(» appears to it absurd — and al-
though when it applies these categories to the totality, that
is, uses them for imiversal principles, it falls at once into as
many insoluble antinomies, it accepts this mishap with a
good grace, and consoles itself with the philosoph}' of nes-
cience and the limits of human thought, never thinking of
investigating the categories in themselves to see how far they
are adequate to the measure of all truth. Such investigation
would discover that the laws of formal logic, being only forms
of the abstract and partial, are not forms of the true but of the
untrue. Considered dialectically they refute themselves, and
show theii- dej^endence upon more concrete and synthetic
principles. In the speculative procedure, on the contrary,
form and inatter are united, not sundered and held apart as
in the logical. Hence the thought is a whole, and corre-
sponds with the actual, or rather is the actual, thougJit.
Speculative philosophy has nothing to do with abstractions;
its cardinal princij)Ie is the falsit}^ of any abstraction when
taken for a universal, and its idealism is simpl}^ the inward
or essential tiiith of things.

And now let us see how the Trinitarian doctrine, which is
a stumbling-block to Conception and to the Understanding
foolishness, appears to pure reason. Reason calmly accepts
the triune God of Christianity as the highest actualization of

The Trinity and the Double Procession. 23

its greatest principle of Idealism, and the highest exemplifi-
cation of what it has found to be the fundamental cosmical
fact. That fact is self-conservation through self-diremption,
and that principle the essential conjunction of contradicto-
ries. For the Trinitarian principle which was brought into
religion by Christianity, was to a great extent anticipated
by philosophy. To Plato belongs the honor of having first
apprehended the secret of the universe to be spirituality, and
penetrated the triune nature of its constitution, and Aristotle
developed and systematized his master's discovery. If we
inquire how it is that the doctrine of Trinity in Unity com-
mends itself so immediately to the speculative reason, this
will best appear on consideration of the character and work-
ing of that reason as it sifts and tries by the dialectic the
categories of thought. Take the category which directly un-
derlies the Trinitarian doctrine, that of Distinction.

All distinction originates in relation, and its lirst or imme-
diate form is identity and ditterence, in which these are pos-
ited abstractly, or held as true in separation. This is the
view of common sense and formal logic. Let us examine it.
I. It holds that each thing is an identity, and distinct from
all other things. (1) A is A, and not anything but A. It
will be seen that "A is A" while it states directly only iden-
tity, indirectly states difference as well. If A is only A, it is
not B or C, that is, it differs from them. How far does it dif-
fer ? It cannot differ uniinersally ; for if A and B are deter-
mined existences, they are both alike in possessing being
and determination ; and if they are pure simples, one must
be pure being and the other pure nought; and then they do
not differ at all, for neither possesses content; both are the
same abstraction. Hence A is like B in at least one respect ;
they have one predicate in common, the summuni genus,
(2) A is then like B in one respect and unlike it in another
respect. Xow the respect in which A is like B differs from
the respect in which it is unlike B. Therefore the difference
falls wholly in A. For A being both like and unlike B, in so
far as it is unlike B it is unlike itself as it is like B. A and
B have something in common ; and so wherein A differs from
B, it differs from that in itself which resembles B. Thus the
object A appears to be a self-opposed. II. Hence simple

24 Tlu Trin\t>i and the Double Procession.

difference rests upon opposition. Is this the ultimate dis-
tinction^ Let us see. (1) The two sides of opposition are
called positive and negative ; they are the logical contraries.
These are correlatives. Tiie positive is such only through
its relation to the negative, and conversely the negative is
negative only relatively to the positive. (2) If A is what it
is only through B, then B determines A in- So far as A is A;
and if B is wliat it is only through A, then A determines B
in so far as B is. Now take up tliis reciprocity in its unity.
(3) A determines B, hut, since B likewise determines A, it
appears that the determination which proceeds from A returns
again to A through B. That is, A determines itself through
determining B. III. Hence opposition rests upon self-deter-
mination. The determination which proceeds from either
side returns to that side again, and is what determines that
side. It is a circular movement; one half is called positive
and the other half negative; if these halves are viewed sepa-
rately we have opposition, but either positive or negative
grasped in its whole compass includes the other. Thus sim-
ple difference reduces to antithesis, and antithesis resolves in
self-determination. The ultinuite distinction is self-distinc-
tion, and this also is the only true identity.

The immediate form of self-determination is contradiction.
A is A, but (also) A is not A ; the non-being of A as A is it&
true being. But since A itself is not A. it is its own ground,
and preserves itself in its contradiction. Still the difference
is not annihilated in the identification. Self-relatign is self-
negation and this is self-direjni)tion. Hence arises a duality;
self becomes its own other. But since that Other is only the
self become, it is at once identical and non-identical, and so
self-nugatory and non-abiding. It appears inasmuch as it is
Other, and disappears in that it is also Self. Hen(;e the Other
is the manifestation of an Essence, or the Phenomenon. It is
not Essence in totality, for then it would be ijermanent; nor
is it emi)ty phenomenon, or appearance of nothing ; but it is
Essence in self-opposition, out of its true being ; hence its dis-
appearance, or return from Otherness, manifests its nugato-
riness as Other, and so its whole being as Essence.

Such being' the form of tlie universal to pure thought, let
us see how it is in actuality, and we shall find that no less in

TTie Trinity and the Double Procession. 25

ttie latter than in the former abstract identity is nnll, for Na-
ture is nothing else than the realization of the dialectic we
have just pursued. It is at once to be observed in tlie con-
templation, of Nature that the sensuous object undergoes
change. Through its relation to other things it passes from
one st^te of being to another. Hence the state which it occu-
pies at any one'Time is no more real than that which it occu-
pies at another, as is shown by its changing from the one to
the other. Against its definite being as a This is placed its
indefinite being, or capacity of becoming a different ; e. g.
against the liquidity of water, its vaporous and solid condi-
tions. Hence the being of the thing resides not in its state at
a given time — for no state is commensurate with the whole
compass of its being — but rather in its relation to the totality
of conditions — that is, to the being of all other things — upon
which depends its transition from state to state. Its being
lies in its immanent relativity, but relativity is negativity \
it has its being therefore in its non-being — not in the imme-
diate, positive identity which it is, but in the universal which
it is not; — properly therefore it never is^ but always is not.
Its true actuality would be the simultaneous realization of
its whole circle of potentiality, or its ideal totality, but the
sensuous thing never attains this actuality, and therein
precisely lies its finitude. As an identity it changes and
passes away because it is out of itself, out of its whole being ;
it is, but even more it is not ; — the flower points beyond itself
to fruit and seed, and hurries to fade and fall that it may re-
alize its aspirations. The finite .thing then, as a non-abiding^
is ^ jjlienonienon ; the variable particular appears and mani-
fests a Generic wiiich is constant, or infinite. It is this Ge-
neric which is, and not the particular as such. For if there
were nothing but finite particulars, they could not disappear
and reappear ; once they were gone, existence would come to
an end. But the whole movement of finitude manifests its
infinitude. Change, which is destruction and death to the
unsubstantial particular, is in the Generic only a process of
self-identification, or self-affirmation. Change, as such, can-
not be regarded as the universal (the position of Ileraclitus)^
for it lacks the into-itself-returniug movement which is its
self-preservation. In the Generic, Change is immanent change,

*20 The Trlnitu and the Double Procession.

remainin<r self-identical, which is Life. The whole movement
of Essence through Existence to Existing Essence is to be
regarded as the eternal act of the universal, which in this
self-relation is essentially free activity. As Essence — the
potentiality, which is negative to Unite existence — it is Capa-
city ; as Existence it is the same iriatter realized through
Energy, or Exertion, the actualizing /or???- / as Existing Es-
sence it is the Totality of matter and foi'm. in which only
these two have being.

In general, then, as ma}' to some extent appear from the
foregoing, the form of trinity is the essential form of the idea
as idea. From the limitation of Reason by the categories of
Understanding there arises the Antithesis, which however
does not persist as duality, but falls together of itself into a
Third as its presupposition and its truth. Thus the category
Quantity falls asunder into the antitheses Unity and Multi-
plicity, or Continuity and Discreteness, and these synthesize
again in Totality, which is their organic whole Jind true actu-
ality. So Quality duplicates into Positive and Negative, and
unifies in Self-relation: and so Actuality separates into Po-
tentiality or Contingcmcy and R(?ality or Necessity, and
coalesces in Free Activity. Universally, any first and one,
looked at long enough, is seen to imply and develop an
opposite. Each of these Two passes into the other because
-each is implicitly in the other; each is both, and as much
one as the other. For instance, One cannot be thought with-
out giving rise to the notion Many, Ijecause One is simply the
not-Many ; its determination as One is to be the constant
opposite of Many. This is exclusion or repulsion. But in
Many which is so repelled, One is all the time posited; the
determination of Many is simply to be the manifold of One.
Hence, in excluding the Many, the One excludes itself, ne-
_gates itself; but this can only be to include and reaffirm itself,
and so include again the Many. In this interchange, this dis-
appearance and reappearance of ea(di term of the antithesis
in the other, the evanescence and unreality of tht; abstract
come out clearly. What we have everywhere is division in
the indivisible, separation in the inseparable, difference in
the identical, so that identity alone is unreality. The fact on
which the universe is built is this, that identity and differ-

The Trinity and the Double Procession. 27

€nce, positive and negative, being and non-being, are one
indissoluble knot — are but obverse and reverse of a single
truth. Alone, \)j themselves, they exist not ; either alone is
but half the truth, and so not a truth but an untruth, and that
untruth which is distinctively the delusion of Pantheism. For
the One as opposed to the Many is only first or immediate
unity, wliicli, in its indifference to itself from want of quali-
tative distinction, remains a pure negative while "opined" to
be the positive. If such abstract Being be enunciated as the
Absolute, it necessarily collapses to the pure void, and so
from the very eagerness with which the Pantheist insists on
a pure positive, and the very energy with which he would
banish the negative utterly from existence, it results that his
over-rarefied j)ositive melts away like a smoke-wreath into
that very negative which it sought to extinguish. Thus the
Negative asserts itself as an element equally essential with
the Positive in the necessity to be. The true Positive is that
which contains the negative as its immanent qualification, as
that by which alone it has any positive character, as that by
which it is constituted to be a positive. Withdraw such im-
manent negation, and it, the Positive, will fall into that inde-
terminateness which is nothing else than the Negative itself.

The negative, I say, is an element equally essential with
the positive, but here a further step is to be taken. One must
not infer that because mediation is necessary, it is therefore
the wliole or the last. Mediation leads to self-mediation, the
Negative leads to negation of negation, as may be put at
shortest thus : The Negative is in opposition, it is negative
to somewhat ; hence the somewhat is also in opposition, or
negative to the Negative ; hence the Negative was in the first
place only the negative of a negative. Positive and negative
are only the abstract factors of the actual, and their truth is
their Recij)rocity. Here a distinction is to be noted.

Reciprocity in its immediacy is only negativity, the neu-
trum in which the independence of the contraries is cancel-
led. If this, tlieir mutual limit, is regarded as extrinsic to
them, the truth of each determination is posited in the other;
each goes into the other as its ground. (This is the position
of the "Correlation" theory of Force.) But thus there is in
fact no ground, but rather negation of ground. If the true

'28 The Trinity and the Double Procession.

bt'ing oi A ami of 13 is not in tliemselves respectively, but in
each other, A's being is grounded in B. But if so, A is an
unsubstantial : luiicc B's being cannot be grounded in A.
But by the hypothesis B is not a self-grounded; hence it
can have no being; hence A also can have no being. Conse-
quently the relation, the mutual limit, must be their ground
and substantiality ; it is not a mechanical equilibrium, but a
living nerve. Tliat in which the opposites are coincluded is
the concrete unit}' in which only they are realized. It was
said above that any iirst and one implies and develops an
opposite; it will now be further seen that such Second, when
developed, coalesces with the First to the production of a
Third, in which Third the opposition resolves in unity.

There remains this further distinction, namely, between
Reciprocity viewed dialectically and viewed from the Idea.
The synthetic third which results from the mutual involve-
ment and reciprocal determination of the antithetic two,
results as third only dialectically ; actually, it is the true
primitive as well as the true positive. The dialectic reaches
it as the last, as the return from the antithesis and negation
of its negation, but in itself it is the tirst ; it is the presuppo-
sition and higher principle of the antithesis, and that which
sends it forth. The dialectic is a process which ('omes to an
end when it reaches the Idea, and goes together into itself;
the end turns round to the beginning, the line curves into a
circle ; the process is lost in the eternity of the Idea, whose
perpetual present has no beginning and has no end. The
dialectic is the ascent to truth ; the idea is already there.

These two important points — the substantiality of Recipro-
city and its priority, or etei-nity — are clearly to be seen in the
l^rocess of self-consciousness. Ego is first unal simplicity, or
simple immediacy ; as such it is, as we have seen, pure nega-
tivity, i.e. relativity. As a relative it goes apart into a duality
of Ego-subject and Ego-object, and then it cancels again this
self-duplication inasmuch as the confronting units are recog-
nized as the same identity. Or, more briefly, Ego is iirst Ego-
impliciter; as such it necessarily develops an Ego-expliciter ;
and this second unifying with the first, they become a third,
Ego-universal. The process of consciousness is to negate
itself as simple and "become duality, and then to negate this

The Trinity and the Double Procession. 29

again and reaffirm itself in unity. But this unity is far from
being the mere indifference of the other two ; it is Personal-
ity, that totality of the Ego which only is the Ego, and which
is the only Ego. The process takes nothing from the Ego's
unity, because it is a process within the unity, eternal, ideal
in it. The self-differencing of the Self is the Self's identity ;
the self-moving of the Self through the Self is the Self's
repose.

This same spiritual movement which in its unity gives it-
self its determinate diversity, and in its diversity tinds again
its reunion with itself, is at the same time the genetic evolu-
tion of thought as thought and the immanent soul of the
actual All. The Category as category in highest generaliza-
tion is unification of Universality and Particularity in Sin-
gularity, for the function of every category is conjunction of
a manifold into a one, or singularization of a particular
through a universal. As such the Category is objective as
well as subjective; it is the noumenon, the true "thing in
itself." That which is the pulse of thought, the very being
of the conscious Ego, is equally the inward being of uncon-
scious Nature ; e. g. this dog, yours or mine, is individualiza-
tion of a particular, the species Dog, through a universal,
lAfe. The Ego, then. Is a true microcosm ; Thought, the Cate-
gory, is the rerwin natura^ is the one and all of actuality.
And this is no abstract Idealism, for we see that Thought is
only in order to be realized ; Realization is its linal cause,
and the unity of both is the true Actual — that which has its
linal cause within itself. It is easy now to see the working of
this objective or absolute Category. The true Identity we
have found by the dialectic of the negative to be Self-relation.
As Identity it is the Simple, the Universal, the undetermined
possibility of all. But in that it relates to itself, its Activity
determines it ; its very nature is creative. Hence arises the
Particular, the Other of self-opposition, the realizing, specific
form. But the Universal and its Activity are one ; hence the
specializing proceeds to unity, the Singular. That which is,
is neither the Universal as such, which would be pure ab-
straction, nor the Particular, which is its j)nre negativity, but
the living Individual as Whole; absolute Being is an infinite
. Self. Such a perfect Entelechy, who thinks the universal.

30 The Trinifj/ and the Double Procession.

and lives the universal, may well rail himself "I AM,"
"Alpha and Omega,'- " the First and the Last," " which was,
and is, and is to be." '■' ^

Yet it is to be understood that Spirit is exclusive unity
only in immediacy. As highest actualization of Thought, it
contains within it Thought's essential triadic constitution, but
now on Thought's own highest plane, the plane of the Idea,
Personality, that is, goes on through self-mediation to tri-
personality. Personality in its own determination is a monad,
which in its self-completeness is indifferent to multiplicity.
Hence it is met by other monads, external to it, ecxually indif-
ferent. But such manifoldness of the self- completes is their
mutual limitation. Relatively each monad is only the other
of all the others, and it is only by abstraction that it is a non-
other. For since Personality becomes, or is, a monad through
inclusion of, the "other" as object, it cannot now exclude the
"other," when also monad, from immanence as relative. The
relation of the monads, that is, is not a hetioeen but a through;
they are not separately for themselves, but mutually in one
another, and their whole being is in their mutual relation.
Thus even personality is not a self-sufficient, and is not the
ultimate; as the human being declares whose whole life «.s a
human being is in his social and civic relations with his bil-
lows. Tliere is always too strong an accent of subjectivity
upon the Self, even while it declares that universality is its
native element, out of which it perishes ; and so the absolute
Self goes on thoroughly to universalize itself, and herein Re-
ciprocity as substantial unity reappears once more. But it
is now Reciprocity in its totality, and that is the Idea. As
such it undergoes an important modification. As the reci-
procity of CONCRETE totalities it is the negation of their anti-
thetic independence, but not any longer of their being. The

* 'The true First Principle, which He<rel names Idea, and Aristotle calls
uo'/jffi^ Tj y.aiJaurr/J^ is God as self-con.«cious Keason. Subject and Object of
Himself. Nature is his product as creator, and the world of pro*?ressive intelli-
gent beings is his image. This statement is odious to some who style themselves
'^"•Fcientitic," for tlie reason tliat they are still obliged to be on tlie alert lest their
dogmatism fallback into the mere implicit faith of Religion — an issue to be
guarded against with all caution. But the strictest and severest logical proce-
dure followed out to its result, will inevitably lead to this concrete first princi-
ple— the recognizing Reason." — W. T. Haruis.

The Trinity and the Double Procession. 81

mutual relation which annuls their independence, is just as
much constitutive of their being. And since it is now their
determination to be as independents, their independence is,
in the act of its annulling, restored. While in the earlier
stages one substantial unity resulted from reciprocal nega-
tion of each other by two — as above, not the Generic nor the
Particular, but the Individual exists — here, on the contrary,
all three are substantial unities. The synthesis is no longer
negative unity — a unity which negates its factors — but now a
unity purely affirmative— subsisting through the affirmance
of its factors. All limitation has vanished out of Relation,
and has become transformed into recognition. Hence the
reciprocity is no longer dual- but triple, and its simultaneous
unity is the Idea. The Idea is the unal totality of the syllo-
gism, not as a ^roce^^ but as a simultameous thought. And
that is the difference between the logical and the speculative
syllogisms. In the former, each of the terms passes for an
identity independently distinct, and the uniting of the ex-
tremes through the middle is an external one which leaves
them still in their independence. In the speculative, on the
contrary, the extremes are neither independent towards each
other nor towards the middle term. The extremes are not
likened to each other, but identified with each other in the
middle. The middle is not that which is common to the
extremes, but that in and through which the extremes are
self-identical. Hence each place may be occupied by any
one of the terms, for all are the same ; and if they are all the
same, all are one. But the syllogism in which the Uni-
versal, the Particular, and the Singular, are each not suc-
cesively but simultaneously the middle term, is no longer
a mere syllogism, but an immediate grasp of self-media-
tion. This is that " knowing by wholes" which philosophy
speaks of. Seen from the Idea, universality, particularity,
singularity, are all identical, are each the same, are each
the whole — One, coalescing in a triune, transparent distinc-
tion. Here Identity and Distinction, carried up to their
highest, melt together, blend together, are transfigured in
dazzling mist, are all but lost. One turns giddy in looking,
but as the eye grows accustomed, the head steadies. The
Singular is the Universal — universality is its constitutive

32

The Trinifi/ and the Double Procession.

quality or determination : tlie Universal is the Singular — its
being is wholly in singularity ; and the Paitieular, held
between both, is each, or in each, and both are in it. Hence
the identification of each with all and all with each gives
each the determination of all. and, instead of one, there are
three substantialities. As the unity of the ultimate category
is Spirituality, so the unity of the Idea is triune Spirit — One
through its Threeness. This, the unity of the Idea, is a no-
tion entirely unique, as distinct from the negative unit}^ of
Reciprocity as that is from the abstract unity of Identity.
And so when Hegel declares that "the Idea is the demonstra-
tion of God as He is in His eternal essence before the crea-
tion of the world or a single tinite creature, the statement
cannot but commend itself to the Trinitarians.^^

I have avoided any express reference to the Trinity in this
attempt to exhibit the highest principle of thought, because
I preferred that the identit}^ of the Christian dogma and the
philosophic truth should, if possible, declare itself. It
seemed better to trust to the reader's linding for himself that

* The cateofories of actuality in their triarlic development and connection
may, in a manner, be represented by the toUowiug table:

The Universal.

9
Personality

God the Spirit.

The Trinity and the Double Procession. 33

Reason leads him step by step to the comprehension of that
which Religion presents to his faith, and so coming to see
what before he believed without seeing, — rather than by fre-
quent comparison or plausible suggestion to lead him to one
of two probable alternatives, either to accept on such persua-
sion the true relation of philosophy to religion— and so only
to add another article to his belief — or else to turn away in
impatience from what he might deem sophistry and artihce.
I trust I am not too sanguine in thinking that the careful and
candid reader will by this time see the truth of the statement
made at the outset, that the doctrine of the Trinity expresses
the great lirst principle of all Idealism, and exemplihes what
it has discovered to be the fundamental cosmical fact. If so,
he will observe that what was said concerning the Phenome-
non and Essence contains the necessary idea of the revelation
of the God-man historically ; that the exhibition of Recipro-
city, not as an abstract relation, but the most concrete of
substantialities, is the universal truth on which rests the per-
sonality of the Holy Ghost ; and that the self-mediation of
Personality to tri-Personality is the inward necessity of the
passage from Hebrew Monotheism to the Christian Trinity.
It may be seen that Religion contains a theistic develojDment
strictly dialectical. The Old Testament is concerned with
God in His relation to nature and humanity. ("In the be-
ginning, God created the heaven and the earth And

God said. Let us make man in our image.") The New Testa-
ment contains the self-determining of the Absolute, in which
itself is distinguished from itself and posited as an identical
Other, which is manifested to men as Man. (" In the begin-
ning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the

Word was God And the Word became flesh, and

dwelt among us.") In this antithetic relation as incarnate,
the Other is at once identical and non-identical, and hence
non-abiding. (" I came forth from the Father, and am come
into the world ; again, I leave the world, and go to the
Father.") The return from Otherness reveals the synthetic
unity which was the presuj)position of the antithesis. (" For
the Hol}^ Ghost was not yet, because Jesus was not yet glori-
fied." " If I go not away, the Comforter will not come ; but
if I depart, I will send him unto you.") As their identit}", the

Vol. vi.— 3

34 Tlie Trinity and the Double Procession.

synthetic tliird has tho same determination with the other
two. ("God is a Spirit" — ''Now the Lord is that Spirit.")
And this threefold sameness is unity. (''There are three that
bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy
Gliost, and these three are one.") Thus the appearance of the
Trinitarian Idea at once in pure thouglit and in reveak^d reli-
gion witnesses to the equal truth of reason and revelation,
since it is their common content by which each illustrates
and contirms the other. And this is the point T would urge.
My object in this paper is mainly to show how Philosophy
and Christianity at once ally themselves in a natural and
kindly bond as soon as Philosophy discovers how deep
the speculative truth of Christianity is, and Christianity dis-
covers that Philosophy issues in an orthodox theology. I
may not have succeeded in this attempt. It may be objected
by some that the above treatment is too metaphysical and
obscure, and it may be criticised by others as unscientific
and not sufficiently profonnd. And it may be open to both
objections, for the common fate of what is meant to suit oppo-
site requirements is to suit neither. But if any one should be
led by it to a thorough examination into the essential har-
mony between Christian Theology and the results of profound
and exhaustive thought, this paper will not be altogether
worthless. To the philosopher I would say, that the religion
which alone among all others recognizes the deepest and ab-
strusest of philosophic truths, and makes it the foundation
of its theology, he must admit to be the most philosophic of
all religions, and the only one which attains to a comprehen-
sion of the Divine. But, further, such philosophic depth per-
tains only to the religion in itself. He who knows with what
slow, painful, partial, and uncertain progress the Idea has
worked its(^lf out in philosophy, cannot dream that it was
reached in thought by the twelve Apostles, men destitute of
jjliilosophic culture and incapable of philosophic thought.
It is clear that the men who promulgated the doctrine of the
Trinity — "baptizing all nations in the name of the Father,
the Son, and the Holy Ghost" — did not understand the specu-
lative significance of the message they bore ; it was for them,
as for their hearers, a mystery. Hence the possession by
Christianity of this truth, which it cannot understand or ex-

The Trinity and the Double Procession. 35

plain, is proof tliat the Truth has come down to men from
heaven. On the other hand, I would say to the Christian : This
doctrine of the Trinity we all acknowledge, this we all believe
to be the highest truth ; what shall we say, then, of a philoso-
phy of the Conditioned to whose limited religious thought
this truth is an incomprehensible contradiction, philosophi-
cally absurd ? As sound Trinitarians, as thinking Christians,
how shall we number ourselves among those whose scheme
of thought must shut its eyes and holt the central dogma of
the Catholic faith — whereby, although nourished and brought
up on inconsistencies, it is all but choked ? How shall we
listen in patience to such men when we find another philoso-
phy to which our great mystery is native and kindly food?
a philosophy not of the Unconditioned, but of the Self-condi-
tioning, which these men fancy themselves to have refuted,
while their own language shows that they cannot read its
alphabet ; a philosophy which, having arrived at the Trinita
rian principle by its own road, is ready to accept the consti-
tution of the Absolute as revealed in Christianity, and is
ready to accept Christianity for the reasonableness of its
revelation. Further, it is in this philosoj)liy alone that
religious convictions find a rescue from the attacks of the
reflective understanding, and that a solution is obtained
of the antinomy in which faith and reason are at this day
involved. For the essential triadic form governs the devel-
opment of the cognitive faculty of man. This begins in
simple apprehension, proceeds through reflective reasoning,
and arrives at pure thinking. This threefold movement of
cognition corresponds with the threefold aspect of the object
as thesis, antithesis, and synthesis ; and as the last of these is
the unity of the other two, and the whole truth of the object,
so speculation is the unity of the other two faculties, and the
totality of cognition. The history of human thought in mod-
ern times has only been the progress of its necessary move-
ment. The revelation of the Spiritual made in Christianity
was first seized by Apprehension as a pure objective, the
thesis ; then when the activity of Reflection was slowly
awakened, negative thinking entered upon the scene, the
subjective claimed its place, the Antithesis arose in sharply
defined antagonism, and systems of Church and State were

36 The Trinity and the Double Procession.

shaken and overthrown. The conilict of Thesis with Anti-
thesis still goes on — for assertion and counter-assertion of
opposite half truths can never avail to silence either — but
speculative thoug-ht has meanwhih^ advanced to Synthesis,
and calls on tlie world to follow it. The philosoj)!!}' which
began in the last century with Kant has reestablished all
spiritual principles, held implicitly by the early ages, in their
whole truth — that is, in explicit unity with the negation of
Understanding — and so this philosoplw, and it alone, brings
Jiis completion and rest.

The constitution of the God-head as trinity in unity being
established or admitted, there arises another consideration
respecting it scarcely less important, namely, the relation of
the Three Persons to each other according to their syllogistic
derivation. The Catholic doctrine as to this derivation is
brietiy this : The First Person is self-existing, God of Him-
self: the Second Person is from the First, God of God; the
Third Person is from the First and Second together, accord-
ing to the Latin Church — according to the Greek Church,
from the First only. In other w^ords, the First, the Father,
neither proceeds nor is begotten ; the Second, the Son, does
not proceed but is begotten of the Father; the Third, the
Holy Ghost, is not begotten but proceeds from the Father —
or, from the Father and the Son. This relation corresponds
substantially with that of the pure syllogism, which is thus
expressed : " The Universal includes under it the Particular
and the Singular'; so likewise the Particular includes under
it the Singular ; on the contrary, the Singular includes in
it the Particular and the Universal, and the Particular in-
cludes in it the Universal.. The Universal is more extensive
than the Particular or Singular, but the latter are niore com-
preTiensive than the former, which for the reason that it is
included in the Singular is a determinateness of it. The Uni-
versal inheres in the Particular and Singular, while the latter
are subsumed under the former."* It w^ill be evident from
the above, as w^ell as from the whole tenor of the preceding

* Jour. Spec. Phil., vol. iii. p. 531.

TTie Trinity and the Double Procession. 37

argument, that the philosophic idea of the Trinity contains
of necessity the Procession of the Spirit from botli the other
Persons, so constituting Him their eternal unity. For the
Second Person is the First in self-opposition. The One is
self-dirempted into Two, and remains not in that duality, but
moves on in duality, and as duality, to unity in a Third. The
Self once self-duplicated, what further proceeds from the Self
must proceed from it as duplicated ; else what is opposed to
to the Self in the duplication is not the Self, but another.
The Third proceeding is, then, the unity of the Two because
it is their reunion ; they were the same One before they were
Two. But the First cannot be made the unity of the Second
and Third, as it is in the scheme of the single Procession, for
they were not the same, and though they should meet in
another they would not meet in themselves. Hence the sin-
gle Procession which sunders the mutual relation of the Son
and Spirit, pulls down the key-stone of the unity of the Trin-
ity. If the Second and Third Persons have no relation to each
other except a common origin, they are in no essential unity ;
there is an end of the mystery of the Trinity, and we are left
with a sort of family relation in which the Spirit has the
place of younger son. Now it is always to be borne in mind
that the Trinity being the unity of the Idea, any question of
origin or derivation of one Person from another concerns not
its substantial actuality but merely its formal ideality. What
is, what always was, is the One eternally gone out into Three,
the Three eternally gone into One. As was said above of the
process of self-consciousness, the dialectical process takes
nothing from the unity because it is an eternal or ideal pro-
cess. It is easily seen how weak it would be to suppose self-
consciousness as taking place in time ; as if there were in
actuality first an Ego as Subject, then an Ego as Object, and
then Personality; for if the Ego-subject wire an actuality it
would be complete in itself, and any process would be super-
fluous ; but in fact the Ego is always in the last state of re-
turn to unity out of diversity. It is the same weakness to
derive the Trinity from the Unity in time. For it must be
remembered that although the Persons are totalities, and as
such persist affirmatively in the synthesis, none the less the
being of each Person is wholly in the synthetic relation ; the

88 The Trinity and the Double Procession.

relation is His essential being, and out of the relation He lias
no beins;. If God the Father were siiflicient to Himself — if
God were complete in one Person — any further, God would
either necessitate Polytheism, or be, a created being. The
misai"»prehension which looks upon any linal concrete cate-
gorv as chronologically later in realization than the abstract
ones at the beginning, would, if logical, lead to Pantheism,
for it sets up an abstract universal instead of a concrete one.
This misapprehension was the ground of a heresy which long
rent the Church with discord. The error of Arius was mak-
ing the abstract 2'>^'ius of the Father an actual prius, and it
arose horn his inabilit}^ to think from the Idea, or under the
" form of eternity." The battle was fought, however, rather
on the ground of consequences than of principle, and the
principle was not quite dehnitelj' exploded. Hence, as Dr.
Scliatf says,* " the Nicene fathers still taught, like their pre-
decessors, a certain sirb ordination ism which seems to conflict

with their doctrine of consubstantiality" (of the Son)

•"Father, Son, and Spirit, all have the same divine essence,
yet not in a coordinate way, but in an order of subordina-
tion." The Father was considered the primal divine subject,
to whom alone absoluteness belongs, since He has the essence
of Himself and from no other : the Son, on the contrary, has
the essence by communication from the Father in a seconda-
ry, derivative way; hence a certain inferiority was held of
the Son to the Father, which inferiority was still more ap-
plicable to the Hoh' Ghost. Scriptural argument for this
theory of subordination was found abundantly, but, as Dr.
Schaff reniiuks,* "all such passages refer to the historical
relation of the Father to the incarnate Logos in his estate of
humiliation (the relation of the Essence to the Phenomenon,
as such), not to the eternal, metaphysical relation of the
Father to the Sou." Where, as in many instances, Christ as-
serts His inferiority to the Father, such assertion cannot be
allowed to contradict other j)assages in which His co-equal-
ity and essential unity with the Father are distinctly stated.
For in the former cases He is to be understood as speaking
solely from that earthly estate of humiliation in which His

* History of the Christian Ciiurch, by Philip Schaff, D.D.. vol. ii. p. 681.

The Trinity wild the Double Procession. ' 39

full divinity was temporarily laid aside. As incarnate He
was out of His true being, and whereinsoever He was infe-
rior to the Father He was in the same kind and in the same
degree inferior to Himself as He is in that true being of co-
equal Godhead. For the doctrine of the Trinity is precisely
this, that the divine essence is not such that it can be held
entire by a single Personality, and be by Him communi-
cated. That essence is immanent reciprocity. Just in that
the Father is determined as Father, as o-i>xy, and source, lies
His incompleteness as God. The generation of the Son is
the demonstration that He is as necessary to the Father as
the Father. The Father as necessarily looks forward to the
Son and Spirit for his completion as they look backward to
Him for their origin. This point is distinctly brought out in
the 25th article of the Athanasian Creed: " And in this Trin-
ity none is before or after another ; none is greater or less
than another ; but the whole Three Persons are co-eternal
together and co-equal." This "remnant of ante-JNicene
subordinationism'' still survived however, and so, when the
doctrine of the Holy Ghost came afterward to be considered,
His necessary Procession from the Son as well as from the
Father was not seen into, being obscured from men's view by
their monarchian theory. It must be matter of regret that so
important a point as the Double Procession should not have
been clearly stated by the creed-making Councils, but have
been left an open question to become the occasion of a wide
and lasting schism. But, at least, the doctrine was by no
means denied. The intent of the Constantinopolitan Creed
in affirming the Procession from the Father was not to limit
such Procession to Him and exclude the idea of Procession
from the Son also, for no such idea was in the mind of its
framers. Their statement was simply aimed at the Pneuma-
tomachi, and intended to affirm the divinity of the Spirit by
giving Him a relation to the Father as immediate as that of
the Son. AVhether the Procession were single or double was
a point lelt unsel tied by the Council because left untouched.
Nor are the Greek Fathers at one upon the question. Ac-
cording to Dr. Scliatf, some — as Athanasius, Basil, and the

* lb. p. G83.

40 The Trhilty and the Douhle Procession'.

Gregories — give the Prooessioii from the Father witliout de-
nying it from the Son also; others — as Epiphanius, Marcel-
lus of Ancyra, and Cyril of Alexandria — derive the Spirit
from both Father and Son; and othe^fs — Theodoret and The-
odore of Mopsnestia — "would admit no dependence of the
Spirit upon the Son.'" It would seem that these last rather
misunderstood than denied the double Procession, which is
far from subordinating the Third Person to a Second, itself
subordinate (what seems the ground of their objection), but
is, on the contrary, the negation of the subordination of that
Second, and the perfect co-equality of the Three.

The difference with regard to the point between the Greek
and Latin churches arose from the fact that while the former
stopped with the Nicene statement of the Trinitarian doc-
trine, the latter carried on its development to the formation
of the Athanasian Creed. In this work of development St.
Augustine was chietlv eminent, and his services the most
considerable. Their main effect was to eliminate the subor-
dination or monarchian view, bringing out more sharply the
con substantiality of the Three Persons and their numerical
unity, and in consequence asserting the Procession from the
Son. His presentment of the doctrine gradually met with
universal acceptance in the West, and at length the insertion
of the famous clause Filioque in the Nicene Creed by the
Council of Toledo, A. D. 589, gave the doctrine of the double
Procession a place in the Catholic symbol. The questions
relating to the Filioque separate into three classes : those
concerning the doctrine considered in itself; those concerning
the Scriptural authority for the doctrine; and those concern-
ing the historical right of the clause to a place in the creed.
The last two points do not belong to the present considera-
tion, but a suggestion or two may be allowed.

As to the second : — while there is no direct or distinct state-
ment of this doctrine in the Scriptures, as there is of scarcely
any doctrine of speculative Theology, it may safely be claimed
that it has as ami:)le scriptural warrant as any other doctrine
of a like character. The very same language and expressions
from which the Procession from the Father is inferred are, with
one exception, used to denote the relation to the Son. Some
have doubted the double Procession on the strength of this

The Trinity and tlie Double Procession. 41

exception — John xv. 26: "the Spirit of truth which proceedeth
from the Father" — and the absence of anj^ corresponding pas-
sage asserting with the same expressness Procession from the
Son. But if this language of our Lord be construed as denying
the Procession from Himself as eternal God, there are many
other of His utterances, made after He had " emptied Him-
self" of His divinity and taken upon Him the form of a servant,
which must be construed as a still more express denial of as
many attributes of deity, and which taken together amount
to a denial of His divinity altogether. In short, we are not to
expect from the God incarnate, speaking of Himself in His
then condition, a characterization of His true or absolute con-
dition as pure Spirit. The evidence for such a doctrine as this
is to be gathered out of a wise and comprehensive study of
the whole Scripture ; no single text is of weight to prove or
disprove it ; else the personality of the Holy Ghost, for in-
stance, might be shaken by repeated expressions which har-
monize much more closely with the notion of an emanation
or influence than with that of a person. And if this and other
admitted doctrines rest ui^on Scriptural language not perfectly
distinct, and expressions not entirely unquestionable, it can
be no prejudice to the double Procession — one among the least
likely to be explicitly taught — that it has no firmer ground.
It may also be remarked that there seems to be an argument
for the Latin doctrine in the very term Procession. If the
Procession is as exclusively from the Father as the generation
is, it is difficult to see why a different and more general term
should be employed to describe what is after all the same
thing, production. But the difference in terms becomes intel-
ligible and indispensable when we consider that one states a
production which is necessarily by a single agent, and the
other production in general, in which two or more producers
may concur.

As to the historical question, it is to be borne in mind that
the right of the clause Filioque to a place in the creed is'
a point entirely distinct from the truth of the doctrine it
expresses. This latter point was never in dispute between
the Greek and Latin Churches. The Eastern Church simply
claimed that no articles of faith were of authority unless pro-
mulgated by a general council, and ratified by the acceptance

42 J^icJ/fe's Facts of ConscioifS?iess.

of the whole Church. But it was not until three hundred
years after the Council of Toledo that any controversy arose
between the two communions. And then, when in character,
interests, and modes of life, the people of the East and West
liad drifted apart, when the active and arrogant ambition of
the Roman see had roused the jealousy of Constantinople, the
question of the Procession was recurred to as a recent doc-
trinal centre around which more worldly and personal causes
of discord might array themselves. As between the Greek
Church and the Anglican or American, the feud is an ana-
chronism, and for the separation between us to Qontinue with-
out an etfort made by either party to remove the barrier — as
it were, onl}' carelessly left up — is surely a reproach to both.
"We may admit that the Greek position with regard to articles
of faith is technically the safest and best, and such admission
should lead them to recognize and assent to the Augustinian
doctrine of the Western Church as, however irregularly intro-
duced, unquestionably the true, and the crowning and com-
pleting truth of the great doctrine of the Trinity.

FACTS OF COXSCIOUSNESS.

Translated from the German of J. G. Fichte. by A. E. Kroegek.

:^ <3<=> zc XX.

FACTS OK CONSCIOUSNESS IN KEGAKD TO I UK I'KACTICAL PACULTV.

CHAPTER I.

The Causality of the Ego being checked by a non-Ego is posited as Impulse
— the Check of the non-Ego as a Material World, and from the positing
of both a Tendency of the Ego to overcome that check is ijosited.

In Book First we have considered immediate external per-
ception as a causality of the presupposed absolute life through
its immediate being. How far this view will prevail in our
Second Book will shortly ax)pear. Nevertheless it is evident
that we -must commence our investigation with such a caus-
ality, and hence we do so now, though in another manner. It
is, however, to be remembered, that the word Being is here

Ficlite's Facts of Consciousness. 43

taken stiictl}^ to signify an absolutely upon-itself reposing
being.

1. Let us then assume that such a causality of life through
its immediate being is checked : what will then arise in the
checked life ? That causality, in so far as it is in the life, can
surely not be annihilated itself ; only its manifestation can
be checked; that causality or determined activity and free-
dom remains in the life, but in a manner as a causality which
has no causality. How do we term this in language ? I be-
lieve, an Tiiipiilse. Hence through the checking of the caus-
ality there arises in life an impulse; and this is theiirst place
where we have deduced, in its proper connection and from its
possibility, an independent being of mere and separate free-
dom, which in onr first book we merely postulated. If we
ascribe to life an actual causality, freedom always must im-
mediately and inseparably dissolve in the being produced by
it, and can have no separate being of its own at all.

2. An independent being of freedom is, according to our
previous results, consciousness. Hence there must arise in
life, under the above condition, a consciousness of the impulse
by virtue of a limitation. Now, an immediate and self-made
consciousness of an actual limitation is called Feeling., and
the general faculty of such a consciousness is called Sensu-
ousness : and since in the present instance consciousness is
directed upon the actual condition of life itself, this feeling
is a feeling of self, and this sensuousness an inner sensu-
ousness.

I add this remark : that which thus limits life can be held
to be, firstly, a force, and a force stronger than the life, and
which, as opposing itself to life, must then be posited outside
of it as an independent being ; which assumption is the basis
of an objective dogmatism, a transcending beyond free life.
But it may, perhaps, also be held to be a limitation within
that life itself, not however in so far as that life is free, but
in a higher being of that life, in relation to which that being
of the life whereof we have hitherto spoken would then be
only a lower and subordinated being ; an assertion, which, if
proved, would cancel the above dogmatism and found an im-
manent idealism.

3. Life has now been elevated above its stage of immediate

44 Fic?ite^s Facts of Consciousness.

causality into the region of consciousness. Hence if there
really is an impulse in the life it must have i;nmediate caus-
ality in that same region of consciousness. Bnt how will
consciousness be able to connect with this feeling of an im-
pulse, and what manner of consciousness will it be when it
thus connects i Let us investigate this.

First of all. life contains absolutely through its being free-
dom a determined faculty ; and this faculty has arrived at an
independent existence only through the being checked of its
immediate causality, since in its unchecked causality it was
always evaporating into and llowing together with being.
Now since every independent being of freedom results in
consciousness, the check produces immediately, together
with the consciousness of the impulse, a consciousness of the
faculty ; Avith this distinction, that the latter, as not express-
ing an actual condition but merely a possible activity of life,
is called by us, not feeling, as we call the impulse, but con-
templation.

Now let us stop at this contemplation of the real faculty to
have causality within the sphere of being. It is, as we have
seen, a faculty to progress within time through a series of
conditions to the intended end. It is this faculty which is to
arise on the occasion of an impulse to exercise real causality,
and which is to enter contemplation immediately when it
thus arises.

The matter stands thus : in this state of affairs, imme-
" diately free life is absolutely checked, and cannot progress a
single step within the sphere of being. Let us call this limit,
which at the same time expresses the intended causality, D.
Now this D it cannot immediately attain, being checked.
But there may be a point, A, which life is able to produce
through immediate causality, and if this point A is produced
life may be able to produce another point, B — A being the
condition of the realization of B ; and again, B being pro-
duced, life may be able to realize C, and thus, finally, the
originally intended D. If a contemplation or conception of
this series arises in life, it must therein behold its own faculty
to produce D.

Now this faculty to produce D lay undoubtedly concealed
in life and in its absolute being originally ; but that' it has

Flclde's Facts of Consciousness. 45

now become an actual faculty of life, completely within its
free power, and that having thus gotten the faculty within its
power, life can at once proceed to realize it, is effected solely
by means of the conception life has now attained of it. Only
rlirough the conception has life gotten possession of this
faculty, for before the conception it had not got it; and we
here obtain an insight into the very important proposition,
that the conception liberates and can become the ground of
an actual faculty. IN'ay, the very superiority of conscious-
ness over unconscious nature consists in this, that the latter
always works blindly whatever it can produce, whereas the
former can moderate its work by conceptions and can regu-
late them according to a rule.

4. As soon as the impulse to have causality exists and con-
tinues, there arises in consciousness a desire to form the just
described conception of a possible causality to produce a
certain end from the contemplation of the faculty in general.
The question now is, through what is this forming of such a
conception conditioned ? I maintain that, besides the already
described contemplation of the faculty in general, it is condi-
tioned also by an image of the checking power, or resistance ;
for if the conception of that possible causality is to arise in
the mind — which it does by means of quiet reflection and
consideration — the faculty as well as the resistance must be
taken hold of by the mind, compared with each other and
calculated, until it is found that a certain direction of the
faculty will necessarily conquer the resistance. But how
does such an image of the resistance arise? Evidently it is
not a matter of feeling, for feeling involves only the imjDulse,
which can lead at the utmost to the conception of a limita-
tion; nor of contemplation, for contemplation is directed only
upon the faculty. We know this image as the condition of
the conception of our possible causalit}^ ; but this conception
is a product of free imagination, which is here — supposing a
knowledge of the faculty as well as of the resistance— alto-
gether production, and consciously and considerately pro-
ductive, since it proceeds in accordance with the rule given it
by both premises. Thus it appears that the image of the
resistance must also be created by productive imagination,
not consciously however — since itself is not intended to be

46 F'icJitc.^s Facts of Consciousness.

created, but only that the creation thereof is conditioned by
it — but blindly, and absolutely in consequence of the im-
pulse which craves its satisfaction. In short, in producing
this image of a resistance, the productive power of imagina-
tion must have causality absolutely through its being, i. e.
as a productive j)0wer of imagination.

5. How, then, will such an image result:' Firstly, as that
of an absolute resistance, and hence as posited outside of
the Ego into the sj^here of Being itself, since Being itself is
opposited to life or to the Ego. This positing outside is pre-
cisely what we have characterized in Book First as objective
thinking. Secondh^, as the image of a resistance in an im-
age ; for it is resistance only in an image and its other rela-
tions, whereof hereafter, belong to feeling and cannot enter
the image from that feeling ; hence as resisting that very im-^
aging and annulling its freedom.

For let us consider, that here, where imaging first begins,
we have still the whole infinite freedom of imaging or abso-
lute positing. This freedom is limited in its infinity and this
limitation is imaged. Hence there are in this image two ele-
ments in reciprocal relation and opposition with each other:

1. The infinite faculty of j)ositing, grasped in the unity of the
image, and which we have above described a8 Extension —
an empty extension, which, as the image of the faculty itself,
is everywhere penetrable by, and transparent to, the Ego;

2. The opposition to this infi nite faculty of positing, namely,
Just the same kind of an infinite positing on the part of the
resistance, whereby that transparency and penetrability axe
cancelled. The whole, which arises from these two compo-
nents, is the image o£ matter. ,

But again, the image of the resistance is most certainly
posited. Hence there must be pictured also an opposition to
this positing ; otherwise that image would not be the image
of a resistance. It is posited, through the positing of the Ego
generally, as being ; but now the resistance must, moreover,
posit itself with this its being ; and this its own being which
the resistance posits together with that being, which it de-
rives from the general positing of the Ego, results in a further
determined being, or a quality.

Let us make clear this latter fact by a further and pro-

Fid lie's Facts of Consciousness. 47

founder consideration of the external sense. The external
sense is, according to the above, a limitation of productive
imagination through the self-positing of a resistance gener-
ally. Thus the collective sense, feeling or the sense of touch,
is nothing but the power of imagination to extend, in a state
of limitedness. Through this sense we perceive matter as im-
penetrable. Now we say at present nothing about this sense
as furnishing, besides this impenetrability, still other quali-
ties of matter: warmth, coldness, &c. The easiest to be com-
prehended sense for quality is sight, which is distinguished
from feeling as a collective sense, that the latter expresses
only the positing in the act, whereas* seeing is the image of
the positedness, and of a positedness which is transparent to
itself as such. "I see an object" signilies : "The positing of
it is completed and I am limited to its positedness." But I do
not see through the object signified : the inner condition of the
object has not been posited through me, hence is also not
known to me, but is posited through the object itself. The
limit of this my positing and of the itself-positing of the
object is then characterized by a further determination of my
seeing, which is ascribed to the object ; that is, my seeing is
no longer a pure seeing, but the seeing of a color, as the fur-
ther determination of pure seeing.

These three components form an organic whole amongst
themselves, as has already been proved in the first book ;
and hence it is absolutely impossible that an external objec-
tive being should be formed without having sensuous quali-
ties and being immaterial. Hence it is also impossible that
matter can be without qualit^^or that a quality can be oth-
erwise than adherent to a material body.

6. With this investigation our whole view is changed and
expanded. In our first book we considered what we then
called external perception, in its own triplicity as a for-itself-
existing and separate affair. But now we have found it to be
a mere link of a greater organic whole, consciousness. For
the synthetic period, which we have described, consists of the
following three chief components: 1. A feeling — namely, of
an impulse ; 2. A contemplation — namely, of the real faculty
to have causality within the sphere of being ; and 3. An im-
age of the resistance. And since this latter image is produced

48 Ficlite\'< Facts of Consciousness.

by the free and absolutely productive power of imagination,
without consciousness of freedom, we may very properly call
the whole labor in this ima2:ing a thinking, since this new
view brings even that which foi'merly we called sensuous
affection and contemplation into the one general sphere of
thinking.

7. Now let us ask : wherein lies the focus of external per-
ception when we consider it as a separate matter ; that is to
say, in what condition of it doth life manifest itself? Evi-
dently in the creating of the image. Not the contemj)lation
of extension, which occurs in it. is the focus and central point
of its condition ; this extension is merely imaged and objec-
tively posited, and when thus posited, an opposition is given
to it. Again : not sensuousness is that focus and central
point ; for sensuousness is only the real point of conflict of
the opposites, and as such it also is not immediate, but is
objectively posited. Finally: the third component of exter-
nal perception, the positing, is certainly immediate, since it
is the act of imaging or the creating of an image ; but it
is also posited in the same undivided moment as objective,
thus becoming the particular sense for quality, as has been
illustrated in the above example of seeing. Hence the whole
external perception is not a consciousness at all, but simply
an object of consciousness, created by the absolute produc-
tion of the jjower of imagination for consciousness. Thus it
appears that the thinking which occurs in it is a double
thinking, being firstly an actual thinking, as the creating of
an image, and secondly a thought thinking, as the objectiv-
ated sense for quality ; and ffk. contemplation which occurs
in it is likewise double, being firstly an actual contemplation,
in the creation of extension, and secondly a contemplated
contemplation, in that the freedom of it finds a resistance in
matter.

Thus, then, the external sense is not an actual sense, but
merely the image of the only true sense which remains, of
the internal sense. All this might, in fact, have been discov-
ered in mere observation from the circumstance that space
as well as the external sense generally is posited outside of
the real internal essence of the Ego, the external sense being
even embodied into a tool of the senses.

Ficlite's Facts of Consciousness. 49

8. Thus the matter stands, therefore. That act of the pro-
ductive power of imagination cannot, however, arise to con-
sciousness, "but melts together immediately with its product.
Hence external perception appears to be not an object of
consciousness, such as we have shown it to be, but as a true
consciousness, and moreover as an immediate and uncondi-
tioned consciousness ; and thus it happens that the external
world is made to appear to ordinary consciousness as an
immediate object of consciousness. Now, how have we
proceeded that we should have arrived at an insight of the
opposite as the truth ^ We have through means of thinking
gathered up external perception into a higher connection, and
thus have brought the connecting link, which remains hid-
den to common consciousness, before our artiticially created
consciousness. Owlj thus, indeed, could that insight have
been arrived at. Hence whosoever does not undertake this
thinking together with us, or, though trying to do so, is not
penetrated by its evidence because he does not proceed in
the right manner, simply does not get that insight ; and all
his asserting, getting angry, and averring that he cannot do
better, helps him nought. "We know it right well, and more-
over can prove to him, which he cannot do, that he really
cannot look at the matter other than in the waj^ he does, sim-
ply because he does not fulfil the conditions of the other
view. Should some one, however, interpret our proposition
as asserting that we merely imagine things — as indeed some
pretended philosophers have actually interpreted it — he
would thereby simply exhibit his inhnite lack of understand-
ing, his absolute incapacity to be taught, and to enter into
other ideas than those he already possesses, and to take hold
of two thoughts in such a manner as not to have forgotten
the first when he gets to the second. We imagine in the
higher regions of freedom, where we can also leave off ima-
gining. But that imaging, whereof we have spoken, we can-
not leave off at all under the presupposition of an impulse
which we shall likely find to belong absolutely to the life
of consciousness. Such an imaging is absolutely necessary,
and for that very reason its result forces itself upon us. And
thus, I think, we have deduced also external |)erception.

9. The clear result is this : that which has been suggested
Vol.vi.— 4

50 F'icJite's Facts of Consciousness.

by the relation of life lias here been under consideration, aucC
which may perhaps remain as the only true, namely, a lim-
itation of life, is not at all touched in the object of external
perception. That object is a mere opposition to the power of
imagination, and is not at all anything- by itself, as indeed it
does not pretend to be ; it is simply the product of a relation
to anotlier. to the power of imagination. For surely that
through which the thing really exists, and hence can alone
enter into connection with us. and whicli therefore must
surely constitute its essence, is its force or j^ower; but power-
is nothing material, nor manifests itself, to any external
sense ; it is simply thought. Hence this power, something
altogether unsensuous and supersensuous, were the real
thing. What, then, can this sjmce-lilling matter claim to be,
with its qualities, and how can it ever pass for the real thing?

10. Nevertheless the pi'elindnary question arises here, re-
quiring however, also, only a preliminary answer at j)resent:
how is such an image of a resistance usually connected in
its general form with the conception of the desired causality?
Evidently thus : the whole resistance, to which the impulse
relates in its totality and which we seek to get at in parts by
proceeding through its various conditions, must be together,
and in this, its being together, it is posited in space. In it is,
at the same time and as one, that which afterwards in time
becomes a many-fold and a succession. Hence the problem
is to hunt uj) in space a point — corresponding to the A de-
scribed in 8 — wherein the causalit}- may commence. For
instance : in nuitter, this resisting power to be overcome is the
connection of the parts, and this connection is to be broken
first in one point, and from that one to the next.

11. The image of the immediate causality of the Ego is a
straight line ; hence also all such immediate causalit}^ ap-
pears as occurring in lines — pressure, impact, &c. If an
unsurmountable resistance occurs, the causality moves off
in another straight line, and the result is a straight-lined
angle. Causality in curved lines occurs only mediatel}' and
with considerateness, according to a rule : for instance, around
a given centre ; whereas the straight line breaks out imme-
diately and without any considerateness, being indeed the
very outbreak of free construction. Curvedness is the exact

FlcTites Facts of Consciousness. 51

opposite of freedom, or its limitation ; for which reason, in-
deed, nniversal space is necessarily figured as a globe.

People have inquired after the ground of the three dimen-
sions,of space. Now, firstly, all that is needed is to get at
the correct conception of dimension, which will show itself as
soon as we shall exhibit its ground. Secondly, it is simply
needed to know where to look for this ground ; namely, not
in the region of conceptions, but of contemplations ; for here
is a mere contemplation, and the problem is a limitation of
contemplation. "Show me the ground of the three dimensions"
signifies nothing but : " Put me on a stand-point where this
contemplation will necessarily occur to me." This stand-point '
is, for instance, not that of the point ; for from me as a centre
an infinite number of lines are possible, and if these were
called dimenaions space would have an infinite number of di-
mensions. The stand-i:)oint of the required contemplation is
rather that of the line as the image of freedom, and hence
also of time. This line (freedom), having but one dimension,
must be limited by the above resistance in all possible ways.
But there are three such ways : it is limited in length at both
ends, in breadth again at both ends, whereby space changes
from the line into a plane, and finally in height and depth,
whereby space changes from a plane to a geometrical body.
These are the three possible directions in which to recon-
struct original space, that is, if we start from and presuppose
the line. Hence, in true opposition to the image of the Ego's
causality, space has dimensions, and three of them.

12. We have called external perception generallj' a tlilnlc-
ing : previously we said that it was a production of an abso-
lute power of imaging. Hence in so far as we hold both
propositions seriouslj', which we do, we consider all thinking
as producing through an absolute power of imaging, and vice
xersa. Thinking is, therefore, nothing passive, receptive, or
anything like that. — If former philosophers had made the
conception of thinking clear in this way, they would have
necessarily ere this put Philosophy' on the right track. —
Above, we described thinking as a going out of an inner and
immediate consciousness. Bnt this inner is feeling and con-
templation, both as the immediate being of freedom, and is
thus immediate consciousness. IN'ow we say thinking goes
out of it. In what manner ( Certainly not in the way of Be-

Tvi J^^ic7/f('s' 7'^ai'fs' of Co)h'^c/o>/.wrf!S.

ing, whicli indeed does not occur liere at all, l)ut in the man-
ner of consciousness, which does occur here. But since this
is a going out of immediate consciousness, it must be an im-
aging, and moreover an absolute imaging, a pure creating of
a new consciousness. To ]>e snie, a creating according to a
rule, and by no means blind and lawless, as those assume
who understand us to say that we merely imagine things.

This established conception of thinking will be found to
conlirm itself altogether. Here we particularly think a re-
sistance of the productive power of imagination, or thinking
itself in its most universal form ; hence we have here the
absohitely first thinking. Productive imagination produces
itself — of course, in an image — and images a resistance to this
thus produced itself. This is, in short, the here-occurring
function of thinking, or of the absolute power of imaging;
which power is here immanent, transcendent, remaining in
and going out of itself.

With another kind of thinking, of which we shall speak
hereafter, it will be different. En it the power of imaging will
image not itself, but another faculty given to it before in con-
templation, and will image an op])osition to this faculty, in
which latter function alone it is pure thinking.

13. We also in philosophizing, simply as such, must
think; that is, produce absolutel}'- through the power of im-
aging.

What we have just said may be divided into two chief
parts. Firstly, we had to note : under such and such a pre-
suj)position (of an impulse, &c.), a picture of a resistance must
be created. This "must" expresses that another thinking
will connect with the first one, as the presupposed thinking,
immediately and as inseparable from it; hence this "must"
expresses that through the immediate causality of thinking
itself the second thinking will grow out of the first one with-
out any action on the part of freedom ; and thus the second
link must have arisen — if our assertion is correct — in every
one of our readers who has thought the first link correctly,
and must so have arisen without any act of his own freedom.
The desired evidence must have tak(»n hold of him imme-
diately. It is quite otherwise with the second part of what
has b^en said, namely, with the question : what will this im-
age of a resistance result in i

( 53 )
HEGEL'S PHENOMENOLOGY OF MINI).

Transhited tVoin tlie (Jcnium* ofK. Uosenkranz, hj- G. S. Hall.

It was natural that during HegePs intimate association with
Schelling, his expression should become somewhat colored
bv the latter, in whom we may observe the converse of this
influence. When Schelling left Jena in the spring of 1803,
Hegel returned more to his own individuality. He resumed
also the collegia which he had somewhat neglected during
his activity as an author. He lectured especially upon logic
and metaphysics, and also upon a philosophical encyclope-
dia, totam 'pMlosopldw scieniiam, pliilosopldam logices, na-
turce et mentis. This distinguished him from Schelling, who
did not lecture at all upon logic or metaphysics, and had
critically treated the various philosophical sciences, only
once, in the lectures on the methods of academic study. A
systematic totality was what lay at Hegel's heart. He col-
lected himself gradually for its production, and intended to
bring it out in two parts, of which the first was to contain a
critical justification of his stand-point, and the second the
svstem itself. The first only, at the close of his abode in
Jena, was brought to press, and appeared in Bamberg, 1807 :
"'The Phenomenology of Mind, or the Science of the Experi-
ence of Consciousness.''

This work included, first, the theory of consciousness;
second, a critical review of history, to see at what result the
history of mankind has arrived in respect to science. It
united psychology with the philosophy of history. Hence it
has been called a psychology confused by history, or a his-
tory distracted by psychology. It is easy to represent it as
a monstrosity if narrow criteria are applied, but the inner
unity of Hegel's thought was to haye consciousness criticise
itself by its development, not only in respect to form, but in
respect to contents. The title " Science of Consciousness "
indicates the content. The mind of mankind itself is sum-
moned to state what form of consciousness it assumes as
present, as now final. The chief title " Phenomenology of

* A chapter from " Hegel als Deutscher National Philosoph," Leipzig, 1870.

54 HegeVf< IVtenomenology of Mind.

yV\\\i\" ivoalls the pheiionu'iioloi'v of Ijaiuberfs "Oi'a;anon."
Mind advances in its oonsciousnoss from step to step. Each
lower stage is shown npon the next higher to have been a
rehitive error. Init it is not therefoie iiothing, bnt a necessary
condition of the higher. This, whiMi it is entered npon, seems
to be theliighest, bnt progress rednces this to a mere seeming.
It is therefore not entirely false, bnt only relatively so, in that
it was tjiken as nltimate. In designating the phenomenology
as that of mhid, Ilegel indicates the difference wdiicli existed
between himself and Fichte, Schelling, and previ<ms philoso-
phers in general. In a former treatise npon natural right
Hegel had bronght the conception of mind into prominence,
and had said that it stood higher than nature, while Schelling
made natnre and mind parallel as coordinate factors of the
absolute indifference. The conception of mind had hitherto
been treated under the conception of reason, consciousness,
thinking, and \villing. but not in and for itself, not as an ade-
quate conception of the absolute. Eeason and nature are
presuppositions wdiicli mind makes for itself, but which,
as Hegel says, it overreaches. Reason, Nature and Mind are
mutually coordinated in their independence as idea in gene-
ral. In respect to compass, reason is ranked above nature
and mind; but in respect to content, reason is ])ut with and
in nature, and nature with and in mind. Nature is rational,
but it is something other than mere reason, for it becomes
specific in gases, metals, earths, plants, animals, and constel-
lations. JNIind is also in itself rational, but through con-
sciousness it is free fnmi the power of nature, and uses the
latter as the organ for realizing its purj^oses, and thereby
spiritualizes it. In its history it annuls nature. It is higher
than nature because it is the highest, the absolute in aggre-
gate, w^liich knows itself as truth. Hegel's Phenomenology
is the preliminary conclusion of the transformations which
had begun with Kant's Critique of Puie Reason. This cri-
tique was no psychology or logic or metaphj^sics in the sense
of school-wisdom : it w^as all these, yet was nothing of them
all ; it was one of those anomalous products which appear at
epochal points in the development of mind, and in which the
past is concluded and a new future is ushered in. Kant's
Critique, although no definite science, was the foundation of

HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind. 55

the great modern revolution of philosophy ; Fichte's doctrine
of knowledge and Schelling's system of transcendental ideal-
ism were its consequences. Hegel's Phenomenology, after
many intermediate formations, is also a result of the same,
an analogue of Kant's Critique, and, like it, the source of a
mew movement.

The Phenomenology may l»e and has heen called the pro-
pjedeutics of Hegel's system ; but the name is appropriate
only so far as he sought therein to lay the foundations of his
stand-point : it must not indicate, as it usually does, a phi-
losophizing outside of philosophy, which is to make the lat-
ter easier, to introduce it by gentle gradations, or as far as
possible to economize individual thought. On the contrary,
the Phenomenology is very difficult, for it is still more pro-
found than Kant's Critique, than Fichte's Science of Knowl-
edge, or than Schelling's Transcendental Idealism. The two
latter were the immediate and extended consequents of Kant's
Critique, and are in so far transition stadia from Kant to He-
gel. At the same time the relation of the Phenomenology to
the Critique of Pure Reason is most intimate, as is manifest
in the first words of the introduction, which commences thus :
"It is a natural notion that in philosophy, before the subject-
matter itself — namely, the real knowledge of that which in
truth is — be entered upon, it is previously necessary to arrive
at an understanding concerning the faculty of knowing, which
is regarded as the tool by which man possesses himself of
the absolute, or as the medium through which he descries it.
This solicitude seems to be justified partly by the fact that
there are different kinds of knowledge, and among them one
may be better adapted than another to the attainment of this
ultimate end, so that a false choice may be made among
them ; moreover, partly by the fact that, since knowledge is
a faculty of a definite kind and compass, clouds of error in-
stead of the heaven of truth will result unless a more accurate
determination of its nature and boundary is accomplished."
It is impossible in these w^ords, and in the entire subsequent
exposition, not to detect constantly implied allusions to Kant's
stand-point in the Critique of Pure Reason, although Kant is
not named. Hegel decidedly dissents, toward the end of the
introduction, from the view that phenomenology is a mere

56 HegeVs Plienomenology of 3find.

preface, outside ol" philosophy. For consciousness which is
establislied in its phenomenal form, that which arises through
its own mutations is ever another object. But for our con-
sciousness which detects the becoming of phenomenal con-
sciousness from stage to stage, this movement itself becomes
an object of our knowledge. Hence Ilegel says: "Through
this necessity' this way to science is itself already science,
and. on account of its content, science of the experience of

consciousness."

Kant's Critique of Pure Reason began with transcendental
aesthetics, with the receptivity of intuitions of space and time,
and ascended through understanding of the analytic logic to
the dialectic of reason, to the ideal finality of speculative the-
ology. It ended with the result that the absolute object is
incomj)rehensible to us, since the intelligence of the under-
standing cannot be adequatel}" applied to the conceptions of
reason, but can be brought into relation only to phenimiena.
Hegel began in the same way with sensuous certainty, which
comes to intuition here in space and time. From this, like
Kant, he ascended to the absolute, but differed from him in
affirming the possibility of absolute knowledge. The final
result of the Phenomenology^ is exactly opposite to that of
the Critique. The interval between sensuous certainty as
the beginning, and absolute knowledge as the end, has of
course an entirely different content from the interval between
Kant's transcendental esthetics and the ideal finality of the-
ology. It should be well observed that Hegel regarded abso-
lute knowledge as the limit of the development of conscious-
ness. Not a negative limit, such as, according to Kant, the
understanding opj)Oses from fear of the truth of reason, but
the positive limit of the highest satisfaction of consciousness,
beyond which a higher is imj)ossible ; for only the absolute
is true, but only the true is absolute. Hegel makes con-
sciousness advance by its own dialectic from one stand-point
to another ; sensuous certainty makes it have to do, not only
w^ith this single object, here and now, but, as soon as it
attenij)ts to say what it feels, tastes, hears, &c., this must re-
solve itself into generality. The predicate which it utters of
the object as its essence, is a geneiality which, as such, is
not sensuous. The sensuousness of the certaint}^ thereby

Hegel's PJienomenology of Mind. 57

sublates [annuls] itself; while consciousness is driven onward
from the unit (as this being) to generality, another and new
stand-point arises. And thus it proceeds from stand-point to
stand-i)oiut. Formally, the same process is ever repeated for
us, but not to the infinite, not progressively to the endless,
but with a distinct conclusion in absolute knowledge, in
which being and intelligence mutually cover each other. In
knowledge of the truth, mind first finds, not the rest, of the
church-yard, but a rest which is vital and full of content.
Science is therefore the absolute power in human life,'against
which all opposition is vain. What sense has once demon-
strated, gradually makes its way as law into the knowledge,
and finally into the action, of the people. No polity, no reli-
gion avails ^^gainst it. Copernicus overthrew the mediaeval
heaven with his solar system. The Pope contradicted him
for centuries, until in 1821 he was obliged expressly to recog-
nize the Copernican system. Buckle, in his history of civili-
zation in England, made the assertion that mankind advance
in knowledge, but not in morals. This I regard an error, for
it is impossible that the knowledge of truth should not tend
to make men both freer and better. " Know the truth, and it
shall make you free,'' said Christ.

Since, then, the phenomenology is the science of the expe-
rience of consciousness, it nevertheless stands at variance
with the conception of science, in that it transposes and adul-
terates it with historical elements.

Attention must now be drawn to the reproach always urged
with so much emphasis, that in the Phenomenology Hegel
nowhere mentions the name of a philosopher, a people, or
an event. He allows each stand-point to characterize itself
with relative absoluteness. Nevertheless it is unmistakable
that he has in mind distinct historical phenomena. Does he
employ them, as it were, by chance, as we select any exam-
ple to illustrate an abstract proposition by a concrete notion ?
By no means ; but we observe that he fixes upon such a phe-
nomenon as can validate itself in universal history as the
classic type of the stand-point which is to be elucidated. He
borrows his colors from it because they are the most striking
and expressive. From the peculiar collusion of this view in
the background, with the conception of the particular stages

58 HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind.

of consciousness in the foreground, springs that charm of ex-
position wiiich the Plienonienology has ever exerted upon the
tenipei- of those who were cultured enough to enjoy it. Hegel
gives no illustrations in a dry, schokistic manner, yet we do
not miss that insiglit which we seek in illustration. Hegel
must nor be understood as though he would say that the
general stand-])oint which he describes is present only among
this people, in this condition, at this epoch of history; his
meaning is. that that which occurs in and for itself in the
development of consciousness, as a necessary moment of its
becoming, has attained in this form of historical phenomenon
its purest objectivity. When, for example, in the conception
of the ethical mind, the Hellenic world seems to glimmer
through, it should not be understood that he abstracted the
conception of ethics from the history of the Greeks, and there-
fore adduces it here ; but this conception is in and for itself
universal, and is therefore found, as an essential element,
among other people, although among the Greeks in its most
pregnant beauty and truth. This })rocedure is therefore by
no means wrong, but is in most exquisite taste.

One should lirst attemi)t to understand the Phenomenology
from itself, rather than apply to it tlie criterion which Hegel
has given in the preface, which is swollen to the length of a
formal treatise. Prefaces are ordinarily printed before the
work itself, but are written only after it is completed. It is
quite right that the preface to Hegel's Phenomenology should
have been regarded as his manifesto against the excesses
of romanticism, and the degeneracies of Schelling's natural
philosophy ; but the consciousness to which Hegel has given
utterance could arise only after the completion of the Phe-
nomenology. We shall, therefore, speak of it later.

The more obscure and confused the conceptions which are
wont to be made of Hegel's Phenomenology, the more neces-
sary it becomes briefly to review its outlines, though it is
a work so peculiar, that, before conclusions are reached, it
must be made familiar in the originality of its earliest form.
Hegel distinguished as the most general determinations —
(1) consciousness ; (2) self-consciousness ; (3) reason. Con-
sciousness is knowledge which has for its object that exis-
tence which is given it through mediation of the senses : {a) as

HegeVs Plienomenology of Mind. 59

sensuous certainty ; {li) as perception ; (c) as understanding,
— Sensuous certainty takes tlie individual thing as truth ; but
as soon as it undertakes to say what the thing in se is, it finds
itself compelled to utter a generality concerning it. It sup-
posed itself concerned now and here, and with this which
presents itself immediately as an exclusive unit, but in this
unit the universal is at the same time contained. To this,
consciousness must accordingly direct itself as the truth. It
becomes perceptive to discern the properties of the thing in
which their generality inheres. Things are what they are
through their properties, but at the same time they dissolve
themselves through these, for through these they cohei'e with
other things, and in this coherence they undergo change.
The force which determines things is, therefore, a new object
for consciousness ; the latter becomes understanding in that
it searches out the laws which i^reside over the play of forces.
These laws, in their immutability, as contrasted with things,
constitute a supersensuous world.

Consciousness has thus advanced from sensuous certainty
to the certainty of the understanding, that within the sensu-
ous the supersensuous, viz. law, is truth proper. Rather, it
is itself the supersensuous ; for that which knows laws is not
an object of sense, has no properties which can dissolve them-
selves, but makes itself its own object. It is thus self-con-
sciousness, in which are distinguished, {a) its independence ;
(Jb) its freedom. It is independent in so far as it subjects life,
with its passions and lusts, to itself; dependent, in so far as,
conversely, it subjects its own self to life and its passions and
lusts. But how does it learn this distinction i Not by dis-
tinguishing itself, within itself, from itself, as ego ; nor by
distinguishing the likeness of the ego from life and its mani-
fold passions and lusts ; but by coming to itself in another
ego, and entering upon a life and death conflict with it : for
thus alone can it become truly self-certain, both whether it
has exalted itself above the attachment to life, and whether
the opposing consciousness has done so. Should either self-
consciousness renounce the conflict, or fear death, or cherish
life more than self, in so doing it unselfs itself, becomes de-
pendent, subject to another self, and degrades itself to the
service of a lord. This conflict for recognition, to find self for

(30 Heger!< Phenomenology of Mind.

otlieis its like, is the origin of the rehition of servitude and
dominion. This position of Hegel has often been invidiously
perverted into the doctrine that slavery is a righteous necessi-
ty, which he never intended. It is generall}' said that slavery
originated in the captures of warfare. Hegel goes deeper, and
inquires how there arose the subjection of one man to anoth-
er. He answers, '' From the want of self-subsistence in self-
consciousness." And, " Whence arises this ? " he inquires..
"From fear of death, from the subjection of self to life."' —
Hegel develops the mysterious ethico-psychological process
from which the fact of slavery arises. By (culture, the slave
can gradually make himself worthy to be recognized by his
master as independent ; he gives him freedom because it is
already present in him. The freedom of self-consciousness
lies in its self-determination as a thinking will. It appears,
according to Hegel, in the forms (a) of stoicism ; {b) of skep-
ticism ; (c) of unhappy consciousness.

Stoicism retires from all reality into the purity of thinking,
into the thought of freedom, to which no access from without
can be obtained, and in which it is indifferent whether the
subject exists as servant or sovereign; for, though in chains,
it can still think. Skepticism, conversely, frees itself from
the pressure of reality by construing it as mere appearance,
as a turmoil of contradictions. Nevertheless it adapts itself
to the dominant order of things, which for it is a falsehood.
It subjects itself to a reality which is naught to it, since of
every distinction which empiricism can find, its opposite ex-
ists. The repose of the stoic,, and the unrest of the skeptic,
absorbed in the detection of contradictions, coalesce in the
unhappy consciousness, which, from the unrest of the phe-
nomenal world as the Present, rises to the rest of the Be}' ond
as its true essence, but from this exaltation sinks back again
into itself. The Essence which is in the Beyond is universal,
immutable ; that which is here, on the other hand, as an indi-
vidual is exposed to mutation. It attempts by labor to escape
the sundering of the Present and the Beyond; but labor aug-
ments its independence, its property, its enjoj-ment. Hence
it thanks the Eternal for what is mutable ; it renounces the
attempt to bring itself into harmony with its activity ; but,
while it thanks, it acquits itself of its obligation to the Im-

HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind. 61

mutable, for thereby it recognizes the latter, and returns to
its individuality. To express the same still more earnestly,
it makes sacrifice of its possession through the priests of the
Immutable, who, in place of the latter, receive his gift. But
the priest, who renders thanks in its name, is no more the
Immutable than the sacrifice is the individual who offers it
through the priest. Hence self-consciousness denies itself
the enjoyment of the gifts which the Immutable presents it;
it fasts, chastises itself, and finally, in order spiritually to
annihilate itself, allows itself to be determined b}^ priests as
the council of its conscience. In order to be free from itself,
it has renounced its freedom of self-determination, and acts
as the slave of priests. It is unhappy, for it is broken down ;
and does not escape from itself even when it surrenders itself
to authority, lor it must resolve to do even this. It must will
to be unselfed.

But since the Beyond is pure thought, no less so than self-
consciousness, it experiences that, at bottom, the Immutable
is united in itself with the Mutable; and that the Eternal,
which seemed to be a Beyond, is really present in the Here.
This consciousness of the unity of the idea and its reality is
reason. Rational self-consciousness is, according to Hegel,
(1) certainty of the truth of reason ; (2) mind ; (3) religion ;
(4) absolute knowledge. The certainty of the truth of reason
proceeds directly and instinctively to discover itself. It be-
comes (a) observing reason ; (/>) realization of rational self-
consciousness through itself; (c) individuality, which is real
in and for itself. Observing reason applies itself {a) to na-
ture ; (&) to purity of self-consciousness and its relation to
external reality ; (c) to the immediate reality of self-con-
sciousness. Objects of nature are described, arranged, and
investigated, according to their laws. Inorganic as well as
organic nature is appropriated by observation as rational.
Reason observes — and so does self-consciousness in its puri-
ty— how it follows logical laws in thinking, and how it is
subject to psychological laws in its development; for indi-
viduality, in its reciprocity with the circumstances which
casually surround it, evolves nothing which was not involved
in its instincts, propensities, and faculties. The great influ-
ence which is wont to be ascribed to circumstances is valid

62 Hegd's Phenomeuoloyy of Mind.

only in so far as the individual admits and incorporates them
into his activity. Hence in immediate reality as it appears
in phvsioffnomv and in the brain (or, since this cannot be^
directly perceived, in the skull), observation recognizes the
existence of self-consciousness. The mental is one with the^
material, as brain and spinal marrow. Without brain, ob-
serving reason can find no self-consciousness, no thinking, no
mind.

The antithesis of observation is the attempt of self- con-
sciousness to realize the conception of reason through itself —
not to find, but to produce, the reality of the conception.
Hegel distinguishes here (a) pleasure and necessity ; {!>) the
law of the heart, and the frenzy of self-conceit; (c) virtue,
and the way of the world. Under the stand-point jjleasure
and necessity, he included that form of self-consciousness
which reason seeks in the satisfaction of the appetites and
passions in pleasure ; but experiences that enjoyment has a
limit, and that pleasure is contravened by necessity arising
out of itself. Pleasure would make all a means of enjoy-
ment ; but the world, the Universal, is not to be consumed.
The consciousness for which pleasure has decayed, seeks
happiness in the heart ; to make itself and all being happy,
becomes its law. But the world, by its nature and its insti-
tutions, renders this high undertaking difficult ; so that, as
soon as it experiences this contradiction, the good heart in
its self-conceit revolts to frenzy. Self-consciousness, there-
fore, concludes to renounce happiness, and to follow the law
of the heart. In duty it recognizes law as general necessity,
and is ready to sacrifice its individualit}' to it. Virtue must
perform dut}" for its own sake. All inclination must be ex-
cluded. The Good exists only through virtue ; if it be not
realized, it is a mere thought. Virtue is thus brought into
conflict with the way of the world, foi' the w^orld, as such, is
not virtuous. It guards individuality, and contends against
vice only so far as it violates public law or becomes crime.
Up to this limit individuality, even in its infirmities and vices,
is allowed wide scope. Virtue revolts at the wickedness of
the world, and spends itself in pompous delineations of its
conflicts, its purity, its nobility, its incomj)arableness, its
sacrifices. It thinks it very sad that virtue must so often

HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind. 63

succumb. The vicious world, strange to relate, does not col-
lapse, but preserves itself in tolerable order.

Individuality, by its varieties, produces manifoldness and
interest. The world cannot dispense with it, nor indeed can
virtue; for without it there can be nothing to contend against,
nothing to be resigned to. Without the existence of tempta-
tion, of vice, the hero of virtue would liave no cause for pride.
Thus it is individuality which, by the resignation of virtue to
it, has shown it itself preeminent. It is in and for itself real,
i.e. it no longer seeks out of itself what it possesses within.
In its immediacy it is indeed oiily natural individiuility, but
as the certainty of reason it appears {a) as animal kingdom
of mind ; {!>) as law-giving ; (c) as law-proving reason. As
animal kingdom of mind, it produces itself in works in which
it gives its peculiarity an objective expression. Such a work
is not absolutely universal, for this it can represent only
according to what individuality in its particularity is able to
do ; and therefore the latter modestly asserts that it intended
merely a contribution to the Universal, and that it designed
what was done to be referred not to itself, but to the subject.
But the work also stands in relation to others who apprehend
and judge of it. Since these are also individual ties, their
judgment is also colored by this peculiarity, although they
likewise modesth' insist that not themselves, but the subject
alone is concerned. Thus deception arises from both sides.
The producer makes the subject his own, wishes to display
himself in it — to put his own talent, culture, skill, mind to
account. Thus not only the subject, but essentially he him-
self, is concerned in the work. The critic, on the other hand,
rightly says that he must judge of the work as good, bad, or
inditierent, only because the subject demands it ; but, at the
same time, the judgment is his, and expresses his penetra-
tion, erudition, taste, and mind. It is, therefore, his own indi-
viduality which comes into account in his judgment, and he
deceives himself and others if he asserts that it remains neu-
tral. When this deceit is recognized on both sides, conscious-
ness ascends to that instance in which both producer and
critic have to subject themselves to the conception of reason
as law. Reason is the criterion which must be applied both
to production and judgment. Reason gives laws, j)ractical,

64 Hefj/el's Phenomenology of Mind .

HBsthetic, &-C, But these numerous laws, which exist with and
through each other, require in turn a demonstration of how
far thov are rational and at one with each other.

Law-pioving reason seeks not, as it were, to annul laws,
but to retine them by its critique, to liberate them from their
isolation and one-sideduess, and imperfect construction, in
order, in them, to become absolutely certain of the truth of
reason. This is the result of the develoj)ment of reason, i.e.
of the stand-point of mind. Mind is self-certain of reason as
its truth. It is {a) inimediatel}^ the true mind, or the morale;
{h) self-estranged mind, or culture ; (c) mind certain of itself,
or morality. To these conceptions Hegel limits the concep-
tion of mind, which he distinguishes from that of religion.
True mind, as moral, appears, according to Hegel, (a) in the
ethical world ; {h) in ethical action ; (c) in the condition of
rio-lits.

The moral world is immediately included in the family
and the nation, for lier«? freedom and necessity are indistin-
guishabiy one. ]S"atural individuality, its external reality,
pleasure and its limits, necessity, the good heart and its vani-
ty, creative activity and criticism, law-giving and law-proving
reason, are annulled in ethics. Man and woman as husband
and wife, the latter as parents, parents as trainers of children,
children as brother and sister, stand in spiritual relationship
by virtue of their natural connection. Brother and sister sus-
tain the purest relationship, because here the sexual passion
is not concerned as it is between parents, after whose death
the brother is the natural supporter and protector of the sis-
ter. All families are individual in one people. Only the
princely family in its individuality is at the same time the
collectivity of the state. The ethical act springs from the
ethics of the people, in which the reason of mind is present.
The law which animates the ethical appears partly as divine,
partly as human ; as divine in piety, which is especially cher-
ished by woman, who is ordained by nature as guardian of
the hearth ; as human in the law of the state, whose prime
guardian is the prince. Divine and human law may collide,
which for the individual is his fate. He bears the guilt of his
fate, but in it becomes conscious of: the right which summoned
him to the doing of his deed. He acted because, as a member

HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind. 65

of the family or state, he could act only so, and not otherwise.
Right itself, in turn, acquits him of his guilt and his wrong —
as Orestes, Creon, Antigone, rightly did wrong, wrongly did
right. The consciousness of right makes man a person, and
in the atomic individualization of personality, ethical unity
resolves itself into the multiplicity of the indifferent masses,
which again can be held together only by a single person as
a despotic power. Right is cold and egotistic as long as it
seeks only to accomplish itself. When husband goes to law
with wife, parents with children, brothers and sisters with
each other, the spirit of the ethical has vanished. The indi-
vidual insists on his right whatever consequences may fol-
low, but just for this reason right is cold and regardless.
Mind which is estranged from itself presents itself {ci) in the
world of its estrangement, partly as culture, partly as belief;
(6) it becomes eclair cissement in that it opposes and makes
an end of superstition ; (c) in absolute freedom estrangement
has the sense of self-renunciation for something other than
we ourselves really are. The right of person inheres therein
as far as in this act the entire will is expressed. The imj)or-
tance which the individual attains outside himself in society,
depends upon whether he possess power or riches. Power
is attained by state service ; riches, by augmenting posses-
sions. In the former, he acts nobly when he devotes his
efforts and his activity, even to the sacrifice of his own life,
to the state ; in the latter, when his possessions, even to self-
retrenchment, are given up to benefit the poor. Still the state
is not without distrust of those in power, who serve it, lest
they misuse their power against it. The client, the pauper,
is not without inner indignation that benefits must be pre-
sented to him. It seems to be chance that a person can ele-
vate himself by means of power, riches, or indeed both — for
power may lead to riches and riches to power — since indivi-
duality, as such, is originally a stranger no less to power and
honor than to riches. It can lose as well as possess both:

Mind, therefore, seeks a possession which is inalienable
from its individuality, and which can be affected by no mu-
tations of power or riches. This possession is culture, which
the individual gives himself. But culture is estrangement
from his immediate naturalness, for it makes of man some-
Vol. vi.— 5

Q6 HegeVs Fhenonienoloyy of Mind.

thing other tliaii lie is by race, sex, &c. It raises hi in above
the liazard of power or riches, for it is the self-consciousness
of mind in its universality which can be snatched away by
no fate. In cultured society the individual is signiiicant, not
because lie is powerful or lich, but because he is cultured.
Each signiiies only what he has made of liimself by culture.
But there are of necessity different departments, grades,
peculiarities, in culture; therefore it becomes its essential
.interest to set up a standard of culture for individuals, for
just here is shown liow one is cultured ; for the criteria which
one api)lies characterize the stand-point of, his own culture.
Judgments also become involved in contradiction; nay, one
comes to appear talented by so much the less as he agrees
with the judgment of others, or indeed with the judgment of
the multitude. Thus arises a universal disintegration of
mind, in which the chaos of various cultures and naturally
contradictory judgments begets finally a chaotic; confusion,
above which only faith emerges, which subordinates culture
as a vanity of the present. Before God is no respect of per-
sons. Neither might, nor riches, nor culture, entitle one to
blessedness ; heaven demands from its own, not the evidence
that they are talented, but the poor in spirit are blessed if
they are pure in heart. But faith which is indifferent to it,
agrees with culture in that it estranges the mind from imme-
diate reality, for it transports it to the representation of a
Beyond, of which, hcie, we can have no experience. In this
fantastic world it is (^uite at home wntli its representations,
and discerns that all must be just as it is.

The eclair cAssement overtakes it nevertheless, because on
the one side it clings to the supersensuous, yet on the other
cannot deny that it wishes to hnd the sujiersensuous in the
sensuous. Eclalrclsnement is the unavoidable product of
culture which seeks satisfaction only in thought, and pushes
forward faith with its double housekeeping in the present
and in the Beyond. Faith, as genuine, does not think of
making the sensuous the ground of blessedness, but it always
contradicts itself by the weight which it lays upon the sensu-
ous ; for, in spite of its insight into the transitoriness of what
is earthly, and the nothingness of what is external, it believes
in sacred i)laces, times, and pictures ; it believes in sanctifi-

HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind. 67

cation by washing, and by partaking of consecrated food and
drink ; by acts of sense, pilgrimages, fasts, sconrgings, &c.
It believes that eternal truth is contained in writings which
have been preserved by chance, &c. Esx^ecially it represents
the Beyond again in a form which is really only a copy of
the human, of the Present. Its gods, angels, devils, have
human shape. Angels play on harps, sing, &c. Faith revolts
against this critique, which lacerates its very heart, just as
the talented consciousness of culture revolts against its own
distraction because the latter derisively expresses it.

Eclaircissement has its truth in the thought of the useful-
ness of things, for therein it attains the unity of being and of
thought. Prosaic as the category of use may be, it still con-
tains the thought of the end and aim for which things are
present as means. It twines itself through all things as the
bond which unites them to each other. All is useful. In
nature, earth is useful to plants, plants to animals, animals
to animals. All nature is useful to man, man to man ; and
even religion is useful, for it constrains man patiently to en-
dure the pains of the Present in view of the future To Be.

The category of usefulness also contains the unity of thought
and being of the idea and its reality, which, as deism and ma-
terialism, are widely separate ; on the one hand, into the
abstraction of a supreme essence, and into matter on the
other. Its metaphysics knows only things and their proper-
ties; and among things, useful or natural, full as many have
hurtful relations, for what is useful in one respect harms in
the opposite ; yet through this twofoldness of all things
eclaircisse'ntent affirms the ever uniform stability of the world.

As the true, the moral mind is merged in the condition of
right ; so likewise the culture of the self-estranged mind is;
merged in absolute freedom and terror. The thinking of the
eclaircissement has disposed of all, and has left to conscious-
ness, at last, only the thinking of thinking, for eclaircissement
supremely respects the logic of the understanding that twice
two is four. If pure thinking would give itself a content, it
must determine itself as will ; but the will, conformably to
the stand-point of thinking, will have to be a pure will, which
wills itself in its universality. Yet since in its reality the will
is always individual, universality as such can hold only a

(38 HegeVs IVt en om en ology of Min d.

negative relation to will when it wills to realize itself. It
becomes a fanaticism which wonld exterminate the existing
order of things. In so far as will assnmes the form of govern-
ment, the purpose of which is to care for the general well-
being, and to realize the will of all, it becomes an object of
suspicion to individuals, because as such they possess the
possibility of dissenting from the will of the government
which assumes the stand-point of universality. To meet the
danger thus arising, nothing remains but to put such to death.
But individuals conversely become objects of suspicion to
government, because it is government tliat,in their determin-
ations, they do not seek the pure will of all, but rather some
special end. (Tovernment is therefore accused of being par-
4iisan. and its members in turn are executed. A new govern-
ment is instituted, which in a short time succeeds no better.
The terror of death is the result of absolute freedom, which
detects slavery in every ethical relation, in family, rank,
office ; and fears, pei'secutes, and slays every individual who
does not seem to come out into tlie colorless abstraction of
freedom as absolute.

In the dissolution of the world of culture, the onl\' stability
is the mind's certainty of itself, or morality. The individual
w^ho ascends the scaffold, not because he has committed a
crime, but because he has expressed an opinion other than
absolute freedom has declared valid by the stamp of univer-
sality, dies with the certainty of having remained true to
himself, of having acted correctly, morally. This certainly
exalts liim above death, and destroys the terror which it is
said to inspire. The moral view of the world looks above the
Present far beyond into a relationship in which all the con-
tradictions of histor}'^ shall be conciliated. In reality, to be
sure, the highest good, the harmony of virtue with happiness,
is not yet present, but is striven for as that which should be.
If it had not to contend with vice, virtue would not be virtue.
Without instincts, desires, passions, temptation, it would be
without the material of conflict — would be an unemploj'ed,
inactive virtue. It should prosper externally, for through its
exertions to overcome the allurements of vice it acquires a
certain claim upon happiness; but exjoerience shows that
the virtuous often find the world very unfriendly, while the

HegeVs Phenomenology of Hind. 69

vicious find it very comfortable. While, then, virtue, postu-
lates happiness, although it confesses that in reality it by no
means corresponds with the conception, its claim is no less
unfounded than when the envy with which it looks askance
at the i)rosperity of the vicious claims to be called virtuous.
The moral order of the universe, according to Hegel, is a
dissimulation \r)ersteThbng\ which its bad conscience, that it
is not really virtuous or free from sensuousness, conceals un-
der the comj)laint of the difficulties which assail the virtuous,
and against the course of the world when the bad thrive and
the good suffer hardship. And yet conscience can in fact
become self-certain, because it is determined not by feeling,
but by the conception of duty which is clear and unambigu-
ous. The nev7 difficulty which now arises consists in the fact
that duty which would perfect virtue as pure duty for its own
sake, resolves self into a plurality of duties, so that although
each individual is determined for himself, he may fall into
doubt which to perform, or at least which to perform first.
But in fulfilling one duty other duties may be violated, though
it be only by omitting their performance. Hence, to act with
perfect morality, it seems best not to act at all, for in so doing-
one stains himself in some way with finitude. By the deter-
mination of an act, no one can avoid exciting contradiction, or
reaping blame. The fear of degrading its high ideal by expres-
sion in action, of soiling it by contact \\'\\\\. vulgarity, drives
back the jesthetic soul into itself to refresh itself in the purity
of its inactivity, and with other {esthetic and congenial souls
to fall into criticism of those who act and therefore err. The
erring, however, who confesses his sin, thereby annihilates it.
Should the aesthetic soul close itself aa^ainst him, it would
itself become wicked. It must pardon him who confesses his
wickedness ; for as he became wicked, so can he become good
again. Thus the good must recognize the essence of equal
freedom in the wicked, and, if he has confessed, cannot hard-
heartedly hold itself aloof in privileged exclusiveness. The
forgiveness of the wicked is the breaking through of religion,
for it is the mind's act of majesty to make what has been done
as though it were not done. In the act mind becomes con-
scious of its sovereignty over nature and history. The wick-
edness which I repent of, is as though it had not occurred.

70 HcgeVs PJieiiomenoloy y of Mind.

I break ott' fioin my past, estrange myself from it, cast it from
me as a nullity.

In relitcion. mind as liuinan ascends to unitv with the divine,
to certainty of absolute truth ; for this unity is truth. This
sphere, in turn, begins as such from the bottom to build itself
up. step by step, to perfection, viz. from the natural religion,
through art-religion, to revealed religion. In natural reli-
gion, mind beliolds the absolute still in natural existence,
in the heavenly bodies, in plants, aninuils, until, as Hegel
expresses it, like a master-workman, it encloses the hull of
mind, its corpse, in the habitation which it, has prepared for
it out of stone. Buiding now becomes the cultus. With it,
mind passes over to art-religion, which venerates the divine
in the Beautiful, which it produces in statues of deities hu-
manly beautiful, in the beautifully formed contestants at
gymnastic sports, and in epic, lyric and dranmtic poetry. In
Phenomenology, Hegel has treated art only as religion, be-
cause it here simply gains the siguilicance of the absolute,
and in no sense serves as an ornament for prosaic ends, or as
a means of recreation. But this jesthetic religion, after it has
passed through the earnestness and pain of tragedy, dissolves
into the frivolity and pleasure of comedy, after it has made
all, even the gods of the nether world, its wanton sport. Now
it becomes evident what mind is. Trust in the gods has van-
ished— the oracles are dumb — the altars empty — hymns are
words without power— priests are needy, weak mortals like
others — the statues of the gods are but cold figures to which
Faith no more lends a soul — Consciousness shudders back
into itself in this mental waste, and can no longer save itself
from the despair of its absolute misfortune by the scorn of
comic perversion. God can be found as the true Clod neither
in nature nor in art, but reveals Himself as such only in the
real man who knows that he is one with Him in self-con-
sciousness. God has not onl}^ human form, is the esthetic
God, but becomes a man who can be felt, seen, heard. The
absolute substance appears as an actual subject, which also
really dies, i.e. the divine is the essence of the human self-
consciousness ; all disunion is extinguished in the Atonement.

Religion, therefore, already knows what truth is ; but its
knowledge is j^et imperfect, for it has not yet the form of

HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind. 71

pure self-consciousness, of the conception, but of intuition
and representation. Indeed, revealed religion cannot yet de-
tach itself from the sense-colored breadth of representation.
It goes back into the past, or forward to the future. In the
course of the year, on its festal days, it lives through the cir-
cle of its representatives in which truth presents itself to it
in historical forms. It remains, therefore, to give to the abso-
lute content absolute form. This is the hnal stand-point of
phenomenally absolute knowledge, a beyond which has no
passage to another, because in it not only truth but also
certainty is posited as absolute. To elevate religious repre-
sentation into the form of thought, is to dissolve it as repre-
sentation ; to dissolve does not mean to destroy its content,
l)ut to free it from its contradiction of representing the eter-
nal in forms of adjacency and succession. That which should
be absolutely conformable to self-consciousness, must belike
itself pure idea, which, as absolute presence, is independent
of time and space. Religious consciousness forgets itself mo-
mentarily in its representations, but falls back from them
into itself again, xlbsolute knowledge conceives not only
its object in and for itself, but it conceives itself also in its
knowledge.

The position which Hegel has given to absolute knowledge,
i.e. to speculative philosophy, became later the occasion of
much opposition, since priests and theologians very naturally
found in it an insufferable presumption which degraded reli-
gion to a " mere representation." We will here only remark
that science cannot dispense with the critique of faith, and
faith can assume no privileged immunity from being really
thought. The particular science of faith struggles against
being dissolved in the general science of nature and of mind ;
but really it cannot escape this fate, because this is neces-
sarily involved in the relation between representation and
thought. The miracles of faith are incomprehensible because
they lack a rational nature. The}^ can be represented, but
not thought. Thought can find a general content symboli-
cally expressed, an abiding truth ; but, with this discovery,
thought elevates its truth above its sensuous actuality, and
transforms it into allegory. Miracles are to remain for faith
an individual fact, which it devoutly gazes upon ; for science,

72. HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind.

they are to become a universality which is absolutely
true.

"When we glance back upon the Phenomenology in its to-
tality, we must admit that it is a work which can be ranked
in no traditional department, but at the same time we cannot
refrain from the opinion that its greatness lies in its strange-
ness and uniqueness. An ordinary schoolmaster's under-
standing, which revolves with economical exactitude within
the paragraphs of the text-book, never would have hit upon
such a monstrosity. The nuistership with which Hegel cha-
racterizes each particuLar stand-point of mind may pardon
the occasional artifice of its deductions. His appositeness
justifies, upon reflection, the apparent strangeness of his ex-
pression. When, e. g., Hegel calls culture the self-estranged
mind, the word has acquired the partial meaning of confusion
of mind, like the French word aliener. All culture sustains a
negative relation to our immediateness. We have in schools
Greek and Latin, which we do not speak in life, but in which
we estrange ourselves from our every-day reality ; our com-
panions travel among " strangers "" in order to exalt them-
selves above the narrowness of liome-life, &c. Hence the
expression " estrangement '' is quite right. Each new stand-
point which consciousness enters upon is absolute for it so
long as it deals with it ; as, conversely, the world — in itself
ever the same — is new for every new generation. It was with
deep design that Hegel included the practical side of mind in
the Phenomenology, a deduction of absolute knowledge from
dogmatism and skepticism ; realism and idealism would not
have corresponded to the totality of mind. The forms of con-
sciousness which Phenomenology exhibits in a long series^
are constant elements of mind wliicli lie between the extremes
of sensuous certainty and absolute knowledge, and which
hence always and every where reproduce themselves; in their
individualization thev mav likewise modify the form of their
appearance. Each is relatively the whole, but it is first in
the absolutely free self-consciousness of spirit that it com-
prehends itself as the idea of truth. No one will deny that
sensuous certainty and perception, that the conflict of self-
consciousness for recognition, that stoicism and skepticism,
that the efforts of the unhappy self-consciousness to solve the

HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind. 73

contiacliction between heaven and earth, — are stand-points
which ceaselessly renew themselves among men. The case
is the same with reason, which can never become weary of
observing the nature of natural phenomena, in order therein
to find itself. It has been supposed, in considering the laws
of physiognomy, that Hegel intended, with Lichtenburg, to
deride a presumptive science, and that only a transient mania
of his time induced him to incorporate this matter ; but the
interest of mind to rediscover itself in the eternal reality of
its form is constant. Our interest will always be excited in
observing the physiognomy and cranial development of a
Raphael, Schiller, Napoleon, Talleyrand, Socrates, and oth-
ers, and therein tracing the expression of their minds. The
realization of rational self-consciousness in pleasure and ne-
cessity, in the good heart and in the frenzy of conceit, or in
virtue and the course of the world, astonishes us at first by
the originality of its delineation ; but it makes, nevertheless^
a constant factor in the phenomenal knowledge of mind.
Among the Greeks, e. g., it was the Cyrenian school which
gave utterance to the experience that pleasure has its limits
in necessity, and the Hegesians, who proceeded upon the
attempt to constantly fulfil pleasure, concluded upon suicide
because the}'- found it impossible. The author of the Kohe-
leth, among the Hebrews, expressed the same experience of
the vanity of all" things. Individuals ever repeatedly attempt
to make pleasure their principle, but in the satisfaction of
their desires they ever find the experience unavoidable, that
in enjoyment they have subjected themselves to a necessity
inseparable from pleasure. It is the same with the good heart
and virtue in their one-sidedness and inexj)erience. "When
Hegel shows that virtue may be overcome by the course of
the world, it may seem that he places no high estimate upon
virtue, but only that virtue succumbs in the conflict with the
course of the world, which wrongly estimates its own princi-
ple, the right of individuality, and regards its own sacrifice
.as the Absolute. Eating and drinking, sleeping and beget-
ting of childi'en, working and recreation from labor in sport,
and the accumulation of x^roperty, will ever strike out new
courses. The existence of monks and nuns presupposes as
its condition the existence of the course of the world, from

74 HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind.

which tliey retreat behind hii^;)! walls. Individuality then
makes its appearance as that which is real in and for itself.
This stand-i)t)int also makes a constant element of the becom-
ing mind, which produces itself as its object in what it cre-
ates, in which it deposits its entire peculiarity, but thereby
calls out the Judgment of other individualities. This "ani-
mal kingdom of mind," as Hegel sportively and wdttily ex-
presses himself, is likewise a constant element of history ;
and, to become convinced that this is the case, it is only
necessary to read prefaces to books wiiicli are published, to
lind tlie assurance that their authors are concerned only in
their respective subject-matter, to which they otter their mod-
est contribution, or, on the other hand, to read the critiques
of books in which the reviewers assert, with praise or blame,
that they are concerned only about the subject-matter. Law-
giving and law-proving reiison are constantly ])resent in the
constitutional conflicts of states. It is proposed, for instance,
to abolish the death penalty ; the law is subjected to criti-
cism, the grounds which sustain the proposition are exam-
ined, &c., w^hether they are in accordance with reason.

In the description of mind it has been said that Hegel at
first had before his eyes the Hellenic ethics as iEschylus and
Sophocles depicted it, but in the dissolution of the true ethi-
cal mind in the legal condition which strengthens the ego-
ism of persons, the Roman empire. Then he makes the
process of the estrangement of mind complete itself in
Feudalism and Catholicism ; but the culture of humanism,
on the otlier hand, reacts in eclaircissement^ and absolute
freedom culminates in the terrorism of the French revolution.
In the stand-point of morality he alludes to the dualism of
German j)hilosophy in the Fair Saint, especially to Jacobi's
ALL-WILL and Waldemar. It may. be unhesitatingly granted
that from the phases of history he derived his colors for these
stand-points, but it does not follow that these are not con-
stant elements in all history. Hegel depicts — in the act of
the ethical mind — e.g. blood revenge, w^ith unmistakable
reference to Orestes and (Edipus ; but blood revenge is a con-
stant element of the ethical in the family, among all peoples
who are making the transition from the sphere of their natu-
ral condition to that of the state. The Arab who avenges the

HegeVs Flienomenology of Mind. 75

death of his father, is in this respect as ethical as Orestes.
That Hegel ojjposes right, as private right, to the ethical, is
likewise to be understood generally, although Roman juris-
prudence carried out the conception of personal atomism
most perfectly. When children as heirs of their patrimony
do not quarrel about their respective sliares, but seek to ter-
minate the strife by judicial decision, the very spirit of the
ethical has vanished. Even Aristophanes, in his comedies,
attacked the bad disposition of the citizens, who became en-
tangled in their private interests and their lawsuits about
Tneum and tniim, and allowed the ancient virtue of Marathon,
which guided itself in view of the whole, to fall into decay.
Culture in a distinct sense, where the word denotes primitive
civilization, is also a constant element among all people, who,
by reverence of the power of the state, or by the splendor of
riches, have elevated themselves above the signilicance of the
individual, to self-consciousness of mind. When Hegel here,
in characterizing the peculiar distraction to which this stand-
point leads, borrows a few features from Diderot's dialogue,
Rameaiis Ne^^lieio, one must not be so narrow as to believe
that he thought only of the intellectual French society of the
18th century. This language, which levels all difference of
station ; which expresses with spirit all the phenomena of
mind, even the most depraved ; which discloses with shame-
less publicity all the contradictions of mind. — attracts inte-
rest to itself whenever the individual, by way and manner of
speaking, attests that he is a man of culture, and when com-
parison of tendency of independence and of degree of culture
is the chief topic of the general discourse. Lucian among the
Greeks, Petronius among the Romans, Heine among the Ger-
mans, discover a language similar to that of Diderot among
Frenchmen. Eclalrcissement is no less a constant element
of history, for it arises from culture. The Sankhya philoso-
phy of the Indians is an eclair cissement of their Mythology.
The doctrine of the sophists was an eclaircissement among
the Greeks, as in modern times the movement of the ITtli
and 18th centuries. Over against the popular belief of the
Greeks, Plato with his critique of their Mythology appeared
as an apostle of eclaircissement, and, like those in England,
France and Germany, would substitute morals in its place.

76 HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind.

The stuiid-])oint of absolute freedom, i.e. of that freedom
which wills tlie will only as universal, may seem to be so
designated by Hegel as though only the hrst French revolu-
tion hovered befoi-e him ; but in itself this form of conscious-
ness is a constant element of history, where democratic and
communistic tendencies pass over into fanaticism. This
element was present in the German peasant war, among-
the English Puritans, and the social reformers of the Paris
revolution of February, as well as among the Jacobins, who
overthrew the Girondists. Morality is depicted with extraor-
dinary accuracy bv Hegel; no one can doubt that here he
detects one of the most general stand-points of mind : but the
turn which Hegel gives to it — viz. in making religion, or the
certaint}^ of the unity of the huiuan and divine mind, to
emerge from the wicked man's confession of guilt and from
his pardon — may seem- peculiar. Otherwise, morality ap-
pears as that inclination Avhicli religion absorbs in itself, as
private right absorbs the aesthetic; morale (ethical condition).
But morality has exalted itself above this stand-point; and
now Hegel shows how mind, apprehending itself in con-
science, passes over from the isolation of its self-certainty,
through pardon of the wicked, to the truth of the commu-
nity. This is one of his most profound and beautiful devel-
opments. That religion is construed as a constant element
of mind is of course self-evident, and the question can only
arise how far the differences between natural religion, art-
religion, and revealed religion, are constant. This question
is answered by the fact that every man must in childhood
pass through the stages of fetichism and pantheism, which
compose the essence of natural religion. Even if people ex-
isted no longer in a state of nature, still the contemplation of
nature in sun, moon, plants, and animals, would precede the
representation of a creative God, even for children who grew
up within the pale of a revealed religion. Children often
sustain the same relation to animals which men in a state of
nature do in animal worshij). Hegel treated art-religion in
general as the presentation of art, because only as religion
does it make the beautiful a pure Absolute. Art lies without
as a moment in the stand-points of production and culture.
The beautiful is now, to be sure, the absolute in respect to

HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind. 77

form, but only the {esthetic stand- point sublimates the truth
of the absolute and must subordinate itself to it, as occurs in
revealed religion, Avliich makes art a means in its cultus.
Roman Catholicism, in architecture, sculjjture, music, and
poesy, has produced as excellent works of art as the Greek
a,rt-religion, but religion as such has ever distinguished itself
from these works even when superstition has confounded
them.

Finally, absolute knowledge exists in all philosophical en-
deavor as a constant element, for philosophy must strive for
such a certainty of truth that even the formal side of knowl-
edge may be complete, that certainty may become true, and
truth certain. Philosophy is, therefore, capable of endless de-
velopment, since neither its breadth nor the depth of knowl-
edge can have a limit. Tliat all moments of the experience of
consciousness make up constituent elements of mind, Hegel
distinctly affirms in saying that phenomenology has the same
content as a system of science. The latter is not power, nor
is it riches. The difference lies in the fact that that which
phenomenology presents as a stand-point of phenomenal
knowledge in the relation between consciousness and its ob-
ject, so that knowledge during its becoming does not conceive
itself until by its mutation it has arrived at a result, although
we who observe its process can apprehend it before it be-
comes clear to itself — that this appears in the system as a pure,
organic conception, no longer confused with consciousness.

The sequence of the conceptions is in general the same in
both spheres, although with the difference which is condi-
tioned by the nature of consciousness. In the history of con-
sciousness, self- consciousness, reason, mind, religion, and ab-
solute knowledge, follow in order ; but in history many modifi-
cations occur through freedom, chance, arbitrariness, which are
eliminated from the necessity of the system. The stand-point
of natural religion, e.g., may be interrupted by the violent in-
trusion of revealed religion ; for what wide extremes may be
united in consciousness ! Take a New Zealander of to-daj^, as
he may be seen and spoken to in London, who in his youth
has participated in cannibal feasts, but is now converted to
Methodist Christianity. Thirty or forty years ago he ate hu-
man flesh, now at the Lord's table he partakes of the body and

78 HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind.

blood of Christ. An imi)ortant point of tlie succession is
that eacli liiixlier stand-point elevates each lower into itself,
and reduces it to a moment wliich disap})ears in itself. That
Aviiicli in ail earlier stage had absolute significance for
consciousness, loses it in the liiglnM-. The most earnest occu-
pations of earlier ages, as Hegel expresses it, sink in an
advanced stage to be childish ])hiys. It might be asked
whether many of the elements wliich TIegel adduces have
not now entirely vanished. Under art-religion, for example,,
he speaks of living art-work, and understands thereby the
reverence in which the Greeks held beauty, and the strength
and sup])lciit'ss of the human body. The Greeks, indeed,,
deilied beautiful men because they were beautiful. This
element exists among us no longer as a religion. We build
temples to no man now because he is beautiful, but in the cir-
cus we admire the beauty, strength, and gymnastic virtuoso-
ship, of the human body, i.e. the living art-work. It is de-
graded to a mere moment of secularity, but it is not wanting.
The successive connection of the forms of consciousness, which
advances from sensuous certaintv to absolute knowledge, is
therefore necessar}^ If we have attained a certain grade of
consciousness we must advance to philosophy: and hence,
not only in Greece but in China and India, nor only among
Christians but among Moliamedans, not only among Euro-
peans but among Americans, we see philosophers arise; for
even the practical, gain-seeking, pure utilitarianism of the
Yankees has not prevented the appearance among them of a-
Parker, an Emerson.

Hegel preceded his Phenomenology by an extended pre-
face, in which he defined his relation to the dominant views
respecting the essence and method of philosophy still more
distinctly than in the introduction to his article concerning
the difference between the systems of Fichte and Schelling.
He strongly contended, moreover, against the degeneracy of
Schelling's philosophy, which among many of its adherents
had sunk to a mere formalism, and whicli sought to conceal
the want of scientific earnestness partly by fantastic deco-
ration, and partly by the assumption of dictatorial imperti-
nence and prophetic unction. Hegel contended no less against
the insipidity of eclair cissement, which sought a narrow satis-

HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind. 79

faction in the temporal, than against the pseudo-geniality of
romanticism, which was designed to supersede the pains and
the thoroughness of learning, by simple inspiration. He gave
a careful critique of the method of the scientific knowledge,
which, with precipitate construction according to superficial
antitheses, is not adequate to the task. The truest method,
he affirms, is the dialectic, which makes the negative an im-
manent moment of development, because negation is not only
negative, but at the same time positive ; for its result is not
pure nullity, but rather a higher determination, in which
that which was denied is ideally preserved. Nothing is lost
to this method, but it enriches itself, in its progress from
negation to negation, b}^ an equal number of positions. He
expresses this thought in such a manner as to affirm that the
philosopher must entirely abstract from himself, and in the
movement of conception reserve for himself only the attitude
of a spectator. " Substance must be grasped as subject" ; —
with these words, which have become so full of fate for his
philosophy, he would indicate that the idea for itself is inde-
pendent; that, although we think it, it determines itself en-
tirely independent of us, and that its relation to other ideas
can really proceed only from it and not from us. When, e.g.,
we think the idea of identity, it, and not we, is the ground
that the next idea is that of difference. It is not we who de-
termine identity to difference, but identity determines itself
to difference, for difference has a meaning only as difference
of identity. The idea of identity moves, therefore, of itself
to its opposite idea, to difference, and leaves to the philoso-
pher only the observation of this process.

It is, in fact, the original sense of the word that substance
in itself is subject. Substance here signifies the essential
content, subject the form of knowledge. The subject must
here be not the knowing philosopher, but the idea itself.
Still the philosopher is also the subject which thinks the
idea, but his thinking is not bound to the self-determination
of the idea, into which the philosopher, with absolute renun-
ciation of his own individual subjectivity, must think him-
self. Hegel's thought may be thus explained : In common
logic, it is said that in judgment we join a predicate to a sub-
ject. In this the subject appears as passive, and receives the

80 HegcVs Phenomenology of Mind.

predicate throuirli us. Aecording to this logic, it is we wlio
bind tlie predicate to the subject by the copula. Hegel
reverses the matter by saying that it is the subject which
determines itself to its predicate ; for, if this be not the case,
it is in vain that we join a predicate to a subject, becanse the
Judgment can be only in so far true as the predicate either
inheres in the subject as a casual and relative determination,
or is immanent in it as a necessary and absolute natura sua.
When I judge, ''This circle is large," this judgment is true
only in so far as greatness inheres in it. But greatness la
only a relative determination in the relation of this circle to
others. A circle may just as well be relatively small. If I
judge, "The circle is a self-enclosed curve," this judgment is
a necessary, absolute one, for without this determination the
circle would not be a circle. Thus it is the idea of a circle
itself that immanently determines itself to its predicate. It
is not I who produce this idea, but the idea which produces
itself in me. The predicate of the subject circle, by which it
is a circle, does not depend upon me. I recognize it, I utter
it, I make it my object; but I do not produce it. But the
circle, because it is a circle, produces itself in the object.

By the example which I have just chosen, I am reminded
that, in the jjreface of the Phenomenology, Hegel would make
of mathematics merely a science of the understanding, partly
because its content, space in geometry, and unity in arith-
metic, is so meagre, and partly because the construction of
mathematics turns upon formal identity. A synthetic or an
analytic course rather than the dialectic must be referred to
mathematics. But when, as Hegel affirms, truth can become
certain of itself only in the form of dialectic method ; when
further, according to him, mathematics forms a necessary
member in the system of science ; when, finally, it is the con-
ception of space with which the idea as nature first found its
existence, — it is hard to see why mathematics should be an
exception to all other content. That it never has been, is no
reason why it never should be treated dialectically. The con-
ception of the one of quantity, &c., i.e. of arithmetic, Hegel
has already presented dialectically in the first part of his
Logic: "Why should geometry dispense with the dialectic ?"
Quantity does not even exclude qualitative distinctions, but

HegeVs Phenomenology of Mind. 81

is partly a moment of them and partly qualitatively distin-
guished in itself; for an arithmetical progression, e.g., is not
only qualitatively different from a geometrical progression,
or the acute angle is not only quantitatively but qualitatively
different from an obtuse angle. The one is smaller, the other
larger, than a right angle; and just for this reason they are
opposites in form. The lack of rational nature [begriffslosig-
kelt\ which Hegel charges upon quantity, is only relative.
Through the integral and differential calculus, and through
descriptive geometry, modern mathematics has in fact alrea-
dy become dialectic.

Hegel believed that an example of the dialectic method
was afforded in the Phenomenology itself. Without boast-
ing, yet with profound self-feeling, he expressed in the pre-
face the consciousness of having found that method which
the future would confirm as the only true one. Though it be
acknowledged that he is right, that henceforth without the
dialectic method philosophy would no longer be in a condi-
tion to satisfy the conceptions of science, and that it no less
than others cannot submit to an arbitrary treatment ; still
it cannot be denied that the method is open to great danger,
and that it no less than others may degenerate to arbitrary
treatment. The philosopher shall remain out of the question.
The idea shall determine itself through itself, shall adopt
nothing into itself from without. This is the postulate. It is,
indeed, justified; but, in tine, it is the philosopher even here
who advances with his thoughts as thinking subject from
conclusion to conclusion, and what he holds to be a necessary
correlation describes as such. Just this description is the
most dangerous moment, for its extent, its tone, its address,
remains more dependent upon the philosopher than its form
would indicate. Experience has subsequently shown that
the descriptive manner of the Hegelian school, especially
through imitation of the Phenomenology, degenerated into a
mere assertory procedure, which was in no respect better
than the polarities of Schelling's philosophy, the antitheses
and syntheses of Fichte's, or the categories of Kant. The
dialectic, which was to have engendered the most active self- "^
movement of science, stiffened into the most arbitrary and
lifeless dogmatism, which often became the more contradic-
Vol. vi.— a

82 Trend eleiiburg on HegeVs System.

toiT the moiv ir set up pretension to absolute infallibility.
If the application of the dialectic method had been guarded
from everv error, llesiel himself, for instance, would not have
set the example of altering the position of ideas in his sys-
tem. "Without the Logic, the danger would have become still
fjreater.

For profound penetration into the essence of science, for
sharp criticism of the delusions behind Avhicli scientism has
taken refuge in order to preserve itself in the public mart as
authority, for noble dignity of scientific temper, for spirited
apprehension of tlu^ entire turning-point of the age, — the pre-
face to Hegel's Phenomenology can only be compared with
that which Kant introduced in the second edition of his Cri-
tique of Reason. This is its counterpart in literature.

THE LOGICAL QUESTION IN HEGEL'S SYSTEM.

Translated from tlic German of TKENDELENiiURC, by Tiios, Davidson.
[Gontinved from our last iminher. — Ed.]

In the first place, the Negation is the inborn impulse which
drives pure thinking along from stage to stage. No sooner
is a concept produced than it turns over, from its own inner
nature, into its negation, and we have before us the problem
of thinking a positive and a negative together. This problem
is solved by the creation of a mediator}^ concept which recon-
ciles the two antitheses. Thus the progress of the Dialectic
is conditioned by the Negation.

The investigation showed that the apjDlied negation cannot
be a pure logical negation, the relation of not-A to A, but
that it must be real opposition in order to produce a Contra-
ry— an OjDposition. But since the Contrary does not run oflT
into indefinite contradiction or opposition, into mere unlim-
ited negation, but is on the contrary another Positive, which,
concrete and limited in itself, contains the negation of An-
other [somewhat] only as one relation, it became apparent at
once that the real opposition — the negation of the Dialectic —
was not to be reached in any merely logical way. Not only

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 83

was this sliown in general terms, "but the same demonstration
was further applied to the most important concepts oi" the
system (e.g. to repulsion and attraction, to whole and force,
to substance and causality, to nature and spirit), and it was
proved in the particular cases that the negativit}' always
goes beyond its logical essence, and the opposition does not
spring from the pure thought, as is pretended, but from the
apprehensive intuition, which arbitrarily condenses the inde-
tinite looseness of the logical negation into a positive form,
and, in that form, seizes and holds it.

If, now, the antithesis is supposed to be evolved from the
thesis by negation, so likewise thesis and antithesis are car-
ried lip by Id entity to a concept which stands above them, and
is designated as their truth. The identity, therefore, appears
in the result as the real unity, as the force of concretion. If,
however, we probe it to the bottom, we tind that it is far short
of what it professes to be ; that it is nothing but the reflec-
tion of a relative, logical likeness — an abstraction which
bleaches and blots out. Becoming^ in Hegel's Logic, is the
first act of identity. Being and Nothing being comprehended
under it. Pure Being, we are told, is empty Being — Nothing ;
and empt}" Being is pure Being. The one is what the other
is. The two are identical, and, thought as such, they are
Becoming. In spite of this, this identity of the reflection is
■only a self-annihilating comjiromise. withoTit a trace of living
unity to transform in a real manner Being into Nothing, and
Nothing into Being. It is the completed levelling of two con-
cepts, viz. pure Being and empty Being, while it is anj^thing
but a case of mutual intus-susception or interpenetration. In
such identity, the antitheses blunt each other, instead of
bestirring themselves and becoming one as they should do.
What is here summarized in the well-known example of dia-
lectic Becoming, reappears, as the Investigations prove, in
the most essential concepts of the system, e.g. where the Finite
unites with itself in the Infinite ; where the freedom of the
concept is conjured out of the necessity of substance; where
the idea is defined as the absolute unit}'^ of concept and objec-
tivity. The power of unity over the greatest antitheses rests
on the identity of such impotent assimilation. The real in-
terpenetration is forced in. Compared with the boldness of

84 Trenddciibunj on HeycVs System.

the idea of reconciling- antitlie:>(>s \\\x\\ each other, the proof
which pure thonuht has to olt'er for the fact appears rather
intiriu. Its trutli has its origin in something quite different
fruui any such mere logical act.

Thus the hinges of the system break down.

The investigation showed further that a(1 injinitum pro-
cession, a meie indirect proof, was frequently misused in
order to obtain a pt)siti\e creation of an opposite. It turned
out, likewise, that the Immediate, which cannot appear in
the pure thought as sensuous, is nevertheless tacitly intro-
duced int() the sensuous apprehension.

After such results, the internal connection — the glory of
the system — could not hold out. Notwithstanding, this too
was subjected to- a special investigation. Then, indepen-
dently of the necessary consequences of the points already
made, it became manifest in many other places that the intrin-
sic connection which asserts the self-development of science
from its own most undisputed ground, viz. the concept, in
opposition to kncwledge derived from without, is merely ap-
pearance, bold assertion. When the determinations of science,
in the dialectic and internal contemplation of the concept,
had to make a stej) in advance, instead of doing this unas-
sisted, they betrayed, when examined more closely, the
foreign impulse of external experience. What ought to ori-
ginate from itself is simply borrowed. Anticipations of con-^
cepts, and foreign matter, picked \\\) at random, were shown
to exist in the most important creations of the Dialectic ; the
former, for example, in Measure, in the Freedom of the Con-
cept, in the Totality of the Unconditioned, in the Transition
of the Idea into Nature, already frequently alluded to ; the
latter, in the logical treatment of Matter, in the logical cate-
gories of Mechanism, Chemistry, Life, &c. We are thus led
to consider the relation of the dialectic method to the mate-
rial of experience. Hegel had almost asserted, in regard to
this, that the dialectic process presupposes the facts of expe-
rience, but that it exalts them into the true rational form.
Who could have refrained from admiring, with an admiration
amounting to astonishment, in Hegel himself — from his Phe-
nomenology down to his jjosthumous Lectures — the extreme
universality of his empirical knowledge ! And no one asserted

Trendelenlmrg on HegeVs System. 85

that Hegel could have meant that the philosopher ought to
" suck the world out of his tinger-ends." But tlie qiu^stion
here was not one touching his subjective knowing or his opin-
ions, but one relating to the objective relation of his absolute
method ; and then it was shown that this method, strictly
confined to itself, and advancing by means of borrowed
crutches, had, by its very nature, no opening, whether d'^or
or window, to let in experience, and because it nevertheless
tacitly and stealthily oj)ens a back door to it, it occupies an
uncritical position to experience, with its indefinite exjDres-
sion regarding presupposition, and is perhaps more uncritical
than unspeculative, but careful. Empiricism. It is impossible
to find a place for experience, without making holes in the
internal connection of the self-i)roductive Concept.

The speculative method undertook to show that the pro-
cess whereby the concepts were produced was likewise the
process which produced the thing. Thus the dialectic and
the genesis of the thing seemed necessarily to coincide. On
closer examination, however, it became apparent that the dia-
lectic process in most cases inverts the genesis of the thing,
or passes over it without concern, and without touching it.
In view of this surprising discrepancy, the advantage which
had just been gained had to be abandoned, and refuge to be
taken in a distinction which had not originally lain in the
plan, that the eternal birth of the pure concept was not the
temporal development of the becoming thing, and that the
two did not necessarily coincide. The dialectic then admit-
ted itself to be, in individual cases, a methodical liysteron-
proteron.

If, in the dialectic method, the syllogism and its figures
came to assume such importance that the dictum was trum-
peted abroad, " God is a syllogism ; the state is a syllogism ;
the planetary system is a syllogism,'' &c., on closer examin-
ation there turned out to be in this doctrine an obscurity and
confusion which distinctly showed themselves in the appli-
cation. Here too, in a word, the dialectic topsy-turvy showed
itself in the very dictum itself. If we were to construe men-
tal maladies according to the same type — if we were to say,
for example, that Pietism unites itself with Mysticism to form
Phariseeism, as the Hegelian terminology would express it,

80 Trendelenburcj on HegeVs System.

we might also say, with equal right, ''Everything iiTatioiial
is a svllos:isni.'" Tims the doctrine lias overshot itself.

.Vfter siicli results, neither the leading thought of the dia-
lectic method nor the carrying out of it could be recognized,
and the ijuestion now came to be, whether openly to abandon
the philoso})hical prejudice of the present, or to refute the
charo:es brouii'lit against the system.

So far, neither one thing nor the other was done. The for-
mer was diflicult; along with the dialectic method, it would
have been necessary to abandon Hegel's S3'Stem as a system;
for the two are one, just as the critical system and Kant's
system are one. The second looked easier perhaps, and yet
it did iu)t take place. Perhaps silence was meant for a refu-
tation.

Erdnumn })ublished his well thought-out Outlines of Logic
and Metaphysics in 1841. In certain turns of phrase and
remarks, he seemed to have reference to the Investigations
just mentioned, nay, even in places to yield points to them.
But he did not mention this fact, and left it to be guessed by
the initiated. Erdniann changes several things in the mat-
ter, and almost everything in the expression, which he to
some extent managed so dexterously as to take the j)oint oif
any objection that had been made. But the Investigations
had attacked the thing itself, and could hardly be brought
to silence by a change in the mode of ex})ression. An}^ one
who will take the trouble to compare it with this new presen-
tation may satisfy himself on the point. Besides this, it
might easily be shown that the altered expressions, where
they mean anything at all, imply a change of view, and an
alteration in the thing. It would be desirable to see these
differences discussed within the school itself, in order to show
their magnitude. Erdmann's Logic, although written in the
spirit of Hegel, is not altogether HegeTs old logic.

Treating matters in an opposite spirit, aj)peared in 1841
Werder's Logic, a Commenta.ry and Supplement to HegeVs
Science of Logic. It belongs to the idea of a commentary,
that it shall smooth over difficulties and disentangle intrica-
cies. Up to that time, all philosophical c(^mmentaries had
been written with this purpose — e.g. commentaries on Aris-
totle, for thousands of years. This Commentary to Hegel's

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 87

Logic took no notice of the Investigations., directed against
it, and probably did not consider the doubts expressed as
worth discussion. As for the rest, he invented a new logical
category, calling the opponents of the system " the Lord's
heaviest cross," and those who could not accept the concept
of Clod set up by the pure thinking, and therefore rejected it,
^' God's sorest suffering, a passion to which the history of the
Passion is but a shadow.'' Still, there were some innovations
in this Logic too, and, although it had appeared as a supj)le-
ment, it was rather an annihilation of the original, as even
the adherents of the system seemed to admit. Particularly
remarkable was the correction which appeared at the very
beginning. The identity of pure Being and Nothing in the
production of Becoming had always excited opposition, and
difficulties of various kinds had been found in it. Among
other things, people had found it impossible to think the
identity of Being and Nothing, because, after all, Nothing-
appeared to be less than pure Being — to be a minus ; people
could not conceive how two empty abstractions — pure Being
and pure Nothing — could mutually complement each other,
so as to form the concept of Becom/ing. These difficulties
were settled by an emendation. It was asserted that Hegel
had been wrong in holding the difference between pure Being
and Nothing to be inexpressible — a mere opinion. The dif-
ference was quite considerable. It was discovered that
Nothing is more than pure Being, a 'plus ; that Nothing is
the most comprehensive something. " In Nothing, Being, of
itself, breaks the silence in itself. Nothing is Being's
coming to consciousness, the rise of perception in it, its
glance into itself, the salient point of its originality. In
Nothing the sacred ambiguity of the emptiness of Being dis-
closes itself. That it is nothing else than Self -Being., Being -
tJiroaglt-iUelf ; that it, singly and alone, is full of itself, —
this is its emptiness, this is Nothing. Thus Nothing is Be-
ing's knowledge of its fulness, of its repletion from itself, of
its free action, of its self-creation ; and, stirring itself in itself,
in the energy of this Knowing, Being is no longer Being, but
Becoming." " When I say Nothing, I know more than when
I say Being, because it is more ; because it is Being revealing
itself, bursting its husk — because it is naked Being, the spirit

88 Trend elenhurg on HegeVs System.

of Being, Being in Being/' Finally, when the Commentary
deeljired the dialectic to he the '^Reverie of Logic," and treat-
ed it as snch, pure thinking, as far at least as principle was
concerned, became vague thinking. The Hegelian school has
thus far allowed this Logic to pass muster, without rejecting
or disowning it.

In fact, the great differences which subsist within the
school seem all to rest, pretty much in the same way as the
schisms in the Church used to do ; tlie Church forgot these^
when she had to combat with heretics or heathens outside.

Gabler gave a lengthy review of the Logical Investigations
in the Jahrbiicher fur loissenschaftlicJie Kritik, Oct., 1841,
No. 65 sq.. Art. I. In this, however, he has criticised a re-
sult without its premises — the twentieth section, without the
nineteen that precede it and foi-m its basis. The diale(;tical
question, in the lirst place, is nc)t touched upon at all, my
understanding of it being merely set aside as an "incompre-
hensible misunderstanding.'' As no harm is done by such
assertions, we wait to see the proof of them in the second
article; otherwise we might turn the tables and repeat the
comj^liment of ''incomprehensible misunderstanding.'' The
aim of the criticisms is to show that the Logical Investiga-
tions know less of God than the dialectic method, which is
absolut(3ly and directly the thinking of God. This we will-
ingly acknowledge, if the dialectic method be true ; but we
had proved that it is false, and therefore realh' knows noth-
ing. If one, therefore, meant to argue in this way, he could
not aftbrd to omit the opposite proof. At all events, until it
appears, his assertion has no foundation.

Other critics have taken it for granted that the w^hole ques-
tion has been set at rest by this veto of Gabler's. For exam-
ple, we lind iu a polemical article: ''The main objection,
derived from Hegel's unexplained assumption of movement,
is developed in the Logical Investigations., and duly weighed
by Gabler in a criticism of that work." The truth is, that in
that criticism not a word is said about such objections, and
we cannot say that we at all admire the spirit of such tactics.
No explanation, such as the above words would imply as
having been made, was intended b}^ Gabler, who, at the end
of his criticism, openly states that he will deal Avith the

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 80

lieavj^ charges brought against Hegel's philosophy, in a
second article.

In support of the dialectic method, which thinks the thought
of God, reference is repeatedly made to the Christian Logos
(Cf. inter al. Gabler's Criticism, p. 570). We take the refer-
ence to mean tliis : Through Ilim and for Him all is created,
and He is before all, and all exists in Him. If, then, He be the
head of the body— that is, of the Church — He belongs to us,
and we may comprehend Him in pure thought. This conclu-
sion will hardly be permitted to any one who understands
the Christian Logos in the sense demanded by the entire con-
text. The same Logos that in the beginning was God — the
world-creating Logos — redeems men from the dominion of
darkness and sin. It is this function that is the inheritance
of the Church ; but from this to attempt to authenticate, by
a sort of Christian testimony, the act of the pure idea, which
produces the world-creating Logos out of itself, is something
quite new, and hardly coincides with the notion of the
Apostle Paul, who openly says to the Church that '' now we
know but in part, ''^ and "behold but as through a glass dark-
ly." If from words like these any one were to conclude that
the Christian view of the Universe was universal skepticism,
he would be as far from the truth as he who should cite the
Christian Logos in authentication of the stand-point of the
speculative method. Such confusion of thought only tends
to warp unbiassed investigation.

Reference has been made by various persons, and on vari-
ous occasions, to the Phenomenology, as properly preceding
the Logic of Hegel. "The Thinking which in the Phenomen-
ology works itself up out of the phenomena, in the Logic
produces itself freely — plays with itself" (Werder, p. 25).
This is, perhaps, implied in Gabler's remark (Art. I., p. 519),
that in the d priori (process) of dialectic movement, "man's
reproductive reflection has already swallowed the whole of
the d posteriori''^ (das menschliche reproductive iVac/^denken
Piabe] das gauze Aposteriorische hereits im Leibe). The
expression can signify nothing but the digestion in the Phe-
nomenology.

As to the Phenomenology, there seem to be only two posi-
tions possible for it. Either it is a link in the system, and

90 Trendelc^nhurfi on HegeVs System.

then it is a part ot' the phiU)sophy of the subjective spirit —
and this, iiuhu'd, is the position assigned to it by Hegel in
the Encycldpcclia, — or it is a propaedeutic, meant to educate
the consciousness up to the speculative stand-point, in which
case its place is before the system, and it stands in the exter-
nal relation of an introduction.

Hegel, in the BfiCf/clopeditf. i)roduced his system as a whole,
and it is the most complete outline of a system, whether we
consider the whole or the parts, that the history of philoso-
phy is acquainted with. We must accept the relations in
which he here places the different branches to one another,
as he gives them. Since then, in- the Encyclopedia, the Plie-
nomenology follows long after the Logic, the Nature- PliUoso-
pliy and the Anthropology coming in between, we perpetrate
a bad piece of anticipation if we appeal to the Phenomenol-
ogy for the investigation of the dialectical method laid down
in the Logic — an anticipation which rends Hegel's system to
pieces. In view of the great unity which was HegePs aim, we
have thought it our duty to follow the Encyclopedia, which
was so often revised by him.

If we assume the second stand-point, and consider the Phe-
nomenology as a propaedeutic to the absolute method, or to
the stand-point of Speculative Logic, then it stands outside
of the system, and has, as a preparatory exercise, a subjective
imjjortance, but no influence on the objective foundation of
the system, which, on the contrary, aims, starting with the
Logic, to produce itself from itself, and to comprehend itself
in itself. The Phenomenology , then, is a propaedeutic to the
Logic, as creeping is a propaedeutic to walking, arithmetic a
propaedeutic to the logical syllogism. In this case no less
than in the other, the appeal to the Plienomenology is an
inconsistency, a mere subterfuge, which, however, does not
escax)e the eye of the clear-sighted.

If the appeal to the Phenomenology were admissible, this
work ought to be always read before the Logic, which is
never done, or, if it ever is, only by way of introduction. If
it were so read, there would result a somewhat odd circum-
stance. In the course of the whole, certain sections would
occur thrice; e.g. life, first in the Phenomenology as a phe-
nomenon, then in the fjogic as an idea, and lastly in the Phi-

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 91

losophy of Nature. What is tlie object of tliis? It is bad
enough that life, for example, is treated twice, once in the
Logic and once in the Philosopliy of Nature; and it has been
shown that the idea of life produced from the pure concept
is nothing more or less than intuition — which, indeed, is
contemned, but which, in a clarihed and enfeebled form, is
accepted. If we admit, as was shown, that the means employed
by the dialectic method are false, it is of no avail to appeal
to the dialectic Phenomenology. Altogether, people should
not be always quite so ready with the Phenomenology in
their talk ; it is, and ever will be, a liljer lauclatus magis
quam lectus.

Thus, likewise, is barred the attempt to defend the dialec-
tic method by the aid of the Phenomenology.

But its defenders hold in reserve a brilliant retreat for
themselves, by ascribing all objections brought against the
absolute dialectic to mere imagination, which, in its very
nature, say they, is incapable of reaching the pure concept.
Any one who questions the products of the absolute concept,
occupies the stand-point of the imagination, and, therefore,
has no right to speak. When the pure concept is hedged
round in this way, it becomes as unapiDroachable as the Holy
of Holies. All ptossibility of coming to any understanding
ceases, and one might as well try to make something out of
the illuminations of a visionary, who treats all opposition
precisely in this way, as out of speculative science. Be this
as it may, all objections — to speak in the language of the
school — are due to an "immanent" criticism of the concept,
to its own demands, assertions, and consequences.

Never, in the history of philosophy, did the logical ques-
tion assume so much importance as at present. Whereas, for-
merly, the attack had been directed against " the speculative
theology" tlank, it now approaches closer to the centre, which
supports the whole — the Logic. The contest regarding the
logical question is a contest for the existence of the system.
All the consequences which have developed themselves from
Hegel, stand or fall with it.

Profound investigation of objective reality and perspicuity
of style will not reappear in philosophy until that false and
exaggerated admiration of the dialectic unity of method,

92 Trendelenburg on HegeVs System.

wliirli still fetters men's minds, whenever a new work ap-
pears, written at'Oording to this method, shall have given way ;
and philosopliical science will then again speak an intelligible
lantrnaue, as huiiKiii beino-s are wont to do, when it is com-
pelled to give uj) its unintelligible, divine utterances — alias
dialectic categories.

Tlie dialectic method is a logical hypothesis. Is it, then,
so dithciilt to come to clearness about its essence — its truth
or untruth '.

If b}- scientific procedure we mean one that is essentially
necessary and universal, then the (piestion that must arise
for decision is simply this: Is Hegel" s dialectic method of
pure tliinliing a scientific procedure f

In view of the investigations already made, w^e must an-
swer this question with a round negative. We do not mean
by this that the dialectic method does not possess relatively
even a certain scientific value. Such, indeed, it possesses, as
a preparative, measured by the standard of the Aristotelian
dialectic, inasmuch as it forces the concepts more sharply
against each other, and delines them more clearly, whereas
in the sense of being an absolute method it has no value
whatever. Such it is not. It has exercised a powerful scien-
tific influence by stretching the demands of Logic, but in so
doing it has ovier-str etched itself. It possesses inerely the
imj^ortance of a relative reflection, but it is not an absolute
production.

The proof of this has been adduced, the refutation has yet
to be brought forward. Verily, it wdll not be brought by the
differences w^hich have already manifested themselves within
the Hegelian Logic, and whereof, we hear, moi-e may yet be
expected. After a long period of haughty stability, such mov-
ing and bustle are signs of internal insecurity and actual dis-
turbance. But a wT^rk so rigidly carved out of one thought as
Hegel's Logic will go far to verify the saying : Sint ut sunt.,
amt non sint. Mending and bolsteiing up will be of no avail,
as Plato warns us in the Statesman : '" My good friend, it
isn't safe to w^hittle here ; it is much safer to cut right through
the middle : one is much surer to come upon ideas."

The undersigned is prepared, with all seriousness, to take
up the investigation anew, provided ojpposite arguments of

Book Notices. 93

auy moment are brought against him. But until a refutation
is undertaken, let our friends at least leave off singing their
old song about mental languidness and convenience, when
scientific men do not recogni/e the dialectic method. A short
time ago, something of this kind might have been read in a
certain preface. If the investigation is shunned, the arrow
may return and strike him who discharged it.

Science cannot live on criticism, which only expels what
the living organism cannot assimilate. Where criticism
reigns alone with its negativity, we are seized with a dull,
heavy sense of discomfort, wliicli necessarily accompanies
such a process of decomposition. Decomposition and assimi-
lation ought, on the contrary, as in breathing, to form but
one activity. Then criticism, instead of repressing the life of
science, increases it by purifying it. But since even Logic
cannot satisfy itself with the mere critical result which re-
jects the dialectic method of pure thinking, the Logical
Investigations entered, in a positive sense, into the facts of
human thought, and tried to show that the science of the
idea does not go down, but, on the contrary, becomes all the
more certain, when the dialectic method, with its false sanc-
tions, is rejected.

BOOK NOTICES. ■

Works of Dr. H. K. Hugo Delfk:

1. Ideas of a Philosophical Science of Spirit and Nature. Husum. 1865.

2. Cecilia; or. Concerning the Truth of the Super sensuous. A Dialogue with a

Postscript. Husum, 1807.

3. Fundamental Doctrines of Philosophical Science. Husum, 1869.

4. Dante Alighieri and the Divine Comedy. Leipsig, 1870.

5. The Idea of the Divine Comedy. A Study. Leipsig, 1871.

The two works on Dante by Mr. DelfFhave attracted so much attention
in Germany, that it may not be considered out of place in this Journal to
bring them also to the notice of the American public, and especially of
those whom Longfellow's translation of the Italian poet must have inter-
ested more or less in Dante-literature generally. Mr. Delff's works on
the Divine Comedy have this distinguishing merit, that the author brings
to his task the results of a life-long study of mystical literature, to which
Dante's work is generally held to belong. This thorough knowledge of
the mystical writings of all times enables the author to illustrate his ex-
position in the most varied and instructive manner. Most particularly
felicitous is his sketch of the political, ecclesiastical, and philosophical revo-
lutions and conditions that preceded Dante, and that form the basis from
which Mr. Delfi" starts his interpretation of Dante's life and Avorks. This
sketch evinces, moreover, a rare comprehension of the early status of the

94 Book Notices.

Christian Clmrch; and tlie manner in which the gradual rise of the Komau
papacy and tlie substitution of new (iCcumenical Council dogmas for the
original reinda JiiJei is developed, deserves the highest jiraise.

Mr. DeltVs philosophical and religious views, of course, pervade also
the Dante-essays; but are more particularly developed in the three above-
named purely philosophical works, which we are sorry that space forbids
us to characterize at length. In these days, when il requires great bold-
ness on the part of a piiilosophical writer to speak otherwise than slight-
ingrlv of relisfion. it is certainlv interestiuir to see Mr. Delfl' taking an
enthusiastic stand in delencc of religio4i, — nay more, ot Christianity, and
still more of Catholicism and mysticism.

In the dovelopment of these views Mr. Deltf is probably more nearly
related to Bander than to any other (jJerman writer, though he exhibits
originality enough of his own. Of our own writers in the same direction,
Mr. Alcott comes nearest to him. The most interesting parts of Mr. Delff's
works are his i)oleinics against the current " natural philosophy," but
chielly his religious expositions and unfoldings of psychological pheno-
mena.'such as arc rarely treated by men of science. In these regions his
erudition can fully exhibit itself, and his vivid, graceful style throws a
peculiar charm over the subjects treated. Thus the dialogue "Cecilia"
may even be called brilliant in its development of the author's most cher-
ished convictioii>. a. e. k.

II Cavour e Libera Chiesa in Libera Staio. Per A. V^era. Professore di Filosofia
nella Universita de Napoli. Napoli: Detken & Rocholl. 1871.

Professor Vera is making his deep insights into the Philosophy of His-
torv and Religion tell in the formation of public opinion at this important
juncture in the affairs of Italy.

We see by the advertisement on the last page of the above work that this
active author has in press a new (enlarged) edition of his French transla-
tion of Hegel's Logic, and also a translation of Hegel's Philosophy of Reli"
gion, with Introduction and Commentary.

Revue des Cours LUic'raires de la France et de Vetranger. Paris. July, 1871.

The two numbers received contain two articles by Professor Vera of Na-
ples: the first on "The great Mosaic at Pompeii,"' a genial characterization
of the celebrated artistic representation of the battle between Alexander
and Darius (at Issus?) ; the second article is the opening lectureof a course
on the Uistory of Pliilosophy, and treats of the epoch of Socrates. At the
close he touches on the present state of afl'airs in Italy, and concludes thus :

" The true regeneration of a people sprinsrs from a new thought, from a
new Idea, from a new breath of the Eternal S])irit — a breath which, as
before remarked, i-evives the past, but revives it transformed and elevated
to a high degree of energy, consciousness, and liberty. Now, without
wishing to exaggerate and to attribute to Philosophy a monopoly of intel-
ligence, I believe 1 can alfirm that there is no science which can better
cause such a thought [i.e. regenerating new thought]. For Philosojihy acts
on the soul in many ways. In the first place, it extirpates those evil seeds
in it — torpor, ignoiance, error — which weaken it, corrui)t it, and render it
insensible to the light of truth. And since it lives in the I'egion of thought
andof absolute verities, it possesses more than any other science the faculty
of understanding and of manifesting the Idea, and of causing it to pene-
trate the mind, thereby regenerating the inner man; for the outer man

Book Notices. 95

cannot be regenerated until the inner has been. You see then, gentlemen,
how that in lighting the battles of Intelligence, and above all lighting them
in a free disinterested si>irit, we accomplish a Avork than which none is
higher nor m .>re advantageous to ourselves, to our country, and to huma-
nity.''

Another article in one of the numbers, under the caption ''Contempo-
rary Philosophy in Italy," speaks approvingly of Raphael Mariano's work
of that name, and of his " Essay on Hegelian Philosophy"; it tlien notices
Louis Ferri's work on the " History of Philosophy in Italy in the Nine-
teenth Century." It speaks, linally, of Count Mamiani's -'Confessions of
a Metaphysician," and of his later work, the "Cartesian Meditations Re-
vived in the Mueteenth Century," of which it says: "Taking as a model
that methodic system of doubt extended to all our knowledge, this work
rises by rigorous demonstration to philosophic faith in the spirituality
and immortiility of the soul, in the eternity of ideas, in the existence of a
personal God, in the uuiversijl and indefinife progress of Creation * * *
The twofold consciousness of the activity and piissivity of the Ego give to
it the perception or direct intuition of its relations with other beings upon
which it acts or which act upon it, and it includes thus in one common cer-
titude its own existence, external nature, the ideal world, and the Absolute
Being."

The Wanderer: A Colloquial Poem. By Wm. Ellery Chaiuiing. Boston: James
R. Osgood & Co. 1871.

The preface, by Emerson, serves as an honest introduction, which leads
one on into seveii (luier. still poems, full of tiie i)erfume of nature. Often
the irrt'gtilaiity of the rhythm jars, and yet through the whole there is a
certain serene melody. One is assured, however, that the poet did not
write witli a purpose to suit the ta^te of any reader. If sometimes a figure
is a little overstrained, one does not feel that it was done for effect, but
because the thought so shaped the woids; e.g.

"Kaeh hoar this laugtiiiig boy tenacious cuught
A tist-full of existence, spread it mit
Flat on its back, and dried it in the sun
Of all his breezy thoughts, to shape its truth "

Or this, where, after speaking of the grinding of the submerged mountain-
tops by floating icebergs, he says,

•'Till all the furrowed surface deeply carved,
The saline torment took its hand away,
And left a course of splinters in dry air
To mocii the ballled thinker of an orb
Where soraewbat thinks, superior to himself."

Or this:

' ' I sometimes caught an echo of the past.
Lessons of sunk "religions, sounding faint."

The poems are colloqttial in the sense that they seem as if they were
fi-agments of an utterance in an age before men "forgot tlie fashion of leis-
ure." There is no unity to be sought or found in them, but a clear, pure
current of fine thought and fancy. The picture of the scholar, at the end
of the last [)oem, is one of the finest passages, and leads one's thotights irre-
sistibly back to the preface, as if it were a portrait. a. c. b.

A History of Philosophy from Thales to the Present Time. Bj^ Dr. Friedrich
Ueberweg. late Professor of Philosophy in the University of Konigsberg.
Translated from the Fourth German Edition, by George S. Morris, A.M.,
Professor of Modern Languages in the Cniversity of Michigan. With Addi-
tions by Noah Porter, D.D., LL.D., President of Yale College. With a Pre-
face bj-' the Editors of the Philosophical and Theological Library. Vol. I.:
History of the Ancient and Mediawal Philosophy. New York: Chas. Scrib-
ner & Company. 1872.

96 Book Notices.

Tliis first volume of the rhilosophieal Division of the Philosophical and The-
(ilo>ri(;il Library, comliu-tiil by l)rs. Henry 1>. Smith and Philip Schatf. of the
Union Theoloirical Seminary. New York, will be apt to i)r<'iudie<' many in favor
of tlie whole enterprise; and deservedly, for it is an admirable book, admirably
translated. It has often been remarked, how much superior American transla-
tions of German works are to Enjrlish ones; and nothin<j could prove this more
clearly than a comparison between the recent translaiion of Ueberwe^'s System
of Logic, done in Ent^^land, and the work of the same author now before us. The
former is transferred, the latter translated, into Enfjlish. One has often to ren-
der whole passages of the Lo;;ie bat;k into German, word for word, in order to
understand what they mean ; whereas, in the present work, one can oidy o^uess
at what the German mijicht have been.

Dr. leberwe^'s work has for many years been very popular in Germany, and
it deserves to become so amontf us. Its author was a man of very extensive learn-
ing, unwearied application, and considerable philosophic insight. At the same
time, it must be admitted that he was a scholar rather than a philosopher, an
orjjanizer rather than an originator. He has stated what other men thought
with admirable clearness and concisen<-.ss : he has not enriched the treasury of
Philosophy by any original tliougbt. This cannot be considered a drawback in
a historian of Philosophy, but rather the contrary. Dr. Ueberweg, indeed, had
no pet theory to illustrate in his work : he did not try to make history appear
the self-development of a series of categories ; he was content to state what he
found in ])revious thinkers and to classify on historical principles, wliich are very
diflerent from logical ones. The result is a work objective and reliable.

Following the example of Hegel, Dr. Ueberweg refuses the designation of Phi-
losophy to the dreams of the Oriental sages, and dates the rise of thought from
Thales of Miletus. Like Zeller. he divides Greek Philosophy into three periods,
which, however, do not coincide with those of the former; and we must admit
that we prefer Zeller's division. These are all treated with due consideration,
and the affiliation of the different schools is well brought out, showing the natu-
ral development of thought. A most important feature of the book is, that it
contains a very full, though by no means exhaustive, bibliography of Philoso-
ph}' in all its parts. The author seems not to have been so well acquainted with
French and English works as he was with German. This defect has, to a small
extent, been remedied by the translator. The dimensions of the work admit of
considerable space being given to every name of importance, and of a clear pre-
sentation of the outlines and peculiarities of every system. This is done with
uncommon vigor, although in some places the translator has not shown it to
the best advantage. For example, it is amusing to find rrdtfo^ translated by
passion, and iyscv by possession, in the Aristotelian Categories.

The portion of the present work that refers to the Scholastic Philosophy is of
unusual interest, as being almost the only scientific treatise upon that period
existing in the English language. The work of F. D. Maurice, notwithstanding
its fine, genial tone, is too much the work of a dreamer to be of much objective
value, aufl the large work of Albert Stockl (Geschiehte der Philosophic des Mittel-
nlters) has not yet been rendered into English. But. apart from its thus standing
alone. Ueberweg's treatment of Scholastic Philosophy is of exceeding interest
and value. It is so calm and appreciative, so much the work of one who looks
at all men and times dispassionately, that we often feel inclined to agree with
the author when our unbiassed judgment says we should disagree.

In conclusion, we would say briefly that we heartily recommend tliis work as
the best History of Philosophj' existing in our language. t. d.

THE JOURNAL

OF

SPECULATIYE PHILOSOPHY.

Vol. VI. April, 1872. , No. 2.

THE SCIENCE OF LOGIC.

Translated from the German of Dr. Iv. Rosenkranz, by G. S. Hall.

Mucli as that which Hegel accomplished as pedagogue de-
mands recognition ; still, that which had greatest scientific
significance, which he wrought out all in quiet during his
rectorate, and which grew up to him partly from the ever
newly formed dictata of which he made use in his lectures,
was the elaboration of the Logic, which appeared, like the
Phenomenology, at an unfavorable time, in the midst of the
great war of nations in Europe.

The Logic should make only the beginning of the system
of science, to which the Phenomenology had furnished an
introduction in so far as it had had, as its result, from the
development of consciousness, the conception of absolute
knowledge. This stand-point of self-consciousness, in which
the antithesis of subject and object was absolutely cancelled,
was to unfold itself in the organic form of free, self-subsistent
idea. Inasmuch as, in the depiction of the embryonic plan
of the Hegelian system, the historical connection of his Logic
with Kant's Critique of Pure Reason has been already given,
we will here revert to this no further than is unavoidably
necessary in order to characterize the position which Hegel's
Logic assumes in science, and from which alone its form and
its language can be rightly understood and judged.

The general problem transmitted from Kant to Hegel was
to develop the idea of pure reason in the totality of its deter-

Vol. vi.— 7

98 Rosenl'ranz on ffef/eVs Science of Logic.

minations in such a manner that the understanding, which
with Kant remained master of reason and prescribed for it
boundaries wliich it must not transcend, should subordinate
itself to reason as its tool. To this end it was necessary to
rescue the categories from the uncritical dead form in which
they had been adojited by Kant from the old formal logic. The
latter had selected its distinctions only empirically. There
are. according to it, ideas, judgments, sjilogisms, in manifold
form, just as there are negi'oes, Mongolians, &c., in manifold
varieties. The determinations were found ready made in
tradition, only always differently arranged by logicians, fur-
nished with more or less illustrations, and in general brought
into relation to more or less matter entirely foreign to them-
selves. Hegel now demanded that the idea of reason, as that
of the logical idea, should develop itself in a connection in
which ever}^ determination must be nu^liated as necessa'ry,
l3Ut at the same time, likewise, should mediate another. The
categories could not, therefore, appear as lixed, unmoved
conceptions of the understanding, but they are essentially
dialectic, i.e. they pass through themselves over into other
and opposite conceptions, quality into quantity, something
into other, one into many, essence into appearance, ground
into consequence, content into form, substantiality into caus-
ality, cause into effect, general into special, <S:c. It must,
therefore, be shown how an idea is changed in and through
its development, i.e. how it advances to the idea which is the
opposite of itself, which emerges from its sublation [disso-
lution] as its positive result; for negation does not come
from witliout to the idea, but it produces its negation itself
from within outward. All ideas of pure reason make up,
therefore, a system in which the lower is richer in extent but
poorer in content, while the higher is poorer in extent and
richer in content, inasmuch as the latter embraces in itself,
as steps of its formation, all that have gone before it ; for it
is higher only in that it includes in itself all that is presup-
posed by it, through a determination which has power to
transcend it and to sublate it into itself. The higher step not
•only preserves the lower in itself, but also changes them, in
that it elevates them to itself.

The correctness of this problem in apprehending the deter-

Bosenkranz on HegeVs Science of Logic. 99

minations of pure reason as dialectic, is to be granted tlirougli-
ont. The science of logic, whicli treats of the laws of thought,
contradicts itself when it presents these laws in a formless
shape, as an inorganic mass, as a medley of fixed ideas.
Thinking — the final ground of all motion, of all life — cannot
be unmoved and lifeless in itself. Of the necessity of this
problem, by the solution of which Kant's Criti(iue was eman-
cipated from the enchantment of the understanding, Ilegel
was entirely conscious, and so said that he must re-form the
Logic from the very beginning.

The second special problem bequeathed from Kant to He-
gel lay in the solution of the old metaphysics by means of
logic. Fichte and Schelling, Kant's immediate successors,
had neither a logic nor a metaphysics, but, with them all, the
elements of these sciences had become moments of conscious-
ness. Hegel returned to a metaphysics within logic, by de-
veloping the categories of Kant, and by making them precede
the idea of the universal. He declared the determinations,
quality, quantity, relation, modality, to be definitions of Be-
ing in itself, as categories of objective logic, in distinction
from idea, judgment, syllogism, as the moments of subjective
logic. The metaphysics of logic should be made to consist in
the fact that the latter is the ideal archetype of all reality.
The idea of pure reason is the prius of all concrete reality,
which is rational only in so far as it is thought in itself, and
is, therefore, thinkable for us. The idea as logical, to speak
like Kant, is the ideal prototype of nature and of mind. In
the idea of reason, e.g., the pure idea of quality exists ; in
nature, qualities — red, yellow, sweet, sour, hard, soft, rough,
smooth, heavy, light, &c. — exist. So also in mind, dull,
shrewd, upright, false, strong, weak, &c. The idea of quality
in itself is, therefore, that of pure quality, because in that
real quality it gains existence, but itself is no definite qual-
ity. The same is true of quantity, &c.

Consequently, all those ideas must be excluded from logic
which belong to nature or to mind, like the conception of life,
which falls to nature ; or the knowledge of the true, or the
willing of the good, which fall to mind. In this Hegel is still
biassed by Kant, who applied the dialectic to the ideas of
soul, world, and God. The idea of the absolute idea, purely

100 Roseiilxranz on Hegel's Science of Logic.

as idea, Hegel seems m)t to liave regarded as signilicant
enough, and therefore lie determined it further as life, and as
knowledge of the true, and as willing of the good. The sci-
ence of the logical idea must also, in conclusion, sublate
[cancel] itself, i.e. pass over to nature ; but it does not follow
hence that it must itself develop the idea of life in which na-
tiu'e reaches itself as idea.

Witli respect to the idea of mind tliis difficulty exists, viz,
that the idea of reason is unthinkable without that of mind,
for reason is the totality of the abstract determinations of
thinking, but thinking exists, in actii^ only as the activity
of a thinking subject; hence ordinary logic takes it up psy-
chologically from the stand-point of knowledge, and inquires'
how we come to form ideas, judgments, and s^dlogisms. But
with the determinations of thinking as such, it is found that
they are independent in themselves, and are valid not only
for thinking, but for all being. They are law not merely for
oiu- ideal subjectivity, but no less for all real objectivity. It
is b}" virtue of this that they can appear as the neutral indif-
ference of nature and mind in the autonomy and autarchy of
the logical idea ; in which, however, it must not be forgotten
that the principle of reason, the ground of its existence, is
ultimately the absolute mind itself. When Hegel said in the
preface to his Logic, that it presents the truth as it is un-
veiled, he sought thus to express that the categories of rea-
son are the absolute form, without which neither nature nor
mind can be thought. It would be impossible to think the
concrete — star, plant, animal, fantasy, action, family, &c. —
without the abstract determination of reason ; the latter are
contained, tlierefore, in the concrete as its unity, diflerence,
ground, &c., but in a concrete manner: for nature and mind
are not merely the veil of pure reason, as though they were
related only externally to it, as though tliey presented only
a masked reason, but, compared with the abstract form of
reason, they are as it were higher forms of the idea. Hege-
lians misunderstand Hegel when they behave as if in all
philosophy only logic were ultimately concerned, of which
nature and mind properly are only superfluous translations.

Still another expression of Hegel, in the same place, has
led to many disputes. He said that the Logic could be

Rosenkranz on HegeVs Science of Logic. 101

regarded as the exposition of God as He was before the crea-
tion, of nature, and of the finite mind. This has been received
as though lie had put the conception of the logical idea in
the place of God. All Hegelians who are pantheists, or athe-
ists, or Logo-theists, make the idea of God vanish in that of
reason, and regard logic as the fortunate destruction of all
theology. It is still not to be left out of account that Hegel
himself distinguished, on the one hand, between reason and
God, and, on the other, between God and the finite mind.
He says, when we abstract from nature and from the finite
mind, and therefore from ourselves, only the abstraction of
pure thinking remains. God can then be determined only
as Logos. He is, then, pure Being, absolute essence, idea in
itself. He would say that philosophy concerns itself only
with definitions of the absolute, and that hence those of rea-
son are in and for themselves divine. To obviate misunder-
standing, he declared later in the Encyclopedia that of the
categories only the first and third, but not the second, could
have validity as definitions of God ; for only the former were
affirmative, while the later, intermediate betw"een them, was
negative ; e.g. quality, quantity, measure, make up the onto-
logical trichotomy. Thus I must think of God as the essence
of all qualities as well as the measure of all things, but not as
quantity, because as infinite He transcends all quantitative
limitations ; thus I must think of Him as essence and reality,
but not as phenomenon, &c. Hegel exhibits here an imper-
fect reserve, which was first developed into greater clearness
and distinctness in his lectures on the proofs of the existence
of God.

The unmistakable enthusiasm with which Hegel was
wont to speak of the Logic, has its cause in the absolute
interest of science, and of thinking in general, in the cate-
gories. Can these be fortuitous? Can there be now this,
now that significance arbitrarily given to a category ? Cer-
tainly not. In common life, to be sure, we carelessly use
related categories promiscuously. We speak of something
and thing, essence and substance, reality and actuality,
ground and cause, &c., as equivalents in meaning; but in
science we must undertake a critical sifting. If these most
general ideas are not fortuitous but necessary, they must

102 Bosonl'ran' on HegeVs Science of Logic.

hang together among themselves, and make up an accord-
ant totality in Avliich every determination results only from
a mediation which concerns only it. The uncriticjil con-
sciousness lays hold of now this, now that category, accord-
ing to its needs, and operates therewith as well as it can ; the
scientitic consciousness, on the contrary, renders account of
the categories, and limits each to its appropriate sphere. We
uncritically apply, e.g., the category of tldngness to every
possible object. We apply it rightly in naming, e.g., a lump
of sugar, or a thimble ; but if any one should name family^
or state, or poetry, a thing,we should ourselves take offence
in common conversational language. Hegel has, therefore,,
rightly apprehended the problem of the science of the logical
idea, even if his solution of it may be contested in single
points. It is impossible that those determinations, from the
ti'uth of which all other truth in thought depends, should not
be necessary. My caprice must not decree what is to be un-
derstood by being, essence, j^henomenon, content, form, &c.
My caprice cannot decide which idea has to develop itself
earlier, which later, in this logical cosmos. Let it be under-
taken with a single idea, in order to show the truth of what
has been said. Let any one undertake to say what effect is,
and he is obliged to go back from it to cause. Can he rest
at cause ? No ; cause leads to the idea of substance, which is
active, and from which the change of being which we desig-
nate as effect arises. But what is substance ? Substance is
a reality subsisting through itself, in contrast to a merely
accidental existence which definitely is only in and through
another definite being. Thus, analytically, we can ever
retrogress until we arrive at the general conception of Being,
of pure Being without predicates, beyond or beneath which
nothing more can be thought. Or, let the contrary method
be followed. Let us ask ourselves — What arises from
effect ? Obviously, a new effect ; i.e. the effect becomes itself,
in turn, a cause. When an officer in a battle gives to his sol-
diers the command to fire, this word is an effect of his think-
ing, and considered as sound, of his vocal organs. But this
effect becomes the cause of the soldiers' discharging their
weapons. This effect becomes cause that, of the hostile sol-
diers, some are killed or wounded. This effect becomes cause

Rnsenliranz on HegeVs Scieitce of Logic . 103

that they either energetically resist the attack, or liee, &c.
There arises, therefore, an infinite progress. At the same
time the idea of cause and effect is changed into that of reci-
procity ; action invariably follows reaction, &c. Thus think-
ing pursues its onward way synthetically through deduction,
until here, too, it arrives at an ultimate, viz, the idea, which
in the causal process of substances constitutes the principle of
their activity. In the adduced example, one would proceed
in concreto from soldiers to armies, from armies to nations,
from nations to their wars, from wars to history, from history
to freedom, which is the idea of mind. The process goes no
farther. All the remaining categories lie midway between
the idea of the being without predicates and that of the idea,
which is the unity of the 23articular idea and its realit}^
Included in logic are the determinations of being, of essence,
of idea, in all their differences, — still themselves the content,
to the universality of which nature and history are related as
examples.

Over against the fulness of the concrete idea in nature and
history, the cosmos of the logical idea with its abstract cate-
gories appears in fact as a world of shadows. It is remarka-
ble that Hegel is so often reproached with offering up the
world of blooming life to idea as to a desolate Hades. Can
Hegel make the abstract something other than it is ? Is not,
then, this abstract contained in the concrete as its logical
soul, just as the shades in Hades are not absolutely dead,
but are departed souls that must drink blood in order to
make themselves apprehensible i Hegel himself designated
the logical ideas as pure essences, souls ; and so, too, they
are with him as they are in reality ; but what is the logic
of so many logicians ? Not a Hades, in which souls longing
for life drift about, but a church-yard, into which the bones
of the corpses of ideas are desolately and promiscuously
thrown.

K Hegel sought to present the connection of the categories
as in itself self-producing, he must make each one to appear
analogously, as a special formation of the logical idea, the
same as he did in the Phenomenology with the different
stand-points of consciousness. It has been supposed that he
changed categories into individualities, and reduced them to

104 BosenAranz on HegeVs Science of Logic.

speculative poetical ligures that waver past like the shapes
in Goethe's masquerade procession. In order to gain a clear
conception of Hegel's process, it is onljmecessar}^ to institute
the attempt to make any categor}- develop itself with per-
fect objectivity, and without mixing in, one's own personality.
As soon as it is no longer said, e.g., we pass over now from
quality to quantity, or, in another form, after we have dis-
posed of the conception of quality, we come now to that of
quantity, c\:c.; but when quality shall sublate [develop] itself
into quantity, it will be found that quite another language
will be used. It will be seen how the idea of quality changes
with each progressive distinction which is made, until finally
through itself it projects the determination opposed to it
(that of the indifferent external boundary) on itself, and
thereby passes over into the category of quantity. It is true
that Hegel has constructed a new language for logic ; but this
was a necessity, which moreover had the advantage of being
truly German, without lapsing into a fantastic purism. How
far the effect of this most admirable language extends, must
by no means be overlooked. We read everywhere that the
Logic was composed in a very dark, oracle-like tone, which
must frighten the "uninitiated'' from its study; but far
rather, such remarks themselves are intended to create the
prejudice which frightens students from it. I will here ex-
ti'act a few passages at random from the Logic, and then let
it be asked whether they are written jilainly, whether they
are German, whether they are in good taste, and how they
should be written otherwise. In the doctrine of extensive
and intensive quantum, e.g. in the elucidation of their differ-
ence, he says :

" Degree is thus determinate magnitude, quantum, but not
at the same time multitude, or the Plural within itself; it is
only a plurality ; plurality is the plural aggregated in simple
determination, extant-being gone back into being-for-self.
Its determinateness must, indeed, be expressed by a number
as the most perfect determinate being of quantum ; but it is
not a sura, but simple, only one degree. When we speak of
10, 20 degrees, the (piantum which has so many degrees is
the tenth, twentieth degree, and not the amount or sum of the
same : in that case it would be extensive ; but it is only one,
the tenth, twentieth degree. It contains the determinateness

Rosenkranz on HegeVs Science of Logic. 105

wMcli lies in the enumeration 10, 20, but does not contain it
as plnral ; but it is tlie number as sublated [cancelled] enu-
meration, as simple determinateness."

What is there to be changed in this ? — We take the libert}^ of
extracting from the doctrine of the idea of Actualit)^ another
passage, in which the difference between might \JMaclit'\ and
power [ GeiDaW] is described :

"Power [external constraint] is the phenomenon of might,
or it is might as external. Might is, however, external only
in so far as the causal substance, in its action, i.e. in its pos-
iting of itself, is at the same time presupposing, i.e. posits
itself as sublated. Hence, conversely, an act of power is none
the less an act of might. It is only an Other presupposed by
itself upon which the powerful cause works ; its working
thereon is negative relation to itself, or the manifestation of
itself. The passive is independent, which is only posited;
something broken within itself— a reality which is condition,
and, indeed, condition in its truth, viz. a reality which is only
a j)ossibility ; or, conversely, inherent being, that is, only
determinateness of inherent being, only passive. It is, hence,
not only possible, but necessary, for him on whom power is
exerted, to exert power ; whatever has power over another,
has it because it is the might thereof, which thereby mani-
fests itself and the other. Passive substance is posited by
power only as that which it in truth is, especially because it
is the simple Positive or immediate substance only in order
to be posited. The prerogative of being a condition is the
semblance of immediateness, which real causality strips off
of it. Through the penetrating influence of another power,
justice is thus done to passive substance. What it loses is
the above immediateness, substantiality foreign to it. What
it receives as foreign to it, viz. to become determined as a
posited being, is its own determination."

How plainly and how strikingly all this is said ! Let the
experiment be made on one example to see whether Hegel's
inflections must necessarily be used. The vital, e.g., is the
might which exerts power upon the inorganic world ; the in-
organic— air, light, w^ater, &c. — is immediately present over
against the Vital ; the Vital presupposes it as its condition.
But in laying hold on it, it ceases to be self-subsisting in
respect to the might of life, and is sublated by it. In this
sublation, might manifests itself as power, which manifests
at the same time itself and that which it determines as pas-
sive to it. Thus the sculptor who exerts power upon a block

106 Rosenl'raiiz on HegeVs Science of Logic.

(if marble, in order to make a statue of it; thus tlie teacher
who exerts power upon the intelligence of a child, in order
to make therefrom a cultivated understanding, &c. In this
metaphysical category morality is, of course, not involved ;
might may not conduct itself with injustice, as if potestas
and Jus were ethically the same, but o\\\y causality is in-
volved. Ordinary consciousness receives much o\\\y from the
side of activity or passivity, without bringing both determin-
ations together in the unity of reciprocity. Men complain,
e.g., that the state exerts power in taxation, or in enforcing
militaiy duty ; but forget that the state is their own sub-
stance, without which tlie}^ can possess no property and
would enjoy no personal safety. How far a government may
impose too many burdens on the citizens, &c., is another
question.

Hegel's style made great progress in the Logi(^, The lan-
guage of the Phenomenology, full of spirit, pervaded Avith
an ironical tone, artistic in bold pictures, often highly pa-
thetic in its descriptions, mystic in its imagery, only recurs
when Hegel regards indignantly the want of confidence in
the mind to recognize truth, or the frippery of formal logic,
or the hypocrisy and bad preeminence of positive sciences.
Otherwise he writes entirel}^ to the point, and with pedago-
gical regard for his readers. Neither does he fail, at im-
X)ortant points, to adduce the history of science, and to
show how the idea of being-in-itself belongs to the Eleatics ;
that of becoming, to Heraclitus ; that of the One, to Leu-
cippus and Democritus ; that of quantity, to Pythagoras ;
that of measure, of identity, of difl'erence, and of ground, to
Leibnitz ; that of the Negative, to the Skeptics ; that of the
thing-in-itself, and of phenomenon, to Kant ; that of content
and form, of matter and form, to Aristotle ; that of substance,
to Spinoza ; that of the general idea, to Plato ; that of the
abs(jlute idea, to Plato, Aristotle, and Kant, His Logic al-
lowed no true principle of science which had ever made an
epoch in its history, to escape it. But that which appears in
the history of philosophy in connection with a thousand- fold
other relations, enters the Logic as a simple idea in its sys-
tematic place.

"Where it seemed necessary to him, he made remarks and

Roseiikranz on HegeVs Science of Logic. 107

digressions, of wliicli that upon the idea of the differential
calculus, under the category of quantitative infinity, is one
of the most weighty, to which, in the second edition of the
Logic, only that upon Berzelius' theory of chemical affinity,
and Berthollet's critique, can be compared. He would never
have resolved upon such a casual, loose form of expression
in the Phenomenology ; for that needed to be a plastic, defi-
nite, beautifully articulated work of art. Now clearness of
understanding was his supreme aim ; the aesthetic design, to
form out of the Logic a scientific work of art, was not lost
sight of, but it became subordinate to didactic necessity.

As pedagogue, he liad learned also the art of exemplifica-
tion, and knew how to make good use of it in the Logic. He
had acquired the tact of remarking where and how an illus-
tration was necessary to the reader. He speaks, for example,
of the formal syllogism, and seeks to show that it can attri-
bute to the same subject contradictory determinations because
it can make of the different sides of the subject a medius ter-
minus. The conclusion can accordingly be correct in form,
yet false in content. This he explains by illustrations :

" When from the medius terminus of sensuousness the con-
clusion is reached that man is neither good nor bad, because
neither the one nor the other can be predicated of the sensu-
ous, this is correct ; but the concluding' clause is false,
because of man as concrete the medius terminus of spiritu-
ality is no less valid. From the medius terminus of the gra-
vity of the planets, satellites, and comets, toward the sun, it
duly folh^Avs that these bodies fall into the sun ; yet they do
not fall into it, because they are in equal degree their own
centre of gravity, or, as we say, they are impelled by centri-
fugal force. Also, from the medius terminus of the sociality,
community of goods of citizens can be deduced ; but from the
medius terminus of individuality, when it is driven into like
abstraction, the dissolution of the state ensues, as has been the
case, e.g., with the German empire, because it has adhered to
the latter medius terminus. There is, in short, nothing wliich
is held to be so insufficient as such a formal conclusion, be-
cause it reposes upon chance or upon arbitrariness, which
medius terminus is to be made use of. When such a deduc-
tion has spun off through conclusions ever so finely, and its
correctness has been fully granted, still it leads at least to
nothing ; for the fact ever remains that other medii terminii
arise, from which the exact opposite can with equal propriety

108 Rosetikranz on Hegel" s Science of Logic.

be deduced. Kant's antinomies of reason are nothing else
tlian that. iV(un a conception, now one of its determinations
is made fundamental, and iiow^ witli equal necessity, the
other/'

Hegel opposed logical formulism. It is quite erroneous to
tliink that lie despised the forms of formal logic; on the con-
trary, he respected them as products of mind, which, in his
estimation, was liigher than nature. Hence he expressly
took them under his protection, and said:

"If it is thought not unimportant to have discovered more
than sixty species of the parrot, and thirty-seven species of
the veronica, &c., the discovery of forms of reason must be
esteemed still more important. Is not a figure of logical syl-
logism something infinitely higher than a species of parrot,
or veronica ?"

Hegel has repeatedl}' drawn attention to the fact that no true
determination of formal logic is lost in speculative logic, but
that, rather, the former is dialectically reproduced in the lat-
ter. AYlien, e.g., formal logic posits the idea of the general,
special, and individual, it describes these determinations, in
part psychologically, in part grammatically, until it forgets
this, and suddenly treats them as in-and-for-themselves in-
dependent. It commences psychologically. It calls upon
consciousness to abstract from the Manifold in immediate
contemx)latioTi ; thereby the unity which exists in the Mani-
fold is attained ; this identity is the generality which therefore
api^ears as the product of an act of theoretical intelligence.
The general is the idea. Now it proceeds to combining
conceptions into judgments. This combination is again
an act of consciousness ; it is not the conceptions which com-
bine themselves, but it is the thinking subject which brings
together into a proposition those which are taken as exter-
nal to one another. Thereby logic becomes grammatical. It
names the judgments expressly, logical sentences, enuncia-
tiones, propositiones. It is the thinker who joins the predi-
cate— or, more properly, any predicate — to the subject, in
that he ties it to it with the copula. The cupola is, in turn,
regarded as a bond which is external and indifferent alike to
the subject and to the predicate, although it unites both. In
the syllogism, formal logic combines judgments with one

Roseiikranz on HegeVs Science of Logic. 10&

another by deriving from the relation of two judgments with
each other, a third as resnlt. Hence they can no longer affirm
their subjectivity, for the dependence of the determinations
upon each other, and therewith the metaphysical element of
logic, come here to light. The so-called rules of inference
express nothing but the indej)endence of the idea toward the
thinking subject. Ex %yro]positionibus mere negatiTis nildl
seqititur. Ex propositionlbus mere particularihus nihil se-
quitur. But why not? In the first case, because the affirma-
tive nature of the idea forbids it ; in the second, because the
special cannot be subsumed under the special, but only
under the general. Quid valet de omnilms^ valet etiani de
singulis ; because in the idea, generality is identical with
individuality. A majori ad miniis^ non a minori ad majits
valet consequentia ; of course, because the individual must
contain determinations which are not in the sj)ecial ; and the
special, distinctions which are not expressly posited in the
general. Logic recognizes here, therefore, that ideas deter-
mine themselves so that, when their objective relations are
not attended to, the conclusion has no validity. It finds itself
compelled also to distinguish the essential from the unessen-
tial characteristics ; qualitative from quantitative ; positive
from negative ; substantiality from causality ; possibility
from actuality ; chance from necessity ; i.e. the entire meta-
physics breaks suddenly into logic, and is smuggled in, now
here, now there, in the form of abrupt definitions. Once ar-
rived at this point, logic falls into the opj)Osite extreme of
subjectivity with which it psychologically began. In the
figures of the syllogism it began to calculate by means of
ideas. Calculating is, in fact, thinking, as Bardili said in
his Logic, with which he would cure 1800 as with a medlcina
TTientis of Kant's Critique of Reason. " Whoever calculates,
thinks." With these words he begins his Logic. The arith-
metic of numerical relations in nature and history shows us
that they have been reckoned, that they rest upon syllo-
gisms, and therefore betray a subject which has thought
them ; but in the form of thinking as mere reckoning the
vitality of the idea is destro^^ed, for, in order to be able to
reckon, the moments of the idea must be reduced to dead
quantums. Hence Hegel declares himself decidedly opposed

1 10 Hose flit' ran:: on Heytrs Science of Logic.

to that tendency in logic wiiicli would transmute thinking
into reckoning, like Plouciiuet's Calculus, &c., although he
knows that reckoning without thinking at all is impossible.
On the contrary, he took pains, in the third part of his Logic,
especially at the beginning, and in the first chapter of the
tirst division, to describe the dialectic nature of the idea. This
is unquestionably one of the most difficult problems which
he attempted to solve. Many readers have been frightened
away from the Hegelian logic because they became giddy in
this constant transition of oj)posite into opposite. They were
accustomed to have general and special and individual nicely
distinguished side by side, but now Hegel comes and shows
them that (1) all three determinations are moments of one
idea ; (^2) that just for that reason each of them contains both
the others in itself; (3) that every moment is equal to every
other in value, and that nevertheless they are found in subor-
dination; (4) that therefore the conception of general, special,
and individual, is distinguished, but that the perfect, true
conception can be only the totality, the concrete unity of
these distinctions. The genei'al is also the sjiecial, for it dis-
timruisht's itself from itself, and it is this distinction which
we call the special. But the general is also the individual,
for without having it for a content the realization of the spe-
cial into an existence independent in itself would be only a
unit, not an individual. This individual is also thus itself
aerain the o-eneral. Each moment of the total idea is, as deter-
mined, not what the others are, but at the same time as a
moment of the whole no less is what they are.

Mathematicians do each other the justice, or at least the
fairness, of admiring, in the work of others, even the elegance
with which a problem is treated. From such a recognition
philosophy is yet far removed. It allows the difficulties with
which its presentation has to contend to be so little suspected,
because it uses language accessible to all. The art with which
Hegel has described the idea has been as yet but poorly esti-
mated. We are wont to speak as if the "Hegelian idea" were
something quite apart, which he construed in his Logic, while
it really contains the objective thoughts which have abso-
lutely nothing to do with the casual individuality of the
thinker. The Hegelian idea is really the idea of idea, and
no speculative idiosyncrasy.

RosenTcranz on HegeVs Science of Logic. Ill

EELATIOI^ OF THE LOGIC TO THE PHENOMENOLOGY.

Plienomenology was to constitute the first part of the sys-
tem of science. In the first edition this title stood first. Phe-
nomenology of mind was placed underneath, as designating
the content of the first part.

In the preface as well as in the introduction to logic, Hegel
mentioned expressly the Phenomenology and its relation to
logic, especially that it should present the arising of the
stand-point of absolute knowledge, in which the antithesis of
subject and object has vanished, and from wiiich, therefore,
knowing should begin as pure science without antithesis.
Within the perfected system, of course, phenomenology could
not appear with that fulness with which at first it had ab-
sorbed the entire kingdoms of nature and mind into itself ;
for in the systematic totalit}^ this same content appears in a
simple organic form, uninvolved in the struggle of conscious-
ness to master its own essence in it. Phenomenology shows
us how mind as consciousness, as individuality, as ethics,
as right, as morality, as religion, as art, as science, stands
related as opposed to nature, so far as it seeks to find the
reality of its idea in these forms, until it arrives at absolute
knowledge, as the absolute unity of the subject with the ob-
ject, because the object has here become the absolute itself,
in the absolute form itself of the idea. In the system of sci-
ence phenomenology could, therefore, become only a moment
of the sphere of the subjective mind, of ordinary so-called
psychology. The stages, consciousness, self-consciousness,
reason, were here the essentials.

Just before his death, Hegel began to revise the Phenome-
nology for a second edition, but he reached scarcely the mid-
dle of the preface. In its main features he left it much the
same, but crossed out those passages which referred to the
intended second part of the system. The sup]3ression of
these has been explained as if he had thereby retracted the
original relation of the phenomenology as the mediation of
the stand-point from which logic proceeds for thinking con-
sciousness. This, however, does not follow ; but merely that,
since the publication of his system had taken place in another
than the intended manner, the said announcement had lost
its significance.

112 RosenJiram on Hegel's f>cience of Logic.

Hegel orally designated tlie Phenomenology in Berlin as
the work in wliich he had made his "voyage of discovery."
Til is expression can relate only to the concrete content of
natnre and history wliich he w^ronght over in it, and not to
the general idea of consciousness, which also retained the
same moments in the system of the philosophy of mind.
Hegel conceded, however, by that expression, that he could
have brought in a still more extended content into the Phe-
nomenology than he did. When, later, he reduced the rela-
tion of the knowing subject to speculation (so far as con-
cerns the beginning of speculative thinking), to the transition
through skepticism, and to the simple resolution to will to-
think the truth absolutely, it must not be forgotten that no
one would come to this resolve whose consciousness had not
previously in some wa}^ completed in experience all its other
content.

Hegel's division of consciousness remained (1) conscious-
ness. (2) self-consciousness, (3) rational self-consciousness.
To this, the following division of the Logic would correspond:
(1) objective logic, (2) subjective logic, (3) absolute logic.
The lirst w^ould have contained the categories of being in
general ; the second, the moments of the idea ; the third, the
canon of the absolute idea. That Hegel confounded this tri-
chotomy with another in the Logic — viz. being, essence, idea —
is explained by the fact that he distinguished the idea of idea
itself again into (1) the subjective, (2) the objective, (3) the
idea. Hence one of the greatest difficulties of the Logic has
arisen. We will here touch only upon the point adduced by
criticism, that the same categories occur in the Phenome-
nology and in the Logic; so that the Logic was properly
already contained in the Phenomenology.

This is quite right, but it cannot be otherwise. First, the con-
tent of phenomenology, as well as that of every other science,
is formally ruled by logic. It cannot dispense with logical
forms, which must therefore become manifest in its articula-
tion. Second, the logical categories must themselves become
objects of consciousness in concrete forms. Consciousness
must, in the course of its culture, become master of the idea
of logical forms. The existence of the logical in the concrete
matter of consciousness cannot be excluded from its experi-
ence. Sensuous certainty, for example, cannot do otherwise

The Essential in the Hegelian System. 113

than make being, as definite being, its object. The senses make
their appearance as the mediation of the certainty that some-
thing now and here looks red, tastes sweet, or feels smooth,
&c. ; bnt sense does not know that this something, as red, is
distinguished from another, e.g. a green something. This
knowing is an act of consciousness which distinguishes that
excitation of the nerves of sight which we designate as red,
from another as green. The animal does not attain this ob-
jectivization of its sensations, but rests in sensation. Red
and green are distinguished even for the eye of the animal,
but the animal cannot conclude this is red. It does not know
that red is a different color from green. It knows nothing of
There and noio. It knows nothing of an individual object. It
is, indeed, a self-feeling individualization, but knows not
itself as subject in opposition to an object. It is conscious-
ness which makes the sensuous an object, and thereby be-
comes certain of itself, i.e. knows being as distinct, as this
definite being. Thus apprehension cannot perfect itself with-
out the categories of the essential and the unessential, of the
thing and its properties, &c.

THE ESSENTIAL AND THE UNESSENTIAL IN THE HEGELIAN

METHOD.

The great problem which Hegel proj)osed in his Logic,
centred itself about his conception of the dialectic method,
which he regarded as the only true one. It consisted in the
Platonic method, made profound by the method of Aristotle's
metaphysics, and more accurately determined by the forms
of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason. Subjectively it was to
constitute the absolute organ of all genuine knowing, but
objectively it was also to contain the immanent rythmus of
ontological development which is immanent in reality. What
Kant had distinguished on the one side as understanding,
judgment, and reason, and on the other as idea, reflection,
and syllogism, was to become united in the abstract, reflected,
and speculative determinations of the logical idea. Its course
was to be not merely analytic from the individual to the
general, not merely synthetic from the general to the indi-
vidual, but regressive and progressive at the same time, be-
cause the general unity was to distinguish itself from itself,

VoL vi.— 8

114 T'he Essential in tlie Hegelian System.

and only ultimately to be determined to its genuine concrete
idea. In tli(> treatment of the Plienomenolosrv and of the
Logic, Hegel himself gave an example of this method. He
had made the idea expound itself, and thereby build itself
up to a new idea. Idea as such is identical with itself, but
through its diiferentiation it produces new ideas, and in that
deijree changes itself.

This must be rightly understood. The idea of a point, e.g.,
is always the same ; but in so far as the point moves it be-
gets another, the other of itself, in which it sublates itself as
the true. The line again, by moving in different ways, pro-
duces the difference of straight and crooked. The point
makes itself analytically a line, but synthetically it remains
contained in it ; the line makes itself analytically a straight
or a crooked line, but synthetically it is posited as a line in
the one as well as in the other. The soul of this dialectic was
thus here, as with Plato and Aristotle, the negative of the idea,
the antithesis which it brought forth out of itself. This is
the incontrovertible truth of this process. Closely connected
with this, however, is the unessential, so easily possible in
its presentation, viz. error in regard to that which is posited
as the negative. Hegel's thought strove toward the absolute
independence of the idea from the philosopher. The part of
the latter should be only that of looking on its movement.
In the above illustration it is not I who make the point be-
come a line ; but it itself, by moving itself, produces itself as
a line. I look upon this its self- formation. This highest
ideal of all scientific investigation was not insured in its real-
ization against the contingency of the philosopher, for here
in the transition from the general to the special the distinc-
tion necessary in itself could very easily be varied, and the
immanent antithesis be falsified. Even the abstract general-
ity might be transposed with the concrete, the first with the
last. Then, despite all claim of infallibility, the method fell
into fallacious construction. In Hegel himself examples may
be found where he is deluded and vacillating in this respect ;
e.g. in the Philosophy of Right, under the conception of the
state power, he has set up royal sovereignty as the first, there-
fore abstract, moment ; while in the second edition of the En-
cycloi)edia it is the final and concrete moment.

The Essential in the Hegelian System. 115

Among the adherents of Hegel, the difteiences are still
greater. Opponents of his philosophy receive these as proof
of the falsity of his method, while the ground lies only in
its uncritical use. Hegel wished manifestation of the idea,
but the school often fell back to the mere construction of the
philosophy of Schelling through precipitate and external ap-
plication of the logical categories. That which can be called
the unessential in Hegel's method has been especially evoked
by the fact that the idea of antithesis became confounded
with that of contradiction. Hegel took up the antinomy
from Kant's dialectic with great satisfaction. While Kant
placed contradiction only in our knowledge. Hegel said it
should belong also to actuality itself. Contradiction, as real,
is also possible, and can therefore become actual. It is not
merely a phenomenon of our intelligence. Hegel now affirmed
that, in the development of the idea, antinomies everywhere
present themselves which must be solved into a higher unity.
He did not intend to explain the contradiction as that which
is true, for that which is true cannot contradict itself, but he
discerned the foundation of all life, of all activity, in the fact
that in the phenomenal world antithesis grew into contradic-
tion, which latter manifested the unity in whose depth it sank
away. The higher a particular being stands, and the more
sides it has, so much the more easily can it involve itself in
manifold contradictions. Hegel, therefore, took up contra-
diction as a constitutive moment into his system, and aroused
endless contradiction thereby, because by this it was cus-
tomary to understand the absurdity of something unthinka-
ble, logically impossible. Contradiction is also antithesis ;
but antithesis as such, brought to the tension of negative
actuosity mrsus identity, is not contradiction, but in the
world of phenomena it may every moment become contradic-
tion. The antithesis of positive and negative electricity is in
itself ever and everywhere present, but only in the thunder-
storm does it become a contradiction which solves itself in
lightning. Egoness, as individualization of mind, is imme-
diately antithetical to its universality, but it becomes bad
only when it negates it in actu and with consciousness.
Physical selfishness is not yet ethical egotism. It cannot be

110 The Essential in the Hegelian System.

denied that Hegel's philosophy has not distingnished the
contradictory, the contrary, and the repugnant, with suffi-
cient care, and has caused confusion thereby ; but still less
can it bt» denied tliat the zeal Avhich would again exile con-
tradiction from philosoph}- witliout surmounting it, has re-
sulted in the most lamentable shallowness.

The idea in-and-for-itself is, to be sure, Avithout contradic-
tion ; but in its development, contradiction produces itself in
the steps of transition. It must, therefore, always be meas-
ured on the higlier. Eiidemonism is the quite consequent
issue of psychology. In itself there is nothing contradictory
in being happy, in the satisfaction of one's instincts and appe-
tites, but this principle leads to the contradiction of pleasure
with itself, and this contradiction is solved not by psychol-
ogy but by ethics. Man shall be more than happy — he shall
be free.

When, therefore, Hegel is reproached with discerning truth
in contradiction, an error is made ; the contradiction which
begets itself is in the same degree sublated ; unity continues,
not only negative but affirmative, through the totality of the
development. The unity with which an idea begins is abstract
identity : from this proceeds its diflference ; these station
themselves over against one another in order to sublate them-
selves into a higher unity. Thus backwards this is concrete,
but forwards it manifests itself as a contradiction which sinks
;away in the depth of a higher unity opposed to it, which
nevertheless in the beginning of its formation, or immediate-
ly, is only an abstract identity. The abstract in-and-for-itself
is without contradiction, but the different steps of the phe-
nomenal universe, re-interlinked with one another through
contradiction (since it demands solution) into living unity.

That which is true, therefore, in the Hegelian method is
the unrest of the negative, which makes its appearance in
every sphere save that of the pure absolute. But this unrest
is at the same time full of the repose which accrues to every
moment of the whole as necessary and for itself positive.
The higher step negates that which is presupposed and lower,
and includes it in itself (as Hegel was wont to say) as its
negative identity, but does not destroy it in its relative inde-

HegeVs Encyclopedia. Ill

pendence. When, e.g., man as a microcosm comprehends the
macrocosm of all nature compendiously in himself, the per-
sistence of nature in itself is not destroyed.

The transition of one idea to another is no gradual meta-
morphosis as students of nature so readily seek to derive
the origin of new forms by successive transformation of those
already existing, but the existence of the higher grade is
posited through the idea of the idea. The lower grade often
reveals types in which the higher already has its analogy.
It is the types which may deceive, but they are only the hu-
moristic prelude, not yet the thing itself; as the Rosaceje
envelope their kernel with the superfluity of a flesh which is
yet no real, feeling flesh — as the ape seems to foreshadow the
human form, yet is separated from man by an impassable
gulf — as relief extends picture-like over surfaces, but is as
yet no painting. Hegel could not call his method merely
synthetic, because the higher step is the teleological ground
of the lower ; in its execution however, which he was not
able himself to carry on to its completion— i.e. in the lectures
published after his death — he has often, it is true, contented
himself with a synthetic derivation. Here then, as with Spi-
noza, dogmatism entered, and in such a manner that presen-
tation not infrequently sunk into that form which Hegel most
abhorred in philosophy — to narration ; in the school this in-
creased still more — the trichotomies of the idea were decreed
only in an assertorical manner. The discipline of thought, as
Hegel had named the method, was quite thrown oft' to make
way for the most motley anarchy.

THE ENCYCLOPEDIA.

It was natural that a mind which found itself upon so high
a stand-point of scientific unity must approach the wish to
live in a sphere adequate to itself. Hegel longed for aca-
demic activity. The favor of fortune came to him in various
offers. He had already decided upon Heidelberg, when notice
was also taken of him from Berlin.

There were especially two men, quite opposed to each
other, who were instrumental in his appointment, Paulus
and Daub. With the flrst he had stood in relations of per-
sonal friendship since Jena. With the latter he became

1 1 8 HegeVs Encyclopedia.

acquainted in Heidelberg, and through him was gradually
alienated from Paulus, who observed the fact with great dis-
pleasure. Paulus was the most decided opponent of Roman-
ticism, and could not pardon Hegel's sympathy for Daub and
Creuzer, which lie, in common with Voss, construed into a
suspicion of crypto-catholicism. Hegel had never expressed
himself publicly against Paulus, but Paulus persecuted him,
when he was dead, in pamphlets and periodicals, and espe-
ciall}' in a work which he entitled " Geister revue."' He waged
this polemic under the name " Magis arnica Veritas.''^ Many
bitter things whi(di were retailed, ever more sarcastically,
ever in wider circulation, owe their origin to their attacks
under this pseudonym.

In Heidelberg, Hegel must have felt the necessity of giving
to the public a presentation of his philosophy in its totality,
for the Phenomenology of Mind had been a propaedeutic
work, and logic had been only the first j)art of his system.
Both were, moreover, in a dialectic form so strict that they
could have been understood only by the narrow^ circle of
philosophers. Hegel's predecessor in Heidelberg had been
Fries. With his totally different apprehension of specula-
tion, it w^as necessary for Hegel to take pains to present in
outline to the students the difference of his philosophy from
that of Fries, at least in its chief moments. He proposed,
therefore, a guide for his lectures which he named " Encyclo-
pedia of the Philosophical Sciences."

By the word Encyclopedia he wanted, as he himself said,
to designate the unity of science, which composes a circle of
circles. Beginning from itself, it "widens itself to ever new
determinations, which at the same time constitute deeper in-
sights of the principle, until an ultimate stage is attained
beyond which progress cannot be made, and with which
knowing reverts into its beginning. Ever since Bacon,
European science has striven toward totality. Since he had
given to it only a psychological foundation in reason, mem-
ory, and X)hantasy, the unity remained external. The French
Encyclopedia of Diderot and D'Alembert followed out, in
the organization of sciences, essentially the plan of Bacon,
but split up in execution into the atomistic multiplicity of
the alphabetical article. In Germany, the division of the

HegeVs Encyclopedia. 119

Leibnitz- Wolff philosophy into theoretical and practical sci-
ences had acquired validity and had been adopted by Kant,
although he set up a higher division in the Architectonique
of the Critique of Pure Reason ; the physiology of pure rea-
son, the metaphysics of nature and the metaphysics of ethics
— or science of the idea of that which should be in general,
of that which is, and of that which should be. This tricho-
tomy Hegel elevated to the distinct grasp of the idea, (1) as
logic, (2) as nature, (3) as mind. Every system since then?
which, in the place of this simple articulation, would place
another, has fallen. One very important step of Hegel was
the presentation of natural philosophy. It should, conse-
quently, have followed the Logic as an independent whole.
Now it appears as an integral part of the total cycle of sci-
ces, in an abbreviated form, which scarcely suffices to make
clear the inner connection of nature with the idea as logic
and as mind.

Still more scanty and difficult of understanding was the
composition of the last part of the philosophy of mind. Its
division into the idea of the subjective, objective, and abso-
lute mind, was, to be sure, of convincing simplicity ; but the
presentation of absolute mind as art-religion, revealed reli-
gion, and philosophy, must at once awaken doubt. Why
was art apprehended at the same time as religion ( Why was
religion, as revealed, distinguished from the idea of religion
in general ? Why was the absoluteness of knowledge placed
only in philosophy, which, as human activity, is not yet free
from ignorance, error, and doubt, i.e. is infected with proble-
matic knowing ? Why was it not plainly enunciated whether
the absolute mind also exists in-and-for-itself as subject, or
whether Hegel under this word had in view only art, religion,
and science, within the phenomena of the human mind ? In
the enigmatical paragraphs, only one very scanty extract
from the last chapter of the Phenomenology can be detected.
We shall see later what weighty consequences are attached
to this indistinctness.

As Hegel wished to give a clue for his lectures, he omitted
the proper dialectic development, and gave only a list of defi-
nitions in which he had much practice in the notes for the
philosophical propaedeutics at the gymnasium, and had at-

120 J^icJife's Facts of Consciousness.

rained great skill in using modes of expression. This form^
moreover, has not been without intiuence upon the school^
because it favored its dogmatism and abjured stricter phi-
losophy. It is no exaggeration to affirm that, with the ex-
ception of Euclid, no text-book exists of such concentrated
precision. Every word in this laconic language is freighted
with n\eaning.

To logic, luitural philosophy, and psychology, Hegel ap-
pended remarks in which he gave a trenchant criticism of
those views which contradicted his own. In this way he
skilfully incited to free retiection.

FACTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS.

Transl-.ited from the German of J. G. Fichte, by A. E. Krokgkr.

:^0 0 3£. XX.

FACTS OK COXSCIOUSNKSS IN REGARD TO TIIK PIJACTICAL FACULTY.

CHAPTER II.

The Tendency of the Ego to overcome Ike Check of the non-Ego is posited

as a material Body.

A. — We have seen how the Ego, limited to a mere impulse
and without any immediate cansality, through its mere Being
contemplated its power to arrive in time at an end through
conditional states ; calculating that power, at the same time,
the resistance that was also contemplated in the image, and
thus completing a plan of its causality. It appears imme-
diately that it can fix this manifold of conditions and of time
in no other unity-conception than the conception of itself,
and that hence it must in this connection necessarily think
itself here, moreover, as a real princij^le — and not merely^
as in the previous book, as the principle of a reproduction
through the power of imagination — and furthermore abso-
lutely d priori., without any real causality having preceded,
since the whole synthetical period starts from a complete
annihilation of such causality.

Now that which offers the resistance is matter, and the
purpose is to separate this matter, get it out of its place, or

FicMe's Facts of Consciousness. 121

remove it. But matter can be moved out of its place in space
onlj^ through other matter ; and thus it appears that the Ego,
as a working power in a material world, must itself be mat-
ter, hence an immediately given, determined, and in-space-
limited body. Moreover, in this body it must be possible
that the conception can become immediately the cause of a
motion of its matter, in order that by this designedly moved
matter the dead external matter may be moved. Such a mo-
bility of matter through the mere conception may very prop-
erly be called organization, by means whereof one body
becomes an organ to work upon the rest of the material
world. The Ego, in its image of a causality upon matter,
would thus turn into an organized body.

A causality executed by means of this organization upon
the material world, must be accompanied always by the
above described external sense in order to judge to what
extent the intended plan has been executed, and what still
remains to be done. Hence this sense must be thoroughly
united and constitute one with that organ, and must therefore
be represented in matter in the same way. From this there
results a material Ego with an external sense and organ.

Thus. I say, the Ego must appear absolutely d priori. We
do Dot learn by experience that we act; we have no percep-
tion of it as we have of our passive states. That causality
of ours presupposes a free conception created through abso-
lute self-activity. This conception, and our possible causal-
ity in accordance with it, are internally contemplated — for
thus we have described and accomplished it in the above —
as a mere faculty, even in advance of the actual accomplish-
ment of the intended causality ; and it is already in this exe-
cuted and completed prototype of such a causality that the
Ego appears necessarily as a material organ.

Through what then, and through what facultj'', is the Ego
formed into a material body ? Evidently through the pro-
ductive power of imagination, precisel}^ like the image of the
resistance itself, and at the same occasion, and in virtue of
the same law. The conception of the intended causality, the
determined prototype of this causality, was to be sketched.
To do this made necessary an image of the check or resist-
ance, in order to calculate the effect of the power on it ; so

1*22 FicTite'S Facts of Consciousness.

again an image of the power is necessary in order to calcu-
late the effect of the resistance on it. But the resistance is
placed in matter, and hence the power of the Ego must be
placed in the same medium of matter in order to make such
a calculation possible. From this it follows that just as the
image of the resistance, external perception, was not con-
sciousness, but an object of consciousness, so also the image
of the Ego as a material body is not consciousness, but an
object of consciousness; or, expressing it more strictly: ma-
teriality is the absolute d priori form of self-consciousness in
its causality upon the original clieck, the form of the Ego's
self-contemplation through its external sense, just as time is
the Ego's for'u of self-contemplation through its internal
sense. Xow the causality of the Ego upon that original
<^heck may either be merely prototyped, to which region we
have liitherto coniined ourselves, or it may be actually exe-
cuted, and contemplated in the actual realization. But in
both cases the form, there of free imaging and here of con-
templation, remains the materiality of the Ego.

B. — Now let us assume the Ego to be completely ready
with this conception of its desired causality and all the con-
structions that condition this conception, and let us ask : has
the actual causality now real existence or not? I say, it has
by no means existence as yet even through the completest
conception, but is only now possible. The Ego, which at first
was enchained and deprived of all its power to have causality,
has now, through the mere conception, completely freed itself
in such a manner that it can begin the proposed causality at
the conceived point of beginning — as soon as it does begin it
— needing only itself for this causalit3^

But if this perfect possibility is to be changed into actual-
ity, what must occur, what is the real point of transition, the
requisite complementum possihiUtatis / This question is
very important, partly because it has hitherto never been
thoroughly investigated by philosophers, and partly on ac-
count of its vast consequences for our whole system.

This transition to actual causality is doubtless a change of
its present condition. Let us. then, make this present condi-
tion very clear to ourselves, in order to see wherein it can be

Fichte's Facts of Co/isciousness. 123

changed. At present, it has its causality in the conception
only. True, that causality is thoroughly determined and
completed ; but this its being is only in thought, and van-
ishes as soon as the act of thinking vanishes, since with it
the thought itself vanishes. The being of this causality is
held in this present state only through the continuing free-
dom of thinking, and falls down as soon as this freedom w^ith-
draws its hand. Probably it is this relation that is to be
changed in such a manner that the being of that causality
becomes independent of the thinking, in which case it would
be called actual. But how is such a change to occur ? Let
us explain the whole matter to ourselves in the following
way : There is a double relation to immediale consciousness.
Wherever any immediate consciousness occurs, not except-
ing feeling and contemplation, an absolutely free and unde-
termined power of imaging is to be posited as the swnimum
modificabile. This power is always being limited w^hen a
determined consciousness is to occur ; but it can be so lim-
ited in a twofold way. Firstly, by the immediate activity of
the Ego itself, which manifests itself as activity to create a
certain product, an image. In this case the summum modi-
ficahile is immediately directed upon that activity, and it
beholds the product only through this activity ; hence if that
determined activity leaves, the product also leaves conscious-
ness, and its being in consciousness is cancelled. This is the
•case ^\\t\\ all mere thoughts, and hence also with the described
image of that possible causality. Secondly, the summxLm
modijicahile is absolutely and immediately limited, and not
by any free activity conditioning this limitation, as is the
case in the above described limitation of the absolute pro-
ductive power of imagination.

Now, since such a limitation is altogether unconditioned,
the Being, which enters into our consciousness, is represented
also as an unconditioned Being, which no withdrawal of
that freedom can possibly cancel, since it is not condi-
tioned by it.

Hence to say that the Ego must realize the conception of
its causality in an act, is to say that the Ego must move from
the region of a Being, which can be annihilated at any mo-
ment by the withdrawal of freedom, or the region of concep-

124 FlcMe-s F'acts of Consciousness.

tion, into the region of the immediately eoniined power of
imagination, wherein everytliiiig assumes a lixed, x^ermanent,
and on-itself-reposing Being.

X(^w, into tliis region it is transposed already by its mate-
rial body. Hence it must make Itself an actually working-
material body in order to enter the form of actualit}^ ; and
since in this region everything remains permanent, the pro-
ducts of its freedom thus accomplished will certainly also
stay permanent.

The transition of the Ego from the mere thinking of a pos-
sible causality to the actual realization of that causality con-
sists, therefore, in this, that the Ego frees itself in its whole
personality from the freedom of mere conception, and surren-
ders itself to its original existence as a j)rinciple in the region
of the absolutely limited power of imagination. But this
transition occurs with absolute freedom.

This is the reason why in thought we can take back every
resolve, but cannot think a deed as not done, since the deed
irrevocably binds our own contemplation of Being. A deed
we can take back only by another actual deed, through which
we destroy the product of the first deed and put a new one in
its place.

Remarks. — 1. The transition of the Ego from the mere con-
ception to an actual causality can be described as a confining
of its previously (in the region of conception) unchained free-
dom ; but it can also be regarded — when we consider that
conceptions are mere pictures, but causality the true actual —
as a liberation from emptiness and the acquiring of a higher
freedom ; and thus we have regarded it above. In either case
it is necessary, according to the above established principles,
that an immediate consciousness of this transition should
occur, which consciousness will appear as a consciousness of
self-determination, since it is the transition of the Ego from
one form of its power into the oj)posite form through another
higher power of its own, which higher power soars between
both.

2. Whatsoever falls into the region of the absolutely lim-
ited power of imagination, receives an unconditioned and
permanent Being. In this form the Ego appears as a mate-
rial body, and hence this is its permanent Being. As a Think-

Hegel's PMlosopliy of Art. 125

ing essence, for instance, tlie Ego appears to itself only when
thinking, but the Ego may also not think at all. Its .bodily
existence, however, it always retains, even in deepest sleep or
in swoons. Thns, also, the products of the Ego in the mate-
rial world retain their existence as long as the matter, which
they have modified, remains, and may survive their origina-
tor centuries in the material world.

HEGEL'S PHILOSOPHY OF ART.

Translated from the second volume of Hegel's ^Esthetics, by MissS. A. Longwell.

Chivalry. — I. Honor.

The motive of honor was unknown to ancient classic art.
In the Iliad, the anger of Achilles furnishes the spirit and
moving princij)le upon which the whole broad production is
dependent ; but what we, in the modern sense, understand by
honor, is not involved here. Achilles finds himself really
injured only in this, that his actual share of the booty, which
is his reward of honor, his recompense, has been taken from
him by Agamemnon. This ofi'ence pertains to something
real, to a gift, to which a distinction had certainly been
attached, an acknowledgment of glory and of bravery, and
Achilles becomes angry because Agamemnon insults him,
and does not render him. in the presence of the Greeks, the
honors that are due him. But this ofi'ence does not penetrate
to the ultimate point of the personality as such, so that
Achilles is appeased by the return of the booty and the addi-
tion of more gifts and bounties. Agamemnon finally grants
this reparation, although, according to our modern ideas,
they have injured each other in the grossest way possible.
Through insulting words they have only made themselves
angry, while the real oflence is cancelled in a way just as
real and special. Romantic honor, on the contrary, is of
quite another type. In it the ofi'ence touches not the real
essential value, possession, condition, duty, etc.; but the per-
sonality as such, the opinion that the individual has of him-
self, the value that he attributes to himself. This value, in the

126 HegeVs Philosophy of Art.

present stage, is just as infinite as the subject is in its own
view inlinite. In lionor man has tlierefore the readiest affirm-
ative consciousness of his iniinite subjectivity, independently
of its content. Now that which the individual possesses par-
takes, through honor, of his personality, wliich has an abso-
lute value in his own eyes, and ouglit to have the same in the
eyes of others. The measure of honor is not in what the sub-
ject really is. but in what it imagines itself to be. The tend-
ency of the imagination is to generalize, so that I can place
my entire personality in this particular object which pertains
tome. "Honor is only an appearance" people are accustomed
to say. Certainly this is the case ; but it is better suited to
the present stand-point to regard it more seriously. It is not
only the appearance, the mere external reflection of the abso-
lute personality. The image of that which in itself is infinite,
is itself something inflnite. Through this infinity even the
manifestation of honor becomes the true existence of the
subject in liis highest reality ; and every particular quality,
which honor illuminates and makes its own, is, through this
illumination, raised already to an infinite value.

Honor, thus understood, determines a sure foundation in
the romantic world, and presupposes that man has emerged
just as fully from the merely religious sphere and internal
world as he has entered into the living actuality, and that he
now brings into this relation only himself in his pure per-
sonal independence and absolute availability for existence.

Honor may have the most varied content : for, indeed, all
that I am, that I do, that is done to me by others, pertains to
my honor. I can, therefore, attribute to honor the merely
substantial even, loyalty to princes, devotion to native land,
vocation, accomplishment of paternal duties, matrimonial
faith, uprightness in business, conscientiousness in scientific
investigations, etc. But, in the point of view of honor, all
these, in themselves valid and legitimate duties, are not yet
sanctioned and recognized as such through themselves, but
only as I identify them with my personality and allow it to
become an aff"air of honor. Therefore the man of honor thinks
of himself first, in all things ; and the question is not whether
anything in and of itself is right, but whether it is fitting
for him, whether it becomes his honor to engage his faith

HegeVs Philosophy of Art. 127

that lie will be obliged to keep. Thus he may even commit
the most reprehensible actions, and yet be a man of honor.
He creates arbitrar}^ purposes, presents himself in a certain
character and causes himself to be bound, by himself and
others, to this, in which no necessity or obligation has place.
Then the imagination scatters difficulties and chimerical em-
barrassments in the way, because it is an affair of honor to
maintain the once assumed character. So Diana considers
it as opposed to her honor to confess the love which she
feels, because she had once been thought to deny an au-
dience to Love.

In general, honor gives value to contingency, since it avails
only through the subject, and not through its own inherent
reality. We see, therefore, in the romantic representation,
on one side, that which is authorized in-and-for- itself as the
expressed law of honor, while the individual at the same time
unites with the consciousness of right the unlimited self-con-
sciousness of his personality. Honor demands or prohibits
something, then compels the whole subjectivity to establish
itself in the significance of this demand or prohibition, so
that an offence may not be overlooked, pardoned, or made
good through any transaction ; and no compensation is ad-
missible. But, conversely, honor can become something quite
formal and artificial, in so far as it includes nothing except
the mere ego, which is for itself infinite, or perhaps accepts an
entirely wrong conception as obligatory. In this state honor
remains, especially in dramatic representation, a cold and
dead subject throughout; while its aims, instead of a real
meaning, express but an abstract subjectivity. In the suc-
cession of events, only the essential ideas of right off'er to the
mind a regular connection and necessary development. This
lack of deep meaning is clearly manifest when the subtlety
of reflection, in itself contingent and trifling, that stands in
contact with the subject, shows itself within the compass of
honor. The subject is never exhausted, for a minute analysis
discovers a crowd of distinctions, particularities which taken
in themselves are insignificant, that may yet become import-
ant and furnish material for an affair of honor.

The Spaniards have especially built upon this casuistry of
reflection concerning points of honor, in their dramatic poets,

128 HegeVs Ph ilosopliy of Art.

aud represent ilieir heroes as reasoning upon this subject.
So, for example, the fidelity of the wife, investigated in the
most insignilicant eircumstances possible, and even the mere
suspicion of others, indeed the mere possibility of such a sus-
picion even when the husband knows the suspicion to be false,
becomes an allair of honor. This leads to collisions as no
satisfaction is to be obtained, because we have nothing sub-
stantial before us. and therefore, instead of subduing a neces-
sary opposition, can obtain only a limited painful experience.

Also in tlie French drama there is often mere honor, M'holly
abs.tract in itself, which is to avail as the chief interest. But
in this regard, the Alarcus of Herr Friedrich von Schlegel is
still more frigid and insipid. The hero murders bis noble
wife. Why ( For the sake of honor ; and this honor lies in
his desire to marry the king's daughter, for whom lie cher-
ishes no affection, in order to become the king's son-in-law.
This is a despicable pathos and a base conception, which dis-
plays itself as something noble and infinite.

Now since honor dwells not only in myself as a manifesta-
tion of my personality, but also in the conception and recog-
nition of others, who must again on their side demand the
same recognition of their honor, it is therefore essentially
susceptible. For how far, and in reference to what I shall
extend the demand, depends entirely upon my choice. The
smallest offence can be to me in this respect significant. Man
stands within the concrete truth, with many things in mani-
fold relations ; and the sphere of that which he will consider
his own, and in which he will place his honor, may expand
indefinitely ; so in the self-dependence of the individual
and in his reserved personality, which is also embraced in
the principle of honor, there are endless disputes and conten-
tions. Therefore the offence generally depends not upon the
sense in which I must feel myself injured; for that which is
denied, touches the personality that has created such a sense
for itself, and now imagines itself assailed in this ideal infi-
nite point. Consequently, every injury to reputation is re-
garded as something in itself infinite, and can therefore be
made good only in an infinite way. There exist, it is true,
many grades of offence and just as many grades of satis-
faction.

Hegel's PhilosopJiy of Art. 129

But what tlie person usually regards in this sphere as an
offence, the measure of this offence, and the reparation, de-
pend wholly upon the subjective free will, which has the right
to advance even to the most scrupulous reflections and most
irritable sensitiveness. When such a satisfaction is demand-
ed, the offender as well as the person injured must be recog-
nized as a man of honor. For what I wish is the recognition
of my honor by my equal. But in order to have honor for
and through him. I must esteem him as a man of honor,
infinite in his personality, the injury that he did me and my
subjective enmity toward him notwithstanding. So the prin-
ciple of honor has in general this determining foundation,
that no one through his own actions can give to another a
right over himself: and therefore, whatever he may have
done and committed, he is considered, after as before, a being
of infinite nature, invariably the same, and will be regarded
and treated as such.

Since honor depends, in its controversies and reparations,
in this regard, upon the personal independence which knows
itself circumscribed by nothing, but manifests itself clearly,
we see that again appear which determined in the heroic
manifestation of the ideal a sure foundation, namely, this
same independence. In honor, we have not only the energy
of will and its spontaneity, but personal independence is here
bound with the conception of itself, and this conception ex-
presses precisely the only purport of honor ; so that it mani-
fests its personality and its whole subjectivity in the external
and existing. Honor is consequently its own reflected self-
dependence, which has only this reflection for its being, and
it is left plainly contingent whether its significance is the
customary and necessary, or the accidental and insignificant.

Vol.Ti.— 9

( i:^o )
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.

By D. J. Snidek.

The main-spring of the action in "Merchant of Venice" is
the contest between Antonio and Shylock. Every means
culminates in this end, every incident contributes either to
call forth their struggle, or to harmonize it after it has arisen.
A glance at the leading events of the play will show that this
is the one central j)oint from which the entire action radiates,
which organizes and vivifies the whole piece. The incidents
relating to Portia, which at the first look seem somewhat re-
mote from the main action, bring forth in fact the profoundest
mediation of the drama. Bassanio loves Portia, and applies
to his friend Antonio, the wealthy merchant, for the money
to carry on his courtship in a suitable style of magnilicence.
For magnificent it must be, since it requires such a large
amount of money, and besides it appears already to have
exhausted his own purse. In this fact we see the motive
for the account of this elaborate wooing; Shakespeare has
brought before us lords and princes, %vitli grand retinues,
sueing foi" the hand of the fair Portia ; to compete with these,
Bassanio has to apply to the merchant for the ducats. But
the merchant's ventures are all at sea — he has not the cash
on band — hence he must go to the money-lender. This
brings him into contact with the Jew, and the main circum-
stances of the play are thereafter rapidly developed. Thus
Portia was indirectly the cause of Antonio's falling into the
hands of the Jew; and hence the poet makes her the instru-
mentality by which Antonio is released. And even the inci-
dents of the last act, which take place after the culmination
of the i)lay, are logically necessary for the harmonization of
the lesser contradictions which have been called forth by the
grand struggle. Every part must be rounded off with the
perfection of art ; no shreds are left to draggle from the edges
of this w^ell-wove garment ; our poet is like the sculptor, who
finishes the finger-nail as exquisitely in its way as he does
the face, the expression of intelligence.

But the question next arises, What do these two men rep-
resent ? What principles does each one maintain ? For men

The Merchant of Venice. 131

without a grand motive lying at the basis of their action, and
giving color to their endeavor, can have no interest for us. It
is the conflict of these principles, represented and carried into
execution by men, that excites our sympath}^, our fear, our
delight. The flrst thing which we find much stress laid upon,
is that Shylock is a Jew, a circumstance which should excite
our careful consideration. The poet evidently intends to
portray the Jewish character, or rather the Jewish conscious-
ness. Antonio's religion Is not specially dwelt upon ; but he
is, of course, a Christian, as well as those around him. The-
Jew thus finds himself in a Christian world, acting and deal-
ing with men of a strange race and strange morality, and with
ends in life far difl'erent from his own. Hence the possibility
of a conflict both of nationalities and of moralities. The colli-
sion, therefore, which supplies the nerve of the play may be
stated, in a general form, to be between Christianit}^ and
Judaism. But mark! it is not between these religions as
dogmatic systems of theology, but as realized in the practical
life of men. Antonio is a Christian, not that he goes to church
and makes long prayers and daily rehearses the creed; he
does none of these things as far as we know ; but a general
spirit of brotherhood and generosity animates all his actions ;
a liberality which we may fairly call Christian is ingrained
into his very nature, and is the well-spring of his conduct in
his dealings with his fellow-men. On the contrary, Shylock
exhibits Judaism as it must influence the doings of those who
act according to its principle. To be sure, the religious ele-
ment is brought into more prominence in his character than
in Antonio's, but only for the purpose of showing the moral
consequences of that system of belief. Shylock carries out
in his life the faith that is in him with the utmost logical
rigor and bitterness. And here we desire to lay stress upon
an important fact. Shakespeare has nowhere in any of his
dramas made religion as such the principal motive. This
was, no doubt, intentional on his part, for no man understood
the concrete nature of religion — religion as determining the
conduct of mankind — better than he. In this form he uses it
continually. But to make men die for an abstract principle
of Theology, Shakespeare utterly refused, and he was right.
For we all say that religion means nothing unless carried out

18-J 7Vie Merchant of Venice.

in life, and just there Shakespeare seizes it, religion inaction.
Bar then in tliis spliere tlic reliffions form vanishes; for a
man niav be of the liiirhest worth and integrity, and still re-
fuse to fonforni to the required observances; who can tell the
difterence between such a num and the most worthy church
member in their actions towards their fellow-men ^ Now the
drama represents just this: man in action. Hence, if it be
universal, it must take not the religious but the ethical basis,
for all men recognize that. A number of poets of very high
rank have tried to embody a religious theme in the drama, as
Oalderon. Corneille. and Massinger. But the judgment of
mankind has not pronounced these efforts the highest pro-
ducts of the dramatic art. In fact the real religious drama is
found in the old miracle-plays, and it has always been con-
sidered a great advance in dramatic form, when that kind of
plays disappeared into the regular drama. This i^rogress is
an historical fact: the old Moraliters with their abstract vir-
tues, their dtMuons and angels, devils and gods — in general,
with their wlioll}" external way of representation developed
into motives an^l ends, into freedom, into Shakespeare. For
he puts the demon and the angel inside of man, where they
belong. No longer is aliuman being lured on to a deed which
he seemingl}' cannot help, by some irresistible power outside
of his o\vn nature. This, then, is the difficulty with the reli-
gious drama : in its machinery — or, if you j^lease, in its me-
diations— the self-determination of man is obscured and often
lost. Ileuce this form of the drama has disappeared with the
advancing consciousness of Freedom, and Shakespeare has
taken special pains to discard it in all its forms.

But to return. We said that the collision was betw^een
Christianity and Judaism, not as dogmatic systems of The-
ology but as realized in the practical life of men. They are
thus internal, subjective, and determine human conduct. It
is the conflict of two hostile moralities, and the struggle is
ethical rather than religious. AVe feel that the consciousness
of the two men is entirely different, that their notions of right
and wrong are in many respects directly opposite. Shylock
cannot help being a Jew in character no more than being a
Jew in nationalty. He is no vulgar villain ; he acts accord-
ing to his princii)le, according to his end in life ; given his

The Merchant of Venice. 138

moral basis, his deeds must follow. He is really not a comic
character; on the contrary, he belongs rather to tragedy, for
he is the bearer of one of the two grand colliding principles,
and it is his principle which has gone down in history, and
which mnst again go to the wall in every conflict with the
profounder phases of modern spirit. We see the destiny im-
pending over him ; but he yields, as the Jews always have
done, and is preserved. The poet has thus made him the
type of his race, which avoids the life-and-death collision ;
for, like him, the Jew has lived among all nations without
being swallowed up ; he possesses that happy admixture of
stubborness and submission, which has kept him from being
destroyed on the one hand and from being absorbed on the
other. The cause of this strange preservation lies in the
nature of the Jewish faith ; it is not for all men, but for the
peculiar people of God ; hence it is not a religion of propa-
gandism, and thus avoids any struggle with dominant sys-
tems. Still, it maintains its individuality, and has a tenacity
which can only spring from the profoundest conviction, or
rather from a complete limitation of Intelligence beyond
which the Hebrew mind cannot pass. Thus we see renewed,
though in a different form, the contest which took place 1800
years ago, on the plains of Judea — the contest which forms,
perhaps, the most important period in history, and upon the
result of which our entire modern civilization has turned. No
wonder, then, that this play has been so popular, and has
said so much to mankind, when the content of the modern
world and the momentous struggle for its existence loom up
in the background. AYe cannot help noting again what per-
manent and universal themes the poet seizes upon as mate-
rials for his all-comprehensive genius ; for here it is the col-
lision between two of the grandest world-historical ejiochs,
between the old and new dispensation, which lays the imper-
ishable foundation of the play.

But this statement that the collision is between Judaism
and Christianity is still abstract, and hence we next ask.
What is the content of these two systems of religion, espe-
cially in their influence upon the practical life of mankind?
What objects do these two men place before themselves, to
be attained by their living? in other words, What is their

i:?4 Tlie Mercliant of Venice.

cMid ill Life.' This gives the central point, the germinal unit
from whieh all action springs. Antonio is a mercliant, but
it is plain that his end in life is not mone}*, nor can it be any
Christian's. Antonio's purse is open to all his friends; he is
the centre of a jolly crowd of good fellows, though he him-
self is inclined to be melancholic ; in such a position, we can
easil}' see it is not diflicult to get rid of money. A deeper
phase of his moral nature is his hatred of usury; he has re-
lieved many a poor victim from the clutches of Shylock, and
has denounced the meanness and cruelty of the latter on the
Kialto with extremest vehemence. He realizes in the high-
est sense of the expression that man is above property — that
is enough to show his Christianity. Money is to him only a
means — a means of eniovment for himself and friends on the
one hand, and for helping his fellow-mortals on the other.
Antonio is truh' merciful ; he is the practical embodiment of
the holy declaration, '-without charity I am nothing." Chris-
tianity always insists upon the neighbor, who has the same
rights as yourself; he is a person as well as yourself in the
thought of universal Reason, or, as Holy Writ saith, "in the
sight of God." Nay, more ; its cardinal doctrine is mercy, —
which means that man, within certain limits, is to be shielded
from the consequences of his deeds. Man is a finite being —
God made him so — and in so far as he is finite, he cannot be
held responsible for the lesults of his actions. He is ignorant
and hence liable to err; Mercy says that he shall not suffer
from his mistakes : but he is also weak and hence liable to
transgress ; Mere}* says that he must receive pardon, if the
transgression be repented of. Here the conflict arises : Jus-
tice demands rigid accountability ; it asserts that man must
be responsible for all his acts, while mercy tries to shield even
the crouching criminal. These reflections, which may seem a
little irrelevant, develop the motive for the most celebrated
speech in the play, where Portia divinely discourses of mercy :

"The quality of mercj' is not strained;
It droppetli as the gentle rain from heaven,
rpon the place beneath; it is twice ble-sM ;
It ble.-^seth him that gives and him that takes.
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch bcttter than his crown ;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal ))Ower,

The Merchant of Venice. 135

The attribute to awe and majesty.

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kin<rs :

But mercy is above this sceptred sway:

It is enthroned in tlie heart of liin^j.-,

It is an attribute of God himself;

And eartjily power doth then show likest God.

When mei"cy seasons justice. Tlierefore. Jew.

Thouo^h justice be thy plea, consider this. —

That in the course of justice none of us

Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy:

And that same pi-ayer doth teach us all to render

The deeds of mercy."'

The allusion is plainly to the Lord's prayer, the very heart
of Christianity. Thus the poet states directly the conilict be-
tween the two religions, and gives the content of the Chris-
tian faith in a way that he alone can.

Antonio's mishap was, no doubt, his own fault ; he had no
business to give such a bond, especially since it seems that
his credit was good in Venice and he might have got the mo-
ney by other means. But his case deserves the commisera-
tion of his fellow-mortals, esjiecially since he made a mistake
merel}^, and did not even commit a transgression. Besides,
he probably could not think, with his consciousness, that
•even the Jew would proceed to such extreme measures. He
was himself merciful, and he could not comprehend a monster.
But Judaism knows no mercy, at least in its universal sense.
Ood has his own peculiar people ; the world is for them and
the fulness thereof. Furthermore, the manifestation of God's
favor is prosperity; of his wrath, adversity. Hence Shylock
well states his end in life to be — Thrift. The acquisition of
gain is the highest object of existence, every other end is
subordinate. Put a man in the world with this notion, " I
am the favorite of the Almighty ; the rest of mankind is only
so much material to make money out of, which I can use as
I please," — and you have the Jew. It is curious to observe
how the poet paints Shylock as penetrated with the morality
of the Old Testament. He tells the story of Jacob's deceiv-
ing Laban as scriptural proof that his end was jnstiliable :

"This was the way to thrive and he (Jacob) was blest:
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not."

Note that only one exception is made : no stealing, every-
thing else is allowable. The reason is manifest : Theft would

136 Tlie Merchant of Venice.

annilnlatt' property, and with the destruction of it his end
also must perish, for that end itself is Property. Hence his
motto is : Thrift hut no Tlieft. Herein we have the clue to all
the deeds and sayings of Sliylock. The bigotr}'^, the avarice,
the hypocrisy, the hate, even the scoffing speech, all spring
from the one source. Of course, the moral nature of man is
as it were scooped clean out in such a character. Deception,
extortion, even crime, are allowahle. and liumanity is extin-
guislied in the breast of num.

But there is another contrast l)etween .Vntonio and Shylo<'k.
The scene of this drama is laid in the greatest commercial
city of that age, and it represents the business-world. Hence
it portrays man in his commercial relations to his fellow-man,
and these transactions furnish the basis of a business moral-
ity. We hear the buz of the exchange ; we observe the lead-
ing question of a mercantile community, ''AVhat's the news
on the Rialtof we note with astonishment this centre of infor-
mation and commercial enteri)rise, for the ventures and the
credit of Antonio are all well-known to Shylock through this
medium. This is, no doubt, one of the great elements of the
popularity of this play, for the great portion of mankind
must always be employed in the production and exchange of
the fruits of the earth ; thus it appeals directly to business
men, and is a ])icture of the business- world. Furthermore^
this is a world of free activity, for each one chooses what
branch of business best suits his inclination and character.
The calling thus becomes an index of the moral disposition
of the man. It is well known that some kinds of business,
thougli acknowledged by law and recognized by the commu-
nity as necessary, are nevertheless held in disrepute by the
great majority of mankind. What callings, then, have these
two men respectively cliosen ^ Antonio is a merchant; he
exchanges the productions of the world, he knits the nations
together by mutual traffic — of (bourse, for a consideration. But
there is nothing narrow or mean in his nature ; his end, as
before stated, is not money, and this frees him from any trace
of avarice or illiberality. In fact, his melancholy seems to
arise in part from a dissatisfaction with his calling — it can-
not satisfy the highest wants of man. Shylock, on the con-
trary, is a usurer ; he takes advantage of the sudden wants of

Tlie Merchant of Venice. 1*37

men to extort their earnings. Hence this class of men were
regarded as the enemies of society, ready to draw profit out
of any misfortune to the individual or the state. No wonder
this business fell into the hands of the Jews, who were per-
secuted by society, and hence hostile or at least indifferent
to it. We shall not now dwell upon that equally unreasona-
ble prejudice against all interest on money which seems to
be shared also by Shakespeare. The use of money ought to
be worth something as well as the use of anything else. Our
age has recognized this fact for the most part, though there
still remain upon our statute books some traces of the old
spirit, as, for example, the limitation of the rate of interest.
The consequence, however, is that in our time the banker has
taken the place of the usurer, and money has its price like
any other commodity. The bank is now the handmaid of
all commercial activity, and supports instead of sapping the
enterprise of the country. But it is no wonder that formerly
the merchant hated the usurer, for the merchant-prince who
carries on a world-commerce is exposed to many unforeseen
contingencies, the storm, the rock, the pirate, and sometimes
must borrow. Hence Antonio's hatred of the Jew lies also
in their callings.

But we must hurry on to the consummation of this inter-
esting collision. Shylock, being a Jew, can use the Gentiles
for his own end ; that end being Thrift, he uses them for
making money. This is allowed by the law of Moses, which
permits the Hebrews to take usury from the stranger biit not
from the brother. But Antonio stands in his way ; he has
the right to employ any means of getting rid of the hateful
merchant which does not endanger his own safety — for if
he should lose his life in the attempt, that would not be
thrifty. The means most consistent with his own safety is
the formal side of the Law — he is going to murder Antonio
legally. Now Law expresses the Right of the Person in
reference to Property ; its main dictum even at the present
time is, "Property is sacred"; and the Jurisprudence of Ven-
ice was still more rigid in this respect than that of the present
day. Hence the Right of Property comes into contlict with
the existence of the Lidividual. This is illustrated by the
well-known example of a starving man stealing a loaf of

188 The Merchant of Venice.

br(>ad: is he justilied in (loiiiii; so or iiot^ AVe see the contra-
diction— the rip:ht to a loaf of bread, on the one hand, against
a hnnian life on the other. All of us would say in such a
case: Property is the lower, and must be subordinate when
it conflicts with hunianitv. Mercy overrides Justice. But the
Jew must remain deaf to such considerations, for his highest
end is Property; how. tlieii. can he acknowledge a higher?
But Shylock's ground of right is still more devoid of a con-
tent than the case just mentioned, for he can get back his
Property trebled. No ; his bond calls for a pound of llesh ;
that and nothing else will satisfy him. Thus the collision is
narrowed down to a mei-e empty form of law against the ex-
istence of an individual. Law is2)ushed in this way to the
extreme limit of self-contradiction, for Law which was made
to protect and ])reserve mankind has now become the direct
instrument of their destruction ; is not that self-contradicto-
ry? But it is the Law, and Law must have its course, says
Portia: only mercy can soften its severity and annul its
wrong. Hence her appeal for mercy which we have already
quoted. But the Jew cannot relent: the character would be
"Utterly illogical and untrue if he did. The letter of the Law,
then, is to be followed wdth the utmost rigidity ; this is the
Jew's own basis, "But, hold I'' says Portia, " the bond men-
tions no blood." If you want the letter, you can have it to
your heart's content. Portia abandons her first defence, that
of mercy, and takes the weapons of the Jew and turns them
against him. This contradiction rests upon the fact, that a
law, a bond, a contract — yea, language itself — cannot describe
the Particular, for they are in their nature general. We all
know how cumbersome legal formulas are; with what weari-
some detail they try to describe a title, a piece of land, or a
testamentary act : it results from this circumstance. Hence
if an absolute adherence to the letter is insisted upon, neither
Shylock's nor any other bond is possible. Many lawyers
have made objection to this point taken by Portia; they say
that no court in Christendom would have decided that ai)ound
of flesh did not include the blood, though the bond may not
have expressly said so. This may be the case, but it does not
affect the truth of Shakespeare's representation. His design
was to show how formal Law contradicts itself, and to exhibit

The Merchant of Venice. 139

the Jew beaten at his own game. From this moment Shy lock
subsides ; he sees the point and is completeh' non-plussed.
The might of the Form of Law was never more powerfully
presented. The judge, the people, and Justice itself, are all
on the side of one innocent man, yet they are unable to res-
cue him from the clutches of an odious wretch who has the
form alone on his side. Still, the poet must find for us some
reconciliation with the Law: it would be most ridiculously
inadequate if it did not furnish some means for reaching the
Jew. This it does, inasmuch as it is made to seize the crime
of Shylock just in its truly vulnerable point — criminal inten-
tion. This is Portia's next point against hiui. lie has willed
the death of a citizen, of which the punishment is confiscation
and death. We have seen this motive lying behind all his
actions, notwithstanding his howling for Right and Justice.
Still we must not suppose that he was a common villain, an
lago. or Richard, or Edmund. The subjective side was little
emphasized by the Jewish faith ; if men conformed to Law
and Relio:ion. it mattered little about motives. Under the old
dispensation, the man who committed the most justifiable
homicide had to flee the country, and the person who ate
pork was damned. Hence -when Shylock is arraigned for his
subjective intention, we may fairl}^ assume that this princi-
ple lies beyond his consciousness. It is the product of the
modern world and Christianity. Still Shylock is saved be-
cause he is ready to yield to formal Law when that turns
against him ; hence the Law cannot well destroy him. This
characteristic is the direct antithesis of the modern spirit
whose tendency is rather to break down formal Law, to sacri-
fice it to the Individual. Shylock. however, is punished with
a truly poetic justice : avarice loses its money, religious and
national bigotry sees the Jewish house of Shylock go down
forever by the marriage of the daughter with a Christian.

It is not the design of Shakespeare to make the Law con-
temptible, but to exhibit its limitation. Even the old Romans
recognized this limitation — although theirs was essentially
the law-giving consciousness — in the well-known maxim:
Sumrnum Ju,s, sunima injuria. But it has been left to mod-
ern Jurisprudence to recognize and embody its own finitude
within itself; in other words, to establish a system of mercy.

140 The Merchant of Venice.

The pariloniiiu' power is lodged in the executive by law ;
thus the higliest officer of the state, out of his own heart, out
of his own intiniti^ subjectivity, reverses the legal decision,
and hence is bv Law above Law. The .Fudge has to adminis-
ter tlie formal [jaw even in its injustice, and therefore he
often, after giving a condemnatory sentence, turns around
and signs a paper recommending executive clemency. But
the Jurisprudence of X'enice had not yet recognized this dis-
tinction. It was a commercial state, its prosperity depended
greatly upon the security of Property, hence the iuHexibility
of. its Law ; for tlu? Right of Property was deemed of almost
paramount imjiortance. Hence its Law cannot save Antonio,
though it can condi'mn Shyhx^k.

But wliat if the Jew would still insist upon taking his
pound of flesh i Then he must have it, and the play becomes
a tragedy. Antonio loses his life by the letter of the Law,
and Shylock is executed for murder. ]3ut the play cannot
admit of this solution. For thus the character of the ^^dw
would be wholly untrue, as we have before stated; nor can
the poet allow Antonio to perish for a mere mistake. This-
would be totally averse to his moral code. Hence the diffi-
culty demands mediation and the conclusion must be happy.
The piece is, therefore, neither a tragedy nor a comedy, but
a middle species of play, wiiich may be called, for want of iu
better word, a drama, in a sjjecial sense. But we shall not
take up these distinctions now ; we hope to elaborate them
in full at some future time.

Shylock ranks as one of the most perfect characterizations
in Shakespeare. How com})lete in every respect ! How viv-
idly does he rise up before us ! Not nuMvly his physical
appearance but his entire spiritual nature stand forth in the
plainest lineaments. In fact, we feel as if we know him better
than we could possibly have done in real life. The poet has
laid open the most hidden recesses of character, has portrayed
him in the most diverse relations with a truth and fulness
unapproached and unapproachable. We ask ourselves,
whence this com2)leteness, this richness, this concreteness of
characterization? If we wish to see the inlinite difference upon
the same subjects, compare Shylock with the best efforts
of other di-amatists. Take " L'Avare," by Moliere. Placed

The Merchant of Venice. 141

l>y the side of Shylock, how meagre and unsatisfactory ( Can
we get at the ground of this extraordinary superiority ^ First,
we should say that Sliylock is something more than mere
iivarice ; he has a deeper motive in his nature, and his greed
for gain is only one of its manifestations. It is true that his
end in life is Thrift, as before stated ; but that end is the
offspring of his moral and spiritual being, of his religion.
Everything goes back to this centre. Shylock is a Jew, one
of the "peculiar people"; in all his actions, this deepest
X>rinciple of his faith and his consciousness wells out ; given
the motive, he marches logically to its consequences. Thus
we have arrived at an absolute spiritual unity in the man.
The second reason for the transcendent excellence of this
characterization is the breadth which it exhibits. The activ-
ities of Shj^lock embrace quite the totality of Life ; we see
him in his family, in business, in the state, in social relations,
in morality, in religion. We behold him brought into contact
with every essential form of society, and he acts in them,
brings his j)rinciple to the test thj-ough them. Not is he
plunged into them from the outside, but is brought into living
relation with them. Hence the concreteness, the j)erfection,
the complete individualization of character. But it is differ-
ent with L'Avare. How limited is the range of the piece in
this respect! Harpagon almost descends to the common miser,
cut off from the world, in obscurity, dirt and rags, holding fast
to his money-bags. His niggardliness in his household, his
tyranny in his family, and an example of his extortionate
usury, express quite all that we see of him. This is not Shy-
lock, who is exhibited in many more and also far more im-
portant relations, who sees the world and grapples with it in
all its essential forms ; this is what gives content and con-
creteness to his character. Hence the Harpagon of Moliere
is empty, almost like an abstract personification of avarice ;
in fact, it is a meagre caricature compared with the Shylock
of Shakespeare. But it gives occasion to many laughable
incidents and situations ; this was what Moliere wanted ; he
sought for predicaments, and not for characters.

But here this essay must close. The subordinate jDerson-
ages of the play have hardly been mentioned, though worthy
of the highest admiration. Especially the character of Portia

142 Empirical Certihide.

is enticing. One question at least must be noticed: Has not
Shakespeare sinned ai^ainst the higliest principle of Art —
namely, self-determination— in making Portia's choice of a
husband depend upon tlie merest accident? We answer^
no ; and it is most interesting to observe what care he has
taken to insist upon tlie right of subjective choice, and with
wliat consummate skill he has turned a purely external inci-
dent into an emblem of Free-Will. For the selection of the
caskets indicates the character and end of the (dioosers ; thus
we understand the nature of their motives, and hence their
respective deserts. Therefore the result of their choice is not
accidental, but inherent in their character. But a full elabo-
ration of this subject cannot now be entered upon.

EMPIRICAL CERTITUDE.

By John C Tiiomi'Son.

We conceive and shall attempt to demonstrate that Berke-
ley's error lies in two mistaken notions ; tirst, that the image
or appearance is given in sensation ; and secondly, thtit our
minds are so constituted that we are forced to believe in a
corresponding reality to the appearance ; — both of which are
caused by the fundamental fallacy which attributes many
separate faculties to the mind, as memory, will, a reasoning
power, &c. The conditions of the argument are two proposi-
tions, which may be thus expressed :

{a) Mere consciousness is the fundamental form of all
the modes of the thinking activity, and not a spe-
cial mode of the activity.
{U) Error can enter the human mind only under cover of
an inferred identity.
The second above proposition is intended as a corollary to
Descartes' test of certitude, namely, that we have a perfectly
clear and distinct idea only of our own existence {cogito, erga
sum), and our certainty of any other thing is more or less
reliable as it approaches the certainty of our existence.

It will not be questioned that Sensation is the first stage of
experience. Sensation, in our sense of the word, is the sim-

Empirical Certitude. ' 14B

plest complex fact, having two factors, of which one, the psy-
chological, when detached from the other, the physical (as in
memory), is knowledge; but undetached (as in sensation), it
is feeling, or pure consciousness. Mind and matter, it is true,
have nothing in common known to us, but it is nevertheless
a psychological fact that pure consciousness (meaning the
highest measure of consciousness) is only experienced in the
act in which they are brought in contact (meaning the imme-
diate cognition of a mateiial motion). The psychological
side of the sensation is then an act of consciousness. And
the power to be conscious is alone the Ego, an essential activ-
ity, which would lose itself in space and remain forever un-
conscious were it not to encounter some resistance, in the
effort to overcome which, it becomes conscious of something
not self, and in the same act necessarily conscious of self.

The other factor of the sensation, which may be called the
physical side or material moiety, is the mere motion of a nerve
of sense. It may be that the nervous system, with all its phe-
nomena of ganglia and sensational centres, acts as described
by Bain and Spencer (and generally the school of modern
physiologists), and that an image — for instance, a landscape
— pictured on the retina, is communicated to consciousness^
as they say ; but nevertheless we know that, whether or not
all its constituent parts are thus presented simultaneously,
the image, as an image, is not cognized until the sensations
of which it is constituted fall into their proper relations to
one another. By the infant's mind, in the beginning of life,
no image is cognized at all, but only the several parts of the
image. In other words, until with experience Consciousness
has mastered the appearance, nothing is presented but a
lake of lioating lines and colors in bewildering confusion.
So the artist knows that the picture on his canvass he has
himself constructed with countless minor strokes.

Commencing now with the first stage of experience. As-
suming the Mind to be a single faculty, it is unnecessary to
consider our physiological conditions further than that the
act of consciousness in sensation is a mental act having a
corresponding material fact, namely, the other moiety of the
sensation. It is, in strictness, an act of consciousness caused
by the motion of a nerve of sense ; but, in common parlance,

144 Empirical Certitude.

it is the consciousness of the affection, or motion, of the nerve.
To know, perceive, or be conscious, are then, in sensation at
least, convertible terms. But since the mental moiety of a
sensation is an act of consciousness, or one motion of a single
power, while the material moiety is a motion of the attenu-
ated nerve tissue, it follows that of a hundred such material
motions hap]>eniug simultaneously in the nervous system,
only one becomes the material moiety of a sensation by the
Power of Consciousness (Mind) being drawn thereto ; while
the ninety-and-nine others, uuperceived, are mere tremors of
nerve tissue. So that however speedily acquaintance with
the nerves of sense may be acquired in the lirst stage of ex-
perience, that knowledge is not acquired but once, but by
parts: and is. in fact, a general knowledge of the motions of
the nerves of sense, composed of a particular acquaintance
with the motions of each nerve, or class of nerves. We pro-
ceed now to show that the unassisted exercise of the Power
of Consciousness not only results in such acquaintance with
the nei"ves of sensation, but retains all of those particular
knowledges, thoughts, or ideas.

The Mind being an essential activity, in the condition of a
continued act of consciousness would be at rest; and, from
that state of rest, its motion would consist in the activit}^, be-
ing arrested. For, to know, perceive, or be conscious, being
the one motion of the Mind (an essential activity), it follows
that when a thing is known, perceived, or cognized, the Mind
no longer knows, perceives, or is conscious of it. To explain
this seeming paradox, let us suppose A, the material moiety
of the first sensation. The mental moiety of that sensation,
whether we call it an idea, a perception, or an act of con-
sciousness, we take to be in fact the act of consciousness of
the greatest vivacity. Such sensation would be an affirma-
tion of existence satisfying to the fullest extent the Cartesian
axiom, cogito, ergo sinn. We are. for the sake of argument,
supposing our physiological conditions to be such that A,
the j)sychological side of the lirst sensation, is a more perfect
act of consciousness than that experienced in the sexual or-
gasm, or a draft of cold water in fever, or the inhalation of
fresh air by a diver on coming to the surface. Supposing
thus A, the lirst sensation, let us suppose a continuation of it

Empirical Certitude. 145

and we suppose it lost to consciousness. Why so ? Because,
prior to the idea A, the Mind was a certain entity, to wit, the
unconditioned Ego ; but, subsequent!}', it was the Mind con-
ditioned by the idea A. Then the continuation of A awakens
no consciousness, because if it could again take in the idea
A it would have the same idea duplicated, which is absur-
dity. The perception of A was the arresting of the uncondi-
tioned activity. But when the Power cognizes A and nothing-
else, A is no longer known, perceived, or cognized, because
the Activity has then no other motion but the idea A, and in
that one motion is at rest. The form would be an essential
activity and its mode the idea A.

When however we suppose the mind having the idea A, to
know, perceive, or become conscious of B, the material moiety
of the second sensation, we see that it has at once gained in-
definitely more than the two ideas A and B. For whereas at
the perceiving of A there was in consciousness no other idea,,
on the contrary at the perceiving of B there was already in
consciousness the idea A ; and as the perception of B was a
change of the Ego from its then condition to the condition of
knowing B, necessarily in that change is an active conscious-
ness of both A and B. Because consciousness means the Ego's
consciousness of itself, the Ego ; and, being an essential activ-
ity ,[that involves the consciousness of its own changes of mo-
tion. It cannot change from one condition to another without
being conscious that it does so ; involving the consciousness
of, 1st, the condition from which it changed; 2d, the act of
changing ; 3d, the condition to which it changed. And all
but so many successive thoughts, ideas, or acts of conscious-
ness ; for the Activity being a single power, all thought is a
succession of phenomena : co-existence of phenomena is im-
possible.

So far, then, there is certainly no other psychological fac-
tor engaged but the single faculty of Consciousness : yet the
exercise of that facult}^ alone in the first two sensations in-
volves an act of comparison, because it is the setting off" of
two contrasted ideas in the mind. But, in the supposed in-
stance, is the knowing of B as large an act of consciousness
as was the knowing of A ? No. Because the knowing of A
was the act of the unconditioned Power, and therefore the

Vol. vi.— 10

14(1 Empirical Certitude.

purest art of (.'onsciousness, meaning of the highest vivacity.
Whereas the knowing of B was the change of the Mind from
its condition of A to tliat of B, and,

1. In so far as there are properties in comvion to A and B there is no
change at all.

Motion consists not in the cliange effected, but in the act of
changing; and here, as to the properties in common, there
was no act of changing. Hence, having the idea A, the acqui-
sition of B is the active consciousness only of those proper-
ties of B wlierein it differs from A ; i.e. the individifality of
B. In other words, in knowing B, the hither boundary of B
is at the forward extremity of the act of consciousness, while
its other boundary is somewhere in A, and includes so much
of A as is common to A and B. Of course the same is true
of the change of the Activity from B to C, from C to D, and
so on. Now the condition of the mind prior to the first idea

A, and then its condition subsequent to that idea but prior to

B, the second idea, are both unnatural conditions, for the rea-
son that, in either instance, as above shown, it is the being at
rest of an essential activity, the being unconscious of a sole
power of consciousness. But subsequent to the perception
B, if never another idea should be acquired, the Ego would
forever continue changing from the one idea to the other. Of
<'ourse it would pass from the one idea to the other upon some
property in common to the two. And, of course also, if the
two ideas have nothing in common, the Activity would for-
ever remain unconscious (lost) in the channel in which it was
left. Such property in common is the nexus, or bridge of
identity, connecting the two ideas. To fall into an idea
having no point of identity with another, and to fail to be
recalled by sensation, would leave the Mind detached from
all it knows. So death separates; and so birth starts the
soul anew, with or witliout ideas d priori, as Plato or Aris-
totle may be in the right.

In any sensation, the act of consciousness caused by the
motion of the nerve is a consciousness not of the motion of
the nerve (material moiety of the sensation) but of itself, the
mental moiety. And as the material moiety is a particular
motion of the nerve, so the mental moiety is equally an indi-

Empirical Certitude. 147

vidual act of consciousness. They have nothing else in com-
mon. But, attenuated as is that common property, in it is
involved this fundamental psychological law, viz.:

2. Although it is true that the act of consciousness in sensation is a purely
subjective fact, yet the individuality of each material moiety is corre-
lated by a corresponding individuality of each mental moiety.

We say, conventionally, that one thought suggests another ;
but that is in effect to say that every thought, act of con-
sciousness, or idea, has its nexus of identity with some other
thought; and the Ego, an essential activity, would forever
thus pass from one thought to another ; because change, so
soon as effected, becomes rest, and motion consists in the act
of changing. For example, in sensation we are conscious of
the act of touching, but not of continued contact. And,

S. Except in the stage of sensation, every psychological act supposes two
ideas ; the second following the first and conditioned by it.

We can by no conception escape from that law. To do so
would be to conceive an unconditioned idea, which is impos-
sible. In sensation each psj^chological act is conditioned by
its physical correlate, the material moiety of the sensation ;
while in all other stages of experience every thought is con-
ditioned by two other thoughts, namely, its immediate ante-
cedent and its immediate sequent.

The supposed necessity for Memory and Volition, separate
mental faculties, is begotten by our experience of material
force, erroneously, though almost unavoidably, applied to
mental action. For, seeing every material force exhausted
in the exercise, and of itself coming to an end, it is too easily
suggested that the same is true of the Mind ; an essential ac-
tivity, to which therefore a persistent idea would be a blank.
Perhaps it is easier to accept phenomena in sensation, and
perception (of images), as being mere acts of consciousness,
than to admit that a sej^arate faculty. Memory, is not assured
to us in the facts of consciousness. Yet the proposition will
stand the test of any analysis. For, in supposing the mental
moiety A, unless we suppose that idea to remain after the
cessation of its corresponding material moiety, we in fact
suppose the psychological side of the sensation to be also

148 Empirical Certitude.

subject tt) rho hiw of iiuitciial force. In other words, when A
is known, as it woukl add nothing to that knowledge to con-
tinue the presentation of A, so it would be strange if it should
take from that knowledge to cease the presentation of it. As
to Yolition, to elect which of the simultaneousl}^ occurring
motions the mind shall perceive, tliat faculty is demonstrably
naught ; and for the plain reason that the perception must
precede the choice.

Before, however, proceeding to the second stage of experi-
ence, namely, that of the perception of images, let us pause
brieli}^ to consider what general, or universal, ideas are ac-
quired in the stage of sensation. After the tirst sensation
the Mind, in any two thoughts, certainly experiences that
idea which of all others is declared by the Platonist to be an
intuition — the idea, namely, of Time. For, every thought
being a single motion of the Mind, necessarily any two given
thoughts, or ideas, must occur at different times. Co-existence
of ideas in consciousness being impossible, it follows that the
Ego is conscious of itself in its change from the one idea to
the other, which is to say is conscious that the one proceeds
and the other comes after. This is no more than to say that
it changes, and is conscious of changing, from A to B instead
of from B to xV. Truths are but perceived relations; the idea
of time is nothing else. We cannot conceive a Universe with-
out Time, it is true, but only because we cannot conceive our
own non-existence ; for our existence is no more than a suc-
cession of phenomena strung upon the consciousness of a
continuing personal individuality. And this universal and
necessary idea of Time, which is no more than the self-con-
sciousness, in every act of consciousness, that the act differs
from its antecedent and its sequent, is involved in any two
conceivable acts of consciousness, or thoughts.*

* -'The perception of Space must precede that of Time, for it is only tlirough
the former that we can reach the latter." — (Jour. Spec. Phil., vol. i.. No. 3. p.
177.) This general error, as we consider it. is a consequence of the general loose
idea of sensation, supposing the image, if not also the conception of external
reality, to be given in sensation ; and which, consequently, refers the first per-
ception of successive motions not to the consciousness of successive phenomena
in the tirst stage (sensation), or the second (perr-eption of images), but to the
third, namely, the intelligible movements of bodies in Siiace.

Empirical Certitude. 149

When, therefore, it is said that experience is incapable
of guaranteeing an}^ universal and necessary idea, it is mani-
fest that the assertion holds good only upon the assumption
that the perception of images, and the reference of them to
■external cause, is the first stage of experience. Whereas
neither the image nor the notion of externality are found in
sensation at all ; and those truths of universal and necessary
acceptation, called sometimes ideas d 'priori., are such onl}^ to
the extent that they were in the Mind prior to the conception
of an external cause to the image. Having in fact been ac-
quired in sensation, the stage of immediate apprehension, of
which the first act (to wit, the idea A, the mental moiety of
the first sensation) is not only antecedent to all the catego-
ries, because antecedent to tlte idea of Relation., but is, for the
same reason, antecedent to all those truths of universal and
necessary acceptation ; except, perhaps, the idea of pleasure
or pain, the originals of good and bad. Those universal and
necessary truths, acquired in the first stage of experience, are
Time, Individuality (including Identity), and Relation. These
may, with absolute certainty, be referred to the stage of na-
ked sensation, because the definition of consciousness (self-
consciousness) assures us that they are experienced in any
succession of phenomena, however early ; and the facts of con-
sciousness assure us, with a certainty equal to the certainty
of our own existence, that they are still more clearly and
distinctly exercised and confirmed in the second stage of ex-
perience, namely, that of the perception of images. Every
mental moiety, or psychological side, of a sensation is neither
more nor less than that act of pure consciousness, the realiza-
tion of our own existence. And those necessary truths (their
originals) are certainly acquired in that stage of experience,
because the Power of Consciousness cannot change from A
to B without being conscious of the change. If A and B were
not individual acts, their identity would be complete, and
consequently as to the second thought there would be no mo-
tion of the Ego at all, but the space of the second thought, B,
would be to consciousness a blank. In what the}' difi'er, and
in what they are the same, consists their Relation ; the con-
sciousness of which is included in the self-consciousness of
the change from the one idea to the other. Every two phe-

150 Empirical Certitude.

nomena therefore, experienced in succession, involve an act
of comparison ; and,

4. Every act of co7npa7'iso7i involves the general ideas Good or Bady
Time, Individuality, Identity, Relation.

Relation is the tertium quid of Individuality and Identity.
If there were no Identity there could be no Relation, because
the Individuality of entities would be complete ; and so, if
there were no Individuality there could be no Relation, be-
cause complete Identity would constitute a one-ness.

Coming now to the second stage of experience, that of the
apprehension of sensuous images, it is manifest that the im-
age is simply the perception of many simultaneous motions
of an organ in their relations to one another. Take for exam-
ple the visual image. That nerve (the optic) is the smaller
base of a truncated cone ; upon it are converged the rays of
light reflected on the eyeball. Were the rays to fall with
equal force, as from a concave surface of snow, there would
be no image, because of the identity of the sensations. But
where the rays strike with unequal force, an image, oi-, in.
other words, natural conjunction of sensations, is the result;
because each idea, the mental moiety of a constituent sensa-
tion, has its own individuality, as well as its point of identity
with its immediate antecedent and sequent. Thus it is that
the picture painted by the pencils of light on the retina is
the correlate of the image in consciousness, since each mental
moiety of a sensation is the correlate of its material moiety.
And thus, also,

J. The image in consciousness is not a representation of the affection of
the organ, but, on the contrary, the affection of the organ is a correlate
of the image ;

and in the instance of the visual image it is a picture in vir-
tue of that fact. The colors, the harmony, the pleasure, are
all afl'ections of the soul, while the correlative aflection of the
organ is no more than a certain number of simultaneous mo-
tions of a nerve of sense : and which form a picture only
because, being individually objects of immediate conscious-
ness (material moieties of sensations), they seem to be identi-
cal with their corresponding mental moieties, which together
constitute that harmonious conjunction of ideas we call an

Empirical Certitude. 151

image. The consciousness of the many simultaneous impres-
sions on the retina was at first a particular apprehension of
individuals, but with continued experience becomes an ap-
prehension of the many in their relations to one another, i.e.
each to its immediate antecedent and sequent: which api^re-
hension is the image in consciousness, as completely an indi-
vidual thought as the sensation itself, by virtue of the ever
self-determining action of the Activity. (See the psychologi-
cal law expressed in Rule 8.)

It is naught to say that each organ has its specific mode of
being affected ; for that each one of the five special senses is
in fact a special sense of touch, to be admitted needs only to
be suggested. The nerves of the special sense of Touch, deter-
mining to the surface of the body, which come in contact with
solid foreign bodies, are moved only by the consequent com-
pression of the fiesh tissue in which they are contained. But
when we consider the other four special senses, we see that
they difi'er from the sense of Touch only as " the hand of lit-
tle employment hath the daintier sense." And that while so
placed in the physical system as to be not subject to the in-
fluence of contact with solid foreign bodies, they are severally
subject to the influence of contact with external matter more
attenuated, each answering in its own manner to its peculiar
stimulus. The image, therefore, to whichsoever organ it may
belong, is an infallible proposition, because it is a natural
conjunction of infallible ideas ; the ideas of the first category,
naked sensations, each one of which is individually a mere
assertion of existence ; and the image asserts nothing more.

If Logic is the science of affirmation, and if Affirmation is
the active exercise of the Mind, then the thoughts, or idpas,
in sensation are nothing but affirmations of existence. iVnd
if Judgment is that operation of the Mind by which joining
different ideas together it affirms or denies something, then,

6. An image is but another affirmation of existence, in which there is no
more possibility of mistake than in the affirmations of mere sensations,
ideas of the first category.

Now, the only thought, or idea, in which something is af-
firmed immediately, and not involving other ideas, is the
affirmation of existence in sensation. Of those immediate

152 Empirical Certitude.

atiinniitions. the constituent number perceived in their proper
rehitions (considered as sensations), or in their logical se-
quence (considered as ideas), is tin? image, another aflirmation
of existence. That the conjunction of ideas constituting the
image cannot be expressed in words is true, but since the
result, the judgment, can be designated by an arbitrary term,
we violate no rule of logic in calling the image a proposi-
tion ; and,

7. It is an infallible proposition, because a proper conjunction of the infal-
lible ideas of the first category ; affirming nothing but e.ristence, and
carrying loith it no inferred identity with something else.

The facts of consciousness assure us that every idea in the
■first category (mental moiety of a sensation) is a totality, an
individual idea. But the facts of consciousness assure us
with equal positiveness that the image is a totality ; and
that, in fact,

S. A consciousness of the individuality {self-determination) of phenomena
is the fundamental law of thought ; loithout which not only is no certi-
tude possible, but no reason is possible.

To strike it from the Mind would be the obliteration of every
idea, as to smear the artist's paint while still wet upon the
canvass would be the effacement of his picture. Or. per-
haps, it is a better figure to say that the mind, thus without
thought, would compare to the present ever self-determining
action of the Activity, as ink spilled on the pai^er, to the same
ink separated into letters, the letters into syllables, the syl-
lables into words, tlie words into sentences. For, assuming
the Activity to be a single faculty of consciousness, what
Mill and others have designated as comi)lex ideas, or clus-
ters of ideas, should in iigure be represented neither by sur-
face nor by cubic, but by lin<;ar measurement.

Xow, first, would such attainment of the image by the con-
junction of sensations be a logical process? and secondly, is
such the constitution of the image ^

As to the first. After the immediate affirmation of exist-
ence in sensation, any other affirmation is the result of, and
presupposes, a concatenation of ideas logically leading to the
affirmation. But the image, or idea, in the second category
is a concatenation of sensations (the psychological sides or

Empin'cal Certitude. 153

mental moieties, ideas in the first category) into a single
idea ; an affirmation itself of existence, and one which not
merely presupposes, but in fact includes, the train of ideas
on which it depends. It is, therefore, the perfection of a logi-
•cal process.

Now as to the second aspect of the question : namely, ad-
mitting such to be a logical process, is the image the result
of that process I That it is sc, we have tlie assurance of con-
sciousness. First: in the fact that while the analogy of the
different genera of images is complete, only one genus, the.
visual, is a jjerception {seriatim, but with the infinite quick-
ness of thought) of the simultaneous afleclious of the organ ;
while, on the contrary, the others are constituted in every
instance of an appreciable succession of sensations. There
are, indeed, but two other genera, namely, the tactile and the
auditory. The nasal and gustator}^ senses present no images,
their ideas belonging to the first category, that of naked sen-
sation, always. Secondly : in the fact that while in two of
the genera the image can be alwaj'S thus analyzed into its
constituent ideas, in all three — the visual as well as the other
two — the intrusion of an idea having no point of identity with
its antecedent and sequent (or so slight as to give it undue
individuality) destroys the concatenation ; the Mind jjassing
at once from the milder consciousness of the second category
to the more acute consciousness of the first. Such an idea,
intruding or out of place, in the auditory image is a false note
in music. An instance, in the visual image, is the sensation
caused by an inharmonious stripe or check in a shawl or dress
pattern ; in the tactile image, is caused by a raised point or
line while the hand is feeling a smooth surface.

Coming now to the third stage of experience, we see that
necessarily the ideas of that category are constituted ideas,
or judgments; the constitution of each being an harmonious
conjunction of idea of the two former stages. We say neces-
sarily so, because otherwise the nature of the Activit3^ as we
have followed it from its condition of tabula rasa through the
first and second stages of experience, is changed in the third.
In the first and then in the second stage we have seen the
Mind, from the proper nature of the Activity itself, in a mere
succession of phenomena to cognize, first, ideas of naked sen-

J 54 Empirical Certitude.

sation individually ; next, the live Universals corresponding-
to tlu' live special senses, under some one of which each sev-
eral sensation falls ; and lastl}^, in the same progress of the
Activity, to construct the image. Now, if it Xw. so that the
images of different genera have nothing further in common,
then knowUnlge transcending that of experience must be pos-
tulated to enable the mind to arrive at the idea of an external
cause to the image in consciousness. But if, on the contrary,,
any one of the general ideas, or truths, of universal and ne-
cessary acceptation, acquired in the first or second stage of
experience, shall form a point of identity between two images
of ditferent genera, then the same law of consciousness which
in the progress of the Activity constructed the image out of
sensations, will likewise construct the ontological idea out
of imae:es.

Now, experience soon points out a connecting link of iden-
tity common to two images of different genera, and one which
is the very largest possible evidence of a common cause, as
we come afterwards to express it : the identity, namely, of
Time. So soon as that (as an inevitable) point of identity is
established in consciousness, the mere conception of two sev-
eral images in that relation to one another is in itself the idea
of a common cause. For any two phenomena successively
experienced involve an act of comparison, and here the act
of comparison hnds no other nexus of the two ideas save
simultaneousness of creation. Neither at that stage of expe-
rience, nor ever afterwards, have two images of different
genera (the tactile and visual for example, or either or both
with the auditory) any other possible identity in conscious-
ness than the reference of them to a common cause by reason
of simultaneous appearance. It is to be borne in mind that
while the several simultaneous images have so little in com-
mon, yet have they nothing at all antagonistic, not being
conflicting impressions on a common organ. The ideas of
Distance and of Space are judgments (in the third stage of
experience) constituted of images of Touch (judgments of the
second stage) ; for not only is our body, to the Ego, an object
like any other external matter, but the organic senses, such
as those of the alimentary canal and of muscular activity, are
in fact modes of the sense of Touch. The sensations conse-

Empirical Certitude. 155

quent on stretching forth the arm, for instance, constitute an
image of that special sense, the same as do those consequent
on grasping an object with the hand. So likewise of the con-
catenation of sensations consequent on any similar exercise
of the person, or parts thereof. That the idea of Distance is
a judgment, or proposition, resulting from a sufficient expe-
rience of those images, we shall not pause to argue, because,
as it seems to us, one who would question it would be equally
ready to question his own existence. An infant, in the act
of grasping an object, is conscious of two several images,
nam'ely, the visual and the tactile. The two have the iden-
tity of Time only. An object not within his grasp presents
to him the visual image alone ; but then add the advantage
of distance within reach, and straightway he has the other
image, that of touch, again simultaneous with the visual im-
age. The same experience, continued, not only results in the
knowledge, as a Universal proposition, that, having the vis-
ual or the auditory image, or both, or a sensation of smell,
the additional experience of a certain distance brings within
the grasp a tactile image also ; but likewise results in the
knowledge, as a Universal proposition, that the visual and
auditory images and the sensations of smell are cognized
with more or less distinctness according to the distance of the
object. And since the experience of continued distance be-
yond that at which the tactile image is attained, results in a
loss of all the images, necessarily a sufficient experience re-
sults in the knowledge that the cause (potentiality of attain-
ment) of the appearances is at a certain distance from us. In
that is our idea of Space, which is neither more nor less than
the impossibility of divesting the mind of a conception of
the potentiality of Distance, in all directions from an}^ given
point. Every accident of infancy throws the sensations of
smell and images of touch, of sight, and of sound, into con-
catenations whose results are the ideas of distance, of direc-
tion, of space. Experience of the identity of time to the several
images causes the presence of one to suggest the other two,
or the presence of two to suggest the third. Wherefore it is
that the infant soon comes to grasp at any object he may see
in obedience to that law of nature which causes the muscular
system to obey thought ; or turns his eye in the direction of

IfHi Empirical Certitude.

a voice addressed Xo liini. ]>ut, as before observed, although
the ideas of distance, space, and direction, are concatenations
•of images of Touch, yet the ideas of a common cause to the
several images of different genera leads directly to the per-
ception of a certain relati(^n in the distinctness of the visual
and the auditory image to tlie distance of the object. So that
although the young infant will grasp at the moon and stars,
yet with but a little additioiuil experience he begins to meas-
ure with his eye, and to grasp only at those things within his
reach. Tims a landsman, for the lirst time in his life on the
sea shore, is ready to cast a pebble at an object far beyond
his throw ; and supposes the ship to be a mile off, which is
really live.

Descartes, in his sixth Meditation, referring to the decep-
tions practised not by Nature but by our inconsiderate judg-
ments, cites the instance that " stars, towers, and all other
distant bodies, are of the same tigure and size as they appear
to our eyes at a distance." These and similar instances (and
which Descartes righth^ called inconsiderate judgments) have
been, since the day of Berkeley, attempted to be accounted for
thus — to borrow the words of a modern fashionable writer : "A
little knowledge of ox)tics appears to explain the difference,
but does not. At fifty yards you say the tower appears round,
but it really is square. At fifty yards, we reply, it appears
round, and at one yard it appears square. It is neither. Both
round and scjuare are conceptions of the mind, not attributes
of things : they have a subjective, not an objective, existence."
Now, so long as the suggestion of external reality is attri-
buted to the mere cognizance of the image, certitude is not
demonstrable, because we turn our back to the experience
which led to the belief, thus going down the stream in search
of its fountain. The suggestion of squareness, in the given
instance, is no part of the visual apjoearance at all. It belongs,
on the contrary, to our knowledge of Extension (or place in
Space), which is a judgment or idea in the third category,
constituted of certain ideas of the second category — namely,
images of Touch. But for our knowledge derived from that
sense, experience to the end of time of the sense of sight,
unassisted, would leave us at last with the tower appearing
equally round at the distance of one j^ard and of fifty. But,

Empirical Certitude. 157

as we have shown, a certain appearance of tactile images
having resulted in the idea of Distance, a continued experi-
ence in the knowledge of distance assures us that the visual
image is cognized with greater or less distinctness according
to our distance from the object. At the distance of fifty
yards, and while the visual image is not distinct, it has a
greater identity with the distinct image of a round tower than
a square one. But, as the distance is diminished and the
image becomes more distinct, its identity with the distinct im-
age of a round tower becomes less, and with that of a square
tower greater. So that when, finally, we are conscious of a
distinct image, w^e are as conscious of the image of a square
tower as of our own existence. And whereas the approach
satisfies us of the squareness of the object, a return to the
distance of fifty yards does not in the least cause a return to
the opinion that the tower is round; because of the square
image, or appearance, we have as clear and distinct an idea
as we have of our own existence, but of the round appearance
we have not. Not only is the idea of roundness or of square-
ness not given by the sense of sight, but no idea of external-
ity at all is given in the visual image, or any other image,
unassisted. That idea, as we have shown, is a judgment in
the third category, and is, in eft'ect, the logical result of a
concatenation of ideas of the previous stages of experience,
self-determined by the Activity into a single idea. It is, in-
deed, no more than the idea that the several simultaneous
images are referable to a common cause. Extension is the
idea obtained by natural induction (i.e. by the action of the
ever self-determining Activity) from a sufficient experience
of the images, or judgments, of Touch. A blind man has the
idea of extension as well as one who can see ; and, therefore,

9. When we say that we see the object to be square, we can only mean
that ive are conscious of a visual image such as Experience assures us
has its identity (common cause) with a square image of Touch.

The author, to subserve his purpose, must seek another illus-
tration in some instance in which the object shall, under the
same conditions, present at one time a round appearance and
at another a square one. That instance, we apprehend, can
not be found. The distant tower never appears square ; the
oar dipped into water never appears straight.

158 Empirical Certitude.

From the expeiienre of images of the. sense of Touch, re-
sult tlie ideas of Space and Distance ; as also from the same
experience the idea of Extension, or place in space. The
simultaneous images of the different senses having but one
nexus, the identity of time, the logical induction is that their
cause is in that place in space at which the image of touch is
attainable. For the reason that after we have arrived at the
ideas of Space, Distance, and Extension, we know that we are
conscious of the image of sight, or visual image, as clearly
and distinctly as we are conscious of our own existence, only
when we can add to it the image of Touch ; or, in other words,
verify the inferred identity. But as the tactile image is only
attainable by the annihilation of distance, it follows that the
greatest distinctness of the visual image is only attainable
by the annihilation of distance — equivalent to the attainment
of the image of Extension. And when it is said that the tac-
tile image is simultaneous with the greatest consciousness of
all the images, we say in effect that the cause of extension is
the cause of all the images. The cause of Extension must be
where Extension is, or else we should separate cause and ef-
fect. But the meaning of Extension is place in Space. There-
fore the idea of that place in Space is affirmed by each one
of the several images, each confirming the testimony of the
others. When, therefore, the visual appearance affirms the
object to be square, what it in fact affirms is that at the dis-
tance of a yard is the cause of itself, the visual image ; and
that the same cause has such a place in space (Extension) as
will cause a square tactile image. The knowledge that it
will do so results from many simultaneous experiences of the
like visual images and square tactile images. And when a
sufficient experience has resulted in the knowledge that the
cause of a certain visual image is also the cause of a certain
tactile image, the cognizance of the visual image, in the act
of informing us of its own cause, informs us also of the poten-
tial cause of a corresponding tactile image. In other words,
when the object at the distance of one yard appears square,
it is that we are conscious of a certain visual image, the cause
of which, experience has taught us would prove to be also
the cause of a square tactile image, were the distance annihi-
lated and the extension of the object realized by the organs
of Touch.

Reply to Criticism " On the Dialectic Method.'''' 159

Here then, in the third stage of experience, is the first pos-
sibility of an error in the affirmations of Consciousness, and
that error comes in

(b; The only form in ichich it is possible for error to enter the hum a
mind, namely, under cover of an inferred identity.

The proposition is that the visual image is caused by an
external object whose cause is also potentially the cause of a
certain image of extension. The error comes of the failure to
verify each step of the induction. But as the proposition is
the simplest conceivable, being composed of but two particu-
lars, it may always be resolved into its parts, and the induc-
tion thereupon either verified or corrected — not only with
perfect rigor logically, but with the clearness and distinct-
ness of the consciousness of our own existence. For the par-
ticulars of the proposition are images of the second category,
ideas in which severally error is impossible because severally
they affirm nothing but existence. So long as the image
affirms nothing but itself, an act of consciousness, error is
impossible : loJien, hotoever, the image seems to affirm the po-
tential cause of another than itself.^ then it does not affirm
with the same confidence as it affirms itself : for the reason
that it is then no longer an individual affirmation, but is one
•of the parts of a proposition in the third category, which
proposition it is that affirms the oar dipped into water to be
l)roken, the distant tower to be round.

ON THE DIALECTIC METHOD.

(E. V. HART?.rANN's Reply, in the Philosophische Monatshe.fte, to the Criticism of
his Essaj^ ''•On the Dialectic Method." by Prof. Michelet.)

Translated from the German by Louis Soldax.

If the anatomical knife pierces the vital nerve of any being
we must not be astonished at the appearance of spasmodic
convulsions ; their non-appearance, on the contrar}', would
be an indication of a failure to hit the right point. In this
way it can be but flattering for my essay that it called forth
a violent eff"usion of wrath from Professor Michelet as the

160 Hartmann/s Reply to Criticism of his Essay

representative of Hegelianism, and the above consideration
renders more excusable the irritated and personal tone of his
criticism, which in some places steps beyond the limits of
what is becoming. If I have not hesitated "to print the whole
trash," though Mr. Michelet, as he did not omit publicly to
state, had previously had the kindness, gratefully acknowl-
edged by me. to communicate to me in writing all his objec-
tions to my wliole manuscript ad, inarginem ; if these objec-
tions could not move me to even any changes worth naming,
it is plain enough that I felt very little hurt by his thunder-
bolts, and very little touched by the anticipation of " stand-
ing before the eyes of the public at large the repjoof which I
iirst sent him in a confidential letter."'

Xot what Mr. Michelet wrote causes me to break my si-
lence, but wliat he did not write. I will explain what I mean.

All that Mr. Miclielet says can essentially be classified
under two headings. Under the first, Hegel's assertions and
tarns,which in the respective chapters I had critically ana-
lyzed and annihilated, are simply repeated as if they were
still "alive and kicking" and my critique did not exist. This
mode of acting may be very convenient, and perhaps sufficient
to produce a bad opinion of my essay with those who do not
know if, but the serving up again of the sufficiently known
dialectic phrases will not pass for a refutation. Under the
second heading, wherever I infer the most immediate conse-
quences from Hegel, the objection is raised that I did not
understand Hegel, inasmuch as he never said such a thing ;
as if I did not know this just as well. But he who asserts,
asserts also the consequences, and only the proof of having
inferred incorrect consequences can refute them. But such
proof Mr. Michelet brings nowhel'e, reproaching me, on the
contrary, with not knowing that Hegel said just the opposite
of those inferred consequences. It is all the worse for me that
I show, a few lines below, that I know the passage in which
the opposite is said, for now I am made responsible for the
contradiction which I have exposed in Hegel's thoughts, as
though for one which I have committed myself.

I shall gladly pass over in silence the compiling and quot-
ing of fragments torn out from their connection which was
intended to exhibit to the reader what absurdities I had writ-

" On the Dialectic Metliod,'' by Prof. Micheletr 161

ten. I shall not speak about Mr. Michelet's peculiar habit of
denying all erudition in the History of Philosophy to all but
those who approve of the intentional misrepresentations in
Hegel's History of Philosophy ; for science tabled this mat-
ter long ago. All this could not have brought me to a word
of reply, for whosoever feels interested in the subject may
read my little pamphlet, and will there find the best refu-
tation.

But Mr. Michelet, though discussing most of my chapters,
even giving their titles, has omitted altogether to mention
two chapters which happen to be the most important ones; he
has ignored them in a critique extending over sixteen pages,
in which he allowed room even to the most insignificant
thrusts and reflections. To explain the meaning of this in-
teresting fact, I must give a short outline of the thread of my
critique.

1. I point out in Hegel's Dialectics the hitherto seldom no-
ticed dualism between an esoteric side which must decline
every justification outside of itself, standing purely on rea-
son, and an exoteric side which finds the former stand-point
practically untenable, and makes the inconsistent attempt
of justifying itself before the understanding. (Against this
Mr. Michelet could show nothing but the repetition of some
of the most common dialectic phrases.)

2. I show that the exoteric side essentially seeks its justifi-
cation in the proof that contradiction is contained in all being
and in all thinking, with the intention of inciting the under-
standing by this knowledge to throw itself into the arms of
reason. (That this means the setting aside of the principle
of contradiction I proved strictly, but Mr. Michelet responded
by the strange imputation that I intended to deny the ex-
istence of contradiction in thoughts and actions of men in
general ; while he quotes my words on the next page, " that
contradiction is only found where it was made previously";
in which expression I say distinctly enough that " contra-
diction is found," but only as the product (and therefore at
the same time as the indication) of error ; as error is pos-
sible only in conscious, discursive thought, and not in the
unconscious, intuitive thought, which Hegel terms objective
thought. What kinds of antitheses form a contradiction in

Vol. vi.— 11

162 Hartm ami's Reply to Criticism of Ids Essay, &c.

their union, aiul uii<ler what conditions they do so, I have in-
vesti<2:ated at hMigth in my work above quoted.)

3. I enter upon the esoteric side of the dialectics as it fol-
lows in its purity from Hegel's principle, and show that the
absolute fluidity of the idea, the cancelling of the principle
of Identity, and with it the impossibility of all thinking, re-
sults from the self-movement of the idea (the property of A
to be at the same time B).

4. I prove that it is impossible ever to arrive at a new idea,
and consequently at a dialectic progress, by the union of con-
traries. Tliis chapter, as is explicitly stated there, is the
speciiic critique of all dialectics that attempts to evade nomi-
nally the setting aside of the principle of contradiction, and
tries to operate merely with the unity of contraries instead of
operating like Hegel with the Identity of contradictories. As
Mr. Michelet calls this view of Kuno Fischer quite correct (p.
329), the refutation of this chapter ought to have been a great
deal more important to him than the refutation of all the rest
of my book ; next to this, his criticism ought to have been
directed against the preceding chapter, which grinds to dust
the dialectics in its esoteric side, its innermost kernel. And
of all the sections of my book these are the very ones about
which Mr. Michelet has not a single syllable ; while another
adherent of the dialectic method, who of course rejects like
Mr. Michelet every word of my book, still designated to me
these two chapters as the dazzling points of my essay.

Any supposition that Mr. Michelet overlooked or did not
understand the significance of these chapters is precluded by
the circumstance that I had written to him about their im-
portance, regretting the absence of his marginal notes in
regard to the most important points of my line of argument.
As Mr. Michelet has shown now how easy a thing it is for
him to make a reply, it cannot be supposed that he was at all
at a loss to " say something " also against these chapters ;
the only explanation that remains for his action is that he
intended to kill by silence the principal part of my writings
in order to criticise more explicitly minor points, and thereby
to make a show of thorough critique, while the readers re-
mained ignorant of the principal part of the contents.

( 163 )
THE LOGICAL QUESTION IN HEGEL'S SYSTE^f.

SKCOXD ARTICLE.

A Demand for a Scientific Settlement of it.

Translated from the German of Trendelenburg, by Thos. Davidson.

Investigation has at all times been accorded the right of
conducting polemics, and only such polemics have been con-
demned as were not themselves investigations. If ever truth,
or, its human incarnation, deliberate conviction, were to lose
its polemical spirit, it would soon exhaust itself in lazy, idle
self-enjoyment, and renounce the mission which it has of re-
producing itself in others, and of strengthening itself with
victorious necessity in elements foreign to it. Certainty,
which is the heart of truth, there can be none, where conHict
is declined.

We, therefore, do not decline the contest. But every con-
test has its code of honor, for the maintenance of which a few
words of preface will be needed.

In the Logical Investigations, Hegel's Dialectic Method
was subjected by us, both as a whole and in detail, to a care-
ful scrutiny ; afterwards, in an article in the Neue jenaische
allgemeine Literatur-zeitiing (April, 1842, No. 97 sqq.), a
resurae of the main points was given. In both cases the thing
itself, and the thing only, was discussed, and called upon to
defend itself.

Whence coines it, then, that the reply which has appeared
— viz. Gabler's review in the JaTcrVmlier fur loissenscliaftliclie
Kritik (1841, Oct., No. 65 sqq. ; 1842, Nov., No. 81 sqq.; Dec,
No. 114 sqq.), afterwards published in book-form with some
additions under the title, " The Hegelian PhilosopTiy : Con-
tributions toioard tlie Formation of a Just Judgment, and
Appreciation of it. Part I. Berlin: Duncker. 1842" —
threatens to turn the logical contest, which certainly, if any-
thing, ought to be conducted with coolness, into a personal
matter ?

The author of the Logical Investigations is, without much
obscurity of phrase, compared to a blustering thimble-rigger
( The Hegelian Philosophy, pp. 81 sqq.), or to a hangman's loon

1»U Tren(Jelenhurg on HegeVs System.

(p. 88\ "who would fain give the cojip do grace witli a philo-
sophical weapon to a philosophy already (condemned, brand-
ed, and proscribed. "* Attention is repeatedly called to the
circumstance that he does not stand alone, but "in close and
formidable leai^ue with a whole great and powerful band of
opponents, congregated from the most diverse directions." A
<'onsequence which he did not draw at all, but which the his-
tory of the Hegelian Philosophy drew, is declared to be a
"slander" and an "insinuation'' against the Elders (p. 109).

Every person understands such language ; it has been in
fashion since people began trying to make out the Philoso-
phy of Hegel to be persecuted freedom of thought, and its
opponents slavish-minded eye-servants ; the Philosophy of
Hegel to be the sole light of the times, and its opponents to
be the persons who would fain blow out this great light, in
the interest of a tenebrose government, although there does
not and can not exist any such government at present. Such
language is disingenuous, destitute of self-respect, and, there-
fore, unworthy of pliilosoj)h3^ Who would relegate any
philosophy from the minds of thinkers, in which alone its
dominion is, unless — being impotent and powerless to main-
tain itself — it so relegates itself? And such language the
Hegelian Philosophy ought, less than any other, to adopt.
For long years it enjoyed the tide of popularity, while we
and others were buffeted by the wind of public opinion. Any
sailor who has been through a stormy day is bolder than
that. But he knows where he is steering.

Without freedom of thought there is no philosophy ; and
any one who desires only blind faith and blind obedience
ought to have nothing to do with any philosophy ; for if one
part of a philosophy lent itself to fettering men's minds, the
other and better part would set them at liberty. But it is
quite a new idea for deceiving the multitude and the time,
when one philosophy assures us that it has taken a general
lease of freedom. If any one desires to understand one phe-
nomenon, or even one tendency of life, he must not stop
with his bodily senses, as if he were in bondage to them, but
he must, as if independent of them, rise spiritually above
them, in order to master them. And the philosophy which is
bold enough to go beyond the individual part, and to seek the

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 165

thouglit of the whole, and the moving powers {Orunde) that
lie behind it, is to be called, or is capable of being, disingenn-
ous ! The greatest philosopher that ever contemplated hu-
man and divine things, Aristotle, declared philosophy to be
the freest of the sciences — the only free science. Let us sur-
vey the two thousand years and more of life that philosophy
has passed in our race so richly endowed with mind, and
confess that, at the basis of all transformations of systems
and of self-consciousness, there lies one common tendency —
reason and freedom. Why, then, does one form out of many
press itself forward and run about the market, with its whole
body pasted over with the catchword "freedom," writ so large
that he that runneth may read, and calling out vociferously,
"Freedom! Help, help! or I shall be suppressed!" "When
thought-masses can no longer support themselves, they go
down ; and when they are too great, no persecutor can do them
any harm ; on the contrary, they grow gigantic through per-
secution. Reason and Freedom ! — these have, at all times,
been taken for granted as the conditions of all philosophy.
But how is Freedom understood at present ? The mental con-
cept is made as clear as daylight, while the eternal idea is
left to the caprice of the next mutable moment. "What is
Freedom but opposition?" is a motto to which the newspa-
pers try to give currency in our time, and we lind the banner
of Philosophy bearing the device, "Freedom and Opposition."
Nothing could be more prejudicial to science, nothing more
destructive of thoroughgoing free inquiry, than to mix up phi-
losophy with the momentary passions of politics. Dragged
into the arena of party strife. Science forgets the cause which
it is its mission to elevate into an everlasting possession,
and becomes a mere partisan of present interests ; instead of
the quiet and perseverance of painstaking study, it degene-
rates into habitual unrest and impatience amid the questions
of the moment. It does not belong to Philosophy to bar itself
oif from the times; it is rather its mission to view them un-
der the form of the eternal, and, undazzled by the chameleon
colors of the present, to seek out and exhibit the enduring-
idea in them. A philosopher like Fichte knew wliat nation
and courage meant in days of humiliation and peril ; and
we believe as little as Fichte did in Philosophy's painting

1(U> Trendelenburg on HegeVs System.

everythiim- in neutral colors, and waiting till the forms of life
have grown old ere it treat them, or in its forgetting the eagle
which tiies toward the sun, and beginning its flight only at
the approach of twilight, like Minerva's owl. We have a liv-
ing faith in the vigorous power of thought. But, for that very
reason, we are ready to protest when a philosophy coquets
with Freedom, and deals more with the flimsy, captivating-
word " freedom " than with solid knowledge ; or when, as
if it enjoyed a monopoly of freedom of thought, like a dema-
gogue in Plato's sense, it tries, with glib talk about Freedom,
to ingratiate itself with the mob, or, what tends in the same
direction, woos the favor of popular opposition against sup-
posed oppressors.

What, after all, do those accusations of want of freedom,
brought against the author of the Logical Investigations^
mean i It is one thing to impute interested motives, another
to refute a w^ork, the fruit of long years of patient thought.
Under any circumstances, it would be better to tear the work
to pieces before the eyes of the public, if it will not hold to-
gether, and to leave the author's private views entirely out
of the question. Such, indeed, used to be the practice in the
"closed circle" {geschlossenen Bunde) of the Hegelian school,
whenever it could be applied to works of a hostile character.
Now that other methods are appealed to, every unbiassed
person will be able to find out the value and grounds of such
imputations. The man who utters them cannot believe them
himself, if he can cease feeling disconcerted and out of hu-
mor, and reflect on the plain facts. Or, does he not reflect that
the Undersigned, whom, in tolerably plain terms, he degrades
into the logical creature of a higher judgment not his own,
was, already at the time when he himself received a call to
propagate Hegel, occupying a position — though, indeed, a
lonely one — at the same university, teaching as he does now,
or that he has used his eff'orts in undisguised opposition to
Hegel as long as he has been reading in his spirit ? Perhaps
he has never been made aware that the same Society for Sci-
entific Criticism, which has now, in the interest of the dialec-
tic method, backed his insinuations, fourteen years ago, in
Hegel's life-time and at Hegel's desire, returned a criticism
presented by the Undersigned, because it contained objections

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 167

to the dialectic method (which is still a matter under discus-
sion), and especially against its application to Aristotle. It
hardly requires the adduction of these facts to place the
equivocal character of those imputations in their proper light,
or, rather, in their own shadow. It is true that their hostile
tone is repeatedly laid to the account of necessary self-defence
(pp. 85, 176, &c.), the whole existence and reputation of the
Hegelian Philosophy being at stake. This may be ; but the
question related to the matter itself, and is not answered by
attacking the author.

We shall, therefore, unliesitatingly resume the discussion
of the matter itself, about which alone we have hitherto
contended, and shall begin, where we find ourselves most at
home, with its history. As we have promised to report upon
the present state of the question, we would ask, in the first
place, what has been done for or against Hegel's dialectic
method since our first article ?

In the notices which appeared of the Logical Inijestiga-
tions, judgments have been pronounced upon the dialectic
method from the most diverse quarters. We shall not appeal
to the voices of men, who, like the prematurely deceased
Kopp, the eminet student of ancient philosophy, H. Ritter,
E. Reinhold, Striimpel, known through his writings on Her-
bart, accepted the unfavorable criticism. One of these went
so far as to say that the question was merel}^ a local one,
over which science need not spend so very much time. When
we consider all the antecedents of these men, we need not be
surprised if certain persons do not hesitate to declare their
judgment biassed, however unbiassed it may really be.
When, however, men who were originally devoted to the
dialectic method, do not refuse their assent to the criticism
whose results were communicated in the former essay, we
perhaps get some idea of the strength of the cause.

First, the Deutsche JahrMicher (April, 1842, No. 83, sqq.)
gives a criticism signed by Wirth. As it overlooks the most
essential portions of the work, and treats it as if these were
not in it, one can hardly expect that it will meet with much
favor. It is there, however, stated expressly that those "' who
believe in the stability of the Hegelian Logic, or even admit
that it is formally and quantitatively perfectible," are in

168 Trendelenburg on HegeVs System.

error. Even the objective frame in which Hegel set his logic
is admitted to be by no means the only possible one for the
formal to exist in, it being a wholly unliistorical prejndice of
our time to think that the choice lies only between the two,
&c. So Hegel's Logic, was seen suddenly to give way, where
a champion had been expected.

Weisse, whojnever}^ contest against Hegel, alfirms the dia-
lectic method to be the abiding amid the transient, and who
has himself employed it in his former writings and even in
his metaphysics, while he complains that in the Logical In-
vestigations the new form has not been sufficiently tested,
nevertheless elsewhere asserts with an unreserved frankness
for which we sincerely thank him, that Hegel's dialectic
method has in fact been refuted, and proved to be a method
impossible in the general, and belying its own concept in the
particular. ''Among the numerous objections," he continues,
"which the author raises both against the dialectic movement
of the Logic and the realistic-philosophy portions of the He-
gelian system, there will perhaps not be found one which could
be refuted from the Hegelian premises and with strict adhe-
rence to the Hegelian concept of method. With loords which,
as everybody knows, that school is readj^ with, wherever
thought fails, of course it might be done ; although even in
the unmasking of this abuse, which is maintained with words
— with the dialectic terminology — the author has displayed
a merciless acumen, so that it would require no small amount
of audacity to meet him again with the same artilices." (J.
H. Fichte's ZeitschHft, 1842, v. 2, p. 273.) We may, perhaps,
not be blamed, if, as an offset against the bitterness of one
opponent, we adduce these words coming from another oppo-
nent of our opinion, in order to enable our readers to find
their bearings.

In the contest against the dialectic method, there appeared
an unexpected auxiliary in an able and vigorously written
treatise : " The Psychology of the Hegelian School. By Dr.
F. Exner, Professor of Philosophy in Prague," The author,
aware that the Hegelian school have staked their whole for-
tune upon the dialectic method, as bold gamblers do upon
one throw, and that it derives all its knowing from the appli-
cation of the method, pursues this method through the whole

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 169

of psychology, and does not leave it a single nook into which
it can skulk to hide itself. It is of great value, in a subject
as concrete as psychology is, to have made clear what kind
of science, or rather what scientific monstrosities, the boasted
dialectic method gives birth to. When certain writers com-
plain that the negative has never received fair treatment
(Gabler, p. 171), they may take comfort in this one example,
as an offset against all its successful performances. (Exner,
p. 55 sqq.) Will the dialectic method ever be able to raise
its head again, after it has suffered discomfiture throughout a
whole science ?

In philosophical literature, however, no clear decision has
been reached. It is true that there have appeared no works^
written in the strict dialectic method, according to the disci-
pline of the old Hegelian method. But while the vibrations
which proceeded from Hegel's Logic are ceasing, an echo of
it is still repeated, and, in conjunction with old melodies,
produces new tunes. In Wirtli's Dialectic are united dialectic
and combination ; in a recently begun History of Philoso-
phy, which, in its excellent mode of presentation, strives evi-
dently to attain freedom of form, dialectic alternates with
analogy. Dr. George, in his work entitled Principle and
Method of Pliilosopliy ., has shown, with great acumen, the pe-
culiar defects in the philosophies of Hegel and Schleierma-
cher, and, finding them standing in opposition to each other,
he has improved the one method by the other, and melted
them down into a new process. Care will have to be taken
that the difficulties connected with the ]3roduction of concepts
— difficulties which occur both in Hegel and Schleiermacher —
are not all transferred to the new process. Without disre-
spect to this new attempt, we must say that we have a certain
dread of mongrel systems, as when we see Hegel revised by
Schleiermacher, or, in another work that lately appeared,
Hegel amended by Kant, or in a third, written in a peculiar
spirit, Hegel and Herbart worked up together. But in most
of these attempts, if not in all, there comes out, as clearly as
any literary fact can, the silent or expressed admission that
Hegel's dialectic method, at least in original form, is not all
that it ought to be.

Dr. Marlieinelce, in his work : Introduction to Public Lee-

170 Trendelenburg on HegeVs 81 /stem.

tures on the Significance of the Hegelian Philosophy in
Christian Theology (1842, p. 80), writes: "The Hegelian plii-
losophy is not a philosophy having a particular and delinite
principle. We cannot, therefore, say in one word, or in one
sentence, what Hegelian philosophy is, or wherein it consists,
as the phrase is. Its principle loe must look for in the method^
whose discovery was Hegel's everlasting prerogative, and one
which, hitherto, has met with but very slight opposition." It
is not unusual for banking-houses, wiien they wish to remove
the impression that they are on the eve of failure, to speak
on 'change of the very slight losses which they have experi-
enced. At all events, we would call special attention to the
important words of the above statement: "The principle of
the Hegelian philosoj^hy we must look for in its method."
Hitherto we had been of the same opinion, and, in view of
Hegel's lectures and writings, we are unable to take the mat-
ter otherwise. We supposed that in particular the older
school was willing to make the same admission. But, as in
the Hegelian school generall}^ discord is stronger than har-
mony, it seizes the older disciples in this fundamental
thought, although, according to the writings of Marheineke
and (rabler, these appeared to hold more closely together.
Even Marheineke and Gabler disagree. Gabler teaches us
that the dialectic method is not to be made the first thing
or the principle. He tells us that we had been placing our
batteries wrong, directing them against the dialectic method,
and expecting thereby to destro}^ the Hegelian philosophy,
{p. 113 sqq.)

We shall pass over the clever mutatio controversioi, as
common logic calls it. In the Logical Investigations not a
single word was said of destroying the Hegelian philosophy —
though we might derive some superior instruction about how
to proceed in such an attempt from the reply of our oppo-
nent (p. 101 sqq.)— but of testing the dialectic method. What
result the refutation of it would have upon the existence of
the system, we knew, might be left to take care of itself. All
those demands which claim that we ought to have defined
philosophy (p. 101 sqq.), or at least stated the difference be-
tween human and divine thinking (p. 152 sqq.), are invented
merely to give the impression that there is something else

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 171

in question than the clearly expressed subject of the dia-
lectic method. We are satisfied if it is proved false, and leave
to others the task of some day coming at Hegel's philosophi-
cal system with the prescription given on p. 101 : " When
people try to break down a philosophical system, the ques-
tion comes to be, what belongs to that system ?" There are,
perhaps, more points of attack than one. We are satisfied
with ours, and merely ask, in the spirit of Marheineke,
whether Hegel's system will still be considered alive when
the " moving soul," the dialectic method, has gone out of it.
But why, after all, cannot the dialectic method be put in
the foreground and made the principle ? We hear the rea-
sons (p. 114 sqq.) : "Otherwise," we are told first, "we should
have the opponents of Hegel upon us, and they make it a
special business to represent the dialectic method as a mere
invention of subjective thinking, without any internal neces-
sity or unity with objective nature." This argument, taken
in connection with appended historical explanations, looks
as if we might translate it : We must look for another prin-
ciple, since this one no longer sustains itself. The second
reason is given us in the words (p. 115): "If the method itself
were the absolute principle, the definition of the absolute
would have to be : The Absolute or God is the dialectic
method, — which Hegel would certainly have indignantly re-
jected." Any one who takes the dialectic method as having
the importance which Hegel attributed to it, as that in which
pure form produces the content of reason, and any one who
has before his eyes such passages as § 237 of the Encyclope-
dia, in which we are expressly told that nothing remains to
the absolute idea, as form, but the '■''method'''' of the content,
"the determined knowing of the preservation of the mo-
ments," will be in great doubt about this supposed indigna-
tion of Hegel's, which might have had reference merely to
the unwary expression. In both of these proofs, which are
so external, lies the whole force and the whole depth of the
reasons which are supposed sufficient to give the dialec-
tic method another position than that which it has hith-
erto occupied, and to defend it and (through it) the system
against attack. However, we shall leave this new difference,
which is hardly inferior to any one of the old ones, to be set

172 Trend eleiiburg on HegeVs System.

tied bv rlu)st' who must be more concerned about tlie last
refuge of the school, at least of the old one, and about the last
token of union, than an opponent can be supposed to be.

It seems, however, to be a matter of solid earnest that the
real signilicance of the Hegelian system consists in a certain
mode of seizing the Absolute, to which Gabler has been at
last led. Are we, then, to suppose that the presupposition-
less dialectic method has been given up ? Yes ; and all the
tremble spent in investigating it .' as throv^n away upon a
mere phantom of the imagination. For we are told in the
preface (p. vii.): "Among the bogles, with which some peo-
ple try to scare others, is the hughear of pure tlimkmg.'''' If
Germany had so short a memory that the proud doctrine of
the presuppositionless pure thinking no longer rang in its
ears, it would at least have Hegcd's Logic and Encyclopedia
to inform it what pure thinking means in fact and in name.
We read, for example, in the Encyclopedia, § 19: "Logic
demands that it should have the power — in opj)osition to all
intuitions, even the abstract sensuous images of geometry —
to withdraw itself into pure thought, to grasp it and move in
it." (Cf. §§ 14, 17, 78, &c.) We read similar statements not
only in innumerable other works which owe their origin to
Hegel, of the power and the feats of y^wq thinking, but even
in Gabler's own text-book, " Introduction to Philosophy" —
Lehrhuch der pliilosopliischen Fr op cedent ik. Erlangen, 1827
— e.g., p. 31 sq. : "In the assertion that 'the object is as it is
known,' there is truth contained, if the knowing is an actual
pure knowing, and such determinations of the object are
treated as belong to it through this knowing, which is at the
same time pure thinking." From this one may judge whether
the "bugbear of pure thought" is merely a new-spun "chi-
mera" which niisapi)reliension has laid on the shoulders of
Hegel's i>liilosophy. For long years, and indeed until quite
recently, ])ure thinking was the common watchword of the
initiated, whereby Hegel's disciples recognized each other,
and passed as the central life-fountain of " sjjeculation"; and
now people assert in all seriousness that when one has
turned against this and struck it, he has not shot through
the heart of the system, but only into the air.

Against this new acceptation we could not possibly have

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 173

fought, simply because it was not in existence ; and even if
it had been in existence, we should have been obliged to
decline discussing it, because, in the Logical Inx)estigations,
we had under consideration the original form of the Hegelian
system, and not any of its numerous varieties. When, how-
ever, our opponent everywhere brings up this new accepta-
tion (although we meet it here for the first time and only in
dim outlines), as if we ought to have known it, the question
comes to be whether, after all, this new acceptation is really
so very much different from the old original doctrine of pure
thinking which we investigated. We are told on page 15C :
"Pure thinking is nothing more or less than that which,
retreating back into itself, from its external distraction and
manifoldness, and raising itself in \i^ pure actimty of form,
already determined in and for itself, to the fountain of primal
content of tliougJit, reproduces and regains thus an ideal
thought"; p. 159 : " The pure knowledge whose aim is abso-
lute truth will reach that aim in no other form save that of
the absolute thing. ^^ " It is the method which remains iden-
tical with the t?dng itself." If we take these passages, as we
might take others, in their connection, we can see very dis-
tinctly wherein Grablers view differs from the view of those
who recognize thinking only in man, and who hold that God
is self-conscious only in the thinking human being. For he
defines the content of human thinking as one that has been
previously thought by God ; he designates human thinking
as "a second thinking which returns to its origin, in the re-
thinking of that which has been previously thought through
all eternity." Whether the deduction of this statement, given
on pp. 123 sqq., be sufficient, we will not undertake to say.
The bolder view, represented mainly by Strauss, seems to us
more consistent, and is more of a piece with the whole spirit
of the Hegelian philosophy. We do not desire, however, to
pronounce any judgment on this, and are willing to accept
Gabler's view for the time and for the present purpose. Is,
then, by this long discussion, which is more a flourish of
trumpets over the religious conscience of the Hegelian phi-
losophy, than a treatment of the logical question, the internal
difficulty of pure thinking removed ? Are the demonstrated
contradictions of the presuppositionless dialectic solved? The

174 Trendelenburg on HegeVs System.

cause is not at all bettered thereby. It is true that it seems
to be so ; for throughout the whole of the reply, wherever the
Logical Investigations, following Hegel, spoke of cognizing,
by an important and careful correction, recognizing is substi-
tuted, and wherever, following Ilegel, they spoke of the pro-
duction of thinking, reproduction is substituted. Where,
then, has Hegel, in all his works, spoken half as much of re-
thinking, of re-cognizing, of re-production, as Gabler has done
in this one book ? However, we need not be deceived by the
words. In the reply, they are not understood to mean, that
that which is received through the senses is reproduced from
the unity of its concept, or that which is cognized through
experience in the individual from the necessity of the whole
and tlie universal. The words recognition and reproduction
do not apply to the antithesis existing between the receptive
perception and the thinking which manipulates the matter
thereof, but only to the fact that the content of the thought
has been previously thought by God, and that therefore the
creation of the divine spirit is created anew in the human spi-
rit. If this altered mode of expression, giving us recognition
and reproduction, related to the condition of all experience, the
relation of the Phenomenology to the system would at once
come in question ; but Gabler will not condescend (p. 205) to
an explanation upon this fundamental point, which, as our
first article showed, stands so much in need of one. Is any-
thing gained, then, by his correction ? We investigated human
thinking, and asked, whether it has at its command any such
creative dialectic as Hegel has asserted and employed. We
returned an answer in the negative, because the concepts upon
which the dialectic rests broke down, and because the means
which it employed were mere delusions. Has our author
anything to say in reply ? Does he deny the creative dialec-
tic? Far from it. He shows (pp. 158-sqq., 168) that the for-
mal activity of the human and of the divine thinking are the
same. But since the form produces the content, as Hegel es-
sentially teaches, the formal activity of the human (the pure)
thinking jjroduces the content of the divine thinking, "the ab-
solute thing," and is therefore, as far as the system of thoughts
is concerned, as creative as the divine thinking. If this is
the truth, and any one who will read Gabler's reply may

Correspondence. 175

convince himself of it (pp. 156, 159 sqq.), the new view, as far
as our objections are concerned, is not one whit better than
the old one." We shall, therefore, hardly be expected to
investigate very closely this new construction of the divine
spirit (pp. 144 sqq.) which moves along with the old formulas
of self-differentiation and mediation, of in-itself and for-itself.
It employs the already discredited dialectic instruments, as
if they were unassailed, or as if they had safely escaped from
attack — which no one will assert, since our author very wise-
ly declines to enter upon a discussion of them (p. 204). A
person who does not wish to go {geJien) the long examination
of human thinking takes a short leap into the divine think-
ing, and is more at home there than in his own Ego. Is he,
then, prophet or philosopher, theosophist or logician ? Per-
haps, in both cases, neither ; for the first requires enthusiasm,
the second strictness. But a person puts on the appearance
of metaphysical profundity when he deals more easily with
the divine thinking than with the first and most individual
phenomenon, which one has to study the whole of physics
in order to understand.

CORRESPONDENCE

Dr. Carl Rosenkranz, of the University of Konigsberg,
writes us regarding his differences with Dr. Hoffmann. In
vol. vii. of the PhilosopMsche Monatshefte (Berlin), pp. 267
-274, and, again, pp. 313-320, he reviews at length the posi-
tion of the latter as taken in various periodicals and books,
especially in the Journal of Speculative Philosophy. In vol.
i. Jour. Sp. Phil., p. 180, we published a letter from Dr. Hoff-
mann on the Philosophy of Baader. In vol. ii., p. 55, Dr.
Rosenkranz replies to a remark in the former, and points out
briefiy and clearly the difference between his position and
that of Baader. The chief point concerned Baader's concept of
the negative and of its realization in the world. Dr. Rosen-
kranz unfolds his theory of antithesis and contradiction.
Again, in vol. v., p. 87, we published an extract from a letter
of Dr. Hoffmann's in connection with a translation of a por-

176 Correspondence.

tion of his pamphlet on Theism and Pantheism. A passage
ill this letter speaks of Dr. Rosenkraiiz as making "Hegel
assert the personality of God and deny individual immortal-
ity to man." Under the date of April 4th, 1871, we received
another letter from Dr. Hoffmann, from which we quote the
following extracts :

" The January number of your Journal has lately arrived,
and I was especiall}^ pleased with the article, ' Theism and
Pantheism.' I do not consider it correct that Hegel is ex-
plained in St. Louis theistically, but it gives me evidence that
I stand with the philosophers of your city, in fundamental
questions, on the basis of identical or at least nearly related
conviction. Now whether Hegel ought to be interpreted this
way or not, it is of the greatest importance that the philoso-
phers of St. Louis endeavor to found and to propagate a the-
istic philosophy, for only a theistic philosophy can stand;
and upon the building of a superstructure upon it, depends
the future of humanity, its elevation to the higher steps of
culture, the civilization of the barbarian and semi-barbarian
tribes, a future confederation of all states and nations, and
still more than this if we extend our view beyond that which
is earthly. My writings concerning Hegel's Philosophy, which
I have published in the last few years, are scattered through
Dr.Bergmann's PhilosophiscTie Monatsliefte^ Leonardi's Neuer
Zeit, in Deutschland of AVilhelm Hoffmann in Berlin, and in
the Allgemeiner Anzeiger fur das evang. Deutscliland. You
would find in these writings that I have not left unnoticed the
Hegelian literature of the year 1870."

(He speaks further of the collection of his miscellaneous
writings for jjublication, and of the published reviews of for-
mer works of his that have appeared in Germany, and of the
important discussion which he undertook in his Blitzstrdlil
gegen Rom^ rendered now more important from the position
taken by Dr. Dollinger and from the recent acts of the Impe-
rial Parliament at Berlin. He speaks sadly of the death of
his son, a lieutenant in the 9th infantry, killed at the battle
of Worth, Aug. 6th, 1870, " pierced by three French bullets
while advancing at the head of his troops." But the heart of
a German father beats proudly when he adds : " He fell for
a great cause. The results of these grand victories will be

Correspondence. 177

tremendous for the whole of Europe, and without doubt bene-
ficial. The restoration of the German Empire on a national
basis makes an onward move in the history of the world.
North America and United Germany will certainly approach
each other. German literature will exert its influence in every
direction, and in Germany science will be cultivated as never
before. The union of Germany owes much to the culture of
science and art ; Germany knows this and will not forget it."
He says, in conclusion:) "I have just finished an essay on
Hegel's Philosophy in St. Louis, which I shall send to-day
to Dr. Bergmann for the PMlosopldsclie MonatsJieftey This
article appeared in vol. vii., pages 58 to G3, of the journal
named, and was the immediate occasion of the article of Dr.
Rosenkranz in the same journal, as well as of the letter above
referred to, from which we now quote the following extracts
(translated for this journal by Mr. Arthur Amson) ; it is dated
Konigsberg*, August 14th, 1871 :

" You will permit me now to enter more closely ujdou a
matter which concerns us both. In an article, ' Theism and
Pantheism,' you have, in speaking of Hegel, adopted an in-
terpretation of his system to which I adhere, and which is
also represented on the part of the English by Dr. Stirling
('Secret of Hegel'). Hegel not only does not deny God,
freedom, and immortality, but he teaches them as the high-
est consequences of his speculation. He rejects atheism and
pantheism in the clearest words. Freedom is the soul of his
ethical view of the world. In regard to immortality, he has
nowhere pronounced a credo in catechism-form ; but the man-
ner in which he expresses himself in his ' Philosophy of Reli-
gion,' in treating of the Egyptian religion, can surely leave
no doubt on the subject.

" Professor Hoffmann of Wiirzburg, a man whom for 3^ears
I have truly honored, has been induced by your essay to
insert in one of the numbers of Bergmann's FliilosopMsclie
Monatshefte an essay which bears the title, ' The Hegelian
Philosophy in St. Louis, in North America.' In this article
he opposes your interpretation of Hegel, from his own stand-
point, which is that of Baader's philosophy, and then turns
to a special polemic against me. For many years he has writ-
ten polemical articles against me in various periodicals. I
Vol. vi.— 12

178 Correspondence.

have made no reply to tliese attacks, because it is painful to
me to quarrel publicly with an old friend. But now I cannot
forbear to break my silence, and briefly to tell my honored
friends in St. Louis at least, how I believe I stand in relation
to the accusations of Hoffmann.

•' Hott'mann is frightened at the thought that Hegel could,
in fact, be a theist; he apparently considers theism, so far as
a scientitic knowledge is concerned, as a kind of prerogative
of Baader's system. He thinks it settled, in regard to Hegel,
that he was a pantheist. To me he ascribes 5e/?^i-pantheism,
since he cannot deny that I have declared expressly for
theism.

•' Wherein is this tendency to pantheism supposed to con-
sist '. He says that I deny the freedom of God in the act of
creating, and that I teach a self-realization of God in the
world. He infers this from the fact that I assume the I'evela-
tion of the essence of Gc^d in nature and in history. How this
revelation could be conceived without the real activity of God
is incomprehensible to me. But I have never thought that
God is exhausted in nature and in history ; that there is no
difference between Him as a manifestation of His Being, and
Him as a subjec^t. .

•' You have, as you once informed me, my ' System of Sci-
ence.' In the last section of it, ' On Philosophy,' I have ex-
pressed myself in regard to the improvements which the so-
called proofs for the existence of God would have to undergo.
These improvements I treated in detail in the introduction
to the second edition of my 'Encyclopedia of the Theological
Sciences (1845), under the heading, ' Phenomenological The-
ogony (in opposition to Schelling's ' Theogonic Realism'). To
this I may still refer.

" But Hoffmann took no notice of this, and yet I should be-
lieve, when one accuses an author of semi-pantheism, that an
entire system of theology, if he has built up such a one, would
surely be considered the best source of information. I have
also published an exhaustive criticism of Strauss' Olauhens-
lehre, and in it also have verified my conception of God, as
opposed to the world. But of it, also, my friend Hoffmann
takes no notice. On the other hand, he has expressed his
entire agreement with a work of mine in Hilgenfeld's Jour-

Correspondence. 179

nal of Scientific Theology, ' Materialism and Cxerman Theol-
ogy,' wherein I expounded and reviewed the entire literature
of materialistic theories, and repeatedly has he called on me,
by letter, for a separate reprint. How could he concur with
me if I were a semi-pantheist, or if I believed God, imme-
diately as a subject, to be confounded in the processes of
nature and history ?

"Hoffmann now comes to a point, on which I expressed
myself once before in your journal. This is Nature in God,
which is said to be misapprehended by me, and to be cor-
rectly taught only by Baader. That nature must lie in the
essence of God, inasmuch as otherwise he could not create it,
is certain. I expressed myself afterwards at length in my
treatise on Hegel's ' Nature-Philosophy,' which was sent to
you on its appearance. Hoffmann ignores this. I have no
idea of that mysterious nature of Baader's, which is said to
exist without space and time, without matter, without finity.
Previous to its creation, nature is only 'potentially in God. I
will not again take up the quarrel on the integrity of nature,
on which conception I printed a Latin dissertation in 1834.
In the first volume of my Studien (1839), there is a longer
treatise, ' The Glorification of Nature,' which treats on this
subject. Where, then, are the refutations of these works?

" Of freedom I shall not speak, since Hoffmann admits that
I acknowledge its reality. But I can only teach the freedom
of man by assuming, that he is as free from God as God is.
from him.

"But I must still say one word in regard to immortality.
He affirms that he was unable to see it clearly from my
printed expressions. But he says that he heard from a mu-
tual friend of ours, that I believed it. There, however, exists
a quite definite document of mine on this point, which is
printed at the end of ray ' Critical Explanations of the Hege-
lian System' (1840).

" In this I related with all openness, how I certainly had
forsaken the belief in immortality for a long succession of
years, but, through science itself, had come to abandon this
stand-point, because the difficulties of proving non-immor-
tality continually presented themselves more clearly before
my mind. It is curious that Hoffmann should derive his in-
formation, whether I believe in immortality, through letters,

ISO Correspondence.

siiu-e 1 wrote a * Psyc'liolo<i:y/ to the third edition of which I
luetixed a statement in wliicli the present stand-point of Ger-
man psychok)gy is treated in detail, and witli s^^ecial refer-
rence to materialism. These, I think, are the sources from
which Hoftmann was bound to draw, if he wished to attack
me ]>uhlicly.

•• When I had said in your periodical that the concept of
death is inseparable from that of life, Hoffmann inferred from
this that I had finally clearly denied immortality. I here-
upon wrote to him that I should not be able to convince my-
self of the immortality of cats and dogs and vermin, although
I should be found to do this if I considered everything liv-
ing to be immortal : but that immortality presupposes, as
an essential condition, the existence of consciousness. Indi-
viduality, such as the animal possesses, is not yet subjecti-
vity. Ideal power, and even subjectivity, do not make up
the entire concept of personality.

'' Moreover, it seems to me that in science, science — i.e. de-
monstration— Is the principal thing. Here we have to deal with
objective proofs, while every freedom of individual fantasy
is to be accorded to belief. In the problem of immortality^
the greatest difficulty will always lie in the fact that we are
completely incapable of forming any adequate idea of the
nature of a condition after death. It is just the same with
[he concept of God, which we are forced to think, since we
must think the Absolute not only as an absolute substance,
but also as an absolute subject. But we are not able to im-
agine the absolute spirit, and for that reason it is common in
our times to deny its existence.

'' It occurs to me, finall}^ that I, perhaps, am the Geraiau
philosopher who has contended most against atheism and
materialism, because, in 1866, I published a book on Dide-
rot's Life and Works, in two volumes, the fruit of many
vears' research ; and that Diderot may be considered the most
intellectual representative of that stand-point. I sent the
book to Hoffmann, and he expressed to me his entire satis-
faction therewith ; all the more, therefore, does his present
polemic surprise me. The name of Hegel does not even occur
once in the book, because I thought I must solve my problem
entirely within the last century.

'' Pardon these lucubrations, which I thought I owed you,

Correspondence. 181

since Hoffmann condemns you as a theist to the same cate-
gory with myself.

" To the honored members of the Philosophical Society my
best respects."

Dr. C. L. Michelet and Dr. E. v. Hartmann.

In the present and last previous number of this Journal
we have given a part of the polemic excited by the appear-
ance of Dr. E. V. Hartmann's work on Hegel's Dialectic. His
great work on the ' Philosophy of the Unconscious ' was re-
viewed in vol. iv., No. 1. We have received the third edition
of that remarkable work, which is very much enlarged — con-
taining now over 800 pages. By reason of its popular style —
which seems largely inherited from Schopenhauer, and per-
haps ultimately traces to an English or French origin — the
work has been very largely circulated and read. It is just now
advertised that a translation of it will soon appear in Boston
from the house of Roberts Brothers.

Since the publication of the organ of the Philosophical So-
ciety of Berlin — Der Gedanlte — ceased with its 7th volume in
1867, when Dr. Bergmann, one of the editors, started the
Philosopliische Monatshefte, Dr. Michelet, the other editor,
commenced an irregular periodical called " Der Gedanlie :
Fliegende Blatter in zwanglosen Heften,'' thus nominally
continuing Der OedanTce into its eighth volume. In this vol-
ume he attacked Dr. Hartmann in the critique translated and
published in this journal, while Dr. Hartmann and others re-
])lied in the Philosopliische Monatshefte. The third number
of Der Oedanlce is chietiy taken up with an account of the
celebration of the centennial anniversary of the birth of Hegel.
On this occasion a monument was erected to his memory,
surmounted with a very excellent bust of the philosopher.
The oration of Dr. Michelet, delivered at the ceremony of un-
covering the monument, will be given to our readers in due
time. A letter received from Dr. Michelet when the contri-
butions to the monument were in progress, contains the fol-
lowing interesting passage :

"Even if you do not at all represent yourself as an adhe-
rent of Hegel, yet I see from the tone of your periodical what
large store you set by Hegel, and how much he seems wor-

18'2 Correspondence.

thy tho homage of both hemispheres. I woiihi go into
pairieuhirs only in lehition to tlie famous question of the
Beginning of Phih)sopliy [see Jour. Sp. Phil., vol. i.. No. 4].
The author of the article does not agree with Paul Janet's
objections against Hegel. That Hegel's reasoning in regard
to the Beginning comes to a false conclusion, as M. Janet
urges, ' since the beginning of knowledge and the beginning
of being are two ditt'erent things,' is a statement that I should
more sharply refute thus : When we make a beginning in
philosophy, since it must be something immediate, we can-
not yet nuike the distinction between being and cognition.
They are, perhaps, both the same, as, indeed, the Irish
bishop, Berkeley, has asserted expressly. The answer of Ja-
net's is particular!}^ infelicitous: 'The thinking being knows
itself before it knows the being which it thinks.' For self-
thinking is, as Fichte has also said, to posit oneself imme-
diately as being. And even Descartes said : ' Cogito, ergo
sum.'' The antithesis between cognition and existence is a
much later one, and one lying far behind the beginning, at
which we only arrive by means of the dialectic. I therefore
say : Philosoph3\ since it is an absolute beginning, begins with
the beginning ; as the French say, ' II faut com,mencer par
le commencement.'' Here we do not yet at all know whether
we or the thing begins, or whether we as well as the thing-
begins, because it is only subsequently that, out of this im-
mediate unity, we shall derive the distinction between the
thinking subject and the thought object.

" But the conception of the beginning itself contains noth-
ing else than being, pure being. For what, in conception, is
about to b<-gin {id quod inchoatum est), is not as yet any-
thing determined or definite, and we know as yet nothing
determinate of it, but simply know that it is."

The third number, above mentioned as containing the ora-
tions delivered at the centennial celebi-ation, contains also a
fine photograph of the monument as it now stands.

/>/•. ./. //. Stirling, Dr. Vera, and Philosophy in Europe.

From Dr. Vera we learn that he expects to get out a new
edition of his French translation of Hegel's Logic, "greatly
enlarged, in fact nearly doubled in size. After the Logic, it

■ Correspondence. 183

will be the turn of the Philosophy of Religion." The latter
work has been announced as " in press " for several years,
and has been anxiousl}^ looked for. It seems that the war
*set things back, and that Dr. Vera now intends to postpone
the translation of the Philosophy of Religion for a year or
two. He is still Professor at the University of Naples.

Dr. Hutchinson Stirling, author of the "Secret of Hegel,'' is
publishing a series of Lecures on the Philosophy of Law in
the Journal of Jurisprudence at Edinburgh. They were de-
livered to the members of the Juridical Society in November
and December, 1871. The first of these is a very entertain-
ing "Introduction to Philosophy in general," and the others
unfold step by step, in a style such as only Dr. Stirling can
write, the ideas of Rights in general, of Property, of Criminal
jurisprudence. They furnish an exceedingly valuable con-
tribution to Philosophical literature, and should be largely
read in America now that so much thought is directed to-
wards the foundation-ideas of government. Unless otherwise
republished in this country, we propose to reprint these lec-
tures in this journal, commencing with the October number.
We are glad to learn also that there is a prospect of a publi-
cation of Dr. Stirling's critique of Buckle, in the North Ameri-
can Review. His strictures on Professor Huxlej'-'s Protoplasm,
which have been republished in New Haven by Messrs. Chat-
field & Co., are soon to appear in a second edition much en-
larged. We hope to publish also a review of Berkeley, from
the same pen, eventually.

Writing in the fall of 1871, Dr. Stirling speaks of the death
•of Dr. Ueberweg, and pronounces him the most earnest and
sincere thinker of his time. His work on the History of Phi-
losox)hy, translated for us by Professor Morris of Michigan
University, we have already noticed. We are expecting soon
the second volume, and shall again have an opportunity to
speak of it. It seems that the place made vacant in the Uni
versity of Konigsberg by the death of Dr. Ueberweg, has just
been filled by the appointment of Dr. A. J. Bergmann t)f Ber-
lin, well known as the editor of the PMlosopMsclie Monats-
hefte. That periodical passes under the editorial charge of
Dr. E. Bratuscheck, docent in the University of Berlin, whose
articles in the Phil. Monatshefte have attracted much atten-

184 Di\ference between the Dialectic d- Sf/nthetic Method.

tioii. In mir next iiuniber we hope to give an account of the
contents of the articles that have appeared in the last three-
volumes of that lounial.

THR DIFFKRENCK BETWERN THE DIArjRCTIC M RTIIOD-
OF HEGEL AND THE SYNTHETIC METHOD OF KANT
AND KICHTR.

\\y A, ]•-. Kkoi.gek.

There are two pfirties holding opposite judgments regard-
ing the relation of Hegel's dialectic method to the method
of Kant and Fichte's system of transcendentalism. It seems.
that the question should be considered settled by Hegel's own
statement in his History of Philosophy, where he substan-
tially avers that the method of Fichte's Science of Knowledge
is the same as his own, just as he there modestly concedes to
Schelling the contents of his system ; he claiming for himself
only the merit of being the lirst who fused the true absolute
system with the true absolute method. But this declaration
of Hegel's has not been considered satisfactory ; and all re-
cent historians of Philosophy are more or less at loggerheads-
with each other on this point. To settle the question it will,
therefore, be necessary to examine the two methods ; that is,.
to see how Fichte, following Kant, proceeds in his philoso-
phizing, and how Hegel proceeds in his. For this purpose it
is not necessary to consider beforehand whether or not
philosophy can be true only in so far as its method is true,
philosophy being intact nothing but the absolute method;
though it may not be out of place to state historically that
both Fichte and Hegel agree upon this j)oint, both answer-
ing in the affirmative.

Fichte, then, in all his various representations of the Sci-
ence of Knowledge, and indeed in all his scientific writings,
proceeds as follows :

He states, and calls upon his readers to verify it in con-
templation, that in every act of thinking there are two ingre-
dients, whereof neither one can be deduced from the other,,
but both of which claim equal validity ; that hence every act

Difference hetween the Dialectic & Synthetic Method. 185

of thinking is a synthetical act embracing two opposites, and
that it is the sole province of philosophy to discover and ex-
plain how this synthesis is possible ; that is, how it happens
that we must in every act of our mind hold two opposites, in
part related and in part opposed to each other.

The problem of philosophy, therefore, is altogether, as
Kant very correctly had stated before, to discover the abso-
lute ground of all synthetical judgments.

Now this absolute tinal ground Fichte — as before him
Kant — states to be this : the Ego, or an absolutely active
self-conscious activity, could not be an Ego, could not be self-
conscious of itself as such absolute activity, if there did not
appear in every act of its self-consciousness also a non-Ego ;
the reason being this : an absolute activity could never be-
come conscious of itself if it were not checked in its activity ,^
and thus, as it were, thrown back into itself with what would
now be a consciousness of both itself and a check. Nowr
having once named itself as absoliite activity by the name
Ego, it could certainly not look upon the check of that activ-
ity as also Ego, but would rather have to look upon and
name it its opposite, non-Ego.

Coming thus to consciousness, it would, therefore, lind as
its primitive nature and act, as indeed that which constituted
its nature and act, a synthesis of non-Ego and Ego ; and this
primitive and original synthesis could not otherwise than
manifest itself in every other one of its acts.

What must be noticed here is the statement, that neither
can the Ego be explained from the non-Ego, nor the non-Ego
from the Ego ; that neither is analytically contained in the
other as part of it, but that both are in fact complete and
utter opposites ; that is, must be so conceived, and cannot be
conceived otherwise. Their union, the union of the thesis of
a pure Ego and the antithesis of a checking non-Ego, results
in the synthesis of a self-conscious Ego ; that is, of a rational
absolute mind in a material limited body, or, more accurately
expressed, in a system of such rational individuals, each one
of which, as such a synthetic unity, is that very trinity which
theologians by a fallacy of reasoning apply to the conception
of the totality of the Egohood and call it the triune God.

Hegel's proceeding diifers from the above synthetic in this,

ISO Difference between the Dialectic d- Syntlietic Ateiliocl.

that lie does not concede, or at least does not seem to con-
cede, this partly absolute oppositedness of the two elements
of the synthesis ; and looks only to their relatedness. Thus
he does not say, that immediately togetlier with the concep-
tion of Being another entirely opposite, though also related,
conception of non-Being is joined when we think Becoming;
but he says, or seems to say; that the conception of Being
involves as one of its parts the conceptif)n of non-Being; that
the latter conception can, therefore, be analytically gathered
from the tirst ; though, if he does so mean, it is not possible
to see how Being could change into Becoming, since the ele-
ment of non-Being would not alter the character of Being at
all, and Being, after non-Being had been pointed out as one
of its characteristics, would still remain simply Being and
nothing else. If Hegel does not so mean, he has chosen a
most unfortunate way of expressing himself; but his own
averment in his History of Philosophy would, as we have
said, seem to suggest that he did not so mean. If he did so
mean, however, then there is a difference and a most vital
one between Fichte's synthetic and Hegel's dialectic method,
a difference which will now be apparent to every one.

It may be mentioned in passing, as perhaps of interest to
those who have read Trendelenburg's criticism of Hegel's me-
thod in this Jourjial, that Trendelenburg's objection to the
■dialectic method — that it surreptitiously takes and applies the
contemplation of local motion from empirical consciousness —
is simply absurd. Local motion occurs between two bodies
in space, and the conception of local motion can be applied,
of course, to nothing else. Trendelenburg's criticism, there-
fore, implies that he considers the conceptions of Being and
non-Being — which are alluded to by Hegel as moving in a
dialectic way — as things in space; and one is tempted to
ask him, whether he considers them of globular oj' triangular
form, &c. The absurdity is clear. It is not from local motion
that the general conception of motion issues ; indeed, the
very reverse is the case, the activity of thinking, being the
primitive source of the conception of movement. And even
in common language we thus speak of thoughts as moving,
&c. Hegel is thus perfectly justified, and introduces no sur-
reptitiously obtained conception wiien he speaks of a dialectic

Book Notices. 187

movement as the equivalent for the sequence of certain con-
ceptions in thinking. It is a strange evidence of the general
superlicialit}^ of " thinkers " that such things should require
notice ; stranger still that this evident absurdity should have
been considered by Trendelenburg a wonderful discovery,
overthrowing the gigantic fabric of Hegel's Logic ! But these
continual misapprehensions and disputes make it all the
more clear, how necessary for the exactness of a pure science
is a system of signs to replace words, and leave it a matter of
deep regret that Leibnitz, who had such a system projected,
did not carry out his design, he being of all the great minds
of science beyond doubt most peculiarl}^ gifted to have given
it best shape. The real objection, as already suggested, to
the word "movement" in that famous paragraph of the Logic
is this, that Hegel speaks as if the conceptions of Being and
non-Being moved. Now, mere conceptions as they are, they
of course cannot, in proper use of language, be said to move ;
but the thinking of them is, in all language, quite properly
called a moving from one to the other. The question, how-
ever, Avhether Hegel meant this or not, does not involve any
unauthorized making use of the conception of local motion,
but simply the point, above discussed, whether Hegel meant
his dialectic method to be the same as Fichte's synthetical
method or not.

BOOK NOTICES.

The Dialogues of Plato, traii.slated into English, with Analyse.^ and Introduc-
tions, by B. Jowett, M.A.. Regius Protessor of Greek in the University of
Oxford. 4 vols. New York: Charles Scribuer t^- Co. 1871.

This reprint, which costs the student just one half the price of the ori-
ginal English edition, should be in every library, public or private. More-
over, every one should read it; many people own a copy of Plato, but how
few read and understand hi in ! Professor Jowett has spared no pains to
make a free translation — one that seems vernacular English. It has im-
mense advantages in this respect over any former translation. We com-
mend the work to all interested in Philosophy. Let them read Emerson's
essay on Plato in the "Representative Men," then Hegel's lecture on Plato
in Vol, IV. of this Journal, and then read Jowett's translation, and study
his Introductions.

Die Rechisstellung des Weiben iiinei-halb der Ehe. Ein Vortrag von Max Eber-
hardt. Chicago: Meniinger & Shick. 1871.

188 Bool- Xotices.

F/ifih-ie/i Vchcnccg. von A. Lunqr. [Eine Gediichtnissrede.] Berlin: Ernst Sie^:-
fried, Mittlor & riolin. 1871'. [Sent us by Dr. Collyns Simon.]

The Jounml of P.^vchological Medicine : A (^)ii;irt('rly Review of Diseases of the
Nervous Svsteln, Medical .Turisprudenee. and Anthropology. p]dited by Wni.
A. Hammond. M.D. Vol. 5, No. 4. October, 1871. New York: 1). Api)le-
ton «!c Co.

This number contains amon«,^ other articles an elaborate one entitled, "Medi-
co-Letfal Notes on the Case of Edward H. liulolf; with Observations upon, and
Measurements of. his Cranium. Brain, ite.; by Geo. Burr. M.D." In another,
entitled " A Letter to the Editor on some Recent Contributions to Mental Sci-
ence, Medical Jurisprudence, and Anthropology; by Geo. E. Day. F.R.S.," is
given a vi ry interesting account of Huxley's recent lecture on Bishop Berkeley.

Das VeHialfniss von Schule nnd Staat. Hamburg, 1871. [Sent us by Dr. A. G.
Todtenhaupt.]

Ueber die Qrundunq eine^s Wissensc/iaff I ic/ioi Volks-le/irer-Se.ininars ntutbhiirigig
lion Kirche tmd Staat. Ein Gegenvorschlag gegen die beabsichtigte Grundunis;
einer Hamburgischen Akademie. von A. G. Todtenhaupt.

Schtde iind Staat. Aus dem Franzilsisclicn des Professor Tiberghien in Briiesel;
iiebersctzt, von J. II. Hamburg: NVilhelui Jowien. 1S71. [Sent also by Dr.
A. G. T.

ZHtschriff fiir PJdloHophie nnd Pldl. Kritik. LIX Bandes. erstes und zweites

dtschria fiir P/iilosop/iie und P/iil. Kritik.
Hefte. ilalle: C. E. M. i:*fefler. 1871.

Contents of No. 1 : I. Philosophizing — Extract from a Speech by Prelate G.
Mehrinr/. II. Contributions to the History and Criticism of Philosophy, noticed
by Dr. Arthur Ricliter. HI. Logic, or Science of Knowing with respect to the
relation between Philosophy and Theology, its Outlines presented by Rudolph
Seydel. D.Phil.. &c.; reviewed by Prof. Dr. v. Reichlin-Meldegg. IV. Logic and
Metaphysics, by Prof. Dr. Leonliard Rabus: Part 1st— Theory of Knowledge,
Kistorj- of Logic, System of Logic, togetlier with a Clironological Survey of the
Literature of Logic, and an Aipiiabetical Index to its Contents; reoiewed by Dr.
Reichlin-Meldegg. V. Tlie Complete Logic: A Book for Schools and Students,
compiled from tlie stand-point of Natural Science, and intended for a criticism
of previous books on Logic. &c.; by Prof. Dr. J.Hoi)pe; reviewed by Dr. Reich-
lin-Meldegg. VI. Psychologie Naturelle: A Study upon the Treatment of Aliens
and Criminals; by Dr. Prosper Despine; reviewed by F. A. v. Hartsen. VII.
Speculative Anthropology looked at from a Christian-Pliilosophical Stand-
point; by Dr. Carl AVerner; reviewed by Prof. Dr. Sengler. VIH. The Doc-
trine of Berkeley : A short tinal reply to T. Collyns Simon. LL.D.; by Prof.
Ueberweg. IX. Correction of Certain Statements in Ulrici's Defence; by Dr. R.
Hoppe. X. Correction of tlie Foregoing ••Corrections"; by Dr. Ulrici.

Beiti-age zur Kenntniss des Amerikanischen Schulwesens [Review of the St. Louis
School Report continued through five numbers of the GemeinnUtzige Wochen-
schrift. published at Wurzburg. Germany], by Prof. L. Grasberger.

Bulletin of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences. Arts, and Letters^ Nos. 4 «fc 5 (Feb.
and July, 1871); published by the Academy, at Madison, Wis.

Contents: I. List of Officers of the Academy. II. Executive Proceedmgs of
the Fourth Meeting. III. Scientific Communications presented at the Fourth
Meeting. IV. Executive Proceedings at the Fifth Meeting. V. Scientific Com-
munications presented at the Fifth Meeting. [Sent us by Dr. J. W. Hoyt, Presi-
dent of the Academy.]

Book Notices. 189

Ja/ires Bericht ilber tlie Doroiheenstaedtisehe Real-Schule. 1870 and 1871.

The Report for 1870 contains, besides the school advertisement, a learned arti-
cle by Dr. F. Frederichs, principal of the school, on Berkeley's Idealism. This
is followed in the Eeport for 1871 by a discussion of the Phenomenal Idealism of
Berkeley and of Kant, a contribution also by Dr. Frederichs. These articles
belong to the wide-spread movement occasioned by the translation of Berkeley's
chief work by Dr. Ueberweg and the polemical articles of Dr. Collyns Simon, of
which we have spoken in vol. v.. p. 283. of this Journal.

La Filosofia della Scuole Italiane. Anno ii., vol. iii., disp. 1, 2 & 3; vol. iv., disp.
1&2. Firenze : M. Cellini. 1871.

Contents No. 1 — I. Acts of the Literary and Philosophical Society: id) The
Future of Metaphysical Speculation ; [b) Letter on the same topic. II. The Inca-
pacity of the Human Will, and other Hypotheses of the Materialists (T. Collyns
Simon, LL.D.), being a Letter to Dr. Herzen, author of Physiological Analysis of
the Free Hutnrui Will. HI. Ethics of Positive Philosophy : Speculations on the
Intention, the Moral Good, and the Useful (Prof. G. Biirzellotti). IV. Philo-
sophical and Literary Notice on Bergmann's First Principles of a Theory of Con-
sciousness (Prof. Luigi Ferri).

Contents No. 2 — I. Acts of the Litei'ary and Philosophical Society: (a) Act of
approval of three MSS.; {h) Influence of Philosophy on the German National
Spirit (Dr. Giuseppe Desours, of Tournay). II. Philosophical Conversations
(Prof. F. Bonatelli). III. Incapacity of the Human Will, and other Hypotheses
of the Materialists (T. Collyns Simon, LL.D.) IV. Analysis and Criticism of
New Works; Literary and Philosophical Notices (Prof. Luigi Ferri).

Contents No. 3 — I. Acts of the Literary and Philosophical Society : (a) Philo-
sophical themes; {b) Literary themes; (c) The Philosophy of Religion — (1) The
Intiuite its own Limit, (2) The Conception of Life applied to God. (3) Pecou-
sideration of the Conception of the Infinite, (4) The Real Relation of the Creator
to the Created, (5) General Treatment of the Divine Attributes, (6) Conclusion.
II. Incapacity of the Human AV^ill, and other Hypotheses of the Materialists (T.
Collyns Simon. LL.D.) III. The Circle of Science (Profs. Bonatelli and Mamia-
ni). IV. Analysis and Critical Notices of New Works; Literary and Philoso-
phical Notices. V. Index to vol. iii.

Vol. IV., No. 1 — Contents : I. Summary of Acts of the Society for the Promo-
tion of Philosophy and Letters. II. Philosophical Conversations. III. Letter
of T. Collyns Simon to Dr. Herzen on the ''Limitations of the Human Will, and
other Hypotheses of Materialists." IV. Theory of Relation: (a) Reid's Doctrine
and its Insufficiency ; (6) Theories of contemporaneous English Psychologists;
(c) The Facts of Perception newly Examined : (rl) Other Distinctions solving
the Ditficulty and confirming the New Doctrine; (e) Objections Answered; {{,
Facts of Reception. V. Ethics of Positive Philosophy (continued): VI. Analy-
sis of New Works. VII. Philosophical and Literary Notices.

No. 2 — Contents: I. Summary of Acts of Philosophical Society. II. Human
Cognition. III. Notes on the Article on Relation and Perception. IV. Influence
of Philosophy on the German National Spirit. V. Theory of the Objectivity
of the Idea, by Count Terenzio Mamiani. VI. Analysis and ^'riticism of Nev
Works.

WORKS OF C. A. WERTHEH, DR. PHIL.

1. Die Krafte der Unorganische Natur in ihrer Einheit und Enttrickelung. Des-
sau, 1852.

2. Was ist Lebenskraft? Versuch einer Antwort auf diese Frage. Dessau. ]S54.

190 Book Notices.

S. Lebem-Setlen-und Geisteskraft. oder die Kriiffe der Organischeii Natui- in ihrei'
Einheii uud Enficickelung. Erster Theil : Die Pflaiizc unci da? Thier. Halle,
1S60.

4. Zicfiier Theil: Der Meiisch als Geistt'cres Iiidividmim nacli seiner Biklniig unci
Eiitwiekoliin^ auf der (irmidlacre der Xatiir. Nordliausen. ISdT.

The above-named works constitute a coniplet<^ sketch of Philosophy in out-
line. Conimencinjr with the Inorganic, our author — after an iitroduction in
which he jusiilie.*; liis method of investiijatioii and discusses the various stand-
points and categories used in a Pliilosoi)hy of Xature — considers, /7>.s^, the forces
which constitute matter or manifest it, .such as magnetism, electricity, chemical
atllnity. I'fcc. ; second, tiie forces which 7nove matter. The former forces are the
static ones that give form and .shape to matter ; the latter forces relate to mo-
tion as wt 11 in molecules as in masses.

Ascending from the Inorganic. Dr. Werther grapples with the problem: What
is organism or vital foreeV Sharply discriminating this from the mechanical and
physical realms of force, he comes to the wider and deeper idea that subordinates
those spheres and exhibits itself as linal cause.

The "Absolute force" he defines as self-determination. To this not merely
the Inorganic and the Organic realms are necessary, but the realm of Mind. lie
traces step by stej) the organic forces through the life of the Plant and through
that of the Animal until its elevation to consciousness. The struggle for self-
revelation, checked in the lower forms, at length achieves its purpose.

A sketch of Man as a ''pneumatic individual" — i.e. as a being of instinct, a
mere soul — is followed by a portrayal of his higher life in the activities of think-
ing and willing. Thought and will are the polar manifestation of the p.sychical
force, or, as he calls it, the ■•pneumatic" force. "As f/wught. the conscious
activity represents the objectivated multiplicity in the unity of the subject ; as
will, it represents the unity of the subject in a determinateness of objectivated
multiplicity." Thus they are two antithetic activities, inseparably connected
and in continual reciprocal action. There are three stages of progress in the
perfection of the soul-power. I. The thinking activity reaches only the phase of
forming judgments, of joining predicates to subjects — the dei-criptive stage —
while the corresponding development of the will manifests itself only in moving
to realize purposes, i.e. simple ends and aims. It is the interaction of this stage
of the will with that of the thinking that elevates it to the next higher, that of
the refecting fhinking and the irilling in accordance v;ith principles . IT. Here sub-
jectivity begins to assert an equal right with objectivity. Thinking by its activ-
ity develops abstractions, and posits them as the truth of the objective. To will
to realize a purpose is a free act: no inorganic or merely organic being can do
this: only a being possessed of a soul can form purposes. But it is far in advance
of that stage to be able to will one's action in conformity to principles. Through
the mediation of this form of will with the thinking that reflects, the psychical
power rises to the third and highest stage of development : HI. The thinking
activity of Eeason and the activity of the Will for the realization of Ideals, are
the highest antithesis of the soul-power. In the activity of Reason the antithesis
of subject and object is reconciled, and objectivity comes to be a moment of sub-
jectivity which proves itself the Absolute form. The thinking Reason stands in
unity with Faith, and seizes the revelation of the Infinite Unity in the Finite by
means of thought-representations, while Faith seizes the same through the liv-
ing sacrifice of the individual to this Revelation. All thinking and knowing is
brought to a unity; and thus .S'cience is formed. The Will becomes ethical in

BooTc Notices, 191

adopting as its principle tlie absolute ideal, and thus also becomes free. This
ideal is self-determination. The threefold combination of individuals gives rise
to the manifestation of the Family, the State, the Christian Religion. The pro-
cess of completely realizing this unfolds successively the course of human his-
tory. Arrived at this point, our author pauses and takes a rapid survey of the
phases that enter now into this highest unity.

It will be observed that the peculiarity of Dr. Werther's exposition consists in
uniting the theoi-etical and practical sides of Mind and treating their development
as the result of reciprocal action. Other branches of the Hegelian school treat
first the Theoretical and then the Practical. A certain resemblance to the popu-
lar methods in which subjects of natural science are treated, is also observable^
and makes a vivid impression on the reader.

La Morale, ndla FUosofia Positica : studio critico di Giacomo Darzellotti, Pro-
fessore diFilosotia hel R. Liceo Dante di Firenze. Florence: 1871.

We have already spoken in this journal (vol. v., p. 94) of the great revival of
Philosophy in Italy, and of the two centres of its activity, Florence and Naples.
Among the most notable philosophical laborers in Florence is Professor Barzel-
lotti, author of the critique above named . In his handling of the subject, one is
very strongly reminded of Cousin's method. He investigates the ideas of experience
and lav; as they have been presented in the Posilivist school ; then unfolds the
two extremes of opinion on the subject of free will, and how the positivists essay
a middle ground. Alexander Bain's analysis of the physical and psychological
conditions accompanying volition is stated and criticised. John Stuart Mill's
theory of volition passes next under review. The concepts of cause and force are
investigated: " i^sychology becomes in the English school a natural history of
the mind."

In Part Second the author investigates the subject of final causes and motives,
sketching the history of discussion on this subject, and drawing distinctions be-
tween the intuitive and utHistic schools. Absolute obligation is contrasted with
materialistic theories. The inductive system of morality, taught by the positiv-
ists and illustrated in the writings of Mr. Lecky, is well detined as regards its
outcome. Theories of happiness, utilitarianism, })iet.hods of investigation, are dis-
cussed. The prevailing method in Germany after Kant is Reduction ; in Eng-
land after Bacon, is Analysis. The method of Reduction does not seek the rela-
tion of psychical activity to its organs— of Psychology to Physiology— but the
relation of the ■various forms of psychical activity to each other and to a coriunon
foundation. Feeling. Association is the fundamental psychological law in the
English school.

In Part Third our author takes leave of the English — having discussed suffi-
ciently the old writers, Hobbes, Cudworth, Clarke, Locke, Butler, Ilutcheson,
Hume, Price, Paley, Brown, and Bentham, as well as the contemporary moral-
ists, Mill, Bain, Spencer, and others. He turns now to the theory of Comte
himself and the French positivists. Their system of "social physics" makes im-
possible any science of Character. The abstract universal of society annuls each
individual as eflectively as the abstract force of the correlatlonists destroys the
identity of particular forces.

With some important remarks as to the future direction of investigation, the
book closes.

Introduzione alia FUosofia della Storia: Lezioni di A. Vera, raccolte e publicate
con I'approvazione deH'autore da Raffaele Mariano. Florence: 1869.

In this work the Philosophy of History is worked up with admirable intro-

192 Book Notices.

Auctions caieulattd to initiate thcMoailcr into all the o^reat philosopliical ques-
tions. It deserves to be translated into En<?lish as a primer of Speculative
Philosophy.

Cvmpcndi'im der Lo<iil; ziim sclbstmiferricht tmd ziir Benuptzung fi'ir Vorfriige aiif
Lnii'ersitaten iiiid Gyiniiamen. Von II. Ulrici. (2d ed. improved and enlarged.)
Leipzig: T. O. Weigel, 1872.

In the author of this work. Dr. Ulrici, is recognized one of the editors of the
Zeitschrift fiir P/iilosop/iie itnd Philosop/dsc/ie Krltik, publisht-d at Halle. As may
be supposed, the author embodies in tiiis book the results of his investigations
as Professor of Philosophj' at the University of Halle. He claims in this work
to have majiped out a reform in Logic in its trunk ancT limbs, and to have com-
pleted, for the first time, a llrm foundation for the same. He combats, as unten-
able, not only Hegel's identification of Logic and Metaphysics, but also the more
recent attempts of Trendelenburg and otiiers to fuse logic with the theory of
knowledge (or Psychology;. He does this on the ground that before a theory of
cognition or a system of Metaphysics can be treated, there must be a preceding
investigation into the general laws, norms and forms of thought as such, and
by this means the question is settled whether and how far we are justified to
assume as belonging to us a faculty of cognizing things in respect to their meta-
physical conditions.

The Finite and the Infinite. By Theophilus Parsons. Boston: Roberts Broth-
ers, 1872. (From tSoule, Thomas & Winsor, St. Louis.)

Contents: What is Matter? The Belief in God; The Natural Intellectual Fac-
ulties: The Spiritual Intellectual Faculties; The Natural and Spiritual Afl:ec-
tional Faculties; The Idea of God; God an Infinite Person; Man as Immortal;
Freedom: Our Life our own, and yet God's Life; ; What is the Prei)aration for
another Life? The Providence of God ; XJevelation; Succession of Kevelations;
Correspondence; Ancient Churches ; The Bible; First and Second Christian
Revelations; Swedenborg; Spiritism; Who receive the Latest Revelation; The
Word of God cannot pass away ; Future Revelations ; He comes with Power and
with gi-eat Glorj'.

The To-inorrow of Death, or the Future Life according to Science. By Louis Fi-
guier. Translated from the French by S. R. Crocker. Boston: Roberts
"Brothers. 1872. (From Sonle. Thomas"& Winsor, St. Louis.)

Contents — Chapters I. to XXIII. : Man the result of a triple alliance of Body,
Soul, and Life; Death Analyzed; Where the Superhuman Body dwells; Re-
incarnation of the Wicked and of Infants; The Planets as Inhabited; Mercury,
Mars, and Venus; Jupiter, Satiun, Iranus, and Neptune; Orderof the Develop-
ment of Life in the Planets — Vegetables. Animals, and Man; Attributes of the
Planetary Man ; The Superhuman after Death; The Sun the definitive Home .of
Souls that have reached the highest stage of the Celestial Hierarchy; The Solar
Rays are Emanations of Spiritual Beings wlio dwell in the Sun; Sun- Worship
among various Nations ancient and modern ; Relations that Subsist between
Ourselves and the Superhumans; The Soul of Animals; The Plant as a Living
Being; Proofs of the Pluralitj- of Human Existences and Incarnations; The
innate Ideas of Locke [III p. 251, M. Figuier is made to say by the translator,
'• The P^nglish philosopher Locke immortalized himself by the discovery that
the human understanding has ideas called •• innate," that is. ideas that we bring
with us into life"], and Dugald Stewart's principle of Causality, are explicable
only on the hypothesis of a Plurality of Lives; Answer to Objections; Ethical
Results of his Theory.

THE JOURNAL

o F

SPECULATIYE PHILOSOPHY.

Vol. VE. July, 1872. No. 3.

IS POSITIVE SCIENCE NOMINALISM OR REALISM?

Do universals possess reality — or are particular things
alone real ? Are all general ideas to be held as simple
names, flatus vocls, representations without content and
without reality? Does the particular include all that exists,
and is the general idea only a fiction formed for convenience
of expression ?

At first thought, it is a little strange that this old dispute
should revive in our day amid the blaze of Positive Science
and enlightened Baconian Induction. Has not this whole
question been set at rest by the doctrine of " Conceptual-
ism" advanced by our modern eclectic thinkers?

However clear and simple the answers may be to these
questions if regarded in the light of the traditional Meta-
physics of this country, we apprehend that our new think-
ers— those who call themselves Positivists, or who rank
under the banner of Herbert Spencer — are very nearly in
a quandary. Their declarations at the outset are very un-
mistakably nominalistic. They regard the particular thing
as alone real, and all general names as without correspond-
ing reality. The reader of Spencer's First Principles remem-
bers the precise statement of chapter second, to the eftect
that conceptions are symbolic wlien general, and tliat they
are real and true only in ratio of their application to the
particular individual. But we are disappointed in these

Vol. VI -13

194 Is Positivie Science Realism or Nominalism ?

men wlien we expect to find them consistent. The entire
process of their scientilic exi)ositions lias this general object
in view : the reduction of all particularity and individuality
back to general terms, such as matter and force, or latv. They
prove that there is no such thing as x»*'Jiiia.nence of the parti-
cular— that it is onh^ an immediate phase of a general process
— that its only reality or existence is its vanishing (its begin-
ning and ceasing) — that "the sole truth which transcends
experience by underlying it, is the persistence of Force. "^
Thus, while claiming to be nominalists or conceptualists at
the outset, they end in asserting, in the most explicit lan-
guage, the reality of the universal. They would say that the
concepts and names Force and Matter correspond to the most
real of realities, while they are the most general and farthest
renu)ved from the realm of particularity.

That such realism as this is called pantheistic or material-
istic, and is dreaded by spiritual or religious thinkers, makes-
the question all the more a vital one. That Religion can be
defended at all only on the ground of the highest realism,
must never be forgotten. Unless the " Real of all realities"
is a Spirit — not an abstract Universal such as the correla-
tionists hold, but a concrete Universal such as Plato and
Aristotle held (the one virtually, the other explicitly) — Reli-
gion must necessarily be fetichism, and nothing above that.

But this position assumed by the new realists is so strange
when viewed from the premises with which they set out, that
it deserves a more definite exposition.

Scientijic Premises.
Starting from the assumption that all speculation is vain,
that there is no such thing as pure thought; or that if there
is any pure thought, it is mere idle fancy ; and holding that
a knowledge of the true is obtained b}- means of the sens'es,
and that its truth is measuied by its exact correspondence
to the particular facts as they exist in their separateness or
isolation in the world; holding, moreover, that classilication
and generalization, the discovery of laws, is the legitimate
occupation of science, although its results are symbolic or
inadequate just in proportion to their generality ; holding to
these irreconcilable ^jremises, they proceed to expound the
doctrines of Positive Science.

Is Positive Science Realism or Nominalism f 195

Scientific Results.

1. Investigation of the so-called facts of the senses leads on
all hands to the discovery that each fact is a passing phase
of a larger fact. What one takes at first sight for a particular
individual, is a phase in the manifestation of the individu-
ality of some phenomenon of greater scope. All the marks,
attributes, qualities and modes of ''this particular individual"
are placed there by the activity of a more general and more-
widely-inclusive individual process. It would be as absurd
to attribute independent individuality to the color of this
violet, which we know to depend on projierties of the violet,
and on earth, air, water and light, to say nothing of the struc-
ture of our senses. Its individuality is nothing; it is a pJtase
of individuality, and its reality is all borrowed or secondary.
What gives it reality lies behind it.

2. Science declares that all these material phenomena are
manifestations of Force. The things which are sensuously
perceived are only transitory phases in the ceaseless process
of the play of forces. These forces are correlated in such a
way that their constantly recurring and constantly annulled
equilibrium is what .is known as matter. But force is the
only abiding; and it is not the abiding as particular forces, —
each particular force loses its individuality and vanishes in
another.

3. Thus parti(;ular individuality continues to recede before
the analytic investigation of science. ** The species lives,,
but the individual dies." Not only " this particular " of the
senses dissolves into the particular forces, such as light,
heat, electricity, magnetism, attraction, &c.: but each of these
particular forces proves to be a mere vanishing phase in a
process of force in general. Each of these particular forces
exists only while in process of manifestation, and the process
of manifestation is only the process of transition from an an-
tecedent form of force to a subsequent one.

4. What we call the reality of a force, its perceptibility by
our senses, is only its passage into another or its vanishing,
its ceasing to be itself, its loss of individuality, its negation
and annulment. Its reality and particularity is, then, only
the destruction of that same reality and particularity.

5. The reality has, therefore, two sides, {a) origination and

196 Is Positive Science Realism or Nominalism ?

(b) evanescence, {a) It ori,G:inates in that activity of force which
acts on a previous state. chanij;ing it to ''this particular real-
ity." {/)) "This particular reality" is, in turn, iniuiediately
swallowed up by a like negative action of force. Only force
in general abides. It acts continiuilly, and its activity is ))oth
positive and negative — originating the particular by the same
act that annuls the particular. Force in general causes the
marks, properties, qualities, and attributes, of the particular
reality, and at the same time it destroys them. The constant
result is a phenomenal w^orld, wherein the particular is per-
petually beginning and ceasing without interval between the
two sides of the process. The very reality itself is the van-
ishing thereof.

6. Thus Force in general is self-related, in the sense that
its activity is always directed to the negating or annulment
of the very determinations that it has caused. It destroys
just what it originated. But its act of destroying is an act
of originating new determinations. Force, therefore, is the
source of all reality, and is the resistless might before which
reality vanishes. Force is thus something more than reality ;
it is reality and potentiality — it is Actuality (the iuifjyeca of
Aristotle). Thus we arrive at something more real than real-
ity, taking the latter in the sense of the existing, or transient,
particular things. Force as thus seized is a Universal, and
is the real in all realities. In fact, it requires the production
and annulment of the entire round of phenomenal realities
to completely manifest this Universal or Actual, which is
called Force by the scientific man.

7. Force in general is not any particular, real force ; for
such real force is a particularized form — a limitation of force
in general. Hence universal force manifests its superior
generality by negating every particular force. It is of the
utmost importance to see this point. // is involved in the
very being or reality of a particular force that the very limita-
tion or determination zvhich constitutes it is at the same titne the
activity of the general force engaged precisely in annulling the
particular force. What constitutes it destroys it. Light, for
example, shines in its diffusion or transition to its opposite.
Every force in specific action is passing from a tension to an
eciuilibrium — i.e. from one specific form to another.

Tlieories of Mental Genesis. 197

8. Under tlie process of correlation, wherein real forces lose
their individuality, only abstract or general force abides.
This may be called ideal force when contrasted with par-
ticular real forces ; it is cognized only by inference, and not
by immediate sensuous perception. It is a really-existent
universal or generic entity — an Actuality whose manifesta-
tion is the correlation of forces. The particular forces are
its reality, but not their own; for their manifestation is their
destruction, but both phases give evidence of the reality of the
Universal. In the entire round from one force through all
the others back to the same force again, we have the succes-
sive annulment of all the characteristic distinctions of the
several forces, and thus we have left force in general as the
pure negative might whose constitution or nature is self-made
by its activity in the play of forces. Its universal nature —
its ascent out of particularity — refusing to be limited to a
special form — appears in the negative side of the process,
wherein it perpetually annuls special characteristics. Its
positive affirmative side appears in the perpetual production
of the special out of the negation of (old forms of) the same.

9. Wherein this Universal force, which is a self-determined,
differs from the thinking activity or Mind (iuze/J-j^sea), is a
profitable inquiry. But the sole point we had in view here
was simply to show the new doctrine of Realism now arising
in place of the dismal nominalism and stifling conceptualism
in vogue.

THEORIES OF MENTAL GENESIS.

By John Weiss.

The later scientific method derives the conscience from
selected experiences of the useful and agreeable. In the
finest minds the moral sense is only the clarified residue of
the experiences of people in learning to live safely and com-
fortably with each other. It sums them up, but can add
nothing to them. It becomes, like a family resemblance, a
permanent trait acquired by inheritance. A fresh experience
may compel a fresh adjustment, and the moral sense can be

19S Theories of Mental Genesis.

modified from without by a social exigency, but it has
attained to no independent power to force its own adjust-
ment upon experience. It is never conscious of an exigency
of its own. which may transcend experience, and dictate to
it ; sucli a faculty is as inconceivable as that a fountain
should rise higher than its source. Acts of moral heroism
are suggestions of an ultimate utility which persuade the
individual to sacrifice himself. But wliat is the origin of
such suggestions which contradict the average sense derived
from human experience? The scientific method insists upon
its derivation of conscience from empirical observation, yet
proceeds to explain transcendent morals which reform the
race and abolish any wrong that average experience has
incorporated in its social system, by endowing certain indi-
viduals with the capacity to conceive of a more beneficent
system, to anticipate the future, to sacrifice peace, the feel-
ing of approbation, the immediate security of society, life
itself, for the sake of a finer idea of Right. These individuals
are moved thereto, perhaps, by seeing outrages, or by suffer-
ing from them. But what impels a man who sutt'ers from a
wrong which is upheld by society, to increase his suffering by
protesting against it in behalf of other men? Every feeling
of the useful and the agreeable would counsel him to keep
his suffering and that of his fellows at a minimum. Expe-
rience has gradually founded the system which surrounds
him : it can no more furnish him with the seeds of his revolt
than the nut of a beech can provide the acorn for an oak.
When the empirical method is held strictly to its own logic,
this absurdity is perceived, of something resulting from
objective experience different from all the objects which con-
stituted that experience. A state of morals at any epoch is
only the state of comfort, happiness, usefulness, and mutual
api)robation of the majority; it is an average attained by
the exigencies of the people who are forced to live together.
Logically that average is insurmountable; but practically it
is constantly surmounted, and society is compelled to assume
a higher average by men of a forlorn hope who propose a
conception of religion, of worship, of human rights and happi-
ness, which nowhere exists, and which could not therefore be
suggested by empirical sensations. They are frequently men

Theories of Mentdt Genesis. 199

who conceive these things from afar, without the stimulus of
personal suffering, quite removed from that into calm regions
of meditation. They emerge from the solitudes of thought
to proclaim the advent of a fresher and more just society:
but the sense of justice, the instinct of order, devastates the
things that men hold dearest, and, if the thinkers are obsti-
nate, demands their life as a sacrifice to existing order. One
thing is " said by them of olden time " ; but these men, the
products of no time at all, step out of a purer conception, and
are heard, " But / say unto you." What an unaccountable
phrase if morals are nothing but the silt which time brings
down and deposits. There must be somewhere existing an
Absolute Righteousness, the inspirer of every more righteous
future, as there must exist a Plan of Absolute Intelligence,
the continuous cause of every developing epoch of creation.
The hero of Right and Absolute Religion is not maddened
by suffering into forgetfulness of self, but possessed by a
higher Self which his fortunate structure invites into him and
to which he responds. Or, shall we suppose that his struc-
ture develops an exceptional Self? At any rate, the empirical
method does not account for him, because he is essentially
different from all the materials and sensations which it has
to work with to produce notions of utility and social appro-
bation. We may concede that such results may be derived
from such materials ; but the burden of showing the genesis
of prophets and reformers rests with those who would restrict
us to these materials alone.

In Mr. Huxley's book, entitled " More Criticisms on Dar-
win," I find the following paragraph : " Assuming the posi-
tion of the absolute moralists, let it be granted that there is
a, perception of right and wrong innate in every man. This
means simply, that when certain ideas are presented to his
mind the feeling of approbation arises, and when certain
others, the feeling of disapprobation." I should suggest to
Mr. Huxley that he would more correctly say, the feeling of
approval; that is, the mind approves of the right idea which
it perceives. The word approbation includes a sense of ap-
proving one's self; but this may be, and generally is, absent
from a simple percei)tion of Right. Mr. Huxley's mistake is
clear in his very next sentencCj where he says : " To do your

200 Theories of Mental Genesis.

duty is to earn the approbation of your conscience, or moral
sense ; to fail in your duty is to feel its disapprobation." Of
course : but the question is of simple percex^tion of an idea
of a right act and of a wrong act ; the idea of doing either
personally is not involved. So that there can be an absolute
perception of an act as right or as wrong, pure and simple,,
without any mixture of personal satisfaction or pain. The un-
biased moral sense can simply recognize right and wrong, as
the mind perceives that two and two make four ; both recog-
nitions are an organic necessity. If the recognition of a right
thing is retlected on, then approval of it arises : a feeling
closely bordering upon the mental satisfaction which accom-
panies the perception of truths and facts of the exact sciences.
But the pleasure and pain of self-approbation and disappro-
bation cannot arise until the Self transfers or fails to transfer
its moral perception into private action.

So that there is something in man besides the '' something
which enables him to be conscious of these particular pleas-
ures and pains,"

Now the origin of this moral Something is a distinct
question. It may have descended from obscure traits of
anticipatory moral action which reign in the animal world.
Transferred into human and social circumstances, they may
have filtered through a developing sense of the useful and
the salutary, till they were dejoosited in average habits of
behavior. But these traits reach at length in the finest brains
a capacity of being self-perceived as immutable morality, dis-
tinct from motives of utility, or of pleasure and pain, whether
they travelled manward by those routes or not. There is no
objection to the theory that they did, until it undertakes to
insist that they have not emerged from those routes upon a
broad land of a Conscience which transcends all selfish feel-
ings, to sacrifice them to a more arduous Right yet unat-
tained, whose attainment may involve the hero of Conscience
in ruin.

The latest scientific method derives the Imagination, as it
does the Conscience, from accumulated sensations. But its
language here struggles painfully to bring its phrases up to
the level of the whole function of Imagination. It is quite
inadequate to say that a brain well compacted with images

Theories of Mental Genesis. 201

derived from natural objects, spontaneously creates the asso-
ciations between them and human moods, passions, and
emotions ; that a sense of symmetry and beauty, a feeling for
landscapes, a power to evolve them out of the crude assem-
blage of natural features, a gift of constructing all the sensa-
tions derived from life and nature into the sublimity of poetry
and song, results from the number and variety of these sen-
sations taken into a temperament of sensibility, where they
are moulded, fused by personal passion, and express cerebral
felicity of structure. These phrases mix up the raw mate-
rial in which the poet, artist and composer work with other
phrases which are assumptions that it also generates their
working faculty. That is the very point involved. No doubt
the poet has received a multiplicity and variety of sensa-
tions. The difference between him and other men is first a
capacity to receive them ; second, a capacity to transform
them into his own personality ; third, a capacity to express
them, thus transmuted, with a rhythmical flow that involves
the whole of Nature and man in its course, and converts Na-
ture into a metaphor of his private vitality. No number of
empirical sensations derived from Nature, no experience of
mankind, no recollection of its history, can account for this
result. A brain of rare structure incorporates a world, but
gives it back to us another world ; or, rather, the world's
secret is fathomed and betrayed : we see it not as it always
seemed to us, but lifted into a passionate and symmetrical
vitality, which transcends every empirical sensation, and is,
in fact, its reason for being : and that is something which
mere sensation cannot supply. Held to strict logic, the mate-
rialist has no right even to the phrases he employs in speak-
ing of this subject.

H. Taine says that there is a fixed rule "for converting into
one another the ideas of a positivist, a pantheist, a spiritual-
ist, a mystic, a poet, a head given to images, and a head given
to formulas. We may mark all the steps which lead simple
philosophical conception to its extreme or violent state," as
in the passage which he quotes from Sartor Resartus, begin-
ning, "generation after generation takes to itself the Form of
a Body, and, forth issuing from Cimmerian Night, on Heav-
en's mission appears." "Take the world as science shows

202 Theories of Mental Genesis.

it,'' continues Taine, "'it is a regular group, or, if you will, a
series whioli has a law ; according to science it is nothing
more. As from the law we deduce the series, you may say
that the hnv engenders it, and consider this law as a force.
If you are an artist, you will seize in the aggregate the force,
the series of effects, and the tine regular manner in which
the force produces the series." In this connection Taine evi-
dently recalls the novels of Balzac, who develops the charac-
ter of various human passions as primitive forces, which
appear in objective facts of men and women, who are to be
observed, without praise or dispraise, as beings who develop
organically their whole moral disposition, and whose joy or
grief may be inferred according to the judicious rule laid
down by Hegel, that every work of art depends for its moral
upon the person who is studying it. Elsewhere Taine shows
how Thackeray, for instance, violates this rule. "To my
mind,"' continues Taine, "this sympathetic representation is
of all the most exact and comj)lete : knowledge is limited as
long as it does not arrive at this, and it is complete when
it has arrived there. But beyond, there commence the phan-
toms which the mind creates, and by which it dupes itself.
If you have a little imao-ination. vou will make of this force
a distinct existence, situated beyond the reach of experience,
spiritual, the principle and the substance of concrete things."
By the simple intensification of this ([ualit}', the metaphysi-
cian and the mystic are evolved. But notice here how Taine
has smuggled in the phrase, " if you have a little imagina-
tion," as if that faculty were something excrementitious,
whose products are what alimentation abandons and expels.
It occurs to us to inquire, at the lowest, if imagination may
not be a mode of force : if so, it must be taken into the
account of mental development, where it appears to be some-
thing quite as positive as any passion which Balzac describes.
It is then a legitimate object whose products cannot be re-
jected merely because they deposit in the mind a sense of
Spirit. They push out a horizon filled with images and cor-
respondences which are different from visible things, and
which those things, left to themselves, could not procreate,
any more than a garden of flowers could impregnate itself.
A viewless wind must stir the celibate stalks — a ranging bee

Theories of Mental Genesis. 203

must make its geometric cell an excuse for these promiscuous
marriages. Here is the point where the scientific method,
which is complemented by Taine's artistic method, fails to
account for all the facts that a universe provides. As soon
as the word Spirit appears, or phrases hinting at the Invisi-
ble put in their claim, or a capacity that transcends inherited
effects is supposed, the empirical method disclaims it all, as
Conscience is explained to be the cumulative result of expe-
riences of utility. Yet the scientific method itself is indebted
to the faculty of imagination. That is a twofold faculty : it
performs two functions.

First, it anticipates subsequent epochs of scientific inter-
pretation by incessant proclamations of the essential unity of
all things. Its instinct is for similarities ; it floats at so great
a height that objects appear blended, but the horizon from
that height is so enlarged that a hemisphere of objects is
spread out. It selects on one meridian the counterpart of an
object upon another, though it may skulk, and imitate the
color of its neighborhood, hoping not to be swooped upon
and assimilated. Its prey runs in forests and multiplies in
all seas. The ocean is a saucer, and its bottom scarce skin
deep. And the distances which lie within the galaxy are
sanded with the gold dust of its imagery. The firmament is
a solid floor on which this sense of unity can walk.

This instinct appears first in poetry, where Nature is rifled
of all the features that can correspond to our emotions, or
serve as symbols of our thought.

"The forest is my loyal fricDd:
Like God it usetli me."

And like God we use the forest. Its million leaves dance
in the anticipation which our mind has that this "sense
sublime of something interfused" will turn out to be the
identity of law and object, of the creature and the Creator,
of the scenery and the seer. And all the images of the Poet,
so far from being the bastards of an irresponsible impulse
which ravishes an idiotic universe, are the healthy children
of the only realism that dare aspire to his feathered hand.
See it tremble in moments of conception ! God remembers
His rapture. There is not an object which is not a passion —

204 Theories of Mental Genesis.

not a passion whirh does not oA'ertake itself in objects. What
is my tliouglit like ? Whatever it be like, that is my thought,
or else it could not be like it. Ilow irrational and fantastic
seems this conclusion to which the imagination leaps with
the faith of a child in his " make believe" I How futile this
hysteric passion which mounts to the eyelid and inundates
the cheek at the hapi)y rashness of some image that abol-
ishes time and space, and makes the diity earth a lens ! We
put our eye to it. Thou Deity, our eyes have met !

There is no sense in this transubstantiation of poetry, ex-
cept to the senseless communicants, until the epoch of scien-
tific Synthesis arrives, and the imagination is justified in
ransacking the universe for symbols. Synthesis is imagina-
tion secularized. I mean that every one of the old symbols
the old confidences with Nature, the old obscure sympathies'
the artless pretences that objects are personal and vital, and
all related through the observer, are now proved to be the
mind's expectation that there is but one kind of intellect, but
one object, and but one law or mode of divine manifestation.
Synthesis builds a hive for imagination to dwell in ; the
structures planned by the original Geometer are filled with
myriad meadows of sweets distilled to sweetness.

This leads me to say that, secondly, the imagination some-
times anticipates, at any existing epoch of information, a
subsequent epoch, when all the facts collected up to that date
justify the anticipation. They are interpreted by a law,
or by a mode of Force which put them forth. They arrive at
length in sufficient number, and in relations obvious enough^
to vindicate the previous divining of the imagination. Hardly
a great man, from Pythagoras downward, can be mentioned
who did not have fore-feelings of the genuine scientific direc-
tion, in Number and mathematical relation, in the qualities
of Motion and their ai)plication to planetary- phenomena, in
the sphericity of the earth and stars, in the law of musical
intervals, in the ai)plications of the arc and conic sections, in
the position of the earth in the solar system. Before the facts
were in, the method was surmised; sometimes the law itself
was hinted at, and imperfectly formulated. Now, no uncon-
scious cerebration, or automatic sorting of impressions de-
rived from the number and similarity of facts, can promulgate

Theories of Mental Genesis. 205

or anticipate a law, because that is something essentially dis-
tinct from Object. There may be simultaneonsness in the
appearance of law and object; we may admit that the two
are really one, a moment in which identity appears, a focus
of correlation. But there is not any feature of this intimacy
which can proclaim itself; that is not done for a long time,
nor imtil an independent mental faculty appears of such a
divining nature that it is not at any ejjocli a common human
faculty. It is the result of rare structural qualifications, wiiich
recur to Creation with the gift that made creation possible,
with a power to repeat by a sense of Cause the logic that
caused, to create a mental synthesis that sweeps all observa-
tion into the unity of a Law, to show that all the sciences are
Protean moods of one eternal moment of correlation, to speak
at length in human language the plan which without speak-
ing planned. That ineffable creative word becomes flesh in
the divinings of imagination. They precede any collection or
arrangements of objects, just as infinite Will must have pre-
ceded its own going into objects. Or, if Will and Object be
continually identical, it is not in consequence of Object. We
cannot eradicate or explain away that aboriginal habit of the
scientific imagination to ask Why ? as the child does ; and
to answer. Because I as the child does. " Of such is the king-
dom of Heaven." Object cannot ask nor answer, because it
cannot originate. But the intellect does not wait till all the
facts are in, any more than the divine Mind did in order that
the facts might be created.

Luther said, " the principle of marriage runs through all
creation, and flowers as well as animals are male and female,"
before botany was dreamed of, or the principle of vegetable
life divined. This was an anticipation as remarkable as that
of Swedenborg, who clearly posited the nebular hypothesis
before he or any other man had an inch of standing ground
to show for it.

Now, if at any epoch the finest brains — those, namely,
whose synthetic method is rarefied by imagination — are only
deposited by empirical contact with the world, so that their
state of intelligence is nothing but juxtaposition of facts, and
their structure nothing but a result of microscopic packing of
sensations, such brains could not discharge the functions of

20(5 Theories of Mental Genesis.

whicli tliey are conscious. The problem is to build a brain.
Let us build it after the fashion of the materialist. The animal
kingdom slowly elaborated the cerebral matter, and routrhly
majijied out the relation of its parts. Nature, cautiously
feeling her way from species to species, from simple to com-
plex forms, from a dot of plasma to the complicated lobes
which respond to external circumstances and record them,
contributes the whole of the process to the progenitors of man-
kind. What had their brain become bv that time '( It was an
agglutination of sensations. What must have been the re-
sult of the lirst sensible impression which was made upon the
earliest rudimental nerve-matter ^ That question is answered
by the discovery that the nerve-matter was a part of the ob-
jective world which produced tlie impression. It did not lose
or modify its character by being eliminated from that world;
it was still one of its discrete forms, and identical in sub-
stance. Then the object which impressed it and the impres-
sion were identical. The object was the sensation. There is
no infinitesimal rift into which you can thrust your surmise
of a ditterence and pry apart a sameness into duality ; that
is, into the supposition of an object to impress and an object
to be impressed — one to become by means of that impression
something different in kind from the object that impresses.
Brood upon that primitive relation of plasma to all the rest
of elemental matter. You cannot hatch it into a different
kind of vitality by merely saying that plasma was a more
highly organized matter. You cannot establish a schism in
matter by determining grades of organization. Every grade
preserves, prolongs, embodies the original identity in which
it was contained; just as oxygen by aerating the blood im-
presses it wdth the character of oxygen, but does not liberate
it from the materiality which they both share. A nerve-
sensation is not a leap from Object into Subject.

If it is not, as the materialist alleges, then it makes no dif-
ference how many sensations the accumulating brain receives
and registers. Their number cannot change their quality.
On the long route of developing mankind there is no station
where independent mentality may step on board. The train
stops for refreshment, wood, and water. But the food and the
fuel still correspond to their own motive power and digestive

Theories of Mental Genesis. 207

ability. Stomach and food, brain and object, are convertible
expressions. All objective circumstances remain unaltered;
nerve-matter accumulates because sensations do. The hrst
word oi human speech, the iirst musical cadence, the first
smatter of the natural language of human emotions on the
face, the tirst prattling of social intercourse, the first fumbling
for a tool of bone or Hint, the first sparkle kindled in the dry
pith of the fennel — all these rudiments of society were only
the sensations of Sensation, the objectivity of Objects.
The brain was but another object set up by the concurrence
of objects, a self-registeiing world in the comj^ass of a skull.
Even if the cerebral capacity should cease to expand, while
the perceptions continued to accumulate, it never can be
filled ; for the method of packing them is economical of room.
If a drop of water is capable of containing 500,000,000 ani-
malcules endowed with locomotive limbs, there must be room
enough in any brain for any number of objective residues.
But so long as the world does not swerve from its own objec-
tivity and change its climate, so long does the human brain
continue to be its odometer, or automatic tally.

" The Holothuri^e living in the South Sea, which feed upon
coral sand, spontaneously eject their lungs and intestine
through the anus when they are transferred to clear sea-
water ; then they construct new bowels corresponding to the
new conditions." But Object does not transfer the human
brain into the element of Subject, so that it can void its assi-
milative structure, and set up the liver, lungs and lights of
Subjectivity.

I think this is a correct presentation of the latest mateiial-
ism, which derives all mental functions from an automatic
system of storage of objective impressions. But its advocates
have not yet looked in the glass of their own theory. I have
tried to reduce it to the absurdity which lies latent in it. It
is this. It has nothing but objects to start from, nothing but
them to accumulate, and yet it assumes to arrive at some-
thing which is not object; for instance, its own capacity to
make any assumption at all, and to d^ny that the capacity
demonstrates independent mentality. It will deduce and pre-
sume ; something which a skull commensurate with the sky,
and crammed with objectivity, could never do. It will refuse

208 T/ieories of Mental Genesis.

to a liuman being an independent ])ersonality : something
wliieli nothing but such a personality could do. It started
with speechlessness, and had, of course, nothing but aggluti-
nated dumbness to end with : yet it invents words, and com-
mits to them its atfirmations and denials; lends them to the
poet, who makes whole landscapes share the breath of their
life ; turns them over to the prophet, who puts them in his
thwarts, casts loose from actual states, and pulls into the
possible and the desirable ; yields them to the synthetic
imagination, and hears its own best guesses before it has pro-
claimed them, and its own experimental method suggested
before objects could muster strong enough to raise a whim-
per; consigns them to the moral sense, and is refuted by a
style of speech which transcends the latest moment of utility
and social advantage, pronounces in divine men their own
death-warrant, and sighs out selfishness upon a million
crosses. Was that bit of plasma, then, nothing but one
object more in a world full? or, was it an anvil upon which
objective impact Hew into a spark? Now a myriad hammers
of the many-handed Cosmos crash through our skull, and we
see stars — abysses full of them! Is it an optical illusion ?
They appear to attain orbits — they move in definite and har-
monious relations — they create distance, deepen it with per-
spective: flat objectivity is broken up as a thinkable Uni-
verse comes pondering through.

Let me have recourse to an illustration.

A planetary motion is the result of two causes : first, a
force that acts in the direction of a tangent; second, a force
that attracts. What liapi)ens when the mind has observed
that there are these two forces ? Something which discovers
their laws. This may be an inductive process, derived from
prolonged and numerous calculations, adjustments, and cor-
rections, based upon as many planetary directions as can be
observed. Then suppose we wish to ascertain the motion of
a planet which is submitted to the influence of these laws.
That is a deduction based upon calculation. There is an
astronomical duplication of the planetary facts, a mental re-
hearsing of orbital motions. The facts recur to their Cause
through our intellect. Their mere objectivity is not compe-
tent to achieve this result, which is something causative, and

TJieories of Mental Genesis. 209

therefore essentially different from themselves, which are
caused. They are occasions for addressing, stimulating and
developing in us a quality which is not themselves, not their
counterpart, but which is identical with the quality which
caused them. They stand between, and could as soon have
originated cause behind them as our causality beyond them.
What is the mental fact which takes place when this medi-
ate Object recurs to Subject? Something besides cerebral
registering of the succession of sensations produced by the
phenomena. That only succeeds in confirming succession or
simultaneousness. We call the mental fact Deduction. Bat
that is only a word, and not an explanation. It does not put
US into possession of the actual occurrence when objects are
mentally fitted with the laws of their causes. It does not
explain the nature of that mental moment. To say that it is
the result of cerebral movement and waste, of changes in the
grey matter in the brain, does not explain it. That is only a
dynamical accessory.

In like manner, what happens when an imaginative per-
son, seeing some features of a landscape, or some combina-
tions of light, sky, sea, color, at morn or sunset, invests the
scene with his own personality ? In fact, the combination
called a landscape exists nowhere ; it is a pure ideal con-
struction of his own. The scene without is only a palette or
a pot of paint. A poetic symbol, a simile which encloses a
trait of nature in the amber of thought or emotion, is a men-
tal process unaccountable on any theory of empirical accu-
mulation of sensations.

But we seldom find a materialist who is willing to accept a
statement of his method which shows that it really starts
with a term that is incapable of starting. Bald matter is im-
potent to proceed except into fresh forms of matter; and even
that process requires that Force should be assumed. And
something has to make that assumption. That assuming
faculty cannot be merely a form of matter, for no thing can
step outside of itself and become what is not Thing. No
number of things can do that, though the sensations pro-
duced by them accumulate for centuries. They may be irri-
tants, as a drop of acid on a frog's bare muscle after his head
is cut off; but they cannot conceive that they irritate, any

Vol. vi.— 14

2K1 Theories of Mental Genesis.

more than the frog can conceive that he is irritated. They
cannot forniuhite their unconscious function of exciting our
senses.

What does the materialist say when his empirical method
is boned in this way, and sinks on the floor of creation a help-
less huddle of Object, every articulation and vertebra of his
own mentality withdrawn from it^ He disclaims the result,
cannot tolerate being defrauded of his own analytic and (das-
sifying skill, and declares against materialism in that sense.
But it has no other sense. The moment he declares against
it, he declares in favor of an intellectual perception of an ob-
jective sensation, that is, in favor of something which Object
cannot generate. His own idealism rises against its jailer,
and breaks out of prison in this declaration.

This ought to startle him into making a more distinct defini-
tion of the word Matter than he has yet undertaken. He uses
that, and the word Object, in the ordinary sense; but he will
not recogni/.e all that it connotes when it is pressed to ulti-
mates. And it is astonishing that he can invent such v. ords
as Vitality, Force, Correlation, to account for phases of ob-
jects, elemental modes, conditions of existence, without feel-
ing compromised. He is obliged to assume something which
is anterior to objects and their j)henomena, anterior to the
sensations produced by them ; he speaks of correlation, but
says nothing about something previous which does the corre-
lating. If that something be another objective condition, a
more tenuous tenuity, it involves the necessity of something
still beyond, since mere condition cannot conditionate itself,
and no thing can do itself. So that, sooner or later, the
words employed by the empirical observer justify an ulti-
mate ground of Being, an absolute Cause ; and that, too, jus-
tifies Cause in the observer, for Being goes into Object, and
not Object into Being.

Perhaps the materialist will take refuge in the Hegelian
phrase, '' Matter is Jjeing outside of Itself," in order to endow
Matter with a causative capacity, and secure perpetual vital-
ity to its plastic germs. Then he may suppose that objective
phenomena, in their gradual achievement of the human brain,
lent it their primitive endowment as Being outside of Itself,
and made of it another animate object. But what becomes

Theories of Mental Genesis. 211

of Being outside of Itself when this object disapj^ears, is dis-
integrated, ceases to be a focus of Being ? It either must re-
cur to Being in Itself, or must be correlated in some mode of
Force. Both suppositions make the human intellect only a
phenomenal phase of Absolute Being ; it is only caused mat-
ter, it is on the footing of every other object, its root imbibes
the identity of Object and Being, its self-consciousness is
only an increase of animateness, but not a differentiation of
it into Person. It invents the phrase, to be sure — claims to
have or be a self— and that the unconscious animal, reaching
man's estate, comes to the line where consciousness begins ;
man separates to that extent from the world of Object, be-
cause Object has been Being all the time. But if it has been
Being all the time, one of two things must be true, either that
self-consciousness resided all along the route in organic ob-
jects, or at no point of it at all ; the reputed consciousness of
Self is only a phenomenon of Object.

Perhaps the materialist will thank us for such a reduction
of the Hegelian phrase to another form of Matter, because it
makes Soul and Person impossible on any terms ; and per-
haps the idealist, discontented with any style of the doctrine
of Evolution, will be driven to the notion that there is outside
of us an ocean of germinal soul-monads which become allied
with human structures.

There are insuperable objections, lying mainly in the direc-
tion of the facts of inheritance, to this attempt at spiritual-
ism. In the meantime, the Doctrine of Evolution cannot be
dispensed with. The burden does not rest upon us to in-
dicate the point in time and the method of appearing of
independent mentality. But we can show that Object can
propagate only Object; nor that without something assumed
which Object cannot propagate.

Let us take, however, a word which the materialist is com-
petent to invent and is obliged to use — Vitality. He must
assume it in spite of the objectivity of every point of his
empirical method. Then, in the interest of Idealism, we
suggest, taking a statement used by us in another place,
"whether there can- be any germinal soul-substance except
the mysterious force which we call Vitality wherever we
see it in the human state. It went into creation allied with

:212 Theories of Mental Ge>iesls.

all the germs which have subsequently taken form. It
carried everywhere a latent sensibility for the creative law
out i»f which it came. It swept along with a dim drift of the
Personality that lirst conceived and then put it on the way
to self-expression. It mounted thus by the ascending scale
of animals, and its improvements in structure were prepara-
tions to reach and repeat Personality, to report the original
consciousness of the Creator that He was independent of
structure. At length it became detached from the walls of
the womb of creation, held only for nourishment by the cord
of structure tilKit could have a birth into individualism.
Then the interplay of mind and organism began, with an in-
herited advantage in favor of Vitality. Now Vitality, thus
developed and crystallized into personality, tends constantly
back towards its origin. The centrifugal movement through
all the animals is rectitied by the centripetal movement in
man. The whole series of effects musters in him to recur to
an effecting Cause."

Prof. Ha^ckel of Jena, in his Biological Studies,^' makes the
following statement: "Protoplasm, or germinal matter, also
called cell-substance or primitive slime, is the single material
basis to which, without exception and absolutely, all so-called
' vital phenomena ' are radically bound. If the latter are re-
garded as the result of a peculiar vital force independent of
the protoplasm, then necessarily also must the physical and
chemical properties of every inorganic natural body be re-
garded as the result of a peculiar force not bound up with its
substance."

Very well, why not ? Even the vague motions, like the
incoherent simmer of a crowd of people on a great square,
which take place in the molecules of the densest substance,
are dumb gropings of some Force, arrested for the present
in the substance, and not to be detected transgressing its lim-
its. But something is there which shares and testifies to a
universal tendency towards evolution into other substances
and into organic forms. Physical and chemical forces attest
the presence of Vitality, as well as the mental functions
which use the structural results of those forces. Something

* See Toledo Index, Apnl 29, 187J.

Theories of Mental Oenesis. 213

independent of: the material basis must have endowed it with
its movements and qualities. It certainly could not have
originated itself or its forces. Something anterior to the ma-
terial basis must include and transmit a tendency of Vitality
towards mental and moral functions, which are at once inde-
pendent of the basis and yet closely allied to it.

Let us observe now if any contribution may be made to
idealism from another quarter. The empirical method has
not busied itself much with the phenomena of musical sensi-
bility, though, to be consistent after including the imagina-
tion in its genesis of mind from external sensations, it ought
to construct the sense of Harmony and the inventive genius
of the composer in the same way, since imagination plays so
large a part therein. Some physical facts which at first
threaten to support a pure empiric origin for mental func-
tions, turn out upon cross-questioning to belong to the other
side of the case, and to contribute, toward some more ideal
statement.

The German Helmholtz, who has made some profound
studies of the laws of Harmony, in his examination of the
structure of the human ear, found that the cochlea, or snail-
formed cavity, contained a liuid, across which three membranes
were thrown — an upper, middle, and under. In the middle
compartment he discovered innumerable microscopic disks,
lying next each other like the keys of a piano : one end of
each of them is attached to the vessels of the auditory nerve,
the other end to the outstretched membranes. These disks
are the sensitive points which receive the vibrations of musi-
cal instruments, and transmit them to the brain in the form
of notes and tones. A single string will give off different
vibrations from its upper and its middle section. Does the
ear solve the sound of a complex vibration made by these
waves of different length, or does it receive the sound as a
whole ? Answering this, Helmholtz says that the physical
ear funds tlie wave-forms into a sum of simple waves, which
is the result of their concurrence ; since any wave-form you
please can be constructed out of a combination of simple
waves of different lengths. And as in the instruments, so in
the ear, the ground tone wakes the corresponding upper tone.

When vibrations play upon the disks in the ear, it is as if

214 Theories of Mental Genesis.

the}' pla^'ed upon banks of keys; and the iirst physical im-
pressions are produced, sorted, combined, and then transmit-
ted as so much seasoned material to be used in manufacturing
music. Then occurs the wonderful moment when Something
beyond these microscopic feelers digests the prey they catch
into human moods and emotions. What leaps the genius
takes, through and across what an iinbridged abyss, upon
these stepping-stones of disks, to gather the waifs and strays
that tioat upon the manifold sea of Harmony ! There is no
such startling proof that Nature has at length developed a
ti'anscending Person in mankind ; perhaps whole races
died for it, dissonances and partial chords, or constructed
upon vicious intervals, before Harmony could respond to its
own laws. At length an essential differentiation seems to
have taken place, an abstraction which compels sensations to
subserve its subtlest emotions. For at one end of this process
is nothing but the disks vibrating in their fluid : at the other
end is something rarely and radically different — the gamut of
the human heart, the sj^mphony upreared by intellect and
feeling, the song exhaling into the mist that sheathes the
eye, the lyric whose silvery trumpets summon bravery and
nobleness from every drop of blood.

Now, atmospheric vibrations and the structure of the ear
enclosing the microscopic disks are the objects which provide
empirical sensations. The temperament, culture and inher-
ited susceptibility of the musical composer's brain collect
and organize these sensations into the modes of harmony,
and reject all dissonance. But when, and by which of the two
parties in this transaction, was the earliest step taken toward
such a complicated result i There was a time when there was
nothing but an atmosphere capable of vibrating, and nothing
but an ear capable of receiving the accidental throng of natu-
ral noises. There was a time when the first fibre of a plant,
the first tense string of some creeping vine, twanged to some
chance touch : when the wood of the forest first revealed its
resonant capacity, when the dried reeds first sighed and whis-
tled in the wind. This was all the appeal which Nature had
to make. Did it originate the sequence of melodies and con-
struct the theory of harmony ? What is a dissonance ? Is it
merely a physical repugnance of the disks for interfering and

Theories of Mental Genesis. 215

contrarious vibrations ? Whence, then, the repugnance of the
disks ? There are tribes of men whose ears have not been
furnished with it. There are civilized Indo-Germanic peo-
ple who cannot tell a chord from a discord. It is not credible
that the crude objectivity of natural vibrations gradually
selected out of Nature a harmonious ear. Nature has no
harmony which could effect such a selection ; she has never
sorted and combined and weeded out her noises. She is uni-
sonous, monotonous, or full of jar and clash; she has no art
to reconcile the voices of the sea, the air, the birds of the for-
est : each creature has its note and its key, and the air itself
is a Babel of cross-purposes. The empirical sensations pro-
duced by modern music are drawn from things which vibrate
by a law that the things do not possess, and never could have
suggested. Harmony has been imposed from within upon
their isolated qualities ; and an orchestra, so far from being
an induction, is an intuition. The Composer listens to its
combinations before they are played. His subjectivity has
imparted to every instrument its peculiar quality by gradual
selection among the woods, reeds and metals of Nature, and
by discovery of the isolated shapes which correspond best to
atmospheric conditions. His inductive experiments have been
presided over by a sense which no induction could have fur-
nished. What, for instance, is the temperament of a piano
but a metaphysical compromise between the imperfections of
the material and the law of intervals ? Harmony, in short, is
a refutation which the materialist himself might welcome ;
but it kills his theory as effectually as the poison poured into
the auditory tube, which made a ghost of Hamlet's father.

It is much easier to tolerate the doctrine that a slice of meat,
well-assimilated, becomes the poet's happy thought, than to
understand how wafts of common air could be transformed
into the mighty uplifting of the soul when the orb of music
passes over our flat life, and draws emotion into every barren
€reek, and dashes its tonic against the heart. Physics must
allow an essential difference between a vibration and a well-
cooked mutton chop ; and it is in favor of the stimulating
and edifying quality of the chop. Music has been called the
image of motion. But when the ear is struck, something else
than a wave is propagated. It would be more just to say that
Music is imagination set in motion.

216 Anti-Materialism.

The sea-tide writes its diary accurately enough in the sand-
ripples. But air did not imprint these footsteps so massive
and deep that our own are lost as wq try to follow ; yet there
is no dismay, for in the bosom of each trace lies home's direc-
tion,— by which we know that a Beethoven had just passed.

I claim, then, against a strictly logical empirical method,
three classes of facts. First, the authentic facts of the moral
sense whenever it appears as the transcender of the ripest
average utility. Second, the facts of the Imagination as the
anticipator of mental methods by pervading every thing, with
personality, by imputing Life to Object, or by occasional
direct suggestion. Third, the facts of the harmonic sense as
the reconciler of discrete and apparently sundered objects,
as the prophet and artist of Number and mathematical ratio,
as the unifier of all the contents of the soul into the acclaim
which rises when the law of Unity fills the scene.

Upon these facts I chiefly sustain myself against the the-
ory, consistently explained, which derives all possible men-
tal functions from the impacts of Objectivity.

ANTI-MATERIALISM.*

By G. S. Hall,

To a concise though popular restatement of the younger
Fichte's, Fontlage's, and Leopold Schmidt's construction of
the ego as person, modified as he believes it to have been by
Lazarus and Lotze, the author joins a vigorous and original
polemic against " materialism in natural science and theol-
ogy" which he calls an "absurd and therefore impossible
form of subjective idealism." This he does in the interest of
speculative jjhilosophy, which he would rescue from present
discredit and neglect, and to which he would restore an ulti-
mate character as the mediating unity of theology and natu-
ral science.

The barren abstractions of the absolute 2)hilosophy canied
thought into so rare an atmosphere that its utmost effort was

* Five Lectures on Philosophical Subjects, by Ludvvig Weis. Berlin, 1871.

Anti- Materialism. 217

required to sustain itself ; progress was impossible ; and its
prime function of diverting and impelling action was virtu-
ally abdicated. Thougbt must strike root as well as climb.
Antffius-like, it has now reverted to earth. Its own law of
gravity has brought it down to the fact and thing of sense.
This is, however, its most dangerous extreme ; for as thought
approximates sensation it acquires an inertia which is hard
to be overcome. The objects of sense are phenomenal and
unstable to thought. Outer and immediate distinctions are
superficial, and must be transcended. "Natural science
knows its objects only in some of their external relations."

Causal and inductive reasoning, as too often applied, mere-
ly enlarges the boundaries of the fact, without revealing its
true nature. The present tendency of physical science is, by
resolving the object of sense into properties, laws, or forces,
to press on toward the real nature of the thing in itself. In
doing the former, it acquires a subjective character, indeed
becomes philosophy in the disguise of a new nomenclature,
seeks like it the central principle of all being and devel-
opment.

So, too, in religion thought must neither lose itself in ecsta-
sies of emotion or feeling, nor bind itself to the form or
letter of revelation. The latter, whatever its content or origin,
is worthless if it be not re-affirmed by reason. This is not
making reason supreme ; it is theologising in the true sense
of the word. Theology, even if it rest upon inspired appre-
hension, of revelation, is individual, and even tentative.
Dogmatism, formalism, and literalism, culminating in the
doctrine of infallibility, constitute the religious materialism
of the age, which he terms extreme, reactionary, and all-
pervading.

The radical question of philosophy at its present stage is,
"What is the essence of man?" The author here follows the
philological theory of Lazarus and Steinthal. Physically
man is higher, though not essentially different from, ani-
mals. Darwinism, which is as yet an open question, cannot
affect his present or future. The human and animal soul
alike are first manifest in what Lotze terms " general feel-
ing"; in which the whole sum and elasticity of disposable
vital force are set over against the outer world. This is the

2 1 8 Anti- Materialism .

most generic form of external consciousness. Through tlie
senses, whicli are organs of the soul's intercourse with the
external world, this general feeling becomes localized and
specitic. These separate sensations are " so combined as to
correspond with the external pattern," and perception is the
result. By means of the mental pictures thus formed, and
which begin to exist independently of the outer object, the
animal soul remembers, thinks, &c., with great accuracy
within the narrow held of instinct. In the impulse to escape
from the pressure of the outer world upon the senses, nerves
of sensation react on nerves of motion, and an interjectional
language is formed, expressing, like sensation, very general
relations. The animal soul never distinguishes its percep-
tion of the sound from its perception of the object; never
hears itself speak. With this distinction self-consciousness,
or, as it may be called at this stage, verbal consciousness,
begins. "A perception of a perception, or a conception,
arises," to which the animal never attains. As sound and
perception become associated, these interjections become ob-
jective, and the inner perception of the sound also becomes
vocal by the more subjective and generic principle of ono-
matopoeia. This process continued under the law of natural
(i.e. rational) selection until this language of language was
finally resolved into the fundamental phonetic types or roots
of articulate speech. These may be said to " exist by na-
ture," or, according to Professor Heyse, "As material objects
produce their own peculiar sound, so must it also be with
the most perfect organization under the working of nature."
The fact of the existence of such an original power in man,
which, in forming roots out of the natural cries of sensation,
transformed itself into reason, and which alone distinguishes
man from animals, must be regarded as ultimate. It was
an instinct which ceased to exist when its function was per-
formed. Starting then anew from these roots, of which the
few hundred known to philology were doubtless but a small
fraction, but which were very generic in signification, (as is
indicated by the fact that most of them are known to have
been originally predicates,) words have constantl}^ become
more specific in meaning and more individual in form. The
individual finds a ready-made vocabulary, in which words

Anti- Materialism. 219

are mere counters, with a capricious or fortuitous value, and
with little trace of original meaning. A feeling of imperfec-
tion and inseciirity arises which impels to a new harmoniza-
tion of the spoken logos with the logos of reason, a process
which now goes on in the full light of consciousness. Now
is realized of single words what was in a measure true of
them even as roots, that they are inadequate expressions of
thought. By sentences (logical formula) reason attempts,
not a mere enumeration of properties or conceptions, but
" such an arrangement of them as is conditioned by their
relation to the total content'' of consciousness. In this way
knowledge is translated from external to internal relations,
and becomes self-knowledge. Consciousness reaches its
highest and most intimate self-involution in the conscious-
ness of the ego as such. Indeed knowledge is uncertain and
hypothetical till it has reached its ultimate form of self-
certainty.

Conditioned by the intellectual, though springing at first
from physical relations, is the practical nature of man. Ac-
tion realizes thought. As knowledge is phenomenal and for-
mal, motives are external and mechanical; but as the former
become self-certain, the latter resolve themselves into the
pressure of self -feeling . The ultimately rational and neces-
sary act of man is self-realization. In self-certainty and self-
realization consists the essence of man as siperso7i. Greek
philosophy, with its slave states, never rose to this full con-
ception of the nature of man. The mediaeval doctrine of
innate ideas allowed no free, personal self-determination^;
nor was the nature of the mind rightly conceived as a tabula
rasa, receiving impressions of sense. Kant first conceived
the soul as a principle which won ideas by its own activity.
The ego of the elder Fichte was merely the ego of self-con-
sciousness. His son laid the true foundation of philosophy
and ethics in personality as the common ground of thought
and action.

Lazarus' well-known law has shown how every perception
must be complemented by an inner apperception : i.e. that
since all new knowledge must have points of contact with
the old, the reproduction of similar conceptions in conscious-
ness is an indispensable condition of belief. Faith cannot

220 Anti'3fateriaUsm .

rest upon the external ^-rounds of luitliorit}^ or testimony, or
it would be, as science holds, a lower form of knowledge ;
yet, like knowledge, it may arise from these, or even from
aesthetic grounds. Neither is faith a "higher organ of knowl-
edge, above sense, understanding, or reason." It is subject
to the law and conditions of all belief; and pursues the
same way as knowledge to self-certainty. " Faith without
rational grounds is a psychological impossibility." The sepa-
rate use of the word received an early sanction in philology,
and Greek philosoi)hy taught a higher innate knowledge
above consciousness. Kant made faith and knowledge utter-
ly antagonistic. The word faitli., as indicating such a dis-
tinction, should be banished from the field of theory. In a
practical sense, however, the distinction remains. Here
knowledge denotes acquaintance with means and methods,
while faith, in the sense of fidelity, faithfulness, denotes
"self-committal to what one is self-certain of." It is confi-
dence in the purpose or end in view. It is the force of per-
sonal conviction impelling to the realization of that end, and
thus " higher than mere knowledge."

But self-realization is self-enlargement, though neither are
selfish, such external motives as love of being observed, or
higher, the love of esteem or of glory ; in short, all which is
detrimental to self, or to other selves, is selfish. Even the
enthusiasm which sacrifices self to its cause, is apt to react
into pride of voluntary humility. The feeling of satisfaction
which is inseparable from every act of self-realization, and
which is the last refuge of selfish utilitarianism, is not a
motive.

The earliest instinct of self-realization is traced through its
phenomenal stages, and is shown to be the most irrepressible
act of conscious life, and to culminate in Zo?)^, which "unself-
ishly realizes itself by seeking the enlargement of others by
helping them to like independence."

Division of labor in the fields of science, the degeneration
of the doctrine of personal freedom, which demands a fixed
and positive basis, into individual and arbitrary license ; the
development of material life, which causes superstition to
settle over the higher fields of thought, perversion and mis-
understanding of the leading principles of philosophy, de-

Anti- Materialism. 221

tached from their systematic connection, and especially the
false antagonism of philosophy and religion, are enumerated
as the prominent causes of the present decadence of philo-
sophic studies. Every department of truth is spun over with
the dicta of sects, or parties, or of individual assertion ; and
so-called positive truths have suspended the force of original
conviction on the ultimate question of human being and des-
tiny. True philosophy, on the other hand, which consists "in
working over forms of thought," or in elevating conceptions
to ideas, is at the same time " the might of personality and
the necessary task of each." It begins with the all-constru-
ing ego, which itself cannot be construed. The individual
passes three phenomenal stages on the way to complete per-
sonality: 1. Language, the immediate reflex of the object,
the truth of apprehension ; 2. Reason, the truth of thought
or self-certainty ; 3. Action, the realization of certainty. Phi-
losophy contemplates three objects, God, man, nature ; ori-
gin, perfection, and process of all things. The content and
the form of thought must be carefully distinguished ; e.g.
God is first present in the sense of dependence which arose
when man first distinguished himself from objects of nature
around him. All representations of God, of which the Jew-
ish and Christian are most perfect, have the same contents,
but an inadequate form ; while, on the other hand, one may
be self-certain of God, with very imperfect conception of him.

Man's essence consists in self-determination and self-cer-
tainty reproducing each other. He became self-certain of
good and evil by an act in the fall ; and, in turn, all moral
action is a product of self-certain conviction, ]S"ature (and
history) affords field for experiment and investigation where
general though not universal results are obtained, as well as
a field where deduction can lay off its content in tangible
forms of time and space. But only when thought shall ^'per-
fectly agree with its object" shall we become self-certain of
what is in the world.

Space forbids any lengthened consideration of the theolo-
gical bearings of the work. We have chosen simply to repro-
duce its contents, not merely because it is the pronunciamento
of a well-known physicist against the tendencies of natural
science, but because mediating between materialism and ide-

2!?'2 Interpretation of Kant's Kritik of Pure Reason.

alisiii, the seductive extremes of modern thought, it affords a
safe and prospective stand-point from which to observe the
course of recent phik)sophy and science in Germany, and be-
cause it adds still another to the favorable and easy points
of contact between the German and American mind.

KAA'T'S CRITICISM OF PURE REASON:

AN INTEIll'RETATION AND CRITICISM,
I5y Simon S. Laukik.

Prefatory RemarKvS. — I have called what follows an "in-
terpretation," because, while the text of Kant is closely and
stringently adhered to, I have aimed rather at giving the
actual substance of such proposition than at a translation.
I am satislied that it is only when so presented that German
philosophy will tind in America and England intelligent
students. The criticism is close, strict, and concise; and
the only apology to be offered for its unattractive and unin-
teresting character is that it aims at being scientiiic, and is
addressed consequently only to those who are already fa-
miliar with metaphysical questions, and accustomed to the
severe toil which the study of them demands even from the
most competent.

The next jiart will contain to the end of the ^jsthetic.

KANT'S KRITIK OF PURE REASON.

I.

Of the Distinction between Pare and Empirical Knowledge.

In respect of Time no knowledge antecedes experience.
How else than by means of objects (Gegenstiinde) could the
knowing faculty be stirred into activity?

[At bottom is not this onlj^ to say that there can be no
knowledge without an object ; and in this sense, inasmuch as
all cognitions involve objects or matter of cognition, there can
be no knowledge without experience. All objects of knowl-
edge, whatsoever their source, are, in so far as known, expe-
rience. Therefore the origin of all knowledge is experience,
but not therefore the source.

N. B. — There is a want in this first chapter of a sufficient
distinction between experience generally and 5ew5d-experi-
ence.]

Interpretation of KanVs Kritilc of Pure Reason. 223

Those knowledges which have not their origin in experi-
ence— [that is to say, ^e^ise- experience, or what?] — we call a
priori. Have we truly a priori cognitions — cognitions loholly
independent of experience ?

[What kind of experience ? I may again ask.]

Those a priori cognitions are alone pure which have no mix-
ture of sense: e.g. "Every Change has its Cause" is a priori,'
but mixed, because "change" is a notion [Begriff] got from
l^Sense'] experience. •

II.

We are in po.'isessio7i of certain a priori Tinovledge, and even the common
understanding is never without such.

If a proposition is thought along with necessity, it is a
judgment a priori., therefore one wholly (schlechterdings) so;
if deduced from no other, or, if deduced, yet deduced from
that which is itself necessary. Again, the universality of
induction is only provisional, thus : " So far as ice hatje
observed. All bodies are heavy ; therefore, All bodies are
heavy." This is not true and strict universality. Where
true and strict universality belongs to a proposition, it is ipso
facto a priori. Universality and necessity are the two marks
by which we know an a ^no?'/ judgment. The one really
involves the other.

[That is to say, experience — by which is meant sense- experi-
ence— cannot yield true universals. Can it not? If I have
exhausted the facts, I can safely affirm strict universality. If
I have tested all stones and found all heavy, then the propo-
sition "All stones are heavy" is strictly universal. It is not
an induction proper, but a colligation. Though universal, is
it necessary? is it a priori? Not so. Universality is not,
then, a test of the a priori ; universality does not involve ne-
cessity. But necessity involves universality ; therefore, the
sole criterion, keeping within the Kantian sphere, is Neces-
sity. Again, "All men are rational," "All animals die," — are
these universals strict and true? Yes. Do they convey to us
the notion of Necessity ? Yes : and yet they are experience-
inductions — observations of sense not yet completed; for we
have not yet seen all animals die. There may, then, be neces-
sary propositions which are not a priori.~\

That such universal, necessary, and therefore a priori cogni-
tions exist, it is easy to show. Take mathematical propo-

224 Interpretation of KanVs Krltik of Pure Reason.

sitions g-eiierally for example ; also the proposition, " Every
change must have a cause. ■'' Tlie necessity bound up with
such propositions cannot be explained as a habit of mind
engendered by association, as Hume says : for the necessity
vanishes under the explanation. Moreover, a priori cogni-
tions can be established as indispensable to the possibility
of Experience — as that which gives to experience certitude
(Gewissheit).

[Is not this to beg the question, there may be no "certitude,"
whatever certitude! may mean ? Of course, if Certitude of
experience is a fact, and if this is possible only in so far as
experience rests on a priori Judgments, then a priori judg-
ments exist : and there is no use of arguing further as to the
fact of their existence. Our business would then be only to
'collect them. But there may be no certitude in experience :
if so, what then ? Again, if by Certitude of experience be
meant the element of the "necessary" which is bound up with
exi)erience-judgments, the argument will run thus: "There
is a necessary in propositions : Experience cannot give this
necessariness : Therefore the necessariness is a priori.'''' Now
it seems to me, that, given this element of apparent necessity
in propositions, it is our business as philosophers to take it
up as an alleged necessity not yet demonstrated, and to ana-
lyze it with a view to ascertain its source and ground by the
unveiling of its place and manner of genesis. It is not enough
merely to say that, if Hume be right, the element of Neces-
sity ganzlich verloren gehen wiirde (p. 35).]

There is a necessity not only in judgments but also in Be-
griffe (notions, concepts); e.g. abstract from a bodily object
its qualities of hardness, color, &c., and still there remains
the space it occupied which you cannot think away. There
is also that whereby you think the object as "Substance," or
dependent on Substance, which cannot be thought away.

[On the lirst point I remark, that when I have thought away
all the sens<»;-qualities of a body, I have thought away also
its ligure and extension : in fact it is thought away erdirely.
and the space which remains is not the body, nor the space of
the body, but merely space. Space as such I cannot think
away, but determined space or ligure and localization I can,
and in rhe above case do think away. — As to the second
point : I cannot think away the " Substance " of a material
object so long as the object is before my consciousness in
any shape, hower mutilated as regards "qualities"; but if all
its qualities disappear from my consciousness, I affirm that

Interpretation of KanVs Kritik of Pure Reason. 225

its "substance" also disappears. At the same time it has to be
affirmed that there exists the notion of "Substance,'' and that
it seems not to be given in sense ; and further, that it seems
to have more to do with the thing before me than any thing-
else has. But to demonstrate its a priori character I must
find another argument than the necessity with which it clings
to my concept of an object. I cannot venture to beg the ques-
tion as to the a-priority of the necessary. I must analyze
the notion "substance" and find out whence it springs, and I
must also analyze the notion "necessary" and find out what
it truly means.]

III.

Philosophy needs a Science ivhich shall determine the possibility , the prin-
ciples, and the range, of all knowledge of a priori.

Still more important is the fact that certain cognitions go
beyond the limits of experience by means of notions, con-
cepts {Begriffe), which have no corresponding experience-
object. Precisely in these super-sensible cognitions lie the
most important questions of "Reason" ( Vernunft), viz. God.
Freedom, Immortality. The science which deals with these
is called Metaphysic, which (unfortunately) undertakes its
task without a prior demonstration of the capabilities of
Vernunft.

When once we have left behind us the ground of experi-
ence we ought to inquire how the understanding (Yerstand)
could attain to all these a priori cognitions which we wot of,
and what range and validity they have. We are led by the
success which attends the a priori reasoning of Mathematics
to expect equally great results in other and different regions
without making sure that we stand on a foundation of certi-
tude (and to think that we have got them). What deceives
us in this process is that the chief business of the Vernunft
is the Analysis of Concepts (Begriffe), and we seem to our-
selves to be thereby adding to the content of our knowledge
new Insights when we are merely explicating and elucidating
what is already there. This experience does give a true
a priori cognition — [how ? I suppose in so far as it yields
"necessary" propositions (identical)] — which has a sure and
useful issue ; and Reason (Vernunft) inadvertently insinu-
ates affirmations (Behauptungen) of a totally different kind,
by which it adds to the given Begriffe alien a priori Begriffe

Vol. vi.— 15

2*26 [nferpretation of KanVs Kritilx of Pure Reason.

without knowing or asking how they lind their way here. —
[Illustration wanted here.] — Our tirst business, then, is to in-
vestigate this twofold kind of cognition — [that is, the kind
whereby we truly obtain new insights, and the kind w^hich
is merely analytic].

[The defect in Kant's argument, already indicated at an
earlier point, still hangs about the above reasoning. The
criterion of the a priori is '•Necessity*' (not Universality, of
which we have already disposed); but is it legitimate to con-
clude, as it were^er saltum, that what is ^'- necessary''^ in a
Judgment or concept has its source outside sense-experienced
And tliis I take to be the strict meaning of a pi'iori.

Note, that Kant says that Vernunft is the power by which
we analyze concepts or notions. Also that he once (in the
above chapter) uses reines Verstand as an equivalent for
Vernunft.]

IV.

Of the Distinction of Analytic and Synthetic Judgments.

The two kinds of judgments are the Analytic and Synthe-
tic. By an analytic judgment is meant a judgment in which
the predicate is merely an explication of what is already con-
tained in the subject. A synthetic judgment is a judgment
in which the predicate is an ampliation of the subject — a
clear addition to the content of the concept. "All bodies are
extended" is analytic, for in "Body" is alread}^ contained
Extension, which I by the above judgment merely bring into
clearer consciousness. "All bodies are heavy" is synthetic,
because "heavy" is not thought in the mere concept "body,"
and is a clear addition to that concept. The former are Erlau-
terungsurtheile or explicatory judgments, and the latter Er-
weiterungsurtheile or ampliative judgments.

[I remark on this, that the predicate " heavy " is doubtless,
for the most part, ascertained after the predicate Extension;
and consequently is, at a certain stage in the progress of my
knowledge. Synthetic : thereafter, however, analytic. True,
Extension is contemporaneous with the first presentation of
"Body" to my consciousness, and thus it may be regarded as
analytic in quite a special manner ; but what shall we say of
one born blind whose first acquaintance with "body" was
"weight" '{]

Judgments of Experience (Erfahrungsurtheile) are wholly
Synthetic. It would be absurd to ground an analytic judg-

Interpretation of Kant's Kritik of Pure Reason. 227

ment on experience. Experience could not give to it its
necessary character which it has by virtue of the Law of con-
tradiction.

[By this is meant that analytic judgments as such cannot be
grounded on experience ; but the attributes which at lirst go
to constitute the subject, and which in an analytic judgment
I merely draw out, are in truth themselves primarily based
on Experience. An analytic necessity is not at bottom, there-
fore, an a priori cognition. Its necessity is explained by the
Law of contradiction. Body is given in Sense qua extended :
therefore "Body" with the predication extension is so given
in Sense. This being so, the notion "Body'' with all that is
implied in it is a ^o^^mo?'/ unless I can show that there is
an attribute implicit in it which is not given in Sense.]

But in synthetic judgments a priori we are bereft of tliis
help of experience. When I say, " Whatever happens has
a Cause," I, in so far as "whatsoever happens" is concerned.
afllrm a fact of sense-experience, and at the same time a
priori to the "happening": but where do I get the univer-
sal and necessary Begriff, " Cause^'^ which I import into the
Judgment, and which cannot be the object of Experience,
because it is necessary, and Experience can give only the
contingent? On such Synthetic or Ampliative Grundsatze —
[he ought to say Principien] — rests the whole of Speculative
knowledge a priori in its final aim.

[For this notion, "Cause," I have to account. It is not given
in Sense. As Synthetic and yet not given in sense, therefore,
it demands explanation and vindication.

Kant, it will be seen, assumes that the notion is a priori
because it is necessary and universal ; but it is evident that
it might he possible to account for its necessity, or seeming
necessity, without involving ourselves in apriority. Here
however, let it be noted, we truly come on a "notion" which
we may, as a matter of fact, ransack Sense in vain to find,
and which therefore is strictly a priori.']

In all Theoretical Sciences of Vernunft, synthetic a puiori Judgments are

contained as Principles.

MATHEMATICAL JUDGMENTS ARE WHOLLY SYNTHETIC A PRIORI.

First of all, mathematical propositions are necessary, and,
therefore, a priori.

228 Interprdation of KanVs 2\^ritik of Pure Reason.

[To this I again deinur. 11" tliev are analytic necessaries, they
are then not because necessary therefore a priori, in the strict
signitication.]

Next they are ISyntlietic. That 7 + 5 = 12 seems at first sight
Analytic; but how can we get anything like the number 12
out ot the summation 7 and 5. The notion "Twelve" is not
thought through the union of 7 and ."> ; and I may analyze the
notion of such a possible summation ever so long without find-
ing 12 therein. To find this, 1 must go beyond the notion of
the Sum and resort to sensibh3 perception, and. stai'ting from
7, add five units in the shape of fingers or points. Thus I see
12 spring out of this process. In the notion of the sum 7-|-5,
I have thought, it is true, that o is to be added to 7, but in
that thought the equality of this sum with the number "12"
is not thought.

[In other words, Kant means to say that the result 12 is
not already contained in 7 + 5, and that therefore it is some-
thing new. synthetic, ampliative. And it is also, as we alrea-
dy know, •• necessary,'' and, therefore (according to Kant), a
priori. Here again I must object to the assumed a-priority
of the "necessary." An analytic judgment is necessary-, and
yet the predicate is not therefore ascertained a priori — i.<\
outside sense experience. A true a priori proposition is al-
ways necessary, but a necessary i)roposition is not always
a priori.

What, however, we have chiefly to do with here is the syn-
thetic character of the above numerical judgment. It seems
to me that it is not synthetic. There is nothing in 7+5 which
can yield 12 any more than it could yield 20, except in so far
as 7 and 5 are mere verbal signs for 7 units and 5 units respec-
tively ; and it is by my sensible perception of the accumula-
tion of these units one on another that I see that they yield
a larger quantity of units, which for shortness sake I call 12,
just as I have already called so many units 7 and so many
units 5. "Twelve" is nothing but 7 + f + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1, which
I gather into unity under the designation "Twelve" and the
sign 12. Kant admits that by the above process I can see 12
"spring out" of 7 + 5, but affirms that the "notion" 7 + 5 can-
not contain in it 12. I would ask: Is it denied that when I
say 7 + 5, I ipso facto affirm 12 even though I have not yet
discovered either a name or a sign for the said cumulation or
sum !• If this is not denied, then 12 is contained in the notion
7+5. — Again, what does Kant mean by the ^'■notion^'' of 7+5^

Interpretation of KanVs Kritik of Pure Reason. 229

This can only mean the notion of 7 units and the notion of 5
units thrown into union.

The weakness of Kant's position is shown by his advising
us to take large numbers if we would see the truth of this
Synthetic character of the Judgment. But if we would see
clearly what a thing is in thought, we must, on the contrary,
rest on its simplest forms. Had K. taken 7+1 he would have
found it hard to show that the notion 8 was not contained in
the notion of this sum, and that the predicate was synthetic.
Or what would he say to 1 + 1 = 2 ?]

So with Pure Greometry : A straight line is the shortest be-
tween two points" is a synthetic proposition.

[Now the question we have here to ask ourselves is, what
do we mean by "straight"^ We must look at tilings and not
be the slave of words. By " straight " we mean that which
does not deviate in its progress from point to point by going-
round or zigzag; and by "shortest" we mean that which
covers least ground. It being so, the proposition becomes
this : •' That line between two points is the shortest which
does not go ever so little round, or zigzag, or out of its way,"
And this is an identical or analytic proposition, and not syn-
thetic]

There are, it is true, certain fundamental propositions
(Crrundsatze) in Geometry which are analytic ; but these are
not Princvpien, e.g. "«= (x"; («+/>)>«;" the whole is greater
than its part."

[True ; but these are in no sense inore analytic than the so-
called synthetic proposition above considered.]

In Physics also are to be found certain synthetic judgments
a priori as Principien : e.g. " In all changes of the material
world, the quantity of matter remains unchanged." It is
clear that this is not only necessary, and therefore a prio7'i,
but also synthetic; for in the notion "Matter'' I do not think
the permanence of matter, but only its presence in Space
through the filling of the same. I in the above proposition
go beyond the notion of "matter" to add something which is
not thought in it.

[Perhaps I do not quite understand the above proposition ;
for I cannot detect the grounds on which it is even to be pre-
sumed to be synthetic a priori. I do not see its necessity in
any proper signification of that word. That it might be shown

230 [nterpretation of Kanf\s Kritik of Pure Reason.

to be synthetic a posteriori is i)i)ssil)le ; but that it should be
synthetic a priori in the si<;nitication of being at once neces-
sary and also an niii]»liati(>n of" our Isuowledii-e of matter not
given in sense. I cannot see.

There are various ways of h)oking at the proposition : for
example, "Change in particular nuitter cannot lessen or in-
crease the total quantity of matter." Now I might ask, wliy
should change, simply as change, lessen quantity ? Is it not
the fact that in the word "Change" T think the non-lessening
of matter^ In any case I certainly ilo not think the lessen-
ing; and the proposition is identical or analytic. — Or put it
thus : ''It is not possible to lessen or increase the total quan-
tity of matter by changing particular matter." T confess I
cannot see the necessary a priori synthetic character of this
proposition any more than in the proposition, "It is not pos-
sible to kill an elephant by means of a pea-shooter" — whicli,
if necessar}" in any i)roper sense, is analytically necessary.
By the very terms of the proposition matter is only changed,
not lessen<'d or increased; and to say that "Change'" is not
annihilation nor creation, is merely negatively to define
"Change." — Perhaps, however, the necessary synthetic pro-
position is an underl^ang one, viz. "Matter is indestructible."
But a proposition put so generally is not necessary, nor a pri-
ori, nor synthetic a priori : it is either given primarily in our
notion of matter, or it is synthetic a posteriori and a synthesis
of experience. In the latter case it is an induction of exx)eri-
ence ; in the former, it is equivalent to saying, "Matter as pre-
sented primarily to Consciousness is composed of particles
or atoms ultimately indestructible ; therefore, ])ai"ticular mat-
ter or body, however it may be affected by Force, is not qua
(atomic) matter destructible." — This proposition is either (a)
anassumption, and therefore invalid; or {b) an inductive con-
clusion of experience, and therefore neither necessar}'^ nor a
priori; or (c) an analytic judgment.]

In Metaphysic also there needs must be synthetic a priori
cognitions. Yernunft has not only to expli'^ate by analysis,
but also to extend knowledge by a priori synthesis, and that
in regions where Experience cannot follow, as e.g. in the pro-
position, "The World must have a lirst beginning."

[Truly this is Synthetic and not the synthesis of experi-
ence ; therefore, a priori.

Much of Kant's reasoning is invalidated by the unsatisfac-
tory use of a priori as an ecjuivalent for necessary and vice
versa.']

Interpretation of Kant's Krit'ik of Pure Reason. 2?A

VI.

The U n ivo'sal PnonLEM {or Task) of Pare Reason.

The problem of Pare Reason is contained in the question,
"How are sj^nthetic judgments a priori possible?"

Hume held that they were impossible, and accounted for
such (apparent) judgments (confining himself however solely
to the question of Cause and Eiiect) as being the product of
Experience to which Custom had given the semblance of
necessity. Had he seen that mathematical propositions are
synthetic a prior L he could not have made this blunder ; for
his position would have made Pure Mathematics impossible.

[As already stated, there is, to my thinking, only an analytic
necessity in Mathematical judgments.]

The solution of the above problem is bound up with the
possibility of the use of Pure Reason in all sciences, and an-
swers the questions :

1. How is Pure Mathematics possible?

2. How is Pure Physics possible i

There is a natural disposition in Reason towards Meta-
physic (metaphysica naturalis). It loill ask certain ques-
tions. The answers to these hitherto have been involved in
unavoidable contradictions.

Still it must be possible to say whether we can know or
not, to judge respecting the capability or incapability of
Yernunft to answer the questions which it puts, and to what
extent we may trust it ; — all which yields this Query :
Is Metaphysic as Science possible ?"

The Criticism of Reason (Vernunft), consequently, leads to
Science as opposed to Dogmatism, which uncritically makes
large afiirmations, to which equally plausible affirmations on
the other side may be opposed, and leads consequently to
Skepticism.

Its range of inquiry is not very wide, for it has to deal not
with objects, but with Yernunft itself, its capabilities, audits
own self-given queries.

All Dogmatic Metaphysics we must regard as non-existent,
since it merely analyzes the a priori notions which our Yer-
nunft already has ; whereas our true aim is to ascertain how

232 Inteiyretatioii of Kant's Kritik of Pure Reason.

we come by these notions, and to determine their valid appli-
cation to the objects of knowledge.

VII.

/rfca and Division of a Particular Science under the name of a Kkitik of

PcRE Reason.

From what has been said, the " Idea" of a special science
will have been now attained, wliich we may designate the
"Kritik of Pure Reason." For Reason is the faculty which
gives us the Principien of a priori cognitions, and therefore
Pure Reason contains the Principien of a priori knowing.

[That is to say (I suppose), Yernunft (which also, as we have
seen, analyzes notions) yields us the pkinciples which un-
derlie all a priori cognitions, and also contains the Principles
whereby we know a priori. I cannot understand the dou-
ble use of the word Principien above. Perhaps I misun-
derstand the passage. It may merely mean. Pure Reason is
the faculty by which we know a priori, and it further con-
tains in itself the grounds of our a priori knowledge ; — wliich
is much as if we said that it holds in its bosom the substance
of a priori knowledge as Forms. This, doubtless, is the
meaning.]

An Inbegriff or Compendium of those Principien whereby
we are enabled to acquire cognitions a priori would be an
Organon of Pure Reason, — the complete application of which
would yield a System or Doctrine. It is not, however, our
purpose to do more than furnish a critique with a view to
define the sources and limits of Pure Reason. This may be
regarded as a Propjedeutic to a system.

[Should he not say — •• to define the limits of the activity of
that which I have called Pure Reason, and the sources of the
Princif)ien which it yields";! I would then understand Prin-
cipien to mean the affirmation of synthetic a priori judgments
as free from content as possible, i.e. an abstract statement,
e.g. "A thing cannot at the same time be itself and another":
or a Formula, e.g. A = A.]

Kant next goes on to define Transcendental Knowledge as
being the Knowledge which has to do, not with objects, but
with our mode of cognizing objects in so far as it is a priori.
A system of such Begriffe would be a system of Transcen-
dental Philosophy.

Interpretation of Kant's Kritik of Pure Reason. 233

[That is to say, the Rational forms of a priori or necessary
thought — or, to put it otherwise, the forms of Reason in a pri-
ori or necessary Knowing — are called '• Transcendental^ —
An illustration is wanted here. The word Begriffe is loosely
used.]

The form? of cognition of analytic necessaries are also
Transcendental; but it is only the Synthetic a priori which
constitute the subject of the Kritik. Did it occupy itself also
with the Analytic, it would then embrace the whole of hu-
man knowledge a priori, and thus realize the complete Idea
of a Transcendental Philosophy.

[It occurs to us here to wonder how Kant will keep clear of
the criticism of Analytical necessaries. He can do so only
by bringing within the range of the SyntJietic much which is
in truth Analytic, as he has alread}^ done in the case of Ma-
thematical Judgments.]

This Kritik will consist of two great Divisions :

Firsts the Doctrine of the Elements of Pure Reason ;
Second, the Doctrine of the Method of Pure Reason.

By way of Preface, it is only further necessary to say-
that there are two stems of human Knowledge (perhaps
springing out of a common root), viz. Seiise and Understand-
ing^ through the former of which objects are given^ and
through the latter of which objects are thought.

In so far as the Sense-faculty contains Vorstellungen a pri-
ori, it belongs to the Transcendental Philosophy ; and, as the
conditions under which all objects are given, it must take
priority in treatment over that through which objects are
thought.

[ Yorstellungen a priori mean IS'ecessary Presentation to
Consciousness in perception. These, however, come within
Kant's scope only if they are synthetic. I suspect he already
loses sight of his own self-imposed restrictions as to the
proper range of the Kritik.]

ElS^D OF II^TRODUCTIOX.

'234 The Tragedy of Julius Cirsar.

THK TllAUEDY OF JULIUS C.HSAR liV SHAKESPEARE.

By D. J. S.MDKR.

The Drama represents man inaction. It exliibits him in
the inlinite web of his complications, with influences passing
out from him and coniino- back to him, and thereby portrays
in the shortest space and in the most striking manner the
relative worth of human deeds. Nor does it rest content with
the mere external doings of man ; on the contrary, it pene-
trates his innermost nature, and probes the j)rofoundest
depths of his spiritual being. For it unfolds motives, ends,
convictions; and, in fact, these subjective elements constitute
its most important feature. Thej^ form the basis of what is
called character, and their true logical subordination is ex-
hibited in the denouement of the piece.

The Drama is the most concrete and therefore the highest
of all the forms of Poetry. The Epos is the product of
national childhood ; it contemplates man in an intellectual
infancy which demands the continuous supervision of the
Gods. It therefore lays stress upon the Objective, the Uni-
versal ; not, however, as mediated through the spirit of man,
but as an existence standing outside of him ?ind determining
his actions. Hence the tinge of Fate which prevails in all
Epic Poetry, for the contradiction between Freedom and
Necessity is not yet developed by this early consciousness.
Still self-determination may and in fact ought to peer through
these external forms in a naive, unconscious manner ; such is
the case with Homer, who often seems to make the Gods his
sport. The Epos therefore may be said to be essentially reli-
gious, and seeks to unfold if not to justify the ways of Provi-
dence to man.

The Lyric Poet, on the contrary, portrays his own emo-
tions, desires, reflections ; in fine, the entire content of his
own subjectivity. His strain may be one of joy and happi-
ness, but it is most commonly an incessant lamentation about
his own injured and unappreciated self, or a stinging censure
of the cold, heartless world. He thus falls out with the ex-
isting order of things, becomes negative and sceptical, assails
and undermines the ancient faith and simple epical feeling.

The Tragedy of Julius Ccesar. 235

So old Simonid.es was accused of impiety. But to mention
all the phases of the lyrical form of poetry would be impossi-
ble, for it is as varied and boundless as the nature of man,
a,nd extends into all periods of civilization. Its general
characteristic however is subjective, and it portrays man in
reflection.

But in the Drama all this is changed. Man starts up from
the repose in which he has been describing and nursing his
emotions, and begins to act ; that is, he begins to give his
subjective nature validity in the objective world. His feel-
ings, passions, hopes, ends, are no longer satisfied with quiet,
lyrical description, but must take on the form of reality. Nor
again are these ends which he is trying to realize always
merely subj.ective ; on the contrary, they represent objective
principles of universal validity, as the Right, the Ethical, the
State. Hence the Dramatic is the concrete unity of the Epic
and Lyric ; not a mixture of the two, but an entirely new spe-
cies. It unites the subjective side of the one with the objec-
tive side of the other, b}^ making the objective world inherent
in the subject, and thus filling its emptiness and giving it
content ; and, on the other hand, it gives validity to the sub-
ject in the objective world through his own activity. The
Drama presents an action like the Epos ; but it must aban-
don the principle of external divine interference, and put in
its stead the self-conscious, self-acting individual. Hence no
demons, angels, or Gods, are allowed to perform the media-
tions of the Drama in its highest manifestations ; all is hu-
man and expressive of human freedom. For there can only
be one reason why the Drama is the highest of all the forms
of Art : it most adequately represents self-determination —
man as a free and hence responsible being. If, therefore, the
Epical consciousness is essentially religious and the Lyrical
negative and even sceptical, the Dramatic, on the other hand,
is Ethical.

But the Ethical is not a single principle, but includes a
series of principles w^hich form a regular gradation from the
lowest to the highest. Hence ii is possible for a lower prin-
ciple to collide with a higher. It is just this conflict which
constitutes the source of all dramatic action. As the science
of Ethics, if truly elaborated, would show all these principles.

236 The T raged ;/ of Julius CiPsar.

in their proper relation and subordination, from a theoretical
point of view, so the Drama in a praotieal way, by means of
human action, exliibits in \ ictory or defeat, success or failure,
the true relation and subordination of these same ethical
y>rinciples. It calls man before its tribunal, and unfolds to
him the conse(|uences of his deeds, not in an abstract form^
but in the form of the deed itself.

If we consider the Drama in this light, it is not the trivial,
sportive toy which furnishes amnsement for an idle hour, but
it assumes immense propoi'tions. We shall iind that it is
only another form of proposing the greatest of problems, a
new way that people have of looking at the profoundest ques-
tions of human existence. For the Drama is certainl}^ based
upon the ethical world, its collisions must rest upon elements
inherent in the ethical order of things, and its solutions if true
— which is the same as artistic — must be in accordance with
this order. Therefore, to Judge of the Drama, we have to
know something of this ethical world, its contradictions and
its harmonies, its principles and the order of their subordina-
tion ; or, if we do not know these things already, the Drama
may be able to give the lequisite instruction. And further-
more, since the ethical world is the realization of Reason, we
are led through the Drama to ask ourselves the more impor-
tant question. What is the absolutely Rational ? — not as an
idle question of speculation, but as the vital fount of action,
as the guiding thread of Life ought we to consider such a
theme. The Rational in the Drama and the Rational in
Thought and Action cannot well be different ; indeed the one is
only the adumbration of the other. So the Drama in its high-
est utterances takes up the pi'oblem of Life, and solves it in its
own peculiar manner. The clash of appetites and passions,
the conflict of rights and duties, the alarming hand of P^'ate
reaching over, grasping after all, and, most prominently, the
benelicent form of Freedom standing on a heap of broken
chains, are there portrayed, the opposing forces reconciled
and reduced to one harmonious, well-ordered system. Thus
we may learn a practical as well as an aesthetic truth of incal-
culable value, that the Rational in the Drama is the Rational
in Life. By these remarks we hope it may be seen that the
Dramatic Art is no mere abstraction apart from or opposed

The Tragedy of Julius Cwsar. 237

to tlie real world — no plaything to amuse those refined and
elegant natures who long to tly away from this grovelling
sphere to realms ideal, there to bathe in the sunlight of eter-
nal truth ; but it clings to earth, and is the most intensely
human of all Art. Nor has mankind ever failed to appreciate
its significance as furnishing a refiex of the highest endeavors
and greatest achievements of the race.

There is one man to whom we all instinctively turn with
the certainty of finding a rational basis — Shakespeare. Criti-
■clsm has worn itself almost threadbare upon him, and we
often are sated with the interminable talk about him, the most
of which is so unsatisfactory ; still we have always to come
back to his works as the unfailing source of the highest
Intellectual and artistic enjoyment. People feel that his is
the greatest name in all literature, perhaps in all history.
But this is not enough : we must know what is the special
form of that greatness. And so the question arises, wherein
Is Shakespeare the greatest of authors i We cannot say in
the perfection of form, for herein others perhaps surpass him ;
nor in the mastery of language, for this is a knack which may
be learned, and moreover means little by itself; nor in the
beauty of his images, for they are often confused, incongru-
ous, and far-fetched ; not even in characterization, nor in the
management of an action, in the strict sense of the term.
Great as his excellence in these things, it has been attained
sometimes at least by far inferior writers. There can be no
doubt in the statement that the unique and all-surpassing
greatness of Shakespeare lies in his comprehension of the
ethical order of the world. Though this side of his genius
has been always most inadequately stated, and commonly
has been passed over entirely in the essays of his critics, still
men have instinctively felt that his works were the truest
literary product of modern times, because they were the most
perfect and concrete presentation of realized rationality. Men
see in him their highest selves, and hence must take him as
their greatest exponent. The contrast in this respect with
even the best creations of nearly all other poets is most strik-
ing. We read them, we are charmed with the imagery, the
thoughts, the rhythmic flow of the verse. But when we come
to the end of one of these works we are confused, lost ; we

24^8 The Tragedy of Julius CiFsar.

analyze it more closely, and find that the Whole, however
beautiful its individual parts, is an ethical chaos. But Shake-
speare, in this sphere as elsewhere, is all harmony ; no con-
tradictions cloud his poetical horizon, nor does he ever make
the denouement a logical annihilation of the whole play.

To throw out some hints towards a comprehension of this
highest side of Shakespeare's genius is our present purpose.
To this end we have selected "Julius 0;i3sar,'' as exhibiting
Shakespeare's ethical world in its completest if not in its con-
cretest form. But first it would perhaps be well to enumer-
ate some of the elements of this ethical world. Those most
obvious and most commonly recognized are the Individual.
Family, and State. These elements have their limits against
one another ; hence they fall into conflict, and one must be
subordinated to the other. That is, the individual may assert
himself acrainst the demands of Familv or State, or the Fam-
ily may come into collision with the State. It is evident that
there must be a gradation of rank in these powers ; one must
be above another, else strife and confusion can only result.
But above all these there is a fourth principle, which has not
the taint of finitude which rests upon the others. For even the
State, to which every individual must bow and every princi-
ple yield, whose absolute supremacy is expressed in the fact
that its safety is the highest law, seems notwithstanding to
be exposed to the might of the destroying angel. The Past
is strown with the wrecks of States ; the empires of the Ori-
ent, Greece, Rome, the Middle Ages, have arisen and passed
away : and so we must acknowledge a Power above the State
which cjills it into being and also puts an end to its existence.
What this Power is, we need not now discuss : w^e only wish
to recognize and name it : let us call it the Spirit of World-
History ; or, more concisely, the World-Spirit ; or, in the lan-
guage of religion, God in History. Only let us not imagine
that it is some far-off Power wholly external to man, whose
arm descends and smites him to the earth without his know-
ing whence it cometh or whither it goeth.

Furthermore, all these Principles can only be vitalized
through the Individual. Taken alone, they are mere abstrac-
tions and of no force ; but when a man goes forth armed with
them, and makes them the basis of his action, they move the

The Tragedy of Julius Ccesar. 239

world. It is only in this way they can collide and form the
foundation of a drama. An individual thus hecomes the bearer
of some grand ethical principle, and can come into conflict
Avitli another individual who is fulfilling the same destiny in
a ditterent sphere. For instance, a person may assert the right
of individual conscience— certainly a valid principle — against
the majesty of law which is the command of the State ; or,
like Antigone, may prefer duty toward Family to obedience
to civil authority ; or, finally, there may be a still higher colli-
sion, that between the defenders of the State on the one hand
and the supporters of the World-spirit on the other. Such is
the collision between nations struggling for independence
and their conquerors, the collision of Carthage with Rome,
of the Pole with the Russian, of the Hungarian with the Aus-
trian. We feel for the fallen nation, we may even weep over
an heroic people defeated and prostrate, still in the end we
are compelled to say : It is just; the World-Spirit, whose
right it is to judge the nations, has decided against them.

Now it is just this collision which Shakespeare has pre-
sented in "Julius Caesar." For C^esar is the representative
of the World- Spirit ; he appears upon the stage of History as
the destroyer of his country's liberties, hence the grand con-
flict of his life was with the State. It is indeed this fact which
has caused him to be calumniated by nearly twenty centuries
of writers and speakers. But note that Shakespeare does
not join in this cry of execration. To him Caesar's career is
not political, but world-historical ; not limited to a single
state, but having the world as its theatre. To him C;esar
stands at the head of that eternal and infinite movement in
whose grasp the nations are playthings. But, on the other
hand, let us not forget that this movement was nothing ex-
ternal to Rome ; it was the movement of Rome herself ; the
Roman Constitution was sapped perhaps before the birth of
Caesar. He only carried out the unconscious national will ;
he saw what Rome needed, and possessed the strength to
execute it, and this is his greatness, and in fact the only real
political greatness. That one man can overturn the form of
government permanently against the will and spirit of a whole
people is preposterous. That such was not Shakespeare's
view is shown by the termination of the play. The conspira-

'240 The Tragedij of Julius Ccesar.

tors are overthrown aiul the su})porters of Cassar are success-
ful. But this will be more fully pointed out hereafter.

The State has also its representatives in this conflict — Cas-
sius and Brutus, more esi^ecially the former. They were the
bearers of the spirit of the old Roman Constitution, and were
strong enough to destroy the individual Ga'sar, but by no
means the movement which he represented. The thought
of Caesar remained, and Octavius simply steps into his place,
conquers, and has peace — shuts the temple of Janus for the
tirst time in generations. That is, Cjesar's revolution is ac-
complished, and the Roman people acquiesce.

With this explanation, we may now consider some of the
incidents of the play. The lirst scene introduces us to the
grand background upon which the whole drama is painted —
the Roman people. Shakespeare has most truthfully depicted
the populace as fickle and faithless, without any substantial
fixity of purpose within itself. Hence we hurry into the next
scene to find the element which gives consistency and stabil-
ity to this mass. Here the two great men of the time appear,
like gladiators, each one bent on the destruction of the other.
C?esar has arrived at the summit of his greatness ; he is ready
to receive the crown and be called king, whose functions in-
deed he already performs. This fact is to be particularly
noted, as it will answer many objections that have been raised
against the play. The critics are much troubled because Cve-
sar does not say or do anything great, and declare that he is
inadequately portrayed. But the poet represents him at the
consummation of his deeds, and as the founder of a new or-
der of things ; greater he could not well be. To be sure, a
drama might be written which would exhibit C;esar at an
earlier period of his life, in the bloom of his activity, energy,
and military genius. But such a drama could never present
the collision which Shakespeare intended, nor in the faintest
degree exhibit the ethical ideas which lie at the basis of this
"Julius Caesar." For in the present piece it is absolutely
necessary that Cfesar as the representative of the World-
Spirit be assailed, and that his assailants perish. Equally
devoid of insight is the reproach of another critic, that Caesar
comes upon the stage only to be slain : for the play assumes
Cfesar in the plenitude of his power ; this is its first presup-

The Tragedy of JitUus Ccesar. 241

position. The second presupposition is the deep liostility of
Cassius to the government of Caesar. These are the two gla-
diators who in this second scene leap forth stripped for the
fight. Cassius is in ability only inferior to Cfesar, and Caesar
is perfectly aware both of his hatred and of his talents. Cas-
sius is first shown in the play overcoming the scruples of
Brutus and alienating him from the party of Caesar. With
what skill does he introduce the subject, with what logical
force are all the motives adduced, until Brutus, partly by the
most delicate fiattery and partly by adroit appeals to his mo-
ral nature, is completely won. A further proof of Cassius'
ability is that he essayed Brutus first of all, for the name of
Brutus was the greatest and most venerable in Rome, going
back even to the expulsion of the kings ; and Brutus himself
was perhaps the most respectable character in Rome, and con-
sequently of the greatest influence among his fellow-citizens.
With him, the conspiracy might be a success ; without him,
it was impossible. In the third scene, we have Cassius work-
ing upon an altogether different character. Casca is the des-
perado of the conspirators, a man possessed of the greatest
physical courage, but without an iota of moral courage. He
will rush upon an enemy and stab him, but turns deathly
pale at a clap of thunder. Whatever is human he is ready
to meet, but that which he conceives to be divine or super-
natural is a source of the direst terror. This man Cassius
must have ; no respectable man could have been found w^ho
possessed equal audacity. In fact every conspiracy or vigi-
lance committee has just such an instrument, whose function
it is to do work which no decent man is willing to perform,
but which must be done. When we observe that Casca was
the first one that stabbed Caesar, we know exactly where to
place him. Cassius needs this man, and it is curious to note
with what consummate tact he proceeds. Knowing the weak
side of Casca's character to be his superstition, he brings all
his force to bear upon this single point. There is only one
result which can follow.

Thus far we are all admiration for the intellect of Cassius,
but several things have transpired under his direction at
which the rigidly moral man must shrug his shoulders. He
has no doubt taken advantage of the weakness of Brutus and

Vol. vi.— 16

242 The Tragedy of Julius Ccesar.

Casca. and deceived them both ; he has declared that to be
truth which he himself could not have believed, especially to
Casca ; he has laid a most unrighteous snare for poor Brutus
by writing him anonymous letters which the latter took to
be calls from the people ; finally, he designs the assassina-
tion of a human being, an act which can hardly be justified
from any purely moral point of view. Further on in the play
we sliall find many other deeds of an equally doubtful nature.
How, then, is Cassius to be understood ? Shall we take the
common statement, that it is a case of great intellect without
any moral perceptidns ? But if we look at another side, we
behold a character of the noblest stamp, of surpassing bright-
ness. With what energy does he strive to restore the old
Roman state — with what industry does he collect every frag-
ment of opposition to the mighty Ctesar — with what readiness
does he die for his country ! To be sure, he knows the might
of place and ])elf, but he only uses them as instruments to
his great end. There is only one clue to his conduct. His
highest end was the State, and everything which came in
conflict with this end had to be subordinated. It was a time
of strife and n;volution, the ancient landmarks of society
were swept away, the prescribed limits of order obliter-
ated. No man ever saw more clearly than Cassius the
finitude, one-sidedness and inadequacy of the merel}^ moral
stand-point in such a period, and consequently he pro-
ceeded to disregard it entirely. Suppose he did deceive
or assassinate a man, provided he thereby saved the State?
In fact, what is war but lying, cheating, robbing, and kill-
ing, for one's country? And the man who can do these
things most successfully and on the most gigantic scale is the
hero, is the great general. To be sure, all this is done to our
enemy ; but that can be no justification ; the moral obligation
lies between fellow-men, and not fellow-countr^-men. When
Cassius no longer has this end in view, he is as moral as any
other man — in fact, an exemplary character. His abstinence
is especially contrasted with the debauchery of Antony ; lie
is moderate in desires, meagre in shape, a great student and
observer of men, — all of which point to a temperate and stea-
dy life. His chief characteristic, then, is the subordination
of moral to political ends: he is the statesman, his thought

The Tragedy of Julius Cmsar. 243

and activity find their limits in the State, liis world is his
country. His point of view is stated by himself:

In such a time as this it is not meet
That every nice oflence should bear his commment.

His reasoning is : To be sure, Lucius Pella has taken bribes^
but that offence can by no means be balanced against his ser-
vices and abilities, or his inlluence ; therefore let it pass, for
we need the united efforts of all against the common enemy.
A distinguished American officer once expressed this subor-
dination of moral to political duties in -the following toasts
"My country — may she ever be right; but, right or wrongs
my country." This is, perhaps, only the feeling of patriot-
ism ; but the insight of Cassius was deeper, for he compre-
hended intellectually that the right of the state is superior
to any individual right of conscience, whenever these rights
come in collision.

Bat the cyclus of characters, in order to be complete, must
have its moral representative. This is Brutus. The poet has
treated this character with such evident delight, has thrown
around it such a halo of virtue, that it seems to be the lead-
ing one of the play. The honor, sincerity and nobleness of
the man, the purity of his motives, his unimpeachable integ-
rity in a corrupt age, the perfect fulfilment of every duty of
the citizen, are brought out in their most glowing colors ; even
his family relations are introduced to crown the moral beauty
of his character. All the virtues of private life seem to cen-
tre in this man, and we heartily join in the encomium of
Antony : .

This was the noblest Koman of them all;
His life was gentle, and the elements
So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world : This was a man.

But alack the day ! he was called upon, or thought he was
called upon, to act in times of revolution, when all the ancient
prescribed landmarks were swept down, and when even the
clearest and most logical head could scarcely find its way out
of the confusion. Now what does this man, of the keenest
sense of honor, of the most truthful nature, proceed to do?
First, to desert, and then to assassinate, his dearest friend.
His motive, he says, was the general welfare, but immediately

244 The Tragedy of Julius Camr.

thereafter declares that C:esar had as yet done nothing
hostile to the public good. And so this contradiction runs
through all his acts and sayiuirs. It is evident that he had
violated this fundamental })rinciple of his nature, his pro-
foundest intellectual conviction. As far as his insight goes,
the act is wrong. Cassiiis can consistently do such a deed,
for liis stand-point is the State : and in its preservation, every-
thing— men. property, and principles — are to be submerged.
But poor Brutus ! what is his next stej)? He tries to justify
the deed. Listen to his soliloquy, for nothing can more com-
pletely show tlie inadequacy of the moral point of view, and
it is besides a fine specimen of moial reasoning not unknown
in our day :

It must be by his death: and for my part

I know no pei-sonal cause to spurn at him,

But for the p^eneral. lie would be crowned ; —

How that miofht change his nature, there's the question.

It would seem that he was not aware of the great change
which had actually taken place in the Roman Constitution,
and does not know that the formal coronation of Cfesar would
produce no alteration in the real condition of things. This
fatal lack of all political sagacity in the leader would destroy
any party or any cause. To continue :

It is the bright day that brinofs forth the adder

And that craves war}- walkinfj. Crown him That,

And tlien I grant we put a sting in Iiini
That at his will he way do danger with.

Possibility is here made the basis of action. That all prac-
tical wisdom is based on directly the opposite .principle
needs hardly to be stated. Moreover, all crimes can easily
be justified in this way, since a man has onl}' to plead some
indefinite possibility.

The abu.se of greatness is when it disjoins
Remorse from power; and. to speak truth of Csesar,
I have not known when his atfection swayed
More than his reason.

From this it would appear that Brutus thought that Cfiesar
was still a good man and unworthy of death. It was only
what Ca3sar might become, that can furnish any defence for
the deed.

TTie Tragedy of Julius Ccesar. 245

But 'tis a common proof
That lowliness is young- ambition's Indder
Whereto tlie climber upward turns his face;
But when he once attains tlie topmost round
He then unto the ladder turns his bacl<,
Looks into the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend; so Ccesar may.
Then, lest he may, prevent.

Possibility is again announced as the basis of action. The
logical nature of this category is not very difficult of compre-
hension. In the Possible the Real and the Unreal are not
yet difterentiated, therefore it cannot have any determina-
tion. But action is something determined, and since the Pos-
sible has no such element in itself, the subject alone can make
the necessary determination. Everything is possible, and j ust
as well impossible. Who is to determine ? Only the indivi-
dual, and he must also act on this determination. Thus
subjectivity asserts its absolute validity, and this is what is
meant by the subjective or moral point of view which in this
play is represented by Brutus.

And since the quarrel
Will bear no color for the thing he is,

(what he now is, cannot justify our act — another declaration
that CjBsar had as yet done nothing which merited death,)

Fasliion [state] it thus : that what he is, augmented
Would run to tliese and these extremities;
And thoefore thinly him as the serpent's a^.^^.
Which hatched would as his kind grow mischievous,
And kill him in the shell.

If you cannot iind a real crime, draw on your imagination
and you are sure to discover one. It will be noticed that in
the foregoing soliloquy no charge is made against any act of
Caesar's. And yet the world has generally held that it is not
moral perversity which utters these declarations — nay, that
it is moral greatness. What, then, is the matter? Brutus is
not able to subordinate the xiarious sjgheres of moral duty
lolien tliey come in conflict. He recognizes them all, to be
sure, but not in their true limitations. Hence when they col-
lide with one another, he becomes a mass of confusion, strife,
and contradiction. Herein lies his immeasurable inferiority
to Cassius, who clearly comprehends these limitations and

246 The Tragedi/ of Julius Cn'sar.

acts upon them. It is intellectual weakness, the inability to
rise out of merely moral considerations in political alfairs.
The trouble is with Brutus' head, not his heart. He intends
to do the right thing, only he does not do it. He acts not so
much in opposition to, as outside of, his real intellectual con-
viction ; for mark ! he is not at all inwardly convinced by his
own specious reasonings. He gets beyond his intellectual
sphere, is befogged, and lost. So after all we see that intellect
is necessary to the highest moral action. We have had much
talk of late concerning the cultivation of the intellect to the
neglect of morality. But it seems that Shakespeare has here
contrasted these two sides of liuman nature in the most
effective manner, decidedly to the disadvantage of the latter.
For Brutus is a man of intense moral susceptibility, yet of
small mental calibre ; the result is that his mistakes and
(w^hat is worse) his transgressions are appalling. Shake-
speare has thus illustrated a truth which it will do no hurt
to repeat now-a-days, that the content of a moral act can only
be given by intelligence, and that the cultivation of intellect
is in so far the cultivation of morality in its true sense. Hence
our schools are our best, and indeed are fast becoming our
only moral teachers. To be sure, submission does not always
follow insight; men often know the right, but do it not: still
we can hardly ascribe this to their knowing it, nor should we
assert that they w^ere better of!" if they had known it. For in
the one case there is a possibility of their becoming good
men ; but if they have no comprehension of the good, it is
imi^ossible.

In ordinary times of civil repose, we should sa}^ of Brutus,
what a noble citizen! JNo one (^ould be more ready to fulfil
his duties to his family, liis fellow-men, and his country. But
it must be recollected that these duties w ere the prescribed
usages, customs, and beliefs, of his nation ; they were given
to him, transmitted from hi^ ancestors. But when prescrip-
tion no longer points out the way, such a man must fall, for
he has no intellectual basis of action. Still the morality of
mankind in general is prescriptive, and does not rest upon
rational insight ; they follow the footsteps of their fathers.
Hence it is that most people think that Brutus is the real
hero (jf the i)lay, and that it is wrongly named. But this was

The Tragedy of Jullws Ctv.i^nr. 247

certainly not Shakespeare's design, for it was very easy to-
construct a drama in which Brutus shoukl api!)ear as trium-
phant, by having it terminate at the assassination of Csesar
with a grand flourish of daggers, frantic x)i"Oclamations of
libert}^, and " sic semper tyrannis.'" Shakespeare, however,
takes special pains not to do any such thing, but to show the
triumph of Caesar's thought in the destruction of the conspi-
rators. Still Brutus remains the favorite character with the
multitude, because they do not and cannot rise above his
stand-point, and to-day he is often taken as the great proto-
type of all lovers of liberty.

The effect of intellectual weakness combined with strong
moral impulses appears, then, to be tlie meaning of this char-
acter. It is amazing to observe its contradictions and utter
want of steadiness of purpose ; nor are they at all exagger-
ated by the poet. This man, who could assassinate his best
friend for the public good, cannot, when a military leader,
conscientiously levy contributions for his starving soldiers ;
"For," says he, "I can raise no money by vile means." That
is, he would sacrifice that very cause for which he committed
the greatest crime known to man, to a moral punctilio. This
may be moral heroism, but it is colossal stupidity. Further-
more, in every instance in which Cassius and he difl'ered
about the course to be pursued, Brutus was in the wrong.
He, out of moral scruples, saved Antony, against the advice
of Cassius ; this same Antony afterwards destroyed their
army and with it their cause. Moreover, the battle of Phil-
lippi, the fatal termination of the conflict, was fought in dis-
regard of the judgment of Cassius. And finally he dies with
a contradiction upon his lips, for he says that Cato was a
coward for committing suicide, and then declares that he will
never be taken captive to Rome alive, and shortly afterwards
falls upon his own sword. Perhaps, however, he came to the
conclusion that his country needed his death, for he said in
his celebrated si)eech, *' I have the same dagger (which slew
CrCsar) for myself when it shall please my country to need
my death." This oft-quoted and favorite sentence seems to
be usually regarded as expressing the very quintessence of
moral sublimity and heroic self-sacrifice. But one naturally
asks who is to be judge whether his country needs his death

248 The Tragedf/ of Julius Crrsar.

— the couiitiy or himself? If the country, then he would be
a criminal publicly condemned, and there would be no neces-
sity for his dagger, since his country would furnish him both
instrument and executioner free of charge. But if he was to
be the judge himself, why did he commit such villainous acts
that in his own opinion his country needed his death ? All
this was intentional no doubt on the part of Shakespeare, for
it comports toD well with the contradictory character of Bru-
tus to admit of any other supposition. One imagines that if
the old bard could have foreseen all the froth}^ vaporings and
mock-sentimentality to which this innocent absurdity has
given rise, he would still be laughing in his grave. Such is
the true irony of the great poet, so much insisted on by some
critics, which portrays the tinitude of individuals, classes,
even whole historical periods, so adequately that they them-
selves take delight in the picture.

This difference in character between Brutus and Cassius
must lead to a collision, and accordingly we liave the celebra-
ted quarrel in the 4th Act. Hej-e we see the respective stand-
points of the two men fully exhibited ; Brutus is haughty,
insulting, and j)lumps himself upon his moral integrity,
though it seems that he was ready to take and indeed asked
for some of the money which Cassius had rai.3ed by "vile
means"; Cassius, on the contrary, keeps restraining himself,,
though exasperated iti the highest degree, and ultimately
. leads the way to reconciliation. No personal feelings can
dim to his eye the great end which he has in view, nothing
must be allowed to i)ut it in Jeopardy; hence the quarrel^
which would otherwise doul)tless have terminated their
friendship, if not have ended in a personal encounter, is
healed as speedily as possible. There is a mightier collision
pending which hushes all lesser strifes.

A further contrast to Brutus is Antony. This loose reveller
is true to his friend Csesar and avenges him, but the rigid
moralist abandons and slays him. Antony is, moreover, a
man of pleasure, and acts from impulse; Brutus jjretends to
be a philosopher and to be guided by fixed principles. "I
am no orator as Brutus is, but a plain, blunt man, that love
my friend." Antony's highest end was personal devotion
to one whom he loved ; he in nowise comprehends the move-

The Tragedy of Julius Ccesar. 249

ment of either Cassius or Caesar. Thus both Antony and
Brutus are quite on the same spiritual plane, and hence An-
tony can justly reproach Brutus for his faithless conduct with
a cogency which the latter can by no means answer :

Witness the hole you made iu Cassar's heart
Cry in Of long live, hail Ccesar!

Yet Antony does most ample justice to the motive of Brutus,
and seems to place all worthiness of an action in the motive,
— a point of view, ir noi^ds hardly be said, purely moral and
subj ecti ve :

This was the noblest Roman of them all;

All the conspirators, save only he,

Did what they did in envy of ,^reat Caesar ;

He only in a general honest thought

And common good to all made one of them.

These lines are often quoted as Shakespeare's actual opinion
of Brutus ; but they are spoken by Antony, to whom they
appropriately belong, and to nobody else. It is by no means
certain that Shakespeare's own views are to be found always
in the utterances of his characters. The dramatic poet ex-
presses his convictions in the action, in the collision, and,
above all, in the catastrophe. Judging by this standard, we
should most decidedly aver that the above lines did not ex-
press Shakespeare's personal ojjinion. Both Antony and
Brutus, therefore, have quite the same intellectual stand-
point, though dilfering much in their outward lives ; but the
one was true to it, the other was not. Brutus ought to have
acted as Antony, to be faithful to his deepest convictions,
and to have remained friendly or at least indifferent to Cffi-
sar. Cassius alone can intellectually slay Caesar.

Such appears to be the general purport of this play. Much
might be said upon its formal excellence — the poetic beauty,
rhetorical finish, and unusual clearness of the language, mak-
ing it a favorite with many who read nothing else of Shake-
speare— the logical arrangement of the parts, the happy con-
secution of motives ; but all this we shall leave to our reader
to follow up at his leisure. Some of Shakespeare's fairest
gems of characterization are found in the minor personages
of the play, as Portia, the absolute type of wifehood, and Lu-
cius, the faithful slave ; but their basis is plain and needs not

250 The Tragedy of J alius Cicsar.

to be specially developed. Moreover, the mediations em-
ployed are deserving of the most careful study on account of
their truth and profundity, as when for example in the third
act the Poet makes popular oratory the means by which the
tide is turned against the conspiiators, and thus assigns its
place as one of the chief political instrumentalities in the
ancient and modern world. Also those curious supernatural
manifestations, as the cry of the soothsayer, "Beware the
ides of March," the ai)pearance of the ghost of Cfesar, the
presence of a lion in the streets, the wrathful signs of the
heavens, seem to demand some rational explanation as well
as the strange anthropological phenomena, as the presenti-
ments of CiCsar and Brutus, and the dreams of Calpurnia
and Cinna the Poet. Here is a side which Shakespeare al-
waj^'S elaborates in full, but which can be best treated in a
separate paper. The object at present is to bring into prom-
inence the ethical world of Shakespeare and its immense sig-
nilicance, for these same collisions are taking place to-day,
and indeed their true solution constitutes the comprehension
of and mastery over the practical world.

To recapitulate ; there are three leading moments in the
drama: 1. Caesar in the consummation of his world-histori-
cal career, on the pinnacle of his power and glory ; 2. The
reaction of the State against him headed by Cassius ; 3. The
negation of this reaction, the restoration and absolute valid-
ity of the Cjesarean movement. Hence we see that Cjesar is
the real hero, and that the piece is justlj" entitled "Julius
CfBsar." We also see, I think, that the collision is between
the World-Spirit and the Nation, and that in this struggle
three typical characters participate, forming a complete
cyclus of characterization. Cfusar represents the world-
historical stand- jjoint, Cassius the jjolitical, Brutus the moral.
CcSsar perishes ; the ancient national sentiment rises up for
a moment and destroys the individual, for, being of flesh and
blood, an assassin may rush upon him and stab him to the
heart ; but his thought is not thus doomed to perish. Next
to him comes Cassius, whose great mistake was that he still
had faith in his country ; a pardonable error, if any, to mor-
tals! He did not, and perhaps could not, rise above the
purely political point of view ; to him the State was the ulti-

The Tragedy of Julius Cmsar. 251

mate efhical principle of the Universe. Hence he did not com-
prehend the world-historical niovemeht represented by Ca3-
sar, but collided with it and was destroj^ed. To me a painful,
melancholy character ; with all his greatness, devotion, and
intelligent activitjs still finite and sliort-sighted. The mis-
take of Brutus is that he had anything to do with the matter
at all — that he took part, or at least a leading part, in this
revolution. The collision lay wholly beyond his mental ho-
rizon; hence he represents nothing objective, is the bearer of
no grand ethical principle, like Csesar and Cassius. He pre-
sumed to lead when he was intellectually in total darkness,
trusting alone to his own good intentions. We do not blame
him because he was ignorant, but because he did not know
that he was ignorant. Every rational being must at least
comprehend its own limits, must know that it does not know.
We may laud the motive but lament the deed; still man, as
endowed with Reason and Universality, cannot run away
from his act and hide himself behind his intention, but must
take the inherent consequences of his deed in their total cir-
cumference.

Brutus is no doubt the sphinx of the play, and has given
much trouble to critics on account of the contradictions of his
character. He seems both moral and immoral — to be actu-
ated by the noblest motives for the public good, yet can give
no. rational ground for his act. Indeed we are led to believe
that his vanit}^ was so swollen by the flattery of Cassius that
it hurried him unconsciously beyond the i^ale of his convic-
tions. Still Brutus was undoubtedh^ a good citizen, a good
husband, and a good man. But any one of these three rela-
tions may come into conflict with the others ; which, then, is
to be followed? If a man has not subordinated tliese spheres
into a system — which can only be done by Intelligence — he
cannot tell what course to pursue. Sometimes he may follow
one, sometimes another, for in his mind they all possess equal
validity. Hence such a person can only be inconsistent, va-
cillating and contradictory in his actions ; and such a person
was Brutus — a good, moral man, who recognized all duties,
but did not comprehend their limitations, and hence fell be-
neath their conflict.

( 252 )
HEGEL'S PHILOSOPHY OF ART.

Tr.'.nslated from Uic second volume of Hegel's jEsthhtics, by Missb. .V. Longwell.

Chivalry. — II. Love.

The second sentiment that plays a dominant part in the
representations of romantic art is love.

{a) If the fundamental character of honor is the personal
snbjectivity as it manifests itself in its absolute indepen-
dence, the highest degree of love, on the contrary, is self-
forgetfulness, the identification of the subject with an indi-
vidual of the other sex. It is the yielding of its indepen-
dent consciousness, its particular individuality, which is for
the first time compelled to have its self-knowledge in the
consciousness of another. In this respect, love and honor are
opposed to each other. But conversely we can regard love
as the realization of a principle which already exists in hon-
or, in so far as it is the necessity of honor to see the infinitude
of person which he assumes recognized by another. This
recognition is first genuine and total, when not only my per-
sonality in the abstract, or in a concrete, particular, and
therefore limited sense, is honored by others, but when I,
entirel}^, with all that I am and comprehend in myself, as I
have been, am, and shall be, pervade the consciousness of
another, constitute its real will, thought, tendency, and most
intimate possession. Then this other lives only in me, as I
live only in him. Each becomes in this complementary unity
first for himself, and they place their w^hole world and soul
in this identity. In this resj)ect there is the same intrinsic
infinity of the subject which gives to love its importance in
romantic art, an importance which is still enhanced through
the higher wealth that the idea of love comprehends.

Love does not depend upon refiection and the casuistry of
the understanding, as may often be the case with honor, but
finds its origin in emotion, and has at the same time, where
sex is concerned, the foundation of spiritualized natural rela-
tions. However, this diff'erence is essential only because the
individual puts into this union his soul, the spiritual and infi-
nite element of his being. This renouncing of self in order

HegeVs Philosoplnj of Art. 253

to be ideiititied witli another — this devotion, this disinterest-
edness, in which the subject iinds again the plenitude of his
being — this self-forgetfulness, so tliat the lover exists not,
cares not for himself, but finds the sources of his being in
another, — constitute the infinite character of love. And its'
chief beautj is that it does not remain mere impulse and feel-
ing;; but imao-ination, under the charm of love, creates its
own world, makes all else, that otherwise pertains to interest,
surroundings, purposes of the actual life and being, an orna-
ment of this feeling, draws all into this circle, and only in
reference to this assigns to anything a value.

Particularly in feminine characters is love most beautiful,
since this sacrificing, this disinterestedness, is carried by
them to its highest degree. They conform the whole intel-
lectual and moral life to this emotion, find in it alone an
anchor to existence, and, if deprived of love by adversity,
vanish as a light that is extinguished at the first rough breath.

In this subjective fervor of emotion, love does not appear
in classic art, and generally it only makes its appearance as
a kind of manifestation of subordinate moment, or only by
the side of sensuous enjoj^ment. In Homer either no great
stress is placed upon love, or it appears in its most worthy
form in domestic life, as, for example, the conjugal fidelity of
Penelope, or, as the tender solicitude of the wife and mother,
in Andromache, or otherwise in moral relations. On the con-
trary, the tie that unites Paris and Helen is acknowledged as
immoral — it is the cause of the horrors and necessity of the
Trojan war; and the love of Achilles for Briseis has little
internality and depth of emotion, for Briseis is a slave, sub-
missive to the hero's will. In the Odes of Sappho, the lan-
guage of love rises indeed to lyric enthusiasm, 3^et it is rather
the expression of a flame which consumes, than that of a sen-
timent which penetrates to the depths of the heart and fills
the soul. Love appears in another phase in the graceful lit-
tle songs of Anacreon, It is a more serene, more general
pleasure, which knows neither infinite sorrows, nor the ab-
sorption of the entire existence in a single sentiment, nor the
submission of an oppressed and languishing soul. It par-
takes freely of immediate pleasure without attaching to the
exclusive possession of precisely this person and no other —

254 HegeVs PUlosoxjny of Art.

a demand whit'h is as foreign to its thought as the monastic-
resohition entirely to ignore the rehition of sex.

The high Tragedy of the Ancients, likewise, does not know
the passion of love in its romantic meaning. Especially in
iEschylus and Sophocles it claims no real interest. For
although Antigone is the destined wife of H^emon, and he^
unable to save his beloved, destroys himself for her sake,
yet he manifests before Creon only objective relations, and
not the subjective power of his passion, which he does not
even experience in the acceptation of an ardent modern lover.
Euripides treats love as a more real pathos — in Phjedra, for
example ; yet even here it appears as a crirjiinal aberration,
caused by ardor of blood and by a troubled mind, as incited
by Venus, who wishes to destroy Hyppolytus because this
young prince refuses to sacrifice upon her altars. So we have
indeed in the Venus di Medici a plastic representation of love
which heaves nothing to be desired, in delicacy and perfec-
tion of form, but the expression of the subjective. Such as
romantic art demands is entirely lacking. The same is true
in Roman poetry. After the destruction of the republic, and
in the accompanying laxity of morals, love appears more or
less as a sensuous pleasure. In the Middle Ages, on the con-
trary, although Petrarch, for example, regarded li'is sonnets
as trilles,and based his reputation upon his Latin poems and
works, yet he immortalized himself by this ideal love, which
under the Italian heaven is united in an ardent imagination
with the religious sentiment. The sublime inspiration of
Dante also had its source in his love for Beatrice. This love
appeared in him as a religious love, while his energy and
boldness attained the energy of a religious artistic intuition,
through which he dared that which no one before him had
ventured, namely, to exalt himself as supreme judge of the
world, and to assign men to Hell, to Purgatory, and to Heaven.
As a contrast to this exaltation, Boccacio represents love, in
its vivacity of passion, frivolous, without morality ; while he
brings before our eyes, in his various tales, the customs of
his time and country. In the German Minnesingers love ap-
pears sentimental, tender without copiousness of imagination,
playful, melancholy, and monotonous. With the Spaniards
it is imaginative in expression, chivalric, subtile sometimes

HegeVs Philosophy of Art. 255

in seeking and defending its rights and duties, of which it
makes so many points of personal honor; it is also enthusi-
astic when displayed in its highest brilliancy. Among the
modern French it becomes, on the contrary, more gallant,
inclined to frivolity, a sentiment created for poetry. Some-
times it is pleasure without passion, sometimes passion with-
out pleasure, a sublimated entirely reflexive sentiment and
susceptibility..

{b) The world and real life are full of conflicting interests.
On one side stands society with its actual organization, do-
mestic life, civil and political relations, law, justice, customs^
etc. ; and in opposition to this positive reality rises love, a
passion which germinates in noble, ardent souls, which now
unites itself with religion, now subordinates it, forgets it even,
and, regarding itself alone the essential, indeed the only or
highest necessity of life, is able not only to determine to re-
nounce all else and to flee with the beloved into a wilderness,
but may besides deliver itself to all excesses, even to the re-
nouncing of human dignity. This opposition cannot fail to
occasion numerous collisions, for the other interests of life
also make valid their demands and rights, and thereby affect
love in its pretensions to supremacy.

(1) The flrst and most frequent collision which we have to
mention, is the conflict between love and honor. Honor has
in itself the same infinity as love, and may assume a signifi-
cance that is an absolute hindrance in the way of love. The
duty of honor may demand the sacrifice of love? In a certain
class of society, for example, it would be incompatible with
honor to love a woman of inferior rank. The difference in
rank is the necessary result of the nature of things ; and,
besides, it is admitted. Now, since secular life is not yet re-
newed through the complete conception of true freedom, in
which position, vocation, etc., of the subject, as such, disap-
pear, so it is always more or less birth which assigns to man
his rank and position ; and these conditions are still regarded
as absolute and eternal by, although not through, honor, in so
far as it makes its own position an affair of honor.

(2) But secondly, besides honor, the permanent substantial
powers themselves, state interests, patriotism, domestic du-
ties, etc., may also conflict with love and forbid its realiza-

256 HegeVs Philosophy of Art.

tion. Especially in modern representations, in wliicli the
objective relations of life have already attained complete va-
lidity, is this a very popular theme. Love then appears as
a poweuful right of the subjective nature, so opposed to the
other rights and duties that the heart itself banishes these
duties as subordinate, or acknowledges them, and comes into
conflict with itself and the power of its own passion. The
Maid of Orleans, for example, rests upon this last collision.

(3) Yet, thirdly, there may exist in general external rela-
tions and impediments which oppose themselves to love : the
general course of events, the prose of life, misfortunes, pas-
sion, prejudice, wilfulness of others, and events of various
kinds. Consequently much hatred is often involved, because
the perversity, the crudeness, the wild fierceness of foreign
passions, are placed in opposition to the tender beauty of
love. Particularly in recent Dramas, Tales, and Romances,
we often see the same external collisions. They interest
chiefly tlirougli our sympathy with the sufferings, hopes and
disappointments of the unhappy lovers. The conclusion,
according as it is happy or unhappy, satisfies or moves us.
Sometimes these productions simply entertain us. This kind
of conflict however, which depends upon mere contingency,
is of a subordinate nature.

(c) Love presents in all these respects, it is true, an ele-
vated character in so far as it remains in general not onl}^ an
affection of the sexes for each other, but manifests in itself a
rich, beautiful, noble nature ; and is, in its unity with others,
living, active, brave, self-sacrificing. But romantic love has
likewise its limits ; namely, there is wanting in its compre-
hension the general and universal. It is only the personal
sense of the individual subject that shows itself satisfied, not
with permanent interests and the objective value of hun>an
existence — with the well-being of the family, of the state, and
of native land — with professional duties, freedom, and reli-
gion,— but aspires only to find itself reflected in another, and
to have its passion shared. This comprehension corresponds
neither to its formal ardor, nor truly to the totality which
must be in itself a concrete individuality. In the family, in
marriage even, in a moral point of view both public and pri-
vate, the subjective perception exists as such, and the union

HegeVs Philosopliy of Art. 257

with exactly this and no other individual, may not be the
principal thing upon which it depends. But in romantic love
all turns upon this principle, the mutual love of two indivi-
duals. Indeed, only this or that individual exists who linds
his subjective particular ty in the contingency of caprice. To
every one his beloved appears as to the maiden her lover,
always incomparable ; each hnds the other the supreme
type of beaut}' and perfection. But if it is true that each
one makes of the beloved a Venus or something more, it
happens that there are many who pass as the same, for, as
indeed all know, there are in the world many excellent maid-
ens, pretty or good, who all, or at least the majority, find
their admirers, lovers, and husbands, to whom they appear
beautiful, virtuous, and lovely. Only this exclusive and ab-
solute preference is purely an affair of the heart, an entirely
personal choice ; and the unlimited pertinacity indispensable
in finding in just this one his life and his highest conscious-
ness, proves itself the eternal choice of necessity. There is
recognized in this manifestation the higher freedom of the
subjectivity and its abstract choice — freedom, not merely, as
the Phjedra of Euripides, for pathos, but concerning the abso-
lutely individual will from which it proceeds ; choice seems,
at the same time, a caprice and stubbornness of the particu-
lar individual.

Therefore collisions with love retain ever a phase of con-
tingency and authorized wantonness, especially when love
conflicts with substantial interests; because it is the sub-
jectivity as such which opposes its demands, in and for
themselves invalid, to that which must make the claim to its
own reality dependent upon recognition. The personages
in the high Tragedies of the Ancients, Agamemnon, Cly-
temnestra, Orestes, ffidipus, Antigone, Creon, etc., have like-
wise, it is true, an individual purpose ; but the reality, the
pathos, that was the motive of their acts is of absolute au-
thority, and precisely on that account in itself also of general
interest. The destiny that befalls them as the result of their
acts does not affect us because there is an unhappy destiny,
but because there is an unhappy being that at the same time
loves absolutely ; while pathos, which affects not until it has
obtained satisfaction, has a necessary significance. If the

Vol.vi.— 17

258 Hegel as Publicist.

guilr of Clytemn^sti'ca is not punished in this particular case,
if the wrontj: which Antigone as sister experienced is not re-
dressed, then there is in itself a wrong. But these sufferings
of love, these heart-rending liopes, this being in love, these
intinire anxieties which a lover experiences, this eternal feli-
city and blessedness that he imagines, are not in themselves
of general interest, but pertain only to himself.

E\ery man indeed has a heart for love and the right to find
happiness in loving; but there is no injustice done if he ex-
actly in this case, among these and those circumstances, in
respect to precisely this maiden, does not attain his aim. For
there is no necessity that he interest himself in this capri-
cious maiden, and that we should be interested in an affair
so accidental which has neither extension nor universality.
This is a phase of coldness that manifests itself in the devel-
opment of this ardent passion.

HEGEL AS PUBLICIST.

Translated from the Gorman of Dr. K. Kosenkkanz, by G. S. Hall.

When compendiums are printed, their style is usually mea-
gre and skeleton like ; the paragrai)hs of the Hegelian Ency-
clopedia, on the contrary, preserve for us a lively, didactic
prose, in the intensive fullness of which it is throughout felt
that a high geniality has imposed such a limitation upon
itself with freedom. Behind these well-weighed words, the
rich spirit may be conjectured which is able to broaden each
into an entire world of meaning and to defend each in its own
peculiar signilicance.

The Heidelberg professors had made the "Heidelberg Year-
book'' a critical organ, which, at the time of Hegel's sojourn
there, was at the acme of its highest prosperity. At first it
represented the stand-point of Romanticism, which at the time
of the French dominion had a national patriotic significance.
Daub, Creuzer, and Goerres, who had previously' been united
in the editorship of the " Studien," exercised at first the great-
est influence upon it. At the time of Hegel, Paulus had as-

Hegel as Pahlidst. 259

sumed its editorship. He procured Hegel's coopemtioii. The
latter furnished only two criticisms, which however for phi-
losophy as well as for himself were of great signilicance.
One was upon Jacobi, the other upon the W tirtumberg Con-
stitution.

In the "Critical Journal,'* which he published with Schel-
ling, he had sharply attacked the stand point of Jacobi. iS^ow,
as Jacobi, at the close of his career, began to publish his col-
lective works, he desired to explain himself once more to him,
and, aside from all positive differences, to become, out of re-
spect for his endeavors, reconciled with him. This he could
not do without atfecting Schilling, who in the meantime had
come to a most violent rupture with Jacobi. Every recogni-
tion of Jacobi on the part of Hegel, although it be cxualihed,
must ofl'end Schelling, however much Hegel might empdiasize
Schelling's scientific right as opposed to Jacobi. This is a
point which for the further relations of both philosophers is
so often overlooked. That which is, however, often still more
overlooked, was that in this critique Hegel was necessitated
to pronounce with reference to atheism.

The reproach of atheism was first raised against Ficlite by
the government of Saxony — against Schelling by a philoso-
pher, by Jacobi. The latter saw in Schelling's philosophy
renewed Spinozism. Against this Hegel had decidedly pro-
nounced in the "Phenomenology of Mind," and had expressly
recognized the Christian religion as absolutely true. Later,
in his Logic, he had subjected Spinozism to extended criti-
cism and had shown its untenableness. He accorded right,
therefore, to Jacobi in finding Spinozism defective, because,
in the conception of the Absolute, it suppresses the moment of
subjectivity. It follows hence that substance is to be appre-
hended, not merely as being and essence, but also as subject;
i.e. not merely as causal necessity, but also as self-determin-
ing and self-conceiving freedom. The introduction to the
third part of his Logic, which he entitled Subjective Logic,
has no other purpose. Hegel must, therefore, admit to Jacobi
that he could find no satisfaction in Spinozism. It is impos-
sible for one to express himself clearer than Hegel has here
done upon the point whether Grod is to be known only as
substance, or at the same time as subject. The Absolute is

260 Hegel as Publicist.

not as it were only so far subject as it becomes so in plants,
animals, and man, but ir is subject in and for itself.

When Jacobi, however, affirmed that we could apprehend
the Absolute onl}^ in faith, only in feeling and not in thought,
in self-conscious conception, Hegel denied it in the most de-
cisive way. .lacobi had even advanced to the paradoxical
proi")osition that all demonstrative philosophy must lead to
atheism. Ilegel, on the other hand, proved the necessity of
proof if the question of science was at all involved. The ten-
derness with which Hegel treated Schelling as well as Jacobi,
without in the least sacrilicing positive sharpness or his own
dignity, makes this critique one of the most exemplary po-
lemics. While he allowed no doubt to remain that he appre-
hended the Absolute in and for Itself as subject, there was
offered to him, on the other hand, an opportunity to express
himself in a popular manner upon the conception of the state,
which he had done in the short paragraphs of the Encyclope-
dia only in very general and often dark outlines.

Now came the proceedings of the Diet of Wiirtemberg
upon the new constitution of the state, vvhich, through the
confederacy of the Rhine, had grown into a kingdom. The
state, even after the war of emancipation, was still a con-
glomeration of the most diverse j)articular rights. It needed
to be transformed upon the principle of the freedom of per-
son and of property ; the equality of all citizens before the
law ; the uniform distribution of the burdens of taxation ;
freedom of religion and freedom of the press ; the legal par-
ticipation of the citizens in legislation, and the responsibility
of ministers. The kings of Wiirtemberg recognized this
necessity, and laid the plan of a constitution before the aris-
tocracy. It met with determined opposition, because it must
of course demand the surrender of many privileges. These
were named by the aristocracy " good old German rights,"
and the royal presumption in proposing to sacrifice them to
the common good was rejected with indignation, while the
constitution was suspected of being a means of despotism. It
was not only the nobility who were hostile, but especially
the guild of advocates and notaries, who feared that under a
new constitution they would lose much of their influence and
of their incomes, because the incessant collisions of multitu-

Hegel as PuhUcist. 261

dinous privileges was the occasion of innumerable suits at
law, by conducting which they were able to watch over and
phinder the rest of the citizens. After violent contests, in
which all the animosity of political passions was let loose,
the kingdom finally accomplished its work. The proceedings
were printed, and Hegel undertook their criticism. So far as
the public was concerned, he here entered a sphere of activity
which was entirely new, fur the question was now not upon
the judgment of a philosophical system by any single author,
but upon the political act of two princes of a neighboring
state, of the same stock as that from which Hegel was de-
scended, the capital of which was his early home, and the
constitution of which, as early as the close of the preceding
century, he had made the subject of an unpublished reformi-
tory article. Upon which side should he, as a philosopher,
take his stand in his critique ? Upon the side of the so-called
good old right of the aristocracy ? Impossible ; for this right
was the prerogative of feudalism, the privilege of the guild,
the purchased monoj)oly of the rich. He must, therefore, take
his stand with the kings, for they were, in this case, the rep-
resentatives of rational freedom, of the true idea of the state.
That this took place in a small German state does not af-
fect its importance. The reproach has been made that Hegel
gloritied the pett}^ Schwabian kingdom with Asiatic Hattery.
The inhabitants of "Wurtemberg themselves, later, became
proud of their constitution, and the contests in their cham-
bers have exercised a politically-shaping influence upon all
Crermany. The names of U bland and Pfizer were as popular
in Berlin as in Stuttgart. Hegel always had strong political
instincts. It was natural that the occurrences in his narrow
fatherland should interest him intensely. He was patriotic
so far as to recognize the independence of nationality as one
of the essential conditions of a healthy state life ; but he was
not patriotic in the polemic, fanatic sense, the G-ermanic ten-
dency of which proceeded from Fichte, Fries, and others, who
attempted to organize the student corps into an exclusively
German party. In his opening address at Heidelberg, Hegel
had emphasized the maintenance of our nationality itself as
a chief moment, through which the higher advancement of
scientific thought might be secured among us. No modern

26-2 Hegel as Publicist.

state can make national purism its principle, because the
purity of race? is everywhere impaired. Germans have
everywhere come in contact with Roman, Celtic and Slavic
elements, and the reason of the state must subject itself to
the peculiarity of its population. The Jews, scattered among
all nations, are careful that this be not forgotten. That which
in his youth had so interested Hegel in the French revolu-
tion, y'l/.. the creation of a state in accordance with the Idea,
now attracted him strongly in the proceedings in his father-
land. In France it was the people who wrested the modern
state from the kingdom, while in Wiirtemberg it was the
kingdom which must win the free constitution from the j^eo-
ple. In the introduction to his critique he delineated this
noteworthy situation in a masterly way, such as was possi-
ble only from a profound understanding of history. Hegel's
style has nothing of what is wont to be called rhetoric in the
ordinary sense, for all phrases, all Ciceronian ornate et eojyi-
ose dicere. was opposed to his strictly matter-of-fact nature.
The German language stood at his command in rare compass,
to give to his thoughts the most happy and manifold utter-
ance. The dramatic vividness with which he depicted the
course of the proceedings of the Diet is incomparable. The
loftiness of his style passes over now and then to the bitter
comique. with which he lashes the hypocrisy of that egoism
which perverts the words fatherland, freedom, right, lidelity,
and uses them against laws and princes in order to conceal
its own private interests. The case which Hegel treated as
a concrete one is the same in all history. It is the conHict
of the progress of freedom with j^ositive right, which over
asainst the self-consciousness of more cultured reason has
become a wrong, and struggles against dissolution because it
has hitherto been accredited as a recognized chartered right.
On this point Hegel had a perfectly philosophical conscious-
ness, and the incisive words with which he expressed it will
ever renewedly awaken the liveliest interest in the historian
and the pliilosopher. Those who know the course of real
aifairs will not wonder that the passion of the reactionary
party which Hegel, with his firm frankness and truly states-
manlike superiority had found so sensitive, turned upon him
with rage because he defended the princes in their constitu-

Hegel, Prussia, and the Philosophy of Right. 263

tional endeavors, and abused him as a servile man. Hegel
has never uttered a word respecting this suspicion; he was
above such insinuations of the crowd. It is, however, unpre-
cedented that now, after several decades, his enemies are not
weary of i^ersecuting him, on account of this critique, as an,
anti-popular servant of kings, without being able to adduce a
single actual proof for such bitter disparagement.

Even a historian like Gervinus, in his history of mod-
ern times, is not free from this acridity which has become
traditional. Dr. Haym's groundless aspersion of Hegel, in
his work "Hegel and His Time," as if he would have pur-
chased, by his criticism of the government of Wiirtemberg,
the chancellorship of the University of Tubingen, I have an-
swered in my " Hegel's Apology before Dr. Haym." The
proof which I demanded for the foundation of such an insin-
uation has not yet to my knowledge been furnished.

Since the July revolution, Germans have made great pro-
gress in political science. In this they were very backward
when Hegel wrote. Hegel lacks the declamatory pathos in
which Fichte was so great, as well as the diplomatic dex-
terity of a Genz ; but the philosophic sobriety which perme-
ates his political inspiration imparts to his language, in its
apt acuteness, a peculiar nobility. The great philosopher
enchants us ever by the exalted naivety of his soul, which
knows no other cultus than the truth ; and this naivety, re-
plete with a deep infusion of history, makes the philosopher
a classic publicist, who judges his age, and knows how, fit-
tingly, to say to it what it has to do.

HEGEL, PRUSSIA, AND THE PHILOSOPHY OF RIGHT.

The local spirit of the beautiful cit}^ of Heidelberg seems
to favor the so-called positive sciences rather than philoso-
phy, and Spinoza indulged perhaps a proper instinct when
he refused the call of the elector of the Palatinate to a pro-
fessorship there. And yet Hegel's efficiency during the two
years, 1816 and 1817, in which he lectured there, was of com-
paratively great significance. He prepared, however, in 1818
to go to Berlin, with which he had previously had relations.
In this, as in all that is historical, the element of chance can
be discerned, but for Prussia as well as for Hegel it was

264 Hegel, Prussia, and the P/u'losop7n/ of Rigid.

necessity. Prussia is the philosophic state par excellence in
Gei'uumy. whicli has allowed no great German philosopher
since Leibnitz to remain outside it. The chair which Ficlite
had occupied liad been vacant since 1814. Solger proposed
Hegel for the place. In the biograph}'- of Fries the corre-
spondence is given whicli DeWette carried on with him con-
cerning this call. Fries wished especially to come to Berlin.
DeWette, his theological disciple, left no means untried to
influence the majority of the Senate in his favoi-. In this elec-
toral contest, and the passionate agitations which attended
it, tlie two parties may be seen which in the University of
Berlin opposed one another even more resolutely, and in
which was reflected the great antithesis whicli pervaded the
entire age.

At the beginning of the century, Hegel had almost abhor-
red Prussia on account of its bureaucracy and its court ser-
vice, and had foreseen the fate of the Prussian army at Jena.
But this state had undergone a new birth which showed that
it yet bore within itself a great future. This future is at the
same time the future of Germany itself, for the Ultramonta-
nists and the South-Germans may abuse Prussia as much as
they will ; still Germany will not again get rid of Prussia,
for ir is the only German state that can save united Germany
and conduct it to a higher national plane. ''^ The Congress of
Vienna would not round off Prussia; it gave to it the Rhine
province as an enclave between Hessia, Nassau, Rhinic Bava-
ria, France, Belgium and Holland, and thus imposed \\\)0i\ it
the Watch on the Rhine. Eventually, the Rhinic province
with Westphalia could be again snatched from Prussia, and
be declared an independent kingdom for any prince. Prussia
must make vast endeavors so to organize its own military
power that it could be ready to commence war with France at
way moment. It was thus that it became stronger than its.
intriguing enemies had intended. Its geographical position
brought it into immediate territorial contact with Russia as
well as with France, as was the case with no other German
state. It bordered on Austria and (with the exception of
Wiirtemberg and Baden) nearly all the German middle and

* This was wrilteii iu ]8(j«. — Ed.

Hegel, Prussia, and the Philosophy of Right. 265-

smaller states. Although the wasp-like contour of the Pius-
sian state was made the occasion of much reproach, 3'et it
was from the very fact of its many-sided border-contacts that
it rose to an influence over all Germany, which rendered the
foundation of the Zollverein possible as the first real unifi-
cation of the German states. With the Rhine it had also-
taken into its domain the last of the great streams which flow
from south to north into the sea. Cologne, under the Prus-
sian administration, rose to renewed prosperity as a commer-
cial city. Besides the encouragement of material interests^
Prussia had undertaken through the Rhine provinces the-
difficult task of winning the confidence of the other Rhinie
provinces, for the intensity of the prejudices with which these^
were then filled against the Prussian government can scarcely
yet be correctly represented,

Hegel entered the Prussian state as a stranger. He felt in
Berlin that an intense thought-life pervaded the entire atmo-
sphere. This predominance of North-German reflection im-
pressed him favorably with Berlin, because it responded to-
his character as a philosopher. He unduly transferred the
impression which Berlin made upon him to the entire Prus-
sian state, just as most Frenchmen and Englishmen are wont
to do who conceive the one-sided views of Berlin to be the-
exhaustive expression of the entire Prussian community.
Hegel began to interest himself in Prussia as a model state,
but as a philosopher he cherished still another ideal which
by no means tallied with the actual condition of Prussia.

That, which the great Prussian statesmen and military he-
roes of that epoch strove for, surpassed, in its tendency, the
Hegelian conception of the state, in the greater participation
which it allowed to the people in legislation. In a state
where the system of defence obliged all citizens without ex-
ception to defend the land from invasion, they would admit
all to participate in legislation. In a state where munici2:)al
communities administered their own affairs, the question of
a bureaucratic omnipotence of the ministers as in France
could not arise. In a state where rights of seigniory and tute-
lage were removed, where the possession of land and industry
were left free, where access to all state offices was conditioned.

^&6 Hegel, Prussia, and the Philosophy of Right.

only upon proof of competency, — in such a state mediaeval
-conditions, forms, institutions, could find no longer a footing.

Rejuvenated, well-matured Prussia was built from 1810 to
1815 upon democratic foundations, which were given by the
monarch himself. The elevation of the entire system of
instruction by Wilhelm von Humboldt and von Altenstein, the
establishment of the universities of Berlin, Breslau and Bonn,
and the more munilicent endowment and equipment of those
at Halle and Konigsberg, was accomplished in a democratic
sense, for Prussia had made attendance at schools compulsory
upon all. But after Napoleon had been conquered, and espe-
cially after his death, the reaction of the aristocracy and hier-
archy against the political establishments of Prussia grew
stronger even in Prussia itself. It resulted in that sad policy
of restoration which now we are wont to call, from its most
prominent representative, the policy of Metternich. This pol-
icy invaded Prussia, and began to imprint upon the govern-
ment a political character of distrust for the people. The
immediate result was that the people found no legislative
representation, but provincial diets were established in their
stead.

The combinations of the student-corps furnished occasion
and pretext to the governments to persecute the democratic
movement as revolutionary. Fichte, in his discourses in Ber-
lin on the German nation, had declared the then passing gene-
ration incapable of achieving a renaissance by reason of the
general depravity, and he called on the better trained young
men to save the nation. These young men had actually fol-
lowed with enthusiasm the call of the king into the war with
France, and, thirsting for freedom and braving death, had
shed their blood upon the battle-held. They dreamed of a
great united German kingdom with an emperor at its head.
In songs of wondrous beauty they sang of the indissoluble fra-
ternity of Germans, and of the future glory of the new king-
dom which was to arise from it. And not youths alone grew
eloquent over the resurrection of the old Barbarossa, whom
the saga makes to slumber with sword in hand, now in Kyflf-
haiiser on the golden An, now under the mountain near Salz-
burg; but many men joined this movement, and, old and

Hegel, Prussia, and tlie Philosopliy of Right. 267

young, united in societies for plij^sical cultun? in gymnastic
halls and in Turner expeditions. The danger of this tendency
lay in over-exciting patriotic feeling, and in over-stimulating
national purism for want of deeper political conceptions. The
attack on President von Ibell and the murder of Kotzebue by
Sand were outbursts of an enthusiasm which had degenerated
to fanaticism. As the student-corps conceived it to be a holy
resolve to murder Kotzebue, they might with the same pro-
priety resolve to remove b}- assassination a prince who was
displeasing to them.

Princes trembled upon their unsteady thrones before such
^ secret tribunal, and the military trials filled not only for-
tresses with their sacrifices, but occasioned, after the reso-
lutions of Carlsbad, a fanatical tendencj^ to censure all liber-
alistic movements. Hegel, no doubt, harmonized with the
.governments in their opposition to these movements and ex-
cesses of the students ; he certainly never approved of the
frequently terrible severity of the Inquisition. "What could
he do ? He sought to save the young by oflering to them
rational conceptions of right and of the state. Many in ma-
turer 3^ears have thanked him for reconciling them with the
present by his instruction — by explaining to them, instead of
the Utopian ideal of their morbid aspiration, the organism of
the state. While he won the love of very many sturdy mem-
bers of the student-corps, he remained filled with inappeasa-
ble indignation against the leaders of the corps and especially
toward Fries.

He published in 1821 a text-book on the Philosophy of
Kight and of the State, in which he more widely developed the
brief hints in the paragraphs of his Encyclopedia. As in the
latter so here in this presentation he assumed a more dogmatic
tone, and in the numerous remarks which were directed
against views which deviated from his own, a more polemic
tone than that which he had allowed to pervade the dialectic
genesis of the Phenomenology and the Logic. The didactic
end he had in view might justify this form, for he sought only
to establish a foundation for his lectures ; but it remains a
subject of regret that he treated so important material only
in the form of categorical dictation, for the element of proof
became therefor too meagre. Within this limit his language,

208 Hegeh Prussia, and the Flulosopliy of Riglif.

like tilt' styh" of inscriptions on monuments, is uniformly
significant. Since he presented the dialectic here only in the
general construction, he became for the lirst time intelligible
to the public at large, which has an apj)etite only for the
results of thought.

It is quite inconceivable how the construction of servility
to the Prussian government can be put upon this work, as if
in his paragraphs he had copied the Prussian state as it wa»
empirically presented to him. Hegel did not l)ecome false in
Prussia to that conception of the state which he had defended
in Bavaria against the Wiirtemberg reaction. Prussia was
then not a constitutional state ; there was no publicity or oral
procedure in the maintenance of justice, no freedom of the
press, no equality of citizens before the law, no participation
of the people in legislation or assent on their part to taxa-
tion,— and all this Hegel taught as a philosophic necessity.
When in renuirks he lashed the caricatures which often dis-
torted the idea in the field of every-day reality, even this was
([uite in order, and even this contributed to clarify concep-
tions. In order to bring him under the suspicion of the crowd,
tiiese caricatures, painted with satirical colors, have been ex-
cerpted and peddled about as his own delinitions.

That wiiich distinguished Hegel from preceding philoso-
l)hers was the conception of constitutional monarchy as the
absolute form of the state. He well knew that a state could
pass through different constitutional forms, but as a philoso-
pher he considered this the onl}^ form which fully correspond-
ed to th(^ idea of freedom. It is a very common opinion that
a philosopher can only be a republican in politics, although
it is generally added by way of lament that the imperfection,,
and especially the moral weakness of man, renders the reali-
zation of a republic very difficult. Hegel contradicted this
current view by the emphasis with which he insisted on mon-
archy. Many make this a ground of reproach against either
the profundity, or, still w^orse, against the sincerity, of \\m
thought, lie was, however, in thorough earnest with his
deduction of monarchy, and he had taught it in Jena just as
well as in Heidelberg and Berlin. He had a rich political
experience, having made himself acquainted with the most
diverse constitutions, including those of the republics at Bern

Hegel. Prussia, and the Philosopliy of Right. 269

and Frankfurt. He had witnessed the rise of the French re-
public and its transition to despotism, the fall of the Polish
and the German elective monarchies as well as the impotence
of hereditary monarchies, which cherished only dynastic ego-
tism and which had never been organically united with the
people. He did not, however, derive his proof of the neces-
sity of hereditary monarchy from experience or from com-
parative studies, but from the conception of the sovereignty
of the state, which must exist self-consciously in a real per-
son and which must be securely removed from the instability
of parties. Such an influx of nature into history would be
fortuitous and unphilosophical, if, in the first place, the royal
family itself had not been mediated historically, so that its
call to the governmental functions was a natural fact ; and
secondly, if the ruler had not the freedom to renounce the
throne if he felt himself uncalled to rule. Montesquieu was
the first who, in his Esprit des Lois, made the conception of
a constitutional government popular and put forward the
view of the separate organization of the powers of govern-
ment. Hegel is the philosopher who taught, not like K&-nt,
the general necessity of the representative system, but who
identified the idea of constitutional monarchy with that of
the fully developed, rational state. He was very far from
deifying the person of the prince in the sense of the abstract
legitimist theory, for he often said that in a well-organized
state ver}^ little depended on the s]3ecial excellence of the ru-
ler; he was only the essential conclusion of the ascending
series, the personal summation of the entire state — the dot
on the "i," which without it would be a mere perpendicular
mark. His tendency to relegate the person and the individu-
ality of rulers to relative indifterence was exhibited in his
polemic with Haller, who sought with his restorational pol-
icy to make rulers, by the grace of God, the private posses-
sors of land and people.

If we compare this legal and political philosophy of Hegel
with the principles which he had earlier advocated at Jena,
we shall find the same fundamental idea, viz. that of realizing
a system of ethics in the state, and shall at the same time see
how untiringly he had labored, and revised his labor, in the
development of this idea. In his original system, the plan

\

270 HcgeJ^ Prussia, and the Philosoph]/ of Rigid.

Aviis at the same time the most simple and the most inclusive^
because there he omitted the contraposition of h^gality and
morality. He tliere divided jurisprudence into three parts.
In the lirst, he treated the elementar}^ distinctions of rights
viz. freedt)m, personality, labor, acquisition of property, ex-
change and commerce, and up to the origin of the family. In
the second, he treated the negation of all these jiositive ele-
mt^nts, the violation of Riglit — trespass and crime — in all its
forms, and the entire world of Injustice. In the third, he pre-
sented ethics, whicli in laws and customs constitutes the will
directed to the realization of the good, and in courts consti-
tutes the negation of the negation caused by injustice. Later^
he construed ethics as the higher unity of legality and mo-
rality, so that the system is finally divided thus: (1) right
in itself, (2) morality. (3) ethics. Under the latter he sub-
sumed the idea of the family, of civil society, and of the state^
and closed with a perspective into universal history. Hegel
had great horror of a state founded merely upon right, wliere
only the externality of jiersonal justification nmde the frigid-
ity of egoistic rectitude a dominant principle. In this respect^
also, he bore a certain grudge against Roman jurisprudence-
He regarded with great aversion a state in which the moral
ideal held the sceptre, and where all should be made to de-
pend upon good intention, upon subjective consciousness, and
upon the confiict of virtue with vice. This moral stand-point,
which goes to the extreme of calling the vanity of its own
conceit " warmheartedness," and, as satirized in the Xenia,
"does the behests of duty with horror," and which finally
ends in the complacent pride whicli, in order not to soil itself,
does nothing at all, — this stand-point of abstract internality
he treats with almost malicious disparagement. Hegel de-
sired a state which should neither stiffen into the mechanism
of a merely external right, nor gi'ow stolid in the virtuous
feeling of mere internality. An ideal here ever hovered be-
fore him similar to that which Holderlin has depicted with
such asj)iration in his Hyperion, and from which he has
oomxjlained that the Germans stood so far removed. He ap-
proached here nearer to Fries and to DeWette than he thought,
and Michelet has now openly acknowledged this in his Phi-
losophy of Right by the development of the idea of unions

Hegel, Prussia, and the Philosophy of Right. 271

and associations. Hegel was so strongly possessed with the
idea of the state as the " terrestrial C-rod," as he termed it^
that in this enthusiasm he can be compared only with Plato,,
to whom he expressly appeals in the preface of his text-book^
although, as he expressly showed in the extended criticism in
his History of Philosophy, he rejected the content of this state.

Hegel was convinced that his construction of practical phi-
losophy was the only correct one, and that his method was
correspondingly correct. In a remark in the Psychology,,
which Boumann had printed, he expressed himself with the
greatest distinctness, because the antithesis of the objective
and the subjective in right and morals was absolutely can-
celled by the unity of both in ethics. With such divisions of
the subject, one must not look to the right hand or to the left,,
but must submit himself entirely to the necessity of the idea.
I confess still that I have ever found ground of offence in the
position he assigns to morality. With such transitions — as
those from subject to object, or from object to subject — alone,,
it is not accomplished. The relation of the general to the
special and of the abstract to the concrete is also involved.

The most general conception of the entire practical sphere
is the conception of good ; for the conception of will in gene-
ral, without reference to its content, falls to the sphere of psy-
chology. The domain of psychology extends as far as the
formal freedom which seeks happiness in the satisfaction of
the appetites and passions, i.e. as far as Eudsemonism. Eth-
ics, on the other hand, proceeds from the necessity with which
good determines the will as with the truth of its contents.
That will only which recognizes and which realizes good, or
its law, is really free. Hegel did not forget these elementary
determinations; but, instead of making them constitute the
lirst part of the Ethics, he treated them only in the form of
an Introduction.

The general conception of good can be realized only through
the power of the individual will to which it prescribes duty
as the categorical imperative. This is the sphere of morality,
which describes the special essence of action. It is an old
dispute in morals whether the conception of duty must pre-
cede that of virtue, or the converse. This dispute rests U2Jon
the fact that we reflect upon the contents of action according-

272

Hegel, Prussia, and the Fhilosopliy of Rigid.

to our concrete determinations. Each of these may be pre-
sented as a duty or as a virtue. Hegel condemned the lati-
tude with which this was wont to be done by rightly declar-
ino- that each moment of the moral life could issue either in
the form of duty or of virtue. Family piety, e.g., becomes
the duty of filial, paternal and fraternal love. It need there-
fore, according to Hegel, only be added to the conception of
piety that it constitutes now the duty and now the virtue of
the members of the family ; and likewise with all the rela-
tions of family and of state. We find, therefore, in Hegel
uo special doctrine of duty and of virtue, because the ethical
orgaaism embraces them as its vital development. This
thought of Hegel is quite correct, and by means of it the use-
less and extensive repetitions of content in the ordinary treat-
ment of morals is dispensed with. The meagreness to which
he reduced the morale does not result from this. Hegel de-
votes only three chapters to morals, viz.: (1) design and guilt ;
(2) intention and well-being ; (3) the good and conscience. But
the idea of duty contains an entire system of determinations
which through the moral organism are entirely independent
from its concrete contents, e.g. the difference between categori-
cal, hypothetical and disjunctive dutj", or the diS'erence be-
tween the duty of love and that of compulsion. The same is
true of the conception of virtue, the peculiar field of wiiich lies
in the diflTerence of virtues, as physical, intellectual, and practi-
cal and physical training, and in the formation of character.
There is no doubt that the acquisition of all virtues is our
duty ; but it does not follow thence that the conception of
virtue must precede that of duty, for virtue is dependent upon
the conception of duty. I must first know what I ought to
do before I venture to act. The realization of duty is virtue.
<Jhildren, e.g.. know nothing at all of virtue. Educators make
cleanliness, temperance, punctuality, honesty, modesty, etc.,
duties for them, and .>ccustom them to practise them. With
every virtue, the conception of duty, that it is something which
ought to 5e, is posited. The conception of action as something
Avhich must precede the' virtuous act, can be only perfected
in the conception of duty as complementary to a necessary
action.

The transition from morality to ethics Hegel makes through

Hegel, Prussia, and the Philosophy of Right. 273

the conception of conscience in so far as it can sublate itself
througli its reflexion. According to him, the eternal laws of
ethics, which man must obey without equivocation, are the
positive negation of all moral skepticism. But this is the dif-
ference of right in general from morality ; for right is the will
which is valid not for me alone, but for all others as Good,
In morality, I stand only before my forum internum, before
conscience ; in right, also, before the forum externum, before
recognition through general consciousness. That right attains
also the external form of a law fixed by authority or by letter,
detracts nothing from its high significance, any more than
does the fact that empirical rights can exist which in their
content are unethical, like i\\e jus primce noctis of the French
feudal lords. The circumstance that right can be practised
without moral disposition detracts still less from its signifi-
cance ; for right itself is not responsible for this. I must pro-
ceed consciously in the practice of right, and must regard in
so doing the well-being of others. The internality of the mo-
ral stand-point for itself, which is therefore so often appre-
hended as the stepping-stone to religion, appears higher than
the mere externalit}^ of positive right ; but there is manifestly
nothing in right in itself which hinders the existence of moral-
ity. Hegel always accepts right in itself only as formal ; he
cannot deny, however, that ethics assumes essentiall}' the
form of right. Private, then, as well as public right embraces
the same content which exists as the ethical {Sitte). The de-
cay of all ethical organisms takes place when morality evacu-
ates them, and leaves only the naked, atomic person with the
demands of his denuded rights. Hegel makes the transition
from right itself to morality through the idea of imputation,
which leads to the idea of premeditation and guilt, and, fur-
ther on, to intention and well-being. These, however, are
ideas which right, in the conception of will and of action in
general, already presupposes for itself, as appears imme-
diately in the idea of wrong.

The distinction of ethics from right and from morality
rests, according to Hegel, upon the fact that right and duty
are always posited as unity, as correlatives, in their deter-
minations. This reciprocity is by no means wanting to per-
sonal right ; for the right of my own personal freedom evokes,
Vol. vi.— IS

374 Hegel. Prussia, and the IViilosopliy of Right.

as my liulir, the duty to respect the right of another; and not
to treat him as a slave; the riglit to acquire property is iden-
tical with the duty to respect that of another; the service which
is engaged to me hj a bargain with anotlier, involves the duty
of a return service on my part, etc. A Crusoe upon a lonely
island can live very morally, but there exist for him only du-
ties ; right exists for him only ^;c>^e?i/ia, and can only develop
itself actu when at least one other person lives with him, be-
cause only witli this other would a recognition of his willing
and acting become possible. He might, indeed, be immoral
toward himself; he might be lazy, intemperate, unchaste,
etc., but a crime or trespass he could not commit.

The full division of right is left incomplete by Hegel be-
cause it revolves only about property. He distinguishes (1)
property, (2) fraud, (3) wrong. But fraud is itself a wrong,
and the division must rather, according to his own dialectic
rule of the negation of the negation, be thus : (1) personal
right (personal freedom, property, contract) ; (2) wrong; (3)
punishment. These are the elementary ideas of all right
which can be separated from morality only violently by
abstraction. Contract, e.g., imposes upon me the duty of
tidelity and consciousness in the execution of the stipulation.
Fraud is not only an action which affects right, but it is at
the same time immoral ; for through it I violate the duty of
truthfulness. I do not question that in ethics right and mo-
rality should be one ; but I ascribe right to ethics, which,
even in its loftiest formations, cannot dispense with the ob-
jective form of right. The constitutions of nations, on the
higher planes of state-culture, are not mere naiTie traditions,
but written laws, in which they with consciousness express
what conception of ethics and of good they have. The anti-
thesis of ethics within itself is the individual right of the
single j)erson, and the particular right of the organic com-
munity, of family, of civil society, and of state. Particular
sublates itself as universal right, which is brought out in
the history of the state as the right of mankind in and for
itself, and which we are therefore wont to call the right of
universal citizenship. In his earlier plan of ethics, Hegel
concluded with the conception of colonization, by which a
state transcends its own limits, producing other states. The

Hegel, Prussia, and the PMlosojyhy of Right. 275

tlioiight, however, of including the conception of history itself
in the system of philosopliy was more correct.

Hegel had avoided making use of the traditional terminol-
ogy in his Philosophy of Right, unquestionabl}^ because it
was not congruent to his ideas. He, therefore, named private
right " abstract right," in order to indicate that in it abstrac-
tion was still made from morality, to which he lirst passed
with the conception of imputation. This is, however, an
error, for imputation [responsibility] is in general a concep-
tion identical with that of freedom. " Concrete " ought to be
opposed to "abstract" right. Instead of that, Hegel goes en-
tirely out of the conception of right over into that of moral-
ity. In ethics, which contained that which he was obliged to>
call "concrete right," he did not make use of the word "right'^
at all in the headings : he speaks only of family, of civil,
society, of state : only in the latter does he distinguish an
internal state-right from an external. It is not to be denied
that the Kantian division of public right as state-right, right
of nations, and right of the universal citizen, is more simple
and more compendious.

But where is church right? This is mentioned by Hegel
only in a remark, in which he subordinates the church as a.
religious society to the ethical supervision of the state. Here-
he occupies precisely the stand-point of the eGlaircissement,
but in this point eclaircissement is right. Th^faith of a. church
should be left free from the state, for the sphere of religion
is higher than that of j)olitics. But in so far as the church,
as such, comes to external manifestation, it should be treated,
as every other society, for a state-church is as bad as a
church-state. It is, in fine, the church which has to do chiefly
with the fostering of morality and with the cultivation of
conscience.

But all the blame which can be attached to Hegel's
construction arises from the profound idea which he had
formed of the state, in which he saw the realization of
ethics. Hence it was that he subsumed family, society,
and state, under the conception of ethics ; for with this
category he wished to say at the outset that the state was
an end to itself, and not a mere means for the security of
persons in demanding their eudtemonistic ends or their tern-

'2TG Hegcl^ Prussia, and the riiilosopliy of llicpit.

poral interests. It is society which exercises its functions
in the sphere of cnltivated egoism, but in whicli that which
the individual produces immediately for liis own use, in the
satisfaction of his necessities is converted into a contribution
to the well-being of all. The family is the stand-point of the
nature-state, of the patriarchal constitution. Society is the
stand-point of the culture-state and of the constitution of
community. It integrates the family in itself, but produces
only the state so far as it rests upon necessity. The state
which proceeds from the consciousness of freedom, and with
it permeates all its communities, families, and individuals, is
the true state. When Hegel is represented as though he had
had in mind a centralized or bureaucratic state in which the
omniscience or omnipotence of the government destroyed all
individual vitality, as Fichte did in his exclusive, commercial
state, he is entirely misunderstood. Stalil, who after Hegel
distinguished himself greatly in the elaboration of natural
right, directed against him a sharp polemic which derived its
material from individual propositions wrested from their con-
nection, and from methodic maladroitness. But if we regard
the content w^e find that Stalil fully agrees with Hegel in see-
ing in the state the s^'stem of self-organizing ethics, and in
constitutional monarchy the most perfect form of state. The
two Greek words etlios and pathos^ which Stahl so much
uses, signify on^- that which Hegel expresses by the German
word SittlicTikeit (ethics). E.uge in particular has attacked
the Hegelian system on the side of democracy. Ruge, an
old member of the student-corps, is indebted to the study of
Hegel for all the categories with which he has often so hap-
pily and successfully figured as a publicist. He cannot for-
give Hegel for considering representation of the people in
legislation as organized, not atomically according to the
mere census, but as socially founded on caste by means of a
landed aristocracy, and by elected representatives of munici-
pal corporations. By the orthodox Protestant and by the ul-
tramontane Catholic party Hegel's deification of the state was
rejected because he would not have the state a mere mechan-
ism, a centralized or military state, but would rather trans-
fuse it with the self-consciousness of vital freedom. The
political dominion of the churefe was at any rate made en-

Hegel, Prussia, and the Fldloso'pliy of Rigid. 277

tirely superliuoiis by the Hegelian conception of the state.
The state was for Hegel the absolute might in all judicial
and ethical relations. He did not make it absolute, however,
in a sense that precluded him from knowing and recognizing
another higher sphere. This was the sphere of art, religion,
and science, for the external culture of which the state should
be solicitous, but which internall}^ in its essence must be left
free. Here Hegel has expressly admitted that the state itself
must have the interest to presuppose in its citizens the exist-
ence of a religious disposition, through which it exalts itself
above all that is empirical, and above the history of one's
own state, into direct relation to the pure absolute. Hegel
opposed religious fanaticism most strenuously ; and most
strenuously has he defended that which ultramontanism
scornfully treats as temporal, viz.: work, property, marriage,
moral conviction as basis of action, without need of a con-
fessor ; but religion itself he did not reject. He was impla-
cable against all superstition, and as a philosopher he was
able to treat it psychologically, while at the same time as a
philosopher he must scout it. Hence it was that he gave the
political precedence to Protestantism over Catholicism, be-
cause the former demands freedom of thought and conscience,
and thereby harmonizes with the principle of political self-
determination ; while Catholicism allows the criticism of sci-
entitic investigation only outside the dogmas it has fixed, and
by the institution of oral confession it reserves to itself the
leading of conscience by its priests.

The state is the peculiar work of freedom of mind, in which
it has to deal with its own creations, and becomes revealed
as spirit for itself. Right and ethics are therefore in them-
selves holy through the good which constitutes their content,
and do not first become so through the blessings of a church.
Sanctification, in a specific sense, belongs to religion in so far
as it is the purification of our will which arises from its im-
mediate relation to the Divine will, which is the personal
principle of all legality. Religion is internally connected
with right and with science, but in their own necessity they
are independent of it. The laws of esthetic formation are
now less independent than those of logic. Art proceeds ac-
cording to the former, science according to the latter. Reli-

*278 Hegch Prussia, and the Phnosojyliy of Rigid.

gioii, so far as it is presentative, or in the forms of worship,
must foUow ;rsthetical laws ; so far as it is scientilic, or in the
form of theolofjv. ir must foUow h:»2:i('al laws; but for itself
it follows its own law, as it springs from the relation of man
to God, as the peculiar content of religion.

Hegel's doctrine of the state could satisfy none of the par-
ties in the midst of which it appeared. By demanding con-
formity to law, he stood opposed to feudalism, which is so
ready to claim itself a ]>atriarchal constitution ; by demand-
ing monarchy, he stood opposed to abstract democracy, which
complacently calls itself i^opular sovereignty ; by demand-
ing representation of the people, bureaucracy of state offi-
cers, and freedom of the press, sworn courts, the independ-
ence of corporations, he opposed the aristocracy ; by de-
manding the subordination of religion, as it appears in the
church, to the sovereignty of the state, and the emancipation
of science from the authority of the church, he stood op-
posed to the hierarchy ; by demanding ethics as the absolute
end of the state, he opposed the industrial state, which seeks
to entangle the people in the slavery of factory work by the
bait of riches and material comfort ; and by the demand of
a constitution, he opposed the despotism of eclaircissement,
which seeks to do all for, and nothing through, the people.
We say nothing here of that cosmopolitan socialism which
he contrasts with the historical and national character of the
state. Hegel's contradiction was not, as it may appear, that
of a 3'et unprejudiced, youthful, naivety, but that of a criti-
cally elaborated and matured judgment which was fully con-
scious of its range. Hence, he thoroughly embittered all par-
ties against himself. They turned upon and derided him, now
as servile, now as radical. With true manly courage, Hegel
held his position against them all, as the appended remarks,
w^hich after his death Gans had printed from his lectures on
the philosophy of right, show.

A half century has elapsed since its lirst appearance. The
progress of time has actually transcended Hegel in very
many points, e.g. in that of the political culture of the masses;
but in its chief features the Hegelian state remains still the
most rational, and the expression which it attained in Hegel's
presentation, tlie most beautiful. In treating of ordinary,

The Parmenicles of Plato. 279 .

natural right, his language savors of Roman right, in the
manner of the definitions in the Institutes and the Pandects.
Fichte cast off this dry method in his system of natural
right, but did it in a confused way; while Hegel labored with
artistic circumspection, and from the treasmy of the German
language he coined the jDurest gold.

THE PARMENIDES OF PLATO.

By S. H. Emkry, Jr.

[In Quincy and Jacksonville (Illinois) there are two flonrishing philosophical
clubs that have been prosecutinor vigorously the study of Plato. The bravery
that attacks Plato, and especially the Parmenides, deserves the highest admi-
ration. Mr. S. H. Emery, Jr., member of the club at Quincy, writes under
date of April 21, 1872, as follows; "I have read the first three hypotheses, viz.,
i. a., i. 6., and what should be called (it seems to me) i. c, although Jowett
includes it in i. b. I make of the first hypothesis: (i. a.) The One considered
as indefinite immediate — indeterminable ajid undetermining is Nothing, (i. b.)
Of the second: the One considered as self-determining — subject-object — is and
is the totality ; all the categories are embraced in it. (i.e.) Of the third: the
becoming of the One is in eternit}', and through all its self-determining it re-
mains self-identical." The following essay is an outline of his view of this
"great master-work of ancient dialectic." Its author modestly says: "All I
claim at all is — to have seen something of the main purpose of the dialogue."
— ^Editor.]

Now that we have finished our first attempt to discover
the true meaning of this most celebrated Platonic Dialogue,
it will be an advantage to review the whole matter and see
what we have gained.

As to the form of the Dialogue, we find it divided into
two main divisions — the first a preliminary discussion be-
tween Socrates and Parmenides, which leads easily and natu-
rally to the second part, in which Parmenides gives Socrates
an example of the true philosophica Imethod. It has occur-
red to me (although I will confess that my acquaintance with
the early Philosophies is not sufficient to enable me to be
sure that I am right), that Plato intends by this arrangement
of the characters to intimate that the Eleatic Philosophy, le-
gitimately extended, goes deeper than the Socratic teachings.

As to the matter, we find the Dialogue devoted wholly to
the consideration of Ideas in themselves, or, as Socrates calls
them, "Ideas in the abstract."

280 The Parmeiiides of Plato.

The main hypothesis of the Dialogue is, "If xlbstract Ideas
are," and is introduced by Socrates at the very outset. The
Absolute in itself having been thus presupposed, the problem
is to tind the connection between it and existing things.

The tirst connection tried is '"Participation" — ''Things par-
take of the Ideas." This is soon shown to be inadequate.
Parmenides then asks Socrates if he has not found these
"Abstract Ideas *' by abstracting from existing things ; and
Socrates says, "Yes.'' Parmenides then shows that this
process leads to an "Inlinite Progress," from which Socrates
endeavors to escape by inquiring if the Ideas may not be
subjective only ; that is, mere generalizations, without any
real being for their ground — an entire relinquishing of Ideas
as real essence ; but Parmenides makes him admit that there
cannot be cognitions w^ithout a something cognized, and this
something is the Idea. Socrates then substitutes " Assimi-
lation" for "Participation." Parmenides shows that this also
leads to an "Infinite Progress," and then proceeds to explain
to Socrates that his method is inadequate ; that if Ideas are
posited as distinct from (separated and apart from) existing
things, and we attempt to find a connection in this external
way, we shall never accomplish anything, — but Ideas must
be contemplated in their own proper movement, by the true
Dialectic method. I believe that this first part of the Dialogue
is intended by Plato to present and refute possible erroneous
views of the " Platonic Ideas," which w^oulcl assume them as
set ofi" somewhere — isolated from existing things by a chasm
which cannot be bridged.

The second part shows us the "Platonic Ideas" in their true
aspect. The One and the Many are considered in two series
of hypotheses — nine in all. In the first series are developed
the consequences which follow from the hypothesis, " If the
One is"; and in the second series are developed the conse-
quences which follow from the hypothesis, "If the One is
not." This division into nine hypotheses is really only a
matter of form, as the whole content is actually developed
from the hypothesis, " If One is."

Let us now examine this second part of the Dialogue in
detail.

• TTie Parmenides of Plato. 281

First, "If One is, the One cannot be Many," There fol-
lows, then :

" The One is not a whole and will not have parts.

" The One is unlimited.

" The One is formless.

" The One cannot be in any place.

" The One can neither have rest nor motion.

" The One is neither the same nor other in relation to

itself or other.
"The One can neither be older nor younger than itself,

nor of the same age with itself.
" Tlierefore the One does not partake of Time, and is not

in any time.
"And if not of Time, then not of Being.

" Then the One is not and is not One, and is neither named,
nor uttered, nor conceived, nor known ; nor does anything
that is, perceive One." So the One that cannot be Many is
disposed of, and the outcome is plain. The Abstract — Inde-
terminate— Undeterminable — One — is nothing — can be nei-
ther known nor uttered.

Let us make a fresh start, then, from the hypothesis :

"If One is."

There follows, then :

" One partakes of Being.

" One becomes infinite in number.

" If One is, number is.

" One broken up into parts by existence must be infinite

Many.
" One partakes of a figure.
" One is in itself and in Other.
" One is the same with itself and Others.
" One is other than itself and Others.
" One is both like and unlike Others.
" One is both like and unlike itself.
" One touches and does not touch itself and Others.
" One is equal to and greater and less than itself and

Others.
" One is equal to and more and less in number than itself

and Others.
" One is and becomes older and younger than itself and

Others.
" One neither is nor becomes older or younger than itself

and Others."

2S'2 The Pannenlcles of Plato.

This. then, is the One which is — the Self-determining One —
which includes all Categories and is ISIany as well as One. In
the tirst consideration, the One is viewed in its abstract iden-
tity and the attempt is made to hold fast to that, but it is
useless.

The next hypothesis unites the two lirst: "If One is both
One and Many, and neither One nor Many" — that is, If One
considered in its wliole truth is both One and Many, and held
in indetinite immediateness is neither One nor Many — then
the One becomes : The becoming of the One in its various
forms (some of which are specilied) is not in Time but in
Eternity, and in its becoming the One remains self-identical.

•' These, then, are the affections of the One."

Could there be a more complete statement of the One? The
One is in eternal becoming, remaining self-identical.

The fourth hypothesis, "If One is, what will happen to the
Many ?" portrays the true character of the Being : i^or-Itself
of the One. The Others are shown to be inlinite in their
ground, but finite in their particularity ; that is, the For-
Itself Being of the One is infinite variety posited in indivi-
dual things. The categories which are potential in the One
exist in the Others, and the Others are a complete image of
the One ; but it must be always particularly borne in mind
that the Others are not the One; that back of the created is
the Creator.

The fifth hypothesis shows the result of attempting to se-
parate the Others from the One, and, as might be expected,
they prove to be nothing.

The result of the first series of hypotheses is, therefore,
that — The One, when truly considered, is all things ; when
otherwise considered, is nothing ; and the others are simi-
larly aff'ected.

The first hypothesis of the second series is, "If One is not."
Upon consideration, it appears that this is something quite
different from an absolute denial of Being to the One. As we
proceed, we find that it is a consideration of the One which
is from the side of its Being-In-Other. We see, first, that

The Parmenides of Plato. 283

there is a knoAvledge of One ; then that the One is different
from the Others and has determinate quality.

We are considering the One on the side of 'variety, not of
unity ; bnt we find that, when so considered, the One has
Likeness, Unlilveness, Greatness. Smallness, Equality, Ine-
quality, Motion, Rest, &c. We also find that Non-Being is
as necessary to the One as Being, neither being complete
without the other. We find that the One, when it is moved,
is changed, and we recognize the "Finite sphere," Origin, and
Decease ; but we see also that the change is within the One —
that it includes Life and Death — so that it comes into being
and j)erishes, and neither " comes into being nor perishes,"

The seventh hypothesis is the same as the sixth, but the
"tzo^" is accepted as absolute denial of being. The conclu-
sion is soon reached, and from this point of view is inevita-
ble, viz. : The One which is not, has and is nothing at all.

The eighth hypothesis is, "If One is not, what becomes of
the Others?" This leads to a consideration of the Others in
themselves ; that is, it is an attempt similar to that of the
{so called) natural philosophers, who investigate phenome-
na from the phenomenal side, pretending ignorance of the
ground on which they depend. We find, however, that before
we have proceeded far the One appears, and that all the cate-
gories which we found to exist in the Others when we consid-
•ered them truly — that is, from the side of the Being of the
One — now cvppeaf to exist in them when considered from the
phenomenal side ; and we find further, when we come to the
ninth hypothesis (which bears the same relation to the eighth
that the seventh bears to the sixth), that, no matter how hard
we may try to leave the One out of our consideration, if we
could succeed in our attempt, nothing would be left. It is
only the immanent presence of the One in its Not-Being
which enables the Others to even a/ppear ; for, "If One is not,
nothing is."

As a summing up of the whole content, we find (to use
HegeFs words) : " The One, whether it is or is not, is the
Many as well as it itself, and in relation to another as well

*-?S4 Book Notices.

as for itself — all throughout is not as well as is ; it appecurs
and does not appear."' Or: The One is the Totality — All
that is — Being and Non-Being — One and Many,

NoTK. — I make a distinction between "Bein,<i"' and "Existence," wliicli I
think was sugtrested to me by the '"Secret of Ile^cl.-'

BOOK NOTICES.

The Sciences of Natin-e versus the Science of Man : A Plea for the Science of Man..
By Xoah I'orter, LL.D. XcwYork: Dodd & Mead. "ls71.

Portions of tliis essay were delivered as an address before the societic&
of tlie riii Beta Ivappa at Harvard and Trinity Colleges, in 1.S71.

Dr. Porter lias done valiant service in (he cause of Philosophy in two-
directions. First, against the Sir William Hamilton school he has con-
tended in favor of the capacity of thought to solve the problems that arise
in Consciousness; second, against the modern materialistic and especially
the Positivist school he contends for the transcendent intere'^t of Mind over
matter, and for its substantiality as compared with the " fleeting shows of
sense," In no previous work of his, however, have we seen so successful
a vindication of the spiritual over llie sensuous as in the little book named
above. He begins his essay Avith a true art-instinct, starting from the
summit of moderti physical science and inquiring into the pre-uppositions
of its structure.

*' Science, objectively viewed, is universally conceived as related knowl-
edge. Those who limit it most narrowly, assert that it gives us phenomena
connected by relations. But facts or phenomena do not connect them-
selves." "Whence do these relations — these mystic bonds of science — pro-
ceed? The interpreting mind does, in some sense, find them already in its
hands. Whether they are evolved from its own experience as the progres-
sive acquisitions of association, that cannot be broken, as Mill, Bain and
Spencer would teach us; whether, like a mystic veil, they are thrown over
the otherwise chaotic phenomena of both matter and spirit by the forma-
tive energy of man, as Kant conlidently suggests; or whether they are at
once the conditions of thought to man because tiiey are conditions of being
in nature and God, as the wit and common sense and the reseai-ch of the
proloundesl philosophy declare, these relations mu.st, in the stud\ of na-
ture, be confidingly applied by man as fast and as far as the chaos which
bewildei's the infant and overawes the ^avage, is thought into a cosmos by
man's interpreting reason." " Briefly, cm inductive science of nature pre-
supposes a science of induction, and a science of induction presupposes a
science of man. ^^

" Before Socrates, the physics were as crude as the metaphysics. Both
alike were vain guess-work founded on hasty resemblances more rudely
interpreted and generalized. From such speculations about matter and

Booli JVotices. 285

spirit Socrates widely witlidrew liis thoug-hts, that he might first under-
stand himself as nearer and more intelligible to himself than nature. But
in learning how to study himself, he also learned the secret of knowing
other things. If we may trust the brief expositions of Xenophon and the
embellished dialogues of Plato, he learned the rules of cautious observa-
tion, wise definition, and comprehensive comparison, and rigidly enforced
them as the conditions of all trustworthy knowledge."

The labors of Aristotle, that have stood the test of centuries, the ge-
ometry of Euclid, the modern labors of Descartes and Bacon, prove the
same result that knowledge of all else is based on self-knowledge. For
what can be clearer than that there must be a bridge over from the subject
to the object to render knowing at all possible? And this bridge must be
the universality of the Ego. For if the Ego has nothing in common with
the object- no participation with it, then its activity in the act of knowing
'will have nothing objective in it, but will be sheer subjective illusion! If
knowledge of objects is at all possible, it can be only through "universal
•and necessary ideas," which are the basis not only of the subjective but
likewise of the objective. This identity of subject and object in a universal,
is presupposed just as much by the materialist as by the idealist. Those
who assume with Blichner tjiat thought is a mode of material motion, do
nothing less than assume a universal solvent — material motion — which is
general enough to be the same under phenomena as widely different as the
bubbling of Professor Huxley's yeast and the thinking activity which specu-
lates upon it — the same in fact in Shakespeare's creative phantasy compos-
ing the Tempest and in the meteorological disturbance of a real tempest.
So far as difterence in general presuppositions are concerned — whether one
assumes that Mind is a mode of matter or that matter is a mode of mind —
both schools assume an identity as the basis. Nor can one resist the con-
viction that in the subject there is found a deeper and more total identity
with the universal essence than on the part of the object as mere object.
Seeing that the movement of knowing proceeds from the subject, and goes,
through its identity with the universal, to the object, its activity is com-
plete in the perception of the twofold identity — 1st, that of the Ego with
the universal ; 2d, that of the object with the universal: thus each act of
knowing is a real syllogism, of which the Universal is the middle term,
and subject and object the extremes. When universals themselves are
objects, they are related to one another as of different extension and com-
prehension.

A science of universals is that First Philosophy that Ai-istotle and Ba-
con speak of. Such a science is a science of Man and at the same time a
science of Nature, for it is the universal form and presupposition of all sci-
ences. Such a science, if found by man at all, must be found within him-
self, for he cannot get out of himself except by its means. It is true that
he maybe unconscious of the possession of it, as the materialists generally
are: they may use general ideas without ever suspecting it, or even
wliile polemicizing against their use. But just as soon as a thinker directs
his attention to the form or presuppositions of his scientific system, he will

286 Book Notices.

pass tlirough the oxporionce made by tlio Greeks in the time of Socrates,
just as described by Dr. Porter in this essay.

Ill his examination of tlie recent philosoi)hies, he commences with the
Positive rhilosophti. thus sninmcd up by Mill: ''We have no knowledjie
of anything but phenoinona (and our kuowh'dgo of [)heiioinena is rekitive
and not absolute). We know not tlie essence nor the real mode of produc-
tion of any fact, but only its relations to otiur facts in the way of succes-
sion, or of similitude. The>;e relations are constant, that is, always the
same in the same circumstances. The constant resemblances which link
phenomena together, and the constant sequences which unite them as ante-
cedent and conseqtient, are termed tiicir laws. The laws of phenomena
are all we know respecting them. Their essential nature, their ultimate
causes either elfirient or linal, are unknown and inscrutable to us." Dr.
Porter calls attention to the fact that this philosophy, as thus expounded,
is properly if not emphatieaily metaphysical. And yet Couite claims to
have demonstrated that the human mind passes through the stages of The-
ology and Metaphysics as crude and undeveloped youthful stages of growth,
and tinally comes to the stage of J'ositivi.sm as the highest form of develop-
ment. •' That the Positive Philosophy is metaphysical in the proper sense
of the tei*m is too obvious to admit of question. Its problem is metaphysi-
cal. It proposes not only to discover the criteria of the processes which
are common to all the special sciences, but it sets these forth as the criteria
of every true science." That is to sa} , it deals with the universal and ne-
cessary, and announces the forms of all knowledge. " Like every other
metaphysical system, it concerns itself with relations. But constant rela-
tions are what in all systems exalt observed phenomena to the dignity of
Science. Other systems recognize more relations — those of causation or
force — mayhap those of design. Comte's metaphysics hold to fewer, those
of sequence and similitude. To use a ligure of clothing, while other sys-
tems honor, by recognition and use, the habiliments which obvious neces-
sity and universal u-sage have sanctioned, this sect appear among the sans
culottes of phih^sophers, on tho principle that the fewer clothes we have
the nearer we come to naked truth, and the less occasion we have to look
after our clothes, or the less we are tempted to think more of the clothes
than of the man."

After showing that Comte, while condemning the metaphysical proce-
dure of setting up abstractions as real agencies, yet actually does this every-
where, always appealing to " sequence and similitude " as the most real
facts in the world, Dr. Porter lakes up the system of Jolui Stuart Mill.
His theory of mind reduced to " a series of feelings witl'i a background of
the pos.sibilities of feeling"; his delinition of matter as " a permanent pos-
sibility of sensations"; his theory of the process of induction as "the result
of repeated experiences of sensations so closely combined as to have become
practically in-eparable" ; his theory of ultimate beliefs as " derived from
induction, even those beliefs concerning the sequence and similitude of
phenomena upon which the whole process of induction depends, depend
on induction — all come from inseparable association"; — these four doc-
trines, or i)art« of the same doctrine, are exhibited in their vicious circle.

BooTc Notices. 287

From Mill, Avith "his admirable candor in confessing difficulties of his
own, and with something more than admirable unconsciousness tliat his
confessions amount to a complete surrender of everything for which he
would contend," our author tui'us to the cerebraUsts, to Alexander Bain
and his school, who claim that the analysis of the brain and its functions is
the only basis for a solid science of the soul. To this he remarks that even
if brain convohitions and nerve vibrations explain ditferences of develop-
ment in mind, they do not explain nature, and hence do not suffice as a
basis for philosopliy.

Lastly, he comes to the Law of Evolution as set forth by Herbert Spen-
cer. AVhile Mr. Spencer gives full ciedit to the science of Man, yet as he
hides all the difficulties of his system behind abstract entities like/byce and
evolution, and claims inscrutability for them, he becomes one of the worst
sticklers for a priori ideas and methods ; "worst" because he does not pro-
ceed consciously, and hence not critically, to work.

"The study of man is not necessarily the study of psychology or specu-
lative philosophy. Man is made manifest in history, philology, literature,
art, politics, ethics, and theology. The thoughts of man have recogidzed
and accepted those principles and institutions, those manners and laws,
that civilization and culture, which give security and grace to the present
life, which awaken the anticipations and confirm the faiths which reach
into another. The study of all these is a study o( the humanities. ^^

w. T. H.

Radical Problems. By C. A. Bartol. Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1872. For sale
by Soule, Thomas & Wiusor.

Contents: I. Open Questions. II. Individualism. IIT. Transcendentalism.
IV. Radicalism. V. Theism. VI. Naturalism. VII. Materialism. VILI. Spi-
ritualism. IX. Faith. X. Law. X[. Origin. XEI. Correlation. XIII. Cha_
racter. XIV. Genius : Father Taylor. XV. Experience. XVI. Hope. XVIL
Ideality.

No one who reads these essays could fail to know from internal evidence
that the author was from Boston or its vicinity, and he would be quite safe
in assuming that he had lived somewheie on the line of the Eastern Rail-
road. The illustrations are so often drawn from objects well-known only
in Boston and its environs, that one who is not acquainted with that local-
it)' must necessarily lose much of the pleasure with which a Bostonian
follows the train of thought. It is everywhere taken for granted that all
must know about these things. This peculiarity makes one conscious all
the time that the essays were written with a particular audience in view.
Those acquainted with the attitude taken by the celebrated author will not
fail here and there also to detect traces of the personal pain which he has
sometimes suffered from the misrepresentation of his views.

In reading the volume through — and one will not be likely to lay it down
unfinished — one has a glimpse of a sensitive, eager mind, keenly alive to
all the actual problems of the day; of a thought which follows closely the
daily events of the world and history, and reads in them all the action of
broad and deep motive-powers, — these lyiug behind, and asserting every
day under new aspects their claim for recognition and solution. The author

288 Book Kotlces.

is no dreamy thinker who seeks to evolve from his own consciousness the
Truth of the world. Kather he seizes it on the wing, at once perceives and
photoyraphs its many forms, and so gives us material for thought. For
example, the Franoo-Prussiau war, Siioridan's managemenr of tiie Indians,
the portraits of Fiskc and Gould on the new Fall-liiver boats, Darwin's
theories, the correlation of forces, — all play continually into and out of his
illustrations. Through all the essays the poetic thought shows itself clear-
ly. To it, everywhere, each one individual is only the image of the all.
From this universality in the treatment of the subjects, it easily follows
that the reader will often find himself in doubt as to the title of the essay
which he is reading. It seems that the title might be transferred and no
one be the wiser; for through all the essays it is one thought that runs,
only one thing that is to be said.

The whole book is a plea for absolute freedom of thought; an earn-
est expression that growth, active development, is a necessity of life, in
wliatever form it present itself. In every essay we come continually face
to face with an illustration where something is not large cnongh to contain
something else. The rolling-stock on tlie railroad was not ample enough
to accommodate tlie number of passengers and the amount of freight; the
country barn is not large enough for the increasing harvests, and so on in-
definitely. If there is one thing which Dr. Bartol must say, and say so that
no one who reads or hears can forget it , it is that the old is not large enough
to contain the new; or one might more truly put it in the opposite torm,
and say that the new is not large enough to contain the old. The transient
can only for a time display the eternal and abiding; the phenomenal is
only the shifting play of the real light of Truth. The content [)erpetua]ly
shivers its form, only to make for itself another and one more adequate.

For such an utterance so forcibly given, so earnestly impressed, so illu-
mined from all sides by perpetually shifting lights of illustration, one can-
/not fail to be grateful to the eloquent speaker.

The mind of the writer is so quick, and so alive to all the phases,
whether humorous or serious, of the thought in hand, that the style is
sometimes involved, and the meaning, for the instant, difficult to grasp;
and the frequent omission of relative pronouns, and, in some cases, care-
less punctuation, increases the difficulty ; and again, in some passages, one
seems to be reading a scries of proverbs, as for instance on page 7. From
the same cause result figures of speech carelessly used, as when we are
told of a "'flock of islands beating at our windows." And sometimes the
writer's keen sense of the ludicrous lowers for a moment the dignity of the
subject. But these faults are, as has been said, only the result of the A^ersa-
tile, appreciative, and poetic mind of the writer, and are soon forgotten,
while the impulse to thought given by the perusal of the essays will be in-
valuable. One is only lelt to regret that the localization as to time and
place of sO many of the illustrations may withhold the volume from the
permanent place in our libraries wliich from its thought it has a right to
claim. A. c. u.

THE JOURNAL

OF

SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.

VoL VI. October, 1872. No. 4r.

DO THE CORRBLATIONISTS BELIEVE IN
SELF-MOVEMENT ?

Self-movement, spontaneity, and freedom, are in some sense
synonyms. He who cannot think self-movement, cannot think
freedom. Materialistic philosophy is distinguished from spir-
itual philosophy, or idealism, through the fact that the former
thinks all phenomena under the categories of cause and effect,
or of external determination ; while the latter thinks all pheno-
mena as arising in the last analysis through self-determination,
or through final causes. Plato and Aristotle agree in this latter
view, and with them stand the other great thinkers of the race,
such as Leibnitz, Spinoza, and Hegel. That any hypothesis
results, when strictly tortured in the logical crucible, in positing
causa sui as its necessary condition, is the demonstrated outcome
of Spinoza's Ethics, as well as Hegel's Logic and the twelfth
book of Aristotle's Metaphysics.

The feeblest and most dogmatic thinking (i.e. thinking which
has to do with mere opinions) is best satisfied with mechanical
causes. It is cultured thought which learns to perceive Neces-
sity and Universality in its ideas. The highest thinking identi-
fies necessity and freedom through the idea of self-determination.

Since the course of histor}'^ and the laws of development alike
point to a progress from the simple to the complex, from the im-
plicit to the explicit, from the acorn to the oak, — we look with
confidence to see a growth in the scientific mind from age to age.
In the great intensity with which Natural Science is pursued,

there is occasion for great improvement in methods of thinking.
Vol. vi.— 19

290 Pedagogics as a System.

Depth and Exhaustiveness — Comprehension — will be gained.
This can be seen alread}' in the foremost ranks.

Those who uphold the theory of Correlation set out with ma-
terialistic hypotheses, and nothing is further from their expecta-
tions than the support of spiritual, ideal conclusions. They think
in fatalistic forms, and do not admit self-determination. Spen-
cer says (Ps^-chology, § 220) that psychical changes (thoughts,
&c.) conform to law, or else a science of Psychology is impos-
sible : and "if they do conform to law, there cannot be any such
thing as free-will." And yet the idea of Correlation, when redu-
ced to its lowest terms, gives us self-movement pure and simple.
One force becomes another and the second a thii'd, and so on ;
the first is an equivalent and may be derived from the last. The
action of the first produces the second and the rest, and the rest
produce it : thus its energy reverts to itself — no matter how long
the series of links may be. Its action is the cause of its action,
and hence it becomes causa sji/'. But the thought of this total of
action is not a mere force, still less a material somewhat ; it is a
vital system, a whole, a monad. This thought once grasped,
materialism passes over to idealism ; fatalism gives way to free
personality.

PEDAGOGICS AS A SYSTEM.

By Dr. Karl Rosenkranz, Doctor of Theology and Professor of Philosophy at the

University of Konigsberg.

Translated by Axna C. Brackett.

[Inquiries from teachers in different sections of the country as to the sources
of information on the subject of Teaching as .a Science liave led me to believe
that a translation of Rosenkranz's Pedagogics may be widely acceptable and
useful It is very certain that too much of our teaching is simply empirical,
and as Germany has, more than any other country, endeavored to found it
upon universal truths, it is to that country that we must at present look for
a remedy for this empiricism.

Based as this is upon the profoundest system of German Philosophy, no more
suggestive treatise on Education can perhaps be found. In his third part, as
will be readily seen, Rosenkranz follows the cJassificatiou of National ideas
given in Hegel's Philosophy of History. The word " Pedagogics," though it
has unfortunately acquired a s-oniewhat unpleasant meaning in English —
thanks to the writers who have made the word '"pedagogue" so odious —
deserves to be redeemed for future use. I have, therefore, retained it in the
translation.

In order thnt the reader may see the general scope of the work, I append in
tabular form the table of contents, giving however, under the first and second
parts, only the main divisions. The minor heads can, of course, as they
appear in the translation, be easily located. — TV.]

Pedagogics as a System.

291

'in its General
Idea

P.VRT I.

in Its Special
Elements

Pakt II.

Education

Analysis.

fits Nature
its Form
its Limits

f Physical

< Intellectual

L Moral

f Passive

in its Particular
Systems

Pakt III.

National

Active

Individual

r Family . .

■I Caste . .

I

L Monkish .

f jNIilitary ,

■I Priestly .

I Industrial

f Esthetic ,

J Practical ,

CMna.

India.

Thibet.

Persia.

EgJlit.

Phffinicia.

Greece.

Rome.

I

Abstract Indi-
vidual

( Northen
I Barbarif

sorthem

I'ians.

Theocratic Jews.

Monkish

Humanita-
rian

Chivalric

.for Civil Life

for Special
Callings

to achieve an
Ideal of Culture '

• Jesuitic.
! Pietistic.

fThe Huma-
nities.

The Philan-
thropic
Movem't.

. for Free Citizenship.

IXTRODUCTIOX.

§ 1. The science of Pedagogics cannot "be derived from a
simple principle with such exactness as Logic and Ethics. It
is rather a mixed science which has its presuppositions in
many others. In this respect it resembles Medicine, with
which it has this also in common, that it must make a dis-
tinction between a sound and an unhealthy system of educa-
tion, and must devise means to prevent or to cure the latter.
It may therefore have, like Medicine, the three departments
of Physiology, Pathology, and Therapeutics.

§ 2. Since Pedagogics is capable of no such exact defini-
tions of its principle and no such logical deduction as other
sciences, the treatises written upon it abound more in shal-
lowness than any other literature. Short-sightedness and arro-
gance find in it a most congenial atmosphere, and criticism

292 Pedagogics as a System.

and declamatory bombast tlourisli in perfection as nowliere
else. The literature of religious tracts might be considered to
rival that of Pedagogics in its superficiality and assurance,
if it did not for the most part seem itself to belong, through
its ascetic nature, to Pedagogics. But teachers as persons
should be treated in their weaknesses and failures with the
utmost consideration, because they are most of them sincere
in contributing their mite for the improvement of education,
and all their pedagogic practice inclines them towards admin-
istering reproof and giving advice.

§ 3. The charlatanism of educational literature is also fos-
tered by the fact that teaching has become one of the most
profitable employments, and the competition in it tends to
increase self-glorification.

— When "Boz" in his "Nicholas Nickleby" exposed the
horrible mysteries of an English boarding-school, many
teachers of such schools were, as he assures us, so accurately
described that they openly complained he had aimed his
caricatures directly at them. —

§ 4. In the system of the sciences, Pedagogics belongs to
the Philosophy of Spirit, — and in this, to the department of
Practical Philosophy, the problem of which is the compre-
hension of the necessity of freedom ; for education is the con-
scious working of one will on another so as to produce itself
in it according to a determinate aim. The idea of subjective
spirit, as well as that of Art, Science, and Religion, forms
the essential condition for Pedagogics, but does not contain
its principle. If one thinks out a complete statement of Prac-
tical Philosophy (Ethics), Pedagogics may be distributed
among all its grades. But the point at which Pedagogics itself
becomes organic is the idea of the Family, because in the
family the difference between the adults and the minors en-
ters directly through the naturalness of spirit, and the right
of the children to an education and the duty of parents
towards them in this respect is incontestable. All other
spheres of education, in order to succeed, must presuppose a
true family life. They may extend and complement the busi-
ness of teaching, but cannot be its original foundation.

— In our systematic exposition of Education, we must not
allow ourselves to be led into error by those theories which

Pedagogics as a System. 293

do not recognize the family, and which limit the relation of
husband and wife to the producing of children. The Platonic
Philosophy is the most worthy representative of this class.
Later writers who take great pleasure in seeing the world
full of children, but who would subtract from the love to a
wife all truth and from that to children all care, exhibit in
their doctrine of the anarchy of love only a sickly (but yet
how prevalent an) imitation of the Platonic state. —

§ 5. Much confusion also arises from the fact that many do
not clearly enough draw the distinction between Pedagogics
as a science and Pedagogics as an art. As a science it busies
itself with developing a priori the idea of Education in the
universality and necessity of that idea, but as an art it is the
concrete individualizing of this abstract idea in any given
case. And in any such given case, the peculiarities of the
person who is to be educated and all the previously existing
circumstances necessitate a modification of the universal aims
and ends, which modification cannot be provided for before-
hand, but must rather test the ready tact of the educator who
knows how to make the existing conditions fulfil his desired
end. It is exactly in doing this that the educator may show
himself inventive and creative, and that pedagogic talent can
distinguish itself. The word "art" is here used in the same
way as it is used when we say, the art of war, the art of gov-
ernment, &c. ; and rightly, for we are talking about the
possibility of the realization of the idea.

— The educator must adapt himself to the pupil, but not to
such a degree as to imply that the pupil is incapable of change,
and he must also be sure that the pupil shall learn through his
experience the independence of the object studied, which re-
mains uninfluenced by his variable personal moods, and the
adaptation on the teacher's part must never compromise this
independence. —

§ 6. If conditions which are local, temporal, and individual,
are fixed as constant rules, and carried beyond their proper
limits, are systematized as a valuable formalistic code, una-
voidable error arises. The formulae of teaching are admirable
material for the science, but are not the science itself.

§ 7. Pedagogics as a science must (1) unfold the general
idea of Education ; (2) must exhibit the particular phases into

294 Pedagogics as a System.

whicli the general work of Education divides itself, and (3)
must describe the particular standpoint upon which the gen-
eral idea realizes itself, or should become real in its special
processes at any particular time.

§ 8. The treatment of the tirst part offers no difficulty. It
is logically too evident. But it would not do to substitute for
it the histor}^ of Pedagogics, simply because all the concep-
tions of it which appear in systematic treatises can be found
there.

— Into this error G. Thaulow has fallen in his pamphlet on
Pedagogics as a Philosoi3hical Science. —

§ 9. The second division unfolds the subject of the physi-
cal, intellectual and practical culture of the human race, and
constitutes the main part of all books on Pedagogy. Here
arises the greatest difficulty as to the limitations, partly be-
cause of the undefined nature of the ideas, partly because of
the degree of amplitication which the details demand. Here
is the field of the widest possible differences. If e.g. one
studies out the conception of the school with reference to the
qualitative specialities which one may consider, it is evident
that he can extend his remarks indefinitely ; he may speak
thus of technological schools of all kinds, to teach mining,
navigation, war, art, (Src.

§ 10. The third division distinguishes between the different
standpoints which are possible in the working out of the con-
■ ception of Education in its special elements, and which there-
fore produce different systems of Education wherein the gen-
eral and the particular are individualized in a special manner.
In every system the general tendencies of the idea of educa-
tion, and the difference between the physical, intellectual and
practical culture of man, must be formally recognized, and
will appear. The How is decided by the standpoint which
reduces that formalism to a special system. Thus it becomes
possible to discover the essential contents of the history of
Pedagogics from its idea, since this can furnish not an in-
definite but a certain number of Pedagogic systems.

— The lower standpoint merges always into the higher, and in
so doing first attains its full meaning, e.g. : Education for the
sake of the nation is set aside for higher standjooints, e.g.
that of Christianity ; but we must not suppose that the na-

Pedagogics as a System. 295

tional phase of Education was counted as nought from the
Christian standpoint. Rather it itself had outgrown the limits
which, though suitable enough for its early stage, could no
longer contain its true idea. This is sure to be the case in
the fact that the national individualities become indestructi-
ble by being incorporated into Christianity — a fact that con-
tradicts the abstract seizing of such relations. —

§ 11. The last system must be that of the present, and since
this is certainly on one side the result of all the past, while
on the other seized in its possibilities it is determined by the
Future, the business of Pedagogics cannot pause till it reaches
its ideal of the general and special determinations, so that
looked at in this way the Science of Pedagogics at its end
returns to its beginning. The Jirst and second divisions al-
ready contain the idea of the system necessary for the Present.

FIRST PART.
The General Idea of Ktlucation.

§ 12. The idea of Pedagogics in general must distinguish,

(1) The nature of Education in general ;

(2) Its form ;

(3) Its limits.

I.

The JSfature of Education.

§ 13. The nature of Education is determined by the nature
of mind — that it can develop whatever it really is only by its
own activity. Mind is in itself free ; but if it does not actual-
ize this possibility, it is in no true sense free, either for itself
or for another. Education is the iuHuencing of man by man,
and it has for its end to lead him to actualize himself through
his own efforts. The attainment of perfect manhood as the
actualization of the Freedom necessary to mind constitutes
the nature of Education in general.

— The completely isolated man does not become man. Soli-
tary human beings w^ho have been found in forests, like the
wild girl of the forest of Ardennes, sufficiently prove the fact
that the truly human qualities in man cannot be developed
without reciprocal action with human beings. Caspar Hau-
ser in his subterranean prison is an illustration of what man

296 Pedagogics as a Systeiii.

would be by himself. The first cry of the child expresses in
its appeals to others this helplessness of spirituality on the
side of natiu-e. —

§ 14. Man, therefore, is the only fit subject for education.
"We often speak, it is true, of the education of plants and
animals ; but even when we do so, we apply, unconsciously
perhaps, other expressions, as "raising" and "training," in or-
der to distinguish these. "Breaking" consists in producing in
an animal, either by pain or pleasure of the senses, an activ-
ity of which, it is true, he is capable, but which he never
would have developed if left to himself. On the other hand,
it is the nature of Education only to assist in the producing
of that which the subject would strive most earnestly to de-
velop for himself if he had a clear idea of himself. We speak
of raising trees and animals, but not of raising men ; and it
is only a planter who looks to his slaves only for an increase
in their number.

— The education of men is quite often enough, unfortunate-
ly, only a " breaking," and here and there still may be found
examples where one tries to teach mechanically, not tlirough
the understanding power of the creative word, but through
the powerless and fruitless appeal to physical pain. —

§ 15. The idea of Education may be more or less compre-
hensive. We use it in the widest sense when we speak of
the Education of the race, for we understand by this expres-
sion the connection which the acts and situations of differ-
ent nations have to each other, as different steps towards
self-conscious freedom. In this the world-spirit is the teacher.

§ 16. In a more restricted sense we mean by Education the
shaping of the individual life by the forces of nature, the
rhythmical movement of national customs, and the might of
destiny in which each one finds limits set to his arbitrary will.
These often mould him into a man without his knowledge.
For he cannot act in opposition to nature, nor offend the ethi-
cal sense of the people among whom he dwells, nor despise
the leading of destiny without discovering through experience
that before the Nemesis of these substantial elements his
subjective power can dash itself only to be shattered. If he
perversely and persistently rejects all our admonitions, we
leave him, as a last resort, to destiny, whose iron rule must

Pedagogics as a System. 297

educate him, and reveal to him the God whom he has misun-
derstood.

— It is, of course, sometimes not only possible, but necessary
for one, moved by the highest sense of morality, to act in op-
position to the laws of nature, to offend the ethical sense of
the people that surround him, and to brave the blows of des-
tiny ; but ^uch a one is a sublime reformer or martyr, and we
are not now speaking of such, but of the perverse, the frivo-
lous, and the conceited. —

§ 17. In the narrowest sense, which however is the usual one,
we mean by Education the influence which one mind exerts on
another in order to cultivate the latter in some understood and
methodical way, either generally or with reference to some
special aim. The educator must, therefore, be relatively
finished in his own education, and the pupil must possess
unlimited confidence in him. If authority be wanting on the
one side, or respect and obedience on the other, this ethical
basis of development must fail, and it demands in the very
highest degree, talent, knowledge, skill, and prudence.

— Education takes on this form only under the culture which
has been developed through the influence of city life. Up to
that time we have the naive period of education, which holds
to the general powers of nature, of national customs, and of
destiny, and which lasts for a long time among the rural
populations. But in the city a greater complication of events,
an uncertainty of the results of reflection, a working out of
individuality, and a need of the possession of many arts
and trades, make their appearance and render it impossible
for men longer to be ruled by mere custom. The Telemachus
of Fenelon was educated to rule himself by means of reflec-
tion ; the actual Telemachus in the heroic age lived simply
according to custom. —

§ 18. The general problem of Education is the development
of the theoretical and practical reason in the individual. If
we say that to educate one means to fashion him into morality,
we do not make our deflnition sufficiently comprehensive, be-
cause we say nothing of intelligence, and thus confound edu-
cation and ethics. A man is not merely a human being, but
as a reasonable being he is a peculiar individual, and differ-
ent from all others of the race.

298 Pedagogics as a System.

§ 19. Education must lead the pupil by an interconnected
series of efforts previously foreseen and arranged by the
teacher to a definite end ; but the particular form which this
shall take must be determined by the peculiar character of
the pupil's mind and the situation in which he is found.
Hasty and inconsiderate work may accomplish much, but only
systematic work can advance and fashion him in conformity
with his nature, and the former does not belong to education,
for this includes in itself the idea of an end, and that of the
technical means for its attainment.

§ 20. But as culture comes to mean more and more, there
becomes necessary a division of the business of teaching
among different persons, with reference to capabilities and
knowledge, because as the arts and sciences are continually
increasing in number, one can become learned in any one
branch only by devoting himself exclusively to it, and hence
becoming one-sided. A difficulty hence arises which is also
one for the pupil, of preserving, in spite of this unavoidable
one-sidedness, the unity and wholeness which are necessary
to humanit}^.

— The naive dignity of the happy savage, and the agreea-
ble simplicity of country people, appear to very great advan-
tage when contrasted on this side with the often unlimited
narrowness of a special trade, and the endless curtailing of
the wholeness of man by the pruning processes of city life.
Thus the often abused savage has his hut, his family, his
cocoa tree, his weapons, his passions ; he fishes, hunts, plays,
fights, adorns himself, and enjoys the consciousness that he
is the centre of a whole, while a modern citizen is often only
an abstract expression of culture. —

§ 21. As it becomes necessary to divide the work of teach-
ing, a difference between general and special schools arises
also, from the needs of growing culture. The former present
ill different compass all the sciences and arts which are in-
cluded in the term "general education," and which were
classified by the Greeks under the general name of Encyclo-
paedia. The latter are known as special schools, suited to
particular needs or talents.

— As those who live in the country are relatively isolated,
it is often necessary, or at least desirable, that one man should

Pedagogics as a System. 299

be trained equall}^ on many different sides. The poor tutor
is required not only to instruct in all the sciences, he must
also speak French and be able to play the piano. —

§ 22. For any single person, the relation of his actual edu-
cation to its infinite possibilities can only be approximately
determined, and it can be considered as only relatively fin-
ished on any one side. Education is impossible to him who
is born an idiot, since the want of the power of generalizing
and of ideality of conscious personality leaves to such an un-
fortunate only the possibility of a mechanical training.

— Sagert, the teacher of the deaf mutes in Berlin, has made
laudable efforts to educate idiots, but the account as given in
his publication, " Cure of Idiots by an Intellectual Method,
Berlin, 1846," shows that the result obtained was only exter-
nal ; and though we do not desire to be understood as deny-
ing or refusing to this class the possession of a mind in po-
tential it appears in them to be confined to an embryonic

state. —

II.

The Form of Education.

§ 23. The general form of Education is determined by the
nature of the mind, that it really is nothing but what it makes
itself to be. The mind is (1) immediate (or potential), but (2)
it must estrange itself from itself as it were, so that it may
place itself over against itself as a special object of attention;
(3) this estrangement is finally removed through a further ac-
quaintance with the object — it feels itself at home in that on
which it looks, and returns again enriched to the form of im-
mediateness. That which at first appeared to be another than
itself is now seen to be itself. Education cannot create ; it
can only help to develop to reality the previously existent
possibility; it can only help to bring forth to light the hid-
den life.

§ 24. All culture, whatever may be its special purport, must
pass through these two stages — of estrangement, and its remo-
val. Culture must hold fast to the distinction between the
subject and the object considered immediately, though it has
again to absorb this distinction into itself, in order that the
union of the two may be more complete and lasting. The
subject recognizes then all the more certainly that what at

300 Pedagogics as a System.

lirst appeared to it as a foreign existence, belongs to it as its
own property, and that it holds it as its own all the more by
means of culture.

— Plato, as is known, calls the feeling with which knowl-
edge must begin, wonder ; but this can serve as a beginning
only, for wonder itself can only express the tension between
the subject and the object at their first encounter — a tension
which would be impossible if they were not in themselves
identical. Children have a longing for the far-off, the strange,
and the wonderful, as if they hoped to find in these an expla-
nation of themselves. They want the object to be a genuine
object. That to which they are accustomed, which they see
around them every da}^, seems to have no longer any objec-
tive energy for them ; but an alarm of fire, banditti life, wild
animals, gray old ruins, the robin's songs, and far-off happy
islands, kc. — everything high-colored and dazzling — leads
them irresistibly on. The necessity of the mind's making
itself foreign to itself is that which makes children prefer to
hear of the adventurous journeys of Sinbad than news of
their own city or the history of their nation, and in youth
this same necessity manifests itself in their desire of trav-
elling.—

§ 25. This activity of the mind in allowing itself to be
absorbed, and consciously so, in an object with the purpose of
making it his own, or of producing it, is Work. But when the
mind gives itself up to its objects as chance may present
them or through arbitrariness, careless as to whether they
have any result, such activity is Play. Work is laid out for
the pupil by his teacher by authority, but in his play he is
left to himself.

§ 26. Thus work and play must be sharply distinguished
from each other. If one has not respect for work as an im-
portant and substantial activity, he not only spoils play for
his pupil, for this loses all its charm when deprived of the
antithesis of an earnest, set task, but he undermines his re-
spect for real existence. On the other hand, if he does not
^ive him space, time, and opportunity, for pla^^, he prevents
the peculiarities of his pupil from developing freely through
the exercise of his creative ingenuity. Play sends the pupil
back refreshed to his work, since in play he forgets himself

Pedagogics as a SysteTn. 301

in his own way, while in work he is required to forget him-
self in a manner prescribed for him by another.

— Play is of great importance in helping one to discover
the true individualities of children, because in play they may
betray thoughtlessly their inclinations. This antithesis of
work and play runs through the entire life. Children anti-
cipate in their play the earnest work of after life ; thus the
little girl plays with her doll, and the boy pretends he is a
soldier and in battle. —

§ 27. Work should never be treated as if it were play, nor
play as if it were work. In general, the arts, the sciences, and
productions, stand in this relation to each other: the accu-
mulation of stores of knowledge is the recreation of the mind
which is engaged in independent creation, and the practice
of arts fills the same office to those whose work is to collect
knowledge.

§ 28, Education seeks to transform every particular condi-
tion so that it shall no longer seem strange to the mind or in
anywise foreign to its own nature. This identity of conscious-
ness, and the special character of anything done or endured
by it, we call Habit [habitual conduct or behavior]. It con-
ditions formall}^ all progress ; for that which is not yet be-
come habit, but which we perform with design and an exer-
cise of our will, is not yet a part of ourselves.

§ 29. As to Habit, we have to say next that it is at first
inditferent as to what it relates. But that which is to be
considered as indifferent or neutral cannot be defined in the
abstract, but only in the concrete, because anything that is
indifferent as to whether it shall act on these particular men,
or in this special situation, is capable of another or even
of the opj)osite meaning for another man or men for the same
men or in other circumstances. Here, then, appeal must be
made to the individual conscience in order to be able from
the depths of individuality to separate what we can permit
to ourselves from that which we must deny ourselves. The
aim of Education must be to arouse in the pupil this spir-
itual and ethical sensitiveness which does not recognize any-
thing as merely indifferent, but rather knows how to seize in
everything, even in the seemingly small, its universal hu-
man significance. But in relation to the highest problems he

302 Pedagogics as a System.

must learn that what concerns his own immediate personality
is entire!}^ indifferent.

§ 30. Habit lays aside its indifference to an external action
through reflection on the advantage or disadvantage of the
same. AVhatever tends as a harmonious means to the reali-
zation of an end is advantageous, but that is disadvantageous
which, by contradicting its idea, hinders or destroys it. Ad-
vantage and disadvantage being then only relative terms, a
habit which is advantageous for one man in one case may be
disadvantageous for another man, or even for the same man,
under different circumstances. Education must, therefore,
accustom the youth to judge as to the expediency or inexpe-
diency of any action in its relation to the essential vocation
of his life, so that he shall avoid that which does not promote
its success.

§ 31. But the ahsolute distinction of habit is the moral dis-
tinction between the good and the bad. For from this stand-
point alone can we finally decide what is allowable and what
is forbidden, what is advantageous and what is disadvan-
tageous.

g 32. As relates to form, habit may be either passive or ac-
tive. The passive is that which teaches us to bear the vicis-
situdes of nature as well as of history with such composure
that Ave shall hold our ground against them, being always
equal to ourselves, and that we shall not allow our power of
acting to be paralyzed through any mutations of fortune.
Passive habit is not to be confounded with obtuseness in re-
ceiving impressions, a blank abstraction from the affair in
hand which at bottom is found to be nothing more than a
seliishness which desires to be left undisturbed ; it is simply
composure of mind in view of changes over which we have no
•control. While we vividly experience joy and sorrow, pain
and pleasure — inwoven as these are with the change of sea-
sons, of the weather, &c. — with the alternation of life and
death, of happiness and misery, we ought nevertheless to
harden ourselves against them so that at the same time in
our consciousness of the supreme worth of the mind we shall
build up the inaccessible stronghold of Freedom in ourselves.
— Active habit [or behavior] is found realized in a wide range
of activity which appears in manifold forms, such as skill.

Pedagogics as a System. 303

dexterity, readiness of information, &c. It is a steeling of
the internal for action upon the external, as the Passive is a
steeling of the internal against the influences of the external.

§ 33. Habit is the general form which instruction takes.
For since ifc reduces a condition or an activity within our-
selves to an instinctive use and wont, it is necessary for
any thorough instruction. But as, according to its content, it
may be either proper or improper, advantageous or disadvan-
tageous, good or bad, and according to its form may be the
assimilation of the external by the internal, or the impress
of the internal upon the external, Education must procure
for the pupil the power of being able to free himself from
one habit and to adopt another. Through his freedom he
must be able not only to renounce any habit formed, but to
form a new one ; and he must so govern his system of habits
that it shall exhibit a constant progress of development into
greater freedom. We must discipline ourselves, as a means
toward the ever-changing realization of the Good in us, con-
stantly to form and to break habits.

— We must characterize those habits as bad which relate
only to our convenience or our enjoyment. They are often
not blamable in themselves, but there lies in them a hidden
danger that they may allure us into luxury or effeminacy.
But it is a false and mechanical way of looking at the affair
if we suppose that a habit which has been formed by a cer-
tain number of repetitions can be broken by an equal number
of denials. We can never renounce a habit utterly except
through a clearness of judgment which decides it to be unde-
sirable, and through firmness of will. —

§ 34. Education comprehends also the reciprocal actign of
the opposites, authority and obedience, rationality and indi-
viduality, work and play, habit and spontaneity. If we ima-
gine that these can be reconciled by rules, it will be in vain
that we try to restrain the youth in these relations. But a
failure in education in this particular is very possible through
the freedom of the pupil, through special circumstances, or
through the errors of the educator himself. Awd for this very
reason any theory of Education must take into account in
the beginning this negative possibility. It must consider be-
forehand the dangers which threaten the pupil in all possible

304 Pedagogics as a System.

ways even before they surround liim, and fortify liim against
tlieni. Intentionally to expose him to temptation in order to
prove his strength, is devilish ; and, on the other hand, to
guard him against the chance of dangerous temptation, to
wrap him in cotton (as the proverjb says), is womanish, ridic-
ulous, fruitless, and much more dangerous ; for temptation
comes not alone from without, but quite as often from with-
in, and secret inclination seeks and creates for itself the
opxH)rtuuity for its gratilicatiou, often perhaps an unnatural
one. The truly preventive activity consists not in an abstract
seclusion from the world, all of whose elements are innate in
each individual, but in the activity of knowledge and disci-
pline, modified according to age and culture.

— If one endeavors to deprive the youth of all free and in-
dividual intercourse with the world, one only falls into a
continual watching of him, and the consciousness that he is
watched destroj^s in him all elasticity of spirit, all confidence,
all originality. The police shadow of control obscures all
independence and sj^stematically accustoms him to depend-
ence. As the tragi-comic story of Peter Schlemihls shows,
one cannot lose his own shadow without falling into the sad-
dest fatalities ; but the shadow of a constant companion, as
in the pedagogical system of the Jesuits, undermines all
naturalness. And if one endeavors too strictly to guard
against that which is evil and forbidden, the intelligence of
the pupils reacts in deceit against such efforts, till the educa-
tors are amazed that such crimes as come often to light can
have arisen under such careful control. —

§ 35. If there should appear in the youth any decided moral
deforjnity which is opposed to the ideal of his education, the
instructor must at once make inquiry as to the history of its
origin, because the negative and the positive are very closely
connected in his being, so that what appears to be negligence,
rudeness, immorality, foolishness, or oddity, may arise from
some real needs of the youth which in their development
have only taken a wrong direction.

§ 36. If it s^iould appear on such examination that the
negative action was only a product of wilful ignorance, of ca-
price, or of arbitrariness on the part of the youth, then this
calls for a simple prohibition on the part of the educator,, no

Reproof and Punishment. 305

reason "being assigned. His authority must be sufficient to
the pupil without any reason. Only when this has happened
more than once, and the youth is old enough to understand,
should the prohibition, together with the reason therefor, be
given.

— This should, however, be brief; the explanation must
retain its disciplinary character, and must not become ex-
tended into a doctrinal essay, for in such a case the youth
easily forgets that it was his own misbehavior w^hich was the
occasion of the explanation. The statement of the reason
must be honest, and it must present to the youth the point
most easy for him to seize. False reasons are morally blama-
ble in themselves, and they tend only to confuse. It is a great
mistake to unfold to the youth the broadening consequences
which his act may bring. These uncertain possibilities seem
to him too powerless to affect him particularly. The severe
lecture wearies him, especially if it be stereotyped, as is apt
to be the case with fault-finding and talkative instructors.
But more unfortunate is it if the painting of the gloomy
background to which the consequences of the wrong-doing of
the youth may lead, should fill his feelings and imagination
prematurely with gloomy fancies, because then the represen-
tation has led him one step toward a state of wretchedness
which in the future man may become fearful depression and
degradation. —

§ 37. If the censure is accompanied with a threat of punish-
ment, then we have the same kind of reproof which in daily
life we call "scolding;" but if reproof is given, the pupil
must be made to feel that it is in earnest.

§ 38. Only when all other efforts have failed, is punishment,
which is the real negation of the error, the transgression, or
the vice, justifiable. Punishment inflicts intentionally pain
on the pupil, and its object is, by means of this sensation, to
bring him to reason, a result which neither our simple prohi-
bition, our explanation, nor our threat of punishment, has
been able to reach. But the punishment, as such, must not
refer to the subjective totality of the youth, or his dispo-
sition in general, but only to the act which, as result, is a
manifestation of the disposition. It acts mediately on the dis-
position, but leaves the inner being untouched directly ; and

Vol. vi.— 20

306 Correction versus Satisfaction of Justice.

this is not only demanded by justice, but on account of the
sophistry that is inherent in human nature, which desires to
assign to a deed many motives, it is even necessary.

g 89. Punisliment as an educational means is nevertheless
essentially corrective, since, by leading the youth to a proper
estimation of his fault and a positive change in his behavior,
it seeks to improve him. At the same time it stands as a sad
indication of the insufficiency of the means previously used.
On no account sliould the youth be frightened from the com-
mission of a misdemeanor, or from the repetition of his nega-
tive deed through fear of punishment — a system which leads
always to terrorism : but, although it may have this effect, it
should, before all tilings, impress upon him the recognition
of the fact tliat the negative is not allowed to act as it will
without limitation, but rather that the Good and the True
have the absolute power in the world, and that they are never
without the means of overcoming anything that contradicts
them.

— In the statute-laws, punishment has the opposite office.
It must first of all satisfy justice, and only after this is done
can it attempt to improve the guilty. If a government should
proceed on the same basis as the educator it would mistake
its task, because it has to deal with adults, whom it elevates
to the honorable position of responsibility for their own acts.
The state must not go back to the psychological ethical gene-
sis of a negative deed. It must assign to a secondary rank
of importance the biograx)liical moment which contains the
deed in process and the circumstances of a mitigating charac-
ter, and it must consider first of all the deed in itself. It is
quite otherwise with the educator; for he deals with human
beings who are relatively undeveloped, and who are only
growing toward responsibility. So long as they are still
under the care of a teacher, the responsibility of their deed
belongs in part to him. If we confound the standpoint in
which punishment is administered in the state with that in
education, we work much evil. —

§ 40. Punishment as a negation of a negation, considered
as an educational means, cannot be determined a priori, but
must always be modified by the peculiarities of the individual
offender and by the peculiar circumstances. Its administra-

Three Kinds of Punishment. 307

tion calls for the exercise of the ingenuity and tact of the
educator.

§ 41. Generally speaking, we must make a distinction "be-
between the sexes, as well as between the different periods of
youth ; (1) some kind of corporal punishment is most suita-
ble for children, (2) isolation for older boys and girls, and (3)
punishment based on the sense of honor for young men and
women.

§ 42. (1) Corporal punishment is the production of physical
pain. The youth is generally whipped, and this kind of pun-
ishment, provided always that it is not too often administered
or with undue severity, is the proper wa}^ of dealing with wil-
ful defiance, with obstinate carelessness, or with a really per-
verted v.ill, so long or so often as the higher perception is
closed against appeal. The imposing of other physical pun-
ishment, e.g. that of depriving the pupil of food, partakes of
cruelty. The view which sees in the rod the panacea for all
the teacher's embarrassments is censurable, but equally un-
desirable is the false sentimentality which assumes that the
dignit}^ of humanity is afi'ected by a blow given to a child,
and confounds self-conscious humanity with child-humanity,
to which a blow is the most natural form of reaction, in which
all other forms of influence at last end.

— The fully-grown man ought never to be whipped, because
this kind of punishment reduces him to the level of the child,
and, when it becomes barbarous, to that of a brute animal,
and so is absolutely degrading to him. In the English schools
the rod is much used. If a pupil of the first class be put back
into the second at Eton, he, although before exempt from
flogging, becomes liable to it. But however necessary this
system of flogging of the English aristocracy may be in the
discipline of their schools, flogging in the English army is a
shameful thing for the free people of Great Britain. —

§ 43. (2) By Isolation we remove the off'ender temporarily
from the society of his fellows. The boy left alone, cut off
from all companionship, and left absolutely to himself, suffers
from a sense of helplessness. The time passes heavily, and
soon he is very anxious to be allowed to return to the com-
pany of parents, brothers and sisters, teachers and fellow-
pupils.

308 Sense of Honor in tlie Pupil.

— To leave a cliild entirely to himself without any supervi-
sion, even if one shuts him up in a dark room, is as mistaken
a practice as to leave a few together without supervision,
as is too often done where they are kept after school, when
they give the freest rein to their childish wantonness and
commit the wildest pranks. —

§ 44. (3) This way of isolating a child does not touch his
sense of honor at all, and is soon forgotten because it relates to
only one side of his conduct. It is quite diit'erent from pun-
ishment based on the sense of honor, which, in a formal
manner, shuts the youth out from companionship because
he has attacked the principle which holds society together,
and for this reason can no longer be considered as belong-
ing to it. Honor is the recognition of one individual by
others as their equal. Through his error, or it may be his
crime, he has simply made himself unequal to them, and in
so far has separated himself from them, so that his banish-
ment from their society is only the outward expression of the
real isolation which he himself has brought to pass in his
inner nature, and which he by means of his negative act only
betrayed to the outer world. Since the punishment founded on
the sense of honor affects the whole ethical man and makes
a lasting impression upon his memory, extreme caution is
necessary in its application lest a permanent injury be in-
flicted upon the character. The idea of his perpetual con-
tinuance in disgrace, destroys in a man all aspiration for
improvement. -

— Within the family this feeling of honor cannot be so ac-
tively developed, because every member of it is bound to
every other immediately by natural ties, and hence is equal
to every other. Within its sacred circle, he who has isolated
himself is still beloved, though it may be through tears.
However bad may be the deed he has committed, he is never
given up, but the deepest sympathy is felt for him because
he is still brother, father, &c. But first in the contact of one
family with another, and still more in the contact of an indi-
vidual with any institution which is founded not on natural
ties, but is set over against him as a distinct object, this feel-
ing of honor appears. In the school, and in the matter of
ranks and classes in a school, this is very important. —

Limits of Education. 309

§ 45. It is important to consider well this gradation of
punishment (which, starting with sensuous physical pain,
passes through the external teleology of temporary isolation
up to the idealism of the sense of honor), both in relation to
the different ages at which they are appropriate and to the
training which they bring with them. Every punishment
must be considered merely as a means to some end, and, in so
far, as transitory. The pupil must always be deeply conscious
that it is very painful to his instructor to be obliged to pun-
ish him. This pathos of another's sorrow for the sake of his
cure which he perceives in the mien, in the tone of the voice,
in the delay with which the punishment is administered, will
become a purifying fire for his soul.

III.

The Limits of Education.

% 46. The form of Education reaches its limits with the idea
of punishment, because this is the attempt to subsume the
negative reality and to make it conformable to its positive
idea. But the limits of Education are found in the idea of its
nature, which is to fashion the individual into theoretical and
practical rationality. Thfe authority of the Educator at last
becomes imperceptible, and it passes over into advice and ex-
ample, and obedience changes from blind conformity to free
gratitude and attachment. Individuality wears off its rough
edges, and is transfigured into the universality and necessity
of Reason without losing in this process its identity. "Work
becomes enjoyment, and he finds his play in a change of
activity. The youth takes possession of himself, and can be
left to himself.

— There are two widely differing views with regard to the
limits of Education. One lays great stress on the weakness
of the pupil and the power of the teacher. According to this
view. Education has for its province the entire formation of
the youth. The despotism of this view often" manifests itself
where large numbers are to be educated together, and with
very undesirable results, because it assumes that the indivi-
dual pupil is only a specimen of the whole, as if the school
were a great factory where each piece of goods is to be
stamped exactly like all the rest. Individuality is reduced

310 The Limits of Individuality.

"by the tyranny of siicli despotism to one uniform level till all
originality is destroyed, as in cloisters, barracks, and orphan
asylums, Avhere only one individual seems to exist. There is
a kind of Pedagogy also which fancies that one can thrust
into or out of the individual pupil what one will. This may
be called a superstitious belief in the power of Education, — '
The opposite extreme disbelieves this, and advances the pol-
icy which lets alone and does nothing, urging that individu-
ality is unconquerable, and that often the most careful and
far-sighted education fails of reaching its aim in so far as it
is opposed to the nature of the youth, and that this individu-
ality has made of no avail all efforts toward the obtaining of
any end which was opposed to it. This representation of the
fruitlessness of all pedagogical efforts engenders an indiffer-
ence towards it which would leave, as a result, only a sort of
vegetation of individuality growing at hap-hazard, —

§ 47. The limit of Education is (1) a Subjective one, a
limit made by the individuality of the youth. This is a
definite limit. Whatever does not exist in this individu-
ality as a possibility cannot be developed from it. Education
can only lead and assist ; it cannot create. What Nature
has denied to a man, Education cannot give him any more
than it is able, on the other hand, to annihilate entirely his
original gifts, although it is true that his talents may be
suppressed, distorted, and measurably destroyed. But the
decision of the question in what the real essence of any one's
individuality consists can never be made with certainty till
he has left behind him his years of development, because it
is then only that he first arrives at the consciousness of his
entire self; besides, at this critical time, in the first place,
much knowledge only superficially acquired will drop off;
and again, talents, long slumbering and unsuspected, may
first make their appearance. Whatever has been forced upon
a child in opposition to his individuality, whatever has been
only driven into him and has lacked receptivity on his
side, or a rational ground on the side of culture, remains at-
tached to his being only as an external ornament, a foreign
outgrowth which enfeebles his own proper character.

— We must distinguish from that affectation which arises
through a misunderstanding of the limit of individuality, the

Limit in the Means of Education. 311

way whicli many children and young persons have of sup-
posing when they see models finished and complete in grown
persons, that they themselves are endowed by Nature with
the power to develop into the same. When they see a real-
ity which corresponds to their own possibility, the presenti-
ment of a like or a similar attainment moves them to an
imitation of it as a model personality. This may be some-
times carried so far as to be disagreeable or ridiculous, but
should not be too strongly censured, because it springs from
a positive striving after culture, and needs only proper
direction. —

§ 48. (2) The Ohjectixie limit of Education lies in the
means which can be appropriated for it. That the talent for
a certain culture shall be present is certainly the first thing ;
but the cultivation of this talent is the second, and no less
necessary. But how much cultivation can be given to it ex-
tensively and intensively depends upon the means used, and
these again are conditioned by the material resources of the
family to which each one belongs. The greater and more
valuable the means of culture which are found in a family
are, the greater is the immediate advantage which the culture
of each one has at the start. With regard to many of the
arts and sciences this limit of education is of great signifi-
cance. But the means alone are of no avail. The finest edu-
cational apparatus will produce no fruit where correspond-
ing talent is wanting, while on the other hand talent often
accomplishes incredible feats with very limited means, and, if
the way is only once open, makes of itself a centre of attrac-
tion which draws to itself with magnetic power the necessary
means. The moral culture of each one is however, fortu-
nately from its very nature, out of the reach of such de-
pendence. •

— In considering the limit made by individuality we recog-
nize the side of truth in that indifference which considers
Education entirely superfluous, and in considering the means
of culture we find the truth in the other extreme of pedagogi-
cal despotism, which fancies that it can command whatever
culture it chooses for any one without regard to his indi-
viduality.—

§ 49. (3) The Absolute limit of Education is the time when
the youth has apprehended the problem which he has to

312 Arrival at tTie age of Majority.

solve, has learned to know the means at his disposal, and has
acquired a certain facility in using them. The end and aim
of Education is the emancipation of the youth. It strives to
make him self-dependent, and as soon as he has become so
it wishes to retire and to be able to leave him to the sole
responsibility of his actions. To treat the youth after he has
passed this point of time still as a youth, contradicts the very
idea of Education, wliich idea finds its fullilment in the attain-
ment of majority by the pupil. Since the accomplishment of
education cancels the original inequality between the educa-
tor and the pupil, nothing is more oppressing, nay, revolting
to the latter than to be prevented by a continued dependence
from the enjoyment of the freedom which he has earned.

— The opposite extreme of the protracting of Education be-
yond its proper time is necessarily the undue hastening of
the Emancipation. — The question whether one is prepared
for freedom has been often opened in politics. When any
people have gone so far as to ask this question themselves,
it is no longer a question whether that people are prepared
for it, for without the consciousness of freedom this question
would never have occurred to them. —

§ 50. Although educators must now leave the youth free,
the necessity of further culture for him is still imperative.
But it will no longer come directly through them. Their
pre-arranged, pattern-making work is now supplanted by self-
education. Each sketches for himself an ideal to which in
his life he seeks to approximate every day.

— In the work of self-culture one friend can help another
by advice and example ; but he cannot educate, for education
presupposes inequality. — The necessities of human nature
produce societies in which equals seek to influence each
other in a pedagogical way, since they establislf by certain
steps of culture diff'erent classes. They presuppose Education
in the ordinary sense. But they wish to bring about Educa-
tion in a higher sense, and therefore they veil the last form of
their ideal in the mystery of secrecy. — To one who lives on
contented with himself and without the impulse toward self-
culture, unless his unconcern springs from his belonging to
a savage state of society, the Germans give the name of
Philistine, and he is always repulsive to the student who is
intoxicated with an ideal.

( 313 )
LECTURES ON THE PHILOSOPHY OF LAW.

By James Hutchison Stirling.
I.

An Introduction to Philosophy in General*

GentlemejS- : — My first word must be one of apology. Tliat
an individual who is not a lawyer should address a distin-
guished society of lawyers, and on their own science, has that
in it — in direct statement at least — to suggest only audacity
and presumption. This I have felt from the first ; and I have,
all along, experienced a genuine reluctance to accept this
place. Nevertheless, you yourselves have so willed it, and I
have simply obeyed. I comfort myself with the thought, too,
that it is not strictly into law that I am required to go, but
rather into philosophy, though only so far as philosophy has
legal bearings. I comfort myself, moreover, with this other
circumstance — that, viewing the state of your information in
this connection, whether private or public, I shall not be ex-
pected by you to handle this subject propria Marte, but by
the aid of another or others. Indeed, I may say at once that
the result of my examination of a goodly pile of books, sup-
plied to me by your own courtesy, was to convince me that
not only was Hegel's statement the most valuable in itself,
but that all the others of any importance were so saturated
with it as to be unintelligible without Us intelligence. The
production of this intelligence, besides, is one of the most
important things that at the present moment requires to be
effected, at the same time that it is one in which my own slight
ability is as likely to be serviceable as in any other, perhaps.
The philosophy of law, then, which I shall exhibit to you is
that which has been presented in full detail by Hegel in the
separate volume expressly published by himself, and named
" Outlines of the Philosophy of Right, or Natural Right and
Political Science in Ground Plan " — constituting, as I believe,
the most valuable product of its author. Of the rest — Tren-
delenburg, Roder, Hildenbrand, Heron, Austin, and all the

* Delivered to the Juridical Society, Edinbui-gh, Nov. 9, 1871, and published
in the Journal of Jurisprudence. Reprinted with the consent of the author and
publisher. — Er>,

314 Lectures on the

others — I hope to be able to say a word before concluding.
Let me recommend to you noio only Hildenbrand, a work
most accurate, most elegant, yet most easy, though steeped
withal in the light of Hegel — a work, too, that shames our
English books on the subject into impotent beggary.

;My situation, then, gentlemen, before you is a somewhat
peculiar one ; and when I refer to it now, and all it implies,
together with certain other circumstances of time, number,
&c., known to some of you, as bearing on the composition of
these lectures themselves, I wish to be understood as suggest-
ing a few considerations in appeal to your indulgence, and I
have no doubt that, with your well-trained minds, they will
ver3- readily be taken^adl avlsandmn.

It is m}' duty now, then, so far as my ability permits, to
make you acquainted with the Philosophy of Right in the
compass and character in which it presents itself, in its own
place, within the system of Hegel. But that, as these very
words suggest, entails some consideration of the system it-
self in which it is imbedded, and of which it forms a part ;
for only through a sufficient conception of that, the whole,
with which it is in connection, and from which it rises, can
we ever hope to arrive at an adequate knowledge of this, the
part. Besides, it is an affair of common knowledge as regards
Hegel, that, in his expositions, no matter presents itself which
is not the product of his peculiar dialectic, at the same time
that that dialectic itself takes origin from a single principle.
A preliminary word, then, will be necessary on the general
system of Hegel, its dialectic, and principle. In short, I fear
I shall be necessitated to disclose to you — the " Secret of He-
gel." Xow, do not for a moment fear, however, that I am
going to inflict on you anything verj^ detailed or very ab-
struse. Whatever I shall tell you shall be very short, and
very plain, and, after all, perhaps, no such tax on your atten-
tion. The possibility of this, of course, may — and very ex-
cusably, perhaps— be doubted. For example, it is told of one
of my best friends that, a gentleman finding him occupied
with my work on Hegel, and inquiring what he thought of
" the Secret;' he answered, " Why, I think tlie author has kept
it!" I believe I saw from the papers too, lately, that some
gentleman, examined somewhere as to the state of philosophy

PMlosophy of Law. 315

at Oxford, and asked particularly as to whether the Hegel-
ianism supposed to be there now prevalent was in any way
due to the " Secret of Hegel," had boldly answered — " No ;
that book only makes the dark darker ! " I fain hope there
may be mercy for this gentleman ; but, in view of the state
of conscience he must yet come to, I really am tempted to be-
lieve that he will have a great fear in the end of going to — a
Terj bad place !

But, joking apart, the "Secret" of Hegel is once for all
open, and there need be no such very great difficulty in its
regard — hard though Hegel may be to read after revelation of
every secret. It appears to me that Mr. Lewes himself has at
last found this to be the case. Not that I believe him yet
truly to judge 'E.Qgel; but in the re-written article "Hegel,"
of the new edition of his " History of Philosophy," just pub-
lished, he will be found to quote from my work on Hegel at
least one passage in which it appears to me the Secret is very
fairly named.

But, be all that as it may, I think I shall have no difficulty
in finding, in characterization of the general procedure of He-
gel, the short preliminary word we require here.

If it is possible to shut up Kant in a sentence, it is equally
possible, in a sentence, to shut up Hegel. But Kant has been
so shut up, and, as I believe, more than once. Here, from the
" Note " on Kant in the second and third editions of the trans-
lation of Schwegler, is what I consider one such sentence :
" The sensations of the various special senses, received into
the universal di^riori forms of space and time, are reduced
into perceptive objects, connected together in a synthesis of
experience, by the categories." Those who do not under-
stand such phrases as " universal d priori forms," " percep-
tive objects," "synthesis of experience," "categories," &c.,
will probably know just as little of Kant after this sentence
as they did before it. Nevertheless, that is no impeachment
of the truth of the assertion that this sentence does contain
all the broad outlines of the cognitive theory of Kant ; and
perhaps a word or two of explanation will demonstrate this
— an explanation which I hope you will presently find to be
in place. We can all fancy an ego, an I — fancy it as a unit
or unity, as the primal unit, the primal unity. Well, to feel,

316 Lectures on the

to know, this iiuit must be, so to speak, charged with some-
thing, an object. Now this object, whatever it be, has parts ;
it possesses a certain breadth ; it is, as compared with the unit
into which it is received, a complex, a manifold ; and it is by-
connecting the various units of this manifold to each other
and to itself that the primal unit or unity, the ego or I, can
come to possess, or, what is the same thing, to Tcnow an object.
In an act of cognition, the primal unit, the I, then, reduces
into its own unity the plurality of some manifold or object
given to it. But the I does not effect this its function of unity,
its uniting power, only in a single way. The I is strictly
judgment, or the / in act is strictly judgment ; and judgment,
as we know from logic, has twelve subordinate forms or func-
tions, which functions are arranged by threes under the more
general functions of quantity, quality, relation, and modality.
We see now, then, the general constitution of the subjective
factor in an act of knowledge, of what concerns the I as I.
As regards the other factor in the same act, the object again,
it is always a many or manifold of special sense in space and
time. Now, as for space and time, they are (to Kant) neither
notions nor sensations ; not the latter (sensations), for they are
not due to any special sense, and they have not objects like
other special sensations ; and not the former (notions), for,
viewed in the relation of wholes and parts, they are seen to
have the constitution, not of something intellectually or logi-
cally understood, but of something sensuously perceived.
Time and space, then, Kant reasons, being neither notions nor
sensations, and being at the same time universal and neces-
sary, must be pronounced general perceptive forms, d priori,
or native to the mind, and lying in the mind from the first as
necessary pre-conditions of special sense.' This last — special
sense — again, is, in all its forms, a mere affection of the sub-
ject exposed to the object. For, in all cases, an unknown ob-
ject, or, as Kant calls it, a transcendental object, is to be sup-
posed to act on special sense and excite the correspondent
subjective affection. Here now, then, we have a view of
Kant's whole world ; so far, at least, as cognition is concerned.
There are the various affections of the various special senses
(colors, feels, &c.) ; these are received into the general per-
ceptive forms of space and time ; and, finally, through the

Philosophy of Law. 317

twelve different categorical modes of it, they are reduced into
the unity of self-consciousness, or the ego. Should I repeat
the sentence, and say now, then, " the sensations of the va-
rious special senses, received into the universal c^^r/ori forms
of space and time, are reduced into perceptive objects, con-
nected together in a synthesis of experience, by the catego-
ries," I think it will perhaps be less difiicult for you to real-
ize what is meant by Kant's cognitive theory being shut up
in it.

As for Hegel, we must understand him to have started from
these constructions of Kant, and only to have modified them.
To him Kant's great want was that of process, process deduc-
tive, process interconnective. Starting with the I, the ego, he
(Hegel) would have, like Fichte, the whole foison of the uni-
verse derived from its one primal and, so to speak, constitutive
act. Accordingly, it is not enough for Hegel to take up, like
Kant, abstract logic as it presents itself, and say, there are
twelve classes of logical judgment, and these represent twelve
functions of unity in self-consciousness, or the ego. Hegel
must see the ego develop out of its own self, according to its
own law, according to its own rhythm, according to its own
principle, according to its own special, original, and primitive
nature — develop into the entire system of its own constituent
inner furniture or contents. And in this we see, too, how
Hegel differs from Fichte. Fichte assumes a sort of external
law of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis, according to which
he externally develops the ego into its own. constitutive va-
riety. Hegel will have nothing to do with such externality
of procedure ; he must see the ego unfolding itself into its
native variety, according to its own native principle, accord-
ing to its own inner nature.

Well then, having accomplished this — and you are simply
to consider it done — having developed the ego, by its own
law, into its own inner contents, Hegel will not, like Kant,
only conceive it endowed further with two subjective percep-
tive forms, two subjective cones of projection, and a variety
of special sensational affections, which, received into and ex-
ternalized by these cones, becomes reduced by the categories,
or functional unities of the ego, into the innumerable special
objects, and the one system, of experience. No; that is for

318 Lectures on tlie

him still external, and still arbitrary procedure ; it is for liim
unwarranted procedure, wliicli he must reject; and he con-
ceives instead, after the internal process has reached its full
sum. tlie same law to continue, and externalization of the
whole internal sum to be the next result — externalization,
that is, into this outward world of things. There is Nous to
Hegel, thought, whicli, in obedience to its own law, mvolved
into its own inner constituent sum ; is further, in obedience to
the same law. evolved into its own obiter constituent sum, and
that is the formed universe as it exists around us. In rela-
tion to Kant, then, it is to shut up Hegel in a single sentence
to say he conceives the ego to develop into its own categories,
and these being complete, externalization to result from the
same common law. Still Hegel, unlike Kant, thinks not of
the particular ego — yours and mine — in this process, but of
the universal ego. So, to him, the ego completed in its own
inner, is Nous, thought, universal self-consciousness — God,
" as He is in His eternal essence before the creation of nature
or any finite spirit." This is fairly the amount of the preten-
sion of Hegel when he so describes his logic as such " expo-
sition" (Darstellung) of God. But, this being the case, then
God's universe to Hegel is plainly but the contre-coup — the
counter-stroke of God's own inner nature. This universe is
only to him in externality what God is in internality, or it is
in externality only what self -consciousness is in internality.
These, then, are the leading ideas of these two men, Kant
and Hegel, so far as theory^ or cognition^ is concerned; and if
one sees in them great similarity, one sees in them also great
difference. In Kant's world there is no knowledge of any
noumenal existence. Although he postulates things in them-
selves— that is, independent outer objects — to set up the affec-
tions of sense in us, these affections (only further manipu-
lated from within) alone constitute for him all that can be
called things. And though he postulates a logical unity for
self-consciousness, he kjiows no existential unity to corre-
spond to the word soul : what we call our affections from
within, as well as what we call our affections from without,
are only 'phenomenally known. In fact, all that Kant knows
are phenomenal affections, phenomenally projected into opti-
cal spectra of externality, and then Icgically gathered in into

PMlosopTiy of Law. 319

unities again. Whether as regards the subject or as regards
the object, he is quite destitute of any noumenal knowledge.
Without is but sensation, witliin is but sensation ; both are
but stretched on two spectral skeletons, time and space, to be
construed thence into what is called experience. The logical
element is the only one in Kant that seems to possess any
noumenal character, and that, too, rather in reference to xia-
lidity than to existence. There is room in Kant — that is, for
attaching to his logical element the character of noumenal or
objective Tialidity, but scarcely that of noumenal or objective
existence; for self-consciousness being only logical in his
eyes, his whole logical element is left without any substan-
tial basis of support — unless in the mere postulate of an inner
thing in itself, as there is a postulate of outer things in them-
selves. Now Hegel, though starting from these ideas, and
deeply influenced by the importance of the logical element,
still arrives in the end at a construction very different. The
ego is not phenomenal to him, but noumenal ; then the furni-
ture of the ego is not limited to these twelve categories, but
•develops, and with rigorous necessity in every step, into a
Tast rich system. The spectral perceptive forms of space and
time again do not exist for him in that character : they are
the universals of externality, but externality to him is neces-
sary, objective, and actual. These, then, are great improve-
ments on the scheme of Kant, and there results a theory
which, supplied with an actually external time and space,
.and an actually external world, is not repugnant to com-
mon sense. It is in his conception of externality and ex-
ternalization, indeed, that we have one of the happiest
characteristics of Hegel. " God said, Let there be light ; and
there was light": the summed internality burst into its accu-
rately correspondent externality : the flash of light was the
birth of the universe. Directly we understand Hegel's dia-
lectic, there is no difficulty at all in conceiving internalization
.as internalization here, and externalization as externalization
there, but both together as mutually complementary co-
factors, as correspondent pieces of one whole : they are the
■counterparts of the single tally. And in that case, also, it is
not difficult to understand that all further characters of exter-
nality will flow from the very idea of externality as external-

320 Lectures on the

ity. There will be consequently a boundless possibility of
outness, a boundless side by side of particulars, all material,
but boundlessly differeiit. It is but in obedience to the gen-
eral conception, too, that externality itself is not an absolute
chaos ; that the shadow of the tree of intellect falls on it, con-
trolling it, and that it returns in circles, narrowing and nar-
rowing, up to the thought, the internality from which it start-
ed, or from which it fell. In regard to this Hegelian theory
of exterualization, I recollect one of our most famous citizens

to have exclaimed to me, " I cannot take in all that d d

nonsense. Do you mean to say that thought made granite ?"
But I really do not see this to be so very difficult : it lies in
the fact that in externality as externality there must be
boundless material difference : granite is simply one of the
differences. Altogether, I must acknowledge myself to find
Hegel's 23lan of exterualization the happiest ever yet pro-
posed — a plan necessary even when we say, as we do say>
and 7?iust say, God made the world ; for it answers the ques-
tion of hoio — precisely that question how God, how thought,
made granite, for example.*

From this account it will be evident, then, that Hegel is an
idealist only as Aristotle is an idealist : he, like the Greek,

* The moment the idea of externality as externalitj^ is seized, the great diffi-
culty will be found at an end. One ought to ask one's self, what must the idea
of externality — what must c.r.tcnudity itself be? Or, suppose you have iiiternal-
ity completed — an ego, a boundless intussusception of thoughts, all in each
other, and through or thorough each other, but all in the same geometrical
point — what must its externalization — and its exterualization is accurately exter-
nalization as externalization — be? Its externalization — it being an iwternaliza-
tion— must plainly be the opposite of its ownself: whatever internalization is,
externalization will be not; just as darkness and cold are precisely what light
and heat are not. Or, taking it from the other end, we see that externality is infi-
nite out a)id outness. inUnite difference, under infinite external necessity (or, what
is the same tiling here, contingency)', while internality again is, and must be,
infinite in and inness, infinite identity, under infinite internal necessity ("or, what
is the same thing here, ruason). We can see here, too, the origin and meaning of
Hegel's constant words, negation, and the negative. Externality is the negative
of internality. But the former is the particular, while the latter is the universal :
therefore the particular is always the negative of the universal. This may serve
to show how deeply logic enters into e:cistence. The same connection finds mean-
ing for Hegel's perjietual abstract. Abstraction, in general, is to take any char-
acter in isolated self-identity; and that is the same thing as wresting any one
7noment apart from its connection with the rest into isolated self-identity — the
work of understanding, not reaso7i.

Philosophy of Law. 321

would simply reduce all things to notions, would simply re-
duce all things to an ultimate generalization; and for what
is ordinarily called idealism, he has not only no sympathy,
"but an absolute contempt. Absolute or objective idealism
is to him only the thinking of the universe ; but suhjectim
idealism is that spurious idealism which would make exter-
nality due to the internality of each particular subject, and
then, for that simple act, take a big air as if it were philoso-
phy. Hegel rejects such conception and such pretension ut-
terly, and he is never tired of telling us so. In effect, it is a
very insufficient reflection this, that because a knower can
only know Avithin, therefore there is no independent external
universe ; but that is really the bulk of what is called sub-
jective idealism.

There is another side from which the work of Hegel may
be regarded. It is that of explanation in general, explana-
tion as such. Man may go on as much as he likes in his
merely animal capacity, marrying, doing business, journey-
ing here and there, and enjoying his senses in general : he
finds always in the end that that is not enough ; that he must
think as well as live and enjoy ; above all, that he must think
existence ; that he must inquire why, once for all, all this is
here, lohy is it, whence is it, loMther does it go ? All that may
be summed up in the single phrase : he demands explana-
tion. Now, of course, there are a great many explanations
now-a-days. Since Bacon, and, above all, Newton, there is
what is called science. Explanation is sought for as regards
the stars, and there is astronomy. Explanation is sought for
as regards the atmosphere, and there is electricity, say. Ex-
planation is sought for as regards the constituents of the
earth, their inter-relations, their inter-combinations, <S:c., and
there are the sciences of physics, chemistry, and what not.
Well, now, all these sciences are explanatory, science in gen-
eral is an explanation ; but these sciences, or science itself,
are an explanation within conditions (the stars and planets
themselves, the air itself) — within condition of the element
itself, so to speak, which constitutes their nidus. That ele-
ment, that nidus, is simply taken as we find it, and, after
every explanation of science in regard to the special laws of
it, the questions in general, why, whence, whither ? remain

Vol. vi.— -21

822 Lectures ou tlie

nuaiiswered. Tliese questions in general constitute philoso-
pliy. We shall not stop to consider that these "questions in
generar* constitute relighui. We shall confine ourselves to-
philosophy. Pliilosophy, then, receives all the explanations
of the sciences, of science in general, and, so instructed and
prepared, proceeds to put the final question, the questions in
general, why, whence, whither ^ In a word, philosophy de-
mands an explanation (^f existence as existence. It is all
very well to say here, that is impossible ; that is a demand
that, by the very conditions of the case, never can be granted.
This is the situation pretty well of general belief at present i
there is now a renunciation of metaphysics, there is now a
renunciation of religion. This renunciation can never quash
the essential need, however. Man is reason, and reason is
irrepressible. Reason knows itself the essence of this uni-
verse, the essence of existence, and would see itself as it is^
in its own grounds, in its own connections, in its own system.
In a word, reason demands explanation as explanation. Now,
what is that? What is explanation as explanation ? And
here it is that Hegel steps in. He considers the general na-
ture of the case, and sees how its conditions must be. An
explanation, to be an explanation, says Hegel, must be so
and so. Now, in this he is not singular: all philosophers
who are philosophers have seen the same thing. The phi-
losophers before Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus, Proclus,
Descartes, Spinoza, Leibnitz after him, have all, more or
less, consciously been led, in their pliilosophizings, by the
same want. It would be easy to illustrate this in the case of
all of them. I shall only, with this view, refer to Diogenes
the Apo:loniate. The object of this philosopher, as repre-
sented in the first two or three fragments of his writings col-
lected by Mullach (they occur also in Hitter and Preller), is
plainly explanation, explanation as a general problem. As
necessary presux)positions to that end, he assumes that there
must be a single first principle ; that this principle must be
indlsputoMe ; that it must be adequate to the entire existent
variety ; and that consequently it must possess intelligence
— for intelligence in actual fact is. Some of his jjarticular
expressions, literally translated, are these: "All things that
are must be but alterations of one and the same thing, and

Pliilosopliy of Lato. 323

therefore the same thing ; for if the things that are now — land
and water, and the rest — were different the one from the other,
each in its own nature, and were not the same thing varionsly
changed, it would he impossible that they could be mixed
together, or bring each other advantage or disadvantage: ail
things, then, are alterations of one and the same thing — at
one time so and another time thns, and they return to the
same thing. But this thing must be great, and mighty, and
eternal, and immortal, knowing much. For without intelli-
gence it could not be so disposed as to possess measure-s of
all things, of winter and summer, and night and day, and
rains, and winds, and calms. And, in the same way, whoever
considers them will find all other things disposed as beau-
tifully as possible."

There is involved here, as is evident, a sort of d priori rea-
soning ; as about the necessity to explanation of a common
principle : how could things combine together or act on each
other unless they participated in a common principle? that is
pretty well the thought throughout. The further thought, too,
is that, in view of the evident measure, j)roportion, rule, de-
sign according to which all things are disposed, this common
principle can only be thought as intelligent: if there is rule,
reflection, calculation in the effect, there must equally be rule,
reflection, calculation in the cause. So it was, then, with Di-
ogenes of Apollonia : before explaining, he determined the
necessities of explaining ; and so it was, also, with many of
the others ; so it was, above all, and in a supreme degree,
with Hegel.

Hegel said to himself, or seems to have said to himself, for
there is little that is direct in Hegel ^ — he builds his system
as a man might build a house, and lets us And out all his
thoughts about it for ourselves — I, too, like other philoso-
phers, would like to explain existence ; but what does that
mean ? Evidently, I must find a single principle, a single fact
in existence, that is adequate to all the phenomena of exist-
ence, to all the variety of existence ; and this principle, while
adequate to all the variety of existence, while competent to
reduce into its own identity all the difference that is, must
bring with it its own reason for its own self, its own neces-
sity, its proof that it is, and it alone is, that which could not

324 Lecfi/res on the

not hv. This for explanation ulliniate, radical, and all-
embracinu' explanation ii< evidently ilic iiecessary presup-
position. It will ])lainly never do to fei</n a })rineiple. tt)
fanci/ a principle: the priii(i])le must l>e, an actual denizen,
an actual thing present in t//at loMcli is. The Red Indian
who exclaims of all that he sees, of thunder and lightning, of
the gas when it is lit in a theatre possibly, Manoul Manou !
does not explain : he only exclaims ; he only excites the
imagination of his hearers into the vision of a monster, of a
creature of fancy, of a mere Yorstellung, that is only assum-
ed, or said to have such and snch power, to be such and such
a cause. It does not explain rain to say there is a spout above
the clouds, although there are minds which would find them-
selves quite contented with such a mere hypothetical image.
Such mere hypothetical, mcarioics image of phantasy is not
enough for Hegel, then : he must liud in that which actually
is an all-fertile, an all-competent single principle. And here
we see at once the reason of Hegel's dislike to the intidel
god, the Gallic god, le dieu franc.-ais — that Hre supreme of
Enlightenment, of the Illumination, that is an empty abstrac-
tion, a barren image of phantasy on which all only is to be
liung. But that is no prejudice to Hegel's prostration before
God, before the true God, before that which is the eternal
centre and root, and eveilasting substance of the world. He
really and truly believes in God, but not in god that is only
a topical god — a circumscribed, limited, particular something
that is fancied up there — an enormous big man in the air that
it is not absurd for Lalande the astronomer to try to see with
his telescope. He has thought too much for that, he has read
too much for that, he knows his catechism too well for that.
He kn<.)ws that God is a Spirit ; that we cannot by physical
searching find God out, but that we must worship Him in
spirit and in truth. To that, at all events, his own words
fairly amount.

This apart then, Hegel, believing himself to acknowledge
the true God, and averse only to the abstract god of the Auf-
klarung, would find an explanation of all that is in some
actual constituent of all that is. And that is thought, rea-
son ; that is self- consciousness. Self-consciousness he finds
to be the one aim of existence : all that is, is, he finds ouhj

Philosophy of Law. 825

for self -consciousness. That is the one purpose of existence.
Nature itself is but a gradual and graduated rise up from the
dust of the field to the self-consciousness of man. This we
can see for ourselves ; in the inorganic scale, up and up to
the organic, and, in this latter, up and up to man. All is ex-
plained only when it it is converted into thought, only when
it is converted into ourselves, only when it is converted into
self-consciousness. But if all only is for self-consciousness —
if all can be converted into self-consciousness — if self-con-
sciousness is the substance and the ultimate of all, then self-
consciousness can be regarded as that which instituted all.
self- consciousness can be regarded as the prius of all : all is
only there for it, and to be explained into it. In this way it
is seen, then, that self-consciousness is the principle of all ;
in other words, that self-consciousness is the principle of ex-
planation sought. Hegel's work, consequently, is but one of
ultimate generalization, of ultimate Induction. Of actual
facts, he finds self-consciousness the dominant one, the key
to, and the raison d^etre of, all the rest. What follows, then,
is that Hegel should apply this key.

Of course, there are many men now-a-days, as I may just
stop to remark, who only scorn as futile any such attempt
as this of Hegel ; and to the sentiments of these men we ;j^nd
from Xenophon that Socrates long ago gave voice and author-
ity. " For he did not, like most of the others, debate of the
nature of this all, speculating as to how what the Sophists
call the woiid came into being, and by what necessities the
various heavenly bodies were produced and he won-
dered if it Avas not evident to these men that it was impossi-
ble for man to find out these things." These words occur in
the very first chapter of the Memorabilia, and there are more
beside them to the same efi'ect, with general derision of these
high speculative philosophers, who yet. as is further pointed
out, with all their claims, have hardly an opinion in common.
This th(^ opinion of Socrates is a very decided one, then.
Hegel knows it well, too, but he does not let it trouble him.
Rather, in direct opposition to Socrates, and to Socrates as
piaised by Cicero, he boldly exclaims, "Philosophy cannot
be worth anything to the lives and homes of men unless it
come down from heaven ; and it is the one duty left us to

326 Lectures on the

carry it up into heaven." In this, it is certain that, apart from
that of Socrates, the highest names can be placed on tlie side
of Hegel. Indeed it is difficult to find a single name on the
whole bright file wliicli did not belong to one whose reflection
was such as fell within the censure of Socrates. Plato and
Aristotle directly followed him ; but the favorite speculation
of both lay, we may say, in the hea'vens, and this not less in
the case of the real Aristotle than in that of the ideal Plato.
These names shall suffice, then, for the side of Hegel, and we
shall let all the others, modern or ancient, pass. In a word,
as I said already, reason demands an explanation of existence
as existence ; and we must obey reason.

On the part of Hegel, Ave shall see now. then, his applica-
tion of the key d self-consciousness for this purpose. It was
by induction, as we saw, that Hegel came to this key. Self-
consciousness is in the world of facts, and all these other facts
are only for it. It is the ultimate and essential drop of the
universe, and explanation is only the reduction of all things
into it. All things, indeed, stretch hands to it, rise in succes-
sive circles ever nearer and nearer to it. Now, what is self-
consciousness ? Its constitutive movement is the idealization
of a particular through a universal into a singular, or, tak-
ing it from the other end, it is the realization of a universal
through a particular into a singular. Now that may appear
a very hard saying, but it is a very simple one in reality :
it is only a general naming of the general act of self-con-
sciousness. In every act of self-consciousness that is, there
is an object and a subject. The object on its side is a mate-
rial externality of parts, while the subject on the other side
again is an intellectual unity, but a unity that has within
it, or behind it, a whole word of thoughts. It is by these
thoughts the subject would master the object, reduce it into
itself. These thoughts, then, that thus master the object, are
the universals under which it is subsumed, and it, as so sub-
sumed, is but the particular to these universals. The outward
world, then, consists only of the particulars of the universals
that constitute the inward world. I think this will be readily
seen to be true. We can only think by generalizing, and
generalizing is the reduction of particulars to universals.
Evidently, then, in every act of self-consciousness particulars

Pliilosopliy of Law. B27

meet universals in a singular. "We were right, consequently,
in describing the constitutive movement of self-consciousness
to be the idealization of a particular (the object) through a
universal (the thought) into a singular (the subject). When
we consider, moreover, that self-consciousness is the original
substantial principle, the veritable prius of all, we shall see
also that it is not incorrect to describe the constitutive move-
ment of self-consciousness as the realization of a universal
through a particular into a singular. Now, that is the No-
tion— that is the Secret of Hegel. The mtal act of self con-
sciousness is the notion. The single word notio involves all
the three elements, a knowing (universal) of something (par-
ticular) in a Icnower (singular). An act of knowing — idealiza-
tion quite generally — is the reduction of a particular through
a universal into a singular ; but e contra^ creation — and that
is realization quite generally — is the exemplification of a uni-
versal to a singular through a particular. This, then, is the
one ground-notion which Hegel, by virtue of its own law, its
own rhythm, as triple in its own form, and so triple that its
units, though different from, are yet related to, and identical
with, each other — this, I say, is the one ground-notion which
Hegel sees develop before him out of its own self into the
sum of its own inner constituent system of notions. That
inner system he then calls idea. The notion is the first and
the ever-present substance — every one of the derivative no-
tions is but the notion — but the completed internal system of
these notions, or of the notion, is the idea. The idea now,
then, is the entire and complete universal, and it is only in
obedience to the one ever-present law that it sunders into the
particular — Nature. Nature again, the particular, returns to
the universal in the singular. Mind, which gradully rises from
its primal involution in nature up through all its forms to the
Absolute Spirit.

Universal, particular, and singular, are the three moments
•of the notion, and everything organic^ everything true in this
world is — however abstract its element — a concrete of these
three moments, which can be seen to take on in the course of
the development a thousand names, as thesis, antithesis, syn-
thesis ; or a form which is a great favorite in my own expla-
nations, simple apprehension, judgment, and reason. This

328 Lectures on the

notion may be illustiated in a variety of ways. Wliat is or-
gatiisation, for example — wluit is an organization to any pur-
pose? Ketiect on it as you may, you will lind that it is the
reduction of a many of particulars to the unity of a singular
through the menstruum of universals — the plan and what it
implies. Every concrete is but such organization. The family,
for example : there is no perfect family where there is not the
fuJjiUed IDEA, where each of the three moments, universal,
particular, and singular, has not full justice accorded it. So
the state ; a state must be idea — perfect harmony of univer-
sal, particular, and singular, else it is imperfect and not a
state. The state is the accomplished idea of the self- devel-
oping notion : here free-will, and in it, if perfect, each of the
moinentSy has its due jilace and its due scope. But is not the
universe itself the best illusti'ation ? The universe itself i&
but the realization of the universal through the particular in
the singular ; and all that is said when we pronounce the sin-
gle word — self-consciousness.

Hegel's work now, then, can evidently be called simply the
ultimate generalization. He sees that if we would ultimately
explain, we must fairly generalize explanation itself. Expla-
nation is always the reduction of an object into self-con-
sciousness ; ultimate explanation, then, must be a reduction
of all into self consciousness. But self-consciousness is a fact,
it is something in rerum, natura, a principle actually exist-
ing: Hegel's work, then, is in so mau}^ words the linal and
universal induction.

13 lit 3'ou will say, perhaps, the self-consciousness that is in
nature is ours — there is no other self-consciousness in nature
than ours : are we to suppose that Hegel views my self-con-
sciousness, your stdf-consciousness, his self-consciousness, as
God ? In one way, I cannot deny this. Still Hegel's idealism,
as I said already, is no subjective idealism : he does not con-
(,'eive nature to be an externalization of the indimdualsubjecVs
categories, notions, but of those cf the universal subject, of
those of the universal self-consciousness. But Hegel, we might
object further, would certainly admit that every individual
linite subject might die, and yet the universe vrould subsist.
What in that case were God ? Would not Hegel seem simply
to conceive then a potential God — a God as it were asleep in

Philosophy of Law. 329

nature — and who had yet to be realized afresh in other Unite
self-consciousness ? There are professing adherents of Hegel
— Ruge and the so-called party of German critics — who seem
to entertain some such conception. I, for my part, admit that
such may appear to be the case, so far as Hegel's develop-
ments apart from time, apart from history, are concerned ;
but I assert such an appearance no longer to obtain the mo-
ment the development has entered the domain of spirit. In
the sphere of religion especially, Hegel, as is well known,
sums up his development in Christianity as the revealed re-
ligion, and in the midst of numerous expressions that are
unmistakably theistic. I may quote here what I said in the
newspapers {Courant, Dec. 21, 1868) on this head three years
ago: — "We are bound to accept Hegel's own professions.
Again and again, and in the most emphatic manner, he has
asserted himself not only to be politically conservative, but
religiously orthodox — a Lutheran Christian. If we accept, as
we do, his first assertion without difficulty, we have no right
to deny his second. Indeed, however pantheistic the construc-
tion, so to speak, in space may appear, the tables, as inti-
mated, are wholly turned in the construction in time, and
Hegel ends not only b}^ profession, but by philosophy, a the-
ist and a Christian."

I may say also, that this statement met at the time with
the complete approbation of the non-Hegelian Professor Ue-
berweg — non-Hegelian, but before his death, as both corre-
spondence and actual published writings led me to believe,
less and less so. Ueberweg, whose premature death — the pre-
mature death of perhaps the most indefatigable philosophical
student of his time — we are now justly lamenting, wrote me
that his belief was quite mine as expressed in the quotation
I have read, and that it was impossible to establish a nega-
tive against such a religious claim for Hegel. Of course, it
is to be allowed that Hegel philosophizes Christianity, and
that his understanding of much is not such as John Knox
would have accepted. Nevertheless, this is to be said, that
Hegel would have claimed accord — substantially — even with
John Kno:5i:. We believe the same historical fact and facts,
he would have said ; only you see them in the Vorsiellungy
while I see them in the Begriff. That at all events is really

330 Lectures on the

the true nature of the case; and it is a j)iece of wisdom that
is much needed at present. That single distinction between
Vorstellung and Begriff is fitted to bring about perfect recon-
ciliation between the beliefs of the less educated and those of
the more educated, and give the Church peace. I may add,
too, that every objection from the religious side that may be
taken to the i'ole assigned by Ilegel to self-consciousness will
disappear on due consideration of the text: "In His own im-
age God created man."

Returning again for a moment to the principle of self-
consciousness itself, let me point out another advantage pos-
sessed by it as a principle of explanation. It contains within
itself both difference and identity^ and a little reflection will
make it plain that there can be no possible explanation of
this world Avitbout a principle that contains both elements.
The origiu of difference in identity is the point and focus
of the whole problem; but we have that at once in self-
consciousness. Thought, reason, self-consciousness, is the
one single necessity, the primal d-vdyxTj^ that that could not
not be, and alone that that could not not be ; but thought,
reason, self-consciousness, is by nature a duplicity in unity,
difference in identity, for to know is to be always two
things in one; what knows and what is known are for ever
different but for ever identical. And so it is that evolution
is possible ; for, after all, the w^ork of Hegel is certainly
an evolution. It must be regarded, however, as only Si poten-
tial one, only one in idea, not one that takes place or ever
took place in time. And this gives it a vast superiority over
ordinary evolution doctrines. To suppose that there ever was
a natural first germ that naturally grew into another — as, for
example, that the oyster ever grew into a man — is to suppose
an absurdity. The evolution is — there — in idea — and that is
really by power of the idea — but it never took place in natu-
ral fact. All that ingenuity which would explain the pea-
cock's tail by the loves of the female (whose comparative
plainness then remains unaccountable) is but perverse and a
waste of time — a waste of time in this, too, that science is
quite unable to allow the explanation itself time enough. It
would be easy to bring forward sufficient ingenuity to explain
the spider's web — by a drop of accidental fluid accidentally

Philosophy of Law. 331

emitted by some certain spider one fine day, that gave that
accidental advantage which is necessary ; but would such
Ingenuity, such Vorstellung, such mere fancy, be scientitic
explanation ? The method of natural conjecture in fact, how-
ever amusing, leads nowhere.

But let us now, in conclusion, just ghiiice at Hegel's evolu-
tion that precedes and results in the notion of law, to which
all that I have yet said is only preliminary ; and I trust I
have your excuse for spending so much time on what is only
preliminary, my conviction being that any shorter previous
explana^tion would have been futile. Hegel's system, as is
now pretty well known, is contained in three great spheres —
the Science of Logic, the Philosophy of Nature, and the Phi-
losophy of Spirit. Here we see at once that what we have
before us is the Notion. Logic is the universal, Nature is the
particular, and Spirit is the Singular. Logic, having devel-
oped into full Idea, passes into the particular as the particu-
lar, into externalization as externalization, in Nature ; and
Nature, rising and collecting itself, through sphere after
sphere, from externality itself in the form of space, up to
natural internality in the form of organic life, passes into
Soul, which is the first form of Spirit. The instrument of the
evolution all along, we are to understand, is the Notion in
its three Moments. Omitting any closer consideration of the
evolution in Logic and Nature — vast wholes of philosophy
though they be — we shall pass to that of Spirit ; and here,
too, we must be but perfunctory only until we reach our
own subject. The three heads under which Spirit is treated
are Subjective Spirit, Objective Spirit, and Absolute Spirit —
obviously again in agreement with the three moments of the
Notion. Under Subjective Spirit we have mind rising through
its oion faculties to its own higher forms — -or the faculties
themselves are represented but as successive stages of devel-
opment in mind itself — and all as ever in obedience to the
notion. Thus, theoretical spirit, or the spirit that knows,
cognition that is, being complete, passes into practical spirit,
the spirit that acts, the spirit that has will ; and will can only
realize itself in the objective world of Law — in the State.
And here we have reached at last our own subject. The in-
troduction has been long, but not longer, I believe, than was

332 Fi elite's Facts of Consciousness.

absolutely necessary to enable us to understand the move-
ment of He2:el — that dialectic which we shall hnd as active
in what concerns Right, Law, as elsewhere. Now. however,
I think we may (^insider ourselves fully instruits : and at
our next meeting we shall eliect the transition from the theo-
retical to the practical spirit, and enter on the objective do-
main of the latter — on the domain of will, and of law as its
realization.

FACTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS.

Translated from the German of J. G. Fichte, by A. K. Kroeger.

^ O O XS. XX.

FACTS OF COXSCIOUSXESS IX REGARD TO THE I'HACTICAl. FACILIV.

CHAPTER III.

The Tendency of the Ego to overcome the Check is posited us a Multipli-
city of material Bodies, or as a System of Individuals.

That which I actually — that is, in the region of my self-
conlined power of imaging — produce through my causality
is to confine my own external causality, so that no retraction
of my thinking can retract its being. Na.y, what is more,
even the contemplation of other beings like myself is to
be bound b}^ it, as likewise by my own bodily existence.

This is here simply my assertion, and presented simply as
a mere pure fact of consciousness. Now this assertion in-
volves the following :

1. There do exist outside of myself beings like myself.

2. These beings are bound to recognize me, by virtue of my
bodily existence, as a being like themselves.

3. They are also bound to perceive the products of my ac-
tivity in the material world.

The latter two propositions I may safely take for granted
after having assumed the first one. The whole is here repre-
sented simply as a fact of consciousness without any deduc-
tion or (what our deductions here are) junction with a higher
link, since we have here as yet no higher link wherewith we

Fichte^s Facts of Consciousness. 333

«

•<'ould. bring tin's fact into conjunction, being as yet busy in
the endeavor to get at such a higher link b}^ ascending from
•our present point. Hence we haA e at present to see simply
what this fact involves ; that is. to connect it with what is
already known to us, and to comprehend it from that stand-
point.

First of all: liow do 1 get at all at that presupposition?
How does the picture and the thought of such beings like me
ontside of myself arise in me:' It is not only wonderful but
■contradictory to all our previous supi)osition. The life of free-
dom and of consciousness has hitherto been represented as
one ; all our deductions have been made from the oneness, and
only by its means have we proved and explained. But now
this one life evidently dirempts into many lives, which in
their essence are to be like each other; hence this one life is
here repeated in many forms, and repeated. How does this
repetition occur ? Don't let us, by any means, ask as yet
from what ground it occurs, for that question can probably
be answered only in another place; but, through what fact
does this positing of other beings outside of us occur i

A. — In order to prepare our investigation, let us once more
answer in all possible clearness the oft-answered question :
how do I make myself a real principle i As an imaging prin-
ciple I already have myself, and contemplate myself as such
through the immediate internal contemplation of freedom.
But, apart from this internal contemplation, I have another
form of immediate consciousness, namely, my immediately
through-itself- limited productive power of imaging. I at-
tempt to apply also this second form to the Ego contemplated
in the first described manner, and I find that this my produc-
tive power of imaging is limited by this Ego also immediately
and in a two-fold manner, namely, 1st, by that Ego as a ma-
terial body ; and 2d, by the products of that Ego as a material
body in a material world.

Have I now, then, completely externalized the Ego, and
placed it, through thinking, out of the region of immediate
internal contemplation, in the region of external percep-
tion? Yes and no. The bodily presentation of the Ego and
its causality in the material world are externalized ; but the
self-determinilig of this causality, the conception and plan

834 FicJite's Facts of Consciousness.

that pivoedo it, remain as yei mere objects of internal contem-
plation, and in so far tlie Ego has not yet been externalized.
Bnt that causality, as the external, is conditioned by that
self-derermining-. ur by that conception, as the internal, and
without an internal we shall never get an external. Hence
this Ego gets compli'tely externalized neither by tlie mere
external contemplation or productive thinking, nor by the
mere internal contemplation, but only by an absolutely in-
separable synthesis of both.

B. — I trv still further whether I cannot set this Eg:o — even
be3'ond this synthesis and precisely as it occurs in this syn-
thesis, namely, as composed of internal and external self-
contemplation — by means of productive thinking from the
now completed inner contemplation ; that is, wliether I can-
not get hold of it in that purely original thinking, whereby
it would — as an absolute giving out of the internal — get
utterly cut off from this given internal contemplation, and
would receive for the Ego of this internal contemplation an
altogether peculiar on-itself-reposing Being ; becoming for
this Ego a true non-Ego, j ust as happened in the case of the
first product of free thinking, the merely material object of
external perception, only in a much higher degree. I say,
for the Ego of this hitherto described internal contemplation,
although in-and-for-itself it may well be an Ego, since it has
been tliought as such.

I try and I lind that I not only can but must do so. The
productive x)ower of imagination in attempting to realize
such a tliinking finds itself compelled to realize it, that is,
finds itself limited by the existence of such external Egos,
and moreover — as results from the original form of the power
of imaging — by an infinite number of possible Egos. The
Ego must be externalized through thinking, and can be so
externalized infinitely. Now, in what particular case this
conception must be applied and realized we shall have to
specify hereafter.

C. — Let us, firstly, consider the form of this original think-
ing of the Ego, that is, of externalizing. To be sure, the inner
Ego is also thought and received into the form of indej)end-
ent Being ; it is not thought, however, through the absolute
original thinking, but by means of the inner c6ntemplation.

Ficlite's Facts of Consciousness. 335

Now that previously described thinking of the mere material
object of external perception appeared — at least in our tirst
investigation — as grounded and conditioned through another,
through the necessity to draft a conception of tlie activity
which the impulse desires to achieve. Now we have no con-
dition given for the thinking of an Ego be3'ond the Ego of
immediate internal contemphition ; we liave posited it as an
absolute fact. Hence this thinking is, at least here, an alto-
gether unconditioned determination of pure and absolute
thinking, and is therefore thought simply because it is
thought, and thinking, itself, involves this particular think-
ing. We cannot say, I think — produce — other Egos; but
rather, universal and absolute thinking thinks — or thinkingly
produces — those other Egos, and my own Ego amongst them.
Hereafter we shall, perhaps, find a ground even of this think-
ing; but it is already evident here that that ground cannot
be of the same nature as the grounds and conditions here-
tofore.

D. — Let us now proceed to ascertain the contents of this
absolute thought. The Ego is thought absolute — precisely
as it was generated above through the absolute synthesis
of internal and external contemplation, and as the uniting
central point of both. Hence the thought Ego receives
internally its immediate self-contemplation — its faculty of
conception, of self-determination, &c.; and externally a mate-
rially organized body and a possible causality in the mate-
rial world, precisely as pertains to the first Ego, from which
we started in our internal investigation.

Now, the signiticant part here is this : the immediately
internal contemplation is repeated, for the present at least,
twice. But these two internal contemplations are separated
by an absolute gulf, and neither of them can look into the
other, since each one is not contemplated but thought by the
other. What is this gulf?

Evidently it is ur>on this distinction that I base my asser-
tion, this is TTiy Ego ; and that I admit of my neighbor's Ego,
although it is just like mine : this is not mine but his Ego;
words that he, speaking of me, repeats in the same manner.
Now, what does this duplication of the Ego into my Ego
signify here ? Evidently it is the basis of the fundamental

336 Flchte's Facts of Consciousness.

chanu'ter (^f the individual as such. What, then, is this
character f

Just remember how we arrived at all at an Ego. Knowl-
edge retiected itself, and found and seized itself in the act,
which act may thus be well called an altogether immediate
(and if wc have named this internal an external) contempla-
tion. J)iir ir was this contemplation which, gathered into the
lixed form of thinking, tirst gave rise to an Ego, first as a
knowing intelligence, and next as a principle : and this
indeed was the origin of the lirst and in all our previous in-
vestigations single, Ego : nor would any Ego have arisen
without that reflection and self-contemplation of knowledge.
Hence it follows that the actual existence of an Ego is
grounded upon an absolute fact of immediate self-contempla-
tion, namely, the self-contemplation of knowledge.

At present this Ego is to be multiplied ; there are to be
many Egos. This immediate self-contemplation must, there-
fore, occur many times: that is, its fact must be multiplied,
since every such fact is the ground of an Ego. Vice versa,
to say that many Egos are posited, is to say that the fact
of inner contemplation is posited as having occurred many
times. That knowledge, which is internally contemplated in
this fact, may well remain one and the same ; for we have
neither said, nor does it result from our deduction, that this
knowledge is repeated and posited many times. It is sim-
ply the altogether seemingly accidental fact of contempla-
tion, or of the reflection of that knowledge, which is posited
many times ; and it is only thus that a manifold Ego of
internal contemplation has flrst arisen. Now, with this ori-
ginal fact of inner contemplation as its essential birth-place,
there connects another Ego, which develops itself as a power
of other internal contemplations, of an impulse, of a faculty,
of freely-created conceptions. All that further occurs in
internal contemplation is gathered into the unity of the Ego
thought in virtue of that fact. Thus the Ego of each indi-
vidual is that Ego which he has thought in virtue of that
absolutely primary and original self-contemplation of
knowledge which lirst gave him existence, and to which he
now relates all that may occur in the same internal contem-
plation. Hence the expression, r/r// Ego. The Ego which

Fichtes Facts of Consciousness. 337

involves the my, and whereof "my" is the adjective, is the
absolutely original Ego which has arisen through the imme-
diate fact of self-contemplation. The second Ego, alluded to
here, is the progression of the first original Ego in time ; and
this progression occurring with freedom, and thus remaining
under the control of the lirst original Ego, the original Ego
appropriates it as its own and calls it its Ego. Hence that
which we have described is the essential character of the
individual as such, and through which the spheres of inter-
nal contemplation, as based upon separate facts, separate
from and mutually exclude each other.

Result: the individuals as such are absolutely separate in
themselves, complete single worlds, without an}" connection
whatever.

E. — Now, if we stopped here, life in the background as the
matter of the manifold facts of reHection might well remain
one and the same, as we have just now maintained; but it
could certainly never arrive at a unity, at least in conscious-
ness, since all consciousness would be altogether individual.
Indeed it would even remain inexplicable how we. who con-
fess ourselves to be individuals, could think such a unity,
though it were simply problematically, and how we could
possibh'- make ourselves understood about the matter. Hence
if consciousness is to remain consciousness of the one life, as
we have maintained from the iirst it must, that unity which
was cancelled by individuality must be restored in that same
consciousness. This must be restored of course ; firstly, since
the inner contemplation is precisely the medium of cancel-
ling the unity by going beyond this medium, by its opposite,
which is thinking; and which, since it is a representation of
the original and absolute unity, must be an original think-
ing; and secondly, it must be restored just in so far as it is
cancelled : that is, those individuals that have been separated
into many lives in inner contemplation, must again be united
in thinking as such and as remaining such ; in other words,
they must all occur in the one same thinking.

F. — Consider well what has been said. That thinking,
which has as yet been described only factically in its rela-
tive form as the opposite of inner contemplation, and hence
as a going beyond that contemplation, obtains here, where
Vol. \\.—-n

338 Fichte's Facts of Consciousness.

its peculiar aiai inner essence is made apparent, an altogether
difterent and higher signilicance. It becomes an immediate
self-representation of life, as a one and in its unity. Hence
it can be only a single thinking, corresponding, and agreeing
with itself.

This thinking is the representation or consciousness of life.
Hence this thinking must occur everywhere where life enters
the form of consciousness. This form it has entered in the
individuals. Hence it must occur in these individuals, and,
moreover, in all of them. It is in itself one, and must there-
fore occur in all in the same manner.

I say, the one life represents itself in this thinking in its
nnity. But the individual as such is not at all life in its
unity, but merel}^ a fragment of it. AVe cannot, ther(;fore,
say at all that the individual as such thinks that thinking;
or, if we do say so, we must add that it thinks that thinking
not as an individual, but as the one and same life. It is in
this thinking no longer a particular separate Ego, but the
one and universal Ego. After a while we shall arrive at very
remarkable applications of this proposition.

If this thinking does occur in tlie individual, it will appear
of course under the condition of free reflection, and not other-
wise, in inner contemplation ; not as a product of the Ego,
however, but simply as the expression of an absolute fact.

Remarks. — The Science of Knowledge has generally been
understood as ascribing effects to the individual — for instance,
the production of the whole material world, &c. — which can-
not at all be ascribed to it. Now, how is the Science of Knowl-
edge, in truth, related to this objection? Thus: those who
raised that objection fell into their misunderstanding pre-
cisely because they themselves ascribed to the individual far
more than appertains to it, and thus committed the very error
which tlie}^ imputed to the Science of Knowledge. Hence,
having once misunderstood the first principles of that science,
they find that error in it even to a further extent than they
themselves are inclined to grant to it. But they are alto-
gether mistaken ; it is not the individual, but the one imme-
diate spiritual life, which is the creator of all appearances,
and hence also of the api)earing individuals. Hence the Sci-
ence of Knowledge holds so very strictly, that this one life

Ficlite's Facts of Consciousness. 339

be thought purely and without any substrate ; for the indi-
vidual serves precisely as such substrate, and hence arise all '
their errors. Reason — or universal thinking, or knowledge
simply — is higher and more than the individual. To be una-
ble to think any other reason than one which an individual
possesses as his accidence is to be unable to think reason at
all. Hap23y the individual whom reason possesses !

Result: the described absolute thinking represents a com-
munity of individuals.

G. — This thinking is expression of life generally, and there-
fore occurs necessarily wherever life arrives at consciousness.
But life arrives at consciousness, as we have said above, in
the individuals. It follows, therefore, that all actually exist-
ing individuals — all points wherein knowledge has arrived
at a contemplation of itself — must be necessarily thought
from the stand-point of each individual. Just as I, indivi-
dual, think the others, so the others again think me ; and as
many as I think, so many think me. Thus all think the same
community or system of individuals, with this only differ-
ence, that each has another starting-point, another sphere of
inner contemplation from which he starts. Each one thinks
all the others through absolutely original thinking, but he
does not think himself so; himself he produces through the
described synthesis of both contemplations.

H. — An Ego is necessarily thought as in an organized body.
Hence each individual thinks necessarily all the others thus;
for Egohoods and organized materiality are absolutely united
in original thinking, or in the law of thinking, and hence they
are so likewise in actual thinking, or in the following out of
that thinking.

Thus the previously first question, as to where the concep-
tion of the Ego is applicable in actuality, is here answered as
follows : wherever an organized body appears to the external
sense, or — as we know better now — to the absolute thinking
of a material world. It is not to be understood as if we con-
cluded from the form of the body to the Ego, — neither imme-
diately, for how could such a conclusion from one world to
its direct opposite be possible ? nor mediately, because I,
individual, have such a body, for how can I know that this
body is not merel}'^ accidental, but belongs essentially and

340 HegeVs Phil^osophp of Histortj.

absolutelv romvEn;(i? But the matter stands thus : V)otli,
the thought of the K'jro au<l tliis bodily representation, are
united in the ori<j:iual rhiuking wliioh expresses life iti its
unity.

HEGEL'S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY.

Translated from the Gcrmnn of Dr. K. Rosfxkranz, In- G. S. Hai.i..

The conception of history ranst enter into the system of
sciences, althoug-h it must be granted that history cannot
become strictly a science in the same degree as psychology,
loiric, etc., because chance and arbitrariness influence the em-
jiirical d<'velopnn-nt of Spirit.

The constant elements of history are found in the concep-
tion of reason, in rhe laws of nature, in psychology and eth-
ics. By their necessity alone the actual becomes intelligible.
So far as human action is controlled by this necessity, noth-
ing new happens under the sun. We find the family, the
community, propert3\ labor, rank, professions, trades, gov-
ernment, laws, customs, and war, among all people and in all
ages. Everywhere and in every age we observe the growth
and decay of states, of reforms, of revolutions. If all these
elements as phenomena were infinitely modified, a science of
history would only be still more impossible. What then, in
this tumult of facts, is the leading principle ? If such a prin-
ciple exist, the facts, as its consequences, must sustain an
inner relation to each other. According to Hegel, such a
principle does exist. He defines universal history as the
progress of mankind in the consciousness of freedom. This
is no less grandl\^ and truly thought than it is simply and
strikingly uttered.

That which is truly new in history is the deeper apprehen-
sion of the conception of freedom, which permeates and trans-
forms all special elements of life with itself. So far, then,
something new does occur under the sun. Mind, as phenome-
nal, is infinitely perfectable. In their material aspect the
actions of men remain ever the same, but the consciousness
with which they act changes. The more difficult question now

HegeVs Philosophy of History. 341

arises for philosophy, Where in the system does history find
its place ? for art, religion, and science, belong to history. It
may unhesitatingly be granted that the philosophy of his-
tory should be placed at the close of the system. It would
be pedantic to deny this. Since consciousness finds its most
precise expression in philosophy, the conception of science
might very well be combined with that of history, and be ex-
hibited as its highest result. That Hegel brought his history
to a close with the conception of the state, is accounted for
by the essence of freedom, which, in the state, acquires indu-
bitable objective existence, and gives distinct consciousness
of right and duty to the moral worth of human actions, while
in art and religion, phantasy and in science, doubt and error
have large scope. The law-books of nations are the concrete
criterion according to which this consciousness of freedom
may be measured. The state embraces the totality of all re-
lations which refer to the idea of good. Here, as in so many
other passages, Hegel resembles Kant, who would likewise
see the conception of the state made to preside over the devel-
opment of history. In the introduction Hegel entered into an
exhaustive justification of his thoughts, in which he essen-
tially explained and completed that conception of the state
which he had proposed in the Philosophy of Right. If any
one still has scruples as to whether Hegel meant well for free-
dom, or how he understands the conception of ethics, he is
referred to this derivation of the conception of universal his-
tory from the conception of the state. It is also an example
how, with the purest German idioms, a profound thought
may be presented with perfect clearness and intelligibility.
The way in which he describes ethics, both here and in the
Philosophy of Right, can be compared only with the inimi-
table art with which Jacob Grimm treated similar objects.
The purest fountains of German words sprung spontane-
ously for both. A poetic ether hangs over the creative con-
structions of this great teacher even when they descend to
the plane of the readiest intelligibility.

The constant elements of history he had already investi-
gated in the Phenomenology as the science of the experience
of consciousness. There, as we have already seen, no ethno-
graphic, no chronologic or historic fact was mentioned ; no

342 HegeVs Philosoj^tliy of History.

person in history was named. Now he treated history from
the principle of the state. In so doing he followed Kant, who
in 1784, in an original treatise, had apprehended the concep-
tion of the historical process from this point, because con-
sciousness of freedom attained to objective distinctness in the
state. Kant, liowever, had only made a plan, and had never
entered into the details of its execution as Hegel attempted
to do.

The geographic element, where we speak of the history of
Asia, Africa, Europe and America, does not suffice for history.
Nations transcend natural divisions. Geographic distinct-
ness is a very important factor for the historical process, but
it is only an external foundation, not a principle. Water,
still more than land formation, is adapted to supply a
guiding principle, for it mediates the movement of peoples.
Kapp, in his philosophy of the knowledge of the Earth (Erd-
kunde), distinguished the oriental, the antique, and the mod-
ern world, respectively, as (1) the potamic, (2) the thallassic,
(^) the oceanic. Asia produced great states iipon the banks
of rivers, Europe upon the Mediterranean Sea, and America,
stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific, is essentially
oceanic. The next higher element is the anthropological one
of racial differences, so far as the black, yellow, and white
race exhibit not only a different outer type, but different psy-
chical endowment. But races mix, so that there exists, how-
ever much Herr von Gobineau may sigh about it, less pure
blood with every advancing generation. In America already
all races mingle.

(1) The Ethiopian is for itself unhistorical ;

(2) The Mongolian is historically at a stand-still ;
(3J The Caucasian is historically progressive.

An anthropological analogy is connected with the ethnogra-
phic element, which is derived from the ages of human life,
and which is very often repeated. Herder brought it into
acceptance and Hegel adopted it.

(1) The Orientals re]3resent the stage of childhood ;

(2) The Greeks that of youth ;

(3) The Romans that of manhood ;

(4) The Germans that of old age.

History cannot be comprehended under such an analogy, and

HegeVs Philosophy of History. 343

«

therefore the abstract conception of time has been adduced,
and history has been divided into (1) Ancient, (2) Middle, and
(3) Modern, or simply into Ancient and Modern. Ancient and
modern is, however, a purely relative conception ; no princi-
ple is expressed thereby. If this is to be done, recourse is
had to the break which Christianity made in the world.
Thus we come to religion, and it becomes manifest that it
cannot be excluded from the development of the state. We
speak, therefore, of Heathen, Mohammedan, and Christian
States. (1) Paganism— Polytheism— (2) Monotheism, (3) the
Christian belief in the Trinity, are qualitative differences in
the lield of religion. A fantastic elenient, however, lies in
religion which transcends objective reality, while the sphere
of the state lies in the indubitable relations of the self-con-
scious will. So long as these relations are at the same time
regarded as religious, or so long as they receive from religion
absolute justification in an external manner, the state is not
yet perfectly free and sovereign. Hegel demands, therefore,
for the perfection of the state " good-will and consent." He
will acknowledge right apart from morality. Right should
not be an internally foreign, casual determination of man,
but he should know himself therein according to his essence.
He should regard the state not merely as an institution for the
security of his person and possessions, for the advancement of
his peculiar interests, but it should be sacred to him as the con-
crete realization of the idea of good. Hegel, as well as Fichte,
Schleiermacher and Steffens, regarded the police state and the
industrial state as mere caricatures of the true state. This
was not a blasphemous deification of the state, as is so often
said ; for he recognized the spheres of religion as transcending
those of the state. In his outlines of a new constitution for
Germany, he said that the state could admit diiferent confes-
sions, and even that by so doing it would be more free. In his
Berlin period he was inclined to regard Protestantism as that
confession which alone makes the true ethical state possible.
But it appears that the state, as such, has to concern itself
merely with the reason of its laws and institutions, without
reflecting thereby upon any creed. The modern state, as such,
has no religion. This he leaves free to dispose of itself. He
concedes to every citizen the right to relate himself to God

344 HegeVs Philosopliy of History.

•

according to liis own peculiar conviction. The state must do
all with the reason of human freedom, and nothing with
eternal happiness. This he leaves to the belief of the indi-
vidual. It is the highest right of man to be free in this from
every outer constraint, for here he stands in the deepest mys-
tery. If it be said that the state, to correspond to its true
conception, must be Protestant, then the question imme-
diately arises whether Lutheran, or Calvanistic, or Anglican,,
&c. Thus the presumption that a state ought to have a con-
fession is refuted as factious.

Hegel therefore, for the division of universal history, has
ignored religion. He distinguished four ages of the world :
(1) the Oriental, (2) the Grecian, (3) the Roman, and (4) the
German. Of these four, the two middle periods, in antithesis
to the Orient, are fundamentally only one, which we usually
call the ancient world. A clear idea is not expressed by this
designation. Hegel gives this, therefore, in the form of the
qualitative judgment, that in the Orient one is free; in the
antique world, several ; and in the modern world, all : or, in
another form,

(1) Despotism — Orient;

(2) Republic — Greece and Rome;

(3) Constitutional monarchy — the German State.

For Hegel, history furnishes the empirical proof of the
necessitv of the latter form. He admits at the close of hi&
observations that the main difficulty lies in realizing the justi-
fication and defence of all, in legislation. He was an oppo-
nent of Rosseau. He desired a representation of the people
according to rank. Hov; astonished he would be that, within
scarcely twenty years after his death, Europe became politi-
cally reconstructed, and that every independent man of legal
majority and of unblemished reputation, without distinction
of station, race, culture, or fortune, was endowed with full
active and passive right of franchise. He would have been
shocked to behold in porters, watchmen, coachmen, &c., politi-
cal persons who had an equal voice with merchants, professors,
judges, and counsellors of state. With proper reflection, how-
ever, he would have been obliged to recognize in free sulliage
the legitimate consequence of the constitutional principle.
The idea of the state must pervade and civilize every peas-

HecfeVs PMlosopliy of History. 345

ant. It endures no longer plebean masses (Pobel). The
elective franchise of voters reconciles the sovereignty of the
people with the royal sovereignty, in which the former indi-
vidualizes itself as concrete personality. Since Herder we
have had a great multitude of books which have proposed as
their end the philosophic consideration of universal-history.
They have been for the most part forgotten, because their
authors either could not master the empirical material and re-
duce it to an abstract formulization, or because, like Krause,
they proceeded from abstract principles and neglected the
empirical process. Talented historians like J. V. Muller, in
his 24 volumes of the Universal History of Mankind, or Dip-
pold in his Sketches of History, approached much nearer the
true idea of history than the so-called a priori constructions.
Hegel's work is the only one of these attempts which has
proved enduring, because it presents an adjustment of these
extremes which is deserving especial admiration. It will
evince itself also as classical for the future, because in the
form of simple narration it brings out the significance of the
idea as the inner soul of facts ; and conversely, because,
by the very plain and unavoidable evolution of the idea,
it recalls to mind the lucidity of historical phenomena, and
especially serves, like an enchanting picture, to bring into
the present great individuals like Alexander, Caesar, and Lu-
ther. The great fact however remains, that he rightly appre-
hended the principle of universal history and the conception
of freedom. The individual must not be blamed if he help
himself as well as he can, through the life of vicissitude, with
hypotheses. One appeals to fate, another to providence ; but
the necessity of freedom is the absolute might of events.
The end of history is not the eudsemonism of sensuousness
equipped with every comfort, but freedom, which is fore-know-
ing in the consciousness of its conformity to law, and by its
providence shapes its destiny now tragically, now comically.
Of course, a much stricter carrying out of philosophical his-
tory may be conceived than Hegel accomplished, by which
the question of the position of the Jews must especially be
brought into closer consideration. Hegel ascribed to them
difierent relationships in different fields. In the Philosophy
of History he mentioned them only as a moment of the Per-^

346 HegeVs Philoso^^hy of History.

sian kinG:dom ; in the Philosophy of Religion he placed them
immediately before the Greeks. The Jews, however, who
constitute the middle term between the national states of the
Orient and of classical antiquity, and the humanity-state of
the Germano-christian world, belong to universal history. In
political culture, in aesthetic refinement, in scientihc insight,
they are behind many other nations ; but in religious inspi-
ration they surpass all others. The universal criterion for
the historical signilicance of nations can lie only in the de-
gree which the conception of manhood has attained reality.
From this stand-point the Jews are not only higher than all
the nations of the Orient, but higher than Greeks, Romans,
or Germans. As the absolute middle term of history they are
a contradiction, and maintain still with their nationality a
negative relation to the idea of mankind. They make the
postulate of a general Theocracy, to which all nations, by
their mediation, shall be subjected; but they condemn and
kill those Jews who express the consciousness that the true
God cannot be merely a national God, but must be the God
of all men, from whatever national stock they spring. The
nations of the old world fell into three great groups, each of
which came to an end with the indifterentiation of its na-
tionality.

I. The Eastern Asiatic group embraces the passive nations
which, in contrast to the rough eud^emonism of those histori-
cal nations who lived in a state of nature, as the first nations
of culture, brought forth at first only a negative ascetic ideal.
Such are (1) the Chinese, (2) the East Indians, (3) the Bud-
dhistic or Indo-Chinese nations. The Chinese are contrasted
with Indians. The State-principle of the first is the natural
ethics of family piety, which passes into moral discipline.
The principle of India is the dignity of caste, which leads to
a formal Legal state, which stamps the most striking inhu-
manity as a positive right, because caste and family are
united, and the lower caste has no right which the higher
must respect. Buddhism seeks emancipation from the inhu-
manity of a state resting upon caste, by mendicancy, which it
exalts to a religion, and afiirms the equality of all men in the
sufferings of sickness, of age, and of death, as a principle of
abstract brotherhood.

HegeVs PMlosopJiy of History. 347

II. The Western Asiatic group embraces the active nations
which pursue a heroic ideal, and make the enjoyment of the
goods of this world the reward of conflict. These are (1)
the Persians, (2) the Egyptians, (3) the Semites. The Per-
sians wage war for conquest and dominion ; the Egyptians,
to defend their states, canals, palaces, temples, and tombs;
the Arabian Semites, for the sake of carnage and plunder ;
the Chaldean Semites, for the defence of their culture and
riches ; the Phoenician Semites, for the enlargement and de-
fence of trade. Babylon became the seat of continental trade.
Tyre and Sidon advanced from land to the sea, and this per-
fected the cosmopolitan character of trade. The secular
disposition of the Semites is the afiirmative counterpart of
tiie monastic renunciation of Buddhistic mendicancy. Egypt's
attitude of uniformity contrasts strongly with the fantastic
excesses and monstrosities of India — the belligerent pathos
of the Persians with the peacefulness of the much-eating and
much-writing Chinese.

III. The European group embraces (1) the Grecians, (2) the
Romans, (3) the Germans (before their conversion to Chris-
tianity). These are the nations .of political individuality.
Interest in the development of the constitution of the state
becomes the life problem of the free man. Among the Greeks,
the democracy of the community ; among the Romans, the
aristocracy of the patricians ; among the Germans, the
monarchy of the elective army-king, became the foundation
of their development. The Germans, in their migrations and
wars, effected the dissolution of the nations subjugated by
the Romans, but freshened them with their own blood. They
made themselves the greatest and most powerful people which
thenceforth no other was able to withstand. This universal
dominion became possible only by the acceptance of Chris-
tianity, because this consecrated their extraordinary and
naturally developed power as the organ of the idea of man-
hood. The Jews are contrasted with all these nations chiefly
-as theocratic : they integrate all special elements by which
the former nations made epochs in history, but give them a
peculiar concatenation which cancels the consequences of
their one-sided exclusiveness.

Nationality has for the Jew, not as but tlirough the merely

348 HegeVs Philosophy of History.

natural bond of unity, an infinite signilicance, viz. that the'
descendant of Abraham had the good fortune to come into
immediate relation to the true God, and to His will as re-
vealed in the law. The Gentile, by recognition of the law
and by circumcision, can become a member of the theocracy^
just as, conversely, the defection of the individual estranges
him from his people. In other words, the Jewish nationality
does not rest upon physical but upon sx>iritual grounds, and
is therefore stronger than mcn-e nationality. Faith in the God
of Abraham, and not parentage, which is only of secondary
importance, makes the Jew a Jew. Moses, when very old, did
not hesitate to espouse a negress. His brothers and sisterS'
disapproved, but Jehovah punished them. Jesus expressed
the freedom of faith from external hereditary descent, by ask-
ing the Pharisees, who were proud of their genealogy, if the}'"
did not believe God could raise up seed to Abraham from
every stone. As Semites, the Jews did not deny a realistic
sense for the goods of this world: they conquered Canaan, a
land flowing wn'th milk and honey ; but the idea which in-
spired them, and pervaded their entire life, was that of holi-
ness. A closer analysis of their ethical organization shows
that in real humanity they stood higher, before Christianity,
than all other nations, although the history of the Jews is
crowded with traces of the most depraved and abominable
transgression, because in no people has the might of passion
been shown in greater intensity against the law of God.

By their faith ihey were free Froru the demoniac might
of Nature which represses all other nations. This point
alone makes it impossible to coordinate them with the other
nations of antiquity. They were free from the pressure of
history when its weight threatened to crush them, by the
belief that their God still held out universal dominion to
them. This faith consoles them to the present day., and
causes them to regard Christianity as an episode in their his-
tory. The Jews, like the Chinese, honor family piety, but they
do not make it an exclusive principle. Like the East Indians
they divided into tribes, but have not petrified in castes ;
and the tribe of Levi, to which the discharge of priestly func-
tions is committed, does not therefore enjoy the precedence
of a holier or more divine tribe, for all are a priestly nation.

IlegeVs Philosophy of History. 349

Holiness is the injunction upon every Jew, but he need not
like the Buddhist become a monk and a beggar. The Jews
are soldiers, and, up to the revolt of Bar-Chochba under Ha-
drian, have shown an incomparable bravery which was ade-
quate to contend with the most powerful nations. They did
not set out. like the Persians, upon a career of conquests, but
were content with that of Canaan as tlic ancient settlement
of the descendants of Abraham. The Jew pursues agricul-
ture and pasturage like the Egy])tJans, and trade like the
Ba.bylonians and PlHTMiiciant;. without cariying this activity
to a ruinous extent. In the constitution, he proceeds, like the
Greek, from the conception of the community. The seventy
elders constitute a senate — the aristocratic Roman element;
the monarchical element can consequent!}^ reside only in God,
who reveals His will to the people through the prophets. The
kingdom was an inconsequence for the Jews, and the j^rophet
Samuel expressly dissuaded tliem from it. After a short
period of prosj)erity their state was brought to desolation
through this very cause. After their return from exile, the
centre of their entire organization fell more exclusivel}^ to
the high-priests. The prophets, as the free representatives
of the entire people, exercised the same function which we
now call freedom of the press. The chief moment of the ori-
ginal German state, feudalism, was not wanting among the
Jews, inasmuch as they held all Canaan as a fief of Jeho-
vah, which every fifty years should be returned to Him. I
believe, therefore, that the position of the Jews in universal
history is found by contrasting them, as the only true Theo-
crats, with the nations of antiquity, but at the same time, in
this antithesis, to place them higher than they. The Jews,
like the Germans, are an absolute migratory people, which
persists through all other peoples. The Germans generally
lose their nationality among other nations and fuse with them,
while the Jews know how to maintain theirs in every act of
life. In the sketch which Hegel has given at the conclusion
of his Philosophy of Right, he mentions the Israelitic people,
on their entrance into the Germanic world, as that people
among whom the ceaseless pain of the absolute separation of
man from God made the transition to absolute atonement of
God with men. This I believe to be the correct position of

350 Trendelenhurg on HegeVs System.

the Jews. The following division of universal history results :
(1) the National state, (2) the Theocratic state, (3) the state
of Humanity. He concludes with the Germans because, with-
in the Caucasian race, they are in fact that race to which the
initiative of all further movement in universal history falls.
From Europe they have spread themselves by navigation
into everj^ quarter of ti. > world. They compel innumerable
peoples in a state of natu. •\ who have previously stood outside
the process of universal history, either to enter into it or to
vanish. They compel, also, the old historical nations of the
Orient to remove their rigid exclusiveness, and to attempt
self-regeneration by a higher principle.

THE LOGICAL QUESTION IN HEGEL'S SYSTEM.

Translated from the German of Trendelenburg by Thos. Davidson.

(Continued.)

It has been often enough repeated, and Germany knows
the formula by heart, that Hegel's great merit is that he
defines God as a subject, in contradistinction to Spinozism
which defines Him as substance. In the reply this is like-
wise enlarged upon (p. 116 ei alibi). It may, perhaps, have
been necessary to call attention on every possible occasion
to this, inasmuch as a modern Spinozism has developed itself
out of Hegel. An appeal is made to the consciences of those
opponents who "assault Hegel with murderous intent, and
mercilessly mangle him," not to condemn a philosophy in
which God is assumed to be spirit (p. 131). Hegel's highest
absolute principle is made to depend upon the significance of
subject (p. 116), and the Logical Investigations are treated
cavalierly because they do not touch this point — this solu-
tion, given by Hegel — of the fundamental question of all phi-
losophy. Is this last true? In a philosophy of cognition
the mere dogma counts for nothing, while the process by
which it is reached and proved counts for everything. The
question therefore is, how this applies to Hegel. In him, the
said process is based on the important and difficult part of
the Logic {Encyclopcedia., § 150 sqq.), in which it is supposed

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 351

to be shown how, according, to dialectic reason, the necessity
which is the attribute of substance passes over into the free-
dom of the idea. There and nowliere else in Hegel is the
primum moxiens which draws the thinking on from substance
to subject. In the Logical limestigations^ therefore (I., p. 50
sqq.*), this most important of all dialectic transitions, upon
which the weight of the whole system rests, was carefully
considered, and shovv^n to be witliout any support, and to
give way and vanish as soon as it is touched. While sub-
stance may get outside of itself, subject, we are told, is with
itself {apud se). But it was shown that this being-with-itself
of Hegel's rests merely upon a vague, feeble comparison — a
play of similar expressions. It was demonstrated that the
process by which it was reached would apply as well to blind
emanation as to free creation from the idea of purpose, and
that, hence, it contains no progress from the doctrine of sub-
stance to subject. The logical difficulty was at the same time
made apparent; for it was the logical question that was under
discussion. How does the reply venture to speak as if no no-
tice had been taken of this determination, which is supposed
to condition all the rest? Does it go even so far, seeing that
it appeals so often to the elevation of substance to subject, as
to remove those inherent obstacles which were shown to ex-
ist? It was easier to pass over the objections raised without
one word of comment. If, however, it is true that, in Hegel,
the doctrine which is so warmly recommended in the reply
rests, in its deepest metaphysical basis, .on this sole point of
the Logic, then that doctrine must stand or fall with it.

That, in its new shape, it seeks for a new support, is of no
consequence ; if it is to continue true to Hegel, it cannot get
round this original ground ; while, if it does not continue
true to Hegel, it no longer comes within the limits of our
discussion.

In Hegel's Logic, the point in question is one of the bold-
est turns taken by the negativity. If, as is the case, the reply
accuses us of not having considered closely enough this fun-
damental law of all thinking, wliich is likewise a fundamen-
tal law of all being, what we have said above is a sufficient

. . X

* Third edition, p. 51 sqq. — Tr.

352 Trendelenburg on HegeVs System.

refutation of the charge. Wh^' should the reply at all insist
upon investigations, seeing that itself does not condescend to
any of those proposed to it? It is, however, the opposite of
correct to assert that the Negativity has not been investi-
gated. The Negativity, the perpetual spui- of tlie dialectic
movement of thought, so highly extolled again in th<' reply,
rests, in Hegel's view, on negation and identity ; and indeed
on the latter, inasmuch as it is the negation of negation.
Both these logical appliances were fully and fairly put to
the test, both in their princii)le and in their different applica-
tions, and rejected as ambiguous and untenable {Log. Inn.
I., pp. 30-56). Sometimes, in Hegel, the Negativity shoots
olf on the leaping-pole of the progressus in infinitum; but it
also broke down under the hands of criticism {Log. Inv. I., pp.
55 sq.) Before Gabler asserted that the author of the Logi-
cal Lit esti gat Ions., having no knowledge of the fact that the
negativity was the soul in the forms of dialectic development,
or of thf' manner of its operation, had not specially made it
a subject of criticism, he might have read those jjassages, or
else he might have shown what logical element^ besides those
discussed, was contained in the negativity. It was incumbent
upon him, not to repeat in vague terms a eulogy on negativ-
ity, but simply, in accordance with this fundamental law, to
employ the energetic negation of negation on the negation of
our criticism, so as not to allow the negativity to stick fast in
the negation, but to bring it out in the positivity claimed for
it. But there was not even an attempt made in this direction.
" Negativity " is an imposing word ; as an abstraction, it
keeps the intuition suspended and the mind in wonderment.
As Plato in the Philehus tells us that the youth triumphed
as if they had found a treasure of wisdom, when they made
their first acquaintance with the One and the Many, and, in
their enthusiasm, applied it to every concept, so precisely it
is with the cognate fundamental law of negativity: for, of
course, everything is intrinsically negative, in everything
there is tiux, in everything there is distinction; and what is
easier than to place the aim " which repels itself from itself"
under negativity ? But the result is much less considerable
in the case of the negativity than in that of the great treasure-
house of "The One and the MauA^": for it is such an abstrac-

Trendeleiiburg on HegeVs System. 353

tion as no longer represents an original and productive Uni-
versal, but has upset itself and thus lost all tangibility. If
we are honored with some sprinklings of praise, because the
principle of motion brought forward in the Logical Innestiga-
tions is similar to negativity, we object to any such kinship.
Negativity is like a large mantle, of which many folds can be
made, to stow away the most various things. It is, as our
investigation has shown, entirelj^ indefinite and ambiguous.
Against it the Logical Intiestigations rebelled, and endea-
vored to free the conceptive faculty from the spell with
which this and similar words had bound it. They restored
to intuition its freedom, and thereby to thought its defi-
niteness, by proving that movement, which outlines and
produces a picture, was the intellectual principle of intui-
tion and form. The Proteus of negativity would do well to
keep at a respectful distance from it ; he would meet his
death in it.

In the Logical Livesti gat ions, and in the brief statement
afterwards published, the result of the inquiry into the dia-
lectic method went to show that it was per se impossible.
Our author feels, in spite of his attempt to make the position
of the dialectic method less fatal, that still Hegel's philoso-
phy becomes an impossible system, and therefore enters the
strongest protests against this ruling. Is the existence of
the case a proof of its intrinsic possibility ? That will not
pass muster ; for, as the reply itself says, the very questions
at issue are those of existence and recognition. Or, was the
judgment in the Logical Ininestigations merely a feint an-
nounced with a flourish of trumpets ? Neither can that be
asserted. For the judgment was well supported by the proofs
brought forward in the course of a long investigation. It was
proved, and in the statement of the position of the question
again asserted, that all the logical means used by the dialec-
tic method fell to pieces, and, measured by the standard of
their own purpose, were sadly insufficient and even impossi-
ble. The simple conclusion was, that the dialectic method
was intrinsically impossible, because its means were so.
From this demonstration, apart from good assurances, which
are not spared, but which avail nothing, there is but one
means of escape. It would have to be shown that those logi-

Vol. vi.— 23

3

354 Trendelenburg on HegeVs System.

cal means (negation, identity, progress in infinitum) really
perform wliat tliey promise, and, just because they perform
it, have an energic actuality over and above their intrinsic
possibility. Has this been done ? The reply takes the shorter
way of preferring not to touch the point at all (p. 204). "We
are perfectly satisfied with this, since, supported by the old
grounds, we may again pronounce the judgment that the dia-
lectic method of pure thought is in itself impossible, and add
that it has not been rendered a whit more possible by the
reply in question.

Hegel's Logic asserted that, as opposed to all intuition,
even to the geometric figure, it moved in the element of pure
thought, and, without any presupposition, developed from
this alone an uninterrupted ''immanent" series of metaphys-
ical concepts. We, on the other hand, showed, both in
general and in particular, that the presuppositionless logic
everj^where presupposes the principle and the general activ-
ity of intuition, and thus in secret possesses a picture which
in public it contemns ; we showed that, instead of developing
from itself a closely-knit series, it smuggled in the despised
intuitions of experience, diluted and weakened, and gave
them out as products of its own soil. What has the reply to
say to this thorough-going proof? "The manifest discovery,"
it says, (p. 193 sqq.) "does not touch the thing itself — the pure
concepts — in their distinct form, but merely their origin — the
source from which they come into thought"; it does not touch
the what of the pure immaterial concepts and determinations
of thought, but rather tTieir origin in tliouglit. In the first
instance, this is certainly the whole question. Did the asser-
tion of presuppositionless thinking, and of immanent inter-
connection, mean anything else than that the concepts did
not How from a foreign source, e.g. from intuition, but from
the native one of pure thought? Only the delusiveness of
this magnificent promise was to be shown. Tlie reply, if we
understand it correctly, admits this proof — and how much is
thereby admitted ! — but it consoles itself with the distinction
that the question of the whence does not touch the what. Is
this possible in the present instance ? Hitherto, for exam-
ple, it was asserted in Hegel's Logic, that continuous and
discrete, extensive and intensive magnitude, attraction and

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 355

repulsion, all occurring in the first part of the Logic, not as
concrete examples and applications, but as the purest deter-
minations, were to be seized as concepts of the pure think-
ing without intuition, and therefore without that movement
which produces the geometrical figure. If the opposite of
this it has been proved, it touches the -what of the pure con-
cepts so far, that there are no such "pure concepts" in dis-
junct form. The author of the reply is perhaps aware of this ;
for he glides rapidly over the dangerous point, and vents his
spleen in heavy charges of empiricism and materialism, with
which he loads the Logical Investigations.

TVe shall not waste a word on these charges, since the per-
son who can believe that such accusations will cling to the
work, cannot have read it, or must have read it merely with
the eyes on his face. It is true that it does not deal with any
sort of dialectic idealism, which, unconcerned about any con-
nection with the other sciences, and despising any contradic-
tion which the latter, with the support of facts, might raise
against Philosophy, dwells on the royal heights of the pure
idea, with an empire all to itself, perfectly secure against
being confounded with empiricism. If, however. Philosophy
is, as Schleiermacher somewhere calls it, the central science,
and there is no centre except with reference to the circumfer-
ence, just as there is no circumference save with reference to
the centre, then surely the time has come at last to strive for
further progress, and to bring about a living connection be-
tween the central and the peripheral sciences. Logic must
become a metaphysic of the actual sciences, in the sense that
it must comprehend their real principles in order to compre-
hend the act of thinking within its sphere, and thus to become
a true logic. Are we to be accused of empiricism because we
deal with experience in this sense ? The fact that we are so
accused is indeed perfectly intelligible from the stand-point
of dialectic idealism, but not from that of imjDartial criti-
cism, which would have justice enough to remark and to
recognize, that we on all occasions and even in the very midst
of experience look only for its spiritual origin, i.e. the very
thing which has not experience in it.

It was our wish, in writing the previous article, to treat
the logical question in Hegel's system by itself, and to keep

356 TrendeJenhurg on HegeVs System.

apart, as something altogether foreign, our own logical inves-
tigations in so far as they investigate positively the essence
of cognition. In the reply, the two are commingled, and
defence, as is perfectl}^ fair, is supplemented by attack. We
must therefore add a few words in regard to the method of
criticism, in order to remove from the question at issue the
false lights and shadows that are thrown upon it from this
quarter.

Firstly, there is one thing characteristic. In a long book
written to criticise another, the reader looks in vain for the
real content of the latter, as forming the basis of the criti-
cism. He looks in vain for an outline of the Investigations,
for a sketch of their method, for the sum of their results, for
a presentation of the fundamental thought. Only from such
a survey could he derive a notion of what the Logical Inves-
tigations specially attempt, and whether they unite to form
a spiritual whole. A person who knows a system only by
the headings of the paragraphs, is not likely to find it in
them ; whereas the person who is able to follow it through
the windings of the investigations and to restate it in his own
words, will not miss it. When the reader of the reply puts
it down, he is as wise respecting the purpose and essence of the
Logical Investigations as he was before he took them up ;
or, what is perhaps worse, his head is filled with the most
contradictory judgments, since the reply is a perfect conglo-
merate of appreciation and depreciation, respect and disre-
spect. At one time, the author of the Logical Investigations
is a disciple of Aristotle, who, be it remembered, is counted
\>j Hegel among the speculative philosophers ; at another
time, he is an empiricist and a materialist, utterly destitute
of anything speculative: according to one passage, he fights
with Hegel for the present world- consciousness ; at another,
he is related only to Bacon and Locke, although these are
long ago buried for German science; — at one time, his phi-
losophy is valuable as a propaedeutic which might pass for
Hegelian ; at another, he has written only for "business men"
(p. 177); — at one time, the Logical Investigations appear to
merit a place among literary productions ; at another, they
are described as a mere rude compilation, without plan or
principle (pp. 178 sqq.), so that the reader cannot help won-

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 357

dering why, for the sake of such a book, our author under-
took to write another book, and why he found himself com-
pelled by it to put his old system into a new shape ; — at one
time, the reply attributes to the development of the catego-
ries and principles {principia) a value which it afterwards
lowers by the additional assertion that Hegel also has them,
only in a somewhat different shape (?!); — at one time, he
denies to the enumeration (which, a moment before, he called
development) every claim to system ; — in another place, it
honors the organic world-view with which the Logical Inves-
tigations close with a certain amount of applause ; at another,
it hints that this world- view is such as might be suitable for
children, although, of course, it would be of no use to them,
as they do not philosophize (p. 188).

But has Gabler quite perused, or quite overlooked, the
Logical Livestigations, about which he has written a book?
We must be allowed to express our doubts. He would hard-
ly, for example, have ventured (pp. 184 sq.), in plain terms,
to refer the author of the Logical Livestigations to Hegel's
treatment and derivation of the categories, if he had remem-
bered that the same had been subjected to a careful examin-
ation {Log. Intl. H., pp. 62 sqq.), in which they were shown to
be entirely unequal to developing the possibility of this con-
cept, and proving the necessity of its dominance. He would
hardly, had he known the whole, have given all kinds of good
counsels, which the Logical Investigations had long ago fol-
lowed of their own accord (e.g. cf. p. 184 ad Jin., with Log.
Invest, n., pp. 62 sqq.) He would hardly have hinted — we
cannot understand the passage otherwise (p. 187) — that the
Logical Investigations, pregnant with materialism, " looked
upon thought as a mere accessory, or something merely
secondary and superinduced," if he had considered, what is
pointedly shown (H., pp. 62 sqq.), that the world, penetrated
as it is with purpose, can be understood only by admitting
the priority of thought. He would hardly have charged the
Logical Investigations with a blind reverence for nature
(e.g. p. 179), if he had only remarked their general tendency,
which is to prove that the comprehension of nature, in move-
ment and in purpose, is derived entirely from the original
Spiritual in nature. He would hardly have ventured to tax

358 Trendelenburg on HegeVs System.

tlie wliole view with vulgar empiricism (pp. 193, 197, &c.), if
he had considered that same general tendency, and if he had
been aware of the war which the Logical Investigations wage
with empiricism, and that too in the very midst of the facts?
for the sake of this tendency (e.g. I., pp. 206 sqq., 274, sqq.,
&"c.) He would scarcely have had the hardihood to assert (p.
200) that the Logical Investigations abandon the a-priority
of time and space, while, on the contrary, they everywhere
strive to prove that the spiritual a-priority of movement with
its products, time and space, alone affords a key to the great
scientific, ^ pr/on fact of. pure mathematics, and use every
effort to show that the objectivity of these categories is not
thereby excluded, and that the same a-priority is the basis
of all empiricism (cf. the whole of Investigations 5 a,nd 6,
pp. 124-277). He would hardly have ventured to squeeze a
single expression respecting the idea, till he brought out of it
the result, that, according to the Logical Investigations., it is
only as substance (Spinozan?!) that God lies at the basis of
the world (p. 189), if he had remembered that the idea is idea
only through the creative thought of aim {Zweclc) (H., pp. 359
sqq.) He would hardly have ventured to counsel the Logical
Investigations to follow the fundamental principle of the Hege-
lian system, which is, at the same time, the logical principle
of form, through the sphere of philosophy, and prove it insuffi-
cient and incapable of explaining anything, if he had reflected
that the section on the dialectic method and the criticism of
the Hegelian notion of aim have performed said task, and that
it is precisely Hegel's logical principle of form that so com-
pletely breaks down in the detailed examination of his devel-
opment of the judgment (II., pp. 190 sqq., and the syllogism
(II., pp. 251 sqq.) He would scarcely have said that the Logi-
cal Investigations were unacquainted with the Hegelian
syllogism, and acted as if they had confounded it with the
scholastic syllogism, if he had remembered how (II., pp. 251-
279) they first turn it round and consider it from all sides,
before they declare that Hegel's twisted theory of three times
three syllogisms, which are supposed to produce and classify
the system of things in their reality, was manufactured and
untrue. These facts are incredible, but they are facts. If our
author could overlook all these and many other things, where,

Trendelenburg on HegeVs System. 359

with such defects of knowledge and misconceptions in regard
to matters of fact, remains the right to criticize ?

The author of the reply cannot get rid of himself. For what
is peculiar in the writings of others, for the specific in the
tout ensemble of the doctrine of his opponents, he has no eye,
and, therefore, no expression. He evidently feels hostile to
an investigation which pursues a path different from his, and
which takes iDains, in dealing with the elements of thought,
till, after quiet progress, it comes at last to a point at which
the elements necessarily coalesce in the fact of a whole. Ever
and everywhere the absolute comes up in his writing, as if it
were the only question, and as if human thinking, which,
after all, in the broad sphere of the sciences, thinks the finite
in the first instance, did not move at all in the finite. It shows
itself likewise in the outward form, so that he never succeeds
in bridling and controlling the association of his own ideas
long enough to make those of other people his own. For
while, as a general rule, people are not given to interrupting
each other, he everywhere interlards other people's state-
ments with interjections and remarks of his own. "When
these parentheses and interjections are taken away, there re-
mains very little counter-argument. But parentheses will
hardly pass for discussions, or interjections for solid judg-
ments. After all, there is a great difference between real and
manufactured consequences. Real ones lie in that which is
based upon a principle, and such of those scientific conse-
quences as do not appear in the Logical In'vestigations will
be shown hereafter in the further carrying out of the thought.
Manufactured consequences, on the other hand, lie in one-
sided half-truths picked up at random, and in words caught
and pressed into service (p. 189). We decline to accept any
ransom for the captives taken in our work ; they will get freed
without our help, in the mind of the intelligent reader. The
objections raised in the reply are altogether not of a kind to
prevent us in any way from continuing our superstructure on
the basis of the Logical Investigations. At the same time, it
is quite natural that our opponents should try to make us oc-
cupy an "obsolete stand-point" {uberwunderer Standpunct),
one assigning us to empiricism, a second to Aristotle, a third
to Kant, a fourth to Herakleitos. Let us, think they, dress

360 Treiidelenhurg on HegeVs System.

him up in some old worn-out dress of the world- spirit ; and
the present, which wants fashion, will not look at him. There
is, perhaps, reason in that. How manj^ stand-points,* however,
Hegel has made obsolete, is shown by the present rebellion
of all.

It is the aim of the reply to force the examination of
human tliought ever toward the Absolute, and to maintain
Hegel's Absolute, — although in a new shape, which will per-
haps be as little recognized by foes or friends as Gabler is
inclined to recognize the dressing up of Hegel's in the gold
frame of fancy and the trappings of poetry (p. IV.) But as
this new shape, like every other shape which calls itself an
emanation from Hegel, rests on the dialectic method, every-
thing, as was shown in the previous article, reduces itself to
the question whether the dialectic method of pure thinking
is correct. If it is false, there arises from it no knowledge,
and no new mode of seizing the Absolute. It is therefore of
no use to swing round in one's own circle ; the question al-
ways comes up again : What has been done to redeem the
dialectic method ? for it is the basis of the whole.

In the previous article, the main points at issue were clear-
ly set forth ; they were,

1°. The suppositionless beginning;

2°. The immanent interconnection ;

3°. The significance of the negation ;

4°. The power of identity ;

5°. The application of the progressus in infinitum ;

6°. The methodical hysteron-proteron of the dialectic de-

velojjment;

7°. The delusiveness of the Hegelian syllogism.

Among these, again, the assertion of the absence of presup;
position, the negation, and the identity, stand prominent as
the real pillars of the whole edifice. In the reply, there is as
good as nothing on all these points — at least, there is scarcely
one word looking at all like a refutation, or really bringing
home a misappreliension. It brings no danger except to the
cause wliich the reply defends, when it refuses to occupy
itself with all these things, or, as we say, does not stand up
and hold its own. Thus, then, the Logical Question in HegeVs
System stands at precisely the same point where it stood at

The Merchant of Ve7iice. 361

the close of the previous essay ; there is not a single iota
cleared up. At best, we have been shown, by one example,
how it can not be cleared up.

We are told in the Theaitetos of Plato, in connection with
that movement, to which Hegel compared the negativity, con-
cerning the disciples of the profound Herakleitos : — "About
these speculations of Herakleitos which, as you saj^, are as
old as Homer, or even older still, the Ephesians themselves,
who profess to know them, are downright mad, and you can-
not talk with them about them. For, in accordance with their
text-books, they are always in motion ; but as for dwelling
upon an argument or a question, and quietly asking and an-
swering in turn, they are absolutely without the power of
doing this ; or, rather, they have no particle of rest in them,
and they are in a state of negation of rest which no words
can express. If you ask any one of them a question, he will
produce, as from a quiver, sayings brief and dark, and shoot
them at you ; and if you inquire the reason of what he has
said, you will be hit by some other new-fangled word, and
loill maTce no way with any of them, nor they with one
another^

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.

By D. J. Snidbr. '

[_Conclusion of the Article in the Ajyril nu')nhei\'\

In a late number of the Journal there was a partial analy-
sis of Shakespeare's "Merchant of Venice." We now propose
to complete that criticism by extending it to other parts of
the same drama. But lirst it will be well to recapitulate the
results arrived at in the former essay. Only the leading col-
lision of the play was there developed, that between Shy lock
and Antonio. The first characteristic to be observed in re-
spect to these two characters is that the one was a Jew and
the other a Christian ; hence the historical collision involved
in the drama was between the Hebrew and the modern world.
But, in the second place, this collision was elevated from a
merely natural to a spiritual basis by the ends which these
two men proposed ; that of Shylock being the acquisition of

362 The Mercliant of Yenice.

gain, in general Thrift; while that of Antonio, though he
was a nieirhant, subordinated money to higher purposes.
In the third place, Shylock's end— Property— is absolutely
contirmed and protected b}^ Law, which possesses objective
validity, and cannot be assailed with impunity. With this
mighty principle Antonio falls into conflict by his bond,
for bonds and all contracts must be held sacred if property
be protected. Hence Law enforces Shylock's end and
seizes upon Antonio. But Formal Law manifests its lim-
itation tlirough its own self-contradiction and thus annuls
itself,— this is the point made by Portia in her celebrated
defence whereby Antonio is saved. But this result cannot
be final, for it is purely negative and terminates in the
annulment of Law ; hence we pass to a higher principle
wliich takes up and harmonizes within itself the negation
before mentioned, namely, the principle of Mercy, which in
its turn saves the Jew. When Law becomes self-contradic-
tory, annihilates' its own end, destroys that which it was made
to protect, there must be some way of abating its action, and
this is accomplished by a system of mercy. But let it not be
forgotten that within its own sphere Law is paramount, and
cannot be interfered with from any quarter. The reason why
the Jew does not perish, though he has willed and tried to
commit murder, is that he was the real object of mercy, since
he was arraigned for subjective intention which lay outside
of his consciousness. Hence he was in truth not responsible.
iSTor could the court and Portia reasonably condemn the Jew
after they had maintained the cause of mercy with such per-
sistency and power. It would be a flagrant inconsistency to
demand that for Antonio which they the next moment refuse
to Shylock. Hence the piece is not a tragedy. Moreover, it
will be seen at the very outset that this play, if it be true to
thought and history, cannot have a tragic termination. Chris-
tianity has triumphed in the world, and its representative,
who is here Antonio, cannot perish in such a conflict. Nor
can the Jew suffer death at the hands of Christians, for their
doctrine is forgiveness and mercy. Hence the difficulty must
be mediated. But who is to perform the act of mediation ?
This question brings us to the third leading character of the
drama — Portia.

Tlie Merchant of Venice. 363

But before we go on let us speak of a possible misunder-
standing. By the foregoing remarks, or in the previous essay,
it is not meant to assert or to be implied that the Jews of the
present day are Shylocks. On the contrary, they have risen
out of the narrow limits of nationality and religion as com-
pletely as any other people. No one can deny them their
full share of the culture, liberality and genius of modern
times. Nor is the historical position of this nationality to be
underestimated. It has certainly contributed the largest in-
gredient to our modern civilization, and it alone of all world-
historical peoples of antiquity is in existence to-day. Shy-
lock, however, represents the ancient Hebrew, with all his
peculiarities, east into the modern world. He is the product
of two influences : first, the original Jewish character ; second-
ly, that character in a strange land, persecuted and outlawed
by society. Hence the bitterness which overflows his whole
existence, and poisons not merely his social relations, but his
own domestic hearth. In America these external restraints
are removed, there is hardly a prejudice except what is im-
ported, and no one would think of distinguishing in any pub-
lic relation the Jews from the common body of citizens.

But to resume. Portia is the third great character of the
play, and in importance stands quite on a par with Antonio
and Shylock. Her function is mediatorial ; in fact, she may
be called the grand mediatrix of the entire drama. In her we
see the instrumentality by which the main results are brought
about. Through her courtship with Bassanio, Antonio comes
into the power of the Jew by means of the loan. At her house
all the personages of the play assemble and the wooing is
done. Moreover, she accomplishes the rescue of Antonio,
which is the main mediation of the poem. The great princi-
ple of which she is the bearer may be termed the Right of
Subjectivity. She asserts the validity of the Internal and the
Spiritual against the crushing might of externality. But she
does not deny the Right of the Objective in its true limita-
tion. Only when this Objective becomes destructive of its
end and self-contradictory, as in the case when the Law was
about to murder Antonio, does she place a limit to it and in-
voke a higher principle. Her struggle is with legality and
proscription asserting themselves in spheres where they do

364 The Merchant of Yenice.

not belong. Bnt in relations when this contradiction no longer
appears, she is the most ethical of women. In the Family
her snbordination is complete, almost devout. In fact, we
shall see that all her acts have one end and one impelling
motive : devotion to her husband, an absolute unity with his
feelings and interests ; in other words, subordination to the
Family. She vindicates the Right of Subjectivity to herself
in order that she may obtain the one whom she really loves,
without which princple, it need hardly be said, the true exis-
tence of the Family is impossible. So peculiar is this char-
acter, so difficult is it to ascertain its unity, and so important
is its place in the drama, that we shall be justified in looking
somewhat minutely at all the circumstances in which it has
been placed by the poet.

First comes the long array of suitors, among whom were
to be seen the nobility from every part of Europe — nay, even
from Afri(;a. The motive for this elaborate display, as we
have before intimated, was to show the necessity of Bassa-
nio's borrowing large sums of money to compete with these
nobles, and also to exhibit Portia in all her dignity and splen-
dor. But Portia has quite disregarded the outward glitter of
wealth and rank, and has seemingly sought out a follower in
the retinue of a lord instead of the lord himself — "a Venetian,
a scholar, and a soldier, that came hither in the company of
the ^Slarquis of Montferrat." So at the outset w^e see that she
cares naught for the External, but lays stress upon the Inter-
nal. The poet has thus given us an inkling of her inclination
that we may not be in the dark about her choice. Moreover, we
already know of the inclination of Bassanio from the very first
scene of the play, and he too Is aware of Portia's preference
for himself. This point, then, let us carefully bear in mind,
that the poet has already let us into the secret, unknown to
the outside world, that Portia and Bassanio love one another,
and that each one knows of the other's love. The two peo-
ple, therefore, belong together ; they alone can form a rational
union, since they possess the absolute j)rereciuisite of the
Family, namely, recixDrcjcal love.

Under ordinary circumstances nothing would remain but
that the happy pair should go to the nearest church, and, in
common parlance, have the knot tied. But to this blissful

The Merchant of Venice. 365

consummation there is a great obstacle. Portia's father is
dead, and has left a will which seems to bind her choice of a
husband to a hopeless accident. Three caskets, made of gold,
silver, and lead, respectively, are to be set before his daugh-
ter's suitors for selection, and that casket which contains
her image carries with it her hand in marriage. Hence we
find her lamenting in almost her first words that she cannot
choose whom she would, nor refuse whom she disliked. But
she recognizes the binding validity of the last request of her
parent, and thus we have one of Shakespeare's favorite col-
lisions, which may be stated as the Right of Choice against
the will of the parent. Both sides have their validity, and it
is just this validity of both sides which makes it a genuine
collision. None will deny the right of the parent over the
child, and this right was less circumscribed in former times
than at present. But though the parent ma}^ no longer have
any legal right, he has still the right of respect, and no child
with a truly ethical feeling such as Portia undoubtedly pos-
sessed would withhold obedience. Such is the one side. But
the other side is what we have termed the Right of Choice,
or, in general terms, the Right of Subjectivity. This demands
that the daughter should have absolutely the right of select-
ing her partner for life. She has to bear the responsibility
of her choice, for she must live with him. The husband and
wife constitute that unity called the Family : it is a unity of
emotion; each party finds true life in the other. This emo-
tion, by which both are melted together into one common
existence, is called love. So if we have a true unity, or a true
Family, there is the indispensable condition of love. Now it
is just this important element that the will of Portia's father
fiings to the winds by exposing the choice of her to mere
accident. It does not demand reciprocal love, which is the
only basis of rational marriage. Such is the problem which
Portia has to solve, and such is the mental conflict which we
find her undergoing. Let us, then, carefully observe how she
manages the matter.

All the suitors have taken their departure except two (not
including Bassanio), who are more determined or less punc-
tilious than the rest. The causes of this withdrawal are not
given, but may be easily imagined ; we may suppose they

366 Tlie Merchant of Venice.

were men of lionor, and would refuse to acquire a wife by lot,
to take the hand without the heart. Portia, too, may have
shown in an unmistakable manner lier dislikes, or, finally,
they may have found the last condition too hard, viz. that
they must swear never to woo another woman. Whatever
the reason may have been, they all vanish after they had
served the poefs purpose. But those who remain demand to
have the caskets placed before them. The first one who goes
through with the process of selection is the Prince of Moroc-
co, who chooses by the outside appearance, and seems to rest
his claim upon physical courage. He takes the golden casket,
whose glitter typilies the brilliant exterior. Of course, such
a choice is directly antagonistic to the character of Portia,
and it is logically impossible that he can become her hus-
band. The second one, the Prince of Arragon, chooses only
to a certain extent by the outside, since he takes the silver
casket, and he rests his claims upon merit. Now merit is a
most excellent thing, but we all know that it can never sup-
pi}' the place of love. It is no uncommon occurrence that the
more deserving are passed by and the less worthy are cho-
sen, and Avho will say that it is not justifiable ? Both Princes
fail. Why? Because they lack the subjective element —
love ; at least, the love of Portia. For, as before stated, in
order to form a true basis of the family relation, love must be
reciprocal — each one must feel and find his or her own har-
monious existence in the other. Rank, wealth, courage and
merit are much in their places, but they can never be substi-
tuted for affection. Thus we see that the rejection of these
suitors was not a mere fortuitous circumstance, but a logical
necessity of the play.

Now comes Bassanio. He has both the requisite elements,
loves and is loved ; for the poet has carefully told us all this
beforehand. We have no doubt of his success from the start.
It is curious to trace the etherial, almost imperceptible influ-
ences which the poet brings to bear upon Bassanio to deter-
mine his choice. First, his state of mind, all a-glow with
affection ; no wonder that he disregards the exterior of things,
for love is blind. Then Portia in the same condition, and
giving expression to it in words ; to which we may add, in
imagination, her looks. Finally, the music, and the vague

The Meroliant of Venice. 367

hints of the song, until the feeling of internality is intensified
to such a degree as to be irresistible. The very air seems to
whisper in the ear of Bassanio, " Take the leaden casket,"
since it is the negation of all outside show and glitter. In it
he finds the picture of Portia, a most fitting symbol of the
internal nature of the characters of both Bassanio and Por-
tia, as well as of their relation to one another — the image of
the loved one imprinted on the heart. The same principle
which causes the rejection of the two Princes must bring
about the triumph of Bassanio. The moments of a rational
marriage are now complete, Portia and Bassanio have all the
elements of a true union. Such is undoubtedly the logic of
the play. Thus the choice of caskets, which seemed to rep-
resent a horrible Chance about to crush out the rights of hu-
man nature, is spiritualized into the highest forms of freedom.
Portia wins, and moreover wins through the very instruments
which threatened her happiness, converts them to weapons
for her own rescue. The choice exhibits the ends and mo-
tives of the chooser, and, in so far as these are finite and fall
short of the Rational, failure results. In this sphere, namely,
the unity which forms the basis of the marriage relation, the
Rational is the Right of Subjectivity.

But does Portia really give any hint to Bassanio which of
the caskets to choose? It will be recollected that it was for-
bidden her in her father's will to tell this secret. A suspi-
cions circumstance is the introduction of a song during the
choice of Bassanio, which the previous choosers did not have
the benefit of. Hence one is inclined to scrutinize closely the
meaning of this song. It is somewhat enigmatic, yet its gen-
eral purport may be stated to be: "Don't choose by the eye,
by the glittering outside, for it is the source of all delusion."
Hence Portia, after observing with the greatest care all the
formalities of her father's will, breaks it just at the point of
its conflict with her subjective right. This is done so deli-
cately by her that it is scarcely perceived; still it is none the
less real. Thus she stands here as the grand bearer of the
Right of Subjectivity in its special form of Love versus Obe-
dience to the will of the parent.

We have already several times called attention to the fact
that Shakespeare has been very careful to show the mutual

368 The Mercliant of Venice.

affection of both parties. Tliese were the two that "belonged
together, and were bound to come together in spite of all ob-
stacles. The two Princes exhibit various phases of conflict
with tliis principle of love, wliich was finally to triumph.
Otherwise the poem would be irrational, which in Art is the
Ugly, Here we may note a distinction between Shakespeare
and an inferior poet. The latter, instead of hedging Chance
on all sides and making it the lowest possible factor, would
have given it full scope. For he seeks dramatic effects by
surprise. Shakespeare, on the contrary, always prepares,
never surprises. He elaborates the motives and ends, and
marches to their lo2:ical conclusion. "VVe feel that so it is,

* — ■ /

and cannot be otherwise ; the process has all the rigid neces-
sity of Reason. But the novelist or playwright seeks to pro-
duce a " sensation" through unexpected tiirns and incidents.
The true Artist, however, aims to have every action, and
especially every crisis, properly raotited — to use a German
exjDression — and to banish accident altogether.

So ends the first part of Portia's career; she has solved the
problem of marriage. Now a wholly new field awaits her.
Ui3 to this point (towards the end of the third act) the drama
has produced three happy pairs of lovers, Portia and Bassa-
nio, jSTerissa and Gratiano, Jessica and Lorenzo, who are all
brought together in the pleasant halls of Belmont, Portia's
country-seat. Bat those very means which caused this bliss-
ful union have in another direction called forth a terrific col-
lision. Suddenly upon this tender scene there lights the
demon of ill news ; word comes to Bassanio that his dearest
friend Antonio, to whom he owes all his present happiness,
is in imminent danger of being sacrificed by the Jew. It falls
like a thunderbolt in their midst and scatters the company in
every direction. Leaving Lorenzo and Jessica behind, they
all quit Belmont at once, animated with one purpose — to res-
cue Antonio. Bassanio goes direct to his friend ; Portia hits
upon an indirect mode of procedure which need not be here
detailed. The main point to be noticed is that Portia suc-
ceeds, Bassanio does not. This is specially emphasized by
the poet : Bassanio with all his money, or rather her money,
fails, wliile Portia is the chosen mediatrix. With what skill
she fulfilled her mission has been shown in the previous

The Merchant of Venice. 369

essay. It will be recollected that the collision which she is
now called upon to mediate is there stated to be between
Formal Law and what may be termed the Right of Mercy.
Now it is essentially the same struggle through which Portia
has just passed; she had been able to master the difficulty
and assert her principle. Having thus gone through the lire
herself, and knowing the frequent injustice of formal author-
ity, she now sallies forth in defence of injured innocence. It
is true that her father's will was enforced by prescription
rather than by law. But it is the same principle fundamen-
tally, and in both cases Portia steps forth as the champion of
the Right of Subjectivity. It is confessed that Antonio is
wholly innocent ; he has not even willed, much less commit-
ted, any wrong, yet he is about to be sacrificed on the altar
of legality. She comes, therefore, to cut the toils of the law
when they have entangled a pure heart. It will thus be seen
that she has been educated to meet just this crisis by her own
experience.

But, however well fitted for the task she may be, there
must be some motive to impel her forth. It has already been
stated that, in the external course of the drama, Portia was
the primal cause, or rather occasion, of Antonio's falling into
the hands of the Jew. Bassanio needs money to carry on his
courtship ; he applies to his friend Antonio, who resorts to
the Jew, and thus becomes his victim. Hence it is not at all
out of place that she should become the instrument to make
good the evil which she had unwittingly done. But when
it is added that this same man was the dearest friend of her
husband, and the chief means of her obtaining the one whom
she loved, the motive must be for her all-powerful. Portia is
a truly ethical character — she is one with her husband in
feeling and interest. Her whole struggle hitherto has been
in order that she might make a rational marriagp, unite with
the man of her heart. Anything, therefore, which ati'ects him
profoundly, must aff'ect her in an equal degree, as she is an
organic member of that unity called Family. Now Bassanio
is so deeply attached to Antonio that he would even sacrifice
his hard-won wife to efi'ect the rescue of Antonio. It is this
sympathy, this oneness of feeling with her husband, which
impels her to undertake the difficult enterprise. The pang

Vol. vi.— 24

370 The Mercliant of Venice.

whii'li thrills liis heart must pierce hers ; the impulse which
drives him forth cannot leave her behind. That woman ex-
pressed uncousciousl}" the deepest principle of her nature
who said to her sick husband, "My dear, I have a pain in
vour breast."

But wIh' should the mediatorial character be sustained by
a woman? In this respect, also, we claim the poet is true to
human nature. For it is just the subjective side of mind
which is prominent in woman and distinguishes her from
man, who lays much more stress upon the validity of the ob-
jective world. So strong is this tendency in him that he is
apt to disregard the other element. Hence we see in the trial-
scene that the judge and citizens are all on the side of Anto-
nio, yet they quail before that objective reality called Law,
By no means let it be understood that these remarks are
directed against Law ; on the contrary, it is the greatest con-
servative power of Immanit}', But it has its limitations, and
these we are insisting upon. Nor will it be denied that wo-
man is the fittest person to plead for mercy, since it tallies so
thoroughly with her subjective, emotional nature. So appro-
priate is all this that we feel that Portia never unsexes her-
self, nor even manifests any of the unlovely traits of strong-
mindedness, though her adventures mav well strike terror
into any imitators.

Now, what is the secret of this characterization? Shake-
speare has made Portia assume the most hazardous disguises
and perform the boldest acts, acts from which any woman
mio-ht well shrink ; and yet we feel that she is always
womanly — na}^. the most womanly of women. The great
majority of Shakespeare's prominent female characters have
one trait, however varied they may otherwise be: subordina-
tion to the Family. It is a devotion to husband, parent, child,
lover; they live but for one object — to be absorbed into the
i^xistence of another. By themselves, they feel that they are
nothing; only in the unity of feeling, interest and existence
with another do they have an}^ liax)piness in life. The com-
plete cancellation of the individual through emotion, not con-
sciously but instinctively, is the grand characteristic which
Shakespeare gives to his women ; that is, to those whom he
wishes to portray as good and dutiful. On the contrary, his

Tlie MercTiant of Venice. 371

bad women are, for the most part, marked by quite the oppo-
site of this quality. Such are the limits in which Shake-
speare's female characters move. Now that just this trait
forms the charm of woman few men will deny. Though wit,
fancy, learning, may call forth admiration, there must be
something quite different to subdue. It is not servitude, but
the willing subordination to the higher end, self-sacrifice in
its most exalted form. We believe that it is this considera-
tion which makes us ever respect Portia ; her motive is pure
devotion to her husband, complete oneness with his interests
and friendsliij)s, added no doubt to gratitude toward that
man (Antonio) who has been chiefly instrumental in making
her the happiest of mortals. For Antonio is a stranger to
her, so far as we know ; why should she assume the disguise
and run the risk of an ignominious exposure and tarnished
reputation ? No ; she has that complete harmony and unity
with her husband, that his joys are her joys, his sorrows her
sorrows, and she has the same interest in her husband's ^
friend as the husband himself. Thus she is a truly ethical
character, ethical in the sense that she instinctively subordi-
nates herself to the highest end of woman.

Such is the motive which impels Portia forth to the rescue
of Antonio. Just here occurs the seeming contradiction in
her character. Hitherto she has asserted boldly and strongly
her individual rights ; she has trampled upon custom and
even law when they have stood in the way of her purposes.
But the moment she is united with Bassauio, all is changed.
She jdelds up her whole being to another, who is, of course,
equally' devoted to her; this daring and resolute will is now
at peace and submissive ; and her expression of subordina-
tion is as absolute as language can make it :

"thonofh for mvself alone

I would not be ainbitious in my wish.

To wish luj'self much better; yet for you

I would be trebled twenty times myself. . . .

She is not bred so dull but she can learn ;

Happiest of all in that her o^eutle spirit

Commits itself to yours to be direcied

As from her lord, her o-overnor. her kin^.

Myself and what is mine to you and yours

Is'now converti^d; but now I was the lord

Of this fair inansiou, master of my servants,

Queen of myself, and even now, but now

This house, these servants, and this same myself,

Are yours, my lord."

372 Tlie Merchant of Venice.

Kow what is tlie solution of these contradictoiy traits ? Por-
tia insists upon the subjective principle only in order that
7iei' union loith her husband may be more complete. She has
struggled for the Right of Choice. To wluit end? Since the
oneness of the muniage-tie is based upon emotion, she insists
that emotion in this sphere must have absolute validity.
Ever}' hindrance must be set aside ; the more intense and
unobstructed the affection, the more perfect the bond of
unity. Thus she lias asserted her individuality with the
single purpose that her subordination might in the end be
more complete, and that her marriage might be truer and
more rational.

A great many persons are inclined to rebel at this sudden
swallowing up of individuality, and at the first glance it does
seem a hard destiny. Yet it will reqiiire but little examina-
tion of the actual world to discover that all true living is cou-
pled with just such abnegation of self, indeed that life would
otherwise be imiDOSsible. Goethe in his later writings has
often laid much stress upon the Renunciation of the Indi-
vidual; and the great poets, philsophers, and moralists, in
their own different ways, have repeated the same lesson. To
live for a universal end is not merely desirable but necessary,
and forms the basis of moral action. All organization, socie-
ty, state, demand the subordination of particular ends, mo-
tives, and desires ; otherwise institutions of every kind would
be quite impossible. The truth is, the individual would per-
ish through his own self-contradiction were he not subsumed.
So the family organism requires the same renunciation from
man and woman ; both must sacrifice their self-will and sub-
mit themselves to the higher end. In fact, love is the emo-
tional, and hence unconscious and unwilled cancellation of
the individual ; it means that a person finds his whole hap-
piness, indeed even his existence, not in himself but in anoth-
er. It is from these considerations that we 2)erceive Portia's
character to be a harmonious Whole, spi'inging from one cen-
tral thought, and true in the profoundest sense to human na-
ture. Portia thus stands as the type of the rational woman,
rational in what she resists and in what she accepts, rational
in rebellion and in submission. She is a strong character,
yet not strong-minded in the special sense of this term ; she

Tlie Merchant of Venice. 373

withers not, like a delicate flower, at the first rude blast, but
maintains her individual right till to yield becomes duty.

The remaining characters need not be long dwelt upon.
Bassanio is made worthy of Portia by his devotion to his
friend, and she perceives him to be a true man. He is even
ready to sacrifice his new bride on the altar of friendship,
through which alone he has gained her. Bassanio is the
means by which Antonio has come into difficulty ; Bassanio's
prosperity has been Antonio's adversity, but he is willing to
forego it all for the sake of the friend to whom his good luck
is owing. Thus his devotion is complete, every shade of self-
ishness is stripped oif, and we behold the worthy husband
of Portia. Gratiano and Nerissa serve chiefly as mirrors for
the leading characters to reflect motives, thoughts, and senti-
ments. They have little distinct individuality, yet are very
necessary to show other persons. Nerissa does little but ex-
hibit her mistress, and the same function is performed for
Antonio by Solanio and Solarino. One of the under-currents
of the play, which however soon mingles with the main
stream, is the story of Jessica, the daughter of the Jew. Here
again we have the assertion of the right of choice against the
will of the parent, the same collision as Portia's. But it is
in a whollj^ different soil and atmosphere, and hence the fruit
is different. Portia respects all the formalities of her deceased
father's testament; Jessica tramples without scruple upon
all the commands and prejudices of a living father, and steals
his money besides. Portia's father was said to have been
wise and just ; we know the character of Shylock, and what
his daughter's education must have been. Hence the great
difference in the moral character of the two children. The
same collision occurs in the clown Gobbo, but in a form so
low, so devoid of content, that it becomes ridiculous — in fact,
a burlesque. It appears here as duty to a master who starves
and abuses against the right of running away. Gobbo suc-
ceeds, after a subtle piece of argumentation, in reconciling
his conscience with his desire, and then takes to his heels.
Thus in Portia, Jessica, and Gobbo, there is seen a gradation
of the same collision.

The fourth act terminates the leading collision of the play,
that between Shylock and Antonio. The one has been pun-

374 Tlie MercTiant of Venice.

ished, the otlier rescued. Why, then, is the fifth act added?
It is because the minor' complications, which are brought
about by the leading collision and form a necessary element
of it, are not yet solved. Portia and Bassanio have been vio-
lently separated, likewise Gratiano and Nerissa, b}^ the main
struggle ; when this is at an end, there is no longer cause for
separation ; but they must quickly rebound to their former
union, which is their only rational existence. Hence the ii§-
turn, which is the theme of the fifth act, is a logical moment
of the whole drama. If there be mediation, it must be com-
plete in everj' part. Moreover, Bassanio and Gratiano are as
yet ignorant of the share their wives have had in accomplish-
ing the great mediatorial act. To be sure, we, the audience,
or the reader, know all about the matter, but it is certainly
not our duty to supply the missing elements of a work of art.
If such were the case, the greatness of the poem would depend
upon the greatness of the hearer or reader ; that is, his ability
to make it perfect. In short, a drama, or any work of art,
must be complete in itself, an Objective Whole, not dex3end-
ent upon any bod}" to supply its omissions, and the charac-
ters must be intelligible not merely to us but to one another.
Hence the fifth act may be called the Return ; the characters
pass out of the realm of difference and contradiction into the
world of harmony. It opens with an idjdlic strain which at
once ushers us mto the nature of the place; we are now in
the land of love ; Lorenzo and Jessica in responsive song
celebrate the heroes and heroines of romantic devotion. Next
the sweet strains of music arise, the language of emotion and
harmony. So there is diffused over the whole scene the at-
mosphere of love and concord. Finally, the parties return
separately from their struggle into the land of harmony ; the
rescued Antonio is there as the mark of triumph. The diffi-
culty about the rings is only temporary ; their hearts are
right, and that is the main thing ; for it would ill become
Portia, after her crusade against the most weighty formali-
ties, to insist upon the formality of a ring. Even the ships
return to smooth over the last trouble; and the concord is
perfect when the story of the disguise is told. It is worth
noticing that Shakespeare has here localized his themes ; the
abode of quiet is at a distance from the place of strife ; so

TTie Mercliant of Venice. 375

Belmont is the land of Harmony and Love, which they leave
in the hour of struggle, and to which they come back in the
hour of peace. This may be a violation of that critical canon
which demands Unity of Place, but it is a rule which Shake-
peare very often follows, and which it would not be difficult
. to j ustify.

To sum up in a few words our results. The collision is be-
tween Antonio and Shylock, and is mediated by Portia. Its
logical basis is the contradiction between the Objective as
realized in the institutions of Reason and the Subjective, or
the individual side of man. The former undertakes to crush
the latter, through which alone it had existence, for it is pos-
ited by the Subjective; hence it becomes contradictory of
itself and is negated. The Subjective, since it is not univer-
sal, is in its turn a new self-contradiction, and hence a nega-
tion of itself, which results in its subsuming itself under the
Objective. So Portia asserts subjectivity only to end in sub-
ordinating herself to one of the forms of objective reality —
the Family.

The external movement of the drama may be divided into
three parts: 1. The Union; 2. The Separation ; 3. The Re-
turn. Each of these parts is determined and complemented
by the others. The Union, by which is meant the bringing
together of the three pairs, has produced the collision between
Antonio and Shylock, whicli then returns and dissolves it,
for this Union cannot consistently destroy the one who
brought it about. Hence the second step, the Sej)aration, re-
sults necessarily from the first. But the parties must over-
come this direniption, for they are rationally united, and the
collision itself must be mediated; hence the obstacles are re-
moved, and there follows the third stage of the movement,
namely, the Return. This when completed is the same as
the first Union, but with the collision which was involved in
it harmonized. Here the play must end ; no further action
is possible. Or, to take more abstract terms, we may express
these three stages as Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis. That this
movement is a type of the movement of Reason itself, needs
not to be told to the Thinker. Every spiritual process in-
volves the same moments, and a work of Art as the child of
imaginative Reason must bear the image of the parent.

376 Booli Xotices.

BOOK notices;

Concord Days. By A. Bronson Alcott. Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1872.

There are two sides or phases to the "Practical." The practical includes
what is iii?;trumental, subsidiarj- — a means to an end. This, so far as man
is concerned, has relation first to his bodily wants : food, clothing, and shel-
ter— to tlioir satislaclion and f-upply ; secondly, the ministration toward liis
spiritual wants which crave culture, or (lie ascent above individual limita-
tions, and the realization of the generic ideal of humanity or Mind. In other
word's, the practical endivivor of Man must neutralize his immediate and
slavish dei)endence on Nature (relieve him from the sensuous importunity
of hiinger, heat and cold, external intrusion), and it must enable him to
realize in himself as particular individual the universal, or the conscious-
ness of his entire species — the human race.

The first phase of the Practical looks to providing the means for the sus-
tenance of the body; the body is, however, an instrument for the soul, or
for tiie purposes of conscious being. Hence this iihase looks to the creation
of an in>ti iinient./or an instrninent — thus a double mediation.

The second phase of the Practical is ministrative directly to the final end,
the Consciousness of Man. Subtract consciousness, and the possibility of
the practical altogether vanishes. There must be a conscious adaptation
in any one or all of its phases. A complete and entire consciousness of it
— a comprehension of its entire scope — may be found, however, in few peo-
ple. This necessary knowledge commonly takes on a partially unconscious
form, the form oi conviction, or religious faith. The individual looking out
upon the wo)Id of in-ti'umentaiities, the infinite complex of mediations, is
unable to trace it through to the end, and therefore borrows from the SEER
his insight in the form of a Divine Revelation, and by its light believes that
he possesses a personality which is absolute end and beyond all subservi-
ence to mere outward uses.

The Practical as regards provision for bodily wants has an incidental
higher use. It is not simply for the neutralization of the physical pangs
and inconvenience — the rendering of the same a nullity — that the bulk of
human endeavor goes to the supply of the body. If all this were merely
to still the Cerberean dog, the economy of Providence might be doubted.
In stilling the clamor of the body, man is obliged to resort to social and
political combination. The division of labor in Civil Society, the institu-
tion of the Family and the State, — all these are initiated to relieve man
from the degrading slavery to bodily sensation. But only " initiated" for
these institutions, all serve directly a spiiitual end; when Spirit can pro-
vide for the body incidentally while providing in the most direct way for
the Soul, then it has achieved freedom, for the External no longer sways
or swerves.

In these great institutions — Family, Society, and the State — mankind
arrives at the necessary conditions of spiritual combination. These it would
organize therefore as mere forms, were there no material need to goad it

Book Notices. ' 377

on — provided, once for all, that mankind had achieved rational insight into
the means and demands of cultnre. But as the consciousness of the Race
develops in Time, and is a historical existence and not an Absolute one, it
follows that the bodilj' necessities with their prickinji: pangs are useful as
initiatives, — nay, even necessary. Here the divine Providence is manifest:
Nature urges herself to complete introversion, and the '' breath of Life" is
compelled to sustain itself by contest with the clay dwelling in which it
finds itself. In satisfying the phj^sical, the spiritual is excited to activity,
and gradually gains ascendance and independence. The " mask of life"
and the subjection of the Spiritual to material ends is seen to be only Maya
— a mere delusion of the senses. All this servitude and slavery has been
only for self-knowledge, and for the freedom of the self from the self — the
realization of the Universal in the Particular. In Jordan's beautiful ver-
sion of the ^' Sigfridsage,^' the spiritual lineaments of that old Northern-
Mythologic presentation of this greatest Fact of Existence are thus por-
trayed:*

" Und hinunter in's Nachtreicli der nichtigen Schatten

Versauk von der Seele Brunhildens der Selbstschein,

Die qualvoUe Liige der Larve des Lebens,

Der Traum des Tropfens der sich getrennt hat

Vom ewigen Urquell : er sei uur was Eigues,

Er konne si eh mehren olme zu minderu,

Er konne zerstoren oliiie zu sterben

Mordern und niartern, ohne ^Mitpein,

Er dilrfe verdammend in lieillosem Diinkel

Zum librigen Dasein "Du" uur sagen,

Ohne dass achzend die Antwort laute:
ch, das Urall, bin In dir wie Aussen;

Unheil iiben ist eigenes Elend

Und wo du folterst da miisst du flihlend

Die Bosheit biissen ; den Alles BIST du."

The blind Samson grinds in the mill, not for others but for himself; the
imprisonment in sensuous being must be broken hv pain and stern renun-
ciation. When it is done, down falls that lying torment, the Mask of Life

* In Mr. Davidson's translation :

" And down to the night-realm of shadowy nothings
Sank the seeming of self from the soul of Brunhilde,
The martyring lie of the mask of living,
The dream of the drop that hath withdrawn it
From the primal source, as itself were something,
Weening to wax, while nothing waneth;
To rend asunder and yet not suffer;
To doom to perdition, secure of dying;

To murder and mangle and not be maimed; i

With damning conceit and Sflf-assertion,
To say Thou, in addressing the rest of Existence,
Nor hear the answer, in agony echoe'1 : —
'I, the prime All, am within as without thee;
"Who worketh woe, to himself doth work it.
Attempt to torture, thou shalt in aton-ment
Ache for thine evil, for thou art all things.' "

378 Book jVotices.

(die qualvolle Liige der Larve des Lebeus), and the soul looks through the
interval upon the unveiled Eternal Verities. The Universal, the Absolute^
God, is tlie root of this Ego which I call myself, and when I free myself
from the glare of the senses (which cause selfishness in place of self-cou-
sciousness) I shall live aud have my being in the presence of this great fact.

'•Before 1 was a Me, in God then was I God,
As soon as I sliall die 1 shall again be God,"

says Angelus Silesius. And Ficlite, in a sonnet, says (in Seeley's transla-
tion) :

'* The Eternal One
Lives ill my life and sees iu my behoidiiig.
Nought is but God, and God is nought but Life.
Clearly the veil of things rises before thee.
It is THYSELF! What though tlio Jlortal die?
Aud hence there lives but God in thiae endeavors,
If thou wilt look through tliat which lives beyond this death
The veil of things shall seem to thee as veil,
And unveiled thou shalt look upon the Life diviue."

But there is a possibility of undervaluing that portion of our life which
is called secular to distinguish it from the direct, conscious seeking of the
Divine. As already stated, the whole realm of the Secular — the Family,
Society, aud the State — is also directly tributary to tlie diviue life of Mau.

It is not a mere instrumentality for the purpose of silencing the beast
of the body, but ratlier is it the propaedeutics of luiman combination aud
commuuication wherein spiritual life becomes a reality, a fixed fact. The
division of labor aud exchange of productions are the apparent ends of in-
dustry, but the cunning of Spirit uses them merely as means for the circu-
lation of ideas. The real Practical result is the addition to consciousness
of new foreign material — the appropriation of points of view that were
alien to it. By solving (spiritually digesting) the contradiction between
its own ideas and those of tlie new people with whom it comes in contact^
it rises to more universal and truer ideas. The contrast between this com-
merce and the material commerce is to be marked. Iu material commerce
the goods are to be consumed and rendered null ; in the commerce of ideas,
both parties gain, and neither lose anytliing.

By this discussion we have only sought the stand-point of the Idealist-
Wliether he be the mystic, the religious man, or the speculative philoso-
pher, he regards the world as a " fleeting show," considered by itself, and
the great fact of the Universe to be the Immanence of Spirit, of the Divine
Person. In this he is not necessarily "impractical," but is quite likely to
be intensely the contrary.

Mr. Alcott, the author of " Concord Days," is widely known as one of
the most uncompromising idealists in our time, or in all time. His early
acceptance of the doctrine of *• The Lapse" nearly as Plotinus taught it,
together with his remarkable original statements of it, make him note- wor-
thy in the history of modern thought. A brief discussion will make this
apparent.

Boole Notices. 379

MK. A. B. ALCOTT'S APERCU, AND ITS CONSEQUEN<3ES AND RELATIONS TO OTHER

SYSTEMS.
I.

Mr. Alcott's first principle is Person — or the absolute self-reflection —
that whicli knows itself purely.

Hence it is a speculative stand-point. All stand-points arc material
which posit at the basis a fixed or rigid substance, a realized multiplicity,
whether the same be called simply matter, force, law, form, cause, essence,
ideas, or archetj^pes, &c., &c.; wliile, on the other hand, all stand-points
ai'e speculative which posit a self-moving, self-making pure act at the ba-
sis, whether they call it God, Person, or Idea, its proper names, or any of
the other terms mentioned.

A demonstration that Person or Idea is the Absolute Princi[)le, and that
nothing else can be, would run somewhat as follows:

a. Being is either dependent oi- independent: if the latter, it is by itself;
and if the former, it exists in another whicli is independent.

h. Actual Being is either determined through itself or another: if the
latter, it is finite, not self-contained, not a totality; if the former, it is self-
contained and infinite.

c. Hence all being is self-determined and independent, or else exists
in and through a self-determined and independent.

d. That which is self-determined or self-made is not subordinate to Time
and Space, but generates them in its own process; for if it were subordi-
nate to Time and Space, it would be extei-nally detei-mined, and thus a
dependent somewhat.

e. This self-determined Being is what we name God, Spirit, or Idea (in
the sense of person).

Remarks. — In this proof we have taken the leflective method : a very
deficient form, because we are forced to jump from one beginning to an-
other. AVe have an insight into the true stand-points at first, and then
construct a bridge to get to them. The genetic or dialectic method, on the
other hand, unfolds the progress of discovery as well as its grounds. The
method used above is similar to the mathemathical method. It jumps
across the river to get a plank to make a bridge with. Of course, itself
does not need a bridge; it kindly makes one for others.

But the genetic method gives the wings with which the discoverer flew
across the chasm. All these strictures on the method employed heie will
become evident on looking at the beginning, which is gratuitously assumed
without explaining why it is done.

In the Geometric demonstration I di-aw this construction and that, but
give no explanation of the why. Thus it is an external procedure when
contrasted with the dialectic method.

Thus one may have a speculative stand-point and not a speculative pro-
cedure. It may be without any procedure, a mere positing of the various
degrees of the finite ; or these degrees may have the reflective nexus exem-
plified. Or, finally, the dialectic may be given, and in this case the whole
system is speculative. This prepares us for a view of the second stage in
Mr. Alcott's Philosophy —

380 Book Notices.

THE DkSCENT {Ahfall) OR LAPSE OF THE SOUL, AS PRESENTED BY MR. ALCOTT.

n.

a. The first Principle, or God, is a Person — a self-dctermiuiug, or crea-
tive, self-diromp(inj<^, or self-dissecting.

6. Ho creates that which is most like Himself — hence self-determined or
creative beings. They difler from the Absolnte Person only in degree;
they are jmre souls.

c. These pure souls may lapse or may not. They have the possibility
of lapse, since they are free.

d. Those that lapse create thereby bodies for themselves; and, lapsing
still further, generate the lower animals; and, these continuing the lapse,
beget the plant-world; and thence results. the inorganic world.

e. The limit to the lapse is the atom [i.e. complete self-externality, or
space, or chaos].

This Scheme has the following advantages as a view of the world:

A. (a) It recognizes Person as the only substantial, and all else as de-
pendent thereon. This is the opposite of the materialistic scheme.

(6) It places next to the Person, as the substance, that which is most
like it, as being the most substantial; that which is least personal, is least
substantial and most dependent, hence is placed last as depending on the
dependent.

B. It represents all creation as thruiigh thought.

(a) The total thought of God thinks the total, and thus Himself as His
own object, or Pure Spirit.

It is only finite thinking, i.e. an act of thought, which seizes only one
moment of the totality, that creates an imperfect being. The finite thought
thinks a part or phase as though it were a totality, and thus takes it out of
its truth ; hence arises untruth. In this sense, the theory of the finite rest-
ing on lapse is deepest truth.

(b) It implies that thinking creates its thought (the deep fundamental
thought of Aristotle) ; hence seeing creates what it sees. The divine, har-
monious, pure, unlapsed soul comprehends or seizes all in the One or Per-
son ; while the lapsed soul, in the form of sense and understanding, creates
spectres, i.e. gives validity to abstractions, and thus cannot cancel them
and arrive at their negative unity in pure thought. This leads us to the
consideration of the positive value of this scheme.

III.

This order of stating the genesis is an order of rank or caste.

a. Each lower form has its explanation in the next higher or more con-
crete. The soul sees its moments scattered and isolated in the lower forms
in such a manner that each is deficient and demands to be complemented
by another,

6. When we consider the inorganic, we find strange properties — such,
for example, as gravity, inertia, or light and heat ; we ascend to the organic
world and see what all these meant. The lower forms of the organic, such
as vegetation, likewise have their explanation in the iiigher or animal forms,

Boole Notices. 381

and the animal has its explanation in man. Thus this system formally jus-
tifies itself.

According to Plotinus, ''The soul appetizing is tlie animal. The world
of Yegetation is the merely reproductive soul. The world-soul is the im-
mediate eflective agency of the intellect which is its own object. The
longing of the individual, specinl soul gives it a body; with the body it
retains fancy and memory. Brl )w it is the sense-world, and then feeling,
desire, and the vegetative life."

In the Fifth Ennead, he has this order: — I. The One; II. The Intellect
(dualism). The Primal Essence in its return to itself sees itself, and thus
arises knowing or intellect; thus the Primal Essence is diremptcd in its
unity; as diremption (or intellect") it produces the lower orders.

Proclus considers the One as uncognizable in itself, and to be cognizable
only as it is in its process and return. The relation of the unity to the dis-
tinctions which it produces is that of the procession fi'om itself. He shows
by a dialectic more or less external how all determinations cancel them-
selves and return to the One.

In these outlines it will be seen that Proclus is the student of Plato, and
that Plotinus is Aristotelian in method. And, what is more surprising
to preconceived uotions concerning Mr. Alcott, he, like Plotinus, is rather
an Aristotelian than Platonist.

Plato's highest principle is the Comprehension or genus fidia). This
is the universal particular and individual as one process, hence dialectic
throughout. Plato is therefore dialectical, always moving from the Many
to the One, like Proclus. His dialectic is more or less mixed with reflec-
tions, seldom pure; and his great inferiority to Aristotle is in this, that
he does not enunciate so clearly the self-thinking thought to be the first
Principle.

When the logical idea finds all its xjresuppositions, so that its moments
or phases become equal to the total, we have the Idea, in which the dialec-
tic vanishes. There is no longer an external negative unity cancelling the
moments, for each moment is its own negative unity, and thus a complete
totality. Each one is in the image of the whole, and the whole thus attains
extant being, so that in the sphnre of the idea we have the identity of Being
or immediateness and Comprehension or subjectivity. This is seized by
Aristotle in its immediate or elementary phase, and hence he has the ap-
pearance of proceeding empirically; for he seizes each stage as a totality,
and leaves out the dialectic — unlike Plato. The complete Philosopher
should show the genesis of the Idea dialecfically, but this is Plato's side.
Aristotle assumes it. Plato is always demonstrating the dialectical evolu-
tion of the Idea, but leaves the work unfinished.

From tMs we shall be able to point out the missing links in Mr. Alcott's
Philosophy. He leaves out the dialectic entirely, and hence we have no
historical Comprehension, but each step is treateri as a totalitj' or an idea.
When this becomes entirely insufficient, he has recourse to concrete dialec-
tical terms, such as appear iu Psychology, or even Physiology, as "appe-
tite," "desiie," &c. The starting-point, too, or the genesis whose soul is
the dialectic, is rigid, and we advance by reflections or else begin anew

382 Book Notices.

Willi each link, inakiiiir :i discrete degree. Now, to the mind of the oracle
all this is present. The totality hovers before it, but in such an immediate
form that the iiorrnanont variable cannot be seized. Hence it is tliat the
steps are seized isolatedly, Avliilo the mediation of tlie same remains un-
consciously in the subject and is not explicitly stated.

Of course, wlion the dialectic is left out the series maybe inverted with-
out any obvious impropriety. Thus in the present instance we are taught
that tlic most perfect created beings were created first instead of last —
which is the ^[osaic order and that of the ordinary conception. The appa-
rent difliculty would entirely vanish if the creation of the first pure soul
were considered dialectically; for then the links would fall between the
Absolute Idea and its realization as Pure Spirit as cancelled moments, and
hence not as real evil. As all these intermediate links would have their
explanation and raison d'etre in the Final Cause or perfect spirit, the pre-
dicate evil or good could not be api)lied to them, and hence the obstacle
which Plotinus sought to remove (the real existence of evil as a creatiou
of ilie Absolute) is shown to have no absolute existence, but only a rela-
tive one to finite consciousness (the reflective understanding). This, per-
haps Ave have reason to believe it, is the true view of those who explain
creation through the lapse. They cling to that form of stating it in order
to emphasize the hierarchy of Spirit and the dependence of destiny upon
Choico, or ihe freedom of the AVill.

In the " Concord Days'* we have the art-form of a Diary, the extracts
running through the months from April to Sexitember inclusive. A second
volume, we are told, will continue through the remaining months. It pre-
sents us the picture of a literary artist looking over and arranging his choice
hours of the day, eliminating from the record of life its j)etty collisions,
and, vintner-like, giving us the expressed serenity and wisdom.

Thinkof intercq^urse with one whose life is in intimate communion with
the wisest and best of the race. Familiar with Plato, Pythagoras, Boeh-
me, More, Glanvil, Coleridge, and the rapt mystics of all time, he moves
about in the atmosphere of the Paradiso. It is the atmosphere of Aspira-
tion and Prayer, like that of a Gothic cathedral; of serenity and purity,
]ike that of a Greek temple. One reads books of Correspondence and Dia-
ries chiefly for the society into which they admit him. The more elevated
the tone of exposition and oi the characters portrayed, the subtler the pene-
tration of its cultivating iniluencos. The Dialogues of Plato and the Lives
of Plutarch have accomplished a wonderful work in this respect.

"We have in the volume before us the poetry of private life — its univer-
sal aspects portrayed. The looseness of form permits private reflections,
choice bits of quotation, scenery-painting, personal biography, disquisi-
tions on politics and social science, neighborhood gossip, correspondence,
poems from favorite authors, essays on the genius of present and past
literary men, and mj'stic glances into the profounder realms of philosophic
speculation. This freedom of form justifies much that in an ordinary
book would be considered one-sided, as for example what is said of Car-
lyle and Goethe.

Boole Notices. 383

The Basic Outline of Universology : An Introduction to the newly-discovered Sci-
ence of the Universe; its Elementary Principles; and 1he first staires of their
development in the Special Sciences. Tog<'ther with Preliminary Notices of
Alwatoy the newl.y- discovered Scientific Universal Uanp:nn^e, resultinfr Ironi
the Principles of Universoloofy. By Stephen Pearl Andrews. New York:
Dion Thomas. 1872. Pages cxix and 764. Price, $5.

CoJiicwjfs .• Introduction ; Kotices to tlic Reader; Vocabulary. Chapter
I. — Genera! Statement and Distribution of the Subject; Classification of the
whole field of Human Knowlcdg-e. Chapter II. — Definitions and Illustra-
tions of yl«f/^o_9?/ and Correspo7idence; General Statement of the Evolution
of Tlionght, hitherto; Principles of Ortranization and Evolution. Chapter
III. — Analog^/ more accuiately Defined ; Scientific Analogy as the Basis oi'
Universology; the three Fundamental Laws of Universal Scieiice, Unism,
Duisvi, and Trinism, stated, illustrated, and defined. Cliapter JY .— JST um-
ber; its Universal Aspects; of the Various Numerical Series, and of tlie
Meanings of Numbers ; Introductory Ti^eatment of the Analogues of Form ;
Parallel Distribution and Tabulation of the total scientific domain and of
the several systems and departments of Philosophy ; the Great Crisis; Sug-
gestive Programme of Human Destiny. Chapter V. — Form; the Sci-
ence of Pure and Abstract Moi phology ; and its Relations to Univei-sology,
with diagrammatic Illustrations; Points, Lines, Surfaces, and Solids, with
their Symbolism or Correspoiidential Signification. Cliapter VJ. — Mor-
pliology and Universology (continued) ; their Relations to Tinman Des-
tiny; the Grand ReconcUiatioii of all Intelledual Conceptions, and the
Prospective Harmony of tlic Organic Social Life of Man. Digested Index.

Creator and Creation; or. The Knowledge in the Reason of God a)id His Wu/-h. B}''
Laurens P. Hickok, D.D.. LL.D. Boston: Lee & Shepard, Publishers. New
York: Lee, Shepard & Dillingham. 1S7'2.

Dr. Hickock is widely known in this country and abroad as one of the
pioneers of Philosophy in America. He is a veteran in the service, and
one may easily ascertain the importance of his labors by visiting our Edu-
cational institutions here in the West, and conversing with tho^c teachers
and professors who have to deal with Psychology or any other form of Phi-
losophy. He will find that, in i)roportion to the depth and originality of
the views presented for his consideration, a ready acknowledgmeiil of obli-
gation to the writings of Dr. Hickok will be confessed.

Among those whose profound study of Kant enabled them to come be-
fore the world with a new version of Philoso|.'liy founded on the Critical
system, Dr. Hickok stands in the foremost rank. Such as Hamilton,
Balmes, Cousin, indeed, have failed in attaining so positive a grasp of the
categories of pure thought as our author.

His merit lies primarily in seizing the Kantian criterion of a priori ideas
— universality and necessity — and in holding this firmly and confidently.
In discriminating carefully between ideas and ooinions, by means of this
criterion the speculative philosopher will find his first task. Tiie moral
philosopher, likewise, will find no other foundation for lii-j science.

The increasing influence of Positivism and (lie various materialistic
schools of thought may be considered the occasion of the present book, and

384 Book Notices.

its welcome will be cordial among tJiose who have expei-icuced the vicious
circle described in the preface thus:

*' An assumed Revelation may be studied and its facts arranged with
much learning; but when a profound skepticism meets us, and drives us
back of the facts, and a^ks for the validity of ])rophecy, and miracles, and
inspiration; and even for the being of a God who can foreknow, and work
miracles, and inspire human messengers, — we are thrown directly back
ni>oii these old assumjUions of Nature's connections. No sense-experience
pul> witliin the coiiMiou>ness anytliing by which Logic alone can enable
us to know thai which beyond Nature supporls and connects Nature; and
thus the logical nndursianding is driven helplessly to swing on the circle,
of taking the Bible's God to make and hold together Nature, and then to
take Nature's God to make and reveal the facts of the Bible."

Among the admirable things in this book will be found the able treat-
ment of I'ositivism and the solution of the Darwiniau problem. Aristotle,
indeed, when he set up the doctrine of Final Cause as the ultimate expla-
nation of all Natural i)hciiomena, knew the last word on Natural Selection
as a philosophic tiieory. "Not sex instinct, but the Absolute Ideal, deter-
mines the higher unity of all species," says our author.

In his attempt at a speculative construction of Nature, his chapters ou
Antagonist force, Diremptive force, and Revolving force; on Life, Sense,
and Reason, — are profound and suggestive, resting as they do upon a
chapter devoted to Space and Time — a chapter that Kant himself might
have wi'itten. But we must mention the descriptive sketch of the histori-
cal development of Critical Philosophy, which he divides into three stages
or epochs: — \st, Kant's Critique of i*ure lleason ; 2d, Fichte's Science of
Knowledge; 'dd, Hegel's Science of Logic. To the latter he concedes:
'•That it is the entire compass of all knowledge, so far as the subjective
proce55 of knowing is concerned. The most searching criticism will iind
scarcely anything, X)erhaps uttei'ly nothing, to object to it as a process com-
plete of the science of Thinking.'- When the question is asked, " What is
this Avorth intrinsically, as philosophy of knowing overt realities?^'' we
think some other predicate than "worihless" will be given if one remem-
bers that all this is but the genetic unfolding of the Universal and Neces-
sary, which is equally objective and subjective, inasmuch as it furnishes iiot
only the forms of pure thought but the logical conditions of all phenomena.
As the a priori science of Mathematics gives us the means of cognizing
matter and motion, so the a priori system of pure thought gives us the
ideas through which to interpret human history, science, and institutions;
and a?so natural phenomena and the empirical sciences. The recognition
of pure thonirht as embodied and realized in the world of man and matter
is Hegel's chief work, and throughout its entire extent empirical results
are taken as the raw material. On page 128-9, it is difficult to agree with
Dr. Hickok when he seems (contrary to the general purpose of his book)
to teach that God's Absolute thought is not solid enough for the real world;
i.e. that Creation is not God's thought; or that the Absolute thinking-pro-
cess is confined to a subjective time and space which cannot be the time
and space of human, conscious experience. Not only Hegelians, but the
followers of Mal» branche and Berkeley — indeed the whole race of Platon-
Ists and Aristotelians — must enter protest against that.

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