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Cornell University Library 
B3273.P56 E5 1884 
v.1 
Philosophy of the unconscious / 




1924 030 974 129 
olin 

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VOLUME XXV. 



VOL. I. 



PHILOSOPHY 



THE UNCONSCIOUS. 



EDUAKD VON HAETMANN. 



SPECULATIVE RESULTS ACCORDING TO THE INDUCTIVE 
METHOD OE PHYSICAL SCIENCE. 



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CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 



PAGE 

translator's PEEFACE ...... vii 

EXTRACTS FROM THE AUTHOR'S PREFACES TO THE SEVENTH, 

EIGHTH, AND NINTH EDITIONS ... xi 



INTRODUCTORY. 

I. GENERAL PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS . . I 

(a) OBJECT OF THE WORK .... I 

(b) METHOD OF RESEARCH AND MODE OF EXPOSITION 6 

(c) PREDECESSORS IN RESPECT OF THE CONCEPTION 

OF THE UNCONSCIOUS . . . 1 6 

II. HOW DO WE COME TO ASSUME AN AIM IN NATURE ? . 43 

(A) THE MANIFESTATION OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 
IN BODILY LIFE. 



I. THE UNCONSCIOUS WILL IN THE INDEPENDENT FUNCTIONS 
OF THE SPINAL CORD AND GANGLIA 



II. UNCONSCIOUS IDEATION IN THE EXECUTION OF VOLUN- 
TARY MOVEMENT ...... 72 

III. THE UNCONSCIOUS IN INSTINCT .... 79 

IV. THE UNION OF WILL AND IDEA . . • "7 

V. THE UNCONSCIOUS IN REFLEX ACTIONS . . 127 

VI. THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE REPARATIVE POWER OF 

NATURE ... .143 



59 



vi CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

VII. THE INDIRECT INFLUENCE ON ORGANIC FUNCTIONS OF 

CONSCIOUS PSYCHICAL ACTIVITY . . . '*>9 

(I.) THE INFLUENCE OF THE CONSCIOUS WILL . 169 

(2.) THE INFLUENCE OF CONSCIOUS IDEATION . 179 

VIII. THE PLASTIC ENERGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS . 1 84 

(B) THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 

I. INSTINCT IN THE HUMAN MIND . . . 205 

II. THE UNCONSCIOUS IN SEXUAL LOVE . . . 220 

III. THE UNCONSCIOUS IN FEELING . . . 243 

IV. THE UNCONSCIOUS IN CHARACTER AND MORALITY . 260 

V. THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE ESTHETIC JUDGMENT AND IN 

ARTISTIC PRODUCTION . . . . 269 

VI. THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE . 293 

VII. THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THOUGHT . . . 301 

VIII. THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE ORIGIN OF SENSE-PERCEPTION 325 

IX. THE UNCONSCIOUS IN MYSTICISM .... 354 



TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 



The author of the following work has so clearly explained 
its purport, both in the course of the work itself and in 
the prefatory remarks, that few words are required by way 
of introduction from a foreign pen. It is true the class of 
books to which the " Philosophy of the Unconscious " be- 
longs is all but unrepresented in our literature, but the 
absence of similar home-productions can no longer be held 
to imply either an inability to comprehend their scope or 
an indifference to their results. To what shall we attribute 
the welcome accorded of late to certain reproductions and 
elucidations of the master- works of modern Transcendental- 
ism, if not to the awakening of a long-repressed desire to 
re-examine the foundations of a spiritual fabric, for whose 
stability an instinctive confidence alone made answer ? 
To many two attitudes of mind have become insupport- 
able — that of total unconcern about fundamental truth, 
and that of unthinking acquiescence in the admission of 
merely juxtaposed and uncommunicating spheres of posi- 
tive knowledge and impenetrable nescience. "What would 
you have, says the scientist, but an ever- widening view of 
Nature's operations ? — is it not enough, cries the theologist, 
to be sure that there is a God, although " His ways are 
past finding out ? " To questions so different in substance, 
but so alike in their flavour of self-complacency, this book 
is in effect an answer. That Von Hartmann appreciates 



viii TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 

the gains of positive inquiry no reader of a work replete 
with illustrations from all the sciences will for a moment 
doubt; but, on the other side, he is an unfaltering ontologist, 
and believes no less firmly that he that hath eyes to see 
can divine the riddle of the universe, and that there is 
no peace for the intellect and heart until Eeligion, Philo- 
sophy, and Science are not merely " reconciled," but are 
seen to be one, as root, stem, and leaves are organic ex- 
pressions of one same living tree. 

The English reader may wish to know something of the 
author himself, and the circumstances of the production 
of this book. More than enough has been written on this 
subject in Germany, but all that need be said on the 
matter here may be told in a very few words. Dr. Ed- 
uard von Hartmann is a retired military officer, compelled 
almost at the outset of his career to abandon his profession 
through a serious affection of the left knee-cap. Con- 
strained to alter his plan of life, the width and varied 
nature of his attainments (mostly independently acquired) 
caused him not a little embarrassment. After some waver- 
ing, and after casting many longing looks on the fair realms 
of art, in some of whose departments his talents would 
doubtless have commanded success, he obeyed the whispers 
of his most powerful genius, and yielded himself up once 
and for all to the calls of a career of philosophical author- 
ship. It will be noticed by the reader with what keen 
satire he speaks of the professed students and teachers of 
the Science of Sciences. In this he is at one with his 
immediate forerunner, and a far older and more potent 
name. But the circumstances of modern life are quite 
other than they were in the age of the Sophists ; and posi- 
tions that did not cramp the genius of a Kant, a Schelling, 
and a Hegel, can hardly of necessity be the fortresses of 
orthodox opinion the modern free-lance would have the 
world believe. At the same time we can well imagine 
that the atmosphere of a University would hardly have 
been favourable to that direct intercourse with the mind 



TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. ix 

of the people which the literary spirit of our author craved ; 
and Von Hartmann, like Socrates, doubtless took good 
counsel of his " Daemon," when he went straight to the 
public, and confided in his own intellectual strength to 
give him a wide and attentive hearing. 

In the spring of 1868, when in his twenty-seventh 
year, Eduard Von Hartmann placed in the hands 
of a well-known Berlin bookseller the original draught 
of the work now translated, with the title " Philosophy 
of the Unconscious, Popular Physiological-Psychogical- 
Philosophical Inquiries on the Manifestation and Es- 
sential Nature of the Unconscious, and the Origin and 
Meaning of Consciousness." The publisher, with unusual 
penetration, saw the value of the work, and in November 
1868 the book appeared in one volume, the first words of 
the proposed title alone being retained. 

Since 1868 Von Hartmann has been an untiring and 
voluminous writer. The full list of his publications ex- 
tends to about a score of volumes, some of them running to 
700 or 800 pages, to say nothing of magazine articles and 
such like trifles. Any one who would pronounce an ade- 
quate judgment on the author's philosophical powers would 
have undoubtedly to make acquaintance with the more 
important of these ; and, in justice to the author, I append 
a few words of his own concerning the book which has 
made his reputation. " It is not the product of reflection 
and maturity, but the bold experiment of juvenile talent, 
presenting all the defects and qualities of the work of 
youth. Fifteen years have passed since the manuscript 
first went to press, and I should conceive many things 
differently to-day than I presented then." This unripe- 
ness has been in a measure corrected by the Appendix 
and supplementary notes, and the reviewer should bear 
these in mind when exercising his critical function. That 
the work is open to criticism of various kinds the present 
translator does not for a moment doubt ; but, when criti- 
cism has done its worst, he believes that there will be 



x TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 

enough of worth left to justify the enthusiasm the " Philo- 
sophy of the Unconscious " has evoked in the land of 
its birth, as also to secure it a welcome from a wide circle 
of new and appreciating readers. 

London, March 1884. 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



That I am in general no friend of prefaces, the previous 
six editions of this book have proved. When, however, a 
work meets with so kindly and indulgent a reception as 
the present one, it might be interpreted as a kind of affec- 
tation in the author if he persistently avoided that direct 
communication with his readers which is customary in 
prefaces. As I know myself to be as free from such 
prudery as from obtrusiveness, I will no longer abstain 
from appearing before the curtain in the usual fashion, and 
from discussing certain points of a somewhat external or 
even personal nature, — the less, as the attacks of opponents 
on my character and private life have already compelled 
me, by a frank description of my course of life, 1 to afford 
my readers the requisite materials for forming a judgment 
of their own on the value of those attacks. 

I can truly say that never was author more surprised by 
the success of his book than I by that of the " Philosophy 
of the Unconscious." A moderate acquaintance with the 
history of the book-trade as regards philosophical literature 
would alone have sufficed to destroy any possible illusion of 
a young author's vanity ; the lamentations of Schopenhauer 
on the tardiness with which a really important work makes 
its way, bore emphatic testimony to the compatibility of a 
certain self-consciousness with incredulity concerning out- 
ward literary results ; public opinion at the time of the 

1 Cf. "Die Gegenwart," 1875, Nr. Aufsatze gemeinverstandlichen In- 
1-3. The article has been reprinted halts." 
in the "Gtesammelte Studien und 



xii PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 

formation of the North German Alliance appeared more- 
over as unfavourable as possible for the reception of a 
systematic philosophical work ; and lastly, I was, at the 
bottom of my heart, far too much of a Pessimist not to be 
prepared for the worst, as was only naturally to be ex- 
pected from the apathy of the public as regards philoso- 
phical things in general, and the ill-will of the professional 
class towards the dilettante interloper in particular. If the 
result proved this prognosis to be erroneous, the reason 
was partly that it had been founded only on an obser- 
vation of symptoms discernible on the mere fringe of the 
spiritual life ; partly that journalism busied itself with un- 
wonted energy with the new venture ; partly, lastly, that 
my publisher had taken an especial interest in my efforts, 
and zealously exerted himself to push the sale of the book 
(all risks being from the first taken on his own shoulders). 

The importance of the latter fact had been entirely over- 
looked by Schopenhauer, who had imagined that it was 
enough to write an important book and to print it at his 
his own cost, and the rest was the affair of the public. 
This view is, however, just as one-sided as the opposite 
one, that an altogether worthless book of an unknown 
author without any attraction for the public, even in a 
bad sense, could be helped to a trade success by a mere 
publisher's puff. Whilst all the industry of a publisher 
in respect of a book, that is not recommended by one 
reader to another, always leads only to commercial loss, 
it is true that what is good and important, commonly at 
the end of a chapter of accidents, is preserved from total 
oblivion, but it may have to make its way with extreme 
slowness. 

If Schopenhauer had had my good fortune to find a 
publisher, who would have personally interested himself 
for his great work, those long decennia of entire neglect 
would have been spared him, which contributed so much 
more and more to embitter his peculiarly constituted mind, 
and to paralyse his rich creative powers. The consequence 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. xiii 

would have been, that the German nation would have 
been imbued a generation earlier with the rich spirit of the 
Schopenhauerian Philosophy, and that the leisured philo- 
sopher would have received a powerful stimulus to apply 
his extraordinary talent during his long lifetime to the 
accomplishment of far more numerous and varied under- 
takings. In both respects the indirect effects, as regards 
the present mental horizon of the educated public in 
Germany, might have been simply incalculable. 

That Reviews of the " Philosophy of the Unconscious " 
appeared in so unusually large a number, was doubtless 
owing to the circumstance that this book was discovered 
to afford a fit subject for discussion, not only by the pro- 
fessed philosophical magazines and the ordinary literary 
journals, but also by most of the more considerable re- 
views both at home and abroad, by the majority of the 
theological periodicals, by the most influential political 
newspapers of Germany and Austria, as well as, lastly, by 
certain educational and medical papers, and that the pub- 
lishing house had not omitted to send copies for review to 
all these categories of periodical literature. The book was 
acknowledged, even by its chief opponents, in spite of the 
utmost deprecation of its fundamental tendency and par- 
ticular assertions, to be yet for the most part a noteworthy 
phenomenon of recent philosophical authorship, and found 
perhaps among the reviewers of the literary and political 
journals so many warm friends, because among these the 
philosophy of Schopenhauer had prepared the ground for 
its comprehension. The two critics who were the first 
decidedly to point out the significance of the book were 
Councillor Dr. Eudolph Gottschall, and Dr. David Asher ; 
those who perhaps exercised the relatively largest in- 
fluence on the rapid diffusion of the book, Dr. Heinrich 
Landesmann (Hieronymus Lorm), and Dr. Carl Baron du 
Prel. All four stood substantially under the influence of 
Schopenhauer. But, likewise, on the part of certain Hege- 
lians, the book early received warm acknowledgments, e.g., 



xiv PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 

from Professor Dr. Ernst Kapp, and Dr. Max Schasler 
(President of the Philosophical Society of Berlin). It 
would lead me too far to cite here all the names of those 
to whose kind indulgence in their public criticism of my 
efforts I owe aid and encouragement to further labour ; to 
all these men I herewith render my sincere thanks. 

Not less, however, do I owe my highly-esteemed op- 
ponents and foes the greatest gratitude, who, by their 
unwearied attacks on my performances and efforts, have 
ever and anon turned the nagging attention of the public 
to my writings, and have kept alive the interest therein. 
Unhappily I must own, that among the many, who felt 
themselves called to critically annihilate me, there were 
only very few who could be deemed competent to speak 
on such questions. This phenomenon is quite natural, 
and is ever recurring ; the first polemical demonstrations 
against a novel doctrine are almost always lacking in that 
unprejudiced perception and matter-of-fact objectivity, 
which can only appear in the course of time through 
a gradual clearing-up of speculative differences. 

But now that a philosophical book by a hitherto un- 
known author should so rapidly make its way in so many 
circles of the educated public, and that so many writers 
should be induced to undertake its critical examination 
in books, pamphlets, and journals, further needs for its 
explanation the recognition of two pre-suppositions founded 
on the circumstances of the time, namely, in the first 
place, a. fierce philosophical hunger on the part of the public 
at large, concealed beneath the apparently extreme apathy 
in regard to philosophical inquiries ; and, secondly, a state 
of unusual prostration of the Guild-philosophy profes- 
sionally bound to satisfy this need. The attitude of con- 
tempt and scorn of philosophy so fashionable in the fifth 
and sixth decades of the century had, at the end of the 
last decennium, attained a pitch which had something 
forced and affected about it, like the old whistlino- of the 
peasant-boy at the dark churchyard ; the unmetaphysical 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. xv 

empiricism, which little by little began to become alarmed 
at its self-glorification, was ripe for a sudden conversion, 
and what had prevented this conversion for so many years 
was only the forbidding aridity and poverty of the 
academical philosophy, which could not but strengthen 
the common contempt of philosophy in the minds of its 
entertainers. At this juncture appeared the " Philosophy 
of the Unconscious;'' the public was able to absorb so 
relatively large a number of copies of this metaphysical 
work, because it had become, during the long period of 
philosophical unproductivity, as parched as a field after 
a prolonged drought, and the exaggerated estimate fre- 
quently formed of the " Philosophy of the Unconscious " 
must be in large measure attributed to the circumstance, 
that its value was measured against the background of 
the contemporary book-market of the Guild-philosophy, 
which gave it an intrinsically undeserved prominence by 
the force of contrast. 

The rapidly succeeding editions offered an opportunity 
to continually revise the matter of the work, to more fully 
elucidate those passages which had given rise to frequent 
misunderstandings, to fill up minor gaps which had become 
perceptible in the sequence of thought, to open up more 
varied prospects, if only by short indications, to lay bare 
more evidently and to fathom more deeply the inner con- 
nection of the principles, and to take account of the re- 
levant progress of the special sciences in supplementary 
paragraphs. Welcome as this opportunity was to me on 
several grounds, no less burdensome was its frequent 
repetition. To work additions into a finished book is a 
far more troublesome and time-absorbing occupation than 
one may think who has not himself attempted it; and 
what was eminently distracting and disagreeable was the 
annual recurrence of the press corrections. To me the 
first reading through of what I have myself written is an 
extremely painful task; but to be obliged to be always 



xvi PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 

reading one's own production over and over again be- 
comes at last so loathsome, that one gets to wonder how 
a third person can find any interest in it. Accordingly 
I felt it as a kind of release when the publishing firm 
proposed, on the preparation of the fifth edition, to stereo- 
type the text. I felt very sensibly what important con- 
siderations oppose such a fixation of the work of a living 
author, but it still remained open to me to supplement 
subsequent additions, and the wish to free myself from 
the annual corrections, and once for all to have done with 
the book, was too urgent for me to be deterred by such 
scruples. It is a painful position, when a writer has 
given his interest and thought to new tasks, and is con- 
stantly hindered and distracted by the firstlings of his 
brain, who have become real powers, ever anew claiming 
at the hands of their father their right to further care and 
culture. 

That part of the "Philosophy of the Unconscious," 
which for some years had least satisfied my augmented 
demands, was Section A, on " The Manifestation of the 
Unconscious in Bodily Life." No one will wonder at 
this who is familiar with the progress of Physiology in 
general and that of Nervous Physiology in particular in 
the last decennium. When in the winter 1864-65 I wrote 
this section, the sources from which I had drawn my 
material were even then not of the newest date ; I name 
in particular " "Wagner's Dictionary of Physiology," and 
the manuals of Physiology by Johannes Miiller, Valentin, 
and Burdach. 1 For certain chapters {e.g., that on the 
Eeparative Power of Nature) I was simply compelled to 
have recourse to older works, or to the writings of Burdach 
because the more recent Physiology carefully ignored 

1 That to preserve the popular my disparagement by some of my 

character of my book I have studi- opponents, wherefore I now in the 

ously refrained from quoting the Appendix and Addenda furnish my 

authorities for my examples in de- vouchers, 
tail has been largely laid hold of to 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. xvii 

everything that could uot be forced into the materialistic 
mould. Here, however, a change for the better deserves 
to be signalised. 

On the preparation of the third and fifth editions I hesi- 
tated considerably whether I should not subject Section A 
to a complete reconstruction, but, after mature reflection, 
came to a negative conclusion. A philosophical, far more 
than any other scientific work, is bound to take account 
in its disposition and architectonic of artistic considera- 
tions, which of course need only have unconsciously co- 
operated in its composition. And as it is a dubious 
affair to alter an architectural plan or a drama, so too 
in the architectonic of a philosophical work, one removes 
undeniable errors and defects, and introduces fresh in- 
congruities and disharmonies, of which there had been 
no thought. The connoisseur always sees, thereafter, 
that the work is not out of one mould, that he has patch- 
work and piece-work before him. Better is it, in such a 
case, one leaves the old with its defects just as it is, and 
adds something altogether new. This holds good not only 
for works of art, but also for philosophical works ; for no- 
where is it less imperative to set forth the truth as finished 
result than in Philosophy, where, on the contrary, what is 
strictly instructive and stimulating for the reader is to 
be sought in the opening the mental eye to a growing 
and broadening truth. Accordingly I have preferred not 
to withhold from the new readers, whom the " Philosophy 
of the Unconscious " hopes to obtain in this new edition, 
the original draught of Section A, but instead of a re- 
modelling of the same, to add as an Appendix a disserta- 
tion " On the Physiology of the Nerve-Centres," from 
which they may perceive in what manner I should now 
treat this part in the event of a fresh composition. At 
the same time this Appendix serves as a supplement to 
Section A, the knowledge of which it presupposes in 
respect to the present advanced stage of our knowledge of 
the physiology of the Nervous System. Repetitions from 
VOL. I. b 



xviii PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 

the text of the " Philosophy of the Unconscious " I have 
endeavoured to avoid, so far as the necessary connection 
of the dissertation admitted. As this Appendix is a 
physiological, so my book, " Truth and Error in Darwinism " 
[reproduced entire in the " Journal of Speculative Philo- 
sophy " (St. Louis, 1877-78)] forms a biological comple- 
ment to the natural-philosophical part of the " Philosophy 
of the Unconscious," especially to Chapter VIII. A; the 
close connection of the two supplementary writings will 
not escape the attentive reader. 

I am quite conscious of the difficulty of my position 
with regard to contemporary representatives of Physical 
Science. They are either adherents of the old school, i.e., 
they pay homage to a so-called exact empiricism, which 
never ventures to elevate its glance from the scrutiny of 
the particular to a more general survey of the great whole, 
and cross themselves in the presence of all philosophy ; 
or they aim at a natural-philosophical theory of the world 
— are thus adherents of Darwinism in its crass mechanical 
and anti-teleological form. The one class, as matter of 
course, has a horror of all philosophy as such, no matter 
whether the latter endeavours on its part to strike up an 
alliance with Physical Science or not; the other class 
recognises, indeed, in principle the necessity of an under- 
standing between Natural Science and Philosophy, but 
thinks it sees in the teleological metaphysic espoused by 
me the opponent of that philosophy, to which alone it hopes 
to throw a bridge. Thus it comes to pass that the one part 
of scientists ignores me because I am philosopher, the other 
combats me because I am such a philosopher. But already 
the first signs of a rising generation are discernible, which 
recognises not only the title of philosophy in general, 
but also the title of an idealistic philosophy beside and 
above the mechanical cosmic theory of the Sciences of 
Matter, a union, which alone is able to reconcile that 
Idealism, to which the German people owes its great- 
ness, with the results of the most recent investigation 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. xix 

and to obviate a total breach between the Future and the 
Past, between the Intellect and the Heart. It is my firm 
conviction that the exclusively mechanical Cosmism of 
Darwinism is only an historical transition from the prior 
shallow Materialism to a complete and whole Ideal-realism, 
and will only serve to effect and facilitate the passing 
of the living and rising generation of physical inquirers 
from one pole to the other. In furthering this indispen- 
sable and inevitable reconciliation of modern Physical 
Science, and its grand but one-sided results, with the 
idealistic culture of our nation, I believe that I am in 
fact doing a better service to Natural Science than those 
exclusive devotees of the same, who possess the in itself 
estimable courage of consistency, of desiring to subject 
the whole modern theory of the world to a radical trans- 
formation, according to the partial method of Physical 
Science, in which the highest spiritual treasures of our 
civilisation must perforce fall a sacrifice to consistency. 

Until the coming race of naturalists acknowledges my 
efforts in this direction I must be satisfied with the 
recognition, which has already been accorded thereto in 
rich measure by those representatives of. our idealistic 
culture, who, far removed from ignoring or condemning 
the results of modern physical science, perceive the 
necessity of an organic fusion of the same with idealism, but 
have hitherto missed a suitable leader in the solution of 
this problem declared impossible by the exclusive repre- 
' sentatives of Physical Science itself. On this ground 
for some time even Theology has begun to prize in me a 
valuable ally, although hardly any one has more plainly 
declared than I, that Christianity is no longer a vital 
factor of our developing civilisation, and has already 
traversed all its phases. 

On this point I am perfectly clear, that in future as 
hitherto I shall please no party and no school ; but just 
as certain also am I that this is at least a negative con- 
dition for everything important, although this character- 



xx PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 

istic applies just as well to the fanciful and absurd. 
Although, however, I may give satisfaction to no party 
and to no school, yet at least all know precisely and un- 
ambiguously where I stand, since what I will and what I 
mean, I have at all times said straight out, and sometimes 
perhaps all too clearly. In fact, this frank attitude of mine 
has made it very easy for the dissident schools to take up 
on their part likewise a clear position in regard to me, 
what is displeasing to them to blame and reject, and what 
is congenial to them to acknowledge with respect. 

EDUARD VON" HARTMANN. 

Berlin, October 1S75. 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO THE EIGHTH EDITION. 



Although, since the appearance of the seventh edition 
the unfavourahle circumstances of the times have pressed 
in an unusual degree on the whole book trade, and 
scientific literature in particular has been most seriously 
affected by the contraction of the literary budget of the 
reading public, yet it is permitted me to issue an eighth 
edition, and I feel the greater debt of gratitude to the 
public for this persistent and unusual sympathy, as two 
years ago it was considered that the demand for the 
" Philosophy of the Unconscious " in Germany had been 
sufficiently met for some time to come by the first six 
editions. If the erroneousness of this conjecture forms, on 
the one side, for the author a grateful encouragement to 
his labours, yet, on the other hand, it is also not to be 
denied that in the extensive sale which the " Philosophy of 
the Unconscious " has found in the circles of the general 
public (the first seven editions represent over ten thousand 
copies) there lies a not inconsiderable danger for the cor- 
rect estimate of the collective philosophical tendencies 
of the author, because a historically established judgment 
on the part of experts, which might serve as a standard to 
the laity, has not yet been formed, and the judgment of the 
laity is commonly determined more by what strikes the 
eye than by the less readily discernible inner nature of 
things. Only too many of those, who buy or borrow the 
" Philosophy of the Unconscious," feel their " metaphysical 
need " satisfied when they have turned over the chapters 
on Love and the Misery of Existence, and think they may 



xxii PREFACE TO THE EIGHTH EDITION. 

now chime in with a good conscience when the topic of 
conversation is the "Philosophy of the Unconscious." 
" Philosophy of the Unconscious, Continuator of Schopen- 
hauer, fashionable representative of Pessimism," such one- 
sided and often uncomprehended catchwords are sufficient 
to legitimate them as connoisseurs ; the phrases get 
attached to the name " Hartinann " like a label, which 
must henceforth adhere to it as if they were a part of the 
author's own signature. Had the " Philosophy of the Un- 
conscious " lived through its two or three instead of eight 
editions in nine years, and had it not broken through the 
sphere of a scientific circle of readers in this time, it is 
probable the fame of its author would have been less in 
advance of his performances, but in compensation his 
name would not have been linked with so one-sided a 
signature, which at present forms a hindrance to the un- 
prejudiced estimation of his later achievements. 

My opinion by no means implies that the conquest of 
the strata of the reading public, who hitherto have stood 
aloof from all philosophy, is to be deplored because 
obtained through the " Philosophy of the Unconscious," 
but only that the stopping half-way of such readers is 
to be deplored. The clearness and intelligibility of the 
" Philosophy of the Unconscious " has been abundantly 
praised; but this is still only very relative, merely conspi- 
cuous by comparison with other philosophical works. And 
no one has ever asserted that for the sake of general intelli- 
gibility I have anywhere omitted to dig below the problems 
as deeply as lay in my power; the " Philosophy of the Un- 
conscious " is thus anything but popular in the sense of 
the popularisation of scientific results. In fact we hear, 
even from most laymen, who approach its reading unpre- 
pared, that they have not understood the main discussions. 
"What then alone can give the key for judging, remains 
ww-understood ; but what also without this key appears 
in itself clear and intelligible, is, because conceived out 
of its systematic connection, necessarily raw-understood. 



PREFACE TO THE EIGHTH EDITION. xxiii 

As an introduction to the author's sphere of thought, are 
now to be mentioned in the first rank, the " Gesammelte 
Studien und Aufsatze gemeinverstandlichen Inhalts," 
especially their first three sections, which may serve the 
purpose of obviating at the outset many errors and mis- 
understandings with regard to the tendencies of the 
author. In the second rank, the writings on " The Self- 
Disintegration of Christianity" [translated in the "Beli- 
gio-Philosophical Journal," vols. 29-31, appearing in 
Chicago], and "Truth and Error in Darwinism" [see p. 
xviii.], of which the former appears suited to render clear 
the contrast of the author to the shallow negativity of a D. 
F. Strauss, and to show, that if he combats Christianity, 
he does this not to combat religion, but to serve religion, 
and to bring again to honour and to render possible that 
which has become impossible through its defenders. The 
study on Darwinism is certainly only to be recommended 
to such readers as have already been instructed by a more 
detailed work on the aims and argumentations of Darwin- 
ism ; as the knowledge of this burning question, however, 
belongs at the present time to the elements of a higher 
culture, this supposition will for the most part be already 
fulfilled, or if not, yet be readily enough made good. 
Together with the " natural philosophical contributions " 
(sec. C.) of the " Gesammelte Studien und Aufsatze," 
this writing forms a suitable naturalistic preparation for 
the reading of the " Philosophy of the Unconscious." 

As every philosophical system is the product of its 
time, and its historical and scientific significance can only 
be rightly estimated in its connection with the history of 
philosophy, the most important preparation for the under- 
standing of the " Philosophy of the Unconscious " is an ac- 
quaintance with the preceding systems of German specu- 
lation, and with the position which the former, according 
to the author's aim, is intended to occupy as regards the 
latter. To afford this historical introduction is the func- 
tion of sect. D of the "Gesammelte Studien und Aufsatze," 



xxiv PREFACE TO THE EIGHTH EDITION. 

entitled " The philosophical starry triad of the nineteenth 
century." Here, without doubt, the layman will en- 
counter many a difficulty ; but if he allows himself to be 
deterred thereby, he has no prospect of overcoming the 
like difficulties in the still more condensed hints of the 
"Philosophyof the Unconscious," whilst thatwhichremains 
obscure in the reading of that introduction can very well 
be cleared up subsequently by acquaintance with the 
author's circle of ideas in their systematic connection. 

If the above-mentioned natural-philosophical prepara- 
tion serves the purpose of making intelligible to the 
reader the reconciliation and fusion of modern physical 
science and philosophy attempted by me, this historical 
introduction will enable him to comprehend the synthe- 
sis accomplished by my philosophy of two philosophical 
mental tendencies apparently so antipathetic, which 
have been fruitful and decisive for the mental life of 
Germany in the last two generations : Hegelianism and 
Scliopenhauerianism. The historical significance of my 
philosophy must essentially be sought in the two men- 
tioned syntheses ; which of the two in an historical point 
of view deserves the pre-eminence, might be difficult for 
contemporaries to determine. From the historical point 
of view the chief value of the Principle of the Uncon- 
scious may have to be sought in this, that only by this 
principle are those two syntheses rendered possible. 

The most important test for the verifying of philosophi- 
cal systems in real life is to be seen in the solution of 
the ethical problems resulting from them. The author of 
a highly defective theoretical philosophy obtains, if not a 
justification, yet to a certain extent an excuse and per- 
sonal rehabilitation, if he — at whatever cost of philoso- 
phical consistency — advances a powerful and valuable 
moral cosmic theory. But when such an one makes 
good its claim in a form possessing certain advantages 
over all earlier moral standpoints as a natural conse- 
quence of the theoretical principles, then the latter obtain 



PREFACE TO THE EIGHTH EDITION. xxv 

thereby a highly-important indirect confirmation, and the 
whole system acquires in such a case a far higher phi- 
losophical and practical value. The exposition of the 
ethical standpoint will be the more important for a 
philosopher, and he will the more urgently wish the cog- 
nisance of the same before the pronouncing of a general 
judgment on his point of view, the more original his theo- 
retic cosmic theory is, the more it contains elements de- 
viating from current opinion, i.e., paradoxical, and the more 
occasion it gives on this ground to erroneous inferences 
respecting the practical consequences flowing therefrom. 
That the " Philosophy of the Unconscious," particularly in 
consequence of the incoherent apprehension of its pessi- 
mism and confusion with the system of Schopenhauer, has 
led to the grossest misunderstandings as regards its practi- 
cal consequences, and has thereby called forth reproaches 
as severe as groundless, is sufficiently well known; and in 
order that such mistakes may be avoided for the future, I 
would emphatically advise that, where it is practicable, 
my readers should make themselves previously acquainted 
with my ethical views before they undertake the reading 
of the " Philosophy of the Unconscious." The " Phanome- 
nojogie des sittlichen Bewusstseins," now in the press, in 
which those views are expounded, is an altogether popular 
work, which, in contrast to the '' Philosophy of the Uncon- 
scious," requires no previous knowledge in a philosophical 
or scientific reference, is independently constructed from 
its foundation, and is therefore very suitable for being read 
without any previous acquaintance with the rest of my 
philosophical efforts. Whoever has first made acquaint- 
ance with my second chief work will without doubt 
regard my first main work with quite other eyes, because 
he brings with him at starting a definite opinion on the 
practical fertility of the ideas developed therein, which 
may be described as the counterpart of the paradoxical im- 
pression commonly received by unprepared readers. 
However much weight may be assigned, in judging a 



xxvi PREFACE TO THE EIGHTH EDITION. 

system, to the sides hitherto discussed, it will yet remain 
indisputable that the decisive point for the theoretical 
estimation of such must be sought in the fundamental 
theory of knowledge. The theory of knowledge is the true 
philosophic/, prima; with the right or wrong attitude to the 
problems of the theory of knowledge the decision is already 
made, whether the particular thinker is on the right or 
wrong road in his efforts to solve the metaphysical prob- 
lems, and this holds more than ever good of a system of the 
present time, which has brought to full consciousness the 
importance of the theory of knowledge, first placed in the 
right light by Kant, after its treatment had been pushed on 
one side by the great successors of Kant as a matter already 
settled by Kant. The whole reach of the theoretical con- 
trast, in which I find myself with respect to Schopenhauer 
as to all others standing theoretically on Kantian ground, 
he alone is able to appreciate who has taken the trouble 
to go through my writings specially devoted to these ques- 
tions. Such an one will, however, no longer be able to mis- 
understand the relation of my system, merely hinted at in 
the "Philosophy of the Unconscious," to the problems of the 
theory of knowledge, as has happened on the part of those 
readers of the " Philosophy of the Unconscious " who ima- 
gined they could characterise me, despite that diametrical 
opposition to Schopenhauer, simply as his continuator. 
All readers, who stand substantially on the ground of the 
Kantian transcendental Idealism, as represented by Fichte, 
by Schellbg in his youth, by Schopenhauer, and by a part 
of the Hegelian school, I must beg to read my writings con- 
cerning the theory of Cognition before the " Philosophy of 
the Unconscious," and the same holds good in a metaphy- 
sical respect of my memoir " on the Dialectical Method " 
for all adherents of Hegel, who still see in his method an 
essential and inseparable element of his philosophical 
achievements. For laymen, on the contrary, who have 
hitherto kept off the mistaken paths of subjective Ideal- 
ism and the Hegelian Dialectic, the reading of the speci- 



PREFACE TO THE EIGHTH EDITION. xxvii 

fied writings may be less necessary and not even recom- 
mendable before acquaintance -with the Philosophy of the 
Unconscious, because the material difficulties to be over- 
come in them might easily deter from further philosophical 
studies. Only the preface to the second edition of the 
"Kritische Grundlegung des transcendentalen Eealismus" 
I could wish to see read also by laymen before the Philo- 
sophy of the Unconscious, because they will get there- 
from at any rate an inkling, that I raise the claim, to have 
made the first decided step in the Theory of Knowledge 
since Kant. 

I conclude with some words from my preface to the 
French Translation, p. iii., "La philosophe de l'lncon- 
scient n'est pas un systeme : elle se borne a tracer les 
lineaments principaux d'un systeme. Elle n'est pas la 
conclusion, mais le programme d'une vie entiere de travail : 
pour achever l'ceuvre, la sante et une longue vie seraient 
n^cessaires." May there be found in the sum of my other 
publications the honest attempt at a payment on account 
of the assumed obligation, and the "Phdosophy of the 
Unconscious " be henceforth read and judged as an integral 
part of the totality of my philosophical works. 

EDUAED VON HAETMANK 
Berlin, January 1878. 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO THE NINTH EDITION. 



As the eighth edition of this work appeared simultaneously 
with my second principal work, so I issue the ninth 
simultaneously with my third principal work. If at the 
close of the preface of the eighth edition I described the 
" Philosophy of the Unconscious " as the programme of my 
life, the two other extant chief works yield the proof that 
hitherto at any rate good will has not been wanting to 
carry out the programme. 

The " Phiinomenologie des sittlichen Bewusstseins," 
which appeared at the end of the year 1878, is no com- 
plete system of Ethics, but only the first introductory part 
of such, and therefore described by its title as "Prolegomena 
to every future Ethics." The System of Ethics would 
with me embrace, besides this introductory ethical doctrine 
of Principles, a Social Ethic and an Individual Ethic. 
The working out of an Individual Ethic appeared to me 
least urgent, that of Social Ethic, on the contrary, very 
desirable indeed, but yet bound up with considerable 
material difficulties, which it is hoped will receive some 
illumination by the progress of social-political legislation. 
Accordingly, while for the treatment of Social Ethics some 
delay might appear desirable, I had excellent reasons for 
the speedy presentation of my "Eeligious Philosophy;" for, 
for the treatment which Social Ethics might eventually 
experience at my hands there were numerous hints to be 
found, both in the " Phanomenologie des sittlichen Be- 
wusstseins " as well as in other of my writings ; but my 
attitude towards Eeligious Philosophy could on the basis 



xxx PREFACE TO THE NINTH EDITION. 

of the "Philosophy of the Unconscious" and. the little 
monograph on the Self-disintegration of Christianity hardly 
even approximately be rightly estimated. 

The " Phanomenologie des sittlichen Bewesstseins " 
turned the polemic of the philosophers and theologians 
against me into a new phase. Hitherto I had been met with 
the argument that Pessimism must be intrinsically with- 
out an Ethic; but now, when the Ethics of Pessimism 
had in principle come to light, that argument could no 
longer hold water, and it was now contended that this 
Ethics was worth nothing, because it was the Ethics of 
Pessimism. Thereby the contest concerning Pessimism 
was renewed, but also at the same time carried over to a 
new battlefield. I felt moved to plunge into this dis- 
cussion with some journalistic disquisitions and essays, 
which, at the end of 1880, were, collected, and appeared 
in pamphlet form under the title " Zur Geschichte und 
Begriindung des Pessimismus." The first shows that not 
Schopenhauer but Kant is the father of the Pessimism 
advocated by me, whereas Schopenhauer has one-sidedly 
disfigured and spoilt the Kantian Pessimism ; the second 
refutes the objections which deny that Pessimism is a 
problem of science, or soluble by science ; the third has 
the task of sharply separating the ethically valuable Pessi- 
mism advocated by me from sundry ethically questionable 
and injurious varieties of Pessimism, and the fourth <n V es 
a phenomenology of Suffering, as it were, which already 
serves as a transitional chord from Ethics to the Philosophy 
of Pieligion. 

The effects of my "Phanomenologie" on the public 
reach manifestly less widely and more deeply than those 
of the " Philosophy of the Unconscious ; " the polemic called 
forth by the former is, it is true, uot yet free from obli- 
quities and misunderstandings, but it is far more scientific, 
more intelligent and thorough than that, which, in the 
first four years after the appearance of the " Philosophy 
of the Unconscious," saw the light. The polemic on the. 



PREFACE TO THE NINTH EDITION. 



XXXI 



" Phanomenologie " has manifestly not a little contributed 
to correct the previous judgment of the " Philosophy of the 
Unconscious," and to silence much superficial chatter. I 
hope that this will be the case in still higher degree with 
my " Philosophy of Eeligion," which yields the proof that 
my philosophy is just as little non-religious as non-ethical, 
but in both respects stands in perfect continuity with the 
previous course of development of the consciousness of 
humanity. 

In the " Philosophy of Eeligion" my standpoint, as I have 
already indicated in the closing section of the " Self-dis- 
integration of Christianity," specially represents a syn- 
thesis of the Christian and Indian Eeligions, or a synthesis 
of Hegelianism and Schopenhauerism. For that purpose it 
was important to me to come to terms with the present 
leading representatives of a speculative Christian Theo- 
logy, as this has been developed from the twofold starting- 
point of Hegel and Schleiermacher. I have done this in 
the memoir : "Die Krisis des Christenthums in der mo- 
dernen Theologie." As in the " Self-disintegration " I had 
criticised the vulgar liberal Protestantism, so here specu- 
lative Protestantism, and by how much the latter is phi- 
losophically more considerable and of greater religious 
worth than the former, so much the more important is 
also the critique of the latter than that of the former. 
But as the subject is more difficult and requires a subtler 
handling, the later writing has by no means received the 
same amount of notice as the former ; it may be that this 
is owino- in part to the circumstances of the times. 

My third principal work consists now of two parts ; the 
first, historically critical part, appeared at the end of 1881, 
under the title : " Das religiose Bewusstsein der Menschheit 
im Stufengang seiner Entwickelung ; " the second, syste- 
matic part, is issued simultaneously with this ninth edition 
of the " Philosophy of the Unconscious," under the title, 
" Die Eeligion des Geistes." The first part deduces from 
the previous course of evolution of the religious conscious- 



xxxii PREFACE TO THE NINTH EDITION. . 

ness of humanity by immanent criticism that stage as his- 
torical postulate, to which Eeligion must accordingly in 
consistency be elevated ; the second part systematically 
carries out the point of view merely hinted at in the first, 
not, however, in dogmatic, but in phenomenological form, 
i.e., by a psychological analysis of the religious conscious- 
ness and by deduction of its metaphysical postulates and 
ethical consequences. 

EDUABD VOJST HARTMANK 



Berlin, August 1882. 



PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 



INTRODUCTORY. 



General Preliminary Observations. 

(a.) Object of the Work. 

" To have ideas, and yet not be conscious of them, — 
there seems to be a contradiction in that ; for how can 
we know that we have them, if we are not conscious of 
them ? Nevertheless, we may become aware indirectly 
that we have an idea, although we be not directly 
cognisant of the same" (Kant, " Anthropology," sec. 5, 
" Of the ideas which we have without being conscious 
of them"). These clear words of the great clear thinker 
of Konigsberg offer at once a starting-point for our in- 
vestigation, and the field of inquiry itself. 

The sphere of Consciousness is like a vine-clad hill which 
has been so often ploughed up in all directions, that the 
thought of further labour has become almost loathsome 
to the public mind ; for the looked- for treasure is never 
found, although rich and unexpected crops have sprung 
from the well - worked soil. Mankind very naturally 
began its researches in Philosophy with the examination 
of what was immediately given in Consciousness; may 
vol. 1. A 



2 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

it not now be lured, by tbe charm of novelty and the 
hope of a great reward, to seek the golden treasure in 
the mountain's depths, in the noble ores of its rocky 
beds, rather than on the surface of the fruitful earth ? 
Undoubtedly auger and chisel and prolonged irksome 
labour will be needed before the golden veins are reached, 
and then a tedious dressing of the ore ere the treasure be 
secured. Let him, however, who is not afraid of toil 
follow me. Is not indeed the supreme enjoyment to be 
found in labour itself? 

The conception " unconscious idea " is certainly some- 
what paradoxical to the naive understanding, but the 
contradiction contained therein is— as Kant says — only 
apparent. For if we can only be cognisant of the actual 
contents of consciousness — thus can have no knowledge 
of aught out of consciousness — by what right do we 
assert that that, whose existence is revealed in conscious- 
ness, could not also exist outside our consciousness ? 
Truly in such a case we should be able to affirm neither 
existence nor non-existence, and accordingly would have 
to rest content with the assumption of non-existence, 
until in some other way we acquired the right to make 
a positive affirmation of existence. This has gene- 
rally been the view adopted up to the present time. 
The more, however, Philosophy has abandoned the 
dogmatic assumption of immediate cognition through 
sense or understanding, and the more it has perceived 
the highly indirect cognisability of everything previously 
regarded as immediate content of Consciousness, the 
higher naturally has risen the value of indirect proofs 
of existence. Accordingly, reflective minds have from 
time to time appeared, who have felt constrained to fall 
back upon the existence of unconscious ideas as the cause 
of certain mental phenomena otherwise totally inexpli- 
cable. To collect these phenomena, to render probable 
the existence of unconscious ideas and unconscious will 
from the evidence of the particular cases, and through their 



INTRODUCTORY. 3 

combination to raise this probability to a degree border- 
ing on certainty, is the object of the first two sections of 
the present work. The first treats of phenomena of a 
physiological and zoopsychological nature, the second 
deals with the department of mental science. 

By means of this principle of the Unconscious the 
phenomena in question at once receive their only possible 
explanation, an explanation which either has not been 
expressly stated before, or could not obtain recognition, 
for the simple reason that the principle itself can only 
be established through a comparison of all the rele- 
vant phenomena. Moreover, by the application of this 
as yet undeveloped principle, a prospect opens up of 
quite novel modes of treating matters hitherto supposed 
to be perfectly well known. A number of the contra- 
rieties and antinomies of earlier creeds and systems are 
reconciled by the adoption of a higher point of view, 
embracing within its scope opposed aspects as incom- 
plete truths. In a word, the principle is shown to be 
in the highest degree fruitful for special questions. Far 
more important than this, however, is the way in which 
the principle of the Unconscious is imperceptibly ex- 
tended beyond the physical and psychical domains to 
achieve the solution of problems which, to adopt the 
common language, would be said to belong to the 
province of metaphysics. These consequences flow so 
simply and naturally from the application of our prin- 
ciple to physical and pyschological inquiries, that the 
transition to another department would not be remarked 
at all, if the subject-matter of those questions were not 
otherwise familiar to us. There is a general tendency of 
thought towards this single principle. In each succeed- 
> ing chapter one piece more of the world crystallises, as it 
were, around this nucleus, until, expanded to all-unity, it 
embraces the Cosmos, and at last is suddenly revealed as 
that which has formed the core of all great philosophies, 
the Substance of Spinoza, the Absolute Ego of Fichte, 



4 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

Spelling's Absolute Subject-Object, the Absolute Idea of 
Plato and Hegel, Schopenhauer's Will, &c. 

I beg, therefore, no one to take offence at this notion 
of unconscious representation if at first it have little 
positive significance. The positive content of the con- 
ception can only be gradually acquired in the course of 
the investigation. Let it at first suffice that an un- 
known cause of certain processes, outside of and yet not 
essentially foreign to Consciousness, is thereby signi- 
fied, receiving the name " idea," because it has in 
common with what is known in Consciousness an ideal 
content, which itself has no reality, but can at the most 
resemble an external reality in the ideal image. The 
notion of unconscious will is clearer in itself, and 
appears less paradoxical (comp. Chap. A. i. conclusion). 
As it will be shown in Chap. B. iii. that Feeling can be 
resolved into Will and Idea, these two being thus the 
only fundamental psychical functions which, according 
to Chap. A. iii., are inseparably one, so far as they are 
conscious, I designate the united unconscious will and 
unconscious idea " the Unconscious." Since, however, 
this unity again only rests upon the identity of the 
unconsciously willing and unconsciously thinking sub- 
ject (Chap. C. xv. 4), the expression " the Unconscious " 
denotes also this identical subject of the unconscious 
psychical functions, — a something in the main unknown, 
it is true, but of which we may at least affirm, that 
besides the negative attributes " being unconscious and 
exercising functions unconsciously," it possesses also the 
essentially positive attributes " willing and represent- 
ing." As long as our speculation does not transgress 
the limits of individuality, this may be sufficiently 
clear. When we, however, view the world as a whole, 
the expression " the Unconscious " acquires the force 
not only of an abstraction from all unconscious individual 
functions and subjects, but also of a collective, com- 
prehending the foregoing both extensively and inten- 



INTRODUCTORY. 5 

sively. Lastly, it will appear from Chap. C. vii. that 
all unconscious operations spring from one same, subject, 
which has only its phenomenal revelation in the several 
individuals, so that " the Unconscious " signifies this One 
Absolute subject. This must suffice as a general indica- 
tion of our theme. 

" Philosophy is the history of philosophy," — to that 
I subscribe with all my heart. He, however, who should 
take this assertion to mean that truth. is to be found in 
the past alone would fall into a very serious error; for 
there is a dead and a living past in the history of Philo- 
sophy, and life is only to be found in the 'present. Thus 
in a tree, the solid stem of dead-wood which defies the 
storm is formed by the growth of earlier years, and a 
thin layer alone contains the life of the mighty plant, 
until in the next year it too is numbered with the dead. 
It was not the leaves and flowers, which captivated the 
beholders in bygone summers, that gave enduring strength 
to the tree, — these at the most contributed, when fallen 
and faded, to manure its roots, — it was the slight and 
unregarded annular growth of the stem, and the insigni- 
ficant young shoots, that increased its girth, height, and 
solidity. It is not merely strength for which the living 
ring is debtor to its dead forefathers, but by holding them in 
its embrace, expansion likewise ; wherefore for the newly 
sprouting ring, as for the tree, the first law is really to 
embrace and enfold all its predecessors, the second, to 
grow from the root upwards self-dependently. The pro- 
blem how to fulfil these two conditions in Philosophy 
verges on the paradoxical, for they who overlook the 
situation have usually lost the ingenuousness necessary 
for making a true beginning, and he, who attempts a 
new departure, generally presents some crude dilettante 
product from having insufficiently appreciated the pre- 
vious historic evolution. 

I believe that the principle of the Unconscious, which 
forms the focus in which all the rays of our inquiry 



6 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

meet, when conceived in its generality, may not improperly 
be regarded as a new point of view. How far I have 
succeeded in penetrating into the spirit of the previous 
development of Philosophy I must leave to the judgment 
of the reader. I will only remark that, having regard to 
the plan of the work, the proof, that nearly everything 
that can he looked upon as genuine heart-wood in the 
history of Philosophy is embraced in the final results, 
must be limited to brief hints, which have in part been 
more elaborated in various special inquiries, to which 
reference will be made at the proper place. 



lb.) Method of Research and Mode of Exposition. 

Three leading methods of research are to be distin- 
guished — the dialectic (Hegelian), the deductive (from 
above downwards), and the inductive (from below up- 
wards). The dialectic method I must, without now 
entering upon reasons fro or con} entirely exclude, for 
the reason that, at least in the accepted form of it, it is 
ill-adapted for common comprehension, a feature which 
cannot here be overlooked. The advocates of that 
method, who are above all others bound to recognise the 
relativity of truth, will, it is hoped, not condemn the 
present work on account of its naturalistic character, 
especially when they consider the positive stand made 
against common opponents, and its utility as a pro- 
pedeutic for non-philosophers. We have then to weigh 
the comparative advantages of the deductive or descend- 
ing, and of the inductive or ascending method. 

Man arrives at the scientific stage when he tries to 
comprehend and explain to himself the totality of the 
phenomena which surround him. Phenomena are effects 
whose causes he desires to know. As different causes 

1 My own opinion will be found in a monograph entitled "Ueber die 
dialektische Methode" (Berlin, 1864, C. Duncker). 



INTRODUCTORY. 7 

may have the same effect (e.g., friction, the galvanic 
current, and chemical changes, Heat), so, too, a single 
effect can have different causes. The cause assumed for 
an effect is consequently only a hypothesis, which can by 
no means possess certainty, but only a probability, to be 
determined by extraneous considerations. 

Let the probability that TJj is the cause of the pheno- 
menon E be = %, and the probability that TJ 2 is the 
cause of JJ X be = u„, then the probability that U 2 is the 
remote cause of E = u lt u 2 ; from which it is clear that 
at every stage backwards in the chain of causation the 
coefficients of probability of the several causes in respect 
of their proximate effects go on multiplying, i.e., become 
continually smaller (e.g., -$j multiplied by itself nine times 
becomes about ^.) If the degree of probability of the 
causes did not again rise through the number of hypo- 
thetical causes becoming fewer, and through more effects 
being explicable by a single cause, 1 the probabilities 
would soon by continual multiplication reach values so 
small as to be unserviceable. Now if the causes of all 
cosmical phenomena could be regressively traced, until 
they were referred to one or a few ultimate causes or 
principles, Science, which is one, as the world is one, 
might attain perfection by way of the inductive method. 

Supposing, however, any one to have solved this pro- 
blem in a more or less complete form, the question still 
remains, whether, in imparting his convictions to others, 
he would do better to follow the track from phenomena 
backwards and upwards to the original causes, or to 
deduce the existing world from such first principles ? 
"We are dealing here with an alternative; for when 
Schelling in his final system asserts the necessity of a 
combination of both processes, beginning (see Werke, 
Abth. ii. Bd. 3, S. 15 1, Anm.) with a negative ascending 
philosophy, and concluding with a positive descending 

1 The increase takes place according to the formula developed on pp. 53 
and 54. 



8 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

philosophy, this duplication is only made possible by 
assigning a distinct sphere to each, and by retaining the 
former for the purely logical domain. In other words, 
he applies the inductive method only to facts of inner 
thought - experience (comp. Werke, ii. I , pp. 3 2 1 an( ^ 
3 2 6), whilst in his positive philosophy he seeks to exhibit 
the highest Idea thus obtained as result as the really Exis- 
tent and the principle of all Being (comp. ii. 3, p. I S°)> 
endeavouring to derive therefrom the facts of outer ex- 
perience by means of the deductive method. (Krause's 
ascending and descending didactic order is somewhat 
similar.) Even if the results thus deductively obtained 
in any way satisfied the demands of Science, still such 
an arbitrary separation of inner and outer experience 
could not be scientifically justified ; and in any case, as 
regards the latter province, the before-mentioned alter- 
native would again present itself, whether the ascending 
or descending method be preferable for exposition. The 
decision must undoubtedly be given in favour of the 
ascending or inductive method ; for — 

i. As the person to be guided dwells in the lower 
region of fact, his proper starting-point is there, and 
his upward course is always from the known to the 
unknown. On the other hand, to place him at the 
outset at the point of view of first principles would 
necessitate a salto mortalc, and then he would have to 
proceed from one unknown point to another, only reach- 
ing the known again at the conclusion of his journey. 

2. Every one is persuaded that his own opinion is 
the correct one, and consequently distrusts any novel 
doctrine. He must, therefore, know how another has 
arrived at his sublime results, if his own distrust is to be 
removed, and this requires the employment of the ascend- 
ing method. 

3. Men are secretly inclined to distrust their own 
understandings, as well as obstinately to stand by opinions 
once adopted. It is therefore exceedingly difficult to 



INTRODUCTORY. g 

convince any person by deduction, because he always dis- 
trusts the method, even when he has no specific objec- 
tion to raise ; whereas in induction he needs think less 
strenuously and exactly, but can, as it were, touch the 
truth by sight and direct perception. 

4. Deduction from first principles, supposing it to 
be absolutely flawless, may perhaps be imposing by 
its vastness, compactness, and subtlety, but does not 
produce conviction. For since the same effects can 
arise from different causes, in the most favourable case 
deduction only proves the possibility of these principles, 
by no means their necessity ; it does not even give them 
a coefficient of probability, as the inductive method 
does, never advancing beyond the bare notion of pos- 
sibility. To speak figuratively, it is undoubtedly in- 
different, if we want to become acquainted with the 
Rhine, whether we travel up-stream or down-stream; 
but for the dweller at the mouth of the Rhine the 
natural course is up-stream, for if a magician should 
come and transport him in a twinkling to the source of a 
certain river, he would be wholly unable to tell if it were 
really the source of the Rhine, and whether he is not 
about to undertake a long, tedious journey in vain. And 
when he arrives at this river's mouth, and finds himself 
in an unfamiliar region instead of in his own home, the 
wizard perhaps tries to persuade him that it really is 
his home, and many a one readily credits him for the 
sake of the beautiful journey itself. 

After what has been stated, it would be inexplicable 
how anybody who had arrived at his principles by the 
inductive path should take the deductive method for 
their communication and proof; and, in fact, this never 
occurs. The truth is, that philosophers who deduce their 
systems (whether the method be revealed or concealed), 
have arrived at their principles by the only way save 
induction which is open to them, viz., by a sort of mystical 
flight, as will be shown in Chap. B. ix. In their case 



io PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

deduction is the attempt to descend from the mystically 
acquired results to the reality to be explained, and that 
too by a path, which has always possessed a fascination 
for system-loving minds dazzled by the certainty of the 
results attained in the very different science of mathe- 
matics. For such philosophers deduction is certainly the 
appropriate method, since their given starting-point is 
the upper region of thought. Apart from the circumstance 
that both the method of proof itself as well as the prin- 
ciples to be proved must always, as everything human, be 
defective, and that accordingly deduction always leaves 
an unfilled interval between primary principles and the 
reality to be explained, the worst feature of the case is 
that deduction cannot prove its own principles, as Aristotle 
long ago showed, in the most favourable case obtaining for 
them only a bare possibility, but not a definite probability. 
The principles may perhaps gain somewhat in compreTien- 
sibility by the process, but no power of convincing, and 
the attainment of a conviction of their correctness is left 
exclusively to mystic reproduction, as their discovery 
consisted in mystical production. It is the greatest 
misfortune for Philosophy, so far as it employs this 
method, that the assurance of the truth of its results is 
not communicable as in the case of inductive science ; 
and even the comprehension of its content, as is well 
known, is no easy matter, because it is infinitely diffi- 
cult to pour a mystical conception into an adequately 
scientific mould. Philosophers, however, only too fre- 
quently deceive both themselves and their readers with 
regard to the mystical origin of their principles, and try, 
in the absence of good proofs, to give them a scientific 
support by subtle sophisms, the worthlessness of which 
escapes notice through the firm belief of the truth of the 
result. Here is the explanation of the circumstance, 
that people (save in the rare exception of a certain 
mental affinity) feel an extreme repugnance to the study 
of the philosophers, when they turn to their proofs and 



INTRODUCTORY. n 

deductions, but, on the other hand, are attracted and 
fascinated in the highest degree by the imposing com- 
pactness of their systems, their grand views of the 
world, their flashes of genius illuminating the darkest 
recesses, their deep conceptions, their ingenious apercus, 
their psychological acumen. It is the mode of proof 
that inspires the man of science with his instinctive 
aversion to Philosophy, — an aversion which in our own 
time, when in every department of life Eealism is 
triumphant over Idealism, has risen to supreme con- 
tempt. 

It follows further from the deductive method of the 
philosophers, that discussion can only arise on special 
points in so far as they follow from principles with 
respect to which there is no dispute. But now, inasmuch 
as the whole system is enounced as a consequence of 
first principles, even supposing all conclusions to be 
correctly drawn, it can only be accepted or rejected as 
a whole, according as one rejects or accepts the first 
principles ; whilst in a philosophy of induction which 
has been built up from below, i.e., on generally admitted 
and empirically established facts, assent may be granted 
up to a certain point, and then the observer may go his 
own road, having gained many hints for future use from 
a careful study of the solid sub-structure. It is accord- 
ingly evident why every deductive system stands more 
or less alone, like the spider in its web, because all 
differences are enclosed in the first principles, with 
regard to which there will never be agreement, if we 
are bound to make a commencement with them. On 
the other hand, in the different inductive philosophical 
systems (which, alas ! do not yet exist), a feeling of 
solidarity would arise through the possession of a 
common foundation, just as in inductive science in general, 
where every strictly scientific step, once taken, is always 
a step gained, and where even the smallest gift is grate- 
fully accepted. Lastly, it is obvious from what has 



12 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

been said, why the deductive philosophy has never yet 
succeeded in reaching the majority of the educated, but 
has had to be contented with a limited public, and why 
it has been just as little successful in bridging over the 
vast gulf which separates it from the reality to be ex- 
plained. 

Those philosophies, on the contrary, where the in- 
ductive method has been adopted, and all the natural 
sciences in the widest sense of the term, have un- 
doubtedly obtained precious results of a secondary kind 
and gained ground for the future, but still are very far 
indeed from having reached ultimate principles and the 
true unity of science. 

Thus a chasm yawns between the methods ; induction 
cannot attain to first principles and to system, nor can 
pure speculation arrive at explanation of the actual or 
communicate its wisdom. It may be concluded from 
this that the whole truth cannot be comprehended from 
one side alone, but that the matter must be approached 
simultaneously from both sides, and a survey made 
from opposite stations in order to find out the salient 
points, where a bridge can be thrown across. For 
the case is not an entirely hopeless one. Thoughts 
crystallise both from above and from below, as the 
mass of melted sulphur coalesces when the most pro- 
minent needles interlace, but not before. We have 
arrived at a point in the history of science where the 
pioneers meet, like two miners who, in their subterranean 
galleries, hear each other's knocking through the party- 
walls. For inductive science has in recent times made 
such vast progress in all branches of inorganic and 
organic nature, and even in the region of mind, that 
attempts of the kind indicated find a very different 
ground on which to work than, e.g., those of an Aristotle, 
Paracelsus, Bacon, and Leibniz. On the other hand, 
however, the period embracing the close of the last and 
beginning of the present century, brilliant beyond all 



INTRODUCTORY. 



'3 



former periods, has enriched the speculative mind in so 
many ways, that both parties once more face each other 
as equals. But at the same time the world has become 
more aware of a direct antagonism of method which 
before was less apparent, and hence it has come to pass 
that each investigator is wont to declare himself for one 
of the two tendencies much more definitely than was 
formerly the case. The present time needs a spokesman 
who has comprehended both sides with equal love and 
devotion, who is capable, if not of mystical production, 
yet of reproduction, and at the same time has made a 
survey of exact science and appreciates the strictness of 
the exact inductive method. He should clearly recog- 
nise, too, the nature of the problem before him, viz., to 
combine the speculative (mystically gained) principles 
with the highest results hitherto attained of inductive 
science according to inductive method, in order to bridge 
over the gulf between the two, and to elevate what have 
hitherto been merely subjective convictions to the rank 
of objective truths. It was in reference to this great 
and seasonable problem that I chose the motto, " Specu- 
lative results according to inductive scientific method ! " 
Not that I thought myself to possess a mind sufficiently 
comprehensive for the solution of this problem, or at all 
believed that I had offered in the present work a satis- 
factory solution, — that is far from me. If I merit any 
praise, it is for having distinctly declared a problem, 
already recognised and attacked in different ways, to be 
the philosophic problem of a time suffering conspicuously 
from speculative exhaustion, for resolving to contribute 
my mite towards its solution, and so giving to others a 
possibly needed stimulus ; but above all, because I have 
taken up the matter on a side hitherto neglected, but 
rich in promise beyond all others. 1 At the same time 

' » The astonishingly favourable re- me to be essentially due to a recog- 
ception, which the previous editions nition of the seasonableness of my 
of this work have met with, seems to efforts. 



14 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

my design imposes upon me the duty of submitting my- 
self to the judgment of both tribunals, the scientific as 
well as the philosophical. 1 Gladly do I do this, however ; 
for I hold all speculation to be baseless, which contradicts 
the clear results of empirical investigation, and conversely 
hold all conceptions and interpretations of empirical facts 
to be erroneous, which contradict the strict results of a 
purely logical speculation. 

I may perhaps be allowed to say also a few words 
upon the mode of exposition. My first rule has been 
general intelligibility and brevity. The reader will 
accordingly find no citations except such as could be 
worked into the text ; all polemic has been avoided as 
far as possible, unless it was indispensable for the elu- 
cidation of a conception. My trust is greater in the 
convincing power of what positive truth there may be 
contained in my work than in negative criticism, 
however incisive. Further, instead of dwelling upon 
the errors and weaknesses of great men, which receive 

1 The criticisms and replies, whe- is indicated in " Das philoso- 
theT philosophical or scientific, which phische Dreigestirn des 19. Jahr- 
have come under my notice, have hunderts " (Section D. of the " Ges. 
not succeeded in shaking my opin- Studien u. Aufsatze " ), and the 
ions on any material point, but "Elucidations of the Metaphysic 
have rather strengthened them in of the Unconscious." The following 
several instances. In the Addenda writings give a clue to my position 
to the earlier editions I sought as in respect to the problems of the 
much as possible to avoid polemics, theory of knowledge and metho- 
and allowed myself for the first time dology : — " Kritische Grundlegung 
in the Appendix to the seventh des transcendentalen Realismus," 
edition somewhat greater liberty in 2d ed. ; " J. H. v. Kirchniann's 
this respect. I have permitted my- erkenntnisstheoretischer Realismus" 
self more freedom in respect to and " Ueber die dialektische He- 
controversy in some minor writings, thode." On the religious ques- 
A fuller treatment of strictly scien- tions of the present day I have 
tine questions will be found in expressed my opinions in the 
" Truth and Error in Darwinism," tractate " Die Selbstzersetzung 
and " Contributions to a Philosophy des Christenthums und die Reli- 
of Nature" (Section C. of "Gesam- gion der Zukunft," 2d ed. and a 
melte Studien und Aufsatze ge- few excursuses in the field' of JEs- 
meinverstiindlichenlnhalts"),aswell thetics are to be found in " Aesthe- 
as in the Appendix to the present thische Studien " (Section B of 
volume, " On the Physiology of the the "Gesammelte Studien und Auf- 
Nerve-Centres." My place in the satze"). 
historical development of philosophy 



INTRODUCTORY. 



15 



sentence in being forgotten in course of time, I have 
preferred to render prominent their grandest ideas, where 
they presagingly foreshadow in vague outline what only 
the future can establish in complete detail. Further, 
the opportunity for interesting side-remarks, for more 
thorough but prolix proofs, detailed deductions, &c, lias 
.often been left unused, so as to avoid a lengthened 
treatment, which would be serviceable to but a few 
readers. Accordingly,. in the majority of instances, with 
the exception of those which deal with fundamentals, the 
chapters are almost aphoristic, because I believe that 
most readers will prefer a short exposition affording 
stimulus to self-reflection to an exhaustive treatment 
of the subject. In the handling of the topics the 
reader's convenience has also been considered as far as 
possible, in that each chapter forms a little treatise by 
itself on a limited subject (a few only making an excep- 
tion to this which belong inseparably together, as, e.g., 
Chap. C. vi. and vii.) The chapters of the first two sec- 
tions together and severally prove the existence of the 
Unconscious ; their concord and demonstrative force is a 
source of mutual support, and they sustain each other 
reciprocally like a pile of arms; thus the later support 
the earlier. I therefore beg the reader kindly to reserve 
his judgment, at least until he has finished Section A. 
Should, however, the proof of this or that chapter appear 
to be faulty, the inferences of the others are not neces- 
sarily thereby condemned, just as one or many of the 
weapons may be taken from a pyramid of piled arms 
without its collapsing. Lastly, I crave indulgence so 
far as the several physiological and zoological facts 
employed as examples are concerned, in respect to which 
a layman may easily make a slip, without, however, 
prejudicing the main argument. 



16 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

(c.) Predecessors in respect of the Conception of the 
Unconscious. 

What a time elapsed before in the history of Philo- 
sophy the antithesis of Spirit and Nature, Thought and 
Being, Subject and Object, emerged into clear conscious- 
ness, an antithesis which now governs all our thinking ! 
For the primitive man as natural existence felt his body 
and soul to be one, he instinctively anticipated this 
identity, and his understanding must have reached a 
high degree of consciousness, before he could so far free 
himself from this instinct as to perceive the full force of 
the contrast. Nowhere in all Greek philosophy do we 
find this opposition clearly expressed, still less its signi- 
ficance recognised, but least of all in the classical period. 
If this holds good of the opposition of the Eeal and the 
Ideal, ought we to be surprised that the contrast of the 
Unconscious and the Conscious should still less occur to 
the primitive understanding, and therefore should arise 
much later in the history of Philosophy ; nay, that at 
this very day most educated people hold it to be absurd 
to speak of unconscious thinking ? Por the Unconscious 
is so much terra incognita to the natural consciousness, 
that it regards the identity of having an idea and being 
conscious of a thing as quite self-evident and indubitable. 
This naive point of view was taken by Descartes (Prin. 
Phil., i. 9), and still more decidedly by Locke (Essay 
on the Human Understanding, book ii. chap. 1, sec. 9): 
" To ask at what time a man has any ideas is to ask 
when he begins to perceive, having Ideas and Perception 
being the same thing;" or sec. 19: "Por it is altogether 
as intelligible to say that a body is extended without 
parts, as that anything thinks without being conscious 
of it. They who talk thus may, with as much reason, 
if it be necessary to their hypothesis, say that a man 
is always hungry, but that he does not always feel it ; 
whereas hunger consists in that very sensation, as think- 



- INTRODUCTORY. 17 

ing consists in being conscious that one thinks." It 
is clear that Locke postulates these propositions in all 
simplicity. The assertion, repeatedly made, that Locke 
has proved the possibility of unconscious ideas is there- 
fore quite incorrect. He only proves from a proposition 
taken for granted, that the mind can have no idea with- 
out the man being conscious thereof, because otherwise 
the consciousness of the man and that of the mind would 
constitute two different persons, and that consequently 
the Cartesians were wrong in asserting that the soul, 
as thinking being, must think incessantly. Locke is 
accordingly the first and only one to give full and 
scientific expression to this tacit supposition of the naive 
understanding. By this step, however, an opportunity 
was naturally afforded Locke's great opponent, Leibniz, of 
perceiving its one-sidedness and untruth, and of making 
the discovery of unconscious ideas, whereas all earlier 
philosophers silently inclined to the one or the other view, 
but in general failed to distinctly envisage the problem. 

Leibniz was led to his discovery through the endeavour 
to save innate ideas and the ceaseless activity of the 
perceptive faculty. For when Locke had proved that 
the soul cannot consciously think if the man is not con- 
scious thereof, and yet should be always thinking, there 
remained nothing for it but to assume an unconscious 
thinking. He therefore distinguishes perception, ideation, 
and apperception, conscious ideation or simply conscious- 
ness (Monad ologie, sec. 14), and says: "II ne s'en suit 
pas de ce qu'on ne s'appercoit pas de la pensee, quelle 
cesse pour cela" (Nouveaux Essais sur l'Entendement 
Humain, book ii. chap. 1, sec. 10). What Leibniz con- 
tributes to the positive establishment of his new con- 
ception is certainly very scanty, but he deserves immense 
credit for instantly perceiving with the eye of genius the 
range of his discovery, for penetrating (sec. 1 5) into the 
dark inner laboratory of human feelings, passions, and 
actions, and for recognising habit and much else as effects 
vol. 1. B 



1 8 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

of an important principle only too briefly expounded. He 
declares unconscious ideas to be the bond " which unites 
every being with all the rest of the universe," and 
explains by their means the pre-established harmony of 
the monads, in that every monad as microcosm uncon- 
sciously represents the macrocosm and its position therein . 
I cheerfully confess that it was the study of Leibniz 
which first incited me to the present investigation. 

With regard to the so-called innate ideas, he likewise 
finds a point of view which has obtained general accept- 
ance (book i. chap. 3, sec. 20): "They are nothing but 
natural aptitudes, that is to say, active and passive dis- 
positions ; '' (chap. 1, sec. 25): "Actual knowledge is 
certainly not innate, but only what one may call virtual 
knowledge, just as the figure outlined by the veins of the 
marble is in the marble before these are discovered in 
the process of working them." Leibniz meant to say 
what Schelling later (Works, div. i. vol. iii. pp. 528, 529) 
more precisely expressed in the words : " So far as the 
Ego produces everything out of itself, so far is all . . . 
knowledge & priori. But in so far as we are not con- 
scious of this productivity, so far is there nothing in us 
a priori, but everything is d posteriori. . . . There are 
thus notions a priori without there being innate notions. 
Not conceptions, but our own nature and its whole 
mechanism is that which is innate to us. . . . In that 
we place the origin of the so-called notions d priori out- 
side the sphere of consciousness, where for us also the 
objective ivorld takes its rise, we assert with the same 
evidence, and with equal right, that our knowledge is in 
origin out-and-out empirical and entirely d priori." 

But now comes the weak side of Leibniz's theory of 
unconscious ideas, already apparent in their usual name, 
" petites perceptions." Having in his discovery of the in- 
finitesimal calculus, and in many parts of Natural Philo- 
sophy, in Mechanics (Eest and Motion), in the Law of 
Continuity, &c, introduced with the most brilliant success 



INTRODUCTORY. 19 

the notion of the (so-called mathematical) infinitely little, 
Leibniz was tempted to conceive the petites perceptions as 
ideas of too low an intensity to affect consciousness. He 
thereby destroyed with one hand what he seemed to have 
built up with the other — the true notion of the Uncon- 
scious as a province opposed to Consciousness, and its 
significance for feeling and action. For if, as Leibniz 
himself maintains, natural disposition, instinct, the pas- 
sions — in short, the mightiest influences in human life — 
take their rise in the sphere of the Unconscious, how 
are they to be shaped by ideas which are withdrawn 
from consciousness simply on account of their weakness ? 
Would not the more powerful conscious ideas prevail at 
the decisive moment ? This, however, is of minor interest 
to Leibniz, and for the main objects of his consideration, 
innate ideas and the constant activity of the soul, his 
assumption of the infinitely little consciousness certainly 
suffices. Accordingly, most of his examples of petites 
perceptions have reference to ideas of a low degree of con- 
sciousness, e.g., sensuous perception during sleep. For all 
that, Leibniz retains the glory of having been the first to 
affirm the existence of ideas of which we are not conscious, 
and to recognise their vast importance. 

Nearer to Leibniz than is commonly thought stands 
Hume, whose theoretical philosophy, it is true, is almost 
limited to a single point, Causality, but who within that 
limited sphere has looked round him with a clearer and 
bolder eye than even Kant. Hume does not dispute the 
fact of Causality, he only opposes the empiricists (Locke) 
with respect to its abstraction from experience, the d 
priorists (Cartesians) with respect to its apodictic cer- 
tainty. On the other hand, he concedes to the empiri- 
cists the applicability of Causality to experience and 
practical affairs, and the d priorists through his indirect 
proof of the principle affords a support for the assertion, 
that our thinking and inferring according to causal relations 
is a manifestation unconsciously to ourselves of an instinctive 



20 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

power far removed from our discursive thinking, which, like 
the astonishing instinct of animals, must be looked upon 
as an original gift of nature ("Inquiry Concerning Human 
Understanding"). The reality of an objectively real world, 
independent of the perception of the subject, is imme- 
diately inferred from sensuous perception by means of such 
a natural, blind, but powerful instinct. As, however, we 
directly know only our own mental representation, it is 
certainly directly indemonstrable, that it is the effect of an 
external object different from, but resembling it. In his 
acute criticism of the Berkeleian Idealism, Hume, however, 
shows himself so thoroughly penetrated by the conscious- 
ness, that every subjective idealism carried out to its last 
consequence can only end in a scepticism absolutely in- 
fertile and practically repudiated by its champions, that 
he is protected from the Kantian error of an exclusively 
subjective conception of causality ; and at the conclusion 
of his inquiries he advocates the hypothetical restitution 
of the critically purified causal instinct as the only 
justifiable point of view. (I have taken a similar course 
in my work, " Das Ding an sich und seine Beschaffenheit," 
C. Duncker, 1871.) 

That Kant borrowed the notion of unconscious ideation 
from Leibniz is easily to be detected from the passage 
quoted at the beginning of this treatise. That he also 
attributed great importance to the subject is proved by 

the following passage of sec. 5 of the "Anthropology : " 

" Innumerable are the sensations and perceptions whereof 
we are not conscious, although we must undoubtedly 
conclude that we have them, obscure ideas as they may 
be called (to be found in animals as well as in man). 
The clear ideas, indeed, are but an infinitely small fraction 
of these same exposed to consciousness. That only a 
few spots on the great chart of our minds are illuminated 
may well fill us with amazement in contemplating this 
nature of ours." If Kant in this passage identifies the 
unconscious and the obscure ideas for the purposes of his 



INTRODUCTORY. 21 

"Anthropology," the "Critique of the Pure Reason" shows 
that he recognised and indicated the distinction, but did 
not comprehend its full importance. The clear is opposed 
to the obscure, the conscious to the unconscious idea ; but 
not every conscious idea is a clear idea, nor is every 
obscure idea unconscious. Only that conscious idea is 
clear in which the consciousness reaches to the conscious- 
ness of the discrimination of that very idea from others : 
when consciousness is not adequate to that, the con- 
scious idea is obscure. Not all obscure ideas, are there- 
fore unconscious ; " for a certain degree of consciousness, 
which, however, does not suffice for memory, is not want- 
ing in several obscure ideas" (Kant's Werke ed. Eosenkranz, 
ii. p. 793, Obs.) If for the practical ends of anthro- 
pology the contrast of clear and obscure ideas seems to 
Kant to be sufficient, for the theory of knowledge in 
general it yields in importance to that of the conscious 
and unconscious idea. " Idea is the genus {repraesentatio). 
Under it ' falls the idea accompanied by consciousness 
(■perceptio) " (ibid., ii. 258). Consciousness, whose pre- 
sence distinguishes perceptio from the unperceived reprae- 
sentatio, is not so much itself idea, "but its form in 
general, so far as it can be called knowledge" (ii. 279). 
It is the absence of this form which distinguishes the 
unconscious from the conscious idea. According to Kant 
the pure concepts of the understanding (categories) seem 
to belong to the unconscious ideas, so far as they lie 
beyond cognition, which cognition only becomes possible 
through a blind function of the soul (ii. 77) spontaneously 
binding up the given manifold of the perceived ideal 
material into a synthesis (ii. 76). If we penetrate by 
the aid of consciousness into the nature of this synthesis, 
we certainly recognise therein, so far as it is generally 
presented, the pure concept of the understanding (ii. 77) ; 
but the part that the unconscious category as " germ or 
foundation" (ii. 66) plays in bringing about conscious 
knowledge (the " Schematism of the pure understanding") 



22 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

remains an " art hidden in the depths of the soul," hardly 
ever to be laid bare (ii. 125). Unfortunately Kant did 
not attain the same degree of insight in reference to the 
d priori forms of intuition as in the case of the forms of 
thought. One example of the rare keenness of his per- 
ception, however, may be mentioned. Kant was the 
first who sought in the "Unconscious for the essence of 
sexual love (Anthropology, sec. 5). 

Kant's glances beyond the sphere of conscious human 
knowledge extend, however, still further than we have 
hitherto shown ; but he himself touched this other pro- 
vince only in the way of suggestion, because his philoso- 
phic goal was always apodictic certainty, and he was obliged 
to confess that in this department our knowledge rests only 
on probability, i.e., according to his terminolpgy, is pro- 
blematical (ii. 211). The above-mentioned classification 
of ideas is incomplete in so far as the second species, 
opposed to the conscious idea, is unnamed. This is, 
however, according to Kant's terminology, the "intel- 
lectual intuition," which does not appear in the classifica- 
tion. The conscious presentation (perception) further 
falls, according to Kant, into (subjective) feeling and 
(objective) knowledge, and the latter again into intuition 
and conception. Feeling and intuition are not intellectual, 
but sensuous ; conception is not intuitive, but discursive ; 
sensuous intuition is derived intuition, not original as the 
intellectual (ii. 720) ; discursive knowledge, again, effected 
by the mediation of the categories, is, it is true, intel- 
lectual, but not intuitive (ii. 211). Intellectual intuition 1 
is accordingly left for the non-perceived idea. The per- 
ceived or conscious idea is different from its object ; the 
non-perceived idea is one with it, in that it itself gives 



1 Spinoza also has, besides cogni- This has the mind, so far as it is 

tion through sense-perception and eternal, not the finite and perishable 

abstract conception, a third kind individual mind (part v. prop. 31), 

of cognition by way of intellectual for its formal cause, and it alone 

intuition or intuitive knowledge furnishes really adequate ideas on 

(Ethics, part ii. prop. 40, obs. 2). the nature of God and of things. 



INTRODUCTORY. 23 

it or produces it (ii. 741, 742). It is not the derived 
and dependent human understanding (conscious intellect) 
as such which possesses such an intellectual intuition, 
but only the primordial Being (ii. 720) or the divine 
understanding (ii. 741), for which the production of its 
" intelligible objects " is at the same time the creation of 
the world of noumena (viii. 234). Whether, and how 
far, the obscure ideas without any consciousness are to 
be explained by the penetration of the original intellectual 
intuition of the primordial Being into the derived human 
understanding, are points on which Kant never expressed 
himself: Schelling was the first energetically to pursue 
that line of inquiry. It is interesting, however, to see, 
how Heinrich Heine adopted the Kantian notion of intel- 
lectual intuition to explain the mysterious lightning- 
flashes of genius (comp. Heine's Works, vol. i. pp. 142, and 
168, 169). 

Although Kant had by no means intended to enounce 
a metaphysic proper, still he had pretty plainly fore- 
shadowed the only metaphysic possible in a system of 
pure reason in the above-mentioned intellectual intuition 
of the Absolute which produces the intelligible world, so 
that his immediate continuator, Fichte, could only proceed 
further on the path indicated. According to the latter, 
" God's existence " is " merely knowledge itself" (Fichte's 
Werke, ii. pp. 129, 130), substantial knowledge only 
however, to which, as infinite, consciousness can never be 
ascribed. Without doubt it is necessary for knowledge 
to become self-consciousness, but with equal necessity is 
it thereby riven into the plural consciousness of manifold 
individuals and persons (vii. 130, 132). As substantial 
knowledge (i.e., as mere content of knowledge without the 
form of consciousness), God is the infinite Reason in which 
the finite is contained ; he is likewise the infinite Will 
which supporls and retains all individual wills in their 
spheres, and the medium of their communication (ii. 
301, 302). If it be necessary to deny consciousness to 



24 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

the Unity of the infinite Season and the infinite Will, 
in spite of its absolute infinite knowledge, or rather 
precisely on that account, still more must personality, 
the very conception of which implies limitation, be 
refused (ii. 334, 335). It is clear from this that all 
the elements of the Unconscious are to be found in 
Fichte, but they appear only casually, as vague hints 
scattered here and there, and these promising thought- 
blossoms were soon buried under later growths without 
having borne any fruit. 

The conception of the Unconscious was much more 
closely related to the Faith Philosophy (Hamann, Herder, 
and Jacobi), which properly rests upon it ; but that 
philosophy was so obscure and incapable of rationally 
comprehending its own basis, that it never got so far 
as to discover its proper cue. 

On the other hand, we find in Schelling the concep- 
tion of the Unconscious in its full purity, clearness, and 
depth; it is worth while therefore to glance aside for 
a moment to observe the way in which he arrived at 
it. The following passage throws most light on the 
subject (Schelling's Werke, div. i. vol. x. pp. 92, 93): 
" The meaning of this (the Fichtean) subjective Idealism 
could not be that the Ego freely and voluntarily posited 
the world of things, for far otherwise would the Ego 
will if upon it depended external existence. . . . But 
all this gave Fichte no concern. ... It falling now to 
my lot to take up the Problem of Philosophy at the 
point where Fichte had left it, I had above all to see 
how that undeniable and inevitable necessity" (with 
which its representations of the external world confront 
the Ego), " which Fichte only seeks as it were to scold 
away with words, could be united with the Fichtean 
notions, with the asserted absolute substance of the 
Ego. It soon became clear that the external world is 
certainly only here for me, so far as I myself am 
here and conscious to myself (that is self-evident), but 



INTRODUCTORY. 25 

that also conversely, in the act of self-presentation, I 
am conscious that, along with the revealed / am, I find 
also the world already — there — existing, that thus in 
no case does the already conscious Ego produce the world. 
Nothing, however, prevented the receding with this now 
self-conscious Ego to a moment when it was not yet 
conscious of itself, and the assuming a region beyond the 
present consciousness, and an activity which no longer 
itself, but only through its result, comes into conscious- 
ness." (Cf. also Schelling's Werke, Abth. i. Bd. 3, S. 
348, 349.) The circumstance, that Schelling had to 
derive the notion of the Unconscious from the hypothesis 
of the Eichtean Idealism, is probably the reason why 
his many fine observations concerning this conception 
exerted so little influence on the culture of his time, 
since the latter needed an empirical derivation in order 
to perceive its necessity. Besides the passage previously 
quoted when speaking of Leibniz other citations will be 
made from Schelling in the course of our inquiries. At 
this point I must content myself with transcribing the 
following suggestive remark (Werke, i. 3, p. 624): — "In 
all, even the commonest and most everyday production, 
there co-operates with the conscious an unconscious 
activity." The working out of this principle in the dif- 
ferent departments of empirical psychology would have 
supplied an & posteriori foundation for the notion of the 
Unconscious. Schelling, however (except in the case of 
assthetic production), not only failed to do this, but he even 
asserts elsewhere (Werke, i. 3, p. 349): " The aesthetic alone 
is such an activity" (one at the same time conscious and 
unconscious). 

Nevertheless, with what purity and depth Schelling in 
his original thinkincr had seized the notion of the Un- 
conscious is proved by the following important passage 
(i. 3, p. 600) : " This eternally Unconscious, which, as were 
it the eternal sun in the kingdom of spirits, is hidden by its 
own untroubled light, and although itself never becoming 



26 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

Object, impresses its identity on all free actions, is withal 
the same for all intelligents, the invisible root of which 
all intelligencies are only the powers, and the eternal 
mediator between the self-determining subjective in us 
and the objective or intuited, at once the ground of con- 
formity to law in freedom, and of freedom in conformity 
to law." He denotes by this mode of expression what 
Fichte named the substantial Knowledge without con- 
sciousness, or the impersonal God as Unity of infinite 
Season and infinite Will, a unity embracing the many 
individual wills with their finite reason. Schelling too 
went so far as in 1801 to fix upon the absolute Reason 
as the first and highest principle of his Philosophy of 
Identity, and therewith to give a concrete realisation to 
his " eternally Unconscious," to which in the year 1809 
he added the Will as a principle of even higher import- 
ance (i. 7, 350). 

As in the course of Schilling's historical development 
the Idealism of Fichte retreated into the background, so 
did the conception of the Unconscious experience the 
same fate. Whilst in the Transcendental Idealism it 
plays a leading part, in the writings which appeared soon 
after it is hardly even mentioned, and later still it' 
disappears almost entirely. The mystical Philosophy of 
Nature also of Schelling's school, which (especially 
Schubert) is so much occupied with the sphere of the 
Unconscious, has, so far as I know, nowhere concerned 
itself with a development and examination of this concep- 
tion. Far better did the divining poet-mind of Jean Paul 
Friedrich Riehter know how to appreciate Schelling's Un- 
conscious, and we quote the following passages from his 
last, unfinished work " Selina : " " Our measurements of 
the rich territory of the Me are far too small or narrow 
when we omit the immense realm of the Unconscious, 
this real interior Africa in every sense. In every second 
only a few illuminated mountain-tops of the whole wide 
globe of memory are turned towards the mind, and all 



INTRODUCTORY. 27 

the rest of the world remains in shadow." " Nothing is 
left for the receptacle and throne of the vital energies 
but the great kingdom of the Unconscious in the soul 
itself." " In the case of certain men we immediately 
survey the whole cultivated soul, even to the borderland 
marked by emptiness and sterility ; but the kingdom of 
the Unconscious, at once a kingdom of the unfathomable 
and the immeasurable, which possesses and rules every 
human mind, makes the barren rich and pushes back 
their boundaries into the invisible." " Is it not a con- 
solatory thought, this concealed wealth in our soul ? 
May we not hope that we perhaps unconsciously love 
God more heartily than we know, and that a calm instinct 
for the second world works in us, while we yet con- 
sciously give ourselves up so entirely to the external 
one ? " " We see indeed daily how the conscious be- 
comes the unconscious, how the soul without conscious- 
ness guides the fingers according to the laws of harmony, 
whilst it incites consciousness to new relations and actions. 
"When we behold the complicated relations of muscle and 
nerve, we are astonished at contractions and pressures of 
the most delicate kind without conscious volition." 

In Hegel, just as in Schelling's later works, the notion 
of the Unconscious does not clearly appear, except in the 
introduction to the lectures on the " Philosophy of His- 
tory," where he reproduces the ideas of Schelling on this 
subject, quoted below in Chap. B. x. Nevertheless Hegel's 
absolute Idea, in its pure selfhood, before its unfolding 
into Nature, thus also before its return to itself as Spirit, 
in that condition in which it is the unveiled Truth, the 
Godhead, as it were, in its eternal essence before the 
creation of the world and a finite mind, thoroughly agrees 
with Schelling's " eternally Unconscious," if it is also only 
one aspect of the same, viz., the logical or the ideational, 
coincident with Fichte's " substantial knowledge," and his 
infinite Eeason devoid of consciousness. With Hegel, too, 
Thought only attains to consciousness when, through the 



28 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

mean of its externalisation into Nature, it passes from 
mere being-in-self to being-for-self, and having become an 
object to itself, has come to itself as spirit. The Hegelian 
God as starting-point is at first being per se and uncon- 
scious, only God as result is being " for-self " and con- 
scious, is Spirit. That the attaining-to-being-for-self, the 
becoming-an-object to self is really a coming-to-conscious- 
ness, is clearly expressed by Hegel in vol. xiii. pp. 3 3 and 
46 of his collected works. The theory of the Unconscious 
is the necessary, if also hitherto for the most part only 
tacit presupposition of every objective or absolute Idealism, 
which is not unambiguously Theism. Every metaphysic 
which looks upon the Idea as the prius of Nature (from 
which again the subjective mind arises) must think the 
Idea as unconscious, so long as it is still plastic and has 
not yet emerged from its being before and in Nature 
into intuitive consciousness in the subjective mind, — 
unless the shaping Idea take the form of the conscious 
thought of a self-conscious God. As highest form of 
absolute Idealism, Hegelianism most certainly has to yield 
to this necessity, since its Idea is something very different 
from the conscious thought of an originally self-conscious 
God; rather " God" is only a convenient name for the 
(self-unfolding) Idea. 

It may be said, therefore, that the theme of the present 
book is mainly the elevation of Hegel's unconscious Philo- 
sophy of the Unconscious into a conscious one (cf. my 
essay, " Ueber die nothwendige Umbildung der Hegel'- 
schen Philosophie aus ihrem Grundprincip heraus," in 
the " Gesammelte philosoph. Abhandlungen," No. II., 
Berlin, C. Duncker). But also all those who, influenced 
more or less by Plato and Hegel, generally assume 
only Ideas as the moulding principles of Nature and 
Histo^, and a guiding objective Pi,eason revealing itself 
in the world-process, without being willing to confess to 
a self-conscious God-creator, all these are already uncon- 
scious adherents of the Philosophy of the Unconscious. 



INTRODUCTORY. 29 

The task of an author of the same way of thinking, when 
addressing sympathetic readers, can have no other object 
than to show what consequences flow from the principles 
they have adopted, and to confirm them in their opinions 
by the most cogent reasoning. 

Schopenhauer acknowledges as metaphysical principle 
only the Will, whilst Ideation is, according to him, a 
cerebral product in a materialistic sense — an assertion not 
made clearer by the explanation that the matter of the 
brain is merely the visibility of a (blind, that is unthink- 
ing) Will. The Will, the sole metaphysical principle of 
Schopenhauer, is therefore, of course, an unconscious Will. 
Thought, on the other hand, which with him is only the 
phenomenon of a metaphysical principle, and therefore, as 
thought, not itself metaphysical, can, even where it is 
unconscious, never be comparable with the unconscious 
Idea of Schelling, which I myself place by the side of 
unconscious Will, as metaphysical principle of equal value. 
But also, apart from this distinction of the metaphysical 
and phenomenal, the " unconscious rumination," of which 
Schopenhauer speaks in two passages, which are in per- 
fect accord (W. a. W. u. V. 3, Aufl. ii. S. 148, and Parerga- 
2 Aufl. S. 59), and which he assigns to the interior of 
the brain, refers indeed only to the obscure and confused 
ideas of Leibniz and Kant — ideas which are too weakly 
illuminated by the light of consciousness to stand out 
clearly, which are thus merely below the threshold of 
distinct consciousness, and are differentiated from the 
clearly conscious ideas only in degree (not essentially). 
Schopenhauer thus gets no nearer the true conception of 
the absolutely unconscious idea in these two apercus 
(which for the rest have had no influence on his philo- 
sophy) than in another place, where he speaks of the 
separate consciousness of subordinate nerve-centres in 
the organism (W. a. W. u. V., ii. 291). An opening for 
the true, absolutely unconscious idea is certainly afforded 
by the system of Schopenhauer, but only at the point 



30 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

where it becomes faithless to itself and self-contradictory, 
when the Idea, which is originally only another kind of 
intuition of the cerebral intellect, becomes a metaphy- 
sical entity, preceding and conditioning real individuation 
(cf. the essay, " Ueber die nothwendige Umbildung der 
Schopenhauer'schen Philosophie aus ihrem Grundprincip 
heraus," in my " Gesammelte philosophische Abhand- 
lungen," No. III., Berlin, C. Duncker, 1872). Schopen- 
hauer himself, however, shows no apprehension of this, 
so that, for example, it does not occur to him to brin<r 
forward the Idea to explain the adaptation of means 
to ends in Nature, which rather in genuine idealistic 
fashion he regards as a merely subjective appearance, 
arising through the disruption of the One Eeality into 
the co-existence and succession of Space and Time, 
whereby essential unity is revealed in the form of 
a teleological relation essentially non-existent, so that 
it would be to turn things upside down to seek Reason 
in the purposive activity of Nature. But in this 
he altogether fails to perceive that the unconscious Will 
of Nature eo ipso presupposes an unconscious Idea as goal, 
content, or object of itself, without which it would be 
empty, indefinite, and objectless. Accordingly, in the 
acute and instructive observations on instinct, sexual 
love, life of the species, &c, the unconscious Will com- 
ports itself precisely as if it were bound up with uncon- 
scious representation, without Schopenhauer knowin" or 
admitting it. To be sure Schopenhauer, who as all philo- 
sophers and human nature generally in mature life im- 
perceptibly gravitated more and more from Idealism 
to Realism, secretly felt a certain compulsion to take the 
step which Schelling long ago had taken beyond Fichte, 
the step from subjective to objective Idealism ; but he 
himself could not summon up sufficient courage to disavow 
decidedly the standpoint of his youth (in particular, the 
first book of his chief work), and left this task to his' dis- 
ciples (Frauenstadt, Bahnsen). Accordingly we only find 



INTRODUCTORY. 31 

a few hints, which, carried further, would have changed 
the whole character of his system, e.g., the passage 
"Parerga," 2d edit. ii. 291 (to which Freiherr du Prel 
has referred in Cotha's " Deutscher Vierteljahrsschrift," 
No. 129), where he suggests the possibility, that after 
death a higher form of the incognitive consciousness might 
be added to the " intrinsically incognitive Will," devoid 
of the contrast of subject and object. But now every 
consciousness is eo ipso consciousness of an object with 
more or less clearly conscious reference to the correlative 
notion of subject, therefore a consciousness in which this 
opposition ceases is inconceivable ; but an unconscious 
cognition without this object were conceivable, and 
Schopenhauer very nearly approached it in his descrip- 
tion of the intuitive idea (W. a. W. u. V., i. § 34 ; cf. also 
my above-named essay). It must therefore be granted 
that Schopenhauer divined the truth, but gave it a faulty 
expression, and thereby was prevented from inserting 
this conception in his system in its only possible place. 
His odious prejudice against Schelling alone hindered him 
from finding in that writer the very thing he wanted, and 
that which in the passage alluded to he vainly struggles 
to obtain. 

Only after these citations from European philosophers 
do I venture to refer to the Oriental philosophy, parti- 
cularly that of the Vedas. As it is characteristic of the 
Oriental mind to be less systematic in its thinking but 
quicker in divining the occult, and to be more open to the 
slight whispers of genius, there are in the philosophical 
systems of the Hindoos and the Chinese yet unlifted 
treasures, in which we are often surprised to find anti- 
cipated the results of many thousand years of Western 
development. In the philosophy of the Vedas the 
Absolute is called Brahma, and has the three attributes 
Sat (being, substantiality), C'it (absolute unconscious 
knowledge), and Amanda (intellectual rapture). As 
absolute Knowingness, Brahma is called C'aitanja (Scho- 



32 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

penhauer's eternal Eye of the world, absolute subject of 
knowledge, at the same time intelligible Ego of all per- 
cipient individuals, Kutasta-Giva Saksin). The identity 
of the real and the ideal is most emphatically asserted ; 
for if the ideal were not the real, it would be unreal, and 
if the real were not the ideal, it would be degraded to 
dead matter without sustaining force (Graul, Tamulische 
Bibliothek, vol. i. p. 78, No. 141). "There is no dis- 
tinction of hiower, knowledge, and knowahle in the highest 
mind, (rather) this (Brahma) is illuminated by itself in 
virtue of its own essence, which is spirit and bliss " 
(ibid., p. 1 88, No. 40). "Teacher. — That purely spiritual 
C'aitanja perceives all bodies. Since, however, be is not 
himself body, he is also perceived in nothing. Pupil. — 
If he, although knowledge, is yet cognised by nothing, 
bow can he be knowledge ? Teacher. — The syrup-juice 
also does not bring itself into experience, yet in virtue 
of the senses different from that juice which perceive it, 
we say that it is of a sweet nature. So one cannot doubt 
that knowledge belongs to the self which perceives all 
things (as its substance). Pupil. — Is then Brahma a 
somewhat that is perceived or that is not perceived ? 
Teacher.— Neither. That which lies beyond (above these 
two categories) (substantial knowledge), that is Brahma. 
Pupil. — How then can we perceive it ? Teacher. — 
That is just as if somebody should say : Have I speech 
or not ? Although thy essence be knowledge, dost thou 
yet ask : How is knowledge ? Art thou not ashamed ? " 
(ibid., p. 148, No. 2). Absolute knowledge is, ac- 
cording to this, neither conscious of itself (because 
then without distinction of subject and object), nor 
immediately conscious to another, because it lies be- 
yond the sphere of the directly discernible. Still it is 
existentially cognisable by us, because in all knowledge 
it is that which knows, in all perception that which 
perceives, and is even intrinsically cognoscible, if only 
negatively (according to the foregoing examination), as 



INTRODUCTORY. 33 

un-conscious and un-limited knowledge. The Unconscious 
has, in fact, been' as clearly and exactly characterised in this 
old Indian book of the Vedanta philosophy (Paniadas'a- 
prakarana) as by any of the latest European thinkers. 

Beturning now to the latter, we may cite Herbarfc, 
who understands by " non-conscious ideas " such " as 
are in consciozisness without our being aware of them " 
(Werke, v. p. 342), i.e., without our " observing them to 
be ours and referring them to the Ego," or, in other 
words, without connecting them with self-consciousness. 
There is no danger of this conception being confounded 
with the true Unconscious; but there is another notion 
of Herbart's which must be noticed on account of the 
application of it by Eechner, viz., that " of ideas below 
the threshold of consciousness," which only stand for an 
endeavour after representation more or less removed from 
realisation, but themselves are " by no means actual re- 
presentation," rather signify for consciousness less than 
nothing, "an impossible quantity" (Herbart, Works, v. 
PP- 339~34 2 )- Herbart arrives at this rather puzzling- 
conception through his desire to retain, in the spirit 
of Leibniz, a gradual continuity in the passage from 
actual ideas to the slumbering ideas of memory, and 
conversely, as well as the possibility of a reciprocal 
action of these slumbering ideas, without condescending 
to a materialistic mode of explanation of these processes, 
in the sense of seeing in them only material cerebral 
processes of a strength insufficient for excitation of con- 
sciousness. 

But now, at the present stage of science, it is not 
difficult to see that the so-called slumbering ideas of 
memory are not ideas in actu, in activity, but merely 
dispositions of the brain facilitating the revival of ideas. 
As a string, when caused to sound by aerial vibrations, 
always yields the same note, the note A or C, for instance, 
if it be attuned to A or C ; so does one or another idea 
arise more easily in the brain, according as the distribution 
vol. 1. c 



34 PHILOSOPHY OP THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

and tension of the cerebral molecules induces a more 
ready response with one or another kind of vibrations 
on an appropriate stimulus. And just as the string 
does not respond merely to homologous vibrations, but 
also to those which only slightly differ from or are 
simply related to its own ; so the vibrations of the pre- 
disposed molecules of a cerebral cell are not aroused 
merely by one kind of vibratory impulse, but also by 
stimuli slightly disproport'ional or harmonically related 
to the predisposition (a connection discernible in the laws 
of association of ideas). What tuning is to the string, is 
the permanent change, which a vivid idea leaves behind it 
in distribution and tension of the molecules, to the brain. 
Although these cerebral predispositions are of the highest 
importance, since the quality of the feeling with which the 
mind reacts depends on the form of the brain-waves, (on 
the one hand all memory depending on them, and on the 
other the character of the individual being essentially 
conditioned by the sum of the various inherited predis- 
positions — cf. Chap. C. x.), still such an arrangement of 
passive material molecules, favouring the genesis of certain 
ideas, cannot be termed Ideation, albeit it may, according 
to circumstances, co-operate as condition in the production 
of an idea, and, indeed, of a conscious idea. But now, as 
the endless continuance of vibrations once excited in the 
brain is out of the question, (for the powerful resistances 
there encountered must put an end to every movement 
in a finite, and indeed tolerably brief time), Herbart's 
unconscious condition of the idea could only obtain 
within the limits, which are fixed on the one hand by the 
cessation of movement, and on the other by the cessation 
of conscious representation with unarrested movement of 
the cerebral vibrations, supposing the two limits not to 
coincide. The question then is: (i.) Do all degrees of 
intensity of cerebral vibrations give rise to ideation, or 
does ideation only commence when a certain degree of 
intensity is reached ? and (2.) Is a conscious mental state 



INTRODUCTORY. 35 

excited by cerebral vibrations of any intensity or only 
by those of a certain strength ? 

Fechner has approached these questions in his cele- 
brated work " Psychophysik." His train of thought is as 
follows: It is not every sensuous stimulus that causes 
sensation, but only a stimulus of a certain amount, which 
is called the threshold of stimulation ; e.g., a sounding bell 
is heard only at a certain distance. If several homogeneous 
stimuli, imperceptible when taken singly, are added to- 
gether, there arises conscious sensation, as in the case of 
several distant bells sounding simultaneously which would 
not be separately heard, or the rustling of the leaves in 
the forest. It might be suggested that the stimulus 
below the threshold produces no sensation, for the simple 
reason that it is not strong enough to overcome the re- 
sistance offered in the sense-organ and nerves as far as the 
central organ, but that the mind reacts with the appro- 
priate sensation on the smallest stimulus when the latter 
has reached the centre itself. This assumption alone, 
however, is not sufficient, since it does not fit the case 
of differential sensation. For homogeneous stimuli, when 
varying in intensity, arouse different sensations ; but here, 
too, the variations must exceed a certain degree (the 
threshold of differential stimulation), if the sensations are 
to be perceived as different. Here clearly the resistances 
of the nerve-fibres cannot be made responsible for the 
phenomenon, since each of the sensations is large enough 
to overcome them. On the other hand, different principles 
cannot be set up for the threshold of simple stimulation 
and the threshold of differential stimulation, since the 
first is reducible to the second case, when in the latter 
one stimulus = 0. Consequently there only remains the 
assumption that the vibrations at the centre must exceed 
a certain degree before feeling ensues. What here 
holds good for sensation holds of coilrse for every other 
mental state, and thus the second question is decided. 
It remains to ascertain whether the stimuli below the 



36 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

threshold cause the mind to react at all, the result being 
unconscious sensation or idea, or whether the mind's re- 
action only begins at the threshold. 

Let us hear Fechner further. The so-called Law of 
Weber runs, " Constant differences in the intensities of 
homogeneous sensations correspond to constant quotients 
of their respective stimuli ; " and the highly ingenious for- 

7 , B . 
mula hence derived by Fechner is y — k log -^ where y is 

the sensation following on the stimulus /3, b the threshold 
of stimulation, i.e., the value of the stimulus, which 
being exceeded j exceeds the value 0, and k is a con- 
stant, which contains the relation of the measuring units 
of j3 and y. (J. J. Midler gives a very interesting teleo- 
logical deduction of this formula in the " Proceedings of 
the Eoyal Academy of Sciences of Saxony," 12th De- 
cember 1870, where he shows that only by assuming this 
relation between stimulus and sensation is " the difference 
of sensation conditioned by diversity of stimuli indepen- 
dent of the excitability, and the difference of sensation 
conditioned by diversity of excitability independent of the 
stimulus," two conditions on which alone consciousness is 
in a position to keep asunder, and thereby to recognise, the 
effects due to the stimuli and the excitabdity respectively.) 
If now /3 becomes smaller than b, i.e., the intensity less 
than the threshold- value of the stimulus, <y becomes nega- 
tive, and sinks as much below 0, as /3 sinks below b (with 
/3=0 j is — — 00). 

These negative <y's now Fechner calls " unconscious 
sensations," with the full consciousness, however, of hav- 
ing only employed a license of speech, to signify that the 
sensation <y is the more removed from reality the further 
<y sinks below 0, i.e., that an ever greater increment of 
stimulation is required in order first to restore the zero 
value of y, and then to recall the latter to the limit of 
reality. The negative sign before y accordingly signifies 
here (as elsewhere often the imaginary) the insolubility 



INTRODUCTORY. 37 

of the problem, from the given quantity of a stimulus to 
calculate a sensation. 

The real meaning of the negative sign, Fechner very 
properly says, can only be disclosed by the comparison of 
the rational calculation with the explained facts. Accord- 
ingly he dismisses the common illustration of heat and 
cold as not to the point, and discountenances the alge- 
braic summation of positive and negative <y's, as being 
no less inadmissible than operating with positive and 
negative pieces of surface in calculating areas by means 
of rectangular co-ordinates. 

" Mathematically the opposition of the signs can just 
as well be referred to the. contrast of reality and non- 
reality, as of increment and decrement or directions. In 
the system of polar co-ordinates it signifies the opposi- 
tion of reality and non-reality of a line, but in such a 
way that greater negative values mean a greater distance 
from reality than smaller ones. There cannot be the 
least objection to transfer to sensation as function of 
a stimulus that which is valid for the radius vector as 
function of an angle" (Psychophysik, ii. p. 40). What 
holds good here for the algebraic expression of the func- 
tion, holds, of course, also for its geometrical illustration 
by a curve, where again the visible connection of the 
positive and negative part might warp the judgment. It 
is clear that it is difficult to find a significant expression for 
the negative <y's which would not give rise to misunder- 
standing. Perhaps the best course would be to say, without 
more ado, " unreal sensation." However, Fechner is not to 
be reproached for the arbitrary use of the phrase " uncon- 
scious sensation," since he is not aware of, or at any 
rate does not recognise, our positive signification of the 
Unconscious. What is worse is that Fechner was after- 
wards so inconsequent as to allow himself to be deceived 
by the continuity of the geometrical curves below the 
threshold, and to speak of a real connection of the con- 
sciousnesses of different individuals below the threshold. 



38 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

I have entered into this matter at such length, because 
I desired to protect myself against any confusion of my 
view of the Unconscious with Fechner's conception of 
unconscious sensation, and to pay at the same time my 
tribute of respect to his excellent work. I also wished 
to avail myself of the opportunity of making the reader 
acquainted with the conception of the Threshold, which 
is of importance in very dissimilar departments of science, 
and which we, too, cannot dispense with in our inquiries. 
That for the rest the stimulation of the brain must be of 
a certain intensity, in order to compel the mind to react 
at all, is teleologically quite comprehensible ; for what 
would become of us poor wretches, if we were obliged 
continually to react on the infinite quantity of infinitely 
small stimuli, which incessantly play around us ? But if 
the mind once reacts on a cerebral stimulus, consciousness 
is also eo epso given, as will be shown in Chap. C. iii. In 
that case these reactions can no longer remain unconscious. 
If hereupon any one should have recourse to the theory 
of the infinitely little consciousness, he would find that 
theory refuted by experiments, showing that conscious 
sensation decreases continuously down to the zero point, 
to which the threshold of stimulation corresponds, thus, 
in fact, successively possessing the infiniteiy small values 
above the threshold, where an infinitely little consciousness 
is actually found, but at the threshold itself becoming 
0, i.e., absolutely ceasing. I refer for confirmation to 
Fechner's work. 

The conception of the Unconscious has not as yet been 
much introduced into Natural Science. An honourable 
exception to the indifference of scientific men is afforded 
by the well-known physiologist Carus, whose works 
" Psyche " and " Physis " are substantially an investiga- 
tion of the Unconscious in its relations to corporeal and 
mental life. How far he has succeeded in his attempt, 
and how much I have borrowed from him in my own 
work, I leave to the judgment of the reader. I only 



INTRODUCTORY. 39 

add, that the idea of the Unconscious is purely pre- 
sented by this writer, free from every infinitely little con- 
sciousness. Besides the works of Carus, the notion of 
the Unconscious has obtained recognition in a few special 
disquisitions, a recognition, however, seldom extending 
beyond the sphere of the particular inquiry. Thus, e.g., 
Perty, in his book " Ueber das Seelenleben der Thiere " 
(Leipzig and Heidelberg, 1865), finds himself drawn on 
to a derivation of instinct from unconscious movements, 
and likewise Wundt, in his "Beitriige zur Theorie der 
Sinneswahrnehmung" (Leipzig and Heidelberg, 1862; also 
in Henle's and Pfeuffer's " Zeitschr. f. ration. Medicin," 
1858 and 1859), admits the necessity of referring the 
origin of sensuous perception and of consciousness in 
general to unconscious logical processes, "since the pro- 
cesses of perception are of an unconscious nature, and 
only their results are wont to appear in consciousness " 
(ibid., p. 436). 

" The suggestion of the logical character of the processes 
of perception," he says, " is a hypothesis of no lower order 
than any other assumption which we make in reference to 
the ground of natural phenomena ; it possesses the essen- 
tial requirement of every well-grounded theory, that it be 
at once the simplest and most appropriate expression under 
which the facts of observation can be subsumed " (p. 437). 
" If the first act of apprehension, which yet belongs to the 
sphere of the unconscious life, is already a process of in- 
ference, the law of logical development is thereby shown to 
hold even for this unconscious life ; it is proved that there 
is not merely a conscious, but also an unconscious thinking. 
We believe we have hereby completely proved that the 
assumption of unconscious logical processes is not merely 
competent to explain. the results of the processes of percep- 
tion, but that it in fact also correctly declares the real nature 
of these processes, although the processes themselves are not 
accessible to immediate observation" (p. 438). Wundt 
is well aware that the expression " unconscious inference " 



40 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

is an improper one; "only when translated into conscious 
life does the psychical process of perception take the form 
of inference "(p. 1 69). The unconsciously logical processes 
are carried on " with a certainty and regularity " which 
would be impossible in conscious inference, where there 
exists the possibility of error (p. 1 6g). " Our mind is 
so happily designed that it prepares for us the most 
important foundations of cognition, whilst we have not 
the slightest apprehension of the modus operandi. This 
unconscious soul, like a benevolent stranger, works and 
makes provision for our benefit, pouring only the mature, 
fruits into our laps" (p. 375). 

Helmholtz adopts this view in essentials, although, 
more cautious than Wundt, he occupies himself solely with 
the external aspect of the matter. At all events, he admits 
this much : " We must diverge somewhat from the beaten 
track of psychological analysis, in order to satisfy our- 
selves, that we have here to do with the same sort of 
mental activity that is operative in inferences commonly 
so called" (Popular Scientific Lectures, ii. p. 92). He 
finds the difference to consist only in the external cir- 
cumstance, that conscious conclusions are wrought out by 
means of words (which does not meet the case of animals 
and the deaf and dumb), whilst the unconscious inferences 
or inductions have only to do with sensations, images of 
memory, and intuitions (where it is not obvious why the 
latter should " never " be " expressible in the usual form 
of a logically analysed inference "). Helmholtz deserves 
especial praise for expressly pointing to the fact that con- 
scious inferences, after the requisite material of repre- 
sentation has been fully supplied and elaborated, thrust 
themselves upon us precisely like unconscious inferences, 
" without any exertion on our part " (i.e., on the part of 
our own consciousness), with all the energy of an external 
natural force (p. 95). Independently of the aforemen- 
tioned, Zollner also found himself driven to the assumption 
of unconscious inferences for an explanation of those 



INTRODUCTORY. 41 

pseudoscopic phenomena which defy a merely physiological 
explanation. (Cf. Poggendorfs Annalen, 1 860, vol. ex. p. 
5 00 ff., and his recent work, " On the Nature of Comets ; 
Contributions to the History and Theory of Knowledge," 
2d ed., Leipzig, 1872.) Further, we are vividly reminded 
of Wundt's unconscious soul, which works for us like 
another being, when Bastian begins his " Contributions to 
Comparative Psychology" (Berlin, 1868) with the words 
(p. I ), " That it is not we who think, but that it thinks in 
us, is clear to him who is wont to pay attention to the 
internal processes." This " it " lies, however, as appears 
from pp. 120, 121, in particular, in the Unconscious. 
However, this investigator does not attempt to do more 
than throw out some rather vague suggestions. 

In the current treatment of History, likewise, there are 
indications that the achievements of Schelling and Hesrel 
(of which we shall speak in Chap. B. x.) have not yet 
been quite forgotten at the present day. Thus Freitag 
says, in the preface to the first volume of his " Bilder aus 
der deutschen Vergangenheit," 5th ed., vol. i. pp. 23, 24: 
" All great creations of popular force, — ancestral religion, 
custom, law, polity, — are to us no longer the outcome of 
individual effort ; they are organic products of a higher life, 
which in every age only attains manifestation through the 
medium of the individual, and in all ages gathers up into 
itself the spiritual wealth of individuals into a mighty 
whole. . . . Thus one may speak, without intending 
anything mystical, of a national soul. . . . But no longer 
conscious, not so purposive (?) and rational as the volition 
of the individual man, is this life of the people. All that 
is free and rational in history is the achievement of in- 
dividuals ; the national energy works untiringly with the 
dark compulsion of a primitive power, and its spiritual 
productivity sometimes corresponds in a surprising man- 
ner to the formative processes of the silently creative 
forces of nature, which urge stem, leaves, and blossom out 
of the seed-grain of the plant." It is the same thought 



42 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

carried further, that underlies the works of Lazarus on 
" Volkerpsychologie " (cf. my essay, " Ueber das Wesen 
des Gesammtgeistes," in the "Gesammelte philosophische 
Abhandlungen," No. v.) 

In JEsthetics, Carriere in particular has laid stress on 
the importance of unconscious mental activity, and, sup- 
porting himself on Schelling, shows the interposition of 
conscious and unconscious mental activity to be indis- 
pensable for every artistic achievement. An interesting 
contribution to the Unconscious in ^Esthetics is made by 
Eotscher in an essay on the Demonic (in his " Dramatur- 
gische uud asthetische Abhandlungen"). Of the various 
ways in which the conception of the Unconscious has 
been turned to account since the appearance of the first 
edition of the present work, no notice can, of course, be 
taken here. 



( 43 ) 



II. 
HOW DO WE COME TO ASSUME AN AIM IN NATUEE ? 

One of the most important and familiar manifestations 
of the Unconscious is Instinct, and the conception of 
Instinct rests on that of Purpose. An examination of 
the latter is therefore indispensable to our inquiry, and 
as it does not well fit into Section A., I have relegated 
it to the Introduction. It is possible that the ensuing 
treatment will incur the reproach of aridity ; and any 
one with an aversion for discussions involving calculations 
of probabdity may, if already convinced of the validity 
of the assumption of an Aim in Nature, pass over the 
present chapter. But I cannot refrain from adding that 
the way in which this important problem is here resolved, 
at least on its formal side, is, so far as I know, both novel 
and also the only possible one. 

The notion of Design has played a highly important 
part in the speculations of many great thinkers, and has 
formed the foundation of a considerable portion of their 
systems ; as in the case of Aristotle and Leibniz. Kant 
was, of course, obliged to deny its reality outside conscious 
thought, as he did not admit the reality of time (cf. 
Trendelenburg, " Logische Untersuchungen," chap. viii. 5). 
Modern Materialism likewise denies its reality, because 
it refuses to admit the existence of mind apart from an 
animal brain. In our modern physical science the notion 
of Design, chiefly through the influence of Eacon, has 
rightly fallen into discredit, because it had so often served 
as the convenient resource of indolent reasoners to avoid 
the arduous search after efficient causes, and because in 



44 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

the part of natural science concerned with matter alone, 
Design as a spiritual cause must necessarily be excluded. 
Spinoza was completely blinded to the fact of Purpose in 
Nature, because he believed final causality to be in con- 
tradiction with logical necessity, whereas it is in truth 
identical with it (Chap. C. xv. 3). Darwinism denies 
adaptation in Nature, not as fact, it is true, but as principle, 
and thinks itself able to comprehend the fact as result of 
mindless causality ; as if Causality itself were anything 
more than a logical necessity, discernible by us only as 
fact (not on the side of the internal principle), and as if 
the adaptation, actually manifested as result at the end 
of a series of events, must not have been from the very 
first the prius of these adjustments as plan or principle ! 
But if, on the one hand, so great and honest a spirit as 
Spinoza could look in Nature's face and deny Design, if, 
on the other hand, Purpose seems to others to play a 
part so important, and even the freethinking Voltaire 
does not venture to explain away the evidence of an 
Aim in Nature, however inconvenient and incompatible 
with the rest of his opinions its admission might be, there 
must indeed be something very peculiar about the idea. 

The notion of a purposed End is derived in the first 
instance from the experience of our own conscious mental 
activity. My end is a future event imagined and willed 
by me, the realisation of which I am not in a position to 
bring about directly, but only through a chain of causa- 
tion (means). If I do not imagine the future occurrence, 
it does not exist for me; if I do not will it, I do not 
purpose it; it is indifferent or repugnant to me. If I 
can directly realise it, the causal link, the means, falls 
away, and along with it disappears also the notion of 
a designed end (which is only the term of a relation 
the other member of which is the concept, means), for 
action then follows immediately upon volition. When I 
see that I am not able to realise my will directly, and 
recognise the means as efficient cause of the end, the 



INTRODUCTORY. 45 

■willing of the end becomes to me a motive, i.e., efficient 
cause for the willing of the means ; this in its turn 
becomes efficient cause for the realisation of the means 
through my act, and the realised means becomes efficient 
cause of the realisation of the end. Thus we have a 
triple causality with the four terms : "Willing of the end, 
willing of the means, realising of the means, realising of 
the end. Only in rare cases is all this confined to the 
purely subjective mental sphere, e.g., in the composition 
of a poem, the elaboration in the mind of any artistic 
conception, or other mental effort. More commonly we 
find three of the four different modes of causality imme- 
diately presented, namely, causality between mental and 
mental event (willing of the end, willing of the means), 
mental and material event (willing and realisation of the 
means), and between material and material event (means 
and end). The fourth kind of causality too, that between 
material and mental event, also often occurs ; it lies then, 
however, before the beginning of our reflection in the 
motivation of the willing of the end through impressions 
of sense. It is, therefore, evident that the union of willed 
and realised end, or final causation, is by no means some- 
thing existing by the side of or even despite causality, 
but that it is only a particular combination of different 
kinds of causality, such that the first and last terms are 
identical, only the one ideal and the other real, the one 
presented in the willed idea, the other in reality. Tar 
from destroying the exceptionless character of the law of 
causation, it rather presupposes it, and that too not only 
between matter and matter, but also between mind and 
matter, and mind and mind. It denies freedom to the 
single empirical mental act, and brings it too under the 
necessity of the law of causality. This may be the first 
word towards coming to an understanding with the oppo- 
nents of the doctrine of final causes. 

Let us assume that M has been observed to be an 
efficient cause of Z, and let all the material circumstances 



46 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

n.n. existing at the moment of the occurrence of M have 
been ascertained. Further, let the proposition be ad- 
mitted that M must have a sufficient efficient cause. 
Now three cases are possible : either the sufficient cause 
of M is contained in n.n., or certain other circumstances, 
but those material, which have escaped observation, are 
still wanting, or, lastly, the sufficient cause of M is not to 
be found on the material plane, consequently must be 
sought in the spiritual sphere. The second case con- 
tradicts the assumption, that all the material circum- 
stances, which immediately preceded the occurrence of 
M, are contained in n.n. If such a condition is, strictly 
speaking, incapable of being satisfied, since the whole 
position of the system of the world would have to be 
taken into account, yet it is easy to see that the cases 
are very rare, where conditions essential to the occurrence 
can lie outside a well-defined region, and no unessential 
circumstance need be taken note of ; e.g., the circumstances 
essential to the spider's spinning nobody will look for 
outside the spider, (say) in the moon. If we then 
assume the probability, that any material circumstance 
essential to the event has not been taken note of, and 
therefore not contained in n.n., to be so small that it 
may be neglected, 1 there remain only the two cases, 
that the sufficient cause is contained in n.n., or is of a 
spiritual nature. That the one or the other case must 
occur is their certainty, i.e., the sum of their probabilities 
is equal to 1 (which signifies certainty). If now the pro- 
bability that M is caused by n.n. = i, then the pro- 

x 

1 x - 1 • 
bability that it has a mental cause = 1 - - = ' 

1 It must always be remembered, able for calculation does the probable 

that events are never probable, but error, which every coefficient of pro- 

always necessary, to an omniscient bability possesses, become so great 

being, and that it is only our iguor- as to make the value of the latter illu- 

ance which makes possible that un- sory. Otherwise, if the probable errors 

certainty, which is the foundation in the statement of the problem are 

of the calculus of probability. Only confined within moderate limits, the 

when our ignorance is utterly dis- probable error in the result in our 

proportionatetotheknowledge avail- examples becomes inappreciable. 



INTRODUCTORY. 47 

the smaller _ becomes, the larger x becomes, the more 
x 

5-^ — approaches to 1, i.e., to certainty. The probability 
x 

- would become equal to 0, if we had the direct proof in 
x 

our hands that M is not caused by n.n. ; if, for instance, 
a case could be established where n.n. is present and M 
has not occurred. This is certainly impossible with the 
whole of n.n., since every spiritual cause must have ma- 
terial connections, but we shall often succeed in eliminat- 
ing at least one or more of the circumstances n.n., and 
the fewer the number of the circumstances n.n. to be 
regarded, which being present the event M at any time 
occurs, the easier becomes the determination of the proba- 
bility that they do not contain the sufficient cause of M. 
To make the matter clearer let us take an example. 
That brooding on the egg is the cause of the young bird 
being hatched is an observed fact. The material circum- 
stances {n.n.) immediately preceding the brooding (M) 
are the existence and the constitution of the egg, the 
existence and the bodily constitution of the bird, and 
the temperature of the place where the egg lies ; further 
material circumstances are inconceivable. The probability 
is in the highest degree small, that these circumstances 
are sufficient to cause the cheerful and lively bird to 
abandon its customary and instinctive way of life and to 
prompt it to a wearisome brooding over its eggs ; for 
though the increased pressure of blood in the abdomen 
may produce a heightened feeling of warmth, this is not 
diminished, but increased, through the quiet sittin" in 
the warm nest on the blood-hot eggs. We already see 
that the probability - is very small, and x . approaches 

1. If we, however, put the question the other way, viz., 
whether a case is known to us where bird and eggs are 
the same and yet incubation does not take place, we are 
met by the case of birds which have made their nests in 



48 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

hot forcing-houses and have omitted to brood, just as the 
ostrich hatches its eggs only in the night — in hot Nigritia 
not at all. Accordingly of the circumstances run., bird and 
eggs are obviously not sufficient causes of the brooding (M), 
and there remains as the only material circumstance, which 
could avail to make the cause sufficient or complete, the 
temperature of the nest. No one will think it probable 
that the lower temperature is the direct occasion of the 
incubation, consequently for the particular event the 
existence of a spiritual cause, through which alone the 
ascertained influence of temperature on the event can be 
thought to be brought about, becomes as good as certain, 
although at the same time the question of the precise 
nature of this spiritual cause still remains open. 

The estimation of the probability is not always as easy 
as in this instance, and very rarely when M is simple will 
it approach so near to certainty. In lieu thereof we are 
usually helped by the circumstance that M, the observed 
cause of Z, for the most part is not simple, but consists 
of different independent 1 events, Pj T % T. i: P 4 &c. If we 
now, again, in the first instance, leave on one side the 
question whether all the essential material circumstances 
have been taken into account, we have to ascertain : 

The probability, 



that Pj has its sufficient cause in n.n. 

" x 2 » j; „ 

P" 

" 3 j; „ „ 

P 



1 

Pi 
1 

Pi 
1 

Pz 

1 



Pi 
i To ascertain the actual indepen- application, however, does not here 
dence of the co-operating conditions concern us, where we are only deal- 
in any given case may often be very ing with the establishment of the 
difficult and a mam source of error, formal side of the purposive thought- 
This material difficulty in practical process. 



INTRODUCTORY. 49 

Hence the probability, that M has its sufficient cause 

in 11.11. = ; for M is the sum of the events 

Pi Pi Ps Pi 

Pj, P 2 , P 3 , P 4 ; consequently, if M is to be produced by 
11.11., loth Pj, and P 2 , also P s , P it must at the same time 
be produced by n.11. This probability is, however, the 
product of the several probabilities. (If, e.g., on the first 

throw of a die, the probability of throwing 2 = -*, on the 
second likewise = 7., the probability of throwing 2 with 

both dice at once - s ■ z.) Consequently, the probability 

that M is not sufficiently accounted for by n.n., that it 
accordingly still requires a spiritual cause 

= 1 _ 1 _ PiPiPsPi - 1 

Pi Ft Ps Pi PiPiPsPi 

Here, then, p x p 2 p 3 p± is what x was before, and it 
appears from this that p lt p 2i p^ and p i only need to be 
individually a little greater than if 2 = 1-189, conse- 
quently —j — , — , and — each a little less than 0*84, 

Pi Pi Ps Pi 

for Pi p 2 p 3 Pi as product of the four factors to become 

7) D T) 7) ~~ 1 ^ "] 

greater than 2, and - ri greater than „. In 

Pi P2 Ps Pi B 2 

other words, if, for the several events P 1( P 2 , P 3 , P 4 , the 

probability of a spiritual cause II- — , &o. j is only 

small (< 0-16), yet for their sum M its value rises 
as the number of distinct events which go to make 
up M becomes larger. E.g., let the probability of 

1 

5 



a spiritual cause be for each on the average only-= = 



1 , then— =—=—=— = —= OS, conse- 

V PI Pi Pi Ps Pi 5 

quently = 04096 and 1 = 0-590-1, 

J Pi Pi Ps Pi Pi Pi Ps Pi 

3 
a very respectable probability of about t- One easily 

VOL. I. D 



50 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

sees that those parts of M, which undoubtedly result merely 
from n.n., are self- eliminated from the calculation, since 
their probability enters as 1 into the product of the rest, 
i.e., leaves it unchanged. 

Let us consider an example of this case also. As 
cause of vision (Z) a multitude (M) of conditions (P^ P 2 , 
P 3 , P 4 ) have been observed, the most important of which 
are the following: — (i.) Special bundles of nerves issue 
from the brain, which are of such a nature that each 
stimulus affecting them is perceived in the brain as a 
sensation of light; (2.) They terminate in a peculiarly 
formed very sensitive nervous tissue (retina) ; (3.) Be- 
fore the latter is placed a camera-obscura ; (4.) The focal 
distance of this camera is in general adapted to the indices 
of refraction from air into the ocular humours (except in 
the case of aquatic animals) ; (5.) By means of various 
contractions the focal distance is capable of being changed 
for longsighted persons from a few inches to infinity ; (6.) 
The quantity of light to be admitted is regulated by the 
contraction and dilatation of the iris, whereby an addi- 
tional aid to clear vision is afforded by the cutting off 
of the peripheral rays ; (7.) The segments of the rods 
or cones continuous with the nerve-endings form a 
mosaic, so contrived, that each segment changes light- 
waves of definite wave-lengths (colour) into stationary 
waves, and thus produces in the appropriate primitive 
nerve-fibre the physiological colour-vibrations ; (8.) Bi- 
nocular vision conditions the perception of solidity and 
reveals the third dimension of space ; (9.) The two eyes 
may be simultaneously moved by means of special nerve- 
bundles and muscles, but only in the same direction, 
thus unsymmetrically in reference to the muscles ; (10.) 
The clearness of the visual pictures increasing from 
periphery to centre prevents the otherwise unavoidable 
distraction of the attention; (n.) The reflex turning of 
the visual axis to the brightest point of the field of vision 
facilitates education by the medium of sight and the for- 



INTRODUCTORY. 51 

mation of the ideas of space; (12.) The constant flow of 
tears keeps the surface of the cornea transparent and re- 
moves the dust ; (13.) The secluded position in the bony 
socket, the lids which close refiectorially on the approach 
of danger, the eyelashes and eyebrows, protect the organ 
from being rendered useless by external influences. 

All these thirteen conditions are necessary for the 
existence and maintenance of normal vision ; they are all 
there at the birth of the child, although the occasion for 
their exercise has not yet been afforded ; the circum- 
stances preceding and accompanying their origin (n.n.) are 
accordingly to be sought in procreation and the life of 
the foetus. The physiologists, however, it may safely be 
said, will never succeed, with the least show of probability, 
in exhibiting the sufficient cause for the origin of all these 
conditions in the blastoderm of the fertilised ovum and 
the material fluids which supply it : one cannot see why 
the child should not develop even without optic nerve or 
without eye at all. Suppose now, however, that we fell 
back upon our ignorance, although that is a bad ground 
for positive probabilities, and assumed a tolerably high 
probability for the development of any of the thirteen 
conditions from the material conditions of embryonic life, 
say ^ (a probability which but a small portion of our 
most certain knowledge possesses), still the probability 
that all these conditions follow from the material rela- 
tions of the embryonic life is only 0'9 13 = 0254. The 
probability, therefore, of a spiritual cause being required for 
the sum of conditions = 0746, i.e., almost f. In truth, 
however, the several probabilities perhaps = 0'25, or at the 
most05,and accordingly the probability of a spiritual cause 
for the whole = 0'9999985 or 0-99988, i.e., certainty. 

"We have just seen, how from material events we may 
conclude to the co-operation of spiritual causes, without the 
latter leing open to immediate inspection. From this to 
the recognition of final causes there is but one step. 
A spiritual cause for material events can only consist of 



52 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

spiritual activity ; and, moreover, where the spirit has to 
work outwardly, Will must be present, and the idea of 
what the Will wills cannot be wanting, as is more fully 
discussed in Chap, iv, A. The spiritual cause is thus 
Will in union with Idea, the idea namely of the material 
event which is to be brought about (M). We assume 
here, for the sake of brevity, that M proceeds directly 
from a spiritual cause, which is by no means necessary. 
Let us ask further, what can be the cause of M being 
willed ? Here the causal chain is at once broken, if we 
do not adopt the simple natural hypothesis, the willing 
of Z. Now, it is obvious that Z cannot influence the 
event as real existence, but only idealiter, i.e., as mental 
object, according to the axiom that the cause must be 
prior to the effect. That, however, willing-of-Z is a suffi- 
cient motive for willing-of-M is likewise a self-evident 
proposition, for whoever wishes to produce the effect must 
also will to produce the cause. To be sure on this hypo- 
thesis we only obtain a genuine explanation, if the willing- 
of-Z is in itself more comprehensible to us than the willing- 
of-M. The sufficient motive of the willing-of-Z must then 
lie either in the realisation of Z, or in a willing of Z lt which 
Z : follows on Z as its effect ; a consideration admitting of 
indefinite repetition. The more evident is the last motive 
at which we stop, the more probable does it become that 
the willing-of-Z is cause of the willing-of-M. — It is easy 
to see that this is, in point of fact, the course of our 
speculation with regard to natural ends. We have seen, 
for example, that the bird broods because it wills to 
brood. We must either be satisfied with this barren 
result and forego all explanation, or we must ask why 
is brooding willed ? Answer : because the development 
and hatching of the young bird is willed. We are still 
in the same plight ; we therefore inquire further, why is 
the development of the young bird willed ? Answer : 
because propagation is willed ; and this, because the con- 
tinued duration of the species, despite the shortness of 



INTRODUCTORY. 53 

the individual life, is willed ; and here we get a motive 
which may provisionally satisfy us. We are accordingly 
entitled to assume, that the willing of the development 
of the young bird is the cause (no matter whether direct 
or indirect) of the willing of the brooding, i.e., that the 
former is aimed at through the mean of brooding. (The 
point is not, whether the bird is conscious of this aim 
or not, although the supposition would be absurd in the 
case of a young bird bred in seclusion, for whence 
could it have derived the conscious knowledge of the 
effect of incubation ?) Certainly there always remains 
the possibility that an immaterial cause is at the bottom 
of the event M, without its being motived by the will 
to produce Z ; consequently the probability that Z is 
purposed will be a product of the probability that. M 

has a spiritual cause (l - -Y and of the probability 

that this spiritual cause has the willing of Z for its cause 

-; the product (l \— must, however, of course be 

smaller than either of the factors, since every pro- 
bability is less than 1. Here, too, the probability 
may be considerably increased, if the several conditions 
(P 1; P 2 , P 3 , P 4 ), of which M is usually compounded, be 
taken into account. The probability that Z is aimed 
at by means of P x is, according to the foregoing, 

if — is the probability that the immaterial cause 



(■-s)!,- 



has for its cause the willing of Z : accordingly the proba- 
bility that P, has not Z in view =1- (l - -)- Con- 

sequently the probability that neither P 1? nor P 2 , nor P 3 , 
nor P 4 has Z for end, i.e., that Z is in nowise aimed at 
through M = the product of the several probabilities 



1 . . n \ «. I 



1 

Vx' Si' 



54 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

Consequently the probability that M in any part thereof has 
Z for its end, i.e., the probability that Z is at all an end with 
respect to M, is equal to the complement of this quantity 

in respect of 1, = 1 - \ (l-(l-I)i. -,-, &c, are 

r l.-M V A'Jl P1P2 

genuine fractions, iust as — , — > &c, consequently also 

1 - A, and (l - I) I, and 1 - (l - I)-, 

and so on, consequently also their product, 

Hence it follows, that this product becomes smaller the 
larger the quantity n becomes ; for if n increases to 1 the 
newly-introduced factor is 



( 1 \ 1 

1 _ \*- ~ pn + 1/ qii + 1" 



This factor, like the product, is a genuine fraction, there- 
fore the product of both must be a genuine fraction, which 
is smaller than either of the two factors, q. e. d. — From the 

circumstance that n increasing ) ( becomes smaller, it 

1 . . n 

follows that n increasing 1 — ) ( becomes larger ; ac- 

1 . . n 

cordingly this probability also grows with the number of 

conditions of which M is compounded. Let 



(1-1)1,(1-1) i )lfec . 



average = #.; 



be on the average = \, i.e., let the probability, that each 
of the conditions of Z taken singly has this particular 
end in view, be on the average = ^, consequently very 

improbable. Then 1 - (l - — j— is on the 

81 
this raised merely to the fourth power gives ^-^, conse- 
quently 

1 _ Tl _(l _ 2)L14 = 175 2. 

L V p) q J 256 3 ' 



INTRODUCTORY. 55 

i.e., there results on the whole a very fair probability, for 
any one, who should bet 2 to I on the existence of Design, 
would still win. The application to the example of vision 
is obvious. 

We learn from the above, that those effects in particular 
can safely be regarded as ends, which need for their pro- 
duction a considerable number of causes, each of which has 
a certain probability of being means to the particular end. 
It is, therefore, no wonder that just the most general pheno- 
mena of Nature have always been most widely admitted to 
be ends. For example, the existence and continuance of 
organic nature as end of its own arrangements, as well as 
of those of inorganic nature. It is precisely here that an 
infinite number of causes co-operate to secure one grand 
result, the continuance of organisms. So far as these 
causes lie in the organisms themselves, they are divisible 
into those which conduce to the maintenance of the indi- 
vidual, and those which subserve the preservation of the 
species. Both of these points have seldom wanted recog- 
nition as natural ends. If we now call such an end 
cognised with the greatest possible certainty Z, we know 
that none of its many causes can be wanting, if it is to 
be attained ; thus, e.g., not M. Now since I know that 
both Z and M were willed and imagined before their real 
existence, and I see that among others the external cause 
Mj is requisite for the occurrence of M, the assumption, 
that M l5 too, was willed and imagined before its real exist- 
ence, obtains a certain probability through this regressive 
inference. Whether, namely, M be realised through the 
immediate action of a spiritual cause, or indirectly in that 
it follows from material causes, of which a few or several 
are spiritually caused, in both cases M 1 may be willed and 
represented before its real existence as means to the end 
M. In the latter case this is perfectly clear, but also in 
the former case the immediate interweaving of a spiritual 
cause in the realisation of M does not preclude the mate- 
rial causes of M, and therefore of M v springing in larger 



56 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

or smaller part, from spiritual causes, which had M and Z 
for their ends. In organic nature this is even the normal 
state of the case. The result of this reasoning in any 
case is a certain probability that M 1 is also aimed at, and 
although it may not be in itself great, still it is always a 
strengthening of the directly obtained degree of probability 
which is not to be despised, since all later links in the 
chain have the benefit of this probability by its repetition 
at every stage. 

Prom these considerations it is evident that the ways, 
in which ends are perceived in Nature, are multifariously 
combined. No claim is set up for the application of 
such calculations in practice, but they serve to clear up 
the principles which more or less unconsciously regulate 
the logical procedure of every one who correctly reflects 
on this subject, and who does not dogmatise thereon 
from the lofty heights of some a priori system. The 
examples adduced in this chapter are not intended to 
serve as a proof of the truth of Teleology, but only for 
the elucidation and illustration of the abstract exposi- 
tions, which likewise will assuredly convert no opponent 
to the hypothesis of ends in Nature, for only examples 
en masse can do that ; but perhaps they will lead some, 
who thought themselves to have outgrown the belief in 
Purpose as manifested in Nature, to weigh alleged in- 
stances thereof more carefully and impartially ; and no 
other than this, viz., as a preparation for Section A. of 
our inquiry, was the design of the present chapter. 



A. 

THE MANIFESTATION OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 
IN BODILY LIFE. 

" The Materialists endeavour to show that all, even mental pheno- 
mena, are physical: and rightly; only they do not see that, on the 
other hand, everything physical is at the same time metaphysical." — 
Schopenhauer. 



( 59 ) 



THE UNCONSCIOUS "WILL IN THE INDEPENDENT FUNCTIONS 
OF THE SPINAL CORD AND GANGLIA. 

The time has gone by when the animals were con- 
trasted with the free man as locomotive machines, as 
soulless automata. Deeper insight into the life of animals, 
strenuous effort to understand their language and the 
motives of their actions, has shown that with respect to 
mental capacity man differs from the brutes in degree 
and not in kind, just as the brutes differ among them- 
selves; that in virtue of this higher capacity he has 
created a more perfect form of speech, and thereby has 
gained in the course of generations that perfectibility 
which is wanting to the brutes, owing to their imperfect 
means of communication. We accordingly know now, 
that we cannot compare the educated man of to-day 
■with the animals, without being unjust to the latter, but 
ouly the peoples which are but little removed from the 
state in which they were fashioned by the hand of Nature ; 
for we know that even our own race, privileged as it 
now is by higher aptitudes, was once what these still 
are, and that our present higher qualities of brain and 
mind have been only gradually attained through the law 
of hereditary transmission of acquired power. Thus the 
animal kingdom is presented to us as a finished scale of 
being, with pervading analogies. The fundamental spiri- 
tual faculties must be essentially the same in all, and 
what in the higher members appear to be new faculties 
are only secondary powers, which have been developed 



60 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

in certain directions by the higher culture of common 
elementary capacities. In all beings these fundamental 
or primitive activities of the mind are willing and think- 
ing ; for feeling (as I shall show in Chap. iii. B) may, with 
the help of the Unconscious, be developed from these 
two. 

"VVe shall speak in this chapter only of the Will. It 
is scarcely to be doubted, that what we regard as imme- 
diate cause of our action and call Will is to be found in 
the consciousness of animals as causal moment of their 
action, and must also be called Will, if we cease to give our- 
selves airs of superiority by employing different names for 
the very same things (as devouring, swilling, littering, for 
eating, drinking, child-bearing). The dog will not separate 
from its master ; it wills to save the child which has fallen 
into the water from the well-known death ; the bird will 
not let its young be injured ; the cock will not share his hen 
with another, &c. I know there are many people who think 
they elevate man, when they ascribe as much as possible 
in the life of animals, especially the lower ones, to " reflex 
action." If these persons have in their minds the ordinary 
physiological sense of the term reflex action, involuntary 
reaction on an external stimulus, it may safely be said 
that either they have never observed animals, or that 
they have eyes but they see not. If however they 
extend the meaning of reflex action beyond its usual 
physiological acceptation, they are assuredly right, but 
then they forget : firstly, that man, too, lives and moves 
in pure reflex actions — that every act of will is a reflex 
action ; and secondly, that every reflex action is an act of 
will, as we shall show in Chap. V. 

Let us then retain provisionally the usual narrower 
acceptation of reflex action, and speak only of such acts 
of will as are not reflexes in this sense, i.e., are not in- 
voluntary reactions of the organism on external stimuli. 
There are two marks in particular whereby volition may 
be distinguished from reflex actions : firstly, emotion, and 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 61 

secondly, consistency in carrying out an intention. Reflex 
actions are mechanical and passionless ; but one need not 
be skilled in the art of physiognomies to clearly perceive 
the presence of an emotion even in the brutes. It is 
well known that several species of ants wage war with one 
another, one state subjugating and enslaving the citizens 
of another state, in order to obtain labourers for its opera- 
tions. These wars are waged by a warrior caste, whose 
members are larger and stronger, and provided with more 
powerful nippers. It is only necessary to have once wit- 
nessed this army knocking at the hostile edifice, to have 
seen the workers withdraw and the warriors come out to 
do battle, with what bitterness the fight is carried on, 
and how, after an unsuccessful contest, the constructors 
of the building surrender themselves captive, to have no 
longer any doubt that this premeditated raid shows a 
very decided will, and is something altogether different 
from reflex action. The like is the case with the swarms 
of robber-bees. 

Eeflex action disappears and reappears with the ex- 
ternal stimulus, but it cannot form a purpose, which it 
pursues under changed external circumstances with ap- 
propriate change of means. Kg., when a decapitated frog, 
having remained quiet a long time after the operation, 
suddenly begins to make natatory movements or to hop 
away, one might be inclined to look upon this as mere 
physiological reflex action, as result of the irritation of 
the terminations of the divided nerve by the air. But 
when the frog in various experiments, the cutaneous 
irritation and the part affected being the same, overcomes 
different obstacles in a different way, but equally suited 
to the purpose; when, having taken a fixed direction, 
and being turned therefrom, it tries with rare obstinacy 
constantly to regain it; when it creeps away under a 
cupboard or into other odd corners, manifestly to seek 
protection from its persecutors, — there is unmistakable 
evidence of non-reflectorial acts of will, regarding which 



62 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

even the physiologist Goltz justly concludes from his 
careful experiments, that there is no avoiding the assump- 
tion of an intelligence not confined to the cerebrum, but 
astricted to various central organs for the exercise of 
different functions (e.g., to the corpora quadrigemina for 
the maintenance of equilibrium). 

From this example of the decapitated frog and the voli- 
tion of all invertebrate animals (e.g., insects) it follows that 
no brain at all is requisite for the exercise of will. Since 
in the invertebrata the oesophageal ganglia take the place 
of the brain, we must assume that these also suffice for 
the act of will, and in the above-mentioned frog cere- 
bellum and spinal cord must have supplied the place of 
the cerebrum. But we cannot confine the will of inver- 
tebrate animals to the oesophageal ganglia ; for when the 
anterior part of one bisected insect continues the act 
of devouring, and the posterior part of another the act 
of propagation, when praying crickets with their heads 
cut off even seek their females for days, find them and 
copulate, just as if they were unscathed, it is tolerably 
clear that the will to devour has been an act of the 
oesophageal ring, but the will to propagate, in these cases 
at least, an act of other ganglia of the trunk. The like 
independence of the will in the different ganglia of one 
and the same animal is observed, when the two halves of 
a divided earwig, or of an Australian ant, turn against 
one another, and, under the unmistakable influence of the 
passion of anger and lust of fighting, contend furiously 
with their antennas till exhaustion or death ensues. But 
we must not limit the activity of the will even to gan- 
glia ; for we find voluntary action even in animals of a 
very low type, where the microscope of the anatomist 
has discovered no trace either of muscular fibrin or of 
nerves, but only the fibroin of Mulder (now called pro- 
toplasm). Here probably the semifluid slimy substance 
of the animal, as in the first stages of embryonic de- 
velopment, fulfils in an inferior manner those conditions 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 63 

to which the nerve substance owes its irritability, and 
special fitness as an instrument of the will, viz., the easy- 
mobility and polarisability of the molecules. Let any 
one take a glass of water containing a polype, and 
place it in such a position that a part of the water is 
illuminated by the sun ; the polype will instantly propel 
itself out of the dark towards the illuminated part of the 
water. If now a living infusorion be placed therein and 
it approaches within a few lines of the polype, the latter 
perceives it — God only knows how — and produces a whirl- 
pool with its arms, in order to draw it within its grasp. 
On the other hand, should a dead infusorion, a small 
vegetable organism, or a particle of dust, approach quite 
as close, it does not trouble itself at all about it. The 
polype then perceives the animalcule to be living, draws 
therefrom the inference that it is fit for food, and adopts 
means to bring it within reach of its mouth. Not seldom 
also one may see two polypes in bitter conflict over a 
prize. No one will venture to call a will guided by a 
sense-perception so fine and so clearly manifested phy- 
siological reflection in the ordinary sense of the term, 
otherwise we should have to term it reflex action when 
the gardener bends the bough of a tree to reach its fruit. 
Accordingly, when we see acts of will in animals destitute 
of nerves, we can certainly not hesitate to recognise the 
same in ganglia. 

This result is also suggested by comparative anatomy, 
which teaches that the brain is an aggregation of ganglia 
connected with nerve-fibres, and that the spinal cord in 
its central grey matter is likewise a series of ganglia 
which have coalesced. The Articulata are the first to 
show a weak analogue of the brain in the form of two 
nodules connected by the oesophageal ring and also of 
the spinal cord in the so-called ventral cord, the 
latter containing ganglia united by fibres, each of 
which answers to a segment and pair of legs. Ac- 
cordingly physiologists assume as many independent 



64 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

centres in the spinal cord as there are pairs of spinal 
nerves issuing therefrom. Among the Vertebrata there are 
fishes, -whose brain and spinal cord consist of a number 
of ganglia, which lie in a row behind one another. The 
composition of a central organ from several ganglia is 
positively confirmed by the metamorphosis of insects, 
when certain ganglia, which are separate in the larva 
state, appear consolidated at a more advanced stage of 
development. 

These facts may suffice to prove the essential resem- 
blance of brain and ganglia, brain-will and ganglia-will. 
But now, if the ganglia of lower animals have their inde- 
pendent wills, if the spinal cord of a decapitated frog 
has its will, why should not the so much more highly 
organised ganglia and spinal cord of the higher animals 
and of man also have their will ? If in insects the 
will to devour lies in anterior, the will to procreate in 
posterior ganglia, why in man should not such a division 
of labour be likewise provided for his will? Or is it 
conceivable that the same natural phenomenon should in 
the less perfect form exhibit effects which are entirely 
wanting in the more perfect form ? Or must we suppose 
that in man the conduction is so good, that every gan- 
glionic volition is immediately transmitted to the brain 
and appears in consciousness undistinguishable from the 
volition generated in the brain ? This may, perhaps, 
be true to a certain extent for the upper parts of the 
spinal cord, certainly not for all the rest, since the 
channels of sensation from the hypogastric plexus are 
almost imperceptible. No other course is left open, then, 
but to ascribe independent wills to the human ganglia and 
spinal cord, the manifestations of which it only remains 
empirically to prove. That in the case of higher animals 
the muscular movements which effect external actions are 
more and more under the control of the cerebellum, and 
consequently centralised, is well known. Facts, there- 
fore, will not be forthcoming here to any great extent ; 



7 
THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 65 

and this is doubtless the reason why hitherto the inde- 
pendence of the ganglionic system in higher animals has 
been so little recognised by physiologists, although de- 
fended by the most recent investigators. Those volun- 
tary acts, on the contrary, which are actually to be 
ascribed to the ganglia, have been usually regarded as 
reflex actions, whose stimuli are said to exist in the 
organism itself, which stimuli accordingly were arbitrarily 
assumed when they were not assignable. In part these 
assumptions may be justified ; they then belong to the 
chapter on Keflex Actions. It is not a large part, how- 
ever, in any case, and, moreover, it cannot do any harm, 
to consider here even those which are reflex actions 
proper from the point of view of the Will, since it will 
be hereafter proved that every reflex action contains an 
unconscious Will. 

The independent movements effected by the sym- 
pathetic nervous system, i.e., without the co-operation of 
brain and spinal cord, are : (1.) The beating of the heart ; 
(2.) the movements of the stomach and the. intestines ; (3.) 
the tonic contractions of the lower part of the alimentary 
canal and muscular coats of the arteries; (4.) an important 
part of the processes of organic life, so far as they depend 
on nervous action. The intermittent type of movement 
is shown in the beating of the heart, tone of the arteries, 
and movements of the intestines; and the persistent move- 
ments are illustrated by the other processes. The beating of 
the heart, as may be seen in an exposed frog's heart, begins 
with the contraction of the vense cavas ; the contraction of 
the auricles follows, then that of the ventricles, and finally 
that of the bulbus aortse. In an excised frog's heart 
sprinkled with salt water the cardiac ganglia continue to 
perform their function of stimulating the heart to beat 
for hours together. In the case of the intestines the 
movement begins at the lower part of the oesophagus, and 
progresses vermicularly from above downwards, one wave 
hardly completing its course before the next begins. Have 

vol. 1. E 



66 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

not these movements of the intestines the most surprising 
resemblance to the creeping of a worm, with the simple 
difference that the worm propels itself forward on its sup- 
port, whilst here the worm is fastened, and the (inner) 
support, the masses of food and the faeces are pushed 
forward ? Should the one be called Will and not the 
other ? The " tone " is a slight muscular contraction, 
which is ceaselessly exhibited by all muscles during life, 
even in sleep or swoon. In the case of muscles subser- 
vient to volition (the cerebral will), it is maintained by the 
spinal cord, and there is only no movement of the limbs, 
because the actions of the opposing muscles (antagonists) 
neutralise one another. Where, therefore, there are no 
opposing muscles (as, e.g., in the circular sphincters), the 
contraction is clearly manifested, and can only be over- 
come by strong pressure of the fasces. The tone of the 
intestines, arteries, and veins depends on the sympathetic 
system, and the latter is absolutely necessary for the cir- 
culation of the blood. Lastly, as concerns secretion and 
nutrition, these can be influenced by the nerves, partly 
by means of dilatation and contraction of the capillary 
vessels, partly by tension and relaxation of the membranes 
concerned in osmosis, partly through the setting up of 
chemical, electrical, and thermal currents. All these 
functions are carried on exclusively by subordinate ganglia 
through the agency of the sympathetic fibres found in all 
nerve-trunks, which are chiefly distinguishable from the 
sensory and motor fibres by the absence of a medullary 
sheath. 

The surest proofs of the independence of the ganglionic 
system are derived from Bidder's experiments on frogs. 
The spinal cord having been completely destroyed, the 
animals lived often six, sometimes ten weeks (with gra- 
dually slackening heart-beat). On destruction of the 
brain and spinal cord, the medulla oblongata alone being 
spared (for breathing), they lived six days; when this 
also was destroyed, the beating of the heart and circulation 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 67 

of the blood could be still observed even on the second 
day. The frogs whose medulla oblongata had been pre- 
served ate and digested their worms after six-and-twenty 
days, whilst micturition took place regularly. 

Besides the above-mentioned tone of the voluntary 
muscles, the spinal cord (including the medulla oblongata) 
regulates all involuntary movements of the voluntary 
muscles (reflex movements, see Chap. V.) and the respi- 
ratory movements. The latter have their central organ 
in the medulla oblongata; and not merely a large number 
of the spinal nerves, but also the N. phrenicus, accessorius, 
Willisii, vagus, and facialis, co-operate in the production 
of these highly complicated movements. Although the 
cerebral will is able for a short time to strengthen or to 
suppress the respiratory movements, it can never entirely 
abolish them, since, after a little pause, the will of the 
spinal cord regains the upper hand. 

The independence of the spinal cord on the brain is 
likewise proved by many beautiful physiological experi- 
ments. A hen, from which Flourens had removed the 
entire cerebrum, sat indeed motionless as a rule ; but on 
going to sleep it tucked its head under its wings; on 
waking, it shook itself and preened its feathers. When 
pushed, it ran forward in a straight line ; when thrown 
into the air, it flew. It did not eat spontaneously, but 
only swallowed the food thrust into its bill. Voit re- 
peated these experiments with pigeons. They first fell 
into a deep sleep, from which they only awoke after a 
few weeks ; then, however, they flew and moved of their 
own accord, and comported themselves in such a manner 
as to leave no doubt of the existence of their sensations ; 
only intelligence was lacking, and they did not spontane- 
ously take food. Thus a pigeon, having thrust its beak 
against a suspended wooden pendulum, caused it to swing 
for upwards of an hour till Voit's return, so that the pen- 
dent spool over and over again struck its beak. On the 
other hand, such a brainless pigeon endeavours to evade a 



68 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

hand trying to grasp it, to carefully avoid obstacles in its 
flight, and can settle cleverly on narrow supports. Rabbits 
and guinea-pigs, whose cerebrum has been removed, run 
freely about after the operation ; the behaviour of a de- 
capitated frog has been already mentioned. All these 
movements, as the preening of its feathers -by the hen, 
the leaping of rabbits and frogs, take place without 
noticeable external stimulus, and are so like the same 
movements in uninjured animals that it is impossible to 
assume a difference in the underlying principle in the two 
cases : in the one case as in the other, there is a manifes- 
tation of will. Now we know that the higher animal con- 
sciousness is conditional on the integrity of the cerebrum 
(see Chap. ii. C), and when this is destroyed, it is said 
these animals are without consciousness, and accordingly 
act and will unconsciously. But the cerebral conscious- 
ness is by no means the sole, but merely the highest con- 
sciousness of the animal, the only one which in higher 
animals and in man attains to self-consciousness, to the 
ego, therefore also the only one which I can call my 
consciousness. That, however, the subordinate nerve- 
centres must also have a consciousness, if of a vaguer 
description, plainly follows from the continuity of the 
animal series, and a comparison of the ganglionic con- 
sciousness of the Invertebrata with that of the independent 
ganglia and central parts of the spinal cord of the higher 
animals. 

It is beyond a doubt that a mammal deprived of its 
brain is always capable of clearer feeling than an uninjured 
insect, because the consciousness of its spinal cord stands 
in any case higher than that of the ganglia of the insect. 
Accordingly this will, which gives evidence of itself in 
the independent functions of the spinal cord and the 
ganglia, is by no means to be at once declared to be in 
itself unconscious ; we must rather provisionally assume 
that for the nerve-centres from which it proceeds it 
certainly may become more or less clearly conscious. On 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. ' 69 

the other hand, compared with the cerebral consciousness 
which a man exclusively recognises as his consciousness, 
it is certainly unconscious, and it is accordingly shown 
that there exists in us an unconscious will, since these 
nerve-centres are all contained in our corporeal organism, 
therefore in us. 

It seems requisite to add, in conclusion, a remark with 
respect to the sense in which the word Will is here taken. 
We started with understanding by this word a conscious 
intention, which is the ordinary signification. We have 
found, however, in the course of our investigation, that in a 
single individual, but in different nerve-centres, there may 
exist consciousnesses and wills more or less independent of 
one another, each of which can at the most be conscious for 
the nerve-centre through which it is expressed. In say- 
ing this, the usual limited meaning of Will is necessarily 
abandoned ; for I must now recognise another will in me 
than that which has been exerted through my brain, and 
has thereby become conscious to me. After these limita- 
tions of meaning have fallen away, we can no longer avoid 
understanding by Will the immanent cause of every 
movement in animals, which is not produced reflectorially. 
This may also be taken as the sole characteristic and in- 
fallible mark of the will of which we are conscious, that it 
is a cause of preconceived action. It is now seen, that 
it is somewhat accidental to the will, whether it passes 
through the cerebral consciousness or not; its essence 
remains thereby unaffected. What then in the present 
work is denoted by the word " Will " is no other than the 
same essential principle in both cases. If, however, it is 
particularly desired to distinguish the two kinds of will, for 
conscious will language already offers a term exactly cover- 
ing this conception — Freewill — whilst the word Will must 
be retained for the general principle. Will, we know, is the 
resultant of all contemporaneous desires ; if this struggle 
of desire is consciously waged, it appears as choice of the 
result, or freewill, whilst the origin of the unconscious will 



70 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

is withdrawn from consciousness, consequently even the 
semblance of choice among desires cannot here occur. 
One sees from the existence of this term Freewill, that 
the idea of a more general will with non-selected content 
or aim, whose actions thus appear to consciousness not 
as free, but as inward compulsion, has long been in the 
popular consciousness. 

I do not merely rely upon the precedent of Schopen- 
hauer and the wide-spread acceptance (even abroad) that 
this use of the word Will has already found, but upon the 
fact, that no other word in "eneral use in the Teutonic Ian- 
guages is more appropriate to designate the broad principle 
which is treated of in the present and following chapter. 
"Desire" is volition still incomplete, in the making, as 
it were, one-sided as not having yet stood the test of 
resisting other desires. It is only an unfinished product 
of the psychological laboratory of Volition, not the final 
collective expression of the activity of the whole indi- 
vidual (be it of higher or of lower order). It is only a 
component of the will, which, in consequence of bein^ 
paralysed by other opposite desires, may be condemned to 
remain velleity. If "desiring" cannot be substituted for 
" willing," still less can "Impulse;" since it not only suffers 
from the same one-sidedness and limitation as desire, but 
does not even include the notion of actuality. It rather 
only represents the latent disposition to certain one-sided 
tendencies to action, which, if they become actual in 
consequence of some motive, are no longer called impulse 
but desire. Every impulse thus denotes a definite aspect, 
not of volition, but of the character, i.e., the tendency of the 
latter to react on certain classes of motives with desires 
of a fixed direction (e.g., sexual impulse, migratory impulse, 
acquisitive impulse, &c ; cf. the phrenological " instincts " 
or " primitive faculties "). As specific predispositions the 
impulses rightly stand for inner springs of action, just 
as motives represent the outer ones. Impulse then, as 
such, has necessarily a definite concrete content, which is 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 71 

conditioned by the physical predispositions of the general 
bodily constitution and the molecular constitution of the 
central nervous system. Will, on the other hand, as uni- 
versal formal principle of movement and change, stands 
altogether behind the concrete dispositions, which, when 
conceived as informed by the will, are called impulses, 
and is realised in the resulting volition, which receives its 
particular content through the psychological mechanism of 
motives, impulses, and desires (cf. Chap. iv. B.) Although 
in the lower animals and in the subordinate central organs 
of man this mechanism is simple in comparison with that 
of the human brain, it is none the less present, and easily 
reveals itself in reflex movements. Even in the case of 
the independent functions of the spinal cord and ganglia 
the inherited innate material predisposition of the medulla 
oblongata to effect the respiratory movements may very 
well be called a " respiratory impulse," if only it be not 
forgotten that behind this material arrangement stands 
the principle of the will, without which it could as little 
be functional as, say, the innate cerebral disposition for 
compassion, and that the exercise of the respiratory move- 
ments themselves is an actual willing, whose direction 
and content is conditioned by such predisposition. 



( 72 ) 



II. 



UNCONSCIOUS IDEATION IN THE EXECUTION OF 
VOLUNTAEY MOVEMENT. 

I WILL to lift my little finger, and the finger is lifted. 
Does, then, my will directly move my finger ? No ; for 
if the brachial nerve be divided the will cannot move 
it. Experience teaches that for every movement there is 
only one part, namely, the central ending of the nerve- 
fibres concerned, which is able to carry into effect the 
volitional impulse for this particular movement of this 
particular member. Should this one part be injured, the 
will would have just as little power over the member, as 
it would have if the nervous communication between 
that place and the muscles were interrupted. The motor 
impulse itself we cannot, intensity apart, imagine to be 
different for different nerves ; for since the excitation in 
all motor nerves is to be looked upon as homogeneous, it 
cannot be otherwise with the excitation at the centre, 
whence the current issues; consequently movements only 
differ in this, that the central endings of different motor 
nerves are affected by the volitional impulse, and thereby 
different muscles are constrained to contract. We may thus 
picture to ourselves the central termination of motor fibres 
in the brain as a kind of keyboard. The touch is, inten- 
sity apart, always the same ; the touched keys alone are 
different. If, then, I intend a specific movement, e.g., the 
lifting of the little finger, what is required is to compel 
those muscles to contract which by their combination 
produce this movement, and for that purpose to strike 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 73 

with the will that chord in the keyboard of the brain, the 
single keys of which set the related muscles in motion. 
If in framing the chord one or more false keys are struck, 
there occurs a movement which does not correspond with 
the one intended ; e.g., in making a slip in speaking, mis- 
writing, tripping, in the awkward handling of children, 
&c. It is true the number of the central endings of fibres 
in the brain is considerably smaller than that of the motor 
fibres in the nerves, provision being made through the 
intervention of a peculiar mechanism, to be further men- 
tioned in Chap. V., for the simultaneous excitation of many 
peripheral fibres by means of one central fibre. However, 
the number of different movements within the power of 
the conscious will, consequently dirigible by the brain, is, 
by means of a thousand little modifications of direction 
and combination, for each single limb sufficiently large — for 
the whole body, indeed, simply immeasurable ; so that the 
probability would be infinitely small that the conscious idea 
of the lifting of the little finger should, without causal 
connection, coincide with the actual elevation. The mere 
mental representation of the lifting of the little finger 
cannot act on the central nerve-endings, since they have 
nothing to do with one another ; the mere will, however, 
as motor impulse, would be absolutely blind, and there- 
fore the striking of the right key would be left to pure 
chance. If there were no causal connection at all, prac- 
tice could avail nothing ; for nobody finds in his conscious- 
ness an idea or a feeling of this infinite number of central 
endings. Thus, if accidentally once or twice the conscious 
idea of the lifting of the finger should coincide with the 
executed movement, experience would have nothing to 
go upon ; and on the third occasion when the man willed 
to raise his finger, the touch of the right key would be as 
much left to chance as in the former cases. It is, then, 
clear that practice can aid the linking of intention and 
execution only if there be a causal nexus between the 
two, in which case certainly the passage from one to the 



74 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

other is facilitated by repetition of the process. The pro- 
blem placed before us, then, is to find the causal nexus ; 
without it practice would be an empty word. It is, besides, 
in most cases not at all necessary, namely, in the case of 
almost all animals, which run and leap just as well at the 
first attempt as after long practice. From this it follows, 
in the second place, that all attempts at explanation are 
unsatisfactory, which intercalate such a causal link as can 
only be perceived by the accidental association of idea and 
movement. The conscious muscular feeling preceding the 
intended movement, for example, which can only be ac- 
quired and imprinted on the memory by repetition, might 
perhaps suffice for explanation in the case of man, but not 
for the far larger part of natural existences, the animals, 
since before any experience of muscular feeling they exe- 
cute with marvellous accuracy the most extensive combined 
movements agreeably to the conscious idea of the end. 
For instance, an insect just born correctly alternates its 
six legs, as if locomotion were nothing new to it, and a 
young brood of partridges, hatched by a domestic hen in 
the stable, invariably, in spite of all precautions, imme- 
diately and correctly employ the motor muscles of their 
legs to reconquer freedom for their parents, and know 
how to use their beaks for picking up and crushing any 
insect they meet with, as if they had already performed 
the operation a hundred times. 

It might perhaps be thought that the cerebral vibra- 
tions answering to the conscious idea, " I will to lift the 
little finger," occur in that region of the brain where 
the nerves have their central terminations ; this is, how- 
ever, anatomically incorrect, since the conscious ideas 
have their seat in the cerebrum, but the motor nerve- 
endings are found in the medulla oblongata or cere- 
bellum. Just as little can a mechanical propagation of 
the vibrations of the conscious representation to the nerve- 
endings afford an explanation of the touching the ri^ht 
keys. We should then be obliged to assume that the con- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 75 

scious idea, " I will to move my little finger," is localised 
elsevjhere in the cerebrum than the other conscious idea, 
" I will to move my fore-finger," and that each of the places 
in the cerebrum corresponding to a particular idea of any 
sort of movement to be executed stands, in virtue of an 
inherited mechanism, in intimate connection with the 
central ending of the motor nerves needed for realising 
these ideas, and with that alone. The consequences of 
this strange supposition would be stranger still ; e.g., the 
conscious idea, " I will to lift the five fingers of the right 
hand," would occur simultaneously in the five places of 
the cerebrum which are appropriated to the several ideas 
of the five liftings of the fingers ; whereas one would be 
much more inclined to assume, that the ideas of willing to 
lift this or the other finger are distinguished in the material 
substratum of the brain rather by a small modification 
of the form of vibration than by definite localisation. 
Further, were it only the propagation of the molecular 
vibrations to the central endings of the motor nerves 
resulting from such a conscious idea, which sufficed for 
the performance of the movement, such a conscious idea 
as " I will to lift the little finger," should always call forth 
movement. With such a mechanism of fixed and isolated 
channels, not only would error be impossible, but also that 
indescribable impulse of the will would be superfluous, 
which, as experience teaches, must first be added to that 
conscious idea before an effect takes place. Lastly, where 
no mistake was possible, no increase of accuracy or cer- 
tainty, as result of any influence whatever, would be 
conceivable; practice also could have no influence on 
the causal link between conscious idea and executed 
movement. This consequence, however, contradicts ex- 
perience as much as the impossibility of error, and 
therefore discredits the hypothesis of a mechanical com- 
munication. Suppose, however, there really did exist such 
a mechanism, Materialism would be obliged further to 
assume that it is transmitted by inheritance, and was 



7 6 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

gradually formed in our primitive ancestors by practice 
and habit. In this genetic theory, where a part of this 
mechanism comes into existence from time to time, the 
problem of a causal connection between conscious idea 
and execution of movement would again arise in the form 
in which we now have it — its possibility, to wit, without 
the help of an already existing mechanism for the given 
case. The theory of transmitting mechanisms would 
therefore only push our problem farther back, not solve 
it, and the solution given below would even then, if that 
theory were correct, be the only possible one. 

Lastly, to return once more to the ascription of the 
muscular feeling of intended movement to the memory 
of earlier cases of casual association, this explanation is 
shown to be one-sided and insufficient, not only because 
at the best it could only claim to explain the possibility 
of exercise and perfection with an already existing causal 
connection, not the connection itself, but also because, in 
fact, it does not even explain that, but only pushes the problem 
one step farther back. Before it was not clear how the 
striking of the right brain-keys by the volitional impulse is 
to be effected through the idea of the liftincr of the finger ; 
now it is not clear, how this result is to be brought about 
by the idea of the muscular feeling in the finger and lower 
arm, since the one has as little to do with the position of 
the motor nerve-endings in the brain as the other, yet it 
is these which have to be affected if the right event is to 
take place. Of what direct use is an idea referring to the 
finger for the selection of the point to be excited in the 
brain by the will ? That there exists an idea of the mus- 
cular feeling sometimes, but comparatively rarely, I do not 
at all deny ; that if present it may be an important link 
in the chain terminating with movement, I just as little 
deny ; but this I do deny, that for the comprehension of 
the sought-for union anything is gained by its intercala- 
tion, — the problem is only carried a little farther back. 
For the rest, this intercalation has the less importance, as 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 77 

in the majority of cases where this muscular feeling at 
all exists prior to movement it exists unconsciously. 

Let us once more gather up what we know concerning 
the problem, and the solution will press on us of itself. A 
will is given whose content is the conscious idea of the 
lifting of a finger, indispensable as means for executing 
a voluntary impulse at the fixed point P in the brain ; 
required a method by which the voluntary impulse may 
strike precisely the point P and no other. The mechanical 
■ solution of a transmission of vibrations appeared impos- 
sible ; practice before the problem was solved an empty, 
meaningless word; the interpolation of the muscular 
feeling as conscious causal middle term one-sided and 
no explanation. Prom the impossibility of a mechanical 
material solution it follows that the intermediate link 
must be of a spiritual nature ; from the decided absence 
of a sufficient conscious link it follows that the same 
must be unconscious. Prom the necessity of a voluntary 
impulse at the point P it follows that the conscious will 
to lift the finger produces an unconscious will to excite 
the point P, in order, by means of the excitation of P, 
to attain the object, lifting the finger; and the content 
of the will to excite P, again, presupposes the uncon- 
scious idea of the point P (cf. Chap. iv. A.) The idea of 
the point P can, however, only consist in the idea of its 
position with reference to the other points of the brain, 
and herewith the problem is solved : " Every involuntary 
movement presupposes the unconscious idea of the position 
of the corresponding nerve-endings in the brain." Now 
also is it comprehensible how their dexterity is innate in 
the animals, the knowledge just spoken of and the skill to 
apply it being born with them, whilst man, in consequence 
of the immature and pulpy state of his brain at birth, only 
gradually, by long practice, succeeds in turning to good 
account his innate unconscious knowledge in accurate and 
powerful muscular innervation. It is now also intelligible 
how muscular feeling can sometimes appear as the con- 



78 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

necting link. The excitation of tins muscular feeling is 
related to the lifting of the finger as means to end, in such 
a way, however, that it is one step nearer to the idea of the 
excitation of the point P than the idea of the lifting of the 
finger. It is thus a medium which can be interpolated, but 
is better overleaped. 

We may then regard it as established that every, even 
the slightest movement, whether due to conscious or 
unconscious intention, presupposes the unconscious idea 
of the appropriate central nerve-endings and the uncon- 
scious will to stimulate the same. We have accordingly 
made a great advance beyond the results of the first 
chapter. There (cf. pp. 68, 69) we only spoke of the 
relatively unconscious ; there the reader was only to be 
accustomed to the thought that mental processes go on 
within him (as an indivisible spiritual-corporeal organism) 
of which Ms consciousness (i.e., his cerebral consciousness) 
does not dream; here, however, we have come across 
mental events which, if they do not attain to conscious- 
ness in the brain, cannot certainly be conscious for the 
other nerve-centres of the organism : we have thus found 
something unconscious for the entire individual. 



( 79 ) 



III. 

THE UNCONSCIOUS IN INSTINCT. 

Instinct is pxcrposive action without consciousness of the 
•purpose. No one would call Instinct purposive action 
accompanied by consciousness of the purpose, where 
therefore the action is a result of reflection; just as 
little a purposeless blind action, such as the furious 
outbursts of rabid or irritated animals. I do not think 
that the above definition can be objected to by those 
who assume the existence of instinct ; but whoever thinks 
it possible to refer all actions usually called instinctive to 
conscious reflection does, in fact, deny instinct altogether, 
and ought accordingly to strike the word "instinct" out 
of his yocabulary. But of this later on. 

First of all, assuming the existence of instinctive actions 
in the sense of the definition, they might be explained : 
(i.) As a mere consequence of corporeal organisation ; (2.) 
as a cerebral or mental mechanism contrived by Nature ; 
(3.) as a result of unconscious mental activity. In the 
first two cases the idea of purpose lies far back ; in the 
last it immediately precedes action. In the first two an 
arrangement given once for all is used as means, and 
purpose is only once concerned in constituting this arrange- 
ment ; in the latter, the end is imagined in every single 
case. Let us take the three cases in order. 

Instinct is not the mere result of hodily organisation, 
for: (a.) Instincts are quite different with similar bodily 
structures. All spiders have the same spinning apparatus, 
but one kind constructs its web radially, another in an 



So PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. • 

irregular marker ; a third does not construct a web at all, 
but lives in hollows, over the walls of which it spins, 
closing the entrance with a door. Almost all birds have 
essentially the same organisation for building nests (beak 
and feet), and how infinitely diverse are their nests in 
form, architecture, mode of fastening (standing, clinging, 
hanging), locality (caves, holes, corners, forked branches, 
shrubs "the ground), and excellence, how different often 
in the species of the same genus, e.g., Parus (titmouse), 
Several birds do not build nests at all. Most birds with 
webbed feet swim, but some not, e.g., upland geese, which 
seldom or never enter the water, or the frigate-bird, which 
is always hovering in the air, and which no one except 
Audubon has ever seen alight on the surface of the sea. 
Just as little do the different varieties of the song of 
birds depend on the difference in their vocal organs, or 
the peculiar architecture of bees and ants on their bodily 
organisation ; in all these cases the organisation only capa- 
citates for singing or building in general, but has nothing 
to do with the mode of execution. Sexual selection, 
likewise, has nothing to do with organisation, since the 
disposition of the sexual organs in any animal -would be 
as well adapted for the members of numberless foreign 
species as for an individual of its own species. The nur- 
ture, protection, and training of the young can still less be 
considered dependent on the bodily structure. The same 
may be said of the place where the insect lays its eggs, or 
the selection of the spawn of their own kind on which the 
male fish discharge their seed. The rabbit burrows, but not 
the hare with similar organs for digging, but it less needs a 
subterranean place of refuge on account of its greater speed. 
Some birds that fly remarkably well are stationary birds 
(e.g., kites and other birds of prey), and many moderate 
flyers (e.g., swallows) take the longest journeys. 

(b.) The same instincts appear with different organisations. 
Birds with and without climbing feet, monkeys with and 
without prehensile tails, squirrel, sloth, puma, &c, live 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 81 

on trees. The Mole-Cricket burrows with the prominent 
fossorial organs of its anterior extremities, the Burying 
Beetle digs without any arrangement for the purpose. 
The Hamster carries in its winter stores with its cheek- 
pouches, 3 centim. long and ij centim. broad, the field- 
mouse does the same without any special apparatus. Birds 
live in the water just as well without as with web feet ; at 
any rate, Divers (Podiceps) and "Waders (Fulica) are excel- 
lent aquatic birds, although their toes are only fringed by 
a web. Birds with elongated tarsus and long unconnected 
toes are for the most part marsh-birds, but with the same 
structure of the feet the Moor-hen (Ortygometra) is almost 
as much an aquatic bird as the Water-hen, and the Crake 
(Grex) is almost as much a land-bird as the quail or the 
partridge. The migratory impulse is manifested with 
equal intensity by animals of the most different orders, and 
irrespective of the outfit with which they undertake their 
journey by water, land, or air. 

It must accordingly be admitted that Instinct is in a 
hich degree independent of bodily organisation. That 
a certain kind of bodily organisation is conditio sine 
qua non of its manifestation is a matter of course ; for 
without sexual parts no procreation, without certain appro- 
priate organs no artificial construction, without spinnerets 
no spinning; but in spite of this no one can say that 
organisation is the cause of instinct. The mere existence 
of an organ does not furnish the slightest motive for the 
exercise of a corresponding activity ; for that there must 
be at least a feeling of pleasure in the use of the organ ; 
this may then serve as motive to action. But even then, 
if the agreeable feeling affords an incentive to action, 
only the that, not the how, of this activity is determined 
by the organisation. The law of action, however, is pre- 
cisely that which constitutes the problem to be solved. 
Nobody would call it instinct if the spider caused the 
secretion to flow from its over-filled spinning-glands in 
order to procure the satisfaction of the discharge, or 

vol. i. r 



82 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

if the fish for the same reason simply discharged its 
seed into the water. The instinct and the marvel consist 
in this, that the spider spins threads and makes the 
threads into a web, and that the fish discharges its seed 
only on the eggs of its own species. Lastly, the agree- 
able sensation in the use of the organs is an altogether 
insufficient motive for the activity itself ; for what is at 
once grand and awe-inspiring in instinct is, that its behests 
are obeyed with utter disregard of all personal well-being, 
even at the cost of life itself. "Were merely the pleasant 
feeling of the emptying of the spinning glands the motive 
why the caterpillar spins, it would only continue to spin 
till its glandular sac was emptied, but it would not per- 
petually repair a continually destroyed web till it died 
of exhaustion. It is just the same with all other instincts, 
the causes of which are apparently personal pleasure. 
As soon as the circumstances are altered, so that in 
place of individual weal individual sacrifice occurs, their 
higher origin is unmistakably shown. Thus, e.g., it mio-ht 
be said that birds tread for the sake of sexual enjoyment, 
but why then do they no longer repeat the treading when 
the proper number of eggs is laid? The sexual impulse 
indeed still exists, for, if an egg be taken from the nest, 
they recommence treading and the hen lays another e«s, 
or, if they belong to the cleverer birds, they quit the 
nest and rear a fresh brood. A hen of Ignex torquilla 
(Wryneck), whose deposited egg was continually removed 
from the nest, kept on laying, each egg being smaller 
than the preceding, until at the twenty-ninth egg the bird 
was found dead in the nest. If an instinct does not stand 
the test of a sacrifice imposed at the cost of individual 
well-being, if it really merely proceeds from the endeavour 
after bodily pleasure, it is not true instinct, and can only 
be so deemed by mistake. 

Instinct is not a cerebral or mental mechanism implanted 
by Nature, so that the instinctive action could be executed 
without individual (if also unconscious) mental activity, 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 83 

and without an idea of the purpose of the action, after the 
manner of a machine, — the end being conceived once for 
all by Nature or a Providence, which had so contrived 
the psychical organisation that only a mechanical use of 
the means remained to the individual. The suggestion 
now is, that a psychical, not a physical, organisation is 
the cause of instinct. This explanation would be at once 
acceptable, if any instinct appertaining to an animal were 
functional vnthout intermission. This is not true, however, 
of any instinct, for each waits upon a motive ; which, 
according to our view, signifies the occurrence of appro- 
priate external circumstances making possible the attain- 
ment of the end by those means which instinct wills ; 
not till then is instinct functional as actual will, with 
action at its heels ; before the motive is present, instinct 
remains latent, as it were, and is not functional. The 
motive appears in the mind in the form of sensuous pre- 
sentation, and the connection is constant between the 
active instinct and all sense-perceptions, which indicate 
that the opportunity has arrived for the attainment of the 
purpose of the instinct. The psychical mechanism would 
accordingly have to be sought in this constant connection. 
We should again have to imagine a sort of keyboard; the 
struck keys would be the motives, and the resounding 
notes the functional instincts. This might be satisfactory 
in spite of the remarkable fact that keys altogether 
different give out the same sound, if only instinct were 
really comparable to definite tones, i.e., if one and the 
same instinct really always reacted in one and the same 
way on the appropriate motives. This, however, is not 
the case, but the only constant element is the uncon- 
scious purpose of the instinct ; the instinct itself, however, 
like the willing of the means, varies just as much as the 
means to be appropriately applied vary according to the 
external circumstances. An hypothesis which rejects the 
unconscious idea of the end in each single case is accord- 
ingly condemned ; for if it were desired to retain in 



84 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

addition the idea of this mental mechanism, for every 
variation and modification of the instinct a special con- 
stant arrangement according to external circumstances, 
a new key with a tone of another timbre would have to 
be inserted, whereby the mechanism would be infinitely 
complicated. That, however, with every variation in the 
means selected by instinct the end is constant should 
be a sufficiently clear indication, that such an endless 
mental complexity is not needed, but in lieu thereof the 
unconscious representation of an end is all that need be 
assumed. 

Thus, e.g., for the bird which has laid its eggs, the constant 
end is to hatch the chickens ; accordingly, if the external 
temperature is insufficient, it sits upon them, a proceeding 
omitted only in very warm countries, because the animal 
sees the goal of its instinct attained without its assistance. 
In warm countries many birds only brood by night. With 
us, too, if by chance small birds have made their nests in 
hot forcing-houses, they sit but little or not at all. How 
repugnant is the supposition of a mechanism which con- 
strains the bird to brood as soon as the temperature falls 
below a certain degree ; how simple and clear the assump- 
tion of an unconscious purpose which compels the willing 
of the appropriate means, but of which process only the 
final term, as a will immediately preceding action, comes 
into consciousness ! In South Africa the sparrow begirds 
its nest with thorns as a protection against snakes and 
apes. The eggs laid by the cuckoo always resemble in 
size, colour, and marking the eggs of the nest wherein they 
are laid ; e.g., in that of Sylvia rufa, they are white with 
violet spots ; of Sylvia hippolais, rose-coloured with black 
spots ; of Regulus ignicapellus, dark red ; and the resem- 
blance is so perfect that the eggs are scarcely to be dis- 
tinguished save by the structure of the shell. And yet 
Brehm enumerates some fifty species of birds in whose 
nests cuckoos' eggs were found (Illustrirtes Thierleben, vol. 
iv. p. 197). Only through an oversight, when the cuckoo is 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 85 

surprised, is an egg ever deposited in a -wrong nest, as well 
as occasionally left to perish on the ground, if the mother 
was unable to find a suitable nest at the right time. — 
Huber by special contrivances prevented bees from carry- 
ing on their instinctive mode of building from above down- 
wards, whereupon they built from below upwards, and 
even horizontally. Where the outermost cells are attached 
to the roof of the hive or lean against the wall, the prisms, 
which are agglutinated together by their base alone, are 
not hexagonal but pentagonal, for more durable fastening. 
In autumn bees lengthen the existing honey cells, if there 
are not enough of them; in spring they shorten them 
again in order to obtain broader passages between the 
combs. If the honeycombs have become too heavy, they 
replace the waxen walls of the highest (supporting) cells 
by thicker ones, formed of wax and propolis. If working- 
bees are introduced into the cells destined for drones, the 
workers apply the corresponding flat rooflets instead of 
the round ones belonging to the drones. In the autumn 
they regularly kill the drones, but allow them to live if 
the queen is lost, that they may impregnate the young 
queen which is to be reared from the larvae of female 
workers. Huber observed that they barred the entrance 
of their hive against raids of hawk-moths with artificial 
constructions of wax and propolis ; they only carry in 
propolis when they want to make any improvements or 
for special purposes. Spiders and caterpillars also show 
a remarkable skill in repairing their ruined web, which 
is quite a different kind of work from the first manufac- 
ture of a web. 

The examples cited, which might be indefinitely added 
to, sufficiently prove that instincts are not actions mechani- 
cally performed in accordance with fixed rules, but that 
they are rather very closely adapted to circumstances, and 
are capable of such great modifications and variations, that 
they sometimes seem to be converted into their opposites. 
Many will be inclined to ascribe this modification to con- 



86 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

scious reflection on the part of the animals ; and certainly 
in animals more highly endowed in most cases a combina- 
tion of instinctive activity and conscious reflection is not 
to be denied. However, I believe that the examples 
adduced satisfactorily prove that there are also many cases 
where, without any intervention of conscious reflection, 
the ordinary and extraordinary actions arise from the 
same source; that they are either both true instinct or 
both results of conscious reflection. Or is it really a 
different power which causes the bee to build in the 
middle hexagonal, at the edge pentagonal prisms ; which 
leads the bird to brood over its eggs in the one set of 
circumstances, and not to brood in the other set; which 
causes the bees now pitilessly to murder their brethren, 
now to give them their life ; which teaches birds the 
architecture of their species and their special measures 
of precaution; which leads the spider to spin its web, 
and mend it when injured ? If it be granted that the 
modifications of instinct, together with its most usual 
fundamental form, which is often quite indeterminable, 
spring from a single source, then the allegation of con- 
scious reflection is self-refuted later on, where the same 
objection is brought against instinct in general. It may, 
perhaps, not be improper to anticipate here the conclu- 
sion of a subsequent chapter, namely, that instinct and 
organic formative activity contain one and the same prin- 
ciple, only manifested under different circumstances, and 
that they shade into one another without any definite 
boundaries. Admit this, and it is evident that instinct 
cannot depend on the organisation of the body or of the 
brain, since it would be much more correct to say that 
organisation arises through a manifestation of instinct. 
This, however, only by the way. — 

On the other hand, we have now to direct our atten- 
tion again more closely to the notion of a psychical 
mechanism, when it will appear that, apart from the fact 
that it explains very little, it is so obscure that it hardly 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 87 

conveys any idea at all. The motive appears in the mind 
in the form of a conscious sensuous presentation. This is 
the first term of the process ; the last term appears as 
conscious will to some particular action. Both, however, 
are quite heterogeneous, and have nothing in common with 
ordinary motivation, which consists exclusively in this — 
that the idea of pleasure or displeasure begets the desire 
to attain the former and avoid the latter. In instinct, 
pleasure, for the most part, appears as a concomitant 
phenomenon, although, as we have already seen, it is not 
at all necessary; but the full power and grandeur of instinct 
is only shown in the sacrifice of the individual. But the 
real problem is here a far deeper one, for every idea of a 
pleasure presupposes that this pleasure has been already 
experienced. It follows again from this that in the former 
case a will was present, in the satisfaction of which 
pleasure consisted, and whence the will comes before the 
pleasure is known, and without a bodily pain, as in the 
case of hunger, urgently demanding relief, is the very ques- 
tion, since one may see in the case of any solitary animal 
that the instinctive impulses appear before it can have 
got to know the pleasure of their satisfaction. In instinct 
there must, therefore, be a causal connection between the 
sensuous presentation which serves as motive and the 
will to act instinctively, with which the pleasure of the 
satisfaction that follows has nothing to do. This causal 
connection, as we know from our human instincts, does 
not enter experientially into consciousness ; consequently, 
if it is to be styled a mechanism, it can only be either 
a (non-conscious) mechanical conduction and conversion 
of the vibrations of the presented motive into the vibra- 
tions of the willed action in the brain, or an unconscious 
mental mechanism. In the first case, it would be very 
wonderful that this transaction should remain unconscious, 
since the process is so powerful that the will resulting 
from it overcomes all other considerations, every other 
will, and such cerebral vibrations always become conscious. 



88 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

It is also difficult to form an idea of the way in which this 
conversion could take place, so that the end set up once for 
all should be attained by the resulting will with the varying 
circumstances. If the other case, — an unconscious mental 
mechanism, — be assumed, the process cannot well be con- 
ceived under any other form than that which holds good of 
mind in general, thinking and willing. Between the con- 
scious motive and the will to the instinctive action a causal 
connection has to be imagined by means of unconscious 
ideation and volition, and I know not how this connection 
can be more simply conceived than by represented and 
willed purpose. We have now reached the mechanism 
peculiar to mind, and immanent of Logic, and have found 
the unconscious idea of purpose to be the indispensable 
link in the case of each single instinctive action. Accord- 
ingly, the notion of a dead, external, preordained mental 
mechanism is abolished of itself, and changed into the 
immanent mental life of Logic ; and we have reached 
the only remaining mode of conceiving a real instinct : 
Instinct is conscious willing of the means to an unconsciously 
willed end. This conception explains in an unforced and 
simple way the whole problem offered by instinct, or, more 
correctly, in thus declaring the true nature of instinct 
everything problematical vanishes. In a separate essay on 
Instinct, the notion of unconscious mental activity, as yet 
unfamiliar to our educated public, would perhaps arouse 
opposition ; but here, where in each chapter new facts are 
adduced, proving the existence of this unconscious mental 
activity and its striking significance, any scrapie due to 
the novelty of this thought will be evanescent. 

Although compelled decidedly to reject the notion that 
instinct is merely the action of a pre-arranged mechanism, 
I did not at all intend to exclude the supposition of con- 
stitutional tendencies of the brain, of the "anolia, and 
of the body as a whole, determining the nervous current 
more easily and more conveniently into one channel rather 
than into another. This predisposition is then either a 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 89 

result of habit, graving its lines deeper and deeper, and 
at last leaving indelible traces behind it, either in the 
special individual or by inheritance in a series of genera- 
tions, or it is expressly called forth by the unconscious 
formative impulse, in order to facilitate action in a 
particular direction. The latter case will have more 
application to the external organisation — e.g., the weapons 
and working implements of animals — the former more to 
the molecular constitution of brain and ganglia, especially 
in respect to the ever-recurring fundamental power 
of instinct — e.g., the hexagonal form of the cell of the 
bee. We shall see later on (B. Chap, iv.) that the sum 
of individual modes of reaction on all possible kinds of 
motives is called the individual character, and (C. Chap. 
xi. 2) that this character is essentially dependent on a 
constitution of brain and body in lesser degree acquired 
by the individual by habit, in greater part inherited. 
Since, now, in the case of instinct, we have to do with a 
mode of reaction on certain motives, we may speak here 
too of character, although we are not so much con- 
cerned with the character of the individual as of the 
race. Accordingly, in the case of character in respect of 
instinct, the question is not how one individual is dis- 
tinguished from another, but how one animal class is 
distinguished from another. 

If such a predisposition of brain and body for certain 
active tendencies be called a mechanism, in a certain 
sense that may be allowed to pass ; but it should be re- 
marked: (1.) that all deviations from the customary form 
of any instinct, so far as they cannot be ascribed to con- 
scious reflection, are not specifically provided for in this 
mechanism ; (2.) that inheritance is only possible through 
the continual guidance of the embryonic development by 
a well-adjusted unconscious formative activity (certainly 
again influenced by the predispositions given in the germ); 
(3.) that the engraining of the tendency in the transmit- 
ting individual could only take place by long habituation 



90 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

to the same mode of action, accordingly instinct without 
auxiliary mechanism is the cause of the origin of the 
auxiliary mechanism ; (4.) that all instinctive actions 
which only occur rarely or merely once in the lifetime of 
an individual (e.g., those relative to propagation and 
metamorphosis in the case of the lower animals, and all 
such instinctive forbearance when a contrary effect would 
be followed by death) cannot well be engrained by habit, 
but a ganglionic constitution predisposing thereto could 
only be produced by purposive creation ; (5.) that even 
the ready-made auxiliary mechanisn does not precisely 
necessitate, but merely 'predisposes the Unconscious to this 
particular instinctive action (as is shown by deviations from 
the type), so that the unconscious purpose always remains 
stronger than the ganglionic predisposition, and only finds 
occasion to choose among the means lying ready to hand 
those nearest and most suitable to the constitution. 

"We now approach more closely the question we have 
reserved to the last : " Is there such a thing as a true 
instinct, or are the so-called instinctive actions only 
results of conscious premeditation ? " In favour of the 
latter hypothesis there might be cited the well-known 
experience that the more limited the range of the con- 
scious mental activities of any being, the stronger is wont 
to be the executive faculty in the particular limited direc- 
tion relatively to the extent of the total capacity. This 
experience, frequently confirmed in the case of man, and 
certainly applicable to animals also, finds its explanation 
in the circumstance that the degree of this performance 
is only in part dependent on the mental structure, in part 
also, however, on the exercise and improvement of the 
natural disposition in this special direction. Thus, e.g., a 
philologist is unskilful in legal processes of thinking, a 
naturalist or mathematician in philological, an abstract 
philosopher in poetic invention, quite apart from special 
talent, solely in consequence of one-sided mental cultiva- 
tion and practice. Now the narrower the sphere of the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 91 

mental activity of any being, the more is the whole culture 
and training concentrated in this single direction, conse- 
quently it is no wonder that the resulting performances in 
this line are enhanced through the narrowing of the field 
of view relatively to the total capacity. But if this pheno- 
menon be used to explain the action of instinct, the 
limitation " relatively to the total capacity " must not be 
left out of sight. Since, however, the lower the rank in 
the animal scale the less the total capacity, and yet the 
instinctive performances remain in respect to perfection 
tolerably equal at all stages of the animal kingdom, whereas 
those effects which unquestionably proceed from con- 
scious reflection are manifestly proportional to the mental 
capacity, it seems to follow that in the case of instinct 
we have to do with some other principle than conscious 
understanding. "We further see that the conscious per- 
formances of animals are in fact similar in kind to our 
own ; that they are made possible through teaching and 
instruction and are perfected by exercise. Even in the case 
of animals it is said understanding only comes with years. 
On the other hand, in the case of instinctive actions, the 
peculiarity is just this, that they are performed just as 
perfectly by animals growing up in solitude as by such as 
have enjoyed the instruction of their parents, and that the 
success is as great on the very first occasion, prior to all 
experience and exercise, as at any later period. Here 
too, the difference in principle is unmistakable. Then 
experience teaches : the more limited and weak an under- 
standing, the more sluggish the flow of ideas, i.e., the 
slower and heavier its conscious thinking. This is illus- 
trated both by human beings of different mental grasp 
and by the brutes, so far as instinct does not come into 
play. But instinct has this peculiarity, that it never 
delays and hesitates, but instantaneously operates, if the 
motive for its operation consciously occurs. This rapidity 
of resolution in instinctive action is met with alike in 
the lowest and in the highest animals. This is another 



92 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

circumstance pointing to a difference in principle of instinct 
and conscious reflection. 

Lastly, as concerns the pitch of performance, a hurried 
glance at once detects the want of proportion between 
the same and the stage of mental development. Look 
at the caterpillar of the Emperor Moth (Sahirnia pavonia 
minor). It devours the leaves of the shrub whereon it 
was hatched; at the most, moves when it rains to the 
underside of the leaf, and changes its skin from time to 
time ; that is its whole life, which hardly allows one to 
look for even the most limited education of the intelli- 
gence. But now it spins its cocoon for the chrysalis state, 
and constructs for itself a double arch of bristles meeting 
at their apices, very easy to open from within, but which 
opposes on the outside sufficient resistance to any attempts 
to penetrate into it. If this contrivance were a result of 
its conscious understanding, it would require the following 
train of thought : " I shall enter the chrysalis state, and, 
immovable as I am, be at the mercy of every adver- 
sary ; therefore I will spin myself a cocoon. Since, how- 
ever, as butterfly I shall not be able to make a breach in 
the web either by mechanical or chemical means as many 
other caterpillars do, I must leave an aperture for egress ; 
but that my persecutors may not make use of it, I shall 
close it with elastic bristles, which I can easily bend 
apart from the inside, but which will offer resistance ex- 
ternally, according to the theory of the arch." That is 
really asking too much of the poor caterpillar ! And yet 
each step of this argumentation is indispensable if the 
result is to be correctly got at. 

This theoretical discrimination of Instinct from the 
conscious activity of the understanding could easily be 
misinterpreted by the opponents of my way of regarding 
the matter, as if I asserted a wide gulf to exist between 
the two in practice likewise. The latter, however, is by 
no means my opinion; on the contrary, I have already 
pointed to the possibility of both kinds of psychical activity 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 93 

being combined in different proportions, so that through 
their intermixtures in different degrees, there occurs a 
gradual transition from pure instinct to pure conscious 
reflection. We shall, however, see later on (B. Chap, vii.) 
that even in the highest and most abstract rational acti- 
vity of the human consciousness there are certain factors 
of the highest importance, which essentially agree with 
that of instinct. 

On the other side, however, the most wonderful mani- 
festations of instinct not only occur in the vegetable 
kingdom (as we shall see in C. Chap, iv.), but also in 
those lowest organisms of the simplest structure, in part 
unicellular, which in any case stand far below the higher 
plants in conscious intelligence, but to which such a 
power is usually denied. If in such microscopic unicel- 
lular organisms, in respect of which the question whether 
they are of animal or of vegetable nature is devoid of 
meaning, we must admire instinctive adjustments which 
far exceed merely reflectorially stimulated movements, 
then every doubt must be laid to rest, whether there 
really exists an instinct, the derivation of which from 
conscious rational activity appears radically hopeless. I 
adduce as an example a recently observed phenomenon, 
which is perhaps more astonishing than anything 
previously recognised, because the problem is therein 
solved of accomplishing, with incredibly simple means, 
various ends to which in higher animals a complicated 
system of motor organs is subservient. 

Arcella vulgaris is a lump of protoplasm in a concavo- 
convex, brown, finely perforated shell, from the concave 
side of which it protrudes through a circular opening, by 
means of processes (pseudopodia). If a drop of water, 
containing living arcellae be observed through a micro- 
scope, a specimen may usually be seen accidentally lying 
on its back at the bottom of the drop of water, making vain 
efforts for one or two minutes to grasp a firm point with 
its pseudopodia. Then there suddenly appear generally 



94 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

from two to five, sometimes even more, dark specks in the 
protoplasm at a mean distance from the periphery, and 
usually at regular intervals from each other, which are 
quickly enlarged to distinct spherical air-bubbles, and at 
last fill a respectable part of the hollow of the shell, thereby 
thrusting out a portion of the protoplasm. The number 
and size of the several bubbles are in inverse proportion. 
After five to twenty minutes the specific gravity of the 
Arcella is so far reduced that the animalcule, lifted from 
the water by its pseudopodia, is carried towards the upper 
surface of the drop, on which it now walks. Then after five 
to ten minutes the bubbles disappear, the last little speck 
by jerks, as it were. If, however, as the result of an 
accidental twist, the Arcella comes up to the surface of 
the drop, the vesicles continue to grow, but only on one 
side, becoming smaller on the other ; in consequence 
of which the shell assumes a position more and more 
oblique, and at last vertical, until finally one of the pro- 
cesses takes firm hold, and the whole turns over. Prom 
the moment that the animal gains a firm footing the 
vesicles become smaller, and the experiment may be 
repeated as often as it pleases after their disappearance. 
The places of the protoplasm which form the bubbles 
continually change ; the non-nucleated protoplasm of the 
pseudopodia alone does not contain air. With longer 
fruitless endeavours there occurs visible exhaustion ; the 
animal abandons the attempt for a time, and renews it 
after a pause for refreshment. Engelmann, the discoverer 
of this phenomenon, says (Pfiiiger's Archiv fur Physiologie, 
vol. ii.) : " The changes of volume usually take place in 
all air-bubbles of the same animal simultaneously, in the 
same way and in the same degree. There are, however, 
not a few exceptions. Frequently some grow or diminish 
much quicker than others. It may even happen that one 
air-bubble becomes smaller while another increases. All 
these changes are throughout perfectly adapted to their end. 
The formation and growth of the air-bubbles has for object 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 95 

the bringing the animal into such a position that it can 
maintain itself by means of its pseudopodia. When this 
end is attained the air disappears, without our being in a 
position to discover any other reason for this disappear- 
ance. ... If these circumstances be taken note of, it 
is possible, with almost complete certainty, to foretell 
whether an Arcella will develop air-bubbles or not, and, 
in case gas-bubbles are already in existence, whether they 
will expand or become smaller. ... In the power of chang- 
ing their specific gravity the Arcellse possess a remarkable 
expedient for rising to the surface of the water or for 
settling at the bottom. They not only avail themselves 
of these means under the abnormal circumstances in 
which they find themselves during microscopic investi- 
gation, but also under normal circumstances. This is 
concluded from the fact that at the surface of the water, 
where they live, a few specimens are always found to 
contain air-bubbles." — 

Those whom the foregoing instances do not constrain 
to reject the explanation of instinct by conscious reflec- 
tion must admit the demonstrative force of the follow- 
ing highly important testimony of facts. Thus much is 
certain, that the reflection of conscious understanding can 
only take into account such data as are given in con- 
sciousness ; if, then, it can be definitely proved that data 
indispensable for the result cannot possibly be consciously 
known, it is thereby proved that the result cannot spring 
from conscious deliberation. The only way, according to 
the common assumption, whereby the knowledge of ex- 
ternal facts can be obtained is sensuous perception ; we 
have then to show that knowledge indispensable to the 
result cannot possibly be obtained by means of sensuous 
perception. The following are the points to be proved : 
Firstly, that the facts in question belong to the future, 
and all data are wanting in the present circumstances 
wherefrom to infer their occurrence in the future ; secondly, 
that the facts in question do indeed exist at the present 



96 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

time, but are manifestly closed to conscious apprehension 
by the circumstance, that only the experience of former 
cases can supply material for the interpretation of the 
data afforded by sensuous perception, and this experi- 
ence, so observation shows, is excluded. It would make 
no difference, as far as our argument is concerned, if, 
as I hold to be probable, in the progress of physiological 
knowledge, all examples about to be cited for the first 
case should turn out to belong to the second, as has 
undeniably happened with many examples formerly 
adduced. For an cb priori knowledge without any ap- 
pulse from the side of sense is hardly to be called more 
wonderful than a knowledge which is evinced, indeed, 
on occasion of certain sensuous perceptions, but can only 
be conceived to be connected therewith by such a chain 
of inferences and applied knowledge, that its possibility 
must be decidedly denied in the state of the faculties and 
development of the particular animals. — An example of 
the first case is afforded by the instance of the larva 
of the Stag-beetle in digging for itself a suitable cavity, 
on occasion of passing into the chrysalis state. The 
female larva digs a hole as large as itself; the male, 
however, though of the same size, one as large again, 
because the horns which will hereafter be developed are 
about the length of the animal. The knowledge of this 
circumstance is indispensable to the result, and yet every 
indication is wanting at the time whereby to infer this 
future event. The following is an example of the second 
case : — Ferrets and buzzards fall upon blind-worms or 
other non-poisonous snakes without more ado, and seize 
them just as they come in their way ; the adder however, 
even if they have never seen one before, they grasp 
with the greatest circumspection, and try first of all 
to crush its head, in order to avoid being bitten. Since 
there exists nothing else capable of inspiring fear in 
the adder, if this behaviour is to proceed from conscious 
reflection, the conscious knowledge of the dangerous char- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 97 

acter of its bite is indispensable. But now, as this can 
only be gained by experience, and yet the same precaution 
is observed by animals that have been kept in confine- 
ment from their birth, it cannot proceed from reflection. 
On the other hand, there evidently follows from these 
two examples the fact of an unconscious cognition of 
particular circumstances, the existence of an immediate 
knowledge without the intervention of sensuous percep- 
tion and consciousness. 

This has always been recognised and indicated by the 
words fore-feeling and presentiment. But, on the one 
hand, these terms have reference only to the future, not to 
that which exists at the present time but is imperceptible 
owing to its remoteness ; on the other, they denote only 
the slight, vague, undefined resonance in consciousness of 
the unerring and sure state of unconscious knowledge. 
Accordingly, the word fore-feeling is appropriate so far as 
vagueness and indefiniteness are suggested, whilst at the 
same time it is easy to see that no mere feeling devoid 
of all, even unconscious ideas, can have any influence on 
the result, but only a mental representation, since this 
alone contains knowledge. The presentiment reverberat- 
ing in consciousness may certainly, in certain circum- 
stances, be tolerably distinct, so that among human beings 
it can be fixed in thoughts and words; but even in man, 
as our experience teaches us, this is not the case with the 
instincts proper, for in their case the resonance of uncon- 
scious knowledge in consciousness is mostly so weak, as 
to be actually expressed only in accompanying feelings or 
moods, and to form only an infinitely small fraction of 
common feeling. That such an obscure sympathy on the 
part of consciousness is quite insufficient to give the cue 
to conscious reflection is evident. On the other hand, it is 
also clear that conscious reflection would be superfluous, 
since the particular rational process must have been 
already unconsciously performed ; for every vague pre- 
sentiment in consciousness is only the consequence of a 

vol. 1. G 



gS PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

definite unconscious knowledge, and the knowledge, of 
which we are here speaking, is almost always the idea of 
the purpose of the instinctive action, or one closely con- 
nected therewith. E.g., in the case of the larva of the 
Stag-beetle, the aim is to have room for the two sprout- 
ing horns ; the means, to procure room by excavation ; 
the unconscious perception, the future growth of the two 
horns. Lastly, all instinctive actions give the impression 
of absolute certainty and self-assurance, and there never 
occurs in them, as in conscious resolution, any delay, doubt, 
or hesitation, never (as will be shown in C. Chap, i.) any 
genuine error, so that one cannot possibly ascribe to the 
obscure nature of the presentiment such an invariable 
precise result; indeed this feature of absolute accuracy 
is so characteristic, that it may pass for the only clear 
defining mark of action from instinct when compared with 
action from conscious reflection. From this, however, it 
again follows that a principle altogether different from that 
which underlies conscious action must be at the bottom of 
instinct, and that can only be found in the determination of 
the will by a process lying in the Unconscious, for which 
this character of undoubted self-assurance is claimed in 
all the following inquiries. 

Some may be surprised that I have ascribed to instinct 
an unconscious knowledge, produced by no sensible expe- 
rience, and yet unerring ; but this is no consequence of my 
view of Instinct, but rather a strong support of this view, 
derived directly from the facts. Accordingly we cannot 
be spared the trouble of considering a number of examples 
illustrative of this point. In order to be able to use a 
single word for the unconscious knowledge, which has 
not been acquired by way of sensuous perception, but is 
met with as an immediate possession, I shall (as " presen- 
timent," for the reasons assigned, is not suitable) employ 
the term " clairvoyance," which, it must be clearly under- 
stood, will here only have the force of the given definition. 

Let us now consider in order a few examples from the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 99 

instincts of fear of enemies, appetence, the migratory 
impulse, and propagation. — Most animals know then- 
natural enemies before any experience of their hostile 
intentions. Thus a flock of young pigeons becomes 
alarmed, even without an older guide, and scatters if a 
bird of prey approaches. Oxen and horses, indigenous 
in regions where there are no lions, no sooner scent a 
nocturnal prowler than they become restless and anxious. 
Horses, on crossing a bridle-path which ran past the old 
house of the beasts of prey of the Berlin Zoological 
Garden, were wont to become terrified and restless on 
scenting their wholly unknown enemies. Sticklebacks 
swim quietly about among the rapacious pikes, which do 
not attempt to attack them ; for if by oversight a pike ever 
actually attempts to swallow a stickleback, the latter with 
its projecting dorsal spines sticks in his throat, and the 
pike must infallibly die of hunger; accordingly cannot 
transmit his painful experience to posterity. The fore- 
sight of the ferret and buzzard in regard to adders has 
been already mentioned ; similarly it was observed that 
a young Honey-buzzard, on being presented with its 
first wasp, only devoured the animal after it had crushed 
the sting out of its body. In some countries the people 
live chiefly on dog's flesh. Dogs in the presence of these 
people are said to become quite wild and ungovernable, as 
if they recognised in them foes whom they would like to 
attack. This is the more remarkable, as dog's fat out- 
wardly applied (e.g., rubbed on the shoes), attracts dogs 
by its smell. A young chimpanzee, at the first sight of 
a gigantic snake, was observed by Grant to fall into the 
greatest alarm ; and even among us human beings, too, it 
is not so rare for a Gretchen to spy out a Mephistopheles. 
Very remarkable is it that the insect Bombex attacks and 
slays a Parnope wherever it finds one, without making 
any use of the corpse. We know, however, that the latter 
lies in wait for the eggs of the Bombex, and is therefore 
the natural foe of its race. The phenomenon well known 



ioo PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

to the tenders of oxen and sheep as "the goading of 
cattle by the gadfly " furnishes analogous evidence. If a 
" breeze " or gadfly approaches a herd, the latter become 
quite wild and run hither and thither in confusion as if 
beside themselves, because the hatched larvae from the 
eggs of the fly deposited on their hide penetrate the skin 
and cause painful festerings. These gadflies, which have 
no sting, very much resemble the stinging gadflies, and 
yet the latter are but slightly, the former extremely, feared 
by cattle. As the consequences of the painless deposition 
of the eggs only make their appearance after a consider- 
able lapse of time, a conscious inference of the connection 
cannot be assumed. 

No animal, whose instinct has not been killed out by 
unnatural habits, eats poisonous herbs; even the ape, 
spoiled by residence among men, may with safety be 
employed in the primitive forests as a fruit-taster, as it 
rejects with a cry the poisonous fruits which are offered 
it. Every animal chooses just those vegetable or animal 
substances for its food which suit its digestive organs, 
without having received any instruction on the matter, 
even without a previous use of the organ of taste. If now 
it must certainly be assumed that smell, and not sight, is 
the critical organ for the discrimination of materials, still 
it is no less enigmatical how the animal recognises that 
which suits its digestion by odorous rather than by visual 
impression. Thus the kid cut from the womb by Galen 
enjoyed milk alone of all the proffered food and drink, 
refusing to touch aught else. The Hawfinch splits the 
cherry-stone by turning it in such a way that the beak 
exactly hits the suture, and it does this as well with its 
first cherry-stone as with its last. Finches, martens, and 
weasels make little holes on the opposite side of the egg 
about to be drained of its contents, that the air may rush 
in and facilitate suction. Animals not merely know their 
proper food, but also often seek appropriate remedies with 
correct personal diagnosis and unacquired therapeutic 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 101 

knowledge. Thus dogs often eat a good deal of grass, 
especially couchgrass, when they are sick ; as, for instance, 
according to Lenz, when they are afflicted with worms, 
which are evacuated enveloped in the undigested grass, 
or if they want to remove splinters of bone from their 
stomach. They make use of thorny rest-harrows as laxa- 
tives. Fowls and pigeons pick lime from walls and roofs 
if their food does not afford enough lime to form egg-shells. 
Little children eat chalk when they have heartburn, and 
pieces of charcoal if they suffer from flatulence. We also 
find, under certain circumstances, these special nutritive or 
curative instincts in adult human beings when unconscious 
nature gains the upper hand, e.g., among the pregnant, 
whose capricious appetites probably make their appearance, 
when a certain state of the foetus renders a particular com- 
position of blood desirable. Field-mice bite out the germs 
of the gathered grain, that they may not sprout in winter. 
A few days before the coming of cold weather the 
squirrel gets in its stores most diligently, and then 
closes its dwelling. The birds of passage go from our 
regions to warmer lands at a time when they have no 
lack of food, and when the temperature is considerably 
higher than at the period of their return ; the like holds 
good of the time when animals go into winter quarters, 
which beetles frequently do in the warmest days of 
autumn. When swallows and storks find their way 
home again, travelling hundreds of miles over lands 
totally different in appearance, it is ascribed to the keen- 
ness of their sense of locality; but when pigeons and 
dogs, after having been turned round twenty times in a 
sack and carried off to an unknown region, nevertheless 
run home in a straight line, no one can say anything 
more than that their instinct has guided them, i.e., the 
clairvoyance of the Unconscious has enabled them to 
divine the right path. In years when there will be an 
early winter, most birds of passage begin to make pre- 
parations for their departure sooner than usual. If a 



102 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

very mild winter is imminent, many species do not de- 
part at all, or migrate only a short distance southwards. 
If a severe winter occurs, the tortoise makes its winter 
abode deeper. If grey geese, cranes, &c, soon withdraw 
from the spots in which they had made their appearance 
at the beginning of spring, there is a prospect of a hot 
and dry summer, when the deficiency of water in those 
places would render breeding impossible to marsh and 
water birds. In years when floods occur, the beaver 
builds its dwelling higher; and in Kamtchatka, when a 
flood is imminent, the field-mice suddenly withdraw in 
a body. If a dry summer is approaching, in April or 
May spiders weave their pensile toils several feet in 
length. When in winter house-spiders run to and fro, 
boldly contend with one another, construct new and 
numerous webs one over another, cold will set in in 
from nine to twelve days; on the other hand, if they 
conceal themselves, there will be a thaw. 

I do not by any means doubt, that many of these 
precautionary measures in view of future states of the 
weather are conditioned by a sensitive appreciation of 
certain present atmospheric states, which escape our 
notice; these perceptions, however, invariably have re- 
ference only to present states of the weather, and what 
can the conscious common sensations produced by the 
present state of the weather have to do with the idea 
of the future weather? Surely no one will credit the 
animals with the power of calculating the weather months 
in advance from meteorological indications, and with the 
faculty of foreseeing floods. A mere feeling of this kind 
of present atmospheric influences is nothing more than 
the sensuous perception which serves as motive, for a 
motive must, indeed, always be present if an instinct is 
to become active. 1 Nevertheless, it is certain that the 

1 When such a motive in the form premonitory instinct. Thus, e.g., 

of an actual perception is entirely when birds of passage at the usual 

wanting, there is wanting also the time leave their winter quarters for 

occasion for the manifestation of the the far north, they may on their 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 103 

prevision of the state of the weather is a case of uncon- 
scious clairvoyance; the stork departing for the south 
four weeks earlier than is customary, knowing as little as 
the stag, which, when a cold winter is at hand, allows a 
thicker skin than usual to grow. Animals have in their 
consciousness a feeling of the present state of the weather ; 
011 this their action follows precisely as if they had the 
idea of the future state of the weather. They do not, 
however, possess the latter idea in their consciousness. 
Accordingly, there only remains as natural connecting 
link the unconscious idea, which, however, is always a 
clairvoyant intuition, because it contains something which 
is neither directly given to the animal by sense-perception, 
nor can be inferred from the perception through its powers 
of understanding. 

Most wonderful of all are the instincts relating to the 
propagation of the race. Every male discovers the female 
of its species with a view to sexual union, but certainly not 
guided merely by outward resemblance to itself ; for in 
many kinds of animals, — e.g., hermit-crabs, — the sexes are 
so radically different in form, that the male would in that 
case be led to copulate with the females of thousands of 
other species rather than with those of its own. In some 
butterflies there exists a polymorphism, according to which 
not only male and female are distinct, but even in the 
female sex itself there occur two quite distinct forms of 
the same species, of which one commonly belongs to the 
natural mimicry of a remote and well-protected species. 
And yet the males have intercourse only with the females 
of their own species, never with strangers which perhaps 
bear a closer resemblance to themselves. In the insect- 
order Strepsiptera the female is an ill-shaped worm, which 
dwells all its life long in the posterior segment of the body 
of a wasp, and only protrudes with its lenticular horny 

arrival suffer distress by an unusu- away, they could not have had even 
ally late spring, of which, of course, the slightest intimation through at- 
in a spot many hundreds of miles mospheric influences. 



104 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

head between two abdominal rings of the latter. The 
male, which lives only a few hours, resembling a moth in 
appearance, recognises its female by this stunted protu- 
berance, and fecundates the eggs through a canal opening 
immediately below the animal's mouth. 

Before any experience of the significance of child- 
bearing, the pregnant animal is impelled to seek seclusion, 
in order to prepare a couch for its young in a cave or other 
sheltered spot ; the bird builds its nest as soon as the eggs 
mature in the ovary. Land-snails, crabs, tree-frogs, toads, 
enter the water, marine tortoises go upon land, many 
sea- fish ascend rivers, to lay their eggs where the fit condi- 
tions of their development are alone to be found. Insects 
lay their eggs in very various places — in the sand, on 
leaves, under the skin and nails of other animals, often 
in places where the future food of the larva is not yet 
in existence, e.g., in the autumn on trees which do not 
sprout till the spring, or in the spring on blossoms which 
only bear fruit in autumn, or on caterpillars, which only 
in the pupa-state serve as food and protection to the 
parasitic larvae. Other insects lay their eggs in places, 
whence they are conveyed to the proper place of their de- 
velopment by many circuitous courses, e.g., certain gadflies 
on the lips of horses, others on those parts which horses 
are wont to lick, whereby the eggs pass into the entrails as 
their place of development, and when matured are voided 
with the ordure. The bovine gadflies select the most 
powerful and soundest animals with such accuracy, that 
cattle-dealers and farmers entirely rely upon them, and 
take by preference the animals whose skins show most 
traces of being the pasture of the gadfly's grubs. This 
selection of the best oxen by the gadflies can scarcely 
be the result of conscious trial and reflection, when 
experienced traders take them for their masters. The 
wall-wasp makes a hole in the sand several inches deep, 
deposits its egg in the same, and packs in a layer of 
footless green maggots approaching the pupa-state, there- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 105 

fore well nourished and able to live a long time without 
food, but so close together that they cannot stir nor enter 
the pupa condition themselves, and just as many, and no 
more, as the larva will require before its transformation 
into a chrysalis. A species of wasp, Cerceris bupresticida, 
which itself only lives on pollen, places by the side of each 
of its eggs, preserved in subterranean cells, three specimens 
of the genus Buprestis, which it becomes possessed of by 
lying in wait for them when they emerge from the chrysalis 
condition, and then slaying them in their weak condition, 
at the same time seeming to apply a juice which keeps 
them fresh and suitable for food. Several species of wasps 
open the cells of their larvae as soon as these have con- 
sumed their food, in order to replenish them, and then 
close them again. In a similar way ants constantly 
choose the right moment when their larvee are ripe for 
hatching in order to open for them the cocoon, from which 
they could not free themselves. What, now, does an 
insect, whose life in the case of but few species endures 
longer than for one deposition of eggs, know of the con- 
tents and the favourable place for the development of its 
eggs ? what does it know of the kind of nutriment which 
the hatched larvse will need, and which is quite different 
from its own ? what does it know of the quantity of food 
which is needed ? what can it know, i.e., have in its 
consciousness, of all this? And yet its action, its efforts, 
and the high importance which it attributes to these things, 
prove that the animal has a knowledge of the future. It 
can then only be unconscious clairvoyance ; and no less 
certainly must it be clairvoyance which arouses in animals 
just at the right moment the will to open the cells or the 
cocoon, when the larvae have finished their stock of food, 
or are ripe for hatching. 

The cuckoo, whose eggs, as is the case with other birds, 
do not need one or two, but seven to eleven days to 
mature in the ovary, which therefore cannot itself hatch 
its eggs, because the first would be rotten before the last 



106 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

was laid, deposits them in the nests of other birds, of course 
only one egg in each nest. But in order that the birds may 
not perceive and reject the strange egg, it is not only much 
smaller than one would expect from the size of the cuckoo, 
because the latter only finds its opportunity with small 
birds, but also, as has been mentioned, it is strikingly like 
the other eggs of the nest in colour and marking. Now, 
as the cuckoo prefers to seek out a nest in which to deposit 
some days beforehand, it might be thought, with regard 
to the choice of nests, that the egg which is maturing 
assumes the colour of the eggs of the nest, because the preg- 
nant cuckoo is thinking of the same; but this explanation 
does not meet the case of nests which are hidden in hollow 
trees (&g., Sylvia phcenicurus) , or which have the shape of a 
baking-oven with a narrow entrance (e.g., Sylvia rufa). In 
these cases the cuckoo can neither slip in nor look in ; it 
must even deposit its egg from the outside and put it in 
with its beak ; it can thus not at all perceive by its senses 
how the other eggs of the nest look. If now, notwith- 
standing, its own egg precisely resemble the others, this 
can only be due to unconscious clairvoyance, which regu- 
lates the colour and marking in the ovary. Should, how- 
ever, the supposition be correct, that one and the same 
female cuckoo always deposits in the nests of one and the 
same species of bird, and accordingly always eggs of the 
same colour and marking, the problem would only assume 
the converse form, and the question would arise, How does 
the cuckoo learn what nest-eggs its own eggs look like, if 
she cannot peep into the particular nests ? 

An essential support and confirmation of the existence 
of clairvoyance in the instincts of animals lies in the facts, 
which also prove a clairvoyant intuition in the case of 
human beings under certain circumstances. The curative 
instincts of children and the pregnant have been already 
mentioned. For the most part, however, conformably to 
the higher stage of the human consciousness, there occurs 
here, along with the unconscious clairvoyance, a strong 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 107 

reverberation in consciousness which exhibits itself as more 
or less clear presentiment. It is, moreover, in harmony 
with the greater independence of the human intellect that 
this presentiment does not exclusively occur with reference 
to the direct execution of an action, but sometimes also 
manifests itself as pure idea, without conscious will, quite 
apart from any deed about to be done, if only the condition 
is satisfied, that the object of this divination powerfully 
stimulates the will of the diviner. After suppression of an 
intermittent fever or other illness, it not seldom happens 
that the sick person precisely foretells the time at which 
an attack of convulsions will ensue and end. The same 
happens almost without exception in spontaneous, and 
often in artificially produced somnambulism : the Pythia, 
as is well known, always announced the time of her next 
ecstasy. Likewise in somnambulistic states the remedial 
instincts are often expressed in divination of the appro- 
priate medicaments, which have as often led to brilliant 
results, as they seem to contradict the present standpoint 
of science. The prescription of remedies is certainly 
also the only use which respectable magnetisers make 
of the half-sleep of their somnambules. " It some- 
times also occurs that quite healthy persons, before giving 
birth to a child, or in the very beginning of an illness, 
have a near presentiment of their approaching death, 
the fulfilment of which can hardly be explained as a mere 
coincidence, for otherwise it should far more rarely occur 
than the non-fulfilment, whereas the fact is just the 
contrary ; moreover, many of these persons exhibit neither 
longing for death nor fear of it, and it cannot therefore be 
explained as the effect of imagination." (From the work 
of the celebrated physiologist Burdach, " Blicke in's 
Leben," chapter " Presentiment," whence a great part of 
our more striking instances is borrowed.) This presen- 
timent of death, exceptional in the case of man, is quite 
common among animals, even those which neither know 
nor comprehend death. They creep away, when they feel 



108 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

their end approaching, into places as remote, lonely, and 
concealed as possible; this is, e.g., the reason why, even in 
towns, the corpse or skeleton of a cat is so seldom found. 
We must only assume that the unconscious clairvoyance, 
although essentially alike in man and animal, evokes pre- 
sentiments of different distinctness ; thus, e.g., the cat is 
urged purely instinctively to creep away without knowing 
why ; but in man there awakens the clear consciousness 
of the near end. But there are presentiments not merely 
of one's own death, but also of that of dearly-loved per- 
sons with whom we are closely linked, as is proved by 
the many stories where a dying man in his death-hour 
has appeared to his friend or spouse in a dream or vision, 
narratives which are found among all peoples and in all 
times, and in part undoubtedly contain genuine matter of 
fact. Closely allied is the faculty of second-sight, formerly 
common in Scotland and now in the Danish isles, whereby 
certain persons not in an ecstatic state, but in the full 
possession of their senses, foresee future or distant events 
which have an interest for them, as deaths, battles, great 
conflagrations (as Swedenborg the burning of Stockholm), 
arrival or fate of distant friends, &c. (c/. Ennemoser 
" History of Magic," 2d ed., § 86). In many persons this 
clairvoyance is limited to the decease of acquaintances or 
neighbours; the instances of such corpse-seeresses are 
numerous, and are remarkably well, even judicially, at- 
tested. Transiently this faculty of second-sight is found in 
ecstatic states, in the spontaneous or artificially produced 
somnambulism of higher degrees of waking dreams, as 
well as in clear moments before death. Frequently the 
presentiments in which the clairvoyance of the Uncon- 
scious is revealed to consciousness are dark, incompre- 
hensible, and symbolical, because they are obliged to take 
a sensible form in the brain, whilst the unconscious idea 
cannot partake of the form of sensibility (see C. Chap, i.) ; 
wherefore it is so easy to regard what, in mental moods, 
dreams, or the images of sick persons, is accidental as 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 109 

significant. The great liability to error and to self-decep- 
tion resulting herefrom, and the facility for intentionally 
deceiving other people, as well as the preponderating 
disadvantage which, as a general rule, the knowledge of 
the future brings to man, enhance beyond all doubt the 
practical mischief of all endeavours to obtain a know- 
ledge of the future. This cannot, however, derogate from 
the theoretic importance of this department of phenomena, 
and cannot in any case hinder the recognition of the true 
facts of clairvoyance, even if buried beneath a confused 
mass of nonsense and deceit. It is true the prevailing 
rationalistic and materialistic tendency of our time finds 
it convenient to deny or to ignore all facts of this class, 
because they cannot be comprehended from a material- 
istic point of view, and cannot be brought to the test of 
experience according to the inductive method of difference; 
as if the latter were not just as inapplicable in ethics, 
social science, and politics ! But for impartial judges the 
absolute denial of all such phenomena is consistent only 
with ignorance of the accounts, which, again, arises from 
the not wishing to become acquainted with them. I am 
convinced that many impugners of all human divination 
would judge differently, or at least more cautiously, if 
they thought it worth their while to make themselves 
acquainted with the reports of the more striking facts ; 
and I am of opinion that at the present day nobody need 
be ashamed of adopting a view which all great minds 
of antiquity (Epicurus excepted) have acknowledged, 
whose possibility hardly any great modern philosopher 
has ventured to dispute, and which the champions of the 
German " enlightenment " were so little inclined to rele- 
gate to the province of old wives' fables, that Goethe has 
even related an example of second-sight in his own life, 
which was confirmed even to the smallest detail. 

Ill-adapted as I should think this class of phenomena 
for forming the sole foundation of a scientific belief, I 
nevertheless think them highly worthy of mention as a 



no PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

complementary extension of the series of phenomena pre- 
sented to our view in the clairvoyance of animal and 
human instincts. And precisely because they form a con- 
tinuation of this series (the reverberation in consciousness 
merely being stronger) do they lend support to the testi- 
mony of instinctive action to its own character, as their 
probability is itself strengthened by analogy with the clair- 
voyance of instinct. This, and the wish not to have missed 
an opportunity of lifting my voice against a fashionable 
prejudice, is the reason why I have allowed myself, in a 
scientific work, to make mention, if only incidentally, of 
matters so little credited at the present day. 

We have to mention, in conclusion, one more species of 
instinct, which is likewise in the highest degree instructive 
with regard to its essential nature, and at the same time 
again shows how impossible it is to avoid the hypothesis 
of clairvoyance. In the previous examples every being 
acted for its own interest, except in the case of the instinct 
of propagation, when such action is always for the benefit 
of other individuals, namely, the offspring : we have still 
to consider the cases, where among several individuals 
there exists such a solidarity of instinct, that, on the one 
hand, the performance of every individual stands all in 
good stead, and, on the other hand, valuable work can only 
be done by the consentaneous co-operation of many. In 
higher animals this instinctive reciprocal action also takes 
place, but it is here more difficult to distinguish from 
union as result of conscious volition, as language makes 
possible a more perfect communication of mutual plans 
and intentions. Nevertheless we shall again distinctly see 
this effect of an instinct of the masses in the origin of 
language and the great political and social movements in 
the history of the world. Here we are dealing with ex- 
amples as simple and clear as possible, and therefore turn 
our attention to lower animals, where the means of com- 
munication, in the absence of voice, mimetics, and phy- 
siognomy, are so imperfect, that the harmony and blendin< r 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. m 

of the performances of individuals in the main work can- 
not possibly be ascribed to conscious agreement through 
the medium of language. 

According to Huber's observations (Nouvelles Observa- 
tions sur les abeilles), on the building of new combs a 
part of the larger working bees, which had taken their fill 
of honey, took no part in the ordinary occupations of the 
rest, but kept perfectly quiet. After four-arid-twenty 
hours, laminae of wax had formed under their abdominal 
segments. This the bee drew out with its hinder foot, 
chewed, and formed into a band. The waxen laminae thus 
prepared were then glued to the roof of the hive. When 
one bee had in this way used up its laminae of wax 
another followed, which continued the same work. Thus 
was formed a small, rough, perpendicular wall, half 
a line in thickness, attached to the hive. Now came 
one of the smaller working bees, which had an empty 
abdomen, examined the wall, and made in the middle of 
one of its sides a shallow semi-oval excavation, piling up 
the extruded wax round its edge. After a short time it 
was relieved by another bee of a like kind, and in this way 
more than twenty bees succeeded one another. During 
this time, on the opposite side of the wall another bee had 
begun to make a similar excavation, but in correspondence 
with the edge of the excavation on the hither side. This 
bee, too, was relieved by fresh workers. Meanwhile other 
bees approached, drew waxen laminae from under their 
abdominal segments, and therewith raised the edge of the 
little waxen wall. A succession of fresh workers continued 
to excavate the ground for new cells, whilst others persisted 
in the endeavour to bring those which had been already 
commenced into regular form, and likewise to prolong the 
prismatic walls of the same. All this time the bees on 
the opposite side of the waxen wall continued to work 
according to the same uniform plan, in most exact agree- 
ment with the working bees on the hither side, until at last 
the cells of both sides were finished in all their admirable 



U2 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

regularity, and with a complete interlinking, not only of 
those cells in juxtaposition, but also of those opposed to 
one another by their pyramidal bases. Now imagine beings 
limited to sensuous means of communication, desirous of 
agreeing upon a common purpose and plan, how they would 
misinterpret each other's intentions, would dispute and 
quarrel ; how often something preposterous would be done, 
how work would have to be pulled to pieces and done over 
again ; how for this business too many would press in, for 
that too few would be found ; what a running to and fro 
there would be before each one had found his proper place ; 
how now too many would offer to relieve their comrades, 
and now there would be a deficiency of hands, as we find in 
the combined efforts of human beings, standing so much 
higher in the scale of existence. We see nothing of all 
this among bees ; on the contrary, it rather looks as if an 
invisible supreme architect had laid before the assembly 
the plan of the whole, and had impressed it upon each 
individual; as if every kind of labourer had learnt his 
destined work, place, and order of affording relief, and 
was informed by some signal of the moment when his 
turn came. But yet all this is mere result of instinct; 
and as by instinct the plan of the whole hive indwells 
in each single bee in unconscious clairvoyance, so a com- 
mon instinct urges each individual to the work to which 
it is called, at the right moment ; only by such means is the 
wonderful quiet and order possible. What conception one 
should form of this mutual instinct can only be cleared 
up much later on, but its possibility is now evident, since 
each individual must have an unconscious clear vision of 
the plan of the whole, and all the means available at the 
moment, of which, however, only that part which falls to his 
lot enters his own consciousness. Thus, e.g., the larva of a 
bee spins its silken cocoon, but other bees must set the en- 
closing waxen roof thereon ; the plan of the whole cocoon 
is thus present to all concerned unconsciously, but each 
one only performs its own part in the affair with conscious 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 113 

volition. That the larva, after its metamorphosis, must be 
liberated from its cocoon by other bees has been already 
mentioned, likewise that the female bees kill the drones 
in autumn, so as not to have to maintain their useless 
messmates during the winter, and that they only allow 
them to live, if it be necessary to impregnate a new queen. 
While the eggs are maturing the workers are busy con- 
structing cells for their reception, and usually for just the 
number of eggs the queen will lay, and, moreover, in the 
order in which the eggs will be laid, namely, first for the 
workers, then for the drones, then for the queens. Here 
again it is obvious that the instinctive actions of the 
workers are dependent upon concealed organic processes, 
which can manifestly only have an influence upon them 
through an unconscious clairvoyance. In the common- 
wealth of the bee, the productive and the sexual energy, 
elsewhere united, are personified in three kinds of in- 
dividuals ; and as in an individual the members, so here 
the individuals themselves stand in inner, unconscious, 
spiritually organic union. 

We have then in this chapter obtained the following 
results : — Instinct is not the result of conscious reflection — 
not a consequence of bodily organisation — not mere result 
of a mechanism founded in the organisation of the brain — 
not the effect of a dead, and essentially foreign mechanism, 
externally adhering to the mind — but the individual's own 
activity, springing from his inmost nature and character. 
The end, to which a definite kind of instinctive action 
is subservient, is not conceived once for all by a mind 
standing outside the individual like a providence, and the 
necessity to act conformably thereto externally thrust 
upon the individual as something foreign to him ; but the 
end of the instinct is in each single case unconsciously 
willed and imagined by the individual, and the choice of 
means suitable to each special case unconsciously made. 
Frequently the knowledge of the purpose of the unconscious 
cognition is not at all ascertainable by sense-perception. 

vol. 1. H 



114 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

Then the characteristic attribute of the Unconscious is 
shown in the clairvoyant intuition, of which there is an 
echo in Consciousness as presentiment, either feeble and 
evanescent, or, as in the case of man in particular, more 
or less distinct ; whilst the instinctive action itself, the 
adoption of the means to the unconscious end, is always 
vividly realised in consciousness, because otherwise correct 
execution would be impossible. Lastly, clairvoyance is 
manifested also in the co-operation of several individuals 
for a common unconscious end. 

Clairvoyance has hitherto been an incomprehensible 
empirical fact, and it might be objected : " I would rather 
put up with instinct as an incomprehensible fact." To this 
it is replied, firstly, that we find clairvoyance also apart 
from Instinct (especially in man) ; secondly, that clair- 
voyance is far from occurring in all instincts ; that thus 
instinct and clairvoyance are empirically given as two 
distinct facts, in which perhaps clairvoyance may serve 
to explain instinct, but not conversely ; and, lastly, in the 
third place, that the clairvoyance of the individual will 
not be found to be so incomprehensible a fact, but will, in 
the sequel of the investigation, receive a sufficient ex- 
planation, whereas the comprehension of instinct in every 
other way must be foregone. 

The conception here worked out is the only one which 
enables us to comprehend instinct as the inmost core 
of every being ; that it really is so is shown by the im- 
pulse of self-preservation and race -maintenance, which 
pervades the whole creation, by the heroic spirit of sac- 
rifice, with which the well-being of the individual, nay, 
life itself, is offered as a sacrifice to instinct. Look at 
the caterpillar, which continues to mend its web till it 
succumbs through weakness ; at the bird, which dies of 
exhaustion in laying its eggs ; at the restlessness and grief 
of all migratory animals when prevented from migrating 
An imprisoned cuckoo always dies in the winter from 
despair at not being able to depart ; the vineyard snail, 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 115 

also, if denied its winter sleep. The weakest animal, when 
a mother, accepts the struggle with the strongest opponent, 
and cheerfully suffers death for its young; an unsuccessful 
human lover becomes crazed, or commits suicide, as is 
evidenced by ever-fresh victims. A woman, on whom 
the Cesarean section had once been successfully per- 
formed, was so little deterred from further sexual inter- 
course by the certain prospect of a repetition of this fearful 
and generally fatal operation, that she afterwards thrice 
underwent the same operation. And we are to believe 
that such a demonic power is exercised by something 
engrafted on the mind as a mechanism foreign to our 
being's core, or through a conscious reflection whicli rarely 
advances beyond a bald egoism, and which is altogether 
incapable of such sacrifices for the race as are exempli- 
fied in the procreative and maternal instincts ! 

In conclusion, we have still to consider the question 
how it happens that instincts are so uniform within au 
animal species, a circumstance which has not a little con- 
tributed to strengthen the view of the engrafted spiritual 
mechanism. It is, however, evident that like causes have 
like effects, whence such a phenomenon is explained of 
itself. For in any animal species the fundamental cor- 
poreal structure is the same, also the faculties and de- 
velopment of the conscious understanding (which is not 
the case with man, nor to a certain extent with the highest 
animals, to which their greater individuality is in part 
due). The external conditions of life are likewise tolerably 
the same, and so far as they are essentially different, the 
instincts also are different — a point which hardly requires 
any illustration (c/. pp. 79, 80). But from similar mental 
and bodily constitutions (under which like cerebral and 
ganglionic predispositions are comprehended) and similar 
external circumstances there necessarily follow, as a logical 
consequence, similar life-purposes ; from like aims and 
like inner and outer circumstances follows, however, like 
choice of means, i.e., like instincts. The last two steps 



n6 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

would not be granted without any limitation if one were 
dealing with conscious reflection, but since these logical 
consequences are drawn by the Unconscious, which un- 
failingly adopts the right course without hesitation or 
delay, they also always directly result from like premises. 
Thus even the last point which might be urged in sup- 
port of opposite views is explained by our conception of 
instinct. 

I conclude this chapter with the words of Schelling 
(I. vol. vii. p. 455) : "There is no better touchstone of 
a genuine philosophy than the phenomena of animal in- 
stinct, which must be ranked among the very greatest by 
every thoughtful human being." 



( H7 ) 



IV. 

THE UNION OF "WILL AND IDEA. 

In every volition the change into another state than the 
•present is willed. A present state is always given, even if 
it be pure rest ; from this present state alone, however, 
willing could never arise unless there were the possibility, 
at least the ideal possibility, of something else. The one 
state, which should really and ideally allow of nothing else, 
would be complete in itself, without being able to pass 
out of itself, even idealiter, for this passing out of itself 
would be already its otherness. That volition also, which 
wills the persistence of the present state, is only possible 
through the idea of the cessation of such state, which is 
held in aversion, thus through a double negation ; without 
the idea of cessation, willing of persistence would be im- 
possible. The position is impregnable, then, that for 
volition two things especially are necessary, of which the 
one is the present state, and that, too, as starting-point. 
The other, the end or goal of volition, cannot be the now 
present state, for we always possess the present out and 
out. Thus it would be absurd still to will it ; it can at 
the most produce satisfaction or dissatisfaction, but not 
willing. It cannot, then, be an existing, but merely a 
non-existing state which is willed, and willed, moreover, 
in the form of existence. The state can only pass from 
non-being into being through the becoming, and if it arrives 
at being through the becoming, the moment hitherto 
called present is past, and a new present has arrived, which 
looked at from the former moment is still future. This 



Il8 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

former moment is, however, that of willing, consequently it 
is a future state, whose presentness is willed. This future 
state must then be contained in willing as the otherness 
of the now present state, and furnish volition with its end 
or goal, without which it is not thinkable. But now, as 
this future state without present existence cannot be 
realiter in the present act of willing, and yet must be 
therein in order to be possible, it must necessarily be con- 
tained in it idcaliter, i.e., as representation; for the ideal 
is exactly the same as the real, only without reality, as 
conversely reality in things is that unique somewhat in 
them which cannot be brought about by thinking, and 
which exceeds their ideal content (cf. Schelling's Works, 
div. i. vol. iii. p. 364). In the same way, too, the (positively 
thought) present state can only become the starting-point 
of volition so far as it enters into the idea (in the widest 
sense of the word). We have, then, in willing, two ideas — 
that of a present state as starting-point, that of a future 
state as ultimate point or goal ; the former is conceived as 
idea of a present reality, the latter as idea of a reality still 
to be procured. Now will is the endeavour to procure 
reality, or the endeavour to pass from the state repre- 
sented by the former into that represented by the latter 
idea. This endeavour itself does not admit of descrip- 
tion and definition, because we are confined to the sphere 
of ideas, and the endeavour is, per se, something heteroge- 
neous to the idea ; one can only say of it that it is the 
immediate cause of change. This endeavour is the ever- 
identical empty form of volition, which awaits replenish- 
ing with the most varied content of imagination ; and as 
every empty form is an abstraction without any other reality 
than that which it obtains by its content, so likewise this. 
Volition is existential or actual only through the relation 
between the idea of the present and future state ; if this 
relation be abstracted, the conception, which cannot be 
found without it, is deprived of reality, of existence. No 
one can in reality merely will, without willing this or that : 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 119 

a will which does not will something, is not ; only through 
the definite content does the will obtain the possibility of 
existence, and this content (not to be confused with 
motive) is, as we have seen, Idea. Therefore, no volition 
without mental object, as Aristotle said long ago (De An. 
iii. IO, 433, b. 27) : ope/cn/cov Be ov/c avev ^>avraala<i. 

One must, at the same time, guard against the false 
conclusion that, whenever one thing is proved to be 
contained in another thing without being contained in it 
realiter, the assertion is implicitly made that it must be 
contained in it idealiter. This would be, in fact, a logi- 
cally incorrect conversion of the true proposition that 
the ideal is the same as the real, only without reality. 
That I am far from making this faulty conversion I have 
already given evidence, in seeking to explain memory and 
character by latent tendencies of the brain to particular 
molecular vibrations, and in that I look upon volition as 
actual manifestation of power, that is, of the will. The 
former, namely, are quiescent material states (definitely 
related positions of atoms), which may perhaps be looked 
upon as the realisation of an idea implicitly containing 
future states within it, but can never themselves be called 
ideal (cf. Ges. philos. Abhandlungen, No. II. pp. 35-37); 
the latter, on the contrary (the potentiality of volition), is 
only the formal condition of actuality in general without 
any definite content. Volition, abstracted from its content, 
is potentially possible, but thus it is also only the purely 
formal side of the definite act of will. The content itself 
of this act of will is never to be conceived otherwise than 
as representation or idea; for volition is not anything 
material, in whose stationary parts future differences might 
be predetermined by certain spatial relations, but it is 
something immaterial, and the not yet existent future to 
be realised by it must consequently be contained in it in 
an immaterial manner. But further, the content of will 
is always thoroughly definite, only in this way and not 
otherwise attaining realisation, thus not to be characterised 



120 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

as potentiality, which would only express the formal con- 
dition of realisation in general, but not the definite " What" 
of such realisation. Without a fully determinate content 
of the yet non-existent reality, no realisation would be 
possible, because infinitely diverse possibilities remain 
open. This determinateness of content of a something not 
yet really existing, which at the same time is to be given 
immaterially, is now by no means to be thought other- 
wise than as ideal determinateness, i.e., as representation. 
This condition is immediately known to us in conscious 
volition, and introspection can at any moment assure us 
that that which is willed is before its realisation nothing 
else than idea of an object. 

But the naturalness and self-evidence of this relation 
between will and idea (as the two poles about which the 
whole life of the mind turns), and the impossibility of 
finding any substitute for the idea as content of will (i.e., 
as immaterial, not yet realised determinateness of volition), 
constrain us to assume that the whole content of will is 
idea, no matter whether the will and idea be conscious 
or unconscious. In assuming will we assume idea as its 
determining and distinguishing content, and whoever 
refuses to recognise the ideal (unconscious) content of 
representation as the What and How determinative of 
action must, to be consistent, also refuse to speak of an 
unconscious will as the inner cause of the phenomenon. 
This simple consideration exposes the singular defective- 
ness of the system of Schopenhauer, in which the Idea is 
by no means recognised as the sole and exclusive content 
of Will, but a false and subordinate position is assigned 
it, whilst the maimed and blind Will nevertheless alto- 
gether comports itself as if it had a notional or ideal con- 
tent. 1 But whoever, like Bahnsen, e.g., denies that the 

1 When Dr. J. Frauenstadt as- that the system of Schopenhauer is 
sents to my explanations (Sunday only tenable after a revision in the 
supplement of the Voss. Ztg., 1870, sense of the text, I can only ex- 
No. 8, and "Unsere Zeit," Nov. press my satisfaction ; but when he 
1S69, p. 705), and thereby admits maintains that the system is not 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 121 

will as potentiality of volition is something purely formal 
and absolutely empty — whoever sees in it, instead of an 
attribute of the all-one substance common to all beings, 
an individual essence subsisting and existing a se and per 
se — has only the alternative (if discontented with a postu- 
lated nondescript defying human comprehension), either to 
define the characteristic essence of this individual potency 
itself as ideal determination (thus merely needlessly trans- 
ferring the completing idea from volition to the pure Will), 
or to go over entirely to Materialism, i.e., to surrender the 
will as metaphysical principle, and to make it identical 
with the parts of the brain prearranged in this or that 
way, whose function then would be volition. 

It may be advisable to touch here, at least by way of 
suggestion, on a few points which are adapted to confirm 
the proposition, that no kind of volitional activity is pos- 
sible without ideal content of representation. 

First of all, it would be a gross error to deny the ideal 
content of volition because volition is strictly necessitated. 
This argument would before all things prove too much ; 
for, in the first place, it would just as much destroy the 
activity of volition as the ideality of the content, if it in 
fact reduced the necessitated event to a dead passivity, 
purely outwardly determined and deprived of every self- 
determination from within; and, secondly, would place 
conscious volition in precisely the same category as the 
unconscious volition of a falling stone, since on the one 
hand the former is just as strictly determined and neces- 
sitated as the latter ; on the other hand, however, the 
falling stone, if it had consciousness, would (according to 
the well-known declaration of Spinoza) believe it acted 
freely. The objection simply ignores the truth that there 
is no purely passive necessitation at all, that rather all 

defective in the manner specified, faithful to the doctrine of their 

he is contradicted by the facts of master by rejecting as impossible 

the case ; and historically those fol- the unconscious ideation for which 

lowers of Schopenhauer are more in I contend, 
the right, who think they remain 



122 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

necessitation includes autonomous activity, — autonomous 
because, in the way in which anything reacts against the 
forces influencing it, it follows the immanent laws of its 
own nature. This holds good of the force of gravitation 
of the stone which reacts on the terrestrial mass, or of 
the elasticity of the billiard-ball reacting against the 
inertia of the cushion, just as well as of the human char- 
acter reacting against the conscious motives. If now we 
view the physical forces as will-forces, we cannot avoid 
regarding as an ideal determination the internal determi- 
nation of the same by the immanent laws of the particular 
stage of the objectified will, which in every case is the 
necessary prius of real activity, i.e., the content of volition 
before completed realisation, in this case also as Presenta- 
tion (cf. C. Chap, v.) 

A second point is, that the notion of necessitation or of 
the necessity of events is only to be maintained against 
the subjectivist deniers of an objective-real necessity, if 
the purely external event is regarded as determined and 
brought about by an inner logical compulsion, which, 
moreover, can be the only sense of a regularity of nature 
conformable with that of logic (cf. the conclusion of No. 
3 of Chap. xv. C.) But if all necessity is logical, this 
(unconscious) logic can only penetrate the manifestation 
of the blind and intrinsically alogical "Will, if its content 
is not again its,elf alogical Will, but logical Idea. 

The third point, which I wished to mention, leads us 
into the province of the theory of cognition. Thought 
cannot throw off the nature of thought ; it may perhaps 
deny itself as conscious thought, but it thereby attains so 
little positivity, that even the right to this negation of 
itself is lacking, so long as it is powerless to make any 
positive statement beyond the sphere of its own conscious- 
ness. Thought thus either never goes beyond itself, or 
the true positive content of what is beyond its sphere of 
consciousness must itself again be thought, representation, 
ideal content. Now since the causality which evokes the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 123 

act of sensation is the sole direct bond of union between 
consciousness and its otherness, the content of this causal 
affection which sensation follows must be an ideal one. 
Here we come, through want of an explanation to satisfy 
the demands of the theory of cognition, to the same truth 
as we reached before from metaphysical considerations, 
namely, that the causal necessitation or real causality must 
have an ideal content, although this is here demonstrated 
merely for the act of sense-impression (<•/. Das Ding an 
Sich und seine Beschaffenheit : Berlin, C. Duncker, 187 1, 
especially pp. 74-76). 

We now then know that, wherever we meet with a 
volition, a representation must be united with it, at the 
very least that which ideally represents the goal, object, 
or content of the volition ; the other idea, the starting- 
point, might possibly become equal to zero, if the will 
takes its rise in pure nothingness. However, we have 
nothing to do with this case in empirical phenomena; on 
the contrary, the starting-point is here given once for all 
as the positive feeling of a present condition. Accordingly 
every unconscious volition also which actually exists must 
be united with ideas, for in our former examination 
nothing cropped out in reference to the distinction of con- 
scious and unconscious will. The positive feeling of the 
present state must even in conscious volition always be 
conscious to the nerve-centre to which the volition is 
referred, since a materially excited sensation, if it is pre- 
sent, must always be conscious ; on the other hand, in 
unconscious volition the idea of the aim or object of volition 
must also, of course, be unconscious. Thus even in sub- 
ordinate nerve-centres an idea must be united with every 
actual volition, and one, moreover, according to the nature 
of the will either relatively to the brain, or absolutely un- 
conscious. For when the ganglionic will wills to contract 
the cardiac muscle in a particular manner, it must first 
of all possess the idea of this contraction, for otherwise 
God only knows what could be contracted, but not the 



124 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

cardiac muscle. This idea is in any case unconscious 
in respect of the brain, but in respect of the ganglia pro- 
bably conscious. But now, as we saw in the second 
chapter in the case of voluntary movements of the cerebral 
will, the contraction must be effected by the arising of a 
will to excite the appropriate central endings of the motor 
nerve-fibres in the ganglia. That again implies an idea 
of the position of these central nerve-endings, and this 
idea, analogous to the unconscious idea of the position of 
the motor nerve-endings in the brain, must be conceived 
as absolutely unconscious. In correspondence with these 
ideas the will to contract the cardiac muscle will also 
have to be thought as a relatively unconscious one, the 
will to excite the appropriate nerve-endings in the cardiac 
ganglia which effects its realisation as absolutely uncon- 
scious. 

We have seen that volition is an empty form, which only 
finds in the idea a content giving it actuality, but that 
this form itself is something heterogeneous to the idea, 
and therefore not to be defined by concepts, sui generis, 
namely, that which, being, it is true, in itself still unreal, in 
its operation causes the passage from the ideal to the actual 
or real. Volition is thus the form of the causality of the ideal 
with respect to the real; it is nothing but operation or acti- 
vity, pure going-out-of-self, whilst the idea is pure being- 
with-self and abiding-in-self. But if the fundamental 
distinction of the form of the will from that of the idea 
consists in the outwardly efficient causality and the going 
out of self, the latter, as a something self- enclosed, must be 
without external causality, if the just stated difference is 
not again to be abolished. For ideation always accom- 
panies volition, and if the idea also possessed an external 
causality, the distinction between will and idea would in 
fact be abolished, whilst we should have again to find and 
to characterise afresh the two different moments within 
each. Therefore we prefer to retain for these polar 
moments the words "Will and Idea, and assume a con- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 125 

nection between the two when we find them united. 
We have already done this in the case of Will ; it still 
remains in future to recognise Will in the Idea wher- 
ever the latter displays an outward causality. Aristotle 
has expressed this too (De. An. iii. 10, 433, a. 9) : koX ij 
fyavTaaia Se, orav kivtj, ov Kivel avev ope'^etu?, i.e., " but the 
presentative faculty, when it acts externally, does not act 
without a will." 

As we have seen above that the strict followers of 
Schopenhauer are willing, indeed, partially to recognise 
the unconscious will, but not the necessity of its being 
filled with unconscious representation or idea, so the 
Hegelians and Herbartians, if they rightly understand their 
masters, may perhaps readily recognise the unconscious 
idea or representation, but will not grant the necessity of 
the unconscious will. As the former, without being aware 
of it, implicitly think the idea in the matter of volition, 
so the latter think the Will in the impulse and faculty of 
self-realisation of the Idea, or in the conflicting energies 
of the psychological mental representations, without mak- 
ing explicitly clear to themselves this important implicit 
thought. Misled perhaps by Herbartian influences, some 
of our recent physiologists also make the idea, as such, 
without more ado, produce physiological effects in the 
body. 

The first application we would make of the proposition 
here maintained is to confirm the statement, that the 
unconscious idea of the position of the central endings 
of motor nerve-fibres cannot operate without the will to 
excite those places, and that the mere unconscious idea of 
an instinctive purpose can be of no avail if the end is not 
also willed ; for only by willing the end can the willing of 
the means be evoked, and only by the willing of the means 
these means themselves. What is here said of the instinc- 
tive purpose of course holds equally good of every other 
unconscious idea of an end which will present itself in 
the following chapters. 



126 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

In conclusion, we can now more closely consider the 
question of the difference between the conscious and the 
unconscious will. A will, the content of which is formed 
by an unconscious idea, could at the most be consciously 
perceived according to its empty form of volition, and acts 
of will of that kind could then at the most only be dis- 
criminated by consciousness as different in degree ; on the 
other hand, it can no longer be perceived by consciousness 
as this specific will, since its specific nature is only deter- 
mined by its content. Accordingly, for such a will the 
application of the word " conscious " is unconditionally 
excluded, as in no case can more be said than that this 
specific will becomes conscious. Moreover, experience also 
teaches us that we know so much the less of a will the 
fewer the ideas or feelings accompanying it which reach the 
cerebral consciousness. Accordingly, it almost seems as 
if will as such were not generally accessible to conscious- 
ness, but became so only through its marriage with the 
idea. (This is proved, in fact, in Chap. iii. C.) However 
that may be, we can now assert that an unconscious will is 
a will with unconscious idea as content, for a will with 
conscious idea as content will always be conscious to us. 
If, in saying this, the distinction between conscious and 
unconscious will is only traced back to the equally diffi- 
cult distinction between conscious and unconscious idea, 
yet an essential simplification of the problem is thereby 
obtained. 



( ivj ) 



V. 

THE UNCONSCIOUS IN KEFLEX ACTIONS. 

"At the present time those actions are called reflex in 
which the existing stimulus does not directly affect either 
a contractile tissue or a motor nerve, but a nerve which 
imparts its state of excitement to a central organ, where- 
upon, through the mediation of the latter, the stimulus 
overflows on to motor nerves, and then for the first time 
is made apparent by muscular movements." 1 This ex- 
planation seems to me as good a one as the physiologists 
are able to give, and no qualification of the same can be 
found which does not exclude certain classes of reflex 
action generally recognised by this name ; and yet it is 
easy to see that it is much wider than physiology intends, 
since all movements and actions find a place among them, 
whose antecedent is not a thought which has arisen 
spontaneously in the brain, but is directly or indirectly a 
sense-impression. To pursue further this gradual passage 
of the lowest reflex movements into conscious voluntary 
actions, we must examine various examples. 

If a freshly excised frog's heart, which pulsates slowly, 
be irritated by the prick of a needle, there arises inde- 
pendently of the rhythm of the beat a systole (contrac- 
tion) in the normal succession of the parts. Before the 
complete extinction of irritability a time occurs when the 

1 Wagner's Handwbrterbuch der of earlier investigators, which often 

Physiologie, vol. ii. p. 542, article come very near the truth, com- 

" Nervous Physiology,", by Volk- pare also the excellent memoir of 

inann. On the historical develop- J. W. Arnold : " The Doctrine of 

ment of the notion of reflex move- Keflex Functions. '' 
ment, and for an estimate of the views 



128 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

irritation is only succeeded by a local contraction of 
decreasing extent. If the heart be divided when it is 
still powerful, but in such a way that there remain con- 
necting portions between the parts, stimulation of the one 
part, in which a ganglion is contained in the muscular 
substance, produces contraction of both parts ; on the 
other hand, irritation of the other part, which contains no 
ganglion, is only succeeded by local contraction. It follows 
from this, that the normal systole sequent on stimulation 
is no simple phenomenon of the stimulus of a contractile 
tissue, but a reflex movement mediated by the embedded 
ganglia. Other experiments, e.g., the division of the 
spinal cord by small cross sections, &c, render it probable 
that any nerve-centre may effect reflex actions. The more 
this nerve-centre is developed the higher is the degree of 
propriety and adroitness in complicated movements ex- 
hibited in its reflex actions. Volkmann says (Hwb. ii. 
545) : " "When different muscles are combined to produce a 
reflex movement, whether synchronous or successive, the 
combination is always mechanically appropriate. I mean, 
the simultaneously active muscles support one another, 
e.g., in producing a flexure, and those which are active in 
succession unite in the judicious continuation and com- 
pletion of the already commenced movement. If a de- 
capitated frog in an extended position be stimulated in 
the hind leg sufficiently powerfully, the flexors and 
adductors of both legs first of all act in combination, 
next the legs are drawn towards the body, the extensors 
are combined for joint extension, and the total result is a 
more or less regular actual movement, whether of swim- 
ming or leaping. 

" In many cases the reflectorial movements have not only 
the character of fitness, but even a certain dash of inten- 
tion. Young dogs whose cerebrum and cerebellum I had 
destroyed, sparing the medulla oblongata, when I took 
them roughly by the ears tried to get rid of my hand 
with the fore-paw. One often sees decapitated frogs rub 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 129 

a violently filliped part of the skin (only possible by an 
alternating play of the antagonists), and tortoises, which 
are injured after decapitation, withdraw into their cara- 
pace.'' The medulla oblongata, as the most developed 
nerve-centre after the brain, is also that which effects 
the most complicated reflex movements, as, e.g., respiration 
with its modifications : sobbing, sighing, laughing, crying, 
coughing ; also sneezing on irritation of the nasal mem- 
brane, swallowing, and vomiting on gentle pressure (by 
a morsel) or tickling of the throat and palate; laughing 
ensues on tickling the external skin, coughing on irritation 
of the larynx. 

Very important for the whole life of man, and indicative 
of much more complicated [events in the central organs, 
are the reflex movements called forth by sense-percep- 
tions; certainly a class of phenomena to which physio- 
logy has not yet given sufficient attention, because they 
can only be studied with the whole living body, and 
partly only psychologically in one's own person. It is, 
however, manifest that this mode of investigation has 
great advantages over that on mutilated corpses or animals 
with their brains removed, since in organisms which have 
just suffered death, or undergone the severest operations, 
or have been treated with strychnine, one can by no 
means assume a normal capacity of reacting on the part 
of the lower central organs, which stand in such direct 
correspondence with the destroyed parts. Moreover, in 
decapitated animals the medulla oblongata and the large 
cerebral ganglia, which probably should be reckoned to 
the spinal cord, or at least not to the brain, have also been 
removed. All this sufficiently explains the purposeless 
character of the reflex movements in some of these ex- 
periments, where one is unable to eliminate the patholo- 
gical elements. 

The proximate reflex movements called forth by a sense- 
impression consist in this, that the particular sense-organ 
is brought into the position, tension, &c, requisite for clear 

VOL. I. I 



i 3 o PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

perception. In touch there arises a movement to and fro 
of the finger ; in taste, secretion of saliva and movement 
to and fro of the sapid matter in the mouth ; in smelling, 
dilatation of the nostrils and short, quick inspirations; 
in hearing, tension of the tympanic membrane and move- 
ments of the ears and head; in vision, convergence of 
both optic axes towards the point of greatest stimulation, 
accommodation of the lens for distance, and of the iris 
to the intensity of light. All these movements, with 
the exception of the last named, can also be executed 
voluntarily, but only by means of the idea of the altered 
sense-impression ; only with difficulty or not at all by 
the direct idea of the movements. E.g., when the inves- 
tigating oculist holds up his finger as a mark for the 
patient and bids him look up towards the right, there 
frequently occur the most distorted movements of the 
eyes and eyelids, but not the one desired. With en- 
hanced vividness of the impression, the head, arms, 
and whole body not seldom take involuntary part in 
these reflex actions. Further, through the medium of 
the ear reflex movements are set up in the organs of 
speech, for, as is well known, children and animals learn 
to talk in consequence of the involuntary impulse which 
compels them to reproduce what has been heard. The 
like occurs in the catching of melodies, where the pheno- 
menon is more easily observed, and in adults also. With- 
out this reflexion it would be impossible to train birds to 
whistle tunes. The reflex compulsion to utter words one 
is accustomed to hear spoken may even be observed in 
our own thinking. Here, according to a process exempli- 
fied in a still higher degree in the production of dream- 
images and hallucinations, the thought of the word which 
is not yet an object of sense causes a centrifugal current 
of innervation towards the auditory nerve, as the reflex 
consequence of which a centripetal current brings back 
the auditory sensation of the word, and this calls forth 
in the organs of speech the reflex movements of the loud 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 131 

or subdued utterance. The undisciplined man, e.g., the 
uneducated or passionately excited man, thinks aloud. It 
requires the constraint of education to think silently, and 
even then one will almost always, if on the watch for it, 
detect a muscular feeling in the organ of speech, which 
is a weaker form of that which would arise in the utter- 
ance of the words, and thus manifestly represents a ten- 
dency to action. In reading it is just the same. 

One of the most important reflex actions of the cere- 
brum, especially in respect to sense-perception, is that 
centrifugal current of innervation which we call Atten- 
tion, and which is essential for all tolerably clear per- 
ception. It arises as reflex action on a stimulus, which 
affects the sensory nerve of the organs of sense. If the 
brain is otherwise too much occupied to react on such 
stimuli, this action does not take place, and then the 
sense-impression escapes us without becoming perception. 
This current of innervation can be directed to the several 
parts of a sense-perception (e.g., to any part of the field of 
vision or an instrument in the orchestra), which explains 
the fact that one often sees and hears just that for which 
the present state of the brain has a particular susceptibility, 
which is also in accordance with many of the phenomena 
of somnambulism. It is also the partial failure of this 
current of innervation, which renders comprehensible the 
otherwise inexplicable difference between the absent and 
MackpzLits of the field of vision. We may also voluntarily 
direct this stream of innervation to certain parts of the 
body, and thereby bring into consciousness as perceptions 
the usually unobserved sensations which all parts of the 
body are continually producing ; e.g., I can feel my finger- 
tips if I carefully attend to them; (think also of the 
hypochondriacal). A boundary-line between such currents 
of innervation as are produced by conscious will, and 
those which follow as reflex action on impressions of 
sense when the interest of the brain is fully gained, 
can no more be discovered and drawn here than in any 



132 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

other department of these phenomena. Very remarkable 
are many of the reflex movements which are effected by 
the eye and the sense of touch. The eye not only protects 
itself reflectorially from injuries, which it sees approaching, 
by closure, bending of the head and body, or the holding 
up of the arm, but it also protects other threatened bodily 
parts in the same way, nay, even other things. For ex- 
ample, if a glass falls from the table, the sudden catching 
at it is just as much reflex movement as the ducking 
of the head when a stone is coming towards us, or the 
parrying of the thrusts in fencing ; for in the one as in the 
other case the resolution after conscious reflection would 
come much too late. Must one really pronounce that a 
different principle which, in the one case, causes the young 
dog deprived of its brain to thrust aside with its paw a 
hand nipping its ear, and in the other causes the human 
being to ward off by the sudden raising of the arm a 
threatening blow perceived by the eye ? The most wonder- 
ful reflectorial performances of the combined senses of sight 
and touch consist, however, in the complicated movements 
involved in preserving one's balance, as in sliding, walk- 
ing, riding, dancing, leaping, performing gymnastic exer- 
cises, skating, &c, in part spontaneous (especially in the 
case of animals), in part acquired by practice, an original 
capacity being always presupposed. If one leaps a ditch, 
it is not easy to leap beyond the farther brink, although 
one may be able to leap much farther on level ground ; but 
the eye, through an unconscious reflection, brings it about 
that just sufficient muscular force is applied to reach the 
opposite side, and this unconscious will is often stronger 
than the conscious one to leap farther. It is remark- 
able that all the afore-mentioned functions are executed 
much more easily, more certainly, and even more gracefully, 
if they are performed without conscious volition as simple 
reflex movements of the sensations of sight and touch. 
Every intervention of the cerebral consciousness operates 
only inhibitively and disturbingly; hence mules walk more 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 133 

surely than men in dangerous paths, because they are 
not disturbed by conscious reflection, and somnambulists 
go and climb in the unconscious state where, if con- 
scious, they would infallibly meet with an accident. For 
conscious reflection always brings along with it doubt 
and hesitation, and this frequently a fatal tardiness ; the 
unconscious intelligence, on the other hand, is always 
beyond a doubt more certain to seize the right course, or 
rather doubt never occurs to it, and therefore it almost 
always does the right thing at the right moment. Even 
prelection and playing from notes, if consciousness be 
otherwise occupied or asleep, can take the form of mere 
reflex movements following on impressions of feeling, as 
cases have been observed where reading aloud has been 
continued a certain time after falling asleep, or pieces of 
music have been better played in dreamy unconscious 
states than when wide awake. That reading or playing 
from notes can often be continued quite unconsciously and 
without the slightest after-memory of the subject-matter, 
when consciousness is occupied with other fascinating 
thoughts, any one can observe for himself. Nay, even 
sudden curt answers to quick questions have often some- 
thing reflectorially unconscious about them, when they 
drop out unawares like a pistol-shot, and afterwards one is 
often astonished or ashamed if they have been unsuitable 
to the occasion and the company. 

More important, however, than all that has been hitherto 
noticed is the consideration that there is no, or almost no, 
voluntary movement which must not at the same time be 
regarded as a combination of reflex actions. I mean this : 
Anatomical investigations show that, in the upper part of 
the spinal cord the number of the primitive fibres amounts 
to only a very small fraction of the primitive fibres of all 
the nerves, which are destined to call forth movement 
through the conscious will, that is, by the brain. But now, 
as the path from the brain to the nerves supplying the 
muscles is, with few exceptions, only through the upper 



134 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

part of the spinal cord, it follows that a fibre in the upper 
part of the spinal cord must be destined to innervate a 
great number of muscular nerve-fibres of the same part. 
A direct anastomosis (interlacing, connecting) of the fibres 
might be imagined, but this assumption seems highly im- 
probable according to anatomical observations, and vie 
are also compelled to abandon it from the circumstance 
that one and the same movement is now stimulated by 
the brain, now, in consequence of some other stimulation, 
is independently executed by the central organs of the 
spinal cord, and admits an immense variety of the most 
delicate and intricate modifications, whilst a direct anas- 
tomosis must necessitate the same invariable movements. 
In addition to this, the brain, which gives the order to 
execute a complicated series of movements, has itself no 
idea of this complication, but only a collective idea of the 
result (as in speaking, singing, walking, dancing, running, 
leaping, performing gymnastic exercises, fighting, riding, 
skating), so that the whole detail of execution, which is 
requisite for the total result intended, is intrusted to the 
spinal cord. (Let any one ask himself whether he knows 
anything of the muscular contractions necessary for utter- 
ing a word or for singing a colorature.) Accordingly the 
only mode of conceiving the matter remaining seems to me 
to be this : that the current of innervation, which carries 
the conscious volition of the total movement from the 
brain to the central organ of such movement in the 
spinal cord, and which is for the brain, indeed, centrifugal, 
but for the nerve-centre of the movement centripetal, 
that this current is felt as sensation by the motor centre 
just as well as an impression coming from the peripheral 
parts of the body, and that the consequence of this sensa- 
tion is the occurrence of the intended movement. But it 
is clear that we here again see the definition of reflex 
movement to hold good, as soon as we resolve to employ 
the relative conceptions of centrifugal and centripetal 
currents in their right relations. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 135 

One easily sees that there is hardly a movement which, 
even if it is originated by the cerebral consciousness, is not 
first conducted once or several times to another motor 
centre, and there visibly executed. Consciousness can, it 
is true, decompose movements to a certain extent, and give 
a conscious impulse to any partial movement (this is in- 
deed the way we learn to make the movement), but, in the 
first place, every such partial presentation will probably 
find no other path to the muscles than through the grey 
matter of the motor centres, thus always retaining the cha- 
racter of a reflex; secondly, even the simplest motor elements 
accessible to the cerebral consciousness still require highly 
complicated combinations of movement for their execution, 
into which consciousness never penetrates (e.g., the utter- 
ance of a vowel or the singing of a note) ; and, thirdly, if 
its simple elements are as far as possible intended by the 
conscious will, the whole movement has something ex- 
tremely slow, coarse, awkward, and heavy about it, whilst 
the very same movement is executed with the greatest 
facility, speed, certainty, and elegance, if only the final 
result was intended by the cerebral consciousness, and the 
execution was intrusted to the motor centres in question. 
One has only to think of the phenomenon of stammering. 
The stammerer often speaks quite fluently if he does not 
at all think of the utterance, and his consciousness is occu- 
pied only with the matter of his speech, but not with the 
mode of realisation ; but as soon as he thinks of the utter- 
ance and desires to form this or that sound by conscious 
volition, he does not succeed, and in its stead all sorts 
of concomitant movements occur, which may even become 
convulsive. It is just the same with scrivener's cramp 
and all the above-mentioned bodily exercises, in which the 
main thing is that they become second nature, i.e., that the 
conscious will ceases to trouble itself about the details. 
Through this way of conceiving the matter the phenomenon 
becomes for the first time explicable, why often a single 
impulse of the conscious will suffices to introduce a long 



136 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

series of periodically recurring movements, 'which lasts 
until it is interrupted by a new volitional impulse. With- 
out this arrangement all our ordinary actions, as walking, 
reading, playing, speaking, &c, would absorb an amount 
of the volitional impulses of the brain which must very 
soon result in fatigue. It, however, proves also the inde- 
pendence of the lower nerve-centres, and most decidedly 
refutes the above assumption of a direct anastomosis of 
the nerves. It may also now be comprehensible how it 
comes to pass that so many actions and occupations, 
whose slightest details must be attended to in their 
conscious acquisition, later on, with prolonged practice and 
habit, are performed quite unconsciously, as knitting, play- 
ing on the piano, reading, writing, &c. All the work, then, 
which during acquisition was done by the brain, has been 
handed over to subordinate nerve-centres ; for these can 
call into play an habitual combination of certain activities 
just as efficiently as the brain in thinking or in learning 
by heart. That, however, then the activities become for 
the most part unconscious to the brain, gives them in 
respect to the brain a certain resemblance to instinctive 
actions, whilst indeed, in respect to the nerve-centre 
which presides over the activity, practice and custom is 
the precise opposite of instinct. 

That all the phenomena hitherto considered have essen- 
tially the same underlying principle, it is not very difficult 
to see. We started with the reflectorial movements 
produced by irritation of peripheral parts of the body, 
and found a purpose most decidedly expressed therein, 
both in the result of the whole movement and in the 
simultaneous and successive combinations of the most 
different muscles ; nay, in part, most decidedly expressed 
even in an alternating play of the antagonists. We then 
passed on to the reflex movements produced by means of 
sense-perceptions, and found here the same fact, only often 
with a dash of higher intelligence, in that the higher 
central points of the spinal cord came more into play. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 137 

Lastly, we noticed that reflex actions, in which the ex- 
citing stimulus is an innervating current from the brain 
to the other central organs concerned, are produced by the 
conscious will, and did not remark here any quantitative 
increase of effects as compared with the reflex movements 
produced through sense-perceptions ; naturally enough, for 
the intelligence revealed in reflection depends far more on 
the stage of development of the reflecting central organ 
than on the nature of the stimulus. 
' That, in fact, the brain also can become a central organ 
of reflex actions, we cannot doubt from the analogy of its 
structure with the other centres. In reflex actions of the 
ganglionic system and in individuals deprived of brains, 
perception by the brain is excluded ; but this may very 
well accompany the reflex actions of the spinal cord in the 
case of sound organisms. In this case, however, only the 
stimulation, but not the will to move, is felt in the brain ; 
but the latter must manifestly also have place if the 
brain itself is to be a central organ of reflection. Such 
cases are, however, already familiar to us ; e.g., the catching 
at a falling glass or the parrying of a previously seen blow 
may have these characteristics. Accordingly we shall not 
be able to avoid regarding them as reflex actions, if only 
the link between perception of the action and the will to 
execute it lies outside the cerebral consciousness, which re- 
ceives additional confirmation from the fact that conscious 
reflection would manifestly come too late. To the same 
category belongs a part of the not quite unconscious pre- 
lection and preluding, or the rapid answers to sudden 
questions, or the sudden taking off the hat at the unex- 
pected greeting of an unknown person. Cerebral reflection 
frequently surpasses the reflection of the spinal cord, and 
prevents its occurrence ; e.g., a decapitated frog scratches 
the nipped place on the skin, a living one hops away. 
Here is seen the direct transition from cerebral reflec- 
tion to conscious psychical activity, between which no 
line can be drawn. There follows from this the unity of 



138 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

the principle underlying all these phenomena. There 
are, therefore, only two logical ways of looking at these 
things : either the mind is everywhere only the last result 
of material processes, hoth in the brain and in the rest of 
the nervous life (then, however, purpose would also have 
to be everywhere denied when not posited by conscious 
nervous activity), or the soul is everywhere the principle 
lying at the basis of material nervous processes, causing 
and regulating them, and consciousness is only a pheno- 
menal form of the same, brought about by means of these 
processes. We shall see in the sequel which of these two 
assumptions better suits the facts. 

The next point we have to investigate is the question, 
whether the phenomena we are considering may be looked 
upon as effects of a dead mechanism, or whether we are not 
compelled to conceive them as consequences of an intelli- 
gence immanent in the central organs, in which case the 
foregoing alternative may provisionally remain undiscussed. 
Let us first turn to physiology. The skin of a frog's thigh 
being pricked by a needle, we see both legs drawn up, 
provided the little piece of spinal cord from which issue 
the crural nerves remains intact. The prick of the needle 
manifestly affects only one primitive nerve-fibre, since 
within a circle of a certain size the position of the pricked 
place cannot be distinguished ; the number of motor fibres 
put in action by the same is, however, enormously large, 
for it can embrace the whole body. The direct anasto- 
mosis of the sensory and motor nerves is hereby rendered 
improbable in the highest degree. It becomes, however, 
still more so by the circumstance that the same motor fibres 
react, when this or that place in the skin of the frog's thigh 
is pricked, when accordingly different sensory nerve-fibres 
convey the stimulus to the centre. Besides, microscopic 
investigations not only give no support to this supposition, 
but what is more, Kolliker has directly observed the emer- 
gence of motor fibres from globules of grey nerve-matter 
(central organ), and it is now generally supposed that the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 139 

central origin of all the nerve-fibres must be sought in 
the ganglion-cells, i.e., the peculiar spherical or radiated 
cells of the grey nerve-matter. The stimulus conducted 
by the sensory fibres must accordingly, in any case, be 
first received by the central organ, and through this be 
conducted to the motor nerves ; in no other way could 
any sensory fibre possibly be in a position to act upon 
any motor fibre of the same centre (as is actually the 
case). But if all the stimuli are first received by the 
central organ, and are only propagated from this to the 
motor nerves, then the materialistic explanation of reflex 
actions by a peculiar mechanism of the channels of con- 
duction becomes quite impossible ; for no laws and contri- 
vances can at all be imagined which should allow one and 
the same current to pass over now to near, now to remote 
parts, should cause the reactions to follow now in this, now 
in that order, nay, should even permit an alternating play of 
the antagonists to occur on a simple stimulus (as in the rub- 
bing of the filliped part). The impossibility of a pre-estab- 
lished mechanism is, however, physiologically demonstrable 
in a much more striking way. If one divides the spinal cord 
throughout its whole length by a longitudinal section, the 
capacity for reflex movements is not affected ; it is only 
limited to the half of the body irritated on each occasion. 
If, on the other hand, a connecting bridge be left between 
the two separated halves at any place whatsoever, or if, at 
some distance from each other, now the left and then the 
right half of the spinal cord be cut across, so that all the 
longitudinal fibres are severed, general reflex movements 
may be excited by stimulation of each main point. This is 
probably the clearest proof that the motor reaction is not a 
consequence of the predetermined paths of the conduction 
of the stimulus, but that the current after destruction of 
the usual channels makes for itself new paths, in order to 
bring about the suitable reflex movements, provided only 
that the parts be not completely isolated. There must 
then be a principle superior to the material laws of con- 



140 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

duction of the nerve-currents, which brings about this 
change of circumstances, in virtue of which the courses 
of these currents are changed, and this principle can only 
be an immaterial one. This is also verified by the circum- 
stance, that the union of reflex movements is for the 
most part capable of being dissolved by conscious volition 
and exercise. 

Forcible as are these anatomical-physiological reasons, 
they are still not the strongest of all. If the conformity 
to the end in view which appears in reflex actions were 
one externally predetermined, brought on the scene by a 
material mechanism, then the capability of accommodating 
movements to the nature of the circumstances, this inex- 
haustible wealth of combinations, each of which is suitable 
to its special case, would be plainly inexplicable. "We 
should rather expect a constant recurrence of a few simi- 
lar complex movements, whereas a single glance at the 
infinite number of combinations, as exemplified in the 
simple case of preserving one's balance, is sufficient to 
establish the conviction of an immanent fitness — an indi- 
vidual providence, as we have already come to know it 
when considering Instinct. "We are absolutely obliged, 
then, so to represent to ourselves the event that the 
stimulus is perceived as idea, and through the idea of the 
danger or feeling of pain connected therewith the idea of 
relief through the corresponding counter-movement is 
produced, which now becomes the object of volition. That 
the nerve-centres of the spinal cord and ganglia possess the 
capacity of willing we have already settled ; that the cases 
being strictly parallel, they must also possess sensibility is 
evident at once ; but since no sensation can be imagined 
without a certain degree of consciousness, however small, 
they also possess a certain consciousness. The be^innm" 
and the end of the process, the perception of the stimulus 
and the will to move, are then the functions which we 
have no hesitation in ascribing to every nervous centre. 
The only question is, whether the link between them, the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 141 

positing of design, can also be a function of conscious in- 
tellectual association of these nerve-centres ? Now this 
must certainly be denied, for we have indeed seen, that 
the effects of reflexion are of so great importance to the 
organism, just because they so far surpass the perform- 
ances of the conscious reflection of the train in ease, speed, 
and accuracy. This is, however, precisely the character 
of the unconscious idea, as we have become acquainted 
with it in the case of instinct, and have learnt further to 
know it in other ways. Accordingly all that we have 
adduced in the case of instinct against its origination 
through conscious reflection holds here in a still higher 
degree, partly because the instantaneousness of the effect 
is more striking in the present case, and is in still greater 
contrast with the sluggishness of conscious thought in 
beings low down in the scale, partly because we have 
here to do in the case of animals especially with lower 
centres, whilst we only find results of conscious reflection 
at all worth mentioning where the cerebral functions of the 
higher birds and mammals come into play. If, on the other 
hand, we contemplate the animals whose chief centres are 
about on a par with the lower human nerve-centres, we 
observe the greatest obtuseness and stupidity (e.g., in most 
amphibia and fishes), in contrast to which one cannot help 
being struck by the wonderful accuracy and fitness with 
which instinctive actions are performed, ever increasing in 
significance and extent in proportion to the entire mental 
life of the animal. Here there is none of that hesi- 
tancy of discursive thought, none of that shrewd and 
cautious consideration, which we observe in higher ani- 
mals, but the instinctive action instantly follows on the 
impression, whereas reflection would often cost even the 
human brain a considerable time, and, when the action is 
inappropriate, as may well happen in sense-illusions in 
the conscious perception of causes, the pernicious error 
is embraced with equal certainty. We are compelled to 
designate this attribute of the unconscious idea, in contrast 



142 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

to discursive thinking, an immediate intellectual intuition, 
and wherever we meet with the (not relatively to this or 
that centre, but absolutely) unconscious idea, we shall find 
this to be its characteristic. 

This comparison with instinct will decidedly protect us, 
then, from regarding the immanent fitness of reflex move- 
ments as produced by conscious thought. The psychical 
autopsy of those reflex movements whose central organ is 
the brain entirely agrees with this ; the first and last term 
of the psychical process, the perception of the stimulus, 
and the will to move fall within the consciousness of 
the organ, but not the uniting middle terms, which must 
contain the idea of design. The only mode of appre- 
hending the matter, which is possible after our ex- 
amination, is then this : that the reflex movements are 
the instinctive actions of the subordinate nerve-centres, 
i.e., absolutely unconscious presentations, which embody 
the will of the reflex action (conscious for the parti- 
cular centre, but unconscious for the brain), in conse- 
quence of the perception of the stimulus. In addition 
to this perception in the reflecting centre, the stimulus 
can, by conduction, also be felt in the brain ; but there 
is then a second perception, which has nothing to do 
with the reflex movement and its occurrence. Instincts 
and reflex actions are also alike in this, that they exhibit 
essentially similar reactions in the individuals of the same 
animal species with similar stimuli and motives. This 
circumstance has given strength to the opinion that a dead 
mechanism is present instead of unconscious mental acti- 
vity and immanent adaptation ; but this circumstance as 
an objection to our view is invalidated by the considera- 
tion, that it is capable of an easy explanation in the manner 
indicated at the close of the chapter on Instinct. 



( H3 ) 



VI. 

THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE REPARATIVE POWER OF NATURE. 

When the nest of the bird, the web of the spider, the 
cocoon of the caterpillar, the shell of the snail are injured, — 
when the bird is stripped of a portion of its feathery robe, — 
the sufferers repair the loss which may' imperil or impede 
their future existence. We have already seen that some 
of these phenomena must be ascribed to instinct, and can 
we fail to perceive the striking analogy of the other cases ? 
We have seen that there is an unconscious idea of purpose, 
which, united with Will, dictates the conscious willing of 
the means to attain it ; and are we to doubt that we have 
to do with the same thing, when the sphere of influence 
is no longer external, but the body itself, since we are not 
able to draw the line where the body proper begins and 
ends, as in. the cocoon of the caterpillar, the shell of the 
snail, the feather-garment of the bird, or between excretion 
and secretion ? If we deprive the polype of its tentacles 
or the worm of its head, the creature must die for want of 
food; and if the animal replaces the tentacles or the head 
and continues to live, can anything but the unconscious 
idea of their indispensableness be the fundamental cause 
of the restoration ? Let it not be replied that the differ- 
ence between instinct and the vis medicatrix lies in this, 
that in the former case the perceiving and willing of the 
means are, at any rate, conscious, but in the latter case these 
also are unconscious. For after the discussion on the inde- 
pendence of the lower nerve-centres, it cannot be doubted 
that the willing of the means may very well somehow and 



144 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

somewhere reach the stage of consciousness in the lower 
nerve-centres, e.g., the small ganglionic cells, from which 
the sympathetic nerve-fibres which regulate nutrition arise, 
even if the chief centre of the animal knows nothing at 
all about it. On the other hand, no one will confidently 
decide, whether and how far in the lower animals in the 
case of instinct even the willing of the means is a con- 
scious act. 

Let us now look a little closer at the effects of the vis 
medicatrix. In the case of the Hydrae every part of the 
mass is replaced, so that a new animal is formed out of 
each piece, whether the division be transverse or longitu- 
dinal, or the creature be even cut into shreds. Among the 
Planarise every segment, if it only amounts to one-tenth 
or one-eighth of the whole body, becomes a fresh animal. 
Among the Annelids or worms restoration follows only after 
transverse section, when head or tail is always regenerated. 
In some cases the animal may be cut into pieces, and yet 
each single piece develops into a perfect example of its 
kind. It seems here clear enough that if, after any one 
of these indefinitely numerous sections, the separated part 
always furnishes a specimen manifesting the typical idea 
of its kind, this effect cannot be due to a dead causality, 
but the type-form must be present in each piece of the 
animal. But an Idea can only exist either realiter in its 
external manifestation as realised idea, or idealiter so far 
as it takes the form of mental picture, and in and through 
the prescntativc act. Hence every fragment of the animal 
must have the unconscious image of the type according 
to which it accomplishes this regeneration; just as the bee 
before the construction of its first cell, and without ever 
having seen the like, carries in itself the unconscious re- 
presentation of the hexagonal cell, accurate to half an 
angular minute, or as every bird must unconsciously have 
an idea of the form of the nest and mode of son" char- 
acteristic of its species, before it has had any experience of 
the same. Andobserving the process of regeneration, e.g., of 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 145 

a divided earthworm, a white bud may be seen sprout- 
ing at the cut part, which gradually becomes larger, then 
acquires narrow, closely packed rings, expanding on all 
sides, and contains prolongations of the digestive canal, 
the vascular system, and the ganglionic cord. It requires 
a strong faith to suppose that the nature of the exudation 
at the wounded part and the vicinity of the corresponding 
organs are sufficient to bring about a further growth of the 
animal. But when one sees how from two similar cut 
surfaces, separated by several rings, there is formed on 
the one side the head with its special organs, on the other 
the tail with its organs, and with organs too which have 
nothing at all analogous in the remaining portion of the 
trunk, the assumption of a dead causality, of a material 
mechanism without an ideal factor, becomes a sheer im- 
possibility. 

In addition to this there are various secondary circum- 
stances, which most clearly prove that the idea of whai 
must be executed in the special case to realise the type 
is the originally determining element in these events. If 
the animal is not full-grown, and a part of it be violently 
removed, the regenerated part does not correspond to the 
former state of the animal, but is constituted as such part 
would have been had the normal process of development 
never been interrupted. This may be seen if the leg of a 
young salamander or the tail of a tadpole be cut off. 
Somewhat similar is the case of the horns of the stag, 
which are annually renewed as long as the youthful vigour 
of the animal remains; but when the development of the 
organism has reached its highest point and the vigour 
declines, the last pair of horns either remains till death, 
or the pair annually reproduced becomes in extreme age 
shorter and simpler. 

Further, the force directed to this restoration of a part is 
greater the more important such part is for the continued 
existence of the animal : thus, e.g., according to Spallanzani, 
worms regenerate their heads before their tails, and in 

VOL. I. K 



146 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

fishes the restoration of the amputated fins takes place in 
the order of their importance as motor organs ; thus the 
caudal fins first, then the pectoral and ventral, and lastly 
the dorsal fins. Should the force, or more accurately the 
power, of the unconscious will in moulding its material 
and the external circumstances be insufficient for the re- 
generation of a part in the normal way, still the type of 
the class always gleams through the malformations which 
then arise. Thus, e.g., if only one tentacle instead of two 
grows again on a snail's head which has been cut off, 
this one has two eyes, and men who have lost one joint 
of a finger sometimes have a nail growing on the second. 
The more a part is exposed to injury, the more easily is it 
regenerated. Thus, e.g., the rays of the Asterias, the legs 
of spiders, the tentacles and antennae of snails and beetles, 
the tails of lizards, possess a considerable regenerative 
power on account of their liability to injury. For the most 
part, it is some special joint from which the regeneration 
most easily proceeds, in which case the connected limb 
is extremely fragile ; and if injury occurs anywhere else, 
an additional limb is frequently thrown off at that spot. 
Crabs, for example, do this. Spiders likewise free them- 
selves at the cost of a leg when they find it grasped or 
compressed ; but if the animal be held fast whilst the leg 
is squeezed, it cannot afterwards thus unceremoniously 
throw off the same, but it first entangles the leg in its 
web, then propels itself with the other legs, and in this 
way wrenches it off. This is manifestly instinct; and 
when the crab spontaneously throws off the injured leg, 
is that to be called something fundamentally different 
from instinct? And yet rejection of the injured limb is 
merely the first act of restoration. Still more wonderful 
is the instinct of the Holothurice which live in the Philip- 
pine Islands of the South Sea. These devour coral sand, 
and if they be taken from their native haunts and trans- 
ferred to clear sea-water, they of their own accord eject 
from the anus the intestinal canal, with the branchiae and 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 147 

all other organs connected therewith, in order to form new 
viscera more in harmony with the altered medium. (A 
Holothuria burdened with needles or knives literally 
jumps out of its skin,- rejecting it without in any way 
injuring its interior.) 

The higher we ascend in the animal scale, the less 
potent, as a rule, becomes the vis medicatrix, being least 
influential in man. As long, therefore, as human physiology 
was exclusively studied, it was possible for the error to 
arise that a merely material mechanism produces remedial 
effects; but as anatomy first began to yield important 
results when it was studied comparatively, and psychology 
is just beginning to afford true enlightenment through a 
similar procedure, so in physiology only comparative in- 
vestigation can give genuine insight. But when we have 
once got on the right track through a clear understanding 
of relations in the case of the lower animals, it will not 
be difficult to recognise this view also as the only possible 
one in the higher stages of organisation. 

The reasons for the limitation of the vis medicatrix 
in the higher animal classes are partly internal, partly 
external. The inmost and deepest ground is that the 
organising force turns always more and more away from 
the outworks, and bends its whole energy to reach the 
final goal of all organisation, the organ of consciousness, 
in order to raise this to even higher perfection. The 
external grounds are that the organs of the higher animal 
classes are more solid, and also, in consequence of the 
mode of life of these creatures, are much less liable to 
fracture and mutilation, but at the most are exposed to 
wounds and injuries, for the majority of which the heal- 
ing power of Nature is sufficieut; and further, that the 
greater solidity of structure makes replacement on a large 
scale physically and chemically difficult. For, on the one 
hand, we see even in lower animals that aquatic animals, 
on account of containing a greater quantity of moisture, 
possess a greater recuperative power than land animals of 



148 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

the same species, e.g., water and earth worms. On the other 
hand, the chief mass of the animals capable of extensive 
restoration consists of the same tissues which in man also 
exhibit the highest recuperative power, e.g., the tissues 
which mostly give solidity to invertebrate animals (skin, 
hairs, scales), cellular tissue, vascular system, or even the 
elementary organic substance of the lowest classes. That, 
however, these external grounds are not sufficient we see 
from the Vertebrata, for instance, in their second lowest 
class, the Amphibia, many of which exhibit a quite won- 
derful recuperative energy. Spallanzani saw among Sala- 
manders the four legs with their ninety-eight bones, besides 
the tail with its vertebra?, reproduced six times within three 
months ; in others, the lower jaw, with all its muscles, 
vessels, and teeth, was regenerated. Blumenbach saw even 
the eye restored within the space of a year, if the optic 
nerve remained uninjured, and a part of the coats of the 
eye remained behind in the orbit. In the case of frogs 
and tortoises the legs also are sometimes regenerated, but 
only as long as they are young, and even then but slowly. 
As the psychical power of the individual is at first active 
in an exclusively external manner, and then with the 
advance of age more and more withdraws inwards, and 
throws itself on the improvement of the conscious life of 
the mind ; so also in all beings the vis medicatrix is the 
more potent the younger they are, accordingly greatest of 
all in the case of embryos and all larva?, which must be 
regarded as embryos. We cannot, therefore, wonder that 
the same law obtains in the animal series as a whole, where 
in the wider sense the lower are related to the higher as 
embryos or imperfect stages of development. 

A very remarkable case is the regeneration of the 
cerebral hemispheres, observed by Voit in a pigeon which 
had been deprived of its brain. After five months, the 
intelligence of the animal having manifestly increased 
during the latter part of that time, a white mass showed 
itself in the place of the removed cerebral hemispheres, 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 149 

which possessed altogether the appearance and consistency 
of the white substance of the brain, and which also passed 
uninterruptedly and imperceptibly into the peduncles of 
the cerebrum, which had not been removed. Primitive 
nerve-fibres with double borders were clearly to be seen, 
also ganglionic cells. 

If we now pass to the Mammalia, and to man in 
particular, we certainly do not find such striking pheno- 
mena as in the lower animals, but always enough to 
convince us that the dead causality of material processes 
is insufficient, and that it is a psychical power which, 
aided by the unconscious representation of the type, and 
the means requisite for the end of self-preservation, brings 
about those circumstances in consequence of which the 
restoration of the normal condition must ensue, according 
to general physical and chemical laws. In every disturb- 
ance this process occurs*, unless the power of the uncon- 
scious will in mastering its circumstances is too small, so 
that the disturbance induces a permanent abnormity or 
death. No medicine can do more than aid that process 
and facilitate the mastering of the disturbing circum- 
stances, but the positive initiative (the will) must always 
proceed from the organism itself. 

Let us first consider the consolidation of severed tissues 
and the renovation of a destroyed surface. 

The first condition of every new formation (except in 
the epithelial layers) is inflammation. According to J. 
Miiller, inflammation is " compounded of the phenomena 
of a local injury, a local tendency to de-composition, and 
an augmented organic activity which energetically strives 
to maintain the equilibrium against the tendency to decom- 
position." What Miiller calls the " local injury," Virchow 
calls the pathological stimulus. He says (Spec. Path. u. 
Ther., i. 72) : — " As long as only functional disturbances 
are observed to follow on an irritation, so long do we 
speak of irritation ; if nutritive disturbances are observ- 
able in addition to the functional, we call it inflamma- 



150 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

tion." He then further calls nutritive disturbance what 
Miiller calls the local tendency to decomposition. Virehow 
insists quite specially upon the third factor, the effective 
activity of the inflamed cells. The most striking pheno- 
menon in inflammation is the increased flow of blood 
to the part where the new formation is to take place, 
showing itself in redness and increased heat. The law, 
that the partially increased or diminished blood-pressure 
accommodates itself to the need of blood in the several 
organs, is hardly ever to be explained from physical causes 
alone, since the propulsive action of the heart is uniform 
in respect of the whole circulation. So far then as the 
phenomenon is not to be explained by the increased 
active absorption of the inflamed cells, there must be 
assumed a direction of the physical circumstances through 
the willing of the means to accomplish the represented 
end. (In the normal course of development, an increased 
congestion takes place at the age of puberty, during 
pregnancy, and in the abdominal vessels of the bird at 
the time of brooding ; a diminution when the organs cease 
to be functional, or irreplaceable members have been 
lost. Xo less wonderful is the permanently fluid condition 
of the blood within the blood-vessels, whereas it immedi- 
ately coagulates on issuing therefrom, even without coming 
in contact with air.) 

In every section of the animal body vessels are cut 
through; these must first of all be closed, which takes 
place through the coagulation of the outflowing blood. In 
the larger trunks an inner and an outer plug is formed, 
which is easily detached soon after its formation, if the 
flow of blood is increased by external stimulation. In 
arteries, where the pressure of blood is considerable, the 
organism is sometimes helped by a swoon. The coagulated 
mass does not, however, enter into any firm union with the 
walls, but, like every means of relief employed at an earlier 
stage of the healing process which has become unnecessary, 
is subsequently absorbed. After about twelve hours, a 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 151 

pale fluid (plastic lymph) is secreted, which generally 
immediately afterwards condenses to a membranous 
opaque neoplasm, which closes up the wound and be- 
comes concrescent with the neighbouring parts. The 
neoplasm is not mere exuded blood serum, but a secretion 
from the blood of just as definite a character as any other 
fluid secretion. It is also no amorphous pulp, but a net- 
work of cells thoroughly permeated by copious intercel- 
lular fluid, and is formed by proliferation of the con- 
nective tissue which has been laid bare by the wound. 
It forms the matrix for every organic new formation, 
and blood-vessels, sinews, nerves, bones, skin, all proceed 
therefrom by gradual change of the cells. " The first step 
to healing then consists in this : Abundant cells come 
into existence by means of (?) inflammation, especially 
in the neighbourhood of the capillary vessels. These 
are changed by proliferation of their nuclei into cell- 
cones, and successful artificial injection of the blood- 
vessels proves that then fine passages without special walls 
are made between the new-formed cells, into which the 
injected mass direetly penetrates from the capillaries. Ac- 
cordingly there arises a provisional course for the blood, 
which presents the appearance of an intercellular net. 
The same process takes place from the opposite surface of 
the wound, and thus it happens that through the contact 
of these paths, several of which expand and become actual 
vessels, the disturbed circulation is restored to its normal 
state." (Dr. Otto Earth in the " Erganzungsbl.," vol. vi. 
p. 630.) In this way, in the first instance only, the plexus 
of capillary vessels is restored; subsequently, however, 
also larger blood-vessels are brought again into connec- 
tion after reabsorption of the plugs. In the Achilles' 
tendon of a dog, the regeneration of an excised piece, five 
lines in length, within four months has been observed, and 
in nerves from which a piece was excised, a gradual ap- 
proximation of the two ends, with or without final union. 
Movement and sensation can in this way be restored with- 



1 52 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

out the newly formed mass, even when it exhibits fibrilla- 
tion, exactly corresponding to tendons and nerves proper, 
the correspondence being even less close in the case of 
muscle ; but the assimilation of the new formation to the 
old gradually increases. 

When a tubular structure is severed, the neoplasm first 
forms an envelope, called a sheath or capsule, which by 
means of its vessels brings the injured part also into organic 
connection with the circumjacent structures. Thus, e.g., in 
the case of the fracture of a bone, when the sheath hardens 
into the provisional callus. At the same time, both open- 
ings of the medullary cavity are closed by a similar callus, 
formed from the lining membrane of the bone. Meanwhile 
the terminal surfaces of the bone are so far involved in the 
inflammation of the circumjacent parts that they them- 
selves pass into a state of inflammation, and can give rise 
to a neoplasm, which, as a whole, is slowly converted from 
a firm jelly into true cartilage, and then gradually ossified; 
although, according to Virchow, osseous or marrow cells 
can also arise directly from it, as, according to the same 
authority, all three, cartilage, bone, and marrow cells, 
may be directly converted into one another. Whilst this 
process is effecting the renovation proper, the expedients 
of the intermediate stages, the provisional callus, as 
well as the gelatine contained in the circumjacent parts, 
are softened and reabsorbed, the medullary cavity also 
restored, the dense substance of the callus becoming first 
cellular, then thinner and thinner, and finally disappear- 
ing. The bone recomposed in this way exhibits an unin- 
terrupted connection with the old ends, and exactly the 
same formation in substance and vessels. An excavation 
of the radius and ulna of a dog six lines in length was 
completely filled with bony substance after forty days. 
If the inner layer of a piece of bone perishes, the regene- 
ration begins from the outer one, and conversely, if the 
whole bone perishes, the membrane inside the bone and 
periosteum replaces it, after being first freed from bone. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 153 

Should these also perish, the piece in question is enclosed 
by a new piece, which is formed partly of the ends of the 
bone which have remained sound, partly of the surround- 
ing soft parts. 

In canals which are formed of mucous membrane, as 
the intestinal canal, or excretory ducts of glands, this 
neoplasm likewise forms a capsule or sheath, on the inner 
side of which the particular canal is re-formed, whilst 
the dead edges of the old piece are thrown off and car- 
ried away by the newly formed canal. In the case of 
displacement of the intestines or strangulated hernia, 
pieces of the intestine several inches, nay, even a foot in 
length, are often removed through the anus, and the di- 
gestive canals are restored. Is it possible that the rejec- 
tion of a strangulated piece of intestine is regulated by 
another principle than that which governs the rejection 
of the claw of an injured crab, or the casting off of a 
spider's leg ? 

If the external surface of any structure is destroyed, it 
is replaced in the same way, and the process is, on the 
whole, a higher one than in the case of union of severed 
parts, because the catalytic action of the homogeneous 
adjoining tissue can exert far less influence. The neoplasm 
appears here in the form of granulations, i.e., it is richer in 
vessels, and exhibits a number of reddish prominences. In 
this way new skin is formed on a part laid bare, which, at 
first, owing to the absence of a substratum of fat, lies 
closely on the muscles, but later on resembles the rest of 
the skin. Suppuration only occurs spontaneously, when 
the injury has been of such a kind that the parts of the 
tissue are to a great extent rendered incapable of continu- 
ing the vital functions (mortified), so that it is necessary 
to separate, i.e., to reject, these mortified tissues from the 
organism, and to replace them by new formations {e.g., in 
contusions, gunshot wounds, &c.) When this task is ac- 
complished, the suppuration ceases as spontaneously as it 
occurred; when there are no parts to be thrown off, the 



15+ PHILOSOPHY OF -THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

healing takes place "per prvmam intentionem," without 
any suppuration. It is true suppuration occurs only too 
frequently here also, just as in the former case the suppu- 
ration often continues beyond the requisite extent, some- 
times even to exhaustion, but it is not then a suppura- 
tion which is spontaneously set agoing by the organism, 
but one produced and relatively maintained by injurious 
external influences, namely, through the germs of para- 
sitic organisms floating in the air, which may make the 
slightest wound become malignant and fatal. The disin- 
fection, by dressings of carbolic acid, &c, of the air thus 
reaching the wound obviates these injurious external in- 
fluences, and thus experimentally proves the correctness 
of the above assertions. 

Mucous membrane can change into epithelium if it is 
necessitated by abnormal circumstances to form an external 
surface (e.g., in the case of prolapsed and everted rectum or 
uterus). In amputations the organism produces a stump 
which encloses all the hitherto existing canals (medul- 
lary cavity of the bone and vessels), and serves for the 
present use of the limb. The bone is well rounded off; 
the two bones of the fore-arm or leg, by growing together 
at the lower end, obtain the firm connection which is 
usually given by the wrist or ankle-joint; the vessels and 
the afflux of blood are limited to this now diminished 
need, and the stump forms a strong fibrous skin, which 
quickly scales. The fibrous structure of the stump also 
partially extends to the adjoining muscular fibres, nerves, 
and now useless vessels. 

Let us now turn to some other remarkable phenomena 
of the vis medicatrix in man and mammals. 

A complete regeneration of the crystalline lens has often 
been observed in mammals from whom it had been re- 
moved, and even in human beings couched for cataract an 
imperfect regeneration of the lens sometimes takes place. 
If after such an operation the upper lip of the wound 
of the cornea protrudes and cleaves to the outer ed«e of 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 155 

the lower lip with its inner edge, both lips afterwards 
become soft and swollen, and, when the swelling is lost, 
both are found to be in the same plane. In this way the 
disturbing effect is obviated, which such an unevenness of 
the cornea would necessarily produce in respect of vision. 
"When an osseous fracture cannot heal, the organism seeks 
to help itself in some other way. The fractured ends close 
and round themselves off, and are either kept together 
by a fibrous cord into which the callus-sheath has been 
converted, or by a cylindrical ligament, or united by a 
so-called false joint, the one end forming a cavity which 
receives the other spherical end. Both ends are enclosed 
by a fibrous capsule, and, like other places exposed to 
friction, receive the requisite lubrication by means of 
a newly formed synovial sac. A similar process takes 
place in limbs which have not been set ; the abandoned 
socket is filled up, and at the place where the head of the 
joint now lies there is formed a new one with the other 
appurtenances of the joint. 

Very remarkable is the formation of excretory passages 
answering a purpose, when certain secretions in the inte- 
rior of a structure have no natural vent, and unless such 
were formed would destroy the organ. This is especially 
the case in all normal secretions, when the natural drains 
are stopped up; fistula? are then formed by the nearest, 
or rather the most suitable path, making a way out- 
wards (e.g., lachrymal, salivary, bilious, urinary, fsecal 
fistula). They perfectly resemble the normal excretory 
ducts of the glands, in that the cellular tissue is converted 
at the walls of the passage into a mucous membrane 
insentient to the particular matter carried off. They cannot 
possibly be healed over so long as the natural outlet is 
not restored, but then they heal of themselves quickly 
and easily. One cannot see any material reason why this 
secretion, which is certainly obliged to establish an excre- 
tory channel through dissolving and liquefying the cellu- 
lar tissues, effects this considerable destruction only in the 



156 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

one direction of the channel, whilst on all other sides the 
attacks are proportionately too evanescent for the pur- 
pose ; why the direction in which this violent chemical 
decomposition is manifested is precisely the most appro- 
priate for the new drain, and why this drain shows not 
merely signs of destruction, hut rather of organic recon- 
struction. Sometimes such channels, especially in the 
case of pus-fistulae, extend through several other organs 
hefore they can reach the outside, e.g., from the liver to 
the stomach or the intestine, or through the diaphragm 
into the lungs. This process is perhaps most remarkahle 
in internal mortification. The excretory canals (or drains) 
then arise, if merely the inner layer of a bone perishes, 
in the vicarious external layer ; but if this also perishes, 
in the new environing bony substance from the very com- 
mencement of its formation, and moreover, without suppura- 
tion being perceived. They are round or oval canals, lined 
with a smooth membrane, passing from the membrane 
inside the bone to the periosteum, open externally by a 
smooth edge, and are subsequently prolonged by means of 
a fistula to the outer surface. They cannot in any way be 
permanently healed over as long as dead pieces of bone 
lie within the newly formed bone, but close spontaneously 
when these have been removed. 

Connected to a certain extent with the forecoinc is the 

O O 

killing and shrivelling of the embryo, the evacuation of 
the remains by newly made paths, or the encysting of 
these remains when child-bearing is impossible. 

Further worthy of note is the elaboration of a particular 
secretion by quite other organs than those properly con- 
cerned with this secretion, when the latter are incapable 
of performing their functions. The secretions, which play 
so great a part in the economy of the organism, are, as is 
well known, never present in the blood as such, but always 
only in their elements, and only during and after separation 
from the blood obtain their proper chemical composition 
(wherefore, also, the secretory courses are longer the higher 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 157 

the nature of the secretion). We must therefore usually 
look upon the organs of secretion as the cause of the spe- 
cial chemical nature of the secretions. So much the more 
must it surprise us that, under certain circumstances, when 
this or that organ cannot perform its function, but yet the 
retention of those matters in the blood which heretofore 
were separated out of it by means of secretion might 
become dangerous to the organism, that under such cir- 
cumstances other organs also are able to perform this act 
of secretion in an approximately similar way, and thus 
to secure the continued existence of the organism. The 
material expedients, which the unconscious will makes 
use of for this end, can only be looked for in a temporary 
change of the secreting membranes of the vicarious secre- 
tory organs, whereby they are accommodated to their 
vicarious secretions, just as we observe such an influence 
of the will on the secretory organs in terror, anger, &c. 

Let us look at a few examples. Urine acts as such 
fatally in the blood ; in the blood there are only its 
elements, but these, too, require to be excreted if the 
organism is not to be destroyed. In guinea-pigs whose 
renal arteries had been ligatured, peritoneum, pericar- 
dium, pleura, cavities of the brain, stomach, and intes- 
tines secreted a brown fluid redolent of urine ; the tears 
also smelt of urine, and the testes contained a fluid 
very similar to urine. With dogs there ensued vomit- 
ing of urine ; in rabbits, fluid discharge of the bowels. 
In men, whose sweat has possessed a decided odour of 
urine, post-mortem examination usually brings to light 
causes of suppressed urinal secretion. With persons in 
whom the ordinary passages have been completely ob- 
structed, daily vomiting of urine has often been observed 
for years. In the case of a girl with such a constitution, 
evacuation took place through the breasts till her four- 
teenth year. In other cases of suppressed urination, 
urinal discharge showed itself through the skin of the 
armpits. Also in degeneration of the kidneys, when the 



158 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

latter could no longer secrete urine, or when there was 
a want of connection with the bladder, normal micturition 
is said to have been observed for years, whence some would 
infer a vicarious capability of the bladder itself for the 
secretion of urine. — A great number of observations proves 
the secretion of lacteal moisture through the kidneys, the 
skin of the navel, the groin, thighs, back, ulcers, and peri- 
toneum, on inflammation of the peritoneum which had 
arisen in consequence of suppressed lacteal secretion. In 
that mode of formation of jaundice where the action of 
the liver (as subsequently shown by dissection) has been 
arrested, the secretion of bile must take place in the 
minutest blood-vessels, since all the organs, even fibrous 
tissue, cartilage, bones, and hairs, are penetrated by the 
coloured constituents of bile. 

A very remarkable phenomenon is the constancy of 
the temperature of warm-blooded animals under the most 
varied changes of external circumstances. We are far 
from being acquainted with all the circumstances whereby 
this constancy is rendered possible; but this much is 
certain, that the most efficient, perhaps the only, factors 
independent of the animal itself, are the regulation of the 
quantity of food, the excretions, and respiration. Now, 
since the constant temperature of a class of animals is 
manifestly that most favourable for its chemical processes, 
we must recognise an act of nature's sanative power in every 
act of the organism which accommodates the conditions to 
changing circumstances. The observation that the quan- 
tity of cutaneous as of pulmonary respiration (of carbonic 
acid and water) varies in brief intervals without percep- 
tible cause, but in longer intervals of several hours remains 
pretty constant, is manifestly connected with this. 

Noteworthy is the mechanical and chemical capacity 
of resistance on the part of living tissues, which imme- 
diately ceases with death. It is best observed in the 
stomach and intestines. The gelatinous Medusas digest 
animals provided with spiny cuirasses without beino- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 159 

injured ; the stomachs of birds comminute pieces of glass 
and bend iron nails without being wounded (for stomach- 
wounds notoriously heal very slowly, and would accord- 
ingly not easily escape observation). The intestinal canal 
of Plaice and Blennies is often entirely stopped up with 
sharp mussel-shells, and after death is cut through with 
a little shaking. As a greater mechanical solidity of the 
living tissue is not to be thought of, these phenomena are 
only explicable by reflex movements, in consequence of 
which the part threatened on occasion of a movement 
of the sharp object gives way, and the other parts bring 
the sharp object into a less dangerous position. Just as 
wonderful is the resistance which the stomach opposes 
to the chemical attacks of a particularly pungent gastric 
juice. There are examples where the degenerated gastric 
juice began immediately after death to destroy the stomach, 
and also decomposed a fresh animal's stomach, without 
any injury occurring during life. The like takes place 
in other acrid secretions and their secretory organs. 

After these examples, let us proceed once more to the 
refutation of some objections to the vis medicatrix as a 
purposive manifestation of unconscious volition and idea- 
tion. Although I think that I have proved by many 
reasons the utter insufficiency of materialistic attempts 
at explanation, still it seems important once more briefly 
to indicate the unsatisfactory character of the two chief 
materialistic arguments. They run thus : (1.) The exist- 
ing assimilates the freshly added material by catalysis 
and cell-growths ; and (2.) the constitution of every secre- 
tion is dependent on the constitution of the nutritive fluid 
and the secreting membrane. 

The first statement is refuted by the fact that new 
formations take place in the body at different times, 
which receive no assistance from similar tissues, because 
they either altogether, or at this particular part of the 
organism, appear for the first time, e.g., at the different 
stages of embryonic development, birth, puberty, and 



160 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

pregnancy. But besides the fresh formations and secre- 
tions, several secretions are periodical, whether normally 
or morbidly, and then also the recurrence of the secretion 
cannot arise from the contact of the secretion, since this 
is non-existent. In the same way the regeneration of 
solid structures is not directly dependent on the seat of 
development. Thus, e.g., we have seen that the neoplasm 
for the required renovation of the bony mass has also in 
great part exuded from the other neighbouring tissues. In 
the same way mucous membrane is formed in fistula?, and 
skin on granulations without contact with similar tissues. 
As little, then, as one can fail to acknowledge, on the one 
hand, that this principle of assimilation by catalytic action 
offers a remarkable expedient for husbanding energy in 
the economy of the organism, so little, on the other side, 
can the facts be ignored, which show that the unconscious 
will can produce a state of things in the organism wherein 
products may be formed according to chemical laws, which 
are not caused by adjoining similar tissues, but which are 
most accurately adjusted to the present life-stage or mo- 
mentary need of the organism. 

As concerns the second point, the dependence of the 
secretion on the secreting membranes, this principle is 
likewise in general correct ; only one must not forget that 
the difference of the secretions of one and the same organ 
at different times, the fresh introduction of secretions at 
certain vital stages, the intermittence and recurrence of 
others, as well as the doctrine of vicarious secretions, still 
leaves open the question with regard to the inconstant 
character of the secreting membranes ; that thus the phe- 
nomenon is correctly explained so far as its proximate 
efficient cause is concerned, but that this efficient cause, 
on its side, only admits one ultimate explanation, namely, 
an ideal one. With such provisional explanation the man 
of science has done his nearest duty, and nobody will 
impugn it, if he only grants that the question is just as 
open as before, if only he does not assert that he has 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 161 

achieved everything by this proximate explanation, for then 
he immediately comes into collision with the facts. 

Another objection is, that the procedure of the organism 
is not always suitable, but that the same phenomena which 
at one time effect a cure at another time produce disease, 
or aggravate an existing morbid condition. I hold this 
to be entirely untrue. I assert, on the contrary, in the 
first place, that diseases never arise spontaneously from the 
psychical basis of the organism, but that they are imposed 
and thrust on it by disturbances from without; and, secondly, 
that all the changes effected by the organism in the normal 
condition of its functions with direct reference to these 
disturbances are adapted to their removal ; assertions which 
I shall at once proceed to make good. 

The first question is, What is disease ? Disease is 
not abnormity of form, for there are abnormal forms, as 
giants, dwarfs, excessive number of fingers, irregular course 
of veins, which nobody accounts diseases. Disease is not 
a state which endangers the continued existence of the 
organism, for many diseases do not do this. It is not a 
state which causes pain and trouble to the consciousness 
of the individual, for this, too, is not the case in many 
diseases. Disease is an abnormity in the organic functions, 
which certainly may have abnormities of structure both 
as cause and as consequence. In the former case we are 
wont to term even abnormity of structure disease. Taken 
strictly, however, another abnormity of the functions must 
have preceded this abnormal formation as its cause ; for as 
long as all functions are exercised normally, the occurrence 
of abnormal formations is impossible. E.g., phthisis may 
be caused by tubercles ; these can be inherited, but in the 
individual from which the tuberculosis of the family takes 
its rise, the tubercles, in case they are not again inherited 
or grafted by contagion (through tuberculous nurse's milk, 
milk of tuberculous cows, inhalation of the products of 
decomposed pulmonary tubercles, &c), must necessarily 
have arisen through abnormal functions. "When thus we 

VOL. I. L 



1 6a PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

investigate into the cause of a disease, we must in every 
case come back, in the last resort, to an abnormity of 
function with normal structure of the functioning organs ; 
for as long as structural abnormities co-operate, we have 
not tracked the causal series to the end. 

If we now ask how the primary cause of all diseases, 
abnormity of function with normal structure, is possi- 
ble, experience and speculation agree in answering, Only 
through disturbance from outside, but not from within 
through a spontaneous psychical act of the organism. 
These disturbances may be of very various kinds : — (i.) 
Mechanical influences, as all kinds of inner or outer in- 
jury. (2.) Chemical influences, (a) through the intro- 
duction of substances which directly disturb the normal 
relations by causing new combinations, e.g., in poisoning 
by arsenic, sulphuric acid, most mineral medicines ; (b) 
through chemical contagion, infection in the widest sense, 
also by atmospheric changes which predispose to diseases 
not properly infectious. (3.) Organic influences, intro- 
duction of (microscopically minute) vegetable or animal 
organisms, which, feeding on the body and propagating, 
disturb the chemical composition or the morphological 
cell-structure of the affected organism. In many diseases 
it is still doubtful whether their infectious character is to 
be referred to chemical action by contact or to organic germs 
(e.g., plague, syphilis, variola, diphtheria, typhoid fever, 
cholera, intermittent fever, &c), although the latter is ever 
gaining more probability. (4.) Abnormity in the propor- 
tion of the ingesta and egesta. If the latter preponderate, 
there ensues loss of bulk, weakness, &c. ; if the former, 
generally hypertrophy, which is manifested in different 
forms according to the matters in excess (tubercles, 
scrofula, gout, obesity, &c.) (5.) Unsuitable quality of the 
ingesta, producing disturbances in the digestive organs, 
and through abnormal composition of the blood also in the 
nutrition. Bad air can in this way, by altering the com- 
position of the blood, produce putrid fever, &c. (6.) Im- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 163 

proper modes of living, e.g., absolute inaction of a muscle 
produces weakness and atrophy, since its alimentation 
is based on the supposition of movement. Sedentary 
occupations disturb digestion on the same ground, and 
transference to a foreign climate demands accommodation 
of the body to the new environment, or is followed by 
disease. (7.) Inherited bodily defects or tendencies to 
disease. Here the primary external causes of the disease 
are to be found in the act of generation, where the trans- 
mission is effected, and all succeeding members of the 
family inheriting the disease receive at birth the fatal 
germs as their portion on the journey of life, which the 
remedial energy of Nature is just as little able to cope 
with, as a chronic illness directly aroused by outer dis- 
turbances. 

I believe that all diseases may be referred to these or 
similar disturbances, if it be always at the same time 
borne in mind that one has to go back to the first cause 
of the phenomenon, and not to consider the superficial 
symptoms of the disease itself. Nay, even the latter is 
frequently already an act of the vis medicatrix, the crisis 
of a series of preceding diseases or abnormities, which are 
only more or less withdrawn from consciousness (thus, e.g., 
in all eruptive diseases, gout, fevers, inflammations, &c.) 
The vis medicatrix, with its crises, sometimes even anti- 
cipates the outbreak of that disease which must result 
from an abnormity of formation (as, e.g., in the killing and 
evacuation of the foetus which could not be born) ; and so 
far it is correct that phenomena are called forth through 
spontaneous psychical acts of the Unconscious in the 
organism, which we term disease, because they are abnor- 
mal, and in part painful processes. In that case, however, 
they only obviate a more dangerous disease ; they are the 
choice of a lesser evil intentionally called forth to avoid a 
greater one, and are thus, strictly regarded, processes not of 
disease, but of healing. It may also happen that death 
ensues in this spontaneously evoked crisis, because the 



i6v PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

unconscious will does not possess sufficient power for get- 
ting the better of the disturbances; but then it would 
quite certainly have occurred without the test of a crisis, 
whilst there was the bare possibility of the vis medicatrix 
being victorious. Should some diseases still remain inex- 
plicable as external derangements, this would not impair 
the correctness of the principle that the psychical basis 
of organic formation cannot become diseased, for almost 
all the facts tell in favour of this principle, and none 
against it, since the tracing back of the few exceptions to 
external disturbances may be expected from the science 
of the future. I cannot, therefore, adopt the hypothesis 
set up by Carus to explain the similarity of diseases, viz., 
that the Idea of the organism is, as it were, seized and 
possessed by the Idea of a disease. The fact seems to me 
sufficiently explained by the similar reaction of similar 
organisms on similar disturbances; and, in truth, the same 
disease never wears precisely the same appearance, but is 
at least as different as the individuals themselves. This 
circumstance alone tells against the above hypothesis, that 
no pathological formation has yet presented itself, which 
has not its prototype in normal physiological formations. 
Virchow says (Cellularpathologie, p. 60) : " There is no 
other kind of heterology in morbid tissues than the 
improper mode of origination, and the impropriety con- 
sists in this, that a tissue is produced at a place or 
time when it should not have been produced, or in a 
degree which deviates from that of the typical form. 
Every heterology is then, more exactly characterised, a 
heterotopy, an aberratio loci, or an aberratio temporis, a 
heterochrony, or, lastly, a merely quantitative deviation, 
heterometry." The theory of ideal types of disease, which 
take possession of organisms, could only have a certain 
figurative authorisation where animals or plants are the 
causes of disease, as in prurigo, rot, corn-blight, &c, i.e., in 
the science of parasites, in the modern sense of the term. 
As concerns the so-called mental diseases, the tradi- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 165 

tional, and, in spite of opposition, still generally accepted 
view, is, that every disturbance of conscious psychical 
action is produced by a disturbance of the brain, as the 
organ of consciousness, whether this cerebral disturbance 
be brought about directly or through disease of the spinal 
cord and nerves. Even where psychical shocks bring on 
mental disease, we must probably assume a cerebral dia- 
thesis, mostly inherited, which is only revealed by such 
an exciting cause. Without doubt, even in these cases, a 
disturbance of the brain is to be assumed as the cause of 
the disturbance of consciousness, this disturbance of the 
brain being provoked, indeed, not by a material, but by 
a psychical shock, but at all events produced by an 
external influence, of which the conscious mental states 
are only reporters and interpreters. The proposition that 
the Unconscioios itself neither falls sick nor can produce 
sickness in its organism, but that all sickness is the 
result of a disturbance from without, thus remains unim- 
peached. 

As for the second point, the doubtful propriety of the 
precautions of the vis medicatrix against disease, the most 
important factor, which must not be left out of sight, is 
the limitation of the power of the will in mastering its 
circumstances. If the will of the individual were omni- 
potent, it would not be finite and individual ; accordingly 
there must be disturbances which it cannot get rid of. 
As now the points in the organism which the will can lay 
hold of are likewise very limited, i.e., its power has very 
different limits in different parts, a preconceived end must 
naturally often be reached by the most wonderfully circui- 
tous paths, so that the representation of the end with the 
means employed by the organism often entirely escapes 
the unpractised eye, and is only understood by the pro- 
founder glance of science, which perceives the impossibility 
of shorter cuts to the goal. As now scientific Physiology 
and Pathology are still so young, one need not be surprised 
if they even yet have only penetrated a very little way 



1 66 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

into the operations of organic life, and if they must often 
have to put up with a guess concerning the multitude of 
connecting links, but also, and more frequently, fail to 
settle the question whether there might not have been 
a still more appropriate course than the one actually 
chosen. Every perceived adaptation is proof positive of 
psychical action not to be invalidated, but a thousand 
ill-understood connections of cause and effect can afford 
no negative argument against the existence of a psychical 
basis. This is by no means, however, the state of the 
case, but in almost all instances where we see a manifestly 
unsuitable action on the part of the organism, we can 
render a satisfactory account of the phenomenon. The 
spontaneous origin of disease, which might also have been 
included in the list, has been already dealt with. A great 
number of other cases are accounted for as follows : — The 
means offered for getting rid of the disturbance do not 
conform to the intentions of the organism, because dis- 
turbances from other quarters prevent this, so that by a 
second malady the efforts to suppress the first are rendered 
fruitless. This case is of very frequent occurrence, only 
it is often difficult to discover the second disturbing cause, 
which may be very deep-seated, and at the same time be 
very insignificant in itself. In the last resort it is then 
always again the insufficient power of the individual will 
(in the present instance in setting aside the second disturb- 
ance), whereby the means applied are misdirected, and do 
not lead to the goal. A special case of insufficient power is 
when, on a particularly intense strain in a certain direc- 
tion, the will is not able to keep within definite bounds. 
Thus, e.g., in the healing of a broken bone, when an active 
tendency to the formation of bone is required, the sur- 
rounding portions of muscle and sinew mostly become 
ossified also; but in that case the organism afterwards 
repairs its error as far as possible ; thus, in the present 
instance, the ossified contiguous parts are reduced after 
healing to their normal condition. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 167 

How limited is the power of the individual will is also 
shown by the following example: — During pregnancy, when 
the unconscious will must be concentrated on the forma- 
tion of the child, occasionally osseous fractures will not at 
all heal, whilst after a successful delivery they heal quite 
well. 

The last possible objection would be this : The appro- 
priate reaction follows on every disturbance in virtue of a 
mechanism provided for the creature, without the partici- 
pation of the individual pysche. Whoever has followed 
my exposition thus far will require no refutation of this. 
We have seen the impossibility of a material mechanism ; 
that of a psychical one is evident to any one who weighs 
the endless multiplicity of the disturbances which occur, 
and considers that the function of each single organ, as 
of the whole body, is no other than that of ceaselessly 
warding off and neutralising approaching disturbances, and 
that only in this way is existence maintained. Accord- 
ingly, if the fitness of these compensations for the purpose 
of self-preservation be once granted, it is impossible to 
avoid the idea of an individual providence, for it can 
only be the individual itself that conceives the purpose 
according to which it acts. The truth which emerges so 
clearly in this and the foregoing chapter cannot fail to 
reinforce the refutation of the same objection in the case 
of Instinct, since we have already recognised a fundamental 
resemblance. It would be folly to suppose a special in- 
stinctive faculty, a special faculty for reflex movement, a 
special faculty for the vis medicatrix, since in all these phe- 
nomena we have perceived nothing more than an adaptation 
of means to an end unconsciously presented and willed, 
and it is only the different kinds of exciting external cir- 
cumstances that call forth different classes of reactions, 
whereby, however, the differences are not so pronounced that 
they do not shade into one another. That the healing ope- 
rations in the organism are not results of conscious think- 
ing and willing will be doubted by nobody who reflects how 



1 68 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

small a share his consciousness has had in the healing of 
a 'wound or a fracture ; nay, the most powerful curative 
effects take place at the time when consciousness is as far 
as possible in abeyance, as in deep sleep. To which may 
be added, that the organic functions, so far as they are at 
all dependent on nerves, are regulated by sympathetic 
nerve-fibres, which are not directly subject to the con- 
scious will, but are innervated by the ganglionic centres 
from which they spring. If, nevertheless, there reigns in 
the organic healing functions so wonderful a harmony 
tending to a single goal, this can never be explained by 
the material inter-communication of these different ganglia, 
but only by the unity of the over-ruling principle, the 
Unconscious. 



( 169 ) 



VII. 

THE INDIRECT INFLUENCE ON ORGANIC FUNCTIONS OF 
CONSCIOUS PSYCHICAL ACTIVITY. 



i. The Influence of the Conscious Will. 

(a.) Muscular Contraction. 

Muscular contraction is manifestly by far the most impor- 
tant organic function dependent on conscious volition, for 
it is that whereby we move and act on the external world, 
through which we communicate in speech and writing. It 
takes place through the influence of the motor nerves, by 
a nerve-current flowing from centre to periphery, a current 
which is evidently related to the electrical and chemical 
streams, as we find them to be convertible, and of whose 
intensity we can form no mean idea when we see the con- 
tracted muscles of the athlete, attached to the long lever 
arms of the limbs, moreover, sporting with hundredweights, 
and then consider what colossal galvanic currents would 
be required to lift such a load with an electro-magnet. 
We have already seen that any muscular movement is 
explicable only by the repeated intervention of uncon- 
scious volition and thought, because otherwise it would 
not be apparent, how the motor impulse could affect the 
part of the nervous centre answering to this consciously 
represented movement rather than any other. We have 
further seen that the more immediate centres for most 
movements lie in the spinal cord and medulla oblongata, 
and that these movements are there so determined 



170 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

and ordered that they are to be looked upon as reflexes of 
these centres, occasioned by the stimulus of a relatively 
small number of fibres proceeding from the cerebrum, so 
that the first motor impulse must be referred to the central 
endings of these fibres in the cerebral hemispheres. It may 
well be that several of such reflex actions take place in 
different nerve-centres more and more remote from the 
brain before a complex movement is executed, that, e.g., 
in walking, at first some few fibres carry the impulse over 
from the cerebrum, where the conscious will to walk 
arises, to the cerebellum (the organ which is said to co- 
ordinate the larger motor groups), that then from there 
a larger number of fibres carry forward the impulses to 
different centres of the spinal cord, and finally to the 
crural nerves. On occasion of every such reflexion the 
unconscious willing and conceiving of the specific motor 
instinct of the particular centre chimes in, and thus it 
becomes explicable how such complex movements run 
their course appropriately and orderly without any mental 
effort whatsoever. In every centre the impulse is felt as 
stimulus and converted into a new impulse, so that in the 
strictest sense we can only speak of the motor nerve- 
current from the last centre. 

The question now arises, how the will is able to produce 
the innervating current. "We can only fall back on the 
analogies of the related and (physically) better known 
currents, and on the a priori suggestion, that the entire 
apparatus of the motor nervous system has probably been 
inserted in the organism with the object of makino- it 
possible for the will to produce the necessary mechanical 
effects with the smallest possible mechanical effort • in 
other words, that the motor nervous system is a mechani- 
cal power like the winds, or more truly as the wall- 
shattering ordnance, to which the individual man has 
only to apply the match. To produce mechanical motion 
without mechanical energy is impossible, but the energy 
which ushers in the movement may be reduced to a 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 171 

minimum, and the remaining part of the work can be 
handed over to forces previously stored up for use. In 
artillery this is the chemical energy of the powder, in 
the animal that of the food, which therefore must stand 
in the same relation to muscular energy as the quantity 
of powder to the force of the shot. Without some me- 
chanical energy, however, the stored-up forces cannot be 
liberated from their imprisoned state; accordingly the 
will must, at all events, be made capable of performing 
mechanical work. If, however, the quantity of this 
energy were of no consequence, it could put the muscles 
into motion directly ; we must therefore assume that the 
critical point of the motor system consists in this : How 
to reduce the necessary mechanical performance of the 
will to a minimum, — somewhat as the regulating of the 
levers by the engineer represents a minimum of effective 
energy in relation to the performances of the steam-engine. 
Looking now at the current which doubtless has most 
affinity with the nerve-currents, viz., the electrical, we 
must, in the first place, exclude the mode of origin by 
mechanical influences (as friction) or heat, because the 
former would be just the opposite of what we are in search 
of, and the latter likewise consists of vibrations with con- 
siderable mechanical oscillation of the atoms. We must 
in any case disregard modes of production which depend 
on displacement of the molecules, and keep to such as 
require only a rotatory motion of the same, since rotation 
requires infinitely less application of force than displace- 
ment. Here the results of nerve-physiology come to our 
aid, which show that, whilst the motor-current is traversing 
the nerves, all the molecules of the latter exhibit an elec- 
trical polarity in the same direction, as in the magnet, 
whilst in the completely indifferent state (which, it is true, 
does not occur during life) the polarities of the molecules 
have no definite arrangement, as in non-magnetic iron, and 
thereby neutralise one another. We learn from these 
experiments that the nerve-molecules possess polarity, and 



172 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

that the poles, by rotation of the molecules, may be brought 
into the same direction. As the iron rod, surrounded by 
a wire, becomes magnetic as soon as a galvanic current 
traverses the wire, so, if in any way the iron were suddenly 
magnetised, a galvanic current would be called forth, in 
the wire. In an analogous way, through rotation of the 
molecules, so that their polarities are turned in the same 
direction, is a nervous current produced. 

We see in Physics that the polar oppositions of the 
molecules are the foundations of all the phenomena which 
we designate chemical, galvanic, frictional-electrical, mag- 
netic, &c. ; we have therefore no reason to doubt that many 
similar phenomena have the same origin, and that one of 
these is the nerve-current. The rotation of the mole- 
cules in the centres is thus the minimum of mechanical 
work, which is left to the will, and the polarity of the 
nerve-molecules is the reserved mechanical energy, which 
liberates the store of mechanical power in the muscles, 
which is exhausted by prolonged activity, and is again 
restored in repose through the chemical replacement of 
material. Thus every organism is comparable to a steam- 
engine ; it is, however, also at the same time stoker and 
engine-driver, nay, repairer also, and, we shall subsequently 
see, even its own fabricator. 

As the mobility of the molecules is in all respects 
greater in the fluid state of matter than in the solid, nerves 
are semi-fluid ; but as, when encountering an external 
shock, the molecules of fluids do not keep their places, but 
are subject to considerable displacement, nerves are not 
quite fluid; and hence structures, which carry on operations 
analogous to the nervous, are the better fitted for their work, 
the more they possess such a semi-fluid constitution as 
well as polarised molecules. Accordingly the gelatin- 
ous bodies of the lower aquatic animals, all animal 
germs, the plastron, the earlier embryonic conditions, the 
clotted neoplasm, once in a state of plastic fluidity, from 
which all new formations of the vis medicatrix proceed, 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 173 

and the protoplasm of the lower and higher plants, are 
adapted to this purpose. The first principles of nature 
being simple, we cannot doubt that also all other effects of 
conscious or unconscious will in organic nature depend on 
the same principle of molecular polarisation, especially as 
the constitution of the structures, in which the will is most 
directly manifested, is confirmatory of this supposition. 
Thus we cannot otherwise figure to ourselves the influence 
of the will in chemical processes, as in new formations 
from neoplasm or in the development of the embryo, than 
as a skilful use of the polarity of the existing molecules, 
partly in the heart of the formation itself, partly by means 
of currents conveyed to that quarter, which are generated 
elsewhere. 

We at the same time rise above the view that the nerves 
exclusively possess the capacity of conveying the determina- 
tions of the will, with respect to which there has been so 
much dispute. Both the analogies of nerveless animals, 
as well as the neoplasm and embryo, prove the possibility 
of voluntary action and sensibility without nerves ; but 
this does not preclude the view, that the nerves are the 
highest kind of tissue known to us which the will has 
created to facilitate its action, and that the organism 
furnished with nerves would as little avoid the employ- 
ment of the same to mediate its voluntary manifestations, 
as any one would drive across country instead of along 
the road. It is, moreover, clear from the foregoing that 
the power of the individual will could effect infinitely 
less with the same amount of effort, if the power-engine 
of the nervous system were not at its command. (Think 
of the efforts of incompletely paralysed bodily parts.) 
It would be, however, very hazardous to fix a limit for 
the exercise of will without the aid of nerves, since the 
intensity of volition in a certain direction and for a short 
time can occasionally prove a substitute for an auxiliary 
mechanism. I shall not point to examples of magic 
(turning of the magnetic needle by the mere will of the 



174 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

magnetiser and so forth), because they need stronger attes- 
tation for scientific purposes ; but various circumstances 
prove clearly enough that the sphere of action of the will, 
as well as of sensibility, extends even in Man beyond the 
range of the nerves. For example, the sudden turning 
grey of the hair on a violent emotion ; the ramification of 
the motor nerve-fibres in the muscles, according to which 
the muscular fibres themselves must be conductors of the 
motor current ; the sensibility of the skin throughout its 
entire surface, whilst the tactile papillae underlie it only 
here and there ; the action of the nerves on the secreting 
membranes in their whole extent, whilst the nerves can 
only touch limited parts ; further, the circumstance that 
even nerveless parts of the human body can be rendered 
sensitive and painful as soon as their vitality, i.e., the 
mobility and polarity of their molecules, is increased, owing 
to accelerated flow of blood and relaxation of tissue ; 
thus, e.g., the new flesh formed in healing wounds is in the 
highest degree sensitive without any nerves, and inflamma- 
tion of nerveless cartilage and sinews is even much more 
painful than inflammation of the nerves themselves. 
Lastly, examples of embryonic malformations show that 
parts may be formed without the co-operation of the 
nerves leading to them, e.g., skull-bones without brain, 
spinal nerves without spinal cord. 

(p.) Volitional Currents in Sensory Nerves. 

One kind of innervation- current we have already become 
acquainted with as the Eeflex Action of Attention. It 
may, however, be just as well called forth and strengthened 
voluntarily. The concentration of attention on the organs 
of generation may be followed by the greatest sexual 
excitement, and hypochondriacs sometimes feel pains in 
every part of the body to which they direct their atten- 
tion. It is said not unfrequently to happen that persons 
about to be operated on imagine they feel the pain of the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 175 

puncture before the operator's instrument has actually- 
touched them. If, when the eyes are closed, a finger be 
slowly brought to the tip of the nose, and the approxi- 
mation be very gradual, just before actual contact the 
imaginary contact is experienced as a sort of itching 
feeling. If I earnestly concentrate my attention on my 
finger-tips, I become aware of a distinct sensation therein, 
a kind of tickling also. In all these cases manifestly the 
presentation in the brain of the expected sensation, com- 
bined with the attention directed to the particular nerves, 
produces a peripheral current, which returns from the 
periphery to the centre as current of sensation, whether, 
as in the first examples, the sensation be essentially pro- 
duced only by the centrifugal current, or, as in the last 
example, the current only strengthens the ever-present 
stimuli, which are usually too weak to be perceptible. 

The first case also occurs on occasion of every sensuous 
perception without sense-impression. The vividness of 
the idea depends on the strength of the peripheral nerve- 
current, and this again partly on the interest (participation 
of the will) in the idea, partly on the individual disposi- 
tion. There are persons who by voluntary effort can call 
up visual images, e.g., of a friend, almost with the distinct- 
ness of a vision. In others the images always remain pale. 
If the volitional current flows unconsciously, the recurrent 
stream of sensation, when sufficiently vivid, presents itself 
as vision, just as in every dream. I therefore believe that 
there is no sensuous mental representation in the brain, 
which is not bound up with a current of innervation 
towards the particular sense-organ, although such current 
may not usually extend far beyond the central ending of 
the nerves of the organ. I think we must conclude this 
from the fact that the vision only differs from the actual 
sensuous presentation in degree, wherefore its mode of 
origin will likewise only differ in degree. We may also 
assume that the current of innervation radiates from cen- 
tre to periphery, and approaches ever nearer the sense- 



176 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

organ itself as the sensuous perceptions are more vividly 
represented; for persons who perceive indistinctly and 
weakly feel the strain of attention (which certainly is 
only a reflex strain of the cutaneous muscles) in the 
upper part of the head. The greater the faculty of sen- 
suous perception, the more, when attempting to form visual 
images, does this feeling of tension descend towards the 
forehead, in the extreme case reaching the eyes themselves, 
so that the latter feel just as fatigued after a persistent 
effort of imagination as after a long, steady gaze. 



(c.) The Magnetic Nerve Current. 

The fundamental phenomena of mesmerism or animal 
magnetism are at length to be looked upon as scientifically 
accredited. The electrical discharges of the electric ray 
and eel have long been notorious, and the perception that 
these effects proceeded from the grey nervous matter was 
in the main the occasion of the latter being regarded as 
the essential part of the nervous system. Nevertheless the 
admission of the perfectly analogous effects of the rnag- 
netisers was long resisted, because they were on the whole 
too weak to be distinctly perceptible to the physicist. I 
have, however, been repeatedly present at these experi- 
ments, and have secured myself from the risk of deception 
by the most careful investigation of the locality as well as 
of the person of the magnetiser. If the patient be placed 
upon an iron bedstead provided with a wire mattress, but 
in such a way that he is isolated from the metal by a 
woollen covering, a Leyden jar is in a certain measure 
produced, of which the bedstead forms one coating, the 
person lying thereon the other, and by the concurrent 
flow (influence) of the electricity of the bed towards the 
isolating surface, the electrical effect of the magnetisation 
is considerably enhanced. I have allowed myself to be 
magnetised in this way, and have distinctly perceived an 
emission of sparks causing a prickling sensation from the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 177 

hand of the magnetiser as it gently touched my skin, as 
if through his touch the chain of a weak induction current 
or of a rotating electrical machine were closed, but more 
irregular, according to the fluctuating exertion of the 
magnetiser. Whoever is acquainted with the feeling will 
know that it is hardly possible to mistake it. Any one 
that has ever known the skin-sensation thus produced, can 
without further trial distinguish with certainty the con- 
tact of a magnetising hand (the agent exerting sufficient 
pressure) from a non-magnetising contact, as I have had 
occasional opportunity to observe in my own person. 
Apart from the artificial increase of the electrical effect, 
the nerve-strengthening and vivifying power of mesmerism, 
stimulating all the vital functions, is well known, as well 
as the induction of wholesome sleep, and of favourable 
crises during the same. 

Although the electricity in these phenomena may be 
only a concomitant or a peripheral conversion of the proper 
magnetic force, it is still in any case related to these 
physical forces and the motor nerve current, and probably 
arises, like the latter, through the alteration of the polar 
condition of the molecules in the centres. It is, like move- 
ment, an indirect effect of conscious will (sometimes also, 
in the imposition of hands of saints, miraculous cures, &c, 
quite unconscious), but what exactly, i.e., directly, he does, 
and how he does it, the magnetiser knows as little when 
magnetising as on lifting his arm. There intervenes then 
here, as in all other descriptions of movement, an uncon- 
scious will, which brings it about that a magnetic current 
and no other arises, and that this is concentrated in the 
hands, and not in any other part of the body. (In order to 
become acquainted with this group of phenomena in its 
whole extent, Eeichenbach's " Odic- Magnetic Letters," and 
his larger work, " Sensitive Man," should be consulted.) 



VOL. I. M 



178 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

(d.) The Vegetative Functions. 

Sympathetic nerve-fibres probably regulate all the 
vegetative functions of the organism. Conscious will has 
no direct influence upon them, but we have seen that this 
is not the case even with the motor and sensory fibres, but 
that the direct agent is always an unconscious will. If 
now the conscious will has any influence at all on vege- 
tative functions, the cases are parallel, and the difference 
can only lie in the degree of facility with which, through 
the conscious willing of any effect, the unconscious will 
is evoked to institute means to bring about this effect. 
Thus, e.g., if I will a stronger salivary secretion, the con- 
scious willing of this effect excites the unconscious will to 
institute the necessary means, namely, it generates such 
currents in the sympathetic fibres which lead from the 
ganglionic endings to the salivary glands as produce the 
intended effect. This experiment will succeed pretty well 
with anybody. In like manner the formation of the 
secretions in the organs of generation is subject to the 
conscious will, which, when combined with the above-men- 
tioned voluntary excitement of the related sensory nerves, 
may even lead, in the case of irritable persons, to ejacula- 
tion without mechanical stimulation. Mothers are said to 
be able to produce through this will a more copious lacteal 
secretion, if the sight of the child arouses in them the will 
to suckle. The ability of many persons to blush and to 
grow pale voluntarily is well known, especially in the case 
of coquettish women, who make a study of it ; and there 
are, likewise, people who can perspire voluntarily. I now 
possess the power of instantaneously reducing the severest 
hiccough to silence by my mere will, whilst it formerly 
was a source of great inconvenience to me, and frequently 
would not yield to all the ordinary means. That a pain, 
e.g., toothache, may sometimes, through an energetic effort 
to subdue it, be soothed or put an end to, is well known, 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 179 

notwithstanding that, through the requisite attention, the 
pain is in the first instance increased. In the same way 
an irritation to cough, which has no mechanical cause, 
may be permanently suppressed. There have always been 
people, who have exercised a remarkable power over their 
bodies, professed jugglers, and such as have cultivated their 
will-force in other directions, philosophers, magicians, and 
penitents. From the evidence of these phenomena, I believe 
that we might possess a far greater voluntary power over 
our bodily functions, if we had only as much occasion 
from childhood upwards to institute experiments and to 
practise ourselves therein as is necessary in the case of 
muscular movements and mental images ; for as children 
we know as little how to set about bringing the spoon to 
the mouth as how to increase the salivary secretion. At 
the same time, however, it is evident that the connecting 
of the conscious and the unconscious will has been pur- 
posely made difficult in this department, because the 
intervention of the conscious will would generally only 
be injurious to the vegetative functions and not make 
matters better, and by such occupation would be uselessly 
diverted from its proper sphere of thought and external 
action. 

2. The Influence of Conscious Ideation. 

The conscious idea of a definite effect can often, without 
the conscious will, excite the unconscious will to employ 
the requisite means, so that the realisation of the conscious 
idea then appears involuntary. Physiology, which is 
obliged to take notice of these facts, but does not possess 
the conception of the unconscious will, sees itself driven 
to make the absurd assertion, that mere idea without will 
can be cause of an external event. But if one reflects 
upon it, one finds that nothing more is in fact thereby 
affirmed than that the notion " Idea " is in these cases 
imperceptibly widened to the conception "unconscious 



180 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

will," as discussed in Chap. iv. A. pp. 124, 125. I therefore 
do nothing more than call this unobserved extension of 
the general notion Idea by its right name, and represent 
it as an independent link in the process, since it must 
be manifestly inadmissible to introduce into a notion 
already established the marks of another equally fixed 
notion" in addition to its own. 

In the first line are ranged gestures and looks taken in 
the widest sense. In the idea which calls forth the look 
the effect is not at all included, to say nothing of the 
means for its production ; but the gestures entirely pre- 
sent the appearance of reflex actions, so invariably and 
uniformly do they follow in all individuals. How con- 
formable to a purpose they are is certainly clear, since 
without the necessity and universality of the gestures 
nobody would understand them, and without previous 
understanding by gestures a word-language would never 
have become possible, and dumb animals would be de- 
prived of every means of understanding one another; even 
by far the largest part of those endowed with voice would 
be deprived of their language. But even among men, 
wherever we mistrust the speech, we still hold to the 
expression of the speaker. I dispense myself from an 
enumeration of the phenomena in question, which may be 
gleaned from many sources. 

Mimetic movements, which are manifestly likewise 
reflex actions, form the second group of the phenomena. 
When we see an orator hotly declaiming, or when we look 
on at a duel, a fencing-match, a bold leap, or a dance, and 
are greatly interested in the affair, we make similar move- 
ments ourselves, so far as our attitude allows, or at least 
feel the impulse to make similar movements, even if we 
suppress it. In the same way the natural man is prone 
to sing the melody which he hears played. If we see 
anybody yawning, it is very difficult to avoid yawning 
ourselves ; and even more extensive convulsions, as St. 
Vitus's dance, epilepsy, often act infectiously on suscep- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 1S1 

tible persons through the mere view of them ; nay, they 
can even become complete epidemics of a sect or a tribe. 
Since in all these cases it is no material influence which 
forms the bridge, it can only be the idea of these move- 
ments which is so vividly excited by the spectacle that it 
rouses the unconscious will to execute them. Inasmuch 
as this process takes place within a nerve-centre, and the 
last effective act of will probably also becomes conscious 
in this centre, it comes under the notion reflex movement. 
The next group contains the influence of conscious re- 
presentation on the vegetative functions. The influence 
of the most dissimilar emotions on the functions of secre- 
tion are well known (e.g., vexation and anger on bile and 
milk, terror on urine or stool, voluptuous pictures on the 
semen, &c.) The idea of having taken medicaments (e.g., 
laxatives) often acts just as well as the medicaments them- 
selves. The imagination of having been poisoned may 
actually produce the symptoms of poisoning. Many 
Christian enthusiasts in the days of the martyrs really felt 
the martyrs' pains, as hypochondriacs really feel the dis- 
eases which they fancy themselves to have, and as young 
doctors sometimes think they have all possible diseases of 
which they hear. (There is a remarkable story told of one 
of Boerhave's pupils, who was obliged to give up the study 
on this account.) The surest way to be taken with an 
infectious disease is to be afraid of it, whilst the physician 
under like circumstances is very rarely attacked. Lively 
fear and the thought of sickness is of itself sufficient to 
cause the same, without any infection, especially if it be 
heightened by the terror of incurring risk. Throughout 
the whole of the Middle Ages there occur reports of 
wounds and bleedings in ascetic enthusiasts, and we have 
no reason to refuse credence to these accounts, when 
German, Belgian, and Italian physicians of the present 
century attest as eye-witnesses 1 spontaneous bleeding at 

1 See Salzburg Medical Journal of " Account of an Unusual Pheno- 
1814, i. 145-158, and ii. 17-26: menon in the Case of an Old Patient," 



i S3 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

certain times. "Why should not blood-vessels, if they 
permit blushing and occasionally allow blood-perspiration, 
so far dilate as to allow of bleeding through the skin ? 

Similar cases occur even in secular life. Ennemoser 
relates as a well-attested story a case where the strokes of 
a soldier condemned to run the gauntlet are said to have 
afflicted the body of his sister with like pains and ex- 
ternal cutaneous marks. The much-doubted fright of the 
pregnant likewise belongs here. Most physiologists reject 
the facts without more ado because they cannot explain 
them. Burdach, Baer (who relates the case of his own 
sister), Budge, Bergmann, Hagen .(the two latter in 
Wagner's " Handworterbuch ") thoroughly admit the facts ; 
Valentin, at any rate, does not dispute their possibility in 
general. J. Muller admits the fright of the pregnant in 
so far as it is said only to produce arrest of formation, but 
not as respects the effecting of changes at particular parts 
of the body. But now, on the one hand, almost every 
arrested formation is a merely partial one, and, on the 
other hand, we have so many examples, both of the in- 
heritance of quite partial marks, moles, as well as of partial 
changes in our own body (as fancied effect of poisons or 
drugs, wounds of stigmatics), that there is no reason to 
doubt such partial influence of the maternal mind on the 
soul of the foetus, the latter being still in process of organic 
formation. Whilst I thus recognise the fact of the " fright " 
of the pregnant, I by no means doubt that nine-tenths of 
such stories are nonsense, but in strictness very few well- 
attested cases would be sufficient. 

A great number of sympathetic or miraculous cures 
are allied to the occurrence of signs of poisoning after 
imaginary poisoning, and to the effects of drugs without 
any having been taken. As in those cases the idea of the 
effect evokes the unconscious will to procure the means and 

by Medical Counsellor and Professor Dr. F. Lefebvre, Professeur de 

v. Druffel at Munster. Further : Pathologie generale et de The'ra- 

" Louise Lateau, sa Vie, ses Extases, peutique a Louvain. Louvain Ch. 

ses Stigmates." Medical study by Peters, 1S70. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 183 

thereby the effect itself, so also here. What is peculiar to 
the case is the question in what way the unconscious will- 
ing of the means is produced through the idea of the effect. 
The conscious willing of the effect does not seem essential, 
for in the case of the fright of the pregnant, and in the 
occurrence of effects which are even dreaded, the conscious 
will can only be contrary, not favourable, and yet the un- 
conscious will and the effect make their appearance. On 
the other hand, another factor is indispensable in that 
part of the phenomena which proceeds from the personal 
will of the individual, and not (as with mother and foetus) 
magically through another will, namely, the belief in the 
occurrence of the effect ; for, as Paracelsus finely says, 
"Faith it is which locks the will." Where, therefore, 
the conscious will makes a show of opposition with the 
belief in its own power of resistance, there faith calls up 
an unconscious will which hinders the effect of tbe first 
idea. The question is only, which faith is stronger, that 
in the occurrence of the effect, or that in one's own power 
of resistance, according as the unconscious will inclines 
to the one or the other side ? The art in such cures is 
then only this : to inspire the belief in success, and be- 
cause men do not perceive this connection, perhaps also 
such rational belief would be too weak to be effective, 
over-faith must procure faith, and for that purpose all 
sorts of hocus-pocus are employed. Of the unconscious 
will the word holds literally true : " The more will, the 
more power ; " and this is the key to magic. 



( 1 84 ) 



VIII. 
THE PLASTIC ENEEGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

In the preceding sections we have not altogether been able 
to avoid anticipating the theme of the present chapter. 
This was owing to the intimate connection of the subjects 
successively treated with the principle of organic formation, 
being indeed at bottom illustrations of the same, so that 
the attempt to make any sharp division would only have 
resulted in the omission of some very remarkable pheno- 
mena. We have seen that the term which covers the 
larger number of facts is that of Instinct; but one may 
almost as easily include the phenomena under the notion 
of Reflex Action, for an external stimulus must always be 
present, upon which action almost of necessity follows, 
although the reflexes may be of a considerable degree of 
complexity. 

Equally well, however, may all the phenomena in dis- 
pute be regarded as effects of Natural Therapeutics, for 
only when the external stimulus is some extraneous op- 
posing substance can it act as a stimulus, otherwise it is 
uninfluential. The subduing of the material is, however, 
an act of the vis medicatrix. The special character of the 
formative principle would then have to be referred to the 
realisation of the Idea of the species at the appropriate 
stage of life, whilst Nature's remedial power would consist 
in the conservation of the realised Idea. It is obvious, 
however, that, on the one hand, the warding off of a dis- 
turbance is only possible by means of new formations, i.e., 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 185 

that the realised Idea cannot maintain itself except by 
development, by the realisation, that is, of a new stage of 
the Idea. ; and, on the other hand, that the realisation of 
a new stage of the Idea involves a series of struggles and 
self-preserving acts. This is so because all points of the 
organism are threatened with disturbance at every mo- 
ment ; and therefore, in the third place, the moulding and 
constructive instincts, no less than the plastic energy with- 
in the body, work according to fixed ideas, which must 
be unreservedly looked upon as integral elements of the 
Idea of the class. Nay, in the wider sense, all other in- 
stincts must be conceived as realisations of special aspects 
of the type ; for the typical idea of the nightingale would 
be incomplete if the particular note were omitted, as 
that of the ox without butting, or that of the wild boar 
without the gnashing of the tusks, or of the swallow 
without the semi-annual migration. 

It accordingly only remains for us, in the first place, to 
make a few remarks with respect to the appropriateness 
of the organising impulse, and, secondly, to show how the 
instances of the plastic energy shade imperceptibly into 
the previously considered manifestations of the Uncon- 
scious. 

As concerns the adaptations of organic life, on the 
one hand, goodly volumes might be written on this point 
alone, and, on the other, the greatest caution is required 
with respect to teleological considerations in detail, teleo- 
logy having already fallen somewhat into discredit, owing 
to the numerous ends that have been foisted on Nature 
by self-conceited minds, which not seldom verge on 
the ridiculous and absurd. We can therefore only here 
throw out some brief hints, which the rather suffice for 
our purpose as at the present day the knowledge of every 
educated person is sufficient for their elaboration. 

I start from this — that the raising of consciousness 
presents itself as the purpose of the animal kingdom. 
Whether one seeks the end of this clearer consciousness 



1 86 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

in an increase of enjoyment, or of knowledge, or finally of 
an ethical moment, the elevation of consciousness always 
remains the direct end of all animal organisation (comp. 
Chap. xiv. C.) Why, generally, the embodiment of the 
mind should form the condition for the origin of con- 
sciousness we shall see later on (Chap. iii. C), but the ques- 
tion we have now to ask is, Why this separation of organic 
Nature into animal and vegetable kingdoms ? The first 
reason is that for the conversion of inorganic into organic 
matter, and of the lower into higher organic combinations, 
there is required such an exertion of unconscious psychic 
force that the same individual possesses no further energy 
for inward growth, because its force is used up in the 
vegetal processes. Only when in the main no further 
advance in the organic chemical composition of matter is 
required, but on the average a mere maintenance at the 
stage already attained, or a mere direction of the sponta- 
neous tendency to relapse to lower stages is desired, only 
then does the individual retain the necessary surplus 
energy to form the pre-existing matter into the artificial 
structure of the organs of consciousness, and to urge on 
the process of inward mental development to the utmost. 
Hence the separation of Nature into the producing vege- 
table kingdom and the consuming animal kingdom. But 
now producer and consumer might still be conceived 
united in a single being, the vegetable half of the organism 
forming the materials, by the use of which the other animal 
half develops its consciousness. The second reason for 
the separation of animal and vegetable kingdom is opposed 
to this, however. Namely, it is evident that an animal 
bound to the soil on which it grows (as the transitional 
forms of lower aquatic animals to the vegetable kingdom 
show) is capable of no extensive experience, and thereby 
of no higher mental development ; locomotion therefore 
becomes imperative as a condition of a higher sta^e of 
consciousness. But now, if the materials of which organic 
matter is formed (i.e., matter alone fitted to support a 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 187 

higher consciousness) must for the most part be drawn 
from water permeating the soil, and an underground ab- 
sorbing surface of considerable extent (root fibres) is neces- 
sary for this purpose, it is clear, that no creatures of the 
higher grades of consciousness can directly arise from in- 
organic nature, since locomotion is impossible with such 
a subterranean arrangement. "We see, then, the reason 
for the mobility of animals and the stability of plants, 
and in general the ground of a division of the two 
kingdoms. 

Animals must then seek their food, and need for that 
purpose not only motor organs, but also organs to enable 
them to distinguish between the substances appropriate 
and inappropriate for their nutrition, and to execute their 
movements with accuracy. These are the organs of sense. 
Further, the organism can only assimilate matter by 
absorption; this must therefore be in a liquid form. 
The food of plants is already in this form, but that of 
animals is generally met with in a solid condition. These 
must therefore have organs in order to bring this solid 
food into the fluid state. This purpose is served by the 
digestive system, with its comminuting organs (mouth and 
stomach), its dissolving juices (saliva for conversion of 
starch into sugar, gastric juice for solution of albuminous 
matter, bile for partial saponification of fat, and pancreatic 
juice for all these purposes taken together), its long 
canals, and, finally, with its orifice for the evacuation of 
indigestible matters. The chyle vessels which absorb the 
chyme are the root-fibres of the animal. Since, on account 
of its incomparably greater dynamic performances, it con- 
sumes far more matter than the plant, provision must be 
made for a more speedy replacement. This purpose is 
served by the system of the circulation of the Mood, which 
constantly supplies to all parts of the organism new mate- 
rials in the most appropriate form for assimilation. As 
the chemical process in the animal is essentially a process 
of return to an earlier state, i.e., a process of oxidation, 



iSS PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

provision must be made for the necessary oxygen. Plants 
require no special organs for their reciprocal relations 
with the atmosphere, because their surface, unusually large 
in proportion to their content, sufficiently effects diffusion. 
In the animal, however, whose surface, for other reasons, 
must be many thousand times smaller than that of plants, 
the necessary quantity of oxygen must be introduced 
into the body through special internal organs of great 
superficial extent (bronchial plexus), permitting powerful 
ventilation, and through a rapid change of the adjacent 
strata of air by means of vibratile cilia, as well as 
through a constitution of the dividing membranes favour- 
able to diffusion. This process of oxidation at the same 
time engenders animal heat, which is a condition of the 
subtler changes of organic matter, or at any rate spares 
a great part of the expended energy for the psychical 
influence. 

Thus from consciousness as aim of animal life we have 
deduced the necessity of five systems — that of move- 
ment, of organs of sense, of digestion, circulation of the 
blood, and respiration. What determines the external 
form of the body as a whole is chiefly the locomotive 
system. Its fundamental principle is contraction, as we 
see already in ciliary movement and the movements of 
the lower aquatic animals. As soon, however, as the 
other systems have attained a certain degree of develop- 
ment, the contractile mass requires points of support 
in the body itself, in order to be able to perform par- 
tial movements better, and in more varied directions ; 
especially is this need felt by land animals (even the 
lowest). These points of support are obtained by means 
of a skeleton, which is first formed of thickened layers 
of epithelium or calcareous epidermic layers, afterwards 
in the Vertebrata of the bony skeleton. These solid 
parts serve at the same time for protection to the soft 
parts; thus, among the vertebrates, skull and spinal 
column protect the brain and spinal cord. The organs for 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. iSg 

external locomotion, even in animals tolerably low in the 
scale, are elaborated into special limbs, which exhibit the 
most varied modifications, in conformity with the ele- 
ments, the localities, and the particular food which may 
be assigned -the animal. — To facilitate the reciprocal 
influence of mind and body there is formed, as a sixth, 
the nervous system, of the significance of which mention 
has already often been made ; and finally, as a seventh, 
in the service not of the individual but of the race, 
there is added the reproductive system. 

This in outline would be the teleological deduction of 
the construction of the animal kingdom with conscious- 
ness as end, whereby the vegetable kingdom appears 
merely, or at least in the main, only as ancillary to the 
animal kingdom, in that, on the one hand, it prepares the 
means of subsistence, and, on the other, the materials of 
heat and oxygen; for the carnivorous animals also live 
on the vegetable kingdom, though indirectly. To prove 
in detail the fitness of the contrivances would, as said 
already, detain us far too long. I only call attention to 
the wonderful construction of the organs of sense, where 
the conformity to an end most strikingly appears. This 
is almost more the case with the organs of generation, 
where it is especially remarkable that, notwithstanding 
the greatest difference in other respects, these organs are 
always suitable to both sexes of a species, the rest of the 
bodily form also always allowing of sexual congress. The 
time of heat among animals is always so arranged that 
after the fixed period of pregnancy the young appear at 
the season when food is most abundant. In many cases 
special parts for the furtherance of sexual congress spring 
into existence at the time of heat, which afterwards again 
disappear. Thus, many insects get hooks on the sexual 
parts for firmly holding the female; the frog has wart- 
like prominences on the thumbs of the anterior feet, which 
it inserts into the body of the female ; the male of the 
common water-beetle, sucking-disks attached by stalks 



igo PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

on the three first tarsal joints — the female, on the contrary, 
furrowing of the wing-sheaths. 

Of special interest are the investigations of Dr. J. Wolf 
on the construction of the human os femoris, communicated 
in the 50th volume of Virchow's Archiv. That it forms a 
tube, because it can thus be lighter with the same solidity, 
was already well known. It is, however, new that the 
cross-beams and supports, arranged in regular curves 
(cutting one another at right angles), which break through 
the bony cavity at the upper and lower end of the bone, 
are so ordered that they exactly agree with those con- 
structions which are in accordance with the principles of 
mechanics, when the forces of pressure and of draught of 
the burdened human femur are taken into account, and the 
lines of pressure and draught in the interior of the bone 
are ascertained. Nature, in order to render innocuous the 
" shearing forces " tending to inner dislocation and dis- 
persion, has thus here realised in an unconscious way those 
technical rules of mechanics, as they have been applied by 
the conscious mind only in very recent times, and in a 
manner still far from perfect, in our modern iron structures 
(bridges, cranes, &c.) 

A common error is that of doubting the adaptation of 
organisms because certain conditions of fitness which we 
presume to lay down are not satisfied. That a perfect 
adjustment in every particular is impossible should in- 
deed be obvious to every one, for otherwise no disease or 
weakness would subdue the body ; it would be immortal. 
It would be childish to demand that a human cranium 
should sustain the blow of a hailstone as large as a fist, 
and declare it to be unsuitable to its purpose because it 
does not do so, since its adaptation for such exceptional 
cases would be accompanied by other and far greater in- 
conveniences. Of this kind, however, are most cases 
where it is asserted that organisms are ill contrived : they 
amount to this, that contrivances are wanting which would 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 191 

be appropriate in certain cases, but unsuitable in most 
other cases or relations. 

Another kind of alleged want of adaptation is due to 
the constancy of the morphological fundamental types, 
which forms a thoroughgoing natural law, and only 
places in a clearer light the unity of all organic forms — 
the unity of the whole plan of creation. It is the lex par - 
simonies, which is verified also in the fashioning of organic 
forms, in that Nature finds it easier to leave here and there 
innocuous superfluities than always to be making changes 
and executing new ideas : she prefers to stop at the 
greatest possible unity of the Idea, and only makes just 
as many modifications as are indispensably necessary. 
Of this kind are the rudimentary teats among male 
mammals, the eyes of the blind-mole, the caudal vertebras 
in tailless animals, the swimming-bladder of fishes which 
always live at the bottom of the water, the extremities of 
bats and Cetaceas, and so forth. 

Lastly, it should be remarked that we must recognise a 
clairvoyance of the Unconscious in the purposiveness of the 
creative impulse as in that of instinct, since all organs are 
developed earlier in the foetal life than they enter into use, 
and often even very considerably earlier {e.g., sexual organs). 
The child has lungs before it breathes, eyes before it sees, 
and can, indeed, have knowledge of future states in no 
other way than by clairvoyance, whilst the organs are 
being formed ; but this can be no objection to the plastic 
activity of the individual soul, since this is not a whit 
more wonderful than the clairvoyance of instinct. 

Let us now pass on to consider the close relationship of 
organic formation to the operations of instinct. — The nests, 
buildings, and holes which animals build and make are 
regarded by everybody as effects of instinct. The Teredo 
bores for itself with its shell a hole in wood, the Pholas in 
soft rocks ; the Arenicola bores in the sand, and cements 
the sand into a tube by means of the moisture secreted on 
the surface of its skin. Some small beetles form for their 



192 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

tender skin a covering of dust, sand, and earth ; the grubs 
of moths make for themselves tubes of hair or wool, 
■which they carry about with them. The larva of most of 
the Phryganese weaves with the threads produced from its 
spinning organs wood, leaves, shells, &c, into a tube, 
wherein it dwells, and which it carries about with it. 
The larva of the caterpillar needs no foreign material for 
spinning its cocoon, in order to maintain the necessary 
seclusion and rest for the future change. Here, then, 
the dwellings of animals, just as the web of spiders and 
the covering of skin which some beetle-larva? form of their 
excrement, is entirely formed by the organ itself. 

Nautilus and Spirula periodically emerge from their 
hemispherical shell and form for themselves a larger one, 
corresponding to their growth in the interim, which, how- 
ever, is united with the old one in such a manner that in 
process of time the shell of the animal consists of a series 
of such chambers, ever increasing in size. In a similar 
way the shells of snails grow with their growth, whilst the 
Crustacea? annually burst and throw off their shells by 
voluntary movement, just as the spiders, snakes, and lizards 
their skin, birds and mammals their feathers and hair, whilst 
the skin of the higher animals continually peels. — What 
we have seen hitherto in the structure as a whole can 
also be observed in the several parts, e.g., the operculum. 
A spider (Mygale cementaria) lives in a hollow in marl, 
which it makes fast with a door consisting of a dab of 
earth hinged on to the web. The vineyard snail in win- 
ter closes its dwelling with a lid, which it fashions together 
with its hinge from exudations of its own body, but which 
yet is not united in any way with its body. In other 
snails, on the contrary, the covering is permanently con- 
nected with the animal by means of muscular bands. 
Thus we have arrived at organic formation by a gradual 
passage from the building instinct, and can we believe 
that where the junction is so natural the fundamental 
principles are different? As instinct teaches squirrels 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 193 

and other animals to collect and garner more copiously 
when a cold winter is imminent, so dogs, horses, and game 
acquire in such years a thicker skin ; hut when horses are 
transferred to hot climates, after a few years they get no 
more winter hair. That the cuckoo imagines that its 
own eggs will have the colour of the eggs of the nest 
which it has elected to lay them in, has heen already re- 
peatedly mentioned. The instinct of the spider directs it 
to spin, the creative activity gives it the organ for spinning. 
The instinct of the working-hees leads them specially to 
collect, and the means of transport correspond thereto; 
they are even peculiarly favoured by possessing brushes on 
their feet to sweep together the pollen, and baskets for col- 
lecting. The insects, which in accordance with their in- 
stinct lay their eggs on freely creeping larvae, have formed 
for themselves only a quite short ovipositor; whilst others, 
which are compelled to lay their eggs in grubs that are 
deeply concealed in old wood (Chelostoma maxillosa), or in 
fir-cones, have very long ovipositors. The ant-eater, which, 
in obedience to its instinct, is directed to the white ants, 
and dies with any other food, has with this object heen 
furnished partly with short legs and strong claws for 
burrowing, partly with its long, narrow, toothless snout, 
provided with a filiform adhesive tongue. The owls, 
which are destined for night-prey, have their gentle, spec- 
tral flight, in order not to waken the sleepers. Beasts of 
prey, which, owing to their digestion, are instinctively 
destined for flesh-food, have been provided with the ne- 
cessary strength, speed, weapons, and keenness of sight. 
As instinct has taught many birds to conceal their nests 
by assimilating the colour of the same to the environment, 
so has the creative activity given protection to innume- 
rable beings by causing them to resemble their place of 
abode (especially parasites). Can it be really a different 
principle which implants the impulse for action, and 
bestows the means to give it effect ? 
Here is the place to refer once more to the phenomenon 
vol. 1. n 



194 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

of the formation of bubbles presented in Arcella vulgaris, 
which, although manifestly a result of the plastic energy 
of Nature, yet wears the appearance of an arbitrary exercise 
of instinct in suitable adjustment to the perceived external 
circumstances. 

As concerns reflex movements, we see a great number 
of the digestive processes effected by them. From the 
act of swallowing downwards, the peristaltic movements of 
gullet, stomach, and intestines are effected for the most 
part by reflex movements, in that the stimulus of the food at 
each spot gives occasion to further progress through appro- 
priate movements. In the same way the increase of the 
secretions of saliva, gastric juice, chyme, &c, occurring on 
the stimulus of food, is reflex action. The discharge of 
the mass of excretions likewise ensues through reflex 
action. We have seen above that reflex action is by no 
means mechanical, but an effect of the unconscious intelli- 
gence. 

We come now to the most important parallelism, that 
with the recuperative power of Nature. As we shall see 
in Chap. ix. C, propagation is only a modified species of 
plastic energy, a creation of such fresh formations as, on 
arriving at maturity, reproduce the types of the parental 
organism (no matter whether a distinct separation of the 
sexes take place or not). But now, since, as will be shown 
in Chap. vi. C, the conception of the organic individual is 
a very relative one, as in certain circumstances it is hardly 
to be determined whether the new product represents the 
type of the entire individual or only of a part, there is 
manifestly no natural break between the new formation 
of certain organs in one individual and the self -multipli- 
cation of a complex organism embracing several indivi- 
duals of a lower order, which unfolds a many-membered 
individual from a single serm. 

Another parallelism between propagation and the vis 
medicatrix consists in this, that unusual fertility of an un- 
protected species frequently serves as a means of main- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 195 

taining in the face of pursuers an existence which with- 
out this would be imperilled. The question is here then 
to a certain extent concerning a more intense application 
of the natural sanative force of the species as a collective 
whole, which provides for the sufficient reparation of an 
unusually severe loss by over-abundant propagation, i.e., 
formation of fresh individuals. This law is even discern- 
ible in the case of mankind, since after depopulating 
wars or epidemics there is perceived an increase of the 
percentage of births beyond the average. (Unfortunately 
the converse does not hold good with over-population, for 
then only increased mortality acts as regulator.) 

We have already considered how the maintenance of a 
constant temperature is one of the most wonderful achieve- 
ments of the organism, which can only be brought about 
by a marvellously accurate regulation of respiration, of 
egestion and ingestion. The future, however, must here 
be taken into account, namely, whenever future dis- 
turbances can be predicted through the occurrence of 
their causes. In conformity with this, we very soon 
see a correspondingly increased egestion follow every 
ingestion, before the blood can have received the new 
materials (e.g., immediately after drinking increased mic- 
turition or perspiration, increased salivary and bilious 
secretion on eating, independently of local stimulation 
of the organs). Since at every moment there takes 
place an alteration of the quantity of heat, however 
slight, the vis medicatrix or plastic energy must con- 
tinually be occupied even with this point alone. Fur- 
ther, there belongs to the digestion of all food a special 
kind of mechanical and chemical manipulation. We see 
that flesh cannot at all, or only imperfectly, be digested 
by herbivores, or plants by carnivores ; that bones can be 
digested by birds of prey, but not by crows ; that instinct 
assigns a single kind of food to many animals, without 
which they perish ; and that conversely among men and 
animals idiosyncrasies of the race, or of the individual, are 



196 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

found, owing to which certain materials remain unassimi- 
lated, and act injuriously on the organism. It follows 
from this that the digestion of every substance requires 
other conditions, and that it remains undigested or is 
injurious, if the organism is not in a position to establish 
these conditions. Accordingly, every act of digestion 
presupposes the inducing of particular conditions, without 
which it deranges the organism ; here then we have again 
a continual occupation of the vis medicatrix in warding off 
disturbances, or, if it be preferred, of the formative acti- 
vity in the assimilation of material. 

We have seen that in every injury the operation of the 
vis medicatrix or regeneration is only possible through re- 
formation, by the instrumentality of inflammation, which 
furnishes neoplasm, whence the parts to be replaced are 
developed. Just as much does every increase of one 
egestion upon the suppression of another depend on a new 
formation, namely, the now increased secretion of egestion. 

The whole nutrition of the body, in which, after com- 
pleted growth, the main function of the formative impulse 
consists, is one and the same with new formation, and is 
related to the renewal of all the parts of the body, as the 
continuous peelings of the skin in man to the periodical 
sloughing of snakes and lizards, i.e., nutrition is a sum of 
infinitely numerous, infinitely little, new formations ; new 
formation merely nutrition rapidly gaining ground, and 
therefore more obtrusive. Having thus already recog- 
nised the re-formation in regeneration as a purposed effect 
of the unconscious soul, the like must hold good of nutri- 
tion, if we are obliged to recognise this too, as we cannot 
help doing, to be in conformity with a purpose. Certainly 
the psychical influence is less claimed in the gradual 
process of nutrition than in rapid new formations, because 
catalytic action is more serviceable ; but that it can by 
no means be dispensed with is proved by the considerable 
disturbances of nutrition in the parts whose nervous con- 
nections with the centres of the ingoing sympathetic 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 197 

fibres have been cut (partly emaciation, partly deteriora- 
tion of the secretions, partly decomposition of the blood, 
in the more sensitive parts, as the eyes: inflammation 
and destruction). The capillary blood-vessels, from which 
by endosmosis the structures derive their nutritive fluid, 
may be ever so finely distributed, yet for every vessel 
there remains a relatively large area, in which the parts 
lying farthest from the vessel will also have to be cared 
for, also muscles, sinews, bones, and nerve-substance must 
frequently be equally provided for by the same vessel ; 
every particle must thus extract from the nutritive fluid 
that which suits it. But now if we know that, accord- 
ing to chemical laws, both the structures to be nourished 
as well as the nutritive fluid have constantly a tendency 
to decomposition, which they obey as soon as, through 
death, or even before, after great bodily weakness, 
the power of the unconscious soul over it has ceased, 
we cannot possibly believe that this assimilation in all 
its fine local gradations, such as is necessary for the 
continuance of the organism, can go on without any 
psychical influence. This chemical stability of the organic 
tissues is quite analogous to the constant mechanical 
tension in tonus ; both are only explicable by an infinite 
summation of small impulses antagonistic to natural de- 
composition and natural relaxation, and these impulses 
can only issue from the will. There thus follows from 
a priori considerations what is confirmed by empirical 
observation on division of nerves. 

But now suppose these two reasons, together with 
the identity of renovation and nutrition, were not found 
sufficiently to the point to prove the psychical influence 
in ordinary nutrition, and one assumed that the catalytic 
action of the existing tissues were a sufficient cause, still 
the question would arise, Whence comes this constitution 
of the cause ? Then one would be obliged to say, These 
structures have now this constitution because they for- 
merly had it. Thus, with further questioning, a point would 



198 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

be arrived at when the nature of the tissues would have 
become different, and this change would first have to be 
explained ; for this change is the reason why the structures 
were from that moment adapted to a purpose, and so re- 
mained in virtue of their constitution ; and since no mate- 
rialistic explanation exists for this adaptation, it must be 
ascribed to the purposive activity of unconscious will. 
But then this also becomes the cause of the maintenance 
of the adjustment, and the necessity of having recourse to 
a psychical influence is not removed, but only postponed. 
Setting aside that at every moment of life we stand at 
such a point of change, we might go back still farther, for 
the present constitution of the tissues is not conditioned 
merely by the change itself, but also by their consti- 
tution before the change. If we regressively follow this 
series, we arrive at the first origin of the structure, which 
requires an explanation, whilst in the course of develop- 
ment we must intercalate at least as many psychical in- 
fluences as there have been fresh adjustments. Now, as 
no structure of the organism is superfluous, but each has 
a definite purpose, which again serves as means to the 
preservation of the individual or the race, one will also 
see at this very commencement a purposive action of the 
will. And, as certainly as the first origin and the more 
considerable changes are important aids to the persistence 
and the nutrition of a structure, and facilitate the work of 
the will — nay, first makes it possible for the whole extent 
of the organism — so certainly are they not the sole condi- 
tions of nutrition, but the omnipresent unconscious will 
in the organism, together with the unconscious intelligence, 
is concerned in the smallest chemical or physical process 
simply because this organism is threatened in the smallest 
untoward event, if only by the tendency to chemical de- 
composition, and because in presence of these ceaseless 
material disturbances nothing else can maintain the equi- 
librium but a psychical influence. On the other hand, 
however, life is only possible when this psychical influence 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 199 

is reduced, for the ordinary processes, to a minimum, and 
the rest of the work is performed by means of appropri- 
ate mechanisms. These appropriate mechanisms we meet 
with everywhere in the body, but so contrived that the 
unconscious will reserves to itself at every moment the 
modification of the purpose (e.g., in different stages of de- 
velopment), as well as the independent interference with 
the wheels of the machine, and the immediate execution 
of a task to which the mechanism is unequal. This can- 
not diminish, but only increase, our astonishment at the 
unconscious intelligence; for how much higher does not 
the being stand, which spares itself the recurring per- 
formance of a work by constructing an efficient machine, 
than one who is always doing the same thing over and 
over again with his own hands ? And in the last resort 
there always remains to the soul that unavoidable mini- 
mum of immediate work, because each moment brings 
other relations and other disturbances, and no mechanism 
can be adapted for more than one fixed class of relations. 
This, then, is the answer to all objections which might 
possibly have been urged in the course of this investiga- 
tion so far, with the notorious appeal to purposive mechan- 
isms : — (1.) The concept "mechanism" does not exhaust 
the facts, but the performances of a mechanism, when it 
exists, always leave a something over to be immediately 
performed by psychical action; and (2.) the fitness of the 
mechanism includes the fitness of its origin, and this again 
always remains the work of the soul. 

If, with the consideration that every organic event has 
two causes, a psychical and a material, we recede farther 
in the chain of material causes, we arrive in all strictness, 
whatever point of departure we may choose, at the first 
fertilised ovum as the final material cause. When the 
development of the ovum, wholly or partially, takes place 
within the maternal organism, the material influences of 
the latter also certainly co-operate ; but in the ova of fish 
and amphibia, which are fertilised outside the female body, 



200 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

this is never the case. In this regress it is, however, to 
be remarked, that the psychical causes become in general 
so much the more important than the material the younger 
is the individual (as we saw in the strength of the vis 
medicatrix). At a more advanced age the organism for 
the most part lives on the acquisitions of better times ; 
before puberty, on the other hand, it is ceaselessly occu- 
pied either with processes of simple growth or with pro- 
ducing new structures, and in the life of the embryo the 
importance of the psychical influences increases the earlier 
the period to which we recede. 

The just-fertilised ovum is a cell (consisting only of 
the yolk), the wall of which is represented by the vitelline 
membrane, the contents by the yolk, and its nucleus by 
the germinal vesicle. Among the higher animals the 
blastodermic vesicle within the germinal membrane (in 
man about one two-hundredth of a line) is the part from 
which alone the embryo, certainly with the assistance of 
the yolk, is developed. Every part of the egg exhibits a 
thoroughly uniform structure (partly granular with im- 
bedded droplets of fat, partly membranous and mucous), 
and these homogeneous elements suffice to produce, under 
generally similar external circumstances (brood-heat in 
birds, temperature of air and water with fishes and 
amphibia), the most diverse races with their finest differ- 
ences and their immense multitude of systems, organs, 
and tissues; for among the higher animals, the young, 
on emerging from the egg, contain almost all the tissues 
and differentiations of the adult animal. Here the 
influence of the will is most clearly manifested in the 
transformation of the elements, as one may see in the 
ova of fish a few hours after (artificial) fertilisation the 
meridional and equatorial furrowings of the whole yolk, 
with which the development commences, and which is 
followed by a number of parallel interlacings. During 
the greater part of the embryonic life the soul is 
occupied with the establishment of mechanisms which 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN BODILY LIFE. 201 

are destined later on to save in great measure the 
labour of moulding the material. We can see no 
reason, however, why we should not ascribe the new 
formations which here make their appearance, just 
as much as the new formations of after-life, to the 
purposive activity of the unconscious will; for the 
greater extent of these first formations, in comparison 
with the already existing body, can in truth estab- 
lish no qualitative distinction, and that the moment 
of the individualisation of the new mind, if such a one 
may be assumed at all, is that of fertilisation, can 
certainly not be involved in doubt. That, however, the 
mind in that period affords no indication of consciousness 
can neither excite astonishment, since it has first to form 
the organ of consciousness, nor can it be anything but 
helpful to its concentration on the unconscious perfor- 
mances, since, indeed, even in after-life, the power of the 
Unconscious is most* forcibly displayed when conscious- 
ness is entirely suppressed, as in remedial crises during 
deep sleep; and the embryo, indeed, lies too in deep sleep. 
If we, however, once more consider the question 
whether in general an unconscious will can produce 
bodily effects, we have in preceding chapters arrived at 
the conclusion that every action of the mind on the body, 
without exception, is only possible by means of an un- 
conscious will ; that such an unconscious will can be 
called forth partly by means of a conscious will, partly, 
also, through the conscious idea of the effect without 
conscious will, even in opposition to the conscious will. 
Why should it not, then, also be called forth through the 
unconscious idea of the effect with which here/even to 
demonstration, the unconscious will of the effect is bound 
up, because the effect is end ? But, lastly, that the mind, 
in the first period of embryonic life, must work without 
nerves, can certainly not militate against our view, since, 
indeed, not only in nerveless animals do we see all psy- 
chical effects follow without nerves, but even in the case of 



202 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

man have cited above sufficient examples of the kind, and, 
moreover, the embryo in the first period has just that 
semifluid structure of highly organised matter, which forms 
an excellent substitute for nerve-tissue proper. 

If now, in the first place, we perceive materialistic 
attempts at explanation to be insufficient ; if, in the second 
place, a predestined fitness of development appears im- 
possible, considering that any set of circumstances occurs 
only once in a lifetime, and yet each set of circumstances 
requires a novel reaction, and calls forth just that which 
is demanded ; if, thirdly, the only remaining mode of 
explanation, that this unconscious psychical activity itself 
appropriately forms and maintains its body, has not only 
nothing to be said against it, but has all possible analogies 
from the most different departments of physiology and of 
animal life in its favour, the verification of individual 
providence and plastic energy appears to be as scienti- 
fically certain as is possible in inferences from effect to 
cause. (Comp. further, Ges. philos. Abhandlungen, No. vi., 
" Ueber die Lebenskraft.") 

I close then this section with the fine words of Scho- 
penhauer : " Thus even empirically every being stands 
before itself as its own handiwork ; but the language of 
Nature is not understood, because it is too simple." 



B. 

THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 

" The key to the knowledge of the essence of the conscious life of 
the soul is to be found in the region of Unconsciousness." — C. G. 
Cakus. 



( 2°5 ) 



I. 

INSTINCT IN THE HUMAN MIND. 

Impossible as it is to draw a strict line of demarcation 
between body and mind, no less impossible is it to dis- 
cuss apart tbe instincts relating to our physical and to our 
psychical needs. Thus we have already in the preceding 
section alluded to several instincts of the human mind, 
as the capricious appetites of the sick or the pregnant, 
and the curative instincts of children or somnambules. 
A few others border on the bodily instincts, e.g., the fear 
of falling on the part of young animals and children, who, 
e.g., are quiet when carried upstairs, but become restless 
when carried downstairs ; the greater caution and circum- 
spection of the movements of pregnant horses and women ; 
the instinct of mothers to place the new-born at the 
breast, of children to suck ; the peculiar talent of chil- 
dren to distinguish genuine from feigned friendship ; the 
instinctive shyness in the presence of certain strangers 
which is wont to be manifested especially by pure, in- 
experienced girls ; the good and bad presentiments, with 
their great motive power to commit and omit actions, 
especially in the female sex, &c. — We shall consider 
in the present chapter those human instincts which 
are more connected with the bodily life, and to which, 
therefore, the name instinct is willingly accorded, whereas 
an empty sentiment of human dignity dictates the refusal 
of the term to all manifestations of the unconscious more 
remote from the bodily life, but otherwise perfectly analo- 
gous, on account of its animal associations. 



206 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

In the first place, we have to consider some instincts of 
aversion, i.e., such as do not compel to actions, but to 
omissions, or merely to those actions whereby the object 
of aversion is got rid of or avoided. The most important 
is the fear of death ; this is only a particular form of the 
instinct of self-preservation, other forms of which we 
already know as the vis medicatrix,j)la&tic energy, migratory 
impulse, reflex protective movements, &c. It is not the 
fear of the last judgment or other metaphysical hypotheses, 
not Hamlet's doubt of what will come hereafter, not 
Egmont's simple delight in being and doing, which re- 
strains the hand of the suicide, but instinct does it with 
its mysterious shudder, with its wild heart-beats chasing 
the blood madly through the veins. 

A second instinct of repulsion is Shame; it has such 
exclusive reference to the generative region that these 
bodily parts are even named after it. It appertains in an 
especial degree to the female sex, and excites in them a 
characteristic defensive attitude, and is determinative of 
the whole life of man, of savage and civilised alike. The 
milder form of heat due to non-periodicity 1 and shame 
are the two foundations which allow of the elevation 
of the sexual relations of man into a higher sphere than 
that of the animals. Shame is something so little due to 
consciousness that we already find it among savage tribes ; 
certainly in their case limited to the main point, whereas 
civilisation draws within its sphere whatever has any 
sort of connection with sexual relations. 

An analogous instinct of aversion is Disgust. It relates 
to food as shame to sex, and serves to put us on our guard 
against those food-ingredients which are easily mixed 
with dirt and impurity, i.e., organic excretions and organic 
matter in a state of semi-decomposition. Its senses are 

1 Beaumarchais rated this factor statement of specific difference, at 

so highly that he jestingly said : all events, than " thought ; " for the 

Dow sans soif, et faire V amour en rest, not quite true, since the anthro- 

tout temps, c'est ce qui distingue poid apes have the non-periodicity 

I'homme de la bete. A much better of heat in common with man. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 207 

taste and smell, and it is scarcely correct when Lessing 
regards it as possible for other senses. At the same time 
it is of course not necessary that the idea of eating the 
things for which one feels disgust should have been already 
entertained; one is often previously so disgusted as to 
prevent the thought of eating arising. There is, moreover, 
another much deeper disgust which has reference to purity 
of the skin, in order that perspiration may not be sup- 
pressed through the stopping-up of the pores. Here, at any 
rate, the sense of sight may be directly concerned. — Man 
can by habit more or less repress these, as all other 
instincts, just because with him consciousness has become 
a power which, in most things, except those of supreme 
importance, is able to oppose the Unconscious, and habitual 
action truly belongs indeed also to the sphere of conscious- 
ness. But the Unconscious can also be repressed when 
that which would have been done instinctively without con- 
sciousness and habit is done with consciousness and from 
habit; then the repugnance which one feels towards the 
contrary is rather a repugnance to the unusual than an 
instinctive repulsion. 

Look at a young girl and boy : the one neat and smart, 
elegant and mannerly, graceful as a kitten; the other 
with trousers torn in a recent shindy, awkward and 
clumsy as a young bear. She is fond of dress and of 
showing herself off, tenderly dandles her doll, and plays 
at cooking and washing and ironing; while he builds a 
house in the corner, plays robber and soldier, rides on 
every staff, sees a sabre or a gun in every stick, and is 
especially pleased with the manifestation of his own 
energy, which of course consists, for the most part, in 
useless destruction. What a delightful anticipation of 
the future vocation, which is often to be observed in the 
most charming details ! If much of it is imitation of 
adults, still a presaging instinct is unmistakable, which 
guides children, even in their sports, to the exercises which 
they will require in the future, and makes them capable 



208 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

and trains them in advance, just as among young animals 
we see the sportive instinct always leading them to 
activities which they will require hereafter in their inde- 
pendent life (think of the kitten and the reel). In the 
play-instinct the will often procures itself resistances 
which it has to overcome. This paradox is likewise only 
comprehensible if the play-impulse is instinctive, and un- 
consciously subservient to the aims of the future life. If 
the play- impulse were only imitative, boys and girls would 
imitate the same things, since they do not understand the 
distinction of sex, and in strictness do not even possess it. 
How unique is the rage for dancing, the whimsicalness, 
love of dress, grace, one might almost say childish coquetry, 
in little girls, which points to their future destiny of con- 
quering men, all of which is utterly foreign to boys with 
healthy minds ! How characteristic is the indefatigable 
assiduity with which they tend, dress, and dandle their 
dolls; how in harmony is it with the tenderness with 
which grown-up girls kiss and caress all strange children 
in arms, which young men commonly find more repulsive 
than young monkeys ! 

How deeply such instincts as purity, love of dress, 
modesty are rooted in the Unconscious may be particu- 
larly observed in the blind who are at the same time 
deaf and dumb. Let any one who has never reflected on 
this condition try to form a clear idea of it, and of the 
poverty of the means of communication with the outer 
world which are at the command of such an unfortunate. 
Laura Bridgman, in the Blind Institution at Boston, who 
in her second year had lost all her senses save touch, was 
clean and orderly and very fond of dress. If she had on 
a new article of clothing, she wished to go out to be seen 
and observed. She was often in raptures over the brace- 
lets, brooches, and other ornaments of the ladies who 
visited her. Julia Brace (who had become blind and 
deaf in her fifth year) was just the same. She examined 
the style of hair of the ladies who paid her visits, in order 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 109 

that she might imitate it. The same passion for dress 
was found in all other similarly unfortunate girls, so that 
it became a chief means of reward and punishment. Lucy 
Eeed always wore a silk kerchief over her face, probably 
because she thought her face was disfigured, and when she 
entered an institution, was only with the greatest trouble 
dissuaded from wearing it. She recoiled from the touch 
of a person of the male sex, and would not permit caresses 
of any kind from the same, although she gladly received 
and responded to those of women, even when strangers. 
Laura Bridgman showed in this respect a still greater 
delicacy of feeling, without any one being able to guess 
how she attained to a notion of sexual relations, since 
usually no man ever approached her except the director 
of the institution, Dr. Howe. She had heard much of 
Oliver Caswell, likewise blind, deaf, and dumb, as his 
arrival in the institution was expected, and was very 
curious about her companion in suffering. When he 
arrived, she kissed him; but then flew back like light- 
ning, as if terrified at having done something improper. 
She repaired the smallest disorder in her dress, like a girl 
very strictly educated in rules of decorum. Nay, she even 
transferred her modesty to lifeless objects. Thus, e.g., 
when one day she wanted to put her doll to bed, she pre- 
viously went about the room to discover if any one was 
present ; and when she found Dr. Howe, she turned back 
laughing, and only after he had departed did she undress 
her doll, without being shy before her instructress. — 
To teach a blind, deaf, and dumb child the laws and con- 
ceptions of decency would be almost impossible if instinct 
did not correctly point them out, and opportunity alone 
or the slightest hint did not suffice for the realisation in 
conduct of this immediate unconscious intuition. That 
this feeling of modesty really arises from the depths of 
the psychical nature, is proved by the concurrence of its 
higher development with the attainment of puberty. 
Thus, e.g., in the case of a blind deaf mute in Kotherhithe 
vol. 1. o 



210 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

workhouse, who had previously lived a completely animal 
life, an entire change took place in her seventeenth year : 
she became all at once just as attentive to dress and 
decency as other girls of her age. 

Sympathy or fellow-feeling is a reflex mental instinct. 
As feelings are divisible into pleasure and displeasure or 
into joy and sorrow, so fellow-feeling into sympathetic re- 
joicing and compassion. Jean Paul says, " For sympathy 
in sorrow a man is sufficient, but sympathy in joy requires 
an angel ; " for the reason that sympathy in joy can only 
arise if it is not hindered by another feeling, envy. This 
is, however, the case more or less with all men, whereas 
compassion is less obstructed, since pleasure at the misfor- 
tune of others is usually very slight in most cases, if hate 
and vindictiveness do not give birth to it. Thus it comes 
to pass that sympathy in joy is almost insignificant, whilst 
compassion has the greatest importance. Now compassion 
arises by way of reflection through the sensuous percep- 
tion of another's suffering. The convulsive motions and 
writhings of pain, the looks and gestures of grief and 
distress, the tears of sorrow, the groaning and moaning, 
the whimpering and rattling in the throat, are material 
signs which are immediately comprehensible to a being of 
like nature through an unconscious intelligence ; they do 
not, however, act merely on the intellect, but also on the 
heart, and reflectorially call forth similar pains. Cheer- 
fulness and sadness in a similar way infect other people 
like convulsions. When the sense-perception only appre- 
hends the signs of pain in general, the compassion is only 
general, a shudder, or a quiet woe, or a thrilling horror, 
according to the intensity and duration of the observed 
pain ; but if this is specially known, reflex action reveals 
the same kind of pain in the compassion, as soon as the 
latter has surmounted the lowest stage of general lamen- 
tation. That the degree of compassion is dependent on 
the momentary receptivity of the mind for reflex actions, 
and also on the degree of interest which is otherwise 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 211 

entertained for the sufferer, is undoubted ; it is, neverthe- 
less, purely reflex action, as is strictly proved by this, that 
compassion is, cceteris paribus, in direct ratio to the clear- 
ness with which the senses perceive the signs of suffering. 
For example, when we read of a battle where ten thousand 
dead and wounded are counted on either side, we are 
scarcely at all affected, only when the dead and wounded 
are summoned before our imagination does our compas- 
sion stir; but when we ourselves go about among the 
pools of blood, the corpses and the limbs, and the groan- 
ing and dying men, then indeed a deep horror overcomes 
us. What value the instinct of compassion has for man, 
who only through mutual help truly becomes man, is tole- 
rably plain. Fellow-feeling is the metaphysical bond 
which overleaps the limit of individuality on the side of 
feeling ; it is the most significant impulse for the begetting 
of such actions as consciousness declares to be morally 
good or beautiful, more than merely dutiful. It mainly 
imparts reality to that province of ethics which is usually 
termed " the duties of affection," the reality from which 
the general notion is subsequently abstracted. 

As sympathy is the chief instinct for the production 
of benevolent actions, whose effects extend beyond the 
sphere of egoism, so the instinct of Gratitude appears in 
the light of a multiplier of the same. Although gratitude 
sometimes leads us to injure a third person, yet the case is 
rare, and the expediency of this instinct upon the whole 
is not to be misapprehended if it be also supplemented, 
nay, even superseded, in a perfect system of ethics. 
As the impulse of retaliation in respect of benefits re- 
ceived becomes a multiplier of morally beautiful actions, 
so in respect of injuries does it become, in the charac- 
ter of the instinct of revenge, the original source of 
the sentiment of justice. For as long as the commu- 
nity has not taken upon itself to satisfy the passion 
of revenge, self-vindication is rightly looked upon as 
something holy, as a primitive institution of justice ; 



212 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

and this it is which must gradually form, enhance, and 
clarify the feeling of right, until such conception of 
right gains a solid foundation in the national habits, 
when the duty of requital may he transferred to the 
community at large. It is by no means intended by 
this to assert that sympathy and the retaliatory impulse 
are the moments from which ethics and jurisprudence 
must be theoretically derived and established, which, on 
the contrary, I should not grant ; it is only asserted that 
they are in fact practically the roots from which those 
feelings and actions have sprung, whence mankind have 
gained, through abstraction, the conceptions of the morally 
beautiful and of law. 

The next human instinct of importance is Maternal 
Love. For the sake of comparison, let us glance back 
once more at the animal kingdom. — Most of the lower 
animals have no need to trouble themselves about their 
young ones, because these emerge from the ovum suffi- 
ciently developed ; or because, by means of the various 
instincts which have been already mentioned, they have, 
directly or indirectly, brought their eggs to those places 
where the creatures when hatched find the conditions of 
their further development until the age of independence, 
or are still provided by the mother with additional means 
of subsistence. The place which yields the necessary 
conditions of development is with the wolf-spider a spun 
egg-bag, which it fastens to itself by means of a web ; for 
the Monoculus, a part of the oviduct turned inside out, 
which protrudes as ovisac; with birds, the nest, together 
with the brood-heat of the maternal body ; in some fishes 
and amphibia, the body of the female itself, just as in all 
mammals, but with this great difference, that in the latter 
an organic connection of mother and foetus persists till 
the time of birth (the marsupial mammals excepted). 
It is evident that here again the same thing is achieved in 
one case by instinct and maternal foresight as is effected 
in another case by organic formative activity, i.e., the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 213 

instinctive maternal care for the development of the 
young till independence is only in form, not in essence, 
different from the procreation and formation of the foetus. 

Two pervading laws here display themselves ; the first 
is, that the maternal instinct cares for the young animal 
as long as it is unable to care for itself ; the second, that 
this time of nonage or childhood in general lasts the 
longer the higher the class stands in the animal scale. 
This difference is, on the one hand, based on the simpler 
conditions of the nutrition of the lower animals (especially 
aquatic animals) ; on the other hand, on the metamor- 
phoses when the earliest life-period is passed in quite 
another form and under other nutritive conditions (mostly 
in the form of a lower stage). There is still, however, un- 
doubtedly an unexplained remainder, which is especially 
evident if we confine our attention to the mammalia, and 
compare, e.g., the duration of the infancy of a rabbit, a 
cat, and a horse. From these first two laws the following 
conclusion may be drawn : The instinct of maternal love 
gains in general greater significance and range the higher 
we ascend in the animal scale, a scale graduated, how- 
ever, not zoologically but psychologically. 

While we see the majority of fishes and amphibia 
persist in dead indifference to their young, some insects 
exhibit a higher maternal love in conformity with their 
higher mental activity. Only see how tenderly ants and 
bees nourish, feed, and protect their eggs, nay, even their 
still imperfectly developed larvse ; how some spiders carry 
their young about and carefully feed them (as the hen 
her chickens). Among birds, the maternal care attains a 
high degree ; certain classes of birds, e.g., some birds of 
prey and birds of song, decidedly surpassing in mind the 
general run of mammals. The self-sacrificing courage 
with which even the smallest birds defend their youn<r 
against every enemy; the self-renunciation with which 
they bring them food whilst they themselves often starve 
and grow lean ; the readiness to sacrifice themselves with 



214 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

which they bare their breast and body of feathers to make 
a warm couch for their naked little ones ; the patience with 
which they afterwards instruct them in flying, in catching 
insects, and other dexterities which they need for inde- 
pendent life; the impatience to see the young just as clever 
as themselves, — all these are the clearest proofs of a deeply 
rooted impulse ; whilst the complete extinction of this 
tender fondness when the young become independent, 
nay, the conversion of the same into hostility, shows that 
not custom or conscious choice, but an unconscious neces- 
sity is the source of this impulse. 

The point of instruction in particular has been hitherto 
far too much overlooked, for the animals which stand 
mentally higher learn, in fact, much more through the 
instruction of their parents than one thinks, since Nature 
never makes use of double means to an end, and refuses instinct 
where it has [/ranted the means for conscious performance or 
acquisition. Penguins entice their young, when they will 
not follow them into the water, to a rocky prominence, 
and then push them down. Eagles and falcons guide 
their offspring to higher and higher flights, to flight in 
circles and to evolutions, as well as to swoop down on 
their prey, for the latter purpose flying over them and 
dropping dead, ofttimes even small living animals, which 
the young ones are only allowed to devour if they have 
themselves caught them. But as surely as the method 
of this instruction is a conscious mental product of these 
animals, so surely is the impulse to instruct their younc 
in the main instinct. — As in higher mammals infancy lasts 
longer, so not merely is the care of the mother, but also 
her instruction more comprehensive. Let any one observe 
how a cat educates its young ones, flattering and reward- 
ing, putting them right and punishing, whether it is not 
the faithful image of human education by uncultivated 
mothers ; a parallel confirmed even in the slightest traits, 
e.g., in the enjoyment which the mother visibly exhibits 
in the amusingly knowing consciousness of her superiority. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 215 

We partially see already in birds a chemical prepara- 
tion of the food in the maternal crop. This instinct 
is fully developed in the case of the mammal, whose 
lacteal glands begin their secretion long before birth, 
a secretion which is increased by the sight of the 
young, diminished by their absence. That which among 
birds is perceivable only in a very rudimentary form, 
but among mammals is exhibited in the inheritance of 
special maternal qualities or peculiarities of character, in 
the fright of the pregnant and their capricious appetites, 
to wit, the immediate unconscious reciprocity between 
the soul of the mother and the child, the possession of the 
infant's soul by the mother, this appears continued in a 
modified way after birth, and only gradually disappears. 
Thus the peculiar phenomenon of contagious visions no- 
where occurs more easily than between the mother and 
her nursling, and both when pregnant and even after de- 
livery, mothers, whose nature has not been spoilt by culture, 
possess a marvellous divination of their children's needs. 
Just as the wasp, which opens the hole to convey new food 
to its larva? when the original stock has been consumed, so 
the mother guesses when her child requires food, and 
awakes when the child is in want, whereas no noise can dis- 
turb the sleep of fatigue. But, as said before, this direct 
communication between the mind of mother and of child 
pretty quickly disappears; only sometimes under extra- 
ordinary circumstances, e.g., in dangerous illnesses of the 
child, may it be seen to revive. 

The question now is, whether in mankind maternal love 
is really anything different from what it is among the 
brutes ; whether anything else but instinct can bring it to 
pass that the most reasonable and most sedate women, 
who have already enjoyed the highest treasures of mental 
culture, are all at once prepared to undergo, with real, 
heartfelt joy, and for whole months, the sacrificing nur- 
ture, the peevishness and sordidness, the toyings and 
silliness, without any response whatever on the part of the 



216 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

child, which, for the first months, is nothing more than a 
flesh doll, slavering and befouling its swaddling-clothes, 
-which, at the most, turns its eyes by reflex action to the 
light and instinctively stretches out its arms towards its 
parent. Only see how such a rational woman is com- 
pletely lost in admiration of her child, which is only with 
the greatest difficulty to be distinguished from any other ;■ 
and how she who, in former days, had made clever criti- 
cisms on Sophocles and Shakespeare, now will be beside 
herself with joy because the little one so soon croaks A. 
And with all this the woman does not, as the man might, 
undergo all these inconveniences in hope of what the child 
may hereafter become, but she is simply absorbed in the 
present joy and maternal delight. If that is not instinct, 
then I don't know what instinct is. Let any one ask him- 
self whether a poor nursery-maid would endure all that 
drudgery and fatigue for the sake of a daily wage of a 
couple of pence if her instinct did not already point to 
this occupation. 

That the maternal care lasts so long in the case of the 
human child, is merely a speeial case of the above-men- 
tioned law, and lies in this, that children of four years old 
would sooner be run over in the street than get out of the 
way, whilst a young cat gets out of the way as soon as it 
can see. What is more natural than that the protecting 
instinct of the mother should serve as a providence to the 
child, and that the little one should instinctively cling to 
its mother's gown? All animals feed, nurse, and look 
after their young until they can feed themselves, and 
is it likely man, with his lesser fertility, should make an 
exception to this general law ? And when can a child 
maintain itself ? Certainly not until puberty. Accord- 
ingly, the instinctive parental care must at least last till 
then. Animals teach their young the dexterities which they 
need in order to earn their living, and should not man do 
the same ? Among animals, too, the kind of instruction is 
partly the result of conscious thought, but the instruc- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 217 

tion itself is natural impulse; and can it be otherwise 
among men, because the skill and knowledge which man 
needs for earning a maintenance are somewhat greater 
than among animals? But it is indeed agreed that 
iD the whole animal kingdom no such psychological 
leap takes place as from the highest animal to the 
moderately civilised man, consequently the things which 
man must acquire, in proportion to what lie can instinc- 
tively do, are more considerable than among the highest 
animals, because his conscious mind is just adapted for 
these performances, and, accordingly, an instinct for them 
would be a superfluity. Nature, however, does nothing in 
vain. Doubtless, however, the didactic instinct is neces- 
sity in the parents, because without instruction the young 
would perish before acquiring their powers, and the human 
race owes to this higher faculty of learning and this 
stronger didactic instinct, in union with a more perfect 
language, its capability of progressing indefinitely, and to 
this its whole position and significance in Nature. 

Among animals, male and female have the same em- 
ployments. It is otherwise with the civilised human 
being, where the man in particular has to earn for the 
family, and is pre-eminently fitted for the education 
especially of the male posterity. Only here and there 
among animals does the male sex participate in caring 
for posterity. Thus the male salmon makes a furrow 
for the eggs of the female, which it fills up when they 
are fertilised. With most monogamous birds, the male 
helps in building the nest, alternately broods or feeds the 
brooding female, defends the eggs, and takes part in the 
nurture, nourishment, and protection of the young. The 
like also takes place in the case of man. It is a common 
phenomenon that all little children are extremely repug- 
nant to men, and this aversion ceases at once if they them- 
selves have any. It scarcely admits of doubt that there 
is an instinct of paternal affection, if feeble, which is also 
proved by the tender love of fathers to those children who, 



2iS PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

in consequence of their miserable bodily and mental con- 
dition, would under other circumstances have only excited 
aversion and contempt, or at the most pity. But, never- 
theless, I believe that, in paternal love, partly duty, 
decency, and good breeding, partly habit, partly conscious 
friendly inclination, furnish the main motives, and that 
instinct, on the one hand, only manifests itself in early 
youth, on the other, in moments of danger to the child. 
Lastly, it should be observed that a true paternal love — I 
mean one which exceeds what decency and good-breeding 
demands, and which the custom of the environment 
permits to grow — is a much rarer phenomenon than one 
is inclined to assume, though certainly not so rare, by a 
long way, as the reputed love of brothers and sisters. 
What, however, really exists of such father's love, which, 
does not simply show itself in moments of danger, but 
is always there, is conscious friendship, united with the 
conscious reflection that no one will care for his child 
if he does not, for the child for whose existence he 
is responsible — a reflection which alone can give strength 
for the greatest sacrifices. From all this it is expli- 
cable that human children, even after their education 
has ended, will not be so strange to their parents as the 
young of animals, for through the so much more pro- 
longed infancy custom has time to forge its chains, and 
if there be any spiritual harmony between parents and 
children, a certain degree of friendship will arise with 
the aid of habit. But lastly, the instinct of parental love 
is never entirely extinguished in the case of mankind, 
because the parents, as long as they live, always have 
either the possibility of making sacrifices for the welfare 
of their children or of helping them out of danger ; for 
whilst the brute has entirely to rely upon itself, man is 
only in a position to live humanly in society. To which 
must be added, in conclusion, that men in advanced a°-e 
repeat the comedy in the case of their grandchildren, 
which is not the case with animals. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 219 

If in the man paternal love is less of an instinct, so much 
the more is the impulse to establish a household, and to 
fulfil his destiny as father of a family, although he thereby 
ruins and makes unhappy himself and the girl whom he 
marries, whilst unmarried they might both have had enough 
whereon to live comfortably. I do not speak here of love, 
nor of the sexual impulse in general ; but where the former 
is entirely wanting, and the latter would be far from 
affording any sufficient motive, the impulse springs up 
in the mature years of a man's life to set up a household ; 
and however clearly the poor devil may see that he will 
have to starve in consequence, whilst as single he has a 
fair competency, still the marriage comes off. It is the 
same impulse which bids the young four or five year old 
stallion part from the family of his parents, along with 
some of his sisters, to form a family of his own, and which 
compels the bird to build its nest. They know as little as 
that poor wretch, that the pains and deprivations which are 
instinctively imposed upon them have no other purpose 
than to make possible the maintenance of the race. It is 
this unsatisfied impulse which makes old bachelors feel so 
uncomfortable ; and though they may see a hundred times 
that they would not be better off in the married state, all 
things considered, yet the pain of this unsatisfied instinct 
is not to be reasoned away, just because it is instinct. 

The consideration of the instinct of love should now 
follow. This point is, however, so important, that I shall 
give it a chapter to itself. 



( 220 ) 



II. 

THE UNCONSCIOUS IN SEXUAL LOVE. 

The stamens of plants incline when their pollen is ripe, 
and shed it on the stigma. Fishes pour their spawn on the 
eggs of their own species when they find them in great 
numbers; the salmon, moreover, makes a furrow for its 
female. The male cuttlefish, on coming in contact with 
their females, throw off an arm elaborated into a genera- 
tive organ, which, penetrating the latter, performs the re- 
productive act. In November, river crawfish fasten under 
the belly of the females pouches filled with seed, which 
in the spring fertilises the mature eggs. The male spiders 
take up the seminal fluid, which trickles from their sexual 
organs, with an extremely complicated apparatus con- 
tained in the last hollow joint of their tentacles, and by 
help of the same apply it to the aperture of the female. 
The male embraces the female frog and discharges its 
sperm, whilst the female simultaneously deposits the ova. 
The singing-bird applies the opening of its spermatic duct 
to the female anus, and animals possessed of a penis in- 
troduce the same into the female vagina. When fishes 
pour the spawn, which they feel impelled to discharge, 
only on the eggs of their own kind, when species of 
animals in which male and female are of very different 
forms (as, e.g., glow-worms) still find each other without 
fail in order to copulate, and when the male mammal, 
in obedience to an irresistible impulse, always intro- 
duces its penis into the female vagina of Us oivn species, 
are we to suppose that there are really two different 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 221 

causes at work, or is it not rather the working of the 
same Unconscious, which, on the one hand, harmoniously 
fashions the sexual parts, and, on the other, as instinct 
impels to their right use — the same unconscious clairvoy- 
ance which in creation, as in use, adapts the means to an 
end, which does not appear in consciousness ? 

Wouk^man, at whose command are so many means for 
satisfying the physical impulse, all equally efficacious with 
coitus, be likely to discharge the inconvenient, disgusting, 
shameless, reproductive function, did not an instinct always 
urge him anew, often as he has experienced that this 
mode of satisfaction yields him, in fact, no higher sensuous 
enjoyment than any other ? But many do not attain even 
to this much insight, because, in spite of experience, they 
always measure future enjoyment according to the strength 
of the impulse, or are so possessed by the impulse during 
the act, that they never attain the experience. It might, 
perhaps, be replied, that man frequently desires intercourse 
although he is aware of the impossibility of procreation, 
e.g., with the notoriously infertile or prostitutes, or when, as 
in illicit connections, he seeks to prevent procreation ; but 
to such we reply that the knowledge or intention of con- 
sciousness has no direct influence on the instinct, since 
the design of procreation lies outside consciousness, and 
only the willing of the means to the unconscious end 
(as in all instincts) appears in consciousness. That 
the impulse to sexual union is an instinct which mani- 
fests itself spontaneously, and is by no means to be 
regarded as a consequence of the experience that a 
pleasure is to be expected from this union, appears 
from the fact that the sexual impulse as instinct is uni- 
versal in the animal and vegetable kingdom, whereas 
venereal organs, which link a sexual pleasure to the act 
of copulation, are only to be found at a tolerably advanced 
staje of the animal kingdom. The instinct of sexual 
intercourse is then something far earlier and more original 
in the history of organisation, since all organisms destitute 



222 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

of venereal organs are sufficiently impelled by it alone, 
without the aid of sensibility. It is, however, toler- 
ably plain why the Unconscious deems special vene- 
real organs necessary in the case of beings whose con- 
sciousness is far more highly developed ; for the more 
consciousness attains independent importance, the greater 
is the risk of its thwarting the demands of instinct, the 
more desirable does a bait become to entice to the per- 
formance of instinctive actions. A proof that the repro- 
ductive instinct is no mere result of physical craving in 
the generative organs may be found in the above-mentioned 
example of the treading of birds (Chap. iii. A. p. 82), 
and finally in the phenomenon that the strength of the 
sexual and physical urgency are to a certain degree inde- 
pendent of one another. For one finds human beings with 
a strong inclination to the other sex, whilst their physical 
impulse is so small that it almost borders on impotence ; 
and conversely there are persons of strong physical impulse, 
and yet with little affection for the other sex. This is 
due to the fact that the physical impulse is dependent 
on the accidental physical organisation of the generative 
organs, but the metaphysical impulse is an instinct which 
wells up from the Unconscious. That does not, however, 
preclude, on the one hand, the metaphysical impulse from 
being more vehemently aroused by a stronger physical 
impulse, and, on the other hand, the strength of the 
physical impulse while the organism is being fashioned 
being conditioned by the strength of the metaphysical 
impulse. Accordingly the independence only obtains 
within certain limits. Phrenology also recognises the 
distinctness of the two impulses, for whilst the physi- 
cal craving can manifestly only be sought for in the 
organisation of the generative organs and the irrita- 
bility of the whole nervous system, phrenology — with 
what right is of no consequence — seeks to localise 
the sexual impulses in the cerebellum and circum- 
jacent parts. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 223 

Having perceived the sexual impulse in general to be 
of the nature of instinct, the next question is, Whether 
the like is true of the individualization of the same, or 
whether this springs from the conditions of conscious- 
ness ? Among animals we distinguish the following 
cases : — Either the sexual impulse is merely general, the 
selection of the individual is entirely left to chance, and 
all intercourse ceases with coition, as, e.g., among the 
lower marine animals, the fishes which copulate, frogs, 
&c. ; or the pairs remain together for the time of one rut, 
as most rodents and several of the cat tribe ; or till the 
period of delivery, as bears ; or for some time after, till 
the young are more developed, as most birds, bats, wolves, 
badgers, weasels, moles, beavers, hares ; or they remain 
together for life and form a family. Here, again, we meet 
with polygamy and monogamy. The former is found 
among the gallinaceous birds, the ruminants, the solipeds, 
pachyderms, and seals ; the latter among a few Crustacea, 
sepiae, pigeons, and parrots, among eagles, storks, deer, 
and Cetacea. We may reasonably assume that among 
monogamous animals the conclusion of marriages, which 
are so faithfully kept, is not mere result of chance ; but 
that the motives of such preference must be looked 
for in the nature of the couples themselves. Do we 
not often see, even in animals of a higher mental grade, 
which couple irregularly, a sexual selection accompanied 
by decided passion (e.g., in noble stallions and dogs) ? 
A widowed eagle usually continues unmarried for the 
rest of her life. It was observed that a stork sought its 
female, which it could not take with it on account of a 
wound, every spring for three years, but in the follow- 
ing years remained with her even during the winter. In 
monogamic animals sometimes the one cannot live without 
the other ; thus, e.g., of a pair of inseparables, the second 
often dies a few hours after the first. The like has some- 
times been observed of the Kamichi, a South American 
marsh- bird, as well as of turtledoves and Mirikina apes. 



224 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

Woodlarks can only be kept in a cage in pairs. "We 
cannot suppose that that which has overcome the powerful 
migratory instinct in the stork, which kills inseparables 
in a short space of time, is anything else than instinct ; 
otherwise it could not so speedily and so profoundly affect 
the being's core. That the various forms of the sexual 
relations are instincts is also proved by their unckange- 
ableness within the limits of the species. According to 
the analogy of these phenomena, we must even in the case 
of man regard the cohabitation of spouses in marriage as an 
institution of instinct and not of deliberate consciousness, 
as also the tendency to found a family, which is closely 
connected therewith. The intentional pursuit of illicit 
transitory love we must, on the other hand, regard as 
something contrary to instinct, which is only called forth 
by conscious egoism. Here, however, I do not understand 
by marriage the ecclesiastical or civil ceremony, but the 
intention to make the relation a lasting one. 

The question arises, Whether polygamy or monogamy 
is the form natural to man, and how it happens that the 
human is the only animal species where different forms 
of sexual relations are to be found co-existing ? This 
enigma seems to me resolvable in this way : that the 
instinct of the man demands polygamy, that of the woman 
monogamy ; that therefore, wherever the man exclusively 
rules, polygamy exclusively prevails. On the other hand, 
wherever, owing to higher cultivation, man has accorded 
to woman a worthier place, monogamy has become the 
sole legally valid form ; whilst, as a matter of fact, in no 
part of the world is it strictly kept on the part of men. 
That monogamy is the form which will, in fact, prevail 
among mankind for the longest period of its existence, 
is indicated by the equal number of the individuals of 
the two sexes. If adulterous longings are so hard for 
man to conquer, this is only an effect of his polygamous 
instinct ; but when a woman, who has in her husband 
a whole husband, has adulterous desires, this is either 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 225 

a consequence of thorough depravity or of passionate 
love. The difference of the instinct in man and woman 
may be easily comprehended, when one considers, that 
a man is physically competent to beget upwards of a 
hundred children in a single year, but the woman can 
only bear one child ; that the man is able under favourable 
circumstances to maintain several women and their chil- 
dren, but the wife can only dwell in one man's household, 
and feels herself and her children injured by every rival 
introduced therein ; lastly, that in case of adultery only 
the husband, not the wife, runs the risk of regarding the 
children of others as his own, and of having the love for 
his own children undermined through distrust of conjugal 
fidelity. 

The sexual instinct in man having now been illus- 
trated both in the case of the race and of the individual, 
there still remains the question, why it is concentrated 
exclusively on this individual and not on that ? i.e., the 
question of the determining grounds of this fastidious 
sexual selection. 

That among human beings, especially the more educated 
classes, the number of desirable individuals of the other 
sex is essentially limited, lies in the hindrances which 
must first be overcome, namely, aversion on both sides, 
and modesty especially in the female sex. The corporeal 
contact is so close, and is so multiplied through the 
instinctive accompanying actions, as kissing, &c, that 
the loathing, if it is not already blunted, enters into its full 
right, and opposes a powerful resistance to sexual union 
with each and every individual. Shame in the female 
sex, and in the male the knowledge of the resistance 
which this shame will arouse in opposition, are almost 
still more effective limitations. Both, however, only 
negatively explain why this and that individual are ex- 
cluded, and not positively why this one is desired. The 
sense of beauty may certainly also co-operate,— just as one 
prefers to ride a beautiful horse, even apart from its step, 

VOL. I. P 



226 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

and also when nobody sees it, than an ugly one, although 
it is by no means obvious what beauty or ugliness has to 
do with enjoyment in coition, or generally with the sexual 
relations ; for if, as e.g., in Shakespeare's " All's well that 
ends well," the wrong person is foisted upon a passionate 
lover in the darkness of the night, it manifestly does not 
detract from his enjoyment. Vanity also, to be able to 
call a pretty woman one's wife before others, might have 
something to say in the matter, although the subject of 
this vanity again requires explanation ; at bottom we do 
not get a step nearer a solution, because, in the first 
place, there are many pretty people, and, secondly, the 
handsomest are by no means the most attractive sexually. 
A better answer would be : The man has to conquer femi- 
nine modesty in order to attain his end ; if he has once 
begun this work, which is only gradually effected, he has 
with this particular individual a lighter task before him 
than with others, to secure a victory for his vanity. 
But although this may often enough be the state of 
the case, still this answer is by itself altogether insuffi- 
cient, not only because it again leaves the first beginning 
entirely to chance, but also because, if this were the de- 
termining circumstance, the mistress already won would 
be preferred to all fresh conquests from simple con- 
venience, which certainly is not true. — We must then 
before all things maintain, that the physical impulse as 
such, or as one says the senses, are by themselves 
thoroughly incapable of explaining the concentration of 
the impulse on a specific individual. The mere stimulus 
of sense never leads to love, but only to libertinage, pre- 
ferentially to the unnatural, if it is only strong enough and 
is not restrained from such courses by other impulses. Even 
where sense holds to natural courses, and seeks to attain the 
heightening of enjoyment by external artifices, where, in 
the ominous unbelief in the metaphysical nature of love, 
it imagines itself able to snatch the charm of the latter 
by outward gratification, even there does it soon become 



77//? UNCONSCIOUS IN TUB HUMAN MIND. 227 

invtiro, with disgust, Unit more Jlcxk til ways turns to car- 
rum, and, itiHttuul of lovo, it folds to its heart only its 
repulsive corpse. As certainly as a putative lovo without 
sense is only tho lloshloss and hloodloss spectral fancy of 
tlio perverted soul, so certainly is mere sensuality only 
tho soulless corpse of tho foam-born goddess. The whole 
of tho following proof rests 011 this foundation, that sense. 
eiin only explain tho snatching at no me sort of sexual 
enjoyment, but never sexual lore. 

If would seem, then, that it must bo mental quali- 
ties, which condition sexual selection, it is quito impos- 
sible directly to suppose this, since in respect of sexual 
enjoyment mental qualifies are perfectly indillerenf, still 
more itulillbrent than corporeal beauty. Tho statement 
could therefore bo only understood to imply that mental 
qualities call forth a mental harmony and mutual at- 
traction, winch rest on conscious foundations, and pro- 
mise the greatest possible happiness in future cohabi- 
tation. This conscious relation of souls, which is entirely 
identical with tho notion of friendship, would thou con- 
dition sexual selection, -i.e., be tho cause why the sexual 
intercourse with the specially favoured individual is pre- 
ferred to till others. This process is, in fact, a very com- 
mon one, especially on the side of tho female sox, which 
cannot choose, but is chosen. It is by no means usually 
to be expected that a bride should have tiny other lovo 
than this for a bridegroom whom her parents propose for 
her, or to whom she has for the first time spoken in 
private when ho made his declaration, and her interest 
in whom has no deeper root than the bare supposition of 
his being interested in herself. Having become betroth- 
ed, she strains her fancy to apply to this single being 
all tho extravagances she has ever road of in romances, 
swears lovo for hint, soon herself believes in it, having grown 
accustomed constantly to unite his image with her excited 
general sensual impulse, and afterwards obeys at once 
her duly and her inclination, when she remains faith- 



228 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

ful to this man, the father of her children, for whom she 
has conceived respect and friendship, and to whom she has 
grown accustomed. Closely examined, however, all these 
ingredients — general sexual impulse, fancy, respect, friend- 
ship, fidelity to duty, &c. — mingle and blend them as one 
may, still give no spark of what may and should be 
singly and alone denoted by the name love ; and what ap- 
pears to be such is for the most part a delusion of others, 
and soon even of the actors themselves, since after the given 
pledge, they are bound in a becoming fashion to give away 
also a heart of love, and for the rest, in the happy hours 
of betrothed lovers, they sufficiently amuse themselves. 
The bridegroom believes the cheat as willingly as the 
bride practises it, for what does not man believe if only 
it sufficiently flatters his vanity? After the wedding, 
when both parties have other things to think of, the comedy 
comes to an end soon enough, whether it be played in 
earnest or in jest. 

The essential fact of the matter is, that the conscious 
knowledge of mental qualities can always and ever only 
bring about conscious mental relations, respect and friend- 
ship, and that friendship and love are things different as 
light from darkness. Friendship can also awake no love, 
for when, e.g., in a friendship between two young people 
of different sex, a little love easily insinuates itself, this 
is only a liberation of the general sexual impulse in a 
direction facilitated by mutual confidences, or they might 
have fallen in love even without friendship, and this 
slumbering potential love has been only aroused through 
opportunity. But there may very well be, at least on the 
man's side, a pure friendship without any sexual in- 
gredients (especially if the sexual love is already fixed in 
another quarter), and if this is said not to be possible on 
the woman's side, this is only because women are generally 
capable of no pure and true friendship, with men as 
little with one another, because friendship is a product 
of the conscious mind, but they are only capable of what 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 229 

is great, when they draw from the well of the unconscious 
life of the soul. That friendship is a much more indis- 
pensable and solid foundation of a lasting good relation 
for the individual wellbeing of the married pair than love 
does not admit of doubt; and it is a fortunate circum- 
stance that the same relation of characters and mental 
qualities, which has power to evoke the strongest love, forms 
at the same time the best substructure of friendship, that 
is, as we shall see later on, the polar completion, which 
includes fundamental harmony as well as diametrical 
opposition on this common ground. It is only to be re- 
marked that in friendship the stress is laid on harmony, 
but in love on contrast, so that there still remains a wide 
possibility of divergence between love and friendship in 
the same persons. At all events, friendship, which in the 
majority of marriages must either take the place of love 
from the first, or comes imperceptibly to be substituted for 
it in course of time, is something by no means problema- 
tical, but the problem, with which we are here concerned, is 
that love which precedes sexual union, and passionately 
urges to it. 

Two true friends, just as two lovers also, cannot live 
without one another, and are capable of making sacrifices 
for each other, but what a difference between friendship 
and love ! The one a beautiful mild autumn evening of 
full-toned colour, the other an awful rapturous vernal 
tempest ; the one the lightly-living gods of Olympus, the 
other the heaven-storming Titans ; the one self-sure and 
self-satisfied, the other " hoping and fearing in passionate 
pain ; '' the one perceiving its limits with full conscious- 
ness, the other always striving after infinitude in longing, 
joy and sorrow, " now shouting in triumph, now sunk in 
despair;" the one a clear and pure harmony, the other 
the ghostly tinkling and rustling of the Eolian harp, the 
eternally incomprehensible, unutterable, ineffable, because 
never to be grasped by consciousness, the mysterious 
music sounding from a home far far away; the one a 



230 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

bright temple, the other an eternally veiled mystery. 
ISTo year passes in this our Europe without a number of 
self-murders, double murders, and cases of insanity due 
to unsuccessful love ; but I know no instance of any one 
having killed himself or lost his wits through unreturned 
friendship. That and the many existences marred by love 
(especially of women, and were it only for weeks or 
months) prove clearly enough, that in love one has not 
to do with a farce, a romantic drollery, but with a very 
real power, a demon who ever and again demands his 
victims. The sexual doings of humanity in all the easily 
pierced masquerading and mumming are so singular, so 
absurd, so comical and ridiculous, and yet for the most 
part so tragical, that there is only one way of failing to see 
the whole absurdity, that is, by standing in the midst of 
it, when it appears to us, as to a drunkard in a company of 
drunkards ; we find everything quite natural and in order. 
The only difference is, that every one can when sober have 
the instructive spectacle of a drunken revel, but not 
be sexless ; or one must be far gone in years, or must 
(as I myself) have already observed and reflected ou these 
doings before having taken part in them, and then have 
doubted (as I have), whether oneself or all the rest of the 
world was crazed. And all this is brought about by that 
demon, whom already the ancients feared. 

But now, what then is that demon, who thus sprawls 
himself out and will into the infinite, and makes the whole 
world dance on his fool's rope, what is he then in fine ? 
His goal is sexual satisfaction, not exactly sexual satis- 
faction in general, but only with this particular individual, 
whatever shift he may make to disguise and deny 
it, and however big he may talk with hollow phrases. 
For if it were not this, what should it be ? Keturn love ? 
No indeed ! With the hottest return of love is no one 
seriously contented, even with the possibility of con- 
stant intercourse, if the impossibility of possession be 
clear, and many a one in such a situation has blown out 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 231 

his brains. For the possession of the beloved one, on the 
other hand, the lover gives up everything ; even if return 
love is utterly wanting he can be consoled with possession, 
as the many marriages prove, which are brought about by 
base bribing of the bride, or the parents, with rank, wealth, 
' birth, &c, and finally the instances of rape confirm, where 
even crime is not shunned by the demon of love. But 
when the sexual power is extinguished, there love also is 
extinguished ; read the letters of Abelard and Heloise ; 
she still all fire, life, and love ; he cool, babbling friendship. 
So, too, immediately after satisfaction passion perceptibly 
declines, if it do not also directly disappear, which, how- 
ever, often speedily follows, although friendly and so- 
called Platonic love may always continue. No passion of 
love very long survives enjoyment, at least not in the 
man, as all experience testifies, although it may at first 
increase for a brief time ; for whatever subsequently is 
attributed to love in this sense is mostly feigned for other 
purposes. Love is a tempest ; it does not discharge its 
electrical material in a single flash, but by degrees in many; 
and when it has discharged itself, then comes the cool wind, 
and the sky of consciousness gets clear again, and gazes 
in astonishment at the fertilising rain on the ground, and 
the clouds drawing off in the distant horizon. 

The goal of the demon, then, is really and truly nothing 
but sexual satisfaction, and with a particular individual, 
and everything connected therewith, as, harmony of soul, 
adoration, admiration, is only weak and false show, or it is 
something else, something next door to love. The test is 
simply this, does it disappear without a trace when the 
cool wind comes ? What then remains has not been love, 
but friendship. It is however by no means thereby 
affirmed that he who is possessed by this demon must have 
the goal of sexual satisfaction in his consciousness; on 
the contrary, the highest and purest love will not at all 
confess this aim, and especially in a first love the thought 
is certainly far away, that this nameless longing should 



232 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

have merely this end. Even if the thought of sexual union 
is obtruded from without, it is at this stage rejected from 
consciousness with chaste aversion, as one inadequate to 
the infinity of longing and hope, and unworthy the un- 
approachable sublimity of the dreamt ideal ; and only in 
later stages does the unconscious aim come to appear in 
consciousness, though always as secondary, when the 
heavenly dream has so far descended to earth as to see in 
sexual union no longer a desecration of its ideal, — a point 
of view for whose speedy advent Nature has taken good 
care, by instinctively compelling the lovers to pass from 
the tenderest glances step by step to ever more intimate 
bodily contact, each one bound up in ever stronger stimula- 
tion of sense. The illimitable nature of the longing and 
striving spring, then, precisely from the iheffableness and 
incomprehensibility of a conscious goal, which would be 
absurd want of aim, were not an unconscious purpose the 
invisible spring of this powerful apparatus of feeling, — an 
unconscious purpose, of which we can only say that the 
sexual union of these particular individuals must be 
the means to its fulfilment. Only when this sole and ex- 
clusive goal has not yet as such (either not at all, or only 
as secondary goal of endeavour) entered into consciousness, 
is love a perfectly healthy process, a process without inner 
contradiction; only then does feeling possess that innocence 
which alone lends it true nobility and charm. When on 
the other hand sexual intercourse is recognised by con- 
sciousness as the only aim of the extravagance of the 
feeling of love, love as such ceases to be a healthy process ; 
for from that moment consciousness also perceives the 
absurdity of the vastness of this impulse, the want of 
proportion in means and end in relation to the individual, 
and it now enters into the passion with the certainty for 
its part of doing a stupid thing — an uncomfortable feeling 
from which it can just as little ever again completely free 
itself, as from egoism itself. 

Only when the purpose of love has not yet become 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 233 

conscious, -when the individual concerned does not know 
that the blending of essence hoped and longed for by the 
mysticism of love in the union with the beloved one is 
only to be effected realiter in a third party (the offspring) 
only then does it possess the power to take captive the 
individual with all his egoistic interests so ruthlessly, that 
even the highest sacrifices appear insignificant and naught 
in comparison with the dreams of heaven, and the high 
purpose of the Unconscious is fulfilled with perfect re- 
gardlessness. On the other hand, when a human being, 
who has believed himself to have overcome the illusion, is 
again caught by consuming passion, love often shapes itself 
to his consciousness as a gloomy dsemonic power, so that 
he appears like a madman with full understanding, who, 
lashed by the fire of passion, no longer even believes in 
the happiness, to which, as it were without his will, he 
brings his all as an offering, for which he may even be 
compelled to commit a crime. Quite otherwise is it when 
the innocence of unconscious youth looks for the first time 
upon the fata morgana which the Eden of promise shows 
it in the refulgence of the glowing dawn. Then the 
mystical presentiment of the eternal unity of all uncon- 
scious being, and of the unnaturalness of separation from 
the beloved one, rises before it, then the longing springs 
up and glows, to annihilate the limitations of individuality 
which separate from the loved one, to perish and to be 
merged with the whole self in that being that is dearer to 
it than its own, in order, like a phoenix consumed in the 
love-flames, only to find again the better life in the 
beloved object as unselfish part of its own self. And the 
souls which are one without knowing it, and which can 
approach no nearer by ever so close an embrace than they 
eternally are, pine for a blending which can never be 
theirs so long as they remain distinct individuals. But 
the supreme significance of the sole result, in which they 
actually effect a real blending of their qualities, their 
virtues and vices (to say nothing of older ancestral claims 



234 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

never to be silenced) they so completely misapprehend, 
that they afterwards think themselves bound to deny it 
to have been even the unconscious goal of their ardent 
longings (comp. " Ges. Phil. Abhandl," pp. 86, 87). 

We have now got so far as to recognise the love to a 
particular individual as an instinct, for we have found in 
it a continual series of efforts and actions all working 
towards a single aim, which yet does not appear in con- 
sciousness as the one sole aim. The final question is only 
this : What is the significance of that unconscious purpose, 
•what is the meaning of an instinct, which calls forth such 
an obstinate selection in sexual gratification, and how is 
it furthered by the sight of just this particular individual? 
Of that which can interest the household of Nature and 
make instinct necessary, manifestly nothing further is 
changed by the sexual selection of individuals than the 
bodily and mental constitution of the child. There remains 
then, after the previous discussion, the sole possible answer 
given by Schopenhauer, ("Welt als Wille und Vorstel- 
lung,'' vol. ii., chap. 44, Metaphysic of Sexual Love), 
namely, that the instinct of love provides for a composi- 
tion and constitution of succeeding generations correspond- 
ing as far as possible to the Idea of the human race, 
and that the dreamed-of bliss in the arms of the beloved 
one is nothing but the deceptive bait, by means of which 
the Unconscious deludes conscious egoism, and leads to 
the sacrifice of self-love in favour of the succeeding genera- 
tion, which conscious reflection could never effect by itself. 
It is the same principle, in special application to man, 
which Darwin subsequently established in his theory of 
natural selection as general law of nature, namely, that 
the ennoblement of the species is brought about, in addition 
to the succumbing of the more unfit specimens of the race 
through the struggle for existence, by means of a natural 
instinct of sexual selection. Nature knows no higher interests 
than those of the race, for the race is related to the indi- 
vidual, as the infinite to the finite. Just as we demand of 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 235 

the individual that he consciously sacrifice his egoism, 
nay, his life, to the welfare of the whole, so does Nature 
with far less hesitation sacrifice egoism, nay, the life, of the 
individual to the welfare of the race through the medium 
of instinct (think of the maternal animal which does not 
shun death to protect its young, and the male in the rut, 
which fights even to death for the possession of the female). 
This can certainly only be called wise and motherly. We 
compel the conscious sacrifices of the individual through 
fear of punishment; Nature is kinder, she compels them 
through hope of reward; that is certainly more motherly ! 
Therefore let no one complain of these hopes and their 
disillusion, unless, like Schopenhauer, he has to complain 
of the existence and persistence of Nature. For the rest 
the juggling delusion is as wholesome and as indispensable 
as that which parents often see themselves compelled to 
impose upon children for their good. For of all natural 
ends there can manifestly be none higher than the welfare 
and most favourable constitution of the next generation, 
since not that generation alone, but the whole future of 
the race is dependent thereon ; thus the affair is, in fact, 
highly important, and the noise, which is made about it in 
the world, by no means too great. But nevertheless the 
want of proportion between means and end (love-passion 
and nature of the child) appears, when once comprehended, 
absurd to the consciousness of the individual, and the process 
of love is charged for him with an inner contradiction to 
his egoism; for possibly conscious thought in abstracto, but 
hardly conscious will in concreto, can disengage itself from 
the point of view of egoism, at the most it may be brought 
by deeper insight passively to permit Nature's ends to be 
accomplished in preference to its own. 

The description in detail of the way in which the bodily 
and mental qualities act on the Unconscious, and excite 
the unconscious will to beget this particular new human 
being which must result from the intercourse of these 
individuals, has been given in a masterly manner by Scho- 



236 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

penliauer. I refer to the chapter cited above, and only- 
give here a short abstract for completeness' sake. Two 
prime factors are to be distinguished : (1) individuals exert 
a greater sexual charm the more completely they represent 
corporeally and mentally the Idea of the race, and the 
more nearly they approach the acme of the procreative 
power ; (2) that individual has the greatest sexual charm 
for any other individual which, as far as possible, 
neutralises the latter's defects by opposite defects, thus 
producing a child which represents the type of the 
race in the greatest possible perfection. One sees that 
under the first head will come the bodily and mental 
attractive force of symmetry, beauty, nobility, and grace, 
to cause the awakening of sexual love, and one also now 
understands how it comes about, namely, by the circuitous 
path of an unconscious final causality, whilst before it was 
not at all evident how bodily and mental excellence could 
have anything to do with sexual love. The influence of 
age is likewise explained by the acme of procreative power 
(18-28 years for the woman, 24-36 for the man). As 
another example, I may instance the powerful charm 
which a voluptuous female bosom exerts on the man ; the 
medium is the unconscious idea of the abundant nutrition 
of the new-born child. A powerful muscular frame (e.g., 
calves) also promises a powerful constitution of the child, 
and thus exerts a considerable charm. All such trifles 
are most carefully reviewed, and people talk about them 
with an air of importance, but no one reflects what an 
insignificant more or less in calves and bosoms have to 
do with the sexual pleasure. 

The first point contains the reason why, generally speak- 
ing, the individuals with the most perfect mental and 
bodily constitution appear most desirable to the other sex ; 
the second point, why the same persons appear to have 
very different attractive power for members of the other 
sex, and why totally different natures are the most capti- 
vating of all. Both points may be anywhere put to the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 237 

test, and they are found confirmed in the smallest details, 
if only a deduction be always made for what is not desired 
and wished for from immediate instinctive sexual in- 
clination, but from, other rational or irrational conscious 
motives. Tall men prefer short women, and vice versa; 
thin, stout; snub-nosed, long-nosed; blondes, brunettes; the 
intellectual, the naive ; always, be it understood, only in 
sexual relations. iEsthetically, people do not generally 
find their polar contrasts beautiful, but their doubles. 
Many tall women will also, from vanity, refuse to marry 
a short man. It is clear that the sexual pleasure rests on 
quite other suppositions than the practical, moral, aesthetic, 
and agreeable, which explains the passionate love for indi- 
viduals whom the lover in other respects cannot help 
hating and despising. Truly passion in such cases does 
all that is possible to dazzle the calm judgment, and to 
attune it in its favour; it is therefore decidedly correct 
that there is no sexual love without blindness. The dis- 
illusion which occurs on the decline of passion essentially 
contributes to strengthen the conversion of love into in- 
difference or hate, as we even find the latter frequently 
at the bottom of the heart, not only in amours, but even 
among married people. 

It is well known that the strongest passions are not ex- 
cited by the most beautiful individuals, but, on the contrary, 
more frequently by the ugly. This is owing to the circum- 
stance that the strongest passion consists only in the most 
concentrated individualising of the sexual impulse, and 
this arises only by the encounter of qualities in polar 
opposition; In nations, where life is generally less intellec- 
tual than sensuous, the bodily qualities almost exclusively 
decide the issue, wherefore also among them the instan- 
taneous origination of the most violent passions. On the 
other hand, among the educated classes of nations of higher 
mental development, even with respect to influence on the 
unconscious sexual choice, the mental qualities outweigh 
the corporeal. Accordingly, here for the most part a closer 



238 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

acquaintance is necessary for the birth of love, unless the 
lucid vision of the Unconscious, stimulated by the view of a 
certain countenance, serve the same end, as may often occur, 
especially in the case of women, who stand nearer to the 
source of the Unconscious. But also among men of a 
highly intellectual cast of mind, the experience is suffi- 
ciently common of a first meeting with a rare feminine 
nature involving them in enchanted and indestructible 
bonds, to seek a cause for which the mind struggles in 
vain. Ye who still doubt magic, action of mind on mind 
without the ordinary means of rational communication, 
through the medium of symbol, which is only understood 
by the Unconscious — will ye also deny Love ? 

The sum of this chapter is as follows : Man instinctively 
seeks an individual of the other sex to gratify a physical 
impulse, in the illusory expectation of thereby attaining a 
higher enjoyment than from any other kind of gratifi- 
cation ; his unconscious aim, therefore, is, in the main, 
procreation. Man instinctively seeks that individual of 
the other sex, whose nature blended with his own, represents 
the type of the race in the most perfect way possible, in the 
vain hope of having an incomparably higher enjoyment in 
sexual union with this individual than with any other, 
nay, of absolutely partaking the most exceeding bliss. 
His unconscious aim therein is the begetting of such an 
individual as most completely represents the Idea of the 
race. This unconscious endeavour after the purest pos- 
sible realisation of the Idea of the race involves no new 
principle, but is the same principle, which governed organic 
formation in the wider sense, applied to procreation (which 
is indeed only a special form of organic formation, as 
physiology shows), and is screwed up to a high degree of 
subtility through the numbers and fineness of the differ- 
ences in the human race. — Among animals this factor of 
sexual selection is by no means wanting ; it is only pre- 
sented in a simpler form on account of the smaller differ- 
ences, and essentially concerns only the first point, the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 239 

selection of such individuals as represent as completely as 
possible the type of the race. Thus, among many animals 
(fowls, seals, molesj certain apes), the males fight for the 
possession of those females which appear specially desir- 
able. These pre-eminently desirable individuals are, among 
many gay-coloured animals, those with the most beautiful 
colours, and within the limits of a species among the 
different races or varieties, the individuals of the same race, 
e.g., among men and dogs. Curs often make the greatest 
sacrifices in order to come together with a bitch of their 
own breed with whom they have fallen in love. Not only 
will they run many miles, but I know even a case where a 
dog every night, in spite of his cross clog, visited his 
mistress at a distance of more than five miles, and returned 
every morning exhausted and jaded ; as the clog was of no 
avail, the chain was put on him, but he then became so wild 
that he was again liberated,as it was feared hewould go mad. 
There were at the time in his own yard a large number of 
bitches. Thorough-bred stallions, too, are said usually to 
disdain copulation with common worn-out mares. 

Schopenhauer very correctly remarks, that we may con- 
clude from the instinct of sexual love, which we ourselves 
possess, to the instincts of animals, and assume that even 
among them consciousness would be disappointed of the 
expectation of a special enjoyment. This illusion arises, 
however, only from the impulse, is proportional to the 
strength of the impulse, and is nothing else but the impulse 
itself combined with the application of the conscious expe- 
rience, that the pleasure of the gratification of an impulse 
is generally proportional to the strength of the impulse, a 
supposition which is not confirmed by the impulses, whose 
chief weight and importance appertains to the Unconscious 
(see sec. C. Chap, iii.), and therefore becomes a deceptive 
illusion. This remark is, therefore, to be confined to those 
animals whose consciousness is capable of such general- 
isations ; among the lower ones it stops short at the con- 
straining impulse, without reaching to the expectation of 



240 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

enjoyment. — For the rest, how useful also for the indivi- 
duals of the higher kinds of animals that illusion is, is seen 
herein, that this sexual illusion is just the first and most 
important means in nature for inspiring individuals with 
that interest for one another, which is requisite, in order 
to make the mind in a sufficient degree receptive for 
sympathy. The ties of marriage and of the family are 
therefore even among animals, as among rude men, the 
first stages in the progress to conscious friendship and 
morality; they are the first flush of dawning culture, 
of fairer and nobler feelings, and general readiness for 
sacrifice. 

Some may perhaps be inclined to reply that, according 
to the theory of polar complements, no unhappy love can 
occur, but this is manifestly an over-hasty and mistaken 
objection. For, if A is in love with B, that means B is a 
suitable complement to A, or A will beget more perfect 
children with B than with others. But now is it by no 
means necessary for A to be a suitable complement to B, 
but B can perhaps beget more perfect children with many 
others than with A, if, e.g., A is a rather imperfect pre- 
sentation of the idea of the race ; consequently B by no 
means needs to be enamoured of A. Only when both are 
superior individuals will also B with difficulty find an 
individual with whom he can beget more perfect children 
than with A, and then are both simultaneously seized by 
passion. Then are they like the re-found halves of the 
parted primitive man in the Platonic myth. Add to 
this, that, in such a case, this polar accord is not merely to 
the advantage of the children, but in another respect, than 
the passion of love imagines, to the parents also ; to wit, 
because, as before remarked, for the highest friendship, 
too, the polar harmony of souls is the favourable condi- 
tion. 

For the understanding of those to whom the result of 
the last chapter may seem new and repulsive, I call atten- 
tion, in conclusion, to the following: — (i) That, as Ion"- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 241 

as the illusion of unconscious impulse persists intact, this 
illusion has for feeling the same value as truth. (2.) That 
even after the discovery of the illusion, and before complete 
resignation to egoism, thus in the state of the strongest 
most unbroken contradiction between the selfish conscious, 
and the unselfish, unconscious Will working merely for 
universal ends, that even in this state, I say, the Uncon- 
scious constantly shows itself at the same time as the 
superior and the master of Consciousness, and accordingly 
the satisfaction of the conscious at the expense of the non- 
satisfaction of the unconscious Will causes more pain than 
the reverse. (3.) Lastly, that this variance, of the general 
unconscious with the egoistic conscious Will finds its posi- 
tive reconciliation in the truly philosophical point of view 
(to be demonstrated in Chap. xiv. C), where self-renuncia- 
tion, i.e., foregoing individual welfare, and complete devo- 
tion to the process and welfare of the universal, is presented 
as first principle of practical philosophy, and thus also all 
instincts, absurd to conscious egoism but beneficial for the 
whole, are fully justified. 

We should altogether err, if we thought that the expla- 
nation of love by unconscious reference to an end in the 
child to be begotten materialised the eternal spring of the 
human heart, or robbed the yet innocent feelings of their 
fine idealistic lustre. Far from that ! What could more 
certainly raise love above the coarseness of sensuality 
and for ever protect it from all relapse, than its derivation 
from an unconscious purpose, which is only concerned 
with generation, but excludes sensuality and voluptuous- 
ness from the causes of individualised love, and only 
permits them to be an accessory vehicle, which may 
better protect the infinite longing from entirely missing 
its unconscious purpose ? Philosophic speculation does 
no more than unveil the illusion in which the natural 
man is entangled, the illusion that those mystical feelings 
in themselves possess a rational foundation or warrant. At 
the same time, however, it replaces this illusion by the 

VOL. I. Q 



242 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

scientific insight that these feelings have the greatest 
possible authorisation, and rest on the deepest and noblest 
ground of all, and that they are, in fact, infinitely more 
important for the development of the human race than 
fancy permits itself to dream (comp., farther on, Chap. x. 
B. ; and also the conclusion of Chap. xi. B.) It thus 
gives to the everlasting theme of poetry, which hitherto 
lias appeared baseless illusion, by critically annihilating 
its imaginary value for egoism, and assigning it in com- 
pensation a quite unexpected significance in respect of 
the welfare of mankind, a foundation so philosophical, 
that the dullest Philistine must cease from mocking and 
acknowledge the immense practical consequence of the 
whole affair. 



( 243 ) 



III. 

THE UNCONSCIOUS IN FEELING. 

If I have toothache and a pain in my finger, there are 
apparently two kinds of feeling; for the one is in the 
tooth, the other in the finger. Did I not possess the 
ability to project my perceptions into space, I should not 
feel two separate pains, but a single compound one, just 
as with two pure tones (without upper tones), at the in- 
terval of an octave, only one is absolutely heard — the lower 
note — but with a different timbre. The local difference 
of the perception thus confers upon the mind the ability 
to dissect the pain-harmony into its elements in con- 
formity with the differently localised perceptions — to com- 
bine one part with this, another with that space-perception, 
and thus to establish the duality. But now things may 
be spatially twofold and yet incapable of discrimination, 
as, e.g., two congruent triangles. This can certainly not 
be asserted of toothache and finger-ache. In the first 
place, they can only be discriminated in degree, i.e., in 
intensive quantity, and secondly by their quality; for 
with equal strength pain can be continuous or intermit- 
tent, burning, cooling, crushing, beating, stinging, biting, 
cutting, drawing, palpitating, itching, and exhibit an in- 
finity of variations, baffling all description. 

We have hitherto understood by pain the whole pheno- 
menon, but it is a question whether this must not be 
philosophically prohibited, and whether we should not 
rather distinguish in this given whole the sensuous percep- 
tion, and the smart or pain in the narrower sense ; for we 



244 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

have often a kind of perception which produces neither 
pleasure nor pain, e.g., if I gently press my finger or brush 
my skin. Whilst this perception remains qualitatively 
unchanged, and only increases or diminishes in degree, 
pleasure or displeasure may be felt in addition; and is the 
perception to be all at once included in the pain or the 
pleasure ? We are then compelled to separate them, and 
soon perceive that the twain are so little one that they 
rather stand in a causal relation ; for the perception (or 
a part thereof) is the cause of the pain, since the latter 
comes into existence and disappears with it, and never 
appears in its absence, although the perception may 
undoubtedly occur without the pain under particular 
circumstances. 

This separation having been made, the closely allied 
question arises, whether the distinctions just noticed really 
exist in the pleasure and pain, or merely in the producing 
and accompanying circumstances, namely, in the percep- 
tion? That pain admits of differences in intensive quantity 
is clear, but does it also admit qualitative differences ? 
Most of the distinctions expressed in words apply to dif- 
ferent forms of intermittence, as beating, drawing, palpitat- 
ing, stinging, cutting, biting, even tickling. Certainly the 
degree of pain here changes continuously with the degree of 
perception according to certain more or less regular types, 
but nothing is to be found of an originally qualitative 
difference of the pain itself. One would much sooner 
expect this in the pleasure or displeasure which is called 
forth by different smells and tastes ; but even there one 
may be convinced by careful introspection that the quali- 
tative difference of pleasure or displeasure is altogether 
only apparent, and this illusion arises from the circum- 
stance that the separation of pleasure or pain and percep- 
tion has never hitherto been made, but both are wont to 
be comprehended with the perception as a single whole, 
so that now the differences of perception preseut them- 
selves as differences of this single whole. — That this separa- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 245 

tion has never been made is due to the fact that, out of the 
infinitely multifarious composition of psychical states, one 
always only learns to separate those groups as independent 
parts, the separation of which has a real utility for practical 
needs. Thus, e.g., in the accord of a full orchestra, not all 
tones of a certain pitch are separated out, no matter from 
what instrument they proceed, including their upper tones, 
but the upper tones of the most different parts of the 
scale produced by any instrument are fused with the funda- 
mental tone of the instrument into its timbre, and the 
groups of tones thus formed, which represent the tones 
called forth from any single instrument, are alone blended 
into the accord, simply for the reason that the knowledge 
of the upper tones possesses no practical interest, but 
rather the knowledge of the timbres of the instruments. 
And this practical mode of grasping the groups of tones 
has become so organised in us, that that, according to mere 
pitch, although it must manifestly be much easier, has 
become purely impossible to us — so impossible that only 
a few years have elapsed since Helmholtz strictly demon- 
strated the origin of timbres by actually combining the 
upper tones. 

Almost as impossible does it also seem to us now, in 
self-observation to sharply separate and keep asunder the 
two elements in the totality of pleasure or pain and the 
perceptions following and accompanying them ; but that 
such separation must be possible any one can see from 
this, that both parts are related as cause and effect, and 
are essentially different. Whoever succeeds in making 
the trial will find the assertion confirmed, that pleasure 
and displeasure have only intensively quantitative, but no 
qualitative differences. Success will be the easier the 
simpler the examples with which one begins, e.g., whether 
the pleasure is different in hearing a bell if the note is c, 
and if it is d. If insight has once been gained in such 
simple examples, the truth will be no less evident if one 
passes gradually to examples which contain greater differ- 



246 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

ences in the element of perception. A confirmation of the 
assertion may also be seen in this, that we are able to 
balance different sensual enjoyments or pains against one 
another (e.g., whether any one prefers to lay out his half- 
crown in a bottle of wine, or cake and ice, or beefsteak 
and beer, or any other sensuous gratification ; or whether 
one will endure the toothache all day long, or rather have 
the tooth drawn), which balancing would not be possible 
if pleasure and pain were not in all these things only 
quantitatively different and qualitatively alike ; for like 
can only be measured by like. 

It is now also clear that local differences by no means 
concern the pain directly, but only the perception, and 
that only through the perception does- an ideal separation 
of the total pain occur, one part of it being causally referred 
to this, and another to that perception. If now, strictly 
speaking, pain has no locality, and only the perception has 
local relation, the duality established by the local differ- 
ence can only have reference to the perception, but not to 
the pain, and pain is accordingly not merely qualitatively 
alike in all cases, but is always only single in the same 
moment. 

These considerations are confirmed by Wundt in his 
"Contributions to the Theory of Sense-Perception." He 
says (pp. 391, 392), " The essential part of pain is identical, 
whether it have its seat in one of the objective sense- 
organs, as the skin, or in some part of the viscera of 
the trunk. As pain, from whatever cause it may arise 
— mechanical, chemical stimulus, heat or cold, &c. — is 
always of the same nature, so it exhibits no difference 
in its essential character, whatever nerves of the body 
sensitive to pain the pain-exciting stimulus may affect." 
He further shows " that pain, as it is manifested in the 
sense-organs proper as only the highest pitch of sensation, 
so in all the other sensitive organs it is nothing else but 
the most intense sensation, which follows on the strongest 
stimuli ; that, on the other hand, all organs which are at 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 247 

all capable of the sensation of pain have also power to 
serve as media of sensations, which cannot be termed pain, 
but which stand in respect of each organ for that which 
in the case of the sensory organs is the specific sensation " 
(p. 394). " If once attention be called to these pre- 
cursors and successors of pain, they can also be dis- 
tinctly perceived, if they do not stand in connection with 
preceding or succeeding pains " (p. 393). " As we only 
attend to them when they rise to the pitch of pain, 
language has also only distinctive designations for the 
peculiarity of the pain of different organs'' (p. 395). It 
is, then, these specific organic sensations, corresponding to 
the sensations of the special senses, in conjunction with 
the secondary affection of adjoining tissues, which condi- 
tion the different colouring of pain, without altering the 
identity of its essence. 

Whoever has apprehended the similarity of pleasure 
and displeasure in sensuous, will soon admit it also in 
mental feelings. Whether my friend A or my friend B 
dies may possibly change the degree but not the kind 
of my pain, no more than if my wife or my child dies, 
although my love to both has been of quite a different 
kind, and also the ideas and thoughts which I entertain 
on the nature of the loss are quite different. As pain in 
general has been caused in this case through the repre- 
sentation of the loss, so also in the complex of feeling and 
thought which one usually comprehends under pain, a 
difference is introduced through the difference in respect 
of the loss ; but if one again detaches what is pain and 
nothing but pain, not thought and not imagination, it 
will be found that this again is identical. The same holds 
good of the pain which I feel for the loss of a wife, the 
loss of property which makes me a beggar, and of the loss 
of my office and my honour owing to calumny. What is 
pain and nothing but pain is everywhere only different 
in degree. Likewise in the pleasure which I feel when 
another, after a long resistance, yields to my stubborn 



248 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

will, or if I gain a prize in a lottery or obtain a higher 
post. 

That pleasure and displeasure are everywhere alike 
again follows from this, that one is compared with the 
other, on which balancing of pleasure and displeasure in 
the feelings every rational practical reflection, every resolu- 
tion of mankind depends ; for one can indeed only measure 
like by like, not hay by straw or pecks by pounds. In the 
fact that the whole of human life and the determining 
grounds of action therein depends on a balancing of the 
most different kinds of pleasure and displeasure there is 
implicitly and unconsciously contained, as fundamental 
condition, the assumption that such different kinds of plea- 
sure and displeasure may in general be weighed against one 
another ; that they are commensurable, i.e., that that which 
is compared in them is qualitatively identical. Were 
this tacit supposition false the whole of human life would 
rest upon a prodigious illusion, whose origin and possi- 
bility would be absolutely incomprehensible. The com- 
mensur ability of pleasure and displeasure in themselves, 
which is already expressed in language in the nominal 
identity of all kinds of pleasure and pain, must thus be 
unconditionally assumed as fact, and it holds good not 
merely of different kinds of sensuous pleasure, but just 
as much for sensuous and mental pleasure and displeasure. 
Think of a man who has the choice of marrying one of 
two rich sisters, the one clever and ugly, the other stupid 
and pretty. He weighs the supposed sensuous and mental 
pleasure against one another, and according as this or 
that appears to him to preponderate he makes his decision. 
In the same way a girl led into temptation weighs the 
pleasure from honour, from virtuous pride, and the hope 
of the future dignity of a housewife against the pleasure 
from the promises of the seducer and the joys beckoning 
her to his side. Again, a believer compares the heavenly 
joys which are said to flow from earthly renunciation 
with those earthly joys which he is to renounce, and ac- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 219 

cording to the apparent predominance of the one or the 
other does he seize the earthly or the heavenly part. 
Such a weighing of sensuous and spiritual pleasure, and 
the suppositipn of the essential likeness on which it rests, 
would only be unintelligible if sensuous and mental were 
altogether heterogeneous provinces severed by a fixed 
gulf. This is, however, not the case. The sensuous, too, 
so far as it is feeling, rests on a subjective spiritual basis ; 
and the spiritual also, so far as it fills consciousness, forms 
only the blossom of the tree of sense on which it has grown, 
and from which it can never be torn. 

We consider, then, the result established that pleasure 
and displeasure are in themselves only one thing in all feel- 
ings, or that they are different not in quality, but only in 
degree. That pleasure and displeasure neutralise one an- 
other, are related as positive and negative, and the zero 
between them is the indifference of feeling, is clear. 
Equally clear is it that it is indifferent which of the two 
one is inclined to assume as positive, just as indifferent as 
the question whether the right or the left side of the ab- 
scissa be taken as positive (that accordingly Schopenhauer 
is wrong when he declares displeasure the alone positive 
and pleasure its negative ; he thereby commits the error 
of confounding contrary and contradictory opposition). 

But now the question is, what, then, are pleasure and 
displeasure ? That the mental representation is one of their 
causes we have seen, but what are they, then, themselves ? 
By mental representation alone they will certainly never 
be explained, much as ancient and modern philosophers 
have tried. The simplest self-observation gives the lie to 
their unsatisfactory deductions, and says that pleasure and 
displeasure, on the one hand, and thought on the other, 
are heterogeneous things, which only with great straining 
can be confounded. On the other hand, it has been 
acknowledged by most important thinkers of all times 
that pleasure and displeasure stand in the closest connec- 
tion with the inmost life of man, with his interests and 



250 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

inclinations, his desires and strivings, — in a word, with 
the kingdom of the will. Without intending to enter 
here more minutely into the opinions of individual philo- 
sophers, it may comprehensively be said that all their 
opinions may be reduced to two fundamental views, — 
either they conceive pleasure as satisfaction, displeasure 
as non-satisfaction of desire, or, conversely, desire as idea 
of future pleasure, aversion (negative desire) as idea of 
future pain. 1 In the former case will, in the latter feel- 
ing, is conceived as the original. Which of the two is 
correct it is not difficult to see; for, in the first place, in 
Instinct will, in fact, exists before the representation of 
pleasure ; its proper goal is there another than the indi- 
vidual pleasure of satisfaction ; in the second place, pos- 
sibly through the explanation of pleasure as satisfaction 
of the will everything in pleasure is sufficiently explained, 
but not, conversely, everything in the will through the 
explanation of the same as idea of pleasure. Here the 
properly impelling factor, the will, as active causality, re- 
mains perfectly incomprehensible, just because the will 
is the externalisation, but pleasure and displeasure the re- 
turn from this externalisation to self, and is therewith the 
close of this process ; therefore the will must be the pri- 
mary, pleasure the secondary moment. 

If we provisionally allow this view to pass, we obtain 
an unexpected confirmation of the essential identity of 
pleasure and displeasure in all feelings. We have seen 
before that volition is likewise always one and the same, 
and, in the first place, is only discriminated according to 
the degree of strength, and, in the second place, according 

1 Although the feeling of present which indicate to the uprisen or 

non-satisfaction may be always actual world-will the path of its 

united with positive desire, the feel- manifestation in the world-process), 

ing of a present (but doubtfully For desire itself necessarily refers 

enduring) relative satisfaction fre- to a not yet existing future state, 

quently with the negative ; yet these could, accordingly, always only be 

present sensations can in no case be explained as an idea or fore-feeling 

conceived as the desire itself, but aroused by those present feelings or 



on 



ly as cause of the desire (more strengthened by them (comp. Sect, 
exactly, as occasions or opportunities A. Chap, iv.) 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 251 

to the object, which, however, is no longer will, but idea. 
If now pleasure is the satisfaction, and displeasure the 
non-satisfaction of the will, it is clear that these also must 
always be only one and the same, and can merely be 
different in degree ; but that the apparent qualitative dis- 
tinctions which they contain are given by accompanying 
ideas, partly by those which make the object of will, partly 
by those which bring about the satisfaction of the will. 
From this there results, for all emotional states, notwith- 
standing their multiplicity, so great a simplicity that, 
according to the ancient saying, " simplex sigillum veri," 
this must be regarded as a support to the assertions from 
which it follows, just as these mutually support and 
render one another probable through the force of analogy. 

The reasons why I have at this particular place touched 
on these problems of the conscious psychical life are con- 
tained in the following two complementary propositions 
from the psychology of the Unconscious : — (1.) Where one 
is conscious of no will in the satisfaction of which an existing 
pleasure or displeasure could exist, this will is an uncon- 
scious one; and (2.) the obscure, ineffable, inexpressible in 
feeling lies in the unconsciousness of the accompanying ideas. 
Because the conception of the unconscious will was want- 
ing in previous psychology it could not conscientiously 
unconditionally accept the explanation of pleasure as 
satisfaction of the will, and because it lacked the notion 
of the unconscious idea it did not know how to deal with 
the whole province of the feelings, and therefore limited 
its consideration almost exclusively to the department 
of thought. 

As example of a pleasure through the exercise of un- 
conscious will, one may take the instincts where the pur- 
pose lies in the Unconscious, e.g., the maternal pleasure in 
the new-born child, or the transcendent bliss of the happy 
lover. Here no will whose satisfaction corresponds to 
the degree of pleasure at all emerges into consciousness ; 
but we know the metaphysical power of that unconscious 



252 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

will whose special effects are the several instinctive de- 
sires, and which obtains satisfaction through their reali- 
sation ; and it must be an exceeding high and strong will 
indeed, whose satisfaction has for its consequence those 
phenomena of extravagant pleasure, of which the poets in 
all ages did not know how to sing in strains sufficiently 
lofty. 

Another example is the sensuous pleasure and pain 
which result from nerve-currents of a certain kind. Lotze, 
in his " Medical Psychology," shows that sensuous pleasure 
always occurs along with a furtherance, and pain with 
a disturbance of organic life. This conscientious investi- 
gator, however, expressly acknowledges that only a uni- 
form concomitance can be established, but that what we 
mean by pain can by no means be derived from the general 
notion of vital disturbance, that consequently there must 
be a deeper law connecting the two. Now this is mani- 
festly the unconscious will, which we have become ac- 
quainted with as principle of organisation, self-preserva- 
tion, and self-restoration. As soon as disturbances or 
furtherances in the sphere of organic life are of such a 
nature that they are telegraphed to the brain, the satisfac- 
tion or non-satisfaction of this unconscious will must be 
felt as pleasure or displeasure. (For the refutation of 
some replies to the above assertions on sensuous pleasure 
and displeasure I refer to Lotze, 2d book, 2d chapter.) 

That we very often do not know what it is we really 
will, nay, even often imagine we are willing the contrary, 
until by the pain and pleasure resulting from the decision 
we are instructed concerning our true will, every one will 
probably have had opportunity of observing in himself 
and others. In these doubtful cases we often naively 
think that we are willing what appears to us good and 
laudable, e.g., that a sick relation, whose heir we are to be, 
may not die, or that in a collision between the common 
weal and our individual weal the former is preferred, or that 
an engagement formerly entered into may be kept, or that 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 253 

our rational conviction and not our inclination and passion 
may gain the day. This belief may be so strong that 
afterwards, if the decision falls out contrary to our sup- 
posed will, and yet no grief but an unbounded joy takes 
possession of us, we do not know how to give over 
astonishment at ourselves, because we are now suddenly 
aware of disillusion, and learn that we unconsciously 
have willed the contrary of what we had imagined. 
Since, now, in this case, we only conclude to our proper 
will from our pleasure (or pain), this pleasure is manifestly 
the sign of the satisfaction of an unconscious will. This 
becomes still more evident if we consider how, from 
the excessive astonishment that such a will can have 
unconsciously existed in our own soul, the transition 
is quite gradual through the stages of slight suspicion, 
doubt, and conjecture that one indeed willed otherwise 
than was imagined to the final open self-deception, where 
we very well know 7 how we willed, but endeavour to per- 
suade ourselves and others, with more or less success, that 
we willed just the opposite. Closely allied are the cases 
in which the temptation to self-deception does not at all 
exist, and the surprise which accompanies the pleasure 
only consists in this, that for a very long time the will 
has not emerged into consciousness, as, e.g., when a friend 
believed to be long dead suddenly enters my room. Even 
then it is our unconscious will whose satisfaction takes 
the form of fearful joy, but I now do not need to infer 
the existence of this will in myself from the occurrence 
of pleasure, but can directly assume it from the memory 
of earlier times, when I have often wished to enclose the 
lost friend once more in my arms. 

We know from Chap. iv. A. that the conscious and 
unconscious will are essentially distinguished by this, 
that the idea which forms the object of will is conscious 
in the one case, unconscious in the other. "When we re- 
call this proposition, we perceive the transition of pleasure 
or pain from unconscious will to those feelings which are 



254 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

somewhat obscure in that their quality is entirely or 
partially conditioned by unconscious ideas. We now see 
that the former is only a special case of the latter, in that 
in the former the ideas which form the content of the 
satisfied xuill remain unconscious, and perhaps only the 
ideas which bring satisfaction become conscious (as, e.g., 
in maternal love) ; but this does not quite meet the cases 
where, immediately on the occurrence of pleasure or dis- 
pleasure, the existence and the kind of the unconscious 
will are inferred by consciousness, because the latter could 
only hesitate between two or a very few species of will. 

But now the circumstances are rarely so simple that 
the feeling consists in the satisfaction or non-satisfaction 
of a single definite desire, but the most different kinds of 
desires cross one another in the greatest number at every 
moment, and by the very same event some are gratified, 
others not gratified ; accordingly there is neither pure nor 
simple pleasure and displeasure, i.e., there is no pleasure 
which does not contain a pain, and no pain with which a 
pleasure is not bound up, but there is also no pleasure 
which is not compounded of the simultaneous satisfaction 
of the most different desires. As actual volition is the 
resultant of all contemporaneous desires, so is also the 
satisfaction of the will the resultant of all simultaneous 
satisfactions and non-satisfactions of particular desires ; for 
it comes to the same thing, whether one operates directly 
with the resultant, or with the several components, and 
then takes the resultant of the partial results. Now it 
is evident that one part of the several desires may be 
conscious, another may, nay, for the most part, will be 
unconscious ; then is the pleasure also compounded of 
those pleasures which are determined by conscious and 
those which are determined by unconscious ideas. The 
latter fact must give that obscure character to the quality 
of the feeling, that constant remainder, which, with all our 
effort, can never be grasped by consciousness. 

But there are other points besides the unconscious will 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 255 

-where unconscious ideation determines the speciality of 
the feeling, to wit, the perception or idea producing 
the feeling may be unconscious to the brain, strange as it 
at first seems. For it might be thought the idea which 
produces the satisfaction of the will can only come from 
outside, or through cerebrally conscious ideation in the 
play of fancy, and in both cases the resort to conscious- 
ness cannot be avoided. But in this it is forgotten that 
there are other central nervous parts which, just as 
much as the brain, have a consciousness per se which is 
capable of pleasure and pain. But now one can well 
imagine, that the feelings of pleasure or pain of these centres 
can easily be conducted to the brain, without the con- 
duction being so well contrived, that the perceptions 
themselves, which produce in those centres pleasure or 
pain, could reach the brain. In this manner the brain 
probably receives pleasant and painful sensations which 
have been conducted to it, but not their grounds of origin ; 
and therefore such feelings and moods reflected from 
other centres in the brain have something very incom- 
prehensible and enigmatical about them, although their 
power over the cerebral consciousness is not seldom very 
great. The latter, then, generally searches after other 
apparent causes of its feelings which are by no means 
the correct ones. The less the cerebral consciousness has 
raised itself to a certain independence and elevation, the 
more power do the moods springing from the relatively un- 
conscious possess over it ; thus in the female sex more than 
in the male, in children more than in adults, in the sick 
more than in the healthy. Most distinct are these influ- 
ences in hypochondria, hysteria, and at the period of 
important sexual changes, e.g., puberty and pregnancy. 
These influences are also by no means merely expressed 
in moods, i.e., in the disposition to entertain cheerful or 
gloomy feelings, but they even directly give rise to feelings 
in the cerebral consciousness, as is again best observed in 
persons suffering from hypochondria. 



256 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

"Look at that child: what wild delight, what merry 
skipping, what gladsome laughter, what a glistening eye ; 
all questioning as to the cause would be in vain, or the 
causes enumerated would be utterly disproportionate to 
the glee. And suddenly, and again without any con- 
scious reason, all is changed ; the child is quietly lost in 
itself, its eye troubled, its lips pouting, on the point of 
weeping, peevish and sad, whereas a moment before it 
was contented and full of mirth " (Carus's " Psyche "). 
Where else should these feelings, whose peculiarity it 
is to be referable only to unconscious ideas, take their rise 
than from vital perceptions of the lower nerve-centres? 
That in man the power of these feelings appears to us so 
much the greater the less the independence of the cere- 
bral consciousness, permits us to conclude that among the 
animals their significance is likewise the greater the 
lower we descend in the animal scale, which might be 
expected a priori, since in this descent the mental enjoy- 
ments and sufferings of the human cerebral consciousness 
dwindle more and more. 

One will now see how, also, other sensuous feelings which, 
in part, are determined and accompanied by clearly con- 
scious perceptions of the brain, for the rest remain ob- 
scure and unintelligible so far as they are brought about 
by perceptions and feelings of lower centres. Thus, e.g., 
one may compare the facility with which we can repro- 
duce completely and clearly, as mere idea, any simple feeling 
that is determined by the perception of the higher senses 
leading direct to the brain, with the want of success in try- 
ing to recall clearly and completely hunger and thirst or 
sensual enjoyment. 

Lastly, there remains the possibility that yet other 
unconscious ideas help in determining the special nature 
of the states of feeling. We have, namely, already seen 
above that sensuous perception frequently only has for its 
consequence a sensation of pleasure or pain if it occurs 
with a certain strength, whilst it persists of itself below 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 257 

this degree, as indifferent objective perception, without caus- 
ing such a feeling. But now hardly any sensuous perception 
is quite simple, but is compounded of a number of elements 
which are only combined into a unity through the common 
act of perception. Still one or several of these partial per- 
ceptions may very well be followed by feeling, whilst the 
other partial perceptions remain indifferent in respect of 
feeling. Nevertheless, if the union of these different par- 
tial perceptions into one total perception is not accidental, 
but grounded in the nature of the object, not only will 
those productive of feeling, but also the indifferent parts 
of the whole perception, blend with the feeling, and help, 
at the same time, to determine the quality of the whole 
mental state, because, indeed, the mind has no interest in 
undertaking the separation of the feeling-producing from 
the indifferent parts. Thus, e.g., every characteristic pro- 
perty of the vocal timbre and note influences the character 
of the pleasurable feeling which is produced in me on 
hearing a particular singer, and were it not that these 
slight differences, which only just enable me to distinguish 
different voices, possess the power to produce a difference 
in the degree of the enjoyment, I should not be in a 
position to separate the enjoyment, which I have experi- 
enced in hearing this particular singer, from those fine 
shades of the indifferent perception, without losing the 
special quality of the feeling experienced. This only 
proves that we have never practised ourselves in separat- 
ing out what is properly pleasure and displeasure in our 
psychical states, but have comprehended all states of the 
mind in which pleasure and displeasure appear, including 
all accompanying perceptions and ideas (nay, even desires), 
under the term Feeling. One now sees that even among 
the merely concomitant perceptions there may be some un- 
conscious for the brain, as has just been shown in the case 
of those productive of feeling. Still more important, how- 
ever, do these concomitant ideas become when we pass from 
the sphere of sensuous perception into that of intellection. 
vol. 1. E 



258 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

We have now reviewed in general the different modes 
in which feeling may be determined by unconscious ideas, 
and perhaps on this occasion already the importance of 
unconscious ideas for the whole emotional life may have 
also become visible. This importance cannot be rated too 
highly. Let any one take for test whatever feeling he 
pleases, and seek to grasp it with perfectly clear con- 
sciousness in its whole extent. It is in vain ; for unless 
satisfied with the most superficial explanation, he will 
constantly stumble on an irresolvable remainder, which 
mocks at every endeavour to illuminate it with the burn- 
ing-glass of consciousness. But now, if one asks, what 
then has been done with the part that has become clear 
whilst it has been embraced with full consciousness, we 
shall be obliged to say that it has been translated into 
thoughts, i.e., conscious ideas, and only so far as feeling has 
been translated into thoughts has it become clearly con- 
scious. But that feeling, even if only partially, has been 
recast into conscious ideas, sufficiently proves indeed that 
it already unconsciously contains these ideas, for otherwise 
the thoughts would, in fact, not be the same as the feeling. 
If the previously unconscious part of feeling, on being 
passed through consciousness, shows itself as material of 
thought, we may suppose the same also of the part of the 
feeling not yet interpenetrated by consciousness ; for both 
in the individual and in humanity as a whole, the boun- 
dary between the not-understood and the understood part 
of feeling is always shifting. 

Only so far as the feelings can be already translated 
into thoughts, only so far are they communicable, if we 
disregard the always extremely scanty instinctive lan- 
guage of gesture ; for only so far as feelings are capable of 
being translated into thoughts are they to be rendered 
into words. One knows, however, what difficulty there is 
in the communication of feelings ; how often they are 
unrecognised and misunderstood; nay, even how often 
they are declared to be impossible. In general, feelings 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE' HUMAN MIND. 259 

can only be understood by him who has had them ; only 
a hypochondriac understands the hypochondriac, only he 
who has loved, the lover. How often, however, do we fail 
to understand ourselves ; how enigmatical often are our 
own feelings, especially when they occur for the first time; 
how liable are we to the greatest self-delusions with regard 
to them ! We are often mastered by a feeling which has 
already struck firm roots in our inmost being without our 
suspecting it, and suddenly, on some occasion or other, 
there fall, as it were, scales from our eyes. One has only to 
remember how often the souls of pure girls are completely 
possessed by a first love, which they would with a good 
conscience stoutly deny ; but should the unconsciously 
loved one incur a danger from which they can save him, 
then all at once the hitherto bashful maiden stands forth 
in the full heroism and sacrificing spirit of love, shunning 
neither ridicule nor slander. Then, however, she also 
knows at that same moment that she loves and how she 
loves. But as in this instance love, so at least once in a 
lifetime every spiritual feeling, has existed in us, and the 
process in virtue of which we become self-conscious once 
for all, is the translation of the unconscious ideas which 
determined feeling into conscious ideas, i.e., thoughts and 
words. 



( 26o ) 



IV. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN CHARACTER AND MORALITY. 

There is no manifestation of will without an exciting cause 
or motive. The will of the individual is primarily poten- 
tial, a latent force, and its passage into the manifestation 
of energy, into definite volition, requires as sufficient reason 
a motive which always possesses the form of a mental 
representation. These psychological premisses I assume. 
Volition as such only differs in intensity. All other ap- 
parent attributes of the volition belong to its contents, i.e., 
to the mental pictures of the objects of volition, and this 
content again is connected with the motives. According to 
the kinds of objects most eagerly desired (as sensual enjoy- 
ment, goods and gold, praise, honour and renown, successful 
love, enjoyment of art and artistic productions, knowledge, 
&c), is volition itself distinguished into different main ten- 
dencies (impulses), as, e.g., inordinate longing after enjoy- 
ments of sense, covetousness and avarice, vanity, ambition, 
and lust of fame, ardour of love, artistic impulse, thirst 
for knowledge, and the spirit of inquiry, &c. 

If, now, this content of volition were solely dependent 
on motives, psychology would be very simple and the 
mechanism definite for all individuals. Experience shows, 
however, that one and the same motive, quite apart from 
accidental differences of disposition, acts differently on 
different individuals. Public opinion fails to affect one, 
is all in all to another. To this man the laurel crown of 
the poet or a beautiful woman seems contemptible, whilst 
another sacrifices his life-happiness for their possession. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 261 

One offers his property to save his honour, another sells 
it for a bribe. Good doctrines and fine examples spur 
this man to emulation, and that man they leave unaffected. 
Rational reflection is here the determiner of all action, 
there it has no motive power, and the certain prospect of 
destruction is not able to restrain a third from his folly, 
&c. For the most part, consciousness can assign no 
reason why this motive (say, the expected announcement 
of a new scientific discovery) possesses an attraction for 
me, why that one (say, the announcement that at the 
entertainment to which I am invited a gaming-table will 
be opened) acts as a feeble inducement. The most 
that can appear in consciousness in the shape of an inter- 
mediary is the expectation of a greater or smaller plea- 
sure; but what is enigmatical and unfathomable in my 
nature is, why I promise myself a great pleasure from 
hearing of a new discovery, but from the game of hazard 
a small or no pleasure at all, whilst the converse is the 
case with my neighbour. 

How a particular individual will be affected by this or 
that motive no one can say prior to experience; but if we 
know how a man reacts on all possible motives, we know 
all his idiosyncrasies — become acquainted with his char- 
acter. Character is then the mode of reaction on every 
special class of motives, or, what is the same thing, a con- 
densed expression for the stimulating power of every par- 
ticular class of desires. As there is no motive which 
belongs exclusively to one of these classes, always or 
commonly a greater number of impulses are affected ; and 
the resultant of the desires hereby simultaneously excited 
is the active will, which unceasingly and immediately 
involves the act if this is not prevented by physical 
causes. If we now ask what sort of a process, then, this 
reaction of the will on motive and this opposition of the 
desires to the single resultant is, we must confess that we 
certainly perceive its existence through undoubted infer- 
ences from the facts falling within the domain of con- 



262 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

sciousness, but that we can say nothing with regard to its 
particular nature, because our consciousness affords no 
knowledge thereof. In any case, we only know the first 
term, the motive, and the last term, the particular volition 
or result ; but what that is which reacts on motive we can 
never experience, no more than we can take a look into the 
nature of this reaction, which altogether wears the charac- 
ter of reflex action or reflectorial instinct, as we have seen 
in the special case of Compassion and some other impulses 
in Sect. B. Chap. i. We have, doubtless, in part, a con- 
sciousness of the conflict of various desires, but only so far 
as we have, in former simpler cases, experienced the various 
desires apart as resultants, and apply our former experience 
to the present case. How incomplete these experiences 
are, however, and how imperfectly they are used for the 
understanding of a present psychical process, every one 
doubtless will have experienced in his own person. 

How often do we fancy that we have weighed with the 
utmost care the strength of all operative desires, and dis- 
regarded none; and yet, when it comes to action, see, to 
our extreme surprise, that our subtle calculation does not 
fit the case, for, lo and behold, another and altogether 
different resultant appears as sovereign will. (The re- 
marks on an unconscious will contained in the last chap- 
ter, pp. 252, 253, will recur to the reader. Compare also 
Chap. iii. C.) It appears, then, that there is, in fact, only 
one sure token of the proper, true, and final will, that is, 
the deed (no matter whether it succeeds, or is at the first 
attempt checked by external circumstances), but that every 
other supposition of consciousness with regard to what 
one properly wills remains uncertain, frequently deceptive, 
conjecture, which by no means depends on an immediate 
conscious cognition of the will, but on analogies of experi- 
ence and their artificial combination. Often the firmest 
resolve, the strictest intention is dispersed by action like 
spray before the wind, when the true will emerges from 
the night of the Unconscious, whilst the intentional 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 263 

will was only one-sided or partial desire, or was only 
imagined by consciousness, and did not exist at all. If, 
however, the man never acts, as, e.g., in the case where 
he is impressed with the impossibility of execution, he 
never knows with absolute certainty what it is he 
really wills at the bottom of his heart. The so-called 
conscious choice of the will and its hesitancy is by no 
means a conscious hesitancy of the will, but a vacillation 
of the intellect in estimating the motives and realising 
present and future circumstances as affected by volition. 
But if there is no doubt about the knowledge, there is 
none about the will ; e.g., the vacillation of my choice, 
whether I should marry the clever and ugly or the stupid 
and pretty sister, is no vacillation of my will, which, 
meantime, does not emerge at all, but of my understand- 
ing with respect to the greatness of the advantages and 
disadvantages to be expected in either case. After the 
intellect has chosen, the motive is prepared for the will, 
namely, the idea of the sum total of satisfaction to be 
expected in either case. 

"We may then regard it as settled that the laboratory 
of volition is hidden in the Unconscious ; that we can 
only get to see the finished result, and then only at the 
moment when it in fact comes to practical application ; 
and that the glances which we succeed in throwing into 
the laboratory are only able to afford some uncertain in- 
formation by the help of mirrors and optical apparatus, 
which, however, never reveal those unconscious depths 
of the soul where occur the reaction of the will on 
motives and its passage into definite volition. 

If we must now confess that the excitations of the 
will remain for us eternally covered with the veil of the 
Unconscious, it is not to be wondered at that we are also 
not so easily able to review the causes which condition 
the stimulating power of different desires, or the dissimilar 
reaction of the will of different individuals on the same 
motives ; we must be provisionally satisfied with seeing in 



264 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

them the inmost nature of the individual, and therefore 
call their effect very appropriately character, i.e., mark 
or token of the individual. This much, however, we have 
seen, that this inmost core of the individual soul whose 
efflux is the character, that most strictly practical ego of 
the human being, to which one reckons desert and guilt, 
and ascribes responsibility, that this peculiar essence 
which we ourselves are is still more remote from our con- 
sciousness and the sublimated ego of pure self-conscious- 
ness than anything else in us ; that we can most easily 
get to know this deepest core of ourselves in the same 
way as we come to know that of other men, namely, by 
inferences from action. " By their fruits ye shall know 
them." This saying holds good also for self-knowledge ; 
and how much do we deceive ourselves therein in fancy- 
ing we have performed actions from quite other motives, 
especially better motives, than is actually the case, as we 
sometimes by chance learn to our shame ! (For the con- 
tinuation of the examination of Character, see the second 
half of Chap, xi., sect. C.) 

It may not be superfluous to throw a side-glance at the 
essence of the ethical from this point of view. There has 
been much dispute on the point whether virtue can be 
taught, and theoretically one may still dispute about it as 
much as in Plato's time, but the practical psychologist has 
at no time doubted that, apait from habit, that second 
nature of the soul, which is a breaking-in, in the strict 
sense, because fear is the all-tamer, that without habit, I say, 
no teaching is able to produce morality, but only to awaken 
an existing moral consciousness through the presentation 
of suitable motives, which otherwise, perhaps, would not 
reach the pupil in this mode and strength. Tor it is evi- 
dent that morality is not a predicate of thought, but of 
will. The emergence of the will into actuality as reaction 
on motive we have, however, recognised as a thoroughly 
unconscious act, which is partly, it is true, dependent on 
the nature of the motive, but in another part on the mode 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 265 

of reaction and strength of the will. The motive is always 
merely idea, and can thus not have the predicate moral; con- 
sequently there remains for morality only that unconscious 
factor which must be looked upon as part of the character, 
and belongs to the inmost core of individuality. This foun- 
dation of the character may, as has been said, probably be 
modified by practice and habit (through intentional or 
accidential partiality of the motives appearing before con- 
sciousness), but never by teaching ; for the finest know- 
ledge of ethics is dead knowledge if it does not act as 
motive on the will, and whether it shall do so depends 
solely on the nature of the individual will itself, i.e., on 
the character. Thus we see also historically that the 
people who most of all have morality on their lips often 
have least morality in their character ; that people of 
eminent mental and scientific capacity and culture are 
not seldom morally worthless people ; and that conversely 
the purest, most unsullied morality is to be found in people 
of slight mental cultivation, who have never occupied 
themselves with ethical problems, who often have never 
enjoyed a good education, and on whom the bad examples 
surrounding them never acted as incentives, but only as 
deterrents. Accordingly we further see that all religions, 
whatever their ethical creed may be, exert equally much 
or equally little influence on their confessors ; nay, even 
that different stages of culture may possibly affect the 
coarseness or fineness of the form of the crimes and mis- 
demeanours, but have no real influence on the morality 
of the character and the goodness and purity of the heart. 
On the other hand, the morality of one people as compared 
with that of another is, together with its national charac- 
ter, exclusively determined by its manners and the habits 
resulting from education ; but the national manners again 
are, apart from the accidents of external position, environ- 
ment, and inner development, dependent on the national 
character. 

The conclusion is : The ethical element in man, i.e., that 



266 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

which conditions the character of opinions and actions, 
lies in the deepest night of the Unconscious. Conscious- 
ness may perhaps influence actions by emphatically pre- 
senting those motives which are adapted to react on the 
unconscious ethical, but whether and how this reaction 
follows, consciousness must calmly await, and first learn 
when the will proceeds to action, whether such will agrees 
with the conceptions which it entertains of moral and 
immoral. 

It is hereby proved that the process of origination of 
that to which we assign the predicates moral and immoral 
lies in the Unconscious. We must now, in the second 
place, show that these predicates denote qualities which 
do not inhere in their subject in and of themselves, but 
which express only relations of the same to a quite definite 
standpoint of a higher consciousness, i.e., that these predi- 
cates are only creations of consciousness, and never can 
belong to the Unconscious in itself. It immediately follows 
from this that it would be wrong to talk of a moral instinct, 
since it is true the actions of mankind as such flow from 
the unconscious or instinctive part of character, e.g., through 
the instincts of compassion, gratitude, revenge, selfishness, 
sensuality, &c. ; but this unconscious production can never 
have anything to do with the notions moral and immoral, 
because they are only engendered by consciousness, and a 
conscious instinct would be a contradictio in adjecto. The 
latter remark should protect me from being credited with 
maintaining an instinctive conscience ; on the contrary, I 
hold conscience to be no simple fact, but a very complex 
one, the development of which from the very nume- 
rous factors of consciousness can never be definitely 
proved. 

We also call lifeless natural phenomena, wind, air, por- 
tents, good and bad ; further, we assign these predicates 
to animals and savages or young children, but they only 
pass into moral and immoral when we make beings respon- 
sible for their operation. But we then, again, hold beings 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 267 

responsible for their actions when their consciousness is 
developed, to such a degree that they can themselves 
understand the notions of moral and immoral, and make 
them responsible only for those actions which their con- 
sciousness was not prevented from measuring by its 
own standard. Thus it comes to pass that we call one 
and the same action moral or immoral in one being but 
not in another. For example, the strict sense of pro- 
perty which we find in many animals within their own 
species and narrow community (e.g., among wild horses 
within the herd in respect to pastures and provender) we 
do not designate a moral, but only a good quality. Thus 
we cannot call it immoral when wild peoples offer even 
their wives to their guests ; on the contrary, as a part of 
hospitality, this might be called moral, because their con- 
sciousness is at any rate developed up to this stage, but not 
to the comprehension of modesty in sexual intercourse. 
In a little child, we can, at the most, only term bad those 
malignant outbreaks which at a riper age would cause the 
same character to be condemned as immoral. Eevenge 
fur bloodshed would among ourselves be called immoral ; 
among peoples of less culture it is a moral institution ; 
among quite rude savages a mere act of passion which 
can be styled neither moral nor immoral. These examples 
may suffice to prove that moral and immoral are not quali- 
ties of the persons, or of their actions in themselves, but 
only judgments on them from a point of view taken by 
consciousness — relations between those beings and their 
actions on the one hand, and this standpoint of a higher 
stage of consciousness on the other ; that thus Nature, so 
far as it is unconscious, does not know the distinction of 
moral and immoral. Yes, Nature is in itself not good or 
bad, but is ever nothing else but natural, i.e., self-adequate. 
For the universal natural Will has nothing outside itself, 
because it includes everything and is itself everything; 
thus there can for it be nothing good or bad, but only for 
an individual will ; for a relation between a will and an 



268 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

external object is already necessarily presupposed in the 
notions good and bad. 

In all this we by no means desire to disparage the value 
of the critical point of view adopted by consciousness ; we 
only seek to avoid the error of supposing conceptions to be 
possible outside this specific point of view which only 
arise in relation to it. Certainly, if a consciousness be 
assumed external and prior to Nature (in a personal God), 
one may also, from the point of view of this conscious- 
ness, measure the world by the standard of these concep- 
tions ; but if — as we shall be constrained to do for reasons 
hereafter to be assigned — we reject a consciousness outside 
the union of mind and matter, the possibility also dis- 
appears of applying the standard of those conceptions to 
the whole unconscious world, — a point on which much 
unprofitable labour has been expended. But all this by 
no means lowers the value of those notions, for as, in spite 
of all partiality and limitation, consciousness for this 
world of individuation surpasses in importance the Un- 
conscious, so, in the last resort, the moral stands higher 
than the natural; indeed, consciousness being ultimately 
also only an unconscious product of Nature, the moral also 
is not an antithesis of the natural, but only a higher stage 
of it, to which the natural has risen through its own 
energy and the instrumentality of consciousness. 

I must here content myself with these brief indications, 
as an ethic worked out in this spirit would require a 
treatise to itself. I have also deemed it necessary to 
forego explicitly considering why and how judgments, with 
the predicates moral and immoral, must arise at a certain 
stage of consciousness, and what the content of those 
notions is. I thought I might the more readily do this as 
the general understanding of those conceptions met within 
ordinary life appeared sufficient for the purpose of our 
present inquiries. 



( 26 9 ) 



V. 

THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE ESTHETIC JUDGMENT AND IN 
ARTISTIC PRODUCTION. 

With regard to the perception of the Beautiful there 
have been current from early times two extreme opinions, 
which, in the various attempts at compromise, have ob- 
tained very different recognition. One party, taking its 
rise from Plato, rely on this, that in Art the human 
mind transcends the beauty revealed in Nature, and hold 
this to be impossible unless there indwell in the soul an 
idea of the beautiful, a certain aspect of which is termed- 
an Ideal, and which serves as a criterion of what is and is 
not beautiful in Nature, so that the aesthetic judgment is a 
priori and synthetic. The other party point out that in 
those creations of art which approximate most closely 
to the alleged ideals there are contained no elements 
which Nature herself does not offer to the view ; that the 
idealising activity of the artist only consists in an elimina- 
tion of the ugly, and in the collecting and combining of 
those elements of beauty which Nature exhibits apart ; 
and that aesthetic science has in its progress more and 
more demonstrated the psycho-genesis of the aesthetic 
judgment from given psychological and physiological con- 
ditions, so that we may confidently expect a complete 
illumination of this province, and its purification from all 
a priori and supernatural conceptions. 

I hold that each side is partly right, partly wrong. 
The empiricists are right when they affirm that every 
aesthetic judgment must be founded on psychological and 
physiological conditions; and accordingly it is, strictly 



270 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

speaking, they alone who create scientific ^Esthetics; whilst 
the idealists, by their hypothesis, cut away the founda- 
tions of such science, and in strictness have only advanced 
^Esthetics so far as they were at the same time more or 
less consciously empiricists, i.e., substantially limited the 
science through empirical reception of the matter afforded 
by experience. But suppose the empiricists had obtained 
their end, and had completely analysed the aesthetic 
judgment, they would only thereby have proved its objec- 
tive connection with other spheres — its world-citizenship, 
as it were, in the realm of spirit as a natural existence, 
but would have left untouched its subjective origin in the 
individual consciousness, or would have maintained some- 
thing altogether false by their implicit assertion that the 
objective connection and the process of origination in the 
subjective consciousness are identical, which is contradicted 
by all unprejudiced introspection, and the testimony of 
the simplest as of the most cultivated taste. The idealists 
are far nearer the truth when they allege that this process 
is something lying beyond consciousness, antecedent to the 
conscious aesthetic judgment, consequently something a 
priori in respect of the latter. They are again in the 
wrong, however, when they annihilate all process in this 
a priori by their ready-made ideal, which is derived God 
knows whence, of whose existence consciousness knows 
nothing, whose objective connection with other psychical 
phenomena must remain for ever incomprehensible, and 
whose rigidity stamps it as insufficient when we con- 
sider the endless variety of its illustrations. 

As soon as testhetic Idealism wishes to do more than 
set up its principle in general, as soon as it enters more 
intimately into the wealth of the given manifold, it sees 
itself compelled to confess the untenability of the abstract 
ideal, which is a vague unity, and to admit that the 
Beautiful is only possible in the most concrete particu- 
larity, because individually intuited (e.g., the human ideal 
as masculine and feminine; the former again as ideal of 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 271 

the child, boy, youth, man, old man ; the ideal of the man 
again as ideal of a Hercules, Odysseus, Zeus, &c.) ; that thus 
the concrete ideal must be no longer a vague unity, but 
an indefinite plurality of the most definite types. To assert 
the eternal existence of these infinitely numerous concrete 
ideals would be to set infinitely numerous miracles in the 
place of the one miracle of the abstract ideal. If, to 
escape this difficulty, the vague ideal is posited as a fluid 
unity concreting into plurality according to circumstances, 
this process of concretion must still proceed in a mind ; 
but the inability of the absolutely indeterminate one ideal 
of beauty to concrete itself by its own power would have 
to be recognised, since no content could come of itself 
from that which is perfectly void of content. The creative 
process in the unconscious mind, as whose result the con- 
crete ideal- springs into consciousness, accordingly finds 
no help at all in the hypothetically abstract ideal; it 
also, however, no longer needs help, for it carries the 
formal principle of aesthetic formation in itself, and does 
not need to seek it first in the impossible absolute ideal of 
beauty. Only in this sense of a concrete ideal to be un- 
consciously created in the concrete case, recent aesthetic 
idealists even (like Schasler) understand the aesthetic 
ideal; and aesthetic Idealism so understood is ripe for 
reconciliation and fusion with aesthetic Empiricism, when 
it recognises that precisely through its correct understand- 
ing of the formal process as d priori and unconscious it 
is bound, a posteriori, to borrow empirically from conscious- 
ness the aesthetic content of this infinite wealth of concrete 
ideals to which analysis, reflection, and speculation may 
then be applied. 

To take a very simple example. The abstract idealists 
would be obliged to judge tone, harmony, and timbre 
according to an ideal tone, ideal harmony, and ideal 
timbre, and according to their approximation to the latter 
to determine their tone-colour ; whilst Helmholtz (" On 
the Sensations of Tone ") proves that in all three cases 



272 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

pleasure is to be conceived as negation of a displeasure, 
which arises through disturbances in the ear in the form 
of noise, dissonance, and disagreeable timbre similar to 
the flickering of light. This displeasure is not eesthetical, 
but just as much a weak physical pain as colic, tooth- 
ache, or the pain produced by drawing a slate-pencil 
across a slate. Thus the aesthetic pleasure in the sensuous 
part of music has been proved to be objectively con- 
nected with physical pain, but the mode of origin of the 
aesthetic judgment — '• this tone, this harmony, this timbre 
is beautiful " — is by no means this, that I am conscious 
while listening : " I feel now no pain through disturb- 
ances, and yet a gentle excitement of the function of the 
organ, ergo I feel pleasure." Nothing of all these or such- 
like processes is found in consciousness, but in our con- 
sciousness the pleasure is eo ipso contemporaneous with 
the listening; it is then as if brought forth by enchant- 
ment, without the most strained attention being able to 
detect in the subjective event a clue to the mode of origin. 
This by no means precludes the objectively recognised 
connection being really completed in the Unconscious as 
process ; this is, even according to my view, that which is 
alone probable, but the result is the only thing which 
enters into consciousness, and that, too, in the first place, 
momentarily, after the complete perception of the sen- 
suous observation; so that here again, also, there is veri- 
fied the instantaneousness of the process in the Uncon- 
scious, its compression into the timeless instant; and, 
secondly, not as aesthetic judgment, but as feeling of 
pleasure or displeasure. 

The latter point must be looked at still more closely, 
and will best serve to clear up any remaining obscurity. 
As Locke showed, the words which denote sensuous quali- 
ties of bodies, as " sweet, red, soft," have a double meaning 
which in practice are treated as identical by the common 
human understanding without harm. In the first place 
they denote the state of the mind in perception and 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 273 

sensation ; and, secondly, that quality of external objects 
which is presumed as cause of this psychical state. Every 
sensation is in itself individual, but when the common 
portions are abstracted from different series of similar 
sensations, there are acquired the notions "sweet, red. 
soft;" and when the objective causes of these abstract 
sensations are treated as qualitative elements of things 
already known from other effects, there arise the judg- 
ments : " Sugar is sweet, the rose is red, the fur is soft." 

The same process is at the bottom of the sesthetic judg- 
ment. The mind finds in itself a number of sensations, 
which, although bound up with individual peculiarities, 
have yet so much resemblance that an identical portion 
can be set apart : this receives the name Beautiful. Now 
when the cause of this sensation is referred to external 
objects which are constructed of simultaneously occurring 
perceptions, this cause is stamped as the quality of these 
objects and likewise receives the name Beautiful; thus 
there arises the judgment : " The tree is beautiful." It 
should not surprise us that common sense almost always 
refers the notion only to the cause, rarely to the sensation, 
for the same occurs also in " sweet, red, soft," and has its 
good ground in practice, since his own sensations can only 
be of interest to the practical man so far as they instruct 
him with respect to the external world. 

The aesthetic judgment is either impossible to him who 
is lacking in aesthetic feeling, who has no joy in beauty, or 
it is an unemotional abstraction from acquired general rules 
without subjective truth. It follows from this that the 
aesthetic judgment is not a priori, but rather a posteriori or 
empirical ; for both the external object and the sesthetic 
pleasure are given through experience, and the external 
cause of pleasure can only lie in the object, as the cause 
of the sweet sensation of taste only in the sugar. ^Esthetic 
pleasure itself, however, which is found in consciousness 
as an equally inexplicable fact, as the sensation of tone, 
taste, colour, &c, and like this occurs in any inner ex- 

vol. 1. s 



274 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

perience as something ready made and given, may owe 
its origin only to a process in the Unconscious ; this might 
then be called just as well as any other sensation some- 
thing a priori, were not this expression merely in use for 
conceptions and judgments. 

The ability to feel aesthetically (like the ability to feel 
sweet, sour, bitter, rough, &c), called Taste, can certainly, 
like the taste of the tongue and of the palate, be formed 
and exercised to react on fine differences; it can also by 
powerful custom, that second nature, be alienated from its 
first nature, instinct, and spoiled ; but in every case the sen- 
sation presents itself as a given fact, subject to no caprice. 
But now aesthetic sensation is distinguished from merely 
sensuous feelings in this, that it stands on the shoulders of 
the latter ; that it uses them perhaps as material, also as 
concomitant presentations through which its special quality 
is in every case determined; but that as feeling it stands 
above them and is built upon them. If, therefore, the 
unconscious genesis of the sensuous qualities is an imme- 
diate reaction of the soul on the nerve irritant, the uncon- 
scious genesis of aesthetic sensation is rather a reaction of 
the soul on ready-made sensuous feelings, — a reaction of 
the second order, as it were. This is the reason why the 
origin of sensuous feeling will probably always remain 
veiled in impenetrable obscurity, whilst we have already 
partially, in the discursive form of conscious representa- 
tion, reconstructed and comprehended, i.e., conceptually 
resolved, the process of origin of aesthetic sensation. 

We have as little to trouble ourselves here about the 
essence of the Beautiful as about the essence of the 
Moral in the last chapter. As it there sufficed us that 
the predicate moral could only be applied to actions from 
the point of view of consciousness, but that the actions 
themselves, to which this predicate is given or refused, 
are in the last resort incalculable reactions of the Uncon- 
scious, so the only point to be considered here is the 
cognition that the aesthetic judgment is an empirically 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 275 

established judgment, but has its foundation in aesthetic 
feeling, 'whose origination falls entirely within the Un- 
conscious. 

If we now pass from the passive reception of the beau- 
tiful to its active production, a short consideration of the 
creative fancy, and consequently of fancy or imagina- 
tion, seems in general indispensable. (Comp. also above 
A. Chap. vii. 1, I, pp. 174, 175.) The sensuous faculty of 
presentation, imagination, or fancy, in its widest sense, has 
very different degrees of vividness in different persons. 
According to Fechner's statements, which are confirmed 
by my own numerous trials of others, women have this 
power in a higher degree than men, and of the latter, 
those least of all who are accustomed to think abstractly 
and to neglect the external world. In the lowest degree, 
colours cannot at all be imagined, and forms only very 
indistinctly, without fixity, with shifting outlines, generally 
only perceptible for brief moments ; with higher degrees 
of imagination, plain, not too large images can be dis- 
tinctly represented without effort, stationary, in lively 
colours ; and by turning the head, objectively fixed or 
concurrently moving at will. In the highest degree, the 
vividness and distinctness does not at all yield to that of 
the sense- impression ; the images can be arranged at plea- 
sure both in the black field of vision of the shut eye, and 
in the field of vision filled by external sense-impressions 
(witness that painter who let his model sit for only a 
quarter of an hour, and then by an effort of will called up 
the image of the same sitting on the chair, and afterwards 
portrayed it, so that as often as he raised his eyes he saw 
the person quite distinctly seated on the chair). Further, 
whole compositions, trains of many figures, or elaborate 
orchestral compositions, can be carried about merely in 
idea for months without loss of definition, as we know 
of Mozart that he never recorded his compositions on 
paper until necessity drove him to it, but then often 
wrote down the several orchestral parts without the score 



276 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

(e.g., the overture to "Don Juan"), and this work became 
so mechanical to him, that he is said to have conceived 
other compositions at the same time. I considered these 
illustrations as not without utility for giving the reader, 
who may be lacking in this intuitive power, some idea 
of the practicability of framing conceptions at once vast 
and indivisible. Experience proves that there never was 
a true genius who did not possess this faculty of sensuous 
intuition in a large degree, at least in his own department. 
Moreover, there is no question that if, in our sober, rational 
age, such examples are still possible, that in earlier ages, 
when sensuous intuition was much more practised and 
cultivated, and was less kept 'under by abstract thinking, 
when man surrendered himself still more unreservedly to 
the good and evil whisperings of his genius or daemon, 
it is conceivable that, as among the saints, martyrs, 
prophets, and mystics, so also among inspired artists, 
a blending of voluntary sense-intuition and involuntary 
hallucination may have taken place, which had nothing 
shocking for these children of a more fortunate Nature, 
not yet at variance with their august mother, but, 
on the contrary, was so much esteemed, as a condition 
of every production of the Muses, that the enthusiastic 
Plato has bequeathed us the declaration (Phsedrus) : 
" What an excellent man produces in divine frenzy, which 
is better than sober reflection, namely, the divine, in that the 
soul recognises as in a brightly shining after-image what 
it looked upon in the hour of rapture, walking in the foot- 
steps of Deity, and which beholding, it is necessarily 
filled with rapture and love." " Frenzy is not absolutely 
an evil, but through it the greatest goods came to Hellas." 
And even at the time of Cicero poetic inspiration was 
called furor poeticus. In modern times, Shaftesbury in 
particular has laid stress upon the fundamental importance 
of enthusiasm for the origination of everything true, great, 
and beautiful. 

If we now, however, look at the forms of fancy them- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 277 

selves, we find, on decomposing them into their elements, 
even when we take up the wildest productions of Oriental 
extravagance, nothing which could not have been obtained 
by means of sensuous perception aided by a retentive 
memory. We can discover no new simple colour, no 
simple smell, taste, tone. Even in the realm of space, 
which allows the greatest scope for novel constructions, 
we find in arabesques only the familiar elements of the 
straight line, the circle, the ellipse, and other well-known 
curves ; nay, even in the animals of fable we rarely find 
parts derived from the inorganic and vegetable world, and 
conversely. Invention is limited to disjoining familiar 
ideas and rearranging the severed parts. If, now, any- 
body possesses a lively imagination, at the same time a 
fine sense for the beautiful, and a copious store of re- 
membered ideas ever at command, wherein the beautiful 
elements are particularly richly represented, it will not 
be difficult for him, by leaning on Nature, that is, on 
given sense-perceptions, by eliminating ugly and inserting 
beautiful elements, which yet do not offend against truth 
and unity, to create in an artistic fashion. E.g., when any 
one paints a portrait, essential truth is lost by simply 
rendering the chance aspect of the person. This would 
be a mechanical, not an artistic performance. But when 
the artist places the person in such a light, position, 
direction, and attitude that he shows himself in the most 
favourable manner possible ; when, of the various moods 
and expressions during the sitting, the artist retains that 
which makes the finest impression ; and accordingly re- 
presses or lets pass all unfavourable and non-beautiful 
traits and singularities, but, on the other hand, brings 
into the foreground and places in a favourable light all 
advantageous traits and details, perhaps even adding new 
ones so far as the truth of the idea, i.e., the likeness, allows, 
then he has produced a work of art, for he has idealised. 

Thus works ordinary talent ; it produces artistically by 
means of rational selection and combination, guided by its 



273 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

cesthetic judgment. At this point stands the ordinary- 
dilettante and the majority of professional artists. They 
one and all cannot comprehend that these means, sup- 
ported by technical routine, may perhaps accomplish 
something excellent, but can never attain to anything 
great, can never pass out of the well- worn groove of imi- 
tation nor produce an original work ; for, if they admitted 
that, they must perforce abjure their calling and declare 
their life to be a failure. Here everything is still done 
with conscious choice ; there is wanting the divine frenzy, 
the vivifying breath of the Unconscious, which appears 
to consciousness as higher inexplicable suggestion, which 
it is forced to apprehend as fact without ever being 
able to unravel its law. Conscious combination may, in 
course of time, be acquired by effort of the conscious 
will, by industry, endurance, and practice. The creation 
of genius is an unwilled, passive conception ; it does not 
come with the most earnest seeking, but quite unex- 
pectedly, as if fallen from heaven, on journeys, in the 
theatre, in conversation, everywhere where it is least ex- 
pected, and always suddenly and instantaneously. Con- 
scious combination works out laboriously the smallest 
details, and gradually constructs a whole with painful 
hesitation and head-splitting, with frequent rejecting and 
resuming of the single parts. The conception of genius 
receives the whole from one mould, as gift of the gods, 
unearned by toil ; and it is just the details which are 
wanting to it — must be wanting, because in the larger com- 
positions (grouped images, poetic works) the human mind 
is too narrow to obtain more than the most general total 
impression at a single glance. Combination procures the 
unity of the whole by laborious adaptation and experi- 
mentation in detail, and therefore, in spite of all its labour, 
never accomplishes its purpose, but always allows, in its 
bungling work, the conglomerate of the details to be 
visible. Genius, in virtue of the conception from the 
Unconscious, has, in the necessary appropriateness and 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 279 

mutual relations of the several parts, a unity so perfect that 
it can only be compared to the unity of natural organisms, 
which likewise springs out of the Unconscious. 

These phenomena are confirmed by all true geniuses 
who have instituted and communicated self-observations 
thereupon, 1 and every one who has ever had a truly 
original thought in any direction can find it proved in 
his own person. I will here only quote an observation 
of the no less artistic than philosophical Schelling (Trans- 
cend. Idealism., pp. 459, 460): '■'... As the artist is urged 
to production iuvoluntarily, and even with inner aversion 
(accordingly among the ancients the expressions pati deum, 
&c, and hence in general the idea of inspiration through 
extraneous afflation), so the objective is also added to his 
production as it were without his action, i.e., itself merely 
objectively." [P. 454 he says : " Objective is only what 



1 One of the purest geniuses, i.e., 
least possibly influenced by reflec- 
tion, and at the same time a 
thoroughly honest, childlike nature, 
was Mozart, who expresses himself 
in a letter (see Jahn's " Mozart," vol. 
iii. pp. 423-425) in the following re- 
markable manner with respect to 
his artistic productions : " And now 
I come to the most difficult point of 
all in your letter, and one which I 
should prefer to pass by altogether, 
because my pen is not at my service 
for anything of the sort. But yet 
I will make an attempt, even if you 
should find it somewhat ridiculous. 
What, you ask, is my method in 
writing and elaborating my large 
and lumbering things ? I can in 
fact say nothing more about it than 
this : I do not myself know and 
can never find out. When I am in 
particularly good condition, perhaps 
riding in a carriage, or in a walk 
after a good meal, and in a sleepless 
night, then the thoughts come to 
me in a rush, and best of all. Whence 
and how — that I do not know and can- 
not learn. Those which please me 
I retain in my head, and hum them 
perhaps also to myself — at least so 



others have told me. If I stick to 
it, there soon come one after an- 
other useful crumbs for the pie, 
according to counterpoint, harmony 
of the different instruments, &c, &c. 
That now inflames my soul, namely, 
if I am not disturbed. Then it goes 
on growing, and I keep on expand- 
ing it and making it more distinct, 
and the thing, however long it be, 
becomes indeed almost finished in 
my head, so that I afterwards sur- 
vey it at a glance, like a, goodly 
picture or handsome man, and in 
my imagination do not hear it at 
all in succession, as it afterwards 
must be heard, but as a simulta- 
neous whole. That is indeed a feast ! 
All the finding and making only goes 
on in me as in a very vivid dream. 
But the rehearsal — all together, that 
is best of all. What now has thus 
come into being in this way, that I 
do not easily forget again, and it 
is perhaps the best gift which the 
Lord God has given me. When now 
I afterwards come to write it down, 
I take out of the sack of my brain 
what has been previously garnered 
in the aforesaid manner. Accord- 
ingly it getB pretty quickly on to 



28o PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

arises without consciousness; the properly objective in the 
intuition must therefore also not be procurable with con- 
sciousness."] " Just as the man of destiny does not execute 
what he wills or intends, but what he is obliged to exe- 
cute through an incomprehensible fate under whose in- 
fluence he stands, so the artist, however full of design he 
is, yet, in respect of that which is the properly objective 
in his production, seems to stand under the influence of 
a power which separates him from all other men, and 
compels him to declare or represent things which he him- 
self does not completely see through, and whose import is 
infinite." 

In order, however, to avoid misunderstanding, I must 
still add the following. In the first place, it is by no 
means indifferent what soil the genius has prepared in 
his mind in order that the germs which fall into it from 
the Unconscious may shoot up in luxuriant organic forms, 
for when they fall on rock or sand they languish. That 
is to say, the genius must be practised and educated in his 
own department, have stored up in his memory a rich 
supply of striking images, and indeed with a selection 

paper ; for, as has been said, it is both outwardly and inwardly. At 
properly speaking already finished ; any rate, I know that I have as 
and will, moreover, also be seldom little given myself the one as the 
very different from what it was pre- other. With this let me off now and 
viously in the head. Accordingly I for ever, my very good friend ; and 
may be disturbed in writing, and do not at all think that I break off 
even all sorts of things may go on from any other reason than that I 
around me, still I go on writing ; do not know how to go on. You, 
even also chatting at the same time, a scholar, have no idea how bitter 
namely, of hens and geese, or of this has already been to me." Comp. 
Dolly and Joan, &c. But now, with for confirmation of this the opinions 
respect to my works, how everything of Schiller, as expressed iu the re- 
altogether assumes just that form or markable poem " Happiness," sug- 
manner that they are Mozartian, gested in all probability by the 
and not in the style of anybody else, patent contrast between the ease of 
it just amounts to this, that my nose genius as illustrated in the creations 
is just so long and crooked that it of Goethe, and his own reflective 
has become Mozartian, and not as work. Comp. further my essay on 
in other people. For I am unable Otto -Ludwig : " From a Poet's 
to characterise it more particularly. Workshop," in the " Austrian 
It is, however, very natural that Weekly Journal for Science and 
people who really have an exterior Art," 1872, No. 41. 
should also look differently to others 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 281 

of the beautiful, which must be effected with nice dis- 
crimination. For this material is the body in which the 
Idea yet in the Unconscious and formless will take shape. 
If the artist has corrupted his aesthetic judgment, and as 
a consequence has received with predilection unlovely 
material, this bad ground too will introduce improper 
elements into the seed-corn which derives it nourishment 
from it, and thus the plant will not thrive. 

In the second place, in what has been said it is not 
asserted that every work of art arises from a single concep- 
tion ; thus episodes show in the simplest form the union 
of different conceptions. For the most part, however, it 
is a single conception which furnishes the fundamental 
idea ; where that is not so, the unity of the work of art 
always suffers. The unity of the original total conception, 
however, by no means excludes — in greater works it even 
requires — support by partial conceptions, conceptions of 
the second order, as it were. For if rational work alone 
is to fill up the entire interval between the first concep- 
tion and the completed work, there is a danger in the 
absence of all specialities, unavoidable in the first con- 
ception of larger works, of the want of conception in the 
different parts of the work becoming perceptible, just as 
in lesser works of purely rational construction, or of the 
unity of the whole idea being injuriously affected by 
greater changes in the parts. For all that, there remains 
a great field for the exercise of the understanding; and 
if the genius is wanting in requisite energy, endurance, 
industry, and rational judgment, the gifted conception 
will bear no fruits for the artist and humanity; for the 
work remains either uncomnienced or unfinished, or worked 
out only in outline and imperfectly (slovenly executed). 
Undoubtedly the understanding should always at the 
same time remain conscious of its position of service, as 
it were. It must not be hypercritical, and desire to treat 
professorially the inspirations of the Unconscious, else 
it spoils the work, introducing by partial improvements 



282 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

a deterioration in many other respects, and destroying 
or disturbing the organic unity and naturalness of the 
work of art. How far, however, the work of reason may 
be admitted without disturbing the conceptions of the 
Unconscious, this again not itself, but only the aesthetic 
taste or tact of the artist, i.e., his unconsciously founded 
feeling of beauty, has power to determine, and on that 
account during the entire duration of the exercise of the 
reasoning faculty, the Unconscious must keep guard over 
the conscious understanding as overseer of the marches. 
This is the reason why Schelling, and after him Carriere 
(comp. above, p. 42), were able to explain all artistic acti- 
vity as a constant interfusion of unconscious and con- 
scious activity, in which each side is equally indispensable 
to the other for bringing the result to pass. 

Thirdly, the observation that the unconscious will has 
no influence on the carrying out of the conception must 
not be misunderstood. Conscious will in general is 
mainly just its indispensable condition ; for only when 
the whole soul of a man lives and moves in his art do 
all the threads of his interest converge therein, and there 
is no power which would be able permanently to turn 
the will from this its highest endeavour ; only then is 
the influence of the conscious mind on the Unconscious 
powerful enough to attain truly great, noble, and pure 
inspirations. On the other hand, conscious will has no 
influence at the moment of conception ; nay, a strained 
conscious seeking after it, a one-sided concentration of 
the attention in this direction, immediately hinders the 
reception of the Idea from the Unconscious, because the 
causal nexus of the two terms in respect of such extra- 
ordinary demands of the Unconscious is so subtile, that 
every preoccupation of the consciousness in this direction 
must act disturbingly, every actual one-sided tension of 
the parts of the brain concerned makes the ground to be 
traversed uneven. Hence the occurrence of the concep- 
tion, when quite other parts of the brain are occupied 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 2S3 

with quite other thoughts, as soon as through a still 
looser association of ideas the impulse is given to the 
causality of the Unconscious ; but such an impulse there 
must be, if it is also for the most part immediately for- 
gotten again, for the universal laws of mind can even 
here not be transgressed. 

In the fourth and last place, it is to be noted that 
the fructifying conception is never wanting, even in the 
rational works of mere talent, but is merely limited to 
such small amounts that they elude ordinary introspection. 
But when once what is characteristic in this process 
has been comprehended in the case of rare genius, — 
and we consider that there are innumerable degrees from 
it to talent, from talent to the talentless worrying the 
bare understanding by the help of learnt rules, — an 
abundance of examples will soon present themselves 
which more or less exhibit the character of inspiration 
from the Unconscious ; as, for instance, when one is 
engaged in any work, this or that improvement suddenly 
occurs at quite another time, and the like. To any one 
doubting this, I shall, in conclusion, prove that every 
combination of sensuous presentations, when it is not 
left purely to chance, but is to lead to a definite end, 
receives the help of the Unconscious. 

The laws of the association of ideas or sequence of thought 
contain three essential moments: (1.) the evoking idea; 
(2.) the idea called up ; and (3.) the special interest lead- 
ing to the calling up of the idea. As for the inter- 
relations of the first two apart from the third, and the 
laws of their connection, they must be referred essentially 
to the mechanical causality of the molecular vibrations 
of the brain, to the greater or less affinity of the cerebral 
vibrations corresponding with the exciting idea to the 
various latent dispositions in the brain (called by the im- 
proper expression, "slumbering ideas of memory"). (Comp. 
pp. 33, 34.) Such a limitation of our consideration to the 
exciting and the excited idea would, I conceive, be justified 



284 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

only if there are conditions in human life in which man 
is free not only from every conscious purpose, but also 
from the sway or co-operation of every unconscious 
interest, every passing mood. This is, however, a con- 
dition hardly ever occurring, for even if one in appearance 
completely abandons his train of thought to accident, or 
if one abandons oneself entirely to the involuntary dreams 
of fancy, yet always other leading interests, dominant 
feelings and moods prevail at one time rather than at 
another, and these will always exert an influence on the 
association of ideas. Of still greater influence, however, 
must of course be some special motive determining the 
train of thought to a particular goal, and this point (cited 
above as No. 3) it is also with which we have here par- 
ticularly to deal. 

For example, if I look at a right-angled triangle, all 
manner of ideas may become connected with it without 
any particular reason ; but if I am asked for the proof of 
some proposition which I should be ashamed not to know, 
I have a particular notion for linking on to the presenta- 
tion of the triangle those ideas which are serviceable for 
the demonstration. It is this interest in the end then 
which conditions the manner of the association of ideas 
in the different cases. For if, in the case of the triangle, 
otherwise any other possible idea might occur to me, only 
not exactly that one which I want, and this interest in the 
discovery of the proof brings it about that suitable ideas 
arise which otherwise most probably would not have been 
called up, still a motive must be the cause of this. But 
now, who is the intelligent being who seeks out, among 
innumerable possible ones, the idea corresponding to an 
end on this stimulus of some motive ? -It is certainly 
not consciousness ; for in semi-conscious dreams always 
only such ideas as correspond to the main interest of 
the moment, but unintended, occur; in the intentional 
search of consciousness in the drawers of memory, on the 
other hand, one is often just left by it in the lurch. Aids 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 285 

may doubtless be used if what is wanted will not occur 
to me, but it is not got by importunity ; and often, when 
one is thrown into' perplexity by such failures, the idea 
in question comes hours, nay, days afterwards, suddenly 
rained in upon consciousness, when one least of all was 
thinking of it. One sees, then, that it is not conscious- 
ness that selects, since it is completely blind, and receives 
each piece which is fetched from the treasury of memory 
as a gift. 

If consciousness were the selector, it would indeed be 
able to see by its own light what was eligible, which, as 
is well known, it is not, since only that which is already 
selected emerges from the night of the Unconscious. If, 
then, consciousness were the selector, it would grope about 
in absolute darkness, could accordingly not possibly choose 
appropriately, but only take at random what first came to 
hand. That unknown one. however, does choose judi- 
ciously in fact, namely, in accordance with the special 
purpose. According to psychology, which only knows 
of conscious psychical activity, there is here a manifest 
contradiction. For experience testifies that an appropriate 
selection of ideas takes place before their emergence, and 
denies that this selection is undertaken by consciousness. 
For us, who have already become acquainted with the 
purposive activity of the Unconscious on many sides, 
there is here only a fresh support of our view. It is 
just a reaction of the Unconscious upon the motive of 
the conscious will, which, in the form of its manifestation 
and in its occasional non-appearance on severe partial 
tension of the brain, perfectly agrees with the creative 
power of the artist. 

The reflection just made holds good of the association of 
ideas in abstract thinking as well as in sensuous imagining 
and artistic combination. If a result is to be arrived at, 
the right idea must readily offer itself at the right time 
from the storehouse of memory; and that it is just the 
right idea which appears, for that the Unconscious alone 



286 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

can make provision. All aids and artifices of the under- 
standing can only facilitate the office of the Unconscious, 
but never take it away. 

A suitable and yet simple example is wit, which is a 
mean between artistic and scientific production, since it 
pursues artistic aims with, for the most part, abstract 
material. Every witticism is, according to the common 
expression, a flash. The understanding may perhaps make 
use of aids to facilitate the flash ; practice, especially in 
the case of puns, can impress the material more vividly 
on the memory, and altogether strengthen the verbal 
memory ; talent may endow particular persons with an 
ever-sparkling wit, — in spite of all that, every single 
witticism remains a gift from above ; and even those who 
think they are privileged in this respect, and have wit 
completely in their power, must have the experience 
that just when they most wish to compel it, their talent 
denies them its services, and that nothing but worn-out 
absurdities or witticisms learnt by rote will out of 
their brain. These folk know also quite well that a 
bottle of wine is a far readier means of setting their 
faculty a-going than any intentional effort. 

If we have gathered from the foregoing that all human 
artistic production depends on an intrusion of the Un- 
conscious, it will no longer excite surprise to find the 
laws of beauty contained as much as possible in those 
organisms of Nature which we have recognised as the 
most immediate apparition of the Unconscious. This 
point could not well have been mentioned before ; it is, 
however, one important reason the more for the regular 
coming into being of organisms according to pre-existing 
Ideas. Let one only look at a peacock's feather. Every 
barb of the feather receives its nutriment from the shaft ; 
the nutriment is the same for all barbs : the colouring 
matters are for the most part not yet present in the 
shaft, but are first separated from the common nutritive 
fluid in the barbs themselves. Every barb receives 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 2? 7 

different colouring matters at different distances from 
the shaft, which are sharply separated from one another. 
The distances of these borders of colour from the shaft 
are different in the case of every barb. How are they 
determined ? By the aim of giving closed figures, 
peacock's eyes, in the juxtaposed layers of the barbs. 
And how can this end be determined ? Only by the 
beauty of the marking and brilliancy of colour. 

How insufficient, from the aesthetic point of view, does 
the Darwinian theory appear ! It shows that, on the 
supposition that the capability of producing coloured 
markings in the plumage is transmissible by inheritance, 
the aesthetic taste of the animals in sexual selection 
must enhance the beauty of the plumage in the course 
of generations through predominant propagation of 
beautifully-marked individuals. Undoubtedly! Thus a 
more may be developed from the less, but whence comes 
the less? If the coloured marking is not already pre- 
sent in the plumage, how is a sexual selection possible 
in the coloured marking ? Accordingly, that which is 
to be explained must be already there, if in less degree. 
The Darwinian theory rests on the assumption that such 
ability — in this case that of producing coloured marks — 
is transmissible by inheritance. The transmission of a 
capacity to successors presupposes, however, its pre- 
sence in the progenitors. And supposing the conception 
of inheritance were tolerably clear, which it by no 
means is (least of all when the separate inheritance of 
different qualities in the different sexes of the same kind 
is taken into account), it by no means explains the 
capacity itself in the descendant, but only how this 
individual has obtained the possession of this capacity. 
The capacity itself remains, even with Darwin, the 
qualitas occulta; he makes no attempt at all to pene- 
trate into its essence ; he only proves, indeed, that inheri- 
tance combined with sexual selection is able, in part 
intensively, to enhance such an already existing capacity 



2S8 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

in single instances, partly to procure their further dis- 
tribution extensively. It contributes nothing at all to the 
explanation of its essence and its first origination. It 
can, for example, never show how the individual bird 
begins so to distribute the deposits of colour on its 
feathers that they, apparently irregular in the several 
feathers and barbs, produce in their juxtaposition regular 
and "beautiful markings. But, lastly, if sexual selection 
be rightly given as a reason for the intensive and ex- 
tensive enhancement of such capacity, the next question 
is this : — How does the individual attain to a sexual 
selection in respect of beauty ? If we can only answer 
this question, especially in the case of marine animals 
of a low grade, who are surely to be credited with but 
little conscious aesthetics, by supposing an instinct the 
unconscious aim of which is concerned with beautifying 
the species, Darwin is manifestly involved in a circle. 
We shall, however, perceive in this instinct a means 
employed by Nature for attaining its end with less 
trouble than if, foregoing the assistance of the trans- 
mission of slight improvements of the bodily constitu- 
tion, all at once it willed the production of the greatest 
possible beauty in all individuals singly. In other words, 
we admire a less troublesome indirect attainment of the 
end, instead of one more difficult and indirect, as before 
in the mechanisms of the individual organism ; and to 
have discovered this mechanism in its universality is 
the indisputable merit of Darwin ; only one cannot, as 
the Materialist, believe that therewith the last word has 
been spoken. 

In a similar way one may see in the improvement of 
the florescence how the impulse to beauty lies in the 
mysterious life and motion of the plant itself, which in 
the wild state is only too much opipresscd and stifled in 
the struggle for existence. As the plants are in a measure 
freed from this struggle the endeavour after beauty breaks 
through, and from the most insignificant blossoms of wild 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 289 

plants there arise the most splendid flowers under our 
very eyes. And be it observed, the enticement of insects 
required to effect fertilisation by means of a more vivid 
colouring cannot possibly account for this embellishment, 
since our most beautiful garden flowers have full, that 
is, unfruitful blossoms, and can only be increased in a 
non-sexual way. Here we have the proof that the im- 
pulse to its beautiful unfolding lies in the plant itself, and, 
in the case of wild-flowers, is only supported, but by no 
means produced, by the preference of the insects which 
visit them. Darwin has never made an attempt to explain 
how those varieties or departures from the normal type 
are possible which excel the latter in beauty, and which 
man has only to preserve from perishing in the struggle for 
existence, that this superiority may be maintained. 

But the same holds good of all beauty in the vegetable 
and animal kingdom, even that of the general form. I 
declare it to be a first principle that every living thing is 
as beautiful as it can be, regard being had to its mode of 
life and propagation. As we saw before that the absolute 
fitness of every arrangement is limited : on the one side, 
by other aims, whose realisation it would oppose, on the 
other side, through the resistance of the rigid material, 
to whose laws the organising principle must bend and 
adapt itself, precisely in the same manner is the beauty of 
every part limited in all directions by its conformity to the 
end in view, where it is of practical importance for the 
being, and secondly, through the resistance of the stubborn 
material, whose laws must be respected. Thus, e.g., the 
tendency to the unfolding of the greatest brilliancy of 
colour possible among the weaker animals (small birds, 
beetles, butterflies, moths, &c.) is limited by the necessity 
of their concealing themselves from their persecutors by 
assimilation to the colour of their surroundings, unless 
they are secured from their eventual foes by a disagree- 
able smell or taste (e.g., Heliconidae), or by an impene- 
trable hard shell (hard beetles). Wherever, in a species, 

VOL. I. T 



290 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

the higher claims of existence and its power of competing 
in the struggle allow of the unfolding of a certain beauty 
in form and colour, there it forces its way unchecked, even 
when it appears perfectly purposeless and worthless for 
the competition of the species in the struggle for existence. 
(Think of the splendour of colour of lower marine animals, 
or the beauty of certain caterpillars, which, are not propa- 
gated as such, in which accordingly no sexual selection 
can take place, so far as their beauty is concerned, in the 
pupa state.) Among animals adapted for rapid flight 
the need of hiding themselves is a matter of small con- 
cern, but immediately becomes important when flight is 
out of the question, e.g., among brooding birds. Here 
we see, in all birds which brood in the open nest, that 
that sex to which the office of brooding exclusively 
belongs wears a duller dress than the other. Of smaller 
birds, both sexes can only wear a robe of brighter hue 
among those species which brood in a closed nest con- 
cealing the brooding bird, whilst a distribution of the 
unconcealed office of brooding between the sexes ex- 
cludes both from a brilliant plumage. In like manner, 
almost all species of butterflies not absolutely protected 
by an intolerable smell or taste are more or less poly- 
morphous ; i.e., whilst the males are beautifully coloured 
and marked, the females, which must live after copulation 
till the maturity and deposition of the eggs, are more 
dingy in hue, or they copy in their external appearance 
tolerably remote species enjoying a special protection. 
Where a gorgeous plumage would be an injurious endow- 
ment during the whole of life, Nature frequently still 
seeks to pay its tribute to beauty by a glittering wedding 
garment, which is exchanged after a short time for a 
duller garb, as if it wished to glorify with a gleam of 
poetry the life of the feathered airy dweller in its happy 
spring of love by a fleeting ray of beauty. 

Interesting as the contemplation of organic nature is 
from the aesthetic point of view, we cannot enter upon 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 291 

it here for 'want of space, and must content ourselves 
with the foregoing suggestions, the development of which 
we leave to the reader. If we, however, assume our 
assertions to be admitted, the difference between the 
artistic production of man and of Nature lies, in the last 
resort, not in the essence and origin of the conception 
of the Idea, but only in the mode of its realisation. In 
Nature's beauty the Idea is nowhere presented to a con- 
sciousness before the execution, but the individual, who 
is at the same time marble and sculptor, realises the Idea 
perfectly unconsciously; in human artistic production, on 
the other hand, the instigation of consciousness intervenes. 
The Idea is not directly realised as natural existence, but 
as cerebral vibrations, which confront the consciousness 
of the artist as construction of fancy, whose conversion 
into external reality depends on the conscious will of the 
artist. 

If, in conclusion, we sum up the result of this chapter, 
we obtain the following : — The discovery of the beautiful 
and the creation of the beautiful by man proceed from 
unconscious processes, whose results, the feeling of the 
beautiful and the discovery of the beautiful (concep- 
tion), are presented in consciousness. These moments 
form the starting-point of farther conscious work, which, 
however, at every instant needs more or less the support 
of the Unconscious. The underlying unconscious pro- 
cess is entirely withdrawn from introspection, but it 
undoubtedly unites in every single case the same 
terms, which an absolutely correct ^Esthetics would 
give in discursive succession as the foundation of the 
beautiful. That such a transformation and resolution 
into concepts and discursive thinking is at all possible, 
affords proof that we have not to do in the unconscious 
process with anything essentially foreign, but that in 
this and the analytic processes of aesthetic science only 
the form is distinguished as intuitive and discursive 
thinking in general, but that thought in itself, or the 



292 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

logical element, and the moments, from whose intuitive 
logical union beauty results, are common to both and 
identical. This holds good, without doubt, just as much 
for the elementary judgments of so-called formal beauty, 
as for the material beauty of the highest ideas presented in 
adequate sensible manifestation. (Leibniz called the dis- 
covery of musical proportions an unconscious arithmetic, 
and the beauty of geometrical figures is in direct ratio to 
the wealth of mathematical ideas and logical-analytical 
relations, which in the aesthetic intuition of the same 
determines the judgment as its unconscious and im- 
plicit content.) If the notion of the beautiful was not 
susceptible of logical analysis, if the beautiful were not 
merely a particular manifestation of the logical, we should 
certainly be obliged to recognise in the creative Uncon- 
scious, besides the logical essence, which we have hitherto 
found to be the only active element, an additional some- 
what, heterogeneous, out of all relation with it. But the 
history of ^Esthetics indicates too unmistakably the goal 
of this science, the derivation of all and every beauty 
from logical moments (in application to real data of 
course), to allow of our being diverted by the imperfect 
character of current explanations from believing in this 
final aim. 



( 293 ) 



VI. 

THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. 

" As without language not only no philosophical, but no 
human consciousness at all is conceivable, the founda- 
tions of language could not have been consciously laid; 
and yet the deeper we penetrate into it, the more clearly 
does it appear that its invention far surpasses in pro- 
fundity those of the highest conscious product. It is 
with language as with human beings ; we think we behold 
them come blindly into existence, and at the same time 
cannot doubt their unfathomable significance even in the 
smallest particular." In these words of Schelling (Works, 
div. ii. vol. i. p. 52) the subject of the present chapter 
has been foreshadowed. 

Let us consider first the philosophical value of the 
grammatical forms and the formation of concepts. In every 
more developed language we find the distinction of subject 
and predicate, of subject and object, of substantive, verb, 
and adjective, and the same conditions for the construc- 
tion of sentences. In the less developed languages these 
fundamental forms are at least distinguished by their posi- 
tion in the sentence. Whoever is acquainted with the 
history of philosophy will know how much it owes to 
these grammatical forms alone. The notion of the judg- 
ment is unquestionably abstracted from the grammatical 
sentence by the omission of the verbal form. The cate- 
gories of substance and accident are derived in the same 
way from subject and predicate ; the discovery of a corre- 
sponding natural antithesis of substantive and verb is still 



294 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

an unsolved, perhaps very fruitless philosophical problem ; 
here conscious speculation is still far behind the unconscious 
creation of the genius of humanity. That the philosophical 
notions of subject and object, which in strictness were 
wanting to the consciousness of antiquity but to-day openly 
govern speculation, have been developed from gramma- 
tical notions in which they lay involved unconsciously 
pre-formed, is certainly not improbable, since their desig- 
nation already implies it. A corresponding gain to philo- 
sophy from the other parts of the sentence, e.g., the so-called 
more remote object or the third person, is, I am convinced, 
yet to be expected. Through such bringing into conscious- 
ness of the metaphysical thought, to which the verbal form 
serves as dress, it is true no new relations are created; but 
such as hitherto have only existed in consciousness in a 
roundabout way, and as a united whole only vaguely or 
instinctively, are reduced to conscious unity, and can now 
for the first time serve as a sure foundation of further 
speculation; just as in mathematics the circular and elliptic 
functions and the functions of Abel all at once reduce to 
system certain long-known series, and thereby for the first 
time render possible their general use. Lazarus denotes 
this by the expression, " Condensation of thought." 

When in the history of the world the human mind is 
for the first time astonished at itself and begins to philo- 
sophise, it finds a language ready made for it, fitted out 
with all the wealth of forms and notions ; and " a great 
part — perhaps the greatest part — of the office of the 
reason," as Kant says, " consists in dismembering the 
notions which it already finds in itself." It finds the 
cases of declension in the substantive, adjective, pronoun, 
the voices, tenses, and moods of the verb, and the immea- 
surable wealth of ready-made notions of object and rela- 
tion. All the categories, which for the most part represent 
the most important relations, the fundamental notions of 
all thought, as being, becoming, thinking, feeling, desiring 
motion, force, activity, &c, lie before it as ready-made 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 295 

material, and it requires thousands of years only to find 
its whereabouts in this wealth of unconscious speculation. 
Even at the present day the philosophising mind commits 
the error of the beginner of taking too wide a circuit, and 
so neglecting that which lies nearest to it, and is perhaps 
also the most difficult. Still to this day there is no 
philosophy of language, for what really goes by that name 
is altogether fragmentary, and what is usually offered as 
such are pretentious appeals to human instinct, which 
afford no explanation at all (just as in ^Esthetics). But 
if the first Greek philosophers merely kept to the ex- 
ternal world, yet philosophy, the farther it has pro- 
gressed, has ever more clearly perceived that the under- 
standing of one's own thinking is the first task, and 
that this is admirably furthered by raising the spiritual 
treasures which are buried in the language of the dis- 
coverer, and that the hoary tradition of language, the 
garment of thought, should not be desecrated by flaunting 
rags ; for language is the Word of God, the Holy Scrip- 
tures of philosophy ; it is the revelation of the genius of 
humanity for all time. How much a Plato, Aristotle, 
Kant, Schelling, and Hegel owe to language the attentive 
student will not fail to see. Often the source whence 
they have derived the first incentive to certain results 
seems to have been tolerably unconscious even to them- 
selves (e.g., in Schelling, the subject of being as not-being 
or potentiality of being, and the object of being as merely 
being). 

The next inquiry has reference to the question whether 
language improves with the progress of civilisation. Up to 
a certain point this is undoubtedly the case ; for the lan- 
guage of primitive man must undoubtedly have been hardly 
distinguishable from the vocal and gesture speech of the 
brutes, and we know that every language which is now a 
language of inflexions has been brought quite gradually to 
perfection through the stages of monosyllabic (e.g., Chinese), 
agglutinate (e.g., Turkish), and incorporating speech (e.g., 



296 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

language of the Indians). But if one understands the 
above question in this sense, whether after the attainment 
of that state of culture which must be looked upon from 
the first as a condition of an inflexional language, language 
continues to improve with yet higher culture, not only must 
this question be answered in the negative, but its contrary- 
must be affirmed. Certainly with progressive culture new 
objects make their appearance, consequently new concep- 
tions and relations, therefore also new words (e.g., all that 
concerns railways, telegraphs, and joint-stock companies). 
There results from this a material enrichment of language. 
This, however, does not contain anything philosophical. 
Philosophical conceptions (the categories, &c.) remain the 
same, they become neither more nor less, with few excep- 
tions, as consciousness and the like, conceptions which the 
ancients of the classical period possessed only vaguely, 
but not explicitly and consciously. In the same way the 
series of abstractions, which reduce the endless multiplicity 
of sensuous phenomena for practical use into abstractions 
of different orders, experience no considerable changes. 
For if the special sciences, e.g., zoology and botany, 
sometimes change their ideas of kinds a little, in part 
this does not at all affect practical life, in part these 
changes are excessively small compared with the con- 
stancy of most of the classes of notions. The formal part 
of language, however, wherein consists its properly philo- 
sophical value, undergoes a process of decomposition and 
of levelling pari passu with the progress of civilisation. 
The levelling of the Eomance languages, especially the 
French, affords an example, an instance far more striking 
than that of the levelling of the German language in the 
Gothic, Old High German, Middle and New High German. 
The position of the parts of the sentence and of the sen- 
tences being fixed once for all, leaves no room for liberty 
of expression ; a declension exists no longer, a neuter gender 
just as little, the tenses are reduced to four (in German 
even to two), the passive voice is wanting, all final syllables 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 297 

are worn off; the affinity of syllabic stems, so expressive in 
natural languages, has for the most part become unrecog- 
nisable through attrition, thrusting out of consonants and 
other disfigurements, and the capability of forming com- 
pounds is lost. And yet German and French are lan- 
guages infinitely rich and expressive compared with the 
dreary smoothness of the English, which, in a grammatical 
point of view, is again approaching with rapid strides the 
starting-point of the evolution, the Chinese. On the other 
hand, the farther we recede historically the greater be- 
comes the wealth of forms. Greek has its middle, dual, 
and aorist, and an incredible capability of composition. 
The Sanskrit, as the oldest of the inflexional languages 
known to us, is said to excel all others in beauty and 
copiousness of forms. It results from this review that 
language needs no higher development of culture for its 
formation, but that such development is rather injurious 
to it, in that it is never able to preserve from corruption 
that which the past has elaborated, not even when it 
devotes a conscious and careful effort to its preservation 
and improvement (as, e.g., the Academie Franchise). The 
linguistic development is carried on not only on the large 
scale and as a whole, but also in detail with the calm 
necessity of a natural product, and the forms of language, 
even at the present day, go on growing, deriding all the 
efforts of consciousness, as if they were independent crea- 
tions to which the conscious mind only serves as a medium 
of their proper life. 1 Both this result and also the specu- 
lative depth and grandeur of language, as well as, in fine, 
its marvellous organic unity, which far exceeds the unity 
of a methodical systematic construction, should preserve 
us from regarding language as a product of conscious 
acute reflection. Schelling has said :— " The spirit which 
created language — and that is not the spirit of the indivi- 

1 Comp. Gobineau, " Inquiries on fur Philosophie und Philosophisehe 
Different Expressions of Sporadic Kritike," vol. lii. p. I Si ff. 
Life," 2d part, in the " Zeitschrift 



2 9 S PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

dual members of the people — has conceived it as a whole, 
just as creative Nature when she forms a skull has already 
in her view the nerve which is to traverse it." 

To which the following may be added : — For the labour 
of an individual, the foundation is much too complicated 
and rich. Language is a work of the masses — the people. 
For the conscious labour of many, however, it is too in- 
divisible an organism. Only the instinct of masses, as 
exhibited in the life of the hive and the ant-hill, can 
have created it. Further, although languages spring from 
different centres of development, deviate essentially from 
one another, yet the course of development is, in the 
main, so similar on all the different theatres of human 
culture, and with the most diverse national characters, 
that the agreement of the fundamental forms and the 
structure of the sentence in all stages of development 
is only explicable by a common instinct of humanity for 
forming language, by an all-pervading spirit which every- 
where guides the development of language according to 
the same laws of bloom and decay. — Those to whom all 
the foregoing reasons do not appear decisive, must per- 
force allow the following, taken along with the above, 
to be conclusive, viz. : That all conscious human thought 
is only possible by the help of language, since we see 
that human thought without language (in the unedu- 
cated deaf and dumb, and also among healthy men who 
have grown up without human education), in the most 
favourable case, very little exceeds that of the cleverest 
domestic animals. Without language, or with a merely 
animal vocal language devoid of grammatical forms, a 
thinking so acute that the marvellously profound 
organism of universally identical fundamental forms 
should emerge as its conscious product, is, therefore, 
quite inexplicable. Bather, all progress in the develop- 
ment of language will be the first condition of progress 
in the elaboration of conscious thought, not its conse- 
quence, in that (like every instinct) it occurs at a time 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 299 

when the culture of the people, as a whole, makes pro- 
gress in the elaboration of thought a necessity. 

Altogether, in the same way then as, beyond a doubt, 
the language of animals, in some ways so highly de- 
veloped, or the language of feature, gesture, and natural 
sound of primitive man, is in production as in import a work 
of instinct, precisely in the same way must also human 
verbal language be a conception of genius, a work of the 
instinct of multitudes. For the rest, this result is con- 
firmed by the most eminent and gifted linguists of this 
century. Thus, e.g., Heyse, in his " System of Philology," 
says : '' Language is a natural product of the human 
mind; its production is necessarily effected, without 
thoughtful intention and clear consciousness, from an inner 
instinct of the mind." Accordingly, to him language is 
a product " not of the particular subjective mind, or reflec- 
tive understanding as free activity of the individual as 
such," but " of the universal objective mind, of human 
reason in its natural foundation." In like manner, 
"Wilhelm von Humboldt (" Ueber das vergleichende 
Sprachstudium," sec. 13) says: "Thinking of the natural 
instinct of animals, we may call language an intellectual 
instinct of the reason." "It is of no avail to allow 
thousands and thousands of years for its invention. 
Language could not be invented unless its type were 
latent in the human understanding. ... If any one 
imagines that the invention of language may take 
place gradually and progressively, by a reciprocal 
action, as it were, — that through a portion more of 
invented language man can become more man, and by 
this advance again invent more language, he misunder- 
stands the inseparableness of human consciousness and 
human speech." Language "cannot, properly speaking, 
be taught ; it can only be evoked. We can only favour 
the conditions, and then leave it to its own unfolding " 
(comp. below, p. 303 ff.) " How could the learner, merely 
through the expansion of his own developing conscious- 



300 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

ness, master the spoken thought, if there were not in 
speaker and hearer the same essence, but differentiated 
for the sake of individual existence and communion, so 
that a symbol so refined and yet so personal as is the arti- 
culate sound suffices to affect both parties harmoniously 
like a mediator ? " " The comprehension of another's 
meaning could not rest on a process of internal spon- 
taneity, and intercourse through the medium of speech 
would be something quite other than the awakening of 
the hearer's linguistic faculty, if beneath all individual 
differences there were not a common human nature.'' 
Humboldt concludes, then, as we shall establish with 
greater generality farther on, from the nature of language 
alone : " That discrete individuality is in general only a 
phenomenon of the conditioned existence of spiritual 
beings ; " that the conscious human mind and language 
have sprung from the common primitive foundation of 
the universal spirit. H. Steinthal, in his celebrated book, 
" Der Ursprung der Sprache," concludes his excellent 
objective criticism of his predecessors with the following 
formulation of the problem : — " Language is not innate in 
man, not revealed by God — man has produced it ; but not 
the mere organic nature of man, but his mind; and 
finally, not the thinking conscious mind. What mind 
then in humanity, i.e., what form of action of the human, 
mind has produced language?" "What other answer is 
conceivable to this than that of the unconscious spiritual 
activity, which with intuitive correctness acts here in 
natural instincts, there in intellectual instincts ; here in 
the individual, there in the co-operative instincts ; and 
everywhere alike, everywhere with infallible clairvoyant 
accuracy answers to the greatness of the need ? 



( 301 ) 



VII. 

THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THOUGHT. 

In the last chapter but one (pp. 283-285) we saw that 
every effort at recollection with a definite object requires 
the aid of the Unconscious, if the right idea is to be 
recalled, because consciousness does not embrace the slum- 
bering ideas of memory, 1 accordingly cannot choose among 
them. If an unsuitable idea crops up, consciousness im- 
mediately perceives it to be inappropriate and rejects 
it; but all memories which have not yet emerged, but 
are only on the point of emerging, lie beyond its field of 
view, thus also outside of its choice ; the Unconscious alone 
can make the appropriate choice. It might, perhaps, be 
suggested that past ideas are revived quite accidentally, 
and that consciousness keeps on rejecting the wrong one, 
until, at last, the right one makes its appearance. In 
abstract thinking such cases certainly do occur, where 
one rejects five or even more ideas before the right 
one occurs. In such cases, however, the process is pretty 
much the same as in the guessing of riddles, or the 
solution of a problem by trial, in that consciousness of 
itself does not exactly know what it wants, i.e., that it 
knows the condition of fitness only in the form of 
abstract formulas of words or numbers, but not in 

1 I here call attention once more at all, but with molecular dispositions 

to the point that the expression of the brain for certain vibrations, 

" slumbering ideas of memory " is on which the Unconscious reacts in 

an improper one, since we have here the particular instance with certain 

to do neither with conscious nor un- conscious ideas, 
conscious ideas, thus not with ideas 



302 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

immediate intuition ; so that, in every single case, it 
must first insert the concrete value into the formulae, 
and see whether the thing agrees. By this, however, it 
is evident that the reaction of the Unconscious on a 
motive, which is itself so obscure that it can only become 
clear by application to the concrete case, must be a 
more imperfect one than when the object is apparent 
in an immediately concrete and intuitive manner, as in 
the search for an appropriate partial presentation to 
complete an image, or verse, or melody, when so pro- 
tracted a trial much more rarely takes place. In the 
flash of wit this will happen still more rarely ; witticisms 
obtained by a process of trial generally fall very flat. But 
even in those cases, where experience shows a repeated 
rejection of the revived ideas, it should not be forgotten 
that all these rejected ideas are by no means absolutely 
fortuitous in respect of the particular object, but always 
tend to this goal, although they may not hit the nail 
upon the head. But even when this mark is wanting 
to them, one is obliged to admit that the ideas, which, 
apart from the particular end in view, would merely 
arise according to other laws of thought-succession, are 
just as numerous, and that then in very rare cases, after 
five or ten ideas have been rejected, the appropriate one 
would be revived, but in most cases a far greater number 
of attempts would be requisite. The consequence of 
this would be the impossibility of producing any regular 
train of thought ; we should soon give up the dispro- 
portionate effort through sheer fatigue, and surrender 
ourselves only to spontaneous dreaming and impressions 
of the senses, like the inferior animals. 

In thinking, the point is, that the right idea occur at 
the right moment ; the intellectual genius (apart from 
the rapidity of the movement of thought) is only hereby 
distinguished from the stupid, fools, boobies, imbeciles, and 
madmen. For inference is always of the same kind. No 
madman and no dreamer has ever drawn a false simple 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 303 

conclusion from his premisses, only their premisses are 
frequently valueless. Sometimes they are intrinsically 
erroneous, sometimes they are too narrow or too wide, 
sometimes certain irrelevant premisses are assumed, 
sometimes several successive inferences are run into one ; 
and these errors are committed, because it is not every 
simple conclusion that is actually thought; moreover, every 
following conclusion tacitly implies new premisses. But 
wrongly to draw a simple conclusion from given pre- 
misses is, in my view, just as much beyond the bounds 
of possibility, as that an atom pushed by two forces 
should move otherwise than in the diagonal of the 
parallelogram of forces. 

The essence of thinking is that the right ideas occur 
at the right time. Let us examine this proposition a little 
more closely. By thought, in the narrow sense, is meant 
the dividing, combining, and comparing of ideas. Tlie divi- 
sion may consist in the cutting up of a space or time-whole, 
or in abstracting certain attributes. Every idea is divisible 
into an infinite number of species. The essential point, 
then, is how the line is drawn between the portion which 
one wishes to retain and that which one desires to let 
go. The main object of abstraction is to grasp many 
sensible particulars into a common notion. This can only 
contain what is alike in all ; the partition must, then, 
be so made that, of all the simple ideas, only what is 
similar is retained, and the dissimilar let go. In other 
words, the idea of the common portion must occur to 
one possessed of the particulars. This is as distinctly a 
flash which cannot be forced, as in our former examples ; 
for millions of men stare at the same objects, and only one 
gifted brain grasps the concept. How much richer in 
ideas is not the educated than the uneducated man! 
And the only reason of this is the interest in the idea 
with which the former has been inspired by education 
and instruction ; for one cannot directly furnish anybody 
with a conception ; one may assist him in his abstraction 



304 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

by bringing forward very many sensuous particulars and 
excluding already familiar conceptions, but he must in 
the end find the notion for himself. A considerable dif- 
ference in talent cannot, however, be supposed between 
educated and uneducated on the average ; accordingly, it 
can only be the interest in the discovery which con- 
ditions the difference in the abundance of conceptions. 
The like also holds good of the different mental resources 
of man and brute, although here, certainly, natural 
endowment co-operates. The greatest discoveries of 
theoretical science often consist merely in the discovery 
of a new conception, in the cognition of a piece common 
to several other notions which has hitherto been dis- 
regarded, e.g., the discovery by Newton of the conception 
gravitation. If it is interest which conditions the elicit- 
ing of the common element, the first flash of the concep- 
tion is the appropriate reaction of the Unconscious on this 
stimulus of interest. 

If this holds good of notions, which consist only in the 
separation of a common portion of many given ideas, so 
much the more must it hold of such as contain the rela- 
tions of different ideas to one another, e.g., equality, in- 
equality, unity, plurality (number), totality, negation, 
disjunction, causality, &c. ; for here the concept is a true 
creation, certainly out of given material, but still a creation 
from something not at all to be found as such in the given 
ideas. E.g., equality cannot as such inhere in the dice A 
and B, for if B is not, A cannot have equality with B, but 
when B arises, this cannot change the constitution of A ; 
thus A cannot acquire a quality through the origin of B 
which it had not before, consequently also not equality 
with B. The notion of equality can, therefore, not lie in 
the things, just as little in the perceptions as such pro- 
duced by things, for the same line of argument may be 
adopted, consequently the notion of equality must be first 
created by the mind ; but the mind also cannot arbitrarily 
declare two presentations to be equal or unequal, but only 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 305 

when the ideas, apart from place and time, are identical, 
i.e., if the two presentations, succeeding one another at 
the same spot in the field of vision without a time-interval, 
would give the impression of a single fixed unchanged 
presentation. Since this condition can never be satisfied 
realiter, the process can only be that the mind conceptually 
separates the identical portion of the two ideas. If it then 
perceives that the individual residue only consists of the 
space and time elements of the ideas, and does not affect 
their matter, it calls them equal, and thus acquires the 
notion of equality. It is, however, easy to see that, if this 
whole process is to be carried on consciously, the mind 
must already possess the faculty of abstraction, and con- 
sequently the notion of resemblance, in order to be able to 
separate the common portion of two representations, i.e., 
must possess what it has to find, which is a contradiction. 
There remains then, since every human and animal mind 
has this conception, nothing but the assumption that this 
process is in the main carried on unconsciously, and only 
the result as concept of equality, or this judgment, "A and 
B are alike," comes into consciousness. 

How indispensable the faculty of abstraction and the 
notion of resemblance contained therein is even for the 
first foundations of all thinking I shall briefly show by 
the instance of memory. 

All human beings and animals know, when an idea or a 
perception occurs, whether they are already familiar with 
the matter of the same or not, i.e., whether the perception is 
new, arises for the first time, or whether they have had it 
before. A mere idea, united with the consciousness that 
it has had a previous existence as a sense-percept, is called 
Memory. The recognition of sensuous perceptions is not 
denoted by this term, but is at least as important. The 
question is, How does the mind discover the mark oi former 
knowledge, which indeed cannot lie in the idea itself, since 
every idea in and by itself appears as something new ? 
The most obvious answer is, Through the association of 

VOL. I. U 



306 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

ideas ; for similarity is one of the main conditions of revival. 
"When, then, a perception makes its appearance a second 
time, the slumbering memory is aroused, and the mind has 
now, in place of one image, two, a vivid and a weak one, and 
the latter an instant later, whilst it only finds a single one 
in the case of new perceptions. Since it does not know itself 
as cause of the second weak image, it assumes the earlier 
vivid one to be the cause of the same ; but since, on the 
other hand, the reason why the weak image appears in 
some cases, not in others, cannot well lie in the perceptions 
themselves, it assigns the cause of this appearance to a 
different disposition of the presentative faculty. If, along 
with the faint idea, the mind had without more ado the 
consciousness that the idea had been in the mind before, 
the matter would be explicable, but what is incompre- 
hensible in the affair is just this : how it can come by this 
consciousness from what has gone before ? The problem 
would not thereby be solved, but only its object pushed 
back a step farther. But here, now, we are helped by the 
consideration of similar sense-impressions, which follow 
one another in such quick succession, that the after-image 
of the first has not yet died away when the second occurs. 
Here the mind knows accordingly (i.) the identity of the 
after-image with the original impression, in virtue of the 
continuous fading of the latter; (2.) it knows from the 
weakened impression that the external object has ceased 
to act, and that only its copy remains ; (3.) it knows that 
the sudden strengthening of the after-image occurring 
immediately on the second impression is an effect of the 
latter; (4.) it perceives the equality in content of the 
second impression with the strengthened copy of the first. 
From these premises it concludes that the disposition 
of the representative faculty, which conditioned the rise 
of the weak image after the second impression, was the 
existence of the after-image of the first, and that the 
second impression was the same as the first. As, now, 
such examples are repeated with different degrees of the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 307 

fading of impressions, it is analogically concluded that 
there, too, when the after-image of the first is no longer 
present on the occurrence of the second impression, the 
disposition in question of the representative faculty 
consists in a slumbering copy, and consequently the con- 
sciousness of previous knowledge results every time an 
idea calls up a weaker one resembling it. Thus, e.g., when 
images rise before the mind in reverie, they must first 
attain to a certain degree of completeness, before by asso- 
ciation they bring the whole situation lived through for a 
moment before the mind as a second image, and only at that 
moment does the consciousness suddenly spring up that 
one has experienced the thing before ; not till then is the 
awakened memory consciously apprehended as memory. 

One sees what an enormous apparatus of complicated 
reflection is requisite in order to produce so apparently 
simple a fundamental phenomenon, and that it is quite 
impossible in those times of the infancy of man and 
animal, when these notions were formed, that such a pro- 
cess should take place in consciousness, especially ccs all 
the inferences here drawn already presuppose the ability to 
recognise the ideas as ivell known. There therefore remains 
nothing for it but to suppose that this process also takes 
place in the Unconscious, and only its result instinctively 
appears in consciousness. The certainty also of a prior 
experience, which memory affords with not too great an 
interval between the two impressions, could never be 
attained by means of this artificial fabric of hypotheses 
and analogies. 

Another example is afforded by Causality. Without 
doubt this idea is to be evolved logically, namely, by a 
calculation of probabilities, starting from the bare pre- 
supposition of pure chance, i.e., absence of causation. If, 
namely, under such and such circumstances an event has 
occurred n times, the probability that under the same 
circumstances it will occur next time is £+> Suppose, 
now, we call the occurrence of the event necessary when 



303 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

its probability becomes = I, then from this the probability 
can be evolved that the occurrence of the event is neces- 
sary or not necessary. But, as Kant showed, there is no 
meaning in causation beyond the necessity of the occurrence 
under the circumstances in question, since the notion of pro- 
duction is one arbitrarily introduced, and is, in fine, only 
an improper figure of speech. 

Thus we can show the probability that this or that 
phenomenon is caused by these or those circumstances, 
and, in fact, our knowledge reaches no farther. Assuredly 
no one will believe that this is the way in which children 
and animals arrive at the notion of causality, and yet 
there is no other way to advance beyond the notion of 
mere succession to that of necessary sequence or effect; 
consequently this process also must take place in the 
Unconscious, and the notion of causality enter into con- 
sciousness as its ready-made result. 

The same proof may also be given of the other ideas of 
relation : they can all only be developed discursively by 
way of logic, but these developments are all so delicate 
and in part so complicated, that they cannot possibly be 
wrought out in the consciousness of beings which form 
these conceptions for the first time ; accordingly they 
appear in consciousness as something ready formed. 
Now he, who sees the impossibility of getting these con- 
ceptions from without and the necessity of forming them 
himself, asserts their a priority; whoever, on the other 
hand, takes his stand on the fact that such formative 
processes have no place at all in coDSciousness, but that 
their results are rather given to it as something ready 
formed, must maintain their a posteriority. Plato had a 
feeling of the two-sided truth when he called all learning 
Eeminiscence. Schelling expresses it in the assertion, 
" So far as the Ego produces everything from itself, all 
. . . knowledge is a priori; but so far as we are not 
conscious of this productivity, so far is . . . everything 
a posteriori. . . . There are thus a priori ideas without 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 309 

there being innate ideas " (comp. above, p. 24). Thus all 
the really a priori is a something posited by the Uncon- 
scious, which only comes into consciousness as result. So 
far as it is the prius of what is given, of the immediate 
content of consciousness, so far is it still unconscious ; in 
that consciousness reflects on the content it finds, and 
concludes therefrom to the prius producing it, it perceives 
a posteriori the unconsciously active a priori (comp. in 
addition " Das Ding an Sich," pp. 66-73, 83-90). The 
ordinary empiricism fails to perceive the a priori element 
in the mind; philosophical speculation fails to see that 
everything a priori in the miud is only cognisable a 
posteriori (inductively). 

The uniting of presentations, again, may be a joining 
together in space or in time, as in plastic or musical com- 
positions, then it belongs to artistic production ; or a com- 
pounding of conceptions into an indivisible idea, as in the 
formation of definitions ; or an union of ideas through 
forms of relation, where one seeks- the reason for the con- 
sequent, the matter for the form, the like for the like, for 
the one alternative the other, for the particular the 
general, or conversely. In every case one idea is 
possessed, and another is sought to satisfy the given 
relation. One has either in oneself what is sought as 
latent memory or not. In the latter case we have first 
to discover it, either directly or indirectly ; in the former, 
the important point is that just the right one among the 
many ideas of memory comes to the surface. In both 
cases a reaction of the Unconscious is required. 

The relation of the general to the particular has its 
simplest verbal expression in the judgment, when the 
subject represents the particular, the predicate the general. 
To every particular, however, there are verymanyuniversals, 
which are all contained in it ; therefore every subject may 
very well receive several predicates ; but which is the 
appropriate one depends solely on the aim of the train of 
thought. In judging, therefore, the same difficulty recurs 



3 io PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

how the right idea is to come into the mind, no matter 
whether a predicate is sought for a subject or a subject 
for a predicate, since several particulars are in truth 
included under one universal. 

The relation of reason and consequent possesses special 
importance for thought. It is always presented in the 
form of the syllogism, which in its simple form must 
always be correctly drawn, and may be proved by the law 
of contradiction. But now it is pretty evident that the 
syllogism does not bring out anything new whatsoever, as 
has been proved by John Stuart Mill and others, for the 
universal major premiss implicitly contains the special 
case in itself, which is only made explicit in the con- 
clusion. But now as anybody can be convinced of the 
major as universal only by being convinced of all its appli- 
cations, he must also be already convinced of the con- 
clusion, or he is not convinced of the truth of the major 
premiss ; and if the major has no certain but only pro- 
bable validity, the conclusion also must have the same 
coefficient of probability as the major. It is hereby 
proved that syllogism in no way increases knowledge if 
once the premises are given, which is in perfect agree- 
ment with the circumstance that no rational human 
being thinks in syllogisms, but along with the thought of 
the premises has eo ipso already thought the conclusion 
at the same time, so that the syllogism never enters into 
consciousness as a special mode of thought. Accordingly, 
syllogism can have no immediate, but only a mediate 
significance for cognition. In truth, in all particular cases 
(where the minor is supplied) we are concerned with 
discovering the appropriate major ; when this is found, 
the conclusion is at once in our consciousness — nay, even 
the major often remains an unconscious term of the 
process. Of course the same proposition can serve as 
minor for many majors, just as a subject may be supplied 
to many predicates ; but just as, for the particular pur- 
pose of a judgment, only one predicate affords that deter- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 311 

urination of the subject which can serve to carry the 
train of thought forward to the desired goal, so also only- 
one determinate major premiss can help to produce that 
conclusion which can advance this train of thought. The 
point then is, from among those universal propositions 
suspended in memory with which the given case may be 
combined as minor premiss, to summon just that one 
which is wanted into consciousness, i.e., our general 
assertion is confirmed here too. E.g., if I want to prove 
that the angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are 
equal to one another, I only need to remember the general 
proposition that in every triangle equal angles are 
opposite to equal sides ; as soon as this has become clear 
to me and I remember it, the conclusion also is eo ipso there. 
As when somebody asks me what I think of the weather, 
and at the same time makes the remark that the baro- 
meter has considerably fallen, I only need to remember 
the general proposition that after every considerable fall 
of the barometer the weather changes, then I have my 
conclusion as a matter of course : " The weather will 
change to-morrow." Here, even beyond the shadow of a 
doubt, the universal major premiss will remain uncon- 
scious, and the conclusion appear as a matter of course. 

If we ask, however, how (with the exception of 
mathematics) we come by the general major propositions, 
examination shows that it is by way of induction, in that 
from a larger or smaller number of perceived special 
cases the general rule is deduced with greater or less 
probability. This probability is really implicitly con- 
tained in the cognition of the major, and among people 
educated and accustomed to think, can be arrived at 
numerically by bargaining and higgling about the condi- 
tions of a wager proposed for the nearest special case. 
But of course one has usually only an obscure idea of the 
coefficient of probability, which consequently is any- 
thing but exact, so that, e.g., a tolerably high probability 
is constantly confused with certainty {vide religious beliefs). 



3 i2 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

Nevertheless, by the proposal of a wager both upper and 
lower limits may very soon be found, by which the 
quantity of probability is always to a certain degree 
determined, and with acute minds these limits may be 
approximated to one another by continued examination of 
the conditions of the wager. 

The question how one arrives at the belief in the general 
rule is divisible, then, into the two questions : ( i .) how 
do we come to pass at all from the particular to the uni- 
versal ? and (2.) how do we obtain the coefficient which 
represents the probability of a real value of the general 
expression that has been found? The former is only 
explained by the practical need of general rules, without 
which man would be quite helpless, since he would not 
know whether the earth would sustain his next step, or 
the trunk of a tree the next time support him on the 
water. It must then be pronounced a happy idea pro- 
duced by the urgency of necessity, for in the particular 
cases themselves there is nothing at all to lead to their 
comprehension into a general rule. The second, however, 
is explained by inductive logic, so far as one understands 
by induction the logical deduction of a coefficient of proba- 
bility. It is true the objective connection is made evident 
by this, but the subjective process of consciousness does 
not know these artificial methods : the natural understand- 
ing instinctively induces, and finds the result as some- 
thing pre-formed in consciousness, without being able to 
give any further account concerning the How. There 
remains then nothing for it but to admit, that the uncon- 
scious logical in man relieves the consciously logical of an 
office, winch is requisite for the existence of mankind, and 
yet exceeds the power of the unscientific consciousness. 
For when I have often seen rain or storms occur, along 
with such and such signs in the sky, I form the general 
rule, with a degree of probability of real validity depen- 
dent on the number of observations, without knowing 
anything about Mill's inductive methods of Agreement, 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 313 

Difference, Eesidues, or Concomitant Variations; and yet 
my result agrees with the scientific so far as the vagueness 
of my coefficient of probability can confirm an agreement, 
and if one takes account at the same time of the possibly 
influential positive sources of error, as interest, &c. 

Hitherto we have always only taken note of tolerably 
simple processes of thought — its elements, as it were ; 
there still remain, however, the cases where, in the midst 
of a conscious chain of thought, several logically necessary 
links are overleapt by consciousness, and yet almost 
invariably the correct result appears. Here, again, the 
Unconscious will manifest itself to us very clearly as 
intuition, intellectual vision, direct knowledge, immanent 
logic. 

If we first regard mathematics in this light, it appears 
that two methods prevail in it, the deductive or discursive 
and the intuitive. The former mode of proof consists in 
gradual inferences, according to the law of contradiction, 
from admitted premises, thus answering in the main to 
the consciously logical and its discursive nature : it is 
usually taken to be the sole and exclusive method of 
mathematics, because it alone claims to be method and 
demonstration. The other method must renounce all 
claim to being a mode of argument, but is nevertheless a 
form of proof, therefore method, because it appeals to 
natural feeling, to sound common-sense, and by intellectual 
intuition teaches at a glance as much as, nay, even more 
than, the deductive method after a tedious demonstration. 
It comes before consciousness with its result, with the con- 
straining force of logic, and that, too, without hesitation 
and reflection, but instantaneously, and has accordingly 
the character of the unconsciously logical. E.g., nobody 
who looks at an equilateral triangle, if he has compre- 
hended the question, will for a moment doubt whether 
the angles are equal. The deductive method can cer- 
tainly prove it to him from still simpler premises, but 
the certainty of his intuitive knowledge will assuredly 



314 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

not be increased thereby ; on the contrary, if it is proved 
to him very neatly by calculation, and without percep- 
tion of the figure, he will obtain less assurance than from 
simple intuition ; he then merely learns that it must 
be so and cannot be otherwise, but here he sees that it 
actually is so, and still more, that it is necessarily so : he 
sees, as it were, as living organism from within, what 
appears to him by deduction merely as effect of a dead 
mechanism. He sees, so to speak, the "how" of the 
matter, not merely the "that;" in short, he feels much 
more satisfied. 

It is Schopenhauer's merit to have rightly emphasised 
the value of this intuitive method, although he unduly 
slights the deductive method on that account. All the 
axioms of mathematics rest on this mode of proof, 
although, like more complex propositions, they may 
just as well be deduced from the law of contradiction ; 
only, by reason of the simple nature of the subject, 
intuition acts here so strikingly in respect of conviction, 
that we almost regard the man as a fool who desires 
to deduce such principles. It accordingly happens that 
nobody has applied the necessary acuteness to really 
refer all the axioms of mathematics to the law of con- 
tradiction in application to given elements of space and 
number ; hence the fixed idea of many philosophers (e.g., 
Kant) that this reduction is not possible. But as surely 
as these axioms are logical, so surely is their deduction 
possible from the sole fundamental law of logic, the law 
of contradiction. 

The axioms of mathematics are altogether useless for 
clear heads ; these might commence the study of mathe- 
matics with axioms of a much more complex kind ; but 
our mathematics is intended for schools, where even the 
stupidest must be taught, and these need to comprehend 
the axioms as logically necessary. The discursive or 
deductive method is adapted for everybody, because it 
proceeds step by step, but intuition is a matter of talent ; 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 315 

what the one sees at a glance is apprehended by the 
other only very circuitously. At a more advanced stage 
it is possible, by the reforming of geometrical figures, 
inversion, superposition, and other constructive aids, to 
assist intuition ; but a point is soon reached where even 
a clear head can go no farther, and recourse must be had 
to the deductive method ; e.g., in the case of the isosceles 
right-angled triangle, the Pythagorean theorem may be 



made evident to the eye by folding over the square of 
the hypothenuse; but in the scalene it is only to be 
comprehended deductively. — It follows from this, that the 
intuitive faculty far too soon leaves our most accomplished 
mathematicians in the lurch for much progress to be 
made by its means. All depends upon the degree of 
the capacity; and there is nothing absurd in supposing 
a higher mind so completely master of the intuitive 
method that it can altogether dispense with the deductive. 
The difficulty of intuition is pre-eminently shown very 
soon in algebra and analysis ; only prodigious talents, like 



316 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

Dalise, are here capable of an intuition which is able to 
conceive and to deal with large numbers as a whole. More 
frequently one finds among mathematicians the ability, 
in an orderly chain of inference, to make intuitive leaps 
and to omit a number of terms, so that from the premises 
of the first argument immediately the conclusion of the 
ensuing third and fifth springs into consciousness. All this 
allows us to conclude that the discursive or deductive 
method is only the lame walking on stilts of conscious logic, 
whilst rational intuition is the Pegasus flight of the Un- 
conscious, which carries in a moment from earth to heaven. 
The whole of mathematics appears from this point of view 
as the tools and implements of our poor mind, which, 
obliged laboriously to heap stone on stone, yet can never 
touch the heavens with its hand, although it build beyond 
the clouds. A mind standing in closer connection with 
the Unconscious, then, would instantaneously grasp the 
solution of every profound problem intuitively, and yet 
with logical necessity, as we do in the simplest geometrical 
problems; and it is accordingly not wonderful that the 
embodied calculations of the Unconscious, without trouble 
being given to it, agree with such mathematical precision 
in the greatest as in the smallest matter; as, eg., in the cell 
of the bee, the angle at which the planes are inclined to one 
another, however exactly it be measured (to half-angular 
minutes), agrees with the angle which, with the form of the 
cell, affords the minimum of surface, in this case of wax, 
for the given space (comp. also p. 1 90, on the construction 
of the femur). 

In all this we cannot doubt that in intuition the same 
logical links are present in the Unconscious, only what 
follows serially in conscious logic is compressed into a 
point of time. That only the last term comes into con- 
sciousness is due to the circumstance that it alone possesses 
interest for us ; but that all the others are present in the 
Unconscious may be perceived, if the intuition be in- 
tentionally repeated in such a way that only the one 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 317 

before the last, then the term before that, &c, emerges 
into consciousness. The relation between the two kinds 
is then to be conceived as follows : The intuitive leaps 
the space to be traversed at a bound; the discursive takes 
several steps; the space measured is in both cases pre- 
cisely the same, but the time required for the purpose is 
different. Each putting of the foot to the ground forms a 
point of rest, a station, consisting of cerebral vibrations 
which produce a conscious idea, and for that purpose need 
time (a quarter— two seconds). The leaping or stepping 
itself, on the other hand, is in both cases something 
momentary, timeless, because empirically falling into 
the Unconscious ; the process proper is thus always 
unconscious, the difference is only whether, between the 
conscious stations for halting, greater or lesser tracts be 
traversed. In the case of small steps, even the heavy 
and clumsy thinker feels sure that he does not trip ; with 
greater leaps, however, the danger of stumbling increases, 
and only the dexterous and nimble brain attempts them 
with advantage. The dull brain suffers a twofold loss of 
time with its greater discursiveness of thought. In the 
first place, the halt at each single station is greater in its 
case, because the single idea needs longer time to become 
conscious with the same clearness; and, in the second place, 
it must have more pauses. That, however, really the pre- 
cise process is in every, even the smallest step of thought, 
intuitive and unconscious, on that point, after what has 
been said, scarcely any doubt can well remain. 

But even outside of mathematics we can follow the 
interblending of the discursive and intuitive method. The 
practised chess-player possibly reviews in his mind the 
result of this and that move three or four moves ahead, 
but it does not at all occur to him to consider a hundred 
thousand other possible moves, five or six of which the bad 
chess-player perhaps considers, without lighting on the two 
which alone claim the attention of the profi cient. How now 
does it come to pass that the latter does not at all take note 



3i8 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

of these five or six moves, which would probably only be 
revealed as less good after two to three other moves had been 
made ? He looks at the chessboard, and without reflection 
he immediately sees the only two good moves. This is the 
work of a moment, even if he be a passing spectator of a 
game played by others. In the same way the general of 
genius sees the point for the demonstration or the decisive 
attack, also without reflection (comp. above, p. 23, the 
reference to Heine). Practice is a word which here does 
not at all affect the question; practice can facilitate 
reflection, but never supply the want of it except in 
mechanical works, where another nerve-centre acts vicar- 
iously for the brain. But here, where we are dealing with 
something quite different, the question is, What instan- 
taneously makes the appropriate choice if it is not con- 
scious reflection ? Manifestly the Unconscious. 

Look at the antics of a j'oung ape. Cuvier tells of a 
young Bhunder [Macacus Rhesus) (see Brehm's Illustr. 
Thierleben, i. 64) : " After about the lapse of a fortnight it 
began to separate from its mother, and at once exhibited 
in its first steps an adroitness, a strength, which could 
not but excite universal astonishment, practice and 
experience both having been wanting. The young 
Bhunder from the very first clung to the perpendicular 
iron bars of its cage, and clambered up and down accord- 
ing to its fancy ; perhaps made also a few steps on the 
straw ; sprang of its own accord from the summit of its 
cage on to its four hands, and then again against the 
bars, to which it clung, with a velocity and accuracy 
which would have done honour to the most experienced 
monkey." How does this ape, just released from the 
skin of its mother, upon whose breast it has hitherto 
hung, come to measure aright the force and direction of 
its leaps ? How does the lion, springing at the distance of 
twelve feet upon its prey, calculate the curve with the 
proper angle and velocity ? How the dog the curve of 
the morsel which it catches so cleverly at any distance 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 319 

and at any angle ? Practice only facilitates the action of 
the Unconscious on the nerve-centres, and where these 
are already sufficiently prepared for their office without 
practice we see even this practice dispensed with, as in 
the above-mentioned ape ; but that which is substituted 
for the lacking mathematical calculation can, as in the 
cell-structure of the bee, only be mathematical intuition 
combined with the instinct to execute the movement. 

As concerns the overleaping of conclusions in ordinary 
thought, this is a very well-known experience. Without 
this acceleration thought would be of such a snail's-pace 
that, as now frequently happens in the case of human 
beings with sluggish brains, in many practical reflections 
one would arrive too late with one's result, and would 
hate the whole labour of thought on account of its cum- 
brousness, as it is now hated and avoided merely by 
specially lazy thinkers. The simplest case of skipping is 
when the conclusion is immediately drawn from the minor 
premiss without our being conscious of the major premiss ; 
but also one or several actual conclusions are sometimes 
omitted, as we have already seen in mathematics. This 
commonly happens only in one's own thinking ; in com- 
munication we have regard to the understanding of others, 
and recover the principal intermediate links that have pre- 
viously remained unknown. Women and the uneducated 
frequently neglect this, and then there arise those leaps 
in their trains of thought which may be convincing to the 
speaker, although the hearer is wholly unable to see how 
he is to get from point to point. Any one accustomed to 
introspection will be able to catch himself making consi- 
derable leaps in carrying on a train of thought and in 
drawing inferences, if he make this review directly after 
prosecuting a new and very interesting study with zeal 
and success. 

An observation of Jessen, the well-known student of 
mental disease, on an allied topic, is interesting (" Psy-. 
chology," pp. 235, 236), which I will take the liberty of 



320 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

quoting : — " When we reflect on anything with the whole 
force of our mind, we may fall into a state of entire 
unconsciousness, in which we not only forget the outer 
world, but also know nothing at all of ourselves and the 
thoughts -passing within us. After a shorter or longer 
time, we then suddenly awake as from a dream, and 
usually at the same moment the result of our meditation 
appears clearly and distinctly in consciousness, without our 
knowing how we have reached it. Also, in a less severe 
meditation, there occur moments in which a perfect 
vacancy of thought is combined with the consciousness 
of our own mental effort, to which in the next moment 
a more vivid stream of thought succeeds. Certainly some 
practice is required to combine serious reflection with 
simultaneous self - observation, as the endeavour to 
observe thoughts in their origin and their succession 
may easily produce disturbances of thinking and arrest 
the evolution of our thoughts. Eepeated attempts, 
however, put us in a position clearly to perceive that 
in fact in every arduous reflection a constant inner 
pulsation, or a changing ebb and flow of thoughts, as 
it were, takes place — a moment in which all thoughts 
disappear from consciousness, and only the consciousness 
of an inner mental strain remains, and a moment in 
which the thoughts stream in in greater fulness and dis- 
tinctly emerge into consciousness. The lower the ebb, 
the stronger the succeeding flood is wont to be; the 
stronger the previous inner tension, the stronger and 
livelier the contents of the emerging thoughts." The 
purely empirical observations of this fine mental observer 
are a confirmation of our way of regarding the matter, 
the more above suspicion as he is not at all acquainted 
with our conception of unconscious thinking, and never- 
theless is constrained to the verbal acknowledgment of 
our assertions (in the passages in italics) by the pure 
force of facts ; although his subsequent attempts at ex- 
planation, which are in essentials (brainless thinking) 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 321 

quite correct, do not hit the nail on the head, just 
because they do not grasp the notion of the Unconscious 
as principle of thought apart from a brain. The con- 
sciousness of mental effort observed in these processes is 
only the feeling of the tension of the brain and the scalp 
(by reflex action). The moments of vacancy of conscious- 
ness that are described, on which the result follows without 
our being aware how it has been arrived at, are those very 
moments when, in the productive thinking out of a zeal- 
ously pursued object of study, the skipping of a longer 
train of inferences takes place. 

Truly man is so accustomed to find in his consciousness 
results of which he is quite ignorant how he has come by 
them, that in any particular case he is not wont to wonder 
at it in the least; and therefore it is also natural that 
an inquirer should not first reach the notion of the Un- 
conscious from this starting-point. But as in general the 
reaction of the Unconscious is wont most frequently to 
fail when one intentionally seeks to stimulate it, so in the 
eager and intentional reflection on a subject this effective 
entrance of the Unconscious might be less easy to estab- 
lish to the satisfaction of the majority, than in the so- 
called mental digestion and assimilation of the received 
nutriment, which does not occur on a conscious impulse, 
but at an indeterminate time, and is only announced by 
the results, which opportunely occur without our having 
been consciously occupied with the affair. (Schopenhauer 
calls this "unconscious rumination," comp. above, p. 29.) 
Thus it regularly happens with me when I have read 
a work which presents new points of view essentially 
opposed to my previous opinions. The proofs of such 
ingenious ideas are often rather weak ; and even if they 
are good and apparently irrefutable, still no human 
being can be so rapidly converted from his old opinions, 
for he can advance just as good grounds for the latter, 
or, if he cannot do so himself, he confides in himself and 
not' the new author and thinks: counter-proofs will be 

VOL. I. X 



322 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

found, although I am not at present acquainted with 
them. Then there intervene other occupations ; the 
matter is not sufficiently important to hunt for counter- 
arguments, for which search must be made in books, 
often for weeks, nay, months ; in short, the first impression 
gets weak, and the whole affair is in time forgotten. 
Sometimes, however, it is different. If the new ideas 
have made a really deep impression, they may be referred 
provisionally, unaccepted, as undecided questions, to the 
court of memory, may even be obstructed by other occu- 
pations, or, still better, intentionally laid on one side, in 
order to be thought of again. Nevertheless the matter is 
only apparently laid to rest, and after days, weeks, or 
months, when the wish and opportunity arise to give an 
opinion on the question, we find to our very great 
astonishment that we have undergone a mental regenera- 
tion on the point, that the old opinions which we had 
taken for actual conviction up to that moment have been 
entirely renounced, and that new ones have already become 
quietly lodged there. This unconscious mental process 
of digestion and assimilation I have several times experi- 
enced in my own case, and have always had a certain 
instinct not to disturb this process prematurely by con- 
scious reflection in real questions of principle affecting 
the general view of the world and of the mind. 

I am of opinion that even in more unimportant ques- 
tions, as soon as they only awaken interest with sufficient 
vividness, thus in all concerns of practical life, the process 
described always affords the right and true decision, and 
that the conscious reasons will only be subsequently right 
when the judgment has been already formed. The ordi- 
nary understanding, however, which does not pay atten- 
tion to these processes, really imagines that it is swayed 
in its opinion by the reasons which have been sought for, 
whilst an acuter self-observation would teach it that these 
only come in the cases alluded to when its view is already 
fixed, its resolution taken. In saying this, it is by no 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 323 

means asserted that the Unconscious is not determined 
by logical reasons. This is most undoubtedly the case ; 
it is only tolerably indifferent so far as concerns the cer- 
tainty of the decision, at any rate at first, whether the 
reasons afterwards sought for by consciousness agree with 
those reasons which have determined the Unconscious or 
not ! In the case of acutely thinking brains the former, 
with the great majority the latter, will be prevailingly the 
case, and accordingly the phenomenon is explained, that 
people often seem to derive such firm conviction from 
such bad reasons, and allow themselves to be dispossessed 
of it with much difficulty by the best counter-arguments. 
It lies just in this, that the true unconscious reasons 
are not at all known to them, and therefore are not to be 
refuted. It is here indifferent whether their conviction 
contains truth or not ; also of errors (which as said never 
arise from false conclusions, but from the insufficiency 
and falsehood of the premisses), those are most difficult to 
eradicate which are the ■ result of an unconscious process 
of thought (e.g., in political opinion those which are un- 
consciously rooted in professional and class interests). 

If now, however, any one should be led by these con- 
siderations to lightly estimate conscious ratiocination, such 
an one would fall into serious error. Jusfc because, in 
conclusions attained at a bound, errors easily slip in, it is 
imperatively necessary in important questions to render 
the individual terms clear by discursive thought, and to 
descend by such small stages of thought that one may be 
as far as possible protected from errors in the conclusion. 
Just because in the opinions, whose true proof lies in the 
Unconscious, the perversion of the judgment by interests 
and inclinations is withdrawn from all control and has 
such free scope, it is doubly necessary to draw the subjec- 
tive proof to the light, and to confront it with the results 
of discursive logical inferences, since only in the latter is 
there to be found a certain, if also always a very defective, 
guarantee of objectivity. If the subjective prejudices 



o 



324 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

be stronger for the moment, conscious logic gains ground 
with time, if not in one, yet in the course of many genera- 
tions. But even in this emergence of certain truths to the 
light of consciousness, and in their struggle and victory 
over dominant ideas of the time, there rules again, as we 
shall see hereafter, an unconscious logic, a historical pro- 
vidence, which has never been perceived more clearly than 
by Hegel. 



( 325 ) 



VIII. 

THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE ORIGIN OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 

Kant in his "Transcendental ^Esthetic" maintained that 
Space was not passively received by the mind, but spon- 
taneously produced by it, — hereby causing an entire philo- 
sophical revolution. But now, why has this correct state- 
ment been at all times so stoutly opposed by common 
sense, as well as, with few exceptions, by the scientific 
mind? 

i. Because Kant, and after him Fichte and Schopen- 
hauer, drew from a true proposition subjective-idealistic 
consequences, which were false and repugnant to the in- 
stinct of the healthy reason. 

2. Because Kant had given faulty proofs of his correct 
assertion ; which in truth proved nothing at all. 

3. Because Kant, without giving any further account of 
it, speaks of an unconscious process in the mind, whilst 
the previous mode of treatment only knew and regarded 
as possible conscious mental processes, but consciousness 
denies a spontaneous production of Space and Time, and 
with perfect truth insists upon their being given in sense- 
perception as fiats accomplis. 

4. Because Kant put Time, of which this proposition 
does not hold good, on a level with Space. 

These four points we have successively to consider, since 
the unconscious production of Space is the indispensable 
foundation of sensuous perception, with which conscious- 
ness takes its rise and which in its turn is the foundation 
of all conscious thought. 



326 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

Ad. I. In the first place, assuming it be proved that 
Space and Time can in no other way find an entrance to 
thought than by the spontaneous activity of the latter, it 
by no means follows from this that Space and Time can 
have real existence exclusively in thought, and not also 
outside thought in the real world. The overhasty nature 
of this conclusion, which Kant actually draws, and through 
which he comes to the denial of the transcendental reality 
of space and to the one-sided ideality of his system, has 
been shown by Schelling (" Exposition of the Process of 
Nature," Werke, i. 10, 314-321) and Trendelenburg ("On 
a Gap in Kant's Proof of the Exclusive Subjectivity of 
Space and Time," in the third volume of the " Historical 
Contributions," No. vii.) It is more fully discussed in 
my essay, " The Thing in Itself and its Constitution " 
(Berlin: C. Duncker, 1871), particularly in the last two 
sections : vii. " Space and Time as Forms of the Thing 
in Itself ; " and viii. " Critique of the Transcendental 
^Esthetic." Here, however, we can only consider with 
all brevity the reasons which render it probable that 
Space and Time are just as much forms of existence as 
of thought. 

(a.) We have first to give a clear statement of the 
reasons for believing in the real existence of a Non-Ego, 
or an external world lying beyond the Ego. Only two 
hypotheses are logically possible. Either the Ego uncon- 
sciously fashions the world of appearance from its own 
essence, in which case the Ego alone really exists, and 
■per conscqucntiam every reader must deny the existence not 
only of external things but of all other men; or there 
exists a Non-Ego independent of the Ego, and the repre- 
sentation of the external world in the Ego is the product 
of these two factors. Which of these hypotheses is the 
more probable must be decided by this; which more 
easily explains the phenomenal world ? either is conceiv- 
able. 

(a.) Sense-impressions have a degree of vividness which 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 327 

pure ideas produced by our own mental activity are wont 
only to attain in morbid states. Moreover, they often 
(especially in the years of childhood) bring real additions 
to the stock of knowledge, whereas the class to which 
they are opposed is always made up of familiar memories 
and portions of the same. This is easily explained by 
the assumption of an external world, hardly from the Ego 
alone. 

(j8.) For the origination of a sense-impression the feeling 
of the open sense is requisite ; on the other hand, the feel- 
ing of the open sense does not necessarily produce a sense- 
impression, e.g., in darkness, anosmia. This is easily 
explained by the influence of an external world, hardly 
from the Ego alone. 

(7.) Sensuous representations arise according to the law 
of the succession of thought from antecedent representa- 
tions in accordance with the particular mood,&c. — Sensuous 
impressions for the most part appear suddenly and un- 
expectedly, and always disconnected with the internal 
train of thoughts. This phenomenon is only possible with- 
out action of an external world if the law of mental 
succession holds good at one time and not at another, 
strictly explicable it is not even on this assumption from 
the Ego alone. 

(8.) Most impressions have this peculiarity, that their 
assumed object is also simultaneously inferred from another 
impression of another sense (e.g., a dish of food may be 
simultaneously seen, smelt, tasted, touched). This is 
easily explained by the action of an external world, hardly 
by mere internal mental processes. For if one should 
assume that the co-existent sense-impressions mutually 
arouse one another, e.g., the visual impression of a dish of 
food brings with it the odorous impressions, the olfactory 
sense being open, he would be refuted by the fact that the 
sense of smell and sight may be alternately opened and 
closed, and yet each time receive the appropriate sense- 
impression of the food. Should any one in reply to this 



328 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

make the further assumption, that not merely the simul- 
taneous, but also the antecedent visual impression of the 
viands have power to produce the odorous impression of 
the same and conversely, he would be met by the circum- 
stance that on the alternate opening and closing of the 
two senses, the visual impression can be had at one time 
but not at another, namely, when the viands are removed, 
so that the odorous impression under otherwise similar 
circumstances would call forth the visual impression at one 
time but not at another, which contradicts the principle, 
" Like causes, like effects." (See further Wiener, " Grund- 
ziige der Weltordnung," Band 3, under " Proof of the 
Beality of the External World.") 

(e.) Things, i.e., the causes of the impressions of sense, 
act on one another according to laws strictly definite. 
Now, if the impressions of sense are to be explained from 
the Ego alone, these laws must be transferable to the 
inner mental processes. But this is not so ; for only in 
the rarest cases do the sense-impressions of cause and 
effect follow one another as cause and effect in the out- 
ward world. Often, on the contrary, the effect is per- 
ceived at one time and the cause at another and later 
time ; but a later sense-impression cannot be the cause of 
an earlier one. 

(£) Every Ego, besides the idea of its own body, re- 
ceives also ideas of a great number of extraneous bodies 
similar to its own, in which reside mental faculties similar 
to its own. It finds that all these existences announce 
the same representations concerning Ego and Non-Ego, 
and that their declarations concerning the constitution of 
the external world partly agree with one another in a 
surprising manner, partly check one another, and lead 
to the conviction of error. Each Ego sees these exist- 
ences born, grow, die like itself; it receives from them 
protection, help, and instruction during the age of child- 
hood, when its own force and knowledge is insufficient ; 
and receives at every period of its life, directly or in- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 329 

directly (through hooks) instruction from others, in which 
thoughts occur which it is compelled to confess itself 
unable to grasp. It learns by the aid of teachers to follow 
backwards the succession of its fellow-beings, and to per- 
ceive a plan in history in which it is obliged to look upon 
itself as a link. All this is almost impossible with the 
sole existence of the Ego, but easily to be explained by 
the existence of one external world common to all Ego's, 
which includes within it the bodies of these reciprocally 
acting Ego's. As other Ego's can only act on me through 
their bodies, every inference to the transcendent reality 
of other Ego's is illegitimate if it is not mediated by the 
inference to the transcendent reality of my own and other 
bodies, and founded thereon. 

(77.) The internal ideas can be called forth, retained, and 
repeated at pleasure by the conscious will, the impres- 
sions of sense — the sense-organ being open — are entirely 
independent of the conscious will. This is easily to be 
explained by the action of an external world, hardly from 
the Ego alone. An unconscious will would in that case 
have to produce things, and then mirror to the con- 
sciousness of the solitary Ego the semblance of an ex- 
ternal world — a piece of juggling in which there would 
he no rhyme or reason at all, and, as the preceding para- 
graphs prove, the wildest whim and caprice would have 
to be united with the strictest regularity in an incom- 
prehensible fashion, and the highest wisdom would be 
wasted on a bubble, a lunatic dream. 

One sees from what has been adduced that the pro- 
bability of the existence of a Non-Ego existing indepen- 
dently over against the Ego, and causally influencing the 
Ego, is as great as it could possibly he, and that here 
ag°ain natural instinct is justified by scientific reflection. 
F°rom this necessity of having an external transcendent 
causality for the origination of sense-impressions even 
Kant and Eichte could not free themselves, although 
they deny it in words; for, with Kant, the content of 



330 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

intuition is absolutely given ; and although he thereby con- 
tradicts his own doctrine of the merely immanent import 
of Causality, he yet says repeatedly and expressly that 
that whereby this content is given is the thing in itself 
(comp. " The Thing in Itself," sect iv., " The Transcendent 
Cause," and v. " Transcendent and Immanent Causality "). 
Fichte, again, after all his unsuccessful attempts to weave 
the Non-Ego entirely from the Ego, cannot do without an 
external impulse for this activity of the Ego, and this im- 
pulse stands with Fichte for the true Non-Ego. Berkeley, 
too, suggests a transcendent cause for every perception, 
referring everything, however (overleaping the world of 
things in themselves), without distinction, directly to the 
Absolute, i.e., foregoes the attempt to explain our per- 
ceptions, and every attempt to penetrate the mystery of 
the real connections of their special originating causes. 

If it is now established that even the most consistent 
Idealists have not had the courage to be consistent to the 
extent of denying an independent Non-Ego, if the feeling 
is not to be got rid of that perception, on the whole, is 
something thrust upon one from without in opposition to 
one's own will, it results with the same certainty, from 
what has been stated, that the distinctions also in sensuous 
perceptions are not produced by the Ego, but are thrust upon 
it by the Non-Ego. For insight would not at all be en- 
larged if the Non-Ego were always one and the same, and 
consequently always acted in one and the same way, 
supplying merely an external shock. For then it would 
again be left to the Ego, in strange caprice to suspend 
on the ever-identical impulse of the Non-Ego now this, 
now that spatial or temporal determination or category 
of thought as an indifferent cloak, and in this way 
itself to construct the whole How and What of the 
external world, the impulse only guaranteeing the That. 
In this all the before-mentioned difficulties repeat them- 
selves unchanged. Thus even Schopenhauer lets the dis- 
tinctions in the intuitions of the world of representation 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 331 

be altogether conditioned by corresponding modifications 
in the essential will of the things-in-themselves, which 
through them become representable in thought (Parerga, 
§ 103 b). By this, however, he, in fact, again leaves room 
for the transcendent causality which he has expressly 
rejected in words, for how are the things-in-themselves of 
this horse or this rose to set about determining my 
representations of either according to the modifications of 
their nature, unless by a transcendent causality, which is 
immediately manifested as definite affection of my sense- 
organs ? 

Every single determination in perception must then be 
conceived as effect of the Non-Ego ; and as different effects 
presuppose different causes, we obtain a system of as 
many differences in the Non-Ego as there exist distinc- 
tions in perception. Now, certainly these differences in 
the Non-Ego might be of a non-spatial and non-temporal 
character, and Space and Time forms belonging to thought 
alone ; but then these differences must have place in the 
other objective forms, which would have to run parallel 
to the objective forms of Space and Time, since, without 
other forms of being replacing Space and Time in the 
Non-Ego, no corresponding difference could have place 
therein. This assumption of other but corresponding 
forms in the Non-Ego, which seems to have hovered before 
Eeinhold and afterwards Herbart in their intelligible Space 
and Time, would, quite apart from the fact that it ex- 
cludes the possibility of any objective knowledge of things, 
contradict, without offering any equivalent advantage, 
the generally observed law that Nature always chooses 
the simplest means to its ends. Why should it make use 
of four forms when it could get along quite as well and 
even better with two ? The parallelism of these pairs 
of forms in Existence and Thought, and their recipro- 
city, which, in fact, exists in perception and action, would 
require a pre-established harmony, which, on our assump- 
tion, would resolve itself into the identity of the forms. 



332 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

Hegel likewise says (Larger Logic, Introd., p. 8) : " If 
they (the forms of the Understanding) cannot be deter- 
minations of the thing-in-itself, still less can they be 
determinations of the Understanding, to which at least 
the dignity of a thing-in-itself should be assigned." 

(&.) Mathematics is the science of the presentations of 
Space and Time, as our thought forms, and cannot other- 
wise form them. Now, if we measure a real triangle, 
given not by thought, but by successive perceptions which 
may be too great for simultaneous intuition, and find in 
all similar attempts at measurement the same law con- 
firmed which pure thought gave us, that the sum of the 
angles = 2 E ; further, if we take note that the deter- 
minations of the perception are something necessarily 
imposed on the mind by the system of differences in the 
Non-Ego, thus have their causes in differences of the 
Non-Ego, it follows from the empirical confirmation of 
the mathematical laws, to which there is no exception, 
that the distinctions in the Non-Ego obey laws which 
certainly must correspond to the forms of the latter, but 
run so entirely parallel with the rational laws of Space 
and Time, that here again the assumption of a pre-estab- 
lished harmony is unavoidable, whilst an identity of the 
laws agreeing with the identity of the forms requires no 
such forced assumption. 

(c.) The senses of Sight and Touch receive their impres- 
sions from qualities of body altogether different, by quite 
distinct media and quite different physiological processes ; 
nevertheless we obtain from them spatial perceptions 
which exhibit as great an agreement as possible, and which 
confirm one another. Now, were the objects not them- 
selves in Space, but existed in any other form of being, it 
would be in the highest degree wonderful that they should 
produce in the mind in such different ways such congruent 
spatial figures ; thus, e.g., the seen ball never appears as 
felt die or anything else, but as felt ball. On the assump- 
tion of Space as real form of existence this puzzle vanishes. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 333 

(d.) Only sight and touch, but none of the other senses, 
are able to arouse in the rnind the perception of Space. 
(For when we hear where a sound comes from, the compari- 
son of the strength of the sound in the two ears is chiefly 
relied upon ; comp. p. 337.) Kant entirely overlooked this, 
otherwise he could hot have set up his division of outer 
(Space-sense) and inner (Time-) sense. To subjective 
idealism this whim of the mind is absolutely incompre- 
hensible, which nevertheless occurs with the appearance 
of external necessity ; but it is just as incomprehensible 
if other corresponding forms are assigned to existence. 
Only the physiological consideration of the local construc- 
tion of the different sense-organs can here afford a ready 
explanation ; but if the body and the senses do not exist 
in Space, here, too, all possibility of comprehension is pre- 
cluded. 

These four considerations taken together render it highly 
probable that common sense is right in believing that 
Space and Time are just as much objective forms of exist- 
ence as subjective forms of thought. This /ormaHdentity 
of thought and bein" is almost self-evident for one who 
assumes their essential identity (comp. C. Chap, xiv.) 

Ad. II. As we do not intend to dispute but to assume 
the assertion of Kant placed at the head of this chapter, 
there is no reason to show here why the Kantian proof 
is no proof, and leaves the question quite open (comp. 
"The Thing in Itself," viii. "Kritik der Transcendentalen 
iEsthetik"). We shall, however, offer other reasons in 
lieu thereof. 

A naive theory of immediate perception regarded the 
sense-impressions as images of the things, which perfectly 
correspond to them, as the reflected image to its object. 
When Locke and modern physical science had made the 
complete heterogeneity of the sensation and the quality 
of the object the common property of science, the retinal 
image which was perceived in the eyes of other leings was 
substituted for the thing, and the sensation in its content 



334 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

was now said to be identical with the retinal image as 
formerly with the thing, — a view which is still a common 
one. It was, however, thereby forgotten that it is something 
quite different to perceive an objective image within the 
extent of an eye in the eye of another with one's own eyes, 
or even to have the visual sensation determinable only 
according to angular degrees without absolute superficial 
magnitude. It was forgotten that the mind does not sit as 
a second eye behind the retina and look at this image ; it 
was not seen that one committed the same fault as before 
in the case of things, only in a more disguised fashion; 
for what appears to another eye as a retinal image is in 
this eye itself nothing but vibrating molecules, just as well 
as that which. in things appears to the beholder as colour, 
brightness, &c, are in the objects only molecular vibra- 
tions. People accordingly allowed themselves to be duped 
by the pleasure of having discovered a camera obscura in 
the eye, and considered the former problem to be solved, 
whereas it had only been shelved for an external question. 
The physiology of the eye has since discovered that the 
eye is not a camera to exhibit diminutive images to the 
mind on the retinal ground, but a photographic apparatus, 
which so changes the molecular vibrations of the retina 
chemically-dynamically, that modes of vibration which 
have hardly any resemblance to the light vibrations in 
the ether are handed on to the optic nerve to be propa- 
gated farther, so that those modifications of light, e.g., 
which are felt as colour, are in the nerve combinations of 
variously strong functions of three different kinds of end- 
organs in the retina, whilst the corresponding modifica- 
tions of the physical ray of light are only discriminated 
by the wave-lengths of the vibrations. Further, light has 
a velocity of about 200,000 miles in a second, the process 
in the optic nerve only one of about a hundred feet. 

Thus much is established, that the qualitative conver- 
sion of light vibrations on their entrance into the retina 
is of the greatest importance, and would give the final 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 335 

death-blow to the view which assigns an importance to 
the image on the retina accidentally observable by other 
eyes, if the idea were not in itself absurd, that the optic 
nerve, like a second eye, looks at this image — and then ? 
But perhaps the central organ of vision (the corpora 
quadrigemina), as a third eye, looks at the image of the 
optic nerve, and then the central organ of thought (the 
cerebral hemispheres), as fourth eye, the image of the 
corpora quadrigemina, and then, perhaps, a definite cen- 
tral cell or the cerebral centre of consciousness as fifth 
eye, the image of the cerebrum, not to push the matter 
directly to the sixth eye of a punctual central monad 
having its seat at some place or other in the brain ! For 
this much is to be looked upon as physiologically estab- 
lished, that the sensation of sight can at the earliest take 
place in the central part into which the optic nerve runs 
in the corpora quadrigemina, but not in the course of the 
optic nerve itself. On the entrance of the nerve into the 
centre, however, we must assume another conversion of 
the modes of vibration, on account of the altered structure 
of the nervous matter, and because the importance of the 
central parts for perception would cease if the form of 
vibration remained unchanged, because then the sense 
must react with sensation on the vibrations of the optic 
nerve. In the corpora quadrigemina again, however, 
those extended tkouc/ht-'processes, in which the space- 
intuition is always found as an integral element, cannot 
take place. As such have their seat in the cerebral 
hemispheres, so also the visual sensations, which underlie 
the space-intuition, just as the sensations of touch, which 
again are developed at another spot in the brain, must be 
first conducted to the cerebrum, in order there, by help of 
thought, to acquire the extension of the space-intuition. 

If, now, the object-image on the retina can be compared 
with a mosaic, which resembles the thing itself in its 
proportions, yet the isolated primitive nerve-fibres are far 
too much interlaced for an ideal section of the optic nerve 



336 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

on its entrance into the corpora quadrigemina to exhibit 
an order and position of the fibres corresponding to the 
retinal image; and even worse founded would be the 
assumption that in the central organ itself there occurs 
such a localised affection of cells, that between it and the 
retinal image a like proportionality of extensive relations 
obtains as between retinal affection and thing. But since 
these affected cells in the central organ itself would even 
then be still relatively dependent, and would communi- 
cate with one another only by fixed paths, even on such 
an unjustified assumption, it would still not be clear how 
the consciousness resulting as aggregate phenomenon from 
the plural cell-consciousness could come to order sensations 
in an extension, which should correspond to the relative 
positions of the affected cells. There is no bridge between 
the real spatial position of the material parts which 
produce sensations and the ideal spatial position of the 
conscious sensations ordered in extensive intuition; for 
space as real form of existence and space as conscious 
ideal form of intuition are as incommensurable as the 
real and the imaginary part of a complex number, although 
both are in themselves subject to the same formal laws. 
This is also the reason why even the physiologically 
untenable theories of a single ultimate central cell (how 
soon must it get fatigued !) or of a punctual central 
monad are altogether incapable of forming this bridge. 
If real and conscious ideal space are heterogeneous spheres, 
of which the one can have no part in the other, real 
space-relations of the sensation-forming material parts 
cannot have any influence on sensation at all ; the posi- 
tion of the sensitive parts of the brain is indifferent, and 
only the mode of vibration, dependent partly on the 
nature of the central parts, partly on the intensity and 
quality of the conveyed motion, can influence the character 
of the resulting intuition. 

This law, which must be self-evident a priori to 
every philosopher, for the rest, has already been formulated 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 337 

on the physiological side, and can hardly be seriously im- 
pugned. Lotze thus expresses it : — Identical vibrations 
of different central molecules call forth undistinguishable 
sensations, so that several simultaneously vibrating mole- 
cules of identical form of vibration produce a sensation, 
which qualitatively resembles the sensation excited by 
any one of these molecules, but quantitatively possesses 
the degree of strength of the sum of all the single sensa- 
tions. If a person smells with one nostril, he has the 
same sensation, only more faintly, as if he smelt with 
two ; and if the tactile nerves of the nose did not feel the 
stream of permeating air, the olfactory nerve alone would 
not in the normal state perceive the smell of the left and 
right nostril as different. The like holds good of taste, if 
it affects a smaller or larger part of the tongue and palate ; 
only the simultaneous tactile feelings of contact, of the 
contraction of the skin, &c, distinguish the place touched ; 
the taste itself becomes only stronger or weaker. Whether 
a sound reaches the left or right ear is only perceived by 
the feelings of tension excited simultaneously in the ear, 
partly directly, partly reflectorially. Here, too, it is not 
at all the auditory nerve, but tactile nerves, especially in 
the richly-supplied tympanum, which condition the feeling 
of localisation, as clearly follows from Ed. Weber's diving 
experiments, which prove that this local feeling remains 
only so long as the auditory passages are filled with 
air, but is lost if the tympana are rendered inactive 
by the filling of the auditory passages with water. In 
vision we receive different impressions from the same 
point of light, it is true, if its image falls on differently 
situated places of one or both eyes ; but the impressions 
are not to be distinguished when they fall on correspond- 
ing parts of both eyes. In a well-contrived arrangement 
of the experiment one is not at all aware whether one 
sees a light with the right or with the left, or with both 
eyes at once, if information on the point cannot be ob- 
tained by other expedients. The visual impressions of 

VOL. I. Y 



338 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

corresponding points of the two eyes are combined into a 
single strengthened impression. 

According to Lotze's theory we should not be able to 
distinguish whether a pain, feeling, touch, &c, affects the 
right or left half of the body, unless, owing to the want 
of symmetry, even in the smallest particular, of the two 
halves of the body, the accompanying sensations of ten- 
sion, extension, pressure, &c, were not the same on the 
right half of the body as on the left, so that by this 
qualitative incongruence of the sensations, with the help 
of practice, we are enabled to distinguish right and left 
in our own body. In hearing, taste, and smell, also, as 
already mentioned, such attendant circumstances are 
present, making possible a certain discrimination of con- 
gruent sensations, according to the place acted on ; but it 
is important, that here the nerve-trunks which medi- 
ate the specific sensation and those which report the ac- 
companying differences are different, whence it follows, 
that if, by cutting off the latter, or by other well-contrived 
elimination of the accompanying differences, the pure 
sense-perceptions are excluded from the experiment, these 
are no longer able to afford the consciousness of local differ- 
ences, and are thus altogether unable to produce space- 
intuitions. Otherwise is it with the senses of Touch and 
Sight. Every similar sensation of Touch at various parts 
of the skin is combined with characteristic accompanying 
differences, which are founded on the particular displace- 
ment, tension, extension, and participation of juxtaposed 
and underlying sensitive parts, when pressure is exerted 
on the skin, according to the softness or hardness, the 
special form of the limb, nature of the subjacent parts, 
thickness of the sensitive tactile corpuscles, &c, and which 
are almost all conducted to the brain through the same 
nerve-trunks. In the same way a similar sensation of 
colour or light is associated with characteristic differences, 
according to the point of the retina that is affected, 
which are founded: (i) on the decreasing distinctness of 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 339 

the perception of similar impressions from the centre to the 
periphery ; (2) on the currents induced in the neighbour- 
ing fibres, which again have a different issue, according to 
the position of the latter with respect to the point of the 
clearest vision ; (3) on the reflex motor impulse to 
rotate the eye-ball, which upon every affection of a spot 
in the retina has for its consequence that the point of 
most distinct vision strives to occupy the place of the 
affected retinal point. 

These three moments in conjunction give a different 
stamp to the similar sensations of every retinal fibre, to 
"which Lotze, the author of this theory, gives the name 
of local sign. These differences also are partly conducted 
to the brain by the optic nerve, partly felt in the brain 
itself through the resistance, which the will must oppose 
to the reflex tendency to rotate the eye, in order to prevent 
it. It is now comprehensible how, in contrast to the sen- 
sations of smell, taste, and hearing, precisely the sensations 
of sight and touch can suggest to the mind the intuition of 
space, to wit, because with these the stimulus conveyed by 
every single primitive nerve-fibre has its qualitative defi- 
niteness through a well-organised system of accompanying 
differences, so that the vibrations excited in different nerve- 
fibres by similar external stimuli so far turn out different, 
that they can not blend in the mind into a single strength- 
ened sensation, but yet so far resemble each other that 
the qualitatively similar portion can easily be perceived 
by the mind in the sensations produced through them. 
According to this we can only find the general law con- 
firmed by the apparent exceptions, that identical vibrations 
of different parts of the brain blend into one sensation 
strengthened in degree ; a law which both appears highly 
plausible a priori, and also empirically has not only no 
fact against it, but without it the phenomena of the lower 
senses° already mentioned would be simply inexplicable. 
According to this law the vibrating molecule is perfectly 
indifferent to the mind, its mode of vibration alone 



340 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

has an influence on the mind ; and when we see certain 
parts of the body (the nerves), certain parts of the nervous 
system (the grey matter), certain parts of the brain especi- 
ally appropriated to higher influences of a definite kind, 
we can only ascribe this to the circumstance that these 
parts are adapted, by reason of their molecular constitu- 
tion, either exclusively or chiefly, to the production of 
that kind of vibrations, which alone or chiefly are capable 
of exerting these influences on the mind. 

If we now look upon this law as established, and 
Lotze's theory of local signs (apart from the question 
whether those especially employed by him are exactly 
the right ones) as assured, we still do not get beyond the 
result, that, in sight or touch the mind receives from 
every primitive nerve-fibre, through the intervention of 
the brain, a special sensation, which is prevented by its 
individual character from blending with others, but yet is 
so like the others that it is an easy thing for the mind to 
perceive as such the similar foundation which they all 
possess. But we in no way get from this sum of simul- 
taneous qualitatively similar and yet different sensations to 
their distribution in space, as presented in the field of 
vision and the cutaneous field of touch ; we always stop 
short at the qualitative and intensive quantitative or 
graduated distinctions of the several sensations, and can 
in no way see how it is possible for the extensively 
quantitative or locally extended to be imported into 
sensation from the vibrations of the brain .molecules, 
since it is not the position of the single molecule in 
the brain, but only the duration, form, &c., of its vibra- 
tions which has influence on sensation, and these 
moments do not contain the elements of extensive 
quantity, which might stand in some relation or other 
to the extensive quantity of the retinal image. On the 
other hand, in virtue of the system of local signs, the 
extensive proximity and distance of the points of the 
retinal image from one another, or their actual contact, is 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 341 

changed into greater or less qualitative differences of the 
corresponding sensations, or least difference ; and, accord- 
ingly, a material is presented to the mind, which, if the 
latter spontaneously reconverts this system of qualitative 
differences into a system of local relations, now compels the 
mind with necessity to assign such a place to every sensa- 
tion in the space-image as corresponds to its qualitative 
determinateness ; so that there is no room for caprice in 
regard to the space-determinations of a figure given by 
a sum of qualitatively distinct elements of sensation, but 
the mind is necessarily compelled to reconstruct the same 
in the relations in which the image on the retina appears 
to the eye of an onlooker, in conformity with experience. 

Wundt expresses the thoughts just presented as 
follows : — " The union offered by colligation " (aggregation, 
comprehension) " is a purely external one, in which the 
united sensations are preserved as individual sensations. 
But the synthesis, in blending these intimately united 
sensations by the preparatory process of colligation, 
produces a third element, which was not yet contained in 
the individual sensations as such. Synthesis is, therefore, 
the strictly constructive element in perception ; it educes 
from the unrelated existing sensations something new, 
which undoubtedly contains in itself the sensations " (but 
now no longer like the mere colligation as connected 
individual sensations), " but yet is something quite distinct 
from the sensations." ("Beitr. z. Theorie d. Sinneswahr.," 
p. 443.) These generally valid propositions he makes 
more precise on the following page, in reference to the 
synthesis, occurring in the formation of the spatial 
visual perception :— " Thus the synthesis in perception 
is a creative activity, in that it constructs space, but this 
creative activity is by no means a free one ; but the 
impressions and the outer impulses co-operating in the 
synthesis necessarily compel space to be reconstructed with 
complete fidelity." 

That school of empiristic physiology, which endeavours 



342 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

to represent as indispensable a construction (or, with 
reference to the retinal image, reconstruction) of space 
consequent on the given sense-impressions by a creative 
synthetic function of the' mind, chiefly employs the 
artifice of evoking the visual space-perception by help of 
the sense of touch, and the tactile space-perception by 
help of the sense of sight. Now, it is doubtless correct, 
that both senses, in the finer elaboration of their space- 
perceptions, essentially support one another; still, it 
would be impossible that both together should create 
space, unless it were already concealed in each singly. 
Thus, experience shows that persons born blind can 
acquire and elaborate, even more finely than seeing 
persons, the space-perceptions of the sense of touch 
without help of vision, and that, on the other side, per- 
sons born blind who have been operated on, on obtaining 
their sight, before any attempt to bring the new visual 
perceptions into relation with the tactile perceptions 
familiar to them, apprehend at once the visual space of 
at least two dimensions. — In the next place, the oppo- 
nents of the creative production of space attempt the 
same sophism within each of the two senses, in the rela- 
tions between the field of sight at rest (or field of touch) 
on the one side, and the feelings of wiovement of the 
eyeball (or the tactile members) on the other. But now 
it is also here at once clear that, if either the quiescent 
field of vision or of touch, or the feeling of muscular 
movement, does not possess extension, no combination, 
however ingenious, of these non-spatial sensations can 
originate space-extension without the addition of a crea- 
tive constructive synthesis. Even here, these " empirics " 
have empiricism against them ; for although, in reference 
to the sense of touch, the experimental separation of 
tactile sensation and motor feeling has not yet been 
aoeomplished, yet the fact is established, that in persons 
born blind, who have been operated upon, the super- 
ficial extension of the visual impressions is given from 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 343 

the first moment of seeing, and is by no means only 
gradually acquired by numerous attempts at combining 
the sensations of the optic nerve with the feelings of 
movement of the eyeball. But even supposing that it 
were true, that the union of passive sensation and feeling 
of movement offered sufficient material to the mind (in 
local signs) for the space-construction, yet, even then, a 
creative synthesis would still be required, because sensa- 
tions with differences merely qualitative and intensive 
could never attain without it to an indivisible extensive 
perception. But as the feeling, excited by the vibrating 
molecules of the brain, can only be discriminated quali- 
tatively and intensively (comp. p. 339), and iu no case 
can any relations whatsoever exist between the space of 
their position or movement and the space of the image 
of perception (comp. 335, 336), the creative synthetic 
function must be a purely spiritual function of the 
Unconscious. 

We may therefore say, in direct opposition to Schopen- 
hauer, that the sole ground for the assumption of the 
a-priority of the space-intuition is the impossibility of 
conceiving the same to have arisen by mere brain-func- 
tion. If Schopenhauer were right, that space, as a form 
of intuition, is merely a predisposition in the organisation 
of the brain, which reacts on the stimulus of visual or 
tactile sensations in the manner peculiar to it, this 
cerebral predisposition might be explained according to 
the biological theory of descent by a transmission con- 
firmed and perfected from generation to generation, only 
the genesis of the space-intuition in the lowest animals 
and vegetable animals (a far greater marvel than the 
same phenomenon in human consciousness), and the 
gradual expansion of this original germ being left to the 
direct action of the Unconscious. A predisposition for 
the more many-sided and finer development of the space- 
producing sensation, augmented by transmission, I, too, 
assume in the brain ; but this only concerns the material 



344 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

which excites the unconscious mind to the position of 
space, and determines the How of the space-intuition in 
the individual — in no case can it relieve the mind of the 
spontaneous act of giving a space-extension to the quali- 
tatively ordered material, i.e., the spontaneous reconstruc- 
tion of space, but only facilitate it and enrich its content. 
We have now got to understand, I think, how it happens 
that only the visual and tactile senses, but not the other 
senses, can evoke the space-intuition ; we have also com- 
prehended the causal connection, whereby the mind is 
compelled to reconstruct just those space-relations which 
•correspond to the objective space-relations in the retina 
or tactile retina ; but why the mind at all converts the 
sum of qualitatively distinct feelings into an extensive 
space-image, for that we cannot see any reason in the 
physiological process; we are obliged even to question 
whether such exists, and can admit only a teleological 
reason, because through this marvellous process alone 
does the mind procure a basis for the cognition of an 
external world, whereas, without the space-intuition, it 
could never go beyond itself. 

Ad. III. If we perceive this aim to be the sole reason, 
we must look upon the process in question itself as an 
instinctive action, as a purposive activity without pur- 
posive consciousness. We have accordingly again arrived 
at the sphere of the Unconscious, and must recognise the 
position of space in the perception of the individual con- 
sciousness (just as the position of space in creation of the 
real world), as an action of the Unconscious, since this 
process is by so much anterior to the possibility of any 
consciousness that it can never be looked upon as any- 
thing conscious. Kant, however, has nowhere so expressed 
himself, and considering the usual clearness and fearless- 
ness of this great thinker, one must conclude that he 
never distinctly realised the complete unconsciousness 
of this same process. From this defect of his exposition 
arose, however, the opposition of sober common sense 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 345 

to his doctrine, which knew that Space was given as a 
fact independent of the individual consciousness, and, 
indeed, in the space-relations from which only a protracted 
effort of abstraction detached the concept of Space, which 
last of all the negation of limit determined as infinite, 
whilst, according to Kant, the one infinite space stands 
as the original product of thought, in virtue of which 
spatial relations alone become possible. In all this, 
then, common sense was right, and Kant wrong, but in 
one point, and that the chief, Kant was right, that the 
form of space does not stalk into the mind from out- 
side by means of physiological processes, but is spontane- 
ously produced by it. But whereas Kant looks upon 
Space as an almost accidental form of sensibility due to 
the organisation of our nature, which might have been 
altogether different, and which has no prototype beyond 
subjectivity, we assert that Space has been given us as a 
real form of existence, so that the Unconscious formally 
performs one and the same function, when there planning 
in its unconscious representation the plurality of individuals 
to be created in space-relations, in order thereby to give 
to the will a spatially-realisable content, or here extending 
the sensations given in qualitatively- ordered series (mathe- 
matical dimensions) into the spatial intuition. Contingency 
and caprice would now have to be sought merely in a 
possible deviation from the path once entered upon, not 
in the carrying out of the form of individuation of space 
adopted once for all for this world (whether from logical 
necessity or from choice). 

Ad. IV. Time has so much analogy with Space as a 
form of Thought and Being that they have ever been 
treated of together, and a thinker has always held similar 
opinions concerning both. This circumstance also tempted 
Kant to subject them to a common treatment in his 
" Transcendental ^Esthetic." Yet, the differences between 
Space and Time, familiar to everybody, are important 
enough to call for a difference of treatment. If Time 



3+6 PHILOSOPHY OP THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

were not directly transferable from the physiological pro- 
cess into the perception, it would, without doubt, be just 
as independently produced by the mind as Space. Per- 
ception, however, does not require this; for when we 
assumed that the mind reacts with a definite sensation 
on cerebral vibrations of a definite form, it was already 
implied that, if the stimulus is repeated, the reaction is 
also repeated, whether the stimuli follow one another in 
constant unbroken order, or intermittently. From this it 
farther follows that sensation must last as long as these 
forms of the vibrations last, and another sensation only 
follows with change • of the mode of vibration, for which, 
again, another is substituted after a certain interval. But 
the succession of unlike or diverse sensations is hereby 
immediately given without our needing to have recourse, 
as in the case of Space, to a spontaneous instinctive crea- 
tion of the mind, no matter whether the affair is conceived 
materialistically or spiritualistically, for in both cases the 
objective succession of vibrations is translated into a sub- 
jective succession of sensations. 

On the other hand, one might seem to be able to sustain 
the assertion that Time is not immediately imported into 
perception from the cerebral vibrations, by appealing to 
the fact that we regard every single feeling as a momen- 
tary, consequently timeless reaction of the mind, in which 
case certainly from a series of such momentary timeless 
psychical acts no temporal perception could directly 
arise, since the intervals between these moments would 
be absolutely void, and consequently could not be esti- 
mated. On closer examination the impossibility is imme- 
diately apparent ; for only two cases are possible if sensa- 
tion is to be something instantaneous. Either it springs 
from the momentary state of the brain, or it occurs only 
at the close of a certain period of cerebral movement. 
The former is intrinsically impossible, for the moment 
contains no movement, consequently nothing that can act 
upon the mind ; the latter, however, may just as easily 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 347 

lead to absurdity, because the reason for the mind reacting 
with sensation just after a definite period of time and not 
before and not after, while the movement calmly continues 
in the same manner, is by no means evident. If one 
arbitrarily chose to assume a complete period of oscilla- 
tion as this time, it is not clear where the oscillation 
begins and ends, the starting-point being something arbi- 
trarily chosen by us ; or it is not obvious why a semi- 
oscillation, or a quarter or other smaller portion, should 
not accomplish the same, since, indeed, the law of the 
whole vibration is completely contained in the smallest 
portion of the whole vibration. As the conceivably smallest 
portion already contains the law of the whole vibration, it, 
too, must contribute its quota, and thus we come again to 
the continuity of sensation. That these differentials of 
sensation, so to speak, do not become conscious — that 
rather a not inconsiderable fragment of a second is requi- 
site before a sensation can be individually taken note of 
by consciousness as a definite integral of these differential 
effects — might, perhaps, be due to the circumstance — 
firstly, that a change in the form of vibration which 
produces' change of sensation is physically not to be 
comprehended from the fragment of a vibration, not even 
after a single entire vibration, but after several vibrations, 
by gradual passage of one form of vibration into another ; 
and, secondly, that, as in a string caused to move sym- 
pathetically by a resonant note, every single vibration 
taken alone accomplishes too little, and that only the 
effects of many similar vibrations gradually added can 
gain a perceptible influence, which rises above the thresh- 
old of stimulation (see Introductory I. c, p. 34 ff.) This 
temporal addition, combined with the spatial addition of 
the effects of many molecules simultaneously vibrating in 
the same manner, makes it comprehensible how move- 
ments so minute as those in the brain call forth in the 
mind such powerful impressions, as, e.g., a cannon-shot or 
thunder-clap. 



348 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

We have now reviewed the four points above indicated, 
and I hope to have herewith not unessentially contributed 
to an understanding between philosophy and physical 
science, between which a wide gulf has yawned since the 
time of Kant. Our result is this : Space and Time are 
forms both of Being and of (conscious) Thought. Time is 
immediately translated into sensation from being, from 
the vibrations in the brain, because it is contained in the 
form of the single cerebral molecular vibration in the same 
way as in the external impulse. Space, as form of per- 
ception, must be created by an act of the Unconscious, 
because neither the space-relations of the single cerebral 
molecular vibration, nor the space-relations of the dif- 
ferent vibrating parts of the brain, have any similarity 
or direct relation to the spatial figures and the spatial 
relations of position either of the real things or of the 
objects presented ; but the spatial determinations of per- 
ceptions are probably governed by the system of local 
signs in the senses of Sight and Touch. Determinations 
of time, as well as of space, accordingly, are presented to 
consciousness as something ready-formed, given, are thus 
also rightly accepted as empirical facts, since consciousness 
has no idea of the producing processes of the same. From 
these given concrete determinations of Space and Time 
more general ones are afterwards abstracted, and the con- 
cepts Space and Time are gained as final abstractions, to 
which as subjective ideas infinity is justly ascribed as a 
negative predicate, because no conditions exist in the 
subject to place a limit to the possible extension of these 
ideas. 

Having in this way made sure of the origin of the 
determinations of space and time as the foundation of 
all perceptions, we must return to the question of the 
connection of cerebral vibration and sensation — to the 
question, why the mind reacts on this form of vibration 
with this particular sensation. That there prevails here a 
perfect regularity we cannot doubt, considering the general 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 349 

uniformity of Nature. We see the same sensations always' 
follow with the same individual on the same external 
stimuli unless a demonstrable change of the bodily dis- 
position takes place, which must, of course, announce 
itself in modified cerebral vibrations. That also in 
different individuals, so far as there is bodily agreement, 
the same stimuli call forth similar sensations, it is true 
we can never directly establish ; but as all demonstrable 
variations certainly depend on varying structure of the 
sense-organs and nerves, we have no ground to suppose 
in this point an exception to the general uniformity of 
Nature, and accordingly assume that like cerebral vibra- 
tions call forth in all individuals like sensations. As 
this regular causal connection between this form of vibra- 
tion and this sensation is in itself not more wonderful 
than any other incomprehensible uniform causal con- 
nection in the material world, e.g., electricity and heat, 
is tolerably clear. On the other side, however, we 
incline without much hesitation to the opinion, that 
here, as there, causal links are present, which refer the 
hitherto existing complication of these events to simple 
laws, whose manifold interweaving brings to pass the 
majority of observed phenomena. Accordingly, if we 
cannot bring ourselves to stop at the result thus gained 
as a final one, but must suppose in these processes 
different connected links, yet this much is clear, that, 
so far as they belong to the psychical domain, they must 
exclusively belong to the province of the Unconscious. It is 
thus an unconscious process by which the acid appears to 
us sour, sugar sweet, this light red, that blue, these aerial 
vibrations as the note A, those as C. This is all that 
can be said about the origin of the quality of sensation, 
so far as our present knowledge extends. 

With all this qualitative, intensively and extensively 
quantitative determination of sensation, we can, however, 
never get beyond the sphere of the subject. For the sense 
of sight represents locally extended images superficially, 



350 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

but without any determination with respect to the third 
dimension, so that the area lies, so far, purely vjithin 
the mind — is purely subjective; so that the mind is 
not at all aware of the eye as organ of vision, thus 
knows the visual image neither before the eye nor in 
the eye, but merely possesses it internally, just as a 
faint idea of memory can only be conceived in the in- 
terior space of the mind, and without reference to 
external space. Similarly is it with the perceptions of 
the sense of touch. Here, too, there is only superficial 
extension, which corresponds to the surface of the body, 
ouly much vaguer than in vision. Here only by means 
of the simultaneity of the same perception at several 
places, united with certain feelings of muscular move- 
ment, do experiences occur, with whose help the mind 
can effect the fixation of the tactile perceptions on the 
epidermis by other processes, so that these can now be 
fixed in respect to the third dimension, as it were. Many 
physiologists assert, indeed, that this is immediately the 
case, according to the law of the eccentric phenomenon, 
and I shall not dispute it ; this much is settled, that 
when this point is reached, when the internal sensations 
are so fixed in respect of the third dimension that they 
coincide objectively with the epidermis of the body, and, 
according to my view, in the case of the eye with the 
retina — that then it is still by no means apparent how 
the step is to be taken outwards from the subjective in 
virtue of perception or of consciotis thought. For perception, 
at the most, never points beyond the limit of one's own 
body — in my view even remaining within the mind with- 
out pointing to one's own body at all. No conscious 
process of thought developing itself by means of the 
preceding experiences, moreover, leads to the supposition 
of an external object; here, again, instinct, or the Un- 
conscious, must lend a helping hand in order to fulfil 
the purpose of perception, the cognition of the external 
world. Accordingly, the animal and the child instinc- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 351 

tively projects its sense-perceptions as objects outside 
itself ; and, accordingly, to this day, every uninstructed 
human being thinks he perceives the things themselves, 
because his perceptions, with the determination of ex- 
ternality, instinctively become objects to him. Thus only 
is it possible that the world of objects stands there ready 
for any being, without the idea of the subject occurring to 
it, whilst in conscious thought subject and object must 
necessarily spring simultaneously from the ideational 
process. It is, therefore, wrong to posit the concept of 
causality as mediator for a conscious segregation of the 
object, for objects are there long before the causal con- 
cept has arisen ; and even were this not the case, yet, 
even then, the subject must be simultaneously gained with 
the object. Undoubtedly, from the philosophic point of 
view, causality is the sole means of getting beyond the mere 
ideational process to the subject and object ; undoubtedly 
for the consciousness of the cultivated understanding, 
the object is only contained in perception as its external 
cause; undoubtedly the unconscious process, which lies 
at the bottom of the first apperception of the object, may 
be analogous to this philosophic conscious process, — 
thus much is certain, that the process, as whose result 
the external object confronts consciousness ready formed, 
is a thoroughly unconscious one, and consequently, if 
causality plays' a part in it — which for the rest we can 
never directly determine, — it can yet by no means be 
said, as by Schopenhauer, that the a priori given concept 
of causality produces the external object, because, in this 
mode of expression, the action must be conceived as a 
conscious one, which it decidedly cannot be, because it 
is formed much later, and, moreover, at first from re- 
ciprocal relations of the already formed objects. 

Having got so far in this way as to see in perceptions 
external objects, the next point to be considered is the 
elaboration of the perceptions, e.g., in vision the sight of dis- 
tance reckoned from the eye, single vision with two eyes, 



352 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

sight of the third dimension in bodies, &c, and what corres- 
ponds thereto in other senses, as is discussed at length in 
so many manuals of physiology, psychology, &c. The 
processes which bring about this closer understanding, 
belong partly, indeed, to consciousness ; in greater part, 
however, they fall into the domain of the Unconscious 
(comp. Wundt " Beitrage zur Theorie der Sinneswahrneh- 
mung," as well as the passages cited above, p. 39). " As 
the formation of perception by the single eye depends 
upon a series of psychical processes of an unconscious 
kind, so also the formation of binocular perception is 
nothing but an unconscious process of inference." . . . Thus 
it is not merely the special perception of depth to which 
the binocular act of vision necessarily leads, but it is, in 
addition, the representation of reflection and lustre, which 
arises therefrom in an altogether corresponding uniform 
manner " (Wundt, pp. 373, 374). " They (the unconscious 
psychical processes) are not merely those which form per- 
ceptions out of the unrelated sensations, but those also 
which bind the more immediate and simple perceptions 
themselves again into more compound ones, and thus bring 
order and system into the possession of our mind, before 
with consciousness that light is brought into this possession, 
which first teaches us ourselves to know it " (ibid. 375). 

We might easily deceive ourselves concerning this rela- 
tion, if we only reflected on the tardiness with which the 
human child attains to the full mastery of sense-percep- 
tion. But if more exact investigation enables us here to 
perceive without difficulty, how small the elaboration of 
conscious thought is with children at the time, when they 
already possess this understanding of perception in full 
measure, the unconsciousness of all the needful processes 
among animals is evident at the first glance. The certainty 
with which these move soon after their birth, the propriety 
with which they comport themselves with respect to the 
outer world, would be impossible, if they did not instinc- 
tively possess this understanding of their sense-perceptions. 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 353 

If, as should properly.be done, we include under sensuous 
perception in the wider sense this full comprehension of 
the sense-impressions, we see that the coming to pass of 
sensuous perception, which forms the foundation of all 
conscious mental activity, is dependent on a whole series 
of unconscious processes, without which aids on the part 
of instinct Man and Animal would perish helplessly, since 
they would lack the means of perceiving and of making 
use of the outer world. 



VOL. I. 



( 354 ) 



IX. 

THE UNCONSCIOUS IN MYSTICISM. 

The word "mystical" is in everybody's mouth; every- 
body knows the names of celebrated mystics, everybody 
knows examples of the mystical. And yet how few under- 
stand the word, whose signification itself is mystical, and 
therefore can only be rightly comprehended by him who 
has within him a mystical vein, however weak it be. Let 
us try to get at the essence of the matter, by reviewing 
the various leading phenomena presented in the mysticism 
of different times and individuals. 

We find among the largest number of mystics a turning 
away from active life and a falling back upon quietistic 
contemplation, even a striving after mental and bodily an- 
nihilation. This cannot, however, express the essence of 
mysticism; for the world's greatest mystic, Jacob Bohme, 
managed his household affairs in a methodical fashion, 
worked hard, and educated his children. Other mystics 
plunged so deeply into practical affairs as to come forward 
in the character of world - reformers ; others professed 
theurgy and magic, or practical medicine, and undertook 
journeys for scientific purposes. — Another series of pheno- 
mena, with higher degrees of mysticism, are bodily fits, 
as convulsions, epilepsies, ecstasies, imaginations and 
fixed ideas of hysterical women and hypochondriacal men, 
visions of ecstatic or spontaneously-somnambulistic per- 
sons. All these wear so much the character of bodily 
disease, that the essence of mysticism certainly cannot 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 355 

be looked for in them, although they are for the most 
part intentionally produced by voluntary fasting, as- 
ceticism, and continued concentration of the fancy on one 
point. Those, who in the history of mysticism evoked such 
repulsive phenomena, we should at the present day com- 
miserate in mad-houses, but in their own time they were 
adored as prophets and persecuted and slain as martyrs ; 
such unfortunates, e.g., as took themselves to be Christ 
(Isaiah Stiefel, 1600) or God the Father himself. Never- 
theless, it might be said the visions and ecstasies pass 
gradually into those purer and higher forms to which 
history owes so much; granted, certainly, — only this 
variable element must not be claimed as the essence of 
mysticism. — A third form is asceticism. It is a mad 
frenzy or a morbid delight when it is not embraced as an 
ethical system, which, however, is the case with Indian, 
Neo-Persian, and Christian penitents. Even then this is 
not necessarily mysticism, since, on the one hand, Scho- 
penhauer has given us the proof that a person may be a 
clear thinker and yet regard asceticism as the only correct 
system; and, on the other hand, mysticism is just as 
compatible with the most unbridled, inordinate longing 
after enjoyments as with the strictest asceticism. A 
fourth series of phenomena in the history of mysticism 
are the wonders of the prophets, saints, and magicians 
occurring in every age. All that remains after tolerably 
strict criticism of these reports reduces itself to operations 
of healing, which may be comprehended partly as simply 
therapeutic, partly as conscious or unconscious magnetism, 
partly as sympathetic action, and admitted into the series 
of natural laws, if the magical-sympathetic action of 
mere will be allowed to pass as natural law. As long 
as this is refused, the latter certainly remains intrinsi- 
cally mystical; but as soon as one gets accustomed to 
the phenomenon, it is not more mystical than the opera- 
tion of any other natural law, of which we can make 
nothino- at all, and yet do not on that account call mystical. 



356 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

Hitherto we have spoken of how mystics have acted 
and lived, we have still to mention in what way they have 
spoken and written. In the first place, we are struck by 
the prevailingly figurative mode of expression, sometimes 
plain and simple, but more often high-sounding rant, not 
seldom accompanied by an equal extravagance in the 
matter as in the form. This depends partly on the 
nations and times to which the particular mystics belong ; 
but, as we meet with the same phenomenon among poets 
and other writers, we cannot find therein the sure mark 
of the mystic. Further, we see in mystical writings, 
on the one hand, an exuberance of allegory, a love of 
far-fetched exegesis (as of the Bible, the Koran, and 
other writings or legends), or a mass of formularies 
(drawn from the Jewish, Mohammedan, and Chris- 
tian cultus) ; on the other side, a schematism of an un- 
scientific philosophy of Nature, full of fantastic and 
fanciful analogies (Albertus Magnus, Parcelesus, and 
others in the Middle Ages; Schelling, Oken, Steffens, 
Hegel, in more recent times). In these two phenomena 
likewise, essentially alike, and only different in their sub- 
ject, we cannot find the character of the mystical. We see 
therein only the characteristic tendency of the human 
mind to systematise its conceptions, led astray by igno- 
rance or disregard of the material and the principles of the 
natural sciences — playing at building card-houses, which 
the after-comer, who builds other card-houses,, often does 
not give himself the trouble of blowing over, but which 
rather collapse of themselves, although not without having 
previously imposed on many another child. A character- 
istic, too, to which it has been often believed one may hold, 
is incomprehensibility and obscurity of style, because it is 
tolerably common to all mystical writings. However, it 
is not to be forgotten, firstly, that very few mystics have 
reduced their thoughts to writing, many have not even 
spoken, or done nothing more than narrate their visions ; 
and secondly, that very many other writings are incom- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 357 

prehensible and obscure, to which neither their authors 
nor other people would apply the epithet mystical, for 
obscurity of expression may arise from obscurity of 
thought, deficient mastery of the material, awkwardness 
of style, and many other causes. 

Consequently, none of the phenomena hitherto con- 
sidered are fitted to reveal the nature of the mystical ; but 
any one of them may, perhaps, serve to set off a mystical 
background, but is then only a dress casually put on by 
mysticism, and may just as well at another time have 
nothing at all to do with mysticism. The question now, 
then, is with respect to the common core and centre of 
all these phenomena in the cases in which we regard them 
as drapery of a mystical background. Any one would 
go quite astray who should regard Eeligion as this com- 
mon kernel. Eeligion, as naive belief in revelation, is 
not in the least mystical, for what has become manifest to 
me through an authority recognised by me as perfectly 
valid, what can there be at all mystical in that, so long as 
I am absolutely content with this external revelation ? 
And no religion asks more. But, further, it is also easy to 
see that there is a mysticism of irreligious superstition 
(e.g. black magic), or a mysticism of self-deification, which 
sets all good and bad gods at defiance, or a mysticism 
of irreligious philosophy, although experience shows that 
the latter, at any rate, prefers to make an external 
alliance with positive religion (e.g. Neoplatonism). In all 
this we should not fail to perceive that Eeligion is the 
ground and soil on which mysticism springs up most 
easily and luxuriantly ; but it is by no means its only hot- 
bed. Mysticism is rather a creeping plant, which grows 
up exuberantly on any support, and can agree equally well 
with the extremest opposites. Arrogance and humility, 
love of power and endurance, egoism and self-renuncia- 
tion, continence and sensual excess, self-castigation and 
inordinate love of enjoyments, solitude and sociality, con- 
tempt for the world and vanity, quietism and active life, 



358 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

nihilism and world-reformation, piety and impiety, illu- 
mination and superstition, originality and brutal stupidity, 
— all are equally compatible with mysticism. 

Accordingly we have got so far as to see in all such 
extremes, in all the above-mentioned phenomena histori- 
cally presented among the mystics, not the essence of 
mysticism, but excrescences, which have been produced 
partly by the spirit of the times and national character ; 
partly by individual morbid disposition ; partly by per- 
verted religious, moral, and practical principles ; partly by 
the infectious example of mental derangement ; partly 
through dissatisfaction with the pressure of rude times, 
which, in secular life, had nothing at all enticing to offer, 
but could only deter the aspirant; partly by the danger 
subsequently to be mentioned of soaring too high inherent 
in the final goal of mysticism itself ; partly by a concate- 
nation of all sorts of causes resulting from the foresioins; 

O DO 

and other circumstances. 

This negative examination appeared to me indispensable 
in order to clear up the notion of the mystical, which for 
most people is compounded of a total of these morbid out- 
growths of mysticism, and thereby prevents the recognition 
of mysticism in its purer forms of manifestation. If now 
we once more return to consider the core of all these 
phenomena of genuine mysticism, this much will be evi- 
dent, that it must be deeply founded in the inmost nature 
of man (if, like artistic tendencies, it is not developed in 
every one, at any rate uniformly in every one, or in the 
same directions) ; for with more or less diffusion it has 
accompanied the history of civilisation from early pre- 
historic times to the present day. It has doubtless 
changed its character with the spirit of the times, but 
no advance of civilisation has ever been able to repress 
it; it has maintained itself just as unconquerable in pre- 
sence of the infidelity of materialism as against the terrors 
of the Inquisition. But mysticism has also performed 
priceless civilising services for the human race. Without 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 359 

the mysticism of Neo-pythagoreanism, the Johanneau 
Christianity would never have arisen ; without the mys- 
ticism of the Middle Ages, the spirit of Christianity 
would have been submerged in Catholic idolatry and 
scholastic formalism ; without the mysticism of the per- 
secuted heretical communities from the beginning of the 
eleventh century, which, in spite of all suppressions, ever 
sprang up again with renewed energy under another name, 
the blessings of the Eeformation would never have dis- 
pelled the darker shades of the Middle Age and opened 
the portals of the new era. Without mysticism in the 
mind of the German people, and among the heroes of 
modern German poetry and philosophy, we should have 
been so completely inundated by the shallow drifting 
sand of the French materialism in the last century, that 
we might not have got our heads free again for who knows 
how long. As for the human race as a whole, so also for 
the individual. So long as it keeps free from sickly and 
rank outgrowths, mysticism is of inestimable worth. For 
we, in fact, see that all mystics have felt exceedingly 
happy in developing their mystical tendencies, and have 
cheerfully endured all sorts of privation and sacrifice in 
order to remain faithful to their bent. One has only to 
think of Jacob Bohme and the inexpressible cheerfulness 
which accompanied him through all his trials, which yet 
certainly arose from a pure source, and neither withdrew 
him from his civil duties nor was troubled by foolish self- 
tormentings. Think of the mystical saints of antiquity, 
as Pythagoras, Plotinus, Porphyry, &c, who certainly 
practised extreme moderation and restraint, but no self- 
tormentings. Genuine mysticism is then something deeply 
founded in the inmost essence of man, in itself healthy, 
if also easily inclining to morbid growths, and of high 
value both for the individual and for humanity at large. 

But what is it in fine ? If we think away all that 
is worthless in the phenomenon, there will remain feeling, 
thought, and will, and indeed the content of each of the 



35o PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

three will also be able to occur non-mystically, namely, 
of thought and feeling in philosophy and religion, of will 
as conscious magical will-action (only one single content 
of feeling making an exception, because it can ever be 
only mystically produced, as we shall immediately see). 
But if now in all other cases it is not the moMer which 
contains the specifically mystical element, it must be the 
special v:ay in which the matter comes into consciousness 
and is in consciousness ; and upon this we will first hear 
some mystics, when, after the previous explanations, we 
shall not be surprised to find names which are not usually 
reckoned among the mystics, just because these represent 
mysticism most free from disturbing accessories. 

All founders of religion, and prophets, have declared 
that they have either received their wisdom personally 
from God, or, in composing their works, delivering their 
speeches, and doing their wonders, have been inspired by 
the Divine Spirit, which most of the higher religions have 
made an article of faith. It has also been believed of the 
later saints who have introduced any new doctrine or 
mode of life and repentance, that not the human but the 
Divine Spirit taught them, and they themselves believed 
it. Fuller information is given us by Jacob Bohme : — 
" I say before God . . . that I do not myself know how 
it happens to me that, without having the impelling will, 
I do not even know what I should write. For when I 
write the Spirit dictates it to me in great, wonderful 
knowledge, that I often do not know whether I am in my 
spirit in this world, and rejoice exceedingly, since then 
the constant and certain knowledge is given to me, and 
the more I seek the more I find, and always more deeply, 
that I also often think my sinful person too small and 
unworthy to teach such secrets, when the Spirit spreads 
my banner and says, ' See, thou shalt live for ever therein 
and be crowned, why art thou afraid V" In the same 
way, in the "Aurora," he gives his reader the advice "that 
he should ask of God His Holy Spirit. For without the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 361 

illumination of the same thou wilt not understand these 
secrets, for the mind of man is a fast lock, that must first 
he opened ; and that no man can do, for the Holy Spirit 
is the only key to it." As little as he holds it possible 
for another reader, could he himself understand his own 
writings if the Spirit should abandon him. — "We go further 
and find that the Quakers set up the principle of subordi- 
nating the institution of the school, human wisdom, and 
the written word, and trusting solely to an inner light. — 
Bernhard of Clairvaux says : " Faith is a sure fore-feeling 
of a not yet wholly unveiled truth grasped by the will, 
and is based on authority or revelation ; the (inner) intui- 
tion (contemplatio), on the contrary, is the certain and at 
the same time manifest cognition of the invisible." This 
is carried further by his school (Eichard and Hugo of St. 
Victor), by which inner revelation is designated the deeper 
mystical knowledge, which becomes the portion only of 
the elect, as illumination of reason by the Spirit, as super- 
natural power of knowledge, as inner immediate intuition, 
which is exalted above reason. — 

The champion of modern mysticism against rationalistic 
enlightenment is Hamann. He desires to know the con- 
tent of the outer divine revelation vitally regenerated from 
the soil of his own spirit, and to find the solution of all 
contradictions in self-evident faith, which comes to him 
from feeling, from the immediate revelation of truth. 
What he shadowed forth Jacobi elaborated. He says (in 
various places) : " Conviction by means of proofs is a 
second-hand certainty, rests on comparison, and can never 
be perfectly sure and complete. Now if every acceptation 
of truth which does not spring from rational grounds is 
faith, conviction from grounds of reason must itself come 
from faith, and receive its force solely from it. — He who 
knows must in the last resort depend on sensation or a 
feeling of the mind. — As there is a sensuous intuition 
through sense, so there is also a rational one through 
reason. — Each in its province is the final and uncondition- 



362 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

ally valid. — Eeason, like the faculty of the feelings, is the 
incorporeal organ for the perceptions of the super-sensible. 
Eational intuition, although given in exalted feelings, is 
yet truly objective. — "Without the positive rational feeling - 
of a higher than the world of the senses, the understand- 
ing could never transgress the sphere of the conditioned." 

Fichte and Schelling accepted these views, whilst Kant 
in his categorical imperative only made use of them under 
the guise of formal knowledge of the understanding. 
Fichte says in the Introductory Lectures to the Theory 
of Science, "This doctrine presupposes an entirely new 
inner sense L organ through which a new world is given, 
that does not at all exist for the ordinary man. It is 
not exactly excogitating and creating a novelty, a some- 
thing not already given, but the bringing together and 
reducing to unity of the given by means of a new and 
yet to he developed sense." This " Eational Faith " of Jacobi 
receives from Schelling its most appropriate name — in- 
tellectual intuition — which is set up by the latter as the 
indispensable organ of our transcendental philosophising, 
as the principle of all demonstration, and as the unprov- 
able, self-evident ground of all evidence, in a word, as the 
absolute act of knowledge, — as a kind of cognition which 
must always remain incomprehensible from the conscious 
empirical point of view, because it has not like it an 
object, because it cannot at all appear in consciousness, but 
falls outside of it (comp. Schelling, I., 1, pp. 181, 182). 
Thus have we followed this mode of attaining to the con- 
sciousness of a content from the crude figurative expression 
of a personal divine communication down to Schelling's 
intellectual intuition, and have herein found that which 
makes a feeling or a thought mystical in form. 

If we ask how we have to conceive this immediate 
knowledge through intellectual intuition, Fichte and 
Schelling give us answers on this point also. Fichte says, 
in the " Facts of Consciousness " : — " Man has in general 
nothing but experience, and he comes by everything 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 363 

whereto he attains only through experience, through life 
itself. In the theory of the sciences, too, as the absolute 
highest potency, above which no consciousness can rise, 
nothing can at all occur which does not lie in actual 
consciousness or in experience, in the highest sense of 
the term." And Schelling corroborates (" Works," ii. vol. i. 
p. 326): — "For, to be sure, there are also those who 
speak of thought as an antithesis to all experience, 
as if thought itself were not certainly also experience ! " 
Immediate or mystical knowledge is here very well 
included in the notion, experience, because it is pre- 
viously found " in actual consciousness " as given, without 
the will being able to make any change in it. No matter 
whether this datum is given from within or from without, 
conscious will has, in either case, nothing to do with it, 
and consciousness, to which its unconscious background 
is just as unconscious, must accordingly accept its in- 
spirations as something extraneous, whence arises the 
belief in divine or demoniac inspiration of the intellectual 
intuition in earlier times, and among those untrained in 
philosophy. Since consciousness knows that it has not 
derived its knowledge directly or indirectly from sense- 
perception, thereby being pre-eminently immediate know- 
ledge, it can only have arisen through inspiration from 
the Unconscious, and we have accordingly compre- 
hended the essence of the mystical — as the filling of 
consciousness with a content {feeling, thought, desire) 
through involuntary emergence of the same from the Un- 
conscious. 

"We must accordingly claim clairvoyance and presenti- 
ment as essentially mystical — a subdivision of mysticism, 
so far as it has reference to thought, — and shall not be 
able to avoid finding something mystical also in every 
instinct, namely, so far as the unconscious clairvoyance 
of instinct appears in consciousness as presentiment, faith, 
or certainty. I shall further meet with assent after 
these considerations and those of the earlier chapters, 



364 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

if, even in the most ordinary psychological processes, I 
characterise those thoughts and feelings as mystical in 
form, which owe their origin to an immediate intrusion 
of the Unconscious, thus before all the aesthetic feeling 
in contemplation and production, the origin of sensuous 
perception and the unconscious processes in thinking, 
feeling, and willing generally. This perfectly justifiable 
application meets with resistance only from vulgar pre- 
judice, which sees marvel and mystery only in the extra- 
ordinary, but finds nothing obscure or marvellous in the 
things of every-day life — only because there is nothing 
rare and unusual in it. Certainly, one does not call a 
man, who only carries about in himself these ever- 
recurring mysteries, a mystic ; for if this word is to mean 
more than human being, it must be reserved for the 
men who participate in the rarer phenomena of mysti- 
cism, namely, such inspirations of the Unconscious as go 
beyond the common need of the individual or of the 
race, e.g., clairvoyants, through spontaneous somnambulism 
or natural disposition, or persons with a darker but fre- 
quently active power of presentiment (Socrates' " Daim- 
onion "). I should also not object to the designating as 
mystics, in the province of their art, all eminent art- 
geniuses, who owe their productions predominantly to 
inspirations of their genius, and not to the work of their 
consciousness, be they in all other concerns of life as 
clear-headed as possible {e.g., Phidias, iEschylus, Eaphael, 
Beethoven) ; and he alone could take offence who has 
himself so little of the mystical vein in him, that the 
incommensurability of the genuine work of art with any 
rationalistic standard, as well as the infinity of its con- 
tent, in respect of all attempts at definition, has not yet 
at all entered into his consciousness. 

In philosophy I should like to extend the notion still 
further, and call every original philosopher a mystic, 
so far as he is truly original; for in the history of 
philosophy no high thought has ever been brought to 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 365 

light by laborious conscious trial and induction, but has 
always been apprehended by the glance of genius, and 
then elaborated by the understanding. Add to that, that 
philosophy essentially deals with a theme which is most 
intimately connected with the one feeling only to be 
mystically apprehended, namely, the relation of the indi- 
vidual to the Absolute. All that has gone before only 
concerned such matter of consciousness as can or could 
arise in no other way, thus is here only called mystical, 
because the form of its origin is mystical; but now we 
come to an item of consciousness, which, in its inmost 
character, is only to be apprehended mystically, which 
thus also, materially, may be called mystical; and a 
human being who can produce this mystical content will 
have to be called pre-eminently a mystic. 

To wit, conscious thought can comprehend the identity 
of the individual with the Absolute by a rational method, 
as we too have found ourselves on the way to this goal 
in our inquiry; but the Ego and the Absolute and 
their identity stand before it as three abstractions, whose 
union in the judgment is made probable, it is true, 
through the preceding proofs, yet an immediate feeling 
of this identity is not attained by it. The authoritative 
belief in an external revelation may credulously repeat 
the dogma of such a unity — the living feeling of the 
same cannot be engrafted or thrust on the mind from 
without, it can only spring up in the mind of the believer 
himself ; in a word, it is to be attained neither by philo- 
sophy nor external revelation, but only mystically, by 
one with equal mystical proclivities, the more easily, 
indeed, the more perfect and pure are the philosophical 
notions or religious ideas already possessed. Therefore 
this feeling is the content of mysticism, aar' igo^r/v, 
because it finds its existence only in it, and, at the same 
time, the highest and ultimate, if also, as we have seen 
before, by no means the only aim of all those who have 
devoted their lives to mysticism. Nay, we may even go 



366 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

so far as to assert that the production of a certain degree 
of this mystical feeling, and the enjoyment lurking in it, 
is the sole inner aim of all religion, and that it is, there- 
fore, not incorrect, if less significative, to apply the name 
religious feeling to it. 

Further, if the highest blessedness lurks in this feeling 
for its possessor, as is confirmed by the experience of all 
mystics, the transition is manifestly easy to the endeavour 
to heighten this feeling in degree, by seeking to make 
the union between the Ego and the Absolute ever closer 
and more intimate. But it is also not difficult to see 
that we have here arrived at the point previously indi- 
cated, where mysticism spontaneously degenerates into 
the morbid, by overshooting its mark. Undoubtedly we 
must elevate ourselves for this purpose a little above 
the standpoint hitherto attained in our investigations. 
The unity, namely of the Absolute and the individual, 
whose individuality or egoity is given through con- 
sciousness, thus, in other words, the unity of the un- 
conscious and conscious, is once for all given, inseparable 
and indestructible, except by destruction of the indi- 
vidual; wherefore, however, every attempt to make this 
unity more close than it is, is so absurd and useless. The 
way which, historically, has almost always been taken, is 
that of the annihilation of consciousness — the endeavour 
to let the individual perish in the Absolute. This, how- 
ever, contains a great error, as if, when the goal of anni- 
hilation of consciousness was reached, the individual still 
existed ; the Ego at once desires to be annihilated, and 
to subsist in order to enjoy this annihilation. Conse- 
quently this goal has hitherto been always only im- 
perfectly attained on both sides, although the accounts of 
the mystics enable us to perceive that many on this path 
have attained an admirable height, or rather depth, so that 
I shall adduce a few illustrations. (True self-annihilation 
is, of course, only suicide ; but here the contradiction is too 
patent for it to have often been the result of mysticism.) 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 367 

Michael Molinos, the father of Quietism, says, among 
the eight-and-sixty propositions of his celebrated " Spiritual 
Guide," condemned by Innocent VI. : — " Man must anni- 
hilate his powers, and the soul annihilates itself when it 
ceases to effect anything. And if the soul has attained 
the mystical death, it can — having now returned to its 
fundamental cause, to God — will nothing further than 
what God wills." The mystics of the earlier part of the 
Middle Ages distinguish in different ways a greater or 
smaller number of stages ; the last is always absorption, 
the same state as we already find described among the 
Buddhist gymnosophists, the modern Persian Ssufis, and 
the Hesychasts or quietists or Omphalists of Mount Athos. 
It is said that in absorption the human being is no longer 
aware of his body, perceives nothing external at all, 
nay not even his inner self. " To think of absorption is 
already to emerge from absorption." To die to one's 
ownness, to completely annihilate personality, and to let 
one's self be lost in the divine essence, is expressly de- 
manded. Nay, even the essential forms of consciousness, 
space, and time must disappear, as we gather from a 
conversation of the prophet with Ssaid, where the latter 
says : — " Day and night have disappeared for me like a 
flash of lightning; I embraced at once eternity before 
and after the world ; to those in such a state a hundred 
years and an hour are one and the same." All this is 
confirmed by the endeavour after identification with the 
Absolute, through annihilation of the individual con- 
sciousness. 

The other equally conceivable way to the enhancement 
of unity would be the endeavour to let the Absolute 
perish in the Ego ; this way also has been tried by high- 
soaring minds, but it is so daring, and the goal and the 
power and means at the command of the individual so 
disproportionate, that we need take no further account 
of it. 

Prom mystics proceeded the religious revelations, from 



368 PHILOSOPHY OP THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

mystics philosophy ; mysticism is the common source of 
both. It is true that fear first created gods on earth, so 
far as it was fear, which first stirred up the fancy of 
mystical brains, but what they created was their own, 
and fear had no part therein. But when the first gods 
were once there, they propagated among themselves, and 
fear lost its function. Accordingly the old assertion so 
highly valued by theologians, of the god-consciousness 
dwelling in man is no fable, if there be also perfectly 
godless individuals and peoples, in whom it has never 
emerged ; mysticism is Adam's scion, and its children 
are the ideas of the gods and their relation to man. How 
elevated and pure these ideas may have been even in quite 
early times in the esoteric doctrines of many peoples, is 
shown in the case of the Hindus, who have in effect 
implicitly possessed the whole history of philosophy, pre- 
senting in figurative and undeveloped form what we 
exhibit only too abstractly through only too many writers 
and volumes. 

Thus I see in the whole history of philosophy nothing 
else than the conversion of a mystically-begotten content 
from the. form of the image or the unproved assertion 
into that of the rational system, for which certainly often 
a new mystical production of single parts is required, 
which a later age finds already contained in the ancient 
writings. — It is naturally not wonderful, that from the 
moment when philosophy and religion get to be separated, 
they both deny their human-mystical origin ; the former 
seeks to present its results as rationally acquired, the 
latter as external Divine revelation. For as long as the 
mystic abides by his results, without trying to give them 
a rational foundation, he is not yet philosopher, and this 
only becomes possible by his giving conscious reasoning 
its rights. But this he will not do until he prefers the 
latter to mysticism, and then he likes to renounce and 
forget the mystical source of his results, which will not be 
difficult for him, considering the obscurity of their mode 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 369 

of origin. On the other hand, if the mystic thinks little 
of conscious reason, or naturally inclines to fanciful expo- 
sition, he will seek a pictorial-symbolical expression for 
his results, which of course can always be only an acci- 
dental and imperfect one. Now, as soon as he himself 
or his successors become incapable of grasping the idea 
lurking behind the symbols, and take those themselves for 
the truth, they cease again to be mystics and become re- 
ligionists. As they themselves can neither mystically 
reproduce their symbols, nor are these rationally compre- 
hensible, they must appeal to the authority of the founder 
for the truth of the same, and as human authority appears 
too small for such important affairs — possibly, too, the 
founder himself has already claimed to be recipient of 
divine communications — their truth is referred to the 
divine authority itself. Thus arise the moulds which 
shape the dogmatic content of religion. The more ade- 
quate are the symbols of the mystical Idea, the purer and 
sublimer is the religion ; the more abstract and philoso- 
phical, however, must also the symbols be; the more 
inadequate and sensuous they are, the more does religion 
sink into superstitious idolatry and sacerdotal formalism. 
Now he who takes the symbols of religion again merely as 
symbols, and wishes to grasp the idea dwelling behind 
them, steps out of religion as such, which requires, and must 
require, literal belief in the symbols, and becomes again a 
mystic ; and this is the usual way in which mysticism is 
formed, by clearer heads finding the historically given 
religion unsatisfactory, and desiring to grasp the profoundei 
ideas which lurk behind its symbols. One sees now how 
closely related religion and mysticism are, and how they 
are yet somewhat different in principle; one sees also 
why an established church must always be hostile to 
mysticism. 

If we now ask how it came to pass that mysticism, which 
brought to men the first revelations of the super-sensible 
did not stop there, but became converted into philosophy 

vol. 1. 2 a 



37o PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

and religion, the reason of this is shown in the vagueness 
of the purely mystical result, which must necessarily strive 
to acquire a form. As little as the mystical is in itself 
communicable, so little is it comprehensible for the con- 
sciousness of the thinker himself; it is like everything 
unconscious — a definite content to consciousness only 
when it has entered the forms of sensibility, as light, 
clearness, vision, image, symbol, or abstract thought. 
Previously it is only absolutely indefinite feeling, i.e. 
consciousness experiences nothing but blessedness or un- 
blessedness absolutely. If, now, the feeling first becomes 
definite in images or thoughts of a certain kind, there 
dwells in this image or thought alone for consciousness 
the content of the mystical result ; and it is consequently 
no wonder that, if with the weakening of the mystical 
energy the inspirations fail, consciousness cleaves to 
these sensuous residua — least of all, when others do this, 
to whom only these residua, and not the feelings united 
therewith, can be imparted, not that undefined somewhat 
which tells the productive mystic that his images and 
thoughts are still always an incomplete expression of 
the super-sensual idea. But communication requires still 
more : the other party desires to have not merely the 
What of the mystical results, but also the Why, for the 
productive mystic receives, it is true, through the way in 
which he arrives at it, an immediate certainty, but whence 
is a third person to obtain conviction ? Eeligion helps 
itself here with the surrogate of authoritative faith annihi- 
lating independent judgment ; philosophy, however, tries 
rationally to prove what it has mystically received, and 
thereby to make the private property of the mystic the 
public property of thinking humanity. Only too fre- 
quently, as could not well be otherwise, considering the 
difficulty of the subject, these rational proofs are unsuc- 
cessful, in that they, apart from what is really incorrect 
in them, depend again themselves on suppositions, of the 
truth of which conviction can only be mystically ac- 



THE UNCONSCIOUS IN THE HUMAN MIND. 371 

quired. And thus it comes to pass that the different 
philosophical systems, however imposing they are to 
many, yet have only full probative force for the author 
and for some few who are able to reproduce mystically 
in themselves the underlying suppositions (e.g., Spinoza's 
Substance, Fichte's Ego, Schelling's Subject-Object, Scho- 
penhauer's Will), and that those philosophical systems, 
which rejoice in most adherents, are just the poorest of 
all and most unphilosophical (e.g., Materialism and ratio- 
nalistic Theism). 

Were I now to name the man whom I regard as the 
flower of philosophical mysticism, I should pronounce the 
name of Spinoza: his starting-point, the mystical Sub- 
stance, his ultimatum x the mystical love of God, in which 
God loves himself, and all else sun-clear, according to 
mathematical methods. 

Certainly Spinoza did not think himself a mystic, but 
rather supposed he had proved everything so surely that 
all must see it ; and yet his system, imposing as it is, has 
nothing convincing about it, and convinces so few, be- 
cause one must first be convinced of Substance in Spinoza's 
sense, which only a mystic can, or a philosopher who at 
the close of his system has reached the same by another 
path, and then no longer needs Spinozism. Similarly is 
it, however, with all other systems, excepting the few 
which, like those of Leibnitz and the English, begin from 
below, but then also do not get far, and, properly speaking, 
are not to be called systems. The complete rational 
proof of the mystical results can only appear at the close 
of the history of philosophy, for the latter consists, as has 
been said, altogether in the search for this proof. 

Finally, we must not omit to call attention to the risk 
of error which lies in mysticism, and which is so much 

1 By his third kind of knowledge manner, and with full conviction of 

(the intellectual intuition, comp. certainty (comp. "Ethics," part v., 

above, p. 22 Obs.), by which alone Prop. 25, Prop. 36 Obs., Prop. 42 

those fundamental ideas of his sys- Prop.), Spinoza himself admits_ the 

tern can be grasped in an adequate mystical nature of these conceptions. 



372 PHILOSOPHY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. 

worse in this than in rational thought, because the lattei 
has in itself, and in the co-operation of others, the contro 
and hope of improvement, but the error which has crep 
in in mystical form is ineradicable. One must not thereby, 
however, conceive the matter as if the Unconscious im- 
parted false inspirations, but it then imparts none at all, 
and consciousness simply takes the images of its uninspired 
fancy for inspirations of the Unconscious, because it longs 
for them. 

It is just as difficult, to distinguish a genuine inspiration 
of the Unconscious in the waking state in a mystical 
mood from mere freaks of fancy, as a clairvoyant dream 
from an ordinary one ; as in the latter case only the result, 
so in the former only the purity and inner worth of 
the result, can decide this question. But as true inspira- 
tions are always rare conditions, it is easy to see that 
among all, who ardently long for such mystical suggestions, 
very many self-deceptions must occur for one true in- 
spiration ; it is therefore not astonishing how much non- 
sense mysticism has brought to light, and that it must 
in consequence be extremely repugnant to every rational 
mind. 



END OF VOL. I. 



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